Last night, I fell asleep to Feist's Lonely Lonely. This song puts me into a melancholy ease. I tried to let go of the unavoidably guarded and scattered feeling that lingered on the surface of me from bagging like the produce stains left on my apron. I tried to wash that off too.
After a series of mindless shifts, I fear becoming this with my entire being when I work too many hours with faceless strangers. Guarded. Scattered. When I fell asleep, I thought of the other kind of relationships developed with time. Friends. Family. New and old. Love began to concentrate together on a small point and I began to energize again.
This world is made up of more than customer service connections.
A new morning woke me and once again I protected myself against losing sincerity and everything else genuine in my life. I can last another 8 hours dealing with mundane superficial crap one must perform upon limited intimacy with unappreciative people.
This new move across country was supposed to be a momentum of collecting passion, love and depth to create more and to feel more and to be more in this world for only the things that mattered in my life. Where does all that go when we don’t invest in something solid? What happens to it when our wasted energy goes flying and distributed among people who come in and out with only surface conversations and occasional recognition? Do my customers take a piece of me each time they leave with groceries?
I grew up in the restaurant business where all we could afford is to build those kinds of relationships with our community. The 5000-sq. foot building in the center of a large shopping center of a middle class suburban city filed in people with suits, ties and white-faced families. They loved my dad; he was the infamous bald Chinese guy who traveled from one side of the restaurant and back again like he was on roller skates. Dad voluntarily held 28-hour work days if possible. The restaurant was not work; the restaurant was life. He spent the days making witty comments, customizing orders for the regulars and devoting every moment to pleasing palettes from that mental menu stored in his clever brain. Dad was the restaurant Renaissance Man. The Man behind the fabulous dishes and delicious aromas, the energy and laughter.
We were the Restaurant Kids. My brother and I were in and out of those swinging kitchen doors, wearing over-sized aprons and struggling to follow behind dad’s fast-paced footsteps. We seated and carefully calculated change for hungry customers with a smile.
Our daily interactions were built upon those little meaningless moments with people in and out every day with nothing deeper to root. When the business closed, there was no more need to smile, to please and delight for the sake of survival. And thus, no purpose nor energy to break through the hard surface barrier. The distinction between restaurant and home is work and rest.
“How’s school?” Mom would ask when she picked us up in front of the vacant building. Two hours late.
“Fine,” we would answer in unison. Mom would make a simple dinner and send us off to do homework, then return to the restaurant. And that was the extent of what bound us, what inevitably built around our life outside of the restaurant. The Restaurant Kids evidently meshed into the same category as customers.
Perhaps as a child, it was ingrained at an early age to truly believe that customers are always right. Perhaps this is why bagging and speaking in customer service tongue comes easy. But no matter how long I do this chit chat, I do not want my life to collect minute by minute with meaningless moments and mundane routine. I want it to be filled with people who matter, people who can grow with me and connect deeper than the transactions that happen at check-out. And perhaps one of these days, those customers will see us more than just baggers - but real humans with the capability for real human connection, or at least to appreciate those faces behind counters, stocking shelves and kitchen doors.
Here's to more appreciation on my part.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Paper or Plastic People
In the same way I've spoken about another article titled, "Plastic or Paper", I ended with the idea of seeing people in these two simple categories. Perhaps it simply means, people that matter about themselves, the earth and its people and people who just don't give a rats butt about it. Perhaps it means people who eat healthy and follow health trends and people who eat the same thing without caring. Perhaps
All these food articles I've been catching up at the cashier's rack during the slow days has got me thinking a lot about the revolution of grocery shopping. No more apron wearing women with make-up, high hears, tight-waist hand-stitched cotton dresses and perfectly curled hair. Cans, boxes, microwave meals and frozen peas are no longer the foods of the elite. It seems, over time, we have evolved back into the time of the farmers and hippies.
Though my ancestors were still off fishing and farming off a port town in faraway China, women in America are beginning to choose items from canned, to fresh.
So for research, I have begun to observe and take mental document on the choices my customers make. For the regulars, I will closely observe their skin clarity, alertness, body shape and clothes to compare with their choice of foods. Do all A-type people eat clean and healthy? Do all slobs inject their bodies with alcohol, sugars, high fatty foods and cheese steaks? Do all people with chaotic wallets and untucked shirts buy microwave dinners and Cheetos?
And over time, I would like to find out what makes healthy people healthy?
All these food articles I've been catching up at the cashier's rack during the slow days has got me thinking a lot about the revolution of grocery shopping. No more apron wearing women with make-up, high hears, tight-waist hand-stitched cotton dresses and perfectly curled hair. Cans, boxes, microwave meals and frozen peas are no longer the foods of the elite. It seems, over time, we have evolved back into the time of the farmers and hippies.
Though my ancestors were still off fishing and farming off a port town in faraway China, women in America are beginning to choose items from canned, to fresh.
So for research, I have begun to observe and take mental document on the choices my customers make. For the regulars, I will closely observe their skin clarity, alertness, body shape and clothes to compare with their choice of foods. Do all A-type people eat clean and healthy? Do all slobs inject their bodies with alcohol, sugars, high fatty foods and cheese steaks? Do all people with chaotic wallets and untucked shirts buy microwave dinners and Cheetos?
And over time, I would like to find out what makes healthy people healthy?
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Raw Meat Vengeance
"These damn inconsiderate people!" This immediate greeting took me off guard. From behind the bagging counter popped a surprisingly tall woman with wild blond hair. She continued her monologue while slamming her purchases on the register belt.
"What?! You can't wait a few seconds?!" She made direct eye contact with me, but the level of her voice was obviously directed to the people waiting, or should I say not waiting behind her.
"You people think that just because you're OLD, you can do whatever the hell you please!" This wild-haired woman was well dressed and beautiful, but the vindictive expression pruned on her flawless skin and harsh commentary spewing out from her ruby red lips contradicted my judgment upon first glance.
"You just watch," she rambled on, occasionally turning around to make a face at the oblivious couple next in line as they put items on the belt. "I'm going to remember this when I get old! And I'm going to piss the hell out of you!"
"I don't think they're going to be around when you get old," I wanted to say. But I held back, considering she towered over me like a monument of live flesh, ready to erupt in volcanic explosion at any moment.
As if the $45 worth of boneless ribs on her order emitted a violent energy from its slaughter, the next customers huffed in puffy anger and complaints with no more reason then Wild Hair Lady. The same old man who wasn't able to wait to fill the belt yelled at everyone when the credit card machine didn't process. The credit card machine took vengeance and stopped working for no reason. The angry torch was then passed to the cashier who gnarled at them both when she had to start the transaction over. It required the grumpy old man to slide his card again. That sent him on the next wild spin.
When the slew of curmudgeons slivered away and out the door, I burnt some organic sage to clear the negative air.
"What?! You can't wait a few seconds?!" She made direct eye contact with me, but the level of her voice was obviously directed to the people waiting, or should I say not waiting behind her.
"You people think that just because you're OLD, you can do whatever the hell you please!" This wild-haired woman was well dressed and beautiful, but the vindictive expression pruned on her flawless skin and harsh commentary spewing out from her ruby red lips contradicted my judgment upon first glance.
"You just watch," she rambled on, occasionally turning around to make a face at the oblivious couple next in line as they put items on the belt. "I'm going to remember this when I get old! And I'm going to piss the hell out of you!"
"I don't think they're going to be around when you get old," I wanted to say. But I held back, considering she towered over me like a monument of live flesh, ready to erupt in volcanic explosion at any moment.
As if the $45 worth of boneless ribs on her order emitted a violent energy from its slaughter, the next customers huffed in puffy anger and complaints with no more reason then Wild Hair Lady. The same old man who wasn't able to wait to fill the belt yelled at everyone when the credit card machine didn't process. The credit card machine took vengeance and stopped working for no reason. The angry torch was then passed to the cashier who gnarled at them both when she had to start the transaction over. It required the grumpy old man to slide his card again. That sent him on the next wild spin.
When the slew of curmudgeons slivered away and out the door, I burnt some organic sage to clear the negative air.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The Difference Between Men and Women
The following is a brief outline of crazy behaviors noticed from you people out there who shop at my store:
-"Give me crispies!" a sour-smelling woman hollered at the cashier, "And you better not give me any of those dirty old ones like you always do. Crispy new ones I said!"
-A woman caked in a thick layer of white on her face, arms and legs (maybe sunblock, but who knows) approached the counter and began to sanitize all along the sides of the belt, the credit card machine and along the side walls. When she was good and ready, she emptied her basket of things. She stacked ten economy bags of sanitizing wipes and a few tubes of anti-bacterial soap. "Please put each item in a separate bag." One item per bag. (I wish I was kidding.)
-Another woman stood by the door waiting for the rain. She asked customer service to take out her ice-cream from one of the 6 bags. "Please return it to the freezer until I leave. I don't want it to melt." She stared out the window for 45 minutes. When the rain stopped, she asked someone to retrieve the ice cream. She requested two baggers to walk her out: One to carry the umbrella for her hair, and the other to wait by the door for her groceries so she could bring her car over. This woman walked quickly to her car as the bagger struggled to keep up with her hair. No more than 35 feet away, her car was parked at the handicap parking spot.
-I asked a woman, "Would you like a bag for your cheese, ma'am?" She kindly responded, "I wish you people would just stop asking me that! Of course I want a bag!"
-Five blonds walked through the check out (no, this is not the beginning to a riddle) with a basket of items: ground beef, ketchup, buns, pickles, and a few other items for what seemed like a barbeque. The total amount was $100.05, so the first blond paid with her credit card. They stood for a moment and looked at one another. The first blond said, "Can everyone pay me back with cash?" And they looked at one another again. "Well, how much do we pay?" the second blond asked. The third blond handed her friend $25. Another blond girl gave her a $10. The fourth blond asked, "How much is that divided by...?" She counted the blonds, but forgets to include herself. "What's four divided by 100?" And they looked at each other again. Finally, the first blond says, "Ugh! Let's just figure it out later." They all leave in one cluster all flustered from all that thinking. (I wish I was kidding.)
-A woman wants 5 cents rebate for her bag. She buys a single carton of yogurt and demands another 25 cents off for her coupon. "Ma'am, I'm sorry. It says buy 5 and receive money off." She scowls. "Fine! But I get my 5 cent bag rebate!" And leaves with the yogurt in her hand.
-A woman throws old bags at me. I started to fill her purchases and the smell of old shoes linger among those bags as if they were a hundred years old. She bought the usual array of produce and packaged goodness, but among the 7 apples, 3 of them had teeth marks and chunks bitten out. The cashier and I shared a moment.
-A man comes and buys 7 jugs of plain yogurt and 7 jugs of pre-washed grapes. I have seen him twice in two days purchasing the same things with nothing more than "thank you" to say to me.
-A man walked through check out with two boxes from self-serve food. The total cost $79. He pays, thanks me for binding them with rubber bands, denies the bag and runs out the door.
-A man comes in and buys: 7 frozen dinners, 8 jugs of juice, a 6-pack of root beer and 4 bags of chips, thanks me and leaves.
-A man comes in and buys a carton of whey protein, a gallon of milk and a pre-made sandwich. He doesn't need a bag, pays and leaves the store without his receipt or change.
Need I say more?
-"Give me crispies!" a sour-smelling woman hollered at the cashier, "And you better not give me any of those dirty old ones like you always do. Crispy new ones I said!"
-A woman caked in a thick layer of white on her face, arms and legs (maybe sunblock, but who knows) approached the counter and began to sanitize all along the sides of the belt, the credit card machine and along the side walls. When she was good and ready, she emptied her basket of things. She stacked ten economy bags of sanitizing wipes and a few tubes of anti-bacterial soap. "Please put each item in a separate bag." One item per bag. (I wish I was kidding.)
-Another woman stood by the door waiting for the rain. She asked customer service to take out her ice-cream from one of the 6 bags. "Please return it to the freezer until I leave. I don't want it to melt." She stared out the window for 45 minutes. When the rain stopped, she asked someone to retrieve the ice cream. She requested two baggers to walk her out: One to carry the umbrella for her hair, and the other to wait by the door for her groceries so she could bring her car over. This woman walked quickly to her car as the bagger struggled to keep up with her hair. No more than 35 feet away, her car was parked at the handicap parking spot.
-I asked a woman, "Would you like a bag for your cheese, ma'am?" She kindly responded, "I wish you people would just stop asking me that! Of course I want a bag!"
-Five blonds walked through the check out (no, this is not the beginning to a riddle) with a basket of items: ground beef, ketchup, buns, pickles, and a few other items for what seemed like a barbeque. The total amount was $100.05, so the first blond paid with her credit card. They stood for a moment and looked at one another. The first blond said, "Can everyone pay me back with cash?" And they looked at one another again. "Well, how much do we pay?" the second blond asked. The third blond handed her friend $25. Another blond girl gave her a $10. The fourth blond asked, "How much is that divided by...?" She counted the blonds, but forgets to include herself. "What's four divided by 100?" And they looked at each other again. Finally, the first blond says, "Ugh! Let's just figure it out later." They all leave in one cluster all flustered from all that thinking. (I wish I was kidding.)
-A woman wants 5 cents rebate for her bag. She buys a single carton of yogurt and demands another 25 cents off for her coupon. "Ma'am, I'm sorry. It says buy 5 and receive money off." She scowls. "Fine! But I get my 5 cent bag rebate!" And leaves with the yogurt in her hand.
-A woman throws old bags at me. I started to fill her purchases and the smell of old shoes linger among those bags as if they were a hundred years old. She bought the usual array of produce and packaged goodness, but among the 7 apples, 3 of them had teeth marks and chunks bitten out. The cashier and I shared a moment.
-A man comes and buys 7 jugs of plain yogurt and 7 jugs of pre-washed grapes. I have seen him twice in two days purchasing the same things with nothing more than "thank you" to say to me.
-A man walked through check out with two boxes from self-serve food. The total cost $79. He pays, thanks me for binding them with rubber bands, denies the bag and runs out the door.
-A man comes in and buys: 7 frozen dinners, 8 jugs of juice, a 6-pack of root beer and 4 bags of chips, thanks me and leaves.
-A man comes in and buys a carton of whey protein, a gallon of milk and a pre-made sandwich. He doesn't need a bag, pays and leaves the store without his receipt or change.
Need I say more?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Grocery Art
Have you ever watched an efficient cashier scan and punch in numbers in such swift movement that it looks like a dance? Since I am learning to bag without straining my shoulder and back, I closely observed my cashier today. If you notice, they move quick and light from one side of the belt to the other with a slight twist, running the objects across the scanner as their brains work fast in a nonchalant expression to put their customers at ease. The good ones are remarkable.
Left to right.
Right to left.
One slide to the other.
The customer to cashier to bagger transfer is like the torch relay seen on the Olympics. From shelf, to cart, to belt, to bag. One by one, the items dance in one smooth direction in varying rhythm and weight. The cabbage and lettuce heads do their pirouettes. The eggs slide across gently in dozens. Fuzzy peaches, apples and navels struggle to stay in ripped plastic bags. Giggling grapes detach from their vines like escape artists. The spin and tumble of cereal boxes rub their bottoms along the edge followed by the awkward roll of the goofy watermelon. Bags of pasta, tiny chap sticks, cellophane wrapped gift cards, hard to scan berry cartons and vitamin bottles all carrying a different dignity as they move across the counter stage, posing ever so slightly until the beep. Light. Goofy. Rude. Awkward. Stubborn. Kind. Like their customers. Like an art in dance form.
If you think you are JUST buying groceries, think again.
Left to right.
Right to left.
One slide to the other.
The customer to cashier to bagger transfer is like the torch relay seen on the Olympics. From shelf, to cart, to belt, to bag. One by one, the items dance in one smooth direction in varying rhythm and weight. The cabbage and lettuce heads do their pirouettes. The eggs slide across gently in dozens. Fuzzy peaches, apples and navels struggle to stay in ripped plastic bags. Giggling grapes detach from their vines like escape artists. The spin and tumble of cereal boxes rub their bottoms along the edge followed by the awkward roll of the goofy watermelon. Bags of pasta, tiny chap sticks, cellophane wrapped gift cards, hard to scan berry cartons and vitamin bottles all carrying a different dignity as they move across the counter stage, posing ever so slightly until the beep. Light. Goofy. Rude. Awkward. Stubborn. Kind. Like their customers. Like an art in dance form.
If you think you are JUST buying groceries, think again.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Break Minutes
30-minute: I like the peace at this little picnic table near the landscape of scattered purple and pink flowers planted around the parking lot.
25-minute: As baggers, we are given the freedom of two breaks for every 8-hour shift: one half hour, and the other fifteen minutes to eat, to stretch, to socialize, or veg on the Internet or on-playing television in the break room.
5-minute: After I stretched at the humdrum sound of an ongoing weed wacker, I sat on the curbside and watched a man shave away the poked out branches in his front garden. He was meticulous. I'm assuming he has been doing this for quite a while since he was only three quarters complete and just this last section took near 20-minutes. When he finished, the bush walled off the street in a soft curved rectangle; it took the same shape of the top of his head. Next to this house, overgrown shrubs protrude wildly. Nature and time took more than twice as long to shape this magnificent creation. Time is funny and how we choose to spend it. Would I take hours to shape a shrub, or let it grow and take my minutes elsewhere? Because in the end, isn't it all the same?
4-minute: I'm still sitting on the curb side of this supermarket parking lot as the last of my break minutes shave away like those branches falling to the ground. I'm sitting here watching people come in and out with their shopping lists and frantic attitude of "I need" for items of no significance but pure indulgence. An entitled attitude to get their needs satisfied fast even if it may sacrifice the connections and interactions of the faceless serving them.
3-minute: Time. This reminded me of the tall man that irritably waited for the lady in front to return with her forgotten item. He kept shaking his head and cursed at her under his breath. When his turn opened up, he bellowed, "I was about to leave. My time is far too valuable to be wasted on waiting." I nodded at him and smiled my fake smile to pass the time.
2-minute: Time. I continue to watch the people with the right of way to enter and I ask, "What's the point?" What's the point to ALL this? And it may take me the rest of my short-lived moment of peace to get up and see the world otherwise, so I can return with a smile without falling into a deep emptiness and yell at the faceless creatures of greed, "WHAT'S THE POINT!"
1-minute: Time. How do we choose to make great use of it? As I stand behind the booth, my time is filled like the bags - packed from one insignificant object to another, after another and another. My time is challenged to please pack light,
to please pack with an even weight,
to damnnit to pack without crushing,
without melting,
without freezing the other insignificant objects,
and I pack from one insignificant object to another,
after another and another,
minute by minute,
day by day -
where is my time shaving off to shape?
25-minute: As baggers, we are given the freedom of two breaks for every 8-hour shift: one half hour, and the other fifteen minutes to eat, to stretch, to socialize, or veg on the Internet or on-playing television in the break room.
5-minute: After I stretched at the humdrum sound of an ongoing weed wacker, I sat on the curbside and watched a man shave away the poked out branches in his front garden. He was meticulous. I'm assuming he has been doing this for quite a while since he was only three quarters complete and just this last section took near 20-minutes. When he finished, the bush walled off the street in a soft curved rectangle; it took the same shape of the top of his head. Next to this house, overgrown shrubs protrude wildly. Nature and time took more than twice as long to shape this magnificent creation. Time is funny and how we choose to spend it. Would I take hours to shape a shrub, or let it grow and take my minutes elsewhere? Because in the end, isn't it all the same?
4-minute: I'm still sitting on the curb side of this supermarket parking lot as the last of my break minutes shave away like those branches falling to the ground. I'm sitting here watching people come in and out with their shopping lists and frantic attitude of "I need" for items of no significance but pure indulgence. An entitled attitude to get their needs satisfied fast even if it may sacrifice the connections and interactions of the faceless serving them.
3-minute: Time. This reminded me of the tall man that irritably waited for the lady in front to return with her forgotten item. He kept shaking his head and cursed at her under his breath. When his turn opened up, he bellowed, "I was about to leave. My time is far too valuable to be wasted on waiting." I nodded at him and smiled my fake smile to pass the time.
2-minute: Time. I continue to watch the people with the right of way to enter and I ask, "What's the point?" What's the point to ALL this? And it may take me the rest of my short-lived moment of peace to get up and see the world otherwise, so I can return with a smile without falling into a deep emptiness and yell at the faceless creatures of greed, "WHAT'S THE POINT!"
1-minute: Time. How do we choose to make great use of it? As I stand behind the booth, my time is filled like the bags - packed from one insignificant object to another, after another and another. My time is challenged to please pack light,
to please pack with an even weight,
to damnnit to pack without crushing,
without melting,
without freezing the other insignificant objects,
and I pack from one insignificant object to another,
after another and another,
minute by minute,
day by day -
where is my time shaving off to shape?
Yielding to Baggers
As I had mentioned before, there is not a neighborhood without streets converging to what is called roundabouts, or rotaries. It is literally a giant circular formation paved around a man-made landscape of trees or bushes. The right way to master the art of rotaries is to to yield to on-coming cars until a break, ease into the movement naturally and exit when appropriate.
Purpose of rotaries
There's a hierarchy in roundabouts. First, you are a yielder and then with time and seniority, you earn the right of way. If only life can be so determined and expected. But in life, one may not necessarily have the chances to live out both. You are either a person that yields, or a person with the right of way. Some people are born into it and some people move toward it. Not necessarily in that order.
Baggers are definitely yielders, waiting one day to hold the prestige of cashier.
One day, one day.
Purpose of rotaries
There's a hierarchy in roundabouts. First, you are a yielder and then with time and seniority, you earn the right of way. If only life can be so determined and expected. But in life, one may not necessarily have the chances to live out both. You are either a person that yields, or a person with the right of way. Some people are born into it and some people move toward it. Not necessarily in that order.
Baggers are definitely yielders, waiting one day to hold the prestige of cashier.
One day, one day.
Friday, March 18, 2011
For Hire as Hire
A frantic mother offered me a babysitting job today after I calmed her toddler down while filling her canvas bags with jars and jars of processed baby food and other prepackaged delicacies. The 3-year old was grabbing for rubber bands and trying to eat them, then screaming at the top of his lungs when I caught it just in time before it stopped him from making noise for the rest of his dear life. He didn't like that. He continued at a pitch that was death to the ears. To put the wretched pain to a halt without taping his drooling mouth shut and getting sent to jail, I teased him and made stupid faces. He stopped and stared and tried to choke me to death with his dirty little hands in shrieking laughter. Of course, I played along with his nonsensical game. When bags were packed and they were ready to go, he reached out his grubby little hands and tried to give me a hug and kiss with his cheddar cheese breath and wet lips. As unappealing it may sound, I let him. As much I want to say this kid needs a good spanking, my weakness for kids is pathetic.
I took her business card and slipped it in my apron.
I took her business card and slipped it in my apron.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Shopping List
Inspired by another artist, I collected shopping lists that were left in carts, baskets and found on the floor.
Here are a few examples. Can you guess which belonged to you? What were they making?
List 1
bananas
sour cream
2 limes
broccoli
apple juice
monterey jack chedder
basmati rice
tortilla
sandwich flank steak
List 2
Rice Milk
Carrots
Potatos (spelled wrong)
Juice
Basmati Rice
Gluten-Free Muffins
? pork chops
Goat Yogurt
taco
List 3
Canine t/d
regular
biggest bag -or 3 small bags
List 4
milk
pita
chicken
steak Tips
kleenex
vegetables - carrot, broccoli
choc. chips
List 5
porky
2work
eeyx
vablyarkd
xeed
macroon
kopred + boler
zapkuayr
2 rice
nue
searndsincellerour fiery
ybeter
List 6
Brc
chicken salad
beet salad
burritoes
goat dream
blueberry muffin
List 7
Asparagus
Green beans
cabbage
purple cabbage
carrots celery
corn
cucumber
egg plant
Dill
Fennel
russet potatoes
spinach
yam
List 7
cucumber
7 small cucumbers
3 cups lowfat yogurt
1.25 cup mint leaves
3 radishes
1 cup chicken stock
cazpacho
red wine vinegar
6 large potatoes
1.5 cup canned tomato juice
2 red peppers
2 large shallots
2 cucumbers
1.5 cup dill
List 8
CVS - tampons, wipes and noxema
WF - fruits, kombucha, something healthy!!
DON'T BUY JUNK!!!! DETOX!!! NO REGRETS!!!
Here are a few examples. Can you guess which belonged to you? What were they making?
List 1
bananas
sour cream
2 limes
broccoli
apple juice
monterey jack chedder
basmati rice
tortilla
sandwich flank steak
List 2
Rice Milk
Carrots
Potatos (spelled wrong)
Juice
Basmati Rice
Gluten-Free Muffins
? pork chops
Goat Yogurt
taco
List 3
Canine t/d
regular
biggest bag -or 3 small bags
List 4
milk
pita
chicken
steak Tips
kleenex
vegetables - carrot, broccoli
choc. chips
List 5
porky
2work
eeyx
vablyarkd
xeed
macroon
kopred + boler
zapkuayr
2 rice
nue
searndsincellerour fiery
ybeter
List 6
Brc
chicken salad
beet salad
burritoes
goat dream
blueberry muffin
List 7
Asparagus
Green beans
cabbage
purple cabbage
carrots celery
corn
cucumber
egg plant
Dill
Fennel
russet potatoes
spinach
yam
List 7
cucumber
7 small cucumbers
3 cups lowfat yogurt
1.25 cup mint leaves
3 radishes
1 cup chicken stock
cazpacho
red wine vinegar
6 large potatoes
1.5 cup canned tomato juice
2 red peppers
2 large shallots
2 cucumbers
1.5 cup dill
List 8
CVS - tampons, wipes and noxema
WF - fruits, kombucha, something healthy!!
DON'T BUY JUNK!!!! DETOX!!! NO REGRETS!!!
Shopping Cart Wii
I had that nightmare again last night. I was caught in a video game, controlled by some big black-haired gender unspecified person with big giant hands. S/he controlled my actions and sent me on another wild goose chase in search of baskets and shopping carts with broken, squeaky wheels whilst dodging inconsiderate drivers in massive Hummers. Oh wait, that really happened...
In order for customers to follow the "Please return shopping cart" procedure, the Nintendo gaming club should invent a game where the sweaty bag girl (or however you recreated yourself to be) runs around like a slave trying to return all the hard-to-maneuver shopping baskets from all corners of the parking lot. Maybe they will appreciate how much we do and how much we hate this part of the job. I love it most when those people who call themselves "environmentally-conscious" jam those things over the supermarket landscape of flowers and grassy knolls. And don't think we can't see you either. We see everything. Yes, everything. It gets worse on rainy days. Even the kindest people would rather get points docked at heaven's gate, then god-for-bid walk 300 feet to return the cart to the shed conveniently built in the center of the lot.
Today was a particularly rainy day. Carts were scattered everywhere. I tried to avoid going outside, waiting for someone younger and with more testosterone, but the Head asked me to collect carts since none were lined where they should be. Big Head said s/he would come by and help when a moment is freed. Yeah, that is what they always say, but what they are really thinking is, "When I get a moment, I will come help out you do some crappy-ass work that I would never do again. Yeah right. I'll find a way to keep busy."
Rain is fine by me. I like rain, especially when it's that Portland/Seattle drizzle. A bit of wind and chill is fine too. But here on THIS coast, the rain comes down in drowning buckets. One moment it's bright and sunny and everyone is happy, and the next, it crashes down on you as soon as you lock your rain slicker and keys in the car.
So far, I can't manage to push more than three carts in one stubborn stack in the direction I want without hitting a car while doing it. If you have suggestions, please leave them in a comment below.
Thank you and please come back again.
In order for customers to follow the "Please return shopping cart" procedure, the Nintendo gaming club should invent a game where the sweaty bag girl (or however you recreated yourself to be) runs around like a slave trying to return all the hard-to-maneuver shopping baskets from all corners of the parking lot. Maybe they will appreciate how much we do and how much we hate this part of the job. I love it most when those people who call themselves "environmentally-conscious" jam those things over the supermarket landscape of flowers and grassy knolls. And don't think we can't see you either. We see everything. Yes, everything. It gets worse on rainy days. Even the kindest people would rather get points docked at heaven's gate, then god-for-bid walk 300 feet to return the cart to the shed conveniently built in the center of the lot.
Today was a particularly rainy day. Carts were scattered everywhere. I tried to avoid going outside, waiting for someone younger and with more testosterone, but the Head asked me to collect carts since none were lined where they should be. Big Head said s/he would come by and help when a moment is freed. Yeah, that is what they always say, but what they are really thinking is, "When I get a moment, I will come help out you do some crappy-ass work that I would never do again. Yeah right. I'll find a way to keep busy."
Rain is fine by me. I like rain, especially when it's that Portland/Seattle drizzle. A bit of wind and chill is fine too. But here on THIS coast, the rain comes down in drowning buckets. One moment it's bright and sunny and everyone is happy, and the next, it crashes down on you as soon as you lock your rain slicker and keys in the car.
So far, I can't manage to push more than three carts in one stubborn stack in the direction I want without hitting a car while doing it. If you have suggestions, please leave them in a comment below.
Thank you and please come back again.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Are you 17 yet?
Teenagers act as if they know everything. Don't get me wrong; I adore high school kids and this could be the very reason why I like them so much. I love their outrageously daring styles, their body piercings and the way they live with no regard to others around them, or what the future may bring - truly, I'm not being facetious; let me say it again, I adore teenagers.
As a bagger, I work with many high school kids and when I try to tell them my age, they look at me as if I'm lying. These are the precious moments that make bagging all worth it. (And yet another reason why I love them.) Most of the kids can't wait to hit the big legal age, but as we approach our twenties and thirties, life takes a turn. We begin to worry about our jobs, our families, or lack there of - even when most of it is hogwash. Teenagers don't care about muscle spasms, wearing helmets while biking across scary city streets, and they NEVER double bag their groceries. I find this both reckless and courageous.
I've always believed that if we could combine the innocence and all trusting, loving children, with the uncanny capability and courage of teenagers to mesh with the all gentle, loyal humbleness of elders, we could potentially have a perfect human being. But somehow along the way, we lose track of what makes life wonderful. We lose sight of simple things. We spend our 20's making mistakes, our 30's recovering, 40's collecting stuff and the rest of the middle years complaining about futile things that happened to our stuff at meaningless, yet self-obliged functions with other stuff collecting people. By the time we can retire and enjoy life, we are too old to move. If I ever get to a point in my life where I can't banter lightly with teenagers, can no longer laugh at my idiosyncrasies, or fail to notice and appreciate another person's amazing beauty, then I may as well skip the middle years and sit in a white isolation room until death do me part.
Where was I? Oh, yes. Teenagers and my love and fascination toward them. I wouldn't date them or anything sick like that, but I wish I could transform into a mosquito on the wall and listen in on their conversations and watch obsessively as they move about this world. I would swarm around them in lust and bite them in a few places to get a bit of their angst-filled blood. I love being around them. They inspire and remind me to bring back my funk to the surface and live with more passion and love that surrounds my world.
Now if you would excuse me, I have to get some aspirin for my aching back.
As a bagger, I work with many high school kids and when I try to tell them my age, they look at me as if I'm lying. These are the precious moments that make bagging all worth it. (And yet another reason why I love them.) Most of the kids can't wait to hit the big legal age, but as we approach our twenties and thirties, life takes a turn. We begin to worry about our jobs, our families, or lack there of - even when most of it is hogwash. Teenagers don't care about muscle spasms, wearing helmets while biking across scary city streets, and they NEVER double bag their groceries. I find this both reckless and courageous.
I've always believed that if we could combine the innocence and all trusting, loving children, with the uncanny capability and courage of teenagers to mesh with the all gentle, loyal humbleness of elders, we could potentially have a perfect human being. But somehow along the way, we lose track of what makes life wonderful. We lose sight of simple things. We spend our 20's making mistakes, our 30's recovering, 40's collecting stuff and the rest of the middle years complaining about futile things that happened to our stuff at meaningless, yet self-obliged functions with other stuff collecting people. By the time we can retire and enjoy life, we are too old to move. If I ever get to a point in my life where I can't banter lightly with teenagers, can no longer laugh at my idiosyncrasies, or fail to notice and appreciate another person's amazing beauty, then I may as well skip the middle years and sit in a white isolation room until death do me part.
Where was I? Oh, yes. Teenagers and my love and fascination toward them. I wouldn't date them or anything sick like that, but I wish I could transform into a mosquito on the wall and listen in on their conversations and watch obsessively as they move about this world. I would swarm around them in lust and bite them in a few places to get a bit of their angst-filled blood. I love being around them. They inspire and remind me to bring back my funk to the surface and live with more passion and love that surrounds my world.
Now if you would excuse me, I have to get some aspirin for my aching back.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Grazing is NOT Sampling
All food stores offer samples. In supermarket terms, there are two types: active and passive. Active samples are scooped into cute little cups in front of you and the table is arranged beautifully with flowers or fruit. The lady in white uniform explains the various ingredients as well as sale price of the item offered. During active sampling, one might think customers are too embarrassed to take more than one at a time, but you would be surprised with the stories they come up with like school children and their "dog ate my homework" fables. "Can I take one for my husband and four children?" "I dropped my sample. Can I take another one?" "Oh no, that was my twin sister that was just here. She recommended that I try one myself."
Passive samples are what customers love best. It's like you are a kid on Halloween night. But instead of someone handing you a piece of candy at the door, a giant bowl of your favorite is set out for you. You know the universal rule is to just take one. Your friends know the rule is to just take one. The whole world knows to just take one. But nobody ever does. As kids, you do it with no guilt because if you didn't pour the whole thing in your pillow case, you're considered a kiss up, or a god-fearing Christian. As adults, you come up with all kinds of justifications for your actions. "I come here all the time. They know me." "Prices are so expensive. They owe me." "Why else would they be here? These are intended to be eaten."
In my experience, there is a third kind of sampling which I call grazing. To graze is not to sample of course, but I think it is the take initiative kind of tasting. Customers like to experience the taste, texture and quality of a product first hand without being asked, like cows in a pasture. Most of the time we eat before paying because we are hungry. And as customers, we feel entitled to do as we please because in the good old United States of America, we somehow came up with the dumb idea that the customers are "always right."
Grazing, in supermarket terminology, is the act of consuming an unpaid item without the approval of an authorized supervisor or leader. It is the polite way to say you stole an item. Instead of sitting in your pocket or bag, we have no proof that it's now hiding in your belly. Smart move.
What I love about bagging is the ability to walk around and check out the psychology of people in supermarkets. If you spend enough time closely observing people at the bulk item, you could smell out a grazer from a mile a way. These are the behaviors to watch out for:
-Hanging out in one aisle for more time than necessary
-Filling bags with a few mixed bulk items and then consuming the entirety whilst walking around the store pretending to look for something non-existent
-Leaving the store empty handed
-Leaving the store looking full
-Approaching check-out with empty bags and then pretending to look confused
-Opening and closing bins with no bags in hand
-Any signs of looking around for people
-Approach check-out with crumbs all over mouth and down shirt, or still chewing
-Damaged price tags
-Purposefully damaging product containers and consuming contents or asking for price reduction
-Browsing prepared food and salad bar wide-eyed
Being a recovering grazer myself, I would never say anything to my fellow grazers because well all know - once a grazer, always a grazer, right? Some professional grazers put my techniques to shame so I stare in awe. But I can't help walking by in my apron to delight myself to tease grazers amidst their action. Immediately, they stop chewing and try to hide the bulge in their cheeks with their hands, or by turning around. Of course, I walk around to their full cheek side and do my job by asking, "And how are you doing today, ma'am? Are you finding everything you need?" And they would stare at me wide-eyed, trying to swallow before opening their mouths. "Iam fiane tfodaay fankyou." And I pretend to pretend not to see the crumbs shooting out at me.
This should help you to fine tune your grazing techniques. More to come...
Passive samples are what customers love best. It's like you are a kid on Halloween night. But instead of someone handing you a piece of candy at the door, a giant bowl of your favorite is set out for you. You know the universal rule is to just take one. Your friends know the rule is to just take one. The whole world knows to just take one. But nobody ever does. As kids, you do it with no guilt because if you didn't pour the whole thing in your pillow case, you're considered a kiss up, or a god-fearing Christian. As adults, you come up with all kinds of justifications for your actions. "I come here all the time. They know me." "Prices are so expensive. They owe me." "Why else would they be here? These are intended to be eaten."
In my experience, there is a third kind of sampling which I call grazing. To graze is not to sample of course, but I think it is the take initiative kind of tasting. Customers like to experience the taste, texture and quality of a product first hand without being asked, like cows in a pasture. Most of the time we eat before paying because we are hungry. And as customers, we feel entitled to do as we please because in the good old United States of America, we somehow came up with the dumb idea that the customers are "always right."
Grazing, in supermarket terminology, is the act of consuming an unpaid item without the approval of an authorized supervisor or leader. It is the polite way to say you stole an item. Instead of sitting in your pocket or bag, we have no proof that it's now hiding in your belly. Smart move.
What I love about bagging is the ability to walk around and check out the psychology of people in supermarkets. If you spend enough time closely observing people at the bulk item, you could smell out a grazer from a mile a way. These are the behaviors to watch out for:
-Hanging out in one aisle for more time than necessary
-Filling bags with a few mixed bulk items and then consuming the entirety whilst walking around the store pretending to look for something non-existent
-Leaving the store empty handed
-Leaving the store looking full
-Approaching check-out with empty bags and then pretending to look confused
-Opening and closing bins with no bags in hand
-Any signs of looking around for people
-Approach check-out with crumbs all over mouth and down shirt, or still chewing
-Damaged price tags
-Purposefully damaging product containers and consuming contents or asking for price reduction
-Browsing prepared food and salad bar wide-eyed
Being a recovering grazer myself, I would never say anything to my fellow grazers because well all know - once a grazer, always a grazer, right? Some professional grazers put my techniques to shame so I stare in awe. But I can't help walking by in my apron to delight myself to tease grazers amidst their action. Immediately, they stop chewing and try to hide the bulge in their cheeks with their hands, or by turning around. Of course, I walk around to their full cheek side and do my job by asking, "And how are you doing today, ma'am? Are you finding everything you need?" And they would stare at me wide-eyed, trying to swallow before opening their mouths. "Iam fiane tfodaay fankyou." And I pretend to pretend not to see the crumbs shooting out at me.
This should help you to fine tune your grazing techniques. More to come...
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Paper or Plastic?
You should have seen the cashier's face when I offered my first customer this choice. At this go green, eco-friendly store, we no longer offer the choice of plastic or paper. Paper is all you get regardless of the weather. Yes, even during a rain storm. When I rushed home to do some research (just in case they ask for my opinion in the break room), I learned that even my home city banned plastic bags to save the environment.
When did this all happen?
The proud citizens of the United States make up 6% of the population but take up about 50% of the world's waste, so part of my job description is to frown at customers that ask for plastic, compliment customers that bring their own bags, and think before throwing anything away. Recycle? Compost? Trash? Reusable? Green bin? Blue bin? Yellow? Black? But I vow to keep perspective with this whole plastic versus paper discussion just in case the USDA or FDA or USHD or UPS change it on me overnight. You never know what tomorrow may bring. Paper may be the next evil. What if it's injected with salmonella, or cancerous when exposed to the sun? (That didn't go over too well in the break room.)
Are plastic bags sacking the environment, or is it just another fad? I'm unsure, but I think I'm going to order me a few of those fashionable reusable bags the next time I shop for groceries to score a few points with my Head supervisor and fellow face pierced and tattoo-covered colleagues.
That brings me down to only two simple ways to categorize people: Paper or plastic?
When did this all happen?
The proud citizens of the United States make up 6% of the population but take up about 50% of the world's waste, so part of my job description is to frown at customers that ask for plastic, compliment customers that bring their own bags, and think before throwing anything away. Recycle? Compost? Trash? Reusable? Green bin? Blue bin? Yellow? Black? But I vow to keep perspective with this whole plastic versus paper discussion just in case the USDA or FDA or USHD or UPS change it on me overnight. You never know what tomorrow may bring. Paper may be the next evil. What if it's injected with salmonella, or cancerous when exposed to the sun? (That didn't go over too well in the break room.)
Are plastic bags sacking the environment, or is it just another fad? I'm unsure, but I think I'm going to order me a few of those fashionable reusable bags the next time I shop for groceries to score a few points with my Head supervisor and fellow face pierced and tattoo-covered colleagues.
That brings me down to only two simple ways to categorize people: Paper or plastic?
Rules to Bagging
People have no idea that bagging is a tough job. It's not just about eggs and bread on top. Customers are very particular about groceries, especially when it comes to THEIR produce and THEIR frozen foods. Once an item is pulled off the shelf and placed in THEIR basket, it's claimed with great protection like an animal and its territory. Be aware!
Here are a few things I did to please MY customers:
-Double seal all soups, salsa, olives and sauces with clear tape
-Secure all buffet items and salads with elastic bands
-Pack cold items separately
-Pack hot items separately
-Put all frozen items in freezer bags
-Protect all gift cards and other paper items in small paper bag to put in big paper bag
-Exchange small paper bag for big paper bag (even though you only bought toothpaste!)
-Safeguard all vitamins, remedies and other small household products in extra bag
-Asked to bag six items in 3 separate bags for untold reasons.
-Fetch a plastic bag of ice from Seafood to wrap a carton on yogurt to maintain coldness
-Take everything out and reorganize according to customized needs (What do you mean I did it wrong?)
-Explain two times why the cut fruit cost $8.00 (It's called "value added.")
-Load, carry and reload to car
-Identify where I put certain items after bagging 10 bags (How in hell should I know where I put the arugula? And what the hell are rutabagas anyway?)
-Wait with lady by the door for rain to stop in loud, obnoxious flourescent vest and massive umbrella
-Escort lady to Handicap parking lot 2-feet away from door due to drizzle
-Fetch cases of water and soda like a well-trained domestic animal
-Flip through bills to find "crisp ones" and "not those dirty old money you always hand me!"
-Give 5 cent rebate for bag when customer bought a 79 cent yogurt
-Etc, etc.
Here are a few things I did to please MY customers:
-Double seal all soups, salsa, olives and sauces with clear tape
-Secure all buffet items and salads with elastic bands
-Pack cold items separately
-Pack hot items separately
-Put all frozen items in freezer bags
-Protect all gift cards and other paper items in small paper bag to put in big paper bag
-Exchange small paper bag for big paper bag (even though you only bought toothpaste!)
-Safeguard all vitamins, remedies and other small household products in extra bag
-Asked to bag six items in 3 separate bags for untold reasons.
-Fetch a plastic bag of ice from Seafood to wrap a carton on yogurt to maintain coldness
-Take everything out and reorganize according to customized needs (What do you mean I did it wrong?)
-Explain two times why the cut fruit cost $8.00 (It's called "value added.")
-Load, carry and reload to car
-Identify where I put certain items after bagging 10 bags (How in hell should I know where I put the arugula? And what the hell are rutabagas anyway?)
-Wait with lady by the door for rain to stop in loud, obnoxious flourescent vest and massive umbrella
-Escort lady to Handicap parking lot 2-feet away from door due to drizzle
-Fetch cases of water and soda like a well-trained domestic animal
-Flip through bills to find "crisp ones" and "not those dirty old money you always hand me!"
-Give 5 cent rebate for bag when customer bought a 79 cent yogurt
-Etc, etc.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Everything I Learned in People, I Learned while Bagging Groceries
I've also concluded that about:
10% of most people are extremely kind, generous and appreciative
20% of most people act appropriately polite and say their generic "please" and "thank you" in the way taught and expected
40% of most people don't say much nor smile as if customer service people have been replaced by automatic tellers
10% of most people frown and grumble but it's nothing personally directed to you, just grumpy
5% of most people are on the phone with someone else - either laughing or yelling
5% of most people are yelling or laughing with/at their children/friends
10% of most people are incredibly rude, generally dissatisfied with everything in life and try to find fault and blame by personalizing toward you
My favorite part of my job is when they look at me like I'm a second class citizen.
10% of most people are extremely kind, generous and appreciative
20% of most people act appropriately polite and say their generic "please" and "thank you" in the way taught and expected
40% of most people don't say much nor smile as if customer service people have been replaced by automatic tellers
10% of most people frown and grumble but it's nothing personally directed to you, just grumpy
5% of most people are on the phone with someone else - either laughing or yelling
5% of most people are yelling or laughing with/at their children/friends
10% of most people are incredibly rude, generally dissatisfied with everything in life and try to find fault and blame by personalizing toward you
My favorite part of my job is when they look at me like I'm a second class citizen.
Will Work for Food
"Please bring your I.D. and social security card just in case we hire you on the spot." Barbara, the head supervisor of customer service, said all this over the phone. She turned out to be a wide woman with a full head of dark, curly hair.
I arrived five minutes early with my driver's license, passport and social security card. They didn't take any of my personal documents, but did indeed hire me on the spot.
"You will begin as a bagger," the Big Head said. "I pay my baggers and cashier the same because I believe they are equally as valuable."
"Yes, ma'am," I nodded.
"Being a bagger can be a tough job," the Head continued. "You are on your feet all day, lifting and hoisting and pleasing the customer with smiles and catering to their many needs. And what is our motto?" she asked like a cheerleader to a crowd of hundreds.
"We have a mission in providing the best customer service in retail," I repeated in false enthusiasm.
"You got it!" The Head bobbed in satisfaction.
Bagging groceries? I mean, really, how hard can it be? But regardless of my naive attitude and lack of experience in retail, the Head immediately scheduled training the following day. The training felt like Pledge Week during my college days: I chanted tag lines, rules, safety procedures and had to repeat the mission of the grocer's philosophy over and over again in between shots of tequila. (And the very reason I never joined a sorority.)
But I did receive a 20% discount card, a new apron and t-shirt made of 100% organic hemp, and was proudly initiated into their eco-conscious clan.
I arrived five minutes early with my driver's license, passport and social security card. They didn't take any of my personal documents, but did indeed hire me on the spot.
"You will begin as a bagger," the Big Head said. "I pay my baggers and cashier the same because I believe they are equally as valuable."
"Yes, ma'am," I nodded.
"Being a bagger can be a tough job," the Head continued. "You are on your feet all day, lifting and hoisting and pleasing the customer with smiles and catering to their many needs. And what is our motto?" she asked like a cheerleader to a crowd of hundreds.
"We have a mission in providing the best customer service in retail," I repeated in false enthusiasm.
"You got it!" The Head bobbed in satisfaction.
Bagging groceries? I mean, really, how hard can it be? But regardless of my naive attitude and lack of experience in retail, the Head immediately scheduled training the following day. The training felt like Pledge Week during my college days: I chanted tag lines, rules, safety procedures and had to repeat the mission of the grocer's philosophy over and over again in between shots of tequila. (And the very reason I never joined a sorority.)
But I did receive a 20% discount card, a new apron and t-shirt made of 100% organic hemp, and was proudly initiated into their eco-conscious clan.
Friday, March 4, 2011
How it all started...
This new beginning all started with the knots and stress and lack of sleep I felt at my other "real" job. What happened to all my energy, driving passion and love for life? Before I lost complete perspective and my inner self, I ended my passionless relationship, submitted my leave notice at work, sold my place and my things, packed up my car, and drove across country with my dog in search of more. Well, it didn't happen that fast, especially the search of self part, but I've just now started to feel more at ease with this new life - especially as I closely observe at the front end.
The drive across country was difficult in the beginning. I cried the first few hours. Then I drove in a fuzzy, swollen daze during the week following. Regret and the strong urge to turn around tempted my steering wheel and invaded all my senses. The idea of home and longing hit me, along with hard reality - I left home! I left home and I have nothing planned for the next! It wasn't until I reached Moab, Utah did I seem to rediscover the outside world again and begin to enjoy my adventure. At first, I had no choice. It was too hot to continue to move and move and move like how I had been seeing things and places. The campsite did not have electricity, cell reception, WIFI, or any other or those can't-live-without services we depend on these days, but to my surprise, I got used to boiling my own water, sleeping under the stars and peeing whenever and whereever I pleased. Instead of sitting in my loneliness and self-pity, I sat with my thoughts and reintroduced myself to me.
"Hello. Nice to meet you again." I said one hot day to my rear view mirror. After the awkward introduction, I actually started to enjoy my own company. I felt like I was getting back together with an old friend I once upon a time shared a great and passionate love affair with.
I ended up on this other side of the country after blindly entering one late night. I was tired, hungry and my back ached from all the driving. The place was just another big city, but I knew it would be easy to re-establish a new life without too many unfamiliar changes. The weather is humid here and there are far too many roundabouts and potholes, but nothing one can't manage over time. And that's the thing about overpopulated cities, there are all kinds of people existing selfishly in such tight quarters. It's fascinatingly frustrating and yet frustratingly fascinating.
In the last few weeks since arriving, I've found a new temporary home in a shared apartment with kind roommates and sweet dogs. I've taken a new mindless job bagging groceries at a local supermarket. I'm not sure how long I will stay here, or where this may lead, but I'm happy and relaxed for now. Perhaps I will slowly climb my way up the supermarket ladder as Head Supervisor of Customer Service, or perhaps I will return home to my old job and life. But whatever I choose to do, or whichever direction life takes me, I vow to live it with full awareness and appreciation that this is exactly where I should be: Bagging groceries with a smile.
Now that I am here, my old life seems miles and years away. Yes, change can certainly happen overnight if motivation and courage and action takes place.
The drive across country was difficult in the beginning. I cried the first few hours. Then I drove in a fuzzy, swollen daze during the week following. Regret and the strong urge to turn around tempted my steering wheel and invaded all my senses. The idea of home and longing hit me, along with hard reality - I left home! I left home and I have nothing planned for the next! It wasn't until I reached Moab, Utah did I seem to rediscover the outside world again and begin to enjoy my adventure. At first, I had no choice. It was too hot to continue to move and move and move like how I had been seeing things and places. The campsite did not have electricity, cell reception, WIFI, or any other or those can't-live-without services we depend on these days, but to my surprise, I got used to boiling my own water, sleeping under the stars and peeing whenever and whereever I pleased. Instead of sitting in my loneliness and self-pity, I sat with my thoughts and reintroduced myself to me.
"Hello. Nice to meet you again." I said one hot day to my rear view mirror. After the awkward introduction, I actually started to enjoy my own company. I felt like I was getting back together with an old friend I once upon a time shared a great and passionate love affair with.
I ended up on this other side of the country after blindly entering one late night. I was tired, hungry and my back ached from all the driving. The place was just another big city, but I knew it would be easy to re-establish a new life without too many unfamiliar changes. The weather is humid here and there are far too many roundabouts and potholes, but nothing one can't manage over time. And that's the thing about overpopulated cities, there are all kinds of people existing selfishly in such tight quarters. It's fascinatingly frustrating and yet frustratingly fascinating.
In the last few weeks since arriving, I've found a new temporary home in a shared apartment with kind roommates and sweet dogs. I've taken a new mindless job bagging groceries at a local supermarket. I'm not sure how long I will stay here, or where this may lead, but I'm happy and relaxed for now. Perhaps I will slowly climb my way up the supermarket ladder as Head Supervisor of Customer Service, or perhaps I will return home to my old job and life. But whatever I choose to do, or whichever direction life takes me, I vow to live it with full awareness and appreciation that this is exactly where I should be: Bagging groceries with a smile.
Now that I am here, my old life seems miles and years away. Yes, change can certainly happen overnight if motivation and courage and action takes place.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Confessions of a Grocery Bagger
There are all kinds of people in this world. You can find one of each kind at your very own local supermarket. Most people run in and out of check-out, or in life, with such self-absorbed panic that they don't realize there are other people working and existing around them. And don't think we don't notice the way you look down on us. In your eyes we're "just" baggers, but we know more than you think. (And if we didn't fear getting fired, we'd tell this to your face.)
There are the kind and polite customers that smile and show their appreciation for your hard work and time. But among them are also the angry customers, the impatient customers, the whiny customers, the know-it-alls, the chatterboxes and of course, let's not forget, the hysterical customers. My new workplace has become a hodgepodge of the different kinds of people in the world. I had no idea customer service could be so difficult, or how temperamental people can react over the simplest of things - such as apricots and cold cuts, until I quit my job to become a bagger at my favorite grocery chain store.
Which kind are you?
There are the kind and polite customers that smile and show their appreciation for your hard work and time. But among them are also the angry customers, the impatient customers, the whiny customers, the know-it-alls, the chatterboxes and of course, let's not forget, the hysterical customers. My new workplace has become a hodgepodge of the different kinds of people in the world. I had no idea customer service could be so difficult, or how temperamental people can react over the simplest of things - such as apricots and cold cuts, until I quit my job to become a bagger at my favorite grocery chain store.
Which kind are you?
Monday, February 28, 2011
Paper or Plastic?
I work at one of those green, yoga-friendly, hemp wearing places where there is a recycle or compost bin for just about anything including your toe nails, but because this concept is relatively new, people from the outside mainstream world enter with no idea what "green" means. Plastic bags, plastic bags. Are you good, evil, or just not worth anyone's time?
This topic has got me thinking about what's permanent and what's temporary in my life - like should I stay with one no matter what anyone says since it's the switching back and forth that is wasteful of time and thought? Does switching just make things worse in the end? Does it make me a fair weather recycler? This paper versus plastic debate is both endearing and frustrating. Once some behavior is researched, discovered and passed down to the masses that it will save our precious Earth, we jump to the conclusion of the Green Media Monsters. We spend billions of dollars to campaign, train our youth to pass out flyers (no worries! it's on 100% recycled paper!) and fill our grocery store aisles with 100% recycled plastic bags. Once we realize paper is (oh no!) better for the environment than the evil plastic, we frown at all those whom request it. Who has time to keep up? But really, who is right and why spend so much time, money and the earth's resources to constant campaign for change? Isn't this very disposable way of living the very reason why we pile our landfills high with used and reused trends and clever ideas for saving our environment? Mother Earth is pleading..."Stop trying to save me! Just stop! Please!"
The Chinese have been reusing bags and cups and paper for centuries. They use until the bags are holy, torn and caked with filth. Their plastic bottles are refilled so often, green algae film the sides as if they were inventing traveling ponds for water pets rather than quenching thirst. Ew or new thinking?
We recycle more than we need to. We do that because it makes us feel good that it's all going somewhere to be sorted and remade into something reusable. But think I again. All the fossil fuels are wasted in shipping, in sorting all our crap...and most of the time, it can't be recycled because it's the wrong kind of plastic or it's still caked with hardened spaghetti sauces and peanut butter. I think I'll try to reuse in my own home rather than believing massive machines and others will do it for me.
The idea of permanence trickles into my daily life. What trends and beliefs do I maintain within me both as a wanna-be environmentally conscious person and human? How much of my thoughts and efforts pass after inspiration and how much clings as habit? What about my community? Temporary like trends, or friendships and bonds for life? What matters most in my world that I need to keep and reuse? What needs to be thrown out and necessary for some greater force to take over and transform?
When will my Mother Nature tell me to stop wanderlusting and stay put to invest in the deeper?
This topic has got me thinking about what's permanent and what's temporary in my life - like should I stay with one no matter what anyone says since it's the switching back and forth that is wasteful of time and thought? Does switching just make things worse in the end? Does it make me a fair weather recycler? This paper versus plastic debate is both endearing and frustrating. Once some behavior is researched, discovered and passed down to the masses that it will save our precious Earth, we jump to the conclusion of the Green Media Monsters. We spend billions of dollars to campaign, train our youth to pass out flyers (no worries! it's on 100% recycled paper!) and fill our grocery store aisles with 100% recycled plastic bags. Once we realize paper is (oh no!) better for the environment than the evil plastic, we frown at all those whom request it. Who has time to keep up? But really, who is right and why spend so much time, money and the earth's resources to constant campaign for change? Isn't this very disposable way of living the very reason why we pile our landfills high with used and reused trends and clever ideas for saving our environment? Mother Earth is pleading..."Stop trying to save me! Just stop! Please!"
The Chinese have been reusing bags and cups and paper for centuries. They use until the bags are holy, torn and caked with filth. Their plastic bottles are refilled so often, green algae film the sides as if they were inventing traveling ponds for water pets rather than quenching thirst. Ew or new thinking?
We recycle more than we need to. We do that because it makes us feel good that it's all going somewhere to be sorted and remade into something reusable. But think I again. All the fossil fuels are wasted in shipping, in sorting all our crap...and most of the time, it can't be recycled because it's the wrong kind of plastic or it's still caked with hardened spaghetti sauces and peanut butter. I think I'll try to reuse in my own home rather than believing massive machines and others will do it for me.
The idea of permanence trickles into my daily life. What trends and beliefs do I maintain within me both as a wanna-be environmentally conscious person and human? How much of my thoughts and efforts pass after inspiration and how much clings as habit? What about my community? Temporary like trends, or friendships and bonds for life? What matters most in my world that I need to keep and reuse? What needs to be thrown out and necessary for some greater force to take over and transform?
When will my Mother Nature tell me to stop wanderlusting and stay put to invest in the deeper?
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