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So I sit here and runiment over the day that has transpired, idlely watching the Fortune Teller Fish.
The Fortune Teller Fish, left out by a one of the Head Cheese Chicas (I'm guessing Illustrator,) is a novel little flat red fish that when placed in the palm of your hand tells you something about yourself.
When placed upon Berkana's keyboard, my computer registered as 'Fickle.' So has a roll of toilet paper.
The Apple Power Hub, you all will be happy to know, is 'passionate,' while my resume appears to be 'dead.'
I am also 'passionate,' and the printer has revealed it is 'in love.'
So I'm at the Place that Pays Me(P.t.P.M) today, and a mother, 13 y.o. son, and 6 y.o. daughter come in, shopping for him for school. I'm sitting behind the case, cleaning the Ka-Bars, (my favorite pastime,) when Mom takes off after son, keeping eye on daughter, but leaving her to my whiles.
MUHAHAhaHaha..ha..err.. right.
Girl comes over to the alluring case of shiney things, presses a snub nose to glass, and starts in with the questions. Intelligent ones. As I had the time, and the patience, I went into a toned down shpeal about knifes, sharp, being safe, etc.
I had noticed that this beautiful little girl's face looked like it had recently been made a Rottwieler's chew-toy, and decided this young'un could handle being talked to like a real human.
She got it all right, and by the time Mom came over and started to try to pull 'Knives are for Bad People," the kid knew the difference between crap Packi steel and Gerbers, the difference between lock-backs and fixed blades, the difference between the knifes that are 'just for showing off and getting in trouble' and the real ones made for working. Mostly this last one was based on a simple numerical code.
"See those numbers, hun?"
"Yep."
"See how that one's bigger than that one?"
"Yep."
"The big one's better. Now what's the number on that one over there?"
"20."
"How about this one?"
"7..8.."
"Which on'e better?"
"7..8!"
"Very good...."
Muhahaha..ha..ha...ha..
Mom then tried to trundle her off, but within 5 minutes, there she was, up in front of the register. I'd finished with the knives at this point, so we moved on to watches.
We discussed the Marines's Eagle/Globe/Anchor logo, and why they use it.
We talked about binoculars, and why they make things big, (or small if you turn them around, apparently.)
We talked about compasses.
Then we played cards. Or tried to.I say tried because the only deck of cards we have in the place is the "52 Most Wanted" Cards. Cards issued to the military over in Iraq so the troops get to know the faces of the 52 most wanted people, yadda, yadda, yadda... It very rapidly devolved from a game of Go Fish to Let's Get Kragore to Mangle These Stange Names. Which was fun as well. Until Mom came back with son by the ear, payed for a few things, and they all left.
No fear. This kid had no fear of anyone, and that made me very nervous. Two rather strung out scary individuals had to be dealt with at the counter, and there she was between them, happy as a pig in slop.
And she said something which made me remember to Look Up.
"I wish I worked here."
...
It's all about perspective, kiddies. All I could think was "I hope to Dogs you never have to do this," But I was content to let her be.
Maybe someday she'll be manageing Gerber or Kershaw, and think back to the crazy old lady who taught her something rather than pass her off as a kid.
A crazy broad can hope for something like that, right?
My gods, I think my teacher genes are showing...
Crap.
- K.
The Fortune Teller Fish, left out by a one of the Head Cheese Chicas (I'm guessing Illustrator,) is a novel little flat red fish that when placed in the palm of your hand tells you something about yourself.
When placed upon Berkana's keyboard, my computer registered as 'Fickle.' So has a roll of toilet paper.
The Apple Power Hub, you all will be happy to know, is 'passionate,' while my resume appears to be 'dead.'
I am also 'passionate,' and the printer has revealed it is 'in love.'
So I'm at the Place that Pays Me(P.t.P.M) today, and a mother, 13 y.o. son, and 6 y.o. daughter come in, shopping for him for school. I'm sitting behind the case, cleaning the Ka-Bars, (my favorite pastime,) when Mom takes off after son, keeping eye on daughter, but leaving her to my whiles.
MUHAHAhaHaha..ha..err.. right.
Girl comes over to the alluring case of shiney things, presses a snub nose to glass, and starts in with the questions. Intelligent ones. As I had the time, and the patience, I went into a toned down shpeal about knifes, sharp, being safe, etc.
I had noticed that this beautiful little girl's face looked like it had recently been made a Rottwieler's chew-toy, and decided this young'un could handle being talked to like a real human.
She got it all right, and by the time Mom came over and started to try to pull 'Knives are for Bad People," the kid knew the difference between crap Packi steel and Gerbers, the difference between lock-backs and fixed blades, the difference between the knifes that are 'just for showing off and getting in trouble' and the real ones made for working. Mostly this last one was based on a simple numerical code.
"See those numbers, hun?"
"Yep."
"See how that one's bigger than that one?"
"Yep."
"The big one's better. Now what's the number on that one over there?"
"20."
"How about this one?"
"7..8.."
"Which on'e better?"
"7..8!"
"Very good...."
Muhahaha..ha..ha...ha..
Mom then tried to trundle her off, but within 5 minutes, there she was, up in front of the register. I'd finished with the knives at this point, so we moved on to watches.
We discussed the Marines's Eagle/Globe/Anchor logo, and why they use it.
We talked about binoculars, and why they make things big, (or small if you turn them around, apparently.)
We talked about compasses.
Then we played cards. Or tried to.I say tried because the only deck of cards we have in the place is the "52 Most Wanted" Cards. Cards issued to the military over in Iraq so the troops get to know the faces of the 52 most wanted people, yadda, yadda, yadda... It very rapidly devolved from a game of Go Fish to Let's Get Kragore to Mangle These Stange Names. Which was fun as well. Until Mom came back with son by the ear, payed for a few things, and they all left.
No fear. This kid had no fear of anyone, and that made me very nervous. Two rather strung out scary individuals had to be dealt with at the counter, and there she was between them, happy as a pig in slop.
And she said something which made me remember to Look Up.
"I wish I worked here."
...
It's all about perspective, kiddies. All I could think was "I hope to Dogs you never have to do this," But I was content to let her be.
Maybe someday she'll be manageing Gerber or Kershaw, and think back to the crazy old lady who taught her something rather than pass her off as a kid.
A crazy broad can hope for something like that, right?
My gods, I think my teacher genes are showing...
Crap.
- K.
