Saturday, December 24, 2005

'twas the night before christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the store
All the creatures were stirring, buying last minute gifts galore.
The shelves were disheveled, all the shirts were a mess,
And the jeans were mis-hung by shoppers, who could care less.

The children ran down the isles, screaming so much,
All hooked up on sugar, candy, sweets, and such.
While their parents just stood there, with a plastered smile
In a line that stretched out for miles and miles.

When out on the floor there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my register to see what was the matter.
Away to the isle I flew like a flash,
Tore past the jewelry, and the belts with sash.

The light on the breast of the newly folded clothes
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a fallen shopper, with a mighty large rear.

Carmen, my manager, so lively and quick,
Bent down to the customer, ever so slick.
More rapid than eagles, her apologies soon came,
But the customer shouted and cursed her by name:

“You Stupid! You Bitch!
Oh, what the f***!
If your going to wave,
You should say ‘duck!’
Look what you did!
And look at my eye!
Ow! It hurts! It hurts!
I think I’m going to cry!”

What had happened was Carmen, trying to boost sales,
Tried to do a little dance, but ultimately failed.
“Say, ‘Next please,’ with a smile so nice!”
Then she whacked a customer, right between the eyes.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard from the crowd
A prancing and pawing that was not so loud.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the isle, my co-worker Grace, came with a bound.

She was dressed all in red, from her head to her toes,
and her vest was of Rudolph, the reindeer with a red nose.
A tiny little lady, no bigger than 4’2,
She came squeaking by, in her shiny black shoes.

Her eyes, how they twinkled! Her small glasses, how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the teeth from her smile was as white as the snow.
The way that she waddled, right down the isle,
Made everyone stop and look, and just smile
She had a broad face and a little round booty,
That shook when she laughed, like a bowl full of fruit-y.
(Ok, so fruit doesn’t actually shake, but it rhymes…sue me!)

She walked to the customer and in a sweet voice, she rang:
“Are you alright senorita? That was quite a loud bang.”
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head
Soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread.

A few moments later, after the commotion had settled
Grace talked to the customer, and in a way, sorta meddled.
She talked to the customer and helped her to understand,
That shopping on December 24th, was no where near grand.

“Senorita,” she said, “Why cant you see?
That Christmas isn’t about presents, it’s about family.
I’m sure you’re buying, with good intentions in mind,
Pero, go home to your family, there’s still time.”

Grace’s words of wisdom, were a blessing in disguise,
As she spoke, she helped everyone to realize,
That buying gifts, so late in the year,
Was no way to celebrate this Holiday cheer.

The customer realized, that Grace was right,
She should have been home, celebrating the night.
So she gathered her belongings and drove out of sight,
And I thought to myself, “Oy, were closing early tonight!”

Merry Christmas, from my family to yours!

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

friendly gestures

Remember those scenes in The Little Mermaid when Ariel tries to "talk" to Prince Eric and tell him her true feelings, only to be left devastated because he doesnt understand, and in turn the putz leaves Ariel for someone else who actually has a voice? I know exactly how fustrated she must've felt.

After having my tonsils lasered out, I've litterally have had no voice. Just a raspy whisper with a lot of flem. I sound just like my neighbor Ms. Pelba, from down the street. She's been a heavy smoker for more than 50 years and every five minutes or so, she hawks up some kind of mucas-y goodness from the depths of her lungs and spits it out, as if she were going for a Guiness world record. It's really gross and no one has been able to spend more than 10 minutes with her. Just like me.

And it's not my fault. I cant help it if I sound like Charlie Brown's teacher and am always hawking up my beluga caviar-looking flem. How else am I supposed to get better? I know one major factor that could help would be much-needed bed rest, but for some reason, the very idea seems so foreign to my new managers.

During the week of waiting to know if I had gotten the job, I had scheduled an appointment with St. Joesph's hospital, because my primary physician had requested that I do so. After I got the job, I explained to Gina that I was going to need two days off for rest and recooperation. Apparently it went in one ear and out the other, because the day after my surgery, I was scheduled to work 12-8:30.

I wasnt in any pain, and I was still able to do my job, but still, you know? Working the floor and register have been so hard because not only do the customers want an answer right away, but if we were playing charades and we were on the same team, we would totally lose.

How hard is it to follow simple hand movements and finger pointing? I swear, Helen Keller had it easy compared to these folks. I even switched my means of communication to writing on post-its, but that took too long and people would walk away as I tried to write all fast to them. How rude is that? And then if I'm not dealing with people who dont understand, I'm dealing with the people who do. So many people have come up to me and sign language their questions to which I respond with an arched brow and a shrugged shoulder. So how exactly am I supposed to deal?

Thursday, December 15, 2005

the weekend update

It's barely Friday, and already this week has worn me out. I so could use a day off.

Last Saturday I made a killing at the funeral ceremony of Barbara Cooper. No pun intended. Yes, the ceremony was finally held this weekend, despite the fact, that Barbara had been resting in an urn for over a month.

Of course, it was still my responsibilty to deliver the neighborhood eulogy. But with studying for finals, dealing with the witches of Kohls, and trying to maintain my less-than-perfect social life, I had no time to even process an idea of what I was going to say. It wasnt until the night before that the words came to me.

"How can we honor the memory of a woman like Barbara? Well, she was governed by the laws of physics as are all living things. It is a scientific fact that hearts and clocks slow down as they approach the speed of light, the point in which matter is converted into energy. Babrara's heart approached that speed on Friday evening, 7:57, according to the coroner, converting her matter into energy. Into pure white light. Though she is no longer with us, she is all around us."

Not a dry eye within a mile of East 5th St. I was so proud of myself for delivering such a touching tribute and even more prouder of the fact that I didnt use the words "whore" or "adultress" in my speech. Everyone at the ceremony came up to me and told me that it was just so beautiful and so touching. Too bad it was totally unoriginal and copyrighted. Yup. And it's all thanks to my Season One DVD of Third Rock From The Sun. I know, I know, but when you're writing about a dead woman at two o'clock in the morning, any and all ideas seemed to be good at the time. Moving on...

After the ceremony, I went into work, and I gotta say...it's actually starting to grow on me. The managers may be total assholes, but most of my co-workers are actually pretty cool. They're really nice and most of them have even shared stories with me about how shitty the managers are. Which was kinda nice knowing that I'm not totally delusional about the Nazi camp they run. Some of the tales they've shared with me are so juicy that if I ever need to blackmail them, God forbid and knock on wood, I am ready. Wow. Ouch. That did not come out the way I meant it to be. Is it bad that I'm already thinking of blackmailing my co-workers? Wow...I so need to stop hating on my managers.

But, while having fun at work, and chatting away with my new found friends, I got the best news of all. Wednesday, my friend Priscilla gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Weighing in at 8lbs and 8oz and measuring 20in in length, Nicholas Scott Johnson was born. I just came back from the hospital and lemme tell ya...I can so already tell that the kid is gonna be one major heartbreaker. The kid has got the biggest feet on a baby, that I have ever seen! And you know what they say about kids with big feet...

I still cant believe my friend gave birth to a baby. I mean, I knew she was pregnant and all, but still, you know? I guess I just never fully grasped the concept. But she's fine, and so is the baby, and I cant wait to see them again. Priscilla even asked me if I would record some baby lullaby songs, because she said she wanted the baby to hear me sing, which made me smile so hard. It's cuz a long time ago, for Valentine's Day, I sang Priscilla a song and she's always wanted to record my voice? I still dont know why, cuz I dont think I'm all that great, but it sure made my day. So I told her I'd give it a shot, and that I would try to record a song, once I get my voice back.

I have my voice with me right now, but by this time tomorrow, I wont be able to make a sound. Not for a full two weeks. The reason? I'm having a tonsilectomy tomorrow morning. I know it's a routine procedure, but I'm still a little freaked, you know? Dr. Huerta said, that because of my enlarged tonsils, and how my throat is shaped like a triangle, rather than a circle like most others, they needed to come out, or else I could choke to death mid-sleep. The other good thing is, according to Dr. Huerta, I will no longer snore, snort, have allergies, or get any more sick throat problems, like that mono I had a while back.

I guess what I'm most afraid of is my voice changing. Which is why I added this Audio Post, so that I may forever have a recording of my voice, one last time.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

to sink or swim

OMG, work was so stressful today. I know I shouldnt be talking bad about the place that provides me with a weekly paycheck, (cuz nowadays they can look you up online in a heartbeat) but seriously...I wanna quit. After two days of training (three if you count that horrible Black Friday), I wanna throw in the towel and give up. The reason? None of the managers like me. And how far can a temporary sales associate climb the corporate ladder if none of his supervisors like him? Huh?

Donna, the secretary, doesnt think I have the needed passion that, I guess, is required for the job (I overheard her talking on the phone about who she thinks wont survive this Holiday season), Carmen keeps making little "jokes" of how she thinks I hate her (she's the boss-lady that made me run to all five registers on Black Friday, bagging everyone's purchases, while the other trainee's just stood there looking all lethargic), and Gina...oy...I cant get that woman to just smile at me. I swear, it's like she tries to be unpleasant. She could be riding Space Mountain at Disneyland, next to Santa Claus and a genie, while having a menage a trois with Brad and Angelina, smoking a joint, knowing that Ed McMahon would meet her at the front entrance to give her a $10 million dollar check, and the bitch, still would not smile. Ugh...

But it's not just the "being liked" part that bothers me...it's also about some other things. I found out, I was a "pity hire", meaning they had no attention of hiring my ass, and only did it because some of their employees were caught abusing their employee discount. How do I know? I was talking to a fellow employee, and during the middle of our conversation she asked, "Wait...are you a late hire?" She may as well have asked, "Wait...are you a leper with pink eye and the flu?" Was this what they of us? I couldnt let my fellow "pity hire" friend Kathleen walk and work around the store, not knowing what everyone saw her as. But after I saw her employee folder, I kinda paused on the whole thing.

While taking my training test on the computer, Donna casually laid Kathleen's folder on mine, and walked away. Of course, the tempataion was strong, and I looked at Kathleen's folder. On the front, Donna had written: temp, $6.50, apparel. While on mine, she wrote: temp, 6.25, mens. Exactly like that. I was a dollar sign and a quarter short of Kathleen's payrate. Why was Kathleen getting a quarter more than I was? We were both "pity hires", we started training the same day, and Kathleen told Gina that she had "absolutely no experience in retail." The only difference between Kathleen and I, was that she was in her mid-60's, smelled like White Diamonds, and was white.

Ok, so maybe that last difference shifted this post from light and airy banter, to a big ol' racist uproar, but just hear me out. Up until highschool, everyone thought I was of Cauasian background. But I'm not. I'm a total mutt with really light skin. I guess the fact that I dont speak a word of anything foreign, just only made me more White-r. It's a shame really. Both my parents and all my grandparents speak Spanish, but I dont. What makes it even more shameful is I can do a ton of accents (I swear I could give Tracey Ullman a run for her money) but I suck at my Spanish one. Anyways, the point is, I've never really experienced racism. I'm too dark to be accepted in the White community, yet too light to be accepted in the Hispanic community. Kinda like Jessica Alba. Race has never been a factor for me, because people dont know what to label me as, you know? But now, I wonder if times are a changin'...

Am I being treated unfair in the workplace because of the color of my skin? Am I being paid less because of my background? Or am I taking things out of content and way too seriously? Do I need to lighten up (no pun intended) or should I take a stand? A part of me, want to just throw the towel in and give up, cuz I may as well quit while I'm ahead. And another part of me, wants me to show them that I can do it, and that I'm not a failure. But then why show people up, who dont care anyways?

Monday, December 05, 2005

to strive or suffer

Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks

So...take one, huge, wild guess who hates their new job?

Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks kohl's sucks Kohl's sucks

Me. Sure, Kohl's has its flexible hours, they pay every Friday, and on certain days, they have double employee discounts including stuff already on sale. But yes, indeed, Kohl's does suck.

After working for what seemed like an eternity on Black Friday, Carmen, the store manager told me and three other employees that we would all be getting calls back later on that afternoon. But no call was made. I waited the entire weekend, and still, no call was made. It wasnt until I talked to my friends, Maria and Jose Cuervo, that I got the guts to call up Gina, the hiring manager, and ask her what the deal was.

ME: Hi, Gina, it's me David Tellez.
GINA: Hi...how...can I help you?
ME: Well, I was just wondering, if I was going to ever get a call back.
GINA: Um, yeah, we sent out letters to the people we wanted to hire, and, well, I cant remember, but I think you were on that list. I'm sorry, I just cant remember.
ME: Oh. Well, when should we be getting our letters?
GINA: Um, soon. Yeah. Soon.
ME: Ok, so, like...
GINA: Yeah, I'm sorry Gary...
ME: David.
GINA: Yeah, David. I'm sorry, but were really busy right now. We'll call you.
ME: When?
GINA: Uh, tomorrow and if we dont call, then you call us.
ME: Ok...but,
GINA: Ok? Thanks! Bye!

What a way to feel wanted, huh? Gina didnt call me the next day. Surprise, surprise. Instead, it was another manager and she offered me a job. I took it and went in for orientation yesterday. But the entire time, while I sat there with a smile plastered on my face, I wondered if I made the right choice. My head was saying that this was a good job that could pay off the bills that were accumulating under my name and I wouldnt be home all day playing Suzie Homemaker. But in my heart it didnt feel right. It still doesnt feel right.

Should I stand up against the oppressive judgement of a corrupt company...or should I just suck it up, work with the tension and just pay off my late $250 phone bill?

Friday, December 02, 2005

The Wicked Witch of the Library

The library. A grand building filled with millions of books that are available to anyone. A place where the intellectuals and the homeless gather to read, sleep, and absorb the wealth of knowledge that is at their disposal. But as I've learned today, one thing that cannot be learned at a library is decorum.

Yesterday I was at the library doing research for my final English paper, on people who lead double lives. The concept came to me after my class watched the movie "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" and I saw Oprah do a segment on the very same topic. According to the layout Mr. Julian gave us, we were to have several online resources as well as several written ones. Which explained my presence at the library. Otherwise, I would have been at home watching reruns of Full House.

After taking pages of notes and quotes on people who lead double lives, I picked up my resources and placed them on the cart near the Information Desk. It was then, that this lady, who was sportin a rainbow tie-dye dress and birkenstocks along with a spiky mullet and a bajillion bangles, came up to me.

LIBRARIAN: Excuse me. What do you think you're doing?

I looked around, trying to find the poor soul that this librarian was ready to attack. But, alas, I saw no one.

ME: Me?
LIBRARIAN: Yes, you!
ME: Oh. Yeah?
LIBRARIAN: I asked you what you were doing.
ME: Oh...uh...Putting the books away?
LIBRARIAN: No! You are not putting the books away! Instead you are putting them on my cart!
ME: Ok.

Obviously, she was going somewhere with this, but I was clueless as to where. I mean, how can you take someone seriously when they're dressed like a kalidescope?

LIBRARIAN: You took those books off the shelves and you need to put them back where they belong.
ME: Why?
LIBRARIAN: Do you think it is my job to put away your books?
ME: Um...
LIBRARIAN: I need you to pick up your books and put them back where you found them.
ME: Are you kidding me?
LIBRARIAN: No, I am not kidding you.
ME: Well, I dont know how to do that. Those books have numbers and stuff.
LIBRARIAN: Pick up your books and I will show you where to put them.

I dont know what it was about this libararian, but she scared the hell out of me. Maybe it was her bushy eyebrows. Maybe it was that weird freckle-mole she had near her left eye. Or maybe it was the small sweat moustache that she was beginning to form on her upper lip (of course, upon closer inspection, it wasn't a moustache of sweat...it was just a moustache). All, I know was that it was something. And that something made me pick the books off the cart and follow the bitchy librarian.

I couldnt believe I was actually gonna put the books back where they belonged. Who was this libararian, to think she had the power to make me listen to her? Where was my courage? Where was my confidence? Where were my witty comebacks that I learned from watching countless episodes of The Gilmore Girls?

This librarian needed to be put in her place, but for some reason, my mouth was dry and I couldnt think of a thing to say. That's when I did it. I threw the books in the air, toward her direction, turned, and ran down the stairs to the first floor of the library. I didnt even look back, as I rushed out the sliding doors. The last thing I remember hearing was those books making a "THUMP" sound, and it didnt sound like they hit the floor or the shelves. So possibly, I may have hit the old bag. But then again, she deserved it, right?