Day 287
This morning was spent picking things up and putting things away and vacuuming. Doing all of these chores can seriously hinder the excitement of friends coming to town. At least--if I am a very good girl--I get to go to the Science-y type museum in the next few days. Okay, so I don't really care about science but, I'll go anywhere to go to an I-Max show, hopefully it's one with fish in it. I love I-Max movies with fish in them. What's weird though is that I think going to the aquarium is boring (especially when the belugas don't even do tricks).
Once again I met with my advisor and once again she told me that I am wonderful. Also, once again, she told me to trust the process of it all. She didn't tell me the process of it all was to watch Toddlers in Tiaras and eat tortilla chips and not write, that I had to figure out on my own.
Today I was put in charge of closing the Post Office. This is something that I have dreaded for weeks. The closing shift is where you get left by yourself for an hour and, have to count money and run reports and deal with goofy customers. Here is just a sampling of the things that went wrong:
I got a giant papercut under my nail from a box. I will say though, that it was pretty humorous to hand a package to a customer who knew I was bleeding under the napkin around my finger. All I have to say is, you know
According to my co-worker closing is super boring as there are no customers. Her direct quote: "Yesterday I only had one customer from 5 to 6." I was looking forward to this detention-type silence, when a whole clutch of idiot customers showed up.
I nearly yelled at a woman in a hideous airbrush t-shirt who got a little too close to the counter and staring at me while I was helping the guy who had six little packages to send out.
I screwed up the settling up of the credit card machine. I think I settled the transactions and we got the money, but I am pretty sure I didn't print out the records that we need.
The best part though is when I called the helpline to check into the credit card situation I got some guy in India who asked me my name and then asked me how to spell Emily. I gave him a fake last name. When I told him what was going wrong he asked me for the name of the computer and the credit card machine. Finally--after telling him the name of everything and listening to him tell me nothing helpful--I told him, "You know what? I don't care anymore, it's fine--I gotta go." I thought, 'I don't get paid enough to deal with Indian guys and fussy credit card machines' then, I thought, 'if I fuck up enough they will never have me close again.'
If you can count the word "pedagogy" more than once in a dinner conversation you are having a boring dinner conversation. Seriously, sometimes I feel like I am in a peacock show except there are no pretty feathers, there is only huge displays of "look at how many long, intellectual-sounding words I can string along into huge concepts that have no meaning." I'd rather be the ratty peacock than the one who makes approving sounds at the featherless word display. But really I'd rather hear someone talking about Britney Spears's newest rash than teaching theory lectures, yeah that's right, pedagogy is just teaching, snobs.
This evening I got an email with "S.O.S. Wig Fund" written in the subject line. I opened it, thinking it would be some sort of drag queen fundraiser show. What it really was, was a fund to buy a wig for a friend of mine who apparently has Stage II Lymphoma. This is the same friend that had told me how excited she was to quit her jobs and go back to school this summer to finally study something she is passionate about. I wish it were just drag queens raising money.
When I was a baby my father bought a video camera that cost more than what I paid for two of the cars I have owned in my life, combined. Last year I watched all of the Christmas's, birthday parties, Halloween's and Easters, and random family gatherings he filmed. I am not sure what he meant to capture in these videos but I'd venture to say that it was catching who we were at the time. This is a wonderful idea if we were wonderful people. In every video there is a meltdown of the childhood me when I don't get my way, you'd think I'd get used to it. One thing would go wrong and I would freak out and sometimes cry. This is when the camera would turn off or moved on to people having fun. Tonight I was doing my job around the rez where I help on the set-up crew when two chairs squished my middle finger and I pouted but, there was no camera to stop and once again I was the pouty girl.
Tip of the Day: You know you are watching too much TV when you realize that the damn bug control people are always on.
-Canadian Castaway
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