I signed up for three months of yoga class and I still haven't made it to one yet. Thank goodness there are 2.5 months left.
I hope Zi-Cam saves me from a cold because kids are coughing and sneezing all over the place.
Channel locks and vice grips are NOT the same thing.
I miss the Wild West... their winters and their sunsets.
I've had it planned for 2 weeks for the Art Club kids to carve pumpkins next week. A fellow teacher came in today with a GREAT IDEA for Art Club. Gee, she said I should have them carve pumpkins. Gee, I already have the pumpkins ordered and a "Pimp Your Pumpkin" flier already printed.
I'm making a new collection... of pints of and Ben and Jerry's ice cream in my freezer. They have my name on them. In my freezer.
Conversation I had with a student:
student: I hate taking communion.
me: really?
student: Yeah. I bet the disciples went hungry.
me: uhhh, why's that?
student: well, if all you ate for a meal was a crumb of bread and a shot of grape juice you'd be hungry too.
me: well, it's not supposed to be a meal... and what does it have to do with disciples, exactly?
student: well, the bread and booze was the Last Supper. Is that why prisoners on death row get a good meal? Because Jesus's last one sucked?
me: *blink, blink*
Me: uhh, I think you're a little confused. The Bread and wine was not served as the Last Supper.
Student: are you sure?
me: uhhhh, yeah, I'm pretty sure.
student: then why do we eat bread and wine at church?
me: because it's a symbol of Christ, of His sacrifice for mankind. the bread represents his body and the wine his blood.
student: oh. Well, what did they eat at the Last Supper?
me: I don't know.
student: tacos. Jesus is a Mexican name so it was probably tacos.
At this point, I didn't say a word. Sometimes it pays to just be quiet.
Maggie
Showing posts with label ice cream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ice cream. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Happy thoughts....
Pink hot rod featured at a local car show
A caramel, hot fudge raspberry gelato sundae at a local specialty chocolate shoppe
happy flowers in the front yard
More about Mac, me, and yesterday will come later. Right now, here are some things that make me happy...
Maggie
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
More (and hopefully the last of the) ice cream tales
Number 1:
"Tom" comes in 3-4 times a week, usually with his wife to get a flavored soda. They are obviously regulars. They've always been super nice to me. They're the chatty type and we've gotten to know each other. Tom came in one day last week alone and stood and talked to me for about 15 minutes (it was actually slow at the point since it was thunder storming outside). he told me how great my hair looked and I said thanks. Then he asked me what I was doing that night and I said I was working. He said it was too bad because he wanted to take me to dinner at his favorite place on the lake. I think I said something about "wouldn't his wife mind?" and I 'haha-ed' and he said "she doesn't have to know. If you go with me, she won't be."
A married guy. Who's old enough to be my dad. EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW!
Number 2:
Mother and her three screaming brats come in and order dinner and decide to eat in. The kids run all over the place and scream and yell. I fix their food and take it to the table. Kids continue to scream and yell and mother continues to do nothing. When the woman standing at the counter who was trying to order and I asked her to repeat herself for the third time and I still COULDN'T hear her, I decided I had enough. I marched over to the table and got down on the kids' eye level and said in a very loud and nice voice, "LOOK! You need to be quiet right now. I can't hear. You need to use your inside voice or your mommy will need to take you home. Got it?" The looked at me and nodded. I looked and mommy and she refused to make eye contact with me and never said a word. They left about 5 minutes later.
Number 3:
Our ice cream store is located between a liquor store and a local restaurant. We get some interesting people who walk, drive, bike, and skateboard passed the parlor.
Yesterday is was cool- the first really cool day we had, in the middle 50s, there was a HUGE wind blowing and it was raining- basically the cold, wet nightmare of a day. And a woman walks passed. She is an older lady, probably in her late 50s, early 60s. She had a cane and a limp. And she walked passed my store and about 15 minutes later she goes back the way she came, struggling along with her cane, her limp, in the rain, against the wind and carrying a bottle in a brown paper bag.
Number 4:
Every day, around the same time of day, a guy rides his bike passed. He looked like the version of Forest Gump who ran across the country a few times. He rides a bicycle and goes by with carry out food in a Styrofoam container in the basket of his bike. He wears leathers. There's so much about this that makes me smile: that a guy who looks like him rides a bicycle with a basket or the carry out or that he looks like "Running Forest Gump." Hey, I'm just observing.
Number 5:
The ice cream is owned by 2 sisters, their mom and their uncle. The uncle is sort of the "silent" partner in that he does all the finances for the company. And because he's such an early bird, he stops in the shop each morning and puts cash in the register. Since I've been opening, the Uncle comes in each day before I get there and leaves some money in the register and he also turns the alarm off, but keeps it locked. That way I don't need to have the alarm code.
So one day I open the doors, walk half way across the dining room and hear a beeping- the alarm! Shit, it wasn't turned off! I drop my stuff, dash across the room, back out the door, and I throw the lock hoping I can keep the alarm from beeping. Unfortunately, it doesn't. The blares; a cacophony of sirens that sounds like 17 police car sirens all at once.
I have no code so I need to call someone before I had the entire police department at my feet. I start to grab my phone and... I dropped my purse inside. I unlock the door, get my purse and then I get the cordless store phone because the "Very Well Known and Reputable Nationwide Alarm Company" will be calling. I stand outside and call one of the owners. She gives me the code, I shut it off and go inside. And start through the opening procedure. And guess what? The alarm company has never called. The police never called. I could've been robbed or killed or something and no one would've known. Yeah.
And to top it off, the Uncle forgot to leave me cash in the register. Feh.
"Tom" comes in 3-4 times a week, usually with his wife to get a flavored soda. They are obviously regulars. They've always been super nice to me. They're the chatty type and we've gotten to know each other. Tom came in one day last week alone and stood and talked to me for about 15 minutes (it was actually slow at the point since it was thunder storming outside). he told me how great my hair looked and I said thanks. Then he asked me what I was doing that night and I said I was working. He said it was too bad because he wanted to take me to dinner at his favorite place on the lake. I think I said something about "wouldn't his wife mind?" and I 'haha-ed' and he said "she doesn't have to know. If you go with me, she won't be."
A married guy. Who's old enough to be my dad. EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW!
Number 2:
Mother and her three screaming brats come in and order dinner and decide to eat in. The kids run all over the place and scream and yell. I fix their food and take it to the table. Kids continue to scream and yell and mother continues to do nothing. When the woman standing at the counter who was trying to order and I asked her to repeat herself for the third time and I still COULDN'T hear her, I decided I had enough. I marched over to the table and got down on the kids' eye level and said in a very loud and nice voice, "LOOK! You need to be quiet right now. I can't hear. You need to use your inside voice or your mommy will need to take you home. Got it?" The looked at me and nodded. I looked and mommy and she refused to make eye contact with me and never said a word. They left about 5 minutes later.
Number 3:
Our ice cream store is located between a liquor store and a local restaurant. We get some interesting people who walk, drive, bike, and skateboard passed the parlor.
Yesterday is was cool- the first really cool day we had, in the middle 50s, there was a HUGE wind blowing and it was raining- basically the cold, wet nightmare of a day. And a woman walks passed. She is an older lady, probably in her late 50s, early 60s. She had a cane and a limp. And she walked passed my store and about 15 minutes later she goes back the way she came, struggling along with her cane, her limp, in the rain, against the wind and carrying a bottle in a brown paper bag.
Number 4:
Every day, around the same time of day, a guy rides his bike passed. He looked like the version of Forest Gump who ran across the country a few times. He rides a bicycle and goes by with carry out food in a Styrofoam container in the basket of his bike. He wears leathers. There's so much about this that makes me smile: that a guy who looks like him rides a bicycle with a basket or the carry out or that he looks like "Running Forest Gump." Hey, I'm just observing.
Number 5:
The ice cream is owned by 2 sisters, their mom and their uncle. The uncle is sort of the "silent" partner in that he does all the finances for the company. And because he's such an early bird, he stops in the shop each morning and puts cash in the register. Since I've been opening, the Uncle comes in each day before I get there and leaves some money in the register and he also turns the alarm off, but keeps it locked. That way I don't need to have the alarm code.
So one day I open the doors, walk half way across the dining room and hear a beeping- the alarm! Shit, it wasn't turned off! I drop my stuff, dash across the room, back out the door, and I throw the lock hoping I can keep the alarm from beeping. Unfortunately, it doesn't. The blares; a cacophony of sirens that sounds like 17 police car sirens all at once.
I have no code so I need to call someone before I had the entire police department at my feet. I start to grab my phone and... I dropped my purse inside. I unlock the door, get my purse and then I get the cordless store phone because the "Very Well Known and Reputable Nationwide Alarm Company" will be calling. I stand outside and call one of the owners. She gives me the code, I shut it off and go inside. And start through the opening procedure. And guess what? The alarm company has never called. The police never called. I could've been robbed or killed or something and no one would've known. Yeah.
And to top it off, the Uncle forgot to leave me cash in the register. Feh.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Why I quit ice cream
- I can make the same money in 3 days of subbing as I can working a whole week of scooping ice cream
- I'm gaining weight (not much, but enough)
- I have arthritis in my right hand and it's so bad right now I can't open my fingers wide nor make a fist, because of the pain and swollen knuckles
- My back hurts, my feet and ankles hurt, my right elbow always hurts and so does my right shoulder. this job gives me occasional cankles. I'm such a big baby!
- I will probably not fall asleep as soon as I get home from work each night, at around 6:30pm so I'll feel like crafting, watching new tv and reading and hanging with Mac.
- I miss teaching and subbing is better than nothing
- I will be able to actually attend a spinning class as I've wanted to do all summer long, and if that doesn't kill me, I'll be able to attend a zumba class. Hey, I do these things for blog fodder and for no other reason, my prettys!
- If I have a day where I don't get called, can go to my college Alma Mater town and see all the new adorable shops that have been opened, including a hands on artist studio! They also now have a grand coffee house, an organic bakery, 2 used books shops, a quilt shop, and a bunch of other little neat shops. I've been passed but haven't been able to go because they are always closed when I get off work and there's not time to go in the morning.
- I live anywhere from 3 minutes to 30 minutes from 9 high schools and 9 junior high/ middle schools= total of 18 schools. And I signed up to sub as EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!
- Subbing looks better on my professional resume than scoop girl
- I hate standing on a hard concrete floor for 6.5-9 hours a day and since I'm the only one there, I have no breaks or relief. (Not that I ever did when the owner was there...)
- I hate coming home hot, sweaty and sticky and ruining clothes because chocolate DOES stain
- I miss wearing my dress up clothes
- I can read lots more books in a month when subbing than I can when ice cream coning
- My ice cream hours are going to be cut from 30 a week to 5 a week in January through March because, even though we're open all year around, that is "off season" for ice cream. And if I wait get on a sub list then, no one will call me because I'll be at the bottom of the 'seniority' pile.
- Working at the ice cream parlor was leaving me zero flexibility to interview
- There is going to be an English teacher going on maternity leave in January and she requested ME to finish her school year. I WANT to do this and the principal has casually mentioned it to me already so I need to be visible to him, and gain some sub points to be eligible.
Closing the ice creamy cone chapter,
Mags
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Thank you for the award!
Thanks so much to Anna at "Let's See if this Works"! She presented me with the Kreativ blogger award- many thanks! I love Anna's blog, too! Thank you!
There are rules that go along with winning this award and even though I can be a rule breaker, I promise to follow these guidelines this time!
The rules:
1.) Thank the person who gave this to you. (did it!)2.) Copy the logo and place it in your blog. (did it!)
3.) Link the person who nominated you. (did it!)
4.) Name 7 things about yourself that no one would really know. (did it!)
5.) Nominate seven 'Kreativ Bloggers.' (did it!)
6.) Post links to the seven blogs you nominate. (did it!)
7.) Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them. (did it!)
The 7 things about me:
An aside: this is hard because I've been blogging for more than 3 years and I think ya'll know everything!
a) I like a scoop of orange sherbet in my vanilla ice cream milkshake because then it tastes like one of those old fashioned orange push-up pops.
b) I resigned my job at the ice cream store on Wednesday, effective Oct. 2, 2009.
c) I have really bad arthritis in my right hand, especially my thumb, index finger, and the "fuck you" finger.
d) I often check out more library books than I can read during the allotted period so I either pay fines or I return them and check them right back out again since I usually have about 15 home at a time. But the reason I want so many at once is in case I get sick and have loads of time to read, or... well, what if I don't like something? I need to have another choice. And my mood changes so I have to have at least 3 different genres at home at once. Um, does this make me sound weird, or like I need medication?
e) I'm uncomfortable around old people because I feel like I end up talking to them the way I do a 5 year old and I never consciously do it. Then I catch myself and I feel like an idiot.
f) I don't recycle and I don't feel bad about not doing it but I feel bad about not feeling bad...
g) I like to wear flip- flops with toe socks just for a few weeks in the fall to make my foot transition back to real shoes easier. I try and trick my feet into being happy about shoes again. it doesn't always work...
My nominees
1) Bragger- I know I've given her an award before but I think she is SOOO worthy! Her blog is always thoughtful, and usually funny or insightful. AND she's smart! I love her blog and her brain! I have a 'girl crush'!
2) Julie at Riding Solo- her pictures are beautiful. And you never know what you might get with her blog- something personal, something insightful, something funny, quirky or just off the wall! I love it! (AND she works with BOOKS!!!!!!!)
3) Shan at Shansland- her blog is another potpourri of delight. She might have a video of anything, including her kids, or some insight or just a quip about her life. All good stuff. I also personally appreciate her comments that she leaves on my blog. She is funny, kind and always offers words that make me feel better; she shows through her comments that she is a good soul.
4) Finn McCool- my blogging buddy across the Pond in the land of the Emerald Isle had beautiful pictures, smart poetry, or a personal thought to share. (And I think his writing is sexy...)
5) Tense Teacher- a fellow high school English teacher who shares her stuff- the good, the bad, and the ugly. It's well written and I appreciate that she pokes a little fun at herself- anyone who doesn't take themselves too seriously, posts the greatest memes, and is always grammatically correct gets my vote as a FAB blog!
And the next 2 nominees are a bit unconventional...
6) Patti who is a member of a group photo blog called Through Our Eyes. This is her only blog but she is great. i love her pictures- they are stunning! And she is a frequent commenter here who always has something smart of fun to share. She is witty and insightful and I'm glad she's become my blog friend- and I hope to meet her in person someday!
7) Curley who is also a member of the group photo blog Through Our Eyes. She has a great sense of humor, which is apparent in her photos. I also appreciate her diligence in blog reading and commenting. She is a wonderful lady and I'm happy to call her my best friend and fellow blogger.
(Patti and Curley- we can post your award with your next picture on "Eyes" if you want!)
So once again, thanks to Anna for the award- I *heart* awards! And thanks to all the great bloggers who make my days just a little better!
Hugs and kisses,
Maggie Mae
And the next 2 nominees are a bit unconventional...
6) Patti who is a member of a group photo blog called Through Our Eyes. This is her only blog but she is great. i love her pictures- they are stunning! And she is a frequent commenter here who always has something smart of fun to share. She is witty and insightful and I'm glad she's become my blog friend- and I hope to meet her in person someday!
7) Curley who is also a member of the group photo blog Through Our Eyes. She has a great sense of humor, which is apparent in her photos. I also appreciate her diligence in blog reading and commenting. She is a wonderful lady and I'm happy to call her my best friend and fellow blogger.
(Patti and Curley- we can post your award with your next picture on "Eyes" if you want!)
So once again, thanks to Anna for the award- I *heart* awards! And thanks to all the great bloggers who make my days just a little better!
Hugs and kisses,
Maggie Mae
Friday, September 11, 2009
Some people are just mean!
Yesterday was not my best day. At all. I hated work, my heart hurts, my depressed and sad and just a whole host of other things went wrong yesterday, in my little area of the world. This little incident was just part of the crap that hit me yesterday.
I have a Harvard t-shirt. I like to wear it. I think I've mentioned this before. To me it's no different than someone wearing a shirt that has a Fighting Illini logo or the Patriots logo- I don't assume that the person went to that school or plays for the NFL. It's just a damn t-shirt.
Yesterday a woman came in for ice cream, as wont to happen when you run an ice cream parlor. I was working. I was not in a good mood. I was not wanting to deal with humans; rather, I wanted to be in bed, watching sappy movies and feeling sorry for myself, but NO, I was working. With the public.
So this broad comes in and orders. I dip. I give her the cone. She asks the price. We have one register working and it was in use by another employee. Rather than wait to give her the price, I guessed. This state has wonky taxes and off the top of my head I thought the total was $2.42 and I told her. She gave me $2.50. When I rang it up, in reality it was $2.46. I apologized for my math error and said I "don't do math so late in the day" and laughed. She said she couldn't believe a Harvard student couldn't do math. I said in a light tone (and tried to NOT convey my irritation), "Oh well, I always say English majors don't do math." She told me she was an English major and then gave me a hard stare and asked me if I attended Harvard. I said nope and her response was, "Obviously not."
What nerve! I am not a stupid woman and I am sick and tired of people treating me as such.
I hate this job. I really really really hate this job.
Maggie
I have a Harvard t-shirt. I like to wear it. I think I've mentioned this before. To me it's no different than someone wearing a shirt that has a Fighting Illini logo or the Patriots logo- I don't assume that the person went to that school or plays for the NFL. It's just a damn t-shirt.
Yesterday a woman came in for ice cream, as wont to happen when you run an ice cream parlor. I was working. I was not in a good mood. I was not wanting to deal with humans; rather, I wanted to be in bed, watching sappy movies and feeling sorry for myself, but NO, I was working. With the public.
So this broad comes in and orders. I dip. I give her the cone. She asks the price. We have one register working and it was in use by another employee. Rather than wait to give her the price, I guessed. This state has wonky taxes and off the top of my head I thought the total was $2.42 and I told her. She gave me $2.50. When I rang it up, in reality it was $2.46. I apologized for my math error and said I "don't do math so late in the day" and laughed. She said she couldn't believe a Harvard student couldn't do math. I said in a light tone (and tried to NOT convey my irritation), "Oh well, I always say English majors don't do math." She told me she was an English major and then gave me a hard stare and asked me if I attended Harvard. I said nope and her response was, "Obviously not."
What nerve! I am not a stupid woman and I am sick and tired of people treating me as such.
I hate this job. I really really really hate this job.
Maggie
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Voodoo isn't always a bad thing, right?
The above is my voodoo doll. Okay, I bought it for my folks when I was in The Big Easy about 10 years ago and after my post last week, Daddy-O dug it out.
But here's the news that's fit to print. Think I should or should NOT use the Ol' Black Magic?
- Sperm Donor had emergency surgery and came out fine. He was in the hospital for 5 days and was in a lot of pain but is home now.
- Grandma Shrew is in the hospital as well with some sort of flu. She was there for a whole day and never called anyone because she couldn't remember any numbers, even though I live at the same number my mother (her daughter) had for 40 years. I'm just too terrible of a human being to call apparently. (Actually it's a good thing she didn't call. I don't want that sort of responsibility to her.) She would rather sit in the hospital without her family knowing than call me. COOL!
- Trooper has not told me to go away, though his gun shy-ness is shining through, but he's sweet about it. he's such a... trooper. *giggle* (Oh come on! That was a great pun!)
- ItalianSam sent me an email about a job that he has connections to so I might actually get an interview, at least. It's in Wisconsin somewhere... And it was a nice olive branch from him.
- The insurance office might have a full time opening and I might be considered- if I want to become an insurance sales person... That would involve commission and more schooling.
- The ice cream owner has to have some medical stuff done and wants me to run the day to day operations while this happens.
- I can't find a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue that I bought for AIISam last March at duty free. I've had it here in my room since the break up and was going to give it to Farrago as a birthday gift and now it's missing. And no I didn't drink it.
- I can't find my tv remote, either.
- When I told the bank about all the hoops I have to jump through for that stupid fucking Verizon Wireless to give me the overdraft fees back, they just credited my checking account and told me to not worry about it.
- I almost have free Indianapolis Colts tickets and am taking Trooper there on a date, if they come through. Now, am I the coolest could be girlfriend in history? (I think he might consider drastic measures if I scored Packers tickets... HAHA!)
Witchy woman,
Maggie
Monday, August 17, 2009
Can feet actually fall off the body from overuse?
Can they? Not because of gangrene or anything disease ridden, but just... plunk, plop, right off?
I stood on my poor old dogs on Saturday from noon until 11:30 pm; I sat for 10 minutes in that entire time. I opened and closed the ice cream parlor. Then I did it again on Sunday, and I think I sat for about 30 minutes. Same time frame.
Saturday when I got home, I had "cankles"- this is the phenomenon where your ankles swell up so you can't tell the difference between your calf and your ankle. And I wore shortie tennis socks and when I pulled them off, I felt like I got burned. Well, my ankles swelled so much the sock was embedded into my skin and when removed it was like rug burn. The mark was still there on Sunday morning.
I could literally see my heartbeat in the soles of my feet after that work day.
And I have what is equivalent to pitcher's elbow or shoulder or whatever... Which has nothing to do with feet, but I just wanted to point it out, nonetheless.
And when I rubbed my feet I cried. It was the definition, true definition, of "Hurt so Good." That had to be what Mellencamp was crooning about- sore feet finally being rubbed. And once I rubbed them and cried over them, they itched like crazy. Something with blood circulation? I have no idea.
I just wonder if I'll wake up in the next day or two and find that my feet abandoned me for abuse, that they just off and run away without the rest of me. Who could blame them after the poor treatment?
In the "dog" house,
Mags
I stood on my poor old dogs on Saturday from noon until 11:30 pm; I sat for 10 minutes in that entire time. I opened and closed the ice cream parlor. Then I did it again on Sunday, and I think I sat for about 30 minutes. Same time frame.
Saturday when I got home, I had "cankles"- this is the phenomenon where your ankles swell up so you can't tell the difference between your calf and your ankle. And I wore shortie tennis socks and when I pulled them off, I felt like I got burned. Well, my ankles swelled so much the sock was embedded into my skin and when removed it was like rug burn. The mark was still there on Sunday morning.
I could literally see my heartbeat in the soles of my feet after that work day.
And I have what is equivalent to pitcher's elbow or shoulder or whatever... Which has nothing to do with feet, but I just wanted to point it out, nonetheless.
And when I rubbed my feet I cried. It was the definition, true definition, of "Hurt so Good." That had to be what Mellencamp was crooning about- sore feet finally being rubbed. And once I rubbed them and cried over them, they itched like crazy. Something with blood circulation? I have no idea.
I just wonder if I'll wake up in the next day or two and find that my feet abandoned me for abuse, that they just off and run away without the rest of me. Who could blame them after the poor treatment?
In the "dog" house,
Mags
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Where the hell has she been?
It's 1:22 am and this is the first time I've sat down at my computer since about.... Wednesday night at 1140pm.
I've been busy and have much to blog about. BUT- on Saturday, I work BOTH of my jobs so I might not be visiting your blogs and catching up on your worlds until Sunday afternoon!
Sorry to be out of the loop but you know me- a bad penny always turns up... so I'll be back.
Kisses,
Mags
I've been busy and have much to blog about. BUT- on Saturday, I work BOTH of my jobs so I might not be visiting your blogs and catching up on your worlds until Sunday afternoon!
Sorry to be out of the loop but you know me- a bad penny always turns up... so I'll be back.
Kisses,
Mags
Thursday, August 6, 2009
It started as a fantasy...
Once in awhile when it's a slow day in the ice cream parlor, I make up stories in my head, of course, for the customers who come in. There's the guy who walks a poodle and stops on Mondays for a small cone for himself and a dish of vanilla ice cream for his dog. The couple who come in at 9:50 pm on Sunday nights and order huge sundaes with tons of stuff on them and they are both about 5 foot tall and are about that wide. There's the old couple who comes in and the woman wears a wig and the man tells her what to order. It goes on and on- I have a made up story or a 'fantasy' world for all of these people.
So there's a woman who comes in about 5 times a week. She is a tall- I mean tall- all legs with a great and is blond. She wears skimpy dresses with lots of cleavage, has great shoes (usually of the super high heeled fuck me variety) and always has perfect make up. She comes in with her little girl. She buys a bunch of candy and she gets ice cream in a waffle cone with a spoon and she gets her daughter a kids dish of something. They sit in the dining room and the little girl plays with the basket of toys we have and the woman, whom I'm guessing is the mother of the child, sings her songs. In Russian. Okay, when she orders she has a thick accent that is eastern European. It might NOT be Russian but...
I don't know anything about these 2 people but I've decided she was a struggling woman, an orphan with her father being part of old world USSR and just vanished one day and a mother who died of syphilis, who had a baby with the love of her life who was married and when she turned up pregnant he left her. Before the baby, she was happy being his mistress, wearing beautiful clothes he bought her, and took her on exotic trips. Now, unmarried and pregnant, she was ashamed and broke. She was poor and dreamed of coming to America to be an actress. She couldn't even afford to feed her daughter and she didn't want to turn to prostitution. In a final act of desperation she talked to a man who came from the old country she called "Uncle" to help her. He got her papers and a plane ticket. He arranged for a husband, and safe passage to the US. She came to the US and found out that she was married to an old man, who died and left her as a young Russian American widow, stranded here in the Midwest, missing her homeland, with no family and wishing she was in Hollywood.
Okay so that's all going through my head and I made it all up. I didn't know anything about her. I swear.
So, I waited on her over the weekend and giggled a bit as she left. The owner asked me what was so funny and I said something like, "I think she's a mail order bride from Russia."
The owner said, "Yeah, she's the one" and walks away. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Wha?????????????????
So I immediately followed the owner to the back room and pumped her for information. Apparently, I wasn't too far off the mark. Truth: She was a mail order bride and she arrived in the States with the child. She married a guy who is rumored to be gay. This way she gets to be a citizen and he gets credibility since he's in a prominent position where he would receive much harassment for being gay. (I live in a small town; right or wrong, trust me on this, it would happen). Oh, and he was Amish and left the community. I don't know if he left before or after the mail order bride showed up. Or because of the gay thing. And she is from Russia.
I wonder if I write a little fantasy for myself if it would come true?
Maggie
So there's a woman who comes in about 5 times a week. She is a tall- I mean tall- all legs with a great and is blond. She wears skimpy dresses with lots of cleavage, has great shoes (usually of the super high heeled fuck me variety) and always has perfect make up. She comes in with her little girl. She buys a bunch of candy and she gets ice cream in a waffle cone with a spoon and she gets her daughter a kids dish of something. They sit in the dining room and the little girl plays with the basket of toys we have and the woman, whom I'm guessing is the mother of the child, sings her songs. In Russian. Okay, when she orders she has a thick accent that is eastern European. It might NOT be Russian but...
I don't know anything about these 2 people but I've decided she was a struggling woman, an orphan with her father being part of old world USSR and just vanished one day and a mother who died of syphilis, who had a baby with the love of her life who was married and when she turned up pregnant he left her. Before the baby, she was happy being his mistress, wearing beautiful clothes he bought her, and took her on exotic trips. Now, unmarried and pregnant, she was ashamed and broke. She was poor and dreamed of coming to America to be an actress. She couldn't even afford to feed her daughter and she didn't want to turn to prostitution. In a final act of desperation she talked to a man who came from the old country she called "Uncle" to help her. He got her papers and a plane ticket. He arranged for a husband, and safe passage to the US. She came to the US and found out that she was married to an old man, who died and left her as a young Russian American widow, stranded here in the Midwest, missing her homeland, with no family and wishing she was in Hollywood.
Okay so that's all going through my head and I made it all up. I didn't know anything about her. I swear.
So, I waited on her over the weekend and giggled a bit as she left. The owner asked me what was so funny and I said something like, "I think she's a mail order bride from Russia."
The owner said, "Yeah, she's the one" and walks away. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Wha?????????????????
So I immediately followed the owner to the back room and pumped her for information. Apparently, I wasn't too far off the mark. Truth: She was a mail order bride and she arrived in the States with the child. She married a guy who is rumored to be gay. This way she gets to be a citizen and he gets credibility since he's in a prominent position where he would receive much harassment for being gay. (I live in a small town; right or wrong, trust me on this, it would happen). Oh, and he was Amish and left the community. I don't know if he left before or after the mail order bride showed up. Or because of the gay thing. And she is from Russia.
I wonder if I write a little fantasy for myself if it would come true?
Maggie
Thursday, July 30, 2009
My totally immature moment
There are times when I try to act my age. I really do. For example, in the world of teen boys, if someone uses the word "bush" like "the rose bushes on the patio need trimmed" teen boys giggle and snort and say things like, "she said bush." tee-hee hee.
But I swear to the goddess I feel like a teenage boy at work when I have to make one thing.
We have frozen bananas dipped in chocolate fudge and then rolled in nuts. I swear when someone orders is, I can't help but smile and then feel completely embarrassed while I make it and then carry it to the counter, all the way across the shoppe. I blush to the roots of my hair when I make this phallic dessert for customers. I just can't help it. It's totally Freudian, I'm sure, but I just seems to get the giggles that I stifle. Totally immature, I know.
And if you never had a frozen banana on a stick dipped in chocolate, rolled in crushed nuts to eat like a Popsicle, well... it looks like an edible treat you might order from an Adam & Eve catalog...
And conversations between a couple who came in the store like the following do not help.
Woman: Honey, I have to use the restroom. Will you order for me?
Man: Sure. What do you want?
Woman: A frozen banana dipped in chocolate with nuts.
Man: Are you serious?
Woman: (looking all innocent) Yeah...?
Man: No fucking way am I ordering that or carrying it around.
Hey, I felt for him. I didn't want to make it about as much as he didn't want to order it. Men NEVER order frozen bananas on a stick. Probably also Freudian. Seriously.... think about that for a minute, will ya?
Oh yeah, she ended up having a banana split- what the hell was up with her and bananas?
Again, I know it's immature, but I guess it's just one of those things... Maybe because I spend so much time with teenagers? And I am the proud owner of a teenage boy son?
"She said 'banana'! tee-hee-hee!!!",
Mags
But I swear to the goddess I feel like a teenage boy at work when I have to make one thing.
We have frozen bananas dipped in chocolate fudge and then rolled in nuts. I swear when someone orders is, I can't help but smile and then feel completely embarrassed while I make it and then carry it to the counter, all the way across the shoppe. I blush to the roots of my hair when I make this phallic dessert for customers. I just can't help it. It's totally Freudian, I'm sure, but I just seems to get the giggles that I stifle. Totally immature, I know.
And if you never had a frozen banana on a stick dipped in chocolate, rolled in crushed nuts to eat like a Popsicle, well... it looks like an edible treat you might order from an Adam & Eve catalog...
And conversations between a couple who came in the store like the following do not help.
Woman: Honey, I have to use the restroom. Will you order for me?
Man: Sure. What do you want?
Woman: A frozen banana dipped in chocolate with nuts.
Man: Are you serious?
Woman: (looking all innocent) Yeah...?
Man: No fucking way am I ordering that or carrying it around.
Hey, I felt for him. I didn't want to make it about as much as he didn't want to order it. Men NEVER order frozen bananas on a stick. Probably also Freudian. Seriously.... think about that for a minute, will ya?
Oh yeah, she ended up having a banana split- what the hell was up with her and bananas?
Again, I know it's immature, but I guess it's just one of those things... Maybe because I spend so much time with teenagers? And I am the proud owner of a teenage boy son?
"She said 'banana'! tee-hee-hee!!!",
Mags
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Reason #459 to not scoop ice cream for a living in my home town
I haven't live in my hometown for close to 10 years now. Oh, I lived here, sort of, for a few months before I moved to the Wild West, but I worked way up north, even north of Northern Civilization and I lived part time in an almost empty frat house then, so I basically claim I haven't lived in my home town for nearly 10 years.
And now I'm back. Working in a very public place where it seems everyone in town visits. great for the business, crappy for me.
Almost everyone is shocked to see me but most human beings recover quickly enough to cough out a polite, "Well, I haven't seen you forEVER! How ARE you?"
But there was a guy I went to High School with who came in with is family the other day. He was an asshole in HS and apparently he never seemed to outgrow that affliction.
He came to the ice cream parlor walk up window and looked me dead square in the eye and said, "What the hell are you doing in town and working here?"
My response, as I looked him dead square back in the eye, "It's part of my court ordered rehab program." And I slammed the window shut and walked away.
I'm happy to report, in his "old" age, he now sports a very receding hairline. Asshole.
I'm not drunk, I'm not drinkin',
Mags
And now I'm back. Working in a very public place where it seems everyone in town visits. great for the business, crappy for me.
Almost everyone is shocked to see me but most human beings recover quickly enough to cough out a polite, "Well, I haven't seen you forEVER! How ARE you?"
But there was a guy I went to High School with who came in with is family the other day. He was an asshole in HS and apparently he never seemed to outgrow that affliction.
He came to the ice cream parlor walk up window and looked me dead square in the eye and said, "What the hell are you doing in town and working here?"
My response, as I looked him dead square back in the eye, "It's part of my court ordered rehab program." And I slammed the window shut and walked away.
I'm happy to report, in his "old" age, he now sports a very receding hairline. Asshole.
I'm not drunk, I'm not drinkin',
Mags
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
I guess they do put ANYTHING in ice cream these days!
We have lots of great hard ice creams and one that is especially popular this season is a gourmet flavor from a company called Ashbys, and the flavor is called "Berry Potter." It's described on a company flier as being "a creamy vanilla magically swirled with delectable berries and small bits of crunchy muggle."
So a grandma comes in with her grandson who looks to be about age five. She read every single flavor name of ice cream to him and describe what each kind was. When she got to "Berry Potter" she exclaimed: "Oh Johnny, I bet you'll love this one" and she told him what was in it.
His little eyes got as big as saucers and his little lip quivered. He cried out: "I would NEVER eat ice cream made of .... PEOPLE" and the tears flowed.
He was so upset he wouldn't eat any ice cream at all and grandma had no clue why he was so distraught. When I told her that in all the Harry Potter books, 'muggles' were actually people who were non- wizards (basically regular old humans) she was mortified. He cried harder and they left.
I couldn't help but giggle. I know I'm terrible!
I wonder what he would've thought about the flavor we have called "Superman"?
Muggle eater,
Maggie
So a grandma comes in with her grandson who looks to be about age five. She read every single flavor name of ice cream to him and describe what each kind was. When she got to "Berry Potter" she exclaimed: "Oh Johnny, I bet you'll love this one" and she told him what was in it.
His little eyes got as big as saucers and his little lip quivered. He cried out: "I would NEVER eat ice cream made of .... PEOPLE" and the tears flowed.
He was so upset he wouldn't eat any ice cream at all and grandma had no clue why he was so distraught. When I told her that in all the Harry Potter books, 'muggles' were actually people who were non- wizards (basically regular old humans) she was mortified. He cried harder and they left.
I couldn't help but giggle. I know I'm terrible!
I wonder what he would've thought about the flavor we have called "Superman"?
Muggle eater,
Maggie
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Aches and pains
I love Icy Hot. I am now officially a HUGE fan of this cream. Because I am feeling old. Because I am feeling sore. I hate the smell but I sure can live with it because my knees, elbows, shoulder and ankles thank me in the morning.
I'm not used to being on my feet all day and working at the ice cream parlor is kicking my ass. I usually work with the owner which is good and bad. It's good that she leaves me alone and let's me do my thing since I'm an adult and she doesn't feel she needs to stay on me like she does when she has teenagers working. The bad side is she had back surgery about a month ago so she doesn't do much. So that means most of the orders fall to me to prepare- and I think I scooped about 100 cones yesterday afternoon. I worked a 6 hour shift and never sat down- hence my love affair with Icy Hot.
I know if I lost weight and exercised more this wouldn't bother me as much because I am out of shape. I've also never had a job that wouldn't let me ever sit down at all, even when I was waitressing I could cop a squat at times. But this is just go- go -GO all the time, even if there are no customers, there are dishes to wash and sticky messes to clean. And I think yesterday was especially ick because the air conditioner wasn't working so it was about 90 degrees inside AND outside yesterday. (Okay that has nothing to do with aching bones and joints but I thought I would just toss it in there for good measure!)
But hey, again, it's a job and I like my co-workers and I like the owners so it's all good. I just wonder if they would buy Icy Hot buy the case and keep it in the staff room for us, sort of like a staff bonus or something?
Stiff and sore,
Mags
I'm not used to being on my feet all day and working at the ice cream parlor is kicking my ass. I usually work with the owner which is good and bad. It's good that she leaves me alone and let's me do my thing since I'm an adult and she doesn't feel she needs to stay on me like she does when she has teenagers working. The bad side is she had back surgery about a month ago so she doesn't do much. So that means most of the orders fall to me to prepare- and I think I scooped about 100 cones yesterday afternoon. I worked a 6 hour shift and never sat down- hence my love affair with Icy Hot.
I know if I lost weight and exercised more this wouldn't bother me as much because I am out of shape. I've also never had a job that wouldn't let me ever sit down at all, even when I was waitressing I could cop a squat at times. But this is just go- go -GO all the time, even if there are no customers, there are dishes to wash and sticky messes to clean. And I think yesterday was especially ick because the air conditioner wasn't working so it was about 90 degrees inside AND outside yesterday. (Okay that has nothing to do with aching bones and joints but I thought I would just toss it in there for good measure!)
But hey, again, it's a job and I like my co-workers and I like the owners so it's all good. I just wonder if they would buy Icy Hot buy the case and keep it in the staff room for us, sort of like a staff bonus or something?
Stiff and sore,
Mags
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Guess what I heard at the ice cream parlor?
I was working at the ice cream parlor the other night and I was wearing a Harvard T-shirt. I want to say I didn't attend nor did I graduate from there. But it's no different than others wearing shirts from a favorite university, right?
So a customer asked me, based on what I was wearing,:
"If you got a degree from Harvard, then why ya dipping ice cream here?"
Rude bastard. I hate rude and stupid people.
So a customer asked me, based on what I was wearing,:
"If you got a degree from Harvard, then why ya dipping ice cream here?"
Rude bastard. I hate rude and stupid people.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Heard at the Ice cream parlor
Since the Dairy Queen Blizzard has made it possible to have ANYTHING on ice cream, blending soft serve vanilla with candy, cookies, fruit, and the like- I want to explain something briefly.
Here in the Midwest, Butter Pecan ice cream is as popular as vanilla, strawberry, chocolate and Rocky Road. It's not a vanilla ice cream with pecans on it Blizzard style, but an actual flavor of hard ice cream, sold in tub, that is a rich and creamy buttery vanilla ice cream with a hint of pecan taste as well as having HUGE chunks of pecans liberally throughout the container. Butter Pecan is such a popular flavor that here in the Midwest it's sold in gallon and half gallon containers in grocery stores like Marsh, IGA and Kroger. It's probably the most commonly sold flavor we sell at the parlor.
So all that being said, a guy comes in the ice cream parlor and orders a waffle cone with 2 dips of butter pecan ice cream. "And I want that with no pecans." I stare at him and then tell him the pecans are in the ice cream. And then he responds to me with:
"Well, duh, I know that. Just dip around them."
What a stupid fucker.
Here in the Midwest, Butter Pecan ice cream is as popular as vanilla, strawberry, chocolate and Rocky Road. It's not a vanilla ice cream with pecans on it Blizzard style, but an actual flavor of hard ice cream, sold in tub, that is a rich and creamy buttery vanilla ice cream with a hint of pecan taste as well as having HUGE chunks of pecans liberally throughout the container. Butter Pecan is such a popular flavor that here in the Midwest it's sold in gallon and half gallon containers in grocery stores like Marsh, IGA and Kroger. It's probably the most commonly sold flavor we sell at the parlor.
So all that being said, a guy comes in the ice cream parlor and orders a waffle cone with 2 dips of butter pecan ice cream. "And I want that with no pecans." I stare at him and then tell him the pecans are in the ice cream. And then he responds to me with:
"Well, duh, I know that. Just dip around them."
What a stupid fucker.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
It know it's not brain surgery but...
There is an art to scooping ice cream. I know that sound utterly ridiculous but there is an art form to it.
All the ice cream sitting atop of the cones have to be the same size. And some ice cream scoops really nice and rolls into a nice tight scoop and others, when it's frozen solid, curls and flakes or chips. This is when scooping ice cream isn't really fun- and it hurts my hand and wrist. I'm going to need rotater cuff surgery because of the scoop motion.
Our ice cream parlor also sells old fashioned ice cream treats like dipped cones, limeades, flavored Cokes with syrup, and chocolate cream sodas. I'm still trying to master the dipped cone. It's soft serve ice cream dipped in chocolate. the trick is to dip the cold vanilla ice cream into the hot chocolate syrup without having it fall into the chocolate or having the chocolate run down the cone or my arm. I've lost more cones than I care to count when the ice cream plopped off into the chocolate dipping sauce. And when making cream sodas or root beer floats... geez, pouring carbonated syrupy soda water or Coke products over ice cream and keeping the foam ratio down is actually a challenge.
We also make milkshakes. Trying to get the right amount of ice cream to milk ratio is a pain in the ass and on more than one occasion I've ended up with a shake so thick you about need a knife and fork, or there's enough liquid that I spatter the entire thing all over my face, hair, glasses, shirt, etc. Logistically I always have too much of something or not enough of something in the shake process.
We have a version of the Dairy Queen blizzard called a frostbit and while that isn't a problem to make, I have, when mixing it up, I got the Styrofoam cup a little too close to the mixing wand and sliced and diced a cup. Once I even just poked a hole right in the bottom, spewing ice cream everywhere.
And making a soft serve cone is hard too, which sounds completely silly. Ya gotta twirl it just right without having it lean either way or making sure it's not to fat and hangs over the cone top. And still get it uniform in height to the correct large, medium and small sizes.
So, while this is a paycheck, it's fun, and I am not complaining, I have to admit, this ice cream thang is harder than it looks.
Life isn't just a soft serve cone,
Maggie
All the ice cream sitting atop of the cones have to be the same size. And some ice cream scoops really nice and rolls into a nice tight scoop and others, when it's frozen solid, curls and flakes or chips. This is when scooping ice cream isn't really fun- and it hurts my hand and wrist. I'm going to need rotater cuff surgery because of the scoop motion.
Our ice cream parlor also sells old fashioned ice cream treats like dipped cones, limeades, flavored Cokes with syrup, and chocolate cream sodas. I'm still trying to master the dipped cone. It's soft serve ice cream dipped in chocolate. the trick is to dip the cold vanilla ice cream into the hot chocolate syrup without having it fall into the chocolate or having the chocolate run down the cone or my arm. I've lost more cones than I care to count when the ice cream plopped off into the chocolate dipping sauce. And when making cream sodas or root beer floats... geez, pouring carbonated syrupy soda water or Coke products over ice cream and keeping the foam ratio down is actually a challenge.
We also make milkshakes. Trying to get the right amount of ice cream to milk ratio is a pain in the ass and on more than one occasion I've ended up with a shake so thick you about need a knife and fork, or there's enough liquid that I spatter the entire thing all over my face, hair, glasses, shirt, etc. Logistically I always have too much of something or not enough of something in the shake process.
We have a version of the Dairy Queen blizzard called a frostbit and while that isn't a problem to make, I have, when mixing it up, I got the Styrofoam cup a little too close to the mixing wand and sliced and diced a cup. Once I even just poked a hole right in the bottom, spewing ice cream everywhere.
And making a soft serve cone is hard too, which sounds completely silly. Ya gotta twirl it just right without having it lean either way or making sure it's not to fat and hangs over the cone top. And still get it uniform in height to the correct large, medium and small sizes.
So, while this is a paycheck, it's fun, and I am not complaining, I have to admit, this ice cream thang is harder than it looks.
Life isn't just a soft serve cone,
Maggie
Monday, June 15, 2009
Scooping ice cream can be tit-illating for 17 year old boy
I worked at the ice cream parlor the other night and it seems there were boobs everywhere.
First a woman came in and she brought her little granddaughters who were about age 3. The woman was probably in her late forties or early 50s. She was very pretty and had kept herself in great shape. She was well dressed and in no way was she slutty looking or even dressed like a slut at all- she was wearing flip flops, denim Capri pants and a shirt that was a tank top, but rather loose fitting. She looked really nice. I was working with a 17 year old high school super jock boy who said she was hot for a woman her age and he thought she was a "GMILF" (for those of you unfamiliar with that acronym, it means "GrandMother I'd Like to Fuck") So apparently she was good looking. She ordered ice cream for her granddaughters and when I handed her the first cup, she bent forward to hand it to the child and her blouse gaped and revealed her boobs. Bare and naked boobs. No bra. And it wasn't just a peek but nope, the entire boob, nipple, areola, the works. I called to the 17 year old boy to finish the order, under the pretense I had to use the facilities. After they left, he came running up to me in the back room, all excited because that GMILF wasn't wearing a bra and he could see her tits- which were HAWT, according to him. See I can be a nice person- I think it made his day.
Until the next boobilicious babe walked in the the door.
She was a young girl who was very very pretty. I think she was barely 20 years old and had a nice body and long dark curly hair. And carrying a week old baby girl in a car seat. The 17 year old boy and I were standing at the counter when she came in and I saw his eyes do a double pop, almost like a cartoon character. He thought she was hot and when she flipped the long dark hair back, she reveal, barely covered in a tiny tank top, two HUGE boobs, that were spilling out the top and the sides of her tiny tank top. Huge amounts of cleavage and just boob were everywhere. The 17 year old Boy waited on her and practically slobbered all over her.
After she left, he was going on and on about how glorious her tits were and he couldn't believe tiny girl like that could have such big knockers and how hot she was, even though she had a week old baby. Well, the woman I was working with (she and I have both had kids) couldn't help but laugh at him. We finally told him she was still lactating. He gave us blank looks, not understanding. Finally the other woman said, "Kid, her boobs were full of milk which is why they are so big." You could see the light bulb click on and the look that spread across his face and his full body shiver accompanied the words out of his mouth, "Oh dude, that is so gross!"
She and I were so evil...
That angel and demon on my shoulders both win,
Mags
First a woman came in and she brought her little granddaughters who were about age 3. The woman was probably in her late forties or early 50s. She was very pretty and had kept herself in great shape. She was well dressed and in no way was she slutty looking or even dressed like a slut at all- she was wearing flip flops, denim Capri pants and a shirt that was a tank top, but rather loose fitting. She looked really nice. I was working with a 17 year old high school super jock boy who said she was hot for a woman her age and he thought she was a "GMILF" (for those of you unfamiliar with that acronym, it means "GrandMother I'd Like to Fuck") So apparently she was good looking. She ordered ice cream for her granddaughters and when I handed her the first cup, she bent forward to hand it to the child and her blouse gaped and revealed her boobs. Bare and naked boobs. No bra. And it wasn't just a peek but nope, the entire boob, nipple, areola, the works. I called to the 17 year old boy to finish the order, under the pretense I had to use the facilities. After they left, he came running up to me in the back room, all excited because that GMILF wasn't wearing a bra and he could see her tits- which were HAWT, according to him. See I can be a nice person- I think it made his day.
Until the next boobilicious babe walked in the the door.
She was a young girl who was very very pretty. I think she was barely 20 years old and had a nice body and long dark curly hair. And carrying a week old baby girl in a car seat. The 17 year old boy and I were standing at the counter when she came in and I saw his eyes do a double pop, almost like a cartoon character. He thought she was hot and when she flipped the long dark hair back, she reveal, barely covered in a tiny tank top, two HUGE boobs, that were spilling out the top and the sides of her tiny tank top. Huge amounts of cleavage and just boob were everywhere. The 17 year old Boy waited on her and practically slobbered all over her.
After she left, he was going on and on about how glorious her tits were and he couldn't believe tiny girl like that could have such big knockers and how hot she was, even though she had a week old baby. Well, the woman I was working with (she and I have both had kids) couldn't help but laugh at him. We finally told him she was still lactating. He gave us blank looks, not understanding. Finally the other woman said, "Kid, her boobs were full of milk which is why they are so big." You could see the light bulb click on and the look that spread across his face and his full body shiver accompanied the words out of his mouth, "Oh dude, that is so gross!"
She and I were so evil...
That angel and demon on my shoulders both win,
Mags
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Scoop-tacular Attitude
Even though I've always had some other full time job- education, social work, non profit- I've usually kept a part time job in food service, often because my full time job paid peanuts and I needed to make ends meet. I've worked in coffee houses, tended bar, and worked in restaurants. But I have to say that working in the ice cream parlor is by far the best food industry job I've had.
Oh the money was so much better in waiting tables and tending bar because of the tips, but with those-- people were crabby or drunk and hard to handle. Folks would be miserable and complain about everything. Even if Martha Stewart herself prepared the food and served it on gold plates, some folks would find something to complain about. Kids would scream- and smear crackers over everything. People would cry in their beers. It was usually pretty miserable, most of the time. The coffee houses were okay, but often people were cranky, waiting for their coffee, not having had their caffeine yet, already frustrated with traffic or upset with having to go to work at all. Tips were sparse. And it wasn't my fault you had to be at work at 8 am and came in at 7:40 am and were pissed that you had to wait in line behind 122 other people who also had to be at work at 8 am!
But working in the ice cream parlor is a different sort of food service. It's... wait for it... HAPPY! People are happy when they come in to get ice cream, generally speaking. Oh there's the occasional person who gets bummed that we don't have their very favourite but are quite content with their second fav. Once or twice someone is shocked at a price, but we have 2 kinds of hard ice cream- regular Atz flavors and then gourmet, and the gourmet costs more. But what floors me, is that these cases are few and far between and people are just generally happy when they come in.
And not only are customers happy and kind, so are my fellow employees! I've worked primarily with the same two women and they are just happy workers who love their jobs. Other employees have come in as customers, or I've worked with them briefly as the shift changes, and they too have been happy. And they were teenagers. They said they like coming to work there, they like their jobs! Happy teenagers?!? Wow- what a phenomenon.
I also love the fact that most people usually don't stay and eat their ice cream in the dining area- most people order and then leave. People are nice and excited. Even the grumpiest lady, with the biggest frown on her face when she orders, ends up with a smile when presented with her cone. It's a transformation. Kids come in and oooo and ahhhh over the 53 flavors- and then jump up and down when they get their cones, and everyone loves our super sundaes or our HUGE banana splits. People are in good humor to us staff members and to each other. It's nice to see everyone being nice. As Hawkeye Pierce said in M*A*S*H: "It's nice to be nice to the nice!" I wish I would've known about this part of the idealized food service industry earlier!
Hmmmmmmmmm, I wonder what they're really putting in the ice cream? Doesn't matter to me as long as everyone stays happy! So, while I was bummed that I still hadn't found a full time professional position, I have to say I'm at least enjoying the wonderful world of scooping ice cream for the masses!
Please pass the chocolate cherry amaretto,
Mags
Oh the money was so much better in waiting tables and tending bar because of the tips, but with those-- people were crabby or drunk and hard to handle. Folks would be miserable and complain about everything. Even if Martha Stewart herself prepared the food and served it on gold plates, some folks would find something to complain about. Kids would scream- and smear crackers over everything. People would cry in their beers. It was usually pretty miserable, most of the time. The coffee houses were okay, but often people were cranky, waiting for their coffee, not having had their caffeine yet, already frustrated with traffic or upset with having to go to work at all. Tips were sparse. And it wasn't my fault you had to be at work at 8 am and came in at 7:40 am and were pissed that you had to wait in line behind 122 other people who also had to be at work at 8 am!
But working in the ice cream parlor is a different sort of food service. It's... wait for it... HAPPY! People are happy when they come in to get ice cream, generally speaking. Oh there's the occasional person who gets bummed that we don't have their very favourite but are quite content with their second fav. Once or twice someone is shocked at a price, but we have 2 kinds of hard ice cream- regular Atz flavors and then gourmet, and the gourmet costs more. But what floors me, is that these cases are few and far between and people are just generally happy when they come in.
And not only are customers happy and kind, so are my fellow employees! I've worked primarily with the same two women and they are just happy workers who love their jobs. Other employees have come in as customers, or I've worked with them briefly as the shift changes, and they too have been happy. And they were teenagers. They said they like coming to work there, they like their jobs! Happy teenagers?!? Wow- what a phenomenon.
I also love the fact that most people usually don't stay and eat their ice cream in the dining area- most people order and then leave. People are nice and excited. Even the grumpiest lady, with the biggest frown on her face when she orders, ends up with a smile when presented with her cone. It's a transformation. Kids come in and oooo and ahhhh over the 53 flavors- and then jump up and down when they get their cones, and everyone loves our super sundaes or our HUGE banana splits. People are in good humor to us staff members and to each other. It's nice to see everyone being nice. As Hawkeye Pierce said in M*A*S*H: "It's nice to be nice to the nice!" I wish I would've known about this part of the idealized food service industry earlier!
Hmmmmmmmmm, I wonder what they're really putting in the ice cream? Doesn't matter to me as long as everyone stays happy! So, while I was bummed that I still hadn't found a full time professional position, I have to say I'm at least enjoying the wonderful world of scooping ice cream for the masses!
Please pass the chocolate cherry amaretto,
Mags
Monday, May 18, 2009
When it rains it pours
I know I promised a Chicago update but I'm exhausted because I went subbing on average of 2 days a week to having three part time jobs...
Today I started working at the ice cream parlor for three hours and then headed to the insurance office for 2.5 hours of telemarketing.
And here's the funny thing. I told Daddy-O that since I agreed to start my training at the ice cream parlor this week, and the training schedule is smack dab in the middle of the day, that the school would call and want me to sub even more. And was I ever right- which just pisses me off! They called this morning and wanted me to sub today and I had to say no. They called tonight and wanted me to sub tomorrow and had to say now. Which completely sucks because I had to pass up making $65 for each day, to instead make $20 each day scooping ice cream... Life just sucks.
I was tempted to call the ice cream parlor and tell them I couldn't train this week after all but I committed so I didn't- and the ice cream job is going to be 25 hours a week all summer long, after the training period, so I really NEED the job.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....
So all that whining being said and done, I worked both jobs, after my exhausting weekend, to be on the phone an Ahmad in India for 86 minutes, helping me fix Daddy-O's computer.
So, I'm too tired to answer my inbox full of emails and too tired to write my Chicago posts. Maybe tomorrow?
Poor tired me,
Mags
Today I started working at the ice cream parlor for three hours and then headed to the insurance office for 2.5 hours of telemarketing.
And here's the funny thing. I told Daddy-O that since I agreed to start my training at the ice cream parlor this week, and the training schedule is smack dab in the middle of the day, that the school would call and want me to sub even more. And was I ever right- which just pisses me off! They called this morning and wanted me to sub today and I had to say no. They called tonight and wanted me to sub tomorrow and had to say now. Which completely sucks because I had to pass up making $65 for each day, to instead make $20 each day scooping ice cream... Life just sucks.
I was tempted to call the ice cream parlor and tell them I couldn't train this week after all but I committed so I didn't- and the ice cream job is going to be 25 hours a week all summer long, after the training period, so I really NEED the job.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....
So all that whining being said and done, I worked both jobs, after my exhausting weekend, to be on the phone an Ahmad in India for 86 minutes, helping me fix Daddy-O's computer.
So, I'm too tired to answer my inbox full of emails and too tired to write my Chicago posts. Maybe tomorrow?
Poor tired me,
Mags
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