I was sitting at the drive-thru window at Burger King yesterday, waiting for my Whopper Jr. (with cheese, no onions) and I noticed that I could see a sign on the wall which was clearly intended only to be viewed by employees. In angry, bold letters it proclaimed:
"EXCESSIVE USE OR WASTE OF THE FOLLOWING ITEMS WILL COST YOU YOUR RAISE!"
Underneath the message there were pictures of supplies and condiments which would normally be given to the customer with a drive-thru order.
Ketchup packet = 5 cents
Napkins = 5 cents
Salt = 5 cents
Straws = 5 cents
Sporks = 5 cents
Dipping sauce = 10 cents
Salad dressing = 10 cents
Clearly, this particular Burger King is trying to cut out some unnecessary expenses. I mentally applauded their efforts, especially since time and time again I have been given enough napkins to wipe the faces of a family of ten or 27 ketchup packets after telling them I did not need ketchup for my fries. (Is it so unthinkable that someone might want ZERO ketchup for their jumbo-size order of fries?)
Threatening employee raises seemed a little extreme to me, but desperate times and all that, so whatever works, I guess.
I had to laugh, though, at what I found in the bottom of my bag when I got back to the office...
Two straws.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, Monday
There was an extremely rude and irate message on my voicemail this morning. It went something like this:
"Ummm, yeah. HELLLLLLLLLO! Is there anyone there? HELLLLLLO! I'm looking for someone to answer the friggin' phone! I've been calling and calling! Is anyone there today???!! HELLLLLLO! Come on! Answer the phone!! I need to talk to someone and no one is aaaaannnswering! You just don't answer the phone on Mondays? HELLLLLLO! HELLLLO! Answer your friggin' phone! HELLLLLO!"
No, moron, we don't answer the phone on Monday because we are closed. You would know this if you had listened to the message which played when you called which said, "Thank you for calling Andrea's Illustrious Company. Our hours are Tuesday thru Saturday, 9 am to 5 pm. We are closed on Sunday and Monday. To leave a message, press...."
In addition, what decade are you living in? Do you really think you can call a business, select the option to be transferred to my voicemailbox, and expect that, even if I am sitting at my desk ignoring you, I will be able to hear your brainless HELLLLLLO caterwauling and that will make me pick up the phone? It's not an answering machine, it's voicemail, ya jerk.
And finally, if it is soooo important that you talk to someone, why not leave your name and number? Because I would have loved to return your call this morning and let you know how immature and idiotic you sounded demanding to have your call answered on a day when we are not open for business.
So many idiots, so little chance for retribution.
"Ummm, yeah. HELLLLLLLLLO! Is there anyone there? HELLLLLLO! I'm looking for someone to answer the friggin' phone! I've been calling and calling! Is anyone there today???!! HELLLLLLO! Come on! Answer the phone!! I need to talk to someone and no one is aaaaannnswering! You just don't answer the phone on Mondays? HELLLLLLO! HELLLLO! Answer your friggin' phone! HELLLLLO!"
No, moron, we don't answer the phone on Monday because we are closed. You would know this if you had listened to the message which played when you called which said, "Thank you for calling Andrea's Illustrious Company. Our hours are Tuesday thru Saturday, 9 am to 5 pm. We are closed on Sunday and Monday. To leave a message, press...."
In addition, what decade are you living in? Do you really think you can call a business, select the option to be transferred to my voicemailbox, and expect that, even if I am sitting at my desk ignoring you, I will be able to hear your brainless HELLLLLLO caterwauling and that will make me pick up the phone? It's not an answering machine, it's voicemail, ya jerk.
And finally, if it is soooo important that you talk to someone, why not leave your name and number? Because I would have loved to return your call this morning and let you know how immature and idiotic you sounded demanding to have your call answered on a day when we are not open for business.
So many idiots, so little chance for retribution.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
This is why I keep my mouth shut
I was admiring someone's hair in church a few weeks ago. I was sitting a few rows behind her and couldn't help noticing her hair was perfect. A sleek, shiny bob angled to perfection. And it wasn't just the cut I admired. The color was awesome. Multi-faceted but oh-so-natural.
I like my hair. I really do. It's nice. It looks good right when I get done styling it in the morning. It's soft. It's practical. It keeps my head warm. It has a lot of potential.
I know it could be more. I could be more stylish by keeping up with the latest cuts and colors. But I lack the desire (not to mention the resources) to encourage its full potential. The people I know who have stylish hair spend a lot of time and money to have stylish hair. They have special relationships with their hairdressers. They see them more than they see some of their friends. Hair is a priority for them. It involves getting up earlier in the morning. It involves scheduling their activities around their every-six-week-set-in-stone hair appointment. It involves working a second job to afford a cut and color.
I have no issues with this lifestyle. These women look great and I wish I could be one of them. But I can't right now. That's okay, but it doesn't keep me from wondering what it would be like.
Anyway, back to the lady in church. I figured she must spend a bomb on her hair each month because either she just had it done (like MINUTES before church started) or she sees her hairstylist once a week without fail. It was seriously that perfect.
Should I say something to her? If I had put that much work into my appearance, I think I'd like to have my efforts recognized. But I don't really know her that well. Still, who wouldn't want to be told they look smashing? Might be one of those conversation/friendship starters. But could I really be friends with a woman who had such perfect hair?
No. I don't think so. It's bound to be the first of many dissimilarities which would lead to the ultimate demise of any fledgling relationship I might initiate. I decided to say nothing.
AND IT WAS A GOOD THING I KEPT MY YAPPER SHUT. Several days later, someone told me that this same woman had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was undergoing treatment. She'd kept it very hush hush. Only her family had been told. No one in the ward knew until just recently. She didn't want a bunch of people talking about her and asking her how she felt and coming over to her house to help out. Because...
She was extremely self-conscious about loosing her hair and having to wear a wig.
That's right. Had I said something about her hair, it would have been akin to stuffing my whole foot in my mouth, deciding that it wasn't full enough, cramming the other foot in there as well and swallowing myself whole. That's how bad it would have been. Maybe worse. There's no way of knowing.
Take what you can from my story. Use it in your daily life.
I like my hair. I really do. It's nice. It looks good right when I get done styling it in the morning. It's soft. It's practical. It keeps my head warm. It has a lot of potential.
I know it could be more. I could be more stylish by keeping up with the latest cuts and colors. But I lack the desire (not to mention the resources) to encourage its full potential. The people I know who have stylish hair spend a lot of time and money to have stylish hair. They have special relationships with their hairdressers. They see them more than they see some of their friends. Hair is a priority for them. It involves getting up earlier in the morning. It involves scheduling their activities around their every-six-week-set-in-stone hair appointment. It involves working a second job to afford a cut and color.
I have no issues with this lifestyle. These women look great and I wish I could be one of them. But I can't right now. That's okay, but it doesn't keep me from wondering what it would be like.
Anyway, back to the lady in church. I figured she must spend a bomb on her hair each month because either she just had it done (like MINUTES before church started) or she sees her hairstylist once a week without fail. It was seriously that perfect.
Should I say something to her? If I had put that much work into my appearance, I think I'd like to have my efforts recognized. But I don't really know her that well. Still, who wouldn't want to be told they look smashing? Might be one of those conversation/friendship starters. But could I really be friends with a woman who had such perfect hair?
No. I don't think so. It's bound to be the first of many dissimilarities which would lead to the ultimate demise of any fledgling relationship I might initiate. I decided to say nothing.
AND IT WAS A GOOD THING I KEPT MY YAPPER SHUT. Several days later, someone told me that this same woman had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was undergoing treatment. She'd kept it very hush hush. Only her family had been told. No one in the ward knew until just recently. She didn't want a bunch of people talking about her and asking her how she felt and coming over to her house to help out. Because...
She was extremely self-conscious about loosing her hair and having to wear a wig.
That's right. Had I said something about her hair, it would have been akin to stuffing my whole foot in my mouth, deciding that it wasn't full enough, cramming the other foot in there as well and swallowing myself whole. That's how bad it would have been. Maybe worse. There's no way of knowing.
Take what you can from my story. Use it in your daily life.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Calling all callings
So, you know when you get that phone call during the week...
"Hi, this is Bishop/Brother Smith. I'd like to meet with you/you and your spouse sometime this week/before church on Sunday..."
You know it's a calling. If it was a talk, they'd just ask you over the phone. If they were going to release you without issuing a new calling, they'd just stop you in the hall and let you know. So, it's a new calling.
Then, there's the issue of who you are going to meet with and if your spouse is invited. Primary teacher? Bishop's counselor, no spouse. Young Men's President? Bishop, spouse required. Activities committee? Bishop's counselor, nabbed in the hallway between classes.
So what about when a counselor wants to meet with both of you? It's likely not a high-profile make-sure-the-spouse-can-support-you-in-this-calling calling. Otherwise, you'd be talking to the bishop's secretary to make an appointment. Could be a joint calling. "We'd like the two of you to work in the nursery." Or it could be two separate callings and they are just saving time by having you come in as a couple. "Sister, we'd like you to be on the enrichment committee and Brother, we'd like you to be in charge of the ward bulletin."
I know, I know... all callings are important. Any opportunity you have to serve in the Church is a good one and you will be blessed for it. Some callings are time-consuming and emotionally draining. Some call for you to linger in the background until needed. Some are require special talents that not all members possess. Some require no special training, just a commitment of time.
I'm not interested in trying to rank the importance of callings within the church. But I have noticed differences in the manner of issuance of the call which seem to correlate to "importance." The bishop vs. counselor issue. Or the spouse or no spouse issue. Or this:
"Brother and Sister, thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me today. We've been reorganizing some of our auxiliary organizations and have been prayerfully considering who the Lord might desire to fill these callings. The new auxiliary president has given me your name as someone he/she felt inspired to call as the new secretary in this presidency... We'll set you apart after church..."
Versus:
"Well, we've had a really hard time getting someone reliable in this calling. But the stake is really on our backs now to make sure that each ward has a representative. We thought of you because it would probably fit into your schedule and we need someone right away. I don't have any details about it, but I'll try to find someone to get you some information... If you want to be set apart, you can come down after church..."
I've experienced both. Isn't there anything between inspiration and desperation? Are there only certain callings inspired and the rest are just plug-and-play? Because it also seems like people are encouraged to go home and pray about certain callings but other callings are based solely on your availability and your willingness to serve. And I've got to say, it doesn't really make you feel like you will be contributing anything important when someone tells you "We picked you because you don't have a calling" as opposed to "We were inspired to call you."
I'm not complaining, I'm just wondering. Anyone out there have any insight as to how this works?
"Hi, this is Bishop/Brother Smith. I'd like to meet with you/you and your spouse sometime this week/before church on Sunday..."
You know it's a calling. If it was a talk, they'd just ask you over the phone. If they were going to release you without issuing a new calling, they'd just stop you in the hall and let you know. So, it's a new calling.
Then, there's the issue of who you are going to meet with and if your spouse is invited. Primary teacher? Bishop's counselor, no spouse. Young Men's President? Bishop, spouse required. Activities committee? Bishop's counselor, nabbed in the hallway between classes.
So what about when a counselor wants to meet with both of you? It's likely not a high-profile make-sure-the-spouse-can-support-you-in-this-calling calling. Otherwise, you'd be talking to the bishop's secretary to make an appointment. Could be a joint calling. "We'd like the two of you to work in the nursery." Or it could be two separate callings and they are just saving time by having you come in as a couple. "Sister, we'd like you to be on the enrichment committee and Brother, we'd like you to be in charge of the ward bulletin."
I know, I know... all callings are important. Any opportunity you have to serve in the Church is a good one and you will be blessed for it. Some callings are time-consuming and emotionally draining. Some call for you to linger in the background until needed. Some are require special talents that not all members possess. Some require no special training, just a commitment of time.
I'm not interested in trying to rank the importance of callings within the church. But I have noticed differences in the manner of issuance of the call which seem to correlate to "importance." The bishop vs. counselor issue. Or the spouse or no spouse issue. Or this:
"Brother and Sister, thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me today. We've been reorganizing some of our auxiliary organizations and have been prayerfully considering who the Lord might desire to fill these callings. The new auxiliary president has given me your name as someone he/she felt inspired to call as the new secretary in this presidency... We'll set you apart after church..."
Versus:
"Well, we've had a really hard time getting someone reliable in this calling. But the stake is really on our backs now to make sure that each ward has a representative. We thought of you because it would probably fit into your schedule and we need someone right away. I don't have any details about it, but I'll try to find someone to get you some information... If you want to be set apart, you can come down after church..."
I've experienced both. Isn't there anything between inspiration and desperation? Are there only certain callings inspired and the rest are just plug-and-play? Because it also seems like people are encouraged to go home and pray about certain callings but other callings are based solely on your availability and your willingness to serve. And I've got to say, it doesn't really make you feel like you will be contributing anything important when someone tells you "We picked you because you don't have a calling" as opposed to "We were inspired to call you."
I'm not complaining, I'm just wondering. Anyone out there have any insight as to how this works?
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Bad boys, bad boys... whatcha gon' do?
I was driving to work this morning down a wide two-lane road near an elementary school. A school bus was stopped on the opposite side, its flashing red stop sign extended, waiting for the children to board.
Traffic coming from behind the bus had stopped and was waiting patiently. There were also two cars in front of me in my lane who were giving the school-bus-as-a-mobile-stop-sign law its proper due and waiting patiently. Well, the first driver (closest to the bus) was waiting patiently. The second driver apparently decided that 30 seconds was too long of a wait and chose to go around the first car on the shoulder.
It's too bad that she was in such a small car. Had she been able to see around the mini-van in front of her before passing it, she would have seen the black-and-white Highway Patrol cruiser sitting just half a block down the street.
I'm pretty sure she noticed when he flipped his lights on and motioned for her to pull over though. Now she's really going to be late for work.
Traffic coming from behind the bus had stopped and was waiting patiently. There were also two cars in front of me in my lane who were giving the school-bus-as-a-mobile-stop-sign law its proper due and waiting patiently. Well, the first driver (closest to the bus) was waiting patiently. The second driver apparently decided that 30 seconds was too long of a wait and chose to go around the first car on the shoulder.
It's too bad that she was in such a small car. Had she been able to see around the mini-van in front of her before passing it, she would have seen the black-and-white Highway Patrol cruiser sitting just half a block down the street.
I'm pretty sure she noticed when he flipped his lights on and motioned for her to pull over though. Now she's really going to be late for work.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
A Christmas miracle
Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was forced to go to the supermarket on Christmas morning. Since I had to run errands anyway, I decided to get gas and pump up my low front tire in preparation for a long day of traveling.
Someone was hogging the air machine when I pulled up to the station, so I went ahead and filled my tank. I checked my purse for spare change, knowing that this particular station doesn't give its air out for free. I know, I know... if you buy gas you are supposed to get the air for free, but I didn't feel like walking all the way across the parking lot to the cashier to get a token. Also, I'd neglected to have the pump print a receipt which I knew I would have to present in order to prove that I was an actual gas-purchasing customer, not just some floozy off the street who needed to fill her tire.
I thought I might have a quarter in my purse and it would be worth 25 cents to me not to have to stand in line just to argue with the cashier about my right as an American to free air. I zipped over to the air machine as soon as it was free and was dismayed to see that the zero cents I was currently carting around in my purse would be insufficient to feed the greedy machine. (Seventy-five cents for air! You've got to be kidding me!) Resigned, I opened my door and prepared to brave the blustery weather to claim my token from the cashier.
But then... I heard a noise. Kind of like the merry jingling of Santa's bells or a choir of heavenly hosts singing hosanas or a frosty snowman chasing laughing children down the street or chestnuts roasting on the open fire. Something CHRISTMASY!
"BrrrrrrRRRRRrrrrrrrRRRRR...." was the gentle message which vibrated into my soul. The air machine was still on! I leapt from my car, scurried around to the low tire, sprayed some cold water on my shoe (because I can never tell which one is air and which one is water), grabbed the correct nozzle, and jammed it onto my tire.
A soft whoosh of air told me that my PSI was going up, up, up, just like my Christmas spirit. And then... *clunk*. Just like that the free air was gone. "Perhaps it is enough," I mused solemnly, trying not to let my dejection show. It was, after all, Christmas, and I'd been blessed with 10 seconds of free air.
I started the car again and my dashboard readout showed me the happy news. Ten seconds had been sufficient. My tire was full again... just like my heart.
Someone was hogging the air machine when I pulled up to the station, so I went ahead and filled my tank. I checked my purse for spare change, knowing that this particular station doesn't give its air out for free. I know, I know... if you buy gas you are supposed to get the air for free, but I didn't feel like walking all the way across the parking lot to the cashier to get a token. Also, I'd neglected to have the pump print a receipt which I knew I would have to present in order to prove that I was an actual gas-purchasing customer, not just some floozy off the street who needed to fill her tire.
I thought I might have a quarter in my purse and it would be worth 25 cents to me not to have to stand in line just to argue with the cashier about my right as an American to free air. I zipped over to the air machine as soon as it was free and was dismayed to see that the zero cents I was currently carting around in my purse would be insufficient to feed the greedy machine. (Seventy-five cents for air! You've got to be kidding me!) Resigned, I opened my door and prepared to brave the blustery weather to claim my token from the cashier.
But then... I heard a noise. Kind of like the merry jingling of Santa's bells or a choir of heavenly hosts singing hosanas or a frosty snowman chasing laughing children down the street or chestnuts roasting on the open fire. Something CHRISTMASY!
"BrrrrrrRRRRRrrrrrrrRRRRR...." was the gentle message which vibrated into my soul. The air machine was still on! I leapt from my car, scurried around to the low tire, sprayed some cold water on my shoe (because I can never tell which one is air and which one is water), grabbed the correct nozzle, and jammed it onto my tire.
A soft whoosh of air told me that my PSI was going up, up, up, just like my Christmas spirit. And then... *clunk*. Just like that the free air was gone. "Perhaps it is enough," I mused solemnly, trying not to let my dejection show. It was, after all, Christmas, and I'd been blessed with 10 seconds of free air.
I started the car again and my dashboard readout showed me the happy news. Ten seconds had been sufficient. My tire was full again... just like my heart.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Born free
Quote of the day:
"You don't get it. Dudes like to be naked in public, but just not too close to other dudes. If we could stay far enough apart, we be in loincloths all the time."
"You don't get it. Dudes like to be naked in public, but just not too close to other dudes. If we could stay far enough apart, we be in loincloths all the time."
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