Sunday, August 17, 2008

A Goodbye, Of Sorts

I meant to post this Friday (when I wrote it), but never got around to it. So here it is:

I'm counting down the days until I move back up to Logan, not least because I think I've set some kind of world record for most Hostess and Little Debbie treats eaten in a 3-month span (take that Michael Phelps---I dare you to take me on in THAT). And although the excitement of carrying 6 boxes of books, 13 armloads of shirts on hangers, and a bookcase/filing cabinet/television up the three flights of stairs to my new apartment sounds about as fun as how I feel after eating said Hostess and Little Debbie treats, I still am eager to move on to life in the my four English classes, to my new place (goodbye L1: it was fun while it lasted, but I've moved onto something bigger, better, and more expensive), to my job with student athletic services working with huge football players (who seem to all be scared of me for some reason--must be the threat of me giving them 6 hours of study hall...or extra laps at 5 in the morning), and to a life that doesn't require me dealing with industrial tools, mowing lawns, cleaning houses, or hounding high schoolers about their homework.

Slight tangent: I don't mind moving as much as some people. Except moving out---I hate moving out. Because I hate cleaning walls with bleach. But as for moving IN somewhere...there's a certain bit of delicious excitement to it all: new roommates, new ward, new start on life as you know it...Besides, I've never been a huge fan of summer, so I'm never too sad to see it end. I much prefer cuddling up to a textbook in some dark corner of a library with no food and drink for hours to spending my evenings playing sand volleyball and my nights cruising around on The Dean's motorcycle. (Psych---I had you all fooled, didn't I? You believed all that because I'm such a nerd. Well, it's only partially true; I like fall more than summer, but I'd much rather be doing all the just mentioned than doing the just-mentioned-before-that. So take that, all you nonbelievers. I shun you :-P).

But back to my point. The summer ends for me in one week and two days, and with the ending of the season comes the end of the legacy of me working at the infamous Bountiful Tool (which actually isn't even Bountiful Tool anymore and which hasn't been for years, but since I hate the new name, I refuse to call it anything else). This epic tale starts five and a half years ago, when our brilliant, wise, and gloriously-charming heroine (yours truly, in case you didn't make the connection) took her first steps into a carpeted office building between what was then El Matador Mexican restaurant and The GemSmith and received the first taste of what so much of her life would consist of for the next several years---the curious humor of Calvin (or Calvy Walvy, as he later became known), which consisted of the same phrases repeated over and over again until someone finally threw a punch or a stapler, the good-natured but constant teasing of my boss about the various males who came in to save me from my boredom, the bullying from our repairmen Spence (who also teased me about the various males, and even labeled my filing tray "The Male-Box"), the petty arguments with Dave and/or Alan about my educational or social or literary anyone else noticing a pattern yet? Yes, being the only female for much of my work career here has had its perks (free chocolate weekly, first dibs on pizza, the choice of where to go for lunch...), but it has come at the price of me having to endure endless jokes about dating, marriage, and/or heartbreaking. Not to mention various sexist jokes thrown in every week or two. But in addition to the pounds I've gained here, I've also gained just about the most tolerant, toughest, most patient face when it comes to people being obnoxious that you can imagine---someone cuts me off on the freeway? That's nothing compared to having Calvin come up behind me and shake my chair as hard as he can or toilet paper my desk while I'm in the bathroom doing SuDoKu puzzles. Someone makes a wisecrack about how teachers get paid nothing and how I'll be worthless as an English major? Child's play compared to hours upon hours of debating whether Snape was evil or not (I KNEW I was right about that) or hours upon hours of discussion about why it's taking me so freaking long to get through school. Oh, and people in my old ward asking me if I have a "special someone" in the wings waiting to sweep me away to Canada (or some other exotic, romantic location)? An enjoyable alternative to having the pros and cons of my latest beau laid out daily for examination, or having our regulars constantly ask "Aren't you married yet?" (which is inevitably followed by someone or other giving the latest history of my dating life).

But let's not forget the good things: the Hostess treats, for one. The Dr. Pepper (which I've been going off of and then back on for all five years now). The free pizza once a week. (No, these do not all have to do with food. They are just what came to mind first). The extremely flexible schedule (I pretty much come in whenever I want and leave whenever I want. I can leave for 4 months and then come back and work full time again). The exposure to the once-mysterious and often-exciting world of concrete bits, circuit breakers, and hydraulic fittings. The gratifying art of scrapping the unsellables in the back (aka taking apart huge machines and getting all covered in grease and rust). And the list goes on.

"But what do you actually DO at this place you speak of?" I can hear you all think aloud in your heads. Well friends, I sell tools. I used to be our bookkeeper, our pricetag-remover, our "human relations coordinator," and our cleaning lady, but now I just sell tools. On eBay. Pretty much I just sit an on office all by myself for eight hours and listen to music and try not to pay too much attention to the conversations going on in my head. (Side note: I talk to people all day long in my head. I didn't think this was weird until about a week ago, when I mentioned it to some of my friends in idle conversation. They thought I was crazy. But it's not weird--pretty much I just talk to my friends and family and other random people in my head all day long--it helps me work out problems and saves me from having to talk to them all in person. Ha ha. Just kidding. Kinda).

Tonight, in honor of my time here ending, I have decided to make peace with Calvin and we are "playing a gig" (as I like to refer to it as) for the good people of the Bountiful 20th Ward. Actually, what really happened was that between my stepdad and my boss, I got suckered into doing this---my boss has always had this secret desire that Calvin and I will hook up, and so he asked Calvin to provide the entertainment for this high priests' party thing, and when Calvin refused, he said that I was going to be doing it too and that I was really excited to be performing with him (Calvin). So we both are performing tonight at 7:00 at the red brick church in Bountiful. You are free to come and bring tomatoes. But, unfortunately for my boss, I hereby say that no aparks have flown while rehearsing "The Water is Wide" or "Come Ye Children of the Lord," and so he will have to shelve his hopes and dreams for little Calvin/Torrie terrors running around the world. Thank goodness.
(Bruce looking WAY too excited about Calvin and me performing...)

Goodbye Bountiful Tool. Oh all right, I'll say it: Goodbye Monster Liquidators. Thank you for paying my way through school, and for fattening me up again one last time before I go back to being a starving student. It's been real.

1 comment:

  1. I hate it when you go back up to Logan! (mostly) Logan has become my place of refuge since you always let me come visit you whenever I get the chance. What I mean is, I love having you around, and even though Logan isn't extremely far, I prefer to have you much closer. I will miss you so much when you go, but I know we will still be able to keep in tough with our blogs, facebook and other things.


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