Mme. Fickes would be proud

Well, maybe.

First off let me apologize for being so slack with my blogging. With two jobs and kids, there is not much time to sit journal for souls perusing the internet to find. However, when I get those moments, I do still like to share.

This post comes about a week or two late.

I kid you not, half of the customers this particular night were from Quebec, most from Montreal (yes I asked) and all were coming home from Florida. (I want to go to Florida, but I digress)In spite of the masses of Canadians moving through our doors, there was no mapel leaf convention nearby. They were all isolated friends/family groups all coming home from vacation and no group knew another group.

For a span of an hour it was every other customer and some must have been from border towns because their English was practically non existant.

However, all that aside, we have discussed my obsession with accents and my adoration of the Quebequois accent. The result of this evening, although slightly stressful, was like a tiny peice of glee for me.

Like any good employee, I try to accomodate the customer request, which first comes by way of ensuring I understand their order. This proved quite difficult in English with many of them because, they had a poor grasp on the language. So I took a deep breath, blocked out the noises around me and eaves dropped on conversations hoping desperately to understands *something* anything to help these poor hungry souls find sustenance and then I hear what sounds like "freets"...wait...freets? I know that word...FRIES! "Frites grande? ou um...errr...medium?" as I hold up my hands to gesture large or medium hoping my hack job at franglais was making it's point...and suddenly I am in an onslaught of "oui! oui! medeeeeooom" Oh I love that accent. So then I hear "poolay" and I'm like...snap! that's poulet and that means chicken and I am definitley remembering things so I attempt a few more phrases in french and start pulling out the numbers of the value meals and voila...smooth ordering from the wee canadians that were struggeling just moments before.

I actually got into a niche and blurted out "c'est tout?" a few times instead of "is that everything?" and they just responded as if I knew all there was to their language, and of course I began to stutter and had to explain it's been almost 20 years since French class and I can't remember it all, but could someone please bring me some poutine next time they are in town?

I felt pretty good about things and always remembered my "merci" as they departed. And although it was just a burger or a chicken sandwich I feel like I did my part in that little Mc Donald's motto of "we love to see you smile". Perhaps I should learn that phrase in French as well.

Actually, I appreciate a language barrier. It's not easy going into a foreign country and attempting to communicate in a language you are not strong with. I remember doing it as a kid growing up on Army bases in Germany. I did eventually learn "Danke", and "knie aus" (knees out from ballet class, which I never really mastered by the way).

I have learned, however, that in spite of the largest language barriers, that a simple thank you goes a long way. As a result, I've tried to learn what I can in the languages that frequent our store. American sign language I'm pretty stupid with, but I can get a few toddler neccessary phrases out. Not sure "socks" is going to help a customer, however that "thank you" will put a smile on their face and make their experience better, and so I learned it the first deaf customer we had. Now they all come to me. I guess I'm special that way. I can't speak ASL, but I can hand them a paper and pen and a list I keep nearby for them to point and pick. And again we follow up with the thank yous.

I love that little phrase, and I'm determined to learn it in more languages. I think I have french of course, and german, ASL, spanish and italian for the thanks phrase. I could have learned it in Indian and Finish. Sadly, I forgot to ask the Hindu convention how to say it as they came through and the finish au pairs I met last week, were too absorbed in conversation to want to be interupted when things were slow enough to converse. Oh well, I will learn more as I age. I hope at least. In the meantime, mayhaps my French teacher from so many years ago will be content knowing that I've actually found a use outside of tourism for the language she so adored. Thanks Mme. Fickes. I guess you taught me well...or should I say "merci".

There's a reason restaraunt workers can't stand teens

Dear Pine Grove Area High School,
We appreciate the fact that in your hunger induced delerium, we are your natural choice for sustenance after a long hard game. We enjoy that you like to tell us of your wins. However, do not think for a second we appreciate the fact that you come in, trash our lobby, bust our salt shakers, and destroy our property. You can not deny it is you, as you trapse in dressed in your team uniform, still with shoes on from your games. I've asked repeatedly for you to stop. There are days it takes an hour and three of us to clean up after your messes. Frankly this job does not pay me enough to bus the tables you feel the need to trash without you paying me a tip. Yes, we all feel this way, and yes we've contemplated contacting the director of your athletics department, explaining what you do after every game. Respect is earned young ones, and if you wish to be treated as adults, then it's time you start behaving like them. For the record, vandalism is a crime and busting salt shakers you do not intend to purchase is indeed vandalism, as is throwing things all over our property. Do not be surprised when one day a cop is suddenly standing in front of you on your way out the door because I finally became fed up with your antics and contacted them. You are in uniform. Believe it or not, you are representatives of your school. At that point, if your school is like the countless others, then your handbook specifies this type of behavior will not be tolerated and most likely end up in a suspension, so please consider the fact that other people are left cleaning up your messes before placing that quarter under the salt. And remember, you did not invent this little trick. It was around when my grand daddy was around. But his father would have beaten him senseless had he ever attempted such a stunt.

Furthermore, since I am on a complaining kick, and since I do not do this often, let me continue on to my other point of discontent.

RESTROOMS

It is a well known fact that men's rooms are disgusting. Apparently, men have little control over the hose from which their voiding flows. Yet, men think they are powerful enought to control a giant firehose if they choose that profession. The wall is not a place for you to void. The drain within the urinal is the proper place to aim. I just thought I put that out there, however, my angst really is not directed towards the men. My angst is that women seem to think they are the cleaner species when, the reality of the situation is they are down right disgusting at least once a month. Why any woman feels that the world wants to see that she is experiencing her moon, is beyond me. There is no reason to leave things laying face up on the floor, tossed in the corner, expecting some mythical creature to magically whisk them away when you leave. There's no need to leave traces of your mess all over our toilets because you could not be bothered with grabbing a tiny peice of tissue to wipe things up. And really, with tissue and the bags your products come in, and any number of other items, must you seriously leave them exposed anyway? Wrap them please before placing them in the hygene recepticals. At the end of the evening guess who gets to open those lids to empty those bins? We here at our store do not wish to see such things. It really taints our evenings. You would not do this at home so why do it in public? Believe it or not, it's really not acceptable here either.

And with that, I leave my bitching and moaning for the day. I'm really rather tired. I'm working two jobs and can not seem to keep up with this little blog like I used to. I promise for Amanda's sake I will try harder and not be so hard on the customers in posts to come.

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...

HONEY I'M HOME!

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, um...no. 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.

Shwoo.

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?"
"Yup"
"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...

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.

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 her...um...her? Um...wait...no...him? 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.

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 something...anything...to 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.

Um...am 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.