It's a saturday at the store... I've made a Billy Joel pandora station at Adrian's urging. That man can prompt me to do (almost) anything.
I can see him now, in his sing-songy voice, button-down shirt, handsome face, sitting at his desk (my old desk-- bittersweet memories) in the green Magic Beans office struggling not to sing along to Benny and the Jets in his headphones and answering telephone calls from customers... annoyed to pause right in the bridge of B-B-B-BENNY! Hoping Sarah doesn't look over and see his toe tapping, his fingers jiving on the keyboard as he answers stroller matchmaking emails. Love him.
The Happy Bambino website continues to occupy all of my time. What little time I have left is occupied by my dearest hubby-to-be, wedding plans, bridesmaid-gift-making, and plans for april. Not that I'm complaining, because I'm the kind of person who's built to stay busy. When I run out of things to do in 6 or so months- check back in with me. Hopefully I won't be pregnant, or adopting puppies. I kid! I kid!
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Confessions of the Queen Security Guard of the World
I love going through old writings. This piece is SO ME. From the Fogg Art Museum
April 2006.
Humans are funny creatures. I feel like I learn a lot about humanity through the coat room Sunday shift. I can sum up a relationship through one simple question, "Do you guys want me to hang this together?"
It's like I've asked them to define their relationship: sleeping together, seeing each other, dating, boyfriend/girlfriend, married..
Sometimes the answer will be, "We're not together.. but you can put our coats together." followed by an awkward laugh, which I return with a nod.
I feel worst for the couples who come in and one eagerly smiles and enthusiastically says, "Yes!" at the same time that the other one says, "Uh....... well, yes. I mean, sure. That's fine."
Sometimes one feels the need to define the relationship for me, saying, "well... if it means we only get one tag, I guess that's easier..." or "IF they'll both fit together..." I feel like I should take the other partner and pat them on the head and say, "Honey... get out of that relationship, because it's going NOWHERE." If it fits? Two jackets on one hanger? It doesn't take a brain surgeon to know that almost any two jackets can fit on one hanger. And not JUST because I'm the Queen of the Coatroom. I generally end up feeling more like the patrons personal therapist. Sitting behind my desk with a clipboard and glasses, listening to the frustrations of being sent to me to drop off their bags (which have their laptops in them, because they are the type of people that bring laptops to museums), or having to get passes to take pictures, which took an extra three minutes out of their already overstuffed day. And imagine, being asked to leave a backpack or an umbrella in the coatroom! The injustice of it all! And so I'm forced to coddle them; pat their heads, tell them I understand; and all the while hope that at the end of their stay, there's a tip for me so that I can make my way to Starbucks to be coddled by my grande soy caramel macchiato. It's a vicious cycle, it really is; but at the end of the day, I'm glad that I answer to a cup of coffee and not a coatroom attendant.
Humans are strange creatures, especially the ones that frequent art museums.
April 2006.
Humans are funny creatures. I feel like I learn a lot about humanity through the coat room Sunday shift. I can sum up a relationship through one simple question, "Do you guys want me to hang this together?"
It's like I've asked them to define their relationship: sleeping together, seeing each other, dating, boyfriend/girlfriend, married..
Sometimes the answer will be, "We're not together.. but you can put our coats together." followed by an awkward laugh, which I return with a nod.
I feel worst for the couples who come in and one eagerly smiles and enthusiastically says, "Yes!" at the same time that the other one says, "Uh....... well, yes. I mean, sure. That's fine."
Sometimes one feels the need to define the relationship for me, saying, "well... if it means we only get one tag, I guess that's easier..." or "IF they'll both fit together..." I feel like I should take the other partner and pat them on the head and say, "Honey... get out of that relationship, because it's going NOWHERE." If it fits? Two jackets on one hanger? It doesn't take a brain surgeon to know that almost any two jackets can fit on one hanger. And not JUST because I'm the Queen of the Coatroom. I generally end up feeling more like the patrons personal therapist. Sitting behind my desk with a clipboard and glasses, listening to the frustrations of being sent to me to drop off their bags (which have their laptops in them, because they are the type of people that bring laptops to museums), or having to get passes to take pictures, which took an extra three minutes out of their already overstuffed day. And imagine, being asked to leave a backpack or an umbrella in the coatroom! The injustice of it all! And so I'm forced to coddle them; pat their heads, tell them I understand; and all the while hope that at the end of their stay, there's a tip for me so that I can make my way to Starbucks to be coddled by my grande soy caramel macchiato. It's a vicious cycle, it really is; but at the end of the day, I'm glad that I answer to a cup of coffee and not a coatroom attendant.
Humans are strange creatures, especially the ones that frequent art museums.
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