WEEKLY DISPATCH #9
5-14-04:
The night we left Oak Island was pretty tough, but I figured I would be okay when we got back to our new apartment. We were pretend-optimistic and of course, in reality, terrified. With good reason, I suspected. I believe strongly that we were thrust into maturity unfairly, but I'm grateful for the injustice; life is so goddamn hard, which is why it's so goddamn good.
Let me back up. I wanted a job all my life but my dad insisted that I wait until after high school, and he was probably right to do so, but I think this deprived me of a lot of experience. Just about everyone has at least had some tiny summer job. I left my youth with nothing and I didn't get a job until days before I turned 19.
Over time I've told a pack of lies about my high school experience because I'm embarrassed by it, but as the second half of my senior year rolled around I was a mess of nerves. I could never seem to remember to do anything; I still hadn't ordered my graduation uniform. My grades were fine, not great, but I was too uncertain of everything and too worried about interaction to submit any applications to colleges. I have fibbed frequently about this to more people than I can count. It was not that I didn't care or that I didn't feel worthy, I just was utterly clueless about what I was going to do the next year. This was the first time there was no real escape for me from the terrors of school hallways; home was a nightmare. Stephanie Coin was there, which was good; my dad, his new squeeze, and her two kids were there too, and with all respect to them, that was bad. I knew I was outgrowing my situation.
We moved out and went to stay at a house my mom had purchased but which she wasn't staying in. That's Oak Island for you... bourgeois decadence in giant tinkertoys, and we're not even bourgeois. The move didn't help a whole lot. It was a relief to be alone with Steph but it was also scary to be in a neighborhood with a bunch of old people, all of whom knew my mom from the library. The entire town was like that. You couldn't walk three steps without running into someone who knew who you were, and often you would never remember seeing them before in your life. All day long I felt like I was being watched.
There was a critical moment in the winter. At the front of our school was a bulletin board with all the people who'd been accepted to colleges listed. I felt sick every time I walked by it. I was living Charlie Brown's life twelve years late. In my AP History class one day, it was pointed out by the teacher -- she wasn't trying to be condescending -- that I, the one singled out as "the wisecracker," was the only one of the five people in the class who had not been accepted to a university yet. (I also had the lowest GPA, the worst record, basically no extracurricular activities, and I hadn't even taken the SAT yet, but I still had a better grade in the class than two of the others.) I was suffocated with fear. It wasn't for me because inside I knew that I would rather not go to college. I didn't mind school as long as it was state-funded and there was no real alternative, and I actually liked all of my classes that semester and I would have loved to keep going. LOVED. My fear was because of what everybody else was going to think of me. Yeah, I knew that was stupid. But I've always had this problem. When I did my homework it was less for the grade and more because I didn't want the teacher to be upset (the teachers don't give a shit) or for my parents to be disappointed (maybe they would be but they wouldn't disown me). Me, I didn't care, and I felt terrible about that.
Maybe it was instinct or something, and maybe someday I'll find out that I saved my own life, but I would hit the pavement outside that little house and I would want to collapse. I think this is the social anxiety disorder they talk about on TV. The phone would ring and I would panic. A knock on the door and I'd cry for hours. I had a million things I needed to do -- I'd never gotten new tags for the car and for some reason fear gripped me every time I attempted to do it. I felt terrible that Stephanie was working and I wasn't but I decided I would start looking for a job before I finished school.
Then the headaches started. I have had headaches since before you were born (first joke of the week and not a very good one, sorry), migraines at that, but these were something else. If they didn't cause so much pain they would be quite impressive. It felt as if my brain was prepared to escape my skull and would get out by any means necessary. Couldn't even sit up on the first night. A few days later had another one and couldn't move at all. Some days even laying on the bed was painful. Went to two doctors. The first was clueless and didn't help at all. The second understood but couldn't help.
After I missed four days of school because of this shit I was terrified to go back. I was almost glad the headaches continued because for whatever reason, I felt too humiliated to return there. Somehow the notion that the whole thing was my fault had gotten into my system. I always suspected I wasn't lazy even though all signs pointed to it, and now that I work for a living I know I was right. I have barely spoken to any of my friends since I walked in the day of my first doctor's appointment to pick up a few assignments. I would have felt liberated just for my school problems to end right then, but they didn't. I was bedridden as headaches were compounded with more headaches, with acid reflux, and even with excruciating toothaches that necessitated removal of a bicuspid. Stephanie was so supportive in the entire situation and I felt like I was ruining her life.
So I didn't graduate with my class. To this fucking day I have dreams that I just went back the first week of March and everything continued normally, but trust me, I'm really glad it didn't.
The pros of the move to Wilmington, which was not by choice, were that I would no longer feel guilty every time I stepped outside, and moreover I would not be relying on my parents in any respect. It was an escape in that sense. But at first we were scared of the town and it took us a while to navigate it. My headaches were finally ending but I felt doomed in a way and felt more than ever like I was putting the girlfriend for whom I'd fought ruthlessly through an unnecessary and disappointing hell. For the first time the Internet became not an information tool and a venue of creation but a defense mechanism and an escape, and I paid the price for engrossing myself in it. There was a period of several months when I became just about everything I have ever despised. Yep, everything.
Stephanie got a job very quickly, within three weeks, and it saved our asses. I wouldn't get one for... get this... two additional months, an eternity during financial difficulties, and it wasn't for lack of trying. I applied everywhere in this stupid fucking city, but because my experience was nonexistent I couldn't make the cut, anywhere, and problems grew until finally I realized that somehow I had forgotten to finish my application to Lowes Foods. I turned it in and Robin Hinson, then the customer service manager, called me the next day. My interview went well -- I was early -- and I was hired as a cashier days ahead of my birthday. A week passed and I hadn't heard anything new so I called and was asked if I would like to work in the deli, which was majestically short on labor. Without much enthusiasm, I agreed.
In retrospect, I'm impressed by how resourceful and intelligent Stephanie and I were through the entire ordeal. We were never stupid in a crucial sense, and she was never stupid at all. I was a child; I never realized I could be such a whiny brat, and once I got the job I had to grow up, and fast. When we moved here this apartment felt like a black hole to me, and now I associate it with fun and spirit and independence. It's funny how much things can change without changing.
For a while I've been trying to remember if I've ever felt wasteful or displaced working in a deli when I've always been told I've had Such Great Potential, and actually, no, it's never really bugged me, which surprises me as much as you. Money is money and I'd rather be where I am than just about anywhere else I can think of. It's hard work, but it's rewarding, and I'm just not the type who resents having to work. As long as I get paid. Anyway, personally, I have everything I've ever seriously and rationally wanted (I don't want children and of course I want to write, but only a fool would expect to ever be able to do it for a living). I have never been so lacking in insecurity, but I do remember it and not with nostalgia.
There were hurdles and rough periods. For one thing, I used to be late a lot. I'm the sort who hates going to bed and hates waking up. I was over an hour late once. Fortunately, my boss at the time was a nice but slightly aloof British lady who would often call us five minutes before she was supposed to come in to tell us she was doing laundry and wouldn't be in for a while. Sooner or later I had to learn to be responsible, and I did, and now I'm almost never significantly late, just often slightly late like everybody else is every day.
But everybody knew I would have a skewed perspective about a career in deli clerking, and let me tell you, I've gotten more lessons in psychology than a Ph.D. could have offered. Sticking to the coworkers alone, some people I've come into frequent contact with include
- a hulking, obsessive-compulsive bear of a man working in Produce who was fired for masturbating with some melons
- a 44 year-old who lives with her pareents and moves like a turtle; has worked in the deli since 1995
- a gay man, age 54, with two college degrees who's living hand to mouth, owns a bird, and rattles off a constant dialogue of disturbing innuendo
- fucking insane (and frighteningly massive) 27 year-old girl, also living with her parents, screams at all of her relatives on the phone during most of her time at work, never stops talking, calls me her "buddy"
- bespectacled, awkward Jewish bagger with bad hygiene who has no shame about hitting on and creeping out every female he meets; possibly violent
- white manager who does nothing but walk around and pretend to be black; has at least eight girlfriends
- girl with no teeth, stalking a guy in the meat department
- racist 38 year-old man who's been with the company since the '80s and likes to scream at random and talk about how much he loves the south, which he says Will Rise Again; suffers from extremely suicidal depression, as I understand it
- confused-looking redhead who scribbles in notebooks all the time... wait, that's me.
- woman who seems to have a sexual relationship with, um, everybody
As for the customers, well, I'll have plenty of opportunities to tell you about that. Generally they're no problem, but once in a while they're a welcome source of entertainment. I've learned a lot about senior citizens here. More than I really wanted to know. At least one story I can't even bring myself to tell here.
Of course I have the occasional battle with the patrons; I've been in three major arguments that I can think of with them, one over salami, one over rotiserrie chicken, and one over fried chicken. But the omnipresent force of evil in my job is not the stupid employees or the stupid customers or the stupid food; it's not human, vegetable, or mineral. It's the Muzak.
Muzak is a long-running company that pumps music into businesses to maintain some type of sanity among employees, comfort among customers. It doesn't work, guys. I'll grant you that it's a little creepy when the weather gets bad and the signal goes out, but it's much more peaceful than "Young Turks." We use the most popular Muzak channel, "foreground music one." Imagine the worst adult contemporary station you've heard and combine it with an oldies station with an endless loop of about twelve songs, then throw in the majority of the Beatles' catalog. They probably play more good music than I give them credit for -- more on that in the future -- but I never realized how bland a lot of pop music is. Or I did realize it, actually, but it's only recently been pummelled into my skull. Still, there's something alluring in the surrealism of having unconscious note-by-note knowledge of so many songs you hate and so many more you've never even heard of. I will cover Muzak more extensively at a later time.
So my job. I close the deli. Depending on the time of my arrival, I might do some food production, but mostly, my job involves cleaning up, dealing with people, a lot of intricate time management, and running around the store. At about 5:00 I take down the rotisserie (left) and fryer (below). The rotisserie is caked with grease by this point; it must be disposed of, with all parts then cleaned thoroughly and then covered with aluminum foil. Meanwhile, my coworkers make personal phone calls and ignore customers. Okay, not all of them, and not always. The fryer must be either filtered or drained completely; whatever the case, I have to remove all the mutated fragments and grease bits, then wipe the whole thing out and ensure that no soap gets into the grease. If we're just filtering, I can then pump the oil back into the fryer and clean the bottom unit. If we're draining, I have to have one of the semi-management losers open the back door so I can dump the grease into the, um, grease storage thing.
At 6:00 I break down our hot bar, a decidedly unsuccessful venture in sales of overcooked vegetables and often unrecognizable meats. Everything has to be weighed and recorded before it can be thrown away, and we do throw all of it away. Usually after that, there are dishes that need to be washed.
At 7 the salad bar and cold bar (containing our delicious [?] in-store-made salads above) are closed, their contents removed and placed in the cooler, the bars cleaned and covered. At some point after that, I have two slicers to clean, one for meat and one for cheese; they have to be taken apart, the detachable bits washed like dishes, while the rest is wiped with soap and water then sanitized, and sometimes sharpened.
The final menial tasks of the night involve cleaning the traps underneath the drains, which invariably are full of disgusting bits of food and grime and insects (just kidding); after ensuring that all countertops and other surfaces are clean and free of clutter, I can clean the glass on the displays, then it's time to sweep the floor and soak it with degreaser.
Once all the water is off the floor, the trash is taken out, often for the fourth time that day. If trash is not disposed of more than once in a day, we end up with bags at closing time (around 9:30) that are impossible to lift, let alone throw into the compactor. After I plug the slicers back in and turn the lights out, I go home. All this stuff is pretty simple. I wouldn't say "easy" because it's a lot to keep track of, but it's not terribly intimidating. The hard part is getting along with everybody and pretending you care about the shoppers.
So all this may sound like some dull bullshit that no one would ever want to do. And I'd agree with you except that there's this little thing called a "paycheck." It gives you "money," which can be used for anything, and it can make anything seem a lot better. I actually like my job a great deal, which may be largely because it's something that makes me feel responsible and not, like, worthless. And I can do it because it doesn't require extensive brainpower.
To end all this, I want to somehow pay tribute to my workplace, the hallowed halls of Lowes Foods #202, on Oleander Drive in Wilmington, NC, where I am a deli associate. But I just don't know what to say. So I'll turn it over to _company president_ Curtis Oldenkamp.
He sez that customers are the focus of everything we do and that "the Lowes Foods strategy is: 'in-your-face' fresh produce, exclusive products and services such as certified Hereford beef, fresh salads made in store delis, and the company's personalized touch as a small regional company. The company also emphasizes low prices."
Allow me to explain further. Lowes Foods is a unique chain of supermarkets based in Winston-Salem, NC. Our purpose is simple: We feed people - body, mind and spirit. Everything we do is designed to bring customers the freshest products offering the best value, in stores that are clean, well-lit and easy to shop in with employees who care about our customers. We are proud to say that Lowes Foods is "Good For You." Those three words are much more than a slogan to us. They are at the center of everything we do. One of the ways we show we care about you is by helping you make informed decisions about the food you and your family eat.
How else is Lowes Foods Good For You? Here are a few examples:
- Quality
We are passionate about the quality and freshness of the products we sell. Our fresh fruits, vegetables, meat, seafood, dairy, deli and bakery items are the best available. We show respect for the foods we offer by handling them with proper sanitation and safety techniques. Everything we sell is backed by the Lowes Foods 200% Freshness Guarantee: It's always fresh or we replace the item AND refund your money.
- Convenience
We take great pride in our fast checkout service and work hard to ensure that customers don't have a noticeable wait at the register. Our superior service includes having cashiers unload customers' carts.
- Dependable Prices
Accurate pricing is a reflection of our integrity, so we take it very seriously. The accuracy of our pricing is backed with our Scan-Right Guarantee: If any item scans for a price different than the shelf tag, you receive one of that item FREE.
- Great Prices
We keep shelf prices low. We know that the best service in town isn't a good deal if prices are high. We offer everyday low prices throughout the store, plus great weekly features and the added bonus of Double Manufacturer's Coupons to our most loyal shoppers (when you purchase $35 or more). That's why many customers tell us that Lowes Foods offers the best overall value available in our marketplace.
- Friendly Service
Our people are friendly, attentive, and responsive to customers. We truly appreciate your business and want you to know that you are valued as a customer.
- Nutrition
We help shoppers cut through confusing information about health and nutrition. Cindy Silver, our corporate nutritionist, provides accurate, reliable and practical information. Each store features a nutrition education center with free nutrition and health brochures, newsletters and healthy recipes on different topics each month. Our weekly in-store ad also features recipes and meal plans. Cindy is also available to answer your nutrition questions. She can be reached at 1-800-311-2117 or by e-mail, csilver@lowesfoods.com.
- Lowes Foods To Go
We recognize the realities of today's busy schedules, so we work to make shopping less of a chore. To meet this challenge, we offer Lowes Foods To Go, an order-ahead shopping service that allows you to shop without getting out of your car! You can order online or by phone or fax and your order will be ready when you arrive at our store. You drive up, we load your groceries, you pay and you're on your way! You can check out the service here on our website.
- Exceptional Value
Our store brand features a wide range of high-quality, low priced items. These products offer the same quality as leading national brands at a fraction of the cost. We are proud of the strict quality standards we uphold for all of our products and of the excellent value they offer our customers.
We love to hear from our customers. Feedback from shoppers helps us to continually revise our products and services to best meet your needs. Call us toll-free at 1-800-311-2117 or send e-mail to barbara@lowesfoods.com.
And wait! How did this incredible company get started? Well, you see, Lowes Foods began in 1954 as a single store in Wilkesboro, NC, and has grown to become a major supermarket chain operating in North Carolina and Virginia. The company grew rapidly during the 1960s, '70s and early '80s. Lowes Foods was acquired by Merchants Distributors, Inc. (MDI) in 1984 and began an aggressive expansion program in 1986, opening 19 stores over the next four years. In 1997, Lowes Foods acquired Byrds Food Stores, located in eastern North Carolina. Today Lowes Foods stores number more than 100 and new stores continue to open throughout North Carolina.
Lowes Foods has always had a strong customer orientation. Our stores reflect the varied needs and desires of shoppers in different areas. Stores, products and services are continually updated to meet the changing needs of customers. In the 1990s, Lowes Foods introduced FreshSmart stores, with an emphasis on customer service and fresh produce, meat, seafood, deli and bakery items. While selection may vary from store to store, our commitment to quality, value and service are the same no matter where you shop.
Lowes Foods is part of the Alex Lee family of companies. Alex Lee was formed in 1992 after MDI purchased Lowes Foods and Institution Food House (IFH), creating an integrated food distribution company. Alex Lee was named in honor of its founders, Alex and Lee George. Alex and Lee were generous people who cared about both friends and strangers. They developed people and treated employees fairly. Alex George, the entrepreneur, knew everyone's name and directed the warehouse operations. Lee George, the negotiator, was adept at procurement and sales, but was best known for his kindness. Their integrity, honesty, fairness and loyalty, made them widely trusted and greatly respected among both customers and employees. Alex and Lee both believed in customer service and guided the company through good and bad times by determining how they could best serve the customer.
The tradition begun by Alex and Lee George continues today at Lowes Foods and its sister companies, MDI and IFH. By focusing on customers, each of the Alex Lee companies has grown tremendously over the years while remaining committed to doing what's right for the customer. Today's team of employees at Lowes Foods takes great pride in creating unique services that make life easier for our customers and distinguish us from our competitors.
Don't forget about our S&H greenpoints program. After applying for our exclusive Rewards Card, you earn 10 greenpoints for every dollar you spend, giving you access to great deals like those seen here.
And hey, if you're not in the mood to cook tonight, drop by our deli, where we've just taken out a fresh batch of our hot, delicious rotisserie chickens, in three great varieties -- original, roasted garlic, and zesty lemon pepper -- just $5.99 each. Grab one while they last, and as always, thank you for shopping at Lowes Foods.
LINK OF THE WEEK. Heino
Europeans know damn well that their domain is limited, that they have the world to themselves until they step into Germany, where all of a sudden... they're in Heino's territory. Heino is a singer, but he's so much more than that, and you can read about him here. As you can see, he's quite the heartthrob (but definitely NOT homosexual). They don't call Heino the "Leading Singer of the Free World" for nothing. He's retiring but there's still time to learn. Make sure to read the FAQ; comprehensive discographies are hard to find, because evidently Heino has and has had for some time a monopoly on the recording industry in his home country. Except the occasional Rammstein bootleg, I have my doubts that people listen to anything else in Germany. Why should they? Talents like this don't grow on trees and should be cherished. I only hope that Heino finally makes inroads in the U.S. before it's all over.
VOCABULARY WORD OF THE WEEK
turboelectric (adj.) - involving or depending as a power source on electricity produced by turbine generators
My husband is turboelectric in bed.
I FOUND IT ON THE ROAD
Hmm... If I lived in California I'd swear that the new governor had something to do with this.
FROM THE ARCHIVES
This is labeled "Expressive Lines." If you can gather what each of the lines here is meant to express, please send me your findings and you will win a new Volkswagen. I fucking swear to God.
ENEMIES LIST. Michael Bay
Call him the anti-auteur, a man who takes everything entertaining about film and sends it into ridiculous overdrive like he's snorting about ten times too much cocaine. A filmmaker with the mind of a ten year-old, one who understands the premise that movies are for entertainment and doesn't seem to make films with any pretense of the creation of Great Art... but unfortunately chooses to do this by not only insulting the intelligence of his audience, but mauling them with music-video editing, over-the-top stories and performances, a maddening lack of subtlety, and not even the good grace to keep it all brief. Most horribly of all, he gets worse as the years go by.
Let's take a look. Cutting his teeth, appropriately, on TV commercials, he was the mastermind of the massively annoying Got Milk? campaign. Then came BAD BOYS, then THE ROCK, then ARMAGEDDON, then PEARL HARBOR, etc. The last two are three hours each of mind-numbing, hamhanded bombast. They make a lot of noise and have no restraint whatsoever, yet are among the most boring films imaginable. ARMAGEDDON may very well be the worst movie I've ever seen. Every scene feels like a horrible, career-ending decision -- Ben Affleck playing with animal crackers on Liv Tyler's stomach, Aerosmith singing "Come Together," the cast singing "Leavin' on a Jet Plane," Owen Wilson and Steve Buscemi delivering the worst, most awkward lines of their careers, and on and on -- but it made money.
And that seems to be all Bay cares about. An interview in Rolling Stone shed some light on the man, who, incredibly, manages to be more infantile and pretentious than Oliver Stone, George Lucas, Paul Verhoeven, David Cronenberg, and Quentin Tarantino put together. He's a rich kid with a lot of toys and no imagination whatsoever, and he's deluded enough despite the good fortune of being Hollywood's poster child of young success to feel the need to write a letter to a critic who trashed one of his movies and accuse the man of hating blockbusters. I know 13 year-olds more mature than that. But hey, I'm sure a lot of directors are fucking scumbags, even good ones.
The important thing is... watching his films is akin to being beaten over the head with a sledgehammer for hours. It makes sitting through DANCES WITH WOLVES sound almost appealing. I think I'm going to go lie down.
Love,
n.