Because of my schedule last week (and then being hit by a cold these past few days), I haven't run in nine days. I need to get out there, but it is currently 32 degrees outside. And I am comfortable in my sweatshirt and slippers. So starts the battle:
Get out there!
But it's cold!
That's what hats and mittens are for!
It has been so long and the first day back is so hard!
You have to start back up somewhere!
What's another day?
Don't be a wimp!
Wimps don't get enough credit in life!
You'll be fine once you hit the pavement.
I like it inside.
Go get that blood pumping!
Ugh.
I feel 95% better, but still wheeze a little when I breathe. So I plan to take it easy today. I know if I go out there and move it move it, I will feel better. It is just working up the motivation to put on my running shoes that seems to be the tricky part today.
Here I go.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
The world is not out to get you, Sir.
Well, it happened. An army of gross germs invaded my immune system, weakening it significantly. I have been wearing a bowling ball for a head these past three days, wheezing through a tight chest and stuffy nose. Today was the first day I had a chance to rest in over a week and I am beginning to feel better. Oh, the wonders of a nap and a sea of hot tea!
I picked up a temporary gig, working at the Tennessee State Museum for the "Discovering the Civil War" exhibit this past week. The National Archives loaned the Emancipation Proclamation to the museum for the week and we expected to see between 22,000 and 25,000 people. Over 30,000 came through. I worked the ticket desk, handing out tickets. Some tickets were reserved in advanced (that guaranteed visitors a chance to see it at their selected time) and some tickets were available on a first-come-first-serve basis (some folks had to wait several hours before their ticket time). Folks may have had to wait, but everybody would get a chance to see it. The skill set I refined while working at Walt Disney World came in handy while working the ticket desk. I said the following (with slight variations) easily over 2,000 times over a seven-day period:
"Howdy! What time is your reservation? What's the last name? Four tickets? Please sign here that you have received your tickets. The whole exhibit is downstairs, so take these tickets, go around the corner, down the stairs, and to the left. You'll see the exhibit and where to line up; you'll be allowed to line up about ten minutes prior to your ticket time. May I help who is next in line?"
And yes, the bathrooms are on this floor, down the hall behind you.
I kept a smile on my face EVEN when the gentleman wearing overalls and a denim overshirt accused me of deliberately making it difficult for handicapped folks to access the building (newsflash: I didn't). That smile beamed as the same gentleman continued that he knew that he couldn't make a reservation because all the state employees hogged all the tickets, first (newsflash: they didn't). The smile stayed through his diatribe about how his great-great-great-grandaddy was a white slave and that he knew how the government worked because he had a masters degree and don't I know anything at all (newsflash: I do). That plastered smile never faded when he told me that the government was OBVIOUSLY blocking public access to a very important document. I responded curtly (with my smile), "that's funny, because you are holding public access in your hand with those two tickets. You may take them around the corner, down the stairs, and to the left with the rest of the public who also has access to the Emancipation Proclamation. May I help who is next in line?" He walked away and the the next couple in line stepped up. They said with a grin, "our name is Smith and we have nothing else to declare beyond that." Thank you, appreciative couple. You calmed my shaking nerves quite a bit.
I want to provide the best customer service to all customers, even those who are wrongly convinced the world is out to get them. But on the seventh day of working long hours (and driving 2.5 hours roundtrip most of those days), I can only be pushed so far before my snarky filter loses its defenses. It turns out I was not the only museum staff member the overall-clad gentleman harassed last night so I don't feel so bad.
Oh, and I was able to see the document three times, NOT because I worked for the state. Rather, I was allowed to slip through the line between rowdy school groups on my first day so I could see how the line/exhibit was presented. I had made reservations on Friday afternoon so I could see it with my mom. I also got to walk through one last time last night before the representative from the National Archives had to get to work preparing the document for travel (it gets its own airplane seat). I am still tired, but it was well worth the work.
I picked up a temporary gig, working at the Tennessee State Museum for the "Discovering the Civil War" exhibit this past week. The National Archives loaned the Emancipation Proclamation to the museum for the week and we expected to see between 22,000 and 25,000 people. Over 30,000 came through. I worked the ticket desk, handing out tickets. Some tickets were reserved in advanced (that guaranteed visitors a chance to see it at their selected time) and some tickets were available on a first-come-first-serve basis (some folks had to wait several hours before their ticket time). Folks may have had to wait, but everybody would get a chance to see it. The skill set I refined while working at Walt Disney World came in handy while working the ticket desk. I said the following (with slight variations) easily over 2,000 times over a seven-day period:
"Howdy! What time is your reservation? What's the last name? Four tickets? Please sign here that you have received your tickets. The whole exhibit is downstairs, so take these tickets, go around the corner, down the stairs, and to the left. You'll see the exhibit and where to line up; you'll be allowed to line up about ten minutes prior to your ticket time. May I help who is next in line?"
And yes, the bathrooms are on this floor, down the hall behind you.
I kept a smile on my face EVEN when the gentleman wearing overalls and a denim overshirt accused me of deliberately making it difficult for handicapped folks to access the building (newsflash: I didn't). That smile beamed as the same gentleman continued that he knew that he couldn't make a reservation because all the state employees hogged all the tickets, first (newsflash: they didn't). The smile stayed through his diatribe about how his great-great-great-grandaddy was a white slave and that he knew how the government worked because he had a masters degree and don't I know anything at all (newsflash: I do). That plastered smile never faded when he told me that the government was OBVIOUSLY blocking public access to a very important document. I responded curtly (with my smile), "that's funny, because you are holding public access in your hand with those two tickets. You may take them around the corner, down the stairs, and to the left with the rest of the public who also has access to the Emancipation Proclamation. May I help who is next in line?" He walked away and the the next couple in line stepped up. They said with a grin, "our name is Smith and we have nothing else to declare beyond that." Thank you, appreciative couple. You calmed my shaking nerves quite a bit.
I want to provide the best customer service to all customers, even those who are wrongly convinced the world is out to get them. But on the seventh day of working long hours (and driving 2.5 hours roundtrip most of those days), I can only be pushed so far before my snarky filter loses its defenses. It turns out I was not the only museum staff member the overall-clad gentleman harassed last night so I don't feel so bad.
Oh, and I was able to see the document three times, NOT because I worked for the state. Rather, I was allowed to slip through the line between rowdy school groups on my first day so I could see how the line/exhibit was presented. I had made reservations on Friday afternoon so I could see it with my mom. I also got to walk through one last time last night before the representative from the National Archives had to get to work preparing the document for travel (it gets its own airplane seat). I am still tired, but it was well worth the work.
Monday, February 11, 2013
February 11th
When I looked at my phone to turn off my alarm this morning, I realized that today is February 11th. To my knowledge, there is nothing particularly significant about the date (other than Thomas Edison's birthday and the anniversary of Julia Child's show airing). Rather, the lateness of the date struck me. It smacked me around a little before shaking me like a Polaroid picture.
Dang! I thought. Five and a half weeks into a new year!
I am not complaining. In fact, I had intentions of writing on January 31st about how excellent January turned out. Then February 1st to comment on January and express excitement about February. Here I am, eleven days later. I meant to post more but life picked me up and carried me away.
So today, on this eleventh day of the second month of 2013, I will write a little. I will make note that January was a fine month. I will announce that the first eleven days of February went pretty well, too (my father left for Afghanistan last week and that is a huge bummer- but every day he is there is one day closer to his return and retirement). I will proclaim that I intend to make the rest of February's days outstanding, as well.
I continue to work on my many "projects." The historic tour of Nashville business continues to grow and new possibilities keep popping up. I am developing short historical productions for a local television channel. I have a temporary gig at the Tennessee State Museum next week, workingas a bouncer crowd control for the Emancipation Proclamation exhibit. I am moving to Nashville next month. I have been helping my mom finish quilts (and can't express how much I love creative expressions in tangible forms like quilting or crocheting). I have been doing yard work as the weather permits. I have been running. I love running. I even read three books in the past two weeks- three books! Fiction ones! I haven't plowed through that much literature since my immediate post-graduation phase over a year-and-a-half ago.
I keep taking my days one day at a time, like I did when I was in Louisiana. Instead of dreading each day as I roll out of bed, however, I want to get up and press forward. Instead of counting down days to an unsure future, I power through those days. My future is still unsure, but I look forward to it. Who knows what the twelfth of February might bring!
Dang! I thought. Five and a half weeks into a new year!
I am not complaining. In fact, I had intentions of writing on January 31st about how excellent January turned out. Then February 1st to comment on January and express excitement about February. Here I am, eleven days later. I meant to post more but life picked me up and carried me away.
So today, on this eleventh day of the second month of 2013, I will write a little. I will make note that January was a fine month. I will announce that the first eleven days of February went pretty well, too (my father left for Afghanistan last week and that is a huge bummer- but every day he is there is one day closer to his return and retirement). I will proclaim that I intend to make the rest of February's days outstanding, as well.
I continue to work on my many "projects." The historic tour of Nashville business continues to grow and new possibilities keep popping up. I am developing short historical productions for a local television channel. I have a temporary gig at the Tennessee State Museum next week, working
I keep taking my days one day at a time, like I did when I was in Louisiana. Instead of dreading each day as I roll out of bed, however, I want to get up and press forward. Instead of counting down days to an unsure future, I power through those days. My future is still unsure, but I look forward to it. Who knows what the twelfth of February might bring!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)