My Not So Chosen Vocation.

When I was a kid I remember watching a specific TV commercial.  In the commercial a kid is running, drenched in sweat-it's obvious he's been running for a while.  A little kid provides a voice-over, "When I grow up I want to be a track star." Now ignoring the fact that no kid ever has dreamed about growing up to be a track star except once every four years (if I recall correctly, almost all High School track teams are filled out by any kid who manages not to throw up during the Presidential physical fitness test in elementary school); I would like to draw your attention to the next part of the commercial.  Just as you're almost convinced that this kid really does want to be a track star, he looks back over his shoulder to see a hand reaching for him from off screen.  This hand belongs to a policeman who is chasing down the sweaty kid.  As the scene unfolds an older voice replaces the young one and states matter-of-factly, "Nobody ever says 'I want to be a junkie when I grow up'!"

I remember thinking this commercial was hilarious for two reasons: 1.)After seeing it, whenever someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up the first thing that popped into my head was "a junkie" thus proving the disembodied voice on the TV wrong. I generally saved this for my inner monologue as it would have taken a bit of explaining to the person who had asked the question (and nothing that is funny in your head ends up as funny once you've explained it to someone). 2.) I always wondered why if the commercial was made in the halcyon days of 80's anti-drug PSA's (I here reference the now immortally famous, "this is your brain on drugs"-fried egg PSA) why was the policeman dressed like a 1950's prison guard from Alcatraz?  Every time I saw it I half expected the "screw" to be wielding a billy club.  The commercial goes on to show a girl dancing ("I want to be a ballerina when I grow up")-gotcha she's just spinning around in a drug induced stupor before collapsing to the ground.  It finishes with another young woman ("I want to be a Doctor...") screaming hysterically while beating on the lifeless chest of her friend who lays prone on the bathroom floor.  The point of the commercial (at least I think) is that life doesn't always go the way you planned it.

That being said, I find myself in a similar situation.  Not the "I ended up being a junkie" variety but certainly the "I had this going differently in my head" kind.  Now I never said, "I want to be a fry cook when I grow up." and yet I find myself sharing the same occupation as a certain animated sea sponge minus the nautical nonsense of course. Please don't think me ungrateful.  I love that I have a job and that I can provide for my family.  It is far more than I deserve and I am thankful, it's just not how I envisioned it.

Anyway, back to my point- I am now a fry cook (at least I was-I have since moved on to bigger and better things in the restaurant business.  I'm sure I will detail that in subsequent blogs, but for the sake of continuity I will refer to it in the present tense.)  I work for a reputable company in the fast food business.  I am unclear whether or not I can use their name without the expressed written consent of Major League Baseball, so I shall attribute to them a completely anonymous nom de plume.  I shall call them- Jeff in the Cube.

I was not strictly a fry cook-I was aspiring to manage my very own Jeff in the Cube restaurant.  As such it was necessary that I be cross trained at every station/job position in the restaurant.  I was a boss on the grill! I cooked everything to perfection in a very timely manner.  I was not as prolific at the fryer.  The main reason being Jeff in the Cube's fan favorite, 2 for .99 tacos.  They are delicious and even though you know you probably shouldn't eat them, you willingly take one step closer to heart failure with each bite.  The problem is they come out of the fryer and you must assemble them (add lettuce, cheese and sauce) as soon as possible. My fingerprints are now completely indiscernible thanks in large part to the fact that the tacos are the temperature of the sun.  You might as well shove your hand into the fryer. I could handle making one or two orders of tacos. What I loathed entirely was when people would come through the Drive-thru and order 30-40 tacos (just as a side note-if you're going to go to Jeff in the Cube and order more than say 8 tacos, please have the courtesy to park your car and go in to the restaurant as ridiculously large orders unnecessarily reek havoc on the speed of service).

There is one station at Jeff in the Cube at which I wasn't prolific-in fact I downright stunk when I started.  That position is the Drive-thru.  Let me explain: I am not what you would call a multi-tasker.  I can walk and chew gum at the same time, but I recently found out I cannot: take an order over the speaker, confirm an order and take money at the window, make drinks and shakes and smoothies, drop food in the fryer, portion and bag the food, all while saying a series of scripted replies/questions to engage the guest and ensure a return visit and all in less than four minutes.  It can be done- just not by me!

I did get better at it but never reached the level of expertise that apparently comes with being a teenage girl-who are oddly yet perfectly suited to this task.  I've seen them do all the tasks mentioned above while texting their friends and updating Twitter: "H8 having to xplain my job to my boss! He's so old! LOL #mybossisancient ;)"

I did have fun on DT though. (That's Jeff-speak for Drive-thru)  I would often, as the shift wore on, begin speaking with a Scottish accent.  I must say I do a pretty good Scottish brogue.  It may be an insult and a slap in the face to an actual Scotsman, but it is more than sufficient for the average American who just wants to hear you talk like "Shrek."  I also found that it made our typical customer (an exhausted worker who at the end of a long day would rather not cook and hates themselves just enough to choose greasy fast food over a healthier choice) just a little easier to deal with as everyone loves to listen to an accent. It was quite funny to watch people smile and fidget as they tried to decide whether or not it would be rude to ask me about my accent. In true American fashion almost everyone went with their curiosity over their desire to respect the differences of foreigners. People often asked me how long I'd been in America, and not wanting to lie, I would answer that, "I've been here since I was a wee bairin!"  This inevitably led to the follow-up question, "Where did you get your accent?"  Again, not wanting my pants to be on fire, I'd answer simply, "Braveheart."  This always got a hearty laugh and a "I guess you get that a lot."  I just smile and nod and occasionally yell "FREEDOM!" for them.

There were many weird and interesting experiences that I may blog at a later date but I do want to take just a moment to share with you a glimpse into the life of fast food employee.  As I was finishing a shift, desperately hoping that the next shift leader would arrive on time to relieve me (which they almost never did), a woman in a giant SUV pulled up to the speaker box and began placing a rather large order.  Her total was nearing $40.00 (a substantial amount for drive-thru-even at Jeff in the Cube's prices) and she said, "Shoot! I forgot, I have a bunch of coupons." I went ahead and proceeded with her order as she began to list a series of 8 coupons.  We generally don't take more than one coupon per order but since she was spending almost $40.00 I decided to waive that rule. After having entered them into the computer and adjusting the balance accordingly (her balance was now around $27.00) she exclaimed again, "Shoot! I forgot them! Listen, I left my coupons at home." I then began deleting the coupons from her order and as her total was once again on the rise she blurted out, "What are you deleting them for, you've got to work with me here!" I explained to her that I'm not allowed to give out discounts without the accompanying coupons (I really can't, it's tantamount to giving away free food which is tantamount to employee theft). She swore into the speaker box and yelled, "Well, I don't want to go home and get them. Why can't you just give me the discount. I'll bring them in tomorrow."  I explained again that when I closed my drawer out at the end of the night that I would have to pay for

As I mentioned earlier, I am no longer with Jeff in the Cube.  I am currently in training to run a family diner style restaurant I will hereafter refer to as "Benny's."  I can't wait to see what blog fodder develops here.  I have high hopes as the store I will be running is located in the same town that yielded the gem I've referred to as the musical Christmas pirate!  So excited!

How I Met My Lovely

It has been a long time since I've posted a blog.  To say that the time that has elapsed since my last post has been tumultuous is an understatement of elephantine proportions.  I will not here recount the events as most of you are familiar with them and this is a blog with the singular purpose of being funny and too be honest there was very little funny during that time.

Well, that is enough of that.

My real purpose in once again putting pen to paper (electronically speaking) is that I would like to tell you about this incredible woman I know.

It all started about 15 years ago (don't worry I won't bore you with all of the details).  I was in my dorm room with one of my roommates.  There was an enormous field just outside of my window where we would often play volleyball. It was affectionately dubbed "the bombsite" although exactly why I can't recall but I do know that there was a rather large tree in the center of it.  On this particular day there was a beautiful young lady resting in it's shade as she tried to studiously do some homework.  As college boys are want to do we noticed her and through the course of some sophomoric conversation my roommate bet me $5.00 to go and flirt with her for 10 minutes.  Those of you who know me know that I have never really been shy when it comes to talking to people I don't really know and that I was always extremely broke in college. This would prove to be the most profitable bet I've ever made.

Armed with my (not so) considerable charm I marched out into the bombsite and introduced myself.  Now it is important to note that we had met before-on two separate occasions.  The very first time was when we were both still in High School.  We had come to college days from different groups and were on the same team.  In the course of that week I did one of the most humiliating things and can assure you that the impression I left could only have been that I was a clown! On our second meeting I made the mistake of insulting a guy she liked.  So now not only am I a clown, I'm also a big fat jerk.

We did have a third meeting which almost put a nail in the coffin of our relationship before it even had a chance to live.  Due to an alphabetical arrangement in a class room that started from the back right section with the "A's" came to the front and proceeded down the left section finishing up with the "Z's" in the back, we ended up sitting in the same row across the aisle from each other.  The name of the class, as I recall, was Church History.  I remember that I really didn't care for the book that was to be our chief text and as such formed an unfavorable opinion about the professor before I had even met him.  I had heard things about him and was just leaning over to make comical but insulting comment about him to this young lady who sat next to me.  Now we all have that little voice inside that warns us when we're about to do something monstrously stupid, saying, "I think this is a bad idea!".  I too have this voice.  However, that little voice inside me is often drowned out by a much louder more obnoxious voice screaming, "LET THE EIGHT YEAR OLD DRIVE!". Thankfully, on this day I heeded that small voice and kept my snide comments to myself.  A stroke of genius as it turns out as I was just about to lean over and insult my future father-in-law to his only daughter.  WOW! I dodged a bullet there!

Anyway, I sat down under the tree next to her and began to shamelessly flirt with her (don't judge me, I needed that five bucks!).  If I may make a long story short (and I realize it's a little late for that already), we ended up spending the next several hours talking and laughing and having one of the most enjoyable nights of my life.

Fast forward 15 years and you find us here.  Three beautiful children and a happy life.  I have broken her heart on several occasions but she has always shown an infinite amount of grace and long suffering.  On occasion I write her poems.  When we first started getting serious about marriage I wrote her several poems on the theme that she was the greatest gift God has ever given me.  I spoke the truth then and do know as I confess that there is not another woman out there who could love me the way she does and only God could have orchestrated this knowing exactly who and what I needed.  She is My Lovely and will always be.  She is the most wonderful woman I know and I love her.