There Will Be A Test.

I've always been slow. Tagged by Margie & Edna, here are 7 useless facts about yours truly.

1. I am so tall, my seat belt hits me in the face.

2. More often than not, I pretend I am with a group of people to safely cross streets/parking lots.

3. I have been beeped at.

4. I bowled weekly for 13 years and am still mediocre.

5. My favorite baseball team is the New York Mets.

6. I want to wave at other Cavaliers, as motorcyclists do.

7. I could live happily off of pizza and orange juice.

Tagging (optional!) Mature Not Senile, Blanca DeBree, ReenaShwina, The Commentator, and Funtional Shmunctional.

Go, Go, Gadget iTunes

I'm a big fan of simplicity—not to be confused with laziness. A friend introduced me to GimmeSomeTune, and I would be lost without it. Simple keystrokes control my iTunes without having to click all the way down on my dock and opening the application.

N.Y.P.D. Pizza was excellent, though.

On Tuesday I had the pleasure of taking a school funded trip to Philadelphia. I was excited. Apparently, I considered Philly to be an alternate universe. I bought new shorts, loaded up my iPod, and even had to consider which cell phone I wanted to bring. I also made sure I had extra rolls of film. I packed everything inconspicuously, and tried my best not to look like a tourist.




I decided to forgo the complimentary attractions they had lined out for us. Navigating the city myself would obviously be more eventful. I get lost inside of shopping malls. I spent 6 grueling hours on this street.


Point A is where the bus let us off. Point B is American Apparel, aka the Mecca. I had high hopes for this store. They were not met. Philly stinks. So, I kept walking.

I walked to the end of Walnut street, and decided to not go over the bridge. Then I walked back to my original location, and did this several times all day. I may have turned a few times while avoiding radical campaign enthusiasts. It was voting day, after all.

Not The Yankees.

Sometimes I feel like I'm bad luck. I turned on the Mets game just in time to see one of the Phillies hit a home run. I wonder if I should keep the game on, or if they will have better luck if I stop watching. I'm definitely superstitious in that sense. I wash my socks, though. Love clean socks.

David Wright is doing great this season. I believe he currently has the most RBI's for the National League. The Mets lineup was seemingly always changing, but I really like their starters right now. They seem like a team for once, too.

I'm going to keep the game on, but I won't look directly at the television. And I wish I had an announcer voice.

Surprise!

With my fairly recent entrance to the working world, a few things have become evident. I don't just mean learning I can make it through most of the day on a bag of Cheez-Its, but some other experiences I consider learned, and am ready to no longer practice.

Since this one is the most obvious, I will get it out of the way. Gas. I work so I can drive, and that's about all I can do.

Economic Decline? A few sympathetic individuals claim lack of employment is due to our struggling economy. I sure hope that is the case. I would much rather not be able to get a job because of that silly economy than it actually be a personal issue.

If You Don't Need To, Don't. This can go so many ways, I don't know where to begin. I will leave it a bit abstract. Let it linger, but not too much.

Scheduling. In desperate cases, one may be willing to offer any and all availability just to obtain a position. Don't. Did you know that if you list your availability at 7 a.m., they will actually do it? Strongly consider what you're signing up for ahead of time. This might occur to people naturally, but it didn't really hit me until I was waking up at 5:40 this morning for that Sunday morning rush of shoppers.

Technology. I've heard a bit of skeptics speak of disliking modern ways. I usually disagree, until today. I have a machine to dictate everything. The cash register calculates change, instructs steps of payment methods, even communicates with my bosses. This is great, until something I don't recognize happens. I stood there waiting for about a minute before finally realizing the register wanted me to do something else. This means I was no longer thinking for myself, and it took at least 60 seconds for me to realize this. Wow. I might also consider a portable register, as it can inform me when I am no longer functioning on a human level. This could save me approximately 19 minutes several times a day, as long as the 60 second response time is consistent.


Fortunately, I have the next four days off.

Are You Defective?

So, my current life as an employee for the Man has not been all that blissful. I've been applying any place I can find an application for, and absolutely lying on the "How many jobs have you applied for in the last 6 months?" Well 1-3, of course. I wish that were true, and that any of these applications were producing anything other than wasted time. I do not appreciate on-line applying. I'll do just about anything the internet way, but I feel my job application process needs to be human. Unfortunately, many places are strictly doing on-line applying, and before any interviews can happen, applicants must complete a rather extensive personality evaluation.

This is where I must be falling short. I cannot seem to grasp these things for the life of me. One would think after my many failed attempts, I would at least be able to lie. This is apparently not the case, as I have received no call backs from my most recent attempts. Questions about leadership, the type of people I find annoying, and what I might do in a "what if" situation. I can't even coast through a few with the "moderate" safe zone answers, as it is not an option. Strongly disagree, disagree, agree, and strongly agree are the only possibilities. The questions are repetitive, only varied mildly in the wording. Usually about 100 of them, and by the end I am definitely not someone anyone wants to work with. Perhaps around the holiday season stores will be desperate, and willing to hire the professionally inept. One can surely hope.

Cashier Chronicles

Today was my first day back after my forced hiatus. I was honestly not looking forward to going. As much as I would like to say today was a horrible catastrophe, it just kind of wasn't pleasant.

The top 3 happenings of my shift:
1. I hate asking people if they want their milk in a bag. I say it approximately 200 times a day. The only thing I hate more than asking, is bagging. Anything. I can't stand it. So if I can get out of one gallon item, I'm surely going to. I asked the customer, and her husband asked why people ask that. According to him, the milk is sweaty and will just collect lint in his truck. "If I didn't want a bag I would just take it out." I was very fortunate to know I'd never see him again. Let's not have grocery arguments, okay?

2. One of the "perks" of cashiering is the gun thing that scans items from a distance. Not a lot of distance, but just enough for people to excitedly say "ZAP IT!" while straining to hold their 20 pack of water. I was given the most unfriendly gun thing tonight. It did not want to zap anything. This guy comes through my line with a bag of manure larger than my body. He asks if I could just use my trusty traveling scanner instead of having to lift it. I sure wished, sir. So after several failed attempts, I decided I would just lift it myself since he did not want to. I thought I was doing great, as I walked back around to the register carrying my weight in fertilizer. Then I realized, he was holding the top of it. I was basically gliding the bag and nothing more. Fine. We got it scanned and back in his cart, and he began to wipe off his shirt. In all honesty, I watched this in complete terror. I did not want to think there could be any remnants of his plant-love on me. Thankfully there wasn't, I don't know what I would have done.
Also, a few hours later I was informed how to make the travel scanner work. I didn't have to fake lift anything.

3. Number three was the worst, and possibly the best. This woman and two of her friends were in line, each with multiple separate totals. The first girl had a son, who was really, really unhappy. He was crying and wailing the entire time, I felt bad. It didn't seem like anyone was doing anything to comfort him. Finally, after his mother informed me I still had to give her back her dollar (maybe that is why my drawer was open?), she picked him up. He stopped crying basically instantly. This didn't last very long, because she had to get her wallet. She put him down, along with her wallet for whatever reason, and then it happened. He grabbed her wallet and threw it. It hit me right between my eyes, with all of her credit/library/bus/membership cards. It was like a movie. I saw a blur of pink and blue swirling at my face, and did absolutely nothing about it. Then, his mother asked me to pick the cards up.
No.

That was basically it for my night. Though, the man with a hardcore Boston accent and the people buying a lobster should receive honorable mentions. It took me several minutes to figure out his saying of "carton," and I won't say what I thought he was saying. They would never sell those. As for the lobster, I didn't really realize what it was until I picked it up. Then it basically passed through my hands in 0.2 seconds. I felt disgusting.

Thank you, have a good night!

Personal Journal Vs. Blog

Being the internet loving (any adjective) that I am, I do have a journal that contains extremely pointless information. No one knows me and I don't know them, it's pretty great. I don't even allow comments. However, there is a messaging program. Most messages are positive, and I don't completely mind the 2 or 3 replies sent. That journal is usually where I write everything.
But what do you do when something weird happens on that site? I obviously cannot write about it there, and feel fortunate to have this alternative outlet.

Perhaps I should also start a third blog, strictly for MadLibs purposes. Interactive blogging!

Apparently, sneaker buying indicates traits of a possible leader. Only 3 pairs a year, too. So by 2012, I might have my own flag.