Children in the Workplace

I had dinner at Panera today...I LOVE Panera. If you don't have one near you, well then you have my sympathies. And if you DO, but have not gone, then shame on you. Get thee to a Panera!
Sadly, my dining experience was soured. By the girl helping me. (And I use the term loosely.) Let me give you a little recap...

Wait FAR too long, considering I am the only customer in line. Make my infamous "You can't REALLY be this stupid, can you??" face. (She was standing there, with two other employees and a manager, taking the order of yet another employee. Why, you ask, did it take a total of five Panera Bread employees to do the job of one? I have no earthly idea.) Am finally noticed and asked if I am ready to order. Uh, yeah. Get the distinct impression that she is there for Panera's "Bring Your Child to Work" Day or some such nonsense. Accidentally order the wrong item--the names are really similar, give me a break--which requires her to void first item. Void does not work. Watch as she presses the button 47 or 48 times--Most Effective Method Ever! What, that didn't do the trick? You're kidding! Toddler mumbles in the general direction of other employees that she needs help, and surprisingly nobody hears her. Sigh. Pull the face. Realize I pulled face. Remember that new readers can easily get confused by unfamiliar words. Put on happy face. Am accused of being fickle, as help arrives. Restrain self from jumping over counter, getting own food, and putting employee in a time-out. Pull face again.

I won't even discuss the incident not two minutes later, when I was getting a drink and she had to refill the straws--right in front of me, opening a cabinet door on my legs and being in my way, all without saying a single word. You know, like, "excuse me" or any of those Polite Words your parents should have taught you. I guess she'll learn them when third grade starts next week.

Blackhole?

Dear Bloomington Indiana,
You're a fairly large city. 70,000 people. Well done. You've got yourself a nice university, with 40,000 students, I hear? 7th largest city in Indiana. That's right, I googled your ass. With good reason. My BFF is a grad student at your university. And I'd like to visit her. She's pretty bitter right now, and there is no way I can pass up the opportunity to share in this time. She has started swearing, even! It took me 5 years to corrupt her this much, and I would like to witness the fruits of my labor. So I figured it'd be easy enough, being a large city AND home to a college campus--and therefore home to college students wanting to get home. I've done the college town thing; I know how it is. I was 2 minutes from a bus station, 20 from a train station, and 45 from an airport. Dammit, getting to a boat wouldn't have been this hard!
So please help me out: why is it that it's PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE to get myself to Bloomington unless I drive, which I won't?
Just curious.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda

I'm baaaaaaack..........

Hey kids...I'm finally back! I know what you must be thinking--I was away for so long; I never wrote, I never called; you felt abandoned. But that's because you're needy. Sorry, baby, but the truth hurts. Anyway, I have returned from summer camp and then some unexpected family things.
Summer camp was incredible. Almost too much fun for this bitter lady. But the good news is that some of the campers were in relationships, and I did get to break up my fair share of PDAs. And you know there are few things I enjoy more. I mean, how great is that--I was shining flashlights on kids, or starting a loud song right next to them, or giving them a big awkward hug--and it was ENCOURAGED! If you can think of a more perfect summer, I invite you to try.
After my scheduled return, I had some bad and good family stuff going on. Brother came home for a visit--I'll let you decide which category that falls under.
Fortunately, grandma is back from her hospital stay, with her usual feisty attitude. Nice to have her back, even if that does mean she asks me when I'm going to get married and offers me some of her coffee because, "with something in your mouth, maybe you'll stop talking." She's a sassy lady, and I've always liked that about her. Can't imagine why...

For the record, if you wear silly sunglasses, you have a greater chance of getting put on television when you're at a baseball game. How I know this is not important. Keep it in mind, though.

Once again.

I'm leaving you. But after reading your questions to me, you're pretty used to hearing that particular sentiment. You'll get over it, after a good cry and a pint of Ben and Jerry's.
I know you'd love nothing more than to read more letters, but I'm afraid your pitiful problems will have to wait a month, cats and kittens. I am going to summer camp!


No, I mean that. I'm staffing a summer camp for international teenagers, and if you tell anyone I have a friendly, enthusiastic side... I will cut you. So here you have it, another disappointment for your diary. I'm leaving for a month--starting today. So soon? Yes. After than, though, I am jumping back into the mail bag and telling you what to do. So if you have a question, send it on and I'll get to it.

Question.

Recently CVS mailed my mother a bonus for using her ExtraCare card. It was a men's Schick Quattro Titanium razor. Logically I should have let my father have it, but I don't particularly care if my razor is pink. A man razor is fine by me. I was even more intrigued by the packaging. Along with the claims of having "4 titanium coated blades" and "less irritation than the leading brand," there was the following:

More strut in my giddy-up? I don't even know what that means! But I figured it MUST be a good thing, if Schick is bragging about it. I mean, it led to some concerns. What is [a] giddy-up? Do I have that? Or is it a man thing? And if I do, is more strut a good thing? What if I don't, in fact, have [a] giddy-up? What then, Quattro Titanium? What good are you to me?
Plagued by these concerns, I used the razor. I had to!! I have to tell you that it was a very pleasant shaving experience. I can't be sure about my level of strut, what with all my previous quandaries. But it was a nice razor. Of that I am sure.

Guys, can you help me with my questions? Are there answers out there?

Also: Schick, that website is trying a little too hard to be cool. Is that some sort of video game I see? But I guess the effort is nice. Thanks for the razor. Which, apparently, you now make for women. Too bad I already got my men's version for free!

An open letter.

Dear American Men,
It is widely known that I have little to no faith in your gender. But I guess you thought it was just men in general. It's a common misconception. Having just returned from 10 days in Ireland, I have something to say.
Wow. It is strictly the ones from this country that consistently disappoint. Sure, men the world over have a lot to learn, but WOW. America, you are way behind. When I spent a year in Ireland, I figured that the men there looked good because I wasn't used to coed college. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. But now I have been back in the real, coed world again for a year. And never did I suspect that 10 days back in Europe would make you look so bad. Oh, but it did. You look totally unappealing. You're completely underwhelming. The level of effort here is just sickening. I'm not saying that every man in Ireland is a winner. I AM saying that at least you feel like they're trying. Even the complete assfaces are a little bit charming, so you don't mind as much. And it's not just the accent, although admittedly that's a part of it. I know that's not your fault. I won't hold it against you.
Let me try to put this in terms you'll understand. Sports! You get sports, right? Let me see...

Ok, guys. It's Ireland v. You. This is the big game. Ireland has already got an edge on you, because they got all the hot cheerleaders. They got them because when the ladies showed up to audition, they were nice. Ireland was polite and gentlemanly and charming and they TRIED. They wore the nice uniforms. Your girls showed up and you grunted at them and they didn't feel any more charmed than the guy who sold you your beer. In fact, they couldn't tell who you cared about more. So Ireland got the good ones, and yours settled.
I am not a sports girl, so I can't give you a lot of metaphors regarding the actual game. But let me put it this way: they are kicking your ass. You are LOSING. I know how much you hate that! But maybe if you step it up you can still do well in this last portion of the game.

I'm not saying that you should walk around trying to impress all the ladies all the time. I know that there are some of us you're just not that into. But what I am saying is that a girl should be able to distinguish when you ARE trying. Make her feel more charmed than the beer guy! I really don't think this is asking too much on behalf of all the ladies out there.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda

Yeah, I'm back.

Hello again, kids. I'm back from my European Adventure, as well as the bonus Chicago Airport Adventure that was thrown in on my way home. I got to spend eight hours there, due to cancelled flights, delayed flights, changed gates, and flying standby. However, I must say that it was a decent eight hours, all things considered. O'Hare is a fairly pleasant airport. Except for the high volume of kissing people. (Wtf?)
The trip itself was fantastic. Saw old friends, met some new ones, gave a little advice, ate chocolate, drank various things, and gave out my fair share of awkward hugs. Ok, fine--more than my fair share.
Anyway, this was just a quick post to let you know that I'll be back to giving advice and complaining about your problems. Until then, enjoy this photo of "Why Ireland is a Silly Place."