So it is pretty obvious that the Christmas shopping season is upon us. For the past month or more I have been listening to people complain about the Christmas products on the sales floor. I am guessing that these people have never worked retail. They don't realize that the Christmas products have to get out of the stockroom because the Valentine's Day products will start rolling in. That's because the warehouse is receiving the Easter and summer products off of big ole cargo ships from China. I kid you not.
I don't want to set Christmas in October but I will have people ask me about product in September. If people did not buy it in October, it wouldn't be available to buy in October. Granted, at least one of my early Christmas product sales is bound for a deployed service member and that makes setting in October all worth while. So while I may complain a bit, packing up a santa that is desert bound reminds me to shut my mouth.
Anyway, back to my rant. I will be working Thanksgiving Day. So will a lot of other people. Doctors will be staffing emergency rooms. Nurses will be on the oncology floor, at labor and delivery, waiting to board a life flight. Cafeteria staff will be preparing a Thanksgiving meal for all those at the hospital, staff and patient. And thank the Lord for those people that are providing a real service. I have had a Blank Children's Hospital Thanksgiving meal. I know what that is like and I know how much I appreciated people being there to feed my family. To take care of my girl.
But I am not saving lives.
I will be working Thanksgiving Day. So will a lot of other people.
The streets of my town will be protected like they always are by West Des Moines finest. Every other city will be protected just the same. The firehouse three blocks over will be fully staffed and ready to rush to the first house to have an overly deep fried turkey on fire in the driveway. There will be taxi drivers ready to ferry the drunk and the tow trucks ready to pull out the unlucky on the road.
But I am not providing an important service.
I will be working Thanksgiving Day. And unfortunately so will a lot of other retail people. We will be there for the shopper that didn't plan ahead, that wants to get out of the house, that is sick of football, that wanted to get a jump on the shopping. I will have to keep the very fake smile plastered to my face when someone comments that it is "too bad" that we are open Thanksgiving Day. I will have to act like I am delighted to be there. I will not be saving a life, protecting a home, stopping a crime. I will be selling the beer, the sour cream, the board game, the make up kit.
My family will be at home with the cold beer and sour cream (what do people use sour cream for on Thanksgiving?) that I bought previously because I knew Thanksgiving was coming. They will be playing the board game we got for Christmas last year. They will be waiting for their family to be together to celebrate just enough before I have to go to sleep to get up at 5a.m. to do it all again.
My mom, the nurse, and my siblings, the hospital cafeteria employees, worked many holidays. They knew it going into the job. My husband, the protector of world, nation and city, had one year that he worked every holiday and every day in between, but again, knew that was part of the job. This was not part of the retail job when I started. There was some respect still for families. Granted, my particular place of employment now, has always been opened on all holidays, but it used to be shortened hours so that the shifts were covered by a reduced staff. Now it is open regular hours, like a regular day. When I worked at the hardware store, we were regular hours on Black Friday. We weren't trying to lure you in with $1.99 table saws. We were there to provide the nuts and bolts of your weekend project. Now days, a true DIYer will stay home that weekend just to avoid the maddening crowds.
I don't want to hear about your great Thanksgiving Day deals. I want to hear that you stayed home, hung out with the family. Said an extra prayer of gratitude for all those that had to work, to heal, to protect, to sell beer and sour cream. I want to know that there are more people that want to take back the holidays from the retailer, from the deal mad shopper. I want to see the retailer spread the sales around to other days throughout November. I want to see retailers give a damn about people. The people that work for them and shop from them. I always thought it would take a death to make retailers change their ways, but it only made them push the opening hours earlier.
It is truly up to the consumer to decide. Put your money where your heart is. Please don't shop on Thanksgiving. Buy your sour cream today.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Today I am thankful for
November 10, 1776. The birth of the Marine Corps. Yes, I am so very thankful for this. It may sound odd as I was never a marine, never considered being a marine. But the United States Marine Corps has been awfully good to me and without the legend of Tuns Tavern and the men that drank there that November 10th, my little life would be very different indeed.
My love affair with the Corps began when my brother joined in 1978. My other brother followed in 1982. This blog isn't fact checked, but I think I have those dates right. But it wasn't until the summer of 1989 that I began to see my future with the USMC. I wasn't joining, just marrying into it. Just.
In November of 1989, Danny went to MCRD San Diego. He graduated boot camp on 9 February and I married him and by extension, the Corps, the very next day.
I will not even try to describe what being a Marine meant to and continues to mean to Danny. But being a marine's wife meant the world to me. And these feelings would have probably have been the same if Danny were in another branch, but having been the Marine Corps wife first, I will say that I don't think I could have been more proud of the branch Danny chose.
I got to live in Southern California. I got to drive on the I5. I got to navigate the military system. I learned how to live on my own. I learned to appreciate the mail man in ways I would never thought imaginable had we never chose this adventure. The Marine Corps gave me two daughters for around $50.00. I did most of the work, but they paid most of the bill.
The Marine Corps gave Danny and me the chance to move onto the US Army. And the Army gave me Germany and Jacob, who did not cost me anything.
The Marine Corps celebrates their birthday with a ball and cake and much pomp and pageantry. I have attended two balls, one while Danny was sitting in the desert of Saudi Arabia and the second one was two years later when Danny was sitting next to me.
Tonight I will go with Danny, not to a ball, but to a bar. Limey's off of Grand. We meet there every year and I generally bring the cake. After the formal cutting by the oldest and youngest marine present, it is sliced up and eaten in random bites by the drunk marines that walk by the table. They thank me for the cake and call me ma'am. They gather because they are thankful in different ways for what this branch has given them. I will hear the parts of a million different stories, all heavily peppered with swear words. The stories will not be about honorable causes or fights worth fighting. They will be about that one time that someone got drunk in France or Guam or Lejeune or Pendleton, a fight broke out, and the MP's showed up or all hell broke loose etc. There will be marines that fought in WWII and marines home on their first leave after boot camp.
Most of these guys are all out now, some did their four year tour and got out, returned to civilian life and went from there. Some stayed longer, some retired. Some are battle tested and some, well, some are full of shit. But they all have a few things in common, they all know how to adapt and overcome, they all know that Ronald Reagan was right and they all know that once a Marine, always a Marine. Semper Fi and thanks for letting me come to the party.
My love affair with the Corps began when my brother joined in 1978. My other brother followed in 1982. This blog isn't fact checked, but I think I have those dates right. But it wasn't until the summer of 1989 that I began to see my future with the USMC. I wasn't joining, just marrying into it. Just.
In November of 1989, Danny went to MCRD San Diego. He graduated boot camp on 9 February and I married him and by extension, the Corps, the very next day.
I will not even try to describe what being a Marine meant to and continues to mean to Danny. But being a marine's wife meant the world to me. And these feelings would have probably have been the same if Danny were in another branch, but having been the Marine Corps wife first, I will say that I don't think I could have been more proud of the branch Danny chose.
I got to live in Southern California. I got to drive on the I5. I got to navigate the military system. I learned how to live on my own. I learned to appreciate the mail man in ways I would never thought imaginable had we never chose this adventure. The Marine Corps gave me two daughters for around $50.00. I did most of the work, but they paid most of the bill.
The Marine Corps gave Danny and me the chance to move onto the US Army. And the Army gave me Germany and Jacob, who did not cost me anything.
The Marine Corps celebrates their birthday with a ball and cake and much pomp and pageantry. I have attended two balls, one while Danny was sitting in the desert of Saudi Arabia and the second one was two years later when Danny was sitting next to me.
Tonight I will go with Danny, not to a ball, but to a bar. Limey's off of Grand. We meet there every year and I generally bring the cake. After the formal cutting by the oldest and youngest marine present, it is sliced up and eaten in random bites by the drunk marines that walk by the table. They thank me for the cake and call me ma'am. They gather because they are thankful in different ways for what this branch has given them. I will hear the parts of a million different stories, all heavily peppered with swear words. The stories will not be about honorable causes or fights worth fighting. They will be about that one time that someone got drunk in France or Guam or Lejeune or Pendleton, a fight broke out, and the MP's showed up or all hell broke loose etc. There will be marines that fought in WWII and marines home on their first leave after boot camp.
Most of these guys are all out now, some did their four year tour and got out, returned to civilian life and went from there. Some stayed longer, some retired. Some are battle tested and some, well, some are full of shit. But they all have a few things in common, they all know how to adapt and overcome, they all know that Ronald Reagan was right and they all know that once a Marine, always a Marine. Semper Fi and thanks for letting me come to the party.
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