Two pieces of good news:
And now, for no apparent reason, here’s a picture of me and my parents, circa 1981 or so:
From 1996 until 1998, I experienced the best and worst fast-food scenarios possible during my tenure as a part-time perky drive-thru girl at Burger King. I didn’t always love it while I had the job, but sometimes I look back and wish I still had a job like that. Hindsight, of course, is 20/20, but here are some pros and cons:
Pros
Cons
That last part was the worst. Because, see, I really was actually very good at what I did there, and it would really upset me when people had been unclear or forgot what they ordered and then complained to my manager about something. And, as those of you who work in a service industry surely know, people generally only take the time to give feedback when they’re angry about something. It was really hard to be positive to customers sometimes when it seemed like every fourth person who came through my line expected me to be an idiot and mess things up, and treated me accordingly.
How often have you sought out a manager or supervisor to tell her that you had a fantastic experience with your cashier/customer service rep/bank teller/waiter that day? How often have you complained about poor service or bad attitude from any of those people?
I’m guilty of it too. Sometimes it’s more important to us to air our grievances than it is to give proper praise for a job well done.
Today I discovered that something funky was going on with my cell phone’s voice mail, and I called the toll-free customer service number for Verizon Wireless to report the problem and to see if it could be fixed.
It ended up taking a little while to discover the source of my problem, and during that time, my CS rep, Frances, was absolutely fantastic. She apologized for making me wait on hold even for brief moments, and while I was on the line with her and she was trying to figure out the problem, she engaged me in conversation about the area where I live (she had once lived near here, as a small girl) and was just really friendly and pleasant and helpful the entire time. And I told her so, and thanked her, at the end of our conversation.
Frances had to transfer me to a technician, Tom, who needed to change something about the programming on my phone in order to fix the problem. I was only on the phone with Tom for a brief time, but during that time, he was every bit as helpful and friendly as Frances had been. And then, at the end of our conversation, he told me that he wanted me to take down his direct office number, and that if I had further problems of this nature, I should call him directly so that he could fix them right away.
Needless to say, I was beyond impressed. And I’m writing a letter to their office (and copying the division president) and letting them know they have at least two completely awesome employees working for them.
I feel good because I had such a nice experience with them, and I also feel good because I’m going to do all I can to make sure that someone knows those two are doing a great job.
I really encourage all of you to take the time to let someone know when you’ve had a really great business experience with someone. I think maybe if we all did it a little bit more, we could help those people feel good about what they do, and we’d all have more positive experiences as a result.
There’s your fuzzy thought. Have a great weekend.
Last night, we were all sitting around in the living room babbling about random stuff, like we do, and while Mom and Ginny and Jamie and I were talking, Sam kept trying to break in with something she had to say.
“Guys. Guys. Guys. Listen. Guys. Listen. Guys. Guys,” she kept saying. This is a typical attention-getting method at my house – we’re talkers, and we always talk all over each other, and you’ve got to bust in if you’re going to get to say something before you forget it entirely, or the moment has passed.
Finally we notice that she’s talking, and we’re like, “Okay, WHAT?” thinking that she must have something important to say since she hadn’t given up yet. So we gave her our full attention, and after all that buildup, here’s what she says:
“Think about how awesome it would be to be a fetus.”
So we all crack up, like “you went through all that just to tell us THAT?” and she’s like “no, no, seriously. You get to swim around all day, you don’t have to worry about eating or pooping, you don’t have to do anything, the only person you have to worry about is your mom. That would be awesome.”
She had clearly been considering this very carefully during the entire time that we were all jabbering about some random topic or another. And, you know, we decided that she does have a point.
It’s times like these that I again vow to buy a tiny tape recorder and carry it with me at all times so I can transcribe these conversations for your reading pleasure. I fear I don’t quite capture their hilarity when paraphrasing.
And, seriously, it seems like everyone I know is buying a house, getting married, having a baby, or going through some other major life change. This morning I arrived at work to find an email from an old high school friend who is both a)having a baby and b)graduating from medical school this year. Sometimes it makes me feel like I’m really behind on life-building or whatever.
Anyway. Also, yesterday I received The Secret of NIMH from Netflix, and I was so insanely excited about it that I started watching it last night before I went to bed. As a child, I loved this movie, but was also terrified by it. It’s been years and years since I saw it, and I only got about twenty minutes into it last night before going to sleep, so I don’t remember exactly why it frightened me so much when I was little, but I’ll get back to you on that.
Oh – also, no one else in my family was nearly as excited about this as I was. I seriously thought my sisters would be all freaked out about it too, so before Sam got home last night I was all, “Ginny, Ginny, Ginny, guess what I got on Netflix?” and she asked what, and I’m like, “THE SECRET OF NIMH!” and Ginny’s flat response was, “Yeah, I’m not really a fan.”
So I was all hurt and bummed out.
And then when Sammi got home, I did it again – “Hey Sam, hey Sam, guess what I got on Netflix?” and she asked what, and I’m like, “THE SECRET OF NIMH!” and Sam says, “What? I’ve never heard of that.”
So of course everyone in my family laughs at me, and Ginny tells Sam that it’s the movie about the sick field mouse and the crazy smart rats and Sammi goes, “OH, yeah, I remember that!” and I’m like “Isn’t it AWESOME?!” and she says, “Yeah, but it’s called The Secret of Nymph, you retard.”
Which allowed Sammi to be the butt of all jokes as Ginny says, “Well, maybe the porn version is called The Secret of Nymph,” and Mom and I both tell Sam that NIMH actually stands for something, but we just can’t remember what it is.
Who’s the retard now, SAMMI?
On Saturday, I went with the band I’m teaching to a competition – the first I’ve attended with them since I took that job. If I had known about the hospitality tent, I’d have gone to every competition this season.
See, judges and band staff have access to the hospitality tent which, in this case, included a buffet line full of food and snacks – soups, sandwiches, vegetable trays, baked goods, sodas, coffee, and hot chocolate – and all completely free.
That, my friends, is awesome.
You can tell I’m not quite grown up, because the prospect of free food practically sends me into fits of enthusiasm. I’m also big on official-looking things like name tags and field passes. I had a STAFF name tag on Saturday and I could do whatever I wanted to and no one said anything to me. Actually, one time on my way into the stadium someone stopped me and asked to see my hand stamp, and then was like “Oh, you’re STAFF – sorry!” and I was like, “This is awesome.”
It’s like being a celebrity except totally not at all.
This weekend will be even cooler because I am judging a competition, so not only do I get access to the hospitality tent, but I’ll also get a JUDGE name tag and I can go into the press box. WOO, press box! Oh, and I get to make tapes for everyone, being all like “Good afternoon, Rydell High School, and welcome to the Blah Blah Invitational. I’m Lorie LastName and I’ll be judging auxiliary units today. Blah.” Et cetera. Oh yeah, and I get paid. Score.
Okay, so back to Saturday. So I was STAFF then, and at the end of the competition, all the field captains and STAFF people go down to the field for the awards ceremony. The field captains stand on the sideline looking all official and solemn, and the STAFF people stand behind them and make fun of stuff. Being STAFF is definitely an ace job.
As the PA person began to announce the awards, we kept hearing this noise that sounded like someone had a radio on somewhere near the microphone. It happened a few times, and we all kind of looked around, and no one really said anything.
Then one time, right after the announcer spoke, we heard this very loud and clear:
This is the time when you need to get right with God.
The announcer explained that they were picking up feedback from somewhere, and apologized. But it kept happening. It was some sort of sermon on what I assume is a Christian radio station, and we were endlessly entertained by break-ins about “the Truth, the Way, and the Light” and “moral fiber” and other such awesome quotes, often coming at completely coincidental and eerily appropriate places in the awards ceremony. The field captains struggled to stay at attention. The STAFF people openly cried with laughter, and made lots of inappropriate jokes like “This awards ceremony has been brought to you by our Lord and Savior. Do not argue with the results or He will SMITE YOU.”
It was quite a day.
Man, it’s been a busy week. I’m pretty deadly tired and I can’t wait until I can catch up on some sleep.
Monday night was supposed to be the night I had rehearsal for my hobby job, but I was pretty much the only person besides the director who showed up. So that sucked, and they really need a rehearsal this week, so I have to go back tomorrow night and do that. So since I didn’t have rehearsal after all, I drove over to our high school to see Sammi and her friends play in the powder puff football game.
Powder puff was a big deal this year. The seniors recruited like forty girls to be on their team. They had lots of practices, positions, plays, uniforms – the whole deal. The junior girls? Not so much. But they still put up a good fight, mainly because little Kimmy can run like the wind. It was also a big deal in our family, because my dad was a great football player in high school, always regretted not following through for college, and always wanted a son or two to carry on the tradition.
Instead, he got four girls.
So this was his chance to have a football player. It was supposed to be flag football, but there was way more tackling going on than flag-grabbing. The game was good, but since Sammi and her friend Holly accidentally tripped over a girl and hurt her at the end of the game, Sam says they’ll probably never have another powder puff game there. That girl will be okay, by the way. It’s not a terrible injury.
Yesterday I had to rush production on a brochure, and whipping out the copy was insane, but I did it. And then I went to volleyball, and then home.
Today I’ve had meetings, and physical therapy, where at least they went easy on me. I’ve managed to do something to make one of my shoulders flare up and it’s been in a lot of pain, and I haven’t been to PT since I was sick a couple of weeks ago because I’m scatterbrained and kept forgetting to make an appointment. But I’m back on track now.
I’m tired. I just slammed back an entire bottle of Berry Propel and now I really, really have to pee. I’ve said it before – Propel is probably called that because it propels the pee right out of you.
Oh, and my nose itches. Like, a lot.
