While I was working today, two parents and their young son came through my line. I greeted them with my usual, "Get OUT!" Just kidding, I asked, "How are you guys today?" They said they were good and I got straight to the scanning. One of the items was some Skittles. After I scanned it, I asked, "Do you want the Skittles left out or in a bag?" The mother looked confused. She said, "I guess you can just throw them in a bag, but I don't even remember getting Skittles." The father raised his eyebrows. "Neither do I," he said. Instantly, all three of our heads went down. The child stared up at us with a devilish smile that said, "I did it," with a little bit of "I'm a kleptomaniac." My first instinct was that he was a magician in a world of muggles, much like myself, but he was too short.
How did this kid get to be so sneaky? Hopefully that is not the type of thing his parents teach him. I do not recall "Pranking the Parents 101" as a class in school. Do we just develop sneakiness on our own? Are we born sneaky or do we have sneakiness thrust upon us? Like I said, we can't all be wizards like me, so there must be some sort of explanation.
My guess is that craftiness stems from the imagination. We get bored imagining fake animals ad faraway lands, so we turn to figuring out how to hotwire a car or break the code on a safe. By that definition, female penitentiary inmates are basically one step away from being Daddy's little princess. That tattooed, nose-pierced biker that sits next to you at Chiles is merely a Tom Sawyer in the making. The more I keep saying this, the less I believe that is a fitting definition.
Maybe sneakiness is attained through studying and a strict course load of chemistry. That would bore anyone to the point of criminal activity. Perhaps, and this is my best explanation, it merely depends on the person. If you are meant to be the guy who pickpockets unsuspecting tourists, then maybe you should be that guy. If life gives you lemons and you feel the need to sell them for a ridiculously high price, that might just be who you were meant to be. If that is you, I tip my hat to you, but please, don't touch my car.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Would You Like Patience With That?
Friday, at Freddy's, I was working as something I had never been before. Normally, I am but a lowly cashier, but, today, I was something of a much higher importance: a stocker (not stalker, although I am quite good at that, too...no training necessary!). So, that day, I arrived at work and I went to the back of the store to report for duty. Once I had located a manager he told me what I was supposed to do and to come find him when I was done.
Being a naturally gifted quick learner, I got done pretty quickly with my first assignment. So, I did as my manager had said and went to go find him. Well, when I tracked him down, he seemed annoyed at the fact that I was asking questions about what I was supposed to be doing next. He quickly explained a job I was expected to do and rushed off to somewhere else. After that, I was left with a confused expression and a box full of Jell-O I had no idea what to do with.
This whole story brings me to my complaint: why do some people have to be so impatient? I had no idea what I was doing, it was my first day on the job, and this guy couldn't take four minutes to explain it to me? I ended up asking another manager what I was supposed to do with my Jell-O. He said, "Make Jell-O shots! Just kidding, stack them over here."
This incident reminds me of another story that involves my own family. When we were younger, my sister, my dad, and I would always go on bike rides together. One time we took a trip to McDonalds so that we could get breakfast. When we got there, we went inside, ordered, and waited for our food to be ready. Well, the McDonalds staff was (surprisingly) not on top of their game. They spent so much time focusing on their drive thru orders that we, the ones actually eating in their restaurant, were being ignored. So, my dad verbally abused them. He opened up a huge can of verbal destruction on that crew. I've never seen so many grown men crying. Eventually, we got our food and rode our bikes back in awkward silence.
Should my dad have gotten that upset? I am sure that, had we waited an extra two minutes, our food would have been ready, but did they need to learn some sort of lesson? I don't think so. I know how that sad, little McDonalds staff felt when my father unleashed his wrath of fury on them because it reminds me of my story. It is like I was serving the hash browns and the manager could not wait his turn. Well, guess what, Mr. Manager, I am my father's son and you better be prepared for a whole lot of destruction.
Being a naturally gifted quick learner, I got done pretty quickly with my first assignment. So, I did as my manager had said and went to go find him. Well, when I tracked him down, he seemed annoyed at the fact that I was asking questions about what I was supposed to be doing next. He quickly explained a job I was expected to do and rushed off to somewhere else. After that, I was left with a confused expression and a box full of Jell-O I had no idea what to do with.
This whole story brings me to my complaint: why do some people have to be so impatient? I had no idea what I was doing, it was my first day on the job, and this guy couldn't take four minutes to explain it to me? I ended up asking another manager what I was supposed to do with my Jell-O. He said, "Make Jell-O shots! Just kidding, stack them over here."
This incident reminds me of another story that involves my own family. When we were younger, my sister, my dad, and I would always go on bike rides together. One time we took a trip to McDonalds so that we could get breakfast. When we got there, we went inside, ordered, and waited for our food to be ready. Well, the McDonalds staff was (surprisingly) not on top of their game. They spent so much time focusing on their drive thru orders that we, the ones actually eating in their restaurant, were being ignored. So, my dad verbally abused them. He opened up a huge can of verbal destruction on that crew. I've never seen so many grown men crying. Eventually, we got our food and rode our bikes back in awkward silence.
Should my dad have gotten that upset? I am sure that, had we waited an extra two minutes, our food would have been ready, but did they need to learn some sort of lesson? I don't think so. I know how that sad, little McDonalds staff felt when my father unleashed his wrath of fury on them because it reminds me of my story. It is like I was serving the hash browns and the manager could not wait his turn. Well, guess what, Mr. Manager, I am my father's son and you better be prepared for a whole lot of destruction.
I. Can't. Wait.
I am geeking out. It seems as if, throughout my entire life, Harry, Ron, and Hermoine have been right there with me. We've enjoyed long quidditch matches, endless romantic debacles, and a series of attempts to slay the dark lord. I still remember the day that I recieved my invitation to Hogwarts via owl (it was a dream, but, still). Somehow, Harry Potter has integrated its way into my life and there is no spell in the wizarding world that could undo that. As we grow closer and closer to the penultimate movie, my heart breaks as I know what is coming. Someday, potentially in 2011, I will have to say farewell to the beloved hero that captured our hearts, minds, and snitches. I may need two spaces between the next paragraph to compose myself.
Allright, I'm fine. As we look towards the future (I feel like I am giving a graduation address), we cannot help but take a quick moment to reflect on the past. I remember that first year where the sorting hat decided I would forever be a Gryffindor. There was the year that I was petrified by the basilisk! Do you recall that one time when I rode Buckbeak the hippogirff across the entire skyline? Do not even get me started about not being slected for the Triwizard Tournament. My favorite after school activity was always the Order of the Phoenix (we were trained to be light as a "feather"). Remember potions class? Now that was one hard OWLS to earn.
Now, on to the future! Let us set forth and search for all seven horcruxes! We shall not be frightened by the terror that is the Death Eaters! I will not cower in fear when Lord Voldemort comes running at me! I will raise my wand high! I will fight for my life! For my freedom! FOR HOGWARTS!
Allright, I'm fine. As we look towards the future (I feel like I am giving a graduation address), we cannot help but take a quick moment to reflect on the past. I remember that first year where the sorting hat decided I would forever be a Gryffindor. There was the year that I was petrified by the basilisk! Do you recall that one time when I rode Buckbeak the hippogirff across the entire skyline? Do not even get me started about not being slected for the Triwizard Tournament. My favorite after school activity was always the Order of the Phoenix (we were trained to be light as a "feather"). Remember potions class? Now that was one hard OWLS to earn.
Now, on to the future! Let us set forth and search for all seven horcruxes! We shall not be frightened by the terror that is the Death Eaters! I will not cower in fear when Lord Voldemort comes running at me! I will raise my wand high! I will fight for my life! For my freedom! FOR HOGWARTS!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Charity Case
Since when did charity become a competition? While I was working today, my manager told me that we were selling these paper sneakers for Juvenile Diabetes research. Pretty much two minutes later, another cashier comes up to me and says, "How many sneakers have you sold? I've already sold four...today." Apparently there is some sort of competition going on where the cashier who sells the most sneakers gets a prize.
This is ridiculous. The point of charity is not to step on each other's throats just to win some prize. It should be about the cause. Still, even though I know this, when the kid said that to me, I decided I would step up my game and head straight for the jugular. Within about twenty minutes, I had sold three of them. I was on fire. Then, I looked over and saw that this kid had now sold almost a dozen of them. I had been beaten so bad that I stopped asking people if they wanted to buy sneakers and did not even bother trying to raise money.
That is just another reason why competition is bad for charity. Not only does it take away from the true purpose of giving to the less fortunate, but if we lose, we simply stop caring. The loser doesn't get anything except a pat on the back for doing the right thing. When you are in a contest, sympathy is the last thing you want.
Through my school, I am doing this breast cancer awareness walk, next month. We don't get anything for participating (except for maybe exercise). We don't win some fantastic award if we run faster than everyone else. We simply pay our ten dollars, get a free t-shirt, and walk. That is what I think charity should be all about...minus the free t-shirt.
This is ridiculous. The point of charity is not to step on each other's throats just to win some prize. It should be about the cause. Still, even though I know this, when the kid said that to me, I decided I would step up my game and head straight for the jugular. Within about twenty minutes, I had sold three of them. I was on fire. Then, I looked over and saw that this kid had now sold almost a dozen of them. I had been beaten so bad that I stopped asking people if they wanted to buy sneakers and did not even bother trying to raise money.
That is just another reason why competition is bad for charity. Not only does it take away from the true purpose of giving to the less fortunate, but if we lose, we simply stop caring. The loser doesn't get anything except a pat on the back for doing the right thing. When you are in a contest, sympathy is the last thing you want.
Through my school, I am doing this breast cancer awareness walk, next month. We don't get anything for participating (except for maybe exercise). We don't win some fantastic award if we run faster than everyone else. We simply pay our ten dollars, get a free t-shirt, and walk. That is what I think charity should be all about...minus the free t-shirt.
A Nervous Wreck
Every year, for Vocal All-State, our school is allowed to send seven kids on each voice part (soprano, bass, tenor, and alto) to audition. So, this Saturday was the audition for the audition to All-State where those seven people were chosen. We have been practicing the audition music for about a month now and I even went to a camp, during the summer, which helped me learn it.
Before I talk about the actual try-out, I want to talk about auditioning as a whole. It is scary. When you sing in the shower, you can belt it out so strongly it would put Aretha to shame, but when you are actually singing for a spot in something, you would be lucky if you were compared to William Hung. Whenever I stand in front of people and sing, my knees get weaker and my voice gets shaky. It is strange because I consider myself a very strong public speaker. Talking in front of people is not the problem, singing is. The thing that I have noticed the most is that the more you sing in front of people, the easier it seems to get (much like public speaking).
Anyway, when everyone had arrived at the choir room, we began warming up and then split into vocal parts. There were two selections that we were expected to have prepared for the try-out. We started off by singing the first song as an entire choir, then we sang it as a section, and finally we sang it by ourselves. After this, we repeated the process again with the second song.
I remember thinking to myself, "Why is everyone so good?" No one in the room was a bad singer or else they would not be auditioning for All-State. After both songs were completed, the director went into his room and deliberated for a few minutes. The tension was spreading through the room like air in a balloon. It could pop any second.
To pass the time, I talked quietly with some friends, until the director made his way back. He told us that he wanted to hear certain people in quartets. Sure enough, I was one of the first people to be selected. We sang through it as a quartet and were asked to sit down. Did I do good or bad? I didn't know! He then informed us that he would post the list later that day and that we could all go home.
He ended up posting the list much earlier than expected and I received a flood of congratulatory text messages. I was extremely relieved. The audition had been enormously terrifying and nerve-wracking. I was just glad it was over. The list was somewhat of a surprise, to me. Some people I thought were going to make it didn't. Still, everyone who auditioned did a great job and the director could have picked anyone from that group. Still, this was only the audition for the audition. I will have something to write just a little bit more about down the road involving the actual audition.
Before I talk about the actual try-out, I want to talk about auditioning as a whole. It is scary. When you sing in the shower, you can belt it out so strongly it would put Aretha to shame, but when you are actually singing for a spot in something, you would be lucky if you were compared to William Hung. Whenever I stand in front of people and sing, my knees get weaker and my voice gets shaky. It is strange because I consider myself a very strong public speaker. Talking in front of people is not the problem, singing is. The thing that I have noticed the most is that the more you sing in front of people, the easier it seems to get (much like public speaking).
Anyway, when everyone had arrived at the choir room, we began warming up and then split into vocal parts. There were two selections that we were expected to have prepared for the try-out. We started off by singing the first song as an entire choir, then we sang it as a section, and finally we sang it by ourselves. After this, we repeated the process again with the second song.
I remember thinking to myself, "Why is everyone so good?" No one in the room was a bad singer or else they would not be auditioning for All-State. After both songs were completed, the director went into his room and deliberated for a few minutes. The tension was spreading through the room like air in a balloon. It could pop any second.
To pass the time, I talked quietly with some friends, until the director made his way back. He told us that he wanted to hear certain people in quartets. Sure enough, I was one of the first people to be selected. We sang through it as a quartet and were asked to sit down. Did I do good or bad? I didn't know! He then informed us that he would post the list later that day and that we could all go home.
He ended up posting the list much earlier than expected and I received a flood of congratulatory text messages. I was extremely relieved. The audition had been enormously terrifying and nerve-wracking. I was just glad it was over. The list was somewhat of a surprise, to me. Some people I thought were going to make it didn't. Still, everyone who auditioned did a great job and the director could have picked anyone from that group. Still, this was only the audition for the audition. I will have something to write just a little bit more about down the road involving the actual audition.
Miscommunication
The other day, a long-time employee of Freddy's asked me if I could work for him. He said, "Hey, Slim, could you possibly stock for me on Thursday?" I checked my planner and asked Cassandra (a girl who was sitting right next to me) if we had play practice. She checked the practice schedule, and sure enough, I was all free.
On Wednesday, I was just in the process of finishing up my voice lesson when my phone started vibrating. After excusing myself from the practice room, I answered and it was my boss. Apparently, I was supposed to be working for this person on Wednesday. Once I realized what had happened, I sincerely apologized, rushed home, changed, and was an hour late. The rest of the night was spent in an extremely sour mood. Sometimes, it's hard to be friendly. It really is.
I have yet to approach the guy who I worked for, but I did ask Cassandra what day he had said. She agreed that he had definitely asked for Thursday. I am not mad at this person who told me the wrong date, just disappointed that I did not clarify completely. I did not even check the schedule to see if he was working Thursday. This entire incident made me think of how one small miscommunication can lead to a whole bunch of problems. What happens when a stunt double communicates incorrectly with a director and they get hurt? What happens when a teacher speaks mistakenly to his/her students and they all do an assignment wrong? What happens when Batman doesn't tell Robin what to do? Does he just stand there like a dog? Without effective communication, nothing would get done. Not even five hours of work on a Wednesday night.
Lately, I've been thinking. Should I have been angry? This guy told me the entirely wrong day. He made me appear as if I were incompetent in front of my boss. I could have lost my job or been demoted to the person who cleans gum off the backs of the carts. I keep reminding myself of all these things, but, honestly, they don't really matter. Accidents happen and moving on with our lives is the best thing that we can do. I convulse when I see people who take life too seriously. Forgiveness is a key element of miscommunication, because, without it, we would never be able to move forward.
On Wednesday, I was just in the process of finishing up my voice lesson when my phone started vibrating. After excusing myself from the practice room, I answered and it was my boss. Apparently, I was supposed to be working for this person on Wednesday. Once I realized what had happened, I sincerely apologized, rushed home, changed, and was an hour late. The rest of the night was spent in an extremely sour mood. Sometimes, it's hard to be friendly. It really is.
I have yet to approach the guy who I worked for, but I did ask Cassandra what day he had said. She agreed that he had definitely asked for Thursday. I am not mad at this person who told me the wrong date, just disappointed that I did not clarify completely. I did not even check the schedule to see if he was working Thursday. This entire incident made me think of how one small miscommunication can lead to a whole bunch of problems. What happens when a stunt double communicates incorrectly with a director and they get hurt? What happens when a teacher speaks mistakenly to his/her students and they all do an assignment wrong? What happens when Batman doesn't tell Robin what to do? Does he just stand there like a dog? Without effective communication, nothing would get done. Not even five hours of work on a Wednesday night.
Lately, I've been thinking. Should I have been angry? This guy told me the entirely wrong day. He made me appear as if I were incompetent in front of my boss. I could have lost my job or been demoted to the person who cleans gum off the backs of the carts. I keep reminding myself of all these things, but, honestly, they don't really matter. Accidents happen and moving on with our lives is the best thing that we can do. I convulse when I see people who take life too seriously. Forgiveness is a key element of miscommunication, because, without it, we would never be able to move forward.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
A Quick Introduction
It was difficult to think of what to blog about. Whenever I would start brainstorming, a bunch of different questions would pop into my mind. What if that idea is stupid? Am I going to have enough to write about? Will my mom see this?
Eventually, I decided that I would write about my job. Currently, I am working as a cashier at a store called Freddy's (to preserve both my job and the store's privacy, I have obviously changed the name...the actual name is Krueger's...just kidding). During my job, I encounter several different situations and people who make life very interesting.
Show choir is one of the main activities that I participate in, so I am thinking that once show choir season rolls around, I may start writing about that, too. We'll see how things turn out.
Harry Potter may also make its way into some of my blogs, because to not do so would be a crime against nature. With the penultimate movie coming out this November, my focus often finds its way back to Hogwarts, somehow.
So, that's about it. Enjoy.
Eventually, I decided that I would write about my job. Currently, I am working as a cashier at a store called Freddy's (to preserve both my job and the store's privacy, I have obviously changed the name...the actual name is Krueger's...just kidding). During my job, I encounter several different situations and people who make life very interesting.
Show choir is one of the main activities that I participate in, so I am thinking that once show choir season rolls around, I may start writing about that, too. We'll see how things turn out.
Harry Potter may also make its way into some of my blogs, because to not do so would be a crime against nature. With the penultimate movie coming out this November, my focus often finds its way back to Hogwarts, somehow.
So, that's about it. Enjoy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)