Lilith asked me what became of my driving transportation of kids after the disaster last weekend when I drove kids to and fro.
It's funny she asked. I was sure I would get fired. I figured I would get fired outright, or get the 'quietly fired' where I wasn't asked to drive anymore- just let to quietly slide off the list. I wasn't particularly upset by the thought of either, actually.
But what did happen was... well, hang on.
I got an email, along with a bunch of other people who drive, telling us we need to have a training class on how to work with difficult kids. It's a nationally renowned program (I don't want to name it here in case someone at work would Google it and lead to here) that in mental and physical ways lets you learn to handle kids mentally and physically when necessary. The course runs 8 hours a day over 4 days. Then there are annual re-certs that last 2-3 days each.
I also need to update my first aid/ CPR through the American Red Cross.
I can't drive anymore until I complete this. This is because of our federal licensing agency. I was told in the email, and in person, that I apparently slipped through the cracks, along with several other drivers. It will be interesting to see who all commits to doing this.
My company is offering a class next week and will pay me but I'm not doing it. I don't know if I want to drive anymore anyway. And to be honest, I got a down and dirty training course because I work at the school and I understand what I'm to do; the down and dirty version doesn't count for drivers, though. Also, this training is NOT geared to take place in a car. If I have to use these skills, I better be pulled over on the side of the road and calling for help. AND next week is an entire week off with pay from the library- my first week of summer vacation that I've worked hard for, I think. I am NOT giving up all all 4 days of vacation for this nonsense.
It's utterly ridiculous. There are a bunch of people who aren't going to drive anymore because of it.
I'm going to wait this one out and see if the company will stick to it or not. I think they'll be in such desperate need of drivers they'll find a loophole.
So I wasn't fired, nor quietly ignored. I'm just told I don't have the "right" credentials to do this. Yeah, right.
Maggie
Showing posts with label you can't make me do it. Show all posts
Showing posts with label you can't make me do it. Show all posts
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Why I don't say the Pledge of Allegiance
I am not un-American nor. I am patriotic. I'm just not one who says the pledge aloud. It also doesn't mean I don't respect service men. I do respect them and I do think we need them for our survival and protection, and I am thankful there are men and women who lay doe their lives for my freedoms.
When the pledge is said I do stand, I do face the flag, and I do take my hat off if I'm wearing one. I'm quiet and respectful. I stand at "parade rest" while it's being recited. I just don't say it.
I don't like being told to be patriotic on command (and it has nothing to do with the line "One nation under God..." either!). I'm not sure if I can make this make sense. Every single day, before the announcements, we make the kids stand, face the flag, place their hands on their hearts, and say it. It becomes so mote, such a habit that it seems to lose its significance and importance. The kids look bored, roll their eyes, just stand and you can see that they are about a million miles away, and not thinking of the importance of their country.
Now, on Patriot Day, Sept. 11, when the announcements came on and we were asked to stand for the pledge, we also were told what Patriot Day was and he read a story from 9-11 over the PA. By the time he was done, tears were rolling down my face and I said the Pledge. It did mean something to me that day.
I know it should mean something to me every single day. I do know. I really do.
Maybe it's because I'm in a school setting and the Pledge is squeezed between the daily silent reading and the sports announcements. And I'm charged with MAKING kids be quiet, to stand, to not talk, to not mess around, to not pick their noses... you get my drift. No other work place, other than maybe military or government related places and I'm guessing here, makes you stand and say the Pledge.
I also don't like being told to pray, for example. I don't like ritualistic recitation at public events.
I guess this was on my mind today because it just seems like saying the Pledge in a public high school is forced on the kids, like so many other things. And today as I watched the kids during "pledge" time I was disappointed that they didn't care. It was meaningless to them.
I do not want to participate in a public ritualistic recitation when it means nothing to me, only because I'm told it's 9:50am and time to day it. I want to say it because it means something to me. While I understand it SHOULD mean something to me each day, and in my heart of hearts, I don't feel the need to say it unless I want to do so.
And it should mean something.
Maggie
When the pledge is said I do stand, I do face the flag, and I do take my hat off if I'm wearing one. I'm quiet and respectful. I stand at "parade rest" while it's being recited. I just don't say it.
I don't like being told to be patriotic on command (and it has nothing to do with the line "One nation under God..." either!). I'm not sure if I can make this make sense. Every single day, before the announcements, we make the kids stand, face the flag, place their hands on their hearts, and say it. It becomes so mote, such a habit that it seems to lose its significance and importance. The kids look bored, roll their eyes, just stand and you can see that they are about a million miles away, and not thinking of the importance of their country.
Now, on Patriot Day, Sept. 11, when the announcements came on and we were asked to stand for the pledge, we also were told what Patriot Day was and he read a story from 9-11 over the PA. By the time he was done, tears were rolling down my face and I said the Pledge. It did mean something to me that day.
I know it should mean something to me every single day. I do know. I really do.
Maybe it's because I'm in a school setting and the Pledge is squeezed between the daily silent reading and the sports announcements. And I'm charged with MAKING kids be quiet, to stand, to not talk, to not mess around, to not pick their noses... you get my drift. No other work place, other than maybe military or government related places and I'm guessing here, makes you stand and say the Pledge.
I also don't like being told to pray, for example. I don't like ritualistic recitation at public events.
I guess this was on my mind today because it just seems like saying the Pledge in a public high school is forced on the kids, like so many other things. And today as I watched the kids during "pledge" time I was disappointed that they didn't care. It was meaningless to them.
I do not want to participate in a public ritualistic recitation when it means nothing to me, only because I'm told it's 9:50am and time to day it. I want to say it because it means something to me. While I understand it SHOULD mean something to me each day, and in my heart of hearts, I don't feel the need to say it unless I want to do so.
And it should mean something.
Maggie
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Mac was 'driving' me crazy!
I've been teaching Mac to drive for the last 2 months and a few days. I'm really proud of him and he's been doing a really good job.
There, of course, there are just a few times when I've wanted nothing more than to come home from a driving lesson and drink heavily. There are a few times I thought it would make more sense to drink heavily and then take him for a driving lesson.
I've also learned that it's too bad I couldn't get a brake installed on the front passenger side temporarily.
Actually, considering he drove about 3 times ever, before he got his permit, he's done a fabulous job! Other than having a heavy foot (re: speeding) he's a pretty decent driver. We've driven almost daily for 2 months. We've been in town, the interstate, country roads, highways, construction zones, bigger cities and small towns, in parking lots, one ways, neighborhoods, drive thrus, everywhere that I could think of that would help him gain driving skills.
I will admit I refused to teach him to parallel park. I can barely do that myself so I told his dad he had to cover that part of the lesson. Mac parallel parked about 25 times, over and over again, all over town, in his father's pick up truck on Tuesday night, until he nailed it perfectly. (Maybe he can give me some tips?)
Since he's my baby and he'll be the only child I ever have, this driving thing has been stressful on several levels. First, I want him to be a good driver and since he didn't take driver's education (he missed his when he moved from the Wild West back to Civilization and then it would've taken about $400 to attend a driving school) I taught him so I hope I didn't forget something in the driving process. Second, I only have one car and if he borrows it and would have an accident, I'm out the insurance deductible and a vehicle. Third, I'm scared to death to have him drive alone. I've spent the last 16.5 years taking care of him and if he's driving, then, his well being is totally out of my control and in his own hands or that of someone else driving a car who could be a stupid idiot. At least if I'm driving and something happened it would be my fault. What if he's driving and something happened? Then it's my fault, too, I guess, since I taught him to drive.
He's growing up and I'm scared. I hate this. I really do. I want him to have wings and fly and succeed but I'm terrified because he's my baby, and I want to protect him.
Which brings me to what happened Wednesday.
He had to take his driving test today with a driving instructor in my car at the DMV. We reviewed all the way there. He and I bounced "things to remember" off each: don't play the radio, turn off the cell phone, don't swear, remember to 10 and 2, no California stops, be aware of school zones and one way street signs, don't follow too closely, don't be sarcastic about anything, seatbelts at all times, watch the RR crossing, and don't speed on the highway (or anywhere else). He was a nervous wreck but still confident. (I was so nervous I threw up but didn't tell him that.)
The instructor said the test would be about 15-20 minutes long. They had been gone about 20 minutes and came back in. He failed the test.
She said they were on their way back to the DMV and he had done perfectly (including the parallel parking!) until he ran a stop sign. Yup, blew right through it. He didn't know the test was almost over or that he had a perfect score until then so he wasn't hurrying or celebrating. He had just left a school zone (where the yellow lights had been blinking) , in a neighborhood he had never been in, on a street he'd never been on, and near a fire station (he said he was concentrating on having to pull over if he hear a siren)- so much going on and he just missed it. No excuse, I know it, really I do. I understand he had to be failed. He knew it, too. Still, I felt sick for him.
The test lady told him he had done great until then but that's an automatic failure. She told him he just needed to relax and to try and not be so tense and nervous. She also told him he could come back in 2 weeks, and she wouldn't make him parallel park again since he did it so well.
I feel so bad, bad, bad for him. He was so upset. It really hit his self confidence and his self esteem. He feels embarrassed and stupid and like a failure. I feel like I failed him.
But in 2 more weeks we're gonna go back and he's gonna try it again. In the meantime, we're going to drive every single city street in this town so he's at least seen it all at least once.
Before the test I wasn't sure if I really wanted him to pass, that I just wanted a few more days of being in control of taking care of my baby boy, but after seeing the look on his face when he didn't make it--- I would take the "pass" and let me deal with my own stress than ever see him fail again.
Being a kid is very hard and life lessons to learn really suck, but being mom and letting him grow up is really hard, too. It all sucks.
Mama,
Maggie
There, of course, there are just a few times when I've wanted nothing more than to come home from a driving lesson and drink heavily. There are a few times I thought it would make more sense to drink heavily and then take him for a driving lesson.
I've also learned that it's too bad I couldn't get a brake installed on the front passenger side temporarily.
Actually, considering he drove about 3 times ever, before he got his permit, he's done a fabulous job! Other than having a heavy foot (re: speeding) he's a pretty decent driver. We've driven almost daily for 2 months. We've been in town, the interstate, country roads, highways, construction zones, bigger cities and small towns, in parking lots, one ways, neighborhoods, drive thrus, everywhere that I could think of that would help him gain driving skills.
I will admit I refused to teach him to parallel park. I can barely do that myself so I told his dad he had to cover that part of the lesson. Mac parallel parked about 25 times, over and over again, all over town, in his father's pick up truck on Tuesday night, until he nailed it perfectly. (Maybe he can give me some tips?)
Since he's my baby and he'll be the only child I ever have, this driving thing has been stressful on several levels. First, I want him to be a good driver and since he didn't take driver's education (he missed his when he moved from the Wild West back to Civilization and then it would've taken about $400 to attend a driving school) I taught him so I hope I didn't forget something in the driving process. Second, I only have one car and if he borrows it and would have an accident, I'm out the insurance deductible and a vehicle. Third, I'm scared to death to have him drive alone. I've spent the last 16.5 years taking care of him and if he's driving, then, his well being is totally out of my control and in his own hands or that of someone else driving a car who could be a stupid idiot. At least if I'm driving and something happened it would be my fault. What if he's driving and something happened? Then it's my fault, too, I guess, since I taught him to drive.
He's growing up and I'm scared. I hate this. I really do. I want him to have wings and fly and succeed but I'm terrified because he's my baby, and I want to protect him.
Which brings me to what happened Wednesday.
He had to take his driving test today with a driving instructor in my car at the DMV. We reviewed all the way there. He and I bounced "things to remember" off each: don't play the radio, turn off the cell phone, don't swear, remember to 10 and 2, no California stops, be aware of school zones and one way street signs, don't follow too closely, don't be sarcastic about anything, seatbelts at all times, watch the RR crossing, and don't speed on the highway (or anywhere else). He was a nervous wreck but still confident. (I was so nervous I threw up but didn't tell him that.)
The instructor said the test would be about 15-20 minutes long. They had been gone about 20 minutes and came back in. He failed the test.
She said they were on their way back to the DMV and he had done perfectly (including the parallel parking!) until he ran a stop sign. Yup, blew right through it. He didn't know the test was almost over or that he had a perfect score until then so he wasn't hurrying or celebrating. He had just left a school zone (where the yellow lights had been blinking) , in a neighborhood he had never been in, on a street he'd never been on, and near a fire station (he said he was concentrating on having to pull over if he hear a siren)- so much going on and he just missed it. No excuse, I know it, really I do. I understand he had to be failed. He knew it, too. Still, I felt sick for him.
The test lady told him he had done great until then but that's an automatic failure. She told him he just needed to relax and to try and not be so tense and nervous. She also told him he could come back in 2 weeks, and she wouldn't make him parallel park again since he did it so well.
I feel so bad, bad, bad for him. He was so upset. It really hit his self confidence and his self esteem. He feels embarrassed and stupid and like a failure. I feel like I failed him.
But in 2 more weeks we're gonna go back and he's gonna try it again. In the meantime, we're going to drive every single city street in this town so he's at least seen it all at least once.
Before the test I wasn't sure if I really wanted him to pass, that I just wanted a few more days of being in control of taking care of my baby boy, but after seeing the look on his face when he didn't make it--- I would take the "pass" and let me deal with my own stress than ever see him fail again.
Being a kid is very hard and life lessons to learn really suck, but being mom and letting him grow up is really hard, too. It all sucks.
Mama,
Maggie
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Spinning delay- UPDATE!
So I went to work at the insurance office tonight to work AND to confirm with Insurance Barbie about spinning class tomorrow and SHE CAN'T GO in the morning!!!!!!!!!!!! She has day care issues- no one to watch her little tyke!
Apparently, I won't be spinning on Wednesday morning. I'm gonna spin at 6 am on Friday morning. What can be worse than getting up to exercise at 6 am? Getting up to exercise at 6 am on a FRIDAY morning... OMG- I think I've lost my ever lovin' mind!
Apparently, I won't be spinning on Wednesday morning. I'm gonna spin at 6 am on Friday morning. What can be worse than getting up to exercise at 6 am? Getting up to exercise at 6 am on a FRIDAY morning... OMG- I think I've lost my ever lovin' mind!
What doesn't kill us makes us sore
I'm supposed to go to my first (and maybe last) spinning class tomorrow morning at 6am. I sill cannot get over the fact I agreed to exercise with Insurance Barbie let alone that I agreed to to do it at 6 am. yes, I whined about this before but I'm still feeling rather incredulous over my dumb self. I know I've been dragging my feet on this and I blogged a few weeks ago that I was going to do it- but I still haven't. One reason is because Insurance Barbie didn't go 2 weeks in a row and I wasn't going alone. Another is I was gone. Another time she was gone. Now I've run out of excuses!!!!! And I'm worried! I'm worried I'll be the fattest person there with all the Barbies. Or that's I'll have a heart attack. Or that I'll sweat so much my hands will slide off the handlebars and I'll smack face first on the floor.
And here's the thing- I am so outta shape that today I'm sore because I've worked three straight shifts at the ice cream parlor the last three days- all 6-7 hours each, standing the entire time- nope, there's no time to sit or take a break- and today I am SO SORE. My ankles, knees and lower back are all killing me from the 18-21 hours of standing on a linoleum floor, bending, scooping, etc... And we don't even have those black mats to stand on that are supposed to help the body.
I'm thinking if I'm this sore after working, I 'll probably die after a spinning class. How tragic to die at a Y, during an exercise class, in a small town. Oh Goddess-- that's so redundant!
If I live to tell the tale, I'll report back on my first time spinning. And if I don't, you can read my last will and testament here.
Peace out,
Mags
And here's the thing- I am so outta shape that today I'm sore because I've worked three straight shifts at the ice cream parlor the last three days- all 6-7 hours each, standing the entire time- nope, there's no time to sit or take a break- and today I am SO SORE. My ankles, knees and lower back are all killing me from the 18-21 hours of standing on a linoleum floor, bending, scooping, etc... And we don't even have those black mats to stand on that are supposed to help the body.
I'm thinking if I'm this sore after working, I 'll probably die after a spinning class. How tragic to die at a Y, during an exercise class, in a small town. Oh Goddess-- that's so redundant!
If I live to tell the tale, I'll report back on my first time spinning. And if I don't, you can read my last will and testament here.
Peace out,
Mags
Monday, July 20, 2009
Where did the time go?
Do you ever go through a week and feel disoriented? Last week was one of those weeks for me. I have absolutely no idea where my time went. Mac hung out here with me most of the week, we made the roadie to Chicago so I know that killed two of my days, I worked a bunch of hours between the ice cream parlor and the insurance office but in between that stuff, I have no idea where my time went, other than job hunting, hunting, hunting which is depressing and TIME CONSUMING! I cooked, cleaned and did laundry. I am certainly no busier now than I was when I was teaching full time, grading, directing school plays and running the SAT workshops. Even when I was doing all that I still found time to work a part time job, read books, watched a movie here and there and read blogs every day. This last week, I couldn't find time to do anything but the aforementioned stuff.
I didn't have time to watch any movies or TV, I barely read a book this last week and I've hardly had any time to read blogs- I didn't even nap my week away! I even have an inbox full of email to answer. I LOVE reading blogs and I want to stay caught up with my 'peeps but this last week the time just got away from me. So to all, I haven't been ignoring you, I've just been... out of sorts I guess.
I'm hoping this week gives me a little more equilibrium. Today is shot- I work ice cream all day but the rest of my week should smooth out. I should have time to read some of the wonderful new books I checked out from the local library (it's like Christmas! I gave the library a list of recommendations of 10 titles, and five came in so I was the first to get them!!!) I think I can also get caught up on all my blog reading!!!! It seems like everyone posted in the last 2 days!
I feel like I should set up a schedule of my free time, around my work hours. I used to be the Queen of Organization, with sticky notes and planners and blocks of time allocated for everything, but of late, time seems to fly by. Seriously, I think it's only 3 in the afternoon but I look at the clock and it's 7 pm! I think I keep hoping some job is going to open up or I want to remain flexible for interviews, but alas- that is just a sucky option cuz it just. doesn't. happen.
Though if I think schedule-wise, my Tuesday is free other than a few hours in the evening for insurance. Wednesday is ruled out since that's a day with ItalianSam. Thursday is free other than 2 evening hours with insurance. Friday I work no where but Hecate is coming to MY HOUSE (whoot whoot exciting!) and we're going to make quilted hipster purses and chill out. So.... there's time in there to read blogs, answer email, do laundry, see Mac, read books, and send out more of the freakin' sucky applications/resumes, right?
So, this week I vow to get my act together, read blogs and books daily, and straighten my act out! It's bound to all be better soon, right? I committed to an audience that I would accomplish stuff, so now I must- you guys can keep me honest, okay? Sometimes I need a Jiminy Cricket!
Outta my head,
Mags
I didn't have time to watch any movies or TV, I barely read a book this last week and I've hardly had any time to read blogs- I didn't even nap my week away! I even have an inbox full of email to answer. I LOVE reading blogs and I want to stay caught up with my 'peeps but this last week the time just got away from me. So to all, I haven't been ignoring you, I've just been... out of sorts I guess.
I'm hoping this week gives me a little more equilibrium. Today is shot- I work ice cream all day but the rest of my week should smooth out. I should have time to read some of the wonderful new books I checked out from the local library (it's like Christmas! I gave the library a list of recommendations of 10 titles, and five came in so I was the first to get them!!!) I think I can also get caught up on all my blog reading!!!! It seems like everyone posted in the last 2 days!
I feel like I should set up a schedule of my free time, around my work hours. I used to be the Queen of Organization, with sticky notes and planners and blocks of time allocated for everything, but of late, time seems to fly by. Seriously, I think it's only 3 in the afternoon but I look at the clock and it's 7 pm! I think I keep hoping some job is going to open up or I want to remain flexible for interviews, but alas- that is just a sucky option cuz it just. doesn't. happen.
Though if I think schedule-wise, my Tuesday is free other than a few hours in the evening for insurance. Wednesday is ruled out since that's a day with ItalianSam. Thursday is free other than 2 evening hours with insurance. Friday I work no where but Hecate is coming to MY HOUSE (whoot whoot exciting!) and we're going to make quilted hipster purses and chill out. So.... there's time in there to read blogs, answer email, do laundry, see Mac, read books, and send out more of the freakin' sucky applications/resumes, right?
So, this week I vow to get my act together, read blogs and books daily, and straighten my act out! It's bound to all be better soon, right? I committed to an audience that I would accomplish stuff, so now I must- you guys can keep me honest, okay? Sometimes I need a Jiminy Cricket!
Outta my head,
Mags
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Extra, Extra, read all about it!
When I was a 10 years old I got a paper route. I was the youngest person to ever have a route. And I loved it. I always collected on time and paid the paper back for what I sold and I did it on time. I tried to sell subscriptions and there were always contests sponsored by the newspaper for all sorts of prizes, and I usually did well.
I didn't have the sort of route where I could ride my bike and toss papers on the porch. I had terrible aim and could never hit the porch, to start with. I could hit pets, people, flower beds and if there was a body of water from a puddle to a kiddie pool my hurled paper would land there no matter what. And I had lots of older people on my route who would like the paper placed in a certain spot. Rather than riding my bike place to place, I would walk my route. I left papers in mailboxes, between doors, on a table on the porch, and for one lady I even opened the door to her sun porch and left the paper on her recliner.
My customers were really nice folks. I had a 5 block walk or bike ride before I ever delivered my first paper, which at age 10 wasn't a big deal. The paper was an afternoon one so I would get home from school and get my papers and take off. Sometimes one of my parents would pick me up and have my newspapers along and leave me at the start of my route. I had about 48 customers and a few businesses on my route. Because I was a girl and because I was so young, the customers on my route were pretty protective of me. If I was running "late", which means I wasn't late but didn't have their paper delivered by the usual time, people would call my folks to ask if I was okay, not to complain.
I had customers who would have cups of cocoa ready for me in the winter. I had people who baked me treats and would give me after school snacks on a daily basis. Christmas time was a huge haul because I got presents, money and baked goodies. Because I couldn't ride and deliver, there was a couple at the beginning of my route who let me park my bike on their porch and I would loop around and get it when I was done. One couple had video game system and we didn't have one at home so they would let me play anytime. The man who owned the gas station would make "bets" with me for glass bottles of Pepsi. I got presents on my birthday. I had a few people who would fix me breakfast because Saturday was a morning edition so I would have breakfast with different folks. So, I had some really nice people on my paper route.
Except for one.
Mr. James Gardner.
He was mean. Really really mean. First, he had a yippy dog that he didn't tie up. Sometimes it chased me. Other times it was blocking the porch so I couldn't get the paper in the right spot and then he would call the circulation department and complain about me. Sometimes his dog even chewed the paper and again Mr. James Gardner would call the office and complain about me. He was difficult to collect from. He dodged me when possible or pretended to not be home. When I finally could corner him he would always want to pay me with $100 bill that he knew I wouldn't have change for. Then when I left him several notes that I would cancel his paper service since he didn't pay me, he would go to the newspaper office and pay his bill, then complain that I never knocked on his door. He never tipped. Papers had to be delivered by 5:30 pm during the week and one time I remember I was late because the papers were late (It was a halt the presses day in a small town!), and he got his paper at 5:38 pm and he had already called and complained to the office- and was standing on his porch yelling at me. He would look for any excuse to yell at me. I talked to his neighbor once and he could see me and then he yelled at me for not being quick enough. Are you getting the picture he was a mean guy? I was just a 10 year old little girl. Really, what a jerk, right?
Well, I lost it. I was 10 or 11 years old at this point and I just lost it. I was on time, I wasn't running late. There was nothing unusual going on. All I did was try to collect payment for the paper. And it happened. He yelled at me, telling me he didn't get a paper the night before and he wanted a discount. Well, I knew I had left him a paper. One, because I just KNEW I had, and two, if I hadn't he would've called and complained and I didn't get a complaint notice. I told him he was wrong and I couldn't give him a discount, but I would get him a yesterday paper and have my parent's bring me back with it in about a half an hour. Then he started yelling at me and that's when it happened:
I yelled back. I was shaking. I think I said something along the lines of: "You're a mean man and I'm never going to deliver your paper again!" And I ripped up the newspaper into bits and I threw the pieces at him, and turned and ran away.
I stormed down the street all indignant and mad. I was shaking. I was upset. And by the time I got to the gas station across the street I was in tears. The guy who owned the station had watched what happened and was trying not to laugh. I was crying because I was mad, because I thought I would be in trouble and lose my job, because I thought my parents would be mad because I was disrespectful to an adult, because I had never treated another person like that in my life, because the adrenaline was gone.
Well, the gas station owner gave me a soda and listened to my story. He knew Mr. James Gardner was a mean and crotchety old man. He knew the guy was trying to not pay me and complained all the time. The owner told me it would be okay and for me to deliver the rest of my papers and then go on home and tell my parents what happened. I took off and did the rest of my route.
When I got home my parents already knew what happened. The gas station owner called and filled them in. My parents knew the trouble Mr. James Gardner had always given me. My mom had already called the newspaper office and they talked. The knew the trouble he had given me. And the gas station owner had called the paper office in my defense. I got to keep my job.
I didn't get in trouble, though my parents did tell me that might not be the best way to handle problems in the future. But the good news: I never had to deliver him a newspaper again.
Years later I found out that the gas station owner knew what happened because he could see and hear the altercation, and the three mechanics who worked for him were all watching and listening, wrenches in hand to come down the block and save me if need be. And they had just cheered for me and howled with laughter. It became a neighborhood legend- and people asked me about it all the next day, and still talk about it now: remember the day the little girl with the huge newspaper bag ripped up the neighborhood terror's, Mr. James Gardner, newspaper and let the wind blow the bit to places unknown, leaving him red faced, and sputtering with a yippy dog in the background, who had to walk to the convenience store to get the paper from then on?
Your former newsie,
Maggie
I didn't have the sort of route where I could ride my bike and toss papers on the porch. I had terrible aim and could never hit the porch, to start with. I could hit pets, people, flower beds and if there was a body of water from a puddle to a kiddie pool my hurled paper would land there no matter what. And I had lots of older people on my route who would like the paper placed in a certain spot. Rather than riding my bike place to place, I would walk my route. I left papers in mailboxes, between doors, on a table on the porch, and for one lady I even opened the door to her sun porch and left the paper on her recliner.
My customers were really nice folks. I had a 5 block walk or bike ride before I ever delivered my first paper, which at age 10 wasn't a big deal. The paper was an afternoon one so I would get home from school and get my papers and take off. Sometimes one of my parents would pick me up and have my newspapers along and leave me at the start of my route. I had about 48 customers and a few businesses on my route. Because I was a girl and because I was so young, the customers on my route were pretty protective of me. If I was running "late", which means I wasn't late but didn't have their paper delivered by the usual time, people would call my folks to ask if I was okay, not to complain.
I had customers who would have cups of cocoa ready for me in the winter. I had people who baked me treats and would give me after school snacks on a daily basis. Christmas time was a huge haul because I got presents, money and baked goodies. Because I couldn't ride and deliver, there was a couple at the beginning of my route who let me park my bike on their porch and I would loop around and get it when I was done. One couple had video game system and we didn't have one at home so they would let me play anytime. The man who owned the gas station would make "bets" with me for glass bottles of Pepsi. I got presents on my birthday. I had a few people who would fix me breakfast because Saturday was a morning edition so I would have breakfast with different folks. So, I had some really nice people on my paper route.
Except for one.
Mr. James Gardner.
He was mean. Really really mean. First, he had a yippy dog that he didn't tie up. Sometimes it chased me. Other times it was blocking the porch so I couldn't get the paper in the right spot and then he would call the circulation department and complain about me. Sometimes his dog even chewed the paper and again Mr. James Gardner would call the office and complain about me. He was difficult to collect from. He dodged me when possible or pretended to not be home. When I finally could corner him he would always want to pay me with $100 bill that he knew I wouldn't have change for. Then when I left him several notes that I would cancel his paper service since he didn't pay me, he would go to the newspaper office and pay his bill, then complain that I never knocked on his door. He never tipped. Papers had to be delivered by 5:30 pm during the week and one time I remember I was late because the papers were late (It was a halt the presses day in a small town!), and he got his paper at 5:38 pm and he had already called and complained to the office- and was standing on his porch yelling at me. He would look for any excuse to yell at me. I talked to his neighbor once and he could see me and then he yelled at me for not being quick enough. Are you getting the picture he was a mean guy? I was just a 10 year old little girl. Really, what a jerk, right?
Well, I lost it. I was 10 or 11 years old at this point and I just lost it. I was on time, I wasn't running late. There was nothing unusual going on. All I did was try to collect payment for the paper. And it happened. He yelled at me, telling me he didn't get a paper the night before and he wanted a discount. Well, I knew I had left him a paper. One, because I just KNEW I had, and two, if I hadn't he would've called and complained and I didn't get a complaint notice. I told him he was wrong and I couldn't give him a discount, but I would get him a yesterday paper and have my parent's bring me back with it in about a half an hour. Then he started yelling at me and that's when it happened:
I yelled back. I was shaking. I think I said something along the lines of: "You're a mean man and I'm never going to deliver your paper again!" And I ripped up the newspaper into bits and I threw the pieces at him, and turned and ran away.
I stormed down the street all indignant and mad. I was shaking. I was upset. And by the time I got to the gas station across the street I was in tears. The guy who owned the station had watched what happened and was trying not to laugh. I was crying because I was mad, because I thought I would be in trouble and lose my job, because I thought my parents would be mad because I was disrespectful to an adult, because I had never treated another person like that in my life, because the adrenaline was gone.
Well, the gas station owner gave me a soda and listened to my story. He knew Mr. James Gardner was a mean and crotchety old man. He knew the guy was trying to not pay me and complained all the time. The owner told me it would be okay and for me to deliver the rest of my papers and then go on home and tell my parents what happened. I took off and did the rest of my route.
When I got home my parents already knew what happened. The gas station owner called and filled them in. My parents knew the trouble Mr. James Gardner had always given me. My mom had already called the newspaper office and they talked. The knew the trouble he had given me. And the gas station owner had called the paper office in my defense. I got to keep my job.
I didn't get in trouble, though my parents did tell me that might not be the best way to handle problems in the future. But the good news: I never had to deliver him a newspaper again.
Years later I found out that the gas station owner knew what happened because he could see and hear the altercation, and the three mechanics who worked for him were all watching and listening, wrenches in hand to come down the block and save me if need be. And they had just cheered for me and howled with laughter. It became a neighborhood legend- and people asked me about it all the next day, and still talk about it now: remember the day the little girl with the huge newspaper bag ripped up the neighborhood terror's, Mr. James Gardner, newspaper and let the wind blow the bit to places unknown, leaving him red faced, and sputtering with a yippy dog in the background, who had to walk to the convenience store to get the paper from then on?
Your former newsie,
Maggie
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Camping on a beautiful day- why? Better titled: I hate camping!
I drove passed Wal-Mart last night and saw something strange. Go figure- a Wal-Mart in the middle of the Midwest, in a small town full of Rednecks and I saw something strange. I think it would be more miraculous if I said I drove passed and saw something normal. Okay, I digress- anyway. the something strange at Wal-Mart.
It was early evening, and darkness was falling. The parking lot lights had yet to come on. It was a great preview to summer- a beautiful breeze was blowing, it was in the mid 80s with a blue sky and fluffy clouds, with a nice warm sun shining. It was a great day.
So I'm cruising passed the Wally World and in the parking lot near the road was an RV. I guess it was a nice RV, the kind that is actually a bus looking thing, not the 5th wheel kind that you pull behind on your car, but is the RV and car combo. It was nice and clean looking. And it was a big one.
At first glance one might think the people were just stopping to get supplies, or pee or whatever people do at Wal-Mart. And it appeared that they parked away from the rest of the cars since they were huge and took up space.
But with closer examination, I think the owner maybe had other plans for his RV in the Wally World parking lot. Because he had the awning popped up, green AstroTurf laid out, lawn chairs and a grill set up. And he was adjusting his satellite dish.
Since when do people camp in the Wal-Mart parking lot? I mean, really? It's no secret that I HATE camping, but if I was a person who went to the effort of getting an RV which was that nice and I was in a community which had more than a dozen campgrounds within 15 miles, I would not be setting up shop in the Wally World parking lot. Isn't the point of camping bonding with nature, or some such shit like that?
And no, I did more investigating and it was not a "model" RV that was for sale. It was some dude who was CAMPING IN THE WAL-MART PARKING LOT!!!!
Personally, I just want to reiterate that I hate camping and nature. My idea of roughing it is a hotel that doesn't have room service. I don't like to hunt or fish. I hate dirt, mosquitoes and all other bugs. I see no purpose in cooking over a fire or sleeping on the ground or in a bedroom on wheels. I hate bees and other things that sting. I don't like to bird watch or chase butterflies. I thinking building a tent is stupid.
And camp fires? Come on, use matches to make a fire! What is this stick rubbing and rock clicking shit? I can barely read a compass let alone track something by the position of the sun. I am NOT peeing outdoors. I hate spiders and things that crawl. I am not much for hiking or mountain climbing. I want air conditioning, indoor plumbing, and a damn good martini bar. I do not like nature.
If Girl Scouts issued badges for shoes shopping, spotting a pair of Manolo Blahniks, or finding a great sale on a blouse, I am your woman. But this back to nature crap is...yucky.
I was totally into the idea of transcendentalism, and Emerson and Thoreau except for the nature part. Walden pond, my ass!
It isn't because I have to have my cell phone, laptop or a TV. That isn't true at all- give me a book and I am just fine. It isn't a technological thing at all. I just do not like nature or bugs.
There are some things I like about the great outdoors, but the list is really, really short. I love moonlight and lots of stars. I love watching the sun set. I like s'mores. I am good at sitting in a canoe and reading as I float down the river. I like riding horses, and I enjoy gardening, I might even plant culinary and medicinal herb gardens this summer. Okay- that is the short list, and see, I told you it was short.
Since I have the box set of Sex and the City, I was watching an episode where Carrie went camping with Adian. She realized she couldn't camp. As I watched that I laughed my ass off (and that's a lotta laughing) because she could be echoing me. I don't do camping. Anyone and everyone who has ever met me knows this. City girls just don't camp. Give me my Starbucks, my high heels, and my city noises because camping is just not my cup of coffee.
And to the dude in the Wal-Mart parking lot: you weren't camping either! Give up! Sell the RV and use the spoils to go back to the hotels, buy a $5 latte, surf the 'net using your fancy-shmancy satellite dish for a condo in Hawaii, because you weren't communing with nature in the parking lot, you weirdo! That was not camping!
Now that I have that off my chest, I need to go battle my way through the jungle like malls for Kohls is having a shoe sale... hmmmm, that sounds like nature!
Camping is for the birds- literally,
Mags
It was early evening, and darkness was falling. The parking lot lights had yet to come on. It was a great preview to summer- a beautiful breeze was blowing, it was in the mid 80s with a blue sky and fluffy clouds, with a nice warm sun shining. It was a great day.
So I'm cruising passed the Wally World and in the parking lot near the road was an RV. I guess it was a nice RV, the kind that is actually a bus looking thing, not the 5th wheel kind that you pull behind on your car, but is the RV and car combo. It was nice and clean looking. And it was a big one.
At first glance one might think the people were just stopping to get supplies, or pee or whatever people do at Wal-Mart. And it appeared that they parked away from the rest of the cars since they were huge and took up space.
But with closer examination, I think the owner maybe had other plans for his RV in the Wally World parking lot. Because he had the awning popped up, green AstroTurf laid out, lawn chairs and a grill set up. And he was adjusting his satellite dish.
Since when do people camp in the Wal-Mart parking lot? I mean, really? It's no secret that I HATE camping, but if I was a person who went to the effort of getting an RV which was that nice and I was in a community which had more than a dozen campgrounds within 15 miles, I would not be setting up shop in the Wally World parking lot. Isn't the point of camping bonding with nature, or some such shit like that?
And no, I did more investigating and it was not a "model" RV that was for sale. It was some dude who was CAMPING IN THE WAL-MART PARKING LOT!!!!
Personally, I just want to reiterate that I hate camping and nature. My idea of roughing it is a hotel that doesn't have room service. I don't like to hunt or fish. I hate dirt, mosquitoes and all other bugs. I see no purpose in cooking over a fire or sleeping on the ground or in a bedroom on wheels. I hate bees and other things that sting. I don't like to bird watch or chase butterflies. I thinking building a tent is stupid.
And camp fires? Come on, use matches to make a fire! What is this stick rubbing and rock clicking shit? I can barely read a compass let alone track something by the position of the sun. I am NOT peeing outdoors. I hate spiders and things that crawl. I am not much for hiking or mountain climbing. I want air conditioning, indoor plumbing, and a damn good martini bar. I do not like nature.
If Girl Scouts issued badges for shoes shopping, spotting a pair of Manolo Blahniks, or finding a great sale on a blouse, I am your woman. But this back to nature crap is...yucky.
I was totally into the idea of transcendentalism, and Emerson and Thoreau except for the nature part. Walden pond, my ass!
It isn't because I have to have my cell phone, laptop or a TV. That isn't true at all- give me a book and I am just fine. It isn't a technological thing at all. I just do not like nature or bugs.
There are some things I like about the great outdoors, but the list is really, really short. I love moonlight and lots of stars. I love watching the sun set. I like s'mores. I am good at sitting in a canoe and reading as I float down the river. I like riding horses, and I enjoy gardening, I might even plant culinary and medicinal herb gardens this summer. Okay- that is the short list, and see, I told you it was short.
Since I have the box set of Sex and the City, I was watching an episode where Carrie went camping with Adian. She realized she couldn't camp. As I watched that I laughed my ass off (and that's a lotta laughing) because she could be echoing me. I don't do camping. Anyone and everyone who has ever met me knows this. City girls just don't camp. Give me my Starbucks, my high heels, and my city noises because camping is just not my cup of coffee.
And to the dude in the Wal-Mart parking lot: you weren't camping either! Give up! Sell the RV and use the spoils to go back to the hotels, buy a $5 latte, surf the 'net using your fancy-shmancy satellite dish for a condo in Hawaii, because you weren't communing with nature in the parking lot, you weirdo! That was not camping!
Now that I have that off my chest, I need to go battle my way through the jungle like malls for Kohls is having a shoe sale... hmmmm, that sounds like nature!
Camping is for the birds- literally,
Mags
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