An Ode to the Customer

 I have worked in a local Italian Ice shop for the past five years, and I really do like my job. The people I work with are fun, and I get free Italian Ice and Custard every time I work… which, aside from an unlimited supply of cheetos, is clearly a fatty's dream. So I cannot really complain. However, nearly every shift, I or my co-workers have to deal with a customer who is convinced that we have absolutely no idea what we're doing. Or a customer who has specifications for their dessert treat that would befuddle the architects of Versailles palace. Or a customer who is shocked and appalled that we don't have their favorite flavor in a special golden tin reserved just for them. And so for them I write the following:

They say the customer's always right,

But that is just not true.

This has created quite a plight,

That's made me oh so blue.

For every day I go to work,

To serve treats to the masses.

But every time there comes a jerk,

That ruins my shift as it passes.

For customers, they seem to think,

That they know what they're doing.

So when unhappy they cause a stink,

And start with complaints eschewing.

"That custard? It is much too small!"

Or "that has too much fudge!"

People have got too much gall,

For all my treats to judge.

"Did I say mango? I didn't mean it,

Clearly I meant cherry."

Was I supposed to read your mind?

Now that is just plain scary!

I think that after all these years,

I know how to make your food.

So please, sir, save your tears,

Or else you're really screwed.

Because as soon as you bother me,

About the state of your ice.

I am clearly much less likely

To continue being nice.

And I can absolutely promise you

That yelling will do no good.

For all the insults you can spew

Hardly convince me that I should

Make you a new treat

That's better than the last,

Something you can actually eat,

Reminiscent of treats past.

Because last time what you got

Was better than ever before

So you throw a fit cuz it's not

Available today in our store.

I know this probably will appall,

But flavors… we've got fifty.

So while we'd like to have them all,

It really just is not thrifty.

So please just pick another one,

And move on with your life,

It's just dessert and done,

It's not worth all this strife!

So next time that you go out

And get yourself a treat

From your lips should spout

A chant we'll now repeat:

The customer has got no clue,

In fact, they might be batty

Instead I know what you should do,

Just eat the treat you fatty!

So next time you visit your local dessert shop, remember that the employees probably did their best to make your treat the correct size and put the right amount of each topping on the right place that you vaguely directed. If we don't have your favorite flavor, just pick a different one, don't ask if we're actually hiding extra in the back (I promise you that there is no conspiracy against you) or throw a temper tantrum and insist that we make it "RIGHT NOW!" And on the off chance that we make a mistake, remember that we're all human, even the fine employees of that establishment.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Summer...

So I have been home from college for a week already and this Summer is already flying by. Just last week my dad arrived at my dorm door with a collapsible hand truck he purchased just to move me out of my dorm, several bungee cords, and like 5 commercial sized trash bags. Moving out is no joke to my father. We proceeded to move all of my belongings out of my room. I like to consider myself a minimalist, but after moving out enough clothing and shoes to clothe half of Africa and enough craft supplies to stock your local Hobby Lobby, I began to re-think that label. Halfway between packing my eighth pair of colored ballet flats and my sixty-five marker Sharpie collection, I realized that I possess entirely too much stuff. But regardless, my dad and I succeeded in packing up the car in a way that defies all the laws of space and gravity and driving back to Maryland.

Since my homecoming I have done several important, and obviously life changing things. First off, as all of my loyal followers have probably noticed, I decided to change the template on my blog to something that was more fitting to the style of my writing than it's previous theme. I just felt that my current blog theme "Ethereal" really did not fit my tendencies to rant sarcastically and talk about food. Looking for a new theme that defined me did not prove as successful as I had hoped it would be. None of the things that I searched for rendered any results. "Naps" was a no-go, as was my search for "cheetos." Naturally after those fails I did not even try "viral cat memes" or "pithy remarks." Instead I settled on one called "Matala" because if that doesn't scream cheeto-loving, sarcastic college blogger, I don't know what does.

A few days into break, I decided to renew my gym membership from last summer. After a lengthy ordeal with the BRILLIANT (read: complete idiot) girl that worked the front desk, I was officially one of those people who pays to run, walk and bike nowhere and lift heavy pounds of nothing. Because while I really do like going to the gym, the irony of "running" 10 miles without actually going anywhere and "lifting" 100 pounds without actually accomplishing anything is not lost on me. (Disclaimer: I neither run 10 miles nor lift 100 pounds on a regular basis… but hopefully that is obvious.) My first day back to the gym I rolled in wearing my knock-off Nike shorts that are actually from Walmart and my sporty bra, and proceeded to do a standard workout, one that I am used to and have done probably 50 times. 

I thought I would go easy on myself the first day back, ease into the Summer workout plan that will inevitably devolve into me paying $10 a month to drive by the gym guiltily on my way to and from work. But apparently I was not easy enough on myself, because at the end of my workout I proceeded to pass out. Now I have never passed out in my life. I don't do things like that. I give blood, and run for miles, and go without eating for hours and I am completely fine. But not that day. No, instead I found myself on the floor surrounded by well-meaning elderly folks and mothers and, of course, another "brilliant" desk attendant, all of whom were very worried about my well-being. I was mostly worried about my pride, which at that moment had taken an incredible hit, but I managed to convince them I was fine, that I didn't need emergency treatment, and that this was just a low blood sugar incident or something. I sincerely hope this never happens again, but from the whole experience I gained a huge dose of humility, a free juice, and a pounding headache. It was a treat.

The only other thing I've really done since being home, aside from an alarming number of hours playing computer games and watching an obscene number of 90s sitcom re-runs, has been to return to the Italian Ice shop that I have worked in for the past five summers. But more on that later. I wouldn't want to give away all of the fun in my first Summer blog post! What does Summer have in store for me, you may ask? Well a lot of working, and hopefully a lot of fun, but definitely a lot of blogging, because nothing fuels my sarcastic synapses like this Maryland Summer heat, so stay tuned, because by the looks of this first entry, you are in for one WILD (read: mundane, and completely ordinary) ride!

Five Stages of Studying for Finals

It's the end of finals week(end) at Grove City, and in honor of the countless hours of studying I and my fellow peers have done, I present to you the Five Stages of Studying:

1. Denial: this first, and really formative stage of studying is crucial. So what if you have a huge test in five hours, it's a whole five hours from now! There is plenty of time to nap, watch reruns on TV, and eat cheetos. You'll get there eventually, but until then you have a Facebook to check and countless devoted followers to tweet at.

2. Anger: Once the stage of denial passes, and you dust off your textbook that was propping up your TV and print out that study guide that an overachiever emailed to you, anger sets in. "How dare my professor make me study for this final?! Haven't I done enough for this guy already? As if the past three tests I crammed for and the several drafts of papers I procrastinated weren't enough, now he wants me to take another test on information I've probably already been tested on! This world isn't fair! This college hates me! GAHHHHHH!" So you sit there sortof studying meanwhile fuming with righteous indignation.

3. Bargaining: After the anger passes, and you realize that every college student in the history of college has taken finals, you begin to bargain with yourself. Things like, "If I study for these next 4 hours, then I can take a break and buy an entire pizza to eat by myself" or "If I just memorize these 200 note cards I will be done with studying." begin to slip into your head. Pretty soon, with the prospects of lots of fattening food or a nap on the horizon, studying becomes possible and you are actually motivated to get started.

4. Depression: Approximately 12 minutes into studying you realize that your expectations for yourself were really unrealistic, and that the only things you can do for 4 hours consistently are nap and look at cat pictures on the internet. And that 2 flashcards of memorization is incredibly difficult, let alone the 200 you have in front of you. So you just lay your head down on the desk and cry for a while. There's no way your going to pass now!

5. Acceptance: Drying your tears, you sit up and realize that maybe this won't be so bad, if you just sit down and do it. So, with about 2 hours to spare, you sit down and accept that you've got to study for finals. That you're not going to die, and that maybe just maybe you'll pass this thing.

After traversing through the emotional turmoil of the five stages of grief er… finals, you will be ready to study. But I cannot guarantee you'll be ready for your test. So good luck to those who haven't taken your finals yet, and just remember that this is a natural process.