Summer Vacations Are Over


I just realized I’ll never have three solid months off for the summer ever again. And if we’re being totally honest, I’m not that sad about that. I never really loved summer vacation.

I grew up in a pretty rural area, but it wasn’t so rural that everyone else lived in a rural area….if that makes sense… Basically, I lived on 8.5 acres and my neighbors lived far away, but just a couple miles down the hill was a large development where tons of people lived pretty close to one another. We all went to school together, but I didn’t live close enough to them to spend hours upon hours every day making friends. I was a little bit of an outsider. While they all walked to each other’s houses every day in the summer, I stayed home with my sister and played in the yard, or did work in the little orchard we had, or made up stories by myself. My parents worked a lot, though they definitely did make efforts for me to have play dates with the other kids. It just wasn’t the same as living ten feet away from your best friend like all of the other kids did.

So my childhood was a little different from most kids’. I never minded much when I was little, because I didn’t realize there was an alternative. It helped me learn to entertain myself, and I got really comfortable being alone with my thoughts, which I think is super important and a little rare these days. I transferred to a high school in town when I was 14, and the same thing happened — I didn’t live near any of my friends, wasn’t able to just drop by. I loved high school and was really happy, so this wasn’t much of an issue, it was just different. My house was never the meeting place, because my house involved a 20 minute drive out of town.

Sometimes I drive through neighborhoods and see all the kids riding their bikes together, or walking to a corner mart, or just playing outside on someone’s lawn. I don’t know if I wish I’d had that childhood, really. It would’ve been nice to be able to be more social if I’d wanted, to have the typical high school experience you see in the movies where the best friend drops by all the time. But honestly, I’d be a different person. Those sorts of experiences change and shape you in ways we never really expect, so I don’t know who I’d be today. I’m sure I’d be lovely, but I happen to enjoy myself at the moment and I’m not terribly willing to change that.

So I didn’t care much for summer vacation, because summer vacation meant a lot of time alone. I’ll bet if I had those three months now I could find some really awesome things to do with some pretty awesome people, but I’m so excited to start my new job and make friends in this new city that there’s little that could make me want three months off of school or work.

It’s nice to be excited like this.

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I Am Cappy: Hear Me Grump!


Let me start out by calmly explaining my day to you:

ARGHHHGHHGHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIAMUNHAPPY!

Okay. Now that’s settled, I’d like to say that these are extremely FIRST WORLD type problems and I honestly have no right to be upset, but I’m gonna be anyway because today I want to be selfish.

The phones are ringing off the freaking hook . Seriously, the MOMENT I walked in the door today the phone rang.  And the calls aren’t from anyone important. They’re from asshole (pardon my French, but really. They are assholes. So there.) people from the “phone company” wanting to speak to “the person who is in charge of the phone lines” because they’re from CenturyLink and want to “save us money.” Well SHOVE IT, we don’t USE your phone service, as stated ON MY TELEPHONE WHERE IT SAYS TEL-WEST.
So I told him I was in charge of the phone lines. He totally didn’t believe me. How dare he not believe me? How dare he not accept my small-child voice as that of a business owner? How daaaaare he question my authority as a receptionist business owner?! The sneaky, rude ninny (I’m trying to censor myself, or there would be way too many Fs all over this page. Yeah, I’d say flibberflabber. But my dad reads this). Anyway, he totally didn’t believe me but was like “blahhblahblah” and I didn’t pay attention because my head was catching fire from rage, and finally I said, “We get calls from you all the time and we don’t have phone service through you, so could you please take us off your list or something?” Yeah, I said “or something.” I’m really authoritative. He said, “I just need to confirm that you are the person in charge of the ph–” and I hung up, like the strong willed woman I am.

And then I yelled about it to Scott, my co-worker. And he laughed. He doesn’t understand how difficult my job is.

Then, someone texted me and tried to force me to ask for pictures of their diddlydingums (I’ve never used that word, oh my goodness what’s happening to me?), so I had to set THAT straight. No, I do not want to see anything under your clothing, you nasty piece of nasty. NASTY! And also, rude. Now I can check “get sexually harassed” off my bucket list, so thanks.

And then, to top off my white-girl problems list, I ordered a BLT downstairs at the coffee shop and the chick put mayonaise on it. Here’s the deal. I expressly chose the BLT because I figured it would only have bacon, lettuce, and tomato on it, as described on the sign under the word “BLT.” There was absolutely no mention of mayo. I have been BLINDSIDED by this mayonaise, and I do not appreciate it. And of course, by then my lunch break was over and I was too tired (lazy) and angry to go down and ask for a new one. Also, I never tell people when they make my order wrong, which is dumb and I need to learn how because I’m an adult and my goodness what is my problem? I can’t even tell people I don’t want something. Unless it’s pictures of their nether regions, because that is a big no no and I ain’t down with that.

I tried to eat the sandwich with the mayo, but honestly, I kinda wanted to die. So I didn’t eat it. I will give it to a homeless man or something. With my luck, he won’t like mayo either, and he’ll throw it at my face.

How to Make Friends


Step One: See them around town.
You like what you see. They seem nice, always chatting with passersby or wearing something fun. Give them a little nod as you pass to show that you want to be best friends.
Follow them to their favorite lunch spot. Memorize their order so that one day you can be in front of them in line and order it, then hear them gasp delightedly behind you and say, “That’s my favorite!” I can practically hear the sound of friendship bracelets being made.

Step Two: Ask around.
Casually ask your friends (or any complete stranger within a 10 foot radius) “Who is that sassy lady wearing  a false ponytail and cowboy boots? I’d like to know her. What is her name? Birthday? Social security number?”

Step Three: Add on Facebook.
Because nothing’s more welcome than a random friend request from someone you may or may not have seen staring at your false ponytail.
If you’re feeling spunky, add a personal note. “Hey, I’ve seen you around and think you are the coolest thing since ice cubes. I would like to be your best friend…forever.”

Step Four: Find out where they work.
This information can be obtained in the same manner as in Step Two.

Step Five: “Bump” into them at work.
“Oh my goodness, you work here? I had no idea. I work across town at a pizza stand, which has nothing to do with your high-flying job as a trapeze artist so I really have no reason to be here…what a crazy coincidence! Wanna be best friends?!”

Step Six: Burn the restraining orders.
They were mistakes. Mistakes!
 Keep telling yourself that.

Scamming


Scamming: (v) 1. Physical contact of a relatively advanced nature between two consenting teenagers who are not dating and probably never will, and who are just entertaining each other horizontally at a party or boring movie. 2. The act of cheating or carrying out a fraudulent scheme, especially for making a quick profit; swindle.
Though the first definition is very entertaining, I’ll be focusing more on the second.
Specifically, I’ll focus on idiots who call businesses pretending to be from the telephone company. And as I am a receptionist, these twits usually go through me first.
Dear Rude Lady who called me today asking to speak to my boss,
When I ask who’s calling, don’t just say Hannah, because I can tell you aren’t a personal friend of hers. You have a very southern accent and I live in the northwest, and anyone who has lived here for more than 5 minutes doesn’t sound like you.
Also, when I ask what the call is in regards to, please don’t simply say “I need to speak with her about the lines we’re putting in,” because that doesn’t even make sense. If you were legitimate, you’d say exactly who you were and exactly what you were calling about. For all I know, you’re talking about clothes lines. Or fishing line. Or a line in geometry.
Then, when I ask what company you’re from because I’m about 3 seconds away from strangling you through the phone, don’t tell me you’re from a phone company we don’t even have service from. Because if we don’t have phone service from you, why would you need to put lines in our office? I’m not a complete fool.
Finally, when I tell you we’re not interested, I’m really restraining myself from calling you and your mother a fool. But please – I’ve been polite. Don’t just hang up. Say I have a nice phone voice or something. A little scammer’s scamming never hurt.
Thanks,
Cappy
P.S. I mean, really?! What do you think is going to happen when you call? Even if you did get through me, do you think my boss would be stupid and say, “Oh yes, have my credit card number right now. Take all my money and put your clothes lines up in my office!”