So, I just kind of fell off the map during "The Holidays." I'm not certain how to explain it without sounding whiny, but I must say, I'm now feeling full of stuff to say.
Christmas is what we celebrate in my family. I'm not any sort of scholar of any religious belief and I am certainly not going to try to be one now. Of course, it is encompassed with a religious overtone and I stick to the more modern day Pseudo-Christian evolution of this seasonal celebration. Many friends of mine celebrate Hanukkah (any way you spell it) so I am somewhat familiar with that though extremely ignorant.
For the sake of this blog, I will discuss the "Holiday" in line with what Christmas has become for me. Again, I may be whiny as I am not certain where I am going with this this early on in today's post; sorry.
"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child....." It was wonderful!
As a kid, Christmas was the pivotal day of the year. However, contrary to that statement, it wasn't a particular day for my family. Sure, it was "December 25th" for us as it was for anyone, but outside of any religious significance, it was just a day.
Dad was in the Navy and often away under the waves for long periods. Our family celebration of Christmas typically happened whenever his boat returned to port which was never on time. Sometimes, we didn't celebrate Christmas until January. So, the holiday season became a time for us to share with our family. Of course, that's what it is supposed to be about for everyone, a time for family. That's just my version of how I learned that. It was not so much for the day (again outside of any religious expectation) but more of a season often spent waiting for Dad to come home.
Now, there is absolutely no denying that I started looking forward to December 25th each year moments after I opened my last present on whatever day we celebrated Christmas. I can remember digging into a Lego set some time in the 80's thinking "next year I'll have enough to rule the world!!!" or something like that. It is just a common part of Kid-dom... PRESENTS!!!!
I do like how parents can tell you "remember the reason for the season" in the weeks leading up to Christmas, but a few months before that they also say, "Remember, Santa is watching!!!" These both kind of cancel each other out in the whole "what is Christmas all about" dilemma society has with Christmas. So as a kid, you rule out all of the politics and controversy and IT'S ALL ABOUT THE PRESENTS!!!!
I didn't get a lot each Christmas, but I got enough to be grateful. As a child, I don't think I truly appreciated our one day of gift giving (GETTING) and our family time that we shared; I did not know how good I had it.
As an adult, I look back at that time together and think "Thank You!"
"But when I became a man, I put away childish things." I had to.
Growing up was forced upon me and at times, I honestly resent it even though it came later in life.
Christmas 1987 was the first "difficult" Christmas I can recall. I was a bag boy at a grocery store, living at home with my folks and I could hardly wait for the next August knowing I would be moving away for college or whatever!
Christmas Eve was spent working in the grocery store. We closed early but before we could leave we had to clean up and stock the shelves. However, my routine was disrupted when my siblings came knocking on the store front and spoke to my manager. I had to leave urgently.
Dad was in an ICU... something about his heart.
I don't recall every detail, but it was during those hours that I started thinking as an adult about Christmas. It dawned on me that I wanted to be with my family, moving away wasn't such a necessity and "Oh God, please don't take Dad on Christmas!"
It turned out to be not so bad. As I recall, he spent a night or two in the hospital and was home either Christmas Day or the next. I'm surprised I don't remember more. I moved away the following August.
Throughout college, I celebrated the holidays with friends and classmates. They became an extended family, but I was always back with my family at Mom and Dad's for Christmas.
1993 was a rough Christmas but only because of real life. I was out of school and had a job. I worked until Midnight on Christmas Eve televising a church service. I would continue to do this for the next 12 years of my life. In fact, that Christmas Eve Church service eventually became part of my personal Christmas Holiday. I looked forward to it. I also looked forward to the overly indulgent Christmas Eve Dinner my co-workers and I would have from McDonald's each year. These are great memories!
So, December 25 1993, I went to bed at 1 am. I got up around 6 am and drove a friend of mine to his family's house 2.5 hours Southeast from where I live. I dropped him off by 10 and drove the 1.5 hours north from his place to my folks house. I was home for about 5 hours when I drove the 2 hours west back to my apartment and returned to work by 10 that night. This was my life. It was worth it. It was Christmas!
1994 hurt. I left my job right after our church service and drove to my folks. I actually ended up staying with a relative in his newly built home. It was nice. We woke up that morning very early to the phone call stating that my Grandmother had just died. On Christmas? We spent most of our Christmases with her and my Grandfather. We usually travelled to their house in Florida for Christmas but now that she had become ill, they had moved up to live near my folks.
I could not imagine Christmas being such a joy ever again. It was.
Within a year I had met someone and my life would be forever changed (good and bad of course). So from 1995 to 2005 I had my routine... Christmas Eve Church Broadcast (McDonald's Dinner)... Christmas morning with her family (as they lived in town) and either Christmas night or the day after at my folks. It was wonderful.
In 2004 it became the most wonderful time of my life as that was the first Christmas with my daughter and with a complete family of my own. I did not think life could get any better.
I was right.
2005 was still a wonderful Christmas and at this point in my life, it was the last complete Christmas I ever had. Sometimes, I wish I had known in advance that it was going to be the last one I'd spend with my Dad.
There was a parallel I have thought of about me and Dad: it was not "Christmas" until he got home. Then I was the only one to move away. Ever since, Mom has held out Christmas until I got home.
Christmas 2006 was when it truly hit me that Dad was gone. He had been gone for 9 months by the time the holiday rolled around but it was nothing without him. It was empty. My God, Mom lost HER MOM on Christmas day and there I was moping about losing Dad 9 months earlier. It was painful. I was depressed; the whole family was.
2007 had potential, but something in my own home was wrong and I didn't know what. It was an uncomfortable Christmas. My wife had spent more on my Christmas gifts than anyone ever had before in my life and it just got to the point of feeling awkward. We separated just before Christmas 2008.
Since then, Christmas has become a painful few weeks. Who am I to mope, I know I still have it better than a majority of the world but it is no longer what I was trained to believe in. It is supposed to be a time for family, but my family has split. I spend the holiday either alone waiting for my child to come home or I spend it with her knowing how let down I am going to be when she has to leave.
But it is still a beautiful time. It is still an incredible season to try to believe in. We find a way to enjoy some of it. I don't need presents. I want nothing that can be wrapped. I appreciate anything I received of course, but that is no longer the point.
For me, it has become a season of wishing for peace. I always thought that the whole "Peace on Earth" thing was to stop war but I now I think it is a time to find an inner peace among all of us. Sure there is a religious aspect to it all and we all want to be with family, but you cannot always be with family. And as you lose family, you have to find a way to cherish them during this season.
It is a time that I have to make myself be grateful for what I have and who I have in my life. It is tough.
Granted for my child, it is a dream of loot! Unfortunately she is not going to grow up with the stable family tradition I grew up with. Fortunately for her (I guess) she doesn't seem to know the difference.
This year alone, she had a night at my house before Christmas opening gifts with the children of a lady-friend of mine (mrrrowwwrrr). Then a few days later she had a gift opening with her step-family out of state. On Christmas Day she opened gifts in three different houses with her Mom. The day after she had Christmas with me and some family at my house and then again the next day at My Moms.
Yes, she knows that there is a strong "Religious" purpose for the season, and she is often sad about growing up in two houses, especially during the holidays, but let's face it... PRESENTS!!!!
It was not lost on her that she had seven different places or times to open gifts. Coincidentally, she honestly asked me why we don't celebrate the 9 days of Hanukkah.
Yeah, I think she's planning something...
Monday, December 31, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
And so this is the apocalypse and what have you done...
Okay, I've been away for a bit. I'm sorry.... I'm willing to bet that you're okay.
What with staving off a cold and dealing with the holiday season and all the emotional ups and downs that come with these two things, I was kind of looking forward to the apocalypse. Okay, not really, but how can I avoid the fanfare and bandwagoning that this day brings?
It just seems so unoriginal and somewhat odd that people actually looked forward to this day. It is almost as though everyone was making such a big fuss about it because, well, what if it really was going to happen? Man, can you imagine how silly you'd feel if the world was blowing up around you and you were the only person among your peers who told everyone that they were "complete idiots festooned with internal dunce caps eclipsing what limited intelligence they once had" for believing in such a thing?
Instead, if you just joked about the end of the world coming today and commented about it constantly, everyone would know that either a.) when the world actually did end today that you really were a genius, or b.) HAH, you're such the comedian.
As many of you have, I've witnessed several of these "final" days and at least one of them was taken quite seriously. It was quite frustrating for me was when I had to be at work on January 1st, 2000 at 5 am to be ready to broadcast news of the end of the world. Seriously, that was normally a morning off for those of us on the morning shift of live television. We always had a holiday on Jan 1 and got to party it up hard and stay up late on New Years Eve.
On a side note, when you work the morning shift in television and have to be in before 5 am every day, staying up "late" for you is typically 9-ish in the PM. So staying up past midnight is a great accomplishment.
Unfortunately we (me and my crew) had to be at the office by 5 am to report what was expected to be the end of the world due to the failure of all modern technology. I saw irony in this. We were supposed to use technology (our computers and all of our computerized broadcasty thingys) to tell everyone that none of their technology was working so they would most likely be dead in any minute.
"What's the point" I thought at 12am that morning as I opened another beer.
So, starting at 5am on January 1st, there were about 10 or 15 or so hung over individuals just lounging about with not so much to do. Every once in a while we would "cut in" to our network programming to say something like "everything seems to be working... if you are experiencing any technological failures and you cannot see this report, please call us and let us know, in the meantime, here's the weather guy!"
Needless to say, that movie and that guy in particular gave me nightmares. But I sure do love his cookies!
So yeah, that freaked me out in middle school and then I started learning about Nostradamus and fortune tellers who kept on predicting the end of the world. WHY DO THEY KEEP DOING THAT? Seriously, is there some sort of room in the after-life where all the doomsayers are gathered playing some sort of Apocalypse Lottery? What do they get if they win?
"Congratulations Nostro....you win the LAST BOX OF TWINKIES!!!!"
So, in short, look at this:
This happened back in either 1988 or 1989. I love the very first line that says,
No disrespect for the South Koreans because every culture tends to do this all the time, but I just wonder if this particular guy is still to this day lounging about thinking "what the hell man?"
I'm sure he's probably saying that, but in Korean.
What with staving off a cold and dealing with the holiday season and all the emotional ups and downs that come with these two things, I was kind of looking forward to the apocalypse. Okay, not really, but how can I avoid the fanfare and bandwagoning that this day brings?
It just seems so unoriginal and somewhat odd that people actually looked forward to this day. It is almost as though everyone was making such a big fuss about it because, well, what if it really was going to happen? Man, can you imagine how silly you'd feel if the world was blowing up around you and you were the only person among your peers who told everyone that they were "complete idiots festooned with internal dunce caps eclipsing what limited intelligence they once had" for believing in such a thing?
Instead, if you just joked about the end of the world coming today and commented about it constantly, everyone would know that either a.) when the world actually did end today that you really were a genius, or b.) HAH, you're such the comedian.
As many of you have, I've witnessed several of these "final" days and at least one of them was taken quite seriously. It was quite frustrating for me was when I had to be at work on January 1st, 2000 at 5 am to be ready to broadcast news of the end of the world. Seriously, that was normally a morning off for those of us on the morning shift of live television. We always had a holiday on Jan 1 and got to party it up hard and stay up late on New Years Eve.
On a side note, when you work the morning shift in television and have to be in before 5 am every day, staying up "late" for you is typically 9-ish in the PM. So staying up past midnight is a great accomplishment.
Unfortunately we (me and my crew) had to be at the office by 5 am to report what was expected to be the end of the world due to the failure of all modern technology. I saw irony in this. We were supposed to use technology (our computers and all of our computerized broadcasty thingys) to tell everyone that none of their technology was working so they would most likely be dead in any minute.
"What's the point" I thought at 12am that morning as I opened another beer.
So, starting at 5am on January 1st, there were about 10 or 15 or so hung over individuals just lounging about with not so much to do. Every once in a while we would "cut in" to our network programming to say something like "everything seems to be working... if you are experiencing any technological failures and you cannot see this report, please call us and let us know, in the meantime, here's the weather guy!"
But this happens all the time.
People constantly think the world is going to end... tomorrow.
I first learned about this when I watched Poltergeist 2 which was about that weird Pepperidge Farm looking guy convincing all of his followers to bury themselves in a cave because, you guessed it, the world's totally ending soon. Of course the world didn't end so he had to go door to door and haunt people...
 |
| "Good afternoon, can I interest you in a Milano Cookie? Oh yeah, if you don't buy one, I'm TOTALLY coming back!" |
So yeah, that freaked me out in middle school and then I started learning about Nostradamus and fortune tellers who kept on predicting the end of the world. WHY DO THEY KEEP DOING THAT? Seriously, is there some sort of room in the after-life where all the doomsayers are gathered playing some sort of Apocalypse Lottery? What do they get if they win?
"Congratulations Nostro....you win the LAST BOX OF TWINKIES!!!!"
So, in short, look at this:
 |
| I so love the look on this guys face! |
This happened back in either 1988 or 1989. I love the very first line that says,
"... the most amazing thing about today is that it arrived."
My mother cut this out and sent it to me when I was in college. She mailed me many newspaper clippings over the years. My Mom, in fact, most of my family, for that matter, has a GREAT sense of humor!No disrespect for the South Koreans because every culture tends to do this all the time, but I just wonder if this particular guy is still to this day lounging about thinking "what the hell man?"
I'm sure he's probably saying that, but in Korean.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Sick Day...
One of the worst things about taking a sick day from work, other than the whole "being sick" part of it, is how good you tend to feel while you sit home idle, doing nothing.
You sit at work one day coughing "stuff" up and dealing with a runny nose. You're eyes are burning, your lungs are irritated then you get the chills and you have some nausea. It's not stomach bug nausea but it's the whole "what the hell did my sinuses just pass down the back of my throat" type nausea. I'm sorry if that's a bit graphic but it's true. I'm somewhat convinced that ingesting large amounts of mucus is probably not ideal for my stomach! There's that gross "bit graphic" I was referring to before.... My apologies, again...
So, there you are sitting at work dealing with all of the symptoms and having that whole internal battle with yourself of "I'm dying" versus "No you're not it's either allergies or a cold; don't be stupid.... of course you won't know for sure until you either die or you don't!"
And you cave in when you realize that:
That night you take a handful of pills and sprays that some guy you know, who talked to a girl he knows, who just met up someone, who spoke to a pharmacy tech who's studying to be a pharmacist (but really wants to act), recommended for each individual symptom you have, sort of. And now you've just started your very own private rave in your house. At least, it felt that way. You're now exhausted from coughing so much all day but you're FREAKIN' WIRED from all of the meds that are apparently designed to give you enough jitters to simply shake the bad germs out of your system.
You go to bed and stare for a few hours.
Eventually you get up and you know for certain you'll be dead by noon. It's only five am so it probably isn't the best time to start texting or calling a co-worker or two. You wait until 5:15 to tell them. They don't care. More than anything, they're just happy you're staying away from them. They are TOTALLY going to talk about you today and most likely assume you are lying....
You have a cup of coffee to start your day and promptly fall asleep for the best 2 hours of sleep you've had all night. Why did the coffee that usually keeps you up put you to sleep? It's obvious... YOU'RE DYING!!!
When you wake back you feel somewhat refreshed. You go to your favorite chair in the living room and you sit and watch tv for a few hours. And suddenly it dawns on you, "Holy Crap! I feel GREAT!"
You sit there and run that through your head for a bit.... Is this the peaceful feeling before dying? Am I really lying? Did I jitter out all of the bad germs? What was in that coffee?
And then you do what EVERYBODY always does when they are either in denial that something is wrong, embarrassed that they might really be sick or "HAVEN'T GOT TIME TO BE SICK!!!" You start doing stuff... What the hell is your problem?
After about five minutes, you suddenly realize that it was the whole calm before the storm thing and you probably have about 5 minutes to live.
That's when you decide it's time go lay back down and stop blogging .... for five minutes.
You sit at work one day coughing "stuff" up and dealing with a runny nose. You're eyes are burning, your lungs are irritated then you get the chills and you have some nausea. It's not stomach bug nausea but it's the whole "what the hell did my sinuses just pass down the back of my throat" type nausea. I'm sorry if that's a bit graphic but it's true. I'm somewhat convinced that ingesting large amounts of mucus is probably not ideal for my stomach! There's that gross "bit graphic" I was referring to before.... My apologies, again...
So, there you are sitting at work dealing with all of the symptoms and having that whole internal battle with yourself of "I'm dying" versus "No you're not it's either allergies or a cold; don't be stupid.... of course you won't know for sure until you either die or you don't!"
And you cave in when you realize that:
- You feel like hell
- Your productivity is really falling quickly
- Your co-workers don't deserve to have to deal with all of the obnoxious bodily functions of yours that are suddenly in overdrive
- Your co-workers don't need to catch whatever you have if it's catchable
- Your co-workers DON'T WANT YOU THERE
- Yup, you're dying
That night you take a handful of pills and sprays that some guy you know, who talked to a girl he knows, who just met up someone, who spoke to a pharmacy tech who's studying to be a pharmacist (but really wants to act), recommended for each individual symptom you have, sort of. And now you've just started your very own private rave in your house. At least, it felt that way. You're now exhausted from coughing so much all day but you're FREAKIN' WIRED from all of the meds that are apparently designed to give you enough jitters to simply shake the bad germs out of your system.
You go to bed and stare for a few hours.
Eventually you get up and you know for certain you'll be dead by noon. It's only five am so it probably isn't the best time to start texting or calling a co-worker or two. You wait until 5:15 to tell them. They don't care. More than anything, they're just happy you're staying away from them. They are TOTALLY going to talk about you today and most likely assume you are lying....
You have a cup of coffee to start your day and promptly fall asleep for the best 2 hours of sleep you've had all night. Why did the coffee that usually keeps you up put you to sleep? It's obvious... YOU'RE DYING!!!
When you wake back you feel somewhat refreshed. You go to your favorite chair in the living room and you sit and watch tv for a few hours. And suddenly it dawns on you, "Holy Crap! I feel GREAT!"
You sit there and run that through your head for a bit.... Is this the peaceful feeling before dying? Am I really lying? Did I jitter out all of the bad germs? What was in that coffee?
And then you do what EVERYBODY always does when they are either in denial that something is wrong, embarrassed that they might really be sick or "HAVEN'T GOT TIME TO BE SICK!!!" You start doing stuff... What the hell is your problem?
After about five minutes, you suddenly realize that it was the whole calm before the storm thing and you probably have about 5 minutes to live.
That's when you decide it's time go lay back down and stop blogging .... for five minutes.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Sometimes, Rhyming is HARD!
I sat at home and tried to write.
But in my brain there was a fight.
The couch was cozy it just felt right.
What would I do on this here night?
With my laptop sitting by my side
I told myself "I'll write!" I lied.
I stared upon my twinkling keys
and pulled the blanket above my knees.
It felt so good, I felt so warm.
The breeze outside was a chilly swarm.
So I got cozy and planned to write
But instead I pulled that blanket tight.
Above my chest the blanket rose
which complimented the warmth of my clothes.
My laptop sat there all aglow
but my eyelids started getting low.
The puppy watched me from the floor.
She willed me to take her out the door.
I tried to stand but the blanket led
It pulled me back to the couch instead.
As I propped my feet on the couch down there
I felt a pillow brush my hair
I realized I was now reclined.
"This cannot be... I have not dined!"
And so I lay there, warm and cozy
and on tv was my favorite show(zy)
I felt I was starting not to care
For a night to relax is seldom and rare.
So my laundry sat out unwashed and scattered
and dirty dishes by the sink just sat there all splattered.
The puppy gave up and laid on the floor
she had lost all interest in going outside the door.
Cozy in my blanket wrapped like a cocoon
I noticed my laptop had moved across the room.
"How could that be" I stared in wonder
And the blanket got tighter just pulling me under.
My couch was so cozy like a heavenly cloud
I convinced myself reclining was all my blanket allowed.
I had no control in my blankets tight grasp.
I opted to complete not one nightly task!
And so I did nothing I just sat there and stared.
For reclining and relaxing was all that I cared.
So close to two hours I lay there all lazy.
Happily doing nothing while my eyes got all glazy.
I finally broke free of my blankets crude hold.
"But that's all I wanna do" myself I had told.
I let the dog out while I cleared my foggy head.
"I know what I'll do! I'm GOING TO BED!!!"
The puppy came in and I turned off the lights.
I'm sure in her eyes I was a hell of a sight.
And so we curled up in bed at the ripe hour of nine.
"This sure is early" I thought "and that's fine."
More than nine hours of sleep I got in my bed.
I could not believe how clear was my head.
I remembered things like where I put my keys.
I found lost socks and shoes, "oh this is the bees knees!"
Oh, sleep how I've missed you! I feel energized!
Last night I just wanted to curl up and die.
But now I'm all perked, swimming through my house like the fishes.
Then I got to the kitchen "OH CRAP, there's the dishes!"
Now I have much to do, as I did nothing last night.
But It was all I had hoped for, in my blanket so tight.
So it's morning and once again life feels right.
And I have finally managed to focus and write!
Yup, that's all I got for you. I don't want to hear any complaints about "showzy" and "bees knees!!!"
But in my brain there was a fight.
The couch was cozy it just felt right.
What would I do on this here night?
With my laptop sitting by my side
I told myself "I'll write!" I lied.
I stared upon my twinkling keys
and pulled the blanket above my knees.
It felt so good, I felt so warm.
The breeze outside was a chilly swarm.
So I got cozy and planned to write
But instead I pulled that blanket tight.
Above my chest the blanket rose
which complimented the warmth of my clothes.
My laptop sat there all aglow
but my eyelids started getting low.
The puppy watched me from the floor.
She willed me to take her out the door.
I tried to stand but the blanket led
It pulled me back to the couch instead.
As I propped my feet on the couch down there
I felt a pillow brush my hair
I realized I was now reclined.
"This cannot be... I have not dined!"
And so I lay there, warm and cozy
and on tv was my favorite show(zy)
I felt I was starting not to care
For a night to relax is seldom and rare.
So my laundry sat out unwashed and scattered
and dirty dishes by the sink just sat there all splattered.
The puppy gave up and laid on the floor
she had lost all interest in going outside the door.
Cozy in my blanket wrapped like a cocoon
I noticed my laptop had moved across the room.
"How could that be" I stared in wonder
And the blanket got tighter just pulling me under.
My couch was so cozy like a heavenly cloud
I convinced myself reclining was all my blanket allowed.
I had no control in my blankets tight grasp.
I opted to complete not one nightly task!
And so I did nothing I just sat there and stared.
For reclining and relaxing was all that I cared.
So close to two hours I lay there all lazy.
Happily doing nothing while my eyes got all glazy.
I finally broke free of my blankets crude hold.
"But that's all I wanna do" myself I had told.
I let the dog out while I cleared my foggy head.
"I know what I'll do! I'm GOING TO BED!!!"
The puppy came in and I turned off the lights.
I'm sure in her eyes I was a hell of a sight.
And so we curled up in bed at the ripe hour of nine.
"This sure is early" I thought "and that's fine."
More than nine hours of sleep I got in my bed.
I could not believe how clear was my head.
I remembered things like where I put my keys.
I found lost socks and shoes, "oh this is the bees knees!"
Oh, sleep how I've missed you! I feel energized!
Last night I just wanted to curl up and die.
But now I'm all perked, swimming through my house like the fishes.
Then I got to the kitchen "OH CRAP, there's the dishes!"
Now I have much to do, as I did nothing last night.
But It was all I had hoped for, in my blanket so tight.
So it's morning and once again life feels right.
And I have finally managed to focus and write!
Yup, that's all I got for you. I don't want to hear any complaints about "showzy" and "bees knees!!!"
Friday, December 7, 2012
"Swine Job" Part III
Yes, this became a three part story. Part 1; Part 2
Yes, I am amazed at how much I've had to say about this.
No, you're not a bad person if you gave up already.
However, I promise you that you will be thoroughly entertained closer to the end of this particular post thus making it all worth it.
To recap, NINETEEN YEARS AGO:
The first "worst day" I had was when I came walking out of the kitchen, during the lunch rush, covered in a coat of my glistening pig balm (I'm tired of typing "fat") carrying a tray of chop when I saw three of my former co-workers just staring at me in awe. I had never told them where I was working after that day I was "mysteriously" let go. I did not want them to know how low I had fallen.
They did not know what to say, but I could tell by the looks on their faces that they did in fact know how far I had fallen. They just smiled politely all wide eyed and confused and simply said "hi."
I fell lower. I can only hope that they saw me in my lowness, learned from my pain and never missed a day of work ever ever again!!!
The second worst day and the day I tried to get myself fired was just an intense and stressful day in the barbecue world. It was... A Sunday!!! Everyone comes by after church lets out. So, by noon we're busy, by one we're swamped and by two, we're just lucky if we can keep up.
It was on this day that the manager straight out of college who didn't handle pressure well (mentioned in Part 2) snapped. And I snapped right back at him.
I was in the kitchen alone trying to chop ham as fast as I could and turn it into fat free fat laden chop. Out front the cashiers were taking orders as fast as they could. I felt like they were messing with me.
The manager kept coming in to check on me, criticizing my speed in my 100+ degree kitchen but refused to offer any help. I resented that just a bit.
It was not a big restaurant and although the kitchen was hardly visible from the dining area, you could hear everything going on in there throughout the building. So, every employee and customer knew that the service was slow and that the manager was blaming the one guy in the kitchen.
As if to get his point across more clearly, the manager got onto the intercom and announced over the store p.a. "we need more chop from the kitchen please" only seconds after walking away from me. My blood was boiling. I immediately brought out what I had ready. As I was putting the tray into the serving bin for the food prep folks, the manager got back on the intercom, standing maybe three feet away from me, looking at me and announced again over the p.a. "we need MORE chop!"
This is when I snapped.
See, this wasn't my career choice by any means. I was actually working this job whilst fulfilling my internship at a television station; a station which had mentioned to me that that may hire me in a month when my internship ended. In fact, a month later they did hire me (sort of) and I ended up working there for the next thirteen years. I say sort of, because the guy who hired me never told me that he had hired me. He just started putting me on the schedule and never thought to inform me of such. About two weeks later I called the station to thank my internship advisor who's first words on the phone with me were "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? THEY'RE GOING TO FIRE YOU IF YOU DON'T COME IN TODAY" to which I replied "What, I was hired? I never even applied?"
Anyway, I could have cared less about the barbecue job. I had only stuck it out so long because of my new found work ethic. I HATED THIS JOB!!! I had tried so hard to respect it, but at that very moment, I hated it enough to do this:
That's me re-enacting what I pretty much yelled as I walked back into the kitchen to make more chop. Oh yes, everybody in the restaurant could hear me as I called for the piggie and oinked back to myself a downright cute and precious little piggie response. As I slammed the cleaver on the chopping block and made little piggie screams I felt a warmth in my heart like no other.
Eventually, shortly after the piggie screams started, the manager came running into the kitchen and skidded across the floor as he slipped in pig fat... "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!" He enthusiastically enquired in a panicked furor.
"I'M GETTIN' YOU MORE CHOP BOSS MAN" I replied followed by a few more cleaver thumps and piggie screams.........
I was sent home to think about what I had done.
I still think about it to this very day.
They actually did not fire me or take any action against me other than to send me home that day, which is honestly all I really wanted. In fact, they asked me to stay on after I graduated in a few months. I politely told them "NO!!!."
I had learned that summer that as an employee you should not take any job for granted. Likewise, I also learned that as an employer, you should not take your employees for granted. In that one year I seriously grew up so much... no... seriously!
The next job I had was in my chosen career and when I left that job thirteen years later it was for personal growth and on good terms (I hope).
I still cannot eat at my former barbecue restaurant even though they're still around.
I do make really good barbecue though. I think it's because I talk so nicely to my piggies!
Yes, I am amazed at how much I've had to say about this.
No, you're not a bad person if you gave up already.
However, I promise you that you will be thoroughly entertained closer to the end of this particular post thus making it all worth it.
To recap, NINETEEN YEARS AGO:
- I had a part time job in college
- I didn't like it
- I did not respect it
- I was out "sick" often
- I was let go
- They didn't tell me why
- I can assume why
- Out of desperation, I took a job as a cook in a fast food barbecue joint
- It was awful
- I hated that job too
- I learned a lesson
The first "worst day" I had was when I came walking out of the kitchen, during the lunch rush, covered in a coat of my glistening pig balm (I'm tired of typing "fat") carrying a tray of chop when I saw three of my former co-workers just staring at me in awe. I had never told them where I was working after that day I was "mysteriously" let go. I did not want them to know how low I had fallen.
They did not know what to say, but I could tell by the looks on their faces that they did in fact know how far I had fallen. They just smiled politely all wide eyed and confused and simply said "hi."
I fell lower. I can only hope that they saw me in my lowness, learned from my pain and never missed a day of work ever ever again!!!
The second worst day and the day I tried to get myself fired was just an intense and stressful day in the barbecue world. It was... A Sunday!!! Everyone comes by after church lets out. So, by noon we're busy, by one we're swamped and by two, we're just lucky if we can keep up.
It was on this day that the manager straight out of college who didn't handle pressure well (mentioned in Part 2) snapped. And I snapped right back at him.
I was in the kitchen alone trying to chop ham as fast as I could and turn it into fat free fat laden chop. Out front the cashiers were taking orders as fast as they could. I felt like they were messing with me.
The manager kept coming in to check on me, criticizing my speed in my 100+ degree kitchen but refused to offer any help. I resented that just a bit.
It was not a big restaurant and although the kitchen was hardly visible from the dining area, you could hear everything going on in there throughout the building. So, every employee and customer knew that the service was slow and that the manager was blaming the one guy in the kitchen.
As if to get his point across more clearly, the manager got onto the intercom and announced over the store p.a. "we need more chop from the kitchen please" only seconds after walking away from me. My blood was boiling. I immediately brought out what I had ready. As I was putting the tray into the serving bin for the food prep folks, the manager got back on the intercom, standing maybe three feet away from me, looking at me and announced again over the p.a. "we need MORE chop!"
This is when I snapped.
See, this wasn't my career choice by any means. I was actually working this job whilst fulfilling my internship at a television station; a station which had mentioned to me that that may hire me in a month when my internship ended. In fact, a month later they did hire me (sort of) and I ended up working there for the next thirteen years. I say sort of, because the guy who hired me never told me that he had hired me. He just started putting me on the schedule and never thought to inform me of such. About two weeks later I called the station to thank my internship advisor who's first words on the phone with me were "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? THEY'RE GOING TO FIRE YOU IF YOU DON'T COME IN TODAY" to which I replied "What, I was hired? I never even applied?"
Anyway, I could have cared less about the barbecue job. I had only stuck it out so long because of my new found work ethic. I HATED THIS JOB!!! I had tried so hard to respect it, but at that very moment, I hated it enough to do this:
I hope the pictures make this so much cuter!
I was not in a good place.
That's me re-enacting what I pretty much yelled as I walked back into the kitchen to make more chop. Oh yes, everybody in the restaurant could hear me as I called for the piggie and oinked back to myself a downright cute and precious little piggie response. As I slammed the cleaver on the chopping block and made little piggie screams I felt a warmth in my heart like no other.
Eventually, shortly after the piggie screams started, the manager came running into the kitchen and skidded across the floor as he slipped in pig fat... "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!" He enthusiastically enquired in a panicked furor.
"I'M GETTIN' YOU MORE CHOP BOSS MAN" I replied followed by a few more cleaver thumps and piggie screams.........
I was sent home to think about what I had done.
I still think about it to this very day.
They actually did not fire me or take any action against me other than to send me home that day, which is honestly all I really wanted. In fact, they asked me to stay on after I graduated in a few months. I politely told them "NO!!!."
I had learned that summer that as an employee you should not take any job for granted. Likewise, I also learned that as an employer, you should not take your employees for granted. In that one year I seriously grew up so much... no... seriously!
The next job I had was in my chosen career and when I left that job thirteen years later it was for personal growth and on good terms (I hope).
I still cannot eat at my former barbecue restaurant even though they're still around.
I do make really good barbecue though. I think it's because I talk so nicely to my piggies!
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
"Swine Job" Part II
In a recent post I told you about how in 1992 I took a lackluster job printing for a large business. It was something like being Michael J. Fox working in the mail room in the movie Secret of My Success in that it was absolutely nothing like that, but I liked to think of myself as Michael J. Fox whenever I was at work; that was my "happy place."
I wasn't at work as often as I should have been.
Now, much to my chagrin, in that "job" where five of us did the job of one and we took turns each day with one of us working and the rest of us not, I was very bored and unsatisfied. I was absent, quite frequently. I justified my absences in that I wasn't goofing off, I was probably working somewhere else and I only called in on the days I wasn't supposed to be working. I mean, yeah, I should have been at work, but as I mentioned before, just because we were at work, it didn't mean we were "working."
Also, I will remind you that this was a "budgeted" position that tied up money for this company until they found somewhere better to use it.
With all of that, I could completely justify my slack attitude, but in all honesty and hindsight, I handled it irresponsibly, I took it for granted and did not appreciate how lucky I was to have a job that worked with my school schedule.
Sooooo, after, nine months of me calling in sick roughly 4 times a month, I was "let go." I like to think that it was because they finally found a purpose for my income and since I was the last hired I was the first. However, it was most likely the absence thing. Honestly, they never told me. I got to work one morning (after an unscheduled day off) and the only other person in the office told me "We have to let you go. We'll mail you your check." They did. It was short one day. To this day, I do not know if I was fired or laid off.
Regardless, I had learned a valuable life lesson in that I have since opted to respect all aspects of a legitimate job and not abuse my workplace (or co-workers). The rude awakening really helped me grow up and build a work ethic fast... granted, it took some time to sink in.
I then spent two weeks unemployed and I have not had two weeks off since that time back in 1993.
By the end of those two weeks, I had become desperate and was willing to take any job out there. I did just that.
Now, here's where I point out how much I hate the whole "twisting the knife" thing that happens sometimes. You know where you screw up, get punished and then someone (perhaps your sister) keeps reminding you and everyone how much you screwed up and ergo they drag out your suffering for a bit.
Well, that is EXACTLY what fate had in store for me.
As if to drive home how much I had screwed up a good "cushy" job, the only job I could find next was as a cook in a fast food barbecue restaurant. I'm not knocking either fast food or barbecue jobs, but if you put them together in one place... well, that's what I'm knocking!!!
The interview was odd at best. It was as if I had walked into an Über Christian cult homestead (you decide what that looks like for yourself) with sky blue walls and people in sky blue and white suits walking around talking very softly. It was the kind of room where you'd expect to find a Jim Bakker type curled up in a ball crying, next to a Jessica Hahn type. Also there was Christian and Confederate literature on a counter by the front door.
Outside the door it was the smokey parking lot of a barbecue restaurant. Inside the door, it was all that in the last paragraph, plus some sort of joyful noise elevator music being played throughout the office. It made me dizzy trying to comprehend it all, but I didn't care. I needed a job!
I got the job.
They assigned me to a "Store" not too far from my residence and they taught me the basics. Pretty much I shoveled hot cinders out from the bottom of a fire box and put those cinders into the bottom of one of three ovens. The three ovens were all built together with the firebox. It was all really well done. Each oven had I think four racks that could hold something like 3 to 4 hams and had doors that were six to eight inches thick. Flames from the top of the fire box rushed over the top of each oven. So there was hot cinders at the bottom and fire at the top cooking the hams from both sides.
This was good stuff! And the hickory smoke smelled good.... for about a day. Eventually everything I owned smelled like smoked hickory. Great when you're hanging with the guys. Bad way to find a date.
I do not recall how long we slow roasted these things, but when they were ready, the meat would literally fall off the bone. Then I was trained to carefully cut away all the fat and then chop up all the meat. From then on it was referred to as chop. I learned to hate chop!
Oh yeah, we even advertised that we cut out the fat but after a few weeks on the job I was informed by my manager, and personally by the owner, to stop cutting out the fat. Soooo, the fat stayed in.
Did you ever see that scene in Carrie where she had all of that "stuff" dumped on her at the prom? Well, here is a bad rendition of it. I felt like that every day. Not that I was covered in pig blood, but the fat. SO. MUCH. FAT!!! Seriously, I looked like I was trying to tap into my Italian roots my hair was so slicked back by the end of the day. I do that intentionally some days, but not with pig fat. It was awful.
This was a family owned business and the owners daughter was our assistant manager. She was a very nice lady as I recall. I think she resented that other men were hired to be managers above her, but these were guys with Business Degrees straight out of college. I'm not kidding. Manager's had to have a college degree. However, they weren't family so they rotated a lot.
We had one manager who was remarkably passionate about the place. It was as though he had been brain washed to worship this place. However, he didn't handle stress well and one day, he pushed me hard. I'll get to that part later; essentially, I snapped and did one of the funniest things I've ever done in the work place and to this day I am amazed I did not get fired (again, later)!
We had another assistant manager who totally sexually harassed me. I was 100% A OK with this! Kinda... She was a temptress and as country as the day is long (I don't what/ if that means anything, but it sounds country). She was a little farmers daughter cutey and if she ever needed me to do something for her, she would catch me in the freezer, corner me and flirt. She was married and absolutely nothing ever happened, but damned if I could resist doing her favors. I'd get cornered and suddenly I was unloading pickles from shelves.... I dunno... She might've been a Jedi. Maybe she liked her men slathered up in pig fat?
There were also a few college kids like me. We were all very confused and broken.
Now I must say, I was equally inspired and confused by the man who managed the kitchen. He was a black man and was in his fifty's. He had been in the south his entire life and had grown up during the civil rights movement. He had seen the worst of human prejudice and had lived through a time that I can never understand. He had dealt with a pain that I am blessed to have never dealt with. As much as I could empathize with him, I could never truly comprehend how he grew from his experiences.
Working in this kitchen, that I hated so, was his greatest accomplishment. As he would say it, "Look at me look at me... when I was just a boy I wasn't allowed to come in the restaurant. I could only order from the back door. But now... now I manage the kitchen! Look at me look at me. Thank you Lord!" I could never forget that. His joy was the only thing that helped me stay focused in what I thought was an awful job. To him it was a Major Victory. He was David and this place was Goliath.
I would honestly think that in that situation I would want nothing to do with the place. I would leave it alone and let it rot. But not him. He needed his victory and his victory would hopefully inspire someone and heal old wounds. It inspired me and I know that I could never truly understand his perspective, but I respected it.
And that was the only serious thing I ever felt in this job. But I tried my best to display an ethic. I only worked there for one summer and I never called in sick once... but I hated every day.
And once again, I have spouted off too much and must give you a break. I am sorry that this has become a three parter, but I promise you that it is worth it... I'm going to try something new in my next post.
Try to contain your excitement!!!
I wasn't at work as often as I should have been.
Now, much to my chagrin, in that "job" where five of us did the job of one and we took turns each day with one of us working and the rest of us not, I was very bored and unsatisfied. I was absent, quite frequently. I justified my absences in that I wasn't goofing off, I was probably working somewhere else and I only called in on the days I wasn't supposed to be working. I mean, yeah, I should have been at work, but as I mentioned before, just because we were at work, it didn't mean we were "working."
Also, I will remind you that this was a "budgeted" position that tied up money for this company until they found somewhere better to use it.
With all of that, I could completely justify my slack attitude, but in all honesty and hindsight, I handled it irresponsibly, I took it for granted and did not appreciate how lucky I was to have a job that worked with my school schedule.
Sooooo, after, nine months of me calling in sick roughly 4 times a month, I was "let go." I like to think that it was because they finally found a purpose for my income and since I was the last hired I was the first. However, it was most likely the absence thing. Honestly, they never told me. I got to work one morning (after an unscheduled day off) and the only other person in the office told me "We have to let you go. We'll mail you your check." They did. It was short one day. To this day, I do not know if I was fired or laid off.
Regardless, I had learned a valuable life lesson in that I have since opted to respect all aspects of a legitimate job and not abuse my workplace (or co-workers). The rude awakening really helped me grow up and build a work ethic fast... granted, it took some time to sink in.
I then spent two weeks unemployed and I have not had two weeks off since that time back in 1993.
By the end of those two weeks, I had become desperate and was willing to take any job out there. I did just that.
Now, here's where I point out how much I hate the whole "twisting the knife" thing that happens sometimes. You know where you screw up, get punished and then someone (perhaps your sister) keeps reminding you and everyone how much you screwed up and ergo they drag out your suffering for a bit.
Well, that is EXACTLY what fate had in store for me.
As if to drive home how much I had screwed up a good "cushy" job, the only job I could find next was as a cook in a fast food barbecue restaurant. I'm not knocking either fast food or barbecue jobs, but if you put them together in one place... well, that's what I'm knocking!!!
The interview was odd at best. It was as if I had walked into an Über Christian cult homestead (you decide what that looks like for yourself) with sky blue walls and people in sky blue and white suits walking around talking very softly. It was the kind of room where you'd expect to find a Jim Bakker type curled up in a ball crying, next to a Jessica Hahn type. Also there was Christian and Confederate literature on a counter by the front door.
Outside the door it was the smokey parking lot of a barbecue restaurant. Inside the door, it was all that in the last paragraph, plus some sort of joyful noise elevator music being played throughout the office. It made me dizzy trying to comprehend it all, but I didn't care. I needed a job!
I got the job.
They assigned me to a "Store" not too far from my residence and they taught me the basics. Pretty much I shoveled hot cinders out from the bottom of a fire box and put those cinders into the bottom of one of three ovens. The three ovens were all built together with the firebox. It was all really well done. Each oven had I think four racks that could hold something like 3 to 4 hams and had doors that were six to eight inches thick. Flames from the top of the fire box rushed over the top of each oven. So there was hot cinders at the bottom and fire at the top cooking the hams from both sides.
This was good stuff! And the hickory smoke smelled good.... for about a day. Eventually everything I owned smelled like smoked hickory. Great when you're hanging with the guys. Bad way to find a date.
I do not recall how long we slow roasted these things, but when they were ready, the meat would literally fall off the bone. Then I was trained to carefully cut away all the fat and then chop up all the meat. From then on it was referred to as chop. I learned to hate chop!
Oh yeah, we even advertised that we cut out the fat but after a few weeks on the job I was informed by my manager, and personally by the owner, to stop cutting out the fat. Soooo, the fat stayed in.
Did you ever see that scene in Carrie where she had all of that "stuff" dumped on her at the prom? Well, here is a bad rendition of it. I felt like that every day. Not that I was covered in pig blood, but the fat. SO. MUCH. FAT!!! Seriously, I looked like I was trying to tap into my Italian roots my hair was so slicked back by the end of the day. I do that intentionally some days, but not with pig fat. It was awful.
This was a family owned business and the owners daughter was our assistant manager. She was a very nice lady as I recall. I think she resented that other men were hired to be managers above her, but these were guys with Business Degrees straight out of college. I'm not kidding. Manager's had to have a college degree. However, they weren't family so they rotated a lot.
We had one manager who was remarkably passionate about the place. It was as though he had been brain washed to worship this place. However, he didn't handle stress well and one day, he pushed me hard. I'll get to that part later; essentially, I snapped and did one of the funniest things I've ever done in the work place and to this day I am amazed I did not get fired (again, later)!
We had another assistant manager who totally sexually harassed me. I was 100% A OK with this! Kinda... She was a temptress and as country as the day is long (I don't what/ if that means anything, but it sounds country). She was a little farmers daughter cutey and if she ever needed me to do something for her, she would catch me in the freezer, corner me and flirt. She was married and absolutely nothing ever happened, but damned if I could resist doing her favors. I'd get cornered and suddenly I was unloading pickles from shelves.... I dunno... She might've been a Jedi. Maybe she liked her men slathered up in pig fat?
There were also a few college kids like me. We were all very confused and broken.
Now I must say, I was equally inspired and confused by the man who managed the kitchen. He was a black man and was in his fifty's. He had been in the south his entire life and had grown up during the civil rights movement. He had seen the worst of human prejudice and had lived through a time that I can never understand. He had dealt with a pain that I am blessed to have never dealt with. As much as I could empathize with him, I could never truly comprehend how he grew from his experiences.
Working in this kitchen, that I hated so, was his greatest accomplishment. As he would say it, "Look at me look at me... when I was just a boy I wasn't allowed to come in the restaurant. I could only order from the back door. But now... now I manage the kitchen! Look at me look at me. Thank you Lord!" I could never forget that. His joy was the only thing that helped me stay focused in what I thought was an awful job. To him it was a Major Victory. He was David and this place was Goliath.
I would honestly think that in that situation I would want nothing to do with the place. I would leave it alone and let it rot. But not him. He needed his victory and his victory would hopefully inspire someone and heal old wounds. It inspired me and I know that I could never truly understand his perspective, but I respected it.
And that was the only serious thing I ever felt in this job. But I tried my best to display an ethic. I only worked there for one summer and I never called in sick once... but I hated every day.
And once again, I have spouted off too much and must give you a break. I am sorry that this has become a three parter, but I promise you that it is worth it... I'm going to try something new in my next post.
Try to contain your excitement!!!
Monday, December 3, 2012
The more I try, the more I have to do....
You know how you don't want to touch any of your wood furniture for fear that you'll make a cleans spot and then you'll have to clean all of the dust off of of everything? The same goes with making a clean square foot on your child's bedroom floor.
It often simply doesn't seem worth the effort. If you make one clean spot then the rest looks messy and altogether crappy and then you have to do work.
So, I raked my yard yesterday.
The leaves were like four to six inches deep in my backyard thanks to the two pecan trees and one pine in the back, plus an uncountable amount of azaleas and other weeds that have grown into full blown shrubs!
I started the backyard at 7:30 am and raked 14 massive piles. The spaces between the piles looked FABULOUS!!! As long as the piles were still there.
Honestly, I thought my yard looked great before raking. I like walking through the thick leaves on the ground. It feels as though I am walking through the forest on a cool fall day. But, as it is my yard (and not a forest) and I have neighbors, I had to rake.
I loaded each pile into my garbage can and rolled them out to the curb in my front yard. I managed to get 1.5 to 2.5 piles into each load. I made a pile that was initially 4-5 feet tall in spots and over 10 feet long. I say initially because once the leaves settled after a few hours, the pile was down to about 3 feet high.
Upon finishing removing all the piles, I surveyed my handiwork. My yard now looks trashy to me. There are small leaves casually strewn across my yard now. These were the stragglers that slipped out and got away during my work. It's too much to go back and get them and I don't own a lawn vacuum; yes, they make those.
So, now I can see the trashy leaves on my grass, whereas before all I saw was a thick bed of leaves and no grass. The grass I do see now is browning and not necessarily a consistent pretty green. Of course there are green splotches, but that simply adds to the now trashy look I have created for myself.
It's heartbreaking I tell you.
The front yard was just coated in a light dusting of oak leaves and the occasional magnolia leaf. I used my lawn mower to suck up most of those leaves and redistribute what it could not catch. No, a blower is not an option for me.
So, I raked my yard to make it better. Now it looks worse to me although I am sure it is better off. On top of this, I am sore and I have blisters on my hands because, perhaps I am a big Nancy boy....
I walked into my house broken, sore, exhausted and distraught and saw some toys on my daughters bedroom floor and some clothes on her bed. I left them there. They looked fine the way they were. god knows what I'll find underneath them...
It often simply doesn't seem worth the effort. If you make one clean spot then the rest looks messy and altogether crappy and then you have to do work.
So, I raked my yard yesterday.
The leaves were like four to six inches deep in my backyard thanks to the two pecan trees and one pine in the back, plus an uncountable amount of azaleas and other weeds that have grown into full blown shrubs!
I started the backyard at 7:30 am and raked 14 massive piles. The spaces between the piles looked FABULOUS!!! As long as the piles were still there.
Honestly, I thought my yard looked great before raking. I like walking through the thick leaves on the ground. It feels as though I am walking through the forest on a cool fall day. But, as it is my yard (and not a forest) and I have neighbors, I had to rake.
I loaded each pile into my garbage can and rolled them out to the curb in my front yard. I managed to get 1.5 to 2.5 piles into each load. I made a pile that was initially 4-5 feet tall in spots and over 10 feet long. I say initially because once the leaves settled after a few hours, the pile was down to about 3 feet high.
Upon finishing removing all the piles, I surveyed my handiwork. My yard now looks trashy to me. There are small leaves casually strewn across my yard now. These were the stragglers that slipped out and got away during my work. It's too much to go back and get them and I don't own a lawn vacuum; yes, they make those.
So, now I can see the trashy leaves on my grass, whereas before all I saw was a thick bed of leaves and no grass. The grass I do see now is browning and not necessarily a consistent pretty green. Of course there are green splotches, but that simply adds to the now trashy look I have created for myself.
It's heartbreaking I tell you.
The front yard was just coated in a light dusting of oak leaves and the occasional magnolia leaf. I used my lawn mower to suck up most of those leaves and redistribute what it could not catch. No, a blower is not an option for me.
So, I raked my yard to make it better. Now it looks worse to me although I am sure it is better off. On top of this, I am sore and I have blisters on my hands because, perhaps I am a big Nancy boy....
I walked into my house broken, sore, exhausted and distraught and saw some toys on my daughters bedroom floor and some clothes on her bed. I left them there. They looked fine the way they were. god knows what I'll find underneath them...
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