Love and Other Things I'm Bad At (5 page)

8/27

Very funny thing happened this morning for brunch. We were all traipsing off to the cafeteria together, en masse, that’s how we’ve been doing everything. (Is the 3
^rd
floor hungry? Does the 3rd floor need to go to the post office? We must do everything in groups of no less than 15.)

So we were going down the stairs and I was between Mary Jo and Thyme. Mary Jo was asking Thyme about her tattoos and how much it hurt to get a tattoo. Girl is obsessed with pain of body art—why? Is she considering getting Sophie memorialized? Where?

“Well, MJ,” Thyme said. She paused. “Is it okay if I call you MJ?”

“Um, well . . .” Mary Jo tried to be polite at first.

“Well, MJ, the thing about tattoos is—”

“Please, um, don’t . . . call me MJ,” Mary Jo said.

“Oh? But it’s so natural. And it’s sort of more, you know, twenty-first century, when you think about it—”

“Not really. And besides, nobody calls me that.”

“But it could be a nickname—”

“
No
,” Mary Jo said. “It couldn’t.” Then she moved ahead and started walking next to other people. Completely blowing us off!!!

Surprising amount of backbone considering everyone has been doing everything humanly possible just to get along for the past 4 days and has been clinging to each other like the way we desperately grasp trays in the cafeteria. Not me. Of course. Them.

LATER—GREAT NEWS!

I got the job!!! Yes!!! I’ll make $6.75 an hour plus get 2 free bagels with every shift (toppings not included, but who needs toppings?). No need to waste time at horrid cafeteria eating oyster crackers for lunch anymore.

First I called Beth. She was hungover, but very happy for me. Then I called Grant. He was out so I left a hyper message on his answering machine. His roommate’s voice is on the machine, which bugs me, because I want to at least hear Grant saying he isn’t home. It’s so unsatisfying to call and not hear him say
anything
.

Then I called Mom but she wasn’t home, so I talked to Bryan. He said he was doing okay in cross-country. I knew that was an understatement because Mom told me the newspaper did a big article on him. When you talk to him, though, he doesn’t mention it. Nothing about paces, or splits, or meets he’s won by a minute. I asked if he was hungover, too, like Beth. He said no. He said she’s been going kind of wild and was going to parties every night of the week.

Somehow that didn’t sound too good to me. I don’t know why, I mean, I know I’ve only been gone for a week so things can’t have changed too much. Maybe I’m just jealous. So far I haven’t been to any parties. Thyme and I went to the movies last night. Afterward we went to this little café near campus and drank herbal tea. Which sounds like something Grandma would do with
her
friends.

Question: What is it like for Thyme to drink thyme tea?

Anyway, went across hall to tell Thyme about my new job. She was sort of happy at first, but then she got this glum look.

“Have you checked into their investments?” she asked. “I think I heard they get their flour from some country that’s on an Amnesty International watch list. And aren’t they owned by some major oil corporation?”

“Um, I don’t know,” I said. “I think they just have stores in the upper Midwest.”

“Yeah, okay. But you should really check out their investment background.”

“Sure, of course,” I said. But if the place is good enough for her to buy coffee from, isn’t it okay for me to work there? I mean, if you’re going to boycott a place, you have to be a
little
more consistent.

“I get free bagels, so you know, if you ever want some, just come by during my shift,” I offered.

“I can’t. Bagels plague my harmonic system,” she said.

Okay. Whatever. You’re welcome.

Fortunately Mary Jo knocked on the door then, looking for me. Grant was on the phone. Yes! Spent an hour talking to him. The whole time, Mary Jo was getting ready for bed, then going off to brush her teeth with her little horse-product bucket (horse toothpaste?), and then she came back, and then she was reading in bed, and then she turned out her light, etc.

When I got off the phone, she said, “I really don’t want to make a big deal out of this. But do you think you could maybe call Grant, like, during the day sometimes?”

What? “It’s pretty hard. It’s expensive during the day, plus he has class, and then he works, and—anyway, I didn’t call him. He called
me
.”

“It’s just that my schedule this semester is going to be really hard,” Mary Jo said. “I’m sorry.”

So then I had to feel like a real jerk. “No, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll try not to be on the phone so late.” But if Grant calls? I am not
not
going to talk to him.

I wish Beth were my roommate, not Mary Jo. Beth would be
fun
. We’d stay up late, listen to good music, fridge would be stocked with Frappuccinos and fresh-squeezed juice; we’d probably even buy a juicer and share it. Maybe she wants to transfer. No, wait. I want to transfer.

8/28

My training for Bagle Finagle was tonight from 5–8. 3 long hours involving history of company, history of bagels, history of flour and cream cheese. Yawn.

“We have fifty-six Bagle Finagles across the upper Midwest, and we’re rising like dough!” Jennifer is definitely a little on the annoying side. Okay, a lot. There were 9 other people in training, but after we took a bathroom break there were only 5 of us left. 1 was this very funny guy named Mark, a freshperson like me, who wore 3 earrings in one ear, had a bleached crewcut, and club look.

They’re introducing some new bakery items, so Jennifer gave us each samples. There was a cinnamon roll with inch-high frosting, and something called the Muller’s Cruller, which looked like a hot dog bun that had fallen into a vat of glue.

“Who the hell is Muller?” one guy asked.

Mark nudged me and said, “Check this thing out. It’s like glazed to within an inch of its life.” He took a bite, then tossed the rest into the trash can. It made such a loud clang that we cracked up laughing and then got a dirty look from Jennifer. She does that a lot. Glares at people.

I kept staring at this obnoxious sign by the cash register (right under the giant
NO CHECKS
sign; people are obsessed with bad checks in this town, there are signs at every cash register I’ve seen so far):

OUR NAME MIGHT BE
BAGLE FINAGLE,
BUT DON’T FINAGLE THE BAGELS!

There was a set of handcuffs hanging down, like they’d actually handcuff someone for stealing a bagel? Maybe they save those for the more violent crimes. Like stealing scallion-chive cream cheese.

Speaking of cheese. What is their number-one seller? Cheese bagels. With cheddar-cheese-flavored cream cheese. Bluck.

There are regulations regarding how to stack napkins on the counter so the logo always faces out. We had tests regarding how many ounces of cream cheese make up a slather, and how many make up a super slather. If a customer asks for extra pickles on their bagel sandwich, they get 2 more than standard. Personal phone calls can last only 30 seconds. Etc. Mark asked about smoke breaks and that started a whole debate about whether the rest of us should get breaks even though we don’t smoke, and then 1 more girl quit because she said she didn’t want to work with anyone who smoked, period.

“Give me a break,” Mark said. “Does she think I’m going to blow secondhand smoke in her face? Well, who cares. I’m glad she’s gone, because
I
don’t want to work with anyone who wears a Packers T-shirt.”

I asked Mark how he felt about wearing the goofy BF aprons. He said he’d find a way to make it work for him. “Or I’ll find a way to work it,” he said. “Period.”

Jennifer overheard us and asked Mark what he meant by that, and then reminded us about the strict dress and hair codes.

I thought about Gerry wanting to start a little chain of his ice cream and smoothie shops. So far he has 2 locations for Truth or Dairy. Really on a roll there.

But maybe Gerry has the right idea. This place is a bit on the rigid side. No room for individualism or self-expression. In other words, you have to ask the same questions in the same tone of every single customer. The first one is the killer. I can’t picture these words coming out of my mouth, but I guess they will: “What kind of bagel can I finagle for you?”

And if I can say that without dying of embarrassment, I get to run through the “Option Board”: “Sliced? Toasted? Would you like cream cheese with that? Anything to drink with that? Would you like to make this a steal deal?” Why do I sound like a Fembot? Ugh. But this won’t be so bad. From wheatgrass juice to wheat ’n’ honey bagels. Same healthy principle, but better tasting.

When I got back to the dorm I was feeling very outgoing as a result of our “Bagle-Bonding” exercises. We each had to pretend to fall into a boiling vat of water and have our team catch us, also did the same thing pretending to fall into the oven. Seemed sort of sadistic or at the very least a rip-off of “Hansel and Gretel.” I stopped by Thyme’s room to see if she wanted to go out. She told me how she finally feng-shui-ed the room, and then she showed me a book on feng shui, so now I know what she’s talking about.

We went to the student center. It was really dead, not surprising because it is Monday night. Ended up going into the pool hall/video game/bowling alley area. Neither of us is very good at pool, but we met some guys who kept challenging us to another game, even though they kept winning.

I had an okay time, but Thyme was annoyed because they kept making fun of her name. First they compared her to the Tyme machine on the wall and kept calling her “Money.” Then, when that got old, they started calling us “Parsley” and “Sage” and saying things like, “Hey, Rosemary, it’s your turn,” and humming that Simon & Garfunkel song about the spices.

“People are so closed-minded,” she muttered on our way back to the dorm. “Haven’t they ever heard of originality? Haven’t they ever heard of being an individual? They were so paternalistic and
standardized.
”

I don’t know. I thought they were actually sort of fun. Reminded me of guys from home. Like Grant. Sigh. Only 10.5 weeks until Thanksgiving.

8/29

Sitting in student center with Thyme. Since neither one of us really loves being in our rooms, this is like our home now. She’s using photographic memory to help me memorize everything for my first shift tomorrow at BF. We get an actual report written up with things we need to work on. I hate those kind of reports. I’ve hated “Needs Improvement” since kindergarten.

The thing is that Thyme should be the one who goes to work at BF because she’s looked at the setup there all of
once
and has it down cold. She has even drawn me a map of all the bagel bins. This is something I could hate her for if she weren’t so nice about it. But nice in a condescending way, because she doesn’t understand what it’s like to have faulty, real-time memory and confuse sesame seed with poppy seed.

Anyway, we were sitting there drinking coffee and working on this when Tricia came by. She said it was a really good idea for me to be so prepared? And that she’d mention it to Jennifer? She said that Jennifer was this incredibly wonderful manager who might insist on the rules a lot? But was only doing that for our benefit, and I shouldn’t take it personally if she yelled at me; she yelled at everyone?

Great. I am so looking forward to my first day.

8/30

Scored big points on several levels today. I’d celebrate but I have a ton of homework to do.

Spoke up in my sociology class.

Actually got someone to donate some money tonight. Thank you, Mrs. Benson of Chippewa Falls, for increasing your gift this year. No thank you for the long story detailing the history of the grain elevator.

This morning, aced my first shift at BF. Mostly because of coworker named Ben. Incredibly nice, English major, sophomore, fishitarian. He took about 90 percent of the orders and let me work slowly until I got things straight.

I asked all the right preformulated questions, didn’t mess up the cream cheese types. One error, though: forgot my hairnet. Okay, pretended to forget it. Was hoping no one would notice. Jennifer scolded me. I put it on and as soon as I did, who walked in but the one cute guy who came in all day.

Not that I care what random guy thinks, but still. Felt like lunch lady about to dish up Sloppy Joes. Need cat-eye glasses on a chain to complete the look.

Went online to do research for my poli sci paper tonight. After Mary Jo
finally
finished writing her paper and got off the computer. So rude. I had so much work of my own to do, and she really should be using the computer lab, only I’m so nice I offered to let her use my computer because she wasn’t feeling very well. Well, who
would
if they insisted on eating the cafeteria’s all-beef chili?

Ended up getting 9 Tarot card readings, 6 different horoscopes, and spent 2 hours in an LDR chat room. Everyone was pouring out their tales of woe. There were like 5 people out of 100 who said they’d managed to make it work.

“Agree to see other people” was the major advice. There were also a lot of angry “It’ll never work!” comments and “You’ll break up,” so “See other people.” I know it was all coming from guys. I could just tell. But after I read all that, I couldn’t concentrate. I kept wondering if Grant thought anything like that. I emailed Grant, but he didn’t write back within a few minutes. Called Grant. Not home. Left message. Then Mary Jo asked me to please be quiet. It’s 9:30!!!

This
isn’t
going to work.

Thank God tomorrow’s the last day of August. Almost September, but that’s not good enough. Please let it be October soon, so we’ll be closer to November and Thanksgiving and me going home or at least getting out of here for a few days.

8/31

Can’t believe what happened today. I’m writing this in the first-floor lounge while other people watch TV because I can’t be in my room right now. I’m not welcome. Also it just feels really really awkward and uncomfortable. Maybe it’s all my fault, but I don’t think so.

Thyme and I had this brilliant insight over lunch, as we surveyed the salad bar for edibles: The Great Roommate Switch. It would be so easy for me just to move across the hall. And Mary Jo and Kirsten get along as well as Thyme and I do, right?

So we went to the housing office to plead our case. We immediately got to see 2 housing counselors. But they wouldn’t even “entertain” the idea. I pointed out how different me and Mary Jo are, and how they were supposed to match us with someone compatible. Not someone who eats rolled slices of ham and Swiss for breakfast.

They said that part of college was learning people skills and how to get along with others who were different. They said they’d evaluated all the applications with “personal growth” in mind. And anyway, the semester was already 2 weeks old, they’d done their best, and there was nothing they could do about it now. Thyme started going on a rant about how she was being forced to listen to pop music and it was stunting her personal growth. But it didn’t help. Actually, I think she sort of hurt our cause. We left feeling utterly defeated.

So we walk out to the front desk, and who’s standing there, waiting to talk to the same counselors? MARY JO AND KIRSTEN!!! How rude. I mean, it’s one thing for me and Thyme to want to switch. We have
reasons
.

So we all got really embarrassed and uncomfortable and everyone started mumbling about how we were just reporting the fact that the showers need more water pressure, and how there’s this girl on our floor who’s drunk every night and we’re very concerned about her, etc.

Does Mary Jo hate me that much? What’s up with that? Am I so hard to live with? My family never had a problem with me.