Friday, November 13, 2009

The story of my chest

This has little to do with work and a lot to do with why I have not been posting or even at work.

For those who don't know, I just had a breast reduction. It was really time. I started to realize I was different in the last 4 weeks of 8th grade, when, as the new kid in school I was taunted endlessly over my chest size. The jeers of "man it's stuffy in here! Anyone have a tissue?!" sent me packing to the guidance councelor's office where I sat and helped mail end of year letters to parents for the remainder of the year. Thanks Mrs. Yaukey! You pulled me out of a tough time as the new kid with my raging 13 year old hormones.

With the birth of each of my babies they grew and never went down. Now by the end of a night at work my chest was covered in grease and the headaches reached migraine proportions. Those who have seen me this past decade know it's been rough but that I was always waiting until I was finished having children because breastfeeding was more important to me.

I'm glad I waited. I had a child who reacted so violently to hypoallergenic formula he landed on a helecopter at 5 days old. My "girls" are thankful they could keep up with the demand of of his food allergies for as long as the doctor wanted us to nurse.

But now, my youngest has weaned, my tubes are now tied and it is time.

Surgery was Friday Nov 6th. I've stopped in at work once to have my one manager sigh "I wish I could have a breast reduction" while other gals told me I should have donated to their cause.

What follows is my post op post to a board I was frequenting for pre op support. The women there are having or have had reductions as well. But I figured it would make a nice blog entry even if I can't really post pics that would be fitting of this entry...


Holy schmoley. That was the easiest surgery EVAR!

Wish the hours leading up to the event were easy lol. The day before they called saying to be at the hospital at 11:45 a.m. NPO after midnight but 6 oz clear liquid before 7:45. Then they dropped the bomb...due to swine flue being so prevalent absolutely no children were permitted into the hospital. Now I could explain our daycare issues, but that would take 6 posts, so I'll leave it at "we're working on it to no avail". MIL has fibromayalgia and can not lift him due to pain. So now I'm stuck being faced with canceling because I have no one to watch our toddler. They wanted my husband to drop me off and leave me alone because of the baby and well, MIL took massive pity on me and watched him anyway.

Morning of, the original sick child is crying and coughing but we ship her off to school anyway b/c we figure it's nerves. She forces herself to miss the bus. My sons both woke with a fever. Great. Call MIL she says bring them both there in spite of the danger to her and FIL (who has had a lung lobe removed last year so diminished lung function). Almost cancelled due to fear of getting them sick. My nephew was dx with swine flu so now I'm terrified that's what my boys have. They SCREAM the entire way there. I almost start crying. Get them there and the 6 year old tells grandma "my mom is having an operation today and we're probably going to have to get a foster mom" Poor kid was terrified as fun and exciting as we have tried to make this endeaver, add fever and chills and the kid couldn't cope.

Hubby ushered me out of the house at that point b/c he saw the tears welling even though I assured him I would be back tomorrow.

Start down the road and I call my credit card co, to try and pay my bill since their web site has been down. After 5 minutes of menus I finally get a person. Can't figure out my bank routing number and suddenly lose the call. It took 10 more minutes to work my way through the menu again and the poor lady who got me the second time probably thought I was a crazy woman.

Get to the hospital and the garage is full...we find another one. Call up at this point b/c riding around the city made us late. They tell us we were directed to the wrong garage anyway but they would help DH get where he needed to be for free parking.

Then things calmed.


Tears done. Still feel like a bad mom but I'm here.

Fill out the allergy info get called in. Placed in a gown. Nurse comes to get IV started and I tell her I'm a wimp. She gives me lidocain LOL. Then draws a pretty butterfly on my tape. (I took pics of course lol).

Anesthesia comes in and we discuss the allergies. We opt to forgo anti nausients pre surgery and try zofran in recovery. He's talking me through the gadgets they will use to keep me breathing and something called an LMA (i think?) I asked if it was an oral airway and he said no. It was like a premie oxygen mask with a tube on it. "Ooooh can I see it?!" he was like You want to see it? I said yeah! So he agreed to show me all his toys when we got in there.

PS comes in and draws the markings. I told him I forgot to bring nipple tassles for everyone. He cracked up laughing. I didn't realize how saggy my boobs were until the drawings kept getting larger lol.

Then we went!

Into the OR we go and I start gaping at all the instruments where I admited I was pre med and we were looking and explaining all the toys. (now with any luck I will get into med school but I want to be a pediatrician so don't go getting excited I will do your boob jobs later). They all agreed with my personality I'd make a great ped lol. Oxygen on, I regaled with tales of how scared I was the first time I had to get oxygen and wouldn't keep it on. They said I was a much better patient this time. Then the anesthesiologist said he was giving me some meds to make me sleepy.

"So this is the part where I start to forget and won't remember till the other side huh?"
"Guess I'd better say good night soon"
"If you want"
"I probably won't remember it though"
"Probably not"
"ooh things starting to spin. Guess that's my cue. Goodnight"

and then I was in recovery..

Surprised at how well I felt. The semi circle insicion hurt. But not the lollipop stick or the areolar incision. I looked down and got instantly nauseous. Woops. My bad. They didn't give Zofran until I was in my room though.

On being wheeled up a girl from another message board I've been on for the past two years was in the hallway waiting on me. She was on "let them know how BFGuru's doing" detail. I tried to pee in a bed pan to no avail, so my friend I just met got to see my hynie cheeks going to the bathroom, where I really got dizzy and nauseous. DH hadn't been called in the waiting room so she called his cell phone to tell him where I was. I was so glad she was there. But not so glad when the nausea finally overcame me and I yacked right in front of her. Oh well. She's a nursing student. She can deal LOL.

Zofran did nothing for the nausea. I finally remembered they gave me compazine when I had morphine in the hospital before. So I convinced them to try it. The pharmacy had to make a special batch for me so it could go in the IV since all they had were suppositories and shots. And as I explained to them "I'm a needlephobe and don't really feel like being sodomized after my breasts have already been yanked to kingdom come". And of course they all laughed. Compazine did the trick. And the nausea finally lifted, but not before I passed out cold on my friend DH. I was trying so hard to stay awake. They were freaking funny together and I didn't want to miss a joke, but my body demanded I do other wise.

I got a little nauseous on the way home today, but we stopped at the mall on the way b/c it had the closest pharmacy. As we waited he bought me a pair of slip on sneakers and some arnica. I'm not sure how or when to start it, but I'm on percocet and clyndomyacin (antibiotic) right now, so i think I'll wait until monday to run it by him to make sure there won't be any drug interactions.

I slept till noon basically (not counting the non stop vital checks) and feel pretty darn good.

Oh, the girls are TINY!!!!! Like perky little handfuls from what I could see when he checked my bandages. My nipples are facing straight ahead instead of at the floor. And I'm so shocked at how little pain I'm in. Just uncomfortable. I'll keep the percocet coming a few more days just to be safe, but I feel pretty freaking awesome.

Hubs made me some lemon tea and now I'm up in bed being a good little patient. I'm soo glad I did this. Oh and the stats are 550 gms right breast 495 gms left breast. I was kind of shocked and asked the PS if I had absolutely no dense tissue at all. He said I had some, but goodness what a difference it made. I think since I was losing weight recently I probably wasn't a true J cup anymore either, since my size last measurment was a 36J and I was wearing a 38H to find a cup that fit locally. That had JUST started to gape a little, but I wasn't going to buy a new bra just to wear it for two weeks before surgery. I have no idea what size I was going in today, but I did notice some of the knots in my neck are already gone which was TOTALLY a surprise. I thought it would be a few days.

Well that's my OTR post. Drama inflicted but still pretty good. I'm glad I went through with it.

And here I sit 5 days post op. It's been a weird week. But I can explain that at another day.

I could really do with some fries though...

Sunday, November 1, 2009

It's a Mc Hallows Eve

Happy Halloween all, Happy Samhain, and All Hallow's Eve. Twas dress up days at work when we were told to come in costume. Any excuse to get out of my uniform I say! But what does one do when they have three children at home that they've already bought three costumes for? My paycheck is spent. Le sigh.

I decided on something simple. A friend of mine gave me some scrubs to wear when I go on EMS runs with our local unit. So I tossed on the scrubs and threw some Ikea multicolored children's knives in my pocket. Voila! I am a PLASTIC surgeon...get it? Get it? The plastic knives? Yeah dorkey I know, but it worked, and hey, it was real comfortable to boot!

Of course this post must come with pictures so I regale you with the obligatory photo. Here I sit offering to give my manager's plastic ears a lift, since I am a plastic surgeon after all.

The evening would bring a party I was invited to, however, I'm closing. That means REAL REAL late. As a precursor to the party, the gals came in to show off their costumes.

This party was thrown by Kaitlin (my patient) and her sister Sammy Cakes. Aka, sexy ladybug and pirate's wench. They are both closing managers. Quite crazy to work with. I tend to giggle or laugh until I pee when they close. However, my beloved managers are out partying, leaving me to serve the fries tonight. In their place, the boss's wife was in charge. Eeek. I've never worked with her. Now I have to be all serious. Now Pokey can't talk about going into the freezer (though we doubt the story he tells about the freezer ever really took place). Now we can't do much of what we do for fear of "le gasp, she may tell the boss!". Not sure why we worry about it. We always get our work done, but we have a blast while we're doing it.

Boss man's wife was rather cool though. Kind of sweet actually. I may just like her after all.

To make things better, miraculously we got done with everything early. Sooooo, off to the party we go! Then Sammycakes had to do it. She turned on the scarey movie. I realize it's obligatory this time of year, but sheesh, I'm a chicken. I swore off scarey movies way back when I was 12 and laid in bed terrified Freddy Kruger was going to pop his head by my door holding my mother's screaming head (and honestly, there are still days I think she'd keep yelling even if she were decapitated).

So here I sit watching "House of 1000 Corpses" unsure of who the Rob Zombie dude is who directed the film, and showing what a music dork I am. If it's not on the pop station I tend to have tuned into on my radio, I probably won't hear it. Though, maybe I should iTunes something just to get in the know. I digress though, back to the movie...

Miss "ooooh this is my favorite scarey movie EVAR!" fell asleep. And although the special effects were so lame they were funny, there was lots of blood and foolish screaming, walking backwards girls in skirts too short you thought it was a Brittney Spears moment. And for how silly it was, it was also very gorey and I got skeered. Someone hold me! I have to drive home on a dark rainy night. It's just too skeery!

Well, yes, I suck at peer pressure. It's like I bypassed that lesson entirely in highschool because I just couldn't care back then. I guess I'm going to either learn to say "no" or stop being such a big fat baby.

Regardless, I got home safely. No gruely men tried to kill me. My car did not break down on some dark abandoned highway and no sinister music started playing. I AM walking frontwards. So all in all I think I'm safe.

And with that I'm off to bed at 3:33 a.m. ready to get up and at em early again to get ready for my own party of sorts. I'll post more about that one later though.

Monday, October 12, 2009

I have ADHD...ooooooh Shiney!

SOME BACKGROUND INFO: My son has been struggeling with school and manifesting some other behaviors that were concerning me so we spoke with his doctor who thought he may very well have ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) and wanted to medicate him. I stated I wasn't ready for that step until I knew exactly what we were dealing with so we set up an appointment with a psychiatrist to see if we could get an official diagnosis.

Friday was that appointment and he was in fact diagnosed with ADHD but also obsessive compulsive disorder with impulse control disorder tendancies. Wow. That's a lot for a little guy to deal with. I had to leave the appointment and run to work so I packed my uniform that day so I could change at work.

I called home to explain what the psychiatrist had said and arrived at Mc Donalds as I was ranting as only I can to my best friend about that phone call. Now understand, I also have ADHD. So I get distracted very easily. The phone call with my dad consisted of him interupting me, insisting I had OCD. Telling me I had no idea what I was talking about because he read the book on OCD and he has 3 bachelor's degrees (none of which are psychology related and none of which are from accredited institutions by the way). He ignored the fact that my own spouse is taking a masters in psychology as we speak and almost through that course load. Or the fact that I've actually taken abnormal psych as a class in college and a past job had given me extensive training on disorders such as this for our clients. On asking him if he's even taken a bare bones abnormal psych class, he informed me he didn't need to since he had general psych so he obviously knew more than me.

It was a very frustrating conversation to say the least. I almost hung up on him but managed to voice my frustrations without stooping to the ultimate rude act and going "click". Obviously though, after hanging up with him, I HAD to call Kris. She is my person. The one I run to when the parental units or husbandly unit drives me bat shit crazy. And so, my little ADHD self called her as I pulled into the Mc Donald's parking lot and walked across to the store.

The conversation went like this...

"I can't believe he kept interupting me like that! Who does he think he is? I'm not some subservient little girl who has to put up with his shit anymore! How dare he speak to me like that. OOOOOH KRIS I'M SO MAD! Why wouldn't he ....OH Look! They painted the windows!"

Yes, at that point I had walked into the store and realized that one of the local highschools had painted autmn scenes on all the windows. For the most part they turned out real sweet. Enjoy a sample of their work.

And let's not forget Ronald himself.

No wait...what's with this picture that I keep staring at it? I stood there behind Double A for a second tilting my head to one side.

"Double A, is it me, or does Ronald look a little too happy to be sitting on that pumpkin stump?"

Needless to say the night went down the gutter from there. I ran to the bathroom to change as Double A looked at me with her quizzical look that comes right before she says "Why do I work with you people?" and laughs. I noticed there was someone doing their make up in a very nice dress in the restroom.

"Nice dress, I wonder how it would look on me" I thought as I rushed past I'm not quite sure. Oh well, definitely transgendered, I thought. As long as I don't get hit on, I don't care who's in the restroom. I've got to be clocked in at work in exactly five minutes.

I hurry along, and come out to find a few people laughing. They kinda fell on the floor when I shrugged and said "yeah I know, I was changing when she was in the bathroom". Should I get worked up about this? Nah, I figure she has a tough enough time in her skin trying to work through the process of becoming who she is going to be. Sure it threw me for a minute but nah didn't bother me.

Someone asked me if I was concerned that the person might have seen my boobs. I said, "well, unless she regards herself as a lesbian I don't have anything to worry about now do I? ANd if she does, then I have to worry about every woman I come in contact with in the restroom. Which I could care less to do, and besides...if she's hot enough...?" and I just walked away. LOL.

Crazy peoples that I work with. I get I'm immature. I get giddy at a picture of Ronald Mc Donald sitting on a pumpkin. People issues though, meh...they just don't get to me as much.

It does make for an interesting story though...and really I was quite jealous that she looked better in that dress than I would.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

The anguish of working parents

I start a second job on Monday. Training is 2 hours away. I've been looking for daycare for months and yet every time I think I'm close to sealing a deal something pops up that becomes a major safety issue or simply just doesn't work out.

We hired a woman to come into our home at one point. She agreed, then three days before I was to return back to school for the semester I received a voice mail from her husband. He stated there was a family emergency and that he didn't know when she would return. She would not be taking the job after all. As a result I could not start classes this semester and opted to up my hours at Mc Donald's instead, until I could arrange things for next semester.

I've been looking since then and opted to check into the only local daycare to discover doors propped against walls in the toddler room. They could have fallen on any of the children, but it didn't seem to matter to them.

The latest in the daycare saga begins with a woman who works out of her home. I've contacted 4 other in home care centers, none of which had openings. This woman had space. She was just getting started. Stated her child abuse clearances were up to date and we scheduled an interview. I wasn't too terribly worried if they weren't. I was going to do my own background check and simply pay to have them updated. We arrived at her home, and the interview went well. Then we asked for a copy of her clearance. She replied that she couldn't seem to find them and we said worst case scenareo she could simply resubmit them.

The next day she calls and tells us she found them and I went to pick up a copy from her. It looked legit to my untrained eye (I've seen a few so I knew the basics to look for) and since I had already checked her references I offered her the job. Five minutes after I arrived home I handed the copy to Craig who took one look at it and declared it a forgery. She had changed the date from 2007 to 2009. He asked others in his office who saw the same mistake. This clearance checks to see if you have been accused of child abuse and if that accusation landed in conviction.

Who does that? Obviously someone who has something to hide. There's no possible way I can trust this woman to watch my children and so we are back at square one. I'm starting a new job in 24 hours with no one to care for my kids. It's all rather overwhelming.

This leads me back to work at Mc Donalds. This is bottom of the totem pole employment barring corporate and management positions. It's mostly for people with little to no education or those like me with useless degrees. It pays pennies on the dime. And yet, Mc Donald's is also where single mothers tend to be employed.

Two days ago a young mom sat down beside me as we waited to clock in.

"I'm not being rude, but seriously, how to you afford everything?" she asked.

I don't. It's as simple as that. I pinch corners and cloth diapered my kids to save a buck or two. I shop at second hand stores and eat left overs as often as possible. But I also have a two income family and we still struggle. I simply looked at her and said "how do YOU do it?"

Seriously, there are days when my heart just gets heavy hearing what these young women endure to try and make a life for themselves and their children. As they struggle and try to balance motherhood (alone), work and most times school as well, it seems those closest to them merely try to make things even more difficult on them.

I become perched upon a soap box and angry for them. Seriously, what is wrong with the pro life movement that declares a fetus must not be terminated lest the mother burn in hell? Yet, had these same women opted for the road of termination they would have been despised for a year or two then forgiven. After all, out of sight out of mind right? Instead, they took the high road. They chose to give their precious babies life. However, once these infants breathe, their mothers are basically told "You made your bed now lie in it".

They are offered as little help as possible. They struggle. Many times dad is not present forcing them to take the roll of mother and father.

A married woman gives birth and the world rallies around her. She is showered with gifts and help. Many times she has to shoo the well wishers away for just a few moments of privacy. Families help each other and generally the village raises the child.

Why is it that in a two parent family the help most times abounds, yet remove one half of that picture and suddenly the woman is not deemed worthy of help?

It makes my heart heavy. It makes me want to cry some days. It makes me want to buy a huge house and move them all in so they can all work together to get their GEDs and college educations. It makes me want to do ensure these mothers won't be stuck struggeling day to day and so they won't have to worry endlessy about caring for their sons and daughters.

I've spoken at length with Craig about these things. I even told him today not to be surprised one day if I end up coming home with a mom and baby. Normal people collect stray kittens. I'll just collect mini families instead. They can be my strays.

Thursday, October 1, 2009 I working at Chick Filet?

O.k. so he didn't order a happy meal, but Jesus dude has inspired some interesting conversation. Let's start with me explaining Jesus dude to Craig when I got home as well as the rest of that evening.

To start, I arrived to find attached to the crew information bulletin board a pamphlet titled "101 reasons why you can trust the bible". Last I checked Mc Donald's hadn't taken a religious stance, and we weren't stopping everything for a few moments of prayer and devotion, like Chick Filet is known for. I started looking for the "Eat more chikn" cows the restaraunt is famous for.

Nope. It's just some random thing someone plastered on the company board. Management had no clue how it got there.

Now my devious, twisted sense of humor thought the funny way to deal with this contraban was to post a counter phamplet titled the exact opposite "101 reasons why you can't trust the bible" but I figured, my coworkers would probably not appreciate my tickled funny bone and opted to let well enough alone.

I tell Craig about said pamphlet as well as Susan Sarandon and Jesus dude the next day, and he wants to know what ever happened to this pamphlet.

I said "you know, it mysteriously disappeared by the end of the evening."

To which he replied, "You know who put it there right? Jesus did. He walked through the walls and tacked it on the board so you would all convert. That's why he came in to order later, to see if you guys converted. When he realized you were hopeless reprobates he gave up and took his conversion kit elsewhere".

Hmmm, the crew I work with can be wanton and are probably degenerates. He may be onto something. Though I have to admit, their corruption makes me laugh on many a night.

A few nights later, many of our regulars came in. This one elderly man walked by as I was waiting to clock in and began to tell me one of his silly jokes he is famous for. He asked us if we knew how Jesus walked on water and on my reply of "magic of course!" he said the lake had frozen over and began to melt just at the top so it only looked like water and we walked across unhindered. Must have been a pretty fast drop in temperature then. I mean weren't the disciples stuck out in a boat? None the less, he finishes his story of ice and messiahs and brightens up and blurts "he's coming back you know!"

To which I could not contain myself and gasped back "He came two nights ago!" Every one of my crew mates standing there burst into laughter. Geeze I didn't realize I was a comedian.

Later on we were working our way through our regulars when I go to take an order from a black man. Ordinairily I wouldn't mention skin color as it makes no difference normally, but this guy stood out to me the moment I met him. Most of my dark complected friends with tattoos get tribal tats complaining that their skin won't show anything but black. They also tend to say their jealous of us white folk who can get multi colored tattoos. I'm not a fan of the tribal stuff so I was pleasantly surprised to see a very detailed outline of a stallion on his bicep. This led to a conversation about horses and how I wanted to find a stable that did riding lessons for my daughter. That was when I found out he was from Virginia (2 states away). We said our good byes and he was gone. This first introduction was 3 months ago. So, imagine my surprise when I walk around the counter to take out a parked order and look up to see this stallion galloping from this his bicep.

"Hey, I know you! You have the horses from Virginia!"

"Yes that's me. I've been riding with the grandkids almost every day since we met"

We exchanged some pleasantries and I bid the horsie man goodbye and safe travels home. I then delivered my order.

Then there's Oscar. Oscar is his real name. He comes in every night and orders a senior coffee 2 creams 2 sugars. He's a sweet elderly widower that comes in and picks on me and tells me that I'm always smiling. He just hasn't seen me in a panic before, so I can always grin for him. He has little to do with stories of Jesus dude though.

All of that background is leading to a point. I understand I'm known for running on tangents, but without said tangent, you would not understand the next conversation I had with Double A. Why they call her Double A I do not know. She's really not that small. However, everyone has a nick name at this store it seems and if you don't already have one by the time I meet you, I'll probably do you the honors.

So Double A is telling me how she said soemthing flippant or maybe simply reacted to a rude customer how we'd all love to react. I'm not sure the specifics, but I started to jokingly reprimand her and tell her that she had to be nice to the customers so they come back. This then led to the "fact" (yes I exaggerate) that all our regulars come back because I personally am so nice to them.

"They all come because of me. They love me. I'm their favorite. See? Oscar comes because of me, even though he was a regular before I started working here, he comes back NOW because he loves ME. Little old jokes man he comes back because of me too. Horsie man! He comes back because of me. They all love me! So be nice to the customers!"

To which Double A yips back "oh and I suppose Jesus is coming back too?"

"Of course he is! It's in the bible you know!"

I swear had she been drinking she would have spat all over me at just that moment. I'm not sure why these things just pop in my head. But it's all o.k. since she had me laughing so hard two days later I peed my pants. Don't tell though. I may never live it down.

Well, thanks Jesus dude. You've given me quite a few posts on your entrance into the store alone. Even though they all wanted to know why you only ordered a small parfait and nothing more. I reassured them it was o.k. You are immortal after all. You don't need a lot to eat.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Even Superstars Love Our Fries

Today my husband woke me earlier than noon (which is expected when you work until 3 a.m.) and said I needed to get dressed so we could go out somewhere as a family. It was a much needed day with the kids, and we all enjoyed one another's company. We didn't do anything fancy. I had to be at work by 18:00, and with living in the middle of nowhere, there is always a commute. We ended at the mall in the city where my daughter decided she HAD to have a purse now. I suppose she's growing up. She's not asking for Barbie dolls as much anymore. The play make up is getting played with more and more, and she wants a purse. Next thing I know she will be asking for a bra. Help me now.

She settled on a sparkely pink purse with silver star cutouts. It promptly went over her shoulder and she dumped her wallet into the change purse she had picked out to match.

Dad took our older son to the bookstore to pick out a book. He settled on a collection of games which was on sale extremely cheap. It was less than half of what we paid for the pocket book, so he was promised something else if he still wanted something. As soon as we entered the boys department at Sears he gasped "Daddy! Daddy! Oh I REALLY want this!" and pulls up a shirt with monster trucks all over it. Such a practical boy I have. I believe he has garnered more clothes than his sister at this point. I can't resist the gasps...and they are always on sale as he's as good a bargain hunter as his mom.

Baby brother, well, he was happy with his sippy cup, but we didn't forget him. He is the proud new owner of footie jammies. I can't wait for winter to see him in them.

On to Mc Donald's news though...

Things were slower tonight, with a steady stream of customers coming in one at a time. This is where the fun began.

In walks an older, erm, more mature gentleman. He's got snowey white hair and is rather stout with a kindly face. He places his order and I notice his hat. I'm not sure why I notice hats, but they tend to give a clue to the type of man that's at our store. This hat had a symbol on it that I immediately recognized at a Naval symbol with the snake and staff in front. I asked if he had been a Navy Medic and he perked up and said "How'd you know? And how did you know it was Navy?" I laughed and said that I was in school and had considered the Navy to pay off my med school loans when I got into med school. He said it was a worthwhile occupation and I stated I opted against it since I had three children at home and we were at war. The idea of leaving them for a deployment terrifies me, but that's another story for another day. He then pulls out his wallet and shows me a photo of himself in his dress blues. "Wow! You were a really decorated soldier!" I remarked at seeing multiple bars upon his jacket. He agreed, and gave me one more plug for the Navy. I doubt I'll ever take him up on it. But apparently, I've got connections now.

Later in the night I took an order from a woman who was not very talkative, but looked oh so familiar. "Where do I know her from?" I kept thinking as she rooted through her wallet for her change. *LIGHTBULB!*

"You have a very Susan Sarandon look to you mamm" I blurt out.

She looks down and refuses to make eye contact.

"Yes I get that alot."

Hmmm, should I push this thought? Perhaps she could be. I could persuade her for an autograph. I do adore her work, especially in Children of Dune. Control yourself. She would have stated as much if she was, and, if in fact she wanted you to know. Beside's you will look all stalker paparazzi like and have to start singing Lady Gaga songs to your coworkers or something obscene to that effect. I opted to simply say "I suppose everyone has a twin out there" and she nodded and took her food and left. I'm claiming it was a movie star extraordinaire. Anything less is just plain boring.

But, it gets better! I may be a believer after all. I swear to all that is holy, the holy man himself came and ordered burgers tonight. Long brown hair, beard and mustache. He totally looked like Jesus...with a blue tooth device at his ear. Hmmm...I wonder if that was so he could do the "hear all" thing he's known to do. Or maybe it's so he could answer prayers quicker. I've heard many an old lady claim they were going to call on Jesus to help. Perhaps too many old ladies were calling and he had to hook his blue tooth up to his phone so he could answer all their calls.

I'm simply saying, he looked very Jesus like. I totally expected him to start walking on water or ascending towards the ceiling.

Well, no miraculous events took place. The sky did not shake. I suppose it wasn't Jesus after all, but goodness, it could have been. He walked out the door and even had to push it open himself. And suddenly we were back to work trying to finish our tasks early so we could go home sooner.

The night is over, and all the excitement has me bushed. I think I'll head to bed and dream of movie stars and gods.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Go on break and lose a doctor

Yes, I'm angry. No this has little to do with Mc Donalds, but, it's my blog and I can type what I wish. I have a friend. She's a pediatrician. An EXCELLENT pediatrician. I met her as a doctor first. I don't recall which came first, the friendship or the patient part, but needless to say she is one of those doctors who listen, and are honest. My kids adored her and we eventually moved their care to the clinic where she practices.

Imagine my surprise when I call to say hello during my break at work last night to find she had resigned. Things had just been toxic for a while for her at that office, but now my kids are out of a pediatrician. Unless of course she finds another clinic to practice at near me. I'll drive up to an hour for quality care so if you need a doctor holler! I don't want to transfer their care, and really, quite frankly, I don't want my friend to move.

I don't care for any of the doctors in that office and honestly never would have moved them to that place had it not been for her. So, guess what I'll be doing Monday...yup...moving my kids back to my family practice until I find out where my friend will land. blah.

I really wish I could rant and carry on. However, since this IS the world wide web, I don't want to say anything so public that could potentially upset anyone in this situation. I'm just angry for my friend and irritated that my children are losing one of the most excellent doctor's they've had.

And with that I ended up back on my shift, trying to finish work and simply sadened by the "yick" of it all...and yes, I said yick even though it's not a real word. Sometimes Webster's simply does not offer enough terms to convey what you wish to say without using words that are not family friendly. :(

What was I saying about men in uniform?

So last night, to my surprise I look up from my register to hear "MOMMMYYYYYY!" My husband had driven the 17.5 mile drive to deliver my cell phone and brought the kids to play at our indoor play ground. The baby (yes, I said baby Kristan!) instantly jumped in my arms and I was forced to take their order while being accosted with baby kisses. I'm really complaining. Can you tell? (grin) My daughter made me a "bookmark" which was promptly turned into a new name tag by my coworkers and so I went around the rest of the evening as "MOM Susan" with hearts and flowers on the side.

Five minutes after they left I see the bus. "Is it empty?" my manager calls out. I couldn't tell as it had tinted windows. But then they started pouring out..."FULL! And their all in uniform. Drop more fries, they're gonna be hungry!"

In trapsed the soldier boys. Most of which were privates or VERY low ranking. A few higher ranking enlisteds were there, however the majority of our armed forces last night were mere babies. Me in my insane desire to know things start asking questions. No one answers. Of course I must admit I'm a sucker for a conspiracy theory so we "theorized" they were on a secret ops mission. All I know is that the youngsters were not fresh out of boot camp as that was my first question. (Yes I'm shameless that way).

They could have been lying about that fact as we asked if we should expect more buses with their group and they said no. Not 5 minutes after that question, another bus from the same charter company pulls up, filled with soldiers again. Hmmmm. I did garner where they were from and going vaguely. Both buses were on the same path. Not sure why the soldier boys were so hesitant to share, but if they WERE doing some secret ops thing...perhaps it's best they didn't as I'd have been tempted to blog my life away. I'm pretty sure there may be military rules or something about giving away your local in war time.

As the lobby was crammed like a pack of cammoflaged sardines, in walks one of our teen employees. He's dressed in his ROTC uniform. Perfect! He gets on my nerves some days anyway. I looked at the guys from the bus and said "HEY! Take this one with you! He's already dressed to go, just don't give him a gun, or you'll regret it." Little red headed ROTC boy blushed. Co-workers laughed. Soldier boys, I must admit, grinned and chuckled. Poor kid. He'll survive though. I torment him anyway most days. It's just too easy. And he knows I like him in spite of the nerves he annoys sometimes.

So the buses left, and all calmed down until the hot man with accent came through drive through. My manager handed out a portion of his meal while I bagged it and came back stating he could talk to her in his accent all day. Of COURSE I had to jump over and explain his sandwiches would "take a moment", and wait for him to respond. "Oh my! Where are you from? Austrailia?" He grins and says "No, but I used to be from northern Ireland" and half way through that sentance I knew it was Ireland. Most definitely he could speak to me all day in that Bellfast babble. Everyone had a great laugh when my manager yelled out that she was telling my husband I was talking to random men in drive through. But,hey...that's me. I love an accent. Add a cute goatee to the mix, I may consider moving to that border town in Colorado and forming a polygamous relationship, since we won't be dismissing the husband anytime soon.

All in all, tireing, but fun night. My break brought some bad news, which I feel deserves it's own post, so off to blog some more. In the mean time go order some fries or something.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

We love our men in uniform

As a result of our huge rig parking lot, we have quite a few truckers come through our doors. I'm starting to believe there is a UPS distribution center nearby, though. We get the UPS men (haven't had a lady yet) in the store often and many times they are regulars. However, it led to a discussion on the UPS man and how truely hunky they can be. It has been determined by the crew that someone needs to write a song, or at the very least an ode to the UPS man and so I submit my contribution to our team. This one is for you Sammycakes...

Oh dear UPS man in your pants that are brown
We anxiously wait the days you come to town.
For few things are hotter than uniformed men.
And even your shorts let us see legs again.

But unlike uniforms that defend the night,
from dress greens, to blues and even the whites,
You don't carry swords, but come bearing gifts.
Your package brings joy, gives our spirits great lifts.

So dear UPS man please stay in our lives.
Come see us often and bring joy to all wives
All sisters, and daughters and women of pride
We'll hold open our arms as you bring us delights.

Few things bring more joy to me and my friends,
Than opening boxes from UPS men.

Yo ho ho and a bottle of...oh wait, all we have is water bottles, sorry.

Wow, what a night. It all started with me arriving behind a bus. Before I realized it, I had clocked in, washed my hands and ran up front to see where I could help and there were THREE buses. There was no time to discover where people were from or going, but I did happen to notice, one bus was the same group of people who were traveling to Sight and Sound last night.

Great teamwork. We got all the customers taken care of and there were very few moments of anger (though I do believe every employee had a moment this evening. We just hid those moments from the customers). One lady asked for our manager and told her that she was very pleased with how well we worked together and how we handled all the chaos. I patted the manager on the back and said "Good! Now remember that when we start goofing off later!" ... Later never came. We were swamped the rest of the night.

Our normal set up is one person in the back of the store taking orders and money, one up front handing orders out and one bagging those orders. When we are really busy, cashier is split into two people and one person takes the orders while another takes money. By the end of the night I found myself up front, taking orders, taking money, bagging those orders AND handing them out all by myself and the cars kept rolling in. Needless to say, I was pretty stressed out after a while. My coworkers tried to help me, but we were at a skeleton crew by then, so I simply had to take my time and ask many a customer "could you hold on for just one moment please?" In spite of my personal pandemonium, my register was the only register with a perfect cash count at the end of the night. Yay me!

In other news and in relation to my title tonight, the rest of this post will be dedicated to all the pastifarians out there. May you be touched with his noodely appendage and have a happy weekend filled with piracy. That's right, today is international talk like a pirate day and we could not let that slip our memories. T'is too much swashbuckeling fun to be had. I did what was only proper and came to work in my pirate hat and promised the crew that if any angered me they would be sent to the bathrooms to "be swabbin' thuh poop deck with ye!"

Most kids just stared at me today as if I had something funny on my head. Our regulars just laughed at me as I gave them a good and hearty "ARRRR!" A few asked what was with the hat, and then there were others that shreaked "It's TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY!!!!!" and yet, they never arrrr'ed me. I called a few of the crew a pretty wench. When the guy in grill wouldn't make my order fast enough I said "ye be an ugly wench". Then a customer challenged me to a duel to the death by sword. We had no swords so t'was spoons instead. I made the fatal blow by jabbing him in the center right of his chest. Yes, those anatomy books I've been reading are paying off. I know where the heart be.

I told my boss I needed to change the name on my name tag to Morgan. I thought it would make a good girl pirate name. She told me that "Captain Morgan was probably not very appropriate". I don't know why (evil grin). She then suggested I go as Jack today. So my name tage was officially changed for the night...

We offered fruit to customers and our arctic orange shakes "so ye don't get scurvey!" and in spite of the dredges of customers that flooded our doors as if there was a clown car in the vestebules, we had a great time. For now, I am exhausted and I hear my pillow calling. Pirate day is over and I have done my part to reduce natural disasters so FSM please help us all. Here is proof of my participation in today's events, complete with pirate scowl...

Friday, September 18, 2009

Lot's of preteens, quite a few teens and a few adults

As usual, Fridays during the school year are busy. Post football game rush tends to hit with many a hungry quarter back. Most times both teams pounce and a traveling team or two. It's always quite chaotic. Tonight was steady, but nothing overwhelming and actually only one bus.

We all became nervous when noticing that the first half of people to walk through the door looked to be younger than ten. Things get broken when teenagers conglomerate. I shudder to think of what tweens could do in their exuberance to be on a trip away from home.

A few adults came in and some teenagers followed up the rear. Things were quite busy and I was only up front with the customers briefly as my primary job this evening was drive through cashier. I prefer to call it the dungeon as it's probably the most isolated position from your coworkers in the store (next to dishes of course).

In the brief moment up front I did chance to snag where they were going.

"Lancaster, to see Sight and Sound".
"Well that sounds fun!" I reply. Yet in my mind I'm thinking that's a lot of money to spend on tweens who may not have the capacity to sit still that long.

They all orders for milkshakes (which drained our machine for a bit) and went on their merry little way, all 50+ of them.

What is Sight and Sound you ask? Well, it's basically the Christian version of Broadway. Much cleaner (though "In the Beginning does look to have a topless hunky man in it), no city traffic to contend with, and very Bible oriented with a mini little "get saved" message at the end. I'm not quite sure what the purpose of that little message is being I doubt this is a place atheists will frequent, but still, I'd go again if I had the cash and I'm a flaming heathen. I suppose it will make the evangelicals happy to preach a bit at the end, but it's a minor discomfort for what I think is a good show. And really, if you're going to convert from a play, I think you were well on your way to conversion to begin with.

They specialize in musicals and the theaters are quite nice. One has a stage that surrounds you on three sides, but the tickets run near 50 dollars, last I checked, and that nixes it off my list of permissible forms of entertainment. I do work at Mc Donalds after all. It's not like I can go gallivanting around upper class society very often at all.

I figured though, since I've rambled much about this little gem in the heart of Amish country I'd put a little advertising plug in for those who may be interested. Hopefully, you will be there when the tweens are all sitting quietly. If not, just tell them to shush and you'll buy them a cookie at intermission.

Here is a link for their website. One day I will figure out how to make it say "click here" and actually link, but for now, enjoy the entire long link in all its glory.

And seriously, who wouldn't want to arrive at a theater that looks like this?

It almost makes you want to say it with a British accent "theeaytor" and drink Earl Grey with your pinkie out.

So if you're in the mood for some stories of old put to song and dance, I suppose you could give them a try. Too bad they're not in the mood to remake Beowolf. It may be too pagan for such a corps of actors, but if they did, I would totally go into debt over those tickets if they actually came out with that on stage.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Hi sir, may I take your order and find out where you're from?

There are a few things that are certain in my store when I am working.

1. If there is a bus, by the end I will know where they are from, where they are going and how much the old ladies intend to gamble while they are there.

2. If you are reading a book, I will probably find out what you are reading and get into a discussion on your favorite author in the span of ten seconds since we offer 90 second service and I can't waste time getting your sandwich.

3. If you have an accent in anyway NOT American, I will pounce. I'm an accent whore admitedly. I love to find out where people are from and I could listen to someone speak broken English all day. Those from Quebec tend to look very surprised when I get all bright eyed and say "Quebeqois oui?" Not that my french is good, but I love the Quebec accent. It's a personal favorite of mine.

All this leads into a story, I promise. A few days ago things were somewhat busy, so I was asked to take a few orders instead of the cleaning I had been doing at that moment. One of the last customers of that bunch approached with his companion (I'm assuming a wife). He was rather tan, and bald and looked somewhat familiar with his friendly looking laugh lines. Instantly I realized he was not American when he began to ask for a Mc Double. So of course, I in all my grand noseyness inquired..."Where is your accent from sir?" to which he grinned from ear to ear and said "you think I talk strange?" I apologized and stated that I adore accents and finding out where people are from and his companion stated that I must be a geography buff (she was more than likely American). So he asks me if I truely want to know where he is from and I say yes of course and he grins once more and says "guess".

And so the game began...hmmm....Korean? No. That can't be right. He sort of looks Asian but not Korean. Taiwann? No...I know the accent is one I'm not familiar with but the face...hmmm...the face. Where have I seen that before?

It's then that I realize he looked strikingly similar to a picture a professor of mine had of a Tibetan monk and so I blurt out "Tibet?"

He was all smiles and said "No, but I'm surprised at how close you are."
~ "So where exactly are you from then?"
~ "Nepal" says the man.

Nepal? I've never met anyone from Nepal before. And this one was truely a gem. A very kind soul I could tell right away. I stated he was the first I had met from there, but I do know where it is and showed my pearly whites. He smiles and excuses himself to get his drink at the beverage bar while I put his order together and take a few more orders that walked in at that moment.

I notice him speaking to his lady friend. I think nothing of it. People talk at the beverage bar all the time. My job is to get them warm food so they are happy and come back for more. He returns around the time I finish bagging his sandwiches and holds out his hand to me...

"Here, this is for you"

He pauses...I start to say we can not accept tips..."It's a symbol of good luck and prosperity. You'll be manager by tomorrow".

I'm stunned, and smile. No stranger has ever been this kind to me and although I realized I was not permitted to accept tips, could I graciously accept this kind man's well wishes? He opened his hand and placed a porcelein painted stone strung on a leather string in my hand, and all I could do was utter "awe....thank you. Thank you so much". This man wished me to progress within the company. How sweet of him. Little did he know my aspirations were a tad higher than french fry coordination, but I found myself accepting his little gift unsure of how to loosen it to place it around my neck and so I opted to wear it as a bracelet so I could finish orders before figuring out the clasp.

I did figure it out eventually. I placed it around my neck. It matches my uniform and so it looks like it belongs. I shared with a few co workers the story and we had a little laugh, but it was more of a "wow that man is so nice" kind of laugh.

The next night our manager was hungry and convinced us all to go to a 24 hour truck stop after we closed that night. As we sat around the table I shared the story of the man from Nepal. Then I realized it was after midnight. "Sorry, he was wrong" I said. We all had a good chuckle, though I still had my good luck charm on.

The next morning I awoke after not removing it, to a phone call. A job I had applied to had called and asked to interview me. It would double our income if I could go full time and even more if I maintained hours at Mc Donalds still. Sure I'd be working my life away, but for the moment I'm taking a semester off and need the extra money. Hmmm...perhaps this little bauble is lucky....

I went to that interview today. They offered me the job on the spot. I haven't decided if I'm taking it yet, but really wish I could see the man from Nepal to let him know his well wishes were very appreciated and apparently useful. Wherever you are sir, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. :)

Me and my good luck charm waiting to be interviewed.

Salutations from the world of fast food!

Hi all.
I'm a mom, I'm in school aiming to go into healthcare while funding that education clogging the arteries of the world. I work at a very busy fast food restaraunt because, in spite of having a college degree, the economy has deemed that making french fries is all that I am good for.

Ordinairily one would find themself depressed at such a thought. On the contrary, when you work at a store that's got a truck stop and easy access on and off an interstate that runs from Canada to Florida, you get to meet a gammut of people to enthral you.

I've decided to chronical my plight as well as the more interesting individuals I meet there. Hopefully this little blog will one day get a post all capitalized declaring I've been accepted into med school. In the meantime, we shall endeavor to entertain ourselves at the expense of my customers at Mc Donalds. Honestly, I love my job. I just wish it paid more...and was a tad healthier.