Storytelling

We had training this week for work. As I've mentioned before, it's not an insult that they have us attending trainings more often than I'd like.


I don't mind being there, I mind GETTING there and then staying there.
I'm not a fan of spending a full day on that side of town for a myriad of reasons.

But if I want to continue to do this work (I do) and work for this company (also yes, I do) then the pain in the ass of training sessions is just part of it. Sadly, I have to be there Monday, too. But they called the meeting for 10:30, which beats the hell out of the 9:30 start time we were subjected to yesterday. It would be less of a big deal if I didn't have to deal with the whims of traffic on the 84, I-5 and the 217. If it were in my neighborhood, I wouldn't have to get up so damn early, either.

I know, grouse, grouse, grouse.

Idle question here, if the plural of mouse is mice, why isn't the plural of grouse grice?

I know we've all been to meetings where there's at least one person (sometimes more than one) who knows a tidbit or has a question about pretty much everything on the agenda. I can't be the only person who finds it annoying.  There's a difference between needing an answer and needing attention, but some of the people I've met in this business are obliviots.

So there was a bit of that going on.

One of the things our trainer wanted to show us was the difference between a kid being difficult or a kid acting like a child. He told us an amusing story about a child in one of his classes (former elementary school teacher) telling another child to 'suck it'. Repeatedly. Not quietly. And instead of going, "WHAATTTT???!" he investigated. He found out that the kid had a paper cut on his finger and that his friend was trying to help it feel better by telling him to suck it. He wasn't being vulgar or obnoxious.

He asked us if we had stories. I'm sure we all do, and usually I don't volunteer anything, I want OUT OF THERE as soon as we can, but I had to tell one. Had to. If you've been here awhile, you know this one. If you haven't, well, hope it makes you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~From this post, November 2016~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Caden's dad came to pick him up this evening, he smelled very strongly of cigarette smoke. He left a cloud of odor behind in our tiny room.
After he left, two of the three boys who were still there had some comments to make.

Dane waved a hand theatrically in front of his face.
"Man, that guy stinks!!"

Colin agreed. "Eww! What is that smell?!"

Billy said, "It's cigarettes. My dad smokes, too."

Dane said, "WHY??!?"

Billy answered, "Well, he says it's because the smoke smells good. But," (and here he lowered his voice confidentially), "I think he's just a dick."

I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly.. he didn't really call his dad a dick, did he???

So I asked him, "What does that mean?"
He answered, "You know! When you can't stop doing something! You're a dick to it!"

I answered him with, "Yes, it's hard when you're addicted to something. I hope your dad will stop smoking someday."

No, I didn't laugh.
I'm snickering now, though.