when the mannequins are missing limbs.

i went shopping last night. and a shirt got stuck on me in the dressing room.  like, worse than it's ever been.  i should've known better that tugging so hard to get it on was a bad idea.  i was dying of laughter in there.  so much that the associate asked if i was ok.  i told her i was stuck ha ha ha ha.  she asked if i needed help, but i don't know if she really thought that question through too well... did she really want to come in the dressing room and help me get my shirt off?  i hope not.. maybe it's one of those courteous things to say?  ha ha ha ha ha.  so then she just laughed with me, outside the door.  and i never knew when or if she walked away...? 

but i literally just couldn't get the shirt off for a good 3 minutes.  just tug tug tug.  then i had to walk out to the associate and hand her the item.  she had this silly smirk on her face and i was a mess... red face, hair totally messed up, a little embarrassed... but it was like we bonded over the funny moment.  hahahahaha.  anyway, on my way home, i was just thinking about all the interesting things that happen when shopping.  and how many pet peeves i have about shopping.  here's a compilation of a few - most of which have to do with the dressing room. 

when you're in the dressing room and the associate knocks on the door to see if you need anything.  i never know if they're talking to me or someone else... so do you respond? 

when the associate knocks on the door when you're in the dressing room to see if the room is occupied or not.  i also never know if they're knocking on my door or someone else's.  and what do you respond?  "here!"  "occupied"  "yes, may i help you?"  bahhh. 

when you go in the dressing room and the associate says "let me know if you need another size".  i've always wondered how exactly i let them know that... it's not like they stand there and wait for you to drape a shirt over the door.  and i'm not about to walk out in my underwear to ask her for another size.  furthermore, if i'm going to put my real shirt on and come out anyway, what's the point of having an associate find the size?  i just assume to find it myself.  useless customer service.  

when the associates at downeast ask your name and write it on the door they always put an "h" on sara.  my biggest pet peeve second only to the 1/16 ply toilet paper in public restrooms (a post for another day).

when you're walking into the dressing room and the associate goes in before you to clean it out and holds the door open for you... so you have to shimmy your way past them with your armful of clothes, usually scraping them with one of the hangers sticking out. 

when you've been holding the hangers on your hand so long that your hand is turning blue from no circulation. 

when you get in the dressing room and the associate hasn't cleaned out the room, so you have to find a place to hang your clothes amongst all the others draped everywhere.

when there is only one hook in the entire dressing room.  i need at least 3.  one for clothes i haven't tried on yet, one for things i'm going to buy, and one for things i'm going to not buy.  old navy has this going right.

when the dressing room has little numbered cards that you take to your room and i never know if they want them on the door so they can see, or just take them in?  target you take them in, but gordman's hangs on the door.  it's just so hard to tell!  argh.

when there's a limit of how many clothes you can take in, and you have one more item than that limit but the associate makes you leave the one item with her and come back to exchange it when you're done trying on the others.  this means you have to get re-dressed and come back out then go back in and get undressed again.  for ONE ITEM.    

when each associate in the store pretends to be folding a shirt near you then proceeds to ask if you're finding everything ok.  my question is, do most people come to a clothing store looking for one specific thing??  aren't most people "just looking?"  i am... this question bothers me.  just let me shop in peace.  if i need you, i know where to find you.  

when all the associates ignore you.  i realize this is completely contrary to the previous point... but i think there's a nice balance between being friendly and acknowledging your customers, and being a helicopter associate vs. acting like you aren't even in the store, ya know?  

when all the songs on the store radio make you want to die. 

when you're ready to try the clothes on and you don't know if you have to ask for a fitting room to be opened or not.  sometimes when you ask for a room to be opened, the associate rolls her eyes and says, "they're open..." and sometimes when you go to find one on your own, you have to bend over and check underneath the stalls to see if anyone is in there and the associate sees you and asks if you need a room and i want to reply, "no, i'm just looking under the doors for fun..."  or places like smith's marketplace, where you have to pick up the phone and it calls an associate to come to your assistance and you just stand there awkwardly waiting until they come.  and if they never do you just climb under the door.  totally proper, right?  

when you're in the dressing room and the floor is nastier than heck and you don't want to take your shoes off.  i'm talking mostly about thrift stores here.  i always pray that i don't get some sort of foot fungus or tape worm from stepping on the floors of some dressing rooms.  you think i'm joking about the praying thing?  i'm not. 

when you put on a shirt then soon realize it's stuck.  like, so stuck that you cannot get it off yourself.  you shimmy and shake and slither and pull and tug with your arms straight up in the air for what seems like forever and by the time it's off your hair is a mess including being extremely static and you have red marks all over your arms and face from pulling

when you're trying on an item that is too small or you didn't realize there was a hidden zipper and you hear a seam rip.  oops...

when you're coming out of the dressing room and it's not clear where you put your unwanted clothes.  do you leave them in the room?  give them to an associate?  hang them on a rack outside the room?  put them back yourself?! 

when you aren't familiar with the sizing of the store, so you pick a bunch of clothes off the rack that you think are your size, but when you get to the dressing room you realize after trying on the first one that they run small, so you have 7 items that don't fit.  eek.  

when something looks dynamite on the rack or mannequin, but when you put it on you wonder if that was the same shirt that was being advertised. 

when the mannequins are missing limbs. 

when you're checking out and the associate asks if you found everything ok.  i've honest to goodness never known how to answer that.  if i did by chance have a list of clothing items that i was looking for, the chances that i really did find every single thing i was looking for during that hour at that store is pretty slim.  and if i didn't have a list, i feel like to say "yes" to that question would be to lie.  i didn't find everything, but how could i when i didn't even know what i was looking for to begin with.  or what about those yellow pants i really wanted to buy but they had every size but mine?  did she want me to rant about that? 

when you're at the cash register and the associate tells you about a deal... "this variety of shirt is buy one get one half off" and you feel pressured to buy another one... but there are tons of people waiting in line so you have to make a quick decision about which one you want and hope that it fits because you didn't try it on. 

when you're at the cash register and try to be friendly and the friendliness isn't returned.  small talk aint gonna kill ya, sweetheart. 

when you walk out of the store and the door beeps, making a huge scene.  

when you walk out of the store and the door beeps, making a huge scene, but none of the associates look up.  so you're looking around all suspicious-like trying to decide if you should walk back to the associate desk or just walk away and they're giving no non-verbal or verbal cues. 

when you walk out of the store and the door beeps, making a huge scene, and other customers look at you disgustedly as if your associate forgetting to take the ink tag of was your fault.  i'm not stealing, i promise. 

when you walk out of the store and get into your car, or home, and realize the ink tags are still on and you have to go back to the store to get them removed.  #worst

so that's that.  all i have left to say is, last night i really thought i might have to cut that shirt off, then pay for the damage.  or worse, wear it the rest of my life.  close call.  close call. 

i'm immune to the cheese touch

as a teacher, i find myself saying things that a normal adult would probably never say in the course of a day, unless they have kids of their own, or work with them.  some gems that've popped out of my mouth this week alone:

- i'm immune to the cheese touch
- the pencil does not belong up your nose
- the pencil is not chocolate
- the pencil is not a sword
- the pencil is not a light saber either
- no, that wasn't your pencil talking, i can see your lips moving 
- the pencil is for writing, not scratching your bum
- if the pencil is dull, the proper way to sharpen it is with the sharpener, not your teeth
- stop barking at me
- does it look like i'm about to have a baby?
- your boogers need to stay in your nose
- stop cuddling on the rug
- six years old is too young to have a boyfriend
- last time i checked fingers don't talk
- your thinking cap is broken?
-  why have your eyes been crossed all morning? 
- no, you may not hold hands with your boyfriend in line
- if i'm still single when you're old enough to be married, ask me that question again
- i love your gangnam style dance, but right now it's time to read
- please walk across the room and save gangnam style for recess
- yes, you do gangnam style better than the korean dude 
- you don't need your wolverine claws during class
- but seriously, put the wolverine claws away until recess
- you might think you're Flash, but even Flash has to walk in the room and down the hall
- by "silent", i didn't mean turn to your neighbor and start singing "let it go"
-  how do you know the song "black and yellow?"
- let's choose a different word than this one (sh**) for the -it word family

this is killing me, i gotta stop.  first grade is adventure central.  (and don't worry, i don't spend all day reprimanding my children... the reprimands just seem to have the funniest connotation).  hazzahh!

i lose children.

the first day of school is full of procedures and rules, teaching kids how to be students in your class.  i totally forgot how much my kiddies last year grew up.  i left them as second graders and now i'm starting over with kindergarteners.  AND IT SHOWS.  oh my heavens it shows.  i'm missing my class from last year much more than i thought i would.  (which is one reason i go out to afternoon recess with my students, so i can play with last year's kids, heh heh, it's nice to have a fan club...)  

in first grade, one super intriguing moment is lunchtime.  they don't get lunchtime at school in kindergarten.  stepping into the multi-purpose room and walking down the hot lunch line is close to a disneyland experience for these little ones.  who knew rubber hot dogs could be that exciting?  

so naturally, the first day, we talked about the lunch routine.  i walked them through the lunch routine.  we practiced walking down the hall to the lunchroom, where to sit, where to put their empty lunch bucket, and how to walk outside when they were done eating.  all is well.  right?  right.  

we make it to the lunch room.  everything is going smoothly, with many reminders about where to go and where to sit.  it takes 15 minutes to get them all through the lunch line and type in their lunch pin numbers, but we make it ok.  then suddenly the lunch bell is ringing and i'm outside to pick them up.  if the routine stuck, they should be standing in a line waiting patiently, right?  wrong.  

i'm missing 6 children. not one or 2.  6 CHILDREN.  

honestly i usually don't notice when i'm missing one or 2 because they end up trickling in, and it usually because they've been up on the upper field and needed more time to run down.  (does that make me a bad teacher?)  but 6 children?!  so we stand there and wait a while, but no one is coming. 

quick decisions aren't my strong point, i like time to process and weigh all my options, but obviously don't have time for that right now.  so i start asking around.  has anyone seen _____?  where is ______?  no one knew.  so i left my class (with high hopes that they wouldn't kill each other while i was away) to go looking for my kids.  upper field empty.  playground no one there.  suddenly i see dark curly hair racing past me with a "hie hie" mimicking laugh.  ooooh no he didn't.  i ran.  i ran to chase that little guy and firmly drug him back to the line.  "i didn't want to come in when the bell rang, so i didn't" he replies.  oh boy, it's going to be one of these years.  one down 5 to go.  no, 4 to go.  someone showed up from behind the bushes.  yes, the bushes.   

"maybe we should check the lunchroom?" one kid suggests.  so i send him in.  he finds one girl in there looking lost.  the other 2 we never found, but by now 20 minutes have passed and the second grade bell has rung.  so we went inside, me just hoping somehow someone made it back to the classroom without me.  sure enough, there he was, waiting patiently in his seat.  the last little guy though was no where to be found.  we backtracked, talked about everywhere we think he might be.  luckily the office called during our dilemma to tell us that he was found wandering the halls, hysterical that he didn't know where to go.  poor little guy.  an elementary school is pretty large when you're 6.  

we practiced lunch routine 5 more times that day.  you can go to recess after you eat, kids.  PLEASE go to recess after you eat.  but please eat your lunch.  your parents keep sending me concerned e-mails about you coming home with empty lunch boxes.  argh.  

i wish i could say these were the least of my concerns, but sadly, this will be a year to remember in many other ways.  you name it, i've got it in my class this year.  i could write a novel after just 17 days of school, but i'll spare ya.  

the truth is, i love teaching.  no matter how hard and impossible it may seem, i really do love it.  no teacher has perfect classes every year.  it's my turn to take the load, and hey, bring it on.  (did i say that out loud? :-/)