Matt Smith and friends,
Let's all take a moment right now to lift a small paper sample cup of coffee to people who work in industries that do not fully utilize their talents nor their college degrees. Let's slurp very loudly in their general direction, signalling a true appreciation for every retail sale, meal served, or beverage made. Let's cup our hands and sniff, sniff, SNIFF -- let's believe that this really matters. Let's take a 10-minute break or a non-paid lunch that doesn't quite last long enough to digest food. Let's greet people without meaning it. Let's help people feel more appreciated but lose all dignity. Let's search and search and search for other job opportunities, but still get up in the morning while it's still dark.
Let's do all that.
And let's be thankful that we have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and cat litter in the litterbox.
(And by "us," I mean "me." And by "our," I mean "my." And by "thankful," I mean "slightly on edge.")
Chips and salsa,
Meredith
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Monday, May 16, 2005
I Don't Like Working at Starbucks, I Don't Like Working at Starbucks, I Don't Like Working at Starbucks...
Salutations, Matt Smith.
There's something very circular -- cyclical, cylindrical, anything round and repetitive really -- about the way my life is going at the moment.
I went into Starbucks today to get my old job back. And when I say "old" job, I mean "stupid, repetitive, doesn't pay me quite enough to be nice to people" job. It wasn't exactly difficult to get the job back, but it was difficult to smile while I stomached the fact that I had to be re-trained for a job that had been so engrained in my brain that I still know the reason why mild brewed coffee has a higher caffienation level than a dark roast.
I have no idea where I'm going to use this in real life. It's sort of like geometry that way.
The thing of it is, I started at Starbucks thinking that it would only be temporary. I'd work there until I found something meaningful and useful and important. I'd work there until I find something "for good." And I left in August for Minnesota, knowing that it wouldn't be permanent, but that maybe it'd be a jumping off point for something greater.
I can't help being optimistic, thinking that that something greater is still on its way.
But at the moment, I'm back where I started. In the same job I was in last year at this time. In the same neighborhood that I lived in 5 years ago.
And worse yet, my sunroof still leaks.
I wonder if life will ever be like "Billy Madison" -- so I could sweep through time and responsibility and obstacles in 100 big budget minutes and be a success at the end.
And there would be a giant penguin.
Yes. There must also be a giant penguin.
So, the answer for all those people who ask me questions like, "Are you here for good?" and "What are you planning on doing?" is:
"As good as it gets and I don't know... why? Do you have a suggestion?"
Love and good vibrations,
Meredith
There's something very circular -- cyclical, cylindrical, anything round and repetitive really -- about the way my life is going at the moment.
I went into Starbucks today to get my old job back. And when I say "old" job, I mean "stupid, repetitive, doesn't pay me quite enough to be nice to people" job. It wasn't exactly difficult to get the job back, but it was difficult to smile while I stomached the fact that I had to be re-trained for a job that had been so engrained in my brain that I still know the reason why mild brewed coffee has a higher caffienation level than a dark roast.
I have no idea where I'm going to use this in real life. It's sort of like geometry that way.
The thing of it is, I started at Starbucks thinking that it would only be temporary. I'd work there until I found something meaningful and useful and important. I'd work there until I find something "for good." And I left in August for Minnesota, knowing that it wouldn't be permanent, but that maybe it'd be a jumping off point for something greater.
I can't help being optimistic, thinking that that something greater is still on its way.
But at the moment, I'm back where I started. In the same job I was in last year at this time. In the same neighborhood that I lived in 5 years ago.
And worse yet, my sunroof still leaks.
I wonder if life will ever be like "Billy Madison" -- so I could sweep through time and responsibility and obstacles in 100 big budget minutes and be a success at the end.
And there would be a giant penguin.
Yes. There must also be a giant penguin.
So, the answer for all those people who ask me questions like, "Are you here for good?" and "What are you planning on doing?" is:
"As good as it gets and I don't know... why? Do you have a suggestion?"
Love and good vibrations,
Meredith
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Cop-out
Matt Smith,
Before the cell phone explosion, people had answering machines. I remember. I owned one. Some people may actually still own answering machines, but no one will ever know about those people because they're ashamed to show their faces in public.
All this is true with one exception, and I've never known him to be ashamed of anything.
On an answering machine, it's important to leave your name and number. I know THIS because that's what the owners of the aforementioned machines would leave as a message for the message-leavers. "At the tone, please leave your name, number, and a brief message and we'll get back to you as soon as possible." (Don't believe me? It's true. Watch "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." Honest.)
This occurred because no one had a method of knowing who the voice on the machine actually was. In fact, even after the voice existed on the machine, it was often difficult to tell who was who. I remember a time in days past when my sister and I shared an answering machine, and I called home to let her know my plans for the evening. Later that night I arrived home to see that the machine's light was blinking. Blink. Blink. One big slow blink indicating that there was only one unheard message. Blink. I pressed the button. "Hi Melissa. I'm just calling to..." Wait. Why is Melissa calling herself? That's ludicrous. I mean, honestly. Why waste precious tape to record something that could just as easily become a written memo... Wait. Wait. That's me.
Today we have the benefit of Caller ID. Even if some idiot doesn't leave a name and number, your phone is smart enough to remember it for you, but only until its feeble little brain extends itself too far beyond the factory-set limitations.
Today you have free reign to call a cell phone and leave whatever silly message you want without having to leave your name OR number.
Say, for instance, you could call someone and just say, "I'm too cool to leave a message!" And as long as their phone was set to the "on" position, they'd know which person wanted to annoy them with that message.
All that to say, thanks for calling the other day.
I have been harassed recently from numerous individuals about my obvious lack of new posts on this blog. It is for these people alone (or maybe they're not alone... maybe they're with someone... or a cat) that I post now.
Herein lies the problem however: I am not in a posting mood. When I post, I've got to have something to say. I'm speechless at the moment, after my journey from Minnesota to Pennsylvania, after enduring the sights, smells, and sounds along the way.
I just want to take a nap.
So I thank Anne Brannen for providing the prompts to this lovely cop-out. I hope the Bloggerites (Bloggies? Bloggenoids?) are satisfied with this little glimpse into my head. (Watch your step. It's dark in there.)
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451. Which book do you want to be?
If I'm to be burnt, I'd probably have to be "Island of the Blue Dolphins." I encountered that book in the fourth or fifth grade. I reencountered it this spring at a school book fair, where three boys were running amuck playing what I like to call The Midget Game. They'd read every book title, substituting the word "midget" for one of the words in the title. This particular book became, not surprisingly, "Island of the Blue Midget." I rather think I would have liked it more had it been written about blue midgets.
If I'm to be memorized at the end, I'd like to be either "The Catcher in the Rye" (I could write a treatise on how it's just a really nice story) or "Alice in Wonderland." I suppose I'm not very original, but again, this is merely a cop-out post.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Yes. Yes I have. A few years ago I developed a crush on the Weasley twins in the Harry Potter series. In my childhood, I had a love/hate relationship with Laurie in "Little Women." God. I mean, really. He's smarmy, marrying into the family like that.
The last book you bought is?
Sarah Vowell's "Take the Cannoli" for myself, and David Sedaris's "Me Talk Pretty One Day" for Matt.
What are you currently reading?
"Citizen Girl" by Nicola Kraus and Emma McLaughlin. Authors of "The Nanny Diaries." I am a book slut.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Hmmm. "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: The Complete Edition" (with the DON'T PANIC gift pin still attached), "Peter Pan," "Me Talk Pretty One Day," "Nine Stories," and "The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing." Again, book slut. I feel bad about it, but what can a girl do? Someday I'll clean up my act and read classics and other mind-expanding things. Someday. Just not right now.
Who will you pass this on to (3 people) and why?
Oh hell. Book slut free-for-all. First come, first served. And there was much rejoicing.
Enjoying my new found freedom for one last, sugar sweetened day,
Meredith
Before the cell phone explosion, people had answering machines. I remember. I owned one. Some people may actually still own answering machines, but no one will ever know about those people because they're ashamed to show their faces in public.
All this is true with one exception, and I've never known him to be ashamed of anything.
On an answering machine, it's important to leave your name and number. I know THIS because that's what the owners of the aforementioned machines would leave as a message for the message-leavers. "At the tone, please leave your name, number, and a brief message and we'll get back to you as soon as possible." (Don't believe me? It's true. Watch "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." Honest.)
This occurred because no one had a method of knowing who the voice on the machine actually was. In fact, even after the voice existed on the machine, it was often difficult to tell who was who. I remember a time in days past when my sister and I shared an answering machine, and I called home to let her know my plans for the evening. Later that night I arrived home to see that the machine's light was blinking. Blink. Blink. One big slow blink indicating that there was only one unheard message. Blink. I pressed the button. "Hi Melissa. I'm just calling to..." Wait. Why is Melissa calling herself? That's ludicrous. I mean, honestly. Why waste precious tape to record something that could just as easily become a written memo... Wait. Wait. That's me.
Today we have the benefit of Caller ID. Even if some idiot doesn't leave a name and number, your phone is smart enough to remember it for you, but only until its feeble little brain extends itself too far beyond the factory-set limitations.
Today you have free reign to call a cell phone and leave whatever silly message you want without having to leave your name OR number.
Say, for instance, you could call someone and just say, "I'm too cool to leave a message!" And as long as their phone was set to the "on" position, they'd know which person wanted to annoy them with that message.
All that to say, thanks for calling the other day.
I have been harassed recently from numerous individuals about my obvious lack of new posts on this blog. It is for these people alone (or maybe they're not alone... maybe they're with someone... or a cat) that I post now.
Herein lies the problem however: I am not in a posting mood. When I post, I've got to have something to say. I'm speechless at the moment, after my journey from Minnesota to Pennsylvania, after enduring the sights, smells, and sounds along the way.
I just want to take a nap.
So I thank Anne Brannen for providing the prompts to this lovely cop-out. I hope the Bloggerites (Bloggies? Bloggenoids?) are satisfied with this little glimpse into my head. (Watch your step. It's dark in there.)
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451. Which book do you want to be?
If I'm to be burnt, I'd probably have to be "Island of the Blue Dolphins." I encountered that book in the fourth or fifth grade. I reencountered it this spring at a school book fair, where three boys were running amuck playing what I like to call The Midget Game. They'd read every book title, substituting the word "midget" for one of the words in the title. This particular book became, not surprisingly, "Island of the Blue Midget." I rather think I would have liked it more had it been written about blue midgets.
If I'm to be memorized at the end, I'd like to be either "The Catcher in the Rye" (I could write a treatise on how it's just a really nice story) or "Alice in Wonderland." I suppose I'm not very original, but again, this is merely a cop-out post.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Yes. Yes I have. A few years ago I developed a crush on the Weasley twins in the Harry Potter series. In my childhood, I had a love/hate relationship with Laurie in "Little Women." God. I mean, really. He's smarmy, marrying into the family like that.
The last book you bought is?
Sarah Vowell's "Take the Cannoli" for myself, and David Sedaris's "Me Talk Pretty One Day" for Matt.
What are you currently reading?
"Citizen Girl" by Nicola Kraus and Emma McLaughlin. Authors of "The Nanny Diaries." I am a book slut.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Hmmm. "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: The Complete Edition" (with the DON'T PANIC gift pin still attached), "Peter Pan," "Me Talk Pretty One Day," "Nine Stories," and "The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing." Again, book slut. I feel bad about it, but what can a girl do? Someday I'll clean up my act and read classics and other mind-expanding things. Someday. Just not right now.
Who will you pass this on to (3 people) and why?
Oh hell. Book slut free-for-all. First come, first served. And there was much rejoicing.
Enjoying my new found freedom for one last, sugar sweetened day,
Meredith
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