goodbye & good riddance, 2008. we opened the door politely for 2009, carrying hope and peace on its strapping new back. we rang in the new year pretty quietly, since i was supposed to get up at 2 and go to work today. i never did fall back asleep after midnight and flew through my day tanked on starbucks. we traditionally eat snackie-poos all nite, nibbling and watching movies to pass the time until The Hour arrives. then we don coats and shoes and run up and down the front yard making noise with our neighbors to drive out the old year and bring in the new. the kids & boys watched movies (while i slept) until The Hour and for the first time, all four kids made it. yay!!!
i await the hope that breathes through the nation this month - not just from one direction, but from all directions. i believe that we, as a nation, can heal our hundred wounds. it will take time, perseverance, and we'll have to dig in and hold on, but 2009 brings more than just a regime change - it is a change in the state of mind.
02 January 2009
holiday aftermath
the thought just occurred to me that, since the kids are entertained elsewhere with the boys, and the house is quiet, and i have no responsibilities (save ironing tomorrow's uniform), dude. i can write!! it's been such a while since i have had the time, quiet, and motivation. so here i iz. writing. sweet.
there are a great number of incidents at work that pass by me on a daily basis that merit a head shake, a small chortle into my sleeve or a guffaw after the passenger is out of earshot. those are the passengers who, after going through the metal detector six times, realize that their cell phone has metal in it. those are the ladies who thought that the liquid restrictions only applied to water. those are the dudes who look me in the eye and place their boarding passes underneath their laptops - under their laptop bags - and then roll their eyes when we have to go fetch it all back again. and then there are the truly stellar dumb-fucks. i write about those. people do some crazy shit over the holidays. i mean, peeps lose their cotton-pickin minds.
there were a couple of individuals (on different days) who warranted a second look. mannerisms that just weren't quite right for various reasons. like....ShoeMan, who was talking to his shoe and then licked it before sending it through the xray. yeeeah-no. and then there was Jesus Freak who claimed to have diplomatic immunity because he was a man of the cloth. he went ape-shit after being selected by his airline to undergo additional screening, calling my colleagues names like "fucking arab scum" and "low-life government monkeys." he was trouble from start to finish, telling us that we did not have his spiritual permission from his god above to touch his holy book. it was a bible...wrapped in dirty underwear with cheese slices used as bookmarks. i wish i was kidding, folks. he sprinkled as many merry-christmases as he did fuck-all-of-yous into each sentence. the last thing i heard from him was, "you do not have the right to treat me like a criminal!!!!" as he was being cuffed for threatening to blow us all away. that guy didn't make his flight.
then there was the day that we had some interesting ladies entertain us. Light-Fingered Susie was wearing four shirts, three pair of jeans and a skirt....all with security tags attached. because she set off the metal detector (um, duh) and we could not clear her to pass to the airplane, she (along with her two bags stuffed full of merchandise) was asked to leave and return without security-tagged clothing. the same day, while observing my trainee complete a bag check, a sweet little cockroach crawled right up out of that handbag - purse, folks! used every day!! - and scared the piss out of my trainee. i took the woman's wallet and smeared that little fucker all over the inside of her purse. then we changed our gloves. and both washed our hands. twice. and bathed in alcohol.
of course, it wouldn't be christmas without all the pissed off passengers who wrap their stupid prezzies and send them through the xray. man, i rip through those bad boys like they were wrapped for me. makes a sucky day brighter to open presents, especially since i can't keep them. and then we have the odd assortment of people who simply must bring their own 20 pound christmas ham in their carryon. and cell phones removed from their clamshell cases and wrapped in newspaper, walmart sacks and duct tape. stacked with 8 jars of kimchi. or a five pound brick of cheese with watches scotch-taped to it. wait, what?? yeah, send that guy into the box and check all his stuff. cheese and watches don't make good appetizers.
and it isn't just the passengers. the crew members, unfortunately, must go through this set of hoops as well. the ones that make me mad are the ones that know the rules and just ignore me. metal detectors don't care if you fly the plane. neither do i. empty those pockets into the bowl and take your electronics out of their bags. and for the love of socks, to the skycaps who push wheelchairs through the airport 700 times a day: GET SOME PANTS THAT FIT!! your belt has to come off, your pants always fall down and i am done, past done, with your boxers.
but the very tippety-top this year, the custom, hand-sculpted topping on the lemon-chiffon-with-ribbons-of-cream-cheese-and-whipped-lemon-curd-icing-cake, was Chainsaw Sally (and Friends). because really, who brings a chainsaw on an airplane? anyone? anyone have that answer? Chainsaw Sally not only brought her tool, but lube for it, and fuel as well, and was completely aghast at being told to pack her shit and check that bag. and no. no one offered to help her re-pack. in the wise, wise words of supervisor Patty: "you should know better than to bring that on a plane. you got it in there in the first place. you figure out how to get it back in. now go." that was a first for every single solitary person on the checkpoint. but it doesn't stop there. in the past seven days, we have had not one, not two, but three (count 'em!!) THREE chainsaws through our checkpoint. a record for the airport. ever.
cotton-pickin minds.
stupid questions of the season (asked by grownups, i shit you not):
what's a boarding pass?
what i said: um, that paper thingy with your name and that special place you want to go printed on it. it's prolly in your bag because i asked you to hold on to it.
what i thought: that piece of paper that you just had in your hand less than 5 seconds ago, dumbass.
is that mine?
what i said: well, it doesn't look like santa's. his has white fur on it.
what i thought: how the fuck should i know? do i look like your fucking babysitter?
where did you put my bag?
what i said: i did not at any time place my hands on your belongings. where did you put your bag?
what i thought: up your ass, next to your head.
what happened to my shoes?
what i said: that depends on where you left them.
what i thought: your feet stank, so they totally left you behind to fend for yourself.
how does it go in? (pointing to the xray machine)
what i said: um, when i'm ready to press this button, the black part moves and your suitcase rolls in like magic.
what i thought: ask your mom. she has lots of experience with things that go in.
(from a woman with no foreign accent whatsoever, prolly 2nd gen, born & raised red, white & blue...)
are we in america? are you sure? because the water here tastes like mexican water. i went to the university of maryland and the water tasted good there. it didn't taste like this water, so we must be in mexico. are you sure we are in america?
what i said: yeah. you're definitely in america. matter of fact, i'mma get you someone to help you with that question. he's a nice man. we call them police officers in america.
what i thought: you are off your meds in a serious way, lady. no one in that state of mind should be able to get on a plane.
cotton-pickin minds.
there are a great number of incidents at work that pass by me on a daily basis that merit a head shake, a small chortle into my sleeve or a guffaw after the passenger is out of earshot. those are the passengers who, after going through the metal detector six times, realize that their cell phone has metal in it. those are the ladies who thought that the liquid restrictions only applied to water. those are the dudes who look me in the eye and place their boarding passes underneath their laptops - under their laptop bags - and then roll their eyes when we have to go fetch it all back again. and then there are the truly stellar dumb-fucks. i write about those. people do some crazy shit over the holidays. i mean, peeps lose their cotton-pickin minds.
there were a couple of individuals (on different days) who warranted a second look. mannerisms that just weren't quite right for various reasons. like....ShoeMan, who was talking to his shoe and then licked it before sending it through the xray. yeeeah-no. and then there was Jesus Freak who claimed to have diplomatic immunity because he was a man of the cloth. he went ape-shit after being selected by his airline to undergo additional screening, calling my colleagues names like "fucking arab scum" and "low-life government monkeys." he was trouble from start to finish, telling us that we did not have his spiritual permission from his god above to touch his holy book. it was a bible...wrapped in dirty underwear with cheese slices used as bookmarks. i wish i was kidding, folks. he sprinkled as many merry-christmases as he did fuck-all-of-yous into each sentence. the last thing i heard from him was, "you do not have the right to treat me like a criminal!!!!" as he was being cuffed for threatening to blow us all away. that guy didn't make his flight.
then there was the day that we had some interesting ladies entertain us. Light-Fingered Susie was wearing four shirts, three pair of jeans and a skirt....all with security tags attached. because she set off the metal detector (um, duh) and we could not clear her to pass to the airplane, she (along with her two bags stuffed full of merchandise) was asked to leave and return without security-tagged clothing. the same day, while observing my trainee complete a bag check, a sweet little cockroach crawled right up out of that handbag - purse, folks! used every day!! - and scared the piss out of my trainee. i took the woman's wallet and smeared that little fucker all over the inside of her purse. then we changed our gloves. and both washed our hands. twice. and bathed in alcohol.
of course, it wouldn't be christmas without all the pissed off passengers who wrap their stupid prezzies and send them through the xray. man, i rip through those bad boys like they were wrapped for me. makes a sucky day brighter to open presents, especially since i can't keep them. and then we have the odd assortment of people who simply must bring their own 20 pound christmas ham in their carryon. and cell phones removed from their clamshell cases and wrapped in newspaper, walmart sacks and duct tape. stacked with 8 jars of kimchi. or a five pound brick of cheese with watches scotch-taped to it. wait, what?? yeah, send that guy into the box and check all his stuff. cheese and watches don't make good appetizers.
and it isn't just the passengers. the crew members, unfortunately, must go through this set of hoops as well. the ones that make me mad are the ones that know the rules and just ignore me. metal detectors don't care if you fly the plane. neither do i. empty those pockets into the bowl and take your electronics out of their bags. and for the love of socks, to the skycaps who push wheelchairs through the airport 700 times a day: GET SOME PANTS THAT FIT!! your belt has to come off, your pants always fall down and i am done, past done, with your boxers.
but the very tippety-top this year, the custom, hand-sculpted topping on the lemon-chiffon-with-ribbons-of-cream-cheese-and-whipped-lemon-curd-icing-cake, was Chainsaw Sally (and Friends). because really, who brings a chainsaw on an airplane? anyone? anyone have that answer? Chainsaw Sally not only brought her tool, but lube for it, and fuel as well, and was completely aghast at being told to pack her shit and check that bag. and no. no one offered to help her re-pack. in the wise, wise words of supervisor Patty: "you should know better than to bring that on a plane. you got it in there in the first place. you figure out how to get it back in. now go." that was a first for every single solitary person on the checkpoint. but it doesn't stop there. in the past seven days, we have had not one, not two, but three (count 'em!!) THREE chainsaws through our checkpoint. a record for the airport. ever.
cotton-pickin minds.
stupid questions of the season (asked by grownups, i shit you not):
what's a boarding pass?
what i said: um, that paper thingy with your name and that special place you want to go printed on it. it's prolly in your bag because i asked you to hold on to it.
what i thought: that piece of paper that you just had in your hand less than 5 seconds ago, dumbass.
is that mine?
what i said: well, it doesn't look like santa's. his has white fur on it.
what i thought: how the fuck should i know? do i look like your fucking babysitter?
where did you put my bag?
what i said: i did not at any time place my hands on your belongings. where did you put your bag?
what i thought: up your ass, next to your head.
what happened to my shoes?
what i said: that depends on where you left them.
what i thought: your feet stank, so they totally left you behind to fend for yourself.
how does it go in? (pointing to the xray machine)
what i said: um, when i'm ready to press this button, the black part moves and your suitcase rolls in like magic.
what i thought: ask your mom. she has lots of experience with things that go in.
(from a woman with no foreign accent whatsoever, prolly 2nd gen, born & raised red, white & blue...)
are we in america? are you sure? because the water here tastes like mexican water. i went to the university of maryland and the water tasted good there. it didn't taste like this water, so we must be in mexico. are you sure we are in america?
what i said: yeah. you're definitely in america. matter of fact, i'mma get you someone to help you with that question. he's a nice man. we call them police officers in america.
what i thought: you are off your meds in a serious way, lady. no one in that state of mind should be able to get on a plane.
cotton-pickin minds.
03 December 2008
creamy baked mashed potatoes
we're not big fans of "plain." everything from our pancakes to our mashed potatoes general has some kind of fixer to enhance flavors or to dress up the mundane. i'm the first to admit that sometimes some combinations don't work out, but here is a combo that we love love love. in fact, we don't serve our thanksgiving potatoes any other way.
Creamy Baked Mashed Potatoes
yields about 8 servings
4 cups hot mashed potatoes
1 envelope knorr or lipton dry vegetable soup mix
3/4 and 1/4 cup shredded cheddar or swiss cheese
1 egg, slightly beaten
1) preheat oven to 375*.
2) in lightly greased 1-1/2 or 2 quart casserole dish, combine all but 1/4 cup cheese.
3) bake, uncovered for 40 minutes. top with remaining cheese and return to oven to bake for 5 minutes or until cheese melts.
*NOTES* this recipe doubles easily, but does not freeze well. you could add cooked crumbled sausage or chopped ham to this. we sprinkle french fried onions on with the last bit of cheese as well. this recipe works as well with both mashed real potatoes and instant potatoes. it makes a great breakfast, if you're into hearty potato breakfasts, that is. enjoy.
Creamy Baked Mashed Potatoes
yields about 8 servings
4 cups hot mashed potatoes
1 envelope knorr or lipton dry vegetable soup mix
3/4 and 1/4 cup shredded cheddar or swiss cheese
1 egg, slightly beaten
1) preheat oven to 375*.
2) in lightly greased 1-1/2 or 2 quart casserole dish, combine all but 1/4 cup cheese.
3) bake, uncovered for 40 minutes. top with remaining cheese and return to oven to bake for 5 minutes or until cheese melts.
*NOTES* this recipe doubles easily, but does not freeze well. you could add cooked crumbled sausage or chopped ham to this. we sprinkle french fried onions on with the last bit of cheese as well. this recipe works as well with both mashed real potatoes and instant potatoes. it makes a great breakfast, if you're into hearty potato breakfasts, that is. enjoy.
01 December 2008
the birthday girl
it is december first. it's a special day in our house. you see, we have a dog. and when we found our trixie, she had been shuffled from one shelter to another. they say she was about 18 months old when we got her, but there was no way to know for sure when she was born. so we arbitrarily chose december first for her birthday bash.
today i got a little silly and baked her a cake. not a people-cake. a dog-cake. of course i googled. i found several sites touting recipes for dog cakes, that were, um, people cakes without sugar. "there's no way my pupperoo can eat that garbage; it'll make her sick," thought i. so, i kept searching.
i found one. yay!! i followed the recipe, sort of. the prep instructions were pretty vague, but i managed to get it mixed. and although the batter had the consistency of puke, and smelled a lot like puke with butter in it, i think she'll love her little cake. after baking it, i decided the recipe needed a little modification...for example ½ cup each butter and oil was far too much. so here is an updated version. if you have reason to celebrate with your dogger, feel free to rip off this recipe i found somewhere and revised. and i'm pretty sure you can sub-in cat stuff for felines. not sure.
1 cup dog food, processed into powder
½ cup flour
1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ cup softened butter
¼ cup oil
4 eggs, slightly beaten, room temp
2.5 oz jar of meat baby food (any flavor)
4 bacon treats, chopped into smaller squares
1) combine first four dry ingredients.
2) beat butter until creamy and add oil, eggs, and baby food. add dry ingredients and mix until combined and barfy-looking.
3) pour into greased 9x5 loaf pan and lightly press bacon treats into batter. (make sure they sink under or they will burn.) bake for 35-45 minutes at 350*. cool on wire rack.
4) frost (if desired...we didn't go that far) with plain yogurt or cottage cheese.
*NOTE: do not let your dog eat the whole cake at once. refrigerate leftovers, with or without frosting. you can make these into cupcakes, but remove paper cups completely before serving; dogg-o will likely snarf down the paper and not know it. you can add carob chips as a "chocolate-chip" addition.
and i baked a spice cake so us peoples can celebrate with her.
today i got a little silly and baked her a cake. not a people-cake. a dog-cake. of course i googled. i found several sites touting recipes for dog cakes, that were, um, people cakes without sugar. "there's no way my pupperoo can eat that garbage; it'll make her sick," thought i. so, i kept searching.
i found one. yay!! i followed the recipe, sort of. the prep instructions were pretty vague, but i managed to get it mixed. and although the batter had the consistency of puke, and smelled a lot like puke with butter in it, i think she'll love her little cake. after baking it, i decided the recipe needed a little modification...for example ½ cup each butter and oil was far too much. so here is an updated version. if you have reason to celebrate with your dogger, feel free to rip off this recipe i found somewhere and revised. and i'm pretty sure you can sub-in cat stuff for felines. not sure.
1 cup dog food, processed into powder
½ cup flour
1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ cup softened butter
¼ cup oil
4 eggs, slightly beaten, room temp
2.5 oz jar of meat baby food (any flavor)
4 bacon treats, chopped into smaller squares
1) combine first four dry ingredients.
2) beat butter until creamy and add oil, eggs, and baby food. add dry ingredients and mix until combined and barfy-looking.
3) pour into greased 9x5 loaf pan and lightly press bacon treats into batter. (make sure they sink under or they will burn.) bake for 35-45 minutes at 350*. cool on wire rack.
4) frost (if desired...we didn't go that far) with plain yogurt or cottage cheese.
*NOTE: do not let your dog eat the whole cake at once. refrigerate leftovers, with or without frosting. you can make these into cupcakes, but remove paper cups completely before serving; dogg-o will likely snarf down the paper and not know it. you can add carob chips as a "chocolate-chip" addition.
and i baked a spice cake so us peoples can celebrate with her.
happy birthday to my trixie-loo!
27 November 2008
the unexpected holiday
it began in july. about a week after our return from a much-needed trip to phoenix, my mother called to tell us that "the fam" is having a reunion in the mini-apple over thanksgiving. the fam i haven't seen in over a decade. to which i replied..."you realize that thanksgiving is on my monday, right? and that i have absolutely NO seniority at work, right?" we decided to see what we could see. turns out seniority really has no bearing on leave. it's first come, first serve. and no leave was being approved for after 15 october, due to the end of the fiscal year...on 15 october.
i priced airline tix. i priced hotels. i priced a minivan. we were looking at almost $5K for a 5-day trip. that was more than twice the price of our 16-day phoenix jaunt. no way. there was no way we could afford this trip. but, come october 15, i had that leave form turned in. first in line for the week of thanksgiving. and promptly forgot all about it.
in the past 14 days, ticket prices, hotel prices and even rental car prices dropped like a rock. we prolly could have afforded the trip now, had we not run into numerous unexpected medical expenses and some new car parts. oh well.
i have been sick off & on for the past five weeks. my supervisor mentioned my week of leave and asked if i realized that it had been approved. i generously scratched my name off every day - except thanksgiving. there was no point in taking off a full week when we weren't going on the trip. i got sicker. and sicker. and landed in the hospital the day we were to take off. seems i hadn't been sick off & on. i was just flat-out sick the whole time. my white blood cell count was off the hook, i needed IV meds and bedrest. wanna guess how long? five days....right through thanksgiving day.
i had to cancel my participation in parent-teacher conferences, a class party and a field trip, along with being out of work for three work days. bed rest is a hard concept for a mom of four to wrap her head around. but apparently i have been sick enough to actually get in the bed every few hours. i really needed it. i even broke thanksgiving prep into two days, baking ahead a lot of things so i can tend to the turkey and last minute details, as well as putting up the christmas tree. i can't believe it all got done.
on our menu for today is pumpkin cream cheese coffeecake for breakfast, a roasted 14-pound turkey with homemade sage stuffing, creamy baked mashed potatoes, broccoli & cauliflower in cheese sauce, green bean casserole, pumpkin-sage cloverleaf rolls, (2) pumpkin pies and pear crumble pie. the pre-lit tree is up and ready for decor, while the turkey roasts. and this year i feel i have so much to be thankful for, after my week of recovery.
i am thankful for my husband, my rock, who forced me to get back into bed, and played the part of my minion bringing me tea, medicine, extra blankies and foot rubs, among all else this past week. our housemate, brent, for picking up kids, comforting them when they were scared for me, and buying pizza friday night so i could bury my head in my pillow and ignore the world for the pain in my head. my four fabulous kids who feel like the world is going to end if mommy doesn't make them lunch, but will accept a substitute dad and brent in a pinch. my friends who have called, texted, and emailed to check up on me - especially the ones who stepped up and re-arranged their schedules to take my place at school events this week. it's nice to know that i'm missed. and my trixie-dog, for putting her chin on my bed and waiting patiently for her scratch while i slept.
there's nothing like being sick-sick to help one realize the joy of normalcy. i'll be back in the swing on friday. i've missed you all, too.11 November 2008
Confection in the box
{{names have been ever-so slightly changed. but if you work with me, you'll know who they are.}}
muffled snickers.
i can tell that the sound i hear is of several people covering choked laughs behind cupped hands, faces turned slightly away.
a smile plays at the corner of my mouth in anticipation of being let in on the joke as i step through the gate. a brief moment of cold fear slices through me in hopes that i am not the joke. my hands automatically check zipper and buttons to make sure nothing is presenting itself that should not. uniform is intact. i casually walk through the checkpoint to the time clock and swipe my card through the slot, waiting for the green blink and small chirp letting me know that i am officially here. the time is 0342 on a saturday.
i turn around to face my workplace, to greet my friends and survey the passengers already crowding the first lane.
oh.
my.
god.
whatinhell is in the box with maxine?
my eyes, unbidden, follow the flesh in form from ultra-processed-drying-bad-dye-job crown to flat-footed-brown-running-socks-over-fishnet toes.
my jaw drops in disbelief. snickers turn to outright guffaws. from other passengers.
s/he presents him/herself as a she. which explains maxine in the box. but it does not explain whatinhell is in the box with her. by now i have control of my facial features. a few of the men nearby are gagging. i have officially dubbed her "Confection." all i hafta say is that s/he really needs to hang on to that day job. the get-up for her night job is not cutting it.
turning and walking from the right to the backside, which is all i care to see of this particular Confection, her hair falls limply to her shoulders, covering far more flesh than the actual stitches of clothing cinched about her ample form. the blood-red corset oozes breasts like a mottled, pus-filled wound, her skin sporting a jagged almost digitized pattern of freckles. or age spots. or, maybe body paint - attempting leopard spots?? down under, rolls of chub squirm from their holding pen as she twists and holds her arms up. the hand held metal detector screams around the metal support frame of the corset. the gauzy, filmy, filthy swatch of black lace dangles from the edges of the corset in a sad attempt to become some kind of skirt. it fails miserably. as the hand held metal detector follows the fishnets down to the grubby brown stained running socks, i overhear a snippet of conversation from over the top of the glass enclosure.
"...just got off work from my part time job and had to come right here to catch this plane..."
no. really? one of her thigh high go-go boots falls haphazardly from the x-ray belt and sighs in a heap on the floor. "...and what exactly is a private screening?" asks the Confection timidly, as maxine and a supervisor, donna, lead her out of the public eye to resolve a particularly difficult alarm.
as she crosses my path, i can clearly see nip as her girls struggle to free themselves from the iron grip of the corset. eyeliner painted on thick and exaggerated, lipliner accentuating a not-quite-feminine mouth, glistening under glitter and gloss. with every flat-footed step, her breasts jiggle dangerously close to spilling out completely. maxine's face is cold and solemn as stone. donna is a half-step behind the Confection, eyes rolling and head shaking. behind the trio wafts a smell. not a scent of perfume, or lotion, or body spray. not a trace of sweat or body heat. it is a smell. it fills the nose and leaves no doubt behind as to whatinhell that stank could be. it reeks of wet garbage, armpit, and putrefaction reminiscent of, well, someone who has just left their part time night job.
woof.
and my day hasn't even started yet.
11 October 2008
chocolate hazelnut truffles
it was a day.
we, in general and out of character today, received many compliments from passengers on how organized we were; i got a few for being courteous. yay us. i am focusing on those ever-so-brief and never documented bright spots to end my workday. and then there's the Big Blemish of the morning, trying to tarnish it all.
when someone gets angry with me for their failings, i am supposed to take it. i am actually trained to take a step back and empathize with the person who is angry with me and calling my intelligence into question. i am supposed to think about the day they are having, and suppose that they have a great deal of stress on their minds, which is causing them to act in an unfriendly manner. regardless of the comments raining upon my head, i must be nice. whether my day is going well or not is never an issue. no matter how many passengers tell me that *I* am personally ridiculous for creating the standards of the airline industry, no matter how low my blood sugar dips while waiting for the line to lessen to go on a much-needed break, no matter how many people accuse me of stealing their belongings (that they have voluntarily surrendered to me, have either checked at the ticket counter or left at home), a tight smile graces my lips and the words, "have a nice flight" tumble from my mouth, unbidden at times.
i received compliments from both a passenger in passing and a fellow officer, one that i have watched to emulate dealing with difficult passengers. they both said i did a good job keeping a cool head with the angry "Cruise Couple," who were, of course, late for their flight. funny. i was seething and seeing red. it didn't feel like i kept a cool head at all. but i guess on the exterior i simply went cold as stone and maintained an icy bearing that got me through without managing to bite the passengers or bite off any of the comments running through my head. because there were some doozies in there.
the line was long. it generally is, late-morning. a lady was getting the standard patdown required for processing for additional screening. i got the attention of my fellow officer and told her to send the passenger to me so i could get started with the additional testing of her luggage. the woman dropped into a chair with an annoyed sigh, then rolled her eyes and flung her hands into the air when told she didn't have to sit down. i asked her to identify her property without touching it and she promptly began touching her bags and trying to lift them. i reminded her that she should not touch her belongings before i finished screening them. i again asked which items were hers. she gestured vaguely at the x-ray and stated, "all of them." i was looking at three bins, containing several sweaters and small bags and two pairs of shoes and two suitcases. i again asked her to clarify which items were hers. she answered me the same way, touching all of the bins and pointing to a suitcase half out of the x-ray saying, "mine mine mine mine, all these are mine." i reminded her a third time to not touch her belongings until they were cleared by me.
another officer picked up the second suitcase and asked, "is this one yours as well?" at which point she snarled, "no. i said all these were mine!" i stopped what i was doing and asked if she was traveling with anyone else. she flung her hand in the direction of a man behind her and said, "YES! my HUSBAND." as if he were wearing a sign.
i hmmm'd and felt my lips pressing into my annoyed face. "with all these items and extra shoes, can you see why i asked you to be more specific? i wanted to make sure that i retrieved the correct belongings. do i have everything yet? thank you, please follow me."
Hubs joined Wifey. i began the standard examination and testing of the passenger luggage and assorted belongings. behind me, Hubs reached around me and tried to grab his shoes. i reminded the couple, since Hubs hadn't heard the prior three warnings, "please do not touch your belongings until i have finished screening them. i will have to send them back through the x-ray again if you touch them again." as the machine cleared Wifey's shoes, i handed them back to her.
"that wasn't screening?" she asked. i was confused. "that wasn't screening, what we just did through the x-ray? if that wasn't screening then why bother? when can i have my shoes back?"
"ma'am," i tempered, "your airline selected you for additional screening. x-raying your property is the first step of that process. getting a patdown is the second." i answered several other snide questions one from the left, one from the right for the next five minutes. "they printed a code on your ticket to let us know." "they don't tell us why they select their customers; although there is a short list of reasons we have come to understand, but nothing official is communicated to us." "i have a set of procedures i must follow to inform you airline that you have been carefully screened before boarding your aircraft." "if you wish to ask your airline about their selection process, i suggest you seek out an airline representative." "yes, that might entail going back to the ticket counter. you might have an 800 number on your ticket. i'm not sure." "i have not charged you any fees today, ma'am. i do not work for any airline."
in between sniping at me and sarcastically asking if they could have each and every item that i finished screening, i discovered that they quite literally missed the boat at the port of baltimore. Wifey had "had a bad feeling about all this" that they should have listenend to earlier. (whatever that meant.) they booked the first flight to their cruise line's next port destination to see if they could board there. the flight they booked at the ticket counter was scheduled to depart in less than 20 minutes. Wifey had to pee. they had been charged a large amount of money for heavy bags that they never intended to check on an airplane. i imagine they were pretty stressed out.
if it weren't for all the hurtful remarks and general ass-holish-ness, i might have felt sorry for them. what an awful way to start a vacation. and then she said it.
"you are going to make us miss our flight. we already missed our cruise and you are delaying us."
i stopped what i was doing. i looked at the grey wall in front of me and blinked slowly, once. i inhaled the warm, stale, recirculated air of our checkpoint. i plastered on the fakest barbie smile i could muster. i raised my voice slightly so that other officers could hear me, and maybe flag down another to assist me or get a supervisor.
"i have not delayed you in the slightest. would you like me to fetch you a supervisor? i would be more than happy to stop what i am doing right now and have someone else assist you. of course, they would have to start all over. i am working on your belongings no slower, no faster than anyone else. i genuinely want to get you to the gate for the flight that you are late for. i've been here since 0345. i'm not late. i can be more thorough for you, if that is what you really want me to do. if you want to make that flight, please step back and let me finish my job."
at which point, Hubs says, "will you just shut up?? let her finish so we can make this flight. you're always so negative!!!"
my hands shook in anger. i controlled my breathing. i finished up their belongings. i glanced at my watch. less than 7 minutes from start to finish. i placed the last suitcase on the floor, flipped the handle up out of habit and turned my back on them, biting out, "i sincerely hope you make it to your flight on time." in sotto voce, i finished, "because i certainly won't be helping you make another one."
i earned my chocolates today.
we, in general and out of character today, received many compliments from passengers on how organized we were; i got a few for being courteous. yay us. i am focusing on those ever-so-brief and never documented bright spots to end my workday. and then there's the Big Blemish of the morning, trying to tarnish it all.
when someone gets angry with me for their failings, i am supposed to take it. i am actually trained to take a step back and empathize with the person who is angry with me and calling my intelligence into question. i am supposed to think about the day they are having, and suppose that they have a great deal of stress on their minds, which is causing them to act in an unfriendly manner. regardless of the comments raining upon my head, i must be nice. whether my day is going well or not is never an issue. no matter how many passengers tell me that *I* am personally ridiculous for creating the standards of the airline industry, no matter how low my blood sugar dips while waiting for the line to lessen to go on a much-needed break, no matter how many people accuse me of stealing their belongings (that they have voluntarily surrendered to me, have either checked at the ticket counter or left at home), a tight smile graces my lips and the words, "have a nice flight" tumble from my mouth, unbidden at times.
i received compliments from both a passenger in passing and a fellow officer, one that i have watched to emulate dealing with difficult passengers. they both said i did a good job keeping a cool head with the angry "Cruise Couple," who were, of course, late for their flight. funny. i was seething and seeing red. it didn't feel like i kept a cool head at all. but i guess on the exterior i simply went cold as stone and maintained an icy bearing that got me through without managing to bite the passengers or bite off any of the comments running through my head. because there were some doozies in there.
the line was long. it generally is, late-morning. a lady was getting the standard patdown required for processing for additional screening. i got the attention of my fellow officer and told her to send the passenger to me so i could get started with the additional testing of her luggage. the woman dropped into a chair with an annoyed sigh, then rolled her eyes and flung her hands into the air when told she didn't have to sit down. i asked her to identify her property without touching it and she promptly began touching her bags and trying to lift them. i reminded her that she should not touch her belongings before i finished screening them. i again asked which items were hers. she gestured vaguely at the x-ray and stated, "all of them." i was looking at three bins, containing several sweaters and small bags and two pairs of shoes and two suitcases. i again asked her to clarify which items were hers. she answered me the same way, touching all of the bins and pointing to a suitcase half out of the x-ray saying, "mine mine mine mine, all these are mine." i reminded her a third time to not touch her belongings until they were cleared by me.
another officer picked up the second suitcase and asked, "is this one yours as well?" at which point she snarled, "no. i said all these were mine!" i stopped what i was doing and asked if she was traveling with anyone else. she flung her hand in the direction of a man behind her and said, "YES! my HUSBAND." as if he were wearing a sign.
i hmmm'd and felt my lips pressing into my annoyed face. "with all these items and extra shoes, can you see why i asked you to be more specific? i wanted to make sure that i retrieved the correct belongings. do i have everything yet? thank you, please follow me."
Hubs joined Wifey. i began the standard examination and testing of the passenger luggage and assorted belongings. behind me, Hubs reached around me and tried to grab his shoes. i reminded the couple, since Hubs hadn't heard the prior three warnings, "please do not touch your belongings until i have finished screening them. i will have to send them back through the x-ray again if you touch them again." as the machine cleared Wifey's shoes, i handed them back to her.
"that wasn't screening?" she asked. i was confused. "that wasn't screening, what we just did through the x-ray? if that wasn't screening then why bother? when can i have my shoes back?"
"ma'am," i tempered, "your airline selected you for additional screening. x-raying your property is the first step of that process. getting a patdown is the second." i answered several other snide questions one from the left, one from the right for the next five minutes. "they printed a code on your ticket to let us know." "they don't tell us why they select their customers; although there is a short list of reasons we have come to understand, but nothing official is communicated to us." "i have a set of procedures i must follow to inform you airline that you have been carefully screened before boarding your aircraft." "if you wish to ask your airline about their selection process, i suggest you seek out an airline representative." "yes, that might entail going back to the ticket counter. you might have an 800 number on your ticket. i'm not sure." "i have not charged you any fees today, ma'am. i do not work for any airline."
in between sniping at me and sarcastically asking if they could have each and every item that i finished screening, i discovered that they quite literally missed the boat at the port of baltimore. Wifey had "had a bad feeling about all this" that they should have listenend to earlier. (whatever that meant.) they booked the first flight to their cruise line's next port destination to see if they could board there. the flight they booked at the ticket counter was scheduled to depart in less than 20 minutes. Wifey had to pee. they had been charged a large amount of money for heavy bags that they never intended to check on an airplane. i imagine they were pretty stressed out.
if it weren't for all the hurtful remarks and general ass-holish-ness, i might have felt sorry for them. what an awful way to start a vacation. and then she said it.
"you are going to make us miss our flight. we already missed our cruise and you are delaying us."
i stopped what i was doing. i looked at the grey wall in front of me and blinked slowly, once. i inhaled the warm, stale, recirculated air of our checkpoint. i plastered on the fakest barbie smile i could muster. i raised my voice slightly so that other officers could hear me, and maybe flag down another to assist me or get a supervisor.
"i have not delayed you in the slightest. would you like me to fetch you a supervisor? i would be more than happy to stop what i am doing right now and have someone else assist you. of course, they would have to start all over. i am working on your belongings no slower, no faster than anyone else. i genuinely want to get you to the gate for the flight that you are late for. i've been here since 0345. i'm not late. i can be more thorough for you, if that is what you really want me to do. if you want to make that flight, please step back and let me finish my job."
at which point, Hubs says, "will you just shut up?? let her finish so we can make this flight. you're always so negative!!!"
my hands shook in anger. i controlled my breathing. i finished up their belongings. i glanced at my watch. less than 7 minutes from start to finish. i placed the last suitcase on the floor, flipped the handle up out of habit and turned my back on them, biting out, "i sincerely hope you make it to your flight on time." in sotto voce, i finished, "because i certainly won't be helping you make another one."
i earned my chocolates today.
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