When Your Baby Give It Their All, You Know You Have Given Birth To A Soldier.

Never before have I ever encountered a baby that I've felt so compelled to salute that I've nearly cried. A couple days ago; I met that baby, and one day we will all follow him throughout the period of time called the 'Zombie Apocalypse'.

How did I meet said baby? Let me tell you a story of one youngsters troubles and one young adults realization of someone's destiny.

I was working at my local grocery store one night, working the graveyard shift. I hate night shifts. Who the fuck needs milk at 8:45 at night? I ask myself, then through the door walks the answer to my quandary in all his/her's wife beater glory. Alas, I stray.

I was stocking the shelves while simultaneously doing my managers job, we've all been there. All of a sudden I hear crying coming from on end of the store. This isn't the first time I've heard crying in my store, I remember once: this vegan family came in and their children (who have never seen meat, or anything dead before) started to cry uncontrollably at the realization that at one time every delicious animal in our display case had a mediocre life. Once again I digress.

I casually decide that it is my time to take a piss for about, lets say 20 minutes.

On my way to my sit and nap I came across the crying child in the arms of his very attractive mother. Approaching said attractive mother I inquire as to what she is actually looking for. I believe our conversation went something like:

"Hey babe, why you looking at diapers and not at fancy menu's with me?"

"Oh Gosh I don't Know! Take me now while my top is so incredibly loose. My child will crawl away and I don't care!"

While my mind was envisioning what I would of like to of happened I couldn't help noticing the hysteric baby crying in her arms.

His mother was talking away about the type of toilet paper she most enjoys buying, all the while her young son (two years at least) was looking at ME and crying. As if I was the one causing such apocalyptic horror in his eyes.

As I watched the baby cry I watched him progress through stages.

At first he was going about his job of mass producing tears while looking at me as if I was going to reach out to him and help him.

Then, for one beautiful moment, he stopped. He had a look of panic. I like to think that this was his thought during such a small amount of time: Damnit, nothings working! I gave it my all, now what?

Then he looked quite resolute. A plan has been made. Execution of plan in 1,2,3...

He puffed up in his off-white "onesy" like an inadequate air-bag, and let out a scream mixed with the tears of a thousand souls.

The mother looked damn near unfazed, but I could no longer hold my laughter. I ran to the front of the store and into my office where I laughed until I cried. All the while I knew... That baby will lead us to greatness one day.

People like to kick my ass?

I work security for the local auditorium in my hometown. The odd part about this job for me is... I'm not a big guy! I weigh about 140 lbs and 5'6" if I eat my Wheaties in the morning. I have all the intimidation of a carebear but with the spunk of a wolverine.

Alas, I am charged with the over-all safety of.. Well.. Everyone. It's like watching Peter Parker trying to save the world without his Spiderman powers, or kick ass suit.

Shit happens though and I get hurt. Hurt a lot. Like punched in the face, tackled, spit on, yelled at, and sometimes I get the occasional knife pulled on me.

I love my job though. Even though one day I was charged with watching the beer line at some country concert. I was particularly worried about this one grizzly of a man I nicknamed "Thunder". He was beyond drunk, he was in a state of being that most people in Maine call "gone". While I was watching him, alternating his eye sight from the wall to me, an elderly lady approached me inquiring where the restrooms were. Being the dashing young man I like to think I am I not only told her but POINTED also. On my way back to turning around to watch the line, I was presented with a glorious present aimed at my fore-head. "Thunder" had punched me with all the five fingered glory of the old gods in Caribou.

The only thought that went through my mind was: I thought you were a good person.

Shamelessly said I blacked out. I woke up to feeling half my head lighter than the next, a pounding headache, and a sore ass.

Summing up all the paper work and potential lawsuits. I settled for a $300 grievance package on top of my paycheck. I never did get around to meeting with him for his verbal apology.

HOLY shit! Don't you see I have things to do?

I work at a local grocery store in my neighboring town.

I love my job and like a good majority of people I work with... BUT frequently I am forced to endure some of the most HORRIBLE people alive. Such as:

Bring their own bags people...

Ok, at my store you can bring in your own cloth bags and save 3 cents per bag. You can save a decent amount of money over a long span of time buying groceries and putting them in your own bags. Any bag will do: backpacks, old purses, suit cases, and even cheap bags you can buy anywhere!

Problem: When you start putting items on the belt, my first reaction is to start putting them into plastic bags. Piece of advice? DON'T WAIT TILL ALL PLASTIC BAGS ARE FILLED TO GIVE ME YOUR CLOTH BAGS! Please put your bags FIRST before you start giving the cashier your items so that they don't spend 10 minutes fishing your items out of the plastic bags and transferring them into your old backpacks.

I would like to save nature just as much as you and thanks for not using plastic, but meet me half-way here.

Paper-bags....

Ok, paper-bags are extremely strong. MUCH stronger than plastic. Some older generations only use paper-bags out of tradition.

Problem: Beside the fact that paper-bags attract WAY to many old people, I would like to say: GO GREEN PEOPLE. If you use paper-bags don't bitch about weather changes or how self-ish the new generation is. Plus, paper-bags are a bitch to put items into.

Possibly to be continued..

What is my epicness?

Hello, my name is Brad.

I work some interesting jobs.

I believe that the environments that we are forced to survive in dictate who we are. Oddly, my work environments have made me into a very humorous individual with tons of stories. Most of my jobs require me to interact with many a strange folk. In this blog I plan to talk about all my "odd" on the job moments.