Importance of the Mundane

The people you pass by and dismiss almost unnoticed are the ones who hold the mundane jobs that most of us would not choose to do. These are the people that we need to go out of your way to notice because they are the people that really do make the world go around. If it were not for them doing the jobs that nobody else wants, society would screech to a very loud whining, kicking and screaming, tantrum filled and complaining halt.

One of these such persons is a security officer who diligently mans the booth to the entrance of an office complex that I have the pleasure to infrequent. He’s an older gentleman who greets every person with a warm welcome and a smile one after another all day long. Most of the people stopping at his toll are not in the best of moods entering the lot but are even more displeased when they are asked to fork over the five dollars for parking. Our amazing officer maintains his smile and good nature regardless of the comments or behaviour of the persons being dealt with.

Who else in the entire world is more deserving of a random act of kindness if not him? Everyone just like him is the right answer. The first thing I need to do is step out of my own skin for a split second to notice people like this. Open my mind ever so slightly. Realize that my life is not the only one going on right now and people like him are everywhere.

Now there is a nationally known coffee shop inside this complex. As I stood in line awaiting my turn to be served, my thoughts fell upon this ever pleasant officer. How often does he get to come into the building to take advantage of this coffee shop and its services? Not often if at all I would guess. Being on the outside looking into his booth it appeared very sparse to say the least. In my brief encounter I did not notice a coffee machine or even a microwave oven. So a large coffee and a snack is the very least he deserves.  

So with purchases in hand I make my way back to my vehicle and begin to exit the parking lot. I pull up to the window on the exit side of his booth. This takes him by surprise as people do not usually stop while exiting. He comes across the booth and slides the window open. All while maintaining that smile he had greeted me with earlier upon entering. I handed him the coffee and the bag and simply said “this is for you. I thought you might like a coffee”.

When presented with these unexpected gifts, his surprise and excitement began escaping in a lasting round of thank you. He was genuinely grateful for being given a hot coffee and a pastry surprise in a brown paper bag. A rather insignificant amount of money became a rather significant event in someone’s life.

No sir, thank YOU.

The Washroom Adventure

Having a mid-afternoon lunch in a smaller café is always pleasant. With a little more than half of the tables occupied with patrons, the majority of customer flow is take out items from the counter service only establishment.

While sampling the latest offerings displayed on the newly revised chalk menu board I get the call. So I politely excuse myself and make my way across the restaurant to the restroom. Upon entering I notice that this is a single seat unit with a conveniently placed sink to the left of the commode. So I close and latch the door behind me. The horror of what I see next cannot be unseen no matter how hard I try.

            Now, I will never understand the attraction or amusement found in doing this and if you do please keep it to yourself. I choose to remain ignorant to this one for the rest of my days. Approaching the porcelain convenience preparing to perform my one act play is when I am halted with disgust and astonishment.

Someone has urinated on the seat. The mind now spins out of control wondering why somebody would do this. What were they thinking at the time? Obviously they weren't thinking that there would be anybody else using this facility after they were. What does the bathroom in their home look like? Who could possibly be the culprit? Then try to remember if you saw the last person that came out. I cannot speak for anyone else on this but I usually wad up some toilet paper and give it a quick wipe down for a couple of reasons. First of all, it is disgusting to say the least, and secondly I don’t want the next person to think that it was me.  I have on occasion taken a piece of paper towel and written a disclaimer “IT WAS LIKE THIS WHEN I GOT HERE”. Now you can feel free to be relieved.

With the task at hand taken care of and making your way to the sink you notice how clean and tidy it seems, almost untouched. Your mind reels once again at how this is not possible. The sink is dry, also the counter, no soap residue and everything appears too clean for an afternoon restroom in a reasonably busy place. Doesn’t anybody wash their hands anymore? Even the seat urinator? He must have gotten some on himself somewhere judging from the spray pattern.

 Intending on washing my hands anyway, it appears to be up to me to once again hide the evidence, or in this case, lack of, and make it look used. Not to the point of making a mess mind you, but just enough to show that yes I did wash my hands after the fact.

Now take some paper towel in your hand, unlock and open the door with it and try not to think of what might be clinging to that door handle.

The Disappearing Arcade

Whatever happened to the arcade? You know the kind I’m talking about. When I was younger and travelling with my parents and we would stop at some service plaza along the highway for gas and lunch or just a quick washroom break. Inside, next to the souvenir shop there would be a room filled with pinball machines and all of the latest video games, such as they were back then. The technology pales by today’s games but they were the latest and the best to be found anywhere. There was always at least one that I had never seen before.

I would marvel at every single one before asking for a quarter to try your hand. Yes, they were only a quarter back then kids. And the pinball machines gave you five balls for that quarter as well. I remember feeling ripped off the first time I encountered a pinball machine that only gave me three balls for my quarter. This marked the beginning of the downward spiral of high scores for everybody.

So with my quarter in hand I would wander back and forth attempting to decide on which game is worthy of my money. Something new, something old, something using the bright orange plastic gun (oooh, a shooter game!), or see if I’ve gotten any better at pinball, even though I haven’t played since the last time I came across an arcade much like this one.

The excitement is powerful and a decision is finally made. I insert the money and listen for that all too familiar sound of the coin clinking through the mechanism as it drops down the slot. Then the unit chimes and whirs into action as it registers your play.

So now I begin playing. And then within about fifteen to twenty seconds I’m feeling totally robbed and dejected when my game abruptly comes to an end.  It seems that I didn't know what to expect because, in my haste to play I failed to read the instructions clearly posted on the front of the game. Ahh, those were the days.

Nowadays when I visit one of those travel plaza arcade rooms I’m shocked. Only one pinball machine? Really? It looks as if it may very well be the same one from years ago. It looks old and abused. There are a couple of video games, racing ones at that. The rest of this downsized space now shares a corner with the washroom entrance and is filled with another type of machine that now cost $2 for only one play.

Now here’s the kicker. With this new type of “arcade game” you insert your money and press a button. A wheel spins or blocks drop or something similar that is only a game of chance with no skill involved whatsoever. Quite similar to a slot machine but with slimmer odds of winning.

Now here is the evolution of rest stop arcade game play. I insert my money into this machine for the slim chance that I could win an electronic prize that plays video games.

What the hell?

Barstool Mathematics

Finding myself with some time to kill I end up at a local sports bar for quick beer. It’s always interesting to go into an unfamiliar place to check out the décor and the regular customers. At some places the most décor you will find is in the regular customers.

I like to see just how many big screen televisions can be packed into the limited space which is usually cluttered with a barrage of interesting team memorabilia.

Perched at the bar I cannot help but over-hear the conversation of the people a few seats down from me without even trying. They seem to enjoy hearing the sound of their own voices and want people to know what their conversation is about. Or the alcohol has somehow dampened their hearing and just need to talk loud. This type of patrons have been known to stumble across the solving of the entire world’s problems if they happen to drink enough. This being in the late afternoon it appears they are still a few drinks away from solving anything.

Talk regarding work issues and co-workers takes a second place only to the topic of sports, and that is dependent on whether there was a game on recently. The usual ramblings of good days, bad days, hate my job, the boss is such an asshole and what do you guys think of the new guy? Or the ever favourite gossip floating around the “did you hear?” mill.

One such topic of their conversation referred to a particular person at their place of employment. Sorry but I didn’t catch the information about what they did for a living. It must have happened before I got there.

They began on the topic of lunches and how stingy this person was every time it came time to pay the bill. Apparently the only time this so-called miser of a person didn’t seem to care about money was when it wasn’t his own. This continued in comments that went back and forth between them for the next number of minutes to the point of me tuning them out again.

Not long after, and nearing the end of my beer, I overheard them ask for their bill and were preparing themselves to leave. When the bartender handed them the bill they both began to dicker with each other over how much they each owed individually, who actually had which items and how much they truly were required to pay right down to the penny. This was followed by each of them having their own complete rendition of the before and after tax mathematics explanation. And there was an explanation complete with them correcting each other’s percentages.

I could not help but reflect on their prior topic of conversation and chuckle quietly to myself. Just how stingy did this other co-worker of theirs have to be to stand out so vividly to these two number crunchers?

Follow Your Nose

Driving in the city I get to see all kinds of things, especially the drivers. The close proximity gives great perspective on who is around you. This can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on the situation.

So there I am, driving along listening to my tunes and notice beside me a rather expensive high end brand named vehicle. Inside I observe a very well groomed and well-dressed individual who is obviously a little better off than most people due to intelligent career and financial choices made early in life. They drive along side of me in what seems to be a very comfortable bubble of conveyance totally oblivious to the world outside of their hermetically sealed horseless carriage.

I just can’t help but let my mind drift into a fantasy world, and we all do this, about how nice it would be to have the expensive car, expensive clothes, financial stability and vacations a lot of us could never afford. My mind then wanders father into things such as winning the lottery and what I would do with the seemingly endless pile of winnings. Oh yes. How sweet it would be to win the lottery. Any lottery. Not a care in the world. Let’s fly to Paris for breakfast my dear.

With reality flowing back over me I sneak another peek at the person next to me, those images in my fantasy dreamland come crashing to the ground like a sack of wet cement. The person in the fancy car calmly and slowly, without looking around, oblivious to the fact that the windows are transparent, reaches up with his free hand and PICKS HIS NOSE.

I looked away before I could see whether he wiped it on his suit.