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Christian People at Your Door

Published May 13, 2017 by Laitie

So, I just had a teenage Christian converter at my door. I’m not too happy. But not so much that he wasted my time.

He asked me “Do you ever lie?” I said “no” because I suck at conversations and it was the quickest response I could give. He made a face and asked “Really?” So that shamed me into saying “Well, sometimes, haha.” Conversations in general are too quick for me to think for myself. Then he set me up to admit that I use the Lord’s name in vain. Then he went on about how it’s all sin anyway and we shouldn’t do that.

Soon after this point, I told him I had my belief in God and He was protecting me and I told him to have a nice day.

I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at his coaches. They taught him how to talk like this. How to set someone up to admit to sin so he could tell them that it’s sin and not OK. And probably go to their church to repent. No, bruh. That tactic of theirs is what’s not OK. But I didn’t get to tell him that. Not that it would have mattered.

So this is how we’re training our kids. Teaching them to pull words out of people’s mouths and use them against them.

I have my spiritual beliefs, thank you, and they’re not the same as yours. But they serve me well and I serve others well with them. So that’s all that matters. Do you sin? Well, I don’t know. Is it any of my business? Not really until you start problems for me. Even then, there’s no point in changing your beliefs. Just telling you that what you’re doing affects me negatively and isn’t OK.

I love Christianity. The things people are doing with it, I hate very much. Stop trying to convert people. Seriously. Just do good. That’s what the Bible tells you to do. Do good.

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C for Copernicus

Published April 3, 2013 by Laitie

Nicolaus Copernicus was a great astronomer and mathematician living between 1473 and 1543. He was the one who suggested that our galaxy was heliocentric. That is, revolving around the Sun. You can see how important he is to our history. But I’m not talking about that Copernicus today.

The Copernicus that I’m talking about today is taller than me, has a long nose, goes by the nickname “Copper.” Copernicus is the name of my beloved collie dog.

He was a show dog before we adopted him. That explains many things about him. His name, his obedience on a leash, and his nervousness. Yes, he was very nervous when we first brought him home. He only stayed in one corner. For months he refused to go up or down the stairs. He’s still pretty nervous, but he’s so much better, now.

He’s a very big collie. Standing on his hind legs, I believe it is safe to say that he is taller than me. His nose is level with the table. Before we got him his raised dog bowls, he started a habit of lying down to eat and drink. He still does that sometimes.

Copper is stupid and smart at the same time. I think he’s just trying to make us think he’s stupid so he can get away with stuff. You have to tell him a hundred times that he’s allowed outside sometimes. And he still hasn’t figured out that when we take him for a walk, he has to wait in the living room because that’s where we put his leash on, not by the front door. But, he’s figured out that me saying “I’m over here” means that I want him to come over so I can pet him. And he likes to sit on the couch so that he can see all the windows and doors on the ground floor.

I love my dog so much. He’s a real cuddle-bun. When he wants to cuddle with you, he’ll plop his entire form right on top of you. He likes to “pet” you back by licking you. A lot. Although I had figured out during my visit to his previous home that his father was the alpha, it’s pretty obvious that the apple fell very far from that tree. As mentioned before, he’s very nervous. And no matter what we do, there’s no chance he’ll mistake himself for the boss.

I love my dog, and will really miss him when I move out.

So, I Gotta Talk About Work

Published April 2, 2013 by Laitie

Because work ticks me off. When I’m not dealing with my bosses pressuring and pressuring me to get people to use their club memberships, I’m dealing with miserable, angry, RUDE customers. And I really need to vent right now.

Here’s some background knowledge. 1)We try to get people to open two store cards. Every card I open, I get two bucks for. So I really wanna open cards, and I’m going to ask you. And I’m going to be pushy. Because I work for minimum wage and I need to get out of my parents’ home and away from the luxurious $100/month deal.

2) We are excessively pressured to get people to use their club memberships. To do this, we push and push and push to get your phone number (or e-mail) during the point-of-sale. If that phone number doesn’t work, we’ll try an older one. We’ll try e-mail. We’ll love you forever if you just have your physical(omg sp?) club card on you. And if you don’t have a club membership, we’re going to push for you to get one because we have to keep the percentages of membership usage per sale up on the registers.

This is what I deal with.

Let’s start with the least vexing going to the most.

1) This morning, I had a customer come up to me with some replacement razors, I believe. I can’t really remember these small things. So, I started my credit card pitch: “May I put this on your (my store) card?” He told me how my store had harassed him before, calling him and some such. I “sympathized” with him and immediately decided not to continue my pitch. But we still had the club to do. So I asked him for his phone number and he said “no.” I told him “they aren’t going to call you or anything it’s just a free program where–” He interrupts me and threatens to buy these items somewhere else if I keep offering him things. So I just smile and finish the transaction and wish him a nice day.

But what am I thinking while I do this? Besides some obscenities, I’m thinking, “Wow, really? I apologize for doing my job. And thank you for ruining my register first thing in the morning.” I was tempted to tell him to go ahead and buy the razors somewhere else, because I don’t care one way or the other. It’s not -my- store, it’s not -my- concern how many customers we have. We have million more that are much more polite than him.

So that was my very first customer this morning.

2) My third customer managed to irritate me again. I did my pitch. She said, “We’ve had so many problems your card.” I’m all “OK,” and am ready to stop pitching it. Then she’s like, “And now you’re offering it to me again? I don’t think so.”

Uhm, excuse me. You’re not some special little snowflake. I had no way of knowing that you had troubles with the store’s card before you said anything about it. I will offer it to -everyone.- Every. Single. Person. No exceptions. Because that’s my income. That’s my rent.

3) This next one didn’t so much happen to me as it did to a manager. But I was there, and she still irritated me. Our store has a 90-day return policy. 90 day guarantee. After that, it’s your problem, because we can’t guarantee anything forever. I cannot stress this enough: it’s 90 days. Period.

So this chick comes in and has some overalls with a broken zipper. She always gets them from this store, so she has no troubles with ordering them online at the store. Now, she orders them online, and I overhear her talking with my co-worker at the register. I realize my co-worker is handling the situation incorrectly. My co-worker thinks the overalls have been all exchanged and taken care of at the computer where she ordered them online. The customer, obviously, has no idea. So I step in and explain that we need to refund her the broken overalls and have her pay for the online order. Otherwise, they will never be sent to her house. My co-worker and the customer (and I, a little bit) are now thoroughly confused. So I tell my co-worker to wait on the customers in line while I take care of this.

I’m a little vague on what happened at this point, so I’m gonna skip to the point where the manager was called and I’m going to mention that the customer did not tell me when she bought the overalls so I assume (which I should stop doing) that they were within the 90 days.

The manager comes up and the customer says, “I bought these last year and the zipper broke.” Well, my mouth almost dropped. Last year? OMG! I mean, c’mon. LAST YEAR?

So, my manager explains the 90-day return policy. The customer is not happy. She’s all, “You’re not gonna stand behind it?” And my manager is trying to explain that she simply can’t. Finally, after a few more “you’re not gonna stand behind it?”s, she decides to never shop here again. Because we don’t stand behind our merchandise.

People, the policy is 90 days. There is -nothing- we can do after that. And we shouldn’t have to! Nothing’s indestructible. You bought it. There’s gotta some point where it comes off our hands, because we have to make a living, too.

I know, I make minimum wage and I’m standing up for the company.

4) OK. The big one. I need to stretch before I start this one.

Sidenote: I just got a ton of e-mails about my earlier blog posts. Thanks, everyone!

OK, you still there? Good. Because this one is going to put you through a loop. This one has me still angry at myself and him three days after the incident.

A chick comes up to my register. She calls to her husband while I start my pitch. She already has one card, so I say, “depending on which one, I could save you $10 or $15 for being approved for our other one.” So we’re discussing saving her money while her husband shows up.

We discuss saving them money a little more until her husband says, “Is this to get another card?”

“Yes,” I say, as usual. “But you never have to use it or worry about it.”

“We don’t want another card.”

“OK.” And I prepare not to continue my pitch. But Mr. Husband’s not done with me. He goes on a rant about how I didn’t say it was for another card and some other crap I don’t remember. Well, I’m a typically shy person, so I don’t know how to respond. So I don’t. I just ask Mrs. Wife for her phone number.

“Do you understand me?” Mr. Husband asks.

“Yes, Sir,” I say, and try again for the phone number. But before I can say anything more, he continues berating and lecturing me. And what’s Mrs. Wife doing? Just standing there smiling. Not even trying to stop him. He’s making a jerk out of himself and his wife and she’s just making it worse. And I’m sitting there being all meek and defenseless.

After refusing to try and find their club membership, they finally pay and leave. Well, it’s pretty obvious why I’m mad at him. I’m just doing my job, it’s the same pitch I give everyone, and I -did-, in fact, say it was for another card. But why am I mad at myself?

Because, once again, I didn’t stand up for myself. I never stand up for myself. Ever. Not even in my closest relationships. I’m quite disgusted with myself, no matter how much my sweet mother tries to tell me I did the right thing by being meek.

I feel bad leaving ya’ll with such negativity, so let’s end with a story that I like to laugh about.

We have a store-within-a-store type thing at my work. Let’s call this store-within-a-store Insider, and let’s call my store Departments. (I’m wondering if you’ve figured out where I work yet… If so, please don’t go blabbing. I’d hate to lose my job D: )

Now, Departments coupons do not work for Insider. All the employees know this. And it’s explained on all the coupons. So this customer comes up with Insider merchandise and a Departments coupon to use with his Departments card. The customer tells me that he called the phone number on the paper the coupon came on and asked if he could use it on Insider merchandise. The man on the phone said “yes.” Well, as I told you, it doesn’t. I try to explain it, and he asks me to call a manager. The manager comes and continues to explain that it can’t be done. She explains that it’s even written on the back of the coupon that it doesn’t work. So he’s all, “Fine,” and asks for a pair of scissors. The manager says we don’t have any, but I’m an idiot and have no idea what he’s going to do with them. So I say we do and give them to him.

Right in front of us, he pulls out his Departments card, and cuts it up.

Just, cuts it up.

And at this very moment, I’m still laughing my head off. Guy tried to make a statement. More like a temper tantrum to me. I don’t care if you cut your card. I -tell- people they can cut up their cards after being approved.

Work makes me mad. But it makes me laugh sometimes, too. I guess that’s what you’ve got to hold on to, the parts that make you laugh.

B for Becky

Published April 2, 2013 by Laitie

First, I would like to take a moment to thank you ALL for all the likes and comments on “A for Aaron.” I really appreciate it!

Rebecca, AKA Becky, is my big sister. She’s the middle child, older than me by 7 years. I have a little more to say about her than I had with my brother because we have one thing in common: we’re girls. That’s about where the similarities end, though.

As I said, my sister is 7 years older than me. She has a husband and two children already. I . . . am single and living with my parents. Beyond that, we don’t even have many similar interests. To be fair, though, I have unique interests relative to my whole family. More about those later in the month.

Growing up, my sister teased the heck outta me. It wasn’t until around highschool/college when I started to really respect her. I remember one time in college, though, I was getting tired of her advice so I called her a “b***h.” She ignored me for a few days. But when I apologized she forgave me, because that’s what family does. We forgive each other for screwing up. I wonder if she even remembers that?

Well, all you A-Z-ers have/had much more reading to do so I’ll end here. Thanks again for reading! Have a great day!

A for Aaron

Published April 1, 2013 by Laitie

My brother’s name is Aaron. He’s the eldest in our family. He has a wife, Rachel (which is also my name o_o), and a daughter on the way, Hannah.

I love my brother. I’ll never go around saying I don’t. But there’s definitely something missing on our relationship. We have absolutely nothing in common. And we are ten years apart.

Apparently when I was a kid I really attached myself to him. He was my favorite. I vaguely remember this. There’s this picture of us where I’m offering him some cake batter on the whisk-thinger and he’s giving me a look of death. But obviously toddler-me doesn’t care because I’m just giggling.

The hardest part of our lives was when he went to Iraq. My brother’s a Marine, and he was sent to Iraq in 2001 for a few months. We were lucky, it was only a few months and he was never sent back. My mom still keeps the letters he sent us somewhere in the house.

After Iraq, my brother joined the volunteer firefighters. I wrote an essay in school where I thought he was happier working with them.

I don’t know much about my brother. He likes beer and his man-cave. That’s about it. But I love him to death. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Oh, Children.

Published March 17, 2013 by Laitie

I love kids. I love kids so much, in fact, that I used to be an Education Major (that’s a story for another time). Because I love kids, I watch Nanny 911 on youtube all the time. On top of all that, my mom runs an in-home daycare. I think it’s pretty safe to say I know a lot about raising kids for not having raised any of my own, yet. That being said, let me give you two scenarios that I witnessed at work the other day.

“Mommy, I want this!” The little boy holds a toy out to his mother.

“You have that at home,” the mother says, brushing him off.

“Not this one! Not this one, Mom!” He repeats this many times while she ignores him.

Finally, she straight out says “No.” The boy starts to whine and cry and simply throw a tantrum. I couldn’t count how many times the mother said “No.”

Suddenly, I hear, “Go ask the lady how much it is.” A few minutes later, she comes up to me and asks me the price.

“11.99.”

“That’s fine,” she says and swipes her card.

Now, what’s wrong with this scenario?

1) There were no consequences for the boy throwing a tantrum. He’s learning that it’s totally OK to act like a rude, inconsiderate brat in a public space. 2) She gave in! You do not give in! I don’t care where you are, who’s staring, or whatever. That’s just asking for more trouble later. He’s gonna figure that if he throws a fit, he’ll eventually get what he wants.

What if this was a one-time thing? What if she doesn’t always give in? Again, I don’t care. You need to be consistent. Children learn by repetition and consistency.

I started out so proud of this mother only to end up disappointed. But this wasn’t the worst thing I witnessed that day.

This woman comes up to me with her two daughters. I guess you could say they were pretty. She was blond, but I don’t know if I would consider her “upper class” or not. Though, most of us around this area are upper middle class. Anyway, they placed down in front of me a dress (I think it was a dress, I don’t really remember) and a top. She holds the top out to one of her daughters and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want one of these?”

“No-o,” the daughter says insistently. The mother shrugs and puts the top on the table again. Then she says something to the other daughter that I simply cannot believe.

“That really is ugly, Devon.”

Like, are you kidding me? Are you serious? That’s awful! Why would you say that to your young, impressionable daughter?

I can’t even find the words to accurately express how wrong that is. Obviously, her daughter thought it a lovely top. Thought she would look pretty in it. Now, she’s gonna know her mother hates that top and think her ugly when she wears it. No one, not even boys, wants to be ugly.

We should be celebrating children’s individuality. Their ability to make their own choices. Not shooting down those choices that they make.

What if they make bad choices? Well, A) An “ugly” piece of clothing is not a bad choice. Beauty is both relative and unimportant in the grand scheme of things (ideally, anyway; why not always shoot for the ideal?). B) You let the child experience the consequences of the bad choice (within reasonable limits). It’s the only way they’ll really learn to make the good choices.

So, that’s what frustrated me at work the other day. People that don’t know how to raise kids. Questions? Comments? Leave a comment below!

I AM a Fan, No Matter What

Published January 23, 2013 by Laitie

A while ago, I was reading up on the “Fake Geek Girls” drama and got caught on the quizzes fanguys would give fangirls. All I could think was “Gee, I’m a fan, and I’d still fail that quiz.” I’m not the most educated fan. I’m not the most research-loving. I hate research. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a fan. Being a fan means liking something. A “true fan” is someone that truly likes something. That doesn’t mean the person knows everything about it. The person can know next to nothing about it! I’m a fan of a lot of things. I can’t possibly remember everything! I think it’s wrong to expect all fans to know so much about the things they’re fans of. Being a fan is nothing more or less than enjoying the thing you’re a fan of. End of story.