I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed unless you count how skinny I am but people who don't think really get on my nerves. Case in point, this is just from today.
I left the house early for work today to go by the credit union to deposit Zach's paycheck for him and get out some cash to put gas in my once again borrowed vehicle.
I never leave for anywhere with much time to spare but at least am semi prepared. I went through the drive through at the credit union. There was one car ahead of me in each of the two available windows. I hung back to see who would leave first before pulling behind one of them since no one was behind me. I saw a tube come down and got behind that car. The person got something out, sat for about four minutes writing something, put the manifesto back in the tube and sent it back. I backed up and got behind the other car. (still no one behind me)
The guy in the other line was obviously writing his own manifesto and sat four more minutes waiting on them to return the tube.
I mean, if you are going through the drive through it's usually because you want to save time. Would it not make sense to have everything ready and filled out? I saw both cars in front of me fumble around in their back pocket or purse for ID to put with their deposit/withdrawal/transfer as well. The car on my left finally left and a truck pulled up next. He put it in park, opened the glove box and searched for either a deposit slip, pen or both. Then began to fill it out on his steering wheel as I shot my tube back up with all my stuff already filled out before even leaving the house , ID included.
If I'd had plenty of time to spare would have pulled into a parking space, parked, got out and gone into the building.
Next I stopped at the gas station to put gas in my free rental. Three registers only one open and the woman at the front of the line was cashing in and buying scratch off tickets.
Bitch please.
"I'll take one number thirty four and how much do the green ones cost? No wait a minute, I don't want that one, I want the one two rows over to the left. No, the other way."
Just shoot me now.
I don't buy a lot of lottery tickets but if did and people were lined up behind me six deep, would gladly step aside and wait for a lull.
You're not in a casino, you're in a gas station. Get a grip.
Next I went by O'Reilly's to pick up a quart of oil. The 'check oil' light came on last night on my drive home from work, went off but certainly wasn't taking any chances.
Oh My God.
There were two sales assistants, both tied up. One was with an old man who had an empty soup can filled with little bolts, nuts, screws or whatever and needed to find new ones. Then he said (in my mind) "Now next on my list is a 'blah blah blah' and do you think I need the whatever to make the something or other work or can I just bypass with a thingy m'job? My daddy used to buy a whatever and clean out the thingy but they just don't make 'em like they used to. It's a shame. Well, guess I better go ahead and get the clamp too long as I'm here unless you think that do hickey might work. Whudda you think?"
For Pete's sake! They're salesmen, not free mechanics. Trust me I wish they were but they ain't so scoot along there ole pardner, this granny's in a hurry.
Next up...
Here's the thing about the airport. I know it's the world's busiest but it kinda ticks me off when you can speak the language but not read it. Is there a difference I don't know about?
Every single shift I work, there is someone who gets in the wrong line for a shuttle or plane train when both are clearly marked and even announced by people who's job it is to simply say loudly for eight hours "Concourse D is to your left as you exit."
The restaurant where I work is in the new international terminal. Most customers are flying overseas but a lot of peeps flying domestic make the trek out to concourse F to eat with us too.
The restaurant is aptly equipped with plug ins under every seat and chair for recharging devices and have an entire section with a huge peg board for duffel bags, totes and plenty of room to stow your suitcases. Nine out of ten people insist on taking every piece of luggage with them to the table sometimes blocking aisles as well as you from even being able to reach their table much less sit the plate or glass down without an eight foot robotic arm. We should have a sign clearly stating servers do not have extendable robotic arms.
One man sitting directly across from the storage area said he'd just keep his bags with him, he liked being able to see them.
(wanted to say)
Dude, my eyes are probably worse than yours and you're even older than me but "I" could see your bags from here if we moved them to the storage area, four feet away from you.. out of the way but still in plain sight so we couldn't rifle through them. Trust me nobody, including me want to see your whitey tighty's or Lord help us all, your cheetah print G string. It'll all be fine and good right over there, so close you could touch it if you got up and took two paces. I'd even help you over there and wouldn't mind one bit...it'd be a pleasure on my part.
What's he gonna do when it's all under his plane in cargo at thirty thousand feet...freak out totally?
People at the airport amaze me every day in every way. Often in a good way and (fortunately) less often in a not so good way.
It keeps me real.
It really does.
I asked my general manager last night at work to show me my impending paycheck now less than an hour away. He can pull it up on his phone or the computer at his desk. I can't see either even with my peepers. He learned months ago to just quietly tell me my net pay.
He told me last night and immediately hugged his neck and thanked him once again for hiring me. He laughed, I felt a hot flash pass. It's all good.
We're gonna be okay, we really are even with all our bad luck.
Tim's coming home for a week in July. It was good to have a break but am starting to miss ole Jed. Seems like three months is doing the trick.
I'll just keep plugging away here and Jed will keep plugging away in Lubbock. Before you know it us Clampetts will be eating vittles together again.
Til next time...COTTON
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