Future Proof
I discovered this morning that it's not only Thanksgiving in Canada (precluding any useful updates from the new employment front), but also Columbus Day here in the US. This realization came to me a couple of different ways. First, because my bank was closed (which I had to find out after having parked halfway across the parking lot due to the participants of a traffic accident having pulled their cars out of the street directly in front of the bank, accompanied by a tow truck which was almost completely blocking the front door — this sucks because I had two checks to deposit, after which my financial muscle will become considerably more relaxed). Second, my neighborhood IHOP which I decided to visit for some breakfast was practically aflood with kids who should have otherwise been in school. Or something.
At first it kind of bothered me. I noticed a flaw of reasoning whenever a host/hostess asks, "Will this table be okay for you?" — a quiet little table in the middle of a nearly empty room was just fine when the question is initially posed to me; however, ten minutes later finding myself besieged by tables of 3+ excited children on either side and Butt Crack Man directly in front of me, I am wondering what had happened. Perhaps servers should not only ask the person being seated if the spot is okay, but also the potential neighbors, "Excuse me sir, do you mind sharing your quiet pleasant breakfast environment with this gentleman whose choice of trousers seems specifically engineered to advertise the fact that he doesn't seem to have cleaned his anal area in about four days? What about having your remaining field of vision filled by a vapid suburbanite woman whose half dozen vermin-like spawn will spread a path of crayon and napkin-crumble destruction halfway across the room? Great!"
My mood lightened, however, when I started listening to the conversations of the little girls to my right. There were three of them, roughly about six to eight years old. They were with their grandmother, and seemed to consist of two sisters and a cousin. Anyway, their observations on the world and their own future were immediately endearing.
Little Girl 1: You know what I'm gonna do when I'm in college?
Little Girl 2: What?
Little Girl 1: I'm gonna . . . first, okay? I'm gonna do tennis. . . .
Little Girl 2: Oh, oh, oh!
Little Girl 1: Yeah, yeah. And next. I'm gonna do horseback riding.
Little Girl 2: Oh, that's so cool. You want to know me? What I'm gonna do?
Little Girl 1: Okay.
Little Girl 2: After college.
Little Girl 3: [suddenly paying attention] What is after college?
Little Girl 2: What I'm gonna do after college. What I'll do is first I also want horseback riding, like you. . . .
Little Girl 3: I'm going to college, too!
Little Girl 2: . . . And then I want to do tennis.
Little Girl 1: Both like me!
Little Girl 2: Yeah, but different than you because I'll ride horses first.
Little Girl 1: Okay. But wait, I know! If we both do tennis first and horseback riding second. . . .
Little Girl 2: At the same time?
Little Girl 1: Yeah! That way we can be on the same team!
Little Girl 2: We can be together!
Little Girl 1: Yeah, we can be at college together!
Little Girl 3: Can I come to college, too?
Later, they were asking their grandmother if there were horses in Mexico; otherwise they wouldn't be able to come see her until college was over with. She assured them that yes, there are horses in Mexico just like in Texas and that they can come see her any time they want, whether in college or not. It was good stuff.
Anyway, at least that table of kids was generously redeemed in my mind, but the woman with the four kids on the other side of me still rang up on the negative side of the account. Maybe I'm closed-minded, but anyone who is that determined to overpopulate the world might as well be throwing tear gas grenades into the a zoo or taking a dump in the town's clean water supply for all the difference it makes in the long run. And as young as the last two critters looked, I wasn't particularly sure she planned on stopping any time soon. I love kids, but the more does not make the merrier, especially when parents have obviously exceeded the capacity which they can handle at any given time, nevermind the population issues.
Between the clan of miniature pancake-flingers and Butt Crack Man, I wondered if an establishment has any kind of responsibility to give refunds on those kinds of grounds. "You're the manager? Great. See, I have a bit of a problem. I don't recall asking for a side of some guy's anal sphincter with my migas. Really ruins the taste of the eggs. A refund? That would be outstanding — thanks so much."
At first it kind of bothered me. I noticed a flaw of reasoning whenever a host/hostess asks, "Will this table be okay for you?" — a quiet little table in the middle of a nearly empty room was just fine when the question is initially posed to me; however, ten minutes later finding myself besieged by tables of 3+ excited children on either side and Butt Crack Man directly in front of me, I am wondering what had happened. Perhaps servers should not only ask the person being seated if the spot is okay, but also the potential neighbors, "Excuse me sir, do you mind sharing your quiet pleasant breakfast environment with this gentleman whose choice of trousers seems specifically engineered to advertise the fact that he doesn't seem to have cleaned his anal area in about four days? What about having your remaining field of vision filled by a vapid suburbanite woman whose half dozen vermin-like spawn will spread a path of crayon and napkin-crumble destruction halfway across the room? Great!"
My mood lightened, however, when I started listening to the conversations of the little girls to my right. There were three of them, roughly about six to eight years old. They were with their grandmother, and seemed to consist of two sisters and a cousin. Anyway, their observations on the world and their own future were immediately endearing.
Little Girl 1: You know what I'm gonna do when I'm in college?
Little Girl 2: What?
Little Girl 1: I'm gonna . . . first, okay? I'm gonna do tennis. . . .
Little Girl 2: Oh, oh, oh!
Little Girl 1: Yeah, yeah. And next. I'm gonna do horseback riding.
Little Girl 2: Oh, that's so cool. You want to know me? What I'm gonna do?
Little Girl 1: Okay.
Little Girl 2: After college.
Little Girl 3: [suddenly paying attention] What is after college?
Little Girl 2: What I'm gonna do after college. What I'll do is first I also want horseback riding, like you. . . .
Little Girl 3: I'm going to college, too!
Little Girl 2: . . . And then I want to do tennis.
Little Girl 1: Both like me!
Little Girl 2: Yeah, but different than you because I'll ride horses first.
Little Girl 1: Okay. But wait, I know! If we both do tennis first and horseback riding second. . . .
Little Girl 2: At the same time?
Little Girl 1: Yeah! That way we can be on the same team!
Little Girl 2: We can be together!
Little Girl 1: Yeah, we can be at college together!
Little Girl 3: Can I come to college, too?
Later, they were asking their grandmother if there were horses in Mexico; otherwise they wouldn't be able to come see her until college was over with. She assured them that yes, there are horses in Mexico just like in Texas and that they can come see her any time they want, whether in college or not. It was good stuff.
Anyway, at least that table of kids was generously redeemed in my mind, but the woman with the four kids on the other side of me still rang up on the negative side of the account. Maybe I'm closed-minded, but anyone who is that determined to overpopulate the world might as well be throwing tear gas grenades into the a zoo or taking a dump in the town's clean water supply for all the difference it makes in the long run. And as young as the last two critters looked, I wasn't particularly sure she planned on stopping any time soon. I love kids, but the more does not make the merrier, especially when parents have obviously exceeded the capacity which they can handle at any given time, nevermind the population issues.
Between the clan of miniature pancake-flingers and Butt Crack Man, I wondered if an establishment has any kind of responsibility to give refunds on those kinds of grounds. "You're the manager? Great. See, I have a bit of a problem. I don't recall asking for a side of some guy's anal sphincter with my migas. Really ruins the taste of the eggs. A refund? That would be outstanding — thanks so much."