The New Normal or Why The Hawaii School System is Crap
"I lookeen for one album called 'One Night Stand' by Akolu," said the customer over the phone.
"Do you mean Ekolu?" I asked.
"Dat's what I said."
Naturally, what the guy gave me was the song name, not the album name, because eighty percent of the time, when a customer says one thing he means another. And -- also a common thing -- the artist was not Ekolu, it was Kekai Boyz. Hey, not a big deal. I'm used to it.
"The song you're looking for is by Kekai Boyz, it's on an album called 'Just An Illusion'."
"Okay, no, wait..."
In the background his radio was so loud that my ear was throbbing through the phone.
"Sir, you're gonna have to turn your music down, I can't hear you."
"Dat's what I said I was doeen," he snapped. "So wait I gun type in da website."
I was a little confused, since usually customers call the store to have us do all that for them, but I rolled with it because he was already turning out to be a headache.
"How you spell it?"
"'Just An Illusion'," I said, assuming he would get it.
"Yeah, spell 'just"."
He was serious. I spelled it for him. Then he told me to spell "an". Then I spelled "illusion" which, though I paused after each letter, was still too fast for him.
"So wait, you said I-L-U--"
"No, I-L-L-U--"
"So just one L?"
"Two Ls."
"I-L-L... kay?"
"U-S-I..."
"Kay."
"O-N."
"Wait, no..."
I spelled it again.
"Kay tanks, eh," he hung up. Five minutes later, he called me back, complaining that the name I gave him wasn't showing any matches on the Hawaiian music website he was trying to order it on. I passed commenting on the silliness of calling a record store to find a CD that you were planning to order anyway.
"Are you sure you spelled it right?" I asked, half joking because at this point I was feeling frustrated with the guy.
"Oh I dunno. Spell it for me?"
Is there a camera on somewhere? I thought. Is someone fucking with me? I strained to hear traces of my boyfriend's voice, who likes to call the store in different voices and see how long he can give me the runaround before I figure out it's him. But no, even the boyfriend's voice slips once in a while; this guy was for real.
"J-U-S-T."
"Okay, then 'and' right?"
"No, not 'and', it's 'an'."
"Yeah, 'and', dat's what I said."
"No," someone please kidnap me at gunpoint. "An. A-N." My coworkers were giggling. "Type A, then N, then a space."
"Oh okay. But you said 'and' before."
"No, I --" I gave up. "Okay. Then you type the word 'illusion'."
"Yeah, dat's L-U-S--"
"No, no."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, digging my fingertips into my tear ducts an wondered if I was going crazy. I had to be. I spelled it for him again and made him repeat each letter after I said it.
"Yeah, still not coming up. Oh wait... do I have to still erase the other stuff I wrote in before?"
"Yeah, that'd help."
I listened for the sound of an index finger pushing the delete button slowly, one letter at a time, tap, pause, tap, pause, tap... pause. Tap.
"Kay, here it is."
Victory!
"Do you want me to order it for you?" I asked.
"Guess can order it myself."
Good luck, I thought, hanging up the phone. You need THUMBS for that.
"There are chimpanzees out there," I said to a coworker. "Who really are so much smarter than him! Many chimpanzees! All of them!"
And yet, to speak delicately, this is not that strange an occurrence. Not here. The Hawaiian schools are often lamented as the worst in the country, the island's carefree, lazy attitude as well as everyone's inclination to go catch rippin' tides rather than read a book makes it difficult to keep students, and teachers, interested. That's not true for everyone, of course -- I know some incredibly intelligent people here, many of them, and even they agree that they're a minority.
When I heard my own boss ask if something had been "alphabeticized" not once but twice, when I see "register" spelled "rejerister", when one of my managers puts up a notice about "a promotional give aways we have gave out threw the years we been in busness", I know it's just the new normal.
"Do you mean Ekolu?" I asked.
"Dat's what I said."
Naturally, what the guy gave me was the song name, not the album name, because eighty percent of the time, when a customer says one thing he means another. And -- also a common thing -- the artist was not Ekolu, it was Kekai Boyz. Hey, not a big deal. I'm used to it.
"The song you're looking for is by Kekai Boyz, it's on an album called 'Just An Illusion'."
"Okay, no, wait..."
In the background his radio was so loud that my ear was throbbing through the phone.
"Sir, you're gonna have to turn your music down, I can't hear you."
"Dat's what I said I was doeen," he snapped. "So wait I gun type in da website."
I was a little confused, since usually customers call the store to have us do all that for them, but I rolled with it because he was already turning out to be a headache.
"How you spell it?"
"'Just An Illusion'," I said, assuming he would get it.
"Yeah, spell 'just"."
He was serious. I spelled it for him. Then he told me to spell "an". Then I spelled "illusion" which, though I paused after each letter, was still too fast for him.
"So wait, you said I-L-U--"
"No, I-L-L-U--"
"So just one L?"
"Two Ls."
"I-L-L... kay?"
"U-S-I..."
"Kay."
"O-N."
"Wait, no..."
I spelled it again.
"Kay tanks, eh," he hung up. Five minutes later, he called me back, complaining that the name I gave him wasn't showing any matches on the Hawaiian music website he was trying to order it on. I passed commenting on the silliness of calling a record store to find a CD that you were planning to order anyway.
"Are you sure you spelled it right?" I asked, half joking because at this point I was feeling frustrated with the guy.
"Oh I dunno. Spell it for me?"
Is there a camera on somewhere? I thought. Is someone fucking with me? I strained to hear traces of my boyfriend's voice, who likes to call the store in different voices and see how long he can give me the runaround before I figure out it's him. But no, even the boyfriend's voice slips once in a while; this guy was for real.
"J-U-S-T."
"Okay, then 'and' right?"
"No, not 'and', it's 'an'."
"Yeah, 'and', dat's what I said."
"No," someone please kidnap me at gunpoint. "An. A-N." My coworkers were giggling. "Type A, then N, then a space."
"Oh okay. But you said 'and' before."
"No, I --" I gave up. "Okay. Then you type the word 'illusion'."
"Yeah, dat's L-U-S--"
"No, no."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, digging my fingertips into my tear ducts an wondered if I was going crazy. I had to be. I spelled it for him again and made him repeat each letter after I said it.
"Yeah, still not coming up. Oh wait... do I have to still erase the other stuff I wrote in before?"
"Yeah, that'd help."
I listened for the sound of an index finger pushing the delete button slowly, one letter at a time, tap, pause, tap, pause, tap... pause. Tap.
"Kay, here it is."
Victory!
"Do you want me to order it for you?" I asked.
"Guess can order it myself."
Good luck, I thought, hanging up the phone. You need THUMBS for that.
"There are chimpanzees out there," I said to a coworker. "Who really are so much smarter than him! Many chimpanzees! All of them!"
And yet, to speak delicately, this is not that strange an occurrence. Not here. The Hawaiian schools are often lamented as the worst in the country, the island's carefree, lazy attitude as well as everyone's inclination to go catch rippin' tides rather than read a book makes it difficult to keep students, and teachers, interested. That's not true for everyone, of course -- I know some incredibly intelligent people here, many of them, and even they agree that they're a minority.
When I heard my own boss ask if something had been "alphabeticized" not once but twice, when I see "register" spelled "rejerister", when one of my managers puts up a notice about "a promotional give aways we have gave out threw the years we been in busness", I know it's just the new normal.