(no subject)
i've started calling little kids honey at work.
example: "here ya go, honey".
i usually say it with a pretty thick boston accent. in fact, my accent is pretty thick in general at work. it should be noted that this accent is unnatural and usually only shows up in situations in which i'm surrounded by a lot of townies or am wearing a hat.
somehow, saying honey without the boston accent feels a little dirty... well uncomfortable anyway.
when i start calling everyone honey at work it will be the first sign that i'll be working at papas for the rest of my life.
please intervene.
i have a favorite customer. he's an elderly gentleman who wears the type of plaid pants that i'd probably borrow if instead of being an elderly gentleman he was my older sister. everytime he comes in he asks me if i "hablas espanol" (pronounced completely phonetically) and we quip about my 175 iq, as papas hires only the best and the brightest. he's been giving me career advice and we've both decided that weathergirl is the line of work for me. it was either that or the navy.
he wears a plastic bib shamelessly and always buys 2 hoodsies before he leaves.
i adore him.
(note- contrary to popular belief, my iq is not actually 175 ;))
last summer, in the bathroom, another one of our elderly guests approached me to chat. she and her husband had just come from the doctor's office where they were informed that he would need a potentially risky operation. she began to cry, as did i. she for her husband, and i for her. she was such a dear woman- she reminded me that underneath my scowling exterior i am a human being who should feel for other human beings, under ALL circumstances. inCLUDING work.
i thought about them on occasion during the summer, and even a few times during the school year. i wondered what became of him, and of her.
a couple of days ago i saw both of them, together.
it made me tremendously happy.
the other night at work, a woman called for delivery. she was slow and wavering in placing her order, and we were busy. i maintained my "phone voice" but made furious faces on my end of the line. upon finishing her order she exclaimed that she'd had the worst day. she was undergoing chemo, she was in pain, ill, and had encountered unfriendliness all day. my pleasant "phone voice" had made her day, she was so happy that i had been kind to her.
i felt awful. i hadn't truly been patient with her, i had, afterall, been silently mimicking her to a coworker. i had assumed that she was a woman who was too inconsiderate to decide what to order before placing the phone call. i had assumed a slew of things about her. and she, she had only granted me the benefit of the doubt, assumed that i was kind, a good person. she, the woman in pain, had given ME the second chance.
what am i saying with all of this? i complain about papa ginos a lot. and yes, it is often a silly job. yes i am probably overqualified to work there. but i see people come in every day with job applications, people with families to feed, bills to pay, children to clothe. these people are truly qualified to work- what greater qualification is there than need?
i think of my own mother, looking for a job, and i see her face on the body of every applicant. i imagine what people assume about her when she hands in a job application. my mother is unbelievably intelligent. she graduated from villanova with a nursing degree at a time when women were still a rarity in higher education.
my point is that as silly as it sounds, as much as you may not believe it, i learn something everyday at papa ginos. the interaction with people at papa ginos that so often makes it a bear also makes it a Godsend.
i hope i grow up a little bit this summer.
example: "here ya go, honey".
i usually say it with a pretty thick boston accent. in fact, my accent is pretty thick in general at work. it should be noted that this accent is unnatural and usually only shows up in situations in which i'm surrounded by a lot of townies or am wearing a hat.
somehow, saying honey without the boston accent feels a little dirty... well uncomfortable anyway.
when i start calling everyone honey at work it will be the first sign that i'll be working at papas for the rest of my life.
please intervene.
i have a favorite customer. he's an elderly gentleman who wears the type of plaid pants that i'd probably borrow if instead of being an elderly gentleman he was my older sister. everytime he comes in he asks me if i "hablas espanol" (pronounced completely phonetically) and we quip about my 175 iq, as papas hires only the best and the brightest. he's been giving me career advice and we've both decided that weathergirl is the line of work for me. it was either that or the navy.
he wears a plastic bib shamelessly and always buys 2 hoodsies before he leaves.
i adore him.
(note- contrary to popular belief, my iq is not actually 175 ;))
last summer, in the bathroom, another one of our elderly guests approached me to chat. she and her husband had just come from the doctor's office where they were informed that he would need a potentially risky operation. she began to cry, as did i. she for her husband, and i for her. she was such a dear woman- she reminded me that underneath my scowling exterior i am a human being who should feel for other human beings, under ALL circumstances. inCLUDING work.
i thought about them on occasion during the summer, and even a few times during the school year. i wondered what became of him, and of her.
a couple of days ago i saw both of them, together.
it made me tremendously happy.
the other night at work, a woman called for delivery. she was slow and wavering in placing her order, and we were busy. i maintained my "phone voice" but made furious faces on my end of the line. upon finishing her order she exclaimed that she'd had the worst day. she was undergoing chemo, she was in pain, ill, and had encountered unfriendliness all day. my pleasant "phone voice" had made her day, she was so happy that i had been kind to her.
i felt awful. i hadn't truly been patient with her, i had, afterall, been silently mimicking her to a coworker. i had assumed that she was a woman who was too inconsiderate to decide what to order before placing the phone call. i had assumed a slew of things about her. and she, she had only granted me the benefit of the doubt, assumed that i was kind, a good person. she, the woman in pain, had given ME the second chance.
what am i saying with all of this? i complain about papa ginos a lot. and yes, it is often a silly job. yes i am probably overqualified to work there. but i see people come in every day with job applications, people with families to feed, bills to pay, children to clothe. these people are truly qualified to work- what greater qualification is there than need?
i think of my own mother, looking for a job, and i see her face on the body of every applicant. i imagine what people assume about her when she hands in a job application. my mother is unbelievably intelligent. she graduated from villanova with a nursing degree at a time when women were still a rarity in higher education.
my point is that as silly as it sounds, as much as you may not believe it, i learn something everyday at papa ginos. the interaction with people at papa ginos that so often makes it a bear also makes it a Godsend.
i hope i grow up a little bit this summer.