Tag: work

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Family Storytime: Mom The Eye Roller

KC J. Hutchins

            Many moons have passed since last I wrote on my own blog. You may notice I started to post TikTok videos on here. Now, while that is all good fun, I must remain true to my roots, which means more stories! Thank you for your patience and without further ado…

            My mother noticed my string of stories a while ago. Giggling at how my brother and cousin received their titles in my phone. However, she soon came to the realization she might be next. I brushed it off at the time saying I was absorbed in writing and marketing at the moment…

            So, my family loves to play games. The favorite of my late grandfather were card games. At least once a week, we’d come together to go a few rounds. One such evening we were gathered around. Smiling and enjoying one’s company until we heard that familiar tone from my grandmother. She’d come up with a new task to add to the never-ending list of hers. Now, try to understand my mom worked full to overtime in a sucky company as the head of a department. Only keeping the job to support not only us, but our grandparents who lived with us. As it was, we took care of some of their basic needs to run a home. Meaning stuff like moving pellets, mowing the yard, shoveling driveway, etc. The usual around the house stuff which those in older years couldn’t do well anymore. This gave very little time for my mother to find rest.

            Now, my mother possesses this ability to be unbelievably kind and professional to everyone she meets. This follows through with her conversations with people who might not deserve it. This is an amazing part of her personality although can hinder her own happiness, but I digress. However, there is a crack in this armor of hers. When she is very annoyed or upset, her eyes will roll.

            The biggest of these occurred at the very moment my grandmother requested her ridiculous task. (What this was I couldn’t tell you. Vaguely, I’d say moving everything in and out of several closets to organize and clean them during the work week.) Wind came off those eyes from the speed.

My grandmother responded thusly, “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Responded my mother.

With a huff, she shot back, “Roll your eyes. It’s very annoying.”

My mother took a moment. Looking around the room with a face like a child found with a hand in the cookie jar.

“… You can see that?”

Silence fell over that room so quick before laughter broke it. We all let her know between giggles the important information.

Her only response was, “Oh.” Before settling back down to play the game.

This moment of levity seemed to settle my grandmother down, and consequently made her forget about the little task.

Thus, my mother was known as The Eye Roller.

About the Author, Story Time

School Storytime: Woodn’t That Hurt?

KC J. Hutchins

I was a theater kid in high school if I hadn’t said this before. Now, we possessed a small budget, which meant we needed to save money wherever possible. One way was to recycle old set pieces, using bits of it over and over again. This we stored in a closet. During my senior year, I noticed how disorganized it became over the years. Either I decided to take on the task to get my mind off things or I was assigned to it… I don’t remember. Whatever the reason it, I should’ve thought twice before agreeing. It. Took. Forever. To make things worse, it was very heavy. By the end of it I was sweating like a pig and sore beyond belief. Literally laid on the floor for a good twenty minutes to restore my energy. By the end of it, it was organized by size and easy to access. I was pretty proud of my work.

Closing night came for our musical and we were breaking down the set. They needed my height to help with it. I noticed groups bringing wood to the closet. Without a second thought, I reminded them I’d organized it and to please keep it that way. They agreed, but a feeling lingered in my stomach… So, once I was no longer needed, I went to check on it. Turning the corner, a clear yell erupted from my throat. Instead of my finely kept project, I was greeted with a wooden pile of chaos. My noise was so loud my stage manager across the way asked if I was ok. He at the time was putting away and organizing the props. Striding across the stage, his mouth dropped seeing the dilemma. He’d seen the finished product and said he’d talk to everyone later. Back to his spot, I tried to adjust a few pieces… and heard a bit of tumbling and creaking. I knew what was about to happen… crossed my arms and braced myself while the pile of wood crashed down on me. For a second, I just laid there… grumbling and growling from the pain. A friend of mine found me, yelling for others to help me. After a few pieces were removed, I shook off the rest while crawling out. I shot the group a look and walked away. I could hear some yelling at them, but I didn’t care at that point. Spent the rest of the time venting to my stage manager. On the positive side, I wasn’t required to do anything else for the rest of the night. It was a shame since it was the musical for my senior year. Left me with a bitter taste in my mouth… or was that just a mouthful of splinters? In all seriousness, I was fine by the end of it. No injuries to speak of that night. I wish there was a picture, because I guarantee it looked really funny with me under the pile.

About the Author, Story Time

Work Storytime: Ice Cream Cone

KC J. Hutchins

So, this was my first job with taxes involved. A bit more pressure to do things correctly. My boss was a very angry man who talked with his hands. It wasn’t abnormal to hear him shouting and knocking stuff over. This came from his desire to sell the business for the past couple years; thinking about it more as a way to make money rather than a passion. Given this added stress level, it made it all the more imperative to succeed… especially for a kid in high school. However, he owned a very mixed business… a combination of a deli, convenient store, restaurant (And I use that term lightly), and ice cream stand. This gave me a lot to learn in little time. Thankfully, he was rarely there. Doubly so since I could never do one simple task… swirl an ice cream cone. No matter what I tried I couldn’t make a soft serve stay on a cone… To the point where my managers wouldn’t let me try anymore. Laughing at the fact I could do anything else, but this one easy task. Now, this was happening for months, and it was a well-known fact by all members of staff. In comes my boss on one of his rare visits. Customer orders a twist soft serve cone. My manager says he’ll be there in a minute to do it.

Overhearing this, my boss says, “KC can do it.”

Without missing a beat, he responds, “No, he really can’t make one.”

The most bewildered and angry face went on my boss’s face. Growling he commands, “Show me.”

First attempt was too small.

“Come on!” He says.

Second time, too big and uneven. Now, I’m hearing laughter.

In between I hear, “One more time.”

This time it was just plain deformed. They both were trying to catch their breath, my manager grabbing the cone for the customer.

Finally, my boss was able to squeeze out, “I guess it’s fine you can’t do one thing. Easier on my wallet too if I don’t let you try anymore.”

After they recovered from on the floor laughing, the three of us sat at one of the tables. Each of us ate one of the messed-up cones with a smile on our faces.

About the Author, Story Time

Work Story Time: The Umpire and the Bat

KC J. Hutchins

Way back when I was young, one of my first jobs was as an umpire. A great little job to ease me into the working world… sort of. Anyways, I came to one of the games as usual and met with the other two umpires. One of them was a friend of mine and the other I worked with before. Both these guys were doing this job longer than me. Remember that cause it’ll be important later. So, in most situations the most senior of the umpires is supposed to go behind home plate. However, neither of them wanted to do it. I, who wants to get the job done, volunteered for the duty.

I’d say we were halfway through the game. Dust in the air, people cheering, and a general sense of enjoyment by all. Nobody showed ill will towards anyone, but enjoyed the game as they should. Keep in mind these were little kids playing. One came stumbling over to the plate. I was minorly concerned the kid would hit himself as he tried to take practice swings! The coach came over to steady and reteach him. A nod of assurance led the batter to the plate. I readied myself to watch as the pitcher wound up. The ball came down the plate and WHAM!

My helmet vibrated and eyes went blurry for a moment. I steadied my legs as I tried not to fall forward on the catcher. An audible “Ooo” of sympathy rolled through the crowd… only broken by my word calling “Time!” The back of my head was throbbing for the batter had hit me in the back of the head. I walked off the field trying to steady myself. I stumbled a bit while groaning and growling from the pain. Rubbing the back of my head, I made sure there was no blood. A parade of people came to check on me. First was the two coaches who patted me on the back for taking the hit. The head of the umpire association (My boss) was the next to show up. Seeming a bit more worried than the rest and offered to give me free food for the rest of the week. Finally, my fellow umpires came to check on me. Knowing I was fine at this point, they were giggling to themselves. I asked them what was so funny? They responded that both of them didn’t want the home plate duty for they were worried about getting hit by the ball… but now they were afraid of bats!