Writer's Write
Sometimes, the most intriguing stories are true.
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I do not work at the grocery store, so why should I have to scan and bag my own canned tomatoes? I do not work at the gas station, so why do I have to pump my own gas? I do not work at the bank, so why do I need a tutorial when I have to do anything other than withdraw money from the ATM? An ATM which apparently can do everything except dispense $5 and $10 bills.
No wonder I am so exhausted. Not only am I doing the job I get paid to do - I am doing everyone else's job that they get paid to do! Yesterday my colleague Robert and I walked to a sandwich shop to grab some lunch - because it was lunchtime. As we walked in we encountered a young employee by the front door directing people to a self-service ordering station complete with several iPads. More work. I stomped my feet, folded my arms across my chest and launched into my rehearsed speech that begins with, "Let's pretend I don't work here..." Robert left me and the bouncer alone. He stood by the iPad table, checked Facebook and waited. "I think you wasted your speech on her," he said when I finally jumped off of my soap box. "But you might have changed her mind about working here." He smiled. I growled. I stepped up to one of the iPads. It took me twelve minutes to order a bowl of soup and a salad with dressing on the side. Six of those twelve minutes were spent searching for the button to choose bread with my bowl of soup and not soup in a bread-bowl. Twelve unpaid minutes of my life. The worst part was when the computer commanded me to swipe my credit card, I looked up at Robert with tears in my eyes and took a $20 bill out of my pocket. There was no credit card only sign next to the iPad. Was I supposed to know that? "Oh honey," said Robert, sharing a look of disappointment with the bouncer who was hoping I would fail. He led me and my retro cash to the counter where people like me place their orders. People who curse the day technology interfered with customer service. People who believe customer service means to be of service to the customer. Back at the office, Robert happily ate lunch at his desk after informing me he would not be accompanying me to any more restaurants - my standards are too high. Hmmm...or society has accepted the "I'm not doing it - you do it" attitude. With a few minutes left in my lunch hour, I booked my airplane ticket for an upcoming trip I'm taking to Illinois (travel agent) and then after I figured out what tax form I need to use this year, I found a self-service website to walk me through the process (accountant), and finally with seconds to spare I made an appointment to get my car serviced...they suggested I bring my own screwdriver.
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If anyone saw me last night, they would have seen me take the Walk of Shame. Now that I am in my 40’s the Walk of Shame looks a little different then when I was in college. Back then the bright Saturday morning sunshine had a way of ruining a sexy Friday night outfit. Today, in my sweatpants and slippers, the Walk of Shame is even less sexy. Let me explain.
I am trying to lose the 6 pounds I gained over the holidays. Yes, 6 pounds of pumpkin bread, chocolate peanut butter cookies and mashed potatoes. I have a plan, a really good plan. First, I am not eating sugar. Not foods that break down into sugar like bread or rice – that is too much of a science project and I don’t have time for such experiments. So I am keeping it simple, no blatant sugar – cookies, cakes, candy, etc. Next, exercise. I will go to the gym, work up a sweat and burn off those pesky pounds. That’s it. That is my plan. Hmmm, when to exercise? I just washed my hair yesterday and to be honest, washing my hair is a time consuming project involving hair dryers, flat irons and a vacuum. So running on the treadmill is out of the question because I will sweat which will make my hair frizz – therefore undoing all of the work I did yesterday. Lifting weights is an option but I want to slim down not bulk up. Yoga is the perfect choice. The relaxing, breathing kind of yoga, not the power, cardio yoga – again, I don’t want my hair to frizz. I eat pretty well all day. Peanut butter toast for breakfast. Half of a ham and spinach sandwich with potato chips for lunch. Scrambled eggs and 2 pieces of buttered toast for dinner. No fruit and very little vegetables but no sugar all day. It’s 9:28pm. I am sitting alone on the couch watching Mike & Molly. I review my day of health. No sugar all day. A rigorous workout routine and no sugar all day. Not even a piece of the homemade orange pound cake someone brought into the office. Not one rice crispy treat my son’s friend offered me when I picked him up from school. I didn’t even take the handful of M&M trail-mix the lady at the grocery store was peddling. I have done so well I am sure I deserve a little…reward for such good behavior. I get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen. I open the cabinet where the chocolate sandwich cookies live. The cookies I should have thrown away but felt bad wasting perfectly good cookies. And what if my boys wanted dessert. Just because I am staying away from sugar doesn’t mean I have the right to deprive them of an innocent after-dinner treat. I grab 2 cookies from the package. Just 2. No harm. Just 2. I go back to the couch and systematically disassemble my chocolate sandwich cookies. I eat them. I’m satisfied. I’m done. And then…the Walk of Shame. I look around the empty living room. I get up from the couch, walk back into the kitchen, open the cabinet door and take out 2 more chocolate sandwich cookies. Just 2 more. I walk back the couch and eat them. Enjoying them less, but eating them anyway. When I have finished, I look around the empty living room, get up from the couch a third time and…you know the drill. The Walk of Shame is just as humiliating in the privacy of my living room as it was sneaking through the quad of my college campus early Saturday morning hoping nobody was looking out of their dorm window. On my own will power I reward myself for not eating sugar all day by eating sugar. In the light of day this line of thinking makes zero sense. But alone on the couch at 9:28pm this line of thinking somehow makes perfect sense. Since I have decided to lose those 6 pounds from the holidays, I have managed to gain 2 additional pounds. My plan doesn’t seem to be working. |
Lori Ann DinkinsOne blog at a time, I write the truth about my life as it is, as I hope it will be, as I wish it would have been. Business insights and personal triumphs. Thank you for joining me.
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