I am beginning to think winter will be unusual this year. Not so much based on the Farmer's Almanac which says it will be a below-normal snow fall for us this year with the first snow around Thanksgiving, but because of the signs I am seeing about town.
Last week Kiel and I went to K-Marts to get some oil for the car, and I could not believe that in September they had fully decorated Christmas trees up and ready! Good Lord, the boys just went back to school. Can't they wait until at least after Halloween much less Thanksgiving?
And today, while driving down Westside Drive, I nearly popped my eyes out at a huge bright yellow sandwich sign with big black letters emblazoned on it advertising "Snow Plowing"! Snow? The leaves aren't even off the trees yet.
And speaking of leaves, they are falling fast and turning brown quickly. I sure hope we get at least some color before everything turns to dust. Of course, it doesn't help that I have been cold and actually dug out my longjohns, scarves and gloves already. I know, its only been raining, but Kiel said the rain was so solid he thought it was sleet. Even he was complaining of how chilly it was outside. Drew no longer needs me to tell him to put a coat on before rushing to the bus stop.
Its not exactly handwriting on the wall, but perhaps there is something in these little signs. Regardless, I have turned the heat on in the apartment, and put another quilt on my bed. So despite the forecast of snow flurries, I wrap a scarf about my neck and persist in taking my morning walk. Hopefully, Ben Franklin will be right, and the current anticipation will not encourage an early and hearty winter.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Students Under Glass (so named by my good friend Robin)
Closing the Library isn't a difficult job. Just make sure the machines are turned off, the lights are out, rooms are empty and the doors are locked. Sounds simple. I made a checklist. When training someone new, I walk through the process and demonstrate the first time, let them do it while I follow them around the second time, then let them solo while I am in the building for consultation. For the next few days I check when I come in the morning to make sure everything got done and the little details are all tended to, and tell them my cell phone is with me and on should they have any questions at all - don't hesitate to call.
Sometimes, though, these straightforward plans run aground. Like the first night I stepped through things with the new Evening Building Supervisor. We walked through the building a half hour before closing to see how many people were upstairs. After we had done everything else and were about to lock up, I mentioned that I hadn't seen enough people come down the stairs and that we should do a final walkaround upstairs just to make sure everyone had exited.
Good thing we did! Turns out there were three students stuck in a group study room. The door handle was broken, and although it turned OK, it didn't release the latch. As I stood there looking at them through the mostly glass door, I whipped out my cell phone, feeling masterly and in charge, and scrolled through the S's until I found security. I called and explained the situation, then went back to the desk to await their arrival. I waited and waited, and sent the other person home. After 20 minutes, I asked a staff person to wait at the desk, thinking maybe security had gone up the back stairs. Besides, I was concerned that the students not think they had been abandoned even though we had left the lights all on.
When I came to the room, there they were, still working on their laptops and chatting away. I had brought the only two screwdrivers at Circulation - tiny little ones. I slid one under the door, and one of the students worked from inside while I worked from outside. Another 15 minutes went by, and the other staff person arrived, worried that she had missed security. She suggested looking in Collection Services for better tools, which I retrieved. Now we had chisels and putty knives to ply. Still no security.
One of the students suggested throwing a chair through the glass, which I managed to talk her out of. They called a friend and sang Happy Birthday while explaining their plight. Nothing we did seemed to work. I was just about to call security again when the door magically popped open on its own, releasing the captives. After much exclamation and debriefing, the students left while I called security to tell them not to bother coming anymore.
Often, security takes calls in the order of priority, so I had assumed they had some emergency situation that trumped ours. But when I called, the person answering sounded surprised that I was still there. He stated that he had come to the library, found no one at the Circ Desk, asked around (to whom, I wondered, since the Library was locked and the only people inside were stuck in the room), then assumed everything was fine and left. I gently suggested he should have come to the room since I had given him the number. He said he had looked for the room but couldn't find it. I was floored. There aren't that many rooms IN here. How could he have not found the one room with people clustered about picking a non-locking door?
I couldn't let it go. Security has never been that lax, never would have laughed about what they were calling a miscommunication. Didn't they care about our students? What if someone had been in pain, or worse yet, had to go to the bathroom? Something had to be done. I worked through the emotions until I identified the purpose of pursuing - that such an incident not be repeated. I sent a carefully worded and non-accusatory email to our Library Operations Manager suggesting that perhaps Security could identify some reasonable length of time to recall, some common place to meet, put in place a protocol whereby they would at least seek me out or recall my phone to make sure everything was taken care of before writing us off.
So Monday morning, the head of Security came to my desk and asked if I would please look at the call log on my phone. They had no record of me calling them at all. What? But I spoke with one of the guards. Incredulous, I took out my cell phone and obediently scrolled to Sunday's date. There it was, the call to security at 12:45 am. Wait. What am I seeing? Not RWC Security. CUW Security. Concordia, my summer home, who's number I keep on speed dial because my swipe card constantly refuses to work and I get locked out of buildings. Similar letters - both have C and W. The numbers are right next to each other in the search list.
No wonder nothing made sense! I had called the wrong security. I cannot tell you how glad I was that I hadn't pitched a hissy fit for negligence! Well, there's a learning curve. Miscommunication indeed. What on earth must Concordia's security think? Some wingnut filing a false report? Fortunately, the good Lord, laughing from his vantage point, released the door and got those innocent students out despite my incompetence. In charge? Not likely. But at least we did get the door fixed - and checked all the rest of them while we were at it.
Sometimes, though, these straightforward plans run aground. Like the first night I stepped through things with the new Evening Building Supervisor. We walked through the building a half hour before closing to see how many people were upstairs. After we had done everything else and were about to lock up, I mentioned that I hadn't seen enough people come down the stairs and that we should do a final walkaround upstairs just to make sure everyone had exited.
Good thing we did! Turns out there were three students stuck in a group study room. The door handle was broken, and although it turned OK, it didn't release the latch. As I stood there looking at them through the mostly glass door, I whipped out my cell phone, feeling masterly and in charge, and scrolled through the S's until I found security. I called and explained the situation, then went back to the desk to await their arrival. I waited and waited, and sent the other person home. After 20 minutes, I asked a staff person to wait at the desk, thinking maybe security had gone up the back stairs. Besides, I was concerned that the students not think they had been abandoned even though we had left the lights all on.
When I came to the room, there they were, still working on their laptops and chatting away. I had brought the only two screwdrivers at Circulation - tiny little ones. I slid one under the door, and one of the students worked from inside while I worked from outside. Another 15 minutes went by, and the other staff person arrived, worried that she had missed security. She suggested looking in Collection Services for better tools, which I retrieved. Now we had chisels and putty knives to ply. Still no security.
One of the students suggested throwing a chair through the glass, which I managed to talk her out of. They called a friend and sang Happy Birthday while explaining their plight. Nothing we did seemed to work. I was just about to call security again when the door magically popped open on its own, releasing the captives. After much exclamation and debriefing, the students left while I called security to tell them not to bother coming anymore.
Often, security takes calls in the order of priority, so I had assumed they had some emergency situation that trumped ours. But when I called, the person answering sounded surprised that I was still there. He stated that he had come to the library, found no one at the Circ Desk, asked around (to whom, I wondered, since the Library was locked and the only people inside were stuck in the room), then assumed everything was fine and left. I gently suggested he should have come to the room since I had given him the number. He said he had looked for the room but couldn't find it. I was floored. There aren't that many rooms IN here. How could he have not found the one room with people clustered about picking a non-locking door?
I couldn't let it go. Security has never been that lax, never would have laughed about what they were calling a miscommunication. Didn't they care about our students? What if someone had been in pain, or worse yet, had to go to the bathroom? Something had to be done. I worked through the emotions until I identified the purpose of pursuing - that such an incident not be repeated. I sent a carefully worded and non-accusatory email to our Library Operations Manager suggesting that perhaps Security could identify some reasonable length of time to recall, some common place to meet, put in place a protocol whereby they would at least seek me out or recall my phone to make sure everything was taken care of before writing us off.
So Monday morning, the head of Security came to my desk and asked if I would please look at the call log on my phone. They had no record of me calling them at all. What? But I spoke with one of the guards. Incredulous, I took out my cell phone and obediently scrolled to Sunday's date. There it was, the call to security at 12:45 am. Wait. What am I seeing? Not RWC Security. CUW Security. Concordia, my summer home, who's number I keep on speed dial because my swipe card constantly refuses to work and I get locked out of buildings. Similar letters - both have C and W. The numbers are right next to each other in the search list.
No wonder nothing made sense! I had called the wrong security. I cannot tell you how glad I was that I hadn't pitched a hissy fit for negligence! Well, there's a learning curve. Miscommunication indeed. What on earth must Concordia's security think? Some wingnut filing a false report? Fortunately, the good Lord, laughing from his vantage point, released the door and got those innocent students out despite my incompetence. In charge? Not likely. But at least we did get the door fixed - and checked all the rest of them while we were at it.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Not Lost Purse
I am not usually scattered brained. Even when I have my bouts of chemobrain, I am aware of my plight and choose to find ways to control and contain any damage. Today I was focused on having some quality time with the boys after church. It had been a long haul of watching pennies to payday, settling in to the new order of fall semester, getting back into the swing of work and activities.
What better way to enjoy the afternoon than to have a bite to eat at Wegmans, the boys favorite fast food place? And what better way to make that special than to explore a different Wegman's store? I had been told by several people to check out the newer Wegmans stores, that they put the familiar stores to shame with their new ideas and services. I wasn't quite clear where these spiffy new stores were located, but Kiel thought he knew where one was.
We headed in the direction of Ridge Road only to discover that it wasn't one of the new stores, but at that point we were hungry, so we accepted our fate and went in. The good thing about eating at Wegmans is that there is something for everyone, and the wide variety of selections are all excellent. Today we settled on Danny's subs and left the Chinese Italian Indian Japanese Jewish American dishes for another day.
Drew chose the tall tables with the nosebleed chairs and the no room to set anything down way over in the corner of the dining room. We chatted away happily, munching on the crusty homemade bread and fresh meats and cheese. I broke down and actually got a Coke and a gooey chocolate chip cookie all warm and munchy. I set my purse on the window ledge as we ate, and I clearly remember telling myself not to forget it when we left.
Problem is, we were talking and joking around by the time we left, feeling good and energized, and I wasn't really paying any attention. It wasn't until I reached church in the evening and went to grab my purse that I realized I didn't have it with me. After service and PrayerSong rehearsal, I headed back to the apartment and looked around, trying to remember when I last remember having it.
Yes, the last clear memory was telling myself not to leave it on the window ledge at Wegmans. Fighting a rising panic, I prayed my way out the door and drove back to the store. One look in the dining room revealed an empty window ledge. I asked at the service desk, hoping for some good Samaritan to have turned it in. I once left my wallet at a McDonald's in Ohio on our way from Tulsa to New York. Fearing the worst, we stopped at the same McDonalds on the return trip and lo and behold someone had turned it in - minus the cash. But no such luck today.
I headed out to pick up Kiel from his soccer game, and explained my plight, rehearsing in my mind all the things in that purse that would have to be replaced or revoked. Yikes! Its a whole history, an entire life wrapped in cloth. Do I have time to go to the bank, call the credit card company, replace my license, find those important notes I had tucked in the side slots, get more pictures of the kids, replace the coughdrops and lipsticks? Not really.
We went back to the apartment before getting Drew from Youth Group. We both search the usual places. Not on the coffee table, not on the nightstand, not on the piano, not in the kitchen, not on the divider, not with my coat, not in my closet. I retrace my steps, repeat what I did after returning from Wegmans. Nothing. I bend down and look under the bed. Nope.
With a sigh, I lie down, trying to resign myself to my fate. Suddenly, Kiel says, "There it is!" Where? Hanging on the post of my bed, a place I not only never put it, but where it was covered up by a jacket. WHEW!!! Thank you Lord - I sure didn't want to have to deal with all that. I tell myself to pay more attention, and to remember that with my chemobrain, I need to stick with the agreed upon routines. Thank God that's taken care of. Now, where did I put my keys?
What better way to enjoy the afternoon than to have a bite to eat at Wegmans, the boys favorite fast food place? And what better way to make that special than to explore a different Wegman's store? I had been told by several people to check out the newer Wegmans stores, that they put the familiar stores to shame with their new ideas and services. I wasn't quite clear where these spiffy new stores were located, but Kiel thought he knew where one was.
We headed in the direction of Ridge Road only to discover that it wasn't one of the new stores, but at that point we were hungry, so we accepted our fate and went in. The good thing about eating at Wegmans is that there is something for everyone, and the wide variety of selections are all excellent. Today we settled on Danny's subs and left the Chinese Italian Indian Japanese Jewish American dishes for another day.
Drew chose the tall tables with the nosebleed chairs and the no room to set anything down way over in the corner of the dining room. We chatted away happily, munching on the crusty homemade bread and fresh meats and cheese. I broke down and actually got a Coke and a gooey chocolate chip cookie all warm and munchy. I set my purse on the window ledge as we ate, and I clearly remember telling myself not to forget it when we left.
Problem is, we were talking and joking around by the time we left, feeling good and energized, and I wasn't really paying any attention. It wasn't until I reached church in the evening and went to grab my purse that I realized I didn't have it with me. After service and PrayerSong rehearsal, I headed back to the apartment and looked around, trying to remember when I last remember having it.
Yes, the last clear memory was telling myself not to leave it on the window ledge at Wegmans. Fighting a rising panic, I prayed my way out the door and drove back to the store. One look in the dining room revealed an empty window ledge. I asked at the service desk, hoping for some good Samaritan to have turned it in. I once left my wallet at a McDonald's in Ohio on our way from Tulsa to New York. Fearing the worst, we stopped at the same McDonalds on the return trip and lo and behold someone had turned it in - minus the cash. But no such luck today.
I headed out to pick up Kiel from his soccer game, and explained my plight, rehearsing in my mind all the things in that purse that would have to be replaced or revoked. Yikes! Its a whole history, an entire life wrapped in cloth. Do I have time to go to the bank, call the credit card company, replace my license, find those important notes I had tucked in the side slots, get more pictures of the kids, replace the coughdrops and lipsticks? Not really.
We went back to the apartment before getting Drew from Youth Group. We both search the usual places. Not on the coffee table, not on the nightstand, not on the piano, not in the kitchen, not on the divider, not with my coat, not in my closet. I retrace my steps, repeat what I did after returning from Wegmans. Nothing. I bend down and look under the bed. Nope.
With a sigh, I lie down, trying to resign myself to my fate. Suddenly, Kiel says, "There it is!" Where? Hanging on the post of my bed, a place I not only never put it, but where it was covered up by a jacket. WHEW!!! Thank you Lord - I sure didn't want to have to deal with all that. I tell myself to pay more attention, and to remember that with my chemobrain, I need to stick with the agreed upon routines. Thank God that's taken care of. Now, where did I put my keys?
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