2% of Persons.........

WHAT the h e dbl. hockey sticks is up with Facebook?? Wow, I hate it! I made the mistake of opening an account, hoping to get in touch with someone who has "no time to e mail". But DOES have time to...Facebook. So Facebook is a verb now?! Check the dictionary, folks. So I guess this means I'm one of the 2% of persons who isn't head-over-heels for Facebook. I was one of the 2% of persons who couldn't use dental anaesthetic! Yeh. That was a bummer. Well, this Facebook allergy; dyslexia; fear of being controlled by the Illuminati?......whatever it is that causes Facebook to NOT work for me......is it a bummer or is God protecting me? I wonder if the 2% of us should start a movement. Stop using electronic "communication" devices altogether. Stop using fad words, like "bummer" and "gross". Or whatever the latest fad words are. Stop using old words for stupid new meanings, like "facebook" as a verb. Or "text" as a verb. How about "texting"? "Texted". I've heard that one. Makes everybody sound like they use English as a second language. Oh wait, the ESL persons actually use CORRECT words in CORRECT spaces, because FAD words MAKE NO SENSE. Oops, rabbit trail there. My point is, I hate Facebook. I hate that everyone's on it. Why are they? I hate that it doesn't work for me when it works for literally BILLIONS of other people. But why should I? (Because those persons who have no time to e mail also have no time to write on paper, or call on the phone.) I hate how it has everyone in its insidious control. E mailing is too slow now! Who writes a paper letter? (Thanks for the one you sent last week, my #1 son.) Who calls? Who can spell? Who can speak correct English? Or Cantonese, even? No doubt they have text symbols in Cantonese as well. Yeah. I'm thinkin' about serious rebellion here, folks. I may just sell the ol' PC and go back to snail mail and on-phone conversation. Scary.

And what's the point of a baby owl?

A friend sent me a photo she took of a baby owl. Cute! Man, you don't know cute 'til you see a baby owl. Owlet, technically. Isn't that even a cuter than cute name? So now I'm all hot to hike out and sneak up and try to see the owlet and his momma. If I'm really quiet, she won't swoop down and peck out my eyeballs. I know this because once before in my life I had a glimpse of owlets, way way up in a cottonwood tree. (Never mind the technical name for cottonwood.) We could quietly (QUIETLY!!) sneak up beneath the tree, actually quite far back otherwise we couldn't see far enough up due to the perspective if you grasp my meaning, and watch the momma bring snacks in for the wee ones. Then they got big enough so we could see their fuzzy heads above the messy nest. If we were patient and QUIET! . But if we got too close (and I mean, too close was like a hundred feet away, since we were not only below but back from the tree), I say, if we got TOO close, that momma owl HISSED at us! Holy crow! This loud, growly kinda deep ZZZing hiss. Her head and big yellow eyes and gigantic beak would swivel. Following us like the bizarre eyes of an ancient painting. One more step forward....SNAP!! Her beak would begin to clack and she'd puff up her feathers, begin stepping from foot to foot (we could see her sort of rocking side to side), hunch up her shoulders and holy........sugar we'd step back double quick. We knew without question Momma was just about to swoop down and peck our eyeballs out of our heads, leaving streaming, bloody holes. Oh yeah. No messin' with THOSE babies. So the next thing on my mind is, what's up with all these photos of people's babies on Facebook? Ya know, some of the sites even have the address of the nest on them, man. The town, the street name perhaps. The predators (or potential enemies) getting closet and closer to the nest, maybe at first not meaning harm, but maybe attracting other predators and next thing you know, BAM! The tree's down, the nest is violated, and those owlets (kidlets?) are snatched and gone. Too late for momma to hiss and growl now. Maybe she shoulda protected the nest better. Maybe she should have hid the nest in the forest, not hung it out on the edge of the woods, with babies in full view. Our owlets survived because we never told anyone else about them. We quietly watched them a few times a week, from a distance, and we never tried to tame them or touch them. We never taught them to think the world is a safe place for owlets to roam, or that people are safe to play with. Where are your owlets tonight?

This is not a way of life.........

Now that things are calming down a bit, I can blog a bit. You see, I've been working inside a Big Box Store. You know the ones: all the staff dress like Smerfs and behave like Stepford wives. The management is manic depressive, or maybe just depressive, and the cashiers used to be row bosses in women's prison. So, you get over these stereotypes, and try to enjoy something in the character of the staff you're compelled to work with. I use the term "work" loosely, as the cliche says. One works, one (two, or three) watches. Surreptitiously. Suspiciously. Which brings me to the crux of this blog. (crux: A tormenting or baffling problem. Hmm. Guess I should've said the crux of the job within the BBS!)

Where is the pride in work? Where is the self respect in doing well at a job? Where is the integrity in customer service? (Where is the customer service??)

Who teaches the kids to do well on the job, to be honest, to work a full day, to take fair and restful breaks? Who teaches respect for the co-worker in a higher position, and respect for the newbie in a lower position?

Who tells the staff member that customers are important? Not because of the wallets, but because they're human beings who took the time to shop here? That those purchases pay your wages?

Who cares about quality of or caring for the products?

The managers I worked with were pretty concerned and spent significant time working on creating a buddy relationship with junior staff. The junior staff spent even more significant work hours flirting and chatting and slouching along corridors, avoiding eye contact with customers but definitely making eye contact with the girl/guy staff she/he wanted to.......talk business with at the next staff meeting. Yeah right.

I'm burned about the entire situation. It makes me sick to see no positive teaching, no respect, no pride, no honesty coming down from management, trickling down the food chain to the lowliest position on staff. When you have the opportunity to teach a junior worker a correct procedure, they don't want to learn it. They just want to slouch around, get paid, go home. Don't miss the staff Xmas party.

It was literally making me ill to work within this atmosphere. I had to leave. I said thank you God, but for the grace of, there go I. May the God of the cattle on a thousand hills protect me from ever having to feed my needs by working in such a place. And I wasn't even on the staff!

The creepy thing is the way they all talk Big Box Speak. You know, the comfortable terminology that A. makes the staff feel important because they know a secret language that customers do not and B. a spade isn't called a spade. There are "tasks", not "work" or "duties". Everyone is an "associate", not a "worker" or "staff". Nearly everyone from the dog up has a title, which means nothing because not only does this titled person have no authority at all, he is seemingly too stupid or dishonest to acquire or deserve the responsibility attached to authority.

Yeah, I'm gonna stop now before my blood pressure goes any higher or my spirits any lower. It's redoubled my efforts to encourage, teach, listen, show respect, and call a spade a spade.

Vive l' small business!!

What is it about patience? I seem to have a good amount of patience with elderly folks... I don't seem to have enough patience with average age folks. Or bratty little kids. Why is that now? I have greater levels of patience with handicapped persons of any age. Unless the handicapped person is a jerk. To my way of thinking, just because you're handicapped doesn't give you jerk privileges. Or just because you're old doesn't entitle you to be a jerk. Or if you're hung-over... Yeah, I have zero patience for hung-over persons of any age! Seems like it's all about attitude. Not mine, theirs. For instance, if a person is on say, painkillers, for legitimate pain relief, then I have a greater degree of patience, because I know they're having unusual symptoms from A. the pain and B. the meds. But if the person in pain is just a whiner who doesn't do the exercises which move him toward recovery, well, I say, suck it up Suzy. Don't whine to me! I have no patience for a non-trier. The specific example that got me online about this is persons who are NOT elderly behaving as if they WERE and expecting something extra from me, because they've chosen to adopt elderly behaviorisms in a non-elderly body and mind. Can't cope with that! Minimal patience in action there. See? Attitude. I still perceive my dad as a younger man, although he perceives himself as elderly-ish, and he IS over 70. So I have to remind myself that he's legitimately old. Er. Old-er. Not OLD. (Good thing Dad doesn't read this!) Attitude. Perceptions. His, and mine. When do we begin with patience? What about persons who don't take care of their health, consequently experience ill health, and then expect increased levels of patience on my part? "Care for me, now I'm ill." Well gee. You brought it on yourself, now I have to bear the consequences? My patience falters. What about Tough Love? Is it best applied before or after? Actually, I don't know if I have the patience to discuss that at this moment. Wow. What an attitude!

For those of you who were asking........

Here are the quotes on my office wall at the moment (not in order of importance):

"A man who limits his interests limits his life." Vincent Price

"We will either find a way or make one." Hannibal (the one who crossed the mountains, not the one who eats people)

"My goal is to become the person my dog thinks I am."

"Perseverance is not about talent or time. It is about finishing." And, "perseverance doesn't come into play until a person is tired."

"Come now, let us reason together. Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white like wool. If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land, but if you resist and rebel, you will be devoured by the sword." Bible

"Language reveals the man. Speak, that I may see thee." Ben Jonson (circa 1500a.d.)

I won't add the poem, the Hagar cartoon, or the Snoopy and Woodstock, altho' these too are very, very wise words. Gotta go now. The dog is whining!

Does anyone really care about our national parks? Does anyone think when they chuck crap out the window of the car? Will anyone sign my petition, if I send it to the prime minister? (Of Canada, I mean. Okay, I know the British PM will get more action, but we have to start at the bottom of the totem pole.) This new petition proposes the BANNNING (and if necessary, the transport) OF DISPOSABLE DIAPERS IN NATIONAL PARKS. What happens is, when persons with infants come to park gates, they are required to surrender all disposable diapers in their possession. If they have no cloth diapers on hand, the park ranger will exchange a portion of the disposables for an appropriate amount of cloth nappies, depending on the expected length of stay within said park. When leaving the park, infants may return the dirty cloth diapers for cleansing or composting, depending on the severity of condition. Of the nappies, not the babies. If possible (in accordance with the distance of transport) the previously deposited disposables will be returned. No disposable diapers will be available for sale anywhere within park boundaries. Cloth diapers will be offered for sale at reasonable prices, as well as diaper exchange services, where infants may exchange soiled nappies for clean. Infants and related caregivers residing within the park as citizens will be required to use only cloth diapers as well. (Unless they are potty trained.) Park employees will receive significantly discounted fees at the diaper exchange service. Not only will this procedure clean up extremely vile and potentially dangerous (to man and beast) littered diapers, it will decrease by tons the amount dumped (excuse the pun) in ...dumpsters. And landfills. Employment will be created via the formation of diaper exchange services. Diaper rash will significantly decrease, while ducks and jellyfish will have the opportunity to NOT fill their guts with plastic bits and silica pellets. When the petition is published, please add your name to the list of supporters.

Just Do It

Dear friends, I am about to give you a garden tip of paramount importance! (Is that a double invective?) For 2009, whether you enjoy eating them or not, PLANT PARSNIPS. Last week, here on the Cold Windy Water, I pried out a huge parsnip from the icy bed. Today, I harvested the entire crop, because the poor things were trying to reproduce! (After all, they're in bed.) Let me impress upon your garden psyche a most indelible imprint: The wonderfully satisfactory swelling of emotion as one pulls a fresh, eatable product from one's own garden in April.... I have found no match in my personal historical archive of gardening emotions. (Notice the word "archive" has the word "chive" within? Mmm...) As I mentioned to my daughter, the feeling is akin to the sprouting of Spring radishes, the uprooting and munching of same, except the Parsnip Pleasure is measurably more marvellous. And upon that most excellent phraseful of alliteration, I leave you for today. Plant Parsnips and be Pleasantly Uplifted. Next April.