Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Standing in the Yard at Night
[What is the speed of Light? A million galaxies, a quantum leap? The scientists tell us space travel is impossible. Truly?]
(April 21, 2009) Jaffrey, NH
Three fingers
Three stars
The scientists are wrong
Close, I see them
Close, I touch them,
Close, heart beats
Flicker in time
With their shimmer
Three stars
Touched
Home
McMommy
June 2, 2009
That quick pinging is the French fry timer. It is time to shake those fries so they do not stick together.
The longer ping is the basket on the left side of the fryer. Those fries are done and need to be drained and gently emptied into the bin. And that other steady bell that is a half pitch lower in musical tone? That is one of the alerts to let the grill team know that they need fresh-cooked hamburgers.
The shake machine has a soft low tone. The back grill buzzes when hot, when cooking, when done. The pie oven dings when the pies are baked. Near the front counter the reach-in refrigerator fan turns on, followed closely by the motor for the ice cream mixer.
These are the normal noises that flow through the day at my McDonald’s restaurant. They happen frequently and often in synchronicity. They have no respect for my customers. Through this noise I need to be able to focus on my patrons, I need to accurately hear their orders, direct questions to clarify their needs, and then speedily enter this information into the computer system so that their food products are communicated to the grill team.
Fast food, not instant.
Friends who know me marvel that I can not only survive but thrive in this sensory magnified environment. I regularly field the question “You are so smart—how can you work at McDonald’s?” It is true, I am smart. I have taught at the university level. I give workshops to professionals about autism. I am published. I am a member of the Freedom Writers’ Foundation and a contributor to their recent book, Teaching Hope. I have written dinner theater, acted, directed and designed for the theater.
Yet I love my “McJob.” After 3 hours serving customers during a busy lunch rush my hearing is compromised. It is difficult for me to filter out all the sounds, to filter and distinguish the vowels and consonants in shared speech between me the server and my customer, the served. If I am not cautious about creating a sensory break, about renewing my ability to discriminate sound bytes, then I fail in providing a quality service.
There is also the social side of working the front counter at McD’s. The rules of engagement are clear: 1. Smile; 2. Greet the customer, personally if possible, making eye contact (if possible); 3. Encourage the visitors and listen to their order; 4. Ask for and receive payment; Thank the customer; and 5. Present hot food with a smile.
Now that is a simple social pragmatics program! I get to practice this pattern over and over, changing my smile, my one line quips, the way I tilt my head to show I am listening, and enjoying every moment. The exchanges are short. I do not have to continue any complex social chatter. Dialogue is short so I do not have an opportunity to soliloquize about my favorite and arcane topics. Perhaps best of all my quirky mannerisms—quoting lyrics from 1970’s love songs, imitating famous film lines, creating goofy faces—invite laughter and easygoing banter.
This is great. I have had many types of employment. I have worked in accounting, data entry, marketing, personal care, and entertainment roles. I have developed curriculum, written and graded exams, and worked in desegregation programs.
Nowhere has there been a position where I can smile the entire time I am working and get smiles back most of the time. Not only do I have short but happy interactions with my customers, I work on using my unique way of thinking and perceiving to create relationships with my crew members.
Back in high school at my very first McD’s job, I was a social misfit who was good at the rules, fast with service, and shy. Eight years ago I took my children on a tour of my hometown. Unbelievable, but the store manager remembered me, and offered me a job. I worked at a store in Atlanta and in St. Louis. When I needed a bit of extra income (dratted car payments) I took on the store here in southern New Hampshire.
Of course I am much older, quite a bit heavier (was I really a beach bunny?), and my hair is so gray it no longer holds hair color. I have come to peace with my oddness. I no longer care if I fit in with people.
I do care if I fit in my clothes.
I do care that I fit the profile of a hard worker, and a compassionate co-worker.
Now, not only do I work at this restaurant, but when I first joined the crew my eldest son also worked at this restaurant. That was five years ago. He worked at a store in Pennsylvania where he attended college and now in Florida he works for a corporately owned restaurant where he is learning management. Now at the small McCafe in rural New Hampshire my daughter is an award winning employee, my middle son works in the grill area, and my fourth child who is 15 wants to know when he can apply.
We are now the McEdscorn’s. Where I once was the shy, cautious customer service crew member, I am now the laughing and playful expert. I am the oldest front counter person, and by that virtue (and the compassion and experience I project) I have been adopted as McMommy by my much younger cohorts. They confide their hurts, their worries and their concerns to me. They know they can get a hug from me. They know that if something goes wrong, I am logical, calm, and knowledgeable and that I take action to solve personal and customer relationships.
Somehow, the gangly awkward young adult, the peculiar young woman with language idiosyncrasies, has become cool.
I answer those who wonder how I can possibly work in the noisy, fast-paced environment, that this is the only job where I can smile at people for 4 or more hours straight out and have people smile back.
McMommy…I’m lovin’ it.
END
That quick pinging is the French fry timer. It is time to shake those fries so they do not stick together.
The longer ping is the basket on the left side of the fryer. Those fries are done and need to be drained and gently emptied into the bin. And that other steady bell that is a half pitch lower in musical tone? That is one of the alerts to let the grill team know that they need fresh-cooked hamburgers.
The shake machine has a soft low tone. The back grill buzzes when hot, when cooking, when done. The pie oven dings when the pies are baked. Near the front counter the reach-in refrigerator fan turns on, followed closely by the motor for the ice cream mixer.
These are the normal noises that flow through the day at my McDonald’s restaurant. They happen frequently and often in synchronicity. They have no respect for my customers. Through this noise I need to be able to focus on my patrons, I need to accurately hear their orders, direct questions to clarify their needs, and then speedily enter this information into the computer system so that their food products are communicated to the grill team.
Fast food, not instant.
Friends who know me marvel that I can not only survive but thrive in this sensory magnified environment. I regularly field the question “You are so smart—how can you work at McDonald’s?” It is true, I am smart. I have taught at the university level. I give workshops to professionals about autism. I am published. I am a member of the Freedom Writers’ Foundation and a contributor to their recent book, Teaching Hope. I have written dinner theater, acted, directed and designed for the theater.
Yet I love my “McJob.” After 3 hours serving customers during a busy lunch rush my hearing is compromised. It is difficult for me to filter out all the sounds, to filter and distinguish the vowels and consonants in shared speech between me the server and my customer, the served. If I am not cautious about creating a sensory break, about renewing my ability to discriminate sound bytes, then I fail in providing a quality service.
There is also the social side of working the front counter at McD’s. The rules of engagement are clear: 1. Smile; 2. Greet the customer, personally if possible, making eye contact (if possible); 3. Encourage the visitors and listen to their order; 4. Ask for and receive payment; Thank the customer; and 5. Present hot food with a smile.
Now that is a simple social pragmatics program! I get to practice this pattern over and over, changing my smile, my one line quips, the way I tilt my head to show I am listening, and enjoying every moment. The exchanges are short. I do not have to continue any complex social chatter. Dialogue is short so I do not have an opportunity to soliloquize about my favorite and arcane topics. Perhaps best of all my quirky mannerisms—quoting lyrics from 1970’s love songs, imitating famous film lines, creating goofy faces—invite laughter and easygoing banter.
This is great. I have had many types of employment. I have worked in accounting, data entry, marketing, personal care, and entertainment roles. I have developed curriculum, written and graded exams, and worked in desegregation programs.
Nowhere has there been a position where I can smile the entire time I am working and get smiles back most of the time. Not only do I have short but happy interactions with my customers, I work on using my unique way of thinking and perceiving to create relationships with my crew members.
Back in high school at my very first McD’s job, I was a social misfit who was good at the rules, fast with service, and shy. Eight years ago I took my children on a tour of my hometown. Unbelievable, but the store manager remembered me, and offered me a job. I worked at a store in Atlanta and in St. Louis. When I needed a bit of extra income (dratted car payments) I took on the store here in southern New Hampshire.
Of course I am much older, quite a bit heavier (was I really a beach bunny?), and my hair is so gray it no longer holds hair color. I have come to peace with my oddness. I no longer care if I fit in with people.
I do care if I fit in my clothes.
I do care that I fit the profile of a hard worker, and a compassionate co-worker.
Now, not only do I work at this restaurant, but when I first joined the crew my eldest son also worked at this restaurant. That was five years ago. He worked at a store in Pennsylvania where he attended college and now in Florida he works for a corporately owned restaurant where he is learning management. Now at the small McCafe in rural New Hampshire my daughter is an award winning employee, my middle son works in the grill area, and my fourth child who is 15 wants to know when he can apply.
We are now the McEdscorn’s. Where I once was the shy, cautious customer service crew member, I am now the laughing and playful expert. I am the oldest front counter person, and by that virtue (and the compassion and experience I project) I have been adopted as McMommy by my much younger cohorts. They confide their hurts, their worries and their concerns to me. They know they can get a hug from me. They know that if something goes wrong, I am logical, calm, and knowledgeable and that I take action to solve personal and customer relationships.
Somehow, the gangly awkward young adult, the peculiar young woman with language idiosyncrasies, has become cool.
I answer those who wonder how I can possibly work in the noisy, fast-paced environment, that this is the only job where I can smile at people for 4 or more hours straight out and have people smile back.
McMommy…I’m lovin’ it.
END
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