This past weekend was a big event for our choir department. Every year, we throw this holiday concert where local middle and elementary schools can come sing, dance, and be cute. The show choirs are expected to perform at least one of their numbers for the concert, so I needed to go (I probably would have gone anyway just to see some little munchkins). Here is the thing you need to understand: show choir is like learning how to drive. You practice your driving for hours and hours at a time. Your driver's education teacher yells at you because, "You totally just ran that stop sign and did a wheelie off the railroad tracks!" Sometimes, you actually have to study things. There are rule books about show coir just like there are rules about driving. Finally, once you have mastered the act of driving in a straight line and using turn signals, you go to the DOT. You wait for a long time. You wait and you wonder, "What if I forget everything I have learned? What's an engine?!" But then, when they call your number, you walk proudly up to the table state your name, sign some papers, prove to them you know what you are doing, and get your liscense (I'm pretty sure there's some sort of metaphor about show choir in there)!
Anyway, my point is that show choir takes a lot of work and help. It would be very difficult to take up driving by yourself. An instructor or a parent is necessary. I had no idea that turn signals were even used until my dad told me. Our director had gotten some minor surgery before the concert, so we did not get to practice with him when we ran through the number in costume and with the band. We used our best judgment as to whether or not something was working, but it still felt like we were missing something. Still, our performance was fine, I thought, and the crowd seemed to enjoy it. My nervousness for the number may also have been because I didn’t know quite a few of the words and my underwear kept bunching up. You know what, never mind. I’m pretty sure that it was just the underwear.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The Only Time It Is Appropriate To "Flash" Someone
Have you seen that one commercial for T. J. Max and Marshall where the woman is going up the escalator and the people going down start singing Christmas carols, but they change the words so it is about gifts? It is super corny. Every time I see it, I think to myself, "I don't understand why these people are singing. Couldn't they just yell over to her about the great sales that Marshall
So, I googled "flash mob" and one of the first results was a large group of people performing "Do Re Mi" from "The Sound of Music" at a train station inBerlin
So, I googled "flash mob" and one of the first results was a large group of people performing "Do Re Mi" from "The Sound of Music" at a train station in
I need to get in on one of these. End of story.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Ho! Ho! Hizzah!
Christmas is amazing. It is the season where you can pointlessly buy things that you would never buy for yourself and give them to other people as gifts. Also, it is the one time that I can shove as many marshmallows as i want into my hot cocoa without anyone sarcastically saying, "Wow. I didn't know that many marshmallows could fit in one mug." The main point of Christmas, though, is my first point: giving.
When, i am working, it is easy to put customers into certain categories based on the amount of friendliness they show. There are customers who are not nice. The only thing that these customers will say to you is, "Weren't you going to ask me if I had any coupons? Because i did. Guess I can't use them anymore." Then, there are the moderately nice customers who ask you how you are doing and might engage in friendly conversation, if provoked. Finally, there are the VERY nice people. You don't even need to say anything and they are already telling you about the barbeque they had last weekend and the big, fancy pot roast they are cookin' tonight!
So, the other day, this woman comes through my line. I would label her a moderately nice person who did not seem that interested in conversation, but looked pleasant. I scanned through all of her groceries and she slid her card to pay for them. Almost instantly, after the transaction had gone through, the man behind me realized that I had scanned his groceries, as well. It was too late to save the price from being put on the woman's card. I told them there was no way that I could take the purchase off of her card and the woman said, "It's alright. I will just pay for it. Merry Christmas." At that point, my heart must have grown three sizes larger because I almost let out a huge Christmas sigh. The man said, "I will just pay you in cash." Still, it was the thought that counted. That is what the Christmas season is all about: allowing people who are only moderately pleasant to overshadow those that are VERY nice.
When, i am working, it is easy to put customers into certain categories based on the amount of friendliness they show. There are customers who are not nice. The only thing that these customers will say to you is, "Weren't you going to ask me if I had any coupons? Because i did. Guess I can't use them anymore." Then, there are the moderately nice customers who ask you how you are doing and might engage in friendly conversation, if provoked. Finally, there are the VERY nice people. You don't even need to say anything and they are already telling you about the barbeque they had last weekend and the big, fancy pot roast they are cookin' tonight!
So, the other day, this woman comes through my line. I would label her a moderately nice person who did not seem that interested in conversation, but looked pleasant. I scanned through all of her groceries and she slid her card to pay for them. Almost instantly, after the transaction had gone through, the man behind me realized that I had scanned his groceries, as well. It was too late to save the price from being put on the woman's card. I told them there was no way that I could take the purchase off of her card and the woman said, "It's alright. I will just pay for it. Merry Christmas." At that point, my heart must have grown three sizes larger because I almost let out a huge Christmas sigh. The man said, "I will just pay you in cash." Still, it was the thought that counted. That is what the Christmas season is all about: allowing people who are only moderately pleasant to overshadow those that are VERY nice.
Warry Wotter and the Wamber of Wecrets
Let me tell you a little story. The protagonist, a strapping, young fellow who goes by the name of SlimShaney, finds himself wanting to go to the most celebrated event of the year. This event would not only be the best moment of his year, but the thing that defines him for the rest of his natural-born life! It was the midnight premiere of a movie we will refer to as "Warry Wotter wand whe Weathly Wallows: Wart Wone." The major obstacle that stood in the way of SlimShaney achieving his ultimate dream was....the beast. She was the most feared creature throughout the land with teeth the size of two-story houses, claws that made even the bravest lion tremble in fear, and the ability to nag so hard that a child two miles away would instantly die of boredom. If Slim wished to attend this premiere, he must first slay this beast and rid the town of its evil.
So, SlimShaney gathered all of his finest weapons and marched toward the cave where this creature lived. Upon arriving, he approached the front door...but it was already open. He peeked his head in to see if the creature was lurking nearby but saw nothing in sight except for an ugly white couch and a bunch of pictures of the creature's daughter (which the monster obviously preferred over her very attractive son). Once Slim had entered, the door quickly swung shut behind him. "Show yourself!" he shouted. A low, grumbling hiss was heard from the basement stairway.
The hideous creature leapt from the basement. "Why do you come here?" she asked in an annoyingly piercing tone. "I have come because I wish to go to the midnight premiere this Thursday!" The creature let out the most vicious roar that Slim had ever heard. Children playing majong in China gasped when they heard that roar. "You can't go the midnight premiere!!" it yelled. "Why not?" Slim shouted back. "Because. YOU HAVE FINALS!!" With that, she sprang from her spot and attacked Slim. He quickly dodged and what followed was some of the most intense fighting in all of history. Eventually, the creature managed to knock all of Slim's weapons out of his hands. He stood there, defenseless, as the monster spread her jaws and swallowed him whole. That, my friends is the end of my story and the end of SlimShaney.
In case you did not understand, the evil monster was my mother, I was Slim, and she did not let me go to the midnight premiere of Harry Potter. I am still upset, obviously.
So, SlimShaney gathered all of his finest weapons and marched toward the cave where this creature lived. Upon arriving, he approached the front door...but it was already open. He peeked his head in to see if the creature was lurking nearby but saw nothing in sight except for an ugly white couch and a bunch of pictures of the creature's daughter (which the monster obviously preferred over her very attractive son). Once Slim had entered, the door quickly swung shut behind him. "Show yourself!" he shouted. A low, grumbling hiss was heard from the basement stairway.
The hideous creature leapt from the basement. "Why do you come here?" she asked in an annoyingly piercing tone. "I have come because I wish to go to the midnight premiere this Thursday!" The creature let out the most vicious roar that Slim had ever heard. Children playing majong in China gasped when they heard that roar. "You can't go the midnight premiere!!" it yelled. "Why not?" Slim shouted back. "Because. YOU HAVE FINALS!!" With that, she sprang from her spot and attacked Slim. He quickly dodged and what followed was some of the most intense fighting in all of history. Eventually, the creature managed to knock all of Slim's weapons out of his hands. He stood there, defenseless, as the monster spread her jaws and swallowed him whole. That, my friends is the end of my story and the end of SlimShaney.
In case you did not understand, the evil monster was my mother, I was Slim, and she did not let me go to the midnight premiere of Harry Potter. I am still upset, obviously.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
If You're Happy and You Know It....Eat
It is hard to be a happy person when you are not. You ask any naturally happy person how that stay so optimistic and they will tell you about how easy it is and how everyone can be just as blah blah blah....sunshine....rainbows...blah blah. It's not that easy. When you have to wake up for school every day at 5:45, you begin to harbor a slight amount of resentment. I usually begin the year with a proper amount of friendliness, fresh off of summer vacation, but, by the end of the long, overstretched school year, my ability to feel anything has been depleted. I no longer care who gets hit in the hallway with my backpack or who is below me when I drop eggs down the stairway (that one might be a bit extreme, but you catch my drift).
So, here is SlimShaney's guide on how to be happy:
Step one: Take time to enjoy yourself. Sure, you may have an extremely long essay due tomorrow, but take that extra time to watch YouTube videos and check for friend requests. Have last week's Glee taped? Go ahead, watch it. It was good.
Step Two: Don't smile if you don't have to. If someone smiles at you and you have no genuine happy feeling, don't smile back. Now, if they smile, stick their hand in their armpit, and make farting noises, go ahead and smile....because that's funny!
Step Three: Don't talk to acquaintances. If you met someone once, at a party you were only at for ten minutes, don't strike up a conversation. It will be much better if you merely sit there in awkward silence. Remember, an awkward silence a day keeps potential friends away!
Step Four: Eat a lot. I find that I am most happy when I am scarfing down some Pringles or chugging a Pepsi.
Step Five: Don't eat too much. You know that feeling you get when you just ate too much at Ruby Tuesday and it feels like your stomach might explode? Yeah...that is not fun. And finally....
Step Six: Ignore this list. This is the way that I make myself feel happy. We all have different things that make us joyful. You simply have to find those things and hold on to them. For me, that main thing is friends and family that I can rely on and trust no matter what....oh yeah.....and food. :)
So, here is SlimShaney's guide on how to be happy:
Step one: Take time to enjoy yourself. Sure, you may have an extremely long essay due tomorrow, but take that extra time to watch YouTube videos and check for friend requests. Have last week's Glee taped? Go ahead, watch it. It was good.
Step Two: Don't smile if you don't have to. If someone smiles at you and you have no genuine happy feeling, don't smile back. Now, if they smile, stick their hand in their armpit, and make farting noises, go ahead and smile....because that's funny!
Step Three: Don't talk to acquaintances. If you met someone once, at a party you were only at for ten minutes, don't strike up a conversation. It will be much better if you merely sit there in awkward silence. Remember, an awkward silence a day keeps potential friends away!
Step Four: Eat a lot. I find that I am most happy when I am scarfing down some Pringles or chugging a Pepsi.
Step Five: Don't eat too much. You know that feeling you get when you just ate too much at Ruby Tuesday and it feels like your stomach might explode? Yeah...that is not fun. And finally....
Step Six: Ignore this list. This is the way that I make myself feel happy. We all have different things that make us joyful. You simply have to find those things and hold on to them. For me, that main thing is friends and family that I can rely on and trust no matter what....oh yeah.....and food. :)
Ohhh hey.......yooouuuu.....
While I was working today, a man came through my line. I had been somewhat rushing through the last few orders so I did not look up when I said, "How are you today?" He said that he was good and I continued scanning his groceries. Halfway through his order, he asked me, "Hey, did you go to (Insert the name of my elementary school here)?" I looked up. I had not thought about elementary school since middle school when I longed for the days of recess and snack time. "Yes I did." I said. "Well," he responded, "I used to be an administrator there. I'm Mr. (Insert difficult to pronounce name here) and I remember you." Crap. I didn't remember him at all. I stood there for about five seconds with a somewhat blank expression on my face and then I figured I should just tell him the truth. I said, "Ohhhh yeah! I remember you, too! That's so weird! It's been a while! A long, long time...." He continued to ask me questions about what grade I was in and what kind of activities I had gotten involved in and the only thing that I could think of to ask was, "Would you like your Dr. Pepper left out?" It was awkward.
Let me clarify something so that I don't seem like a huge jerk. I went to two different elementary schools. The school that Mr. Whatshisface was an administrator at was my first school that I went to when I moved here during kindergarten. The second school was built during my second grade year and by third grade I had been transferred. So, I would have only had this administrator for three years! This was also during a time that no one can remember! I don't even remember what my kindergarten teacher looks like! (I'm going to stop this paragraph now because it just makes me sound worse).
By sharing this story, my question is: should I be responsible for remembering him? People forget others all the time, so why do I feel so bad that I didn't remember him at all. Seriously, his face was like a blank canvass, but my mind was looking for things that made it memorable. I've met a lot of people in my life, we all have, so why should I punish myself for not remembering this man? Still, I can't escape the feeling that I should remember him. He didn't have a name tag on that said "Hi my name is Mr. Idontcare," but I still feel bad for not remembering him.
Let me clarify something so that I don't seem like a huge jerk. I went to two different elementary schools. The school that Mr. Whatshisface was an administrator at was my first school that I went to when I moved here during kindergarten. The second school was built during my second grade year and by third grade I had been transferred. So, I would have only had this administrator for three years! This was also during a time that no one can remember! I don't even remember what my kindergarten teacher looks like! (I'm going to stop this paragraph now because it just makes me sound worse).
By sharing this story, my question is: should I be responsible for remembering him? People forget others all the time, so why do I feel so bad that I didn't remember him at all. Seriously, his face was like a blank canvass, but my mind was looking for things that made it memorable. I've met a lot of people in my life, we all have, so why should I punish myself for not remembering this man? Still, I can't escape the feeling that I should remember him. He didn't have a name tag on that said "Hi my name is Mr. Idontcare," but I still feel bad for not remembering him.
Just Keep Singing....Just Keep Singing.....
I am getting really nervous. All-State auditions are this coming weekend which means that my life will be consumed for the next week. Instead of having regular choir, we will be practicing with only All-State quartets. Instead of having a life after school, I will be practicing...a lot. Also, instead of being completely stress free, I will be a wreck. A big, fat, nasty wreck that no one can avoid.
We have been practicing this music now for around two months and I realize that I should probably feel ready, but I simply don't. Our group hasn't practiced enough...I haven't practiced enough! The other day we had a workshop with a woman who does vocal lessons for the all-state music. Out of my four-person quartet, I was the one who received the most criticism. "Slim, try not to sing so gruff." "Slim, try to stop singing around the pitch." "Slim, eye contact!" It was embarrassing! Hear I have been for the last two months singing this music and this lady notices all of the things I am doing wrong in one hour. It made me feel so bad about myself. Still, I can make the best of this. She may think I am a terrible singer, but if I practice as much as possible and focus on the things she pointed out, I can (maybe) make All-State!
Singing is hard. I feel like a lot of people do not realize that. There are so many different things that you need to think about and implement into your performance. Are you using the right vowel shape? Is your tone too bright? Are you standing up straight? If I wanted to stand up straight, I would have joined Manners Club (that would be kind of hilarious if that actually existed). I honestly did not know that by signing up to do All-State, I would bringing this much stress upon myself. Sure, I have learned a lot, but what if, in the end, I do not make it? Was all of my hard work for nothing? Honestly, I don't really care that much. If I do not make it, I do not make it. There's always next year. But if I do not make it next year, you better move aside because this train wreck is taking everyone down with it....just kidding.
We have been practicing this music now for around two months and I realize that I should probably feel ready, but I simply don't. Our group hasn't practiced enough...I haven't practiced enough! The other day we had a workshop with a woman who does vocal lessons for the all-state music. Out of my four-person quartet, I was the one who received the most criticism. "Slim, try not to sing so gruff." "Slim, try to stop singing around the pitch." "Slim, eye contact!" It was embarrassing! Hear I have been for the last two months singing this music and this lady notices all of the things I am doing wrong in one hour. It made me feel so bad about myself. Still, I can make the best of this. She may think I am a terrible singer, but if I practice as much as possible and focus on the things she pointed out, I can (maybe) make All-State!
Singing is hard. I feel like a lot of people do not realize that. There are so many different things that you need to think about and implement into your performance. Are you using the right vowel shape? Is your tone too bright? Are you standing up straight? If I wanted to stand up straight, I would have joined Manners Club (that would be kind of hilarious if that actually existed). I honestly did not know that by signing up to do All-State, I would bringing this much stress upon myself. Sure, I have learned a lot, but what if, in the end, I do not make it? Was all of my hard work for nothing? Honestly, I don't really care that much. If I do not make it, I do not make it. There's always next year. But if I do not make it next year, you better move aside because this train wreck is taking everyone down with it....just kidding.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Workin Hard for the Money
I decided that, since I had musical practice this entire week, that I would ask off for work the entire week. Well, apparently, I missed several different sales that I will now not be prepared for in the future. Jeesh. You take a week off and suddenly they think that you have moved to Africa and adopted your own family. Nope. Sorry, but if I were to move away and start a family, it would somewhere far away from where Freddy's would ever find me. I asked off for the week because i was busy, not because I didn't want to work (although that may have been in the back of my mind).
Another thing is that I have noticed that my wallet emptied much quicker when I had not worked this week. I have more free time to spend money on things like Monopoly at McDonalds, or porcelain dog figurines, or a paintball gun (all are extremely useful in a time of personal distress). I do not think that I ever noticed what a change work has had on my money supply. Mostly, it just goes into my account and I rarely check up on it, but, now, while it is slowly dwindling away, I am beginning to get worried. Should I be working more? Should I spend less? Will I ever have enough money for college, but then again, who does?
I just do not understand why they would be angry with me for asking off for a week. I know several people who have called in sick when they really are not, so could I just do that? Is it better to promise that I will work and then duck out at the last second or give them a real reason for not being available and have them be prepared? I think that is a pretty easy question (especially with my subtle phrasing).
Also, here's the thing: I asked off for this week and I left pretty much all of next week open and they scheduled me for one five hour shift. It seems to me that if Freddy's wants me to be more involved, they should be giving me more hours! And how am I supposed to make all my money if I don't get any hours?! And how will I possible play McDonalds Monopoly without any money?!?!
Another thing is that I have noticed that my wallet emptied much quicker when I had not worked this week. I have more free time to spend money on things like Monopoly at McDonalds, or porcelain dog figurines, or a paintball gun (all are extremely useful in a time of personal distress). I do not think that I ever noticed what a change work has had on my money supply. Mostly, it just goes into my account and I rarely check up on it, but, now, while it is slowly dwindling away, I am beginning to get worried. Should I be working more? Should I spend less? Will I ever have enough money for college, but then again, who does?
I just do not understand why they would be angry with me for asking off for a week. I know several people who have called in sick when they really are not, so could I just do that? Is it better to promise that I will work and then duck out at the last second or give them a real reason for not being available and have them be prepared? I think that is a pretty easy question (especially with my subtle phrasing).
Also, here's the thing: I asked off for this week and I left pretty much all of next week open and they scheduled me for one five hour shift. It seems to me that if Freddy's wants me to be more involved, they should be giving me more hours! And how am I supposed to make all my money if I don't get any hours?! And how will I possible play McDonalds Monopoly without any money?!?!
It's Not Over Till SlimShaney Sings...
Remember that blog I made last week about the musical I am in, The Fantasticks? Well, the run of it was this weekend. I have to say, I actually enjoyed this one. My part was perfect for me. I was an overenthusiastic, old actor who wants everyone to know who he is. I got very positive feedback about my role from both the audience laughter and comments after the show. In the end, I was very proud of the entire cast, crew, and directors.
Not only did I do well, and trust me, I did pretty well (I am just kidding about the cocky attitude, by the way), but the entire show was very well done. The two fathers did excellent and were cast well in the parts given to them. The girl, Luisa, has a very beautiful voice and has incredible acting potential. Matt, the boy, is also a talented singer and can do back flips! How cool is that?! The Mute may not have any lines, but her facial expressions are so priceless that I can't look at her without laughing. Finally, the kid who plays El Gallo, the narrator, is a great actor and singer who really does a wonderful job of bringing the whole show together and taking us on a "fantastick" journey.
The next stop in the road: we take it to the thespian festival I was talking about earlier. It will be difficult. We have to change the entire set so that it fits a different type of stage than the one that we used. This means that the show will have to be re-blocked and teched again. It was hard enough the first time. The fact that the play is still performing also means more rehearsal. The director has given us this next week off, but once we get back to practice, he will be roaring to go. I imagine more yelling and cursing than the first time.
Also, in order to pay for the cost of this festival, the director has asked us to fundraise these coupon books. I am fundraised out! Some people do not understand how difficult it is to get people to buy the things you are selling. No matter how great you think the deal is, it might not be to them. Still, despite the extra hassle it may lay on me, I am excited to be performing at this festival. It sounds like a great opportunity to showcase the show and MY incredible talent (again, just kidding).
Not only did I do well, and trust me, I did pretty well (I am just kidding about the cocky attitude, by the way), but the entire show was very well done. The two fathers did excellent and were cast well in the parts given to them. The girl, Luisa, has a very beautiful voice and has incredible acting potential. Matt, the boy, is also a talented singer and can do back flips! How cool is that?! The Mute may not have any lines, but her facial expressions are so priceless that I can't look at her without laughing. Finally, the kid who plays El Gallo, the narrator, is a great actor and singer who really does a wonderful job of bringing the whole show together and taking us on a "fantastick" journey.
The next stop in the road: we take it to the thespian festival I was talking about earlier. It will be difficult. We have to change the entire set so that it fits a different type of stage than the one that we used. This means that the show will have to be re-blocked and teched again. It was hard enough the first time. The fact that the play is still performing also means more rehearsal. The director has given us this next week off, but once we get back to practice, he will be roaring to go. I imagine more yelling and cursing than the first time.
Also, in order to pay for the cost of this festival, the director has asked us to fundraise these coupon books. I am fundraised out! Some people do not understand how difficult it is to get people to buy the things you are selling. No matter how great you think the deal is, it might not be to them. Still, despite the extra hassle it may lay on me, I am excited to be performing at this festival. It sounds like a great opportunity to showcase the show and MY incredible talent (again, just kidding).
All By Ourselves...
Recently, one of the beloved vocal teachers at my school passed away from a battle with cancer. To honor his memory, his wife put together a beautiful service that would acknowledge how much he has affected the vocal community. My choir, having several people that learned directly under this teacher, was asked to sing at the event. So, for the last few weeks, we have been preparing several songs (I even got a solo...one where I am supposed to sound like a dying bird....but still). On Friday, we got our tuxedos, dresses, and directions and left class fully prepared for the reception.
In an unforeseen twist of fate, our director suffered, this weekend, from severe kidney stones that eventually landed him in the hospital. Of course, he was unable to attend the concert. Still, we have two directors so it was not an entirely huge deal, except for the fact that the other director was moving into a new house that day. Later that afternoon, everyone received a panicked text message from one of our choir's members relaying the news. She told us that we should still come at the proper time and if we could not conduct ourselves, we should not perform.
At 2:30, our expected call time, the whole group was gathered and you could feel the tension in the air. We went on stage to rehearse and no one was really sure what to do. Luckily, a nice man offered to play pitches for us and the girl who had sent out the message counted us in and helped maintain tempo. It was not a train wreck. I had been expecting complete disaster, but, instead, we were actually pretty good! After running through all of our songs, we went and got changed. Now, here was the big question: could we perform the same way with a large crowd of people watching? We did. It was weird. If anything, I think that we had looked more impressive because of the fact that we had no director.
This entire situation makes me think of the old saying, "the show must go on." We had a large number of things work against us, but we persevered on and actually sang pretty well. I am very proud of our choir for having the guts to stand in front of a group of people with no director. I highly doubt that any sports team would do nearly as well without their coach...
In an unforeseen twist of fate, our director suffered, this weekend, from severe kidney stones that eventually landed him in the hospital. Of course, he was unable to attend the concert. Still, we have two directors so it was not an entirely huge deal, except for the fact that the other director was moving into a new house that day. Later that afternoon, everyone received a panicked text message from one of our choir's members relaying the news. She told us that we should still come at the proper time and if we could not conduct ourselves, we should not perform.
At 2:30, our expected call time, the whole group was gathered and you could feel the tension in the air. We went on stage to rehearse and no one was really sure what to do. Luckily, a nice man offered to play pitches for us and the girl who had sent out the message counted us in and helped maintain tempo. It was not a train wreck. I had been expecting complete disaster, but, instead, we were actually pretty good! After running through all of our songs, we went and got changed. Now, here was the big question: could we perform the same way with a large crowd of people watching? We did. It was weird. If anything, I think that we had looked more impressive because of the fact that we had no director.
This entire situation makes me think of the old saying, "the show must go on." We had a large number of things work against us, but we persevered on and actually sang pretty well. I am very proud of our choir for having the guts to stand in front of a group of people with no director. I highly doubt that any sports team would do nearly as well without their coach...
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Cold Stone's Newest Creation: Funeral Cake Remix
Don't jump to conclusions. I remember when I was getting checker trained at Freddy's, the lady who was teaching us (we will call her Monica) told us a story about back when she was a cashier. She was around 25 years old and a man and his son came through the line. They put their groceries on the line and waited for Monica to scan them. Halfway through the line was a cake. She scanned it and then asked, "Oh! Whose birthday is it?" The man gently smiled and said, "It's actually for my wife's funeral."
Woah. Well.....now I am afraid to ask about cakes. Today, I had someone come through my line and they had a cake that said: "Happy Birthday, Jimmy!" The parents were buying candy/ party favors, looked very happy, and even called one of their kids Jimmy, but I still avoided asking about the cake. What if they had said something like, "Jimmy passed away several months ago, but we still like to believe he's here."? How bad would I have felt then??
It's gotten to the point where I do not ask about certain objects because I associate them with different situations. Streamers: funeral. Candy: funeral. Big balloon that says "Congratulations, Scott!": funeral. It's getting to be unhealthy. On the other hand, though, I do associate some things with positive situations. Ice cream: Cold Stone. Peanut butter: Cold Stone. Canned asparagus: Cold Stone. I guess that is kind of unhealthy also....
The lesson of not jumping to conclusions applies not only to cakes (surprisingly), but also to real life! You see a man walking down a street at night with dark sunglasses and a cane that he keeps sticking out in front of him, don't assume he is blind. If your mother doesn't hear you say that you refuse to clean your room, don't assume that she is deaf (she might also be crazy). I wish that I had examples that did not apply to disabilities, but they seem to be evading me at the current moment.
Don't judge a book by its cover. Open the book and read the inside cover. Then, if it's a really long description move to the back, inside cover. If the book is paperback, probably just look on the back cover and you might find something. Open up to a page. Read the page. Don't open up to a page at the end of the book, though; it might give away the ending. Try reading the first page to see what kind of vibe the-. Actually, that's too much work. Who needs books anyway?
Woah. Well.....now I am afraid to ask about cakes. Today, I had someone come through my line and they had a cake that said: "Happy Birthday, Jimmy!" The parents were buying candy/ party favors, looked very happy, and even called one of their kids Jimmy, but I still avoided asking about the cake. What if they had said something like, "Jimmy passed away several months ago, but we still like to believe he's here."? How bad would I have felt then??
It's gotten to the point where I do not ask about certain objects because I associate them with different situations. Streamers: funeral. Candy: funeral. Big balloon that says "Congratulations, Scott!": funeral. It's getting to be unhealthy. On the other hand, though, I do associate some things with positive situations. Ice cream: Cold Stone. Peanut butter: Cold Stone. Canned asparagus: Cold Stone. I guess that is kind of unhealthy also....
The lesson of not jumping to conclusions applies not only to cakes (surprisingly), but also to real life! You see a man walking down a street at night with dark sunglasses and a cane that he keeps sticking out in front of him, don't assume he is blind. If your mother doesn't hear you say that you refuse to clean your room, don't assume that she is deaf (she might also be crazy). I wish that I had examples that did not apply to disabilities, but they seem to be evading me at the current moment.
Don't judge a book by its cover. Open the book and read the inside cover. Then, if it's a really long description move to the back, inside cover. If the book is paperback, probably just look on the back cover and you might find something. Open up to a page. Read the page. Don't open up to a page at the end of the book, though; it might give away the ending. Try reading the first page to see what kind of vibe the-. Actually, that's too much work. Who needs books anyway?
Do-Nut Get Me Angry
I would like to talk about making payment...to me. Today, while I was working at Freddy's, some guy came up to me and bought a couple donuts that added up to about two dollars and fifty cents. The man digs through his wallet and I see that he has two one dollar bills and a bunch of change (I'm talking wealthy homeless person change), so I get ready to take his money. He hands me a fifty. I must have looked at that bill for twenty seconds. Why was he using a fifty? I did not understand why he didn't just sift through his change and give that to me! In an attempt to get him to reopen his wallet, I explained to him that fifties needed to be checked by a manager and that we would have to wait for them to get there. "Alright," he said.
So, I called the manager. Unfortunately, at that moment, he was busy with another cashier which meant we would have to wait. I do not know if you have ever had to experience the awkwardness of waiting to see if your fifty is counterfeit, but it is not fun. It's like waiting at the dentist or in the bathroom stall until someone leaves. I tried making polite conversation by saying, "So, is it still nice outside?" He said, "Yes." So much for that idea.
Here's the thing that really annoys me: when the manager took his sweet little time getting over to my register, the customer got mad at me. "I don't understand why you can't just check it yourself! What is taking so long? I am not coming back here!"..........Here is what I would have said:
"Oh, wow, I am really sorry that it is taking so long to get this fifty checked. You know, the fifty you used to pay for THREE donuts? Maybe you should have just gotten one donut and paid with a hundred! That way your shopping experience would be even worse! Because that's all I care about RIGHT?! Making you miserable!! 'Cause that seems to be all you care about doing to ME!!! Here!!! Take you stupid donuts!! I'll pay for them myself!! With EXACT CHANGE!!!!"
Here's what I said: "I'm sorry, sir." And the awkward silence continued.
So, I called the manager. Unfortunately, at that moment, he was busy with another cashier which meant we would have to wait. I do not know if you have ever had to experience the awkwardness of waiting to see if your fifty is counterfeit, but it is not fun. It's like waiting at the dentist or in the bathroom stall until someone leaves. I tried making polite conversation by saying, "So, is it still nice outside?" He said, "Yes." So much for that idea.
Here's the thing that really annoys me: when the manager took his sweet little time getting over to my register, the customer got mad at me. "I don't understand why you can't just check it yourself! What is taking so long? I am not coming back here!"..........Here is what I would have said:
"Oh, wow, I am really sorry that it is taking so long to get this fifty checked. You know, the fifty you used to pay for THREE donuts? Maybe you should have just gotten one donut and paid with a hundred! That way your shopping experience would be even worse! Because that's all I care about RIGHT?! Making you miserable!! 'Cause that seems to be all you care about doing to ME!!! Here!!! Take you stupid donuts!! I'll pay for them myself!! With EXACT CHANGE!!!!"
Here's what I said: "I'm sorry, sir." And the awkward silence continued.
I Can't Believe It's Not Broadway
For the fall musical, this year, our school is doing The Fantasticks. If you were to ask me what it is about, I would tell you that a small branch goes on a "fantastick" journey to become the stick he has always wanted to be. I know...heartwarming, isn't it? Truthfully, describing the show would take way longer than I want to take, so just imagine Romeo and Juliet with a series of uncomfortable vegetable references. My character's name is Henry. He is a struggling, old actor who finds himself being hired to "abduct" Luisa (Juliet). Henry over exaggerates to the extreme and becomes thrilled quite easily. I like to pretend that Henry is a mixture between Gollum/Smeagol from Lord of the Rings, Frank from Everybody Loves Raymond, and King Arthur.
We have been practicing since August, now, and it is getting to be a bit tiresome. Thankfully, next weekend is when the show goes up and all of our hard work will be on display. This also means that this week means a constant stream of verbal abuse from our director, some sort of flu outbreak, and a crazy diva moment from an unsuspected person. It always happens. Always.
One of the exciting things about this show is that we are taking to a state-wide festival celebrating theatre. That means we get to perform it for thousands of scrutinizing eyes who will tell us we did a great job, give us a secret thespian handshake, and then tell their friends how much better they could have done. It might also mean that I will have to act friendly like I do at Freddy's. I sense that I will have to say, "Were you in the musical? You did such a good job!," or, "I really liked your take on that scene!," and finally, "Wow! You have so much talent!" In all actuality, I will be thinking, "That musical was so bad. It felt like someone was trying to shove giants raisins down my ears," or, "Seriously? I don't think Juliet would be twirling her hair if she had just found out Romeo died," and finally, "Wow! You have so much talent! You should be a hypnotist or a mattress salesman because I am now asleep." I know it's harsh, but still.
It feels like this show has gone by much quicker than it has. The director actually cast the show in June and we were expected to memorize over the summer. Still, I feel like the show is very impressive and that others will enjoy it...and I am not just saying that.
We have been practicing since August, now, and it is getting to be a bit tiresome. Thankfully, next weekend is when the show goes up and all of our hard work will be on display. This also means that this week means a constant stream of verbal abuse from our director, some sort of flu outbreak, and a crazy diva moment from an unsuspected person. It always happens. Always.
One of the exciting things about this show is that we are taking to a state-wide festival celebrating theatre. That means we get to perform it for thousands of scrutinizing eyes who will tell us we did a great job, give us a secret thespian handshake, and then tell their friends how much better they could have done. It might also mean that I will have to act friendly like I do at Freddy's. I sense that I will have to say, "Were you in the musical? You did such a good job!," or, "I really liked your take on that scene!," and finally, "Wow! You have so much talent!" In all actuality, I will be thinking, "That musical was so bad. It felt like someone was trying to shove giants raisins down my ears," or, "Seriously? I don't think Juliet would be twirling her hair if she had just found out Romeo died," and finally, "Wow! You have so much talent! You should be a hypnotist or a mattress salesman because I am now asleep." I know it's harsh, but still.
It feels like this show has gone by much quicker than it has. The director actually cast the show in June and we were expected to memorize over the summer. Still, I feel like the show is very impressive and that others will enjoy it...and I am not just saying that.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
The Skittles Snatcher
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.
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.
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)