That’s 2 for 1… right?

“No… 2 for $20…” “But 1 costs $20 so that’s 2 for 1… right?” “No. It’s 2 for $20. I can ask someone if you want, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.” “Isn’t that the same thing?” “What?” “What you said and what I said?” “I’m not sure what you mean?” “Are you serious?” “Um… yes?” “I’m asking about the special tonight?? I said 2 for 1 and you 2 for $20… aren’t they the same if 1 costs $20?” She laughs in a nervous kind of way like she’s embarrassed for my somehow obvious stupidity and throws her head back slightly in a somewhat mocking gesture while rolling her eyes. “Ma’am—I’ll get the manager if you want but I’m being totally serious. Tonight’s special is 2 for $20.” “But…” There’s nothing more profound than the conscious insight of sharing a conversation with someone who probably graduated high school but doesn’t comprehend simple statements that any woman who breathes and can shop a sale knows backwards and forwards in her sleep as well several languages. And then I pause. I realize the need to step outside the box and reflect on the situation. I take a moment to evaluate my current state of being from all immediately available, remotely possible angles. Am I drunk? No, so I’m at least somewhat aware of my mental state. Am I stoned? No. Am I speaking to a child? I don’t think so but I’m beginning to wonder. She appears to be an adult so there is no viable reason she should not understand the comparison or similarity between the two statements. Am I in a foreign country? No. The skyline is very familiar to the view from my office window and I am surrounded by Caucasians speaking clear and plain English with fairly obvious southern accents, so my immediate surroundings are familiar enough to determine that I am in my homeland. Am I sleeping? No. So, it’s not possible or at least not entirely likely that I’m dreaming. And—most importantly according to my medical records—I do not suffer form any mentally debilitating diseases or psychologically defecting ailments. The sun did in fact rise in the east and it appears to be setting in the west so all should be well with the universe. At this point, I take a step back to evaluate my point of view. I assess the situation from my vantage point and that of what I perceive as my possibly (or probably; dependant on your viewpoint) intellectually disadvantaged opponent. I remove myself from my reality of the situation and try to envision her perception of our conversation by putting myself in her shoes. Let’s take a moment to drink her in based upon appearance alone for the simple fact that I am lacking visual aids. About 5’7”, blonde (bleached), unimpressive curves but not too big or too small, blue eyes (half open), gauged earlobes (not excessively, but still), a little too ‘touchy/feely’ and incapable of intelligently communicating house specials to the customer --OR-- at least unable to comprehend likely multiple meanings of said special. Wow. I come to the absolute and unquestionable realization that any attempt at intelligent (or for that matter basic) communication of any kind, is completely futile and totally unmatched on SO many levels. I’m obviously speaking to a single celled organism who could not possibly (regardless of the content of conversation) fathom the opportunity for two statements to share the same meaning regardless of their similarity. I am however, slightly baffled and somewhat confused at her persistence. Is she for real?? She knows what they told her to say; but not much more. Are you serious? Ok. Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. She can’t help her fairly perfect height. She can’t help her somewhat attractive although unshapely figure. They offered her a job—no—gave her a job and she passed the drug screen? I still have questions about that one but whatever. “No. There’s no need for the manager. 2 for $20 is fine.” “Ok then! If there’s nothing else I can get for you I’ll be right back with your check.” “Thanks.” I could use a fork if you have one. I want to say it. I should have said it. But thought of having to explain the humor is too much for me at this point. I may end up using the fork on her instead of my self. “Alright! Here you go and do come back and see us again!” I look at the check she has presented me with. “Um. This says that I owe $60.00” “Yes ma’am, that’s correct.” “I think you may have made a mistake.” “Ma’am?” There is it again. The mocking tone of pity; if she laughs at me again we may need the police and not the manager. “I’m sure the receipt is right. 4 items at $15 each is exactly $60. I don’t understand what the problem is?” I would like a fork. Give me the fork—I need the fork. I’m going to use it—now; on her! She’s a waste of oxygen!!! And I am not willing to risk the possibility of running out. “I ordered items that were on special.” “Special what?” That’s it. I’m done. I think my brain may explode at being forced to converse with this girl who would infuriate a toddler with her pointless circles. Completely useless waste of space and oxygen. “Nevermind.” I start to grab my credit card and then pause. Although it may be thoroughly entertaining to watch her head explode when she tries to figure out what the card is for. No. So I pay the check with cash. She gives me change. I hand her a tip (against my better judgement). “Would you like change?” Wow. What must it be like to live life with the brain power of a goldfish?

What exactly are you looking at?

I feel the need to vent and so you shall be punished with my thoughts… From time to time, my job requires me to meet new people and, in 45 minutes or less, pass judgment on them. I must talk to them, ask them silly questions that are supposed to help me determine their level of character and whether or not they will be able to follow directions and put up with me telling them what to do, how to do it and when to do it without necessarily understanding why they have to do it other than ‘because I said so.’ They call this process an interview and it ranks right up there with ‘when the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad.’ I’m convinced the only reason it’s not on the list Rogers & Hammerstein came up with, is because there is nothing poetic or melodic about any part of it. Whoever came up with this idea was either on way too many or not enough drugs. I haven’t yet decided which, but I’ll let you know as soon as I do. Anyway, back to the interview. Have you ever had a conversation with someone who insists on looking not directly at you, or anywhere on your person, but at a spot on the wall behind you that is exactly 6 inches to the left of where your face is? They are sitting directly in front of you, yet their eyes refuse to meet yours and instead, wander and settle on something to the right or left of you or sometimes directly over your head. You’re trying to keep your composure and be as professional as possible but what you really want to do is ask them what, exactly, they are looking at. You’re sitting there wondering… “Is there a giant cockroach on the wall behind me?”, “is there someone behind me with a huge bucket of water?”, “did Publishers Clearing House just walk in with a check for me or is it for you”, “do you want me to leave you and ‘Spot’ alone… you seem to be getting along really well and I don’t want to be in the way.” But you can’t actually ask them any of those things. The individual seemingly answers all of your questions with some degree of sincerity but it’s like they don’t really understand what you’re asking. Almost as if they have rehearsed the whole thing. They appear to be attentive and attempt to engage in conversation but they refuse to look at you. You start to wonder… “is this guy for real? Or are we dealing with another M.I.B. invasion?” Halfway through the interview you expect him to say “sugar… I need sugar… in water.” And then you ask yourself “Am I about to be pounced upon by an alien?” and you begin to look for the nearest exit. This has to be the most infuriating thing about conducting an interview. If you can’t look me in the eye there’s a problem there. Not sure what it is and really don’t care to find out especially if it’s anything even remotely similar to the plot or character bio from a Steven King novel. Sometimes I want to slowly move my head 6 inches to the left just to see what will happen. You know what I mean; bait them—see what they will react. There could be some good comedy in that. Are they really paying attention to where I am and specifically focusing on a spot within an exact distance from my face? Will they move their eyes to the left in sync with my head? Or will they remain so focused on that one spot that it startles them to suddenly be looking at me again? If I move my head to the right instead of the left will they do the same, of course maintaining that safety zone of at least 6 inches from where my face actually is? Moral of the story; always look people directly in the eye when you talk to them… Why? Because I said so.

Good Old-Fashioned Ranting from a Good Old-Fashioned Raving Lunatic

This last week I had a bit of a 'rant and rave' moment. I read an article online written by one of the most vile people I think I've ever had the chance to encounter. This writer spoke opinions on certain subjects that so infuriated me I chose to respond. It struck me after I sent the email that I hadn't published a new entry here in several weeks... So here you are...

Dear Mr. Morford,

I was led to your 2005 article about the Duggar Family from a Google search related to the recent headlines announcing the Duggar family is expecting their 18th child. Intrigued by their story and your opinions (in some twisted way), I read a few of your more recently published items. I decided, against my better judgment, to take a few minutes out of my day to equally express to you my opinions on similar subject matter and so I shall. Although, I have not yet come to the determination of whether or not the time is to be well spent.

To kick things off, I'd like to mention that your small minded intolerance and unwillingness or incapability to see the joy of life through any eyes other than your own astounds me. You see, simple things like acceptance and tolerance and compassion, above all else, are the basic values on which our country was founded and in turn are the very things that give you the right to publish your opinions so openly.

I find that incredibly ironic.

This country was founded by men, women and children who suffered through great hardships of persecution and intolerance in their homelands of which you could not possibly imagine. They believed that a people should not be persecuted for their beliefs or values or any personal practices related to those beliefs and values. They willingly gave all they had to endure long and often fatal journeys across the ocean only to find more turmoil in sickness and disease when they arrived, but they were happy and contented by the knowledge they would be a free people. Throughout the past 300+ years our colonial forefathers and countless other Americans have carried on and held hope in our hearts through numerous wars and battles in this country and others because they truly believed in a cause.

Do you really have a cause? And would you be willing to give all you had to acheive it? I haven't found mine yet. I sometimes wish I did and that I would because it would mean that my actions meant something.

There are those who believe that a God or many gods symbolize their ideals of the best possible person and that they should aspire to achieve the same in themselves and whenever possible invite and encourage those around them to do the same. There are also those who take those beliefs to such an extreme that their teachings and doctrine become messages conveying quite the opposite. They are all people. They all believe in something. They are everywhere and are part of every culture and community across the globe without exception. They are straight, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered. They are black, white and all other colors of the cultural rainbow. They are Republicans, Democrats, Liberals, Fascists, Communists and so on. They come in all shapes and sizes. They are male and female; in some cases possibly both or neither as the apparent fate of their sexual orientation appears to reside in the hands of science. They are Jews, Catholics, Hindus, Baptists, Muslims, Pagans, Methodists, Sikhs, Protestants, Mormons, Orthodox, Wiccans, Lutherans, Buddhists, Atheists and Scientologists. I could go on and on. Their common bond? They are all people.

Doesn’t everyone everywhere want to be accepted and tolerated without fear of persecution for their beliefs or ‘non-beliefs’, dependant upon which side of the fence you call home? Doesn’t that display at least a one-sided theory of acceptance? It would seem that the best way to be continually accepted and tolerated by others would be to be continuously accepting and tolerant of others. No beginning or end to the effort and no one expecting to receive more than he is willing to give. No, that’s far too easy. It has to be more complicated and controversial if it’s really going to mean anything.

I find it interesting that a God, who may or may not exist for some or all or none of us, is mentioned in every governmental document that was signed and sealed in these United States of America during the founding of our nation and in countless others beyond those first days of our infancy as a country. This God who is today still, addressed in prayer by our government leaders at the start of every session in both the House of Representatives and the Congress as well as innumerable gatherings of governments and nations throughout the world.

A prayer, by definition, is quite simply for all intents and purposes a spoken wish or reverent thought regardless of who it is addressed to. In these prayers offered by the leaders of our nation, they give thanks for the gifts of freedom bestowed upon us as Americans, including I might add—our right to assemble and our right to free speech. Our leaders pray for guidance in making decisions affecting the lives of the American people. Our leaders pray for the safety for those defending our country and our beliefs.

Knowing this, I find it very ironic that our children are reprimanded at school when praying for the very same things. It does not matter if you believe it is The Almighty God or Jesus Christ or Mother Earth or Buddah or Jehovah or Allah or Santa Clause who is listening; are they not all gods by definition? The consistent intent is that they will assist in the realization of these wishes and thoughts spoken aloud. A prayer is a beautiful display of belief in something, anything, with hope of achieving a better result to benefit a greater good for all—even those who don’t believe in a god of any kind.

For the record, I do not actively practice any religious faith, organized or otherwise; I just believe in treating people the way I want to be treated. I do not claim any political party. I am white, single and in that 20 to 30-something age bracket. I think I’m considered lower middle-class according to the government’s definition. I’ve worked hard for what I have achieved in my life, which isn’t much—but it’s mine and I don’t mind sharing with others when and if the opportunity presents itself. I am by no means perfect; I’m human and I’ve definitely made my share of mistakes and bad decisions. I’ve never been on welfare. I pay my own bills which means I provide food and shelter for myself. I pay my taxes which means I also provide food, shelter, clothing and medical attention for thousands of other Americans and immigrants (legal or otherwise)—which can be somewhat uncomfortable at times but I try not to complain about it.

I struggle to understand why, when there are tens of thousands of able-bodied Americans out of work, I am required to explain my dilemma to someone in India or Indonesia when I dial an 800 number for customer service at Microsoft or MasterCard or many other major American corporations. I have friends and family in the military and am grateful for their willingness to serve and defend this country—whenever and wherever they are needed. I don’t always use recycled products but if they are available I don’t mind spending a little extra money. I probably take too long in the shower and my car is not hybrid or electric. I try to do my part to make the world a better place. I believe our problems with pollution are social as well as environmental. They are as related to excessive media coverage of personal events in the lives celebrities or anyone else that are truly none of anyone else’s business just as much as they are to bad air quality and too much waste. I try to eat healthy natural foods whenever I can and exercise as often as possible.

Bottom line is I think I’m a somewhat average American citizen.

I think what makes me different is that I don’t mind who you are or that you exist or that your beliefs and values may be different from mine; just don’t rub my nose in it or accuse me of doing something wrong. It’s one thing to share your opinion. It’s an entirely different thing to completely and intentionally degrade or deface others in the process; that’s just plain tacky behavior and bad manners.

One one hand I could say the articles I’ve read with your name attached are colorful and well written examples of a talented writer expressing his opinions, however small minded or out of touch I personally might feel they are. On the other hand I could say your articles are an incredibly profound insight into the life of a sad and lonely man who suffers from a great deal of unhappiness deeply rooted in personal insecurity and social angst at his own life choices who probably wasn’t given much attention or discipline as a child and is very likely already seeing a therapist at least twice a week to help him deal with his shame at being raised in a very large, very religious, very traditional Norman Rockwell-esque family environment where he felt persecuted and abandoned because he is a flamer and since he came out to his family they don't accept or tolerate him the way they used to... but that would be mean.

Worth it or not the time has been spent and regardless of whether or not I'd like to have it back; I won't get it.

No Regrets, S

Old-fashioned

I used to believe there was someone out there to share my life with. An individual who will fill in the blanks for me and let me do the same for them. Someone who won’t have any reservations about living life to the fullest and will allow me be a part of the fun that comes along with the ride. Someone who understands and accepts themselves for who they are and will accept all of me for who I am; including my need for occasional overindulgence and special treatment simply because it makes me feel good. Someone who doesn’t think it’s weird to be monogamous. Someone who will wake up next to a beautiful woman 65 years from now and finds her as sexy and irresistible on that day as the day he married her. A person who won’t find anything strange or out of the ordinary in my absolute joy at spending an afternoon with Bogey & Bergman in Casablanca or with Rogers & Hammerstein at the State Fair. Someone who will share in my childlike wide-eyed giddyness of seeing new things and new places and still enjoy repeating a few of the old favorites every now and then. Someone who will not only enjoy but look forward to seeing my family and spending time with them. Someone who will be able to understand and respect the close relationships I have with old friends and not be jealous of those bonding friendships that have developed over many years of good and bad times that we've shared and supported eachother through. I used to believe there was such a thing as loving unconditionally and being faithful to your partner regardless of the temptations you are presented with. As I get older I realize more and more that all of those ideas are very old fashioned and in many regards completely non-existent. I have come to the determination that I am very much a part of the wrong generation. Today life is about doing more, getting more, taking more, having more, being more, and doing it all faster and more outrageous than the last guy did. We as a society have completely lost touch with what it means to truly be content with ourselves and live within our means. That’s just so sad… it takes all the fun out of living life when you can't or don't appreciate what you have and aren't truly grateful for it. It means that you are taking the time you have with those you love for granted. I still have hope… he's out there somewhere with his dancing shoes ready for a night on the town. Maybe he's waiting somewhere on the sidelines to gallop in on a white horse and save me from myself. I just want the damn fairy tale... is that so much to ask?

Dessert Forks & Over-Educated Circus Animals

I love my job. I work with a wonderful group of people that I genuinely enjoy working with and truly like being around. I know, I know… weird huh? But it’s the truth and I refuse to lie about it no matter how much of a freak I may look like for saying it. Don’t get me wrong. I have my days when work is the last place I want to be or at the very least, moments when it’s not my most favorite thing in the whole world just like everyone else. I firmly believe it’s totally normal to have days when you are convinced the most sensible thing to do about the problem at hand is to dig your eye out with a dessert fork… don’t you agree? I mean honestly--shrimp forks are so small it would take way to long to finish the job and dinner forks are so big you'll be done before anyone really gets the full effect. Ok… maybe that’s a little intense or even slightly extreme. We’ve all had days when we’ve wanted to, in theory of course; be the pivotal character in a ‘roadside carnage/train wreck’ type scenario that will make everyone else will stop and look. Again… mildly excessive, but I’m sincerely trying to make a point and I hope you’re getting the message. I bet you’re wondering if those are the days that end with a super-sized knots in your stomach and a headache so severe it would be foolish and completely impossible for anyone to even attempt convincing you that your head is not going to explode at any moment. Yah. They are. I bet you’re also wondering if days like that involve feeling like you’re screaming at the top of your lungs (in plain English of course) an answer that is so painstakingly obvious and clearly staring everyone in the face waving a huge red flag and sporting a Vegas-style sign blaring with absolute clarity like a beacon in the night but no one else can quite put their finger on it. Um… let me think. Yup, sure do. Usually, at some point in time during that last one everyone turns to look at you like, ‘Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?’ This is the part where the fork comes in handy—hold on… I’m almost there. It’s at that moment you realize that your sanity, to be completely frank, is teetering dangerously on the edge of that great black whole of common sense known as Corporate American Politics. You might attempt coming to terms with the fact that no matter how much you like your job or how much you sincerely enjoy having the opportunity to work with people you like being around—you must admit to yourself (and the entire world for it to really count) in an ‘alcoholics anonymous’ kind of way; “Hi. My name is George and I work for over-educated circus animals that make more money than I do but probably couldn’t do my job if their life depended on it.” Once you get it all out you realize after a short pause that the only sensible thing left to do is grab the fork and start digging… now what the heck did I do with that dang fork…

In the beginning... LOL

Where do you start with something like this? I've never been good about keeping tabs on my life. Things always seem to be happening before I really know what's going on... nothing in my life is slow. My mind is usually running at warp speed and my body quite often struggles to keep up. The funny part is that with all that I've been through in my life--it seems to work pretty well. My life is part chaos and part organization... more little more chaotic organization than organized chaos. :) The last time I moved it was more like a vacation I never came home from. Spontaneity is the premium grade fuel life should run on. Generally speaking it's the decisions that take a lot of time and serious thought that I have the hardest time with. I struggle to decide things for myself that could have an adverse effect on others... I hate the thought of causing pain in the life of someone I care about. So much so that it gets me in trouble more often that not. I tend to loose me exactly when I need me the most... if that makes any sense.