Sunday, Sunday (Da-da, Da-da-da)* ....
* That's a Mommas and the Papas reference, not a monster truck rally reference.
I've said it before, I'll say it again. I just can't get the hang of working Sundays. Even though the actual experience isn't so bad -- the boss isn't there (He's a nice guy but most of the time he's either micro-managing or radiating stress); I play the radio; I can get stuff done in a relaxed atmosphere. Yet, it still bugs me to be working on Sunday. It's funny how die-hard cultural training is.
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the work. I'd rather have the job that I have than be flipping burgers ... if they'd even hire me. And, like I said, the actual job is not bad. The shop is quiet on Sundays ... except for the people who want help with high-end wine.
What the hell is up with that? It's Sunday in a gourmet wine shop. Why the hell are you here asking about gourmet wine? Take your #$^%&ing questions with you into the week! I mean, those are weekday questions if ever I heard them! Sunday questions are, "I'm going to a cookout. What do you have that's cheap that I can drink with barbecue?" or "Do you still have the Wine of the Week?" or "What time are you open to?" See? Perfectly fine questions for a Sunday. But a good, expensive, red you can give as a gift to your father that he'll like when you don't know what he likes? What do I look like, Robert #$%&'ing Parker? And no, I don't want to help you put together your multiple case order for your wedding reception or art opening. It's Sunday! And I'm the beer guy. Now, you want to ask about beer like any decent, cultured, reasonal person, I can help you, but ... anyway.
Back to what I was saying, for the most part it's chill ... except for when I have to fight to get in the only public radio station with decent Sunday content. Wouldn't you know that it would be the one with the weakest signal ... when I'm working in a cellar?!? Such a pain.
And I don't want to listen to the others. One has an hour of bluegrass/old time music. (Longest hour ever) and another has opera, opera that goes on and on and on. Who listens to that, and have you considered seeking counseling?
Of course, now my station has changed their lineup. They've replaced Bob Edwards Weekend with the local talk radio show, Virginia Insight. And let me tell you, the "Insight" is strictly an honorary part of the title. Maybe you can tell, I dislike talk radio. I dislike the guests. I dislike the callers. I feel bad for the hosts (This one is a guy I know. Nice guy.) who I imagine must feel consigned to a very banal rung of Hell ... and if they don't feel that way, then I dislike them as well. (Except for this guy. I know him. Nice guy.)
On top of that, the centerpiece of my Sunday programming, A Prairie Home Companion, has been ruined ever since I read Garrison Keillor's comments on Christmas. Seems he was upset on learning that a Unitarian church had come up with more secular lyrics for "Silent Night." It sent him off on a "Christmas is for Christians. You want a non-Christian, winter thingy, then get your own" rant.
(For the record, to complain about non-Christian appropriations of Christmas is ironic if not hypocritical considering Christmas itself is almost wholly a Christian appropriation of non-Christian equinox celebration rituals. Even it's role as a significant Christian holiday is a recent development in the history of the event. This fact just underlines the reality that rituals are chimeric, shifting and re-adapting to the needs of the various groups and various times that adopt them. To fight against this quality in rituals makes as much sense as pushing back the tide with a broom.)
Now, when he used to sound like a slow-talking, over-educated, storyteller working out of small town, Great Lakes states pastiche; Keillor just sounds like an old, grumpy, sectarian. "These kids with their wacky, big city, non-Lutheran ways! Hey, you kids! Get off my cultural lawn!"
I know, so why even listen to the radio? Why not put on some tunes and chill out? Well, Sunday is when I prepare my beer orders for Monday. That has me wandering through a full half of the shop, too far to stay in the range of any one boom box, and there's no central system through that part of the store.
Okay, so I guess working Sunday isn't so great. Maybe it's full of enough annoyances to make me sound like Garrison Keillor. It's still better than flipping burgers ... or being evicted for non-payment of rent ...
And that, my friends, is the story of my life. "This is not so good, but I resign myself to it in the face of a fearful, horrible extreme" ... which, come to think of it, is pretty Lutheran.
Wow. Cultural training does die hard.
Damn.
I've said it before, I'll say it again. I just can't get the hang of working Sundays. Even though the actual experience isn't so bad -- the boss isn't there (He's a nice guy but most of the time he's either micro-managing or radiating stress); I play the radio; I can get stuff done in a relaxed atmosphere. Yet, it still bugs me to be working on Sunday. It's funny how die-hard cultural training is.
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the work. I'd rather have the job that I have than be flipping burgers ... if they'd even hire me. And, like I said, the actual job is not bad. The shop is quiet on Sundays ... except for the people who want help with high-end wine.
What the hell is up with that? It's Sunday in a gourmet wine shop. Why the hell are you here asking about gourmet wine? Take your #$^%&ing questions with you into the week! I mean, those are weekday questions if ever I heard them! Sunday questions are, "I'm going to a cookout. What do you have that's cheap that I can drink with barbecue?" or "Do you still have the Wine of the Week?" or "What time are you open to?" See? Perfectly fine questions for a Sunday. But a good, expensive, red you can give as a gift to your father that he'll like when you don't know what he likes? What do I look like, Robert #$%&'ing Parker? And no, I don't want to help you put together your multiple case order for your wedding reception or art opening. It's Sunday! And I'm the beer guy. Now, you want to ask about beer like any decent, cultured, reasonal person, I can help you, but ... anyway.
Back to what I was saying, for the most part it's chill ... except for when I have to fight to get in the only public radio station with decent Sunday content. Wouldn't you know that it would be the one with the weakest signal ... when I'm working in a cellar?!? Such a pain.
And I don't want to listen to the others. One has an hour of bluegrass/old time music. (Longest hour ever) and another has opera, opera that goes on and on and on. Who listens to that, and have you considered seeking counseling?
Of course, now my station has changed their lineup. They've replaced Bob Edwards Weekend with the local talk radio show, Virginia Insight. And let me tell you, the "Insight" is strictly an honorary part of the title. Maybe you can tell, I dislike talk radio. I dislike the guests. I dislike the callers. I feel bad for the hosts (This one is a guy I know. Nice guy.) who I imagine must feel consigned to a very banal rung of Hell ... and if they don't feel that way, then I dislike them as well. (Except for this guy. I know him. Nice guy.)
On top of that, the centerpiece of my Sunday programming, A Prairie Home Companion, has been ruined ever since I read Garrison Keillor's comments on Christmas. Seems he was upset on learning that a Unitarian church had come up with more secular lyrics for "Silent Night." It sent him off on a "Christmas is for Christians. You want a non-Christian, winter thingy, then get your own" rant.
(For the record, to complain about non-Christian appropriations of Christmas is ironic if not hypocritical considering Christmas itself is almost wholly a Christian appropriation of non-Christian equinox celebration rituals. Even it's role as a significant Christian holiday is a recent development in the history of the event. This fact just underlines the reality that rituals are chimeric, shifting and re-adapting to the needs of the various groups and various times that adopt them. To fight against this quality in rituals makes as much sense as pushing back the tide with a broom.)
Now, when he used to sound like a slow-talking, over-educated, storyteller working out of small town, Great Lakes states pastiche; Keillor just sounds like an old, grumpy, sectarian. "These kids with their wacky, big city, non-Lutheran ways! Hey, you kids! Get off my cultural lawn!"
I know, so why even listen to the radio? Why not put on some tunes and chill out? Well, Sunday is when I prepare my beer orders for Monday. That has me wandering through a full half of the shop, too far to stay in the range of any one boom box, and there's no central system through that part of the store.
Okay, so I guess working Sunday isn't so great. Maybe it's full of enough annoyances to make me sound like Garrison Keillor. It's still better than flipping burgers ... or being evicted for non-payment of rent ...
And that, my friends, is the story of my life. "This is not so good, but I resign myself to it in the face of a fearful, horrible extreme" ... which, come to think of it, is pretty Lutheran.
Wow. Cultural training does die hard.
Damn.
posted by - caj at 7:58 AM
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