Who let the dogs out?

The first week I was at work, I encountered 3 dogs in the store. And these weren't like strays that had entered the building--these were dogs being wheeled around in shopping carts by their owners. I found this very odd. I understand taking your dog to PetSmart or some other animal-centered place, but since when did it become acceptable to take your pet from store to store? I asked one of the other employees about the dogs, and she simply said, "Well some people just think their dogs are their kids." That may be true- but people normally aren't really allergic to babies are they?

Queen's Five-Year-Old Following...

Of all the things I thought I would hear the other day at work, a Queen cover was not one of them. As I was walking by the floral section on my way to the front of the store, I passed a mom and her two boys. As I passed them, I heard one of the little boys singing. I expected to hear some little VBS song or something. Instead I heard, "You got mud on your face, you big disgrace..." and then I had passed them.

Irony...

I think irony is hilarious (true irony that is- not the Alanis Morissette version). According to this really long website I found through Google (http://www.tnellen.com/cybereng/lit_terms/irony.html):

Irony is an implied discrepancy between what is said and what is meant.
Three kinds of irony:

1. verbal irony is when an author says one thing and means something else.
2. dramatic irony is when an audience perceives something that a character in the literature does not know.
3. irony of situation is a discrepancy between the expected result and actual results.

The other day I had a great experience with the third kind of irony. This older lady cashier I work with came back to the fabric department to purchase some random stuff. Nothing unusual happened until I looked at her shirt. It was an orange shirt she had decorated with the words "Bling Bling" written in neon-orange puff paint. Not what I expected from a little white lady.

Boredom and Unlimited Craft Supplies...

Does anyone remember that movie where the girl lives in Walmart? Well you can't live in a craft store, but you can definitely keep yourself occupied for a while. Last week I was getting a little bored in the morning. It was early on a Saturday morning, and who really goes shopping for fabric at 9 AM? So after straightening my section and making sure all was in order, I began to look for things to do. Then it hit me--I have a whole bedroom in need of decorating. It was the perfect task. I had unlimited decorating resources at my disposal. I picked out the wooden letters I'm going to use and tried out about a million different potential ways to hang said letters on the wall. I also explored all the possibilities for recovering my rocker cushions. Around that time people actually started showing up, and the day was pretty busy from then on. But it's always nice to know I never have to worry about running out of things to do at work.

Contradictions abound...

Humans are interesting creatures for many reasons. One of the most obvious is their ability to completely contradict themselves without even seeing it. Here's a good example:

A guy stomped into my department the other day looking for some kind of unfinished wood to use to fix his towel rack. I'm not really sure as to how the towel rack came out of the wall or why he couldn't just put it back up (random sidenote: when I was in fifth grade, a friend of mine was spending the night, and she tried to hang from the towel rack in my parents' bathroom, and the thing just ripped right out of the wall-to this day, my dad refers to her as the chimp-so my bet is on some kind of similar incident). Anyway- he brought me (please remember I work in the FABRIC department) a wooden object made for hanging towels or coats, etc. He, in his most annoyed tone, wanted to know if we had anything similar to that but without the pegs. I said, "You mean like a plain piece of wood?" He looked at me like I was crazy and replied, "No- it needs to be just like this, but without the pegs." I informed him that all our unfinished wood was on the aisle he had just been down, and I even called a manager just to make sure. I then suggested he try one of the home repair stores (after all- he was repairing something in his home). His response- he had already been there and they sent him to me. I think he was beginning to think we were conspiring against him. We weren't- I promise. Anyway- he made a few rude comments and huffed off as if I was personally responsible for his dilemma. (But hey- I wasn't the one swinging from his towel rack) The contradiction came when I noticed he was covered in Jesus gear. Yep- that's right- the rudest customer of my day was wearing a t-shirt from a Christian school and had an "I love Jesus" key chain hanging from his pocket. All I could think was, "Dude- if you are going to be a jerk, please don't make matters worse by plastering the Prince of Peace's name all over your actions."

I must say though, as quickly as I judged him, I also had to realize how often I am cranky or just flat-out rude to innocent people who are just in the middle of my frustration. Good wake-up call for me.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Car...

We have somewhat of a ritual at the store. We all walk out of the store together and gather any random shopping carts before we leave. Maybe that isn't really a tradition, but it's what we do. Anyway- normally the only people around when we leave are employees and the occasional family member/friend picking someone up. This was not the case on Thursday night. As we walked out of the store, there were two cars parked next to the sidewalk. The people surrounding the cars were the most interesting part though--

- a teenage girl with a toddler
- a very pregnant young woman sitting on the hood of one of the cars
- a shirtless guy standing next to the pregnant woman
- and two random guys just kind of "hangin'"

This was strange enough (I mean who just hangs out in a craft store parking lot? maybe nerdy rebels?!?), but right before I got in my car, things got stranger. I saw the shirtless guy lick something in his hand and stick it to his chest. When I drove past them to get out of the parking lot I saw what it was--a Marlboro pack. Who sticks a pack of cigarettes to their chest?

English Nerds Unite

So, in case you didn't know, I'm a bit of an English nerd. I try not to be too terribly anal about grammar issues (especially since I can't spell to save my life), but I do have one little pet peeve: people using adjectives when they should be using adverbs. The other day, I was straightening the fabrics (which is what we always do when there is nothing else to do), and I saw some cool new fabric with dragons on it. As I looked closer, I realized there were three kinds of fabric that all went together. One was fabric to make a kids' book (you know- like the cloth books we give to babies so they can drool on them?). Anyway, I started reading the story-- and that's when I saw it--the grammatically incorrect sentence in the middle of the children's book. How wrong is that? No wonder kids have such bad grammar. Anyway. Here's the sentence: And all the people in Lestertown were real happy. Argh!!! That's very wrong! Ok- that's the end of my nerdy rant. I will now return to non-nerdy Laurel.

Welcome back...

Sorry I disappeared for a week. I was a bit overwhelmed with all that I had to get done. I was working at my job, co-directing a camp for young writers, and getting ready to move. My schedule looked a little like this:

7- get up and get ready for camp (probably including a mad dash to the store for last minute supplies)
8-3- camp
3-9 work
9-12- attempt to pack up my apartment (which basically consisted of staring at boxes and piles of stuff and hoping it all came together in a Mary Poppins kind of way)
12-7- sleep

7 the next morning- pray that the annoying noise I heard was not my alarm clock, but just a bad part of my dream. :)

All in all, it was busy, but I'm glad that I got to work with some kids that love to write, and I'm happy to report that all of my stuff did make its way into boxes (although not in a "spoonful of sugar" kind of way- very disappointing).

I'm back though, and I did write blogs for last week, I just didn't get them posted- so here they are. Hope you enjoy.

Guess this disease...

I often overhear cell phone conversations. I'm sometimes amazed at the kinds of things people will discuss on cell phones in public places. Today's example: "Oh, Genie got that. It took her a year to get over that." So here's my question--what's "that"?

Self-importance=bad customer=moldy pennies

Some of you may remember my post about pennies from a few days ago. Well- the fastest ways to get moldy pennies are listed below:

1. Talk loudly on your cell phone while standing in front of the register and never addressing the cashier. And, if you really want the gross pennies, talk to the cashier in "cell phone whisper/mouthing" (you know- the i'm-on-the-phone-but-have-to-tell-you-something-without-the-phone-conversation-being-interrupted style of conversing). I have a new approach to these people--i ignore the fact that they are on the phone- i ask to see their IDs in my regular voice, i give them their totals in a normal voice, etc.

2. Cut in line simply because you have a small order or you're in a rush (especially without sympathetically asking those in front if you can cut and really add to it by cutting in front of a sweet, old quilter).

3. Proclaim your Paris Hilton/Nicole Richie-esque importance by wandering around the store after 8 o'clock despite the multiple announcements about the store's closing and multiple reminders from store employees that we are closed. Add to this by giggling when you finally scurrying off as if it's cute to make people wait 15 minutes to start cleaning up. (after all- what could us hourly-waged workers have to do besides wait anyway?)

Translating Fabric chatting...

Just a few words you should know if working at Hobby Lobby.

Evidently, the following pronunciations are acceptable when calling the fabric department:

Salary- "You know, the color of salary- like the crunchy stuff you eat with ranch dressing."

Com'ter- "Yeah- cause I got the pillow shams, I just need the com'ter."

So there you have it.

Fabric departments and the marketplace of ideas....

I came to work and hit the ground running today. One family of people speaking a non-English language was looking for all sorts of fun fabrics involving sequins. To add to the mix, in came a Mennonite family (the father of this family asked the other family what language they were speaking—they said they were from Iraq—so I guess that’s Arabic?). I thought it might be interesting to watch the interactions.

I've noticed over my days in my department that there are a large number of non-native speakers that come through my aisles. I always found this strange because I don't exactly live in a large city. I always wondered what made them choose my town (not in a go-back-to-where-you-came-from kind of way--more of a of-all-the-places-you-could-go-you-chose-this-one? kind of way). The biggest mystery was how many of them were in my town. I figured the percentage of people that shop in my store must be low, so therefore, for every one that came my way, there must be many more that didn't cross my path. I began to rethink this equation today. It makes sense that people from foreign countries, with foreign traditions and foreign traditional clothing would have a hard time finding ready-made clothing for special events, etc. Therefore, a higher percentage of them would cross my path in the fabrics department--they are forced to make their own garments since they probably won't find traditional Indian clothing or a dress fit for a Puerta Rican Sweet 16 celebration.

I think the funniest thing was realizing that, in the fabric department, Mennonites and Iraqis have something in common. They both must make the clothes uniquely associated with their cultures. Neither group is really likely to find something suitable at the local American Eagle.

I also found both sets of customers merging their cultures with mainstream American culture. One of the daughters in the Mennonite family was wearing a homemade dress and a pair of Nike high-tops. The Iraqi family had an interesting way of using both Arabic and English words in their conversation without every having a break in the conversation. That’s all for now- this one may be continued later when I am feeling more creative.

I did it!

I went an entire shift without screwing up on the register. It's kind of like a perfect game. I did manage to give a lady only 5 of the 6 yards of tulle she purchased though. Oh well--there's always tomorrow.

Emma wants new bows...

So I love hearing people call kids innocent. So not the case!! I'm completely convinced kids are born with all the same motives as adults have. For example- wanting what you don't have. A woman came in the other day. She had a cute little girl (I assume her daughter) and a nice man (I assume her husband) with her. She had two different types of ribbon. She was trying to figure out how much she needed. She said she needed to make really big hairbows. I said that a yard normally is enough for a bow, but if she wants a really big one, it might take more. I asked her how big it needed to be. She then explained the whole story. She said Emma (the little girl) had plenty of perfectly nice hairbows, but, according to Emma, they weren't big enough. She wanted bigger ones like her classmate had. The mom said this little girl had huge hairbows- ridiculously big actually. For some reason, Emma wanted hairbows like that, not the ones she currently owned. So here was the mom, trying to figure out how much ribbon it would take to make Emma look like this other little girl. It's funny, because this little girl looked too small to have such determined opinions about something like the size of her hairbows. I think the funniest part was when the mom was leaving. She said, "Yeah- so we may have thought big bows were out, but I guess they're making a comeback." Who knew the latest hair fashions would start in a preschool?

Pennies...

Just to let you know--when I get really bored at work, I become a little Monk-esque. The most obvious sign of this has to do with pennies. On days I am feeling especially passive-agressive and OCD, I give my customers their change according to how I like them. Now before you think I'm doing something illegal, I must clarify. I don't not give them their change, I just give them new shiny pennies or old dirty pennies depending on how nice they are to me. So--if you want the new shiny pennies instead of the gross, almost moldy pennies--be nice to your local fabric cutter.

Restoring my faith in kids...

Working at Hobby Lobby can sometimes feel like birth control. Kids are constantly screaming or throwing fits. It's a bit ridiculous. But the other day I met a little boy that made me want to have my own kiddos some day. His name was Levi. He's two years old, and I found myself having a full-out conversation with the little guy. The best part of the night was when he told me his mother had a choo-choo in her belly. Evidently he went to the doctor with his mom and heard the sonogram. His parents didn't really know how to tell him about the little baby, so when he said the heartbeat sounded like a choo-choo they just went with it. That's all I have to say about that. How cute is that? And I'm not even one of those, "Oh look at the baby!" types.

When you really love your motorcycle...

Sorry it's been a while. I've been having trouble with my internet- but I think I'm back in business now. Anyway- this lady came in the other day, and I thought she looked like any other woman in my department...then something caught my eye. Her engagement ring was pretty standard, but her wedding band had a little something extra--a Harley Davidson sign.


Funniest part is that whenI went to find the image, I found out there was a whole website devoted to Harley Davidson wedding rings.

The power of a red pen...

Following the price gun blog, I have yet another treasured possession of employees at everyone's favorite craft store--the red pen. Instead of the barcoded system of most places, we have very important ink colors. You can only use black ink on certain forms and only red ink in the ordering books. Also- if an item is discontinued, we mark through the price with a red pen (which confuses the snot out of customers since it looks like a lower price should be somewhere else on the package). All of this color specific stuff makes any non-black pen valuable. Trying to find a red pen can be like looking for a self-conscious person at a nudist colony. The other day one of my friends and co-workers gave me a red pen to fill something out. I think this was a true sign of friendship. So I did what any smart person would do--I used it, put it in my smock pocket and didn't tell anyone I had it. So there that is- you are the only ones to know that I have a red pen. Confused yet?

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a bolt of fabric

A few days ago, I was tidying up my fabric department when I heard a thud followed by a series of thuds. I looked over at the wall that contains three shelves of fabric and found a whole section empty. On the floor was a pile of pink floral fabrics. I walked over and found a lady rubbing her head. Evidently the fabric had fallen on her head. I asked her if she was okay and she gave a hesitating, "yeah." She then told me she had once been hit in the head with a fan. I guess the puzzled look on my face encouraged her to continue. She said she was sitting at a play, and something came loose, and a fan fell on her head. Sixteen staples later, she was all back together. I think my favorite part of the story was when she said, "so now I tend to be a little more aware of things above me." I would say so. I think if I got hit in the head with a ceiling fan I would walk around with a helmet on my head.

Concealed Weapons...

***I'm posting twice today since I was a slacker and missed two days this week***

My place of employment may be full of every kind of yarn you could want, but if you are looking for a price gun, you are out of luck. We have a certain number of price guns. Evidently we are one of the lucky stores because we have two more than most. Despite this surplus, each department still hoards guns. If you come to the fabric department looking for a price gun or a clearance gun (although this may sound like a different piece of equipment, it really is just a price gun filled with clearance tape instead of regular tape) there are one of two possible responses:

1. Yes- we have a gun, but you better return it or we'll hunt you down.

or

2. No- I don't know where one is.

The first one is the truth. We have 2 price guns stashed away in the department (but if I told you where they were I would have to...aw-you know the rest). We don't tell anyone where these guns are, because if we did, other workers would steal them and never return them. If we like you, you get answer #1. If we don't like you, don't trust you, or fear you might take the gun for good, we lie to you. So there you go- the highest commodity in my store is not the lamps and other home accents, oh no- it's the price guns.

Multi-generational mullets

Yep. You read it! Although I'm not really sure it is MULTI-generational because there were just 2 generations. I would be willing to bet that there's a grandfather somewhere...anyway- I should probably explain. I think I mentioned the other day that I see a large number of kids at Hobby Lobby. Despite the constant stream of kids of all shapes and sizes, I was not prepared to see a family of mullets. There were 7 people in the family. The mom and 2 daughters and one of the sons had perfectly normal haircuts. The father and 2 young sons were sporting the ever-dreaded mullet. And these were no minor mullets. We're talking hair MUCH longer than mine with a mullet front. It got me thinking--is it really fair to make your children sport such a definitive haircut at such a young age? Given I'm sure I sported plenty of really bad haircuts in my childhood (some self-inflicted with my bright orange fish scissors), but a mullet just seems cruel. Anyway-I ended up chatting with the mother of the bunch and she informed me the family was making baskets for some Cherokee thing in Kentucky. I instantly got "Indian Outlaw" by Tim McGraw stuck in my head and spent the rest of the day humming the chorus of, "I'm an Indian outlaw/half Cherokee and Choctaw..." No fun for anyone around me. I think the kicker for the day was when the little boys were running as the family left the fabric section and I heard the mother say, "You better not do that because if you break something at this store, they break your legs!"

The Perks of Being A Fabric Cutter

One of the most unexpected parts of my job is the huge number of times I get to watch the interactions between parents and kids. You wouldn't think it, but my place of employment is full of kids--and to be honest--it's not exactly a kid's dream to spend his/her time walking through aisles of ribbon and thread. This leads to kids attempting to amuse themselves and those around them. All too often, these forms of amusement lead to threats and evil eyes by the parental units.

The other day I had a kid hiding behind my checkout counter and then he darted off to hide behind a big display of pottery stuff. Watching this kid try to get his parents' attention got me thinking. I often hear people make references to teenagers and kids alike that insinuate that kids and teenagers think drastically differently from adults. After 25 years of people watching, I must disagree. Although teenagers and kids may act differently than adults, I think the motives for actions never really change. This little kid wanted his parents' attention, so he played a one-sided game of hide-and-seek. Adults have the same, "Look at me! Look at me!" motive, they just display it differently. They tell stories about the cool things they've done ("The last game of the season, during the final seconds..., etc.) or they do nifty tricks, or they wear clothing that draws attention to the right places--whatever it takes to make sure they get the attention they want. I think I'll spend a large amount of the rest of the summer people watching for more proof of my theory...but I'm pretty sure I'm right.