My freshman year of college I lived with my best friend from high school, Nick Bognar. He'll correct me on the accuracy of this story, but as I remember it, one Saturday night we decided to take a break from our many drunken parties with the attendant new friends and hook-ups with hot girls, to spend a little quality "us" time. Nick suggested we go to the library and play Gin Rummy. I suggested we play pool instead.
"Only if we gamble," said Nick, who even at this early age was showing signs of the sickness that would haunt his late twenties (Have you seen The Gambler with James Caan? That's pretty much Nick. Shit is sad.)
So we headed out into the bustling metropolis that is Fredricksburg, and found ourselves a pool hall. We were both exceptionally fine pool players, and after we had been there for a few minutes we were surrounded by a crowd of regulars, all of whom wanted to catch a glimpse of our epic eight-ball battle, and I told them all that Nick liked to go by the nickname "Fats."
We had each won a game, when the song "Torn" (a haunting pop ballad that never fails to move me to tears) as covered by Natalie Imbruglia (one of the great unappreciated talents of the late nineties, the owner of a haunting voice and flawless sense of musicianship) came on the jukebox. I was not yet a fan, however, and as it played I derided the song. I might have used the word "retarded." I may even have implied that Ms. Imbruglia was not a singer, but merely an attractive young woman attempting to parlay her looks into a music career. I shudder to think of it, but I think that is what I said.
"Alright," said Nick, interrupting my remarks, "If you win the next game, I will give you my car."
I was shocked.
"I would certainly love to drive your beautiful eggplant-colored Ford Taurus," I said to him, "it is as fine a vehicle as e'er I've seen. But what would I give up if I didn't win, as unlikely as that might seem?"
"If you lost you would have to promise that for the rest of your life whenever this song was played, you would have to talk about how wonderful it is and what a genius you think Natalie Imbruglia is."
"It's a bet!" said I.
You may infer for yourself how the game went.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
At Least They Can't Make Me Go To Church
1) We were comparing the working conditions of 19th century factories to those of our modern day, and my professor was making a point that was way too interesting for a 200 level history class:
"We tend to think of ourselves as free, being at liberty to do what we want. But think about the ways that people's jobs control them. Think about the hours that some people work. Has anyone here ever had to pee into a cup for their employer? Isn't that a control of your leisure time? Has anyone here ever worked a job where they took home a pager or a cell phone? My husband wears a cell phone and has to answer it whenever it rings; he basically works all the time. That's not to say that our working conditions are in any way comparable to what people faced during the Industrial Revolution, only to say that before we start thinking, 'Oh I would never work a job that treated me that way,' we need to reconsider some of the things people do today for their employers."
I pondered this as a girl on the other side of the auditorium raised her hand to point out that her boss didn't regulate her morality, as employers in the 1800s often did by forcing workers to go to church on Sundays, firing them if they drank, etc.
I raised my hand.
"I know my circumstances might be unusual, but I work at a daycare and I definitely feel like my morality effects my work," I said.
"If I got a DUI I think I would lose my job. And I have to be extremely careful about what I say-- I work at a place where if I said the words "shut up" it would be a big deal."
2) "LIIIIIIIIIIKE A BRIIIIDDDGE OOOOVER TROUBLED WAAATER, I WILL LAAAAAAAAAYY ME DOOOOWWWWN, LIIIIKE A BRIIIIIDDGE OOOOOVER TROOOOOUUBLED WAAATEEERRRRR, I WILL LAY ME DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWN."
We were playing a game at work where the kids were on two teams, each sending up a representative to compete in a sort of musical Family Feud. My boss would say a word, perhaps 'world,' and the first person to start singing "You Get the Best of Both Worlds" would win the round. In the event of a tie, the person who sang the most of the song the loudest would win. The kids had a great time with it, but then my boss called up the teachers to participate. I was facing off against a co-worker, and the word was 'bridge,' and Simon and Garfunkle was the first thing I thought of. She started singing some song I never heard of that is apparently on the radio and much better known than 'Bridge over Troubled Water.' Wanting to win, I was forced to sing most of the song as loud as I could, and when I got to the end I started over, hoping nobody would notice I was repeating myself. I think the other teacher did the same thing. Eventually my boss called it a tie.
I am a very competitive person, and this tie got under my skin. I was feeling particularly frustrated because I was no good at this game, and was losing badly. "Bridge" had been one of the few words I had a song for, and I all I could get for it was a tie.
"Okay," said my boss, "This is the last round, and our two teams are tied. So the winner of this round will win it all!!" The kids all screamed and cheered. My old boss was good at building this sort of thing up and making the kids scream a lot.
There were four teachers standing in front of a crowd of roughly sixty children, who finally fell silent as the last word was about to be called. There was palpable tension in the room. And then my boss said "Home."
I thought for a second too long, and another teacher started singing "Home, home on the range," and, completely forgetting myself, I stomped my foot and said loudly and clearly, "FUCK!"
Immediately recognizing what I had done, I clamped a hand over my mouth. I looked around the room, expecting to see mouths open in horror, kindergartners crying, third graders laughing and saying "Fuck," over and over, but somehow nobody noticed. Even though I had practically yelled the word, I had yelled it while the kids were cheering the teacher who sang "Home on the Range," their enthusiasm masking my tumble into profanity. The only person who caught it was my boss, and I saw her eyes practically bug out of her head as we exchanged a series of glances that said the following:
"Am I fired?"
"No, but only because nobody else heard you."
Later my favorite kid ( the girl who farts) would come to me and ask why I had covered my mouth and acted so embarrassed. I would tell her I was ashamed of losing, and she would laugh at me, and remind me of how often I tell kids not to take games too seriously.
"We tend to think of ourselves as free, being at liberty to do what we want. But think about the ways that people's jobs control them. Think about the hours that some people work. Has anyone here ever had to pee into a cup for their employer? Isn't that a control of your leisure time? Has anyone here ever worked a job where they took home a pager or a cell phone? My husband wears a cell phone and has to answer it whenever it rings; he basically works all the time. That's not to say that our working conditions are in any way comparable to what people faced during the Industrial Revolution, only to say that before we start thinking, 'Oh I would never work a job that treated me that way,' we need to reconsider some of the things people do today for their employers."
I pondered this as a girl on the other side of the auditorium raised her hand to point out that her boss didn't regulate her morality, as employers in the 1800s often did by forcing workers to go to church on Sundays, firing them if they drank, etc.
I raised my hand.
"I know my circumstances might be unusual, but I work at a daycare and I definitely feel like my morality effects my work," I said.
"If I got a DUI I think I would lose my job. And I have to be extremely careful about what I say-- I work at a place where if I said the words "shut up" it would be a big deal."
2) "LIIIIIIIIIIKE A BRIIIIDDDGE OOOOVER TROUBLED WAAATER, I WILL LAAAAAAAAAYY ME DOOOOWWWWN, LIIIIKE A BRIIIIIDDGE OOOOOVER TROOOOOUUBLED WAAATEEERRRRR, I WILL LAY ME DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWN."
We were playing a game at work where the kids were on two teams, each sending up a representative to compete in a sort of musical Family Feud. My boss would say a word, perhaps 'world,' and the first person to start singing "You Get the Best of Both Worlds" would win the round. In the event of a tie, the person who sang the most of the song the loudest would win. The kids had a great time with it, but then my boss called up the teachers to participate. I was facing off against a co-worker, and the word was 'bridge,' and Simon and Garfunkle was the first thing I thought of. She started singing some song I never heard of that is apparently on the radio and much better known than 'Bridge over Troubled Water.' Wanting to win, I was forced to sing most of the song as loud as I could, and when I got to the end I started over, hoping nobody would notice I was repeating myself. I think the other teacher did the same thing. Eventually my boss called it a tie.
I am a very competitive person, and this tie got under my skin. I was feeling particularly frustrated because I was no good at this game, and was losing badly. "Bridge" had been one of the few words I had a song for, and I all I could get for it was a tie.
"Okay," said my boss, "This is the last round, and our two teams are tied. So the winner of this round will win it all!!" The kids all screamed and cheered. My old boss was good at building this sort of thing up and making the kids scream a lot.
There were four teachers standing in front of a crowd of roughly sixty children, who finally fell silent as the last word was about to be called. There was palpable tension in the room. And then my boss said "Home."
I thought for a second too long, and another teacher started singing "Home, home on the range," and, completely forgetting myself, I stomped my foot and said loudly and clearly, "FUCK!"
Immediately recognizing what I had done, I clamped a hand over my mouth. I looked around the room, expecting to see mouths open in horror, kindergartners crying, third graders laughing and saying "Fuck," over and over, but somehow nobody noticed. Even though I had practically yelled the word, I had yelled it while the kids were cheering the teacher who sang "Home on the Range," their enthusiasm masking my tumble into profanity. The only person who caught it was my boss, and I saw her eyes practically bug out of her head as we exchanged a series of glances that said the following:
"Am I fired?"
"No, but only because nobody else heard you."
Later my favorite kid ( the girl who farts) would come to me and ask why I had covered my mouth and acted so embarrassed. I would tell her I was ashamed of losing, and she would laugh at me, and remind me of how often I tell kids not to take games too seriously.
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