"My Mom Says..."
So, I'm sittin' here at the PC this morning, waitin' for the phones to ring and havin' my morning dose of canned caffine...
My Mom walks up to me (oh, the magic of workin' with family) and puts on the fancy-face and says, "I hope that when you are dining out you do not turn up the chip bag to get the last of the crumbs or tilt your head back to slurp the last of the 'Dew out of the can..."
I didn't quite know what to say to that, seein' as how we never get to go out anywhere for lunch anymore, not even to go home and eat or go run an errand or two on a lunch break. Most days it's something that's brought back here (usually by me) and we all eat at the counter while answering phones and dealing with the public in between bites of hamburger or sub sandwich (hence the bags of chips and cans of pop).
"My Dining Out does not involve drinks that come in cans or chips that come in bags, so I don't think there's much to be concerned about there."
Boy did I ever get a dirty look for that one...
I'm just not a girly-girl; if I was, I probably wouldn't be selling car parts or doing any other job that involves the shirtless/unwashed retail public. Don't get me wrong; I am versatile, I can dress up and be "the nice girl" when it's called for; like the occasional "Church" service or dinner with The Hunny's family or a nice evening out -- but at work, I'm just one of the guys.
I'm sittin' here sweatin' my azs off in my rough ol' jeans and a T-shirt from the '02 Knoxville Nationals (no, I didn't go, it was a left-over that I got as a door prize at a trade show where I was actin' polite while dressed-to-impress in my khakis & polo shirt); I'm plopped on my ass behind the counter in a salvage yard -- I'm friendly and decent on the phone, I'm polite to the walk-in public, I'm even nice enough not to yell and b!tch when some smelly ol' dip comes in here and stands in front of the fan with his exposed pits flappin' in the breeze and stinkin' up the place. How I get the last few crumbs out of my 99-cent bag of Ruffles isn't too big of a deal, is it?
If I'm all dressed up with perfect hair and makeup and all the full-on girliness, chances are I won't be going any place where the drinks are served in cans; but workin' here with no air conditioning and no real lunch break, slurpin' the last of my money's worth out of the can of 'Dew isn't too big of a deal, is it?
I get a kick outta bein' here, I like the people-watching even if some of 'em are a little irritating. I love messin' with cars, I love bein' able to take care of the race car when things are slow around here. But my next job will be air-conditioned, with real lunch breaks, and hopefully without mosquitos so I can use my CK instead of Off.
More later... _\,,/
My Mom walks up to me (oh, the magic of workin' with family) and puts on the fancy-face and says, "I hope that when you are dining out you do not turn up the chip bag to get the last of the crumbs or tilt your head back to slurp the last of the 'Dew out of the can..."
I didn't quite know what to say to that, seein' as how we never get to go out anywhere for lunch anymore, not even to go home and eat or go run an errand or two on a lunch break. Most days it's something that's brought back here (usually by me) and we all eat at the counter while answering phones and dealing with the public in between bites of hamburger or sub sandwich (hence the bags of chips and cans of pop).
"My Dining Out does not involve drinks that come in cans or chips that come in bags, so I don't think there's much to be concerned about there."
Boy did I ever get a dirty look for that one...
I'm just not a girly-girl; if I was, I probably wouldn't be selling car parts or doing any other job that involves the shirtless/unwashed retail public. Don't get me wrong; I am versatile, I can dress up and be "the nice girl" when it's called for; like the occasional "Church" service or dinner with The Hunny's family or a nice evening out -- but at work, I'm just one of the guys.
I'm sittin' here sweatin' my azs off in my rough ol' jeans and a T-shirt from the '02 Knoxville Nationals (no, I didn't go, it was a left-over that I got as a door prize at a trade show where I was actin' polite while dressed-to-impress in my khakis & polo shirt); I'm plopped on my ass behind the counter in a salvage yard -- I'm friendly and decent on the phone, I'm polite to the walk-in public, I'm even nice enough not to yell and b!tch when some smelly ol' dip comes in here and stands in front of the fan with his exposed pits flappin' in the breeze and stinkin' up the place. How I get the last few crumbs out of my 99-cent bag of Ruffles isn't too big of a deal, is it?
If I'm all dressed up with perfect hair and makeup and all the full-on girliness, chances are I won't be going any place where the drinks are served in cans; but workin' here with no air conditioning and no real lunch break, slurpin' the last of my money's worth out of the can of 'Dew isn't too big of a deal, is it?
I get a kick outta bein' here, I like the people-watching even if some of 'em are a little irritating. I love messin' with cars, I love bein' able to take care of the race car when things are slow around here. But my next job will be air-conditioned, with real lunch breaks, and hopefully without mosquitos so I can use my CK instead of Off.
More later... _\,,/
posted by Debbie at 11:21 AM
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