A Visit To the Doctors....

Entering the little steril room - I'm instantly hooked up to little electric machines by a nurse void of character. A clamp on my finger, a rod under my tongue, and velcro around my arm. I notice how the room's scent is even void of character. Truly! I tried taking deep breaths in and could pick out nothing. I didn't know that was possible. My alienation is hightened to a new level.
The personality lacking nurse asks me questions about my "health and lifestyle". Suddenly I'm a school kid wanting to give the right answer.
"Do you smoke?"
No! I mean, well, I'm around people that smoke... sometimes....sometimes I have one when I'm having a beer....actually I smoke cloves once in awhile....or a cigar.....but it's not a habbit or anything!
The anwser floating somewhere between the truth and what I wish to be true
I can't tell by the numbers she reads off the little machines hooked up to me if I'm healthy or almost dead. For all I know she could be giving me the winning lottery numbers or thinks she's in the Bingo hall. Your 73 over 100 and your level is at B-9. Bingo!
Is that good? Am I dying? Or just average? I want to be better than average. Is there such a thing as super healthy? The nurse leaves me in the little room of weirdness.
Out in the hall I hear the nurses and doctors talk. Personality seems to have re-emerged as they walk out of these steril sucktions of a room.
"What idiot schedualed a 4 o'clock!?! I'm schedualed to leave at 4:15"
I'm hoping that is not my doctor. I look at my watch....it's 4 o'clock.
I wait for awhile. Then I hear scratching at my door. Right about where that clip board of all my bingo and lottery numbers are. Then silence. I have to wait longer. I think they just do it to tease us waiting in that uncomfortable room. Every now and then a nurse walkes by your door, picks up the clip board then puts it back and walks off. You hear that clawing as soon as you start looking around the room and start picking up things and playing with the tongue compressors and checking your myspace on their computer. So you have to rush back to your seat and look like you haven't moved.
I try reading the pamphlets covering the wall, but five minutes of that leads me to believe I have a new problem.
"Do you have asthma?"
I don't know, sometimes I have a hard time breathing after I run up a flight of stairs.
"Do you have irregular shaped moles?"
No, they all look pretty circular to me...except this one is a bit wonky...actually it kind of looks like a turtle....with 5 legs...maybe that's a head....uh.....nurse?!
On top of having the pamphelts of paranoia hell there are pictures of the fugliest things happening to body parts.
By the time the doctor comes in I'm convinced I have a new disease.
It's like when I watch House too much and just an ordinary cough throws me into a panick. "What if this isn't just a cough, but a symptom of some rare infection!"
I always seem to get the doctors from some eastern European country. It's like haveing a stern aunt that just seems to say "What's wrong with you".
Suddenly 13 year awkwardness comes over me and I stammer what I came in for.
"My eye hurts. It's really red and watery and itchy....and I'm sensitive to light....I feel like there is a fire in my eye that's trying to be put out by a flood...."
She shines a light into my eye and then goes to her computer. You can't go to work till Monday. You have pink eye.
Yes! no work! Wait...pink eye? What? No, that's so not cute!
She tells me I should maybe where a patch over my eye for the next few days.
Oh hells no I'm no pirate. "Ok" I say.
I figured since I was there and the doctor was there I'd ask about my face breaking out still. She perscribed some kind of lotion along with my eye drops and was out of the room.
Why do you always feel you spend more time waiting than actually being with the doctor? She didn't seem concerned or care that my eye was on fire. Just that I was an idiot freaking out about pink eye.
So, I have a little vacation now. Poor, pinke-eyed, and pained.
Quarantined to my room.
Yippe freakin do da.

Life's Art

Dig deeper
than the surface desires.
Love deeper
than the hungry facade.
Live richer
than money can buy.
Close the eyes
Open the heart
The artistic life
lies further down than the celebrity mania,
the consumer hunger
shiny merchandise
and carnal lusts.
Purity
Humility
thats the art
within our life.

Screen of Humiliation

Nothing knocks the coolness out of you faster than face planting it right into a screen door.
That just happened. About 5 minutes ago. I was leaving the BBQ and heading home across the street....and as I exited into the kitchen I also walked into the screen door. It made this huge crashing noise and everyone saw. The only thing injured was my pride.

Lately I haven't felt all too graceful. My eyes have been really red from some infection so I have to wear my glasses. My face has been breaking out even more. I feel so awkward and uncute that I don't seem to care much anymore. Good looks are a fickle thing.

I thought it would be the reverse living in such an outward appearance focused society, but seeing so many people put so much money and effort into looking good, it all seems so hopeless and empty. I don't find myself longing for it anymore.

Seeing the 50 year old "Coco"s and "Summers" with their raisening skin and dark eye makeup matching their dark roots makes them all seem the same. Chasing after something they should have long let go of. I've seen so many Gucci, Prada, and Luis Vitton bags that they seem cheap to me. Labels have lost their luster on me (not that they had much of a grasp).

Now that I seem to be struggling to make ends meet and be financially wise I see so much waste out there.

Is it weird to say that I am darkly enjoying my struggle to pay my bills and watch every penny I spend? I feel I'm having an opportunity so many of my local customers will never experience. I watch them drive away in their BMWs and Mercedes...to what?

There are days I find bitterness and jealousy in my heart. Yet I try to keep my chin up and say "You will make it".

These days will not be forever. In the mean time I must soak up all this learning experience and live....to the fullest. And there lies the riches.

So....maybe a run in with a few screen doors is what we all need. Wake us up and laugh at ourselves...and move on.

A wealth of distractions

Can you believe they've added platinum t.vs to our bank?! Really, like we needed one more thing to keep our mind numb.
I'm quite sad by this addition to the branch. The first two days MSNBC was being played. Like you really need to hear doom and gloom while your standing in line. Now we've moved on to the Home and Gardens channel.
I'm assuming this is to help aid our "customer wait time" and "customer delight". Helping you forget your waiting in line.
So, now I have to talk over the t.v that is placed directly above my head and try to keep my customer's attention while taking care of their financial business.
I thought cell phones were bad. This is worse.
Speaking of cell phones, since the new law of hand free phones while driving I've noticed an increase in my customers using blue tooth. My entertainment comes from watching them try to figure out how to answer their phone. Usually the caller has hung up by the time the receiver has answered the phone. If you ask me, that may cause more accidents. However, now I really can't tell when a customer is talking to me or answering their phone. A "hello" could be directed to who knows who and when the person on the other end can't seem to hear my customer....they end up yelling in my face to be heard. How awkward to have someone look in your general direction and not be talking to. I'm creeped out.
Why is it that the rich have such poor manners? This statement is continually proved day by day. The longer the digets in their checking account the shorter their patience. Especially for a newbie. I don't know how long I can keep up the excuse that "I'm new and don't have as much access to account information as the next teller". Funny people. Yelling at me will get you know where. And just to let you know, you threatening to close your account doesn't really make me sad. Honestly...just as much as you don't want to be at my window all day...I don't want you there either.

Accuracy vs Getting Acquainted

Today was my first day at an actual window taking care of people's deposits. I thought I would get to have the same training I did when I began my days as a teller back in Washington: someone talking me through each deposit so I would get the hang of what to do.
It started out like that....for maybe 10 min. Then as the line of customers grew a bit my "trainer" left me to go to his window to help other customers. So there I was, staring at the poor person in front of me while I struggled with their deposit. For 8 hours today I was paranoid about totally screwing up people's accounts. "Winging it" is not something I would suggest for training a teller. I'm dealing with your money! Come on! You'd think more precaution would be taken.
About 5pm my assistant manager hovered over my shoulder. Good, like that makes you perform better. After I had finished with my customer she made me close my window.
"Ok, now I don't know what you do in Washington, but in California we require you use the customer's name at least 3 times. Did you notice anything when you pulled up his account?"
"uhh...no?"
"The reason you pull up their profile is so that you can see what they may need for their account. What can you refer?"
I tried to tell her that I was in the process of unlearning the Washington system to learn the California system, I was trying to make my transactions accurate, trying to remember the different processes for deposits, look for fraud, NSFs, and a few other things.
She responded by telling me that I also needed to be more social with my customers.
Listen lady, talking to customers is not a problem for me, but right now my priority is getting this deposits and payments done right. Right now, I don't care about your "numbers" and "scores". This is my first day and I'm trying not to totally eff these people's accounts.
But...I didn't say that. My next customer came to my window and I'm pretty sure I said his name 20 times. "How are you today Dave? How would you like your cash back Dave? Thank you for banking with us today Dave. Have you thought about having online banking Dave? ok, well have a nice day Dave."
Perhaps tomorrow will be better. I'm exhausted. It's only day one......

Back to the Bank

Fear no more! My bank stories will continue. Today was day two of training at my new branch. I have a completely new computer program to learn before getting in a window. Thankfully some things stay the same.
Listening to customers here in a ritzy town in southern California has taught me that know matter where you live, once you walk into a bank you'll find those beloved characters.
While the faces I did not recognize, their personalities were quite familiar. A older man argued that he shouldn't be charged for cashing his check that was drawn off of us while he was not an actual member. The confused older lady still took 15 min. to figure out which wallet she kept her bank information in. A boisterous man greeted me by saying "Hawoh". Fancy mom's and daughters stuck their noses in the air while clutching their Prada purses and hiding behind their Gucci glasses.
I look forward to talking to them more one on one. While I recognize a good chunk of them...I believe I have discovered a few more breeds.
Can't wait to pass on the tails!

The Stinging Sticky Note

As my search for a car continues I find my standards lowering as my urgency increases.
Frankly...car shopping on a very limited budget is a pain in the ass.
I went from "I'd like a cute little 2-door black stick shift Honda or Toyota coupe with really really great gas mileage and nearly brand new" to "Does it have 4 wheels? Does it have good gas mileage? Is it under $5,000? Good, I'll take it"
Thankfully one of my housemates is gone for the weekend and is letting me borrow her car to go to improv class.
Ah housemates. Ah community living! With 9 roommates and a 10th on the way our space is feeling a little cramped.
Communication is key when wanting to live harmoniously with one another. However, using cute little pastel sticky notes with a stinging sweet message sings the tune of passive aggressiveness that never sounds quite right with me. We seem to have notes all over the house. Last night I found one on the toilet seat reminding us to conserve water. Hmm, a sticky note on the toilet seat. Have things gone a little too far?

I don't mind sticky notes to leave funny messages to others or reminders for myself, but one house mate has this brilliant knack for fitting on that tiny tack of paper a message that reads sweet but hits sharp. Frankly I find it humorous and I prefer someone telling me if I'm doing something wrong to my face. I'm sure this is her way of communication. This is community and you either find a way to live with each other's quirks or you find somewhere new to live.
9 house mates is quite the humorous living situation. I know more stories will follow.