I know I did the "bate" part of this blog some time ago. However, I was NOT AT ALL prepared for the enormity of these life lessons until I sat down to write one day and my head spun around. This may all seem very elementary, but I can guarantee that even being a willing victim … er, uh, I mean player in this game I under-estimated the jaw-dropping moments I would endure. Life has a way of slapping you across the face and saying, "Damn it girl! Pay attention!" My face hurts.
If you're reading this I successfully did the "bate and hook," even if you close the blog now. ;-)
Before proceeding:
DISCLAIMER - DISCLAIMER - DISCLAIMER - DISCLAIMER
Did I mention this was a disclaimer? I have been told many times after getting to know people, that their first impression of me was I'm a bitch. I've never thought of myself as a bitch. If you continue to read this I will likely sound like a bitch over and over again.
I refrained from personally getting to know any of the people I now write about. This wasn't easy. As a matter of fact, the mission is still not accomplished. Is it ever?
When a woman needs nurturing and is feeling vulnerable, she will bare her soul. I have a very difficult time walking away from this. I've been known to stop the car and help a stranger in need, even if it's via mobile phone with the door locked and the window cracked open.
In spite of what you're about to read, I consider myself a compassionate person. It's difficult, if not impossible to completely detach. This was an exercise in restraint and humiliation for me. My experimental experience ran amuck. I found myself giving a damn about everyone and everything to some degree. That alone was worth the lesson. My feelings were hurt and I started to take things personally.
There are exceptions to everything I say. Almost.
LESSONS:
Children are brutally honest. As adults we tend to blur the lines, create confusion, and widen the infinite shades of gray in the river of reality. Life might be easier viewed in extreme terms of black and white; although you just might miss a lot.
We're all judgmental. I am much more judgmental than I thought. I took a blue collar job thinking it would be a much needed escape from my over articulate life, a way to bury my head in the sand for a while. I haven't thought this much since grad school! My head throbs and my teeth hurt most days. I'm that tired. I want to quit the experiment.
I was embarrassed to see people I knew. Although, the level of embarrassment on any given day would certainly depend on how well I knew them and in what capacity. I was frightened they'd reveal my truth and create hostility in my working relationships. I didn't want to have any working relationships. You cannot not have working relationships. Everything is gray. You have to give a little or you will be eaten alive. By the way, your reaction to reading "blue collar" screams judgment, as did my feeling the need to type it.
The more levels there are in a hierarchy the more difficult it can be to NOT label/categorize and judge because … well … it's easier than taking the time to figure things out and get to know people as individuals. I'm guilty of it. I've labeled students "the jock," "the cheerleader," "the geek," and "the one who's always late" because life is a rush and a blur between classes. Please see "What's In a Name" (bottom) to understand labels that have been blatantly slapped onto the foreheads of people in this blog.
MEN, WOMEN, WARDROBE. GO!
Men:
Those of you who have gotten to know me to any degree are expecting a story right about now. Since this blog is already offensive I'm not going to tell a story here, although I have several. Instead I'll use a movie line, "The average man has a 2-year-old in his pants; that's right, a toddler right there in his Dockers." It doesn't matter if they're an adolescent with simmering hormones or a horny old man with a Playboy magazine in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other! Yes. Some of the articles in Playboy are a good read. That'ssss all I'm sayin' …Feel free to play movie trivia three times over in this blog.
Women:
Women are ruthless! It is highly unlikely that three or more women can share the same space for long without coupling up and doing the power play, otherwise knows as "catty" against the third. Women are also extremely nosey. The military should consider deploying them randomly in the battle against terrorism, you never really know what to expect so you're absolutely sure to catch the enemy off guard! I believe women want to be compassionate but simply have forgotten how in today's chaotic world of blurred roles. More about roles later. Women want to know EVERYTHING about you immediately, so as to understand you. If you don't answer their questions the interrogation will continue.
The only personal information I passed on was I needed the same weekdays off all the time and alternate weekends because I time-share my kids. Anything else was fair game. Schedule me in the middle of the night, early morning, I don't care. The questions flew like the flat side of a
If one person isn't successful in gaining impertinent data the next shift will take over. This is sounding like a war time process, isn't it? … Are you married? How many times? Kids? How many? Where did you work before this (or 'dees, as The Russian would say).
A woman on a power trip is much more frightening than a man. I did a Google image search for "security" and found an article on a female airport security guard performing body-wand scans referred to by a man as "a minimum waged bitch on a power trip." Hmm … I'd love to switch genders and locations with this guy and shove a security wand between his legs. Seriously! Try to put yourself in the other person's shoes, skirt, or shirt. Said man is a jackass because men aren't supposed to say this type of thing in public! Why? Isn't becoming an adult partially about restraint? I'm ALL ABOUT honesty, but there should be such a thing as decency.
Excuse me …
… that's better …
… moving on …
On the other hand, women will go to the end of the Earth to communicate their power in indirect ways which often come across as psycho. Remember the boiling bunny?
NEVER underestimate the power someone may have just by knowing the right people. After successfully avoiding interrogation the first two days, I heard chit chat between "the twins" (described below). They were chatting it up with an SP (security police officer) as I quietly came around the corner one evening and overheard, "She's off at 11:30 and lives _____." How in the hell did they get that information? I watched him pull out of the parking lot and head to the
Okay. So maybe you think I'm paranoid. Consider this, if you will: When my background investigation was conducted … did I mention I underwent a background? … you must have assumed … I was flagged as "CAUTION." Me??? Yes. Me. I don't have a criminal background. I do however, have a State Concealed Firearm Permit. Is it really that big of a stretch to think my vehicle would be searched to make sure State Law doesn't bypass The Feds? Stay here a while. I'll leave you to ponder, but don't stay too long or the chip in my head may affect you.
Big Brother IS watching. Have no doubt. "Trust no one." The third, and final serving of movie trivia, straight up.
Women have a whole different way of communicating with each other than they do with men. When a woman says, "Don't tell anyone; I mean it." The first part is sometimes verbalized, depending on the length of the relationship, context, and level of trust. As for the second part, it's more subtle and can mean anything from "please help me spread the message far and wide" to "don't you dare betray my trust." Most women can detect the subtlety in which the messages are delivered. If you're not sure whether or not your message has been accurately received, seek confirmation. This "women speak" is commonly referred to as Gal Code. Most women speak Gal Code. Men should know at least a little Gal Code. After all, women know Guy Code:
Gal Code just might be a topic for another blog one day.
Wardrobe:
Sometimes you have to dress down from your typical dress down day attire for dress down day. What? Yes. I actually went shopping for clothes I didn't want to ruin and dragged the old Earthy Doc Marten Chantell Strappy Sandals out of the closet. After all, they weren't bright and shiny new, but were comfortable as hell and I was going to be on my feet for hours. I decided to have that spaced out hippy-chick-ish appearance, only with hair and make-up.
A seemingly safe platform from which to display my wondering eyes and fake smile! It came as news to me that I'd have to wear a name tag. It's humiliating wearing your name on your chest and realizing some people don't realize you have one. A name. Not a chest. When I return to the educational profession I'm going to make more of an effort to remember students' names, and not just their first names. There are a lot of
I say, "Fuck!" and "Oh my gosh! You can't be serious!" A LOT in my head! Sometimes I even say them out loud and people think I'm talking to myself. I guess I am.
Just when you think you've seen it all someone WILL prove you wrong! Be glad for this. It means you have faith in human kind. Sorry to be the one to break it to you and good luck with that.
If the boss, and the bosses boss, and the bosses bosses boss like you, you're screwed! Run and run fast! OR … play dumb and over-kill everyone with kindness! Though, "Don't fuck with me" can still be very effectively communicated; read on.
Life would be a lot more pleasant if we all tried to over-kill each other with kindness. Why does typing that make me laugh?
I have extremely obvious facial expressions and no matter how well I fake nice to people, it simply must be clear I don't care for them … If nothing else please notice the eye roll! If you see the eye roll, DO NOT invade my personal space. I'm Greek and Italian; nearly everyone I interact with personally gets hugged or air kissed. I have a small range of "personal space." BUT, if I'm not involved with someone personally and don't trust them I do not respond well to my personal space being invaded. Maybe this is the result of the semester from Hell.
After hugging a friend I've known for thirty years I got some VERY bizarre reactions. So, what's a communication guru to do? I watched myself on security footage for the first time since I first placed a stiletto clad foot on the showroom floor. My non-verbals ARE bitchy. I have yet to figure out how to change this.
WHAT'S IN A NAME? ROLES IN THIS GAME PEOPLE PLAY:
We all play our little parts in life, our roles, wear different hats. Following is the cast at the "Class Six" store on Hill AFB, and that's exactly what it says on the building, everything is numbered and/or lettered on Base.
Anita: One of the mangers. A very abrupt German woman who assigns all her "girls" a name/label. I didn't realize I was working in a brothel. I thought it was a liquor store, and I "The Cigarette Girl" … name not needed. It took her about a week to come up with mine. Although she was sure to tell me everyone's label prior to introductions. When she finally did approached me she said this, "I don't know whether to call you 'Pretty Girl' or 'Mean Girl'" Then she just stared at me waiting for a reaction. I threw my head back in laughter and said, "I don't care if you call me 'The Bitch." She smiled that day; although she seemed somewhat puzzled by me. Weeks later I'm not sure what label they coined as mine. I'd guess it was my self-proclaimed title. This is a double-edged sword.
The Twins: Consisting of "The Russian" and "The Boss." Two Air Force wives whose jobs are their lives. They're kind of like school bullies who absolutely love testing how far they can push people just out of sheer pleasure of paining them. They've been "doing this" so long they should either be placed on a pedestal and worshiped or put in a laboratory and studied … I can't decide which.
The Russian: She's very nice, but you can't understand a damn thing she says. NO! WAIT! She's not nice at all! I must have just gotten off a late shift, reek of alcohol, and have broken glass dangling from my eyeball! I don't think I ever saw her smile. How can someone live without actually smiling? But, I guess that's what this blog is about. There's a purpose for all of us, even if it's to serve as an example of what not to do. I almost feel like breaking out in song, "To everything - turn, turn, turn. There is a season - turn, turn, turn …"
The Boss: She's not the boss, but would like to think so. Every woman who has worked with other women has known one of these. She holds information captive rather than share it and risk not being the all powerful Genie of the Lamp. There's nothing worse than a cashier, cocktail waitress, or secretary on a power trip. Although not assured, I am more likely to get away with saying/typing this based solely on the fact I'm a woman. This will likely steam more women than men. Yes. This entire blog is a test and may detonate at any moment.
Ingrid: She too is a German woman with a heavy accent. It just dawned on me how interesting it is that you can't understand half of the women who work there and how highly unlikely it is the people who frequent the place care to listen to them.
THINGS I ALREADY KNEW THAT WERE RECONFIRMED:
Although it's a small step between dressing sexy and slutty, some women take a gigantic leap into whore. Honestly! Let me use my imagination; I beg of you! I do not want to see that much skin unless I'm naked and in bed with someone.
There are quite possibly an infinite number of reasons you can't walk around town like this:
'Nuff said.
Never date a colleague! EVER! End of story! No. I didn't "do it again." There's another story here, possibly for a future blog. For now it will suffice to say adjectives such as "pompous" can evoke strong emotional reactions (including vomiting) similar to nails on a chalk board, especially while heavily engaged in the "experimental experience."
I will continue to cringe every time I drive over the James Bond techno, anti-ram, security barrier on the base, waiting for it to engage while I'm straddling it and lift my car into the heavens as if it was receiving a lube job!
AND STILL:
I don't trust the government on ANY level.
I ponder whether human-kind is inherently good or evil.
I wonder as I wander.
Okay so, if you're still reading and curious as to my next professional endeavor, I've decided to return to the world of education because the world is a classroom and I knew a long time ago that I'd be a catalyst for learning, expanding knowledge, wisdom, higher aspirations, and all that jazz. Besides a catalyst is something that is not consumed, or at least that's what Wikipedia says. No, I likely won't cause any molecular collisions (again Wikipedia). Hell, I don't even know what I'm talking about. Science is not my strong suit. Nonetheless, I've decided to submit my resume at a couple of colleges for adjunct positions and am exploring the school districts for opportunities to work with children who have an excuse to, therefore act, like children. I'm also pondering evening GED prep classes at the high school and technical college. I haven't worked with this age group in quite some time and understanding teenagers (oxymoron, yes?) might be good experience for down the road.
I hope this blog made you react strongly in some way; even if it made you angry. I believe anger is a deep seeded emotional response to something raw within us. If you identify it my energy wasn't all for not.
I still have many lessons to learn as a student in this thing called Life.
Thanks for reading.
T
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