The Theatre that I work at sometimes gets me to play hostess for the night, so the others can have a chance at making tips (just kidding!) Don' get me wrong, I like the job, I getty to wear high heels and dress up in my fancy pants, boss everyone around a little bit, (a tiny little bit), and so on and so on. But there's one thing that's always kinda bugged me. A thought that's just been burrowing away in the base of my spine, the very fringe of my grey matter. Lemme explain.
We have a coat check room beside the hostess station where the busser, (and sometimes a hostess or two) get to hang up all the coats/mitts/boots/hats/dead ferrets/etc/you get my point. And on the desk of the hostess station there's a little wicker basket that people throw their change into to tip/pay coat check. Now when it's very cold outside, which it's been for a week or two now, both hostesses help out with coat check, as customers tend to appear all at once, totally ruining our calm and collected appeal, and practically turning the front door area into a war zone. okay, that may be a bit of an overstatement, but it gets pretty hectic in there. Anyways, that little wicker basket comes into play at the end of the night, as, hopefully, many people have thrown many bits of change into it, and then it gets split up between the hostess and the busser.
This is where my quandries and thoughts start a-naggling at me. When I was in grade three, we had a school dance. I really don't remember anything about it other than I wore a black 3-tiered mini skirt with neon trim in pink green and orange, and that I won a dance contest with another boy in my class. The prize was a box of icy squares. I remember going to the stage to pick up the icy squares, going over to the bench with the boy, and divvying up the squares equally, because, gosh darn it, we had both worked very hard to win that competition.
How different is a couple of people dancing around a coat check room, working very hard for the prize, then going to the back room(it's where the paying public are prohibited. most of the time,) and sorting through the change til it's in two piles, and having that slightly proud feeling of accomplishment when you get a big tip out? So this is my problem. Every time I hostess, I get swept back into grade three.

that's it! I'm officially Addicted!!

I LOVE WINTER!!!!

However, I despise the shopping, not for the shopping itself, but that I never carry cash, only plastic. And because of this, I realized this morning that I don't have any clean socks left, due to the fact that I live in a big building with many others (some call it an apartment) and it's only got a coin operated laundry. The plus side to this is that I have small feet, so I can fit into my son's socks. The downside to this is that my son is only four, so his socks, which are usually knee high-ish to him, are now ankle socks to me. So needless to say, my ankles and calfs are chilly!!!!



I also love winter for the Coffee. Every Coffee shop I know in Saskatoon comes up with special yummy drinks, either in Coffee or Hot Chocolate form, even the place that I work at night, so there is always something new to try. I learned quite recently as I was pacing the Brand New Indigo in town (yay! we're finally big enough to have an Indigo books!!!) that Starbucks has a myriad of New flavours for me to sample (well, they're not all new, some are just re-introduced from last year, but still) and lo and behold, I found the Jackpot. It's taste was of Buttery Hot chocolate, and Skor Bar flavour, with a whipped topping of Chocolate Whipped Cream and Rock salt. It was heaven, and usually I'll savour a nector such as this, so I was surprised and somewhat sad when the last dregs came after only minutes. I'm sure this will become my winter Favorite. yummy.



oh yeah.. it's called the Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate, and I order everyone I know to try it at least once.

four! in a row! craziness!

Customer Service.
It's a difficult biz to get into. most people can't handle the stress of it. However, that doesn't mean that not every Sally, Dick and Jane can do it.
I personally think Customer Service is the easiest bloody job to take on, not really hard at all, requires about three brain cells, even my son could do it and he's only four.
I think that most retail/customer service/lackeys should at least have the common sense to know three important rules when working.
1. the customer is always right(until out of earshot)
2. Listen to the customer, don't try to guess(they'll usually tell you what they want)
3. do what you get paid to do, nothing more, nothing less.

These three rules will not only keep you in your job, but probably make life easier to handle in the long run. really.
example. This morning, I inadvertantly tested an employee of a certain bagel shop in above rules. I thought, gee wouldn't it be nice if I could make my own mocha? I could just use Coffee, chocolate milk, and a little cocoa and voila! impromptu yumminess!
So I asked for four things.
My lunch, a tasty lox and capers on a cream-cheesed bagel, which was made slowly, incorrectly(she made me egg salad) and with many interruptions, since the girl was talking to the thingy in her ear, which I can only assume was either an earbud to a radio, or one of those phone plug-in-thingys.
Some soup, which was forgotten about until we got to the cash register.
The coffee, extra large (which you pour yourself, they just give you a cup)
The Chocolate Milk (which was in the cooler behind the counter, not in front with the rest of the pop and cream cheese that you just grab yourself. guess it's more valuable or something.)(this was also forgotten completely.)
Now, I happened to be only carrying debit and not any cash, so when I got my reciept and noticed no chocolate milk and realized my morning caffiene/sugar rush was postponed due to lack of listening to the customer, needless to say I got a little upset. I pointed my ice blue daggers her way and spoke in just above a whisper( don't really have a voice first thing in the morning), 'umm, where's the milk?' to which I got one of those pointy up fingers that one does to show they want the other to hold on, they're busy. So I said, a little louder,'where's your manager?' to which she replied, 'I am the manager, just hold on a sec, I'm a little busy.' and continued her conversation with her ear. At this point in time, Her manager came out( aha!!! LIAR!) and asked if I had been helped, and I proceeded to rip the little ignorant bugger a new one, using such words as:
'girl can't take out her earbuds long enough to do her job',
'a little confused with my order since she made me egg salad when I obviously asked for lox and cream cheese',
'is she actually a manager, because in that case I'm not sure why I even bother to come in here in the first place if that's the kind of person you like to hire',
-and-
'forgot my chocolate milk, and I only have debit, and I can't make my perfect mocha',
all in a surprisingly whiny voice( I guess I'm not very witty first thing in the morning either, mostly just a big puss). In any case, the girl got a swift talking to, I got a free egg salad sandwich, got my coffee refunded, and subsequently went to Starbucks and got a big americano.
So in conclusion, this is my fourth post in a row, and already I have nothing to write except how much people piss me off first thing in the morning. shitty..




p.s. oh, yeah, forgot to mention I'm trying to do this everyday for a month, care of napomlobo? namoplobo? nope... just a sec... NaBloPoMo. That's it. That stands for National Blog Posting Month. so that's what I'm doing. cuz I have no life. that's all...

a Whimsical Winter Wonderland of Wisecracks

I love winter. No joke. Most people here don't really like the white stuff, but not me. I love it. Here are ten good reasons why.(just cuz ten seemed like the right number to put down. gut feeling, that's all.)

1.Location, Location, Location:

I live in a province (yes I said province) where 6-8 months of the year are covered in snow. you can't get rid of it. You can't form petitions to have it forcefully removed, cuz goddamn muther nature will just keep giving it back. You can't escape it because the land is so flat you give up trying after about three days of running. all you see is white.

2.Kids:

I have a child, who loves to build and throw and destroy things. yes I have a boy-beast. Snow,to me at least, is a built-in toy/friend/bribe that I don't have to pay for. I mean... what the hell. yeah. it's free. and that makes me happy in my pants. and my heartstrings. if I had any.

3.Weather:

I can't quite describe the feeling I get when I look up and see the murky grey sky, that chill in my bones, and the wind through my hair. It makes me happy inside. it makes me think of past winters and hot chocolate, and don't eat yellow snow-too late, and forts and making graves for dead squirrels that you find in your annoying neighbours/ neighbourhood nemesis's yard, just so you can have the satisfaction of 5 months later having the snow melt and the looks on their faces. Now that, my friends, was long-term fun.

4.Clothing:

mittens. and toques. I believe that says it all. oh wait...

5.Holiday aromas:

The sizzle of wet mittens and toques as you dried them on the heating vents and the almost overpowering smell of wet dog that seemed to waft from these seemingly harmless little knitted accessories.

6.The Holiday Sales:

Not the Holidays themselves, those are just a bullshit commercialized reason for you to buy things for other people so they'll be your friends for another year. No. I like the shopping for me. and what better time to buy useless, and sometimes harmful, or at least pretty stuff, than when it's on sale for a completely different reason? no time like snow time, I always say. like just now.

7.Tunes:

On the topic of Holidays, that pretty much go hand in hand with winter, my next favorite thing is the X-mas Songs. Now, I'm a bit un-orthidox about this one, as I can't seem to remember any bloody holiday jingle when there's actually need for one, but give me a nice hot sunny sunday in June, when everybody else is singing about their blings, ices, ice-cream, umbrellas and whatnot, I'm singing Jingle bells.

8.Chocolate:

Yes kiddies, the Queen of all things sugary, bittersweet, and overpriced. Now, you can get chocolate pretty much any day of the year, but only during the winter can you get Cadbury's Chocolate elves a'la pop rocks. If you haven't had one of these things, you should. if you don't know what pop rocks are, you're stoopid. if you don't care, that's fine by me. These things are on the highest pillars of awesomeness, and they will never come down. unless they start putting pop rocks into reese's.

9.Boots:

well, a chance to buy new shoes of any kind really. I'm not particular. But I guess for the occasion, It'll have to be boots. or sexy heels for new years. . . mmmmmmm, shoes....

10.Golden Glowing Glacial Graupel:

otherwise known as: yellow snow. ahar de har ha ha. too funny.

Chocolates with Extreme Dizzying qualities?

Don't get me wrong, I LOVVE chocolate. Dark chocolate, light chocolate, truffles, clusters, muffin and cake form, whatever. Chocolate is Guuuuddd. I do not love the people who organise the chocolate in my store. I don't care what looks better per shelf, I don't care that the regular size bars go on a higher shelf than the king size bars, in fact I don't even think that we should be having king size bars in my store, if not for the fact that the fat people love them so much. I happen to have the few representatives from each chocolate company that the rest of the world deemed 'too retarded to actually work in a real city' so they sent them to bellybutton Saskatchewan so they could run free and play. seriously. Mr Cadbury isn't past puberty yet, and stares at those bloody white chocolate bars like they're the creamiest thing he's gonna see, Mr Hershey is usually a no-show, although he usually does have the courtesy to book an appointment to come in so he has a certain time that he can NOT bother to show up for, and Ms Nestle? Picture Foreman's mom from That 70's show, skinny her up a bit, then ladle on some extra annoying. She's got that tasteful way of saying the most tactless thing in her honeyed voice, then following it up with a little twitter and an 'okaaaaayyyyy....'. I want to slaughter her with the sharp edge of a Skor Bar.

Ms Nestle came in to my store today, rearranged everything whilst I did my damnedest to ignore her, proceeded to take 'before' and 'after' shots with her new for-work-only digital camera, and in the midst of her in-home candy renovation, tried to talk to me about my life like she actually spent more than 10 minutes every 3-4 months in my store wiping the dust off of old product before replacing it. I have to admit that I might have given her some of the ammo to work with, but the rest she managed to pull out of her own a**. or at least out of someone else's life.

So she comes in with her BINDER OF ALL IMPORTANCE, her LABELS OF DESTINY, and her BOX CUTTER OF JUSTICE, and tries to butter me up with a free smarties box. Now I've said I lurve chocolate, but smarties doesn't really contain a whole lotta chocolate. just so you know. In fact if you look at the Label, the first ingredient is Milk Chocolate, which then has a brackets bar naming about 9 ingredients, 5 of which Ms Nestle herself couldn't even pronounce, and about four or five ingredients down in the sub-ingredients listing is unsweetened chocolate, but diluted by chemicals and 'Modified milk ingredients' so it can't really be considered chocolate) (I could be just making this shit up, but Ms Nestle should saw the backlash coming.) ANYWAYS, she gives me smarties, I say I don't like 'em, she looks like a puppy I just booted, so I try to comprimise and pull a little kindness out of a rarely used orifice and say that I could probably give them to my son, he'd like them. (which is true, I do bribe him when teaching him the alphabet, see 'By the power of Leapfrog') She lit up at this, and I thought all was well. Too well, it turned out. I was rearranging books in the small section we have that carries various romance titles and such (for the little old ladies, I just love them and their constant perfum of toilet cleaner and kitty litter) and she starts asking me about 'my little girl'. I corrected her once or twice, but she seemed set that my kid was Not born with the barnacles of manhood, so I went with it. what the hell. Then she started asking me about my husband and his Dad's business. So apparently now I'm married to my bosses non-exsistent son, which is kinda... different... anywho, this went on with her making shit up, and myself grunting the odd acknowledgment until she aquired how my pa-in-law was coping with the loss of his wife. a little caught off gaurd I was since my boss is a step father to a coupla daughters, and vice versa his healthy wife. I can only keep up with a made up a story so far, then I kinda lose point of what my goal was in the original making of the story, which was to keep this woman happy with the least possible amount of participation on my part, and mess with her head a little. I was wondering if she wasn't doing this to me. she didn't do a very good job tho, cuz I wasn't really happy with her. I think she sensed my pause of discomfort as a 'it's too personal, don't really wanna talk about it' kinda thing, at which point she did her finest Foreman's mom and Nasally twittered into the ackward feeling silence and 'okaaaaayyyy....'. Then she left. I don't know if she was actually done, or if she just wanted to leave the scene of the crime, although I'm not exactly sure who's crime it was, or what it was for that matter. I'm still all of a tizzy trying to figure it out myself. ..

weird.

Willy wonka and the Cancer factory

I officially hate wednesdays.

So far today I have managed to yell at a customer on the phone, not once, but three times and counting(apparently can't take the hang up hint AT ALL), dropped all of my daily newspapers that come into my store(about 15 different titles, 5-20 apiece), then barked at a customer wanting to help.And these papers didn't just go in an up-down motion. oh no. I did the full version of the 'I got it! I Got it!' dance, and there was news every where.. and that nice, naive customer held the door open for a full 4 minutes while I did the 'mumbly-don't help me- I said I got it' stretches. all this going on, while behind me, and so unbeknownst to me, a good crowd of 4 or 5 people had gathered, either apparently too scared to pass the messy News-explosion into the helpfully opened door, or trying to keep their laughs down to a reasonably silent snorting session. yeah I heard it. helpful.

and it's not even 10:30.

ok now it is.

And enter- Oompa Loompa! Well. Not quite. He's a bit surlier than your average oompa. But he's short! And cancer-peely Orange! Someone should send that man to the tanning nazis. NO MORE GLOOP FOR YOU! ick. As always, he, like every other regular schmuck in my store, expects my mind-reading capabilities to kick in before lunch, or at least my third cuppa. So I'm behind the counter, vaguely aware that he likes to top off his carcinogenic routine with cigars, but I'll be a surgeon generals left t** if I can remember which kind. And so I start from the left of the display and move on, while he's making jokes about the intelligence level of retail employees in this day and age. I imagine the slow painful death he's made for himself, and picture him wheezing and purple, and somehow the comments bounce off . Not bad for 10:30. in the a.m. After I finally get the amount of and the kind(get this, a carton of bandi cigars, five to a pack , five packs a carton, twice a week. I hope he shares.) Oompa gets on his cell phone. Guess my converstional skills were no match to his lackey who can get him starbucks at his whim. So I'm standing there while he makes his order, still waiting for a form of payment. And the little bugger starts wandering around the store, visually picking out artery-clog inducing pastry! Hello! I want you to get the f out of my store! If you're not out in 30 seconds, your lackey better be bringing ME a venti-smooth-hot-something else-blahblah-water-more fake italian-latte, AND a muffin! I don't care which kind. not picky. haha... So , he finally comes back, and then tries to leave without paying. yeah. Saw That coming from a mile away, even in my caffiene-free coma. So we argue for a little minute, then I , in my graceful, refined and patient glory, say 'I have a video camera that's been watching you SIR! Why don't you have a look to jog your memory, cuz I am QUITE SURE that you didn't leave any fu**in money.' whoops. First rule,big one, no swearing at customers, the customer is always right. well I happen to know that most of the customers I serve don't know right from their own toes, so I guess that makes me a shitty manager. Whatever. So, wisely, he shuts his mouth, we go to the camera and rewind , he looks at himself going through the coffee summons, while I look on(thank god my back was to the camera, I'm pretty shure that I said many more unsavory things while watching his communicative ordeal.) (hah! big words! not even sure if they fit or make sense, but surprisingly they're the only words coming to mind)

And all he says is 'huh. so I guess I didn't pay ya.' and gets out his wallet. . kay best part. so he pays, says 'see ya next week, you know you don't have to let these things get to ya, don't let the world get ya down.' or something to that extent. then-'umm, I looked kind of orange in the camera... you might want to fix your contrast.'

priceless.

HALLOWEEN!

ok, so it's a little late, but not too too late, so I'll tell you all about it.
So The Last week of October, my son has had a bad flu,(this is a reminder, Please, get a flu shot, to save the ickies.) So, sonny had been spiking temps of about 103.-whatever since Monday the 29th, and was not in the best of health for tricky-treating. But, alas, daycare is such a wonderful place, that by the time pick-up time came around, he was up and about, full of Motrin, and running a wonderful little 'I'm goin tricky-treatin! yay for candy' rant, and since his dad had promised a week before to take him out, I couldn't really say no. Could I? so off home we go, and by the time we pick up daddy from work, the little tyke is passed out. yup, snoring in the car seat, oblivious to the whole day. Should I have just moved him from car seat to bed and not even tried the rest of the night? said enuf is enuf, and be done with it? probably.
so we get home, and daddy gets sonny out of the car seat, and sonny wakes up and lo and behold, starts the rant again. Now this whole rant was really kinda cute to hear in a way, since he was losing his voice, and it was coming out a squeak, so it kinda sounded like he was daydreaming. huh. So we get home, and bring out the spider man costume, figure we can tour the apartment building, and go home. Here is the first trial. even though Logan has worn the costume before, He doesn't want to wear it with clothes on. so we take off the clothes. Then he doesn't want to wear it at all. He can't understand as we try to explain that you can only get candy if you dress up. 'I can't wear it', he wails, and for a kid that's losing his voice, that's pretty impressive. So we ask why, and he replies' I can't tell you' and then proceeds to get really upset. So I ask Daddy to go put on his chef whites that he wore to work that day, and tell Logan that Daddy dressed up for candy, can you? NO. but if both daddy and mommy dress up for candy, then can you? NO! and more balling.
So this goes on for about, oh, 10-15 minutes, and then finally I tell daddy to calm kiddo down, don't ask him any more questions, and I start rooting thru the boxes in the storage closet for years past costumes. can't find anything. Start looking in my closet and his for anything that he can dress up as. Can't find anything. Then, on the brink of everyone bursting into tears, I find a pair of kiddy wranglers that good ol' uncle Hungarian and auntie got him for the Christmas before, that were a couple sizes too big, and I can't say inspiration hit me,... it was more like desperation. So in the background with Logan wailing, and daddy only slightly freaking out, and me more so, I find a vest that I wear and a cowboy hat I have that badly needs reshaping, and ask Logan if he wants to be a cowboy. NO. the wails get worse and after yet another failed attempt at explaining that only dressed-up kids get candy, it's daddy's turn for a brilliant idea. How about we just get you re-dressed and then go out for candy?
ok.
So we put him into the wranglers, and then a sweater, and then another sweater, and then his big boots, and a scarf, and get a pillow case. Sneaky. At this point we ask him if he wants to wear the cowboy hat. Big mistake. The wailing starts again, and at this point the mommy-meter for patience wears out, and I go 'OK! NO HAT! LETS JUST GET A BASEBALL CAP AND PRETEND YOU'RE A FARMER!'
But we bring the hat along just in case.
So we decide to go outside, to the street just behind us that Logan and I have meandered through many times before, and when we get to the first house, I ask sonny if he wants to wear the cowboy hat.
Ok.
AHHHH! I should have known.
So we get to the first couple of houses okay, including the one guy who just moved in and was renovating, so he gave Logan a couple of granola bars and a box of kd, then shut his porch light off. So as Logan is finally getting into the spirit of things, we get to this house in a cul-de-sac thing, and Logan goes up yells(as best he can, which isn't much with no voice, so mom and dad have to help) tricky- treating! and this little old lady answers the door, and she falls all over him like he's the cutest thing she's ever seen and of course in doing so, boosts up said parents egos and confidence, and then she asks him The Question.
'Are you a cowboy?'
and at this Logan looks so offended, and responds angrily' NO! I'm a Logan! '
and the lady lets out a twitter, and says 'I'm sorry, we don't get many Logan's dressed-up here."
and Logan says, 'I'm not dressed- up! Don't talk to me'
and turns around.
yeah.
Fan-tastic.
So after mass apologies, and I think the lady wasn't too offended, she still gave him raisins, and we're on our way. So I think Logan cheered up a bit after that, and did his usual flirting, and got mass handouts, and I do mean mass handouts, we hit 20 houses or so, and Logan filled half a pillow case. There was even one house, where the parents were ready to take Their kids out, and so they gave Logan like six bags of chips. This was also the house Logan met spider man. There was a five-six yr old dressed up as spider man, and he gave Logan one of the bags of chips, and you can just see His eyes go Wide! and soo surprised, and he says,'HI SPIDER MAN!' and goes to give this kid a hug, and I'm glad this kid wasn't older and more wary, cuz he returned the hug, and Logan is just glowing. His dad and I didn't really have the heart to tell him that spider man is a little taller than 3 foot 3. And after we hit one side of the street, it was time to go home, as his dad and I were taking turns either holding the candy-filled pillowcase, or holding Logan, and to tell the truth, it was hard to tell which weighed more.
So we get home, and logan gets back down to his diaper, and mommy dumps out the pillow-case to search for tainted goodies, and it wasn't bad, I only threw out a marshmallow thing and the box of raisins. I swear some people should definitly check expiration dates if they're going to give out healthy food. I don't condone it, in fact I recommend it, but really. Dont just give it away cuz it's been in your cupboard for the last five years, and you can't bring yourself to throw it out....
so that is the halloween story, and it's pretty scary, at least parts of it are in my eyes.
Stay tuned for more adventures from the Tiny Pianist!