Ryan James Close

Today I had an experience to share with ya'll.  It seems that as time goes on, people are less

likely to take responsibility for their own actions.  I had an experience today where I got to be

the scapegoat for a nice lady.

The story goes like this:  A lady brings up a large ceramic plate to the register.  I greet her,

scan her plate, wrap it in paper, and put it in a bag.  She paid me and told me to have a nice

day which I then forwarded back to her.

It was a good, smooth, happy transaction.

Then, as she is walking out the door, lady feels it would be a good idea to use this plate as a

tool to push the door open with.  After realizing that ceramic plates don't hold up well when

slammed against doors, she told me that I should wrap the plates better in the future.  She

was very nice about it, I wasn't even irritated.

Since becoming a supervisor, I'm getting pretty used to customers blaming me for everything.

  For instance, our store does not have automatic doors.  It is an inconvenience, I don't deny

that.  When a customer has a cartload of stuff, it is difficult to open the door and get the cart

out.  It is necessary to get the door open in order to get the cart out.  As I said, it is an

inconvenience to have non-automatice, old-fashioned, manual doors.  However, I do not feel

that I'm to blame for not having automatic doors.  There really is nothing I can do about it.

Me:  Oh, your hands are full, let me get the door for you.

Customer:  Oh??? Wud da hell is you?  Some kinda full-time door opener?  Ya know, it wud be

cheaper ta just get automatic doors than to hire someone to open doors full time.

Me:  I assure you there is more to my job than just opening doors,  If my offering to open the

door for you really offended you, I apologize.

Customer:  Well if you's a supervisor den why da hell duntcha just get automatic doors

installed?

Me:  I'll do that when I get back from lunch, thank you for shopping at Ross.

I started getting a cold a few days ago.  No big deal, it sucks, but I've had my fair share of

colds in my day and I feel I have escaped most of them unscathed.  However, this morning I

woke up to discover that either a small mammal (or possibly a reptile) found its way into my

throat and clawed at it relentlessly, or my illness was progressing.

Also, I am moving.  I am currently living in a small rental house that my father owns.  He has

let me stay here for merely the cost of utilities while he fixes it up to sell it.  It was very kind

of him that when he decided to list it, he said that it was vacant.  This is convenient because

whenever a realtor comes over to show the house, I'm either half-naked, and/or I'm asked if

I could leave because the listing says I don't live there.  This is also nice because, well, all

those apples, sodas, and the orange juice in the fridge must just be there for the guests that

come through the house, since obviously, no one lives here.

My father is only slightly paranoid when compared to people such as well, I don't know the

names of any specific paranoid people, but if I could have thought of a famous one for this

sentence, I'm sure it might have been slightly humorous.  My father insists that when I'm not

at my house/when I'm sleeping, I leave a hall light on, so that burglers think that somebody is

there.

There is some obvious humor in what I just said as well as some implied, more subtle humor. 

Let me point out the subtle.

This house is listed as being vacant.  If he wants burglers to think that somebody is home, he

should probably consider not telling them that it is void of people.

So, I'm moving.  After a long look at affordable utah housing, I've decided to move into a 5 bed

room, 3.5 bathroom house.  It is about 5 miles from work and school.  It will have 5 guys in it

including me, but at least I'll have my own bedroom.  I will, however, be sharing a bathroom

with a guy named Joe, whom I have yet to meet.  In fact, I'm not even sure if that is how you

spell his name.  Could be Jo.  Could be Jough.  The guy who told me his name may have even

said Job or Jove, and I didn't catch it.

Today I've eaten macaroni and cheese and lots of juice.  I'm looking forward to dinner: 

Nyquil.

Since I have now been in Utah for almost 3 months, I have been able to contrast some

of the main differences between this ultra-conservative territory to those of a more liberal

California.

Let's start with the obvious:

Of course, everybody knows that there are a certain kind of people that live in Utah far more

abundantly than in California.  Specifically in Utah county, you will find a higher concentration

of these people than you will in most Californian cities north of Mexico (it is interesting that I

have included Mexico as part of California).  These people, as I'm sure you have already

guessed, are South Americans (and Central too). but ryan! arent there more mexicans in

cali lol?

No.  Before I go on, let me inform you that I am not complaining.  I actually prefer it this way

because it gives me a chance to practice my Spanish and it gives the Spanish speakers a

chance to insult me without my comprehension.

As Utah is also very heavily populated with church people, another huge noticeable difference

is the lack of profanity.  I will offer you an example

Utah: Oh my goodness!  Did you hear that Stacey kissed that friggin jerk Joey?  She is such a

retard.  She is so gay.

California: Oh my f**king sh*t.  Did you see that dorm broadcast of Bobby f**king that f**king

 a#$hole Joey?  How f**ked up is that?

I think I actually take more offense to people always calling eachother retarded and gay than I

do to people calling eachother bastards and @#sholes.  It is rather embarassing when my

co-workers are calling each other retards when there is someone with an actual mental

handicap nearby. 

I like that I'm not swearing in real life by using symbols.

There are other large differences, such as mountains instead of beaches, snow instead of rain,

mormons instead of hippies, Betos instead of Adalbertos, etc.  Let me just make this final

observation:

California colleges will be having their Spring Break in April (which makes sense, since that's

when spring is).  During Spring Break, kids will go swimming, surfing, and sexing.  Despite

Utah having a colder climate with a longer lasting winter phase, my Spring Break will be a

month before all of this, in March.  For Spring Break here, kids will be skiing, snow boarding,

and celibating.

I was walking to my car in the UVSC parking lot the other day.  I noticed about ten feet

 in front of me a very nice looking girl (at least from the back).  She had perfect, thick

blonde hair that went just past her shoulders, and the jeans she was wearing perfectly

accented her very splendid-looking [area between upper legs and lower back].

I decided that it may be in my best interest to speed my walking just a bit so that I could

get in front of her and see if the view from the front was as good as the view from the back. 

This leads me to the moral of my post:

If you have perfect blonde hair that flows just past your shoulders, sport a perfect little

heiny, and you are male, do your fellow men a favor and DON'T WEAR GIRL PANTS.

Seriously, don't wear them.  They are not in the mens department for a good reason

(this reason being that they are for women).  When I work in the fitting room at Ross,

I am still noticing an abundance of "scenester" men who don't feel that their testicles

need the accomodation only a good pair of men's Levi's can provide.

This is a fad that I hope dies off, soon.  I want to be able to someday tell my children

about this disturbing occurance and watch their countenences fill with laughter.  Until then,

I am pushing for the legal right to tell these confused individuals that I cannot

allow them to try on clothes that don't suit their gender's needs.

For years it has been a small desire of mine to try this hip, new craze called "sushi". 

The thought of eating raw fish wrapped in seaweed and rice to most people may sound

just slightly mind-numbingly grotesque.  However, a lot of people like it, so it must be good,

right?  If you have never tasted sushi but you have the desire to do so, let me tell you this:

it tastes exactly like how you expect it will (assuming you think it will taste like raw fish).  If

you are leaning on the fence a little and you're not sure if you want to try it or not, here is

what you can do:

Find your father's tacklebox and find where he keeps the bait.  Roll up some salmon eggs in

some powerbait and see how you like that.  If you find this at all appetizing, open your phone

 book and find a sushi resaurant near you.  If not, probably sushi is not your thing.