Where did this obnoxious fan come from? I'm sitting in my very own living room and have to leave because the noise is too loud. This fan is booing the other team, making noise to distract shooters, whooshing free throws, yelling at the team to play it like they mean it... I can hardly bear it.
Well, okay, since it's Kristina, I'll hang in there with patience...
(She even wears her good luck Aggie earrings I fashioned for her.)
Story number 2… Maybe we depend a little too much on technology
I was going to Lowe's for the umpteenth time today. Searching for a swiveling handle to match the face plate of an antique dresser in Daniel's newly painted room. (Can you say Red rock themes...) An older man asks if I need any help. I tell him what I'm looking for. We slowly start to walk down the varying isles. I realize at this pace (not knowing what was to come) that I had plenty of time for conversation. I ask him about his day. He says the power had just come back on (clue 2, of what was to come). He said it was pitch black for a while. I find my handle, or at least one that will do without special ordering it, and proceed back to the checkout. I hear over the loud speaker a kryptic code for help at the registers. I see lines like I never have before. I patiently stand at the end wondering what is going. Then it hits me... the computers are down. The previous power outage must have blasted the computers. Varying conversations occur with strangers while waiting in line, including one about driving by and seeing Lowe's in Pitch blackness. I run into some old ward members. Nice conversation. Then someone mentions that I should know the price of my handle. What for? As I move one step closer in the line, I realize that those working the cash registers are writing down bar codes of each individual item that customers have gathered in the store. Then, they are passing those numbers to another worker who then runs through the store checking prices, writing them down on a piece of paper, and then bringing them back to the front. Each customer fills out what seems like a purchase order form for the goodies, prices are then written by hand, added with cell phones (not all technology has been wiped out) and then the question arises multiple times, "What is the tax rate?" I can't believe it. I joke, "I know what your next meeting is going to cover!" Then, after waiting what seemed an eternity, my single purchase is multi paper worked, assuring my name and phone number are taken in case some mistake is made, (What? am I going to come back to the store because the charged me 2.07 for a 2.08 item?) Then I say I want to pay cash. Okay who has the key to the drawer? Let's see, 2.07, times the tax rate equals 2.20. Great. I tender them 3 dollars and the poor lad gives me back 60 cents. Now I see why they wrote down my vitals... I mention that 60 cents doesn't quite cover the change. The key bearer laughs, my change is collected then redistributed.
When did we grow so dependent on technology that we can't even make correct change when it is left to us to calculate? And such an easy one, at that..
Story 3…
Okay, special meeting for priesthood leadership. Let's have it at 6:00 am, on the commencement of Daylight Saving Time, the night after a late WAC championship which was watched with a die hard and vocal fan…
Until tomorrow
goodnight, sleep tight
ps
come back in about a week and see how we've changed....
2 comments:
When is Elder Carter due home?
He's home!
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