Bureaucratic Choices

Running across the kindergarten playground, a group of five us held hands in one giant line.  There was no purpose to the game, if you can even call it that.  No one won, and no one lost.  But at that moment we were having fun, which explained the three other times we restarted the “game.”  Each time going to the school wall, grabbing hands with the person next to you, and running.  Certainly if we ran to a place, some predetermined line, maybe it could be a race; but that was not what we were doing.  We ran until we were laughing so much that we couldn’t run any further.  And that was enough for us.

Childish?  Naive?  We were kids.  For the most part that’s all most people need to know.  We were best friends, and at that moment it explained our every move.  In truth, besides our attempt at creating a pointless new game, our little group was quite bureaucratic.  We had two elected leaders, Kevin and Hannah.  We chose them because they were the best suited for the job.  We chose them because they were the most outspoken of all of us.  We chose them because everybody liked them.  And we chose them because we figured we need one boy and one girl leading us.  It seems even in a group of five year olds, equal representation was a must.

Kevin and Hannah’s job was mediation.  It rested on their shoulders to decide which games we played during recess.  This isn’t to say our group of friends was a monarchy, we did think to limit their power.  Each day there was a new Special Person…unfortunately though we were strong with governmental policies, our creativity lacked.  The Special Person was one of the rest of us who got to pick the one game they wanted to play that day.  It was a way for the rest of us to have a voice.  Yet probably the most sophisticated aspect of our little group was my role in the hierarchy of friends.

It was my job to replace Kevin if he ever abdicated his position, or was just absent that day. There was also a girl to follow Hannah, and two more to follow behind us.  Our roles showed a foresight not normally attributed to five year olds because of the basic insight to see the imperfection of life.  We understood, without knowing why, that there might come a day when our hierarchy would falter, and we took precautions to alleviate any adversities. Our roles gave us a sense of importance, not only did we belong but we had a purpose.  When we had created the group our first act, after creating our positions, was to name the organization.  This too, like everything else, we did logically: by a vote.  We each came up with an idea, and when we were done we voted on whose was best.

The rest of the kindergarten class envied us.  Coming together as one group meant childhood power.  We were exclusive and our numbers stayed the same.  Exclusiveness was our attraction, and everyone wanted in.  Every kid in our grade knew who was in our group; we were basically five-year-old royalty.  We reveled in the attention that we got for being part of this club.  Soon Kevin and Hannah’s authority spread beyond our little group.  They became the spokespeople for our grade.  Later they would write a letter the next year to President Clinton on behalf of our entire school.  I was quickly seen as the represeentative to both, and I was their official delegate to the class.

After our bureaucracy was complete, our group legitimized, and all the positions were securely understood—we played.  That day we ran, for no reason, other then we were happy.  Other days we played tag, soccer, or just sat against the school wall laughing.  No matter what we did, our first objective as an organization was fun. We chose from the very beginning our roles, we chose who would fill them, and then when our minds drifted we chose a few weeks later to move on and forget about our group for a new set of friends.

:j <converse no iron-jawed thwarter>

Images for Development

A man lies passed out on a couch, black marker etched across his face and surrounded by beer cans and red cups.  Three teenage girls in bikinis are caught jumping in mid air above the mirroring waters before they plunge into a pool.  What looks like the backside of a dog has a party hat atop its tail, which wags tilting the hat to the side.  Standing alone on the dance floor, relatives watch as a couple embraces in their first dance as a married couple.

I walk past the registers and push open the swinging door as I enter the photo lab, giving the man working at the register a half smile.  I put down a few of my personal items on the table, and throw my sweatshirt under the counter.  The man I had passed was the photo lab supervisor Keith, and as he finishes with a customer he turns around to look at me.  He taps his foot expectantly and with no reaction from me Keith reminds me that the first thing I should do when I walk in is to put my lab coat on.  Begrudgingly I put the tight fitting coat on and listen as he tells me all the film he started but chose to leave for me to do.

Then as the register is switched to my numbers, and Keith is about to leave, he tells me he left a write up for my manager on me.  Still walking away, as if I’m not important enough to talk to face to face, he tells me he wrote me up for not wearing my lab coat.  Evidently a friend of his came in the night before and told him I had not been wearing my coat like I was supposed to.  The moment he steps out the door I take off my lab coat pissed and throw it under the counter with a loud bang.  My assistant manager sees my reaction and walks over to me saying, “Don’t worry, I saw the write up and threw it away.”

Two girls look back smiling; one girl’s arm reaches out holding the unseen camera.  A young boy in a cowboy outfit waves, his smile wide as the bag of candy in his arms is almost too heavy to carry.  A black woman stands bare-chested, wearing nothing but an open Star Wars Jedi robe and holding a lightsaber.  Two parents smile proudly next to their son dressed in a green graduation gown and hat.

On the floor of the store sits a young man in his twenties with his back against an end-cap at the front of the seasonal aisle.  He stares at the yellow machine that should be dispensing his photos but that at the moment is having problems.  I am posted at the register as my coworker, Matt, attempts to undo the machine and figure out the problem.  With no luck Matt is forced to call Kodiak assistance in hopes that they can solve the dilemma over the phone.  The whole time, as the young man watches Matt grow pissed at the constantly malfunctioning machinery.  The customer sits there and laughs.

Not a small laugh, a quiet laugh, or even a comforting laugh.  The sound that comes from the young man borders almost on hysteria.  His laughter is loud and he makes no attempt to hide it, which starts other customers checking out to laugh.  There is a pattern because as the customers begin laughing, Matt and I look at each other and begin to laugh ourselves.  Then as our laughter dies down, the young man begins again and the cycle to starts once more.  But the man seems lost in his own world, no longer laughing about the pictures or even Matt’s frustration, seemingly laughing for no reason.  And as he starts up again, I happen to pass by Matt and he sums up the situation easily, “The dude’s definitely high.”

A group of high school kids stand posed in their prom dresses and tuxedos in front of a black stretch limo.  Five legs point together in a circle, as five shoes attempt to make out some unrecognizable pattern.  The sun sets on a lake, but the camera’s flash left on creates a hazy look.  Half of an older man’s face can be seen, while the other half is lost behind a streak of red and yellow that becomes all black.

After I finish my dinner break I pay for a Butterfinger from Steve working the register for me and then clock back in.  I have an hour until I shut down the photo lab, and Steve tells me three rolls of film were dropped off while I was gone.  I ask him to stay up front until I finish getting the film ready to be developed and start quickly.  I pop open all three rolls of film, put them in the machine to develop and tell Steve he can go.  Finally with a moments break between customers I begin eating my night’s dessert, the candy bar.  Just as the last roll of film is finished developing the clock behind me shows ten o‘clock, and I need to close the photo lab.

The last step in shutting off the main machine is disposing of the daily silver waste down the drain.  A large plastic container sits underneath a counter and collects the dark brown liquid.  After draining it into the photo lab sink, I put the container back and walk towards my manager Mike taking care of the register.  I take the last bite of my Butterfinger, look down at my hand and see a brown spot on my finger.  I lick it off, mistaking it for chocolate, and taste the remains of the silver waste I just dumped.  Immediately I start coughing and choking at the disgusting taste, which causes Mike to laugh at my expense.   After running to the sink to wash my mouth out, Mike looks at me and says laughing, “I think it’s about time we close for the night.”

:j <converse no iron-jawed thwarter>

The New Kid

Just another monotone teacher.  I’ve had hundreds of teachers just like you, Mr. Gerand.  That tends to happen when you change schools almost every other year.  Though no matter how many times, I’m always nervous the first day.  And of course I am, which explains why my hands are shakin’ behind my back.  I don’t know why I’m nervous, I don’t care what these nameless faces think.  In just a few years the Captain and the rest of the family will be movin’ to another military base, and all these people starin’ up at me will be behind me.  Oh, oops, drifted off for a sec, Mr. Monotone is pointin’ out the empty seat in the back.

Look at this dweeb.  He’s actually shaking! Ha.  Guess I got a new supply of lunch money.  Wonder if he’s smarter than Stinky Steve.  Then I’ll get even more better grades in Bio.  Guess that answers it.  Idiot’s not even paying attention to Gerand.

He is pretty cute.  I really love his hair; it looks so soft.  Aww, he’s nervous, that’s so sweet.  I should go and like talk to him after class.  It has to be so hard being the new student, and not knowing like anyone.  Maybe I’ll like get his number!  No, he probably has a girlfriend already.

I wonder if Luke Skywalker had to sit through Biology class?

Like usual they all turn their heads to stare after me, as if sittin’ in a desk is some new marvelous technique.  I do miss my old friends from the last school though.  They were pretty cool.  Plus I had my first high school relationship, which lasted the average two hours.  Speakin’ of which, is that girl still starin’ at me?  Uh, no she turned away, oh well.  They’re only starting mitosis?  I thought I was comin’ in the middle of the year, not the beginnin’.  Least I can just sit back and pass the tests.

Oh my god, he almost saw me staring at him.  That would have been like totally embarrassing.  But those light blue eyes are so amazing, especially on a guy with brown hair.  Come on girl pay attention, you hardly understand any of this stuff.  I wonder if the cute guy understands the subject.  We could so have a study date!  Wow, I’m doing it again.  Stupid, stupid, he’s obviously too cute to be single.

What is metaphase, anaphase and the rest of this crap?  The newb better know ‘bout all this.  He don’t then he’ll be meeting the toilets soon.  Is Stinky Steve picking his nose? Oh my god!

Almost got it.  I can feel it up there.  It’s a big and juicy one.

What in the world is that smell?  It’s like cat pee, stale bread, and cottage cheese.  Anyways, I think that girl’s pretty cute, maybe I’ll talk to her after class.  Yeah right, like I’d get the nerve to do that.  Only reason I got my last girlfriend was because she asked me out.  Come on big hand, turn.  Only got five more minutes.  Thankfully the principal held me in the office long enough to miss most of class.  It’s funny the principal thinks he’s actually fooling anyone with that toupee.

I like cottage cheese.

This is all so stupid!  I should give the newb a good welcoming.  Wonder how much trouble I’d get into if I pantsed him in the hallway.  It’d be great if I could get Stinky Steve with him.  That’d be hilarious!

I feel bad for him, having to sit next to Steven.  Steve is a nice boy; he just so doesn’t know how to stay clean.  And he’s always eating the weirdest things for lunch.  I wonder who the new guy is going to sit with at lunch.  No, all my friends will tease me later.  I don’t care I’m so going to ask him.  But what if he says no?  I would feel so embarrassed.

What’s he lookin’ at?  Great now I’ve got the big tough guy givin’ me the stink-eye.  I don’t even have to do anythin’ and I get in trouble wit’ the school’s Nelson Muntz.  Dude next to me knows who that is, don’t you nerdy?  I think that’s where the smell’s comin’ from.  He’s so greasy.  Yes!  Finally the bell rings.  Time for English.  Now where exactly is—uh, ow.  Wonderful.  Not even finished the day and I’m trippin’ over things.

Ha!  Retard.

Oh no, he fell.  Here’s my chance.  I’ll go help him, and then we can like talk for a little.  I really should so totally invite him to eat with me at lunch.  Here I go.

Beep.  Boop.  Beep.  Boop.  If robots took over the world, I could totally be an interpreter.

:j <converse no iron-jawed thwarter>