Sunday, October 31, 2010

End of Kipple #1

October 31, 2010

More adventures of working during my last bit of time in the States. Working retail jobs gets really entertaining when you think about the irony of it all. Like I mentioned, people automatically think I and my co-workers are idiots because we work behind a cash register. But we know who the real idiots are.

Yesterday was a prime example. First of all, I was scheduled on a Saturday. Again. The one day I do not have availability. Ever. For the sixth week in a row.

Anyhow, I get there and the strip mall paradise-of-posh is exploding like fireworks on Chinese New Year with children in costume under the age of ten. Followed by lots of pissed-off disgruntled parents dealing with too many children jacked up on sugar highs.

The line at work was about eight miles long and all of us were thinking that now would be the perfect moment to collapse and feign death. At least it wasn't mop night.

Everything went wrong. The refrigerator/RTD case that had been broken for three weeks until two days ago decided to start flooding the lobby, with the temperature fluctuating between 30 and 43 F every sixty seconds. Perfect.

The only way tot fix this, since the troubleshooter handbook does not list this "error," is to turn off the case via circuit breaker. Whoever labeled the circuit breaker was just brilliant and confused book side with cafe side (but only sometimes), so when I went to turn off the case I ended up turning off all the lights int he cafe and all the computers in the staff room. Oops.

While looking for the actual switch, which ends up being labeled "deli-something-or-other", I come across a switch labeled "Fart Fan". WTF is that, may I so humbly ask?

Then, in the middle of everything, we get the worst nightmare customers possible. In the middle of that, my co-worker left the sink on for I-have-no-idea-how-long, so I walked into a flooding kitchen with bubbles six feet high. Yay for floods. Everywhere.

As for the customers, I can't believe how incredibly genius they are. And how caring.

One woman walks in and stares intently at the food case. She order a "cinnamon pecan coffee cake".
I give it to her and she says, "No. That's not what I ordered." So I repeat "cinnamon pecan coffee cake". She says, "Yes. But I wanted this," and points to the banana bread.

I say, "That's banana bread."
She says, "But the sign says it's cinnamon pecan coffee cake."
"I'm sorry," I say. "Someone must have made a mistake earlier in the day. Would you rather get the banana bread?"
"No. I hate banana bread. I want the cinnamon pecan."
"Well, you've got it," I say and push the plate towards her.
And she says, "But I wanted that..." and points to the banana bread.
O_o
"If you want cinnamon pecan, I'd go with what I gave you," I say. "And if you want banana bread, I'd go with what you're pointing at."
She says: "I don't like bananas."

Kill me now.

Then, there's the guy who orders a Large Decaf. I give him a Large Decaf. He says "Didn't I order a Large?"
I say, "Yes. That's what your holding."
He says, "You better not be pulling a Starbucks on me."
And I say, "We're not Starbucks."
He says, " Well, when I order a Tall at Starbucks, it means small."
"When you order a Large here, it means Large," I say. He tells me to show him the sizes. Small. Medium. Large.
He says, "Well, this is too much for me. Spill it out." I spill it out into a Small cup. He looks at the board.
"You know, in English, we read from left to right," he informs me. As if I'm illiterate. "And your sign lists Large on the left and Small on the right, which is false advertising and counter-intuitive. I wanted a Small."
"But you said 'Large'," I say.
"I want to complain," he responds.
"Ok. Feel free to fill out one of our customer comments/complaints cards on the condiment station and tell Corporate how stupid they are. Have a great night."

Then there was the woman who told us that our hot chocolate (seriously one of the best drinks EVER) was the "most disgusting drink she'd ever had in her life". We fixed it for her and she said it was great, then sent her boytoy over to us to complain and get a refund.

And then there was the woman who got pissed because she didn't like waiting in line with ONE person in front of her for thirty seconds. So she stormed out and threw her book at a sales person.

I give up. Retail can go die.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Starting Over

October 23, 2010
Time is perceived and in these few months I have been in America, it seems to flow in slow motion. I know I'm going towards where I belong. It's the only place I have ever felt truly at home. But I have given my life thus far to America, to its ideals, to the Dream that I know cannot come true anywhere in its borders but for a very small group of people. Apparently, I am not one. And I never felt at home no matter how hard I tried.

Possessions are inconsequential so I am going through them and tossing them out. Clothing, toys, all sorts of things. Everything but the books. The books are not inconsequential. They are ideas, illustrations of a life, souls captured and conveyed beyond themselves. Everything else, I leave behind. I will build my life from the ground up in the place where I belong. And it will be hard.

I read the news daily. Of course, it is its usual dire self. An apocalyptic depiction. A desperate situation. It's always been this way. If the world has always been at the brink of destruction, I think we're all just fine. Thus far, the brink has not crumpled into thin air.

Still, though, there are things I'll miss. Of course, the people. Who I always miss but who I never get to see anyway. But really: beef hot dogs, cheddar cheese, the occasional basket of fried chicken and biscuits.

I'll miss the way leaves burn on fire, brilliant at the cusp of death in New England in the autumn. I'll miss the lush green, the flooding wetness and the thunder of an atmosphere charged with the power of a summer storm. I'll miss warm rain in summer, the southern drawl and the Masshole accents up in Boston and the Woo. I'll miss the fact that for my hard work and for all my love, I could never give enough to America to make myself fit the mould.

People ask me what I found in Israel and if I really let myself answer I would tell the absolute truth: I found the love of my life. Sometimes you just know and it's love at first sight. I tell them this without saying it and it becomes a much longer answer . I tell them I love the weather, the way we're all like one overly-involved dysfunctional family around a dinner table. I love the insanity, the chaos, the way we can pause for a moment, go para-sailing, snorkeling, running, singing, take a breath, always have somewhere to go, someone to turn to who genuinely cares. I found Home. Heimat. The feeling I never thought or believed had anything to do with geography.

Well, maybe the geography is just the key. It's the people within that space who really make all the difference. But I feel at home even on a street where I don't know anyone.
October 28, 2010
Two months to the day until I land as an Israeli citizen. The autumn here goes back and forth between hot and cold. One thing stays consistent: wind. The wind drives at my back and I turn around to face it. As always, I take comfort in motion.

As usual, I grind on at my retail job which insists on getting worse by the second. Standing behind a cash register in food service must be synonymous with "non-human, worthless idiot" to the average person. I and my co-workers are constantly mistreated, insulted and under-appreciated.

Not to mention that the boss is my favorite kind of person. Taking pleasure in creating others' misery is his favorite past-time. If we tell him we are absolutely unavailable on a certain day at a certain time, he'll make sure to schedule us in. And not on days we have no problem with. We've also been informed that we don't really matter because food is cheaper than books. But we better be flawless at our jobs--and the added tasks due to the abrupt firing of all cleaning staff.
Not to mention that no matter how hard we scrub the floor drains, the toilet likes to explode through the sink in the cafe every evening when we empty the ice bin. Go figure. Of course, this is our fault, and not the fault of Those-Who-Do-Not-Call-Plumbers.

It is routine to get scalded and to have customers call us morons for not being "fast enough" when we're alone with a line of 25.

I wouldn't mind this if I actually had a life. But there is no life here and I see no future. I never did, I guess. This is the sad part.

Later...
I spent all of today getting my visa application ready. AKA The heights of Israeli bureaucracy. It drives me insane. But it drives everyone insane and after we're covered in red tape, peel it off until we're bald, we get to sit down with some nana tea and chumus and have a good laugh. Truly, it baffles me how they can need so many damned copies of one form. This is the digital age and I already presented them in person.

Meanwhile, my things are finally beginning to take shape in boxes. Lots of books. Clothing gotten rid of. I've been running around getting last-minute stuff before I do the final packing. Got the new computer, netbook, travel speakers. Last minute clothing I need: some pants, shirts, etc. Still need to get sneakers and other kinds of shoes here because that's cheaper. And my favorite: consolidating my favorite Federal Student Loans! Already dealt with the Private ones and once this is over with everything will be in lovely order.

Writing some songs. Hopefully finding someone to bring my guitar, Therem, over to Arkady in Yokneam so I don't have to worry about wasting baggage. And giving lots of things away and/or selling them. It will be a nice feeling when my space here is empty and my whole life is ahead of me waiting to be filled with meaning instead of things.