Score.

“Four score and seven years ago” is a phrase that is familiar to many (though increasingly fewer in overall percentage, as time goes on) as part of the opening line of the Gettysburg Address. There’s no way I’m turning this into a history lesson about the Gettysburg Address, or the events surrounding it in time, so if you’re curious, crack open an Encyclopedia Britannica.

Four score and seven years is equal to 87 years. Obviously, a score is equivalent to a span of 20 years. I say it’s obvious, but I’m not sure it is. I’ll just go with this, and say that it is obvious, because only geniuses read my blog. (That’s you.)

My 20 year high school reunion is coming up next month. It’s hard to believe I graduated that many years ago, but then, it seems like I’ve lived so much more than 20 years of time and experience. Have I crossed into a new block of storage, and disconnected from my early life’s feelings?!

If you’re curious, the answer is no: the 20 years of changes in the Bumfuck Egypt Class of ’99 is not something that has made it onto my radar of interest, beyond shredding the idea for an article. I don’t think I’m currently in touch with anyone from my class, and if I am, I don’t remember who they are.

If you’re one of my classmates, and you’re reading this now, I’ve forgotten you. Do better.

I’m not saying none of my classmates were cool. There are a bunch of them who I actually have interacted with in the past decade, maybe even in the past five years. My class was very small, and our school was stuck in the backwoods, so the people who did make it out of there, have long gone. I don’t even know how to inquire about the reunion, aside from contacting the school directly, but I don’t actually want to go that badly.

I’ve been toying with the idea of contacting my class president (who was a close buddy of mine, and would probably pick right up where we left off, if I ever saw him again) and asking him to hook me up with a live microphone during the reunion, so I could sneak in through the back door, and do an impromptu roast, before quickly exiting without any classmate interface.

I wonder how smoothly that would go? Matt says it wouldn’t.

I have other ideas.

It’s not like they can suspend me, or ban me from events I don’t even want to attend. They can’t fine you or arrest you, just for being hilarious in front of people. I don’t see how it could go badly.

Matt says I’ve alienated friends before, during times of differing opinions, and that I run the risk of pissing someone off.

Please, Matt. Please.

If I want to get up there, and say, “Hey, 20 years since we graduated. That means only 15 more years until they start to think about replacing our textbooks,” I should be able to say it. It’s no secret to my classmates, that we were being taught from archaic text, while science was growing in complexity and discovery all around us. They know that.

How many times did I open an active textbook, to see someone’s name in it, and find out they were dead from old age? More than once.

“It’s not funny that they have a very serious lack of funding for curriculum because of the exorbitant overspending around athletics at that school. Some schools just don’t get money.”

When I was in school, the policy around academics was re-written, so that the Senior basketball players who were failing Chemistry could still play ball. The prior policy was that you couldn’t fail anything, or sports and extra-curriculars were off the table for you. But then, they had to account for the jocks who literally had nothing else to rely on. They couldn’t lose them. What would they do? Who would play basketball?!

I’ll tell you what they did. They decided that more basketball practice was what those guys needed, not more study time. If the school loses sports money, there will be nothing left to spend money on. Solid logic, for anyone who knows what it’s like to be the principal of a shitty class D school.

Just so you know, if you write an article about how stupid that is, and then have it submitted to the school paper for distribution, you get in trouble.

My high school prized preppy rich kids who wouldn’t dream of questioning authority, and the jocks happened to fall into that category, almost entirely for the most part. Not many athletes were non-preppy kids, or vice versa.

My group of kids was their arch enemy, and some of us (myself excluded) fell into the middle of that Venn diagram, making them Cool Athletes. I was not a cool athlete, but I did know some. They were always talking about how the Preppies weren’t that bad, and I wondered if they said the same thing to them about us. They called us the Crunchies. The Preppies and The Crunchies. The new Sharks and Jets.

To think that nobody changes after high school is a weird concept to me, and a good movie idea. Sure, it’s probably been done in different iterations, but I think there’s more to it. I think there might actually be truth to it, in some areas of the country. Prom King and Queen get married, and their kids marry the kids of the Prom King and Queen from the next school over, and so on. Or the Arts kids just stay close with each other forever, and nobody ever stops being interested in what everyone is reading for at the moment.

A lot can happen in the course of 20 years. In my case, everything significant in my life has taken place within the past 20 years since I graduated high school. High school is very much a thing of the distant past, for me. It’s so far gone, that it doesn’t even seem like it occurred in this life that I’m currently living.

And in a few short years, high school will be a thing of the past for my kids as well. That shit scares me. I wanted them to be able to enjoy teenagerdom so much more, before the searing pain of life comes showering down around them. I wanted them to do all the things I didn’t get to do, and regretted not doing.

My childhood and teen years were fairly uneventful, and the things that were meaningful, were few and far between. As an adult, I have had the disenchanting experience of discovering that meaningful doesn’t always equal great, and that great doesn’t always equal positive.

As I said up there, I didn’t do much as a teen, so I watched a lot of movies and TV, or had music on constantly. In movies, you always see the part where the characters are at their high school reunion, and it’s supposed to be funny, and everyone looks almost completely different than they did, and for some reason, everyone still worships the high school hierarchy that causes them to feel intimidated by the “popular kids” still.

I’m no expert on society (or so I’d have you believe), but I think that when people grow up, they stop giving a shit about who was the King of the school. Once you’re out of there, you see it as the pre-school for life that it really is. Even if I did see someone as “better than me” or “cooler than me” in school, I seriously doubt I would give a shit about that now. Clearly, high school doesn’t determine success in life. I see a lot of jocks pumping gas around here.

But at the reunion in the movies, the asshole jock is still the King, and everyone is still intimidated by him, and they all still think he’s the coolest. And the most popular girl in school is still the hottest chick around, because somehow, none of the other women managed to ever become better looking than her, which is really what matters, isn’t it?

Side note: I’ve written an article on this topic before, and after revisiting it, I decided it was mean. Not intentionally mean, but it certainly came across that way, and it didn’t reflect how I truly feel, so I’ve done away with it, and integrated it into this one. You all know how good I am at finishing things, so here we go. Back to the thing.

Examples of why I think high school kids – WHILE AMAZING TO STUDY SOCIALLY – annoy me: 20 Years Later Edition.

This particular current(-ish) event was a banquet at my son’s school last year. I would like to stress again, that all of these kids are cool as fuck, and they’re smart, and driven, and they embrace fun in everything they do. Pretty good crowd, right?

Allow me to set the scene of said banquet: in the room, there were 20 tables. Each table sat 8 people. It wasn’t going to be a very big event, so when my family of 4 arrived, we just chose a table and clustered ourselves around one half of it. Another family of 4 could sit on the other side, or 2 families of 2, or a family of 3 and a family of 1.

There was only a total of 8 kids there at the time. Do you think they all sat at the same table? Of course not, and I wouldn’t expect them to. Let ‘em spread out. That didn’t bother me, but here’s where my first example begins: as the other students started arriving, the sitting students would scream their names, as if they hadn’t seen them for like, THREE WHOLE HOURS.

And one by one, these kids were verbally invited to “The Cool Table” at the front of the crowd, leaving the rest of us peasants to feel collectively excluded, like some old people at the back of that rock show you like s’damn much.

Honestly, I didn’t even know that “Cool” shit still existed. I mean, I had my suspicions, but this was weird. How is it The Cool Table, if everyone is sitting at it? Wouldn’t that just be A Table?

And what about the fact that MY table WASN’T The Cool Table?! I mean, my family is hysterically funny, and we have THE BEST dinner time conversations. If our table isn’t The Cool Table, then I don’t want to be cool, I guess, and it’s my choice, not because they said I wasn’t.

The Cool Kids started taking the chairs from the other tables, while those people were up at the buffet, WHICH WAS AMAZING. The buffet, I mean, not the stealing of chairs. That was pretty annoying, because they took 6 of the chairs from our table while we were gone, and we had to steal them from other jerks from Less-Cool-But-Still-Pretty-Cool tables.

It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I have principles, and I was not about to eat a whole plate of delicious meatballs while standing up. Those kids thought I wouldn’t be that lazy, but they obviously underestimated me.

Now, I know what you’re saying: “Well, my kids don’t do that stuff.” And I would say to you: shutup and stop lying to yourself. Just because your kids aren’t doing these particular things, doesn’t mean they aren’t acting like little shitheads when you’re not around, and they’re allowed to be “cool.”

Believe me, they’re doing just that. And they’re good at it. No matter how great you think your kid is, I guarantee there is someone whose nerves they love to work on. Maybe it’s you. Who knows.

Some people like to say, “When you were their age, you did that too,” and to some extent, they’d be right, but I wasn’t even remotely excited about anything my peers were doing in the 90s, so they’re also kinda wrong. I mean, I remember being annoying, but everyone is. Everyone is annoying, including your kid, remember?

But there’s a difference between being annoying, and being an experience that everyone has to live through. So maybe yours is not screaming at the top of their lungs, to welcome a peer to the table in the most extravagant way possible. Maybe they’re the peer that is being showered with those feelings, making them believe they are extra special, just like everyone else who walked in.
Maybe yours is wildly unpopular, and would die to feel the acceptance that others so freely give away. Maybe yours is like me, and realizes that, after you graduate high school, shit changes. Prom King and Homecoming Queen don’t translate well on a resume, and certainly not when it comes to keeping yourself alive.

My high school experience was full of days that I swore I had wished away hard enough, but seemed to drag on forever. Every day was a struggle, in and out of school, and graduation day seemed like an eternity in the future, to the point where I couldn’t even decide what that would look like. I just knew high school was not what I thought life would be like. So my master plan was to laugh through as much of the bullshit as I could, which as it turns out, is a lot.

And as soon as I graduated, life got real, and that shit wasn’t pretty.

I was back at the starting line of life, with everyone else, even the popular kids, and the century was turning. The next generation was already being born, and technology was changing the way we perceived each other (and life).

Like many of my classmates, I became a parent, and then the internet taught us how to be the right kind of parent, and we took those tips (sometimes from people who weren’t parents, and had no education on the topic) and we ran with them.

We kept checking back, to make sure we were doing what everyone else was doing, and NOT doing what everyone else thought was wrong. It changes all the time. One day spaghetti is the best thing for kids, and the next day, it causes brain death. We could no longer afford to make the mistake of not being in-the-know.

Spaghetti doesn’t cause brain death, so if you’re not one of my regular readers… I exaggerate sometimes. Go ahead and feed your kids spaghetti. Or don’t, I mean, I’m not your kid’s parent, so that’s just some advice you can take or leave. I feel like they won’t die without spaghetti, but I’m no doctor.

Innovations in social media and personality branding, as well as unrealistic hyper-active parenting woes, as well as the deadly peer scrutiny and judgment, have all created a monster. Kids are being held to impossible standards by their peers.

They feel the need to change. They feel the need to chase perfection. They feel the need to fit a mold. They feel the need to replicate what others admire. It’s just an image, based on the heavily edited photos and videos they see online and on television and in magazines, and we know this, but girls and guys alike are all susceptible to it.

That’s right. It isn’t just the ladies who are feeling the pressure. It’s everywhere, and if they aren’t adhering to the latest tweet or post from a major influencer (which is a fucking job now), they can expect to be rejected everywhere in their physical life. Guys too.

That’s something I find annoying, and new. I didn’t have to deal with social media when I was in school, so maybe that’s why I think things are so much worse now. Remember, I thought high schoolers were annoying before; there is nothing new about this. The part I find new, is the immediate broadcast of every feeling and reaction people have, before they have the opportunity to process the emotion.

A minor tiff between friends, once easily solved by a little time and space, can easily escalate to someone’s entire life being ruined, because social media allows us to share our feelings (about a person or event) across a wide net of people. The bigger the audience, the more people to share in that view, and the faster that immediate reaction turns into a group opinion.

I’m not sure how I would have made it through high school, if I had to deal with social media. Could I have shut it out, as I claim it to so easily be done? Who knows?

I do know one thing I could have benefited from, that would have changed my whole experience. It’s something that my son’s high school sees as a basic need, and that’s faculty support.

I never had any teachers or counselors or mentors telling me that they believed in me, or saying anything about my potential. I didn’t know I could do it. I didn’t work toward any goals, because nobody ever told me there was anything to work toward. Nobody cared what happened to me, as long as I was doing what I was told. A mentor could have really helped me see what I was capable of achieving.

My son’s high school is full of that type of thing, and it’s so beautiful to see it everywhere. These kids are nice, even where exclusion exists, and the teachers really care about what the students’ lives are like. They invest the time in getting to know them, and they encourage them, and rally around them, not just for the students themselves, but for the ripple of positivity that it causes.

There are infinitely more clubs and organizations, and there is so much talent that is being proudly shown in so many ways. At my school, anyone who showed pride in a talent was quickly torn down, until they didn’t believe in themselves anymore. We had no band. We had no clubs. We had a shitty drama department that was student-led, and poorly supported by the school. The teachers just waited to get out of there each day, and interacted minimally with the students. No interesting courses were offered, and we only had two foreign languages: French and Spanish. When I began foreign language, they only offered French.

My school was full of people who were not informed of their potential. To see my son going to a school that celebrates hard work, is a blessing to me. It doesn’t mean there are no challenges or downsides, but to have peers and faculty believe in you is a powerful thing. I don’t think I ever had that, anywhere.

Looking back, I don’ t know what that would have changed, because I eventually did just stop expecting anyone to believe in me, and learned to believe in myself. 20 years later, I only regret not caring more about myself, or subjecting myself to criticism more. It never occurred to me to care what others think, and I’m sure I wouldn’t feel any differently now, just because it has been 20 years.

I used to hate school, mostly because of the school itself. I have no problems talking negatively about it, because it was a terrible place that didn’t value education, and didn’t recognize the important role of a student/teacher relationship (not that kind). It made me hate the idea of school. It made me look at it as a waste of time.

But time is valuable, and if students are expected to respect teachers’ time, then teachers need to reciprocate that same thing in students. Students should automatically assume that their time is also valuable.

You know what happens when it isn’t? They grow up bitter. They grow up thinking they can’t lean on others. They grow up to write articles about how shitty their high school experience was, and that it taught them how unimportant goals and dreams and confidence and talent and determination and self-actualization were.

I know I’m doing myself a disservice by not going to the 20 year reunion, because of the fact that it’s in my writing wheelhouse to analyze situations like that, and relate them to measurements of time, and break down society’s affect on people I used to know. I should go, even if I can’t roast my classmates. Though, that would absolutely be a deal-maker.

But in the end, my time is just too valuable to waste another minute of it in that school.

1999 and forever!

-jg

Lost In The Supermarket

As much as I hate to admit it, I am what is called a “loyal shopper” at one of our local grocery stores.

It wasn’t planned. It very much happened by accident. I used to shop at the store that was closest to me, not just out of laziness, but also because the chain is local to my state in particular. It was just a grocery store, beyond that. Nothing special.

I had experienced several mishaps in that store, including, but not limited to:

  • burned by oil from rotisserie turkey that hadn’t been closed properly by the employee,
  • served raw chicken from the “Ready To Go” “prepared” foods section, and
  • sold expired meat.

So, mostly meat related, as you can see.

My first instinct, was to buy everything except for meat there, and then just hit the butcher shop for that stuff. That worked out. Briefly.

Long story short (this is short, for me), I ended up switching to a different grocery store altogether, which only turned out to be 1/4 mile further from my house. They do sales and coupons and all that fun stuff, where the old “local” grocery store doesn’t (my understanding is that they now have a loyalty program, which started right after I left – ironic), so I was already interested, because I fuckin’ love saving money. Right away, I began saving money, and it wasn’t two weeks, before I was hooked to the fullest extent of the (grocery) law.

Or so, I thought.

One day, I walk up to the register, and my favorite cashier, “Ginny,” says to me, “Hey, man.” (nods at me) “Do you do the preferred pricing program?”

Guh??? Preferred pricing??

Why on Shaq’s flat green earth, would anyone pay anything other than the preferred price??? It reminded me of that episode of King Of The Hill, where Hank finds out he’s a dumbass for paying the “preferred price,” which actually was sticker price the whole time, and he thought he was getting some sweet deal. Why was I paying sticker price for my asparagus?!

I immediately joined the program that day, and the addiction only got deeper. I imagined myself on Extreme Couponers, talking about ten cases of popsicles that the store needs to go get from their deep freezer out back, so I can pay 14 cents for them. I don’t know why I chose popsicles for that scenario. I don’t even like popsicles. I guess there’s still time to change this part, though I may just go with this.

So, I get this preferred pricing, and each week, I get my “frequently purchased items” at a discount, because it shows that I’m predictable, and they like that. One of my most frequently purchased items is Brown Success Rice (shoutout to Success Rice!) so I usually get a special deal on that. In my case, anything is considered a special deal, as long as it’s less than whatever you’re paying.

I put the rice on the list, and prepare myself to pay the preferred price of $2.48 per box (wooo!) for my tasty brown rice, which I did do. But when I looked at the regular civilian price, it was literally only one cent more. I saved a whopping ONE FUCKING CENT, on something that I’ve purchased TWO OF, every week, for the past 156 weeks. Not seeing how that’s a deal, but I did set the bar pretty low, so technically I got a deal. God damn ass loop holes.

In addition to special pricing, I also get freebies from time to time. Usually, they’re in the form of reward points, which I can then convert into free items, but that’s not too much work for me to do, so I do it. The free items are always something I need. Butter, eggs, shit like that- so even though they’re Store Brand, I get them.

Here’s where things get tricky with the Store Brand.

I get a coupon for Store Brand British Muffins (I think you call them English Muffins). I go to the store to get the Store Brand British Muffins, and I get to the bread aisle, and they only have Store NAME British Muffins. They have Store Brand BAGELS, but no Store Brand British Muffins. Only Store Name. Needless to say, they didn’t honor the exchange, despite the fact that they had given me a coupon for a product they didn’t even sell. Dealio!

Sometimes, they give me a coupon for a free item that is out of stock, even though I get there at 7:00 AM on the first morning of the sale. That’s a fun one. I’ve completely given up on asking for those items, because the store employee generally doesn’t return from that fact-finding mission.

Last weekend, I went to buy spinach pasta, because I like to trick myself into thinking Alfredo won’t undo any nutritional benefits brought on by the pasta. (I can see the green through the sauce, so the veggies are still alive, I feel like.) The package says there’s spinach in it, so that counts.

The store didn’t have my brand (Delverde, if you’re wondering), so I went with a different brand that looked pretty similar, and was delicious, just not as delicious as my normal brand. Out of desperation for spinach-laden pasta, I went with the large, inconvenient box of spinach pasta nests, that dwarfed everything else in the cart. When I got to the register, and unpacked my groceries, the cashier- who sees me in that store every single week– asks me the question I absolutely hate:

“Did you find everything okay today?”

Fuck you. I’m literally here every 168 hours, and never have questions, so unless the store has completely remapped itself, I could probably tell you where to find shit. Don’t ask me that.

Another thing I hate, on a side note, is this shit:

Cashier: “How are you today?”
Me: “I’m doing well. And yourself?”
Cashier: *crickets fucking*

Why can’t you answer me? I am right in front of you, and I have never once been accused of being quiet, so I guess it’s just down to you being a rude-ass, isn’t it? I realize dragging a bottle of dish soap across a laser beam is demanding of your focus, but surely you can spare a second of attention for the consumer?

Let’s get back to this weird checkout shit with the pasta, because I’m not done yet. The cashier picks up the big awkward box, clearly confused as to what it is, and makes an attempt at the Small-Talk-About-What-You-Bought game; another thing I absolutely hate.

“Is spinach pasta really better for you than white pasta?”

I looked at Matt, as if to ask him, “Are we on a hidden camera show?” But we weren’t. We were in real life, and this woman, who is around all the food, all day, every day, was asking me if the addition of a vegetable that is known to have some of the strongest nutritional benefits, would make a food healthier.

I told her, “Not the way I use it!” And then I ran out of there, without my stuff, just for dramatic effect.

The newest frustrating obsession this store has cursed me with, is the Monopoly game. If you’re one of those people who hands me their tokens after you shop, because you don’t play the game, you must take it from me: don’t even start playing. 

Most of the things I win, are either more tokens to play, or free donuts from the bakery. Last year, I won a whopping $5, but the whole thing was so convoluted and annoying, that I didn’t even cash it in. I haven’t thought about what the threshold would be, as far as making something worth the effort to redeem the prize, but it’s probably not in my future, so that can just go unsolved. At this point, the answer is: big.

A relative on my stepmom’s side is one of those extreme couponers, and I see her at the store all the time.  She doesn’t really say hi to me, and tries to avoid me, even though that’s dumb. I guess XC (extreme couponing) really turns you into a turd. While I admire her savvy spending, I can’t help but realize that I also could probably feed my family on $30 per week, if I still thought a diet of Honey Buns and Hot Pockets were a good idea. I’d rather just pay full price for the real food (like Success Rice!)

One of the funniest things I see at the supermarket, is how unorganized some people are. Their cart is all mixed up, and shit is getting squished, and their raw meat is stacked on top of their bread and fruit, and they just pile everything on the conveyor belt. No plan. I’m hard-focused when I shop, complete with a legal pad of every item I need, down to the price I am expecting to pay. Not everyone is like that, and that’s cool. Some people don’t have a list, and don’t care about the brand they’re buying, and don’t have any sort of agenda, so they don’t come unglued on their partner in front of everyone.

Sometimes, when I snap at Matt in the store, other ladies will laugh, and encourage me. Especially older ladies.

Other times, when he’s in the way of someone else, I tell them it’s okay to hit him. Then, when they laugh, I act like I’m not even there with him, and I’m just encouraging random acts of violence.

A lot of times, I just straight-up leave him at the store, if he doesn’t win me something in the skill crane.

(I’m just kidding about some of that. I’m not a mean partner, and I don’t condone violence. I mean, really, it’s Matt’s fault that he’s always in the way.)

One thing I DO like about grocery shopping (all shopping, really) is the part where they want me to give my customer feedback in a survey. Oh, honeychild, I fill out the surveys. I complain. I call the corporate office, if I feel so inclined. But the fact that they’re asking me to give my ideas on what would improve my shopping experience, is a bonus I always expect, but never get tired of.  I think I have my own folder in my store’s customer service inbox.

If stores could do one thing to improve my experience, I would definitely say the number one thing would be, “Shutup.” Just shutup. Just stop talking to me, and offering me things, and asking how my day is. I promise, you don’t want me to engage in some fake-ass conversation, because it’s going to probably look like this:

Cashier: “How are you today?”

Me: “Fuckin’ terrible.”

Cashier: “Oh no! Well I hope it gets better.”

Me: “Yeah, I thought it was going to, but then I got stuck in some dumb conversation, and now, here I am …”

Cashier: *weird nervous laugh*

Me: “Are you laughing at me? I had a step-uncle who used to laugh. He’s dead, now.”

And that’ll be that, because there’s no way any cashier has enough in them, to shut me up once I start down that dark, dark road. Nobody can. Not even my step-uncle.

Improve my shopping experience by letting me bag my own groceries. I want to. I tell the baggers to get lost, when they try to come help me. “I can do it better than you.” I should start telling them other stuff, like, “Yeah, they fired you. Nobody told you? I just heard them talking about it over there. I think one of them was the manager.”

There is one major upside to bagging your own stuff, and that’s knowing that your alcohol won’t be thrown willy-nilly into the bag with your canned vegetables. It also means you won’t be bitterly surprised once you get the groceries to your car, to discover that there are a ton of singular items that are bagged alone. Has no one told them about microplastics? Or about how my Bag Hutch is dangerously close to 12 bags, as it is??

This post has taken me about a week to write, which is not as much sad, as it is pathetic and sad. I go grocery shopping every Saturday, and I have been shopping twice, since I started this. (Matt said to stop it with the self-deprecating posts, because nobody is as tired of my writer’s block crap as I am.) I rolled up to the checkout yesterday, and my favorite cashier (“Ginny” from before) was there. There was nobody in line, so that was a bonus, and when we brought up our cart, she says, “Yes! It’s my favorite couple!”

My motherfuckin’ money skills are bringing her joy. She knows I’m going to save money, and she absolutely loves that shit. She also knows I’m going to tell the bagger to fuck off, so she just ends up telling them how great I am, as soon as they try to “help.” She tells them I could teach them how to do their job better. She’s fully behind my skills and opinions.

I always feel bad for the next person in line behind me when I go to Ginny, because they watch her be so excited and engaged during our interaction, and then she turns to them, and the smile fades from her face, as she says,

“Hi. How are you? Did you find everything you were looking for today?”

 

-jg