Personal Day

oh my god oh my god. I just got home from a lovely day off, and in the car I was thinking to myself how it was such a nice day off. I had some phone issues the past couple days, resulting in my using my day off to go to the Verizon store and have them activate a different phone for me so that I could receive text messages and actually just use the phone period. The girl spent maybe 30 minutes updating the phone, etc, and going from one phone to the other in order to update my contact list. This meant that when I left, I did not see any "missed calls" nor did I notice the two voicemails I had received in that 30 minutes of time.

So I got home just now and listened to the first message, which said, "Hi, it's 2:40. We were expecting to see you here at work 10 minutes ago. Maybe you were under the impression you were supposed to come in at 3:30." And I seriously felt like I was going to throw up all of a sudden, because I knew the next voicemail was going to be an hour later, still wondering where I was. That was awkward. I tried to call work hoping one of the managers would still be around so I could apologize profusely, but they are all gone. So now I have to call them in the morning.

I am a responsible person. I hate it when people with cancel plans on me, and I never cancel on other people. More importantly, I have never not shown up for work, nor have I ever even called in sick when I was supposed to show up. Oh my god. I think I am making a bigger deal of this than it is, because the reality is, it's over and it's too late to do anything other than explain what a mistake it was. Although it says in the handbook that failure to provide notice of missing a shift was grounds for disciplinary action. I messaged a coworker on facebook, though, and he worked tonight. He said he didn't even hear anyone mention my absence, which is a good sign. But it's the managers I am concerned with. I don't want to be considered a flake or be in trouble. I hate trouble.

"Are you a hippie?"

I've been asked this quite a few times in my life, most recently, this evening at work. I said I didn't think so, and asked how he would define a hippie. He didn't give me a real response, citing another coworker as his definition, and explaining that someone else had said I looked like a hippie. The thing is, I don't see how people place me into this hippie category, when being a "hippie" can mean so many different things now, in 2009. Furthermore, I've hardly had time to have conversations with anyone at work, and I have to wear standard issue t-shirts to identify me as an employee above all else.

It's not that I necessarily have anything against personally being a hippie, I just don't feel I deserve to be called what I consider a hippie, nor do I think I deserve to be considered a pothead, which I find is generally a big qualifier. In college, two of my room friends had a discussion that I was present for. One said her father was an activist/hippie in the 60s: smoked pot, rocked out at Woodstock, praised peace, wore bell-bottoms and tie-dye... The other retorted that her father was also an "activist." He'd been in the army. I'm not sure either of them really had the same concept of a hippie as existed in their fathers' days. I think that people have criticized and belittled, as well as broadened the 60s hippie subculture and its goals and efforts.

I've had people tell me that I am a hippie because I am a vegetarian, or interested in recycling, which sort of bothers. Maybe being a vegetarian was "hip" and unusual back in the 60s, but now it is around. I mean seriously. And I was raised a vegetarian, so it's not as if I chose it as part of a hippie lifestyle. (But oh perhaps you could say I was just raised into a hippie life. Though I would for sure say that my sister and my mother are more hippie-esque than I, and both have become more so as time has gone by...) And being eco-friendly/a "tree-hugger?" Come on, it is a responsibility anymore, it's not something that just the hippies should be doing.

I don't think this is where my coworker was going with asking me, and I certainly didn't get into it with him at all. But it seemed interesting to me, especially there, where I don't feel like I have displayed much personality at all (possibly lame) or any hippie style, that people should consider me such. I don't know, am I? Is it just a vibe I radiate?



Next up: Learning that the Easter Bunny does not exist.

Being the New Girl

I am not used to being "The New Girl." Living in the same town my whole life, I was always at school with people I knew, from elementary school all the way up to high school graduation. Then I got a job at the same place my mother worked, went to college at the same small school as my sister, and upon graduating, went to live with my sister. What can I say? They make good decisions. Or I have issues getting out there on my own? Not the issue though.

The issue is that now I am working at a new place. The first few days I went to work, I felt like everyone was personally interviewing me, and oddly, almost all of them knew things about me already. Really, it felt a bit like vultures swooping down. So I thought maybe they'd talked about me amongst themselves, I mean, at least a little bit, but then I thought perhaps I was being paranoid or self centered. I found out tonight though, that out of all the people who work there right now, the newest one has been there 8 months. So they don't have a lot of new blood around. I remember there was always some excitement when there was going to be a new person in my class in elementary school. You know, I guess it was the excitement of meeting a new friend, or a new competitor, or a new friend for the bus ride home. And I suppose it isn't too different in the workplace. Anyway, my veteran coworkers are all totally in the swing of things, and they are two very tight knit crews: morning and night. Every time I ask a question of someone, I feel like nuisance, because it just disrupts their well-oiled machine.

What has been making this week, my fourth on the job, awkward is that at this point I don't feel that I need to ask very many questions. I'm pretty confident in the tasks that I'm completing on my own. BUT then someone walks over and tells me that I was misinformed, and I should do it their way. I understand that they have been doing it longer than I have, and they know the particulars. What works best. But please, I think it would be easiest for all of us to let me work out my own system. Yesterday I was doing one thing, and this guy came out of the back room to ask me if that was how I'd been told to do it. I said, "I think so..." He told me it just wasn't necessary, and after we discussed it a bit, he returned to the back room. I followed him a minute later to take some stuff back, and he and this girl were chuckling, as if he had shared his encounter with me, and both looked at me and stopped talking as I came through the door.

Aside from trying to learn the ropes, which takes concentration, I'm trying my best to be more outgoing or friendly. I don't think I generally give off an outgoing vibe, and have in fact been told that I initially seem unapproachable or do something to seem mean, or maybe superior. When I guess really I am just unsure where to begin or reluctant to impose myself on their social circle. At this job, they definitely hang out outside of work, and I think two of the guys went to high school together, and worked at the same movie theater. And while they're all very nice, I am kind of having a hard time telling whether they are being nice because we're working together, or whether they're being nice because they care.

There are myriad specific opportunities for awkwardness here, and I have experienced many over the course of my training. I'm sure I have not seen the last of them. But this entry ended up focusing on the overall feeling of awkwardness that comes with being new and navigating a new setting. For me, at least.

Long Ago and Far Away

Due to lack of other activities, I have decided to pull from my vault of awkward moments and make a post.

I was wandering through the New Jersey airport on my way from Paris to Vermont last year, looking for the right place to sit down with my book and a cup of coffee. On one of the moving sidewalks, I saw a girl going the opposite direction on the moving sidewalk right next to me. She looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place her before she was behind me. Then I realized that she had lived on my floor for the last semester of college. I wasn't going to go out of my way to talk to her because I didn't even know her, but I did think to myself that it was a funny coincidence that were were in such close proximity in the same airport, etc. But then she came back from her food run and sat down in the gate area next to me, which got me thinking about whether or not we should speak to each other. I know my mother would definitely have gone over to her, or my sister, but I just didn't see the point. Aside from living on the same floor as her, I didn't know anything about her, and I imagined the conversation would go like this:

Me: Hi! I think you lived on my floor last year!
Girl: I guess so!
Me: What a small world!
Girl: Well I live in New Jersey.
Me: Okay! How is school?
Girl: Great. I am happy for the break.
Me: Okay. Well bye!

I just generally do not like small talk, or maybe I'm not good at it, but I figured if I spent two years at a small school with this girl, and one semester on the same floor of a small dorm with her, and we never shared so much as a good morning while brushing our teeth, why would we have anything to share in a bustling airport during the holidays?


Now this has reminded me of a far more excruciating scenario, also at an airport. In March of my senior year at college, I was heading off to Spring Break in Atlanta! I was departing from the small airport near school, which was bound to be sending off some of my classmates as well. Because it was a day early, and in the morning, it wasn't too busy. Of course, as soon as I got in line for my flight, I noticed that I was standing two people behind a girl who shared not only my major, but also my minor. Forgive me, I think this is going to be pretty convoluted. In order to fully appreciate the awkwardness, there is some necessary back story. But also know that the majority of the awkwardness (/anxiety) was only in my head.

We had been in basically all of the same classes since sophomore year (probably three out of four classes per semester). First semester sophomore year, we even worked on a group presentation together. We talked to each other while we were working on the project, but then when I would see her around campus it seemed like we weren't going to be buds. Which is fine, she had a different "circle of friends" if you will: the rugby team, and I had, well, glee club people. As semesters went by and we continued to be in the same small classes, we still never spoke around campus. Or even in class, because neither one of us participated very much in the discussions. So then I was like, well, that's funny, we should probably be friends because we clearly have similar academic interests, and we are both not into public speaking. Oh! Junior year I went to a party in her room, which was oh so awkward because I am not big into parties, not into small talk, and not into situations where I don't know anyone. This was one of those situations. I went with my friend who had to pick something up, and we were supposed to go somewhere else from the party. She knew everyone, and got sucked into conversations, and I just stood there like a loser. By senior year we were not friends, and it was like, it was too late to strike up a casual conversation, because we knew each other, but we didn't, you know?

So Spring Break comes along, this girl is standing in front of me with her girlfriend, and I realize we are going to be on the same flight. Neither of us acknowledges this fact, and as the airline attendant calls people forward to step onto the plane, I start imagining my seat being directly next to these other girls. What would I do? Surely we would be forced to say something, or at the very least make eye contact with each other. If we were both by ourselves, I think it would have been easier (or maybe more necessary) to say something to each other. Like, hey, that midterm we had this morning was fun. But I didn't want to interrupt them, and they had each other as an excuse to ignore me. As I board the plane, one of the last people, I quickly but carefully scan the plane for their faces, and spot them in the very back. My seat is safely in the middle, the flight is short, and I've just used the airport's restroom, which means I won't have to pass them to get to the restroom. I can relax!

The Museum

Jan de Bray's Banquet of Antony and Cleopatra (1669)
Last week I decided to take a trip to a smallish nearby art museum. The museum recently finished a 21.4 million dollar expansion, so I was excited to see the new digs. I went by alone because it was a spur of the moment outing, and there were few other visitors at the museum because it was a weekday, and close to closing time. The first room I went into was just me and the security officer, and it was making me nervous having him follow me around, with his earpiece and uniform and all.

I started to really think about the rules of the museum, since I knew people were watching. Was photography allowed? Could I talk on my phone? Could I text on my phone? Could I have a water bottle with me? I didn't want to do anything wrong! As I stood there in the middle of the room, I decided I wanted a photo and I was going to take it, so I waited until the guard was on the other side of a wall, and took out my camera. I turned it on and pressed the button. The flash went off. I use my flash only on the rarest of occasions, but in my hurry to take a picture without being seen, I didn't notice that my camera was on "scene" mode, doing its own thing. Anyway, the guard came out from around the corner, and informed me that I was not allowed to use my flash in the museum, and asked if I could delete the photo I had taken. I spluttered something about not intending to use the flash, feeling like a bad museum goer. I stayed in the room a while longer, and noticed that the guard did not take his eyes off me - - he did not go around any more corners or behind any walls.

When I went into the major visiting exhibit of Andy Warhol's work, I did not notice any signage to state that this room, unlike the others, prohibited photography. So I started through the room, snapping pictures of Jackie O. and Mao Zedong. Still the only person in the expansive room, I felt a little like I was being shadowed. I tried to take the photos when the guards' backs were turned, perhaps so I would seem as casual as possible. When I wasn't even taking a photo, a guard noticed the camera hanging from my wrist, and came to tell me I was not permitted to take photos, and could I please delete any photos I had taken of the exhibit. Eek!

I moved quickly around the rest of the room, and around the upper floor of the museum, until I heard the announcement that the museum would be closing in 15 minutes. I went down to the gift shop to find some postcards, when I saw one of the guards locking the door I had come in! So I quickly paid for the cards and walked, quite speedily, to the door as he was turn the locks. I guess I looked a little panicked because the man chuckled and said, "I wasn't gonna lock you in, don't worry." Clearly all (most) of the awkwardness was just in my imagination, but being the only focus for the guards' watches did not help. Either way, I felt a little more at ease as I stepped into my car and drove off into the sunset...

Obviously Antony and Cleopatra are the important characters here, but I was curious about this guy.

Do you drive a Saab?

"I sure do," I replied, thinking this was just another guy who wants my car.
"Did you see the I Spy in the paper?"
"No..."
Apparently, this guy that I work with put an I Spy into the local newspaper, spying me, before he started working at the store. He told me so tonight, only, he didn't tell me what it said. I kind of would like to know, but since it was several months ago, I obviously don't have a copy of that paper around. I guess he might have been waiting for a reply, because he said it was when he was just a customer, and then he got a job there, and he noticed I was still around. And then they ran the ad again, but blown up on the I Spy page, and he was like, thinking it was awkward if I saw it and knew it was a coworker.
He said it was something about a comment he made about the strange sound my register made, and I think I insulted him because I was so flustered, instead of acting cool and nonchalant.
I was like, "Yeah, I don't think I saw it, and plus, a lot of people say stuff about that sound anyway." And he said, "Oh, yeah, I guess I didn't think I was that special anyway." I just meant that if I had read the ad and thought it was directed to me, I wouldn't have known who the guy was, because the only distinguishing detail was that he was talking about the sound, and a million people do. But as I said it, it sounded more like he was just one of the many people who annoy me with their surprise at the banjo-like sound in the computer.
I don't know what the Saab had to do with it, though, or how he even knew that I had a Saab.

Smile! Jesus loves you.

Today, for the second time since I began working as a cashier, I received word from Jesus. Not directly, but from a Christian person who felt it necessary to come in and shop, watch me ring up and bag over $100 worth of groceries for them, pay with their AmEx, and then recommend that I accept Jesus into my life. The first woman I encountered handed me a card with the address of her church on it, and said, "I'd like to invite you to my church," as she was on her way out. Today, the woman stuck out her hand, saying, "This is for you," and gave me a tiny little pamphlet that assumes I am a sinner and tells me how I can turn things around for myself. I would never have the boldness to do this.


How can either of these women presume to know me? I don't feel like I can give an honest response to someone in this situation, because I am at work, and required to show my most friendly and people-pleasing attitude to everyone, regardless of how they act. How can they assume, even, that I am not Christian? Honestly, given the tattoo-faced, dreadlocked, pot smoking, scandalous-clothes-wearing coworkers I am surrounded by, it irks me even more that someone would waste their efforts on me! Both times, I restrained myself from saying, "Thank you," which is usually my immediate response when someone gives me something, and merely smiled and watched them leave. Because I am not thankful. These are the same women who take me for granted as I bag up their pretentious groceries and smile at me pitifully, as if I am doomed to be in this service position for the rest of my life. They have no idea what kind of morals I live my life by. They don't make conversation with me, because it's not worth it, and they don't care if or where I went to college or what else I have done or will do in my life. Unless it is to receive Jesus, and if their handing me a card can save my life, than they are glad to do that much for me. I know it's nothing personal. But shouldn't it be?