The Pick Up Artist

Woke up this morning and kind of felt like P.Diddy. For those of your who don’t know what this feels like, it’s kind of like waking up on the wrong side of the bed but you’re wearing one hundred dollar sunglasses and there’s glitter everywhere. Awkward. I quickly went back to sleep and woke up to my alarm, which happens to be “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire, and started to get ready to go to work. I was embarking on a new adventure today. I would be working in the catering department at the grocery store I work at and I was somewhat excited to see what the day had in store for me. No pun intended.  I wore my hat and apron, hair in the usual messy bun, and rapped to Lil Wayne the entire way to work. All and all, felt pretty good about myself when I pulled into the parking lot. It wasn’t until I walked into the catering kitchen and I saw the guy that would be my boss for the day that I realized I should’ve made sure my apron was clean this morning and probably spent a few more minutes in front of the mirror. He was good looking and had killer blue eyes that I found myself instantly memorized by. He was also bald, voluntarily, which I’m never attracted to, but that didn’t seem to faze me. He greeted me with a handsome welcoming smile, introduced himself, and quickly started to show me around the kitchen. While he was pointing out the fridge and giving me the quick run through, I was still trying to remember my name and how to say “ it’s nice to meet you too”.  It was like I had just taken a bite out of a peanut butter sandwich and instead of saying words and being the charming girl I like to believe I am, I was standing there trying to get the invisible wonder bread off the top of my mouth.  This is when I realized something. I have no game. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had many moments before where I've thought that maybe my ability to be cute and adorable at the right moment could use some work. Unfortunately, in the presence of the adorable Mr. Clean that had just walked into my life, my true lack of abilities really shined.

 As I was scooping ice cream in the back freezer kicking myself for missing my chance of a good first impression, I started to think about my lack of game. I decided that one of two things normally happen when I try and make a move.  One, I’ll go sporadically mute for periods of about four to five seconds during conversation.  They’re usually followed by an awkward laugh or whatever’s left over from what I was thinking about saying and turned it into some strange foreign language resembling something that might come out of Yoda’s mouth. “blue have eyes amazing you”.  Two, I end up talking too much and telling odd stories that shouldn’t come out til...mmm…lets say the fifteenth date or maybe even when we’re married? Like the story about how when I was five and I cut my cats tail off by using wire strippers. (Yes, that’s a true story and no it didn’t die….right away.) So as you can see, I have a lot of smooth moves in my play book that I can go to when needed. Not. I do have one pick up line in my back pocket just in case I decide to get bold and make the first move though. It’s a pretty good one and I’m willing to share it. First, you post yourself up to either side of the person of interest. Give them a good smoldering look and say…

                “Hey. Haven’t we met before”?

I know it’s hard to believe but I thought of that one myself. I wouldn’t say it necessarily works but it’s always a good conversation starter.  You could use that on just about anybody too: Random stranger, friend’s roommate, random stranger. I would stick with as random of person as possible because there’s always the chance of this back firing and winding up in the awkward situation where they actually do remember meeting you somewhere. Not that I'm talking from experience or anything...ha...ha. Consider yourself forewarned.

                I’ve come to the conclusion that I am no pickup artist and never will be but I guess I’m ok with that. Maybe I’ll start to play the role of the quiet, kept to herself, mysterious girl and see how that goes. Ha, yeah right.  

                Our everyday lives are everything but everyday

Minimum Wage

                Now that I’ve graduated from high school and living in the big kid world, I’ve started to learn the true value of money. So far I’ve learned that a dollar can go along way and can buy you dinner if you’re willing to consume 1000mg of sodium and that what money you think you have saved up, the last of it will probably end up being tipped to a pizza delivery guy in about three weeks at some ungodly hour.  I recently started a new job at a local grocery store, as a customer service clerk at the deli.   My money is earned by wearing clear plastic gloves, scooping up specified amounts of assorted salads, and helping people decide what kind of meat they would want on their sandwiches for lunch the next day. Epic.      

                While I’m lucky enough to have the opportunity to sell people over priced potato salad, I’m also lucky to deal with the people that come in and have no idea what they want and ask for my honest opinion about what I think they should have with their dinner entrée.  For those who don’t know or haven’t already picked up on, I have no opinion about most of the food we sell.  All I know is that I have to make large amounts of them, which grosses me out, and then refill them when needed. But for some reason people think I’m telepathically supposed to know whether thier nine year old will eat it or not. It’s an odd relationship people feel they have with me as the server of salads, slicer of deli meats, and boxer of the fried Jo-Jos. They put a lot of trust in me to guide them to what I think their craving. I had one lady come in and wanted to try our Greek Chicken salad but wanted to try a sample first. It’s a popular salad and I’m pretty quick to point it out to the people that are looking for my “professional help”.  She takes a bite of it and says to me “oh…yeah I don’t like that…it’s too chickeny”. Really? The title has the word chicken in it. It’s supposed to be “chickeny”. After that, our relationship seemed to go downhill and she didn’t seem interested in anything else I had to offer. I had put a strain in our relationship and she seemed pretty upset about it but wouldn’t come out and tell me because I was still handling her food.

                My job and the people I work with keep me on my toes. Growing up, I never thought I would be making money answering the question “was this meat sliced today?” and answering that same question by pointing to a sign conveniently located at eye level. I also told my mom I wanted to be a mail man growing up, so I guess I’m slowly but surely moving on up in the world.

                        Our everyday lives are everything but every day.