Age is just a number, right?

Let me start at the beginning--sometime in August and through the fall almost every time I would work with this kid, Frankie.  He's a nice kid (with the emphasis on kid--he's 19 and just graduated a year ago).  I tell him all the time he's a baby.  So when we worked together we would always talk, laugh a little and he would tell me about the problems he was having with his boyfriend.  It was a pretty good time, he could be pretty amusing and having someone to talk to at work always makes the time go by faster.

So after we had been talking for a few weeks Frankie asked if I wanted to hang out sometime (in case you missed it--Frankie is gay, so there is absolutely nothing romantic going on here)  I sort of hesitated and didn't really give him an answer but we exchanged numbers.  We worked together again a few days later and he asked again if I wanted to hang out.  Well, Christmas was coming up and I thought we could go to the mall and do some Christmas shopping.  I figured I would get my shopping done and we could just hang out for a few hours.  He said that sounded like a good idea and he needed to go Christmas shopping too.  Then he asked if I could pick him up...because he didn't have his license!  That's right--this kid couldn't even drive himself to go Christmas shopping.  He probably got money from the tooth fairy under his pillow last year--haha.  But I didn't want to be the type of person who wouldn't hang out with someone simply because of the year they were born.  After all, age is just a number, isn't it?

So we set up a time and I picked him up at his house and we were off to the mall.  We shopped for a while and went to the food court and I didn't have a bad time but after about 2 hours I was ready to go but Frankie was still shopping.  After a while I think I realized it wasn't so much the age difference as it was that we really didn't have anything in common.  I got to thinking I could hang out with anyone as long as we can have a descent, interesting conversation.  Without the distraction of being at work I didn't really have much to say to Frankie or vice versa.  

As I was driving him home, he said that was fun and I agreed that it was (not wanting to be rude) and he said, "we'll have to hang out again soon."  I smiled and nodded, really having no intention of seeing him outside of work again.  It was really like the akward ending of a bad first date.    

Time passed...Frankie got his license.

Then a few Sundays ago I was sitting around watching t.v., and waiting for my laundry to come out of the dryer when I got a text from Frankie asking what I was doing and asking if I wanted to go get something to eat.  Well I was just kind of bumming around and was sort of bored so I decided sure why not.  We went to a local diner, got some cheap, greasy diner food and talked for a while.  The subject eventually turned to going out to bars/drinking/clubbing...which (inevitably) turned to the topic of age.  Because Frankie's not even old enough to legally drink and when he goes to a club he has to go to the 18 and older nights.  He has only been old enough to buy cigarettes for a year.  Then we did the math.  I got my license when I was seventeen.  He was TWO YEARS OLD at the time.  When I graduated high school he was 3 years old.

Wow--math has never really been my friend.  But I sort of reached the same conclusion that I reached the first time we hung our going Christmas shopping--he's a cool kid to have a few laughs with at work but he certainly isn't someone I would consider a friend outside of work--age has a little something to do with it but beyond that we just don't have anything in common.

Ever had a day like this?

"It's a dog-eat-dog world and I'm wearing milkbone underwear."

A sweet suprise

Yay--It's girl scout cookie time! My uncle was visiting from out of town a few weeks ago and he came back to the house with a box of girl scout cookies--the classic thin mints. So the other day, things were slow at the store and my shift was almost over so I was standing around talking to Tina and I told her that I loved girl scout cookies but hadn't found anyone selling them anywhere. I told her my absolute favorites were the carmel delites. She said her favorite cookies were the peanut butter patties. So the next night I got a text from Rich. He was working with Tina and wanted to know when I was working next. I sent him a text that I worked on Friday night. I came in on Friday night and said hi to Tina. She got a little smile on her face and she told me to go upstairs and check inside one of the lockers in the break room. So (alittle confused) I went upstairs and opened the locker--and there was a box of carmel delites. Yay! I squealed--totally happy-and ran back downstairs to thank Tina and she told there were girl scouts selling them at a stand in the mall and she got a box for me. I told her I would pay for them but she said, "no." So I just wanted to say thanks again to Tina! It was so thoughful of her to pick up the cookies and such a sweet surprise to come into work and find girl scout cookies! I did finally find girl scouts selling cookies and I bought a box of peanut butter patties for Tina--but I am ashamed to admit--they never actually made it to Tina because we didn't work together for a while and I ate them before I saw her. But I promise I'll make it up to her next year!

Catch up!

Three tomatoes are walking down the street--a papa tomato, a mama tomato and a little baby tomato. The baby tomato start lagging behind. Papa tomato gets angry, goes over to the baby tomato and squishes him ... and says, "Ketchup!"

Just a single serving

So I am (still) making an ongoing effort to try to eat better...but it's not always successful.  Like eating a package of ramen noodles when I get home from work at night.  Logically, I know they're soooo not good for me and have the nutritional content of cardboard--but they're quick and easy and (as anyone on a budget knows) incredibly, incredibly cheap and something nice and warm to eat to when it's really cold outside.  So I came home from work late one night and started making a package of ramen noodles.  As the water was boiling and the noodles were cooking I glanced at the Nutrition Facts on the back of the package--There is 190 calories in a serving.  Per serving the total fat is 7g (11%) Total Saturated fat is 3.5g (18%).  There is no cholesterol, no vitamin A, no vitamin C.  And I thought to myself wow that really isn't great and then I noticed that the serving size is 1/2 block of noodles with seasoning.  That means that eating one package of ramen noodle soup is consuming 360 calories with 14 grams of fat and doubling everything else (you can do the math if you feel like it).  My question to you is this--is there anyone out there who really only eats half a package of ramen noodles?  I'm sure those people must exist but I have never heard of them.  I often finish a whole one and I'm still sort of hungry. 

Night owls

I don't think a talk about the world of grocery stores would be complete without talking about the night crew. They are kind of the backbone of the grocery store (especially because they are primarily the ones who keep the shelves stocked with all the groceries). Since I generally work nights I have gotten to know some of these guys and they are generally nice (maybe slightly eccentric--but I think that's because they work crazy, vampire-like hours).

So here is a quick story as a tribute to the guys who work overnight stocking the shelves:

Gone Fishin'

One morning a husband returns home after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not very familiar with the lake his wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance, anchors the boat and starts reading a book.

Along comes a game warden in his boat. He pulls up along side the woman and says, "Good morning, ma'am. What are you doing?" "Reading a book." She replies. )(Thinking, Isn't that obvious?)

"Well, you're in a restricted fishing area." He informs her.

"I'm sorry, Officer but I'm not fishing. I'm reading."

"Yes, but you have all the equipment in your boat. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."

"If you do that I'll have to charge you with sexual assault." says the woman.

"But I haven't even touched you!" says the game warden.

"That's true--but you have all the equpiment. For all I know you could start at any moment."

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

I know comparing my job as a paralegal in a law firm to my part time job working as a cashier in a grocery store is like comparing apples to oranges (and maybe I'm starting to sound like a broken record)...but I think one of the biggest problems that I have as a cashier is the total lack of respect. I'm not talking about a lack of respect from customers (although there is plenty of that as well) but the fact that the company treats their employees with such a total lack of respect. This really hit me the other day. I had a bad cold and a (self diagnosed) sinus infection. I could barely talk and was hacking up a lung but I went into work because I couldn't afford to lose the hours. My throat was dry and a little sore and I had been up all night coughing. And I wasn't gonna complain about it or call out of work but when I came down to work I was carrying a bottle of water with me. Barbara came up to me and said, "You can't bring that water bottle down here. It's not allowed." I know Barbara was just enforcing company rules. But I was sick and I was tired and I thought to myself what a ridiculous company policy. Can you reasonably expect someone to work a 6 or 7 hour shift without being able to discretely keep a bottle of water somewhere?  That just doesn't sound fair or reasonable to me.  I'm not saying the bottle should be out in the open or anything but people who work at the front end should be able to have a bottle of water under their register. I thought of working at the law firm--if you needed a break for a minute or wanted to get something to drink you just let someone know you were running over to the corner store to pick up something to drink and would be back in about 5 minutes. No problem. I think the sense that you are being treated with respect makes you more productive at work. And do the people at the corporate office of the grocery store have people telling them they can't have a drink of water at their desk? Ummm--I'm guessing no. Because the people at the corporate office expect to be treated with respect. And I think it's partially the employees fault too because they don't really demand respect. When the employees mindless follow ridiculous company policies without questioning them they are implicitly saying that these policies are ok. Now, I totally understand that many company policies are put in place for a reason but often company policies are created by executives who don't necessarily understand the day-to-day workings of the store so the policies are impractical or unfair. When a company policy doesn't make sense--like not being able to have a bottle of water kept under your register while you work--employees need to question it and they need to speak up to be treated with respect.

Marxism

"I sent the club a wire, stating, 'Please accept my resignation. I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.'"

-Groucho Marx

Debit Dilemma

There was a customer who came through my line the other day. I rang up her order, gave her the total, and she pulled out her debit card. She looked a little young but I really thought nothing of it because lots of (probably most) high school kids have a debit card. I asked her if it was credit or debit. She looked confused for a minute but then said she wanted to use it as a debit. I said o.k and asked her to put in her PIN number on the screen. She looked at me and said, "I don't know my PIN because my mom set it up for me." Well, I don't want to be judgmental or anything but I couldn't help thinking that if you're not old enough to set up and/or remember your own PIN number, you're probably not old enough to have a debit card. Otherwise, isn't that just some sort of financial disaster waiting to happen? I mean if this girl can't set up a 4 digit PIN number for herself can she balance a check book? Then, later on I got to thinking that I hoped that wasn't some sort of scam because could you really walk around with a debit card without knowing your PIN?

From the Bottom Up

I have come to the conclusion that I'm really bad at my job. I don't know that I necessarily feel bad about it--it's just sort of a statement of fact. This was made really clear to me when a customer came through my line the other day and told me he had 4 cases of soda on the bottom of his shopping cart. The 12 packs of soda were on sale for something like 4 for $10.00. He asked if he needed to lift them up or if I could just scan them from the bottom of the cart. I told him he could just leave them on the bottom of the cart and I would scan them using the scanner guns we have at the register. So I just continued scanning the rest of his order and I completely forgot about his 4 packs of soda! Later on that night another customer came through and as I scanned their soda I realized, "Damn it! I forgot to ring up that other guy's soda! Well he saved $10 and the company lost $10. I was thinking about this and I know there are some cashiers I work with who do care about their jobs. I guess I wished I cared more or that I was motivated to do better--but I'm really not.