"Name?"

All right, all right. It's my turn to be the star of the story about my job. And, unfortunately, it's not a very happy story. (At least, not for me. You'll probably find it quite entertaining.)

I was working café a few weeks ago, and I'd just messed up someone's order. It was about an hour to closing time, I was nearly dead on my feet, and I was already stressed out about the food. 

Someone calls over the radio.

"Hey, café?"

I look around. I'm the only one not currently busy (Russia's at the register, and Ross is making a pizza; I'm just watching some fries), so I answer. "Yes?"

"Put a pizza in the oven for me, please?"

"Name?" I call back. I had no idea who was talking. I'm not very good at recognizing voices over the radio, plus it was freaking loud in the café, between the children screaming in the Clubhouse and the people chattering at their tables and the ovens humming. I couldn't have recognized the voice if you paid me.

"What?"

"Name?"

"What?"

"Who is this?" I asked. I was getting a bit irritated. I was tired, and they weren't making any sense.

"Push the button, wait a moment, then talk."

"I was pushing the button," I nearly snapped.

Ross turns and looks at me. "That's Alex Jones."

I nearly drop the radio. "I'm s-sorry, Sir. I'll get that right away." Then I hang the radio up and run into the back before I lose it.

Slim chases me down, and says, "Look, Jones won't care. He'll be like, All right. He was being sarcastic, Lauren. No need to flip out now. Calm down."

I had to take a few minutes to compose myself, and that included standing in the freezer for a bit. (The freezer was nice.) I did have to suck it up and apologize to him when he came to collect his pizza, saying sorry for being an idiot over the radio. He wasn't upset, and I felt a bit foolish.

I won't be answering the radio in café any more, you can be sure of that.

"Rachel" - A Short Story

I suppose this would probably fall more under "fanfiction," but it's something I've had in my head ever since I finished playing Final Fantasy VI a few years ago. (Was it really that long ago? I need to replay it this summer.)

This is a fanfiction based off of Locke Cole and his love interest, Rachel. If you've never played the game, I'm sure you can follow the story anyways. If you have played the game...Prepare yourself for some feels.

***

She could always make him smile.

He could be having the worst day ever - his lock-picking kit could break, his bandanna could get caught on a nail, and he could be seen by one of the targets - but she was always there to cheer him up.

Until the day she wasn't anymore.

~~~

"Locke! What are we going to do today?" She looked up at him and smiled. He grinned back at her.

"Well," he said, picking her up and making her laugh, "I thought we might go and explore the caverns above town."

She stopped giggling. "But Locke, they're not safe."

"Safe?" He hugged her tighter. "We'll be perfectly safe. Besides, there's that great treasure hidden somewhere in there! Rachel, if we can find that, we can get married. Your father will finally respect me! Please, Rachel, come with me!"

She bit her lip and slid out of his arms. "Locke..."

"Rachel." He pulled her into a kiss, cupping her face in his hands. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. I'll protect you."

She smiled again. "Well, then, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

They packed their bags and left the town, avoiding Rachel's father on their way out. 

"He really doesn't like me," Locke observed, watching her dad curse and rant, then make his way to the bar.

"He doesn't think you're a good influence. After all, you're a thief." Rachel smirked.

"I'm not a thief! I'm a treasure hunter! There's a difference!" Locke protested. Rachel leaned over and gave him a kiss. 

"I'm kidding, sweetheart. Now, where is this treasure?"

~~~

They managed to get thoroughly lost in the caves.

"Locke, I thought you said you knew where you were going!"

"I said I did; that doesn't mean I really do!" he teased. She sighed, and dug through her pack for her lantern.

"It'll be getting dark soon. Maybe we should stop for the night?" she asked.

"Come on, Rach. Where's your sense of adventure? Let's at least go through one more room. I can smell the treasure up ahead!" Locke started across an old wooden bridge, but stopped. "Do you hear that...?"

"Locke!" Rachel sprang towards him and shoved him off the bridge. She started to get up, to join him on the other side, but the bridge's ropes snapped beneath her and she plunged into the darkness.

"RACHEL!!" He kneeled at the edge of the pit, trying to judge the distance to the ground. He gave up, and jumped after her.

~~~

Locke carried her back to the town; he would have to face her father alone. Thankfully, she wasn't dead. She was only unconscious. She'd taken a pretty hard fall, though.
He walked to her house.

"What have you done to my daughter, you rogue?!" her father screamed at him, snatching Rachel from his arms. "Get out! Get out of this house! Don't you dare show your face here again!"

Locke left the town, determined to find the treasure and bring it back to her. It took him three days before he found it, in a small cavern just off the room where Rachel had fallen. It was gorgeous; prettier than he could have ever imagined. He brought it back to the town. He didn't go to the house just yet, though. He stopped by the bar. Better to get information from his friend the barkeep than go into a situation without knowing the details.

"Ah, Locke!" Bernard, the barkeeper, greeted him as he came in the door. "You know Rachel's awake?"

Locke dropped the box he was holding. "She's...awake?!" He snatched the box up and ran out the door, not caring about what he was getting into. 

"Locke, wait!" Bernard yelled after him. "She doesn't... Oh, crap."

~~~

Locke sprinted to Rachel's house, clutching the box to him. She's got to be all right, he thought to himself. She has to be. 

He opened the door and walked right into her house.

Her father looked up from his seat by Rachel's bed. "You! I told you to get out!"

"Shut up!" Locke was shaking with anger and fear. "I came to see her!"

Rachel was sitting up in bed. She was still beautiful, despite the ugly bruise spreading across her forehead, although her blue eyes weren't sparkling as much as they used to. "Who are you?" she asked.

Locke's heart dropped. "Rachel, Rachel, Rach, it's me, Locke." He held out the box to her. "Don't you remember me? We were hunting for this - look, I found it!"

Rachel's father stood up and knocked the box out of his hands. "Go. Away. You cost my daughter her memory. She doesn't remember anything! It's all your fault! Get out!" He grabbed the thief by the collar and threw him out the door. "Don't you ever come back here!"

Rachel got up and limped to the door. "Please, I don't know who you are, but please don't come back! My father obviously doesn't like you!" She threw the box to him, waved, and closed the door behind her.

Locke picked up the box and trudged back to the bar.

"Ah, Locke," Bernard sighed, as Locke sat down at the counter, "I tried to warn you. Rachel doesn't remember anything."

Locke put the box on the counter. "I even found what we were looking for. Why did I not listen to her? She told me to stop for the night - maybe if we had, she'd still be with us."

"Now, now, m'boy. She's still here. She's not dead yet." Bernard tried to console him, but Locke shoved his hand away.

"She's dead to me. I couldn't protect her." He opened the box and pulled out a single gold coin. "Give me whatever this will cover."

Bernard shook his head. "Now, Locke, you know I can't do that. You'd kill yourself, drinking that much."

"I DON'T CARE!" Locke screamed. "Give me something to drink! I don't care if it's milk, vodka, wine, or the beer you make in the back room! Just let me drink until everything's gone!"

Bernard took the coin and put it in his pocket. "Very well, boy."

~~~

Locke stumbled out of the bar many hours later, still clutching the box to him. He went and sat on the stones in front of Rachel's house.

"Locke, buddy, come on. She doesn't need you any more," one of his thief-friends said, sitting down beside him. 

He sniffed, and ran his fingers over the box. "I got it. But I lost her."

The other man sighed. "There are other women out there, Locke. There are others that need you to protect them. Why don't you go after one of them? Rachel doesn't need you anymore."

"But I need her!"

"Buddy, come on. You're coming to my house until you sober up." He helped Locke to his feet and the duo made their way out of town. Neither one of them looked back.

***

It was a year later when Locke heard the news. He'd come back to the town to drop off a bag of treasure at Rachel's doorstep - half of everything he'd found in the last twelve months. He wasn't sure if she was even there any more, but he would continue to do it, once a year, every year.

He stopped by the bar on his way into town.

"Locke! Good god, man! Where have you been?" Bernard exclaimed, taking in Locke's travel-stained and bloodied clothing. "Are you okay?"

"It's not my blood." Locke set the bag he was carrying on the counter. "I came to give this to Rachel. Maybe her father can use it to buy her new things, since I can't do that for her anymore."

Bernard looked at the bag. "Locke...Rachel's gone."

It didn't register. "Well, tell me where they moved. I'll find them. I owe her this much. It's my fault in the first place."

"No, Locke, Rachel's gone. She's dead."

Locke couldn't move. "W-what are you saying?"

"She dead, Locke. The Empire got her. Two days ago, they came through town and dragged all the young men here to the bar, to be recruited. Rachel heard of it and came here, looking for her younger brother. She refused to let him go; he was only twelve, for pete's sake!  No child should have to fight the Emperor's stupid war! One of the soldiers punched her pretty hard; she fell and hit her head on the clock over there." Bernard pointed to the grandfather clock by the door. "She was out for a good three minutes while the soldiers laughed. I picked her up and got her back on her feet. She shook her head, and something sparked in her eyes. They were twinkling for the first time in a year - just like the old Rachel. She said, 'Where's Locke?' That's when I knew that her memory had returned. 'Oh, god,' she said. 'I kicked him out. I kicked Locke out! I let him leave!' She began to cry, but then her brother screamed. That reminded her of why she was there in the first place. She stormed over to the grunt holding her brother, and demanded his release. She punched and kicked the guard, but he wouldn't relent. Then she pulled out your dagger... She must have been carrying it all this time, without realizing it... She got in a good swipe or two - the man'll have a scar over his left eye for the rest of his life, I'm sure. That's when the guard pulled out his sword and ran her through. She died right there on the floor." Bernard pointed to a dark square of wood on the floor - the rug was missing. "Locke, I'm so sorry."

Locke couldn't breathe. "S-she's dead..." He wandered over to the spot on the floor and dropped to his knees, eyes searching for any sign of his beloved. "She can't be d-dead," he heaved, attempting to keep the tears from pouring down his face. "Where is she?"

"Her father's got her. They'll be holding the funeral tomorrow." Bernard came out from behind the bar and bent down next to Locke. "Son, if it's any consolation... The last thing she said was your name. 'Tell Locke I'll be waiting for him.' And then she died, in my arms." Bernard handed him the bag of loot. "Go and see if her father wants any of this."

Locke took the bag with a shaking hand and got to his feet. But he didn't go to Rachel's house - he went to the alchemist who lived in the upper corner of the town. Everyone called the old man crazy; Locke knew that he was a genius.

"I want a potion," he sobbed, practically falling in the door. "I need something to keep her pretty."

The alchemist looked up. "Locke, I knew you'd come." He picked up the bottle that was sitting on the desk in front of him. "I finished it just in time, yes? Kee-kee-kee. Go get Rachel. Bring her here. She'll never age a day, not when I'm through with her!" The alchemist waved the potion in front of Locke's face. "But it doesn't come cheap, you know! Nothing ever does!"

Locke practically threw the bag at the old man. "Take it!" he shouted. "I don't care what it costs! I'll get more if I have to! I have to protect her!"

The old man sighed. "Go get her, Locke."

Locke ran, sobbing, out of the house and towards Rachel's. When he got there, the door was open, and Rachel's father was kneeling by the bed. It was eerily similar to their meeting last year, although this time, Rachel wouldn't be getting up.

"You," Rachel's father sighed, getting to his feet. "I knew you'd come back." His eyes were red from crying, and he seemed to have age fifty years since Locke had last seen him. He took in Locke's travel-stained clothing and weeping face. "You've come to say goodbye."

"I've come to take her." Locke walked slowly to the bed and picked up one of Rachel's hands. It was cold, colder than anything Locke had ever felt before. "I can protect her from the ravages of time."

Rachel's father looked at him. "You're not taking my daughter. Not again. Last time, you didn't bring all of her back."

"She's not leaving the town!" Locke shouted at him. "I know where I'm going to keep her. You can visit her as much as you want. She'll never age a day. She'll stay young and beautiful, even when we're both dead."

The other man sighed, and passed a hand over what was left of his hair. "Take her."

"Sir?"

"Take her. You loved her more than I ever could, I realize that now. Even though she was my daughter - she trusted you, she loved you. Even when she lost her memory, I would occasionally find her picking up things you had given her and smiling. She loved you, Locke Cole. And you did all you could to protect her. Who knows? Maybe if I'd let you stay, she would have remembered things sooner...Maybe if you'd stayed, she'd still be alive. She wouldn't have been here when the Imperial Soldiers came. Now I've lost not only my daughter, but my son, too. They still took Marvin, even after they killed Rachel. Take her, Locke. Protect her." Rachel's father picked up a small bag from the table beside him. "And take these. I'm only keeping one thing - the necklace she wore. It'll be my one thing to remember her by. You can take the other things, keep them, sell them, leave them with her, I don't care. Just tell me where you put her, and promise me you won't leave her alone."

Locke took the bag. "Thank you, sir. I'm sorry I couldn't protect her when it mattered the most." He tied the bag onto his belt and looked at Rachel. She looked so calm and peaceful, despite the faint red stain around the waistband of her dress. She had obviously been dressed in something other than the dress she died in, but too soon. She had bled a bit on the new clothes. He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. Then he put his arms under her and picked her up. She was extraordinarily light; there truly was nothing left of her.

He and Rachel's father walked to the alchemist's house. 

"Back so soon?" the old man cackled, waving the potion in the air. "You're just in time. It's beginning to get unstable."

He motioned for the two to follow him down to the basement. Down there, he had a bed set up in the center of a clean room. "A bed for our little princess!" he laughed. "Place her there, and step back!"

Locke carefully set Rachel's body down on the bed, and kissed her lips one last time. Then he joined her father in standing against the wall.

"Watch closely," the alchemist said. He propped Rachel up and dribbled the potion between her lips. She coughed and sputtered, causing both Locke and her father to start towards her, but the alchemist waved them back. "It's just the spirit's reaction! She's only been dead two days; that means the potion's working!"

Locke watched as Rachel twisted and squirmed in the alchemist's arms, coughing and gagging on whatever was being poured down her throat. "She's still alive!" he cried.

"No, no, no, Locke! She's dead! It's the potion; it has to revive her spirit before it can encase her in eternal youth!" the alchemist explained. "Stay back!"

Rachel gasped and heaved, sitting bolt upright and her eyes flying open. The waved wildly around the room before settling on Locke. "I love you," she mouthed, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed on the bed.

"Rachel!" Locke was beside her in an instant, holding her hand and willing her to sit back up. Her hand was still ice-cold, though, and there were dark purple bruises under her eyes; it was clear that she was still very, very dead. "Oh, Rachel," he sobbed, burying his face in her beautiful blue hair. 

The alchemist looked at Locke, then at Rachel's father. "I'll leave you men alone." He took his bottle and walked wearily up the staircase. It had been decades since he had last preserved someone like that; it shocked him how difficult it was. He could feel the girl struggling to draw breath, struggling to make her heart beat, wanting to rejoin the living. He had felt the love that flowed through her when she noticed Locke. And he had felt the absolute misery from the two living people in the room when they realized she was still dead. He shook his head; he needed to retire.

~~~

Locke left Rachel's bag with her, and left the town that night. Her father went back to his house and became a recluse. When he died just under three months later, he was cremated and his ashes set beside Rachel's deathbed. 

Locke came back every so often, leaving flowers and treasures and all sorts of trinkets in the little room. Soon, it was overflowing, but he kept bringing gifts. He kept searching for the greatest treasure of them all: something to bring Rachel back - the Phoenix Stone.

Pandora

So, I've recently come to the realization that I listen to the same music over and over again, and it's getting a bit tedious. Sure, SIRIUS XM helps when I'm in the car, but there are so many stations, and my family very rarely agrees on any of them. (Most of the time, the dial's stuck on 80s on 8, which I'm not complaining about, but STILL.)

It makes me wonder about my music choices.

I mean, sure, I listen to some odd things. (Who doesn't?) I listen to Celtic, Old Country, Classic Rock, Opera scores, video game music, and random stuff like that. I'm not big into "Indie" music, I think Rap should die a very painful death, and dubstep sometimes just sounds like random noise. "Oh, look what we could throw into a blender! I wonder what sound it would make?"

Stuff like that.

Imagine my surprise, then, when my friend Hunter recommended Pandora Radio. This boy goes around with headphones in his ears 24/7, you understand. And while he listens to a TON of Indie stuff (which I don't particularly agree with, but then again, to each his/her own, of course), he's pretty much the go-to person about musical things.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I want to throttle him because he keeps pressing music on me that I DON'T WANT to listen to. Dubstep, for instance. (I can't stand the stuff.) Indie music. (It's all so WEIRD. Some of it makes me want to punch puppies.)

But sometimes he actually gives good advice. Like recommending the Pandora App [App Store || Android || Blackberry] for my iPad. (He uses his iPad CONSTANTLY. I haven't turned mine on in over a month.)

So I downloaded it and gave it a shot.

I'm so very glad I did. I've even got my sister attached to it now. (She learned, the hard way, that you can only have 100 channels on Pandora. She filled those up within two hours.) It's a very useful app, and I don't mind the ads at all. Yes, some of them are audio ads, but overall, I don't think they detract from my listening experience. And I'm certainly not going to pay $3.99 a month for an ad-free experience, thank you. I've got the app loaded on both my phone and my tablet, and it's very easy to set up and learn (which I'm thankful for).

You can only listen for 40 hours a month on your phone. (I'm not so sure about tablets.) I do believe it's unlimited on your computer, though! (My sister used up her 40 hours in under a week.)

So, if you're just itching for some new music to try, check out the Pandora app (OR WEBSITE!). I promise you, you won't be disappointed! :) [Find me here!]

I Need a Tub of Bath Salts - STAT

It's been years - absolutely years - since I last took a bath. It was the summer before eighth grade started. I don't know why I suddenly outgrew baths, but for some reason, I never wanted to take another bath again.

Until a few nights ago.

If you remember my post about going to Earthbound with my sister, you'll recall that I bought two bags of vanilla-scented bath salts while I was there. I'd never used bath salts before (or, if I have, I can't remember that far back), and these would be a real treat.

So, let's rewind to the day I talked to Charlie for the first time in over three months (don't ask; it's a long story). It was the Fourth of July. I was still hurting deep inside, my texting-buddy was puking his guts out at his house, and my family had gone to bed. So I did what any normal, heartbroken teenage girl would do:

I took a midnight bath.

All right, all right; it didn't exactly occur at midnight. I was in there for maybe an hour, between 10:30 and 11:30. Don't ask me for the exact times; I'm not sure of them myself. I lost track while I was listening to my classical music.

First, I scrubbed the tub; I didn't want to be sitting in dirt from my showers, after all. Then I ran hot water, lit a few candles, and poured the contents of one of my bath salt bags into the water. I dialed up my classical music station on Pandora, grabbed a book, and stepped in.

And oh, my goodness. It was amazing. I stayed in until the water got warmish, then I decided to let everything go and get out. I sat in the tub as the water ran out. Then I got up and dried off, put on a pair of soft pajamas, and crawled into bed. My skin felt soft, and I felt relaxed and calm. Maybe if I do this often enough, I'll stop stressing and my acne will clear up. 

So, readers, never underestimate the powers of a hot bath. Turns out, I'm going to have to find myself a giant tub of bath salts, or maybe some bath bombs, or perhaps even some bubble bath. It won't be every day, but every now and then, after a long shift at café or a particularly stressful day (every day's stressful around me; I seem to have a knack for it), I'll draw a bath and use my bath salts.

Now I just have to find a good scent. (What do y'all know about lavender? Eucalyptus? Jasmine? I went with vanilla because it seemed the safer choice.)

Shopping with Sarah

Sometimes, all I want to do is just get out and walk around a store. It doesn't really matter what store, so long as there are things to look at. I probably won't buy very much, but I just like shopping. (Is that so bad?) Guess I'm more of a girly-girl than I thought I was. 

Anyway, on Monday, my sister and I went shopping on a spur-of-the-moment thing. We left for the Brookwood Mall at 2:00 (we'd both gotten up late), and spent two hours there before heading to the Summit mall (it's all outdoors) to Barnes & Noble.

I like going to Brookwood, even though it's so far away, because it's the only place nearby that has a Hot Topic and an Earthbound. (If you haven't visited those stores, you owe it to yourself to do so. Now.)

We tried on sunglasses in Earthbound, along with several Mardi Gras masks. I really should've bought the sunglasses I have on in this picture - they were only $3. (I'm the one on the right, if you can't tell.)

We may have had too much fun at Earthbound - we maybe spent around a half hour in there. I ended up buying some bath salts -- I haven't taken a bath in years, and I think I'd like to take a relaxing one some day soon. I need something relaxing, yo!

I bought this cool Hetalia keychain in Hot Topic (they had no shirts that I wanted, and the dress I was interested in was too low-cut for my taste).

We walked around Claire's (I contemplated getting a second piercing), and then we browsed Books-a-Million before heading back to my car.

We puttered away to the Summit (there was some serious traffic) and went to Barnes & Noble. We headed straight to the café section.

You can get Cheesecake Factory cheesecake at B&N for about half the price of a slice at the restaurant. And who's going to pass up THAT deal?!

The cashier/barista-lady didn't seem pleased with us, so we got away from the register as quickly as possible and sat down in the café area to eat our cheesecake. We were both disappointed that we couldn't have the whole thing - but we were already running late, and we would be eating barbeque sandwiches at home soon. 

After eating half our cheesecake (it was almost supper time, after all), I went searching for a specific book - the Sherlock Holmes B&N edition.

It's over 1,000 pages, has gilded edges, and it's got beautiful endpapers. What more can you ask for from a book such as this? (It was $20, but I'm not complaining.) I also own a Grimm's Fairy Tales book in this sort of collection. They're so gorgeous.

I also ended up getting a Hobbit tote-bag. I'm still not sure what I'm going to use it for, but it was on sale - 30% off. Who's going to argue with that? There was also a Hunger Games bag, and supposedly a Harry Potter bag (but that one was sold out). I'm now going to use this bag as my Travel Bag. I'll put my books and stuff in it whenever we travel. It's also the perfect size to take to the pool!




So, that's what I did on Monday. I think it went rather well, and I ended up spending less than $40, I think. ($28 for the book/bag, $12 for the cheesecake, $4 for the bath salts... Yeah. About $34. My sister bought the keychain because I bought her a slice of cheesecake/some water.)

Happy Fourth!

It's the 237 anniversary of our country's founding. (At least, for those reading this that live in the United States.) We've taken some steps forward, and we've taken some steps back. Ending slavery? Forward. Legalizing gay marriage? Back. Equal voting rights? Forward. Legalizing marijuana? Back.

It's like a tug-of-war between what's right and what's wrong sometimes. It makes me fear for the future of our country. Liberals say they're so tolerant of everyone, but then they go and say "Oh, you can't wear a cross necklace because someone MIGHT get offended!" (What would've happened if they had asked a Muslim woman to remove her head scarf? Everyone would've been up in arms. Nothing like that happened here.)

I don't want to become a political blog, really. I don't want to spread my opinions around and have people hate me for it. I've seen so many "nice" people become absolute demons when I voice that my opinion differs slightly from theirs. So I'll leave you with this quote, which sums up what I think this country needs to learn from:

I don't think things can get much clearer than that. (And, if you are looking for proof that this is one of George Washington's quotes, you can check out this GoodReads page for a book full of GW's quotes. I'll leave y'all with that.)

Now, can we get on to the other things? The food? The fun? The awesomeness?

I went to a Fourth of July party last night. Our city does a fireworks show called The Big Kaboom on July 3rd every year, and one of my dad's motorcycling friends hosts a party at his house. When the show starts, we all go out to his front yard to watch. It's literally in his front yard. It's awesome! 

Anyway...

First of all, I went swinging on the swings. I did get off, though, when a little kid came up and stared at me. I guess he wanted to swing, too, so I let him. (I regretted that choice later, because I didn't get to swing until two minutes before we left the party.) Later, the Chelsea mascot, the Hornet, went swinging during some of his/her downtime. I'm still not sure who was in the costume, but I probably knew them. I kept waiting for them to fall out of the swing, but they never did. Sigh.

Went walking with my sister and we found this cool truck just parked on the side of the road with all the other cars. Still not sure what it was doing there, but hey. It was awesome either way.

And I'll leave you with fireworks.

P.S. When I was at TreeTop working today, the manager announced over the intercom that "The first person to come to the register with a military ID will get a $10 card!" I jumped up and down and asked, "Do I count?! Do I count?!" Unfortunately, I do not. Sad face.

On another note, the entire time I was there, I don't think anybody came up to the register with an ID card. I wonder why...

"How Are You Not Gray Yet?"

This is what a lady said to me when I was working prize center last Wednesday. I'd had to call in BACKUP, you see. There was a long line composed of Day Camp Kids (they attend "camp" during the summer while their parents are at work; it's like after-school care, but all day. If you understand what I'm saying, great. If not, just smile and nod), and while they were well-behaved, I was in over my head.

I called in backup.

"If there's anyone available, please send them to prize counter!" I pleaded over the radio. I was about to ask again when Jordan showed up, grabbed a scanner, and jumped into the fray.

After nearly a straight hour of helping day-camp kids, as well as the people in line behind them (I'm estimating maybe 40 kids, and then about 10 or so people aside from them... Maybe 50-60 people total?), we were able to relax for about five seconds. Then came another two customers, so I got one and he got one.

"Hey, buddy! You've got 370 tickets on your card, so that means you can get stuff out of this case, that case, and the top two rows of the last case. What can I get you?" And I smiled as I said it. I checked my watch. It was 3:06 p.m., and I was scheduled to go home at 4:00.

Their mother looked at me in wonder. "I just saw you handle that impressive line, and you're being so patient with my son-" (the kid was hemming and hawing and couldn't figure out what he wanted) "-and I want to know, how are you not gray yet? These two are driving me prematurely gray! I can't imagine dealing with hundreds of them all day long!"

And I smiled and said, "I get paid for this, ma'am, and I'm scheduled to go home in an hour. Prize Counter's not so bad on week days. Café's the most stressful place here, and I'm scheduled there on weekends. You should see me smile at 7:50 p.m, ten minutes from closing!" And I carried on with her son's transaction, they thanked me, and they left.

And I nearly fell over from exhaustion.

So, the question is, how am I not gray yet? I really have no idea. Let me give you a run-down of TreeTop's areas (that I'm able to work), and their stress-level.

1. Clubhouse. There's pretty much nothing to do at Clubhouse except sit and read. When a kid comes up, you swipe their card, stamp their hand, and let them in. You tell them to take off their shoes, and not to climb up the slide. They go on their merry way, and you sit back down. When the place is empty, you can read. When you have kids, you're expected to sit and watch them. And that's fine with me.
2. Jumpies. Pretty much the same as Clubhouse (except they have wristbands, which they have to get inside, so you don't swipe their card). You keep an eye on them. It's outside, so I hate it with a fiery passion. Thankfully, I don't get scheduled for Jumpies. It's boring, and I hate outside.
3. Water Wars. Pretty laid-back. Not many people like staying out in the boiling sun, paying $5 for six water balloons just for a chance to hit the other person. I'm not a fun Water Wars person (the guys like to nail the dry kids with water balloons), and as I previously mentioned, I hate the outdoors. But it's easy, at least. You can sit at the tables under the pavilion until you have customers.
4. Laser Tag. You get a seven and a half minute break every time you send a group in (ten minutes if you send in a party). I've gotten good at Solitaire. I can repeat the safety speech in my sleep. It's nice and air-conditioned, too, and the only stressful thing is when people outside are getting mad at you for letting parties ahead of them (which is what we're supposed to do; parties get priority, because they're paying hundreds of dollars to be here).
5. Prize Center. It can be dead for hours, then everybody in the entire place will rush in, leaving the one person scheduled there completely overwhelmed. Some days, we have two people working. On weekends, at around 8:30, we try to have about three people working Prize Center because EVERYONE rushes there at five 'til closing, which means the PC workers don't get to START their closing duties until the line is gone. (I once started my closing duties 20 minutes after closing. The managers wanted to go home, so they told me not to worry about them. I was scheduled to do THE most time-consuming things, too, even though they knew I was the only one on Prize.)
6. Café. This is what's going to cause me to have an aneurysm. I run cash register here normally, but I also help cook the food. Keeping orders straight, giving everyone their drinks, remembering to print the correct copies of receipts and putting the right numbers on them, PLUS dealing with the customer's complaints of, "Well, at McDonald's they have the burger READY AND WAITING for me!" is going to drive me into an early grave. ("We're not McDonald's, sir. We cook everything to-order. I'm sorry for the inconvenience we've apparently caused you, but you saw us getting the frozen patties out of the freezer, and I told you it would be about a ten minute wait. Now if you would please step aside, I have a line. Thank you.") Plus, with Russia breathing down my neck - he apparently doesn't think I can work the register, even though I pretty much LIVED in café while he was on vacation - I'm extra nervous. Some days I just want to step into the back room and SCREAM.

Also, Rule #1: everything is your fault. If the customer thinks the menu's too expensive, they'll blame you. If the customer's spending too much money, they'll blame you. If their kid crawls up the slide and gets hit, they'll blame you.

This Week's Lesson: Learn to block things out. Don't let them get to you. Don't let them have the satisfaction of seeing you break. If you need to, after they're gone, ask your manager/supervisor/whatever if you can take about five minutes to compose yourself. (If I'm in café, I go step into the freezer for a few moments. It helps tremendously.) Then, put a smile back on your face and return to what you were doing. Working with little kids and their harassed parents is something I never, ever saw myself doing. It's stretched me to my limits some days. But I always stay strong and push through it.

Never let 'em see you cry. It's not worth the gloating that will (more than likely) occur. Don't be that one person to break down. You can do it. Things'll get better. Remind yourself that you're just doing your job, that the customer is an idiot, and you'll be able to plaster that smile back on your face and continue with what you were doing.

You've got this.