"Don't presume people are ignorant!"

I have a simple question for you. Does assuming someone doesn't know something in turn assuming that they are ignorant? I guess the word "ignorant" has negative connotations these days; people associate it with being stupid or dumb or dense or whatever, but the literal definition is that someone just doesn't know something. So I guess my question is kinda moot and talks in circles, &c.

In the words of a wonderful actress, "Let's see if I can make it easier." If you were American, and asked me where I was from, and I said "I'm from the southern part of Australia", would you be offended and think I was claiming that you are ignorant? Because I totally encountered this situation at Subway the other day.

I'm serving a couple guys, cutting their bread and putting the meat on their sandwiches. They're nice guys, very friendly, a tad rough about the edges, but very friendly and funny. One of them asked where in Australia I was from. I said, "I'm from the southern part of Australia."

There was another guy at the counter paying for his purchases, and upon hearing that he turned to me with a look of incredulation (is so a word) on his face, and said, "Do you know how big the southern part of Australia is?!?"

My first thought was, "Wait, is this a trick question?" To him, I good-naturedly replied, "Well I lived in Australia for the first 23 years of my life, so yes," and he said, "But that doesn't narrow it down at all! To say you're just from the southern part of Australia is like saying you're from the southern part of the US!" By now I'm thinking, "Dude, chill out." To him, I replied, "Well yeah, but the vast majority of people I encounter don't know where any place in Australia is, except Sydney." And then his face got more serious and intense and he says, "Don't presume that people are ignorant. Don't presume we're ignorant!" By this point, my coworker and the two friendly guys were looking like "what the hell", and Crazy Guy then challenges me: "Tell me where you're from." I said, "I'm from the south-east of South Australia."

Sadly, he knew exactly the area I named. He replied, "Oh nice, good wine country down there." Don't you just hate it when annoying and possibly crazy people are right? I grinned and said, "Yes that's right," and he said, "See? Don't presume people are ignorant!"

This was getting old fast, so I said, "But when I'm having to tell my life story ten times a day, in an industry where I hardly get any time to speak with anyone, it's much easier to simplify." Apparently that's a sucky reason, because Crazy Guy kept going on about how wrong it is to presume ignorance in people.

Okay. Crazy Guy? You're crazy, firstly. No doubt there. Secondly, have you ever lived with an "affliction" that people immediately notice when you open your mouth? Have you ever had people stare an extra second longer at you when they hear you talk? Have you ever had people say, "Oh I love your accent!" or "I could just listen to you talk all day long!" or, even worse, "Ooh say something!"? Have you ever had people say, "Oh my cousin lives in Perth, Sarah Smith?" What, am I meant to know her?!?!

It just really bugged me. Aside from the reasons I listed just now, I really don't think I was assuming ignorance. I really was just trying to simplify. For the most part, people are chuffed to know I'm from somewhere that isn't America. If I said, "Oh yeah, I grew up in Keith, moved to Adelaide for uni, then lived in Bordertown for awhile," it's not going to clear it up for them.

I'm not saying I don't want people to learn about things, or that I shouldn't try and give people more information. But it's not an ideal location. People who go to Subway are usually in the store for three minutes tops. It's fast food; they want to get going fast. Plus, they're the customer - it's not about me, it's about them. If they ask me questions, I'll answer them simply and politely. But if someone says, "How did you end up in Minnesota?" I'm not going to go into intricate details about our courtship, marriage, visa woes, etc. Why the hell would I want to share stuff like that with a stranger who just put mayonnaise on a meatball sub, for crying out loud?*

I don't presume ignorance in a bad way. If people in the States don't know anything about Australia, well that's just how it is. And it works in reverse. I bet the vast majority of Australians don't know where half of the US states are. Heck, until I met Aaron, I didn't know that LA and NYC were on opposite coasts. But don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying this is necessarily a sign of the bad kind of ignorance. Both Australians and Americans seem to have this inwardly-facing sense of the world. "Australians are best at everything." "America rules the world!" It's not up to me to say one or the other country is right or wrong or supreme leader of the universe. I'm just saying, not knowing something about a country that's on the other side of the world is pretty common. It's literally ignorance, I suppose. But my blanket statement of "I'm from the southern part of Australia" was not said because I thought people were dumb.

Crazy Guy, you are the stupidest link. Buh-bye.

Work.

Well. It's been quite awhile since my last entry. And life has been interesting.

I'm working incredibly hard. I currently have three jobs - one at Subway, one at Lakes Latté (a cute little coffee shop in Pequot), and one at a resort called Pinedale (where I do cabin-cleaning on Saturday mornings). I rarely have days off anymore - I count myself lucky if I get an afternoon off. Most mornings are an early start - beginning work at 6 or 6:30 - so I'm not getting much sleep. Plus Adelaide is going through some heinous teething right now, so the small amount of sleep I'm getting is constantly interrupted.

Hopefully my work situation will change soon. I've discovered that Subway makes a great sandwich but a horrible employer. My bosses are not nice people. They make me doubt my own word (I told Lady Boss I couldn't work a particular time; she schedules me for it anyway, insisting I wrote it down for her and "I've got it right here in your own handwriting that you can work"). They 'forget' to tell you things ("Oh didn't Guy Boss tell you you're not at Store 1 anymore? Oh I thought he was going to tell you - no, we're just scheduling you for Store 2 now, okay? We decided two weeks ago"). They have double standards with their employees (the manager at Store 2, for example, works incredibly hard, was not allowed any time off over the summer, and is given no leeway - the manager at Store 1 "forgot" to tell her coworkers she was going out for a 25-minute cigarette break when she was working at Store 2, and was defended by Lady Boss who insisted that Store 1 Manager was "having a rough day" and we should "cut her some slack"). AND I found out today that it's not unheard of for them to be mean and whatever around this time of year - why? They pay out a summer bonus to all employees who work from Memorial Day to Labor Day (ie. the whole summer). The more summer employees they can piss off and get them to resign before August 31st, the less bonuses they have to pay.

Now, I realise publicising this blog entry on the Internet could be seen as some kind of slander. I have no definitive proof or whatever to back up what I've said. All this is from what I've heard - except for the lack of communication thing with me. So take it with a grain of salt.

Me? I'm not even caring anymore. I got a little upset this afternoon when I found out about their alleged Less Employees Means Less Summer Bonuses deal. But I had to remind myself that the whole thing is really not worth my energy to worry about. All I need to do is get to work, do my job, and go home again. They want to create a whole lot of bullshit, well, that's their prerogative. Once I've got my summer bonus, I'm handing in my resignation. Sure, I could quit now, saying that a few hundred dollars isn't worth it. But if they want to get rid of summer employees, I'm going to make them pay for it first! ;)

Lakes Latté, on the other hand, is a haven. Just stepping inside the doors is a heavenly assault of the senses. The aroma of coffee fills your nostrils, your lungs, your entire body. The warm lighting of the seating areas makes your whole day feel like nap time (not necessarily a good thing for me during our lunch rush, though :P). The sound of the coffee grinder, the espresso machine, and the funky "café appropriate" tunes (which range from Beck, Ben Folds and Jack Johnson to Basement Jaxx, Daft Punk, Weezer, The Fray and the soundtrack to the anime Cowboy Bebop) are enveloping and fun. The touch of... well, I'm not sure if touch is a sense that features here. Did I cover the others? Smell, sight, sound... oh, of course. And TASTE. Boy howdy. You haven't had good coffee if you haven't had a coffee at Lakes Latté. Honest to goodness, this isn't a promotion for them or anything :P but I'm just so in love with them, I have to rave! We use organic fairtrade beans, and we grind them ourselves as we go throughout the day. We use one more shot per drink size than most other coffee establishments (for example, a "small" 12oz drink usually is just one shot of espresso - we use two). We have a huge variety of flavorings, with a good selection of sugar-free choices. We... um. Well, we just rock all round. THE OREO FLURRY. Oh my goodness. You haven't lived til you've tried an Oreo Flurry. And I'm not saying a "McFlurry". Gawd no. This is different. And awesome. I describe it to customers as "heaven in a cup", because that's rooly-trooly what it is. Mmmm.

My current favorite drink? A 12oz brevé, with coconut and vanilla (a brevé is made like a latté, only you use half-and-half instead of milke). MMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmm. Talk about enveloping. That thing just swallows you right up.

...

Well I must say I'm enjoying the direction in which this post has come. I started out all "boo hiss Subway SUCKS" and now I'm salivating at the thought of the lovely brevé that will greet me when I go to work tomorrow. :)

So, long post short: Work at Subway sucks. Work at Lakes Latté is teh r0x0rz. That is all.

Dilemma

Someone tell me why it is that I well up with tears when being disagreed with, or being misunderstood. I was apparently scheduled to work today, a fact I did not discover until I was in my car on the way to Brainerd on a birthday shopping trip (thanks Mum!). I was called by the manager of the store I’m meant to be at today, whom I have yet to meet but she sounds amazingly kind and understanding. It wasn’t with her I got emotional. It was my boss. She has a very “it’s your problem, deal with it” kinda attitude when you have to call in, or when you realize you’ve apparently forgotten a shift. Despite the fact that all the schedules I had seen – on the bulletin board at Nisswa and in my date book – clearly stated I had the 3rd off.

Apparently we (my boss and I) had discussed the 3rd and I’d said I was available to work. I don’t remember this particular occasion, but I’m willing to believe I just forgot about it, since my memory isn’t always the best (despite the fact that I love Sudoku, can memorise lines for plays, and know almost everything about almost every Simpsons episode from seasons 1 – 10). My conversation with my boss went like this:

Me: I can work it, I’ve organized daycare for Adelaide with my in-laws, but yeah, I’m sorry there must have been a misunderstanding or something.
Boss: Well we did discuss it, when I called to organize you working at Crosslake, I specifically said the 3rd and the 5th and you said okay.
Me: I’m sure I did, I’m sorry that I forgot.
Boss: Because I remember discussing it.
Me: … yeah I’m sure we did, I probably just misunderstood or forgot. I’m sorry. I’ve organized daycare and I can get there soon.
Boss: That’s okay, just get there when you can.

Maybe I’m being too bratty, but that seemed a bit unnecessary. Yeah, we discussed it, you said we did, and then you keep harping on it even though I’ve apologized and said I can come into work. DESPITE the fact that I have plans, have to organize daycare, and haven’t washed my work clothes yet because I didn’t think I was working again until Saturday.

Argh.

I guess the real issue isn’t whether I forgot it, or whether my boss was being unnecessarily mean. The issue here is, why the hell did I well up with tears after hanging up the phone from this conversation? Despite the matter of what she was saying, she wasn’t yelling or being rude, not really. I understand her point of view, in that she was under the assumption she had all shifts covered, only to discover one employee had forgotten or failed to notice it. So I can see why she would have been annoyed. But I got more upset about it than I really should have. I even gave myself a stern talking-to on the way back home: “It’s only work, there’s no need to get upset. Stop with the upset already.” But I still almost actually cried. If it weren’t for the tall iced latte, and the full-blast singing-along to the theme songs of Excel Saga and Chrno Crusade in the car, I probably would have.

Well, I guess I’m posting this for some suggestions. I’m not big on confrontation, in fact I avoid it where at all possible. I’d rather “suffer” myself than confront someone about anything. But when it happens, I really need to learn to deal with it properly and maturely. I tried distraction, and that seemed to work. But I know I won’t always be able to distract myself, and I don’t want to ever break down in tears over something someone has said to me at work, or in any aspect. Any suggestions on how I can get over this whole thing?

Vent

Dear Subway customers,

Well, you are not just Subway customers. I guess this applies to any kind of customer, so for all I know you could be a Macca's customer, or a Burger King customer, or a Holiday or SuperAmerica customer. As long as you're a customer, this applies to you.

Just because I am behind the counter at a shitty job, it doesn't mean I'm not worthy of respect or courtesy. You think I enjoy working for stupid bosses who tell me "no it's okay to serve a sandwich made with tomatoes that have cored holes through the center. Yeah that's cool." and people who only pay me $7 an hour, therefore barely making it worth my while to even go to work? You think I like that? You're a moron.

The following is a list of things you should never, ever, ever do if you're a customer.

* If you've been standing in line for even one minute, you have no excuse to hem and haw over your choice when you get to the counter. The menu boards are big and up there so you can make your choice before getting to the counter. It's the whole "make your drink selection before opening the fridge" thing. There's a reason retail fridges have glass doors, and that's the same reason the big menus are put up. If you have been standing there yakking to your friend for five minutes, then get to the counter and take two minutes to choose between an Italian BMT and a Spicy Italian, I will not like you. I will serve you politely, as is my duty, but I will not enjoy it.

* If I ask, "Would you like The Works today?", please answer it correctly. Don't go, "Yes - I'll have lettuce, no tomatoes, pickles, and maybe some black olives." No. That's not "Yes". That's completely not The Works. That's three things you want and one thing you don't. The Works is a specific order for the vegetables on your sandwich. It is lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, cucumbers, onions, black olives, and if you wish, jalapeños and banana peppers. If you don't want one particular thing, it is okay to say, "I'll have The Works, but no pickles or hot peppers" -- that's fine with me. But don't say "Yeah I'll have The Works", and then stop me on every other vegetable to say, "Oh except that."

* One of the things Subway is famous for is portion control. You've all seen sandwich artists preparing the sandwiches - six tomato slices, six cucumber slices, etc. We don't do it because we like the number 6. We do it because that's how a Subway sandwich is put together. And guess what. We can only put six olives on as well. It's not very many, and I think it's personally pretty dumb. But that's what we do. If you ask for more, we can put a maximum of twelve slices on. If you get shirty with us, well that's just us doing our job.

* When you get to the counter, please remember this. I am not a dancing gypsy. So don't throw money at me. Seriously, I've had this happen. I say, "That'll be $12.47" or whatever, and people will literally toss a twenty at me. It's degrading. You wanna know how many times I've been tempted to throw your change back at you? A lot, that's how many. And don't throw your card at me either. I really, really, really hate it.

And number one rule for being a customer.

* If you are on a cellphone and have no intention of ending the conversation, or take a long time about ending it, I will not like you. If you are at the front of the line, and are having a phone conversation, I will serve the person behind you. Don't look at me all pissed. You were having a conversation with someone, it would just be rude of me to interrupt. Put down the phone, jerkwad.

Okay. I'm done.

Although hopefully I won't be at Subway much longer. I have a job interview tomorrow for a bank admin assistant! Yay!

[insert appropriate title here]

I had a bit of a breakdown the other night. You know how it goes - crying on your husband's shoulder in bed, not being able to shut your mind off to try and sleep, feeling miserable enough to transfer over to the next day. All that jazz. As it so often happens, it started as one tiny thing and gushed open into a million others.

It seems my current 'button' that pushes me over the edge is my milk supply. Now, Adelaide has had formula before at daycare when necessary, and although I'm not a huge fan of it, I'd rather her have that than go hungry. But as best as I can, I want to make sure she's eating as much breastmilk as possible. So when my supply goes wonky, I tend to go wonky also. And the other night, my supply was going wonky. In hindsight, it was probably due to being sick over the weekend, or maybe not drinking enough milk and/or water myself, but at the time I was freaking. It was about 10pm the night before an 8-hour shift - for which I had just over a full bottle for Laidey (about 6 or 7 ounces all up). True, she could just have formula if she gets hunrgy, but I think I was in a bit of a fragile mood anyway, because it got me crying. Not just that, though. The whole thing about why I even have to work at all.

I don't want to be one of those people who bitches about "back in the day it cost a nickel to fill the car up, and it'd run for dickety-six miles on the sniff of an oily rag". But with the price of gas, plus the price of childcare, going to work often seems like an exercise in futility. I'm making US$7 an hour. Minimum wage. Yeah, it sucks. Childcare and gas costs approximately $37 per shift. So in order to break even, I need to work for at least six hours at a time. At the moment, they're giving me 8-hour shifts, which is good, but it's still only getting me $56 a shift, before tax. At the very, very most, I'm making $20 a shift. So sometimes it's kinda depressing to think about.

Plus there's the whole maternal thing. I like to work (mostly), but I also like being a mother. I love my baby like you wouldn't believe, and I love to spend time with her. I know being a stay-at-home mum isn't an option, but it's a truth I accept and act upon reluctantly.

So, take the "exercise-in-futility" mindset, weigh it against the "I-love-spending-time-with-my-baby" mindset, and add to the mix the "holy-crap-my-supply-is-running-low" mindset, and... well it ain't pretty. As I said before, my brain wouldn't shut off, I couldn't fall back onto the whole Scarlett O'Hara mantra of "I won't think about it now; I'll think about it tomorrow". It was there, in the front of my mind, and I couldn't ignore it. I was working for pennies a day, which was taking me away from someone I love fiercely, and I couldn't even make it up to her by supplying her with enough food for while I was gone.

Fun times.

And I learnt something about myself while I was bawling my eyes out. Most of the time, the things I'm crying about aren't what they appear. It really wasn't my supply, or that I'm not making much money at work. It's that I'm not at home. That's really what it comes down to. I found myself thinking, "If only I was home. If only I was home I could be making so much more money... I wouldn't have to pay for childcare because Mum or Kerrin or someone could watch Adelaide... I wouldn't be living in my in-laws' basement... I would feel so much happier at home..."

And that's pretty much the core of anything I'm ever upset or angry or frustrated about these days. Everything comes back to "if I were at home, things would be different/easier/better."

I've got to stop thinking that way.

Simply put, I'm not home, and I won't be home for some years yet, most likely. It sucks, but that's the truth of it. I married Aaron knowing (though perhaps not to such an extreme extent) that life would be difficult for one of us no matter where we lived, and we made the choice to live in the States. This is where I'm living, this is where my "home" is right now.

Now, I'm not saying I should completely turn my back on Australia, or that being homesick is wrong. But to blame all my problems on being here instead of there, and imagining that everything would be hunky-dory if only we were back home, that's not helpful.

I sometimes get annoyed that I'm the one 'suffering' while Aaron gets to stay in his home land. But then I imagine moving back home with Aaron and Adelaide, and I see how crushed Mary and John would be... their already-small family being split in half. They love Adelaide so much, and she thinks they're just the bee's knees. I can't imagine it. And when I think seriously about moving home, when we start to think of the logistics, I can see why Aaron would be reluctant. We'd probably move back to Keith or Bordertown, so we'd be surrounded by a bunch of yobbos and bogans... not exactly Aaron's type of place.

Maybe it's that I'm more adaptable and flexible than he is. I never thought about that. I don't feel it very much, but I guess I kinda am. A lot of people have told me how much they admire me for moving halfway across the world from my home and family, and a lot of the time I just brush it off, joking that "love makes you do some crazy things". I don't see it as something admirable. I love Aaron, so I'm here. Simple as that. It's nothing I've worked hard for, or aimed for all my life. I fell in love, and now I'm here. It just happened. I know it's not really as simple as all that, but that's what it comes down to. If I'm really as homesick as this blog shows (and I'm sure I am), then it must be an insurmountable love that's keeping me here. And I know I've got that in Aaron. What a guy. <3

Well. I'm not sure exactly what this post was meant to be. It kinda went around in circles, and so if you're still with me, here at the end, I commend you. If I could give you a cookie, I would.

"Oh, sick!"

The titular phrase of this post, to most people, would be a negative comment. Not in Australia. To say that something is "sick" is to say that it's "cool" or "wicked" or "awesome". To say "fully sick" is the ultimate in coolness.

I'm not one who uses the phrase - it's more of a Queenslander thing to say, I imagine. But I did hear it the other day at work.

For those who don't know, yeah I work at Subway. It's not glamorous or high-paying, but I get a free six-inch sub and all the fountain soda I can drink (er... "fountain soda" means "soft drink out of those self-serve machines"). I also live and work in quite the touristy area, and so there are a lot of resorts and camps out this way - you know, the type for summer camps that we see in movies like Addams Family Values and stuff. A lot of these camps use counselors from other countries; they have programs to help bring them over and stuff. I actually considered this as a way of coming to the States back before Aaron and I were engaged, but it didn't work out. Anyway, so where I work is quite close to several camps, so a few groups of counselors have been in for lunch on occasion.

The first time a group came through, I noticed one girl asking for "uh simwuch on whit brid". I asked, "Are you from New Zealand by any chance?" and she was! I almost cried with joy when she asked for "girkuns" instead of "pickles"!

But the most exciting visitor was a few days later, when a guy started to order and I noticed something very familiar about the way he was talking. Instinctively, I asked, "Are you Australian?" - and he was! I said, "So am I, I'm from South Australia!" and he said, "Oh, sick! Yeeah, Oi'm frum up tha Goldy!" Translation: "I'm from the Gold Coast." And he asked for capsicum instead of green peppers! The rest of the day, I was quite hyper. I confused and amused my coworkers by calling everything, "fully sick". And of course I was quite homesick, but managed to cover it well enough. These moments happen and I can't stop and mope about it when they do. Especially when there's subs to make.

Recommendation, by the way. If your local Subway offers a Chicken-Bacon-Ranch sandwich, take it. Get it toasted, with cheddar and shredded cheese, and add tomatoes, and ranch dressing. Then eat it. Boy howdy that's a good sammich.