My Personal Curse

Everyone's got their own curse. Mine is the ol' "my line always moves the slowest." Oh, I know. That's your curse, too. No, I'm afraid not. Sure, you may have times when your line moves more slowly, but you just forget about the other times, when it moves faster. It all evens out in the end.

But not for me. The other day was unusually bad. I was again in the slowest line. In fact, it was the only line. To be more specific, I was the only person in line.

I was on the way to a local Game Stop to check out the non-existant specials, bad used-game pricing, and to just generally schmooze with the gamers that worked there.

On the way, I decided to stop at the Tropical Smoothie Cafe. I hadn't had lunch, didn't want to take the time to go to a restaurant or even a fast food place (the curse, remember?). So, I thought I'd grab a Peanut Paradise smoothie, which is a scoop of peanut butter, a banana, some low-fat yogurt, and enough suger and other junk to make an otherwise healthy drink truly fattening. But, hey.. it's got soy protein in it!

I entered the store, and luck was with me! Or so I thought. No one was in line. There were four other people there. Two were already eating, and two were waiting for their orders.

I walked up to the register, and a guy comes out from the back to take my order. Just as I notice a sign advertising that they take call-in orders for pickup, and right before the guy can ask me for my order, the phone rings.

"I'm sorry, I have to take that," he says.

About twenty seconds later, I'm thinking he's either ordering for a small town, or he's never been to Tropical Smoothie Cafe, because the guy is pretty much describing the entire menu of thirty smoothies.

Finally, after another minute, another guy comes out from the back, delivered a couple of sandwiches to the two waiting people, sees my dilemma, takes pity, and takes my order.

"Peanut Paradise, with whey, no soy," I say. Hey, that soy protein is too healthy, anyhow.

He rings it up and I pay. He goes back into the back, but he's not making my smoothie. No. He's cleaning up his workstation.

Finally, the other guy gets off the phone. "Sorry," he says, and then goes back to, presumably, make my smoothie. His workstation is around a corner, so I can't see what's happening.

A minute or so later, I hear the 'ding' of the door, and another customer walks in. I hear the blender kick in for my smoothie, and then the smoothie guy comes out to take the new order.

Another genius, here. He has questions. The guy has answers. The blender keeps churning. Finally, a decision is made, the order is rung up, and a cash transaction occurs that would put Paper Moon to shame.

Finally! The smoothie guy turns to go get my smoothie. But, no. The customer stops him and asks, "How much for that cookie?" "89 cents," is the reply. So, another cash transaction takes place with the customer slowly peeling a George Washington from his roll and the guy, oh so carefully, grabbing a pair of tongs, extracting the cookie from the display case, and placing it in a wax-paper bag.

The blender finally gives up and stops on its own. The guy goes back and finally delivers me my smoothie.

After all that blending time, it was a bit too smooth.

Total time? Fifteen minutes. Clocked.

Passing on the gene

It started out like any normal day. My wife had the day off and was helping to get the kids ready for school. Lunches were made, shoes and socks were on, and all that was left was getting the kids and their paraphernalia out the door, in the car, and on to school.

Suddenly! My son can't find his lunch box! Panic ensues! "Mom! Where's my lunch box!"

My wife, ever cool, replies "Your lunch box? I don't know... where do you think it is?"

My son's busily looking around. It's not on the counter. It's not on the floor. It's not on the table! "No, Mom... I really can't find it!"

It's getting late. My wife isn't helping! This is odd. She looks... incredulous. Hmmm....

I glance down. He's carrying it! He's had it in his hand the entire time. And, no. He's not joking.

And it's my fault. I know it is. I passed on the gene. The Flake gene.

I know he's inherited the Flake gene from me, because when I was in high school, something similar happened. I had misplaced my pencil (in Journalism class, of all places), and I was asking if anyone had seen it. One girl, Jenny, started laughing. She was laughing so hard she could only vaguely point at me. Or, rather, behind me. I turned and looked. Nothing. She laughed harder and gesticulated at me more wildly! Not behind me, then... maybe... my ear? Yes. The darn thing was behind my ear.

So, it may be that my son is doomed to flakedom. On the bright side, he's also inherited a good sense of humor (probably from my wife). Once he spotted the lunch box in his own hand, he broke into this wonderful laughter that stayed with me all day.

When life gives you lemons... or charges for them

I visited my home town of Tucson, AZ, this weekend. My sister and her clan came down to visit, and we all went out for breakfast at The Egg Connection. It turns out that this is one of my brother-in-law's favorite breakfast spot.

It used to be one of mine as well. For years, before I left, it was this ratty hole-in-the-wall that had old wooden tables that looked lucky to still be up. The food was good and hot, the service was quick, and the prices were nothing. Then, after they became popular, they moved a few streets down and got airs. They shifted to folding tables, reduced their service staff, changed their menu, and raised their prices.

I stopped going. It was just like any other breakfast place. It just wasn't the same.

So, I was interested in seeing what the place was like. It's in the same location as it had moved to and had the same sign. I figured that's a good thing as they apparently hadn't had to make any additional style concessions. And, they were crowded as well, which always bodes well.

So, while we're standing outside waiting for our table to be ready, I catch sight of a 5x7 index card next to the door, saying, "We charge for lemon slices to go along with your water, because 'we don't get lemons for free'".

Wow. Charging for lemon slices? I've never heard of that. I've never been to a place that charges for a slice of lemon. Oh, I've been to places that didn't have free refills on coffee, but I couldn't get over this. Did they charge for the little jelly packets? Or maybe for condiments?

My family all had a good chuckle and eventually got seated. The first thing I noticed was that most of the wait staff probably hadn't been born the last time I had been there. Nice.

I was happy to see that most of the menu items I had missed and stopped going there for were actually back! They had the massively large sausages that I loved (and should no longer eat), and their prices were still rock bottom. I felt at home again.

I went through the menu, and, on the back, there it was. "Slice of Lemon: $0.50."

Fifty cents? My God! I swiftly glanced around the table. "Whew!" I thought. Plenty of salt, pepper and jelly packets. I guess we're getting a free ride on those.

I wondered if they would charge a cutting fee if I brought in my own lemon. But, why stop there? Could I make any money setting up shop selling lemon slices in the parking lot? I could easily undercut them and sell slices for a quarter each.

But, just as the excitement of a new business opportunity was peaking, my mother informed me that The Egg Connection was already on top of it. She pointed to a sign saying, "No Outside Food or Drink Allowed."

Drat.

One Big US Family

I'm really not much of a political animal. But, when the elections come along, I still manage to get involved in the typical lunch-time discussions, even though I really have no idea what I'm talking about.

So, when we started talking platforms, issues, complaints, and all the other typical stuff, I suddenly got this crazy vision about the nature of our party system. Or, perhaps, it simply reflects my views on our national politics.

It's like a family. The two primary parties are the parents, and all us constituents are, well... the kids.

One one hand, you have the Democratic Party who takes on the nurturer role.

"Ok, Kids. We want you all to do the best you can and help each other out. We want you to try as hard as you can, but if you can't handle it, don't worry. We'll be there to take care of you. Now, make sure you watch over your brothers and sisters. We need to work together on this. So, if you need to give up your dates on Fridays to take your younger sibling to piano lessons, that's just what you're going to do. "

On the other hand, the Republicans are more of the disciplinarian and character builder.

"Ok, Kids. You need to learn to do for yourself. Nothing's free in this world. If you really want something, you'll find a way to earn it. There are plenty of things you can do around here for an allowance, and there's always a part-time job, if you want it. We can't be constantly moddle-coddling you. Need help with something? So does everyone else. Make a deal. Compromise with each other. Don't be running to us with little stupid stuff. We're not interested."

None of this applies to the extreme right or left, but to what I consider to be the original, core beliefs of each party.

I know it's over simplified. And I know that I really don't know much about it. It was just a train of thought that came to me, and I found it to be pretty amusing. But, to each their own, I suppose.

Purpose of Ears

The other night, as the family was sprawled on our bed in our nightly togetherness, my wife was playing with our three year-old daughter.

"What's your mouth for?" "Eating."
"Good! What's your nose for?" "Bweathing."
"What are your ears for?" "..."

At this point, she was stumped. After screwing up her face in thought for 15 seconds, she suddendly brighted up, smiled, and exclaimed "Earrings!"