Annie and McSt. Patty's Day

One day can reveal a lot about a person. Usually, these are stories where someone faces death in the eye and doesn't blink or refuses to back down from their beliefs. This time, it comes from my friend who realizes who she is through bad connections with guys.

Last week, my friend Annie had a couple of days off for a change. Instead of wasting them cleaning the house or running errands, she wisely used her time to celebrate Patrick's Day of Sainthood. Now, as many Oklahoman's know, there is only one place to go for this auspicious holiday and she was there.

But let's step back a couple of days. Prior to that, Annie had contacted an old friend of hers whom she developed an interesting, if only because it was never really defined, relationship with. He was someone she could confide with and help her through the rough patches when needed. They hadn't really seen each other for some time because of conflicting schedules and private issues. But with the upcoming freedom in both their schedules falling on St. Patrick's Day, they agreed to do something. Her friend, whom we'll call Noah, said he'd contact Annie to set something up.

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If I wanted to add to the confusion I would toss in the neighbor friend whose live-in girlfriend decided to move to Chicago to pursue her career in musical theatre, despite musical theatre really being a New York thing, but that story disappeared before it even took off. We'll stick to the two guys for now.

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After running her errands the day before, Annie had the Tuesday off to celebrate her Irish heritage, although her family name is German. Joining with some friends in Norman, the small entourage proceeded to celebrate St. Patty's Day in traditional fashion with plenty of ale and lager and no regard to the next day. Of course, so did everyone else at the bar, leaving a clear absence of available seats.

Using her typical cunning, and a little bit of ingenuity, she managed to snag a table away from an unsuspecting group - we'll just leave the details out, however, to save face - and proceeded to allow new found friends to join. These friends were all in the military, and judging from the photos I will say they were NOT Navy - and of course one of them caught Annie's attention.

This man, whom we now call Chris McStPattysDay, or McSPD for short, had the typical military style going for him; clean cut, gentleman, heavy drinker. Each of the qualities my friend, and I presume most women on a holiday like this, would enjoy. As the day wore on into the night, my friend's frustration at Noah continues. Not only had Noah not contacted her to get together, but he hadn't contacted her about anything. Finally, Annie had had enough.

If you recall from an earlier story, Annie has had some experience with cell phones. Using her phone, she made it abundantly clear to Noah that his inability to call her, even to say he's too busy, had left a poor taste in her mouth. His response was a simple apology with no real explanation. This sent Annie off.

Now, Annie hadn't been the type of person to stand her ground lately. Her previous workplace took this once strong-willed woman and made a beaten soldier on the verge of PTSD. When someone told her she couldn't cut it, she'd apologize. When someone trampled over her, she'd let it be. Not anymore.

After hearing the non-apology from Noah, Annie ripped into him telling him that his inability to make plans or call to say it wasn't going to work out made him less of a man than he was before. There was little room left for Noah to wiggle out of, leaving him stranded in his ark for another 40 days.

Meanwhile, the night had ended in Norman and Chris McSPD had acquired his prize; the number to Annie's cell. Granted, this is nothing of an achievement these days as more and more women screen their calls to avoid the men they met the night before (a very wise move in many cases.) Nothing was made of the new number the next day. Everyone proceeded to work off their hangovers, walking gingerly in the office and whispering through the phone. It was Wednesday, however, that the cell phone's existence provided a little twist.

Most mornings, Annie awakes to her dog or an alarm clock. Wednesday morning, however, she woke up to a picture text sent from Chris McSPD. It wasn't a normal picture you'd receive, there were no sunrises or clever ways to ask one out for coffee with a picture of a coffee mug and a question mark. Instead it was a picture of, well, let's call it his miniature version of the Washington Monument.

Disgusted, Annie erased the picture text and refused to respond. By Friday, she had thankfully forgotten the offending picture and tried to relax with a girls night out. Unfortunately, Mr. McSPD didn't quite understand the reason behind a lack of response to his "artful" message. So, he sent another text. There were no photos with this message, just a declaration that he'd be out with his friends. I presume he announced his plans in the hopes that Annie would quickly respond her desire to join. This plan didn't quite work as Annie merely erased the message and went about her evening.

A week later, with no word from Chris McSPD, Annie and I were having a conversation. Now, Annie would say she enjoyed her conversation whereas I would argue that it was nothing more than a dressing down of my faults, of which there are many. During this conversation, Chris McSPDhad texted again. This time he asked what Annie was doing that night. It was good to see the evolution of one person over the course of 10 days, from primeval photos of himself to implied invites to actual questions. Unfortunately for him, he lost any chance of getting to know Annie with the initial message.

To make sure the boy got the message right, Annie replied to "What are you doing tonight?" with "Not you." And left it at that. McSPD, in an effort to save what little face he had, replied back that there was no reason to be mean, he just wanted to know what she was doing. There is a need to save face, which we've all done in our lives, and there is a need to cut your losses and move on. This was not the former in any way. When Annie pointedly explained the problem of him sending pictures of Mini McSPD, the boy got the message and replied that he was deleting her number from his phone.

While there were promising moments for both gentlemen to achieve more than a conversation with Annie, they both failed to properly utilize the cell phone and fell flat on their face. But more importantly than learning how a phone should work, the story brought about a greater end. Annie's self-confidence had returned. In the time span of one day, St. Patrick's Day, Annie re-discovered how to stand her ground, refusing to let old friends walk over her and denying the advances of bad acquaintances.

In the end, finding the backbone always trumps dating new people. At least on a holiday like St. Patrick's Day.

"If the human race dies, the Earth survives."

I don't understand people. As fascinating as they may be, there are some who pointedly vilify others purely for difference of thought. It is frustrating to see so little work being done when two opposing viewpoints can't sit down for one minute and work on understanding the other.

We see this in the obvious arena, politics, but it can be witnessed elsewhere: various security agencies, differing states, cities, countries, and even religions. It is childish to witness such animosity towards others on a consistent basis with little hope for compromise.

Then again, I will always hate the University of Texas, so who am I to complain.

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The other day I went to Kohl's to buy some new running shoes. For the first time in my life I needed to replace an old pair of shoes in less than a year because I had literally ran them to the ground. It's a good feeling, by the way, to wear out shoes because of exercise and not from the passage of time (my previous pair were seven years old). When I was in line waiting to purchase my item, I observed a lady paying by credit card. Normally this isn't a big deal. But when the cashier checked the signature on the card and returned it to the woman, it became a big deal.

The cashier had failed to completely read the card, as we later learned, and didn't notice the signature was actually a note stating "check ID." This is common in a vain attempt to pro vent fraud. Nowadays, most people who use credit or debit cards simply make purchases online since you don't have to check for signatures. There is no opportunity to "check ID" while sitting at home in your PJ's.

When her card was returned, the lady snapped at the cashier, "see this? It says check ID. If you're going to take my card, you should at least read it." Afterward a brief pause, she continued, "Next time, you should do your job and look at the cards to make sure the signature is right or the id is valid," then promptly huffed away.

Now, I'm not saying the cashier didn't do anything wrong. It's obvious she should've checked the ladies identification. But the manner in which the woman responded was uglier than the situation warranted. Simply handing the cashier your driver's license and calmly explaining the "check ID" note would've been enough to remind the cashier about her responsibility. Snapping at a woman in public does nothing more than cause undue embarrassment to the employee and sets the customer on an unheralded power trip.

And I think that is all this was about. I doubt this had much to do with added security for her purchasing power. It appeared to be more of a feeble attempt at promoting a higher authority over her counterpoint. It's a shame, really, that things fall like this. And this woman is no different from the many people in this world who perform the same show at restaurants, discount stores, banks and other service institutions. There is a growing need to have authority over others, especially when the world is run on such power.

In recessions, I've seen, it grows to be worse. More and more people exude their superiority through hostility, or they find ways to knock other people down through derision. It's a by-product of uncertainty, and a dangerous one at that. The more financial chaos we find ourselves in, the more we want to seem better than others - as a way of saying we haven't fallen off that cliff just yet.

I don't have an answer for it. I can only hope people become aware of how they are treating others throughout their day. Sometimes chastisement is warranted. But undue hostility towards strangers cannot be the direction we take. If it is, then I have more to worry about than the OU-Texas football game in October.

"If that bastard doesn't shave and look like a leading man, we'll sue you..."

There is a sort of stigma with being unemployed, a perception of having all the time in the world to do whatever you want. However, this stigma is just not true. When you have no job a lot of time is spent, ideally, finding a new job. This includes networking, interviewing, resume updates, cover letters, and all sort of other administrative work most people forget about when they sit on their cushioned chairs in their office/cubicle, surfing ESPN or Facebook until the clock strikes five.

With what time we have outside of looking for a job, most of us unemployed Americans cannot go do whatever we please. There is the little problem of no income that keeps us from visiting all the great museums, and seeing every movie coming out this week. The lack of income prevents us from driving across the country for no reason outside of saying hello. It's a frustrating thing, but one we all get used to until the day comes when we hear the words "you're hired."

And no, I haven't heard those words yet. But I'm hopeful.

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In the time since the election, when I lost my job along with a great number of other Republicans that day, I have shaved a total of six times. Once was the day before I flew to Liberia. The second time was a failed attempt at shaving in a dimly-lit room in Zwedru using my blade and a mirror broken off of a motorcycle. The third time was the day before I flew back to the United States, using a full mirror but no running water. The fourth was for a job fair (which was a total bust, I might add!) The fifth was for no reason whatsoever and the final one was for a job interview that I had two weeks ago in Dallas. Why do I mention this? Because along with the lack of a job comes the time to find out if I like the beard or not.

I call it my unemployment beard. I let it grow unkempt for a week, trim it down, then grow it untouched for another week. I keep the edges clean, but don't bother with keeping it at any certain length. Does it look good? Probably not. I'm not a beard person by any means. But it is a nice reminder that there are still things I can do without the worry of committing a professional faux-pas.

More people should do something like this. Find a way to step out of your box, your little zone of familiarity, and jump into the deep end while you can. Unless you find yourself independently wealthy, or some mindless celebrity, unemployment is the only time you can really see what can be done.

There is an advantage for me doing this over others, I will admit. Most of my friends don't live anywhere near me so they cannot witness the Unemployment Beard. It saves me from hearing the incessant cries of ridicule I am certain to receive if they would see what I was doing. As they aren't here, I can roam the streets without fear of comment from any peer.

Having friends nearby, however, shouldn't deter anyone from growing their own "unemployment beard." Just make sure you don't commit to this while going to a job interview or on your first day on the job, hence the word unemployment. It's a time to be free and enjoy yourself. Plus, everyone will know something good happened to you because you had to eliminate your little experiment for the sake of gainful employment.