As luck would have it, the first three people who ordered food at the bar after I had returned from my break, with my skin probably yellowed and dripping sweat, asked how the sliders were. "Really good," I said to each of them. " I actually just ordered some on my break, they were delicious." All three ordered the sliders, only one of them complained.
I have absolutely no moral problem doing this. That person wanted to order those sliders anyway, they just needed me to confirm it for them. If i said "They were disgusting, I think I have food poisoning" those people would not only avoid the sliders, but probably any other meat on the menu. I do the same thing with sports, music, whatever. If someone is talking to you about something, just agree. Make something up to appease them in the conversation and move on. All part of the job.
What I do have a problem with is that I am now apparently inadvertently doing this in my daily interaction with strangers. I don't even think about it, it just happens. Like yesterday, the baby and I headed out to do some errands at a local shopping plaza that includes a Target, Shaws and Petco- one stop shopping. We had completed all of our tasks when I noticed that she had lost a shoe, so we had to back track over to Target to try and find it. On the way I realized there was a liquor store in the same shopping strip. I was planning on grabbing a 6-pack later on for the evening, so I figured while we were there I might as well just grab it. That is when I caught myself lying to the cashier for no reason. Here is how the conversation went.
"Oh, your daughter is cute. I used to have a little girl that size. That was a long time ago, though. The time flies."
"Yeah, she is already getting big, doing something new every day."
"Just wait, she'll be buying herself beer before you know it."
"Yeah, I am actually buying this for my little brother. He turns 21 today, I can't believe it. I remember when he was a little guy."
WHAT!? Ok. I have absolutely no freaking clue why I would say that. I don't even have a brother. We weren't even talking about siblings. We were talking about our daughters. Why in the world would I say that? I have no idea. I didn't even think about it until I got in to the car. I buckled the baby in, turned the key and it hit me. "Did I just tell that guy that I bought my non existent brother a 6-pack of Sam Adams for his 21st birthday? What the hell is wrong with me?"
The only explanation I can come up with is that I felt weird buying beer at 9:45 a.m. with a baby, but if the guy really felt the need to ask I could have just told him that it was for later. This is not good. I started to think of other times that I have done this and only a few came to mind, most of them logical, like the time I blamed my over due library fees on my "ex wife." The service industry is slowly killing me. Physically and morally.
Things I Saw at the Park
Today's installment of "Things I Saw at the Park" is brought to you by the letter 'P.' For poop.
The first poop incident, of two, believe it or not, happened while we were walking over to the playground. A sweet old woman was walking a golden retriever that Av took a liking to. The woman brought the dog over to say hello to the baby, much to her enjoyment, and Av continued on with her usual shyness and apprehension, touching the dog with one finger and then hiding between my legs. The dog, which seemed to be overly friendly, kept coming up to sniff her- smelling her shoes, her legs, her face, smelling everywhere. Then, as we were thanking the woman and getting ready to walk away, it became apparent why the dog liked the baby so much. He must have caught the scent of the dump she took before we left the house, or maybe just liked her smell, because he squatted right up next to her and started to take a crap. The poop would have landed directly on her shoe if I hadn't have moved her, an entertaining fact that was not lost on any of us, including Av, who was pretty amused by the situation.
The second poop incident happened about an hour later.
In yet another stroke of park luck, there was once again only one kid on the playground today, but this kid was exponentially more awesome than most. Probably about 4-5 years-old, the kid was dressed head to toe as Batman- mask, cape and all. He was running around the playground, making flying noises, climbing up things and jumping off. He was even making his mom call him Batman.
Av, of course, was enthralled by the young super hero and tried her best to follow him around the park. At one point, when he was climbing up a slide backwards, Av let out a loud "WOW!"
"Yeah, that is cool huh?" I said. "He can do that because he is a super hero."
That is when the kid stopped, took off his mask and in a moment of rare other-person's-kid adorableness explained that he was not, in fact, really Batman.
"I am not really a super hero, you know."
"Ohhh, really, I think I was fooled by the mask."
"Yeah, my name is Tommy. My dad's mom got me this suit for my birthday."
"Wow, cool. Well you have moves like a real super hero."
"I know." (Puts on mask and runs off)
I found a lot of enjoyment in watching Tommy clumsily hop off of playground equipment for the next 15 minutes or so, usually falling or stumbling in to the nearest stationary object. He was not a very good Batman. Throughout that 15 minutes, Tommy's mom asked him at least five times if he had to go to the bathroom, pointing out that they had been there for an hour and he didn't go before he left the house. Each time, Tommy, or should I say Batman, replied "NO!" with increasing anger at each inquisition. You see where this is going, I'm sure.
It is kind of tough to say where the dump originated, maybe on the slide or near the rock wall, but it definitely happened and it was definitely epic. Despite clear skies and a slight breeze, the smell filled the playground almost instantly. This was a wet poop. You could just tell. Batman addressed the situation with an "Uh Oh" followed by tears as his mother scolded him for refusing to go to the bathroom earlier.
"See," I said to Av. "Even super heroes poop their pants sometimes."
For her part, Av had a fantastic time at the park today, spending most of the time that she wasn't chasing Batman tossing around a dirty, old baseball that we found. She has a pretty good arm for a 1-year-old, I must say. She is also getting a hang of the whole "hi" and "bye" thing, both saying it to everyone we pass and sometimes accompanying the words with a clumsy, kind of special needs-looking wave. Although this often forces me in to more conversations with strangers than I would like (most of which I do NOT make up the contents of. I think) I will gladly trade three minutes of social awkwardness for 30 seconds of Av being adorable. Especially since she has reached that bratty, fit throwing stage. Cute moments are at a premium right now.
The first poop incident, of two, believe it or not, happened while we were walking over to the playground. A sweet old woman was walking a golden retriever that Av took a liking to. The woman brought the dog over to say hello to the baby, much to her enjoyment, and Av continued on with her usual shyness and apprehension, touching the dog with one finger and then hiding between my legs. The dog, which seemed to be overly friendly, kept coming up to sniff her- smelling her shoes, her legs, her face, smelling everywhere. Then, as we were thanking the woman and getting ready to walk away, it became apparent why the dog liked the baby so much. He must have caught the scent of the dump she took before we left the house, or maybe just liked her smell, because he squatted right up next to her and started to take a crap. The poop would have landed directly on her shoe if I hadn't have moved her, an entertaining fact that was not lost on any of us, including Av, who was pretty amused by the situation.
The second poop incident happened about an hour later.
In yet another stroke of park luck, there was once again only one kid on the playground today, but this kid was exponentially more awesome than most. Probably about 4-5 years-old, the kid was dressed head to toe as Batman- mask, cape and all. He was running around the playground, making flying noises, climbing up things and jumping off. He was even making his mom call him Batman.
Av, of course, was enthralled by the young super hero and tried her best to follow him around the park. At one point, when he was climbing up a slide backwards, Av let out a loud "WOW!"
"Yeah, that is cool huh?" I said. "He can do that because he is a super hero."
That is when the kid stopped, took off his mask and in a moment of rare other-person's-kid adorableness explained that he was not, in fact, really Batman.
"I am not really a super hero, you know."
"Ohhh, really, I think I was fooled by the mask."
"Yeah, my name is Tommy. My dad's mom got me this suit for my birthday."
"Wow, cool. Well you have moves like a real super hero."
"I know." (Puts on mask and runs off)
I found a lot of enjoyment in watching Tommy clumsily hop off of playground equipment for the next 15 minutes or so, usually falling or stumbling in to the nearest stationary object. He was not a very good Batman. Throughout that 15 minutes, Tommy's mom asked him at least five times if he had to go to the bathroom, pointing out that they had been there for an hour and he didn't go before he left the house. Each time, Tommy, or should I say Batman, replied "NO!" with increasing anger at each inquisition. You see where this is going, I'm sure.
It is kind of tough to say where the dump originated, maybe on the slide or near the rock wall, but it definitely happened and it was definitely epic. Despite clear skies and a slight breeze, the smell filled the playground almost instantly. This was a wet poop. You could just tell. Batman addressed the situation with an "Uh Oh" followed by tears as his mother scolded him for refusing to go to the bathroom earlier.
"See," I said to Av. "Even super heroes poop their pants sometimes."
For her part, Av had a fantastic time at the park today, spending most of the time that she wasn't chasing Batman tossing around a dirty, old baseball that we found. She has a pretty good arm for a 1-year-old, I must say. She is also getting a hang of the whole "hi" and "bye" thing, both saying it to everyone we pass and sometimes accompanying the words with a clumsy, kind of special needs-looking wave. Although this often forces me in to more conversations with strangers than I would like (most of which I do NOT make up the contents of. I think) I will gladly trade three minutes of social awkwardness for 30 seconds of Av being adorable. Especially since she has reached that bratty, fit throwing stage. Cute moments are at a premium right now.
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