Taunting a bear

Last night's blow-by-blow:

So, Paulo's in charge of unloading the truck (we get two trucks a day, one in the morning with perishables and one in the afternoon of the dry stuff--shelf stable stuff and then also frozen). I was in charge of running the front end--the cash drawers, giving refunds, employee discounts, answering phones, inputting the orders into the computer, etc.

So I tried SO hard to have everything perfect so I would look good to him, look like I had my act together. But then the thought occured, perhaps I shouldn't have my act together and be the damsel in distress. Then I snapped back into reality! That's a game, girl, and homie don't play games. I am who I am and I'm not going to act otherwise. If I'm good at my job, then I won't act poorly--I'll just hope he likes self-sufficient girls instead of snivelers. There are plenty of things I need a knight-in-shining-armor for--I don't need to waste it on answering phones and counting cash.

I did this all very well until around 10 pm when I should have had everything done--I couldn't account for $214. That, my friends, is not good. The night before I could only not find $7.42 (that's pretty normal, generally the next day we bounce back). So, I had to swallow my disappointment and call him back up to the front...he whispered, "how much?" because that is the only reason he would get called back up front after having already doubled my count for the cash and check deposit (which I did perfectly! the paperwork, the counting of things in the safe, everything!). I told him the amount and he was totally unfazed. He sat down on the floor in front of the safe, legs crossed, ready to count every penny if needed, and started to take the bundles out that I had just made and gingerly counted and recounted until he found $185 that I had miscounted. That left us with a normal (anything right at $30 short is ok) and I apologized again (stupid! 20 $5s go in a bundle, not 25!) and just the way he handled it was perfect. He's so damn calm. And he was very complimentary of the work I completed correctly. And he said that I "rocked the house" (excellent turn of phrase) with everything else. That I'm still pretty new to the game and it all becomes second nature after a while. It made me feel nice. He even complimented me in front of the whole crew during our nightly huddle--the job I'm doing all week is a full-timers job and it's pretty stressful--trying to keep all the money straight while also trying to keep the front end, the "grand finale," for the customers running smoothly.

We keep many, many, many, many closed cases of wine at the front of our store. It's just our thing. He had brought a pallet of wine up to the front and was unloading it and was like, "Did I tell you I went camping this weekend?" No. He didn't tell me. But I just LOVE intimate personal details--because I'm a hopeless romantic dork that wants to know all about the crush o' the moment. He went camping in north Georgia (Atlanta, by the way, is pretty north in the state) at Amicalola Falls. It's ok if you can't pronounce it--I've lived here my whole entire life and I still have problems with it. The last time I went to Amicalola Falls was with Joe. And his parents. And his mom, at the time, had an obsession with Noxema face cream as a hand lotion (she has some mental difficulties). An outing with his parents? Yeah, no wonder I thought there was more going on there than there actually was. But hey, that's in the WAY past. He's getting married in June. And I couldn't be happier. Seriously. I'm glad to be out from under that six-year heart debacle. But that's neither here nor there.

Back to Paulo. So, I asked if he went alone (duh! always have to put the "is there a girlfriend?" feelers out there) and he said he was planning on it, but a friend that's leaving town ended up joining him. And then he described how amazing his toasted coconut marshmallow was. It was the most decadent, sensual description ever and for a moment I was envious of a marshmallow. Yes, a marshmallow. I should probably seek professional help. And we talked about the walk to the top of the falls (a couple thousand stairs) and he said, "Yeah, that was a bit excessive." That, my friends, is also another favorite phrase of mine. He's right at the top of my Lexicon Love game. And then, he tells a story that had tears in my eyes:

So, they toasted marshmallows ("probably the best thing I've ever eaten. They were kosher too! and big!") and apparently didn't fully put out their embers (naughty campers! I felt all my Chop Point training come bouncing back) and so at 3 am, Paulo was in his tent closest to the fire and his friend was a few feet away in his. Paulo is awakened by someone rooting around in the coals--he thought it was maybe a park ranger or something. So, being upset that he was awakened, he rather growled, commenting on the noise, "That's a bit excessive, isn't it?" (my favorite phrase again!). No response. He yells, "HEY!" No response. He unzips the cover to his mesh window just in time to see a huge claw pawing at him. Oh yes, my friends. A bear. A good ole Georgia brown bear. Apparently the bear was the size of a, "you know, the size of a bear." Awesome. Compare the thing you're trying to explain to someone to itself. Triple bonus score. So then Paulo did something that made me gasp and shake my head in disbelief--he got out of his tent. "I didn't want him to eat me in my tent." Oh, so making yourself even more accessible--when obviously he's hungry is a great idea. I, however, kept that piece of information to myself because I tend to be too sarcastic and attack men for the sake of a joke and then realize that I really cut too deep. Remember: women look at life through the lenses of love, men, respect. So maybe I don't always need to come off as knowing better and pointing out his flaws. I've kept this in action for about 3 years or so now and my relationships with all kinds of men have vastly improved. In turn, I get treated with more gentleness and consideration. So, I don't have to "be one of the boys" to be accepted. I can just be a girl hanging out with boys and it's ok.

He gets out of his tent and shoos (wow, I don't think I realized that was a real word) the bear away. The bear, thankfully, runs away--and Paulo's friend apparently exited his tent right as the bear was running away. He then said something that makes him endearing to me: "I'm glad he saw the bear or else I wouldn't tell the story because no one would believe me!" How cute. And vulnerable. I'm so damn sappy.

(And this sidenote has nothing to do with anything: Mike and I (my coworker) had to deal with a picky client on Monday regarding an ad that went to press yesterday, Tuesday. She told us that the olive (color) needed to be changed to blue. So, there was green on the ad, so we replaced it with blue. We sent the ad to press. We sent her a proof of it after it was sent to the press. Mike just got an irate phone call, "Why did you change the green?! I asked you to change the brown!" He responds, "No, you asked me to change the olive. So we did." "Olive, Mike, isn't GREEN, it's BROWN." I heard her say this. He had placed her on speaker phone. Brilliant. I had to muffle my laughter. He then said, in the nicest way possible because he's WAY nicer than me, "Oh, so sorry! Olive in our world means green." I love it. I love that he just said that.)

Back to Paulo. He then investigated their cooler. That they just left out willy nilly. At this point I just shook my head--because seriously, who goes camping and just leaves food out? Oh right, a chiseled man that drives a tiny sports car, that's who. He was all miffed, "I just bought that cooler Friday and now it has claw and bite marks in it!" I personally would be very proud of that cooler.

Cute point #157: during our nightly crew huddle he referenced me several times as Anne-uh. You know, the conventional pronunciation of the spelling of my name. I get it. I'm not offended (except for the part of me hoping that he thinks of me outside of work, but whatever). Now, for most of you reading this, yes, I expect you to say my name correctly. I have known most of you longer than a month (oh geez, it's only been a month. What a dope I am!) So, another crew member got offended, on my behalf (this phenomenon has been going on since school days--other kids getting mad because someone says my name wrong) and said "Do you want to yell at him or should I?" I, in my most polite, pleasant, demure, feminine way say, "Shh. It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it." This crew member decides to interrupt what Paulo is saying to correct him regardless of my direction. Paulo is obviously embarrassed. He apologizes like twelve times, then says "I owe you one." One what? I could get very interested in cashing that "one" in. So later he came over and gave me a side hug and sheepishly apologized again. He apparently had, a couple of weeks ago, gone around chanting how to say my name correctly so he wouldn't screw it up. How cute! I told him that if I saw my name repeatedly on a name tag, I would pronounce it incorrectly too. There's no reason for him to feel bad. But he did. And I'm ok with that.

Oh oh oh. I almost forgot. My coworker from my day job, Lauren, came by TJ's last night. She was going to come last week, but I told her if she wanted to see Paulo, he and I would be working together on Tuesday. She came under the guise that she needed to get some gnocchi and meatballs for dinner (she and her husband are hooked and I can't blame them...mmmmm!). So, she saw Paulo and told me she liked that recipe and I better tell her every single ingredient! Ha!

I won't work with him again (he leaves at 6 tonight and I get there at 530) for the rest of the week (he has the 5 am to 3 pm shifts--gross!) until Saturday, I work at 7 am. A whole day together. Glorious. I didn't mention baseball last night...I didn't want to be the eager beaver or anything. Maybe tonight. In passing.

Ok. Mike just made me mad. I gotta go. Happy Wednesday, friends!