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  • So, what do you call the deluxe model?

    We have a few people at work who are fluent in Spanish, and they are occasionally asked to translate when a customer needs help or more information than what's already on the product.

    A few nights ago, a coworker brings a customer to my area. I'm new so I don't know everyone, but I'd met this guy before and we have established a good relationship. I made a joke about his being outside of his zone, and he said, "Great! Since you speak Spanish, I'll just leave this guy here for you to help. lol"

    Another coworker perks up and clarifies that the customer speaks no English at all. At that point, while keeping her expression pleasant, she goes off about "[insert slur here]" ruining our country and so on. I turned away from them quickly.

    After a major disaster in high school, I have always tried very hard to never discuss politics outside of my home. My friends and coworkers do not know how I vote or where I stand on a multitude of issues. "Illegals" is one such topic.

    The customer had no idea, and I felt like a jerk for not saying anything to her. I wish now I had spoken up, because it seems as if I agree with her. It doesn't matter if I do or not; my job is to politely help my customers. Period. The people who do not speak English are treated no differently than the people who are pissed off, pissed on, drunk, lying, stealing, tweaking, or pleasant and happy.

    Oh, I say!

    The Boy, who is 14, has a throat malfunction of some sort. We went to the ER on Monday because his clinic was closed for the holiday. He was very quickly examined but not swabbed for bacteria, some pseudo-cillin was tossed at him, and he was told to "get some rest." Today, he is no better, cannot eat anything more than a drinkable yogurt or the broth from chicken noodle soup, and has lost 10 pounds. The tests run today will no doubt turn up "inconclusive" because of his week-long dance with medications.

    He told me last night that while playing Call of Duty, he was discussing his situation with others in the raid. It seems that pretty much everyone in the raid, Us and Them, had some input, and he urged me to make an appointment. After discussing his options today with a doctor, it turns out that a good portion of his newly-acquired information is correct. A stronger pseudo-cillin (although not the one recommended--that one was too strong) and a different pain reliever, some basic tests, and more nutritional advice later, and he appears to be on his way to finally recovering.

    And the experts say that exposing kids to violent, M-rated video games is bad for them.

    Can't you read the signs?

    I had an interview today. It wasn't the one I was expecting although it, too, was only part-time. However, everything went well and pending the drug-test report and a quick background check, I should be in training by Tuesday.

    I've never committed a crime nor taken an illegal drug in my entire life, but I have to confess that I'm incredibly anxious. I could hardly sleep last night in anticipation of the interview, and now must endure more waiting.

    I need this job, even if I only worked 20 hours a week, to help put us on the path to financial success should Mister choose to retire. I have my own bills to pay off, and this job will go a long way to helping me get there in time. I'd like so much to say to Mister, yes, my bills are taken care of. If you don't want to work for awhile, that's okay. You've earned it.