what were they thinking?

Honest and truly, what WERE they thinking? Will I ever know? I don’t understand college students. Or college professors, for that matter. Does it have something to do with college? I know, I know, it’s just because they’re people, and some people are idiots. Or they’re completely thoughtless. Isn’t that supposed to be the reason that children do stupid things? At least they have the purported excuse to NOT thinking before they act. Once you’ve reached a certain age, you’re suppose to think now and then… right?

My co-workers and I spend lots of time on the “What were they thinking” question, as well as the next most popular, “How did they DO that?”. The first one is annoying, the second one can be quite hilarious… after you’ve cleaned up the resulting mess. Every parent can commiserate with us, I’m sure, and they’re probably glad that someone else is dealing with their college age children, for once.  : )

The other day, I was cleaning up the tables at the end of the day, and reached one of the corner booths. There was a large pile of condiments sitting in the center of the table. Mustard, ketchup, hot sauce, buttermilk ranch, mayonnaise, and even packets of pepper and salt. I let out a huge sigh, and then picked up the pile in both hands, where I could barely hold them all without dropping some. I walked back to my boss’s office, and showed him, demanding, “What were they thinking?”. He slapped his hand to his forehead, and sighed. Then, I carried it out to the show my co-workers, and they just rolled their eyes.

Was it an accumulating pile, every group of customers adding to it, in the last hour? Did someone decided they needed fifty packets of sauce for one sandwich, and then change their mind? Were they playing a game? Practicing their counting skills? If I had taken that many sauces, at least I would have put them in my to-go bag, and thrown them away. What was the purpose? We’ll never know.

The day after that, I was told that I had missed the biggest soda spill EVER. No kidding, they assured me, it went from the registers almost to the front doors. Technically, that meant it had been the longest spill ever, not the biggest, but I digress. Had they used a large cup? No, it was a normal size. Our floors are level, why had it run so far? Of course, being the random problem solver that I am, I immediately tried to figure it out. If it hit the floor at just the right angle, the force of hitting the floor would have put sudden pressure on the liquid just like a plunger does on the water in a toilet. Or the water in a super soaker.

At the very end of the day, I had my own “special” spill moment, too. When that student spilled their small cup of coffee all over the counter, I assured him it was fine, and happens all the time. I would have told him that, even if I’d known how far that liquid had gone. It’s not like he did it on purpose. But how does one small cup of coffee, loaded with cream and sugar, spread over the entire counter and under everything? We had to move the brewing machine, the organizer that holds all the tea and two of the large coffee canisters, because I didn’t want any sugar or milk left on the counter to go bad.

Just like every parent that marvels at the “skills” of their children to cause destruction wherever they go, I marvel that these students have never lost any of their skills. Of course, if I think about it, I haven’t lost my own skills at messing up.

Two days later, I punched myself in the nose. One of my co-workers happened to be looking in my direction, and saw it happen, though the rest didn’t. While he just shook his head in disbelief, I sat down and laughed until I almost cried. I was just trying to get a piece of tape off a box, and it wouldn’t budge. I was determined to get it, and when it finally gave… WHAM. The other cashiers were very sorry they had missed it, but glad I hadn’t broken anything. Some of the grad students missed it, too, because I was still giggling when they arrived a minute later. Too bad for them.

Oh, I did mention that the college professors are not exempt from this, didn’t I? I had almost forgotten. That’s when the ranting can get serious. When you have a bundle of PhDs to your name, does that mean you don’t have any room left in your brain for common sense? Or thinking about others? I think it has to be the former option, because I like most of the college teachers and don’t want to think the worst of any of them.

But why can’t anyone tell that the ONLY drains on the counter are under the soda machines? You know, the ice melts and goes out the drain, but those drip trays under the coffee and tea? Those are not drains. They’re to catch minor drips and keep things from getting messy. But I’ve sat and watched a college professor almost overflow their coffee cup, and then pour all the excess into a drip tray. You do that two or three times, and no wonder we find large spills on the counter.

Yes, I know that everyone doesn’t do this. The graduate students that drink coffee regularly don’t do this, so kudos to them. I think they need to give lessons to the professors and undergrads on how things should be done. Coffee & Cleanups 101 for the Completely Negligent or Thoughtless.

I’m sorry, I had to get that out of my system. When I get right down to it, I know that how a college student or even a college professor behaves or cleans up after themselves often just shows how they were raised and what they were willing to learn from it. So, the next time a parent asks you “What were they thinking?” or “How did they DO that?”, give them some encouragement to get back into the fray, and do an awesome job with their child. There are more people out there that will thank them, someday.  : )

friday randomness…

Just some random thoughts to share with everyone, on this cloudy, occasionally rainy Friday…

  • I know I’ve only had to work a three day week, but I’m so glad it’s the weekend. Did any of you moms out there ever realize, before you had children, what hard work vacation would be? Here in Australia, there’s a LONG vacation before Christmas. As my girls like to say, “we have 52 days left of vacation!”. That’s right, they don’t go back until January, and keeping up with five kids is HARD work. Go hug your own parents, and say thank you.
  • Just returned from seeing Breaking Dawn, Pt. 1 for the second time. I just wanted to go to a movie (and seeing Smurfs again or Jack and Jill once, those were not an option), get out of the house, and enjoy my freedom. Oh, and for the record, I didn’t go to see Smurfs on purpose, I was asked to take the kids. The nauseating… schmaltz just about killed me several times. And I used to watch the Smurfs on TV. But back to Breaking Dawn… I still like how they did the movie, and look forward to the second part. Then, from the theater, I went and had a coffee and scone at Mickey D’s, while I read (pain-free) from my Kindle. Bliss.
  • Last night, I finished reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, so that means I finished the whole series in just under two weeks. Not bad, I’d say, considering I had to put one of my carpal tunnel braces on for three days, to get through. Several years after the first time I read them all the first time, I enjoyed them even more this time around. I was still just as enraged with the cruelty of Dolores Umbridge, who somehow seems more evil, because she pretends she is doing good. I’m still as heartbroken over the deaths of Fred (especially), Lupin, and Tonks. And yeah, having an understanding of Severus Snape, from start to finish, makes the whole story much more satisfying.
  • Despite a pile of books from the library, which seem to stare accusingly at me, my hands and wrists needed a break from real books, so I’ve started on my latest addition to my Kindle. I was delighted to find that a new P.I.G. guide was for sale on Amazon, so I am now reading The Politically Incorrect Guide to the British Empire, by H.W. Crocker, III.  Not only do I read every P.I.G. guide I can get my hands on, Crocker’s Politically Incorrect Guide to the Civil War was awesome, so I know this’ll be great, too. Yes, I often break up my fiction binges by adding in some excellent non-fiction.
  • Christmas really is coming, though my brain refuses to believe it. Well, if you were enjoying the heat and humidity that I am, with occasional forays into my bedroom’s air conditioning, you wouldn’t believe it either. But my Aussie family have gotten out their Christmas decorations and the neighbors have their Christmas lights out. No, I’ve never before lived on a street with Santa and his reindeer on the neighbors’ roof.
  • My girls were unable to find their nativity set, so they decided to make their own. After borrowing my brand new markers to color with, and making ingenious use of paper and pipe cleaners, I think their new nativity is really awesome. Their dad did eventually find the other one, though.
  • I’m trying to get used to the fact that the Christmas tree is the same height as I am, since I’m used to a house with one 7 ft (I think) tree and one 5ft tree. My mom and I both have enough of our own ornaments to decorate both trees ourselves, but since mine are in a storage unit in PA, I guess they’ll all be hers again, this year. No Chewbacca ornament, either. I know you’re upset, Mom.
  • While shopping in Rockhampton, recently, I was tempted to get some beautiful white ceramic ornaments, but figured they’d be unlikely to survive the trip home in my suitcase. Besides, why spend all that money, when there’s an extreme likelihood of breakage? Instead, I got a nice little star-shaped ornament made of bells, and hung that on my door handle. I know, exciting… but my desk is too messy to make room for even a small Christmas tree.
  • With five curious kittens in the house, who, together, get into more mischief than my Bubby does, we’re hoping they’ll be adopted soon. If you know someone in the Emerald area who wants one, let me know. They’ve yet to do more than pull some tinsel decor down from the bottom branch of the tree, but I’m hoping it’ll be no worse. They like to get into my laundry baskets, and I found one lying on the table, when I walked in, earlier. Their climbing skills are improving, so just like my Bubby, they become curious about everything. And yet, one of their favorite hangout spots continues to a certain small red basket.
  • Bubby gets into plenty of her own mischief, though. I feel like I spend all day saying NO, and she knows exactly what I mean. If she hears me saying it from a distance, and then hears me moving towards her, she’ll run, knowing she’s about to get her hand swatted (or it’s highly likely). One way of trying to escape is to run to one of her sisters, so I had to play tug-of-war with Bea, earlier, because she didn’t know Bubby was in trouble, and wanted to play with her.
  • And as I stare Christmas in the face, far from home, I also realize that I’ve been here for 7 months… so that means I’ve got 5 to go. It’ll fly by, after the New Year arrives. But though I don’t wail about being homesick, the longing for home is starting to build up inside of me. For those of you who think I’m “oh so brave” for coming over here, or just plain invincible, please remember I’m only human, and I miss my family. Badly. If I went home for Christmas, I think I’d break, and never be able to come back. But when Christmas Day is almost here, if you don’t hear something cheerful and upbeat from me, it’ll be because I’m hanging onto my heart for dear life, holding myself together.
  • I am not brave. I am not invincible. Don’t put me on a pedestal, just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. Christmas is coming, and because it’s summer over here, I might just survive.
  • I’m listening to the Breaking Dawn soundtrack and loving it. Smile! Just because some of my random comments are serious doesn’t mean I’m depressed. Unless you’re Dani, go turn on some Christmas music and sing your head off. I hope to introduce my Aussie family, soon, to Christmas music by Celine Dion, Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Hayley Westenra, and Bing Crosby. I just wish I had my Billy Gilman Christmas music on this laptop. Any chance you could e-mail it to me, Dad?