Time to make the donuts
Back in the 80s there was this dunkin' donuts commercial that my friend Gail reminded me of...The commercial starts with a pudgy man waking up at the break of dawn and as he gets out of bed he says "Time to make the donuts" - then there is some sort of montage basically showing everyday this poor dude gets up and says "Time to make the donuts"
In my mind when things get a bit too routine, I begin to think of it as a "Time to make the donuts" rut. Fortunately for me, the "time to make the donuts" rut never lasts for long. Generally because my daughter keeps my life fairly interesting, and my job does too. I work for a Christian organization that helps homeless and addicted people. I work more on the fundraising side, so I don't get to do the really heroic work that the people on the "program" side of things do or these amazing volunteers that restore your faith in humanity with how incredibly giving they are...but its still an interesting place. For one thing, we work where our organization does and we interact with the people we help. Also, we work in an old, dilapidated building with a fairly robust mouse problem...Lately, the mice have taken to using the silverware drawer in the breakroom as their own personal mouse latrine. I can't begin to describe how disturbing it is to pull out a fork and notice all the mouse poop! Also, the mice provide opportunities for harrassment...Several co-workers discovering a dead mouse might confer to decide whose office the little mousy corpse needs to be placed in--who needs a shock?
In our building below us used to be a club/bar which recently closed. The new tenents are renovating and much of their work goes on in the breezeway just below my office window. They started Monday. I feel fairly confident they don't realize how their voices carry and that I hear every word of their conversation as clear as a bell. They definitely drop the "F-bomb" on a regular basis. In some intances I can't blame them, since there is about a two inch coat of bird poop on the roof they are tearing up, I guess occasionally f*** is called for as an expression of disgust. But it did get a little out of hand and strayed in to the other use of the f-word in one guy talking about some lady (my words, not his)- aparently a lady possessing many talents. After I came back from lunch I decided to get a piece of scrap paper and just do an informal tally of f-word use. I think by 2:30 I quit and was up to 20. Its kind of funny they know that we are in the building and refer to us as the "Church people" - They were going to remove the air conditioner in my office window, but I heard their supervisor say, "No, one of the Church people are in that room" which made me crack-up. It also made me decide against asking them to please cut down on the f-talk. I hardly want to fit the stereotype of an uptight, nit-picky "church person" out on a crusade to clean up people's dirty language.
I'm always amused when one of them stops into our office for roof access or some water. Its nice to put a face with the voice. I have not yet met the Mr. Romance who so eloquently shared his "romantic interlude" with his "lady friend" - hopefully, I get to see him before the project is done. He sounds young- I think his story is mostly b.s. to impress his co-workers. When they stop into the office they couldn't be nicer or more polite. Naturally, I think we're the "Church people!"
I suppose its a typical stereotype, those "church people" so easily offended! I find the opposite to be true, we laugh at the mouse dead, we cheerfully re-wash the mouse-pooped fork. We look out the window and see people who live under bridge line up for food, we hear indescribable horror stories of people who come in for addiction recovery- the woman whose father sexually abused her from as early as she can remember, a memory she medicates away with drugs, a man who bounced from abusive situation to abusive situation as a kid, filled with anger and became a drug user and dealer.
It's enough to make you pray for a typical donut-making day...
In my mind when things get a bit too routine, I begin to think of it as a "Time to make the donuts" rut. Fortunately for me, the "time to make the donuts" rut never lasts for long. Generally because my daughter keeps my life fairly interesting, and my job does too. I work for a Christian organization that helps homeless and addicted people. I work more on the fundraising side, so I don't get to do the really heroic work that the people on the "program" side of things do or these amazing volunteers that restore your faith in humanity with how incredibly giving they are...but its still an interesting place. For one thing, we work where our organization does and we interact with the people we help. Also, we work in an old, dilapidated building with a fairly robust mouse problem...Lately, the mice have taken to using the silverware drawer in the breakroom as their own personal mouse latrine. I can't begin to describe how disturbing it is to pull out a fork and notice all the mouse poop! Also, the mice provide opportunities for harrassment...Several co-workers discovering a dead mouse might confer to decide whose office the little mousy corpse needs to be placed in--who needs a shock?
In our building below us used to be a club/bar which recently closed. The new tenents are renovating and much of their work goes on in the breezeway just below my office window. They started Monday. I feel fairly confident they don't realize how their voices carry and that I hear every word of their conversation as clear as a bell. They definitely drop the "F-bomb" on a regular basis. In some intances I can't blame them, since there is about a two inch coat of bird poop on the roof they are tearing up, I guess occasionally f*** is called for as an expression of disgust. But it did get a little out of hand and strayed in to the other use of the f-word in one guy talking about some lady (my words, not his)- aparently a lady possessing many talents. After I came back from lunch I decided to get a piece of scrap paper and just do an informal tally of f-word use. I think by 2:30 I quit and was up to 20. Its kind of funny they know that we are in the building and refer to us as the "Church people" - They were going to remove the air conditioner in my office window, but I heard their supervisor say, "No, one of the Church people are in that room" which made me crack-up. It also made me decide against asking them to please cut down on the f-talk. I hardly want to fit the stereotype of an uptight, nit-picky "church person" out on a crusade to clean up people's dirty language.
I'm always amused when one of them stops into our office for roof access or some water. Its nice to put a face with the voice. I have not yet met the Mr. Romance who so eloquently shared his "romantic interlude" with his "lady friend" - hopefully, I get to see him before the project is done. He sounds young- I think his story is mostly b.s. to impress his co-workers. When they stop into the office they couldn't be nicer or more polite. Naturally, I think we're the "Church people!"
I suppose its a typical stereotype, those "church people" so easily offended! I find the opposite to be true, we laugh at the mouse dead, we cheerfully re-wash the mouse-pooped fork. We look out the window and see people who live under bridge line up for food, we hear indescribable horror stories of people who come in for addiction recovery- the woman whose father sexually abused her from as early as she can remember, a memory she medicates away with drugs, a man who bounced from abusive situation to abusive situation as a kid, filled with anger and became a drug user and dealer.
It's enough to make you pray for a typical donut-making day...
posted by moegirl at
10:28 PM
3 Comments:
I remember those commercials. I always felt a bit guilty buying the donuts as I was only increasing the work load for the poor sad sack donut-guy. Probably not the best of marketing campaigns. Apparently I give off the oh-so-nice aura. People are ususally a combination of shocked and amused when I let the profanity fly, which is part of the fun.
By
Diana, At
6:36 AM
I just used that phrase this past Monday. I often find myself whining about the rut I'm in then whining when life gets too crazy. In reality how crazy can my life as a "dink" really be. I work, I go to the health club, and I socialize (too much?). My stress is never about food, shelter or safety. Will I change? Of course not.
By
Anonymous, At
5:10 PM
... that was me, Gail again!
By
Anonymous, At
5:11 PM
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