Thursday, June 18, 2009
Just a couple more random things about my trip to Chicago...
First, Rusty had to have a little breakdown of sorts and stir up some drama as a result of some severe emotional stress when we got back. I think we're out of the woods on that one, though, and I'd like to put it behind me and pretend it never happened.
More importantly, some points of humor: I hate taxis. I have always hated taxis. There's something about getting into a car with a complete stranger that skeeves me out, and I have never gotten out of a cab thinking, "That was fun." or even, "I'm glad I did that." On Friday night we cabbed it to the bar. The cabbie was listening to some faaabulous music of some sort of middle-eastern or Indian origin. Given I couldn't understand what "Naaaaaaaaa-a-haaaa--nyaaaa-aaaaaaa---aoelaaaaahyaaaaaaa" means, I could really identify the language. But it set Rusty off giggling because it was pretty stereotypical. The giggles didn't last long, though when it became clear that the cabbie was on a jihad against every American driver on the road and didn't care if we died in the process. I was definitely glad to get out of that cab. Then on the way home, 3 am or thereabouts, and we cab it back home. Just a few blocks from our destination, there is suddenly a man standing in the street, waving his arms and yelling in yet another language I can't identify. We stop at a stop sign, and the man begins running after the cab, still screaming and waving his arms. "Is that guy chasing us?" The cabbie stops and rolls down the window. They speak to each other in some odd African language (I recall seeing something about Kenya on the cabbie's nametag, hell, maybe it was his name. I was drunk.) Then the cabbie lets the screaming foreign man into the cab and continues to our destination. Yes, it was an adventure.
Also an adventure? Karaoke. It was brief but fun. But I will never watch a Burger King commercial the same again, as I am convinced that the King himself was there singing Stevie Nicks' "Gypsy". I swear it was him. And since Blake almost peed himself laughing when I asked him to confirm my suspicions, I am further convinced. I went home wanting a cheeseburger.
And can I get a "Holla" for having a good job? Seriously, here I am, the middle of Week 2, and I'm still loving it. This is a seriously complicated job--forms, codes, protocols, paperwork, it's endless. But WORLDS better than the crappy retail gig I had before. For example, one of my boss's favorite marketing techniques is to set up a Guitar Hero in the front of the lobby to draw shoppers into the bank. The attention is all he wants, but he stands there and shreds for hours goading passers-by to come beat him. And it works. And it makes it fun as hell to work around, too.
Today when my boss said, "I overheard what you said to that customer..." I had to brace myself, but instead of hearing some sort of verbal bitch-slap, he said, "and that's exactly what I love to hear. You got it exactly right, and if you keep that up, I'm sure you're gonna do really well."
Now seriously, people, when was the last time your boss said something like that to you?
First, Rusty had to have a little breakdown of sorts and stir up some drama as a result of some severe emotional stress when we got back. I think we're out of the woods on that one, though, and I'd like to put it behind me and pretend it never happened.
More importantly, some points of humor: I hate taxis. I have always hated taxis. There's something about getting into a car with a complete stranger that skeeves me out, and I have never gotten out of a cab thinking, "That was fun." or even, "I'm glad I did that." On Friday night we cabbed it to the bar. The cabbie was listening to some faaabulous music of some sort of middle-eastern or Indian origin. Given I couldn't understand what "Naaaaaaaaa-a-haaaa--nyaaaa-aaaaaaa---aoelaaaaahyaaaaaaa" means, I could really identify the language. But it set Rusty off giggling because it was pretty stereotypical. The giggles didn't last long, though when it became clear that the cabbie was on a jihad against every American driver on the road and didn't care if we died in the process. I was definitely glad to get out of that cab. Then on the way home, 3 am or thereabouts, and we cab it back home. Just a few blocks from our destination, there is suddenly a man standing in the street, waving his arms and yelling in yet another language I can't identify. We stop at a stop sign, and the man begins running after the cab, still screaming and waving his arms. "Is that guy chasing us?" The cabbie stops and rolls down the window. They speak to each other in some odd African language (I recall seeing something about Kenya on the cabbie's nametag, hell, maybe it was his name. I was drunk.) Then the cabbie lets the screaming foreign man into the cab and continues to our destination. Yes, it was an adventure.
Also an adventure? Karaoke. It was brief but fun. But I will never watch a Burger King commercial the same again, as I am convinced that the King himself was there singing Stevie Nicks' "Gypsy". I swear it was him. And since Blake almost peed himself laughing when I asked him to confirm my suspicions, I am further convinced. I went home wanting a cheeseburger.
And can I get a "Holla" for having a good job? Seriously, here I am, the middle of Week 2, and I'm still loving it. This is a seriously complicated job--forms, codes, protocols, paperwork, it's endless. But WORLDS better than the crappy retail gig I had before. For example, one of my boss's favorite marketing techniques is to set up a Guitar Hero in the front of the lobby to draw shoppers into the bank. The attention is all he wants, but he stands there and shreds for hours goading passers-by to come beat him. And it works. And it makes it fun as hell to work around, too.
Today when my boss said, "I overheard what you said to that customer..." I had to brace myself, but instead of hearing some sort of verbal bitch-slap, he said, "and that's exactly what I love to hear. You got it exactly right, and if you keep that up, I'm sure you're gonna do really well."
Now seriously, people, when was the last time your boss said something like that to you?
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