do you really want to know what I see?
I am an insightful person. I don't say this to brag, but rather as a preface to this article. I was always the person that kids (and then adults) came to when they needed someone to talk to, even if they wouldn't talk to me otherwise. I've heard alot of things. Between this experience and the gift I've been blessed with, I am very good at reading people. I see what people do, I hear what they say, and more than likely I can understand why, even if they don't realize it themselves. This is helpful when people come to me to listen and/or get advice. It is frustrating when I see and understand something and can do nothing about it. And sometimes.......................sometimes it just makes me sad.
With the two jobs I have right now, I see alot. What do I do? For those who haven't read my previous articles and picked up on it, I am 1) a substitute teacher and 2) a pizza delivery driver. In both jobs I see people at their worst, but I had not seen the connection between the two clearly until Friday night.
As a substitute teacher, I deal with children who are typically pulling out all the stops, thinking they can get away with murder (or close to it!) because their regular classroom teacher is out. This does tend to happen, but Friday I was subbing for a friend of mine. 5th Grade general music, and 6th Grade Choir. Important information for the kids: 1--I am a friend of their teacher (and neighbor) and not just any sub, and 2--because of my background in music, I actually get to rehearse the music with them (no video). I know that it's normal for kids to act differently with a sub than with their regular teacher, because I did it too, except when my Mom was my sub, and I was always the first person to get in trouble. I remember alot of the things that my friends, classmates, and I did. We Were Not This Bad!!! For the most part, I enjoyed the day, but I left school that afternoon full of confusion, not understanding why these kids were acting the way they were.
I went home.
I changed clothes.
I went to work.
I delivered pizzas.
I got out of the car and walked up to the trailer. The platform at the top of the steps was so narrow that the door could not open fully if it was occupied, so I climbed only part way up the rickety wooden steps and reached forward to knock on the door. It opens, and a youngish man with a military haircut looks out to see me, then walks off. After a minute or so, a heavyset woman in leggings and stretched out shirt comes over, takes the pizza and hands me a check. She ignores my attempts at polite conversation, shuts the storm door and turns away from me. I had just started to move when I heard the murmur of a child's voice followed by her reply, "Yeah, she was pretty fat, wasn't she?" Stunned, I walked back to my car, where I buckled my seat belt, started the engine, turned on the dome light, and looked at the check...................it was written for $1 less than the total for the order.
I began to understand.
I guess I was not supposed to be able to hear her through the 1/2" thick plexiglass of the stormdoor, not with her facing away from me. I guess I was not supposed to be upset that not only was I not getting a tip but was having to pay for a dollar of her order. I guess I'm not supposed to be bothered by the people I see every day who are rude, bitchy misers.
I have tried to remain positive, to provide a good example, to shine like a beacon on a hill. I will still do that, but don't expect anything extra anymore. I will not spit in your food or put anything else gross in it. I will keep you on my personal list as a NTSB (Non-Tipping Scum Bag), and try to pass you off to other drivers instead of delivering your order. You may not like the service you receive from these disgruntled people who refer to anyone tipping under a certain amount as a f**king c**ksucker and who do not share my qualms about adding seasoning to your food. And I won't blackmail you, either, although I could.
You order pizza when you don't feel like going out, when you're sick....................you don't dress up for me......................sometimes you don't dress at all. When you open the door I can smell the burnt offerings of your attempt at dinner...................I smell sex, and your spouse is obviously not the one with you........................I smell the liquor you've been soaking in..........................and the pot you've been smoking. I see you when you're tired, I see you when you're angry, I see you when you're self-righteous, I see you when you're sad and crying. I see you when you're partying, and I see you when you're alone. I see you when you don't want to be seen by anyone you know. I see you when you're generous..............................and I see you when you're cheap! I see you treat me in ways you would never treat a friend, and your children see it too.
Your children see the way you act, the way you talk to/about me, and they think it's okay. They learn to treat me like that, and then it grows. They treat the waiter at the restaurant like that, then the cashier at the store, then the cafeteria worker at school, the aide, the substitute teacher, then their classroom teacher, the principal, and finally, YOU. By the time this behavior spreads to their relationship with you, it has most likely been so ingrained that it will take a miracle (or a lot of discipline/counseling) to stop, reverse, and change.
The next time I come to your door, think before you open it.
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