Memory Monday: Scanner Girl, Part 2

Wanna hear more memories about my current job?  Well, then, you're in luck! (My first post of memories is right here.)

The summer after my senior year I worked by myself.  And actually, I worked 10-hour days.  Sure, it could get boring, but I kept myself occupied.  And I was trying to save money for college. I went in right after showering, with my hair still wet.  And even though it was summer, that would make me get cold.  So I would crank up the heat in that room, and dry my hair in front of the vent.  I would bend at the waist, with my long long hair hanging almost to the floor. Then I usually would pull it up with this purple scrunchie that I had.  I loved that thing, and had it for a million billion years.

The summer before, I didn't pull in quite that many hours, but my sister and mom and I went to deep water aerobics early in the morning, which I LOVED.  Then we'd get ready and go over to work.  It was so awesome.  One of these days, I would love to do the deep water aerobics again.  I tried a couple of years ago, but it was at night, right when I was trying to get kids in bed, etc. etc.  Maybe in a few years when my kids are all at school.  There are a lot of things I want to do when my kids are all out of the house.  Like, read.  Go to the temple often.  Exercise.  Grocery shop.  Scrapbook.

When I was scanning in college, my sister Brianna started scanning with me. At the time, my dad's office had a client that wanted some of their stuff scanned.  It was a doctor's office of some sort.  Our scanning room had been moved again, this time upstairs at the end of the hall.  While scanning the doctor's office stuff, we discovered that they had pictures drawn in their files, about people's ailments.  It was to show where or what was wrong, but...some of them were really funny.  Like cartoons.  There would be a phrase written, like "jambed thumb", and a picture of a hand with a REALLY over-sized thumb. Or they would have funny phrases (well, funny taken out of context).  Like "Man says there is metal shrapnel in his head."  Whenever we came across crazy things like this, we would scan them, then cut them out and tape them to the wall above our scanner.  We taped other things up as well, like outsides of thank-you notes or whatever that would have flowers on it.  We had quite the collection.

Along with the crazy pictures, the same doctor's office had these files on REALLY big papers that were all linked together.  You know that old type of printer that had the rollers on the sides, and the paper would have holes on the edges that you would hook onto the rollers?  And each page was hooked to the next, so you'd have to pull it apart?  There were boxes and boxes of these kinds of files.  And the pages were too big to put into our scanner.  So we had to get creative.

Sometimes we would take the pages and photocopy them but reduce it so it would all fit onto a page, then scan that.  Other times we could cut the edges and bottoms of the pages to make them page-sized.  When they had the normal-sized paper that was hooked together, our scanner was able to grab the first page, and keep going, sucking in page after page in a big stream.  Brianna was really good at getting the machine to do that.  I wasn't very good at it-it gave me paper cuts, and would start scanning crooked, and then it would jam.  So, yeah, I had to tear the pages and scan them separately.

Scanning -and prepping- the big pages took FOREVER.  So my sister and I decided to come in at night a few times and just prep so that we could scan during the day.  We would take a couple of boxes into the conference room, where there was a TV and cable.  There was a TV movie on, called "Au Pair" (which means "nanny" in French).  It's kind of "The Sound of Music" meets...any makeover show like "Pretty Woman" or "She's All That".  And even though it was cheesy, it was strangely addicting.

At that time, Brianna was also into country music.  We'd sit and listen to Z103, but after a while I'd get SO sick of their rotation of songs, so much so that I agreed to listen to a country station with her instead.  Although I could only take so much of that before wanting to switch back, or just not listen to any music whatsoever.

This was also about the time that we met Jack on Crack.  One of my dad's colleagues had a son that..."worked" there as well.  I honestly don't know what he did there.  Shred?  Yardwork?  Or maybe he just hung out there or something.  We could never remember his real name, so we called him Jack on Crack.  Because he was a WEIR-DO!  Very spazzy, and weird. Sometimes he would try to hang out with us and talk to us.  We would keep our door closed in the hopes that he would leave us alone, but even that didn't work with Jack on Crack.  I really hope he grew up to become somewhat normal.

I also scanned with my sister Alexis, when I was pregnant with Troy.  We were more hit and miss, because it was during the school year.  I went in on Friday and Saturday mornings.  We were in a different room-again, and this time had cubicles.  At this time we were scanning pension files, which didn't have cool pictures like the other files.

And now I scan alone, at night.  I'm back in the room where I used to dry my hair.  Life tends to come full circle.  Or maybe it just seems like that because right now my kids are watching "The Lion King".

Memory Monday: Working Girl

Man, it’s been a LOOOONG time since I’ve done one of these!  I haven’t been blogging as much, I think in part because I’ve been working so much-teaching piano, helping with three kids’ homework, and, of course, working at my Dad’s office doing cleaning and scanning.

Which brings me to today’s Memory Monday topic: scanner girl memories.  Oh, where do I begin?

I’ve done scanning on and off for a very, very long time.  I swear I was only 13 or 14 when I started scanning there.  It was my summer job all through high school, and then again in college (summers of ’99 and 2000).  Oh, and not to mention the time I worked there when we first moved to Idaho Falls before I had Troy, so in 2005-2006.

So.  When I was 13-14 years old, we had this REALLY old scanning machine.  It had its own set of discs that were humongous, and very unlike normal computer discs.  It was probably 5”x5”, and an inch thick. Somehow they were able to convert the Beast Discs into CDs or something.  If we wanted the machine to read a page as front-and-back, we had to put in a special paper with little squares colored in for it to do it right.  Same with if the page was too dark or too light-same special paper, but with a different square colored in.

At the time, the scanner was set up in the same room as the kitchen area stuff, so we were right by the fridge.  There was a lady that worked there at the time who was addicted to Diet Coke.  During the time that we (we meaning my sister Karlenn and I) were there, which was maybe half a day of work, this lady came down to the fridge to get a Diet Coke about 5 times.  And each time she came down she would ask, “Having fun?”

Now, Diet Coke Lady wasn’t the only one to frequent the kitchen area.  She was there the most, but she was not the only one.  And each person would ask the same question: Having fun?  We never quite knew what to reply to that.  “Yes, yes I am.  Scanning is a dream job!”  “No, not really.  I hate being here.”  “Not only am I having fun, but I’m working hard, too!  Two thumbs up!”  I mean, what DO you say in response?  So usually we’d just laugh a little, but I think that egged The Question on.

At that time, we were TERRIBLE scanners.  If it missed a page (sometimes the machine would suck in two or three pages at a time), we would just let it keep going, pull out the pages that it missed, and just stuck them in wherever it was most convenient.  I’m sure we missed backs of pages a lot.  And we had no idea what to title things.  I think at the time, though, we would just put it under the client name and the year.  So when the accountants went to find things, I’m sure it was a nightmare, because there would be 10 different files all under the same client and year. 

Oh, and it’s not like you could just look it up any old way, either.  We had these printouts of what was on each Beast Disc, and which Beast Discs were on which CDs.  So we’d have to look at this teeny tiny print to try and find out where the file was at, and then hopefully it was labeled with the right year and the right client.  Good times right there.

The summer after my junior year, I was still working with Kar.  We were in the kitchen for part of the time, but then we moved into an office across the hall when a dude moved out.  His name was Oak.  Not even joking.  My dad has had several randomly-named people work for him: Clain, Oak…okay, I know there’s more, but that’s all I can remember right now.  Clain had a cool last name, too – it was French, but I’m omitting it now for privacy purposes.

During that summer I was dating Ned.  Ah, Ned.  More good times right there.  Anyway, our scanner machine totally broke.  Just…wouldn’t scan, wouldn’t suck up pages, nothing.  So we had to call an 800 number.  We reached a guy named Dave that worked in Salt Lake for the Scanner Fixer Company.  So he came up to fix it, and it was kind of awkward.  We just sat there and prepped files while he cleaned the machine, etc.  By the way, he was really young, I think just fresh off his mission, which at the time seemed really old to me, but whatever - I was 17.  (I’m 17.  I’m 17!  -What movie?)

After Dave fixed the machine, it broke, like, 2 days later.  We called back down to the Scanner Fixer Company, and once again it was Dave that came up.  This time it was way different.  We totally talked to him, and kind of made fun of him for being a tech nerd.

I’m pretty sure the machine broke again, because I remember we called the place again and requested Dave to come up.  Hm, maybe he was trying to make the machine break so he could hang out with us.  Because even though I was 17, my hot sister was 19, so maybe he was trying to bust a move or something, though he never asked her out.

You know what’s funny, though?  A year or so later, Dave got married in Logan, Utah, and he sent us an invitation to the reception!  And…yes, my sister and I TOTALLY attended!  It was very awkward, trying to explain to his new wife that he had “fixed” our scanner, and that’s how we knew him.

One more point from this summer, and then I’m going to have to make a Part 2.  After we moved into the other room, we didn’t have to deal with The Question any more, which was nice.  Our office was next to a guy named Robert.  We teased him ALL the time, just by calling him nicknames.  He’d be all, “My name is Robert,” all deadpan.  And we’d be all, “Hey Bobby?  Question for ya.”  And he’d be all, “It’s ROBERT.”  (Has anyone seen the movie-I think it’s called Office Space?  I caught it on TV once.  There’s a dude that’s all quiet, and people always steal his stapler.  At the end he goes all crazy and, like, blows stuff up or something.  I could totally be making that up, because it’s been a long time since I’ve seen that movie.  Anyway.  Robert was like that dude.)

Okay, THAT tangent over.  Anyway, we gave him other nicknames like Bobert, Robbie, Rob, Bob, and Robert Probert.  The last one is someone’s actual name that at one point had been a client of my dad’s firm.  (Hm. Wonder if he’s still around somewhere.)  We thought it was really funny that someone with the last name Probert would have no creativity and name their child’s first name Robert.  I mean, come on!  There was also a client named Thomas Thompson.  Seriously?

Anyway, since we moved into a more secluded room, we could have a radio.  We listened to a station called Z103.  We would keep tally of which songs got played the most, aptly named The Most-Played Song of the Summer.  One of the songs that was big at the time was called Butterfly Kisses.  It’s a REALLY cheesy song.  So we were listening to that, and we both started singing at the TOP of our lungs.  “BUTTERFLY KISSES, in the blah blah blah!”  Okay, totally don’t remember the lyrics now.  Anyway, a lady named Maggie that worked upstairs paged down to us on the phone, and was all, “Um, we can totally hear you up here.”  So funny.

Another song that was in rotation at the time was a song called “I’m a B----“.  So one day my sister started singing that one: “I’m a B, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother, I’m a sinner I’m a saint…”  And Robert came over, stood in our doorway, and just stared at us for a while.  I think he was trying not to laugh, although I couldn’t be sure, because I don’t know if he was capable of laughing.  But it was totally funny.

Alright.  This post is CRAZY long, so I’m going to go.  But don’t worry, I have plenty more where that came from!

Oh, and enjoy this cheese-tastic blast from the past:

Made to be a Maid

When my sister went to China, she left me the successor of cleaning my Dad's office. I take out garbages every night, clean bathrooms, and vacuum. It's really not too bad of a gig.

Here are my cleaning supplies:

P.S. - You can learn a lot about a person by looking at the contents of their garbage.  And also by the state of cleanliness of their office.

I wear these handy dandy gloves, which helps my toilet psychosis.  I have a hard time with toilets normally, but with gloves on I manage a lot better.  I need to get some for my own toilets.

I think my hands might permanently smell like latex after a while, but I'm okay with that.  I also think that cleaning many bathrooms as often as I do has also helped me psychologically.  You know how people do exposure therapy, where they have to face their fears?  It's kind of like that for me.

Also, doing this job is like getting paid to exercise.  I clean, and end up a hot sweaty mess after I'm done.  I've noticed that I hold with my left hand and do with my right hand.  So my left arm gets the heavier loads that I sustain, so it's going to get buff from that.  But my right arm does the repetitious movements, and I vacuum right-handed, so it's going to get buff a different way.  I tried switching arms one day, and it really didn't work.

This is just a little doo-dad that my dad has had in his office since I can remember.  I actually think it's an incense burner he got on his mission in South Korea, but I could be totally making that up.  I've always loved it, though.

I've also been helping my mom clean at her house as well, about once a week.  Lately it's been more like once a month, because we've been out of town playing.  But once school resumes it will probably be more periodic.

The other job I took over was scanning at my dad's office.  I've done this job on and off for years. Back in the day when I was applying for jobs, I would call it "document imaging".  Sounds fancy, huh?  I just scan old tax documents into the computer.  Here is my little office:

And there's the computer and scanner.  That machine is crazy fast.  This job is also pretty nice.  I set my own hours, and can do as much or as little as I want.  I usually do it right after I do the cleaning.

Right now my cleaning and scanning money is going towards my laser eye fund. Well, right right now, it's going to replace what I used of my fund to get my new fridge. But you know what I mean.  I've noticed that I'm kind of a money hoarder, so part of me wants to scan and scan and scan, so I can get MORE MONEY! 

But then I realize I need to be reasonable in my money-getting endeavors.  There are only so many hours in the day.

Besides, somewhere along the way I need to clean my own house, you know?

Memory Monday: Changing Room Surprise

During one summer while I was in college, I worked at JCPenney.  My manager was awesome, but the customers were awful.  They were always wanting discounts on everything.  "There's this tiny little snag in the fabric by the hem at the bottom of the pants; can I get this for 80% off?"  Seriously.  Or, they'd place the item on the clearance rack, then come up to buy it and say, "But I found it on the clearance rack!"  And I'd be like, but it's not marked down, and there's the rack that has 30 of the same item for the price that the tag says.  Good times.

I worked in womens, and juniors, and petites.  For some reason, I got stuck in the juniors department on a Saturday afternoon all by myself, and I hadn't been working there all that long.  It should go without saying that that's a really busy department at that time.  Maybe there was someone else, but everyone would take 2 hour lunch breaks when we were only allotted a half hour (they would clock back in and just hang out eating-it seriously ticked me off-and yes, I know that's time card fraud or whatever it's called).  Or, there was one girl that would wander off and go up in the attic area.  (Yes, there was an attic area.  I have no idea how to get up there anymore-I think up some random back stairs.)

So, we were supposed to go through the dressing rooms every 1/2 hour, just to clear all the clothes out.  But I got stuck at the register, and had a line for at least an hour.  Seriously, no stop whatsoever.  I think I had a line because they couldn't find anyone else in any of the other areas of the store.  Everyone must have been gone eating.  In the attic.

I finally had a break in the flow, and knew my dressing rooms were long overdue for some merchandise removal.  I started in, and I was pulling armloads out of each dressing room.  There are...4 or 5ish rooms.  I got to one of the last rooms, and it smelled really funky.  I just figured, whatever, let me get these clothes out and back to the racks.  I picked up a dress that was crumpled up on the ground, only to find...brace yourself...a humongous poop pile. 

It was green.  And not really solid, if you get my drift.

I immediately put the dress back down onto the offending pile.  I went to the next department over, and politely asked my co-worker what to do.  She couldn't believe that that had happened.  Then I called my manager.

I kept thinking, who would do that?  Even if you didn't want to confess, why put clothing on top of it?  I hadn't noticed anyone leaving all suspicious-like.  It just blew my mind.

Anyway, my manager came over, and she was the one that ended up cleaning up the poop mess.  Poor lady.  Although, I have to admit, if she had told me to clean it up, I would have quit on the spot.

None of the other workers had ever had that happen to them, and some of those ladies had been there for years and years.  I was the lucky one.  Needless to say, I didn't stay at that job for all that long.

You wanna know the sad thing?  Even though someone pooped a lot of poop in my dressing room, that's not even the worst job that I've ever had.  But it definitely made it memorable.