Impressions of the Week

I was 10 years old, sitting in Mrs. Fitzpatrick's class, waiting for our recycling demonstration set to Michael Jackson's "We Are the World." I remember thinking about it before she even asked us. Our class joined up with Mrs. Strand's class, and I was staring at the pictures on the wall. I never answered the way anybody wanted, and this was no exception. She pointed at me and said, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I looked at the pictures again, of various men and women (mostly men) in their careers. I thought about how, if I said "a business woman," all the girls in both classes would know it was because of our collective crush, our Junior Achievement teacher, who looked just like Tom Cruise, but with better hair. I knew what I wanted to do; I had already started looking into it on my own. I don't know why it felt like a knee-jerk reaction, but I blurted, "I want to be an Archaeologist, but not with dinosaurs. I hate dinosaurs." The assembled classes of course laughed, but the picture of the archaeologist was surrounded by dinosaur bones, and South Dakota was not my idea of excitement; plus I had serious doubts about dinosaurs. I always felt like they just found bones and stuck them together, and who knows if that animal really looked that way? You could have bones from 6 different animals for all you know. I said this, but no one heard me, because they were still laughing at me. I wanted to be in some far off place (not Egypt though, I never knew why), carefully brushing off sand and dust to reveal some treasure from the past that no one had seen for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. Of course, with all the laughing and the pointing, a girl tends to start keeping that stuff to herself. Not until college, sitting in a course in Egyptology (ironic, is it not? I had to take it before I could take the Civil War class I wanted), when I remembered this moment from the 5th grade. I decided again I wanted to be an archaeologist, but my boyfriend at the time wasn't going to be ok with that. My prof was planning a trip to Jericho, in Iran (or Iraq? I can't remember now), but they didn't end up going anyway because of the diplomatic climate. I thought that would have been amazing. To go on an actual dig, finding pots with burnt grains on top, but whole grains underneath. Yeah, I thought Archeology would be amazing. I had spent the last 2 years with a guy-friend, watching Biographies and learning little known things, and of course had fallen in love with him. He ended up marrying my boss' daughter and I quit and went to college, where I never watched any biographies. Stupid boys. But I digress.

They say you know yourself the best when you're 10. German and Norwegian children choose a career when they are 10, and that determines which kind of school to which they go. They choose, and are trained in that field up until they complete school, when they are ready to go into that field. Can you imagine if Americans did this? How many times would we change our mind and how long would schooling take? 22 and just graduating highschool because you changed your mind 3 times? No direction. No staying power.

All of this is on my mind this morning, along with some random 3rd grade memories, for some reason. Actually I know why. I had a best friend in Elementary school, and one night we watched "The Princess Bride." It was the first time I had seen it, and it was soon my favorite. I still watch it a couple of times a year. When she moved away, I set our whole friendship on that, how she and I shared something that is still so precious. So imagine my surprise when, on facebook, she FAILED the Princess Bride quiz this week. She doesn't remember most of it; hasn't watched it since 4th grade, when we watched it together. So sad. It was cemented in my mind that we would always have that memory and could relive it whenever. :P

You may know that I started my new job this week. I don't really think of it as a job. I think of it more as 4 hours of exercise, first thing in the morning, for which I am paid. I am grateful for the work, and it will nearly pay all the bills, even part time. I just don't see it as my "job." Maybe I will. I forget what it's like to be new. I forget that those you work with have done this job, and are likely bored with this job, and have discovered how to slack off at this job. I stand there at 5am asking, "so the truck is late, what do you do when the truck is late? Down stock?" And they look at me, like, cool it, lady. We chill. We make small talk, and the manager walks by. I start asking if they will teach me....whatever. Show me around. The guys I work with in the morning are really wonderful. Nice guys. My first day, one of them loaded up a cart for me, gave me all the light stuff, carried anything heavy for me. It was really sweet. I know that won't last, and that's fine. But it was nice. And we're already working as a team really well. First day was great, we finished everything early and did down stock, we rocked it. Second day is where it got interesting.

I couldn't remember either of my coworkers' names. They, unlike me, don't wear their name tags out for the world (I still need to find the loopholes that these guys find in the rules :P). So I go to the first guy, tell him I am terrible with names, and can he tell me again. So I learn his name, get it down, remember. Then I confide in him that I can't remember the other guy's name either, so he tells me, but for some reason, I can't hear. So after 2 attempts, he shows me on the schedule. Ok. So all morning, I'm calling them by their names, we're getting along, and 3 hours into the shift, I call the 2nd guy over, and he tells me I've been using the wrong name all day. I looked at the wrong name on the schedule. Fantastic. So I tell him I couldn't remember and tried to cheat by looking at the schedule, thinking, why didn't the first guy tell me? Ohhh, Minnesota Nice. He didn't want me to feel like an idiot. Yes, yes, job well done. Funny, isn't it? The lady at church last week who called me the wrong name and I didn't correct her because I didn't want her to feel foolish, and then this happens? Anyway...

The day goes on, and we have extra work to do because the trucks were late. I still have not learned to take a break. Both days I've worked, I have not taken breaks. I will. Anyway, this guy comes in to the aisle where I am working, standing on a flatbed cart (kids, don't try this at home). Of course he needs something and I have no clue where it is. So I spend about 40 seconds trying to get off this cart gracefully, and finally end up leaping onto solid ground. I turn around to see him with one eyebrow up, so I self-defamate by throwing my hands in the air and singing, "graceful!" I turn to RUN around the corner to ask for help, when I run straight into a fellow employee, a moustached stranger. Chest to chest, full on collision. We are both so stunned, and neither can think of a good icebreaker, or awkwardly funny phrase. We stand there, both our hands on the other's outer arms, embarrassed laughter in our eyes, and all we can think to do is slide our hands down until we are holding hands, and say, "good morning!" In full view of my customer, who already knows I'm a spaz. Yippee. I'm surprised we didn't dance; it looked like we were going to. So I go to my manager and tell her that my morning just got very embarrassing, but feel no need to tell her why, I have a customer waiting.

When I took this job, I thought, "Yes. 5-9am, no customers, just stock and get out." But consistently, customers start coming in about 6:30. Why? And on Fridays it's worse, earlier and busier. They all find me for help, and I always find someone else to help, because really, what do I know? Oh well. It makes it easier to work later for more money. It's pretty relaxed there. The policy is after you miss 3 shifts without calling, then they talk to you. Yesterday the General Manager came up to my manager and said that someone wasn't in yet. She said, "if she's not in within the next half hour, let me know, I'll text her and wake her up." Nice. That was not how I ran things, but I had a much more stringent schedule, and a lot less people to fill it. So those things crack me up. I like wearing normal clothes, jeans, to work. I can just go do anything after. But I ask so many questions, involved ones. "With the discount, does it come out pre or post tax? How long do you have to work to get profit sharing? Can part timers get in on the 401k plan? How much does health insurance cost per week, and what's the grace period? When is open enrollment? What if I am trained in Blood Borne Pathogens, do I still need to call a manager to clean up human fluid spills?" The poor HR guy. In training, we'd watch the riDICulous videos, and you know what I mean. He'd say, "are there any questions?" and look at me. The one time I didn't have a question, he was shocked. He just kept saying, "Don't worry about it." It's a sarcastic and relaxed place. It's a good fit. I just have to make more money with it :) It doesn't sound like extra hours will be hard to come by.

Today's song of the day:

Round Room - Phish. I don't know why. It's the cadence, I think. This is how I'm feeling :)
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Round_Room/64138