Rant-or

Recently, someone asked if I'd ever lost my cool in public. Here is a story of the time I went off on someone:

When I was 18, I used to work at a deli. People could buy cheeses and meats, order a sandwich to go or come over to the small restaurant on the other side of the store. I was the cashier/barista on the restaurant side of the deli.

There was an older woman who was a partial amputee, that used to come into the the restaurant and drink coffee. She loved to make a scene and would dramatically slip off her prosthetic leg and start moaning. Eventually she'd leave, but it made the other patrons incredibly skeeved out. She made everyone so uncomfortable, that the customers and staff didn't know how to respond. No one ever said anything to her.

One day it was raining, and she came in and hadn't sat down for 2 minutes before she started up, getting progressively louder:

Ooooh.

(pause)

Oooooh...uuuuuhnnnnn....

(pause)

OOOOOOOOOOHHAAAAUUUUUUUUNNNNNN!!!

I approached her and told her that I would do one of two things: call an ambulance if she was in pain, or call her a cab if she was not - but that her theatrics were making the other diners uncomfortable and she needed to leave if she couldn't be quiet. She was so shocked that I'd addressed her directly, that she stopped mid-wail and begged me not to kick her out. She said she wasn't in any pain and 'would be good from now on'.

That's when one of my co-workers sharply called my name and said, "Come in here at once!" He hauled me off into the walk-in refrigerator and bawled me out, yelling 'how could you turn an old woman out in the rain?!'

I got right up in his face and told him that she needed to take her crazy somewhere else. If she needed medical treatment, that was one thing - but she enjoyed making a scene and making people uncomfortable. Being older or having a disability doesn't give someone the excuse to be a jerk.

The woman still came in regularly, but she acted like a civilized person after that.

Rant-ee

Recently, someone asked if I'd ever lost my cool in public, or if anyone has ever gone off on me. Here is a story a the time someone went off on me:

I was 19-years old and had been recently hired to work at high-end gift store. It was on the main street of our town and very popular with tourists. My first day there, the owner came in to ask me to clarify some numbers on my application and said my writing wasn't 'clear enough'. After I confirmed the information, he re-wrote it next to my handwriting - except that his writing was completely illegible. It was so ironic, that I busted out laughing and made him a little flustered. I wish I could have held onto that feeling. 

My boss was a tyrant from that point forward. A week after I was hired, he brought me outside and screamed at me on the sidewalk, inches away from my face with spittle flying and everything, while people walked past us. It was exactly like a public shaming:

"YOU'RE DOING A SHITTY JOB!! YOUR SIXES LOOKED LIKE CAPITAL C's! YOU NEEDED TO GET OFF THE CHAIR AND HELP CUSTOMERS - AND DUST, AND CLEAN, AND POLISH, AND MAKE SURE THE MONEY IN THE DRAWER IS ALL! FACING! IN! THE! SAME! DIRECTION!  -- SO YOU DON'T ACCIDENTALLY HAND OUT THE INCORRECT CHANGE! IF I'M NOT SATISFIED WITH YOUR PERFORMANCE OVER THE NEXT WEEK...YOU'RE FIRED!!"

I went back inside, trying not to cry in front of my snotty co-workers. A week later, he came back in and told me that I had really improved and to KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK...except it's hard to receive a compliment when it's screamed at you. He pretty much had only one volume.

I worked there for a year and a half and there were dozens of nights I was alone in the gift store after hours, crying because the cash sheet wouldn't balance and dreading calling him with the final numbers for the night. It never occurred to me to quit.

I read a few days ago that he died, and his obituary described him as 'cantankerous'. Yeah. That's one word for it.

ETA: The one good thing that came of this job: It was the first place I laid eyes on Mr Doll :)

Birthday Boy

Today is Boy Doll's birthday. He turned 12-years old.

We are celebrating his birthday at Magic Mountain with two of his friends. Despite the lines, it's been a fun day. Would this have been my first choice? No, but that's what part of being a family is about. Girl Doll's friends have planned a sleepover tonight, trading group texts about what movies they'll watch. While she's disappointed that she can't attend, she isn't arguing or questioning why she can't go. Family is important.

Before I got pregnant, I worried that I wouldn't like another child as much as Girl Doll, or worse - the siblings would hate each other. It was a waste of my energy. Our kids adore each other. And in truth, I could never imagine my life without my son.

In a hurry to arrive, I labored with Boy Doll only 7 hours, compared to the 31 hours if labor with our daughter. I conservatively guessed that he'd be born in 12-15 hours, and because if this I missed the signs of transition. We barely made it to the hospital. My water broke on our driveway as we made our way out to the car, and I was overwhelmed by the need to bear down.

We got to the hospital, and I was still thinking there was another 3-4 hours of labor ahead of me. Remembering my childbirth training, I wanted to use the bathroom - an empty bladder makes for less painful contractions. This was a mistake; I ended up birthing our son right there on the potty. Thankfully, the nurses responded quickly and caught our Boy Doll. I lucked out, and got the same nurse that helped us when I was in labor with Girl Doll. It was an amazing day.

Twelve years later, Boy Doll is one of the kindest, most easy-going people I know. He has taken drum lessons since he was 7-years old, and is one of the best youth drummers in our area - although he is modest about it, and never brags about his natural ability.

It's bittersweet that he is moving on from grade school and entering junior high next year. We've begun the enrollment process for his 7th grade year. All of this makes me excited but nostalgic. I can't believe our 'baby' is in his last year as a preteen!

ETA: Today was a great day. We are all home now, tired and happy from a long day. I know if I blink - we'll be celebrating your eighteenth birthday, so I am trying to savor these carefree days. I love you, son. Happy birthday!

Nov. 2012 - This photo was taken when Boy
got home from 6th grade camp. Best. Hug. Ever.