OUR WORLD:
It’s a Moody Monday, and even though it’s sunny and kinda’ warm outside, it still STINKS. When I took Belle out for a walk this morning, she barked at an older woman on a bike. The bike woman replied to the barking by immediately stopping, shaking her head in a disapproving manner and saying “that is quite the reaction.” So my Monday started with a judgmental stranger. I wanted to be like,”was it worth stopping your bike and going through that whole dramatic routine?” I didn’t say anything, but I hope she gets hit by a truck carrying grenades.
If you can’t tell, I really need to make myself feel better by getting into today’s “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job list.
Grocery Store Pianist: I guess you can call yourself a professional musician if you get paid to play the piano at a grocery store, but that’s not going to take away the disappointment coming from your parents and the $65k they WASTED on your college education. (That was a really mean way to start this section. MOODY Monday is ALIVE!) Have you ever had the moment on Sunday when you’re wandering through the pasta aisle, talking yourself out of buying all the pastas, and you hear music that sounds live? Then you’ll glance around and see that someone thought it would be a good idea to put a GRAND FUCKING PIANO by the paper towel section and there’s a dude in a big dumpy suit ACTUALLY PLAYING IT!
You know that guy has to be nervous the whole time he’s there that someone he went to high school with is going to recognize him and ask “so how’s the music thing going?” That’s not to say that these pianists are bad, actually I’m normally impressed (not many bands looking for piano players?) but when your job immediately elicits “why do they pay someone to do that?”-responses, you’re in a tough spot. Seriously, what is lost if the grocery store just…I don’t know, put the pandora piano music station on? Would there be people that would ask for the manager and be like “where’s the paper towel section piano concert that I was promised?” ALSO! the tipping situation is a no-win for everyone involved. You can’t ask the pianist if he accepts tips because that’s super awkward. The baggers and cashiers have no idea. Then if you do tip the pianist, maybe you’re making him feel worse (like a beggar!). But if you don’t, and he was expecting it, then he’s not making money. BUT WHO BRINGS PIANIST TIP MONEY TO MARIANO’S?!?!
The only people who genuinely appreciate this person, the ones who applaud at the end of the songs, are looked at by EVERYONE ELSE IN THE STORE like real weirdos. They’re the same people who applaud pilots when the plane lands. We get applauded for doing our jobs now? And the pianist probably doesn’t like it cuz it draws attention to him and raises the chances that someone he knows will recognize him. I’m sure they play it off like “I just love playing music,” but that’s garbage because they probably had to apply for that position. It’s not like a Mariano’s manager was just taking a stroll, overheard someone playing a GRAND FUCKING PIANO, and asked if they’d share their gift with the loyal patrons of the paper towel section.
Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Maker: Ever feel like you’ve eaten only carbs for an entire day and then you retrace what you’ve eaten and YOU HAVE ONLY EATEN CARBS?!?! Then you get sad and look in the mirror and suck your cheeks in and tell yourself that “diet starts tomorrow.” If you’re an Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Maker, you are surrounded by delicious smelling, buttery salty carbs all day, everyday at work. Don’t tell me “oh, you’d get sick of it” either. There’s no better smell in the whole wide world than the pretzel stand in the mall food court.
If that’s your job, though, and you’re trying to be frugal because…I mean because you work at Auntie Anne’s…then you probably get a free lunch as part of your shift. Which would be nice unless you’re just starting your diet and all Auntie Anne’s has are BUTTERY TWISTED CARB LOAFS! Has anyone in the history of the universe ever ordered anything OTHER than a pretzel at Auntie Anne’s? Pretty sure they don’t have salads, so the pretzel maker’s free lunch is either “with salt” or “without salt” (who in the fuck get’s “without salt” btw?)
So you’re just sweaty, probably covered in a thin layer of butter, not making that much money AND unable to EVER start a proper diet. I bet the pretzel makers look over at the salad stand in the food court and ask for trades, but the salad people are like “nah, I just cut out carbs. Smells great, though!”
Old Timey Shoe Salesman: The old guys in the suits who are super sales-y and try to talk you into trying shoes on and then treat you like you’ve never put a shoe on in your life. They have that real shiny shoe horn thing, and their WAY too comfortable handling your feet. Once they’re at that level, there’s no turning back because those skills don’t translate to other industries. Not like a pharmaceutical sales company is gonna be like “now tell me about the time you shoehorned that coalminer’s swollen foot into the penny loafer.” That’s just your job forever.
But what about the process that desensitized these people so much? Nobody is just automatically comfortable handling strangers feet, right? (There’s gotta be one guy reading this who just looked over his shoulder and is like “I mean…sounds good to me…”) How about the first time a woman with smelly, scabby feet came into your section? You could see that she wasn’t wearing socks, but it’s not like you had to see it because you could DEF smell it. You get fired if you refuse to help her, and I don’t think you can wear surgical gloves. We’re talking skin-to-smelly-scabby-skin contact here, folks.
MY WORLD:
The VP of Ops is back in town after being gone most of the past 2 weeks, and it has been somewhat of a rocky readjustment period. Is it just me, or when your spouse leaves do you IMMEDIATELY revert to your single ways and then kinda’ fight when they get back because you’re used to living like a bachelor? The VP took my car to Trader Joe’s (a place I’d rather NEVER SEE AGAIN) and came back all “Don’t worry, I threw out your chewing tobacco tin.” Then she walked past me all nonchalant with a little smirk to make me feel REAL small. So I hit her back with a “so happy you’re back!” but I didn’t laugh because I was going for something deeper. Counter-punching, ever heard of it?
Then our spring cleaning turned into me watching The VP just create bigger messes while rearranging furniture to “open the room up.” Maybe just crack a window next time instead of dumping all our mail over the floor? But then I’m not allowed to be mad because I wasn’t doing anything (because it was Sunday and I was in full-on do-nothing mode). So we just kind of didn’t say anything to each other for a while except the occasional “I love you” to break up the silent-fight we were having. Being married is fun.
LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:
I could not be more excited about the Bears drafting Roquan Smith and I spent the majority of the weekend looking up videos like this…
LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:
When parents talk to their kids like adults in public in an effort to sound funny, but their kids don’t understand it so they keep crying. Confused? Think of a parent saying something along the lines of “I am not understanding your viewpoint on this issue” to a crying kid. It’s not that funny and it doesn’t help settle down the kid.
MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:
I got absolutely demolished this weekend. I’m telling myself to take tonight off…but that probably won’t happen.
(My account currently at $108.14)
K bye.
Jimmy's Chair 