After posting about my calendar misunderstanding, Bryan reminded me of something I'd done in undergrad, years before I'd met him. This story was shared with him a couple of days before our wedding. And he still went through with it. That's commitment. Now he is committed.
In Kalamazoo during the time I was in undergrad, there were few eating establishments that were open late enough to work with both our theatre schedules and our underage status. You had your choice of Sweetwater Donuts, Steak and Shake (oh my word do I love me a Frisco Melt Platter with fries and beans), a truck stop, and Big Boy. Big Boy was only minutes from campus and served actual food. This is the place we normally headed to for late night dinners. If you've never experienced a Big Boy, think Denny's with a much smaller menu , fewer high school students and more senior citizens. Their Big Boy Burger is a burger with thousand island dressing. This is their menu's highlighted item. Oh, and the double-decker grilled cheese. Not the best place in town for foodies, but a nice place to catch up after rehearsal.
One night when several friends and I had gathered to rehash our day, my roommate decided he wanted a milkshake. OOOOOO! Like a herd of sheep who knew how to read and had opposable (ha! spell checker thinks this should be imposable) thumbs, we all whipped our menus back open to actively contemplate our milkshake options. Yes, the choice between chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla was the most important decision at that moment.
Our waitress, most likely a college student herself, stopped by to take our order. We all told her our what'll you haves and then my roommate, such a trend setter, changed his mind. He didn't think he'd have a shake. He thought he'd enjoy a malt. Please.
Up until this point in my life, I'd never encountered anyone who had ordered a malt in my presence. I did not understand what this delicacy was. How was this different than the lowly milkshake? And so, I asked.
J replied, "It's like a shake, but it tastes like a Whopper."
I stared at him, squinting my eyes and hoping this would make his answer clear to me.
Then I replied, "Why the hell would anyone want a milkshake that tastes like a hamburger from Burger King?"
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Professionalism
I worked at a bookstore for a few years on a part-time basis. For the most part, it was a great place to work. I worked with some great people, had fun while I worked, and got to interact with some very nice customers. One of the skills we were encouraged to develop was non-reaction. Our job was to help the customers, not judge them.
In early January 2008, a male customer, probably in his late 40's/early 50's approached my register with a specific calendar question. "Miss," (he called me Miss which was kinda nice because the Ma'ams had started coming more frequently since the birth of my daughter), "do you have any penis calendars?" Without blinking an eye or a change in facial expression I replied, "Well sir, I'm not quite sure if I've seen any of those on the shelves, but let's head over to the calendars and see what we can find." I was pretty sure we didn't carry penis calendars but was thinking we might find something in the "One-A-Day" calendars that might work. Maybe a cartoon or something.
We searched throughout the section without any luck. As most of the calendar stock was sold prior to the holidays, the available styles had dwindled down to the more unpopular subjects - golf jokes, country cottages, the highly confusing "Busy Mom's Home Organizer", pigs in tutus, etc. I apologized to the customer and told him if he'd like to order one to please let me know and I'd be happy to help. He thanked me for my assistance and went to another part of the store to shop and I went back to my register.
About a half hour later, the man approached my register and asked if we could try to order the calendar. I pulled up the appropriate screen on my computer and asked, "Now, you were looking for a penis calendar, right?" There was no response. I looked up to a very red-faced man who began to stutter, "No, no, no, no. No. I said Peanuts calendar. Like, Snoopy." And without blinking an eye or a change in facial expression I replied, "Well, that's a very different calendar. Peanuts, let's see what we have. I think we may have a few of those left on the shelves."
In early January 2008, a male customer, probably in his late 40's/early 50's approached my register with a specific calendar question. "Miss," (he called me Miss which was kinda nice because the Ma'ams had started coming more frequently since the birth of my daughter), "do you have any penis calendars?" Without blinking an eye or a change in facial expression I replied, "Well sir, I'm not quite sure if I've seen any of those on the shelves, but let's head over to the calendars and see what we can find." I was pretty sure we didn't carry penis calendars but was thinking we might find something in the "One-A-Day" calendars that might work. Maybe a cartoon or something.
We searched throughout the section without any luck. As most of the calendar stock was sold prior to the holidays, the available styles had dwindled down to the more unpopular subjects - golf jokes, country cottages, the highly confusing "Busy Mom's Home Organizer", pigs in tutus, etc. I apologized to the customer and told him if he'd like to order one to please let me know and I'd be happy to help. He thanked me for my assistance and went to another part of the store to shop and I went back to my register.
About a half hour later, the man approached my register and asked if we could try to order the calendar. I pulled up the appropriate screen on my computer and asked, "Now, you were looking for a penis calendar, right?" There was no response. I looked up to a very red-faced man who began to stutter, "No, no, no, no. No. I said Peanuts calendar. Like, Snoopy." And without blinking an eye or a change in facial expression I replied, "Well, that's a very different calendar. Peanuts, let's see what we have. I think we may have a few of those left on the shelves."
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