Wal-Mart Lingo and Courtesy

The jewelry dept. just started two new people, one from another part of the store, and one from a Wal-Mart in Michigan. Sounds like the biggest difference is that it's colder there. Having two newcomers left me with both of them over the weekend. Long weekend.

Then last night I was alone. It was mostly a good night, as Tuesdays at Wal-Mart are nothing to write home about. Not many customers, so I got a lot of costume jewelry stuff done. On my way out of the store afterwards I told this story to my coworker, Gabe:

The person filling in while I had my lunch asked if I could wait until 8 p.m., so I said sure, why not? It hadn't occurred to me that I had clocked in at 1:00. Just a few minutes before eight, a couple came in and wanted to cancel their layaway. They had chosen a ring some time ago, and in the mean time had found something they liked better. I typed my ID and password into the register, but it booted me out because I needed a break. I called over a C.S.M., and he signed in for me, then I tried to cancel the layaway. It needed approval from a C.S.M., and he told me that he couldn't do it, because he was logged onto the register, so we logged him off, got another guy with register numbers over to sign in. He was signed in to another register, so the C.S.M. approved him to sign in on two different registers, I canceled the layaway, and the C.S.M. approved the cancellation. A few minutes later someone came over to cover my lunch, and I gratefully left. Gabe's response was that the C.S.M. probably could have approved the operation if he had tried.

If you managed to make it through that paragraph without falling asleep, I'll be surprised. To most of you, it probably made little or no sense, so here is the short version:

I worked too long without a lunch break, so something simple that usually takes just me less than a minute to do took three people more than five minutes to do.

It's not a particularly entertaining story, but it highlights an interesting effect that I suppose is true for most jobs: if you stay long enough, you learn enough stuff for a new language. As I pointed out to Gabe after telling this story, it is a story that requires some serious background knowledge. You would have to know about working retail, and there are some bits that are pretty Wal-Mart specific. It added flavor knowing exactly who the C.S.M. was, and the fact that Gabe also tends to get worked into his break times.

Anyway, not much insight here, really.

I did get accused of stealing someone's watch Saturday. That was kind of fun. I had changed a woman's watch battery, and she came back five minutes later asking why we hadn't given her back her friend's watch. I was pretty sure I had given it to her friend, and I said so. She demanded that we look for it, so we did. (This was my former Michigan coworker, Carrie. Nice intro to Kansas, huh.) While supervising our search, she asked to use the phone to call her friend and double check. So I dialed the call for her. Soon she found that I was not, in fact, a thief, as her friend had the watch. So she said thank you (presumably for letting her use the phone), and left. No apology.

The sad thing is this: I wasn't really surprised, and hardly cared enough to be offended. This kind of thing doesn't happen all the time, but it does happen often enough that I've become a bit callused to it. And in my world view, some people take out their bad days on others because that's just what they're used to doing. It's not a good thing, or a right thing, it just is. It's up to me to decide how to deal with it; I can be polite and kind, or I can take it as a personal insult.

My coworker Julianna just left the jewelry department to work overnight in the cash office. She had trouble not taking impoliteness personally, and the job was really getting her down. I don't mean that as a criticism of her. Her situation is quite different from mine, in that she has had a job she liked in the field she majored in (Art History), but is now unable to find a job like that. She's been job hunting for three years now, six months of that during her previous job. If I had been given reason to believe that I might never escape Wal-Mart, I might have more trouble dealing with difficulties there. But my employment situation is looking good.

More in another post.

Sub 26

Turned out to be a fairly busy day. Yes, I had a two hour lunch break, but the rest of the day was busy.

I sat in on a regular 7th grade math class, which was cool. The teacher did a lesson on probability. She had students roll a pair of dice 18 times, record both numbers and the difference between the two. She then had them play a one-on-one game in which noticing the correlation between those numbers could help you to win. They talked a bit about how their numbers compared with the expected numbers, and why they were different. I later suggested that if she were to compile the numbers from the whole class, and then from every class doing that activity, that they might get a better idea of how a larger sample brings you closer to the expected results, and she seemed kind of excited about it. Told me she might give it a try.

I also got to help a kid with his math homework, hopefully contributing to his understanding of probability. (At least one out of two of us understood the homework.) I talked with some of the teachers and paras about some education concepts, and one teacher lent me a book on learning communities. I arranged to sub for a math lab teacher (I think this is like remedial math, only they don't call it that anymore) this coming Monday. I felt like a teacher. It felt good.

After school I came home, rested a bit, ate some dinner. Not much time, so not much to do. Then I went to work at Wal-Mart.

And that dragged me right down. It wasn't a bad or difficult day, it just wasn't my thing. I was definitely tired, and it didn't help any to be working a five hour shift after a day of subbing. Still, I can work tired, but it's another matter to work when your heart isn't in it.

So there you have it. Get a job you like, because if you are doing something that isn't YOU, it will wear you down.

Customer Experience

So I was organizing watches the other day at the Wal-Mart Jewelry Counter. It takes a fair amount of focus, to keep from losing one's place, keeping multiple numbers in one's head while searching for little boxes with UPCs that match those numbers, and just trying to remember and match a lot of little pictures of watches that don't necessarily have the same UPCs as the ones in the drawers. Since these are small, expensive items, it's not a good idea to start a project like this and just walk away from it. I had noticed the customer standing 20 feet away looking at some jewelry, but she was wandering from case to case, and didn't look in my direction at all. So I kept working on my watches, looking up at her from time to time until the phone rang. I got up and went over close to her and answered it. Still no eye contact, so I didn't say anything.

I don't know who was on the phone, but it had the feel of management. "Are you busy?"

"It depends." I replied. "What do you need?"

"The woman standing behind you says you've been ignoring her."

"Oh. Thanks." I hung up and turned to help her. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you needed help," I offered.

"I've only been standing here for ten minutes," she said. I honestly couldn't have told you whether that was true or not, only that it was irrelevant. It seems to me that if a salesperson who is working on something doesn't seem to notice you after 10 minutes, perhaps you should try talking to them, rather than going right for management.

"I noticed you, but you looked pretty intent, and some customers don't like to be bothered while they're looking. Anyway, what can I do for you?" From that point, it chilled out into a more normal customer encounter. She picked out a couple of things which I took up to one of the registers for her. In the end she came around to my irresistible charm (of course), and seemed to be pretty much over the bad beginning. I apologized one more time for not coming over sooner. I didn't suggest that perhaps next time she might try asking for help. Why bother? She had already been proven wrong once in judging me as someone who would deliberately ignore her, but she didn't have to admit it in so many words. If I had suggested different behavior next time, she might have taken it as another insult, and left annoyed. This way she left happy, and all I had to do was be nice when I didn't feel like it.

There. That's my customer story. Take a moment or two to digest it. Decide who you think was right and who was wrong, if such a judgment can be made. I've told you my motivations, so what were hers? Bear in mind that as both reporter and participant, I am unable to completely put my own biases behind me. I have tried to present this as factually as possible, but let's face it: Each of us is the hero in the story we tell ourselves that is our life. Think about it, and two paragraphs from now I will add one bit of data that may put a bit of a different spin on it.

So take a moment.

There. Did you do it? Doesn't matter. I can't hear your answer, no matter how loud you yell it, so stop annoying the other people in the room. I ask because I'm about to throw out that little piece of information that I referred to earlier. Namely this: the customer had darker skin than mine.  

[This is where my original post left off.  I believe I was aiming for something like this to finish:

Does it change the story?  Does it make me seem like more of a jerk?  Am I more of a jerk?  Was she just unloading some of her baggage on me?  I'm not sure.  I feel like the moral of the story is "Be more sensitive to some people than others," if not, "Don't be such a jerk."]

Slightly Creepy Poem

One of my coworkers found a little ziplock bag. Inside was an oval, metal disc about the size of a quarter only thicker, imprinted with an angel. There was also little piece of paper folded up to fit in the bag, and printed on the paper was a poem. And before I copy the poem here, I would like to say a few things:

1. I Googled the first line, and found it in a few sites dedicated to "inspirational" writings. None of them suggested an author, so I am unable to offer you one here. But rest assured that I did not write it!

2. I'm not posting it because I think it's cool. This will become more clear as you read my follow-up comments after the poem itself.

That said, here it is:


I am a tiny angel...
I'm smaller than your thumb;
I live in people's pockets,
That's where I have my fun.
I don't suppose you've seen me,
I'm too tiny to detect;
Though I'm with you all the time,
I doubt we've ever met.
Before I was an Angel...
I was a fairy in a flower,
God, Himself, hand-picked me,
And gave me Angel power.

Now God has many Angels
That He trains in Angel pools,
We become His eyes, and ears, and
hands...We become His special tools.
And because God is so busy,
With way too much to do;
He said that my assignment
Was to keep close watch on you.
Then He tucked me in your pocket,
Blessing you with Angel care;
Saying I must never leave you,
And I vowed to stay right there!


First off, the person who gave it to me said that it was creepy, and I had to agree, for the following reasons:

1. The list of those who are allowed to have fun in my pocket is extremely short. Strange angels are not on that list.

2. The flower fairy to angel metamorphosis doesn't set well with me, nor does the conferring of Angel power to a former flower-frequenting fairy.

3. This angel is both "Smaller than your thumb," and "too tiny to detect." I don't mean to brag, but I have personally detected many, many objects which were smaller than my thumb. At work I sometimes use screws which are two orders of magnitude smaller than my thumb. This suggests that "thumb" was chosen just to have a word that rhymed with "fun." See my first point.

4. The training of Angels in pools strikes me as odd, whether pool is used in the sense of a group of members to be drawn upon at need (e.g. a secretarial pool) or a largish, artificial body of water.  In the human resources case, it sounds like perhaps there are angels with some spare time on their hands.  Maybe they only work with Christians, allowing them to ignore a large portion of the world's population.  Maybe there are just too many angels, and they have difficulty getting enough hours to earn benefits.  Odd.  And the swimming sense is just plain silly, though it opens up the floor for questions about where an angel would wear water wings.

5. God has way too much to do?  As God himself put it when talking to Job, "Yeah, I did have kind of a busy week once.  The FIRST WEEK EVER, WHEN I WAS BUSY CREATING EVERYTHING!"  (from The Message Bible).

6. A vow to stay in my pocket... just plain creepy.

A Special Piercing

Warning. This post contains subject material suitable only for mature audiences. If you are under 18, please stop reading.

Seriously.

I mean it.

One class of items we sell in the Wal-Mart jewelry department is body jewelry: the bits of metal people put through the holes in their eyebrows, belly-buttons, noses, and other places. As you can imagine, this occasionally leads to some interesting conversations. In my first month, a pretty young lady asked me for a belly button ring recommendation. We picked out a cute little skull and crossbones piece, and I never really thought anything more about it. Then a few days later she showed up with her boyfriend. I asked how the belly-button ring was working out, and she pulled up her shirt and said, "See!" It was really cute. Since then I've been thinking about how I can suggest that Horyon get her belly-button pierced. I finally came to the conclusion that the best way was by posting it on Roblog and letting her read it at the same time as, if not later than, my hundreds of loyal readers.

OK. Last Warning. It gets nasty from here on out. Even if you normally like my stuff, you might not like this.

That made for a nice little working-at-Wal-Mart story. Then the other day a young lady told me that her friend was too embarrassed to ask about this, but could I recommend a particular piece to use as a c**t-ring. Perhaps it was a good thing that I had been sort of broken in by the belly button ring customer. I think I managed to not blush as I told her that I didn't have much experience with that sort of thing, but let's see what we could find. She then told me that it wasn't a vertical piercing, it was horizontal, except that she didn't use those words; she waved her hands and said, "Like this." Right. She must have been in her early 20s. She showed absolutely no sign of embarrassment. Of course, she wasn't the one with a piercing normally concealed by underwear, either.

We picked something out, then she told me she'd be back with her friend. When she did come back, her friend never looked me in the face while she bought her jewelry. I found myself thinking how bizarre it is to know something so extremely intimate about someone that you otherwise don't know at all. This wouldn't be entirely unexpected if I were working in the medical industry, but I work at Wal-Mart for crying out loud!

A Wal-Mart Surprise

Tonight, as usual, I was by myself in jewelry from the time Julianna left at 8 until closing at 10. Around nine o'clock I got a phone call. The woman on the other end of the line asked if I was the guy who had been working there earlier. I answered "yes" somewhat hesitantly, as I wasn't sure where she was going with this. She told me that I had sold her some earrings, and did I remember her?

Well, that didn't narrow it down a lot, but when she said, "The titanium ones with the long posts," it connected. I had spent a few minutes with her, helping her to pick out something that would hopefully not irritate her ears. "Yeah, yeah, I remember. Is everything OK?" I asked.

She was so happy that she just had to call. The earrings were perfect, a very comfortable fit, not irritating at all.

That was it. She just called to say thank you. Totally made my day, and I wanted to share it with you. Because as Christmas approaches, Wal-Mart, as well as every other retailer in the U.S.A., is starting to get busy, and it won't back down until after new-year's day.

And as the semester has just ended, a few of my coworkers have unceremoniously quit, leaving the store short-handed. Lines are starting to get long, and tempers are starting to get short. I have been told that the week before Christmas will be hellish, at best. Everyone will expect VIP treatment, and no one will settle for being last in line. The words "We don't have that" will take on the same connotations as "Your mother is the paragon of promiscuity". Meal breaks will be rushed, and other breaks will be crushed. We will actually have another person temporarily in the jewelry department working on the register, just checking people out so that the jewelry staff can help customers find the jewelry that they want without dealing with all that nasty money. Our usual closing time of 10 p.m. will get pushed back a bit further every night, until we are forced to just call out "HELP!!" and run away.

And before it's gotten totally nutsy, I've had a customer call to say "Thanks." What a blessing.

Oh, and I've had my first overlap of teaching and Wal-Marting. Last Friday I subbed for half a day in a 1st grade classroom (which by itself deserves a whole write-up). Today one of the kids from that class recognized me as I was ringing up his mother's purchases. I felt good about that, though I'm not sure how well it's going to go when I get the same recognition from teenagers. Not so bad in Wal-Mart I expect, but in the classroom it may cause me some difficulty. Ah well, that's a bridge not worth crossing until I come to it.

Peace,

Rob

A Match Made in the S-Mart Parking Lot

The story you are about to read is true. Only the name of the retailer has been changed to protect my ass from getting fired.

At seven minutes after nine p.m. the couple strutted up to the S-Mart jewelry counter. He was middle-aged, as white as they come, getting a little shiny on top, and didn't really strut very well. It was more like he was being dragged in her wake. But she had the strut, no doubt. A walk that said, "I may not own this place, but that's only because I don't want it." She was black and thin, with long, teased-out hair and matching fire-engine red nails and lipstick. His slightly worn sports coat clearly announced, "I'm with The University," as did his patient, diplomatic speaking style. Her baggy sweatshirt, tiny short-shorts and scruffy tennis shoes made a different announcement: "I'm on break right now, honey, but I'll be with you in 10 minutes. As long as you ain't no police officer. You ain't, right? Cause if you is, you gotta tell the truth you know."

"What can I do for you?" offered the jewelry associate, ignoring the announcements made by the clothing of the customers in front of him. Obviously he had taken well to the training he had received at the feet of an ancient, venerable computer in the back room.

"We's gettin' married next week!" she announced with a childlike glee that momentarily overpowered the deep lines on her face.

"And we're looking for wedding rings," he added.

"Thas right," she chirped, clinging to his arm like a decaying vine and pushing her hair back with her free hand. Her focus suddenly jumped to the rings in the display case, dragging the gentleman and the jewelry associate along for the ride. "Lemme see that one," she demanded, her fingertip nailed to the counter as her hand did a shaky little dance around it. When the jewelry associate finally homed in on the correct ring, she pounced on it, and somehow squeezed it over her callused, parched, prodigious knuckle.

"I don' like this one. The diamond's too small." Apparently the fun was over. "Here. Take it off." She held her hand out to the jewelry associate, who reluctantly tried to remove the ring. "Don' worry about hurtin' me, jess pull on it," she instructed him. The associate, who was rarely eager to pull on anyone's finger, even in the best of circumstances, looked at the customer's scrawny hand as she continued talking. "I done give bigger diamonds to my kids." No, scrawny was too generous. This hand could have been used as a prop in a zombie movie. "If I give a ring like this to my kids they cuss me out." Scars, scabs and calluses were the landmarks on this desert map, and the knuckle a rough, rocky outcrop. The light rain of spittle as she talked brought no relief to this land. "You ain't givin' me this ring." The associate considered going to get a set of latex gloves, but couldn't think of a tactful way to do so, and was reluctant to turn his back on a flighty customer with a $150 ring on her finger. "I need a diamond I can see." So he swallowed, held his breath, and grabbed hold of the ring. "Go on now, don' be shy. You ain't gonna hurt me none." He pulled, twisted and wriggled the ring, wondering if there were some trick to removing a ring without touching the hand it was on.

Eventually the ring obtained freedom. The jewelry associate shuddered, and breathed a small sigh of relief as he replaced the ring in the display case.

Her fiance then pointed out another ring in the case and suggested that it might be suitable.

"Don't try it on, don't try it on, don't try it on," was the silent mantra of the jewelry associate.

"Uh-uh. That one small, too," was her criticism. The jewelry associate breathed another sigh of relief, this one perhaps a bit more noticeable.

The man was prepared for her remark: "It only looks small because it's in the case. It will look much bigger on your finger."

She glared at him as though he had just made a puddle on the floor. "It ain't gonna get bigger." She continued, "You cain't water it like no plant." She elucidated, "Diamonds don't grow." And just in case he hadn't quite understood, she added, "It ain't no damn plant you water an it get bigger." She added two or three more variations on this theme, rolling her eyes as though she were dealing with a slow, uncooperative child. In the brief silences between her attacks, he attempted to explain that it was a matter of distance, perspective, and the glass in between, but all he managed to do was supply a fantastic little illustration for the word 'henpecked.' When he finally figured out that the best reply was to stand quietly, she phasered him one last time with her eyes and moved on.

She looked at and handed half a dozen choices from the bridal sets without putting any of them on past her ring-trap knuckle.  The jewelry associate silently lifted a prayer of thanksgiving to Jehovah, Shiva, Allah, the blue genie from "Alladin" and any other deity who happened to be listening in. The customer moved on to the "Right Hand Rings." Apparently, "Right Hand" is S-Mart shorthand for "big and tacky," and these rings called to her like a kegger flagging a passing frat boy. Unfortunately, the jewelry associate had to explain to her, they were single rings, not sets. She had her heart set on a set, though her reasoning was never made clear. Perhaps something to do with two rings being more than one ring.

At this point, the professor makes another suggestion: "I could get you one of those single rings and a simple gold band to go with it. Then it would be a set. Look, there's a gold band here for $20."

This time she turned on him as though he had thrown his own feces at her.

"You ain't buyin' me no $20 ring."

"Well not by itself, no..."

"You ain't tellin' me you buyin' me no $20 ring."

"It would go with the..."

"I ain't hearin' this. Ain't no way you buyin' me no $20 ring."

"Listen, if we get..."

"If you mention some damn $20 ring again I am gonna embarrass you right here in S-Mart."

He could tell that she meant it, or perhaps love overcame reason. Either way, he stopped advocating for the $20 ring.

The jewelry associate, being a fan of irony, thought to himself, "If the avoidance of embarrassment were truly a priority, none of us would be here right now."

They moved back to the bridal set case, but clearly the romance had been liposuction right out of the evening. And she was getting pretty jittery, as though perhaps she needed something. Suddenly, without warning, she turned around and left. He stayed long enough to say that they would be back Monday, and was gone before the jewelry associate could suggest that they come before three o'clock if possible, three o'clock being his starting time the following Monday.

As the jewelry associate was getting paper towels and the glass cleaner, both of which were sorely needed by the glass counter top and his hands at this point, the undercover security agent came over and asked what the couple wanted. "They're getting married next week, and they were shopping for rings."

"That's interesting," he smirked. "Just a couple of weeks ago she was arrested in the parking lot outside for prostitution."

"Well well well. How about that? I guess she has turned over a new leaf, just like Julia Roberts in that 'Pretty Woman' movie."

"Yeah. Whatever." The security guard was clearly unconvinced, but the jewelry associate knew that he had seen something pretty special that night. And even if it turned out to be not all that special, at the very least it would make a good story.

The End.

Hopefully.

Merle Roger Euler,1916-2007

Today, Saturday, I had to work from 1:00 until 10:00, a bit longer than my usual 3:00-10:00. As I was getting ready to leave my Dad called to tell me that they were were stopping the pure oxygen feed on Grandpa, and they didn't expect him to survive the night.

Last Sunday he fell outside his home and hit his head pretty badly on the pavement. He never regained consciousness after that. He spent his last week in an ICU in Kansas city, the first three days on a respirator to help him breath. We went to see him Thursday, but it was like he was already gone. He groaned, and occasionally flailed his arms weakly. His arms were horribly bruised from the repeated blood tests, and he kept trying to remove the oxygen tube from his nose, and the support collar from around his neck. I think that finally his family decided that he knew what he was doing, even if he never opened his eyes or spoke a word.

Merle Euler was a strong, proud man. He wouldn't have wanted to continue like that. During the last few years as it became harder for him to hear and move around, I imagine that he thought often about the day when he would finally be released And I imagine him now, reunited with his first wife, our Maxine's namesake.

I got the call shortly after I got to work. Grandpa died just about the time I was crossing the street in front of Wal-Mart. My coworker, Julianna, told me that I should go home, but that didn't seem like the right option to me. "What would I do at home?" I asked her. "If I'm going to be miserable, I might as well be paid for it." It wouldn't be me if I didn't come up with some lame joke in the midst of tragedy. "And besides, working will make this day pass faster." Which was true, but not the whole truth.

Grandpa was all about helping people. He must have driven back and forth to the airport hundreds of times after he retired, giving rides to friends and family who needed them. One thing that annoyed him about getting old was that other people had to help him more and more, and he was physically incapable of returning the favor. My job at Wal-Mart is a service job. It's all about helping people. OK, it's partly about helping them to spend their money, but I help a lot of people to find what they are looking for, even if they're not sure of what that might be.

Today I showed some wedding rings to a young couple, and talked with them about our sizing options, how we keep them in stock, and how far ahead they should be purchasing them. It was a joyful experience to play even a small role in such an important part of their lives. While I was helping them a grumpy old woman came in asking for help with watches. She was a serious test of my patience, but I believe that I passed. By the time she left, she surprised me by saying, "Thank you."

I helped a couple in their 40's as he bought a birthday present ring for her. I didn't have a lot of input on the choice, but I clarified some information about the rings and (again) how we do sizing. They had only been married for nine years, but they already had that comfortable feel of a couple that has been together forever. She even said to me that it seemed like they had been together forever, "but in a good way!"

Today was also the day with the mother who was getting her five and two year old daughters' ears pierced. That was a bit of an ugly story, which ended with five-year-old Freedom on the floor throwing a tantrum as we tiptoed around ringing up the rest of the purchases. Associates from other departments were asking us about that one for the next hour.

Julianna explained my situation to the people who needed to know, sparing me from doing it again. I broke down a bit when I told her, though I managed to regain my composure before it got out of hand. It still pushed me to the edge whenever those people brought it up. They were just expressing sympathy, and reminding me that if I needed to go home it was okay.

But the whole truth is this: in my mind today was a sort of memorial to Grandpa, who loved to serve others. And I found joy in the offering of it, even though the tears and difficult customers.

When I got home Maxine was asleep. Horyon shared with me that Maxine had said a couple of strange things through the evening. One was "Great-Grandpa nay-nay." 'Nay-nay' is Korean baby-talk for sleeping. That's what we told her when we went to visit on Thursday. In the last few weeks she has become a sort of random-delay echo, with things she has heard resurfacing at the oddest times. And I suppose it was also the case when she said to Horyon, "Great-Grandpa bye-bye," which means exactly what it sounds like.

Before we left the hospital on Thursday, I had a few moments alone with Grandpa, and I told him that I was so glad he had a chance to meet our Maxine. And I told him that I would miss him.

He was the man who taught me respect for my elders. To hear that he was proud of me was the biggest compliment I could ask for. He had a bit of a corny sense of humor, but anyone who knows me wouldn't be surprised by that. He will always be my role model for the ideal grandfather, and I hope that someday I will live up to that standard.

I will leave you with the note he wrote in the Bible which he gave to me as a Christmas present in 1986:

"I was very proud when you were born and I have been proud of you every minute since. You are everything anyone could want in a Grand-son. All of our Love, Euler grandparents."

A Match Made (or Broken) in Wal-Mart

You know what? There are times when I like working at Wal-Mart.

For example, this happened well before the annoying events of last week: it's 9:15 on a Saturday night, the jewelry counter closes at 10:00, and I'm starting to get antsy to go home, when a customer comes up. He asks to see an engagement ring, and wants my opinion of it. I ask some of the usual questions; What kind of jewelry does she usually wear? Does she wear rings? Have you bought other jewelry for her?

He tells me that he was planning to propose the next day. This is a common level of detail for a customer to share with a sales associate.

He then tells me that he has just gotten off the phone with her, and now he isn't so sure that he wants to go through with it. You see, she was calling to check on where he was, and what he was doing, because she didn't trust him to behave himself.

This is not, in my limited experience, a common level of detail for a customer to share with a sales associate. However, I don't mind. I like listening to people sometimes, and I'm not really that busy.

I won't share with you the details of his story. It's not really my story to tell. But I will share with you the advice that I shared with him. Let me know if you think I've gotten anything wrong here:

1. Proposing to someone is not something that should necessarily come when the mood is just right. That very premise suggests that the response depends on the mood of the moment. While this makes for good t.v., especially in sitcoms (Cheers comes to mind), it is not a good way to decide your future. Because marriage (a good marriage, anyway) is not a mood thing; once you get married, you are married all the time, whether happy or sad, sick or healthy, rich or poor, etc. A marriage has to weather some rough emotions. It seems to me that if the proposal of marriage is easily tossed by these emotions, the marriage is also likely to be tossed.

2. Pray about it. All night if need be. Don't listen to music, turn on the t.v., read, or do anything else that will draw your attention. Just pray about it, and ask God for peace once you have reached the best decision. Because for many of us, that feeling of peace is the clearest way to hear God's voice.

3. Imagine your life with her. Don't imagine her changing, because you have no right to expect the person you marry to just become better because they are married to you. Is it easy (and realistic) to imagine that you are both happy? If yes, refer back to number 2. If not, another year or two of dating (on top of the three years so far) is unlikely to change that. (As a side note, you should also not expect your marriage to follow this imagined path, but I didn't go into that with him.)

4. Don't just do what other people want or expect you to do. Though your family may still be your family for the rest of your life, you have to actually live with your wife for the rest of your life. And if that relationship is solid, you can survive without the immediate approval of either family, yours or hers.

5. God is in control. There is a reason that I am closing tonight and you are here to buy a ring. God is sending you a message, though even I don't know the details of that message. And as cool as it would have been for God to have sent me a dream saying "Tell the guy yes," or "Tell the guy no," sometimes God wants us to work for the right answers.

There were other details. I shared a few relevant anecdotes from my marriage, and some methods we use to get along. He went more into depth as to his misgivings.

I joked with him at one point that I felt more like a bartender than a jewelry sales person. We were both a bit sorry that there were no alcoholic beverages to be found behind my bar.

He didn't buy a ring that night, and I'm not entirely sure what role I played in that decision. I told him that we open at seven a.m., and that if he felt right about it, he could come in and buy a ring before meeting his girlfriend. I ended up cleaning the counters as I talked with him, so I didn't leave more than five minutes past my usual time. I prayed for him as I rode home, and asked our Sunday school class the next day to pray for him, too.

I hope that he tracks me down some time to tell me how things are going. And I really hope that when he does track me down it isn't through the telescopic sight of a high-power sniper rifle. Giving advice can sometimes cause trouble, though I still feel good about what I told him.

This is a different job than anything I've done before, that's for sure. My expectations were actually quite low, and there have been times when they were met. But the times like this definitely balance them out.

Peace,

Rob

Gettting Rid of the Third Wheel

In my previous post, I mentioned getting two flat tires. By the end of the week it was three. Fortunately, the third only set me back $10 and a bit of inconvenience.

I ride my bicycle to work whenever I can. It's a nice ride, just short of four and a half miles, with just a few mild hills to keep me from relaxing too much. The ride home finishes uphill, no matter what route I take short of adding an additional couple of miles, which just isn't going to happen after 10:30 at night. It usually takes me about 25 minutes to get to work, and 35 or 40 to get home. On the way home, I sometimes ride and think about what's happened at work. Other times I ride and pray. And sometimes I just ride. When the moon is new, there are long stretches where my headlamp is the only illumination. No sound but the wind in the trees and the soft hum of the bike gears. It's kind of disappointing to get out into the stretches that follow streets, even though the street lights allow me to see more of the road ahead. All but the last few blocks of my ride are on a six foot wide sidewalk that is well maintained. Aside from the cobwebs and bugs I end up plowing through (and occasionally eating), there are no obstructions.

But Friday, on my way to work, my rear tire seemed a bit low, so after work I added a bit of air. But it didn't stay in. It seemed to be hissing out through the pump, so I pumped more. More hissed out, and when I took away the pump, the tire went flat. I didn't have a spare tube or patch kit, much less the desire to take off the rear wheel and deal with it. So I went inside and called Horyon.

She came and got me, with Maxine sleeping in her car seat, and we stopped for groceries. I sat in the car with Maxine, because I have trouble sticking to the list. Whatever. So it was a late night.

The next day I spent the morning at our church's work day painting a hallway, then getting my bicycle tire fixed. I thought about just buying the tube and changing it myself to save $5, but had the mechanic do it. I figured she could get it in correctly the first time, and faster than I could to boot. Turned out to be a good choice. She found that the wheel had a rough patch that had rubbed through the tube, necessitating the repair. She filed and sanded down the rough patch, so hopefully I won't have to go through this again soon.

There are two more stories I need to tell in my attempt to communicate how this past week has gone, but I just don't have the energy to tackle it right now. And I have a test on Wednesday. So I'm leaving you with two titles for now:

Demolition and Grace
A Match Made in Wal-Mart

Stay tuned.

Peace,

Rob

Customer Interactions

I am new to retail sales. I've never done anything quite like this before, and I'm kind of enjoying it. Especially dealing with the customers. I'm not sure whether I've just had good luck, or whether I have a soporific quality about me, but I haven't really had to deal with any customers that I would call "belligerent" or "trouble-makers". Even when I've been stuck at the register, unable to get it to do what I need it to do, they have been patient with me. I'm still working on balancing priorities, but the pace has mostly been reasonable.

Mostly. Two days ago my coworker Julianna went on her lunch break around 5:00. (They call it lunch no matter what time you take it. One more bit of Wal-Mart culture that I will probably never understand.) For the first 30 minutes, I walked around straightening items on the shelves, picking up the random bits of jetsam that Wal-Mart shoppers tend to leave willy-nilly as they wander through the store. Then a customer came. And another. And another. At one point I was helping one while three others were waiting. Fortunately none of them asked me to do things that I don't know how to do, like putting something on layaway or doing a back-flip, but they kept me hopping. Of course Julianna came back from her break as I was finishing up with the last customer.

They were all very nice about waiting to be helped. One of them even told me to go take care of another customer while I was in the middle of helping her.

This lady was something else. I had seen her earlier in the store, riding one of the little vehicles Wal-Mart has for customers who have trouble getting around. She had a tattoo that I found to be almost offensive. It made a political statement that I disagreed with, and I found myself thinking that she was probably a very simple person, and that maybe I was lucky I didn't have to deal with her.

Still, I don't let that kind of thought affect how I deal with people, so I offered to help her just like any other customer. She wanted to return a watch that she didn't like (though she used more colorful than that to say so) and get a new band for her old watch, which her husband had given to her before he died, and which she knew how to operate. She spoke in an accent that I couldn't quite place, Eastern European somewhere. It reminded me of our church friend who immigrated from Poland. And she talked a lot.

She was quite patient with me, and let me help stop to help other customers. And those customers were also patient as I dealt with this woman. I understand that as we approach Christmas the level of politeness drops considerably, but so far I can't complain.

(Speaking of holidays, we've already got our Halloween stuff out. Can you believe it?)

In the course of getting a watch band that she was happy with, I learned that she had married a G.I. to come to America. I asked if this was the same husband who had died a year ago, and she told me this:

"No. The G.I. was a mistake. He was my ticket out of Russia, but it was a mistake to marry him. My husband who died last year was my true love. My destiny. And I didn't think I could go on without him, but here I am."

I'm trying to fit a pin for a watch band, and I feel like I should be having a beer with this woman. I felt bad for judging her based on her tattoo, and was genuinely happy that she had come to the jewelry section while I was on duty.

By this point, Julianna had returned, and all of the other customers had been dealt with one way or another (none of them lethally). When I wrapped up my sale with the Russian woman, she shook my hand and thanked me. I sincerely told her that I hoped to see her again, and she promised to say hi if she did. And so I was once again reminded that people with whom I disagree are still very much people, and that I should not judge a book by its cover.

I think the best thing about this job is that every day it gives me many opportunities to practice loving my neighbors. In some ways they are ideal opportunities, because they don't last long. I get a fresh start with each new customer.

On a slightly different note, Wal-Mart encourages us to interact in a friendly manner with customers, and if there is only one customer, there's no reason not to have an extended conversation. However, problems arise when one customer is ignored over another. People have actually been fired over this. It puts me in the uncomfortable position of telling someone, "I'm sorry, but I need to help another customer." I hate having to do that.

In closing, I'm learning my way around the cash register. The problems of three days ago are history, and I have only my future problems to deal with. Yesterday I was on my own from 6 p.m. until closing at 10 p.m. No problems. I am supposed to take a 15 minute break sometime in the evening, so I called in a manager to take care of jewelry stuff while I was gone. Things were slow until then, and when I got back she was helping someone, a customer was waiting, and one more customer came before she left. I also had a small register problem, which she quickly resolved.

I swear, once I figure out everything on the register, I will have achieved some sort of god-like status, and I will be ready to take over the universe.

Advantage of having Two Drivers

First of all, this isn't a golf post. It's a follow-up to my latest post about Horyon getting her driver's license (congratulations again, honey!).

Thursday I rode my bike downtown to get my free 30-day tune-up. It's been a good deal longer than 30 days since I bought the bike, and something like 600 miles of riding, but they don't mind. Good guys over there at Sunflower.

When I brought it in, they said it would be finished by the next morning. I wasn't sure how to get home without the bike I rode in on, until I remembered:

My wife is awesome

because she has a driver's license and wants to get as much practice as she can. I wanted to give as much time for Maxine to continue her nap as possible, so I called home around four o'clock, and Horyon agreed to meet me at South Park.

(Lawrence geography note: just South of downtown Lawrence there is a park called South Park. It has been there and had that name since long before the t.v. program called "South Park" or the network on which it is aired existed. Still, it makes me hum the theme song from "South Park" and giggle a bit every time I go near it.)

She came and got me, and we had planned to eat at the Korean restaurant downtown. Unfortunately, when I got there I found that all the signs were gone, and inside the fixtures were being torn out. No more Korean restaurant in Lawrence.

So we went to dinner at Buffalo Bob's Smokehouse. Big pile of meat with curly fries piled on top of that, pickles, a fritter, and sides of baked beans and cottage cheese. I'm not sure why I like the cottage cheese as a side. It seems kind of wimpy next to the other food on the plate. On the other hand, it's kind of a good palate cleanser.

When we got home there was a message from Sunflower telling me that my bike was finished. I should have gone back to check after dinner. Or I could have given them my cell phone number. Or they could have told me it would only be a couple of hours. Oh well. Horyon dropped me off the next day and I rode home in time to go to work.

In other news, Horyon's parents arrive at KCI Sunday afternoon. Tomorrow. They will stay with us for a month. Maxine will have a great time, I'm sure. The rest of us may feel a little crowded. However, it will be good for us to be together as a family. I just wish we had a slightly bigger house to be together in.

A Few Changes

Here's the short version:

I got a job and Horyon got her KS driver's license.

Getting the D.L. was a long process, involving driving back and forth to the D.M.V. many times. The first time, they told Horyon they needed her passport, for whatever reason. This was a bit of a surprise, as Horyon has an immigrant I.D. card that looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, with a little holographic picture of her head and a shiny strip on the back that probably has some encoding of her DNA to verify who she is. But we figured, hey, these guys call the shots, so we loaded back into the car and drove home to get her passport.

When we got back, there was still no line, as it was only 8:30 a.m. Yeah, we hustled ourselves out of bed bright and early, originally got there at 7:45. Thought we were cool. How little we knew.

So as Horyon is giving her info to the person behind the desk, she is asked for her Social Security Number. She has one, but not memorized. I knew that if I could access my email I would be able to find it, but we couldn't. Not there. So I packed up Maxine and left the cell phone with Horyon. Maxine and I went home, with her crying most of the way about how much it sucks to drive back and forth to the DMV so early in the morning (hoo-ray and up she rises!), and I spent most of the time trying to reassure her that it didn't really suck that much. Good chance to listen to some tunes on the car CD player, really.

So we got home and called Horyon to tell her that next time she should memorize her SSN, and to remind her of what it was. She told me that she would call back when she needed the car (for her driving test).

Less than 15 minutes later, I got the call. I piled Maxine in the car again (only calming her by promising that we were going to see Mommy), and we drove for the last 15 minutes stretch. When we got there, Horyon got into our car, and the driving test guy checked to make sure all of her signals were working. He then got in the passenger seat, and Maxine started to go nuts again. I calmed her down, and Horyon drove around for 15 minutes.

When she came back, they took her photo and gave her a piece of paper that functions as her license until the real one arrives in the mail. They don't give them to you at the DMV anymore, as the new ones are all Homeland Securitied Up, to keep terrorists from driving.

Horyon then drove us as a family to IHOP. Yes, that's right. The International House Of Pancakes. We had a lovely breakfast, and Maxine just put it away. I love a good American breakfast, especially when I don't have to cook it or clean up. The only thing that would make it better was if I didn't have to pay for it.

Mmmmmm... pancakes, biscuits and gravy, sausage, fried eggs (sunny-side-up, thank you) and hash browns. All for a very reasonable price. Good stuff.

And so now Horyon can drive around by herself. I think she'll drive us to church tomorrow.

For me, today marks the end of my first week working at Wal-Mart.

I have to admit, it feels a bit like I've gone back to a Hogwan job. My Korean references have not proven to be helpful in getting a job here. Fortunately, Wal-Mart was more trusting in my resume. I am working in the jewelry department, selling items of gold and silver, as well as the occasional diamond.

And I get to pierce ears. Two days ago I did my Computer Based Learning (CBL) unit on ear piercing, and passed with flying colors. So when a lady showed up with her four-year-old daughter and asked me if it hurt to get one's ears pierced, I answered, in my most confident voice, "We poke a hole in your head. Yes, it hurts. But it's a relatively unimportant part of your head with very few nerves, so it doesn't hurt much or for long."

OK, those weren't my exact words. My exact words were much more customer-friendly.

So one of my coworkers did the right ear, and I did the left. The mother held on to her little girl, the one voice of reassurance in this confusing situation that would soon end in pain. And let me tell you, as a fan of irony, I kind of enjoyed that aspect of it.

But actually poking a hole in a little girl's ear was not enjoyable. I did it, and I could do it again, but it wasn't much fun. Oh well, as my Dad always says, "If it was fun, they wouldn't call it work."

Fortunately, that kind of thing doesn't come up much. Mostly I change watch batteries and take links out of watch bands. I've only been doing it for a few days, but I'm getting to be pretty good at it. I'm already working on the flexible bands that most of my coworkers won't touch.

Another facet of my jewelry position (sorry, couldn't resist) is stocking shelves and making sure that everything is in its place (what they call 'zoning'). Zoning isn't too bad on most items, but comparing the UPC numbers is a bit tiring on the eyes.

I'm working 4 days a week at Wal-Mart. Enough to bring in some money to buy stuff. I picked up my first paycheck today. It was for one nine-hour day. After taxes, it came up to $52. My usual days are going to be 6.5 hours.

Last news: Horyon's parents are in America, even as I write this. Well, they may be in Canada. They're taking a tour through New York and Niagara Falls, then visiting Chaeryon for a few days. Then they're coming to stay with us. For a month. I am sure that they are looking forward to seeing Maxine in person. They've been chatting via internet videophone, but it's just not the same.

While they are here we will have the ultimate in child-care for Maxine. I think the hardest part will be when they leave. Impossible to explain to her.

My class is going well, I suppose. First test is in a couple of weeks, so I suppose I will know better after that. The material for Math 290 is just easier than that of 526, the class I took this summer. This class is all about Matricies. Undoubtedly you have already thought of some clever Matrix-the-movie one liner to insert here, so I will not do so myself, but rather allow you to chuckle quietly to yourself over your own clever witticism. Well done.

That's it for now. Sorry again about the infrequent updates. Once we get settled into this new job and class, I'm sure I'll do better.

Peace,

Rob