Things I Overhear: "Nakie Men" Edition

I overhear alot of things when shopping at Target.  It is my favorite discount chain.  And, since they started carrying groceries a few years back, I now find myself there at least once a week.

In visiting so frequently, I tend to overhear many things.  Newly cohabitating couples, grocery shopping together for the first time, deciding how on earth to make dinner for two.  Babies alerting their parents that they've been shopping too long.  One-ended sides of cell phone conversations.  Mothers demanding, "Put that back!"  Kids pleading, "But, I really really need it!"

Today's ditty was overheard over the tops of the shelves and took place one aisle over from where I shopped.  I was in the feminine hygiene aisle (don't snicker, we're all grown-ups here...) and we all know which product is kept one aisle over from feminine hygiene.

Little Girl:  [apparently looking at some sort of product packaging]  "Ew mommy, why is that guy naked?!"

Mom: [half listening] "Hmmm..."

Me: [in thought, and catching on quicker that Mom] Oh goodness, that little girl's first trip through the contraceptive aisle.

Little Girl:  "He's naked mommy.  Tee hee hee."

Mom: [paying better attention now] "What?  Oh... put that back!"

Me: [in thought] Don't shop for condoms with your kid, lady!

Little Girl:  "I can't believe this guy is naked.  Why in the world would he be NAKED???"

Mom: "Come over here by me."

Little Girl: "Hee hee.  He is sooo nakie!"

Mom: "Shhhh...

Little Girl: "But, he's NAKIE!!!  WHY would he be NAKED??  Hee hee hee hee."

Me: [In thought]  For goodness sakes, get that kid out of there before her innocence is stolen and lost for good!

Mom: [Obviously embarrassed now and sounding as if she's finally decided to shuffle along]

Little Girl: [Manages to blurt out, while being dragged out of the aisle] "I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY HAVE NAKIE MEN HERE!"

And, away they finally go.

Being the good blog reporter that I am, I decided to coast my cart over one aisle to see what all the fuss is about.  (They sell first aid in that row too, y'know. Who's to say I'm not shopping for Band-Aids?)

I round the corner and, lo and behold, what lay before me?  Three full shelves of nakie men!  From the waist up, that is.  With towels around their bottom halves.  Clutching their backs, as if in pain.  With an odd rectangle of white slapped onto their backs.

Yes.  The poor little girl's innocence was taken by the IcyHot medicated heat patch display.

I'll give her another month or two before her radar kicks in.  That's when she'll turn around, discover the other side of the aisle and really come up with some extra loud questions to embarrass her mother with.

Until then!

Book Review: Born Standing Up, by Steve Martin

I'm a sucker for funny guys.  Especially prematurely gray ones.  So, I guess it goes without saying that I've always had a little soft spot for Steve Martin.

Not The Jerk's Steve Martin. Not, Wild and Crazy Guy-Martin.  Just Steve Martin.  Out of character and being his witty intelligent self.

Fortunately, for me, this is the Steve Martin that penned Born Standing Up.  It's a memoir, but not a birth-to-death kind of memoir.  Subtitled, A Comic's Life, this memoir chronicles Steve's journey of funnydom.  There's a bit of childhood reminisce, but just in laying the groundwork for what makes his funny tick.  Early influences.  Family struggles, that all comics seem to fabricate a protective shell from.  Earliest performances of any and all sorts.  

I treasured the chapter on his working days at Disneyland, being a fellow Disney nut myself.  Steve started at the theme park at the tender age of ten, selling souvenir books.  Reading his narration of weaving through the park, between the legs of full grown visitors, on his daily adventure of earning that two bucks was like seeing my own childhood fantasies realized.  His days were spent all over Disney's land, working hours and non-working alike. The Golden Horseshoe Review, Mr. Merlin's Magic Shop, the lassoing cowboys in Frontierland, every performer unknowingly molding the mind of a budding talent who studied them at their crafts on level that only a future star would invest.  He later worked his way on up to a stint in the magic shop, where he practiced what he learned in these first and basic steps to performing for an audience.

The book follows his career to Knott's Berry Farm (where he met, dated and "lost it" to... wait for it, wait for it... Stormie Omartian.  Yes, THAT Stormie Omartian!) to San Francisco where he tried to brand his own, somewhat vaudevillian, act of magic + comedy + banjo-playing to the small club scene and then onward and upward to eventual fame and fortune.

His intelligence is realized in the methodical outline he used in pinpointing what it took to make a crowd laugh.  What to say, how to move, where to stand, when to raise an eyebrow, when to twitch a cheek muscle, what color suit to wear, how to deal with hecklers, which crowd likes what, which crowd will follow you out to the lobby and into the street after you thought your performance was through.  All documented, outlined, tweaked and honed, night after night.

This is not a step-by-step guide on how to become a comedian, though.  Just a step-by-step recollection of how one became Steve Martin.

Witty, endearing, heart-felt, laugh out loud funny and so well written that I've come to realize that Mr. Martin is really a writer at heart and only a comedian by trade.  I'll be ready for the next chapter, whenever he decides to pen it.  And, I'll be there in line, with arrow headband on.

Business vs. Bizness

Let me tell you the frustrating thing about job-hunting in 2012.  I don't even understand what half of these companies sell!

It's not at all like looking for a job in 2001, which is the last time I was out there searching.  There doesn't seem to be that many businesses out there that sell tangible products anymore.  There's no, "This is a shirt. See, it has sleeves?  We're gonna sell it to someone with arms." or, "This is a car. You drive it from place to place so you can get there much faster than you could walking.  What our company does is sell these to people with long ways to go." or, "See that sick person?  He's our customer. See that other person going home? We made him better.  This is what we do."

Business has become "bizness".  Not only are today's products not tangible, but they're not even comprehensible.  When I'm on the job search sites and click on a company's wesbsite to better understand what it is that they do (another thing no one did during my last stint with unemployment), I usually wind up even more confused.  I find that these companies are marketing invisible things like information, media, data, talent, technologies and ideas.  There are accompanying pictures of young energetic people with very white teeth in very uncomfortable-looking suits.  What they do with these products you can't touch is beyond me, but they seem to make money doing it.  I guess a perk to selling an invisible inventory is no heavy lifting.  So, their employees might possess much healthier backs and knees than I, but still.  I don't know how I can administratively assist a company whose product I can't physically see.  It's very, very... SO VERY confusing to me.

I have a recurring daymare (that's a nightmare you have while you're awake, daydreaming) that I'm in a job interview, in the "bizness" industry, and I ask them what kind of business it is that they do.  I don't understand their technically overt lingo and am naive enough to tell them that maybe they need to explain it more plainly on their website because the layman can't understand what type of company they are.  Their mission statement is just a jumble of buzz words pieced together, trying to sound important, smarty pants and high tech.  They mistake my naive honesty for brazenness and appoint me CEO.  Months later, I sit behind a mahogany desk and realize that it still hasn't been explained to me what my company sells.  I'm beginning to suspect that nobody else knows either and that I've been hired as a scapegoat until the bottom falls out.  So, I promptly resign and get a job at Pet Supplies Plus selling dog food.  Because I know of dogs and exactly what food is.

I'm looking for a job that when people asks what industry I work in, I can say, "______" and they know what that is.  Even grandmothers.  Let's not confuse my grandmother!  Companies need products that can be put into boxes.  Loaded onto trucks, boats, planes and trains.  Touched and felt.  That have on buttons and off switches.  That can be put together with other products to build something. That can be seen or read or smelled or eaten.

Maybe that means I'll have to settle for less money working for one of these old-fashioned corporations, but at least I won't go home confused at the end of the day.  If somebody tells me they'd like me to work for their office specializing in communications,  data management, intelligence or "peace of mind", I'll be sure to ask them if that comes gift wrapped.

I'd rather work for the one who sells the bees than the one who sells the buzz.

Nosy Neighbor

Just so you know, if you see me out on a walk anywhere near your house, I'm most likely:

• Inner-critiquing your landscaping, color choice of siding and shutters and any interior decorating I can see through your windows when the curtains are drawn.
• Mocking your canine's watchdog skills.
• Luring your cat to the sidewalk with my pro "Kitty kitty kitty" calls.
• Judging your kids if they're misbehaving in the front yard.
• Saying a friendly "hello" to the ones who are well-behaved (even though they don't respond because I represent "stranger danger" and you've taught them well.)
• Counting your Spring buds and comparing that data to the last time I walked by.
• Wondering why your husband isn't at work.
• Acting disgusted at the teenage smoker blaring music out of the car you shouldn't have bought them because they don't deserve it.
• Dodging the garbage that missed the can at the end of your driveway.
• Dodging the can at the end of your driveway that blew over in the wind because you didn't retrieve it last trash day.
• Wishing you weren't parked in such a way that you're blocking the sidewalk and I have to pass through a puddle in the wet grass to get by.
• Secretly envying the fact that you own a home; no matter the paint color, dead grass, rowdy residents or noisy pets.

P.S. Just so you further know, most people are doing this when they walk by. I'm just an openly nosy neighbor and willing to admit it.

Spring has Sprung!

Last week

This week

Spring has sprung, very suddenly and very much welcomely, here in Michigan.  (Welcomely? Word? Not a word?  Oh well...)  I come to this conclusion because we've steadily enjoyed mild temperatures for over an entire week now, as well as forseen in the entire 10-day forecast.

Now, I'm just hoping this post doesn't cause me to bite my tongue in the coming weeks because, although they say "March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb", Mother Nature tends to like to flip-flop that saying around these parts with that sadistic humor only she can appreciate.  It's not unusual for her to drop an ice storm or one last blizzard just in time to ruin local Easter egg hunts.  But, seeing that this year's entire winter has been strangely mild... I think we of the Great Lakes are safely in the clear.
 

What I've loved about early Spring this week:

• It being both light enough and warm enough to walk the neighborhood after dinner.  Yes. Venturing outdoors, after six, without a flashlight. 
• When taking above-mentioned walks, the air smells like so much barbeque!
• Hearing someone practicing the piano through an open window. (Pleasant, in a momentary walk by. Their next door neighbors may have a differing opinion...)
• Neighborhood cats, sprawled out in every sunbeam in sight. Windows, driveways, front porches... Oooh kitty kitties!  Where were you hiding all Winter?
• All of the birdhouses being occupied and waking up to the "tweetly-deetley-deet" that accompanies fully occupied birdhouses.
• Busy little squirrels. Everywhere! And, baby ones too! So cute, so hyper and so entertaining to me.
•  Hearing kids at the school playground down the street. Outdoor recess has resumed!  Cover your ears, lunchladies!

There were also a few surprises that crept up on me with early Spring:

• Sunburn?  Already?!
• Next time I wear capris I've got to remember to shave my legs.
• My toenails look naked.
• The condition of the rest of my feet is unspeakable.
• I'm not getting anything done indoors because I only want to read books, only while outside, only while in my own sunbeam. (Vitamin D!)

Yeah, there may be alot to complain about in the world today.  But, right here, in this moment (while I'm packing my sweaters away) life ain't nothing but sunshine!

The Hunter

I'm currently on what's called a "job hunt", although that may overstating things a bit because my hunt is half-hearted at best.

When I think of a hunt, I think of stalking something with hungry fervor.  The deer hunter likes the taste of venison and will literally devour its prey (after proper processing procedures take place, of course) and mount the inedible parts to his rec room walls as trophy.  The lady on a man hunt (believe me, she's no lady...) will stop at nothing to track all males with naked left ring fingers until the day she finds a large diamond hanging off her own.  A treasure hunt is a thrilling search for riches.  A witch hunt, a manic quest to rid the world of impurity.

So, I find it extremely hard to apply the term "hunt" to something that nobody really wants to discover: Work. 

My hunt is not predatory, my hunt is not zealous, my hunt is not even worthy of camouflage fatigues.  I can't even find the appropriate word to describe feverishly chasing after something you don't even desire.  But, whatever that word is, in whichever dialect it exists, that's what I've been doing.

I don't really even know what it is that I want to "do".  But, twenty years in the working world has told me what I don't:

• Talking.  Nothing drains an introvert more than having to yap eight hours a day.  It's the way we're programmed and there's no way around it.  And, it's probably the one thing every extroverted boss will never understand.  Our energy levels drain around people and social interaction.  Our energy is restored with quiet time.  So, just toss the likes of me into an office with a pile of paperwork, close the door and watch us emerge eight hours later with ten hour's worth of work completed.  Just unplug the phone first.  We prefer emails.  Jobs on the no-list: Telemarketing, customer service call center representative, sales, public relations, teaching.
• Corporate Environments: Now this is probably stretching it considering the white-collaredness of today's America, but I can not stand corporate phoniness.  Yes, I worked a desk job for the past eleven years and enjoyed it for the early eight or nine.  But, I was fortunate enough to work in a small, fifteen-person, satellite branch of a major company.  Billion-dollar backing, zero corporate stooges on site.  That's the only white collar way to go!  The minute any higher-ups from larger offices would brave to don their winter coats and fly up to the Michigan branch for a visit, the mood would suddenly turn Stepford.  Too much small talk.  Too much smoke blown up the nether regions.  Too many fake laughs and phony smiles.  I don't do small talk well.  I always get hung up on the weather and circle around that topic for as long as the listener can bear.  And, the closest I can mimic a fake smile, is constipation.  It's just not me.  Jobs on the no-list: Anything with the word "executive" in its title.
• Lying to my face or being forced to lie myself: If you have to lie to me to "get the job done", it's not a job worth doing.  If you expect me to lie for you, you've hired the wrong person.  I also do not tolerate being screamed at.  If you're hiring me to have someone to shout at, just do me a favor and leave me unemployed.  Been there, done that, got a headache from it.  Jobs on the no-list: Anything with the words "legal" or "political" in its title.  And, if I notice red ears, sweaty foreheads, flaring nostrils or smoke emitting from ears during an interview, I will take these as signs of a screamer and I will run... run the other way.
• Overwhelming sounds or smells:  I'm not the type to handle over-stimulation well.  I prefer sight and the touch of my typing fingers to be the senses I use on the job.  Which eliminates taste, hearing and smell.  Jobs on the no-list: Food industry, noisy environments such as casinos, schools and the Wall Street Stock Exchange floor, and anything within a 50 foot radius of a Perfumania store.  Sadly, my allergies also eliminate any job where I'd be working with and/or smelling animals.
• Germs: This goes without saying.  Jobs on the no-list: Any place I'm likely to be sneezed at or on.
• Grave danger: I'm no super hero.  I don't want to be shot at, swung at, cussed out or robbed on the job.  Jobs on the no-list: Police officer, rent-a-cop, bill collector, meter maid, process server, bank teller.

Don't get me wrong.  I am a very hard worker once I find work and have been put to it.  But, just take a moment to dream with me of the perfect work situation.

Does your check list also include?

• Part-time hours for full-time pay.
• Happy faces that ease into a genuine smile at your presence.  No shouting, no cattiness, no gossip behind anyone's back.
• Extra money added to pay for every laugh provoked.  Money taken away for every complaint.
• Pats on the head at the most-needed times.  (Not literal pats though... please don't touch me.)
• Make your own hours, just get the job done.
• Feel free to take your work outside, if it's nice out and will make you perform better.
• Colors everywhere!  No beige.  Pleasant colors, not blinding ones.
• Quietness, whenever you want it.
• Background music, when you don't want quiet.
• Laugh and laugh and laugh all you want.  You won't get scolded for it!
• Don't bother judging others, because they won't be judging you.
• A short-haired office cat that won't make you sneeze.
• Read a book or a magazine for as long as you'd like.  You need to escape and be entertained.
• No dress code.  Wear whatever you please.
• Two final words: Nap. Room.

Well, I'm not sure if the perfect work situation exists for anyone... but it sure is nice to dream.  Judging from my check-list I'd be best suited for work as a golden retriever or Dr. Suess illustration.

Then again, those Dr. Suess drawings seem awfully noisy!