|Warning: Non-GPS-enabled post.
||[May. 18th, 2012|11:10 am]
Things a Yankee WASP like me are not socially equipped to deal with: let’s face it, I have nature and nurture in my favor when it comes to dealing with a lot of potentially awkward etiquette situations. But when I’m on my way into the ladies room and someone comes out, rubbing her stomach and saying “Oh, I don’t know what I ate last night, but it sure didn’t agree with me.” First of all, there’s no socially acceptable response. Maybe there is, but it was drowned out by “Dude, OVERSHARE”. And even that was moot because I just froze there, my body saying, “oh I’ll hold it, I am NOT going in there right now” and my brain saying “okay, that would look weak or rude and neither one is acceptable”. Do me a favor, oversharing colleague, even an unpleasant surprise would be better. |
This is why there will never be a “Real Housewives of New England”. Speaking of which, Mrs. Clint Eastwood is doing a reality show. WTF. Really. I’m baffled. What motivates a person to think that opening up their life to camera crews, to the television watching public is a good idea? Okay, you’re a nobody desperate for attention and no humiliation so great that money won’t salve it over. Or, a has-been entertainment personality who’s desperately trying to lever yourself back into the spotlight. But, seriously, you are married to Clint Eastwood. Money isn’t a problem. Getting invited to the best parties isn’t a problem. Connections in the entertainment industry, not a problem. Judgment and a sense of self-worth, clearly a problem.
I mean, I’m very comfortable sharing my embarrassing, humiliating, painful moments with the world. But really, in what universe can I convince myself that I’m INTERESTING enough for anyone to waste a half an hour watching my day to day? And my life not being like other people’s, does have more to work with I suppose, than certainly my colleagues. And I suppose that standing up from my desk in a huff, having just called one of my suppliers (after hanging up on them) as useful as tits on a bull, stomping down the hallway to the ladies room and then hitting the door handle so hard that my hand slipped, went inside the handle, wrenching my wrist so I got my arm trapped and pulling me off balance so that I face planted into the door…okay, I will grant you, that’s some comedy gold right there.
But let’s face it, I’d be nothing more than a blooper reel. Once you edited out all of the interpersonal stuff that would possibly impact other people’s lives. Because I guess that’s it – I’m all about milking my pain and misery in the hopes that some good (a lesson learned, a good belly laugh from you guys, some comfort to you that your day does not suck, compared to whatever comi-tragedy I’ve got going on) will come of it. But the rest of the people in my life? None of anyone’s damn business. So, I guess it would have to be a solo show. Me and the cats. Ugh. That would be embarrassing. Although the exhibitionist in me wants a short clip of me cooking dinner, talking on the phone, and then having zombie-geezer cat stagger out into the kitchen, pterydactyl-meow, shuffle over, piss on the floor and then stagger over to her food bowl, screeching every time I look at her. Yeah, THERE’S a moment I want to share with the world.
Seriously, here’s the thing, the reusable shopping bag could have been a plastic disposable shopping bag. The virus could have been on the cookie package. (Actually, it probably was – they just threw the package out after they ate the cookies…so that wasn’t around to test). Yes, by all means, wash your reusable shopping bags and wash them often. Consider using some bags just for raw meats and other contaminants and wash them more frequently. Personally, I recommend using hard plastic milkcrate-like boxes or folding plastic crates that are less likely to harbor bacteria, and can be easily sprayed and hosed down outside or in the shower. Plus, they’re easier to pack and carry and don’t fall over in the car, spilling all 48 tiny cans of ZombieGeezerCat’s Fancy Feast, which is the only thing she’ll eat and at this stage of the game, she deserves to get what she likes, except I sort of thought we were at this stage of the game six months ago, and those expensive little cans are starting to add up, plus I keep finding previous escapees under the car seats, which is annoying, but I’ll bet if my car breaks down in the wilderness and I’m lost for five days with nothing to eat, I’ll be singing a whole different tune, not that I know the Fancy Feast theme song.
But seriously, when someone is suddenly, violently ill with vomiting…assume that everything they’ve touched or breathed on needs to be sanitized or washed. Isolate them as much as possible and assume that everything they touch is a potential source of infection, I’d say especially with children, but since I’ve watched enough adults to know that THEY don’t know to keep their hands off of their mouths, nose and eyes, unless they can then wash before touching anything else….
It’s funny, we spend years trying to educate people that “stomach flu” is actually food poisoning and comes from not handling food properly and then norovirus comes along and makes us liars. (Of course, technically noro can also be foodborne, as in, if it’s on food, and you don’t cook it, you’ll get it. But it’s happy as a clam on nonfood surfaces…a little evil clam of gastrointestinal inflammation.
So, I pass a firetruck driving along at the speed limit, with sirens and lights flashing. Is that the equivalent of your Dad driving along for four miles with his signal on? Do we need to retire some firefighters?
Retailers are thinking of giving sales associates tablets to help them assist customers better. That’s a decision that could only be made at a corporate level, by people who’ve never or who have forgotten what it’s like to work at the store level. Seriously, if I had a $100 for every box cutter (dangerous), pricing gun (not cheap) or inventory terminal (definitely expensive) left laying on a store shelf someplace unattended, I wouldn’t have to work another day in my life. I was just in a store last week and found an inventory terminal laying on top of some cans, with no one around, and had to walk it up front to customer service. I should find out what stores are using tablets and just hang around…only a matter of time until I can score my own tablet…
Okay, I’ve finished my burrito. Time to head back to the salt mines. I wonder what it would be like to work in the salt mines...and how long until I'd give in and lick the walls.