Sorting/Stuffing/Labeling—those may be the three pillars of insanity. It is what I do, will do for the next two weeks. The tasks are familiar—the mind numbness, not so much. But I won’t be melodramatic. In my head, I am making a documentary about the office life of the automotive supplier. The job I had last week came complete with a VP of Sales and Marketing who sounded EXACTLY like the dog show announcer guy from “Best in Show.” In fact, I couldn’t take anything he said seriously. And, the woman who I filled in for left two pairs of shoes under her desk. And, about 1,000 photos of her grandson on the desk.
Which, now that I’m squarely back in the 9-to-5 world, brings me to Lunch. Can someone please explain the Panera phenomenon to me? Whenever I ask someone where to go for lunch, 99% of the time the answer is, “Well, there’s a Panera right on (blah blah blah) Street.” As if that explains everything. As far as I can tell--because I can never get close enough to the place without risking crashing my car into the maniacal lunchers battling for parking spaces—it involves bread. And, from what the logo of Woman with Long Hair and Tranquil Expression tells me, I will feel VERY relaxed after eating there. My curiosity only grows with each passing week. I vaguely remember hearing something about “bread bowls” and soups. I have not experienced such a mixture of apprehension and intrigue since my high school days spent driving past the Middle-Eastern bakery with the illuminated sign that said “Bring Them to Eat Kunafa.” Never have I seen such an impressive slogan. First, one asks, “What is Kunafa?” then, the inevitable “Who are they?” follows, close on the heels of “Do I want to eat what they eat?” And, no, I never tried it. But I have since received a description of what it is, but never who “they” are.
Which brings me to my love/hate relationship with un-attributed quotes--like restaurants with signs that read “Best home cooked meals in the region!” or “The pancakes melt in your mouth!” Things that are un-attributed (such as mail items, left behind clothing/food, and pictures of strangers) unnerve me. In my neurotic world, the quotation mark is pretty much a symbol of trust. Whatever lies between the quotes is the word and the truth as far as I’m concerned. Why? Because it is a statement attached to someone. It’s as close as you can get to having a conversation without opening your mouth. When not attributed, it is terrifying and foreboding. Where is the voice coming from? How do I know it is to be trusted? Allow me to illustrate:
PHONE RINGS
ME: Hello?
CALLER: Try the lasagna at Mario’s! It’s delicious!
CLICK
DIAL TONE
My first thought would be that someone is trying to trick me into traveling to a restaurant I’ve never been to, and second, they are obviously trying to kill me with lasagna. A better, somewhat less neurotic example occurs nearly every year in my Christmas card from my grandmother. Sometimes even my birthday cards. The first sign, is on the envelope, where she writes “Shannon O’Neill” (just in case any other Shannon at our family Christmas party tries to pick it up). This type of name-in-quotes gesture makes me feel like my own name is a pseudonym and inside the envelope will lie the elaborate plans for a jewelry heist. Upon opening it, there is the pre-determined message from Hallmark. And, then, underneath, written (as far as I know) in my grandmother’s hand, is this message:
“We love you and are very proud.”
Or,
“You make us very happy.”
When put in quotes, by the quoter quoting their own sentiment, to me just seems like there is a secret organization at work, or, even more disturbing--Grams is being tongue-in-cheek with her affection. The written equivalent of the affection-air-quote. If I did not firmly believe my grandmother to be one of the sweetest ladies ever with not even the smallest ounce of the sarcastic (at least when it comes to me), then I could almost see her rolling her eyes as she wrote it.
And so, I leave you to ponder the quotation.
I want my gossip! - 2005-08-17
Goodbye, BGT! - 2005-08-08
hell hath no fury like a awriting workshop - 2005-08-01
My Love Don't Cost a Thing - 2005-07-14
Kiss My Grits! - 2005-07-06
