Customer Service--New Policy Needed

I don't care if the cashier checking me out doesn't greet me, or if the only words they mutter to me is my total. I've been there, I get it--you hate your job, whatever. I do care, however, when they hand me my coins on top of my bills. Biggest. Pet. Peeve. Ever. It's an awkward balancing act that I'm not interested in playing while a line behind me is building up. I don't even pay with cash that often, but when I do it's just horrible. When I cashiered during my high school and college days, I ALWAYS handed the coins back first, then the dollars. I also counted back their change (the dollars, not the coins). No one ever does that anymore. They're just like, "Here's your change." And hand me this wadded mixture of coins and bills that forces me to put down my wallet, pour the change from one hand to the other, dumping them into my zippered coin pocket so I can then stuff the dollars into the billfold. Whew. Quite the process.

I think every store should adopt a "No-Change-on-Top-of-Bills Policy" to optimize their customer's shopping experience. I mean, stores don't want their shoppers to walk out feeling frustrated do they?

Am I overreacting? I've been known to be a little over-dramatic at times...

I Wish

The other morning I caught myself thinking "I wish" a lot.

I wish it wasn't snowing.
I wish there was coffee already made.
I wish I was skinnier.
I wish my eyes were blue.
I wish these pants had pockets.
I wish Mike didn't have every light in the apartment on. (Well, this one is kind of legit... I have no idea why all the lamps were glowing brightly. Totally unnecessary.)

That morning I didn't think I looked like anything special. My hair was especially flat and limp, my complexion--nothing to write home about and my outfit is my usual work attire. But when I stopped into a co-worker's cube, she told me I looked pretty. She is someone who I have always think of as gorgeous, so it meant a lot that she said that to me, and it really boosted my confidence!

After work I had a hair appointment. I went short. Not like Emma Watson short, but shoulder length short (about five inches were chopped off). This may look like nothing on a ruler, but oh boy! Big change! Back in college I was all about cutting, coloring and styling my hair every which way. I never worried about it; I knew it'd grow back. This hair cut was a huge decision for me, though! I was asking Michael every five minutes if I should really cut it! I really wanted my long hair, but it was so lifeless and spit-endy! The whole reason I wanted long hair was to play with it and style it, but I never did. So my new goal is to care about my hair. Not just straighten it every morning, but to actually style it somehow. Even if it's just some simple volume. I think Stacy and Clinton are right--look good, feel good. I'm going to do my best to gain some confidence! Instead of thinking "I wish," I hope to be happy with what I do have, because I really do have a lot to be thankful for! A few examples include: a loving fiancee, wonderful family (minus Lil--what a bitch) and friends, a pretty apartment, a savings account and a job!

Woes of a Temp

I am grateful that I have a job, and most of the time I don't feel like a temporary employee, but lately this hasn't been the case. Besides always missing out on normal perks, like vacation, 401K, etc. I miss out on the cool, every day deals. For instance, to support sustainability, the company provided fancy Nalgene water bottles to its employees. Do I get one? Nope. Am I really jealous of a water bottle? Yup. Us temps also miss out on the same corporate emails every one else gets, so I had no idea we could wear Green Bay Packer attire today--including hoodies! Huge bummer for me, since that's my go-to apparel!

Being a temp also means dealing with the staffing agency. Before this position, I've never worked with one. In fact, when I got hired, I had no idea that my employer would be the staffing agency; I thought the role of the agency was to simply find companies people for open positions. You can imagine my confusion and shock reading through my "you're hired" paperwork!

While I've only worked with this one staffing agency, I can confidently say there is no one worse than the one I got stuck with. The employees are unprofessional in every way... I'm talking painting nails at the office, using the work place as a daycare for Popsicle-eating cry babies and never knowing answers to anything. They do not properly communicate with us about changes or, for instance, our checks not getting deposited. Even though they knew us direct depositers were not receiving our pay, they opted to have us call them in a panic when our bank balance was not what we anticipated. No mass emails, no phone calls to the employees or companies for which we work. Nothing.

Apparently our direct deposit system will be non functioning for the next four to six weeks while they "figure out the new process." I guess they recently switched to a new system. Personally, I would have figured out how to work it BEFORE I began using it, but that's just me. So now our paper checks are either mailed out to you three days later, or hand delivered to our office. But, since I have an odd schedule, I'm only at the office once every three Fridays. To be even more inconvenient, I live about 30 miles away from the staffing agency's office where I could pick up my check myself. I'm thankful I don't live paycheck to paycheck anymore, so that I always have a good chuck of money on reserve, but I still find it incredibly annoying. Mainly because it's them, and I had already decided to hate them months ago.

Celebrity Slimdowns

I turned on the TV today, and E! was playing a special called Celebrity Slimdowns. I decided to keep watching it, and it really made me feel a lot better about my weight. How impressionable am I?!

It was nice to know that skinny famous people have had to loosen their belts at least once in their lives. To know that they felt what it's like to battle the bulge(s), and how it makes you feel like dirt. Of course none of them have real jobs with real schedules, and had all the time in the world to work out with their expensive personal trainers and dieticians. But, it has motivated me to continue to watch what I eat, and work out if I can. All it takes is some hard work and portion control (and patience). It's not hard. It's not hard. It's not hard. It's doable. It's doable. It's doable.

Hopefully I'll still have this fire lit tomorrow when I'm not working, and can actually go to the YMCA for a good workout. If history has taught me anything, it's that it's not likely. I always manage to crave some cardio when I'm unable to do it! Maybe it's subconscious, so that I can use the "I never have time to work out" excuse.

Le Sigh: Bad karma as a result of gift gifting.

Have you ever given a gift to a little kid that you know will make them delighted, but drive their parents nuts? Well, I now know what it's like to be the parent of the child who receives a drum set for Christmas. No, I don't have children, but I do have my fiancé, Michael...

This year for Christmas I gave my 3-year-old sister, Claire, a rather large princess castle tent that my dad wasn't too pleased with, since the TV and/or all pathways are blocked by its presence. I'm sure I've given just as obnoxious gifts to my brothers over the years, but this year Dad got me back--and he doesn't even know it!

Last year my brothers received remote controlled helicopters as gifts, and Michael was having a blast flying them around. So, this year my dad felt it necessary to give him one. I laughed, thinking it was funny he remembered the good time Mike had with them... Until I got home. It has this loud, constant hum when in flight that drives me up the wall. I tolerate it for as long as I can by closing the doors, turning up the TV and trying to focus on anything else, but all I hear is that damn hum. Of course I'm just the fun-hater, not wanting him to enjoy his toy!

I finally found bubble bath, and was so excited to sit in the tub and relax. But, as soon as I settled in, Michael started flying his helicopter! I called out, pleading with him to hold off until after my bath. But could he? No. His solution? He opened the bathroom door, stuck his hand around the corner and flipped the switch that controls the LOUD exhaust fan. Are you kidding me?! So I couldn't relax in my bubble bath that I've been craving for years, because I now had two obnoxious noises driving me crazy. How unfair is this?

Too Fat To Recognize

"You've gained some weight, haven't you?" Lil asked.

I was attempting to piece together one of my 6-year-old cousin's Star Wars ships when she posed the question. I looked up at her across the table in disbelief that this was really happening, on Christmas Eve no less. I shot a glance at my mom who was standing next to Lil, and her eyes widened in shock. I was already warm, but now I was sweating. I could feel the heat in my face. Too many swear words were running through my head for one not to come out of my mouth, I was sure of it.

"A little..." I replied.

What?! That's not what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her how much I hate her. That she's ruining my grandfather's life. That she's a complete and utter bitch. That you never ask someone about their weight, unless it's gone down. That if you have nothing nice to say, you say nothing at all.

My eyes fell back down to the little pieces of the model. Han Solo was not sitting in the cockpit properly, and I thought that if I just focus on building this ship, I won't cry. 

"Yeah, I didn't recognize you when you came in. You used to be so skinny," Lil continued.

Seriously, you're still talking about this? Are you kidding me? Maybe you don't recognize me because you haven't seen me in two years? Ya know, because you don't allow Grandpa to come to family functions... Forget commenting on my long, blond hair; my engagement; my new job; my cute owl earrings. Hateful words were fighting their way out of my lips. I didn't know how much longer I could keep them in.

Lil hooked her arm around my mom who was still standing next to her. "Not you, though," she told her. "You've always been so skinny." She pulled Mom closer with an approving one-armed hugged.

I looked up at Lil again, who was looking back at me with pity in her eyes. Probably wondering how I'm even alive, being so fat and all.

Focus on Han Solo's ship. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Maybe if you just shut up, she will too. And all of a sudden a clear, tiny plastic circle went flying out of my shaking hands. I was so upset. My eyes were hot. Pull it together, Jess.

"It must be all that love that's fattened you up," she laughed. Great, I was hoping you were going to keep talking about this.

Grandpa and I started the search party for the ship's rear cockpit window. Good, a distraction. Turns out, it was on the table the whole time.

Doesn't every woman know that you don't voice other women's weight gain to their face? You wait and do it behind their back when they can't hear you. This unwritten rule obviously needs to be written down, and passed out in bolded, red, underlined and italicized text to those who have trouble grasping this common social courtesy.

And the worst part, as I was walking out the door to go home so I could finally cry, Grandpa calls out to me, "Give your Aunt Lil a hug." I took a few more steps before it fully registered what he had asked of me. I turn around, ready to tell him that I hate her, and I will not give her a hug. But, in reality, I'm sighing, turning around and walking back toward the house. I lean in the left half of my body around the cold, grey door Lil is standing behind, as she pats my arm and says, "Aw... I love you." Go fuck yourself. I make it out the door, through the garage and to the driveway. I think it’s safe, and I can’t hold back the tears anymore. “I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Grandpa calls out to me. “I’m glad you’re happy, Grandpa,” I manage to choke out.

For those of you who don’t know, Great Aunt Lil was married to my grandpa’s brother. His brother passed away, my grandma (his wife) passed away and now they’re dating. It's a regular love story, right? Ugh. It’s disgusting. Even though they’re not blood relatives, it grosses me out. Maybe even more so because my grandma never liked her. It’s obvious why—she’s not a lady. She has no filter. She’s a bitch, plain and simple.

When Mike woke up, he said the right things, telling me I'm pretty, not fat. But no matter how many times he tells me, it doesn't erase Lil's comments. It's all I can think about. I'm kicking myself for not telling her off. For agreeing with her.

This "conversation" couldn't have happened at a worse time. Lately I have been feeling so awful about my image, especially around my mother who is a zumba instructor at a gym. I didn't eat for the rest of the day, I was too busy crying. I've been trying to lose weight, who isn't? I joined the Y, and am cutting down on my portions. But, it's a slow process. And now part of me wants to gain weight—just to spite her. To show her that I’m happy with how I look, even though I’m not.

Grandpa is always with Lil's family in a different town. They don’t come to holiday dinners, or tell anyone when he’s back home for a short while to visit. When we call to speak with him on the phone, she answers. He recently broke his back falling down the basement steps. We only knew about it because my aunt happened to call him that day to see how he was doing. Lil refused to provide details about his injury, his condition, what the doctor said. Until, that is, my aunt told her what’s what. And I know that if I would’ve spoken out against Lil this Christmas Eve, my mom and aunt and everyone else would have supported my outburst. It would have been justified. And God knows it would’ve felt great. And now my opportunity to tell her how I feel is lost. I doubt I'll see her again.  

I keep replaying this day over and over in my head. Wishing I stood up for myself, or, at the very least, refused a hug. Instead of enjoying Christmas day, all I could focus on was my heavy double chin, bulging stomach and squishy back. Even in the comfort of my Packer sweatshirt, I felt like everyone was staring at me in bewilderment of my fat. Even now, writing this, I have to look up at the ceiling to drain the tears back into my eyes, and blink away the blurry vision they leave behind.

Tempurpedic

When it's time for us to get a new mattress, I'm fairly sure I want to get a Tempurpedic. Those commercials have me sold! But, the problem I face is this: if it doesn't transfer movement, how the heck am I going to be able to toss and turn abruptly to wake up the LOUD SNORE-R next to me? I truly hate the sound of snoring, but I feel guilty waking Michael up just to ask him to shut up and face the other direction. I find that practically jumping on the bed as I switch positions wakes him up on his own--and he almost always turns to face away from me.

Snoring has to be one of the worst possible things in the universe. I cannot stand it. It'd rather listen to an alarm clock beeping, a saw sawing, Gilbert Gottfried reading The Boxcar Children... Pretty much anything...

Early Christmas

Since I needed a pick-me-up, and Mike couldn't wait anymore, we exchanged gifts tonight. We're so bad! Last year we opened on like the 21st, and the year before that we celebrated early, too! Each year our present patience is significantly fading away!

It was great getting to see him open his present! A few days ago, he made it clear that he knew what I got him, so when I picked up the gift from his uncle's house, I knew I had to throw Mike off the scent! I put it in a bigger box, added magazines for weight and puzzle pieces for sound effects. And, it worked! He was blown away when he saw that I got him an expenisve sight for his AR-15. He thought it was going to be a magnifier, so I really shocked him.

I'm so happy my collection of Harry Potter is complete! All on Bluray.

This Saturday we're going to his mom's house for Christmas, and I can't wait to see the future in-laws and spread more cheer! I'm really feeling like Santa Clause this year! Gotta give it while I can!

When You Just Want to Have a Bad Day...

Ya know those days where you just feel lousy, and a few things go wrong and you just want to have a bad day? When you just want to be sad, and cry, and throw tantrums because your phone isn't linking up that one contact to your Facebook account, or because your cookies didn't turn out, or you burned your hand on the stove making dinner? That's my today.

It started out well, with the on-time delivery of my replacement phone. After that, I wanted to go visit Grandma at the cemetery, but her area is under construction, and I couldn't. What cemeteries require construction?! I was so upset that I couldn't go sit on the cold cement and tell her about my future job woes. I know that it would help me. That's really what's bothering me today. I keep feeling overwhelmed with thoughts of unemployment. I teared up when I pulled into the doctor's for my appointment and wondered how I was going to pay for the visit, and my prescriptions. It's so unnerving. Mike does a good job at staying positive about my future, and it helps knowing someone has hope that an employer will want me.

When Mike got home, he tried to cheer me up, but I just want to be sad. And I really want him to do the dishes. Like, really badly. 

I know tomorrow will be better. Hopefully.

Glasses & Phone Update

They were able to cancel my order on my glasses! I'm really happy! Except, now, I'm paying more for these other ones... But I feel so much better! Maybe I'll sport my glasses more now when I'm uber tired. Does anyone else find it extra hard to keep your eyes open when you're wearing contacts while being super sleepy? Switching from contacts to glasses is like an energy burst for me!

As for my phone, it's still under warranty (until Dec. 24), so thank God! My new one will be here tomorrow (over-night delivery). Granted, I could have no reception again in one day, one week, one month, one year... or never. But, hey, it's free!
I feel 10X better about life because I was able to get the glasses I want, and a replacement phone. Ahh... it's the little material things in life that really keep ya going...