Robert Plant didn't write a song about going to New Jersey because it is the armpit of America. I hope I didn't offend anyone with that comment but. . . well, it's true. I hear there are nice places in Jersey. Unfortunately, I've never seen them. I always fly in, take a car to either a pharmaceutical company or to a toilet factory, meet for two days, and fly out. Almost all of my interactions in NJ take place in the dark. Truthfully, I have no idea what New Jersey is like.
I do know, however, that I'm flying into Newark on Tuesday afternoon for a Wednesday morning meeting. I'll be safe and sound, back in Texas, by 10 p.m., less than 36 hours after I leave home.
Positive things about this trip:
1. I'm adding another 2,000+ points to my Continental account. Go me. Maybe next time we take a trip, I'll have enough points to buy our airline tickets. 2. I'll have at least 8 hours in the plane to read. I'm in the middle of a new series that I'm loving. Hopefully, 8 hours in a plane and a night alone in the hotel will be enough time to finish at least 2 of the 3 books. 3. I only have to be in the office two days next week. It's like a 5-day weekend, except that I'm working 2 of those 5 days. Wait - that's not positive...
Note - the toilet factory comment was NOT a joke. Our NJ office is in a renovated toilet factory. Seriously.
Friday, September 1, 2006
Friday, August 25, 2006
Wretched week
Monday morning I learned that a co-worker and his wife were in a terrible car accident on Sunday evening. She didn't survive. I use the word co-worker lightly. At my place of business, we often work into the wee hours of the morning. We huddle around a table in the center of the production room and swap crazy stories, sing karaoke, or quote British movies at one another. We order Chinese and eat off of each other's plates. We ask about each other's dogs, weekend plans, and most recent adventures. We are friends.
To hear of Steve's loss tore me apart. I sat in T's office, disbelieving what she just told me. "Layla didn't make it..." Those words lingered in the air. Pain stabbed at my chest. I only met her once, but the way she affected Steve's life and the way he talked about her were enough for me to feel like I had known her for years. Although I have only known Steve for a year, a few midnight madness projects have made it seem more like decades.
My heart ached for him. I covered my face and cried. The longer the week wore on, the more I hurt. Not just my heart, my whole existence. We went to the viewing together. I was strong for Steve for a few moments. He told us this:
My sister said that the only way I could have survived would have been if Layla had become an angel at the moment she died. She must have protected me and kept me safe.
I couldnt breathe. Im a spiritual person and a hopeless romantic. That was too much -- too heartfelt. I was able -- by the grace of God -- able to control myself in that moment. Later, once we were outside, I fell apart. I cried and my voice cracked. I still hurt for Steve.
Thursday, the office closed down early and we all went to the memorial service together. I lost it over and over again. Laylas friends spoke of her, of Steve, of all of their cherished moments together. Her brother told stories, made us laugh, and made us cry. The priest tried to offer peace, understanding, and perhaps a bit of religion. A young tenor performed the most glorious Ave Maria I have ever heard. I cried again.
I couldnt figure out why this affected me so. As I said, I only met Layla once. But to see the compassion that her friends had for her, to know how much she was loved, and to know that she was gone forever was just overwhelming. To know that her husband was robbed of his bride. . . To know that this bride could be robbed of her husband in the blink of an eye. . .
I hope that we all move on soon. I hope that Steve can pick up the pieces. I hope that Sheridan will be alright. My heart aches for her as much as it does for Steve. Friends like Layla only come once in a life time. Its such a shame her life ended so suddenly and so early in life.
Most of all, I hope I remember. I hope that I keep in my heart the way this tragedy has made me feel. I hope that I remember that saving $4 and staying in for the evening is not always the best option. I hope that I remember that putting your dishes in the dishwasher in the proper order is, in the end, irrelevant. I hope I remember to leave my laptop at home and save work for tomorrow. Life is what's now. Love is what's now. I hope Layla taught me that, even if in death.
To hear of Steve's loss tore me apart. I sat in T's office, disbelieving what she just told me. "Layla didn't make it..." Those words lingered in the air. Pain stabbed at my chest. I only met her once, but the way she affected Steve's life and the way he talked about her were enough for me to feel like I had known her for years. Although I have only known Steve for a year, a few midnight madness projects have made it seem more like decades.
My heart ached for him. I covered my face and cried. The longer the week wore on, the more I hurt. Not just my heart, my whole existence. We went to the viewing together. I was strong for Steve for a few moments. He told us this:
My sister said that the only way I could have survived would have been if Layla had become an angel at the moment she died. She must have protected me and kept me safe.
I couldnt breathe. Im a spiritual person and a hopeless romantic. That was too much -- too heartfelt. I was able -- by the grace of God -- able to control myself in that moment. Later, once we were outside, I fell apart. I cried and my voice cracked. I still hurt for Steve.
Thursday, the office closed down early and we all went to the memorial service together. I lost it over and over again. Laylas friends spoke of her, of Steve, of all of their cherished moments together. Her brother told stories, made us laugh, and made us cry. The priest tried to offer peace, understanding, and perhaps a bit of religion. A young tenor performed the most glorious Ave Maria I have ever heard. I cried again.
I couldnt figure out why this affected me so. As I said, I only met Layla once. But to see the compassion that her friends had for her, to know how much she was loved, and to know that she was gone forever was just overwhelming. To know that her husband was robbed of his bride. . . To know that this bride could be robbed of her husband in the blink of an eye. . .
I hope that we all move on soon. I hope that Steve can pick up the pieces. I hope that Sheridan will be alright. My heart aches for her as much as it does for Steve. Friends like Layla only come once in a life time. Its such a shame her life ended so suddenly and so early in life.
Most of all, I hope I remember. I hope that I keep in my heart the way this tragedy has made me feel. I hope that I remember that saving $4 and staying in for the evening is not always the best option. I hope that I remember that putting your dishes in the dishwasher in the proper order is, in the end, irrelevant. I hope I remember to leave my laptop at home and save work for tomorrow. Life is what's now. Love is what's now. I hope Layla taught me that, even if in death.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
The falling down of humanity
Doug and I went to Sam's today and bought a ton of stuff - literally. A ton of peppermints, a ton of Cascade, a ton of chicken, and a ton of dog food. So we thought. We expected the damage to be roughly $90. When the cashier told us it would be $61, we looked at her like she was nuts.
"Did you miss something...?" I kind of trailed off. She was busy handing my card back and hurrying the next customer through the line. At Sam's, they love to check your receipt to make sure that you didn't sneak anything in your basket in the 4 feet that lie between the cashier and the door. "She'll catch it at the door and we'll get it taken care of." Doug nodded. Of course she would.
The woman took my receipt and obviously pretended to take a quick inventory of my cart. It shouldn't be too hard - 7 items on the list, 8 in the cart. She drew her little line down the middle of the receipt and hurried us out the door. We got about 4 feet into the parking lot and I turned around. I just couldn't do it. Jesus said that what you do to the least of him, you have done to him. I couldn't steal dog food from Jesus. The little diddy I learned to help me remember the notes on the scale was "Even God Buys Dog Food," and so will Sheri.
I told the lady at the door what had happened. She jerked the receipt from my hand, "Let me see that." She was ungrateful, disgruntled, even angry. The other door-checker ripped it from her hands. "It's right here - Nutrigain, $10." I sighed, "Nutrigrain is granola. This is dog food." She was obviously put-off. "Go right there to customer service. They'll help you."
We stood in line at customer service. I peered over the counter at the lady who was wandering around, not working, and told her what had happened. I wanted to know whether we were in the right place. We were, and she was annoyed as well. The lead back there came over. "You know, you really ought to be more appreciative when your customers help you guys out like this." She assured me that they did appreciate it - they sure have a funny way of showing it. Three people were pissy to me for wanting to pay for my merchandise. Three people thought less of me for doing the right thing.
The lead offered us anything we wanted from the café, but we declined. We had just eaten, but thank you just the same. A mere thank you would have made me feel better.
On the way out the door, the first put-off list-checker muttered, "It's just dog food." Yeah - I wanted to say - $22 of dog food. Three hours of your pay for standing here not doing your job. Just dog food that I wanted to ante up on. I wanted to lay into her and set her straight, but I walked away, pretending not to hear.
How can it be that we live in a world that is so wrought with people taking advantage, demanding more for less, and being generally crummy people that we don't know how to behave when someone does something nice for us? How is it that morality has slipped so far that we can't recognize a good deed when one walks right up to us and speaks to us directly ?
Our morals are slipping further and further down the spiral and the only thing we know to do is to let it happen and walk away quietly with the dog food we didn't pay for.
"Did you miss something...?" I kind of trailed off. She was busy handing my card back and hurrying the next customer through the line. At Sam's, they love to check your receipt to make sure that you didn't sneak anything in your basket in the 4 feet that lie between the cashier and the door. "She'll catch it at the door and we'll get it taken care of." Doug nodded. Of course she would.
The woman took my receipt and obviously pretended to take a quick inventory of my cart. It shouldn't be too hard - 7 items on the list, 8 in the cart. She drew her little line down the middle of the receipt and hurried us out the door. We got about 4 feet into the parking lot and I turned around. I just couldn't do it. Jesus said that what you do to the least of him, you have done to him. I couldn't steal dog food from Jesus. The little diddy I learned to help me remember the notes on the scale was "Even God Buys Dog Food," and so will Sheri.
I told the lady at the door what had happened. She jerked the receipt from my hand, "Let me see that." She was ungrateful, disgruntled, even angry. The other door-checker ripped it from her hands. "It's right here - Nutrigain, $10." I sighed, "Nutrigrain is granola. This is dog food." She was obviously put-off. "Go right there to customer service. They'll help you."
We stood in line at customer service. I peered over the counter at the lady who was wandering around, not working, and told her what had happened. I wanted to know whether we were in the right place. We were, and she was annoyed as well. The lead back there came over. "You know, you really ought to be more appreciative when your customers help you guys out like this." She assured me that they did appreciate it - they sure have a funny way of showing it. Three people were pissy to me for wanting to pay for my merchandise. Three people thought less of me for doing the right thing.
The lead offered us anything we wanted from the café, but we declined. We had just eaten, but thank you just the same. A mere thank you would have made me feel better.
On the way out the door, the first put-off list-checker muttered, "It's just dog food." Yeah - I wanted to say - $22 of dog food. Three hours of your pay for standing here not doing your job. Just dog food that I wanted to ante up on. I wanted to lay into her and set her straight, but I walked away, pretending not to hear.
How can it be that we live in a world that is so wrought with people taking advantage, demanding more for less, and being generally crummy people that we don't know how to behave when someone does something nice for us? How is it that morality has slipped so far that we can't recognize a good deed when one walks right up to us and speaks to us directly ?
Our morals are slipping further and further down the spiral and the only thing we know to do is to let it happen and walk away quietly with the dog food we didn't pay for.
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