The Creature

Note: This is adapted from my original post here.

April 26, 2006

I think today I'm going to talk about annoying people.

Yes. You know them. They are the plague to your existence. I have several of these people in my life. Fortunately, for me and for them, I have a very high tolerance for annoyance. But there are time where I will lash out in all directions.

At work, I tend to mind my own business about work related things. I get done what I need to get done. I work at a grocery store called Stater Brothers Markets, commonly referred to as Stater Bros. by the general public and as Slaver Bros. by the employees.

There happens to be a woman at my work who is in her mid to late 30's maybe even early forties. She is the Creature. A spawn of Satan, at least at work. Her appearance is deceiving, she looks very matronly/grandmotherly, but she is no ordinary mother. She is the evil part of every mother, the one who nags constantly and charges around ordering you about. In this she is like a mother, in all else, well there is no name for her but the Creature.

The Creature stands around 5’5”, rather large around the middle, and it slumps forward sticking its paunch out, and its arms hang limply at its sides. The hair of the Creature hangs bushily around its chunky face, the dirt-blonde hair streaked with aged-gray. Its voice sounds harsh and breathy, lingering in the air like nighttime noise. It wears a green vest that stretches across its distended abdomen. Under this vest it wears a clean white shirt, contrasting the Creature's true identity. Around its legs it wears black pants that hang loosely near the ankle and strains over its middle. And the eyes shine brightly inside sacs of fat and stare, deceivingly into the world. A foe to constantly deal with. It only conceives of its own worth, and how to push those around it to the ground. There are few who like the Creature. Those few have been deceived with its matron façade, and these few refuse to believe what the Creature really is. The High Bitch of the Front End.

She can be overwhelming in her desire to gain customer satisfaction, yet many customers do not like her overly friendly way. The can see to the heart of the matter, that the Creature lies within willing flesh. She dissembles her true form from all. She is vindictive and vile. I try to stand against her, but in my position there is little that I can do but hide behind the strength of others.

That said, I'll be helping customers or putting things away or what-not, and the minute I'm out of the Creatures sight, it freaks out, desperately seeking to have me run to the front of the store, presumably to work. The minute I reach the front she covers her loathsome personality with a false cheerfulness and pleasantness. And I discover that there is nothing to do. All is empty.

Just the other day I refused to bend to her will and she gave me the message: "The game is over." Good thing I'm not in a video game! Otherwise I'd have to load from a save, and do it all over again, maybe gain some levels.

To many of you that know me, or may not know me, it takes a lot to get me outward angry. The creature can invoke such feelings in less than 10 minutes on the clock. Can't I use the restroom in peace? Can't I help a customer without being harassed? Can't I even finish something without being called on? The answer to all these questions is a resounding no.

The Creature smiles in satisfaction, watching with is beady eyes waiting for the right moment to cause utter feelings of hatred. One of the many Spawns found across American workplaces large and small. And perhaps one day the Creatures of America will vanish, along with all the other Spawn. Who am I kidding? There will just be more ready to take there place in such a situation.

The Sandwich

Note: This is adapted from my original post here.

April 28, 2006

I was hungry at work. That’s basically how it goes everyday: it’s almost lunch time and the stomach tells the brain that its time to eat, again. Damn that stomach, always telling us to eat when we can’t! I want to have a sandwich so I grab the nearest piece of paper (which happens to be an index card) and steal a nearby pen and rush off to the Service Deli at my store.

I stare hard at the lumps of pre-formed meats and cheeses, ignoring the various limp and brown salads that can't hold my attention any day of the week. The harsh florescent light makes me salivate as I try to decide what I want on my precious lunch. I spot a new cheese (on sale!) a nice, light swiss. I spot brown sugar ham, sweet and substantial. I filter through my brain, a list of veggies that would work. Tomato, of course, and avocado (it’s a Californian thing). Next I pick lettuce, adding it to my list. Then comes the cucumber, and red onions. And of course some cream cheese. No mayo or mustard, disgusting. All my condiments chosen I spot a yummy wheat bread and I bring it and my list to the Deli manager and charge her with forging my sandwich, before 10. She confirms it will be ready at the appointed time, with a smile.

Rarely does anything happen at my work on time, or any work for that matter. I am no exception to this ‘rule’. I was ready to run to my car and consume my sandwich, but as work was to be done I didn't get to leave until 10:30, after my appointed date with delicious food.

I arrive home and open my bag. I stare at the sandwich. It stares back. This thing is huge! It has to be the worlds largest meant-to-be-eaten sandwich. I dub my opponent the Sandwich to Rule Them All. It's at least 8 inches long (stop the jokes already) and over 2 1/2 inches thick (ok I guess I had them coming). This sandwich could feed a family of four! But I decide to tackle it nonetheless.

I sat down and studied my prey. It was intimidating. I quickly assessed what I had going for lubrication to get it down. Avocado was abundant, tomato helped. Too bad I hadn't gotten mayo, but the fat *sigh*. I poured my self a glass of creamy chocolate milk. I pulled out a bag of crunchy cheese curls and reassessed my situation. I knew I could handle this.

I took the first bite. It was delicious. The first half was easy to eat. It squashed well, and I had no problem. The second half would make any snake proud. I could barely fit my mouth halfway over the sandwich. It was a tough situation I was in. How could I be beaten by the sandwich? There was no way I was going down without a fight!

I squished the avocado down and forcefully pressed the sandwich down as far as it would go. I had minimal luck. I could almost get it in my mouth. I continued to wear it down, bite after bite. Soon enough my plan was working! I could actually fit a small corner of it into my mouth! I rejoiced! It had size still on its side however. I couldn't possible eat the whole thing, or could I?

After wrestling with it for a few more minutes, I regarded the small bit left. Noting its great reduction in size I triumphed at my accomplishment. Too full to consider another bite I placed the left over bit in a bag. Though about 1/3 was left it could still be considered an entire meal. It was time to take a break, such a worthy opponent can make one weary. I sat happily down and thus write the story of the Sandwich. Even though it beat me in the first battle, I knew I would win the war.