Monday, January 25, 2021

Knock 'em Dead!

Applause, applause, applause!  

Here she comes, the female comedian we've paid money to see.  She's strutting out on stage all animated, heels and bling, flounces and frills, and she comes right up to the microphone.  We're clapping and clapping as she takes the mic from the stand and carries the stand off stage right.  Coming back center stage, she's grinning, and waving, and nodding hello, eyes all aglow -- we just know she's going to entertain us.  We're going to leave happy tonight.   We're just waiting for her first words.

Surprisingly, not at all feminine, but in a low guttural growl-like voice, she says, 

"Hi.  I'm Batman."

Laugher erupts!

As it's dying down, she looks around, particularly at the women, "That's how my husband, the Batman, greets me after running around all night, believe that? After running around all night and coming home in the early morning hours, he says, "Hi.  I'm Batman!"  Does yours?  Does yours say...and she lowers her voice again, 

"Hi.  I'm Batman."

Then she says, "I'm looking at this stud with his hands on his hips and flexing his pecs, and I chuckle.  He's so full of confidence on a victorious high.  Why, he vanquished the enemy last night, a Gotham City foe!"

She gazes at the audience with a chuckle, "You should hear what he's nicknamed them - Riddler!  Joker!  Penguin!" 

"Oh, My!  What's next, Catwoman?"

The crowd laughs.

She continues, with mic to lips,  "As I said, this morning he's feeling puffed up --  proud, and full of himself.  But I've got to do it. (she shakes her head in mild regret) I've just got to do it.  I look him dead in the eyes, after I step up on a footstool of course, then I look him dead in the eyes and give him the punch....."

 And thus began the show -- with uproarious laughter -- 'cause she said, 

"Hi. I'm RAID!  I knock 'em dead!"  



  






Wednesday, January 13, 2021

WITH A LITTLE KICK

The First Kick

Popping into Dollar Tree at Hamilton Town Centers I was struck by the dirty floor.  When I asked if they sold saline solution for contacts, the cashier directed me to the manager who was focused on his cell phone and seemed to be pacing.  

He briefly gave me eye contact, then pointed and led the way.

As I was leaving, I noticed a Help Wanted sign which explained the dirty floor, and picked up an application.

On a lark, I went to the car, filled it out to the best of my memory, leaving some things blank.

When I presented it to him, he asked, "When are you available?"  I replied, "Tomorrow!  I'm a stay-at-home mom."

Next day, I worked my first shift.  He came up to say, "Can you come back this afternoon?  Go home, take a nap and come back."  Wow!  I worked a double my first day!   To be fair, they were desperate for help.

Well, it wasn't long before I figured out who was who, including a little sprite of a lady that was my manager on the evening shift.  We were the only employees at closing and she was reconciling my drawer.

Then she got nervous, then she started pacing, then she got on the phone and continued pacing.  She said my drawer was 87 dollars short.  

NO WAY!  I've been a cashier at Wal-Mart, and have 3 yard sales every summer.  I know how to take cash and give change!  I wouldn't be happy at being off by a penny!

Well, after much searching all over the cash register area, where we put money in a secret drawer, under the change drawer, and even the trash can, we never found it.  She called the boss.  Much secret talking took place, and then she confessed -- she added it up all wrong!  Of course she did!

The Second Kick

Christmas rush at Dollar Tree found us running 4 registers and I was going as fast as I could trying to keep up with the beep-beep-beeping of the scanners of the other more experienced cashiers.  One short dark-haired female customer complained as I looked up to tell her her total.  I looked expectantly for her to hand me either cash, card, or check.  She said, "You are the rudest cashier I've ever met.  I'll not come here ever again!"  

Wow, was I stunned!  I'd just been doing my job, too focused, I guess.  Jen, my shift manager, came over, smoothed ruffled feathers and told me not to worry about it.  "Keep going", she instructed, "she was probably having a bad day."

The Third Kick

I'd put in bold plain writing on my application that I would not/could not work Sundays.  The boss said I'd have to.  I said I couldn't, that it was on my application when he hired me.  He said, "You and I will have to do some more DEEP thinking on this!"  Well, he called headquarters and I don't know what was said, but I was never scheduled for another Sunday.

The Fourth Kick

The boss invariably scheduled me to open.  As he bustled from the office to the back to unload freight, I was told to quickly fill helium balloons enough to fill the ceiling corral, refill all the reading glasses display, sweep the front door area, fill the WOW (first) table with specialty product, and put 2 boxes of broom handles and broom heads together.  His answer was "All of them!" when I asked in surprise, "Which one do you want me to do first?"  

He was gone.  

My goal was always to beat him - to get all the tasks done before he and the fellows got the freight unloaded.  I would win.

With A Little Kick

Finally, I got a name tag.  White plastic, it was, with green stripe on top, green stripe on bottom, I.D. number in Sharpie on the corner, and my name in the middle.  The L in Pamela wasn't aligned.  It leaned a little to the left, the lower stroke aimed upward.  The boss apologized for not applying it correctly.  I laughed, thought of the little quirks in my employment and said, "That's all right.  Pamela, an L with a little KICK, huh?"  As his eyes met mine, they crinkled at the corners, he smiled and said, "Exactly!"  

I stayed on for another year.




Tuesday, January 5, 2021

STORYTELLERS, GRANDKIDS ARE STORYTELLERS

Okay, you've read the title and you're agreeing -- kids are storytellers.  You've raised 2 year olds, 5 year olds, 4 year olds and 1 year olds, and maybe even some teenagers, so you know they tell stories for different reasons, but I'll bet you're not gonna guess this one.

A five year old doesn't want to disappoint you, "I know how to zip my coat myself" while struggling to get the ends inserted.   A one year doesn't know the difference, especially if he's still in the ma-ma da-da grunting stage.  A 4 year old doesn't want disciplined for running over bubby's toes.  And a 2 year old thinks if she says she didn't do it, you'll just believe her because she believes it her self.

They just dream it up! 

And that's where we're at.  They dreamed it up.

It started with flashlights.  Yes, there are many flashlights in this house -- penlight, household, minature, mag lites --we have 'em.  

When Jacob carries his black and yellow trimmed one around and drops it, it comes apart in 6 pieces --including the 2 batteries.  When Alayna says, "Tooh heav-ee", we exchange her mag lite for a regular household silver one.

Now, these are grandkids, so as their grandma I have no clue where the idea comes from for them to set the stage by turning on their flashlights.  They pressed them to their chins to light up their faces like creepers at a window!  The flashlight lights up their nostrils, gives them black circles around their eyes, and makes their eyes look thin like slits over black orbs.  Creepy.

After a long couple hours where they have gone from one interesting toy to another, you'd think with wings on their feet for extra speed, John and I are glad to sit and listen to these little storytellers.  

Earlier at the supper table Alayna told us "When Jay was a baby-baby, a little baby, him crawl, him walk" and she goes back to slurping spaghetti noodles.  (BTW, Jay's five and going to Kindergarten.). 

Jay, not to be left out, "When I was three and a baby, to count I said, "Goo-goo, goo, goo, goo."  

I'm sure he did!

As storytelling goes, the 3 year old girl, climbs 3 steps up the stairs, swings her arms 3 times, swi-ing, swi-ing, swi-ing, jumps off the step, lands on all fours, then when she pops up, she tells a big one, "It doesn't hurt."

We had a good half hour or so of playing hide and seek.  THEY CAN'T HIDE WITHOUT GIGGLING!  If we didn't fudge a little bit ourselves, there'd never be time spent on hunting toddlers, they're too, too easy to find!  I instructed them several times, "No sounds, no gasping breaths, no giggles.  Sit still; your clothes are making sounds.  Don't push the couch out, grandpa will hear the scraping legs.  Shhhhh."

But Jay couldn't stand it, he tells all, and loudly,  "We're hiding in the living room!"

Back in the family room, grandparents taking a sit-down rest, grandkids excited and cross-talking with their flashlights poised, Jay begins.

"Once upon a time, I had to see what's up there. (Jay points to the stairwell.)  It comes out in the night.  Everybody has to go out.  Out into the night.  Catch Bigfoot!  He boo-ed at me.  He ate the others.  We went running and he caught ME.  And he pulled me down.  And I shined a flashlight in his eyes.  I save people."

He pauses ever so briefly, "Being brave was so good.  The end."

LOL, being brave is good, very good!  Even if to feel brave, you have to be a storyteller.