Life

Retail Christmas Music: 3 Survival Tips
Photo by tmorkemo via Flickr 'Creative Commons'

Photo by tmorkemo via Flickr ‘Creative Commons’

Retail has been my life for many years. Currently, I work at a small Natural Foods store in Coeur d’Alene. Before that, it was mostly gas stations. You would think that retail Christmas music is exclusive to clothing stores, but no, it’s everywhere. Like Adele, you can’t escape it.

Ever since that report came out, you know, the one that says people will buy more if there is Christmas music playing, shop owners have been taking advantage and employees have been going mad. I sometimes wonder if the two cancel each other out: more sales from christmas music, less sales from annoyed employees who are rude to customers.

Anyways, yesterday I came to work and there it was. Christmas music. Loud. Obnoxious. Repetitive. Sorcerous.

It’s not that I hate Christmas music. I don’t. I just hate any form of music that is unnecessarily repetitive and forced on to my ears. Yesterday “White Christmas” played three times in a row. Thank you Pandora Radio. Thank you.

Eventually, you’ll block it out. At least I do. The first week is the worst. After years in retail, here are 3 quick tips on surviving retail Christmas music for the worker.

Stay busy. If I stand around and think about the music, it tends to get worse. Rather, if I find things to do, my mind gets off of the music and on to the task. This isn’t always easy and results can vary depending on the store and situation. My mind tends to focus on whatever I’m doing. Yesterday, I started cleaning anything I could find. Before I knew it, I was on a quest to genocide dust from my department. Christmas music was the least of my worries.

Talk to customers. Some jobs may require you to converse with customers. Others don’t. My job is optional since I am not always on the floor. Yesterday, I realized that when I talked to customers, I wasn’t thinking about the music, but them. Instead of leaving customer conversations on the surface level, I probed further. It ended up increasing customer service (and sales) on quite a few occasions.

Parody. In any retail job, customers come in waves. Sometimes they just disappear. If you’ve cleaned, rearranged, and stocked just about everything, then there is nothing left to do but endure the pain. What now? I once worked with a guy who would change the lyrics to about every song and sing with it. It was incredibly fun and quite hilarious. My favorite of his was “Feliz Navidad,” or rather “Police got mi Dad.”

Am I alone on this view of working retail during the Holidays? Any tips you might give?

26

We traveled to the casino last night—hitting the seafood buffet for my birthday. It was a gift from my grandparents. A lot of kids grow up with families who make dinner and bake cakes. We don’t do that. We go to casino buffets for the crab legs.

My wife had only eaten crab once. I suppose it’s normal for people from Idaho; some things are just different here. Most interesting was her unfamiliarity with the tools. “This one is for cracking,” I explained, “this one for cutting.” She nodded, I spilled the butter.

So the whole table cracked. Shell bits flew everywhere. My brother and I compared crab-meat findings like gold miners compare nuggets: “Look at this one!” I made four trips total.

After dinner, we vagabonded from slot machine to slot machine, searching for the perfect one. I lost; my brother said I wasn’t doing it right. I’m not sure how else you do it. But he claimed whatever it was, I wasn’t doing it right.

Acceptance.

When I talk to people about aging, a lot of them mention acceptance. For instance, one lady told me she didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin until she turned 50. One guy I know said something similar, except it was 30. I’m sure everyone is different. At some point we recognize who we are and become satisfied with the person in the mirror.

I don’t know if I’m there yet. I still feel I have too much to prove and figure out.

What I do know is that my family frequents the seafood buffet. I guess, overall, we’re casino people. You know those cute older ladies that talk out loud to slot machines, that’s my grandma. My grandpa likes the Texas Tea one. My brother has his favorites as well.

I’ve never much liked casinos; except for card playing and roulette. It’s not so much the smoke, but more so the sad weight of desperation that haunts every player’s shoulders. You can almost taste it. Still, if I want to get my grandparents and brother out of the house to spend the evening with, it’s where we end up.

Last night, I’ve never felt more comfortable around the ones that I love. I guess that’s part of that age acceptance thing. My family are casino people. And to be honest, maybe I am too.

Someday I think I’ll feel completely comfortable in my skin. Maybe 27? Until then, at least I am comfortable with my family. Even if they don’t bake cakes and sing me the birthday song. We love each other and express it uniquely. I suppose that’s something I can be comfortable with.

Now That’s What I Call Snow: VOL. 14

Something magical happens when it snows. I’m not talking “disney” magic here; I do understand what happens to moisture when temperature drops. I even attended a physical geography class in college! (my teacher was a local weather-man)

When speaking of magic, I’m not necessarily talking about the beauty of a fresh laid snow either. See, I believe snow heals the human condition. Here are three quick reasons:

1. Snow reminds us of the planet we live on.

Mother Earth tends to lead us on. Like most women, you really couldn’t blame her. I tend to build my world around warm weather: The length of time it takes me to get anywhere, my wardrobe, my weekend plans. And whenever it snows, I’m immediately reminded of a lack of control for pretty much anything (except for of course, my bowel movements).

How does this help the human condition? No matter how much you may or may not want it to snow, it will snow. There is no control. You are reminded of the planet you live on. In another words, we’re grounded in reality. Like being pulled out of a movie by an obnoxious ringtone, the snow reminds us of what is real and what is not real.

And when we remember what is real, we also recognize what is fake. This may read weird, but after a fresh snow I always tend to think about the important things of life. My marriage, my friends, my faith. 

These things remain constant no matter the weather. No matter the season. 

2. Snow Slows Us Down and Sets Our Eyes On the Present

This reason is an easy one. We slow down. We have to! It used to take us 20 minutes to get to work, now it takes 30. I used to be able to jump in the car and go, now I have to warm it up, brush away the snow, and chip off the ice.

Why is this good? We have to think ahead. I know. It kind of sucks sometimes and it takes some getting used to. But I believe this to be a good thing. It sets our eyes on the present. Can I really just jump in the car and go? What is true about reality right now?

Since it’s snowed, I haven’t once texted while driving. I haven’t been following too closely behind any other driver either. Snow forces me to pay attention to the present, similar to how warm weather helps me forget it. I guess it’s all about the balance.

I know, I know. I’ll probably be sick of the snow soon. I’ll be craving a sunny day like a crack-head craves a five-dollar bill. Still…

3. Everyone Looks Better in Scarves

Well, we all know that’s true.

Wishing Wells: The Bastard Child of American Economy

On the way to class I walked by a wishing well fountain. You know, people throw in change, make a wish, maybe say a quick prayer to Fountainess: The Goddess of Outdoor Décor. Anyways, it was being drained in preparation for winter. I guess they do that here.

In California the fountains run all year, so this was a weird sight. I didn’t realize these things get drained. California is something of an ideal state for wishing wells. Year round coinage.

As I watched the water drain and the naive coins surface, I considered grabbing a few and heading to Taco Bell. I was hungry after all. After pondering the sin value of stealing wish money, I exercised some will power and decided against it. Probably best.

Musing over the economic impact of a wishing well. 

When you spend money, it goes to someone else who eventually spends that money. Through some portal, interest is ultimately added and more money is created. Walla! It’s the big cycle that in essence is our economy. Every time you eat, go to the movies, or buy kitten calendars, you participate in growing the financial system. The more we spend, theoretically, the more our economy grows.

There’s theories and stuff.

Let’s assume we go to a wishing well that is never drained. We stand at the edge and throw in our coin. It hits bottom and falls out of reach, theoretically for all eternity. In another words, it’s spent. What’s most interesting is that the transaction (a wish for a coin) effectively takes money out of the economy. This never happens! Head explode? Anyone? (Is this thing on?)

I think it’s safe to assume I just defied all modern economic theory.

It may at least explain why California can’t balance the budget or seem to tax enough to pay for anything. I mean, their wishing wells are in full swing year round! That’s money taken out of the economy every day! At least Idaho recoups in the winter.

So this brings me to the close. I’ll leave you with some conundrums to query.

What income level makes it socially acceptable to steal from a wishing fountain?

Are there any other ways we spend and kill money at the same time?

Who throws change into a wishing well during a recession anyways?  

Is Kevin’s Theory of Wishing Well Economics worthy of a Nobel Prize?

Exploding Heads and Other Obstacles

Friday morning I woke up with the worst of a weeklong cold. There was coughing, sneezing, and liquids draining in ways I never thought possible! Like an imprisoned Instagram filter, everything just seemed mucusy.

Remember that movie Scanners? You know, the one where that guy’s head explodes?

That was me. All I wanted was a blanket to hide in and fifteen more hours of sleep. Thankfully, I had to take a five-hour road trip to Seattle. (That was sarcasm). In effort to find any way out I could, I pleaded a case to my wife Megan:

“If my head is going to explode, it will be in the car.” She hates gore. “You will have brains all over you!” I exclaimed.

“Suck it up,” she said, “you’re going.” I sneered and coughed louder.

We planned to travel so I could interview for the University of Rochester. These interviews solidify entrance and also help acquire scholarships—my primary concern. Rochester offers Skype interviews if the off-site interview is too far away. An all too alluring temptation, but the in-person experience can never be replaced.

Truthfully, I was ready to give up. I didn’t care if I interviewed or attended another course ever again. Everything flew out the window. I wanted my bed. I wanted Netflix. And I didn’t want my head to explode.

Obstacles.

Obstacles orbit life’s milestones like the rings of Saturn. From a distance, they appear solid, intimidating, and flashy. Most will turn back; others will just get stuck gazing at the rings. (I’m not even sure what Saturn (the planet) looks like. I only know it has rings!)

But what happens when we stick with our gumption, stay focused, and approach the goal? We find the rings aren’t solid at all. In fact, they’re made of dust.  Obstacles are like this. They test our endurance and our commitment. Sometimes we get scared and turn away; sometimes we push forward with less motivation than we assumed we’d need.

In the heat of the moment, I would’ve given in. I would’ve “given up the diet while reading the dessert menu” as author Peter Bregman says. Thankfully, my wife saw through Saturn’s rings and recognized the planet.

So we went. My head didn’t explode. In fact, Saturday morning, I woke up refreshed and ready. The interview went amazing and I even got to see a couple old friends. Thanks to Megan for pushing me. I guess it also helps to have someone keep you accountable.

Now watch that Youtube clip again, you know you want to.

Getting Stuck Sucks

In north Idaho, there’s a terrible stretch of the highway that runs through town: The Highway 95. It’s pure evil. I’m convinced it was created as a psychology experiment to test how many red lights a person can endure before punching their steering wheel.

For Halloween, I’m thinking of dressing up as the 95.

Everybody has a highway, freeway, or stretch of the city that terrorizes them. I’m probably reminding you of your least favorite place on Earth right now.  Sorry to tense up your back.

We get stuck and it sucks.

A few years ago I wrote a song called “Green Light District.” It was about enjoying the pause, in place of frustration, over highway red lights. Needless to say, I’m not really a fan of that song anymore. Green Light District. I wrote it before the 95 became apart of my daily driving rituals. There is no getting around it, the 95 is out to get you. 

But there is one thing I discovered and it’s crucial: Highway 95 is and always will, run slow. It’s a law. The more I accept it, the better I understand it. The more I understand it, the less likely I am to shout at inanimate objects.

Sometimes we get mad at the universe for not cutting us a break, as if the universe owes us anything after allowing us to exist. (For theological discussions, maybe substitute “universe” with God).

So it’s inevitable, the 95 will run slow. I’ll probably hit 5-7 red lights on average. You probably have a stretch that’s similar to you. Stop sweating; seriously it’s grossing me out.

Here are three steps to get you through your least favorite place on earth.

  1. Leave five minutes earlier. I’m always running late. This is probably a big reason the 95 feels worse than it really is. The more we hurry, the heavier gravity feels.
  2. Find productive use of your time in the car. For me it’s podcasts. They changed my entire outlook on driving. For others it could be an audio book. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be attentive drivers, but if you can’t listen and drive, then maybe you just shouldn’t drive. I wouldn’t recommend Sudoku.
  3. Pretend to be James Bond. Ok, maybe I just made this up because I needed a third point. But seriously, how cool is James Bond? He’s never in a hurry.

I think this whole idea of terrible traffic and/or bad stretches of highway can be a metaphor for the things in life with which we feel stuck in. Sometimes, we just need to acknowledge the obstacles in front of us and accept their influence on our lives.  By doing this, we can find an efficient way through the mess of inconvenience and simply move on through to the other side.