Since I make next to nothing as a social work fellow, I picked up a second job of sorts working in events support at a large event space downtown. My roommate's company runs it, and I can sign up for shifts whenever I'm free. It works for me because it allows for the hours of my other jobs but also provides long shifts that actually mean I make some decent money only working a couple days here and there.
Yesterday was my first shift, and it happened to be staffing a book festival. The day started with a kids event, then continued with events featuring the governor of Massachusetts (the day's most poorly-attended event... oops!), a 3-hour-long session on the Civil War, and a keynote address by Michael Ondaatje, author of The English Patient. The entire day I was thinking of Jess, obviously, and planning ways for her to do this event as an author next year, but I was also people watching. These are some of the things I observed:
- There are some very relaxed parents in this town. They stroll around public spaces and keep a roaming eye on their children, who are also in these public spaces, but far away from their parents. Occasionally this works well, and other times, it goes horribly. It works well when the kids come back, like little boomerangs, for periodic check-ins with their parent. "Look what I found!" they crow, as they drag their adult back to some corner somewhere where they found a treasure. "Are we going to eat soon?" some query, calmly, without whining, then take a parental hand and walk away. It works badly when the kids detach the virtual elastic that keeps them bouncing back to their parent, and instead start careening around like little whirlwinds, knocking over stanchions and getting underfoot. The relaxed parent may notice this and call out, or, being so ridiculously relaxed, not. Guess which parents I like?
- There are some very uptight parents in this town. They march, not stroll, and keep their children clutched in their iron grip, allowing them neither to roam nor look at the exciting things around them. I watched as one mother offered to buy her son a button being sold to support the local library, then lectured him for 5 minutes on how to stand as she pinned it to his chest. Someone behind her said something that she thought was intended for her, and she whirled, furious, to ostensibly yell at this distracting member of her party. Instead, she found herself face to face with stranger merely making a kindly comment to a friend, and uptight mom of the year turned back to her son, embarrassed. "Got a little stressed from this button," she tried to quip. The women at the button stand didn't laugh. Her son adjusted his t-shirt to peer at the back of the button. "Stand STILL!" He bowed his head. "I only wanted to see how it works, Mom." I died a little. That poor kid :(
- There are children who recognize candy and scream for it, eyes aglow with scary desire for sugar, over processed goods, and the satisfying crinkle of the wrapper that they will inevitably discard on the floor. These are the children who scream for it - "MomcanIhaveasnaaack? MomcanIhavesomecaaaandy? MomMomMomMomMom!" These children might do well to have a mother like the 2nd in the example above. More often than not, however, they're the ones with a parent who waltzes up to the concession counter at 10am and buys them a can of soda and a large size bag of candy - and I think, "Whyyyyyyy???" Then there are children who breeze by, not even noticing what might be in the bright packages, so excited are they to meet the author of their favorite book about a pigeon who goes to school and a pig who's friends with an elephant. Guess which kids I like?
- Some babies actually are ugly. I know you're not supposed to say that, but seriously. Some are. There. I said it.
- Some babies eat their clothing. The inherently endearing quality of this action provided me with much joy yesterday.
- Some babies throw everything - literally everything - on the floor and think it's the best joke ever. I like these babies best of all.
- The sound of an entire audience laughing is satisfying for everyone who hears it - the speaker onstage who incurred the laugh, the audience members, bonded in joy with their fellow attendees, and anyone outside the auditorium who is then immediately prompted to stick their head in to see if they can catch the joke - or at least hear the next one. This entire cycle is nice to watch.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll be privy to more observations as this job continues, hopefully more on the hopeful side of this entry and less on the cynical side. My Saturday was a total wash, having sat there from 9:30am to 8:00pm, but hopefully the check will mean fun things :)
Yesterday was my first shift, and it happened to be staffing a book festival. The day started with a kids event, then continued with events featuring the governor of Massachusetts (the day's most poorly-attended event... oops!), a 3-hour-long session on the Civil War, and a keynote address by Michael Ondaatje, author of The English Patient. The entire day I was thinking of Jess, obviously, and planning ways for her to do this event as an author next year, but I was also people watching. These are some of the things I observed:
- There are some very relaxed parents in this town. They stroll around public spaces and keep a roaming eye on their children, who are also in these public spaces, but far away from their parents. Occasionally this works well, and other times, it goes horribly. It works well when the kids come back, like little boomerangs, for periodic check-ins with their parent. "Look what I found!" they crow, as they drag their adult back to some corner somewhere where they found a treasure. "Are we going to eat soon?" some query, calmly, without whining, then take a parental hand and walk away. It works badly when the kids detach the virtual elastic that keeps them bouncing back to their parent, and instead start careening around like little whirlwinds, knocking over stanchions and getting underfoot. The relaxed parent may notice this and call out, or, being so ridiculously relaxed, not. Guess which parents I like?
- There are some very uptight parents in this town. They march, not stroll, and keep their children clutched in their iron grip, allowing them neither to roam nor look at the exciting things around them. I watched as one mother offered to buy her son a button being sold to support the local library, then lectured him for 5 minutes on how to stand as she pinned it to his chest. Someone behind her said something that she thought was intended for her, and she whirled, furious, to ostensibly yell at this distracting member of her party. Instead, she found herself face to face with stranger merely making a kindly comment to a friend, and uptight mom of the year turned back to her son, embarrassed. "Got a little stressed from this button," she tried to quip. The women at the button stand didn't laugh. Her son adjusted his t-shirt to peer at the back of the button. "Stand STILL!" He bowed his head. "I only wanted to see how it works, Mom." I died a little. That poor kid :(
- There are children who recognize candy and scream for it, eyes aglow with scary desire for sugar, over processed goods, and the satisfying crinkle of the wrapper that they will inevitably discard on the floor. These are the children who scream for it - "MomcanIhaveasnaaack? MomcanIhavesomecaaaandy? MomMomMomMomMom!" These children might do well to have a mother like the 2nd in the example above. More often than not, however, they're the ones with a parent who waltzes up to the concession counter at 10am and buys them a can of soda and a large size bag of candy - and I think, "Whyyyyyyy???" Then there are children who breeze by, not even noticing what might be in the bright packages, so excited are they to meet the author of their favorite book about a pigeon who goes to school and a pig who's friends with an elephant. Guess which kids I like?
- Some babies actually are ugly. I know you're not supposed to say that, but seriously. Some are. There. I said it.
- Some babies eat their clothing. The inherently endearing quality of this action provided me with much joy yesterday.
- Some babies throw everything - literally everything - on the floor and think it's the best joke ever. I like these babies best of all.
- The sound of an entire audience laughing is satisfying for everyone who hears it - the speaker onstage who incurred the laugh, the audience members, bonded in joy with their fellow attendees, and anyone outside the auditorium who is then immediately prompted to stick their head in to see if they can catch the joke - or at least hear the next one. This entire cycle is nice to watch.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll be privy to more observations as this job continues, hopefully more on the hopeful side of this entry and less on the cynical side. My Saturday was a total wash, having sat there from 9:30am to 8:00pm, but hopefully the check will mean fun things :)
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