Before I got home from work today I already knew that my wife’s day had been rough. She had filled me in at lunch, so I was aware that the baby was grumpy and had only slept an hour all day. Naturally it came as somewhat of a surprise when I got home and was greeted by his bright smile. “Here you go,” my wife said as she handed the happy baby off to Daddy. “He needs you.”
“But he looks happy,” I replied. It was as I reached out to grab the boy that I realized why he needed Daddy. The evidence was oozing out the back of his pants. “Oh, I get it,” I said.
“At least he will be happy now,” she said. “I think that was what he’s been working on all day.” To be honest, I did take the child and got busy on the dirty work, but this job actually required both of us in order to get it done without damaging the house. It was that messy.
Just as we wrapped up the blowout, my daughter decided to wake up from her incredibly late nap. Waking up, however, involved some sort of bad dream and a lot of tears and clinging to dad for about a half hour. Welcome home.
Now fast forward to later in the evening. My wife clearly needed a break before dinner, so I sent her out to do some therapy shopping (for on-sale necessities only) while I prepared dinner. (Again, I have to be honest. Dinner was leftovers, so don’t give me too much credit. Oh, wait. On second thought, the leftovers consisted of the chicken that I had barbecued over the weekend, so I guess I do get some credit after all.)
Keep in mind that I had been gone for the whole day at work and what greeted me? A diapular blow-out and a clingy, fussy child. What does Mom get when she returns home from a one hour shopping trip? Well apparently it all depends on what you bring home. Her loot consisted only of some boring basics like milk, soap, and shampoo, but it was enough to bring delight to a child’s eyes.
“Oooooh! Look at the shampoo! Mommy got it for us,” my youngest daughter shouted out as she held the bottle up high and paraded around the house. “Can we take a bath?”
“Yeah well I worked hard so she could buy it,” I sighed. Despite my lame efforts to take some of the credit, the parade marched on with no mention of Daddy. Excitement oozed from every square inch of of my daughter’s body as she paraded up and down the hall singing the praises of Mommy and the shampoo. How is it that Mom got to be greeted by oozing excitement and Dad was welcomed home with other oozing matter?
Some things in life just don’t quite seem fair.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Here's to You (Part 1)
It’s been a while since I have written anything that has made it past my hard drive and out into cyberspace. There are several reasons for this, but none of them very good, so I’ll not bore you trying to explain myself. Lately, in an attempt to conquer the dreaded writer’s block, I have been looking for inspiration in the world around me. I know that there are stories that are worth telling everywhere I look, but I seem to have forgotten how to notice them.
Since the point of this blog is to dwell on the comical, insightful, and inspiring moments of my journey through life as a Christian husband, father, and observer of life in general, I figured that the best way to jump start my dead brain was to focus in on the best in others. Given that, I am going to start a series entitled “Here’s to You…” In this, I will point out the good that I see in others. It could be little things, big things, or some of those medium things that fall in between. My goal is to train myself to look for the best in people and, in so doing, encourage anyone else who might be reading. So, without further ado I’ll begin. (When was the last time you ever heard anyone say “ado” without the word “further” or “much” in front of it? Tell me about it in the comments below if you think you can do it.)
I am a very fortunate father. (If you have any doubts about that refer back to my post entitled “Second Place” in February of 2008.) My kids are cute, smart, and very well-behaved. I’d like to think it is because of me that they are this way, so I will. One of the goals my wife and I have set lately has been to work with our girls on responding to us with enthusiasm when we give them a task to complete. The premise is simple. When Daddy asks one of them to do something, she responds with a cheerful, “Yes, Daddy!” and then runs off and does it. Occasionally one of them might forget the cheerful response, but a quick reminder will usually do the trick.
Tonight was a total failure. Tonight my cute, smart, and very well-behaved daughter was not in a “Yes, Daddy” mood. I think she was actually in a “Kiss off, Old Man” mood. Fortunately these moods don’t come very often, but when they come, they hit hard and are contagious. Tonight’s eruption started, ironically enough, just as I was settling down to read my girls a Bible story and put them into bed. I’m not sure how it all started, but it was one of those moments that went from bad to worse in seconds. After a particularly intense “discussion” with my cute, smart, and very well-behaved daughter, she was in her bed sobbing hysterically. (Because I had won...if you can call that kind of result a victory.)
Behind her closed door the sobs grew louder and angrier and I struggled to hold myself back. Fortunately, if I tried really hard, I could almost ignore the tantrum that was erupting. When I returned to the living room where all of this had begun, my other cute, smart, and very well-behaved daughter was sitting in her mini rocking chair right where I had left her when all the drama had begun. My blood pressure at this point was through the roof, my heart rate was sky high, and adrenaline was pumping through my veins.
I glanced down at the pajama-clad preschooler, pretty sure my spiritual meter was not set to “Bible Mode” when she looked up at me with the biggest grin she could muster and handed me the Bible. “Here you go, Daddy!” she said.
“Did God really just use a three-year-old with a smile and a Bible to change my mood?” I asked myself. It appeared that He had, because who could have resisted that smile? (I know that her smile really meant, “Aren’t you so glad I’m the good girl, Daddy,” but it was meaningful nonetheless.) As the boiling blood inside me started to simmer down, I took the Bible from her small hands and opened it. At this point, the tantrum was still audible down the hall, but all of a sudden something inexplicable happened. One second I heard a blood-curdling screaming moment of rage, and the next, it all changed.
“I’m sorry, Daddy!” The words tumbled down that hall as loudly as she could yell them.
“Did she just say she was sorry?” I asked my wife. My cute, smart, and very well-behaved little girl can also be very stubborn when these rare moods flare up. She’s not the kind of kid to give up like that.
“I think so,” my wife replied as I handed her the Bible and went in to talk to my cute, smart, very well-behaved daughter once again. Needless to say, the tense moment had passed and the worst was instantly behind us. Not to be outdone, I offered her my apology for letting my temper get the best of me in the midst of the chaos as well. The next thing I knew, she threw her arms around me and planted a heart-felt kiss on my cheek. It reminded me of the kind of kiss a little girl gives her daddy on her wedding day, the kind of kiss that says, “Thanks for being my daddy.”
“I’m sorry.” There is a lot of power in those words. Wrap that up with a kid handing you a Bible and anger and frustration don’t stand a chance.
I don’t always like it when my kids teach me lessons, but they are often the most meaningful. So here’s to you Maddie Rae and Hamster, the two best girls a dad could ever ask for.
Since the point of this blog is to dwell on the comical, insightful, and inspiring moments of my journey through life as a Christian husband, father, and observer of life in general, I figured that the best way to jump start my dead brain was to focus in on the best in others. Given that, I am going to start a series entitled “Here’s to You…” In this, I will point out the good that I see in others. It could be little things, big things, or some of those medium things that fall in between. My goal is to train myself to look for the best in people and, in so doing, encourage anyone else who might be reading. So, without further ado I’ll begin. (When was the last time you ever heard anyone say “ado” without the word “further” or “much” in front of it? Tell me about it in the comments below if you think you can do it.)
I am a very fortunate father. (If you have any doubts about that refer back to my post entitled “Second Place” in February of 2008.) My kids are cute, smart, and very well-behaved. I’d like to think it is because of me that they are this way, so I will. One of the goals my wife and I have set lately has been to work with our girls on responding to us with enthusiasm when we give them a task to complete. The premise is simple. When Daddy asks one of them to do something, she responds with a cheerful, “Yes, Daddy!” and then runs off and does it. Occasionally one of them might forget the cheerful response, but a quick reminder will usually do the trick.
Tonight was a total failure. Tonight my cute, smart, and very well-behaved daughter was not in a “Yes, Daddy” mood. I think she was actually in a “Kiss off, Old Man” mood. Fortunately these moods don’t come very often, but when they come, they hit hard and are contagious. Tonight’s eruption started, ironically enough, just as I was settling down to read my girls a Bible story and put them into bed. I’m not sure how it all started, but it was one of those moments that went from bad to worse in seconds. After a particularly intense “discussion” with my cute, smart, and very well-behaved daughter, she was in her bed sobbing hysterically. (Because I had won...if you can call that kind of result a victory.)
Behind her closed door the sobs grew louder and angrier and I struggled to hold myself back. Fortunately, if I tried really hard, I could almost ignore the tantrum that was erupting. When I returned to the living room where all of this had begun, my other cute, smart, and very well-behaved daughter was sitting in her mini rocking chair right where I had left her when all the drama had begun. My blood pressure at this point was through the roof, my heart rate was sky high, and adrenaline was pumping through my veins.
I glanced down at the pajama-clad preschooler, pretty sure my spiritual meter was not set to “Bible Mode” when she looked up at me with the biggest grin she could muster and handed me the Bible. “Here you go, Daddy!” she said.
“Did God really just use a three-year-old with a smile and a Bible to change my mood?” I asked myself. It appeared that He had, because who could have resisted that smile? (I know that her smile really meant, “Aren’t you so glad I’m the good girl, Daddy,” but it was meaningful nonetheless.) As the boiling blood inside me started to simmer down, I took the Bible from her small hands and opened it. At this point, the tantrum was still audible down the hall, but all of a sudden something inexplicable happened. One second I heard a blood-curdling screaming moment of rage, and the next, it all changed.
“I’m sorry, Daddy!” The words tumbled down that hall as loudly as she could yell them.
“Did she just say she was sorry?” I asked my wife. My cute, smart, and very well-behaved little girl can also be very stubborn when these rare moods flare up. She’s not the kind of kid to give up like that.
“I think so,” my wife replied as I handed her the Bible and went in to talk to my cute, smart, very well-behaved daughter once again. Needless to say, the tense moment had passed and the worst was instantly behind us. Not to be outdone, I offered her my apology for letting my temper get the best of me in the midst of the chaos as well. The next thing I knew, she threw her arms around me and planted a heart-felt kiss on my cheek. It reminded me of the kind of kiss a little girl gives her daddy on her wedding day, the kind of kiss that says, “Thanks for being my daddy.”
“I’m sorry.” There is a lot of power in those words. Wrap that up with a kid handing you a Bible and anger and frustration don’t stand a chance.
I don’t always like it when my kids teach me lessons, but they are often the most meaningful. So here’s to you Maddie Rae and Hamster, the two best girls a dad could ever ask for.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Day 1
Some things in life are predictable. Some are not. They say death and taxes fit into the predictable mold. Kids, however, do not. Today was the first day of our five week vacation camping in a 25 foot trailer with the four kids and a dog.
We did everything just like we were supposed to do. After three days of packing, cleaning, laundering, and scheduling, we had the trailer packed and the route mapped out. To our surprise, we pulled out of the driveway only three minutes behind schedule. As our overloaded Suburban lumbered down the road dragging the helpless trailer behind, my wife and I reviewed our mental checklists of things we may have forgotten.
“Did you get your swimsuit?” she asked me.
“I got two,” I replied. “What about shaving cream? I didn’t pack any.”
“Don’t worry, I packed yours,” she said with a smug grin. After a few minutes we were satisfied that we had everything we needed.
“That’s strange,” I said as we slithered up the canyon leading out of the valley and toward the nearest interstate. “There are no cars coming down the hill.”
It soon became clear why the road was empty. Up ahead, we noticed a contingent of fire vehicles fighting a brush fire along the side of the road. The opposing lanes were closed. “Good thing we are heading north,” my wife said. And then it happened. All the planning in the world cannot compensate for the reality of living in Southern California traffic.
Without warning, all the cars around us came to a complete stand still. The cars heading southbound were forced to do u-turns in front of us, thus snarling the northbound lanes. My introverted wife was content to leave the windows up and hide in within the sanctity of the Burb. I, however, thought this would be a good time to strike up a conversation with the neighboring vehicles. Traffic was moving, albeit slowly. When a well dressed middle aged woman in a brand new Range Rover asked if she could cut in front of me so she would be in position to get on the freeway, I decided to see how badly she wanted the spot. “I take bribes,” I said.
“You can have my firstborn,” she shouted back through her open window. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I counted my own kids.
“I already have four. If that’s the best you can do, I guess I’ll just let you in,” I replied.
Once we finally got on the freeway, traffic was moving well and we were making up for lost time. Then it happened again. Traffic slowed to a crawl and we were stuck. This time it was a multi-car pile up on the 101 (so said the guy on the radio). By the time we got through that, it was the heart of rush hour and traffic again snarled. By this point, the baby is screaming and mom is doing her best to keep him quiet. “We’re not stopping,” I said as my wife crawled into the back seat to figure out how she could nurse an infant without unbuckling him. (It can be done!) Ahh, peace and quiet. Ahhhh! More traffic. But at least it is quiet.
The first leg of our trip was scheduled to last two and a half hours. Four hours later, we arrived at our destination. We’ll be here for a few days. Hopefully the rest of this trip goes better.
We did everything just like we were supposed to do. After three days of packing, cleaning, laundering, and scheduling, we had the trailer packed and the route mapped out. To our surprise, we pulled out of the driveway only three minutes behind schedule. As our overloaded Suburban lumbered down the road dragging the helpless trailer behind, my wife and I reviewed our mental checklists of things we may have forgotten.
“Did you get your swimsuit?” she asked me.
“I got two,” I replied. “What about shaving cream? I didn’t pack any.”
“Don’t worry, I packed yours,” she said with a smug grin. After a few minutes we were satisfied that we had everything we needed.
“That’s strange,” I said as we slithered up the canyon leading out of the valley and toward the nearest interstate. “There are no cars coming down the hill.”
It soon became clear why the road was empty. Up ahead, we noticed a contingent of fire vehicles fighting a brush fire along the side of the road. The opposing lanes were closed. “Good thing we are heading north,” my wife said. And then it happened. All the planning in the world cannot compensate for the reality of living in Southern California traffic.
Without warning, all the cars around us came to a complete stand still. The cars heading southbound were forced to do u-turns in front of us, thus snarling the northbound lanes. My introverted wife was content to leave the windows up and hide in within the sanctity of the Burb. I, however, thought this would be a good time to strike up a conversation with the neighboring vehicles. Traffic was moving, albeit slowly. When a well dressed middle aged woman in a brand new Range Rover asked if she could cut in front of me so she would be in position to get on the freeway, I decided to see how badly she wanted the spot. “I take bribes,” I said.
“You can have my firstborn,” she shouted back through her open window. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I counted my own kids.
“I already have four. If that’s the best you can do, I guess I’ll just let you in,” I replied.
Once we finally got on the freeway, traffic was moving well and we were making up for lost time. Then it happened again. Traffic slowed to a crawl and we were stuck. This time it was a multi-car pile up on the 101 (so said the guy on the radio). By the time we got through that, it was the heart of rush hour and traffic again snarled. By this point, the baby is screaming and mom is doing her best to keep him quiet. “We’re not stopping,” I said as my wife crawled into the back seat to figure out how she could nurse an infant without unbuckling him. (It can be done!) Ahh, peace and quiet. Ahhhh! More traffic. But at least it is quiet.
The first leg of our trip was scheduled to last two and a half hours. Four hours later, we arrived at our destination. We’ll be here for a few days. Hopefully the rest of this trip goes better.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Thankfulness
The stresses of each day,
The demands that come my way
Pull in ten directions
No time for reflections
And keep my plans at bay.
I fall into bed each night
Tired of the daily fight.
Wishing to sleep forever
Wanting to to wake up never.
Then all would be just right.
With eyes just closed
I hear the moan.
Baby wants to eat
And pitter-patter feet,
So I stifle my groan.
With a pasted smile
I fetch the child
And Mommy gets the baby.
Praying it’s quick, just maybe
We’ll keep the night so mild.
Solve the problem, return to bed
Knowing that the last one’s fed.
Breathe deep.
Welcome sleep.
And thank God for the one I wed.
My mind is racing fast.
He’s given me more than I ever asked.
Kids and a wife,
A wonderful life,
And joy that will last.
I sometimes take it for granted
And catch myself having just ranted.
I am so blessed,
I could live with less.
This world is so slanted.
There is joy in my life
Despite all my petty strife.
Knowing the source,
It’s Him, of course,
And a wonderful wife!
The demands that come my way
Pull in ten directions
No time for reflections
And keep my plans at bay.
I fall into bed each night
Tired of the daily fight.
Wishing to sleep forever
Wanting to to wake up never.
Then all would be just right.
With eyes just closed
I hear the moan.
Baby wants to eat
And pitter-patter feet,
So I stifle my groan.
With a pasted smile
I fetch the child
And Mommy gets the baby.
Praying it’s quick, just maybe
We’ll keep the night so mild.
Solve the problem, return to bed
Knowing that the last one’s fed.
Breathe deep.
Welcome sleep.
And thank God for the one I wed.
My mind is racing fast.
He’s given me more than I ever asked.
Kids and a wife,
A wonderful life,
And joy that will last.
I sometimes take it for granted
And catch myself having just ranted.
I am so blessed,
I could live with less.
This world is so slanted.
There is joy in my life
Despite all my petty strife.
Knowing the source,
It’s Him, of course,
And a wonderful wife!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Free Chicken
I’ve heard it said that you get what you pay for. I have also heard it said that the best things in life are free. Tonight was a little of both. When you have a wife who actually stays home to raise her own four children, there are times when it behooves the parents to pile the kids into the car to take advantage of promotional events at local restaurants.
Today happened to be free chicken day at popular fast food place. Not only did each guest get two free pieces of chicken, but they also got two tortillas. To top things off, drinks and additional sides were discounted as well. Needless to say, lines were sure to be long. To avoid the rush, we showed up at the restaurant at ten to five and were surprised to see that the line was already beginning to wrap around the building. “It’s still early,” I said to my wife. “We might as well wait it out.”
And wait we did. Over the course of the next hour, we engaged in a mini sociology study as we observed the types of people who come out of the woodwork when things are free. Of the fifty to sixty people in line, ours was the only traditional family composed of a mom, dad, and kids. Perhaps other families were in tact, but only a few of the members wanted free chicken.
One woman in front of us looked as if she had lived a very hard life. The pain of years of bad choices was etched on her face. As she stood in the long line alone, puffing away on her cigarette, it was nice to see her smile when the man for whom she had been waiting finally arrived to join her. Despite the gaping hole where a tooth should have been, she greeted the fella with a disgusting version of a kiss that announced to the world that they were not married. No married couple would intentionally gross out a crowd in the way this man and woman did.
I could go on about the unruly children, incompetent parents, and other derelicts of society, but that’s not the point of this post. What amazed me as I waited in a long line for free food was how polite some of the people around us really were.
As we stood in line there were two young teenagers in front of us. Judging by their strikingly similar looks I surmised that they were probably brother and sister. I kept one eye on them periodically while we waited. It struck me that, despite their difference in age and gender, they seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. They waited patiently, talking quietly so as not to become a nuisance to those around them. Once we got inside, they sat down and shared a meal together. How refreshing it was to see two siblings who were unsupervised get along so well in public.
The second person to catch my attention was a former student at the school where I teach. I noticed her and her younger sister arrive about 30 minutes behind us. The younger sister immediately jumped to the middle of the line to join a group of friends. The older sister, who had always been a very respectful student, refused to cut in line. Instead, she went to the back and waited alone. Again, what a refreshing sight. As an eighth grader, she knew right from wrong (even if some may consider this a gray area) and refused to take the easy way out.
A final example of good in the midst of bad became evident as a mom entered the restaurant with six kids of varying ages. I am not sure if they all belonged to her, but they were all quite polite as they squished themselves into the booth next to us. The youngest, a two-year-old boy, immediately struck up a conversation with me about my daughters. Once he had learned their names, the older siblings joined in the conversation and complimented us on our beautiful baby. The little guy continued talking to me as he pointed to my wife. “What is your mom’s name?” he asked. I explained that my mom was at home and the woman beside me was my wife. When he again asked her name, I simply said, “Mommy.”
“She’s pretty,” the little boy replied. By this point my wife was all ears and suddenly she found herself fond of this little guy.
“Don’t forget she’s mine,” I said.
Besides being polite, this family had a certain integrity that was lacking in many of the families at the restaurant. I can’t tell how many times I saw someone who had ordered their free chicken take a water cup to the soda fountain and fill it with stolen soda. Call it a pet peeve of mine, but it irks me to no end to see people who brazenly flaunt their criminal behavior by stealing drinks from a restaurant. This mom, however, carefully filled six water cups with water and set them down in front of the kids. “Mommy, can I have some Coke?” one of them asked. The mom replied by telling the child that they hadn’t paid for Coke so they could only have water. I glanced around the restaurant and counted several hot sodas, so clearly the restaurant staff was not enforcing its anti-soda theft policy. Impressively, despite the peer pressure, this mom maintained her integrity.
Even though, for the most part, I felt like an outcast in my own community, the positive examples of a small segment of society salvaged the evening. It really is amazing the difference an act of integrity or a moment of civility can go in impacting the lives of others.
One more thing. Did I mention that my four kids stayed quietly beside us without complaining even once for an entire hour while we waited in line? They deserve a nod too. Way to go kids!
Today happened to be free chicken day at popular fast food place. Not only did each guest get two free pieces of chicken, but they also got two tortillas. To top things off, drinks and additional sides were discounted as well. Needless to say, lines were sure to be long. To avoid the rush, we showed up at the restaurant at ten to five and were surprised to see that the line was already beginning to wrap around the building. “It’s still early,” I said to my wife. “We might as well wait it out.”
And wait we did. Over the course of the next hour, we engaged in a mini sociology study as we observed the types of people who come out of the woodwork when things are free. Of the fifty to sixty people in line, ours was the only traditional family composed of a mom, dad, and kids. Perhaps other families were in tact, but only a few of the members wanted free chicken.
One woman in front of us looked as if she had lived a very hard life. The pain of years of bad choices was etched on her face. As she stood in the long line alone, puffing away on her cigarette, it was nice to see her smile when the man for whom she had been waiting finally arrived to join her. Despite the gaping hole where a tooth should have been, she greeted the fella with a disgusting version of a kiss that announced to the world that they were not married. No married couple would intentionally gross out a crowd in the way this man and woman did.
I could go on about the unruly children, incompetent parents, and other derelicts of society, but that’s not the point of this post. What amazed me as I waited in a long line for free food was how polite some of the people around us really were.
As we stood in line there were two young teenagers in front of us. Judging by their strikingly similar looks I surmised that they were probably brother and sister. I kept one eye on them periodically while we waited. It struck me that, despite their difference in age and gender, they seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. They waited patiently, talking quietly so as not to become a nuisance to those around them. Once we got inside, they sat down and shared a meal together. How refreshing it was to see two siblings who were unsupervised get along so well in public.
The second person to catch my attention was a former student at the school where I teach. I noticed her and her younger sister arrive about 30 minutes behind us. The younger sister immediately jumped to the middle of the line to join a group of friends. The older sister, who had always been a very respectful student, refused to cut in line. Instead, she went to the back and waited alone. Again, what a refreshing sight. As an eighth grader, she knew right from wrong (even if some may consider this a gray area) and refused to take the easy way out.
A final example of good in the midst of bad became evident as a mom entered the restaurant with six kids of varying ages. I am not sure if they all belonged to her, but they were all quite polite as they squished themselves into the booth next to us. The youngest, a two-year-old boy, immediately struck up a conversation with me about my daughters. Once he had learned their names, the older siblings joined in the conversation and complimented us on our beautiful baby. The little guy continued talking to me as he pointed to my wife. “What is your mom’s name?” he asked. I explained that my mom was at home and the woman beside me was my wife. When he again asked her name, I simply said, “Mommy.”
“She’s pretty,” the little boy replied. By this point my wife was all ears and suddenly she found herself fond of this little guy.
“Don’t forget she’s mine,” I said.
Besides being polite, this family had a certain integrity that was lacking in many of the families at the restaurant. I can’t tell how many times I saw someone who had ordered their free chicken take a water cup to the soda fountain and fill it with stolen soda. Call it a pet peeve of mine, but it irks me to no end to see people who brazenly flaunt their criminal behavior by stealing drinks from a restaurant. This mom, however, carefully filled six water cups with water and set them down in front of the kids. “Mommy, can I have some Coke?” one of them asked. The mom replied by telling the child that they hadn’t paid for Coke so they could only have water. I glanced around the restaurant and counted several hot sodas, so clearly the restaurant staff was not enforcing its anti-soda theft policy. Impressively, despite the peer pressure, this mom maintained her integrity.
Even though, for the most part, I felt like an outcast in my own community, the positive examples of a small segment of society salvaged the evening. It really is amazing the difference an act of integrity or a moment of civility can go in impacting the lives of others.
One more thing. Did I mention that my four kids stayed quietly beside us without complaining even once for an entire hour while we waited in line? They deserve a nod too. Way to go kids!
Friday, March 6, 2009
Customer Service - Part II
May I help you? Are you finding everything you need? It looks like the tag was marked wrong, but I can go ahead and honor the lower price anyway. Statements like these are what attract people to a business. Most national chains have very specific guidelines for customer service, but those guidelines are not always sufficient to compensate for every arrogant teenager who dons their cap. If a business really could anticipate what every teenage employee was going to do, they could start a new business selling their secret.
Last night my wife and I stopped by a widely recognized nationally branded coffee shop that for some reason thinks the terms small, medium, and large are inadequate, so they coined new phrases that mean exactly the same thing, but confuse those of us who don’t drink coffee.
In an effort to keep our marriage strong, we go out on a date once a week. In an effort to keep our dates cheap, we use gift cards that we have collected for various reasons whenever possible.
Last night happened to be a gift card night, so we ended up at a coffee shop and ordered some kind of tall venti hot chocolate. (Whatever that means.) As we sat down in one of the overtly trendy lounge chairs I noticed that, with the exception of one other couple, we were the only customers in the store. The drive-thru line was even quiet, so in my head, I envisioned excellent customer service. Then came the bearded high school barista. Shortly after we were nestled into the enveloping cushions of the overtly trendy lounge chairs, our order was ready. Given the sparse clientele, I assumed that the bearded high school wonder would either bring us our drinks, or at the very least, say something like, “Sir, your drinks are ready.”
Apparently, company protocol trumped common sense for the moment and I heard someone call out something about a grande venti hot chocolate or something along those lines. Whatever it was that he said, it was clear that he was describing the drink he was setting on the counter at the opposite end of the store from where we were sitting. After placing the hot beverage on the counter and shouting out its name, he walked back toward the counter area next to us and began to wipe off some imaginary coffee drips from some sort of silvery looking apparatus.
“I think that must be ours way down there,” I said to my wife.
“Must be,” she said looking around to see who else could have ordered something with a concocted name that involves a vent. After the long walk right past the helpful barista, to retrieve our drinks, we once again settled in for some quality time together. After I had sipped my drink down to about a tall status, I glanced out the window and saw a car drive up and park in the closest spot to the door.
Must be a customer, I thought to myself. As she walked through the door, I expected to see her step up to the counter and order some sort of exotic coffee-type beverage with a shot of grape soda, but she had other plans. Stepping behind the counter, she squealed and giggled as she hugged each of the three male baristas before donning a green apron and acting like she was going to do some kind of work. “Did that employee just take the closest parking spot to to the front door? I asked myself in disbelief.
Now granted, I’ve never worked in a coffee shop, but shouldn’t common sense dictate that employees not park in the best spot? That should be saved for the paying customers. Maybe the reason so many of their ubiquitous stores are closing has nothing to do with the economy and everything to do with a lack of common sense among giddy, self-absorbed teenagers who do their bosses a disservice by showing up to work each day.
Last night my wife and I stopped by a widely recognized nationally branded coffee shop that for some reason thinks the terms small, medium, and large are inadequate, so they coined new phrases that mean exactly the same thing, but confuse those of us who don’t drink coffee.
In an effort to keep our marriage strong, we go out on a date once a week. In an effort to keep our dates cheap, we use gift cards that we have collected for various reasons whenever possible.
Last night happened to be a gift card night, so we ended up at a coffee shop and ordered some kind of tall venti hot chocolate. (Whatever that means.) As we sat down in one of the overtly trendy lounge chairs I noticed that, with the exception of one other couple, we were the only customers in the store. The drive-thru line was even quiet, so in my head, I envisioned excellent customer service. Then came the bearded high school barista. Shortly after we were nestled into the enveloping cushions of the overtly trendy lounge chairs, our order was ready. Given the sparse clientele, I assumed that the bearded high school wonder would either bring us our drinks, or at the very least, say something like, “Sir, your drinks are ready.”
Apparently, company protocol trumped common sense for the moment and I heard someone call out something about a grande venti hot chocolate or something along those lines. Whatever it was that he said, it was clear that he was describing the drink he was setting on the counter at the opposite end of the store from where we were sitting. After placing the hot beverage on the counter and shouting out its name, he walked back toward the counter area next to us and began to wipe off some imaginary coffee drips from some sort of silvery looking apparatus.
“I think that must be ours way down there,” I said to my wife.
“Must be,” she said looking around to see who else could have ordered something with a concocted name that involves a vent. After the long walk right past the helpful barista, to retrieve our drinks, we once again settled in for some quality time together. After I had sipped my drink down to about a tall status, I glanced out the window and saw a car drive up and park in the closest spot to the door.
Must be a customer, I thought to myself. As she walked through the door, I expected to see her step up to the counter and order some sort of exotic coffee-type beverage with a shot of grape soda, but she had other plans. Stepping behind the counter, she squealed and giggled as she hugged each of the three male baristas before donning a green apron and acting like she was going to do some kind of work. “Did that employee just take the closest parking spot to to the front door? I asked myself in disbelief.
Now granted, I’ve never worked in a coffee shop, but shouldn’t common sense dictate that employees not park in the best spot? That should be saved for the paying customers. Maybe the reason so many of their ubiquitous stores are closing has nothing to do with the economy and everything to do with a lack of common sense among giddy, self-absorbed teenagers who do their bosses a disservice by showing up to work each day.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
My Wife
I have an amazing wife. Despite my best efforts, it is easy for me to take her accomplishments for granted. Fortunately I am frequently reminded of just how well she compliments me. She fills in the gaps that I leave in my wake while juggling a mountain of responsibilities.
As a junior in college, it became abundantly clear to me that this woman who had trickled into my life was worth vigorously pursuing. I had always known that a checkbook should be balanced, and bank statements were a handy tool for doing so, but I had never actually combined the statements with the balancing act. Instead, each month I carefully filed my statements, in their sealed envelopes, intending to one day make sure all my numbers jived. After dating my future wife for several months, she discovered my file cabinet and shook her head. “Why don’t I come over this weekend and straighten out your records for you,” she suggested. There was no harm in that, so the following Saturday, I pulled my truck out of the garage and spent a couple of hours getting it cleaned up while she crunched numbers.
“I found a few mistakes,” she said once she was done.
“Uh-Oh,” I thought.
“You have about $500 more in your account than you thought,” she said.
That’s it, I thought to myself. This one is a keeper. And instantly I had the first $500 saved up to buy her a ring.
A year later when we got married, we determined that she would stay home and raise any kids we may someday have. We both agreed that this would provide a loving and nurturing environment for our children that would easily surpass the level of care and consistency available through commercial means.
Now eleven years and four kids later I couldn’t be prouder of the commitment my wife has to our kids. In addition to providing a loving and nurturing environment each day, she fills the role of a home-school teacher whose students far out-perform their public school counterparts.
The house is usually clean, but not perfect. While I can appreciate a perfect house, I struggle with what that means in the life of a child. My wife has found perfection, however, in striking a balance between maintaining cleanliness and order, while also allowing our kids to creatively express themselves through hours of building, arranging, and playing with simple toys.
While I am inherently a neat person, I have come to appreciate the days I walk in the door and find the couch cushions arranged on the living room floor with blankets draped across chairs and stuffed animals grazing on the carpet. Those are the days when our kids had the chance to be kids and mom got the chance to tend to some of her other motherly duties.
Sure, there are times she gets frustrated. After reading countless blogs written by self-proclaimed perfect mothers who hide their imperfections behind their keyboards, my wife threatened to start a blog about real moms. “Today I sobbed in my cereal while one of the kids pooped on the floor,” she laughed as she contemplated the text of her hypothetical blog.
Regardless of whether it has been a good day or a bad day, my wife makes it a point to learn from her experiences. After years of evaluating herself as a mom, talking to other moms, reading countless books, articles, and perfect-mom blogs, she has come to one logical conclusion. The only ideas worth trying are the ideas that fit within the mold God used to create her. To try and function outside of that mold would be to deny who she is. And it is that mold that I love.
My wife stays at home and raises our kids. She has a master’s degree and the ability to obtain a great job, but her current occupation is something only she can do. No one could love our kids like she does. No one could care for them like she does. No one could meet their needs the way only their mom can. Other working parents wonder why we would give up so much to have her stay home. I wonder how they can give up so much.
As a junior in college, it became abundantly clear to me that this woman who had trickled into my life was worth vigorously pursuing. I had always known that a checkbook should be balanced, and bank statements were a handy tool for doing so, but I had never actually combined the statements with the balancing act. Instead, each month I carefully filed my statements, in their sealed envelopes, intending to one day make sure all my numbers jived. After dating my future wife for several months, she discovered my file cabinet and shook her head. “Why don’t I come over this weekend and straighten out your records for you,” she suggested. There was no harm in that, so the following Saturday, I pulled my truck out of the garage and spent a couple of hours getting it cleaned up while she crunched numbers.
“I found a few mistakes,” she said once she was done.
“Uh-Oh,” I thought.
“You have about $500 more in your account than you thought,” she said.
That’s it, I thought to myself. This one is a keeper. And instantly I had the first $500 saved up to buy her a ring.
A year later when we got married, we determined that she would stay home and raise any kids we may someday have. We both agreed that this would provide a loving and nurturing environment for our children that would easily surpass the level of care and consistency available through commercial means.
Now eleven years and four kids later I couldn’t be prouder of the commitment my wife has to our kids. In addition to providing a loving and nurturing environment each day, she fills the role of a home-school teacher whose students far out-perform their public school counterparts.
The house is usually clean, but not perfect. While I can appreciate a perfect house, I struggle with what that means in the life of a child. My wife has found perfection, however, in striking a balance between maintaining cleanliness and order, while also allowing our kids to creatively express themselves through hours of building, arranging, and playing with simple toys.
While I am inherently a neat person, I have come to appreciate the days I walk in the door and find the couch cushions arranged on the living room floor with blankets draped across chairs and stuffed animals grazing on the carpet. Those are the days when our kids had the chance to be kids and mom got the chance to tend to some of her other motherly duties.
Sure, there are times she gets frustrated. After reading countless blogs written by self-proclaimed perfect mothers who hide their imperfections behind their keyboards, my wife threatened to start a blog about real moms. “Today I sobbed in my cereal while one of the kids pooped on the floor,” she laughed as she contemplated the text of her hypothetical blog.
Regardless of whether it has been a good day or a bad day, my wife makes it a point to learn from her experiences. After years of evaluating herself as a mom, talking to other moms, reading countless books, articles, and perfect-mom blogs, she has come to one logical conclusion. The only ideas worth trying are the ideas that fit within the mold God used to create her. To try and function outside of that mold would be to deny who she is. And it is that mold that I love.
My wife stays at home and raises our kids. She has a master’s degree and the ability to obtain a great job, but her current occupation is something only she can do. No one could love our kids like she does. No one could care for them like she does. No one could meet their needs the way only their mom can. Other working parents wonder why we would give up so much to have her stay home. I wonder how they can give up so much.
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