<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231</id><updated>2011-07-30T14:59:24.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Humanity on the Clock (Observations while working)</title><subtitle type='html'>100% real. There's no way you could make these stories up.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-6052018607876646200</id><published>2011-07-02T06:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T06:16:46.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A universal language</title><content type='html'>It was a busy, steady night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4th of July Weekend, and that means a lot of people travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This account isn't about one customer in particular, rather a re-occurring theme from the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a Holiday weekend mainly celebrated as an American thing, there were sure a lot of foreign travelers tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of them can usually speak English, and in my fumbling and friendliness we can still come to an understanding that leaves us both smiling as we part ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However tonight on more than one occasion I had the opportunity to host customers who did not speak any English at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, given the immediate needs that can be met at my location, spoken language is not the only form of communication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they walk in, smiling to be friendly and polite, their hurried steps and frantic pace speak a universal language that you'd have to be pretty blind to miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As their eyes dart about, they look to me and I kindly point to the corner of our store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The corner where our bathrooms reside.  The following smile, flashed briefly as they turn their back, is one of pure gratitude.  Caring for your neighbor in the simplest way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tomorrow morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-6052018607876646200?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/6052018607876646200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2011/07/universal-language.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6052018607876646200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6052018607876646200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2011/07/universal-language.html' title='A universal language'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-7153197529993640274</id><published>2011-01-28T05:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T05:24:57.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe it was their Paradise?</title><content type='html'>I was working like any other night, it was on the slow side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night is starting to wind down and the time is starting to the point where 1st shift workers start to come in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A full sized van hauling a trailer pulled into the station.  At first I think nothing of it, you see all kinds of vehicles after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 10-15 young adults come out.  They are all dressed formally.  The women are in skirts and nice conservative tops.  The men are in dress shirts.  They are young so my first thought is they must be some traveling conservative Christian college group going somewhere.  At GLCC we would go out to Wisconsin for one of our games and at that school you'd see apparel that was similar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, as I interact with them it becomes very apparent they are not a Christian group.  They aren't swearing or acting rude or anything.  They buy doritos, red bulls and two of them even buy cigarettes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to ask a few what their group is and they shy away from the question.  Like they don't want to answer or they want to keep it a secret.  I deduct that they are going skiing up north, and they are not from a school or commune, but are a group of friends coming from the Fort Wayne area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally crack and as the last one if they are a Mennonite group, based on how familiar they are with our "modern marvels" like red bulls and marlboros.  He politely says "No, we're Amish."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know Indiana Amish smoke Marlboros and drank Red Bulls.  I guess you learn something every day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just not something you expect to encounter when working.  Especially when an Amish person produced a State ID card to buy cigarettes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-7153197529993640274?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/7153197529993640274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2011/01/maybe-it-was-their-paradise.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7153197529993640274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7153197529993640274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2011/01/maybe-it-was-their-paradise.html' title='Maybe it was their Paradise?'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-6683634745499864386</id><published>2010-10-30T03:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T03:56:30.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Explain this one Mr. Athiest...</title><content type='html'>Working Friday night, the first in what is sure to be a long weekend of costumed customers this weekend.  Fortunately I won't be there for all of it, but I can imagine it being quite hectic at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I was working with my co-worker as we often do.  Tuesday and Friday nights are our grocery nights, so we are both there to put it away and do what we usually do every night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This gentleman comes in and he is talking on a wireless headset to someone on the phone.  I am not on a drawer tonight, but my co-worker is.  He (The gentleman) ignores the small 2 person line that is at the register and asks "Where I am?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What follows for about 10 minutes is an attempt at dialogue to help this man figure out where he is and where he is trying to get to.  A minute or two into it we are very convinced that he is inebriated to an unsafe degree.  He cannot stand in one spot, he drops his wallet 3 times, and his car keys once.  His speech is quite slurred, both to us and to whoever he is on the phone with.  Catching my eye, my co-worker nudges the phone towards me and nods his head subtlety.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that he even made it into the parking lot without damaging anything or anyone is a pure miracle and evidence of a God, evidence that even an atheist would have a hard time disproving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He heads back towards his car, and we watch to see which side of the car he is going to.  Unfortunately he gets in the driver's side.  We are concerned for his safety and for the safety of other motorists on the road, especially as this is a time when many 1st shift weekend workers will begin morning commutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I make the call, my co-worker keeping an eye locked on his car the entire time.  He moves his car to a parking spot on the far side of our lot, nearly hitting my co-workers car 3 different times in a 20 second period.  Mind you my co-worker has just has a car accident and bought a new car in the last month.  He's a little worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, five minutes later, the quick responding officers of the Clinton County Sheriff's Department pull in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are not sure whether he was waiting for someone to pick him up (which is apparently what happened) or if it was a convenient alibi that worked out while he was talking to the officers, but the bottom line for us is we don't care.  We kept a very drunk and dangerous person off the road tonight, and we don't want to even think about what may have happened had we not done anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, we wish the police officer would have come into the store and said something to us.  I think we deserve some type of communication in regards to the situation we called them to in the first place, but what do I know?  Sure will make the paperwork easier, but they have their system and I trust them, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the most interesting occurrence of a crazy night.  You can tell it's Halloween, as the costume parties have started.  You think about all the issues that come out of women who want to be respected, women who want men to see them as more then a piece of meat to be mauled.  Then you see the costumes we saw last night, and you wonder why they are shooting their cause in the foot.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Sunday night.  Halloween.  No plans to dress up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-6683634745499864386?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/6683634745499864386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/10/explain-this-one-mr-athiest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6683634745499864386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6683634745499864386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/10/explain-this-one-mr-athiest.html' title='Explain this one Mr. Athiest...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-6091865019946730410</id><published>2010-10-08T04:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T04:27:49.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well call me impressed</title><content type='html'>It was somewhat early in my shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An older gentleman with a distinct southern twang in his speech came into the store.  I began my usual friendly greeting and he returned it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he poured himself a cup of coffee (so lucky I had just made a fresh pot) he looked up and asked me specifically what my first name was.  He was too far away from the counter to see my "Batman" name tag and wasn't trying to read it.  He asked me directly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him of course, and he replied by sharing his.  He then bought his coffee and I gave him my usual farewell sendoff, "Have a good night sir."  He stopped in his tracks, turned around and said "Call me (his name here).  We have first names, I say we use them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This made me smile and I said, "Absolutely, have a good night (his name here)."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know nothing else about this guy.  I know his name, and I know there is southern twang in his speech.  And the lasting impact he made on me just with that little hospitality impressed me very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the kind of interaction I strive to have with customers on a daily basis.  It's the kind of person I work to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was inspiring, it was encouraging.  And it was the most interesting encounter of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-6091865019946730410?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/6091865019946730410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/10/well-call-me-impressed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6091865019946730410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6091865019946730410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/10/well-call-me-impressed.html' title='Well call me impressed'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-7325917735463654153</id><published>2010-09-26T06:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T06:09:00.581-07:00</updated><title type='text'>45 minutes in favor of sobriety.</title><content type='html'>Working last night was pretty slow.  There were steady customers throughout the night as per usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about 2:45 a.m. when the first pair of drunks wandered in.  What followed felt like at least a half hour continual stream of drunk customers.  Where did they all come from?  How many were there?  Why did they all come to my store?  What are you trying to say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the whole gambit of scenarios tonight.  I had immature guys talking loudly in all corners of the store.  I had a lady crying because she found out her ex was with another woman and it was their anniversary...even though they're broken up.  I had to listen to 10 minutes of two drunk women, one older, complaining about men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had guys who griped about the price of cigarettes.  I had ladies who wanted me to mark down the krispy kreme donuts because they were almost 24 hours old.  They taste fine at that time by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just seemed like a never-ending stream and I didn't know what to expect.  The hour that it happened in was more then enough to reaffirm and demonstrate why you shouldn't get drunk.  It would make a great practical example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept the phone close and wondered how much police officers could help their budget if they had stopped by my store during that time frame.  I never felt unsafe, but it was still nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight, then I get some time off.  Hopefully...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-7325917735463654153?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/7325917735463654153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/09/45-minutes-in-favor-of-sobriety.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7325917735463654153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7325917735463654153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/09/45-minutes-in-favor-of-sobriety.html' title='45 minutes in favor of sobriety.'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-5251770669658486118</id><published>2010-09-18T18:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T18:22:57.714-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Should have turned left at Alberquerque</title><content type='html'>Last night was pretty crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night guy was there because it was a grocery delivery night.  We work every Tuesday and Friday night together putting the delivery away.  If I'm the "Speedway Batman" then he is the "Speedway Wolverine."  Halfway through the shift we got a phone call from the other store that is just down the road.  After some quick collaboration we found out that we had their delivery, and they had ours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is not what tonight's update is about though.  Shortly after "Wolverine" arrived a lady walked in the store.  She proceeded immediately over to "Wolverine's" register and started to ask him about directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The short version is that as we understood it, she was trying to get from Chicago to Bad Axe.  She got lost because country highways were not lighted like they were in Chicago.  She couldn't get back on the highway because it was closed off due to an accident, the 2nd one of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was confused, thought she was lost, was sleepy, and could not comprehend the concept that Mapquest did not give her good directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is something I don't get.  I understand that I've grown up around Lansing my whole life, so the 96/69/94 highway confusion is non-existent to me.  I understand that it messes up tons of people who aren't from the area.  What I don't get is that they refuse to believe Mapquest might be inaccurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wolverine" continued to discuss and borderline argue with this lady for the better part of 45 minutes, maybe even an hour.  He was trying to explain where she was in her mapquest steps and how to get back "on course."  He had to explain to her that she was in DeWitt and not Grand Rapids, and she didn't believe him.  When he took her over to our map of Michigan and showed her where Bad Axe was, she said that the map was wrong and said she wanted to go to Bad Axe, pointing to Saginaw.  When "Wolverine" would explain that she was pointing to Saginaw, she'd argue that she didn't want to go there and she wanted to go to Bad Axe.  So he'd point and tell her where Bad Axe was, to which she'd point again at Saginaw while saying she wanted to go to Bad Axe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then went out to her car and took a nap.  Every other hour she'd come back in to use the restroom.  Then when she was finally ready to leave again, she bought some Red Bull then called "Wolverine" back up to the counter, "discussed" directions with him for 10 more minutes before finally leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the while we are working through a fairly busy night customer wise and trying to put away the wrong delivery order because we did not know it was the wrong one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drill this into your head.  MAPQUEST ISN'T ALWAYS RIGHT.  USE COMMON SENSE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.  Should be interesting with the late MSU game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-5251770669658486118?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/5251770669658486118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/09/should-have-turned-left-at-alberquerque.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5251770669658486118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5251770669658486118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/09/should-have-turned-left-at-alberquerque.html' title='Should have turned left at Alberquerque'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-9212985233848567202</id><published>2010-09-12T04:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T04:42:13.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Women Have Priorities</title><content type='html'>I'm working last night, and it is a little after midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A car pulls up and a young lady gets out.  She has to be around my age, and I'm not going to lie, she's somewhat attractive.  She's dressed up, but not "club" dressed up, more of a formal outfit that you'd wear to a wedding or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She comes in and she is talkative, friendly and giddy with excitement.  She pre-pays her gasoline and when I ask her if she has a Speedy card the source of the excitement comes out.  She has just been at some seminar that she seems to have really enjoyed, and one of the speakers went on a 30+ minute rant about his Speedy Card, so now she has to have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get that set up for her and she spends lots of time talking to someone else who was apparently from the same seminar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He goes to the bathroom and she actually waits for him for about 2-3 minutes, before she realizes she needs to go pump her gas that she pre-paid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing I hear is the buzzer for the door, indicating it has opened again.  I make my way back to the counter and find the young lady standing at the counter again.  This is exactly what she says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I hope I'm not a bother, but I really want to give you more information from this seminar I was just at.  Do you have an e-mail you can write down or a phone number?  This stuff will change your life!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we all know that I enjoy my life of bachelorhood, but that doesn't mean I can't detect a clever line when it's given.  I politely reply sure and write down for her a junk e-mail account that I have, just in case she's only intending to sign me up for a newsletter e-mail.  She says thanks and walks back out to her car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I notice something on my register.  I look down and realize she didn't pump all of her gas, which usually means she pre-paid too much and filled up her gas tank.  What this means is that I owe her the $7.10 that she didn't pump; that's how a pre-pay works when you don't use all of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's at her car (talking to the old man from the seminar again) and before she can get into her car I get on our pump intercom and say "Excuse me miss, did you want your fuel refund?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She simply replies "No Thanks." She then got in her car and drove off, leaving me with $7.00 that I can't keep in my register.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure on exact store procedures when people leave behind money.  In fact the only thing I'm certain of is that I don't get to keep it.  So I process the pre-pay refund, print up a receipt, paper-clip it all together and put in on our store manager's desk.  Along with it I leave a note that says "She wanted my number, not her money.  I'm not joking."  I sign my initials to it and carry on with my night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this really happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Tuesday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-9212985233848567202?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/9212985233848567202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/09/women-have-priorities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/9212985233848567202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/9212985233848567202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/09/women-have-priorities.html' title='Women Have Priorities'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-8101087579755148228</id><published>2010-07-09T03:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T03:40:18.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Person Has Their Price...</title><content type='html'>Early on in the night I had a gentleman stop in the store.  Like some customers he was on a cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not uncommon for a person to walk into our store on their cell phone.  Also on some rare occasions people have walked into our store while on a cell phone arguing with their significant other.  I obviously hear only half the conversation going on, and this is what I heard during this particular one.  Today I shall use punctuation to demonstrate the pauses that could only be the other person talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Baby, what you doin?"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"So you still mad at me?"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"You mad at the things I said?"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"Look I'm sorry I said those things.  I was just mad and in the moment"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"So you're still mad about that?"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"You going to hold it against me?"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"So you're still going to hold it against me?"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"You can't just forgive me?"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"I have tequila."&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, it's pretty good."&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"Well what do you drink?"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"I have that too.  I'll come over."&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"Why you going to bed so early?  It's the weekend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point he was walking out the door so I did not have the pleasure of hearing the rest of the conversation.  I'm not writing to say that it was write or wrong, nor am I commenting on whether the consumption of various types of alcohol should be used as leverage in an argument between a couple.  It was the most interesting encounter of the night and thus worthy of an immortal retelling in my blog.  It helps to end a cold streak of numerous forgettable encounters with customers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next Shift is uncertain.  Away for other commitments for a week.  Hope this one holds you over.  If it doesn't, I have tequila.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-8101087579755148228?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/8101087579755148228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/07/every-person-has-their-price.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/8101087579755148228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/8101087579755148228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/07/every-person-has-their-price.html' title='Every Person Has Their Price...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-4396973654907554688</id><published>2010-03-20T04:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T04:23:59.158-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Tran"-scending normal behavior...</title><content type='html'>It finally happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was working the grocery shift with the other night guy, and a customer came in.  She was an old lady who went right for the restroom.  However, she wasn't an old lady if you catch my drift...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My co-worker claimed fraud immediately.  I said I'd have to get a better look before I weighed in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a long enough look when s"he" came out.  The broad shoulders that towered above me while still slumped were enough to tell me not to look any longer.  I didn't want to be obvious after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My co-worker got the pleasure of working his/her purchase at the register.  He got a fool-proof analysis.  From the hairy arms and chest, the deep voice and the  mullet-wig, this old lady truly made you want to say, "Woah man, what are you doing?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-4396973654907554688?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/4396973654907554688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/03/tran-scending-normal-behavior.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4396973654907554688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4396973654907554688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/03/tran-scending-normal-behavior.html' title='&quot;Tran&quot;-scending normal behavior...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-4893642645384920950</id><published>2010-02-10T06:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T07:05:42.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He might not Twitter but he sure can Tweet!</title><content type='html'>I have a regular customer who I probably see once a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we'll call him Bob in the name of confidentiality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob is unique.  He's kind of a crazy older guy with a distinct uniqueness about him.  He has a parakeet that is always on his shoulder when he comes in.  The parakeet cannot fly but that doesn't stop him from being the center of attention every time he comes in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the winter time the bird will wait until Bob is in the store to proudly emerge from the inside of his coat, ready to announce his presence to the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few weeks ago Bob and the parakeet came in the store while some local High school girls were grabbing soda drinks after their big Winter formal.  The parakeet starts hooping and hollering and they immediately go gaga for it.  It starts horse-playing, jumping on the back of Bob's hooded sweatshirt so that he can't reach for him.  Naturally, Bob just decides to walk back out into the windy outdoors.  At this point the parakeet makes a mad dash around Bob's hoodie and back into the warmth of his jacket.  This is typical behavior for the bird.  He showboats whenever he is in the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning is no different.  Bob enters the store and almost immediately the Parakeet is out.  Noticing no one in the store he still starts to chirp and sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Bob gets his purchases the bird is still chirping.  When Bob comes up to the counter I start to ring up his purchases, it is then that I notice the parakeet keeps looking right at me before chirping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I make light of it by looking right at the parakeet and saying "You're absolutely right.  I didn't say hello and I'm sorry.  Hello!"  Bob chuckles and much to the amazement of both of us, the parakeet stops chirping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was as if he was waiting for me to acknowledge him.  He proceeded to climb around Bob a little bit, then it was time for them to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a pleasant distraction from an overwhelming evening.  I seem to have an understanding with animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-4893642645384920950?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/4893642645384920950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/02/he-might-not-twitter-but-he-sure-can.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4893642645384920950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4893642645384920950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/02/he-might-not-twitter-but-he-sure-can.html' title='He might not Twitter but he sure can Tweet!'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-5179642958982509226</id><published>2010-01-27T05:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T05:40:56.385-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A door nail can be pretty smart....</title><content type='html'>Had a couple of college age kids passing through about 1 a.m. this morning.  I think they were on their way to Canada.  One kid thought they were already there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've found a certain type of customer to be more annoying than others.  The biggest reason is that they seem to lack any respect for anyone, and they are also fairly clueless as to what is happening around them.  This is of course referring to the white redneck hick.  Seriously, get with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, this kid fit the bill perfectly.  He's stomping around the store, asking questions and expecting my full attention even if someone is at the counter.  As I'm scanning his items he pulls out a $5 to pay for it and says "Do you take American money here in Canada?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I literally freeze in place.  "Here in Canada?  I'm pretty sure you're still in Michigan."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stops.  "Oh."  At this point it is taking everything I have not to laugh.  As his road trip companions come out of the bathroom they all head for the door.  As they are leaving I hear him say (and this is direct quote) "What'd you tell me that for, we ain't in no Canada!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I had to hide myself in the back whilst I laughed aloud.  Personally, I would have thought the Mid-Michigan map on the wall would have given it away, if not the speed limit signs still in miles per hour.  That's just me though...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-5179642958982509226?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/5179642958982509226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/01/door-nail-can-be-pretty-smart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5179642958982509226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5179642958982509226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/01/door-nail-can-be-pretty-smart.html' title='A door nail can be pretty smart....'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-8984289521620233331</id><published>2010-01-27T05:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T05:35:11.554-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not to extend a crude joke...</title><content type='html'>Not to go on about yesterday's topic but this is worth mentioning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The customer that was making fun of the male enhancement drugs on Monday morning bought them on Tuesday morning.  "I talked the wife into it." He said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-8984289521620233331?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/8984289521620233331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/01/not-to-extend-crude-joke.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/8984289521620233331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/8984289521620233331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/01/not-to-extend-crude-joke.html' title='Not to extend a crude joke...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-1589493197329983561</id><published>2010-01-25T03:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T03:40:39.765-08:00</updated><title type='text'>May it never be...</title><content type='html'>Within the last month or so we've received some new products that we've began selling.  Some of them I'm not too keen on, including Exten-ze.  It is a male nutritional enhancement pill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my regular customers came in and noticed it for the first time and started laughing.  Then he saw how empty the container was.  "Apparently it's a big hit" he said as he continued to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you're not supposed to laugh at your own jokes, but my reply got me thinking.  Then that thinking got me laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the customer I replied, "I just hope they never ask me to suggestive sell the stuff.  I'm pretty sure I'll get a black-eye."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean think about it, what could you say at a Speedway to sell male enhancement pills?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just a jumbo hotdog today sir?  Speaking of which..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I don't think I'll ever be asked to specifically suggestive sell that product, I'm still praying against it just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's a little sophomoric, but it was a slow night and it was the most interesting thing to happen in the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working almost every night, will post as interesting things happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-1589493197329983561?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/1589493197329983561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/01/may-it-never-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/1589493197329983561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/1589493197329983561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/01/may-it-never-be.html' title='May it never be...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-5125954593665093472</id><published>2010-01-15T04:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T05:01:21.301-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Appearances are decieving...</title><content type='html'>I work full time nights now.  Crazy thought, just started last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere around midnight there's a moving truck that pulls in.  It begins to fuel up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look out the window and see a man standing by one of our property's pine trees.  Bear in mind that between our store and the road there are only three of these pine trees.  They are very spaced out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do a double take.  The man is standing directly in front of the pine tree, as if to shield himself from the road.  His arms are pointed down in front of him as if he is holding something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My jaw drops to the ground.  Am I actually seeing what I think I'm seeing?  There's only one pine tree there!  This can't be happening.  Can I even do anything about this?  What do I say if he comes in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look away for a moment to keep myself from staring and look back 10 seconds later.  That's when I see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small dog comes out from under the tree.  The man turns, and he was holding the leash in front of him.  His other hand is in his pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start laughing.  At the same time I am very "relieved" that I didn't see what I thought I saw...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-5125954593665093472?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/5125954593665093472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/01/appearances-are-decieving.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5125954593665093472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5125954593665093472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2010/01/appearances-are-decieving.html' title='Appearances are decieving...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-4659905957232604936</id><published>2009-12-05T03:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T03:55:34.775-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Night of the Dead Living.</title><content type='html'>If there was ever a ranking system for crazy nights, this one sure would make the list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There wasn't any one customer that stands out, in fact most of the night was not post-worthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes last night stand out?  I have never seen so much idling in the store while I am there.  It seemed like every other customer was in the store for 5-10 minutes if not more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One kid, driving with a troupe of 4 towards Angola, Indiana took one of the 5 hour energy shots early on during his Speedway visit.  Let's just say that it kicked in before he left.  Those things are crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One kid couldn't pay for his gas and had to wait at least half an hour for someone to come bail him out.  He must have sat in the bathroom for at least half of that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people were just really indecisive in what they wanted to buy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't bother me, but it does translate to a night where it seemed like there was always someone in the store, meaning they get my attention.  That makes for less time to do the busy work that needs to get done every night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latter part bothers me, but not as much because these things happen from time to time and most of my fellow co-workers are very understanding.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, the energy shot kicked in before he left.  He went from moderately quiet to 100 words a minute in less than 10 words.  I'll bet that trip to Angola was interesting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-4659905957232604936?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/4659905957232604936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/12/night-of-dead-living.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4659905957232604936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4659905957232604936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/12/night-of-dead-living.html' title='Night of the Dead Living.'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-2805677200331931815</id><published>2009-12-03T05:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T05:08:11.294-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously, it actually happened...</title><content type='html'>So I'm working last night, and a customer comes in to buy a cup of coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happens a countless number of times during the day, it's no big surprise at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man pours himself a cup of our house blend, which I always make sure is fresh every 30 minutes just like our promise.  However, he then notices that we have a shock wave cappuccino dispenser in our cappuccino machine and decides that he wants that.  So he pours his full cup of speedway house blend coffee back into the pot that he poured it from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in shock.  I know I cannot sell anything else from that pot, but should I really say anything to the guy?  I don't want to make him feel bad so I end up not saying anything about it.  After he leaves I promptly switch out both pots of house blend with new clean pots just to be safe as I could not remember which pot he dumped back into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the most interesting encounter of the night, and believe me when I say this was a night that could probably have several posts on its own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Friday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-2805677200331931815?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/2805677200331931815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/12/seriously-it-actually-happened.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/2805677200331931815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/2805677200331931815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/12/seriously-it-actually-happened.html' title='Seriously, it actually happened...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-7439654255064620176</id><published>2009-11-17T04:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T05:02:03.497-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Irony Abounds</title><content type='html'>One of my regular customers comes in at least once a week.  She's an older lady, and she usually buys two two-liters of pop and some cigarettes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning though, she asks me to check the side of the cigarette boxes and soft packs.  I immediately know what she's looking for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next to the bar code that we use to scan the cigarettes when someone is buying them you can now find three letters: FSC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what exactly the three letters stand for, but the gist of it is that the cigarettes are now Fire-Safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what that means, but this customer complained to me that the new FSC cigarettes taste horrible, are bugging her throat, and that she's not the only one having bad experiences with these new fire-safe cigarettes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I even need to say anything else?  This is too funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Thursday, 2ND SHIFT!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-7439654255064620176?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/7439654255064620176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/irony-abounds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7439654255064620176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7439654255064620176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/irony-abounds.html' title='Irony Abounds'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-7553922646010320294</id><published>2009-11-16T04:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T04:39:56.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Memorable First Impression...</title><content type='html'>I had an uninteresting night last night, so instead I'm going to flash back to a story I could/should have written Friday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that I have a new boss?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know about it until Friday morning when he came in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having a fairly busy Friday morning and I notice someone slowly walking towards the store.  I'm kind of keeping an eye on him as he slowly gets closer, while working through the line of customers I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man comes in and walks directly to the side swinging door that we use to enter the "employee" part of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He introduces himself and extends his hand.  I see that he has one of our (new) uniform shirts on so I shake his hand and introduce myself.  Then I get back to the customers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I catch a quick break and look over to chat with him between customers.  "You must be a new employee" I say, as that's the only explanation I can think of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He casually replies, "Umm, actually I'm the new store manager."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT????  I had no idea.  Later when I could clock out my current store manager explained to me that she was transferring stores.  It all makes sense and now I know about it, but I'm sure I did a double-take when my new boss first told me he was my new boss.  I can only imagine how surprised he was that I had no clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-7553922646010320294?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/7553922646010320294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/memorable-first-impression.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7553922646010320294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7553922646010320294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/memorable-first-impression.html' title='A Memorable First Impression...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-6339314135147732505</id><published>2009-11-13T16:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T16:15:56.445-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not Mr. Manners, but still...</title><content type='html'>A guy walks in and buys a bottle of iced tea.  We chat for a minute and he tells me he is headed for the Mackinac bridge.  That means he has about 4 more hours of driving to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pays for the iced tea, opens it and begins to drink it.  That's no problem, people do that all the time.  Some start to drink them before paying and that doesn't bug me either.  What he did next however, is what i wasn't expecting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He finished the iced tea, put the bottle on the counter and walked out the door.  The empty bottle still on the counter, along with the wrapper seal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't upset me, it was just unusual.  I just rounded the counter, picked up the bottle and tossed it out for him.  I mean the trash can is right there, next to the counter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it may not seem like much but that was the most interesting thing that happened last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-6339314135147732505?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/6339314135147732505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-not-mr-manners-but-still.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6339314135147732505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6339314135147732505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-not-mr-manners-but-still.html' title='I&apos;m not Mr. Manners, but still...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-1996536591907601169</id><published>2009-11-10T06:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T06:15:40.921-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She probably does know better</title><content type='html'>It was about midnight last night.  Most of the night was horribly slow, but this interaction made it interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy walks in and I give my usual acknowledgment/greeting.  He mumbles back and I can't understand a word he says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gets some stuff and comes up to the counter.  I ask him how his night is going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replies, "It would be better if I was allowed to go to the bar."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As with most of these stories, I don't know how to respond to this so I finish up his purchase and say "Have a nice night, or hang in there at least."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replies, "Yeah, I love my wife I swear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't seem like the kind of guy I'd want to be around if he'd been drinking.  I think she made a good call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Thursday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-1996536591907601169?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/1996536591907601169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/she-probably-does-know-better.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/1996536591907601169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/1996536591907601169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/she-probably-does-know-better.html' title='She probably does know better'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-4769910743269688201</id><published>2009-11-08T04:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T04:44:22.907-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OH NO HE DIDN'T!</title><content type='html'>Near the beginning of my shift a guy probably about my age came in.  He went to the back of the store and proceeded to pick up some Arizona Ice Tea.  It's pretty popular, particularly with youth, and until last night I thought it only came in two flavors.  Green Tea and Raspberry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much to my surprise the customer puts his three Ice Tea cans onto the counter, and I see a third Arizona Ice Tea can with a flavor I had never seen before: Watermelon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I casually make a comment that I didn't even know Arizona Ice Tea made a Watermelon flavor, nor did I know we even carried it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The customer looks at me and replies, "Well that's not surprising, this is a predominantly white neighborhood."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog reveals that when I don't know how to react to an unexpected situation I chuckle, because that's what I started to do.  I didn't know what to say.  The thing is it's really not.  I get people from all races in all the time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I could have told the customer that, but I was so shocked at what he said I couldn't say a thing.  I could just chuckle, barely hide saying "Oh wow" and tell him to have a good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Monday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-4769910743269688201?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/4769910743269688201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-no-he-didnt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4769910743269688201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4769910743269688201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-no-he-didnt.html' title='OH NO HE DIDN&apos;T!'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-7431528171141909806</id><published>2009-11-07T06:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T07:04:34.982-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ignorance acts too quickly</title><content type='html'>Long story short I had to go in early last night.  With DeWitt in the middle of Football playoffs, our business exploded briefly after the Panthers finished trouncing Sexton 42-14.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady tries to use her card at the pump, and for a reason we're never told the pump denies it, saying "See Cashier."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why the pump tells the customer that.  We have no clue why it happened and can only offer alternative methods to help the customer pay for fuel.  I do know that it seems to happen most commonly with debit cards, and that can be for various reasons.  99% of these instances are solved by pre-paying a set amount of money at the register.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the lady comes into the store, clearly irate that the pump denied her card.  I tell her I am sorry and that I don't know why the pump did that.  Then I ask her if she'd like to pre-pay a set amount as that usually remedies the problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In an irate tone the lady replies, "NO, I want to fill it up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I respond, "Well, would you like to pump it and then come in and pay?  That sometimes fixes this problem as well."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady gruffly responds, "No I don't want to do that either.  Can't you authorize it from here as if I was doing it out there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I respond, "No I cannot, but wha--" I am completely cut off as the lady dramatically turns away and storms out of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about to explain that what I could do was pre-pay a set amount, and that if she filled up before using that amount it would automatically credit the difference back to her card, and that I would even bring the receipt out to her if she didn't want to come back in for it.  Apparently I had inconvenienced her enough (since clearly I must have denied her sale and all) that she didn't want to hear any of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't want to be mean, and I was trying to help, but if you're going to act like that then I must rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rant: Look, it's not my fault that you don't understand how your credit/debit card works when you try to use it at a gas pump.  It's only public information and would be a good thing to know if you want to use it that way.  The problem is one of three things:  1) You don't have enough money on your debit card.  2) Your debit card couldn't set enough money aside to cover the pre-pay before hand so it denied the sale completely.  3) You're in such a bad mood you swiped your Kroger card because you were fuming too much to look at which one you pulled out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third one is just stupidity and we can leave it at that.  Trying to pre-pay the gas at the register will distinguish whether the problem with your card is problem 1 or problem 2.  If you don't have time for that, then storm off, drive to a different gas station, and watch it happen all over again.  I'm sure that will help.  Even if it does work you'll just find something else you don't like so that you can still be a 40 year old drama queen.  Make sure you complain about it at church while you're in Sunday School too.  Have a nice day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End Rant.&lt;br /&gt;Did I go too far?  I have to be honest, the first thought that came to mind after this happened was "I wonder what church she goes to."  I don't know why, it just was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to learn how to see people as God sees them, but sometimes they make it really hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-7431528171141909806?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/7431528171141909806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/ignorance-acts-too-quickly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7431528171141909806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/7431528171141909806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/ignorance-acts-too-quickly.html' title='Ignorance acts too quickly'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-5518623355020959445</id><published>2009-11-05T04:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T04:26:20.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here's your sign...literally.</title><content type='html'>I'm still grinning about this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about 3:30 this morning.  A very young girl walks into the store and asks "How much is your gas here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this wasn't disrespectfully obvious, but I literally looked up, looked outside at the gigantic electronic sign positioned at the entrance of our drive and read the price to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In her defense it is pretty early in the morning.  But still...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Friday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-5518623355020959445?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/5518623355020959445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/heres-your-signliterally.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5518623355020959445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5518623355020959445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/heres-your-signliterally.html' title='Here&apos;s your sign...literally.'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-3477131825106631976</id><published>2009-11-04T04:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T04:41:04.972-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What an ear-hole!</title><content type='html'>Tuesday nights/Wednesday mornings are always busy.  The grocery shipment comes in meaning it's pedal to the metal all night long.  My mind is often focused on the fifty different things I need to do, but that didn't stop me from taking not of one unique customer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of my stories involve unusual customers, the stupid things they do, and other things of similar variety.  Tonight's customer features something I thought was really cool.  At the same time it's something I could never do myself.  I should have asked this customer if I could take a picture of him.  I tried to find an image that would give an example of what I saw, but I couldn't find one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is this mysterious sight I beheld last night?  A customer walked in with one of the largest "ear holes" I have ever seen.  What do I mean by this?  He had gauged his ears.  I think that's the technical term for it.  You start small when you do this, but you can gauge them larger and larger as you go on.  It basically removes the cartilage so there's no major damage that I know of.  I have one regular customer who has done this, but this guy's were extreme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best description I can give is simply to say the bottom of his ear was about the size of a pencil line.  He had these things gauged as far as he could.  Any further and he wouldn't have anything below the gauge, which would ruin the purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sincerely wished I has asked to take a picture so I could show it.  Maybe next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Wednesday night (tonight).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-3477131825106631976?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/3477131825106631976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-ear-hole.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/3477131825106631976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/3477131825106631976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-ear-hole.html' title='What an ear-hole!'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-5200003104364793002</id><published>2009-11-02T09:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T09:18:37.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Regular Occurences</title><content type='html'>Nothing really stood out as the night turned out to be a really slow one.  I thought I'd take this opportunity to share a few interesting things that happen almost every time I work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least once a night a random customer will...&lt;br /&gt;...Pay for cigarettes in only change&lt;br /&gt;...Buy something inexpensive with a $50&lt;br /&gt;...Park incorrectly in our parking spots that are parallel to the store&lt;br /&gt;...Ask me how to get to Canada&lt;br /&gt;...Tell me they don't have a Speedy Card when I can see it&lt;br /&gt;...Come in talking on their cell phone from the point they enter the store to the point they leave it&lt;br /&gt;...Come into the store to only use the bathroom&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a problem with any of these, rather I find it amusing that without fail each of these happen on a nightly basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least once a week...&lt;br /&gt;...A customer will come in looking to buy beer (we don't sell any)&lt;br /&gt;...A customer will come in absolutely drunk/wasted/high&lt;br /&gt;...A customer is lost trying to get to Grand Rapids&lt;br /&gt;...The Krispy Kreme guy will ask me in crass language if any customers have been well endowed females&lt;br /&gt;...A customer will ask me if I'm scared of being robbed&lt;br /&gt;...A car will pull into our parking lot, drive its entire circumference, and leave&lt;br /&gt;Obviously these are situations that are a little more awkward, but I do my best to appropriately deal with them however I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are just a few of the fun things I am now used to dealing with on a regular basis.  Many of them can turn into a post worthy visit easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have another slow night where no one notable comes in I shall most likely talk about some of the "regular" customers I have grown fond of.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Tuesday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-5200003104364793002?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/5200003104364793002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/regular-occurences.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5200003104364793002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5200003104364793002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/11/regular-occurences.html' title='Regular Occurences'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-4849895459863914868</id><published>2009-10-30T04:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T04:35:33.267-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It truly is an art...</title><content type='html'>Two guys come into the store tonight.  It's pretty early in the morning, and they've gotten up to carpool somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first guy buys some stuff, and pays with a $20.  I hand him his change, we chat a second and he heads out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he comes back in, and calls to his friend.  "Hey, you know I got a bag of fresh bologna and cheese, if you want to buy some bread we can make sandwiches."  The second guy says "Let me check the price of bread."  The first guy nods and heads back out to the truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing the guy doesn't know where we keep bread I wander over and check the price for him.  I let him know how much it is, and that I don't know how it compares to a grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He smiles and says, "He just bummed $20 off me, if he wants bread he can buy it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He bought his stuff (no bread) and walked out.  As they pulled out all I could think is mooching truly is an art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Sunday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-4849895459863914868?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/4849895459863914868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/it-truly-is-art.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4849895459863914868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/4849895459863914868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/it-truly-is-art.html' title='It truly is an art...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-8391141107677042977</id><published>2009-10-28T05:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T05:10:13.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Lifetime First</title><content type='html'>Never had this happen before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was working and a guy came in.  He bought some miscellaneous stuff and then went over and was browsing our selection of condoms, saying something about getting with his girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After mulling that decision he comes over to the counter, pounds it with me, leans in and says, "Hey thanks man, you smoke weed?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I literally laughed out loud and said, "No, I don't. Sorry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nods as if nothing happened, says something about coming back in some other time and heads out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-8391141107677042977?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/8391141107677042977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/lifetime-first.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/8391141107677042977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/8391141107677042977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/lifetime-first.html' title='A Lifetime First'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-1991231808120702475</id><published>2009-10-25T04:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T04:45:16.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the blink of an eye...</title><content type='html'>The story you're about to read is true.  The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Mostly because I don't know them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another night, another shift, another encounter worthy of a blog post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we start the story, allow me to pre-text it by trying to describe a tone of dialogue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been at a party, and you saw someone you were excited to talk to?  It's not like you haven't seen them in a long time, but you want to say something in a way that gets their attention, so you enunciate their name purposely wrong in what can best be described as an imitation of Pauly Shore.  Does that make sense?  "Yoo Ruusty, what is go-wing oon?"  Can you read that with the dialogue type I am trying to describe, and if so is there an actual name for it?  I'm going to call it the Pauly Shore, and you'll want to remember it for later in the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girl walks into the store tonight. she had to be around my age, maybe younger.  She is grungy, dirty, and flustered.  She asks if she can use the store phone for a local call, which is no problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the previous customers on her way out knows this girl and asks her if everything is ok.  The girl proceeds to blurt out "No I'm not ok, I'm doing horrible, I'm having the worst day of my life!  I'm so tired of walking, are you going south by chance?"  The friend smiled (odd) and said "no I'm sorry, I'm going the other way and I'm in a hurry.  Good luck."  She promptly leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am tending to some other customers.  This frustrated young girl has dialed a few different numbers, but no one is picking up.  She puts the phone down and stays put for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next.  I still have people I am helping so I am unable to ask if I can be of any assistance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty sad story at this point right?  Here comes the weird part that makes this post worthy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A truck pulls into the parking lot and two guys get out of it, entering the store.  In the blink of an eye, this girl's entire composure changes.  She goes all Pauly Shore, and greets the guy in an upbeat, happy demeanor.  "Yo Jeeffery, what is go-wing oon?"  He says hi back, they chat for maybe 2 seconds and she smiles. Then she leaves the store.  She walks away and I don't see her again the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I am the only person in the store long enough to notice this two second total transformation.  I'm left to ponder what just happened as I continue to help customers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were some other interesting encounters, but that one was the most post-worthy.  I guess there's no end to what we will do sometimes to get people to notice us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is Tuesday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-1991231808120702475?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/1991231808120702475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-blink-of-eye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/1991231808120702475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/1991231808120702475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-blink-of-eye.html' title='In the blink of an eye...'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-6420368343352938576</id><published>2009-10-24T05:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T05:56:52.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amish Invasion</title><content type='html'>I am wondering how many posts I will write with the pre-text "I am not making this up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might be better off assuming it's in front of every post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I was invaded.  A big white van slowly pulled into the parking lot of our store.  It pulled around the outside borders of our parking lot and settled next to one of the store doors, nestled neatly in a parallel parking spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They promptly exited the vehicle and entered the store.  There were at least 20 of them.  All wearing long shirts, cotton pants and suspenders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know if they were Mennonites or Amish, but I wasn't afraid to ask.  They were Amish.  Most of them were teenagers.  They were headed home, coming from "stinking Indiana" as their driver put it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their driver really didn't appear to be Amish at all.  Truth be told, he weirded me out a little.  Not the type of person you'd expect to be driving Amish around, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They used the bathroom.  Some of them bought snacks.  One used a credit card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've met some weird people working nights.  This was the first time that I've really encountered a large group of Amish youth, but I was more surprised at the other customers coming in, and how they didn't know how to react.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about it.  We are so dependent on technology.  This blog couldn't be possible without it.  Most of what I do in my life wouldn't be possible without electricity, much less without modern technology.  Yet this group of people choose to live without it.  As I understand it the youth are allowed to go out and explore it when they come of age, and a fair number of them choose to go back to their simpler lives.  It makes for some interesting thought and concepts.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, this certainly was the most post-worthy visit I got last night.  The Amish Invasion of Speedway.  I wonder how many of them were buying candy for the first time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next shift is tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-6420368343352938576?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/6420368343352938576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/amish-invasion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6420368343352938576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/6420368343352938576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/amish-invasion.html' title='Amish Invasion'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-3253663681252808350</id><published>2009-10-21T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T21:55:32.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best One Yet</title><content type='html'>This is BY FAR the best conversation I've ever had with a customer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "I thought these chocolates were 39 cents."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "They are."&lt;br /&gt;Customer:  "Well then why does the receipt say 78 cents?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Well, you bought two."&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "But I thought they were 39 cents."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "They are, but you bought two.  39 plus 39 is 78."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this actually happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-3253663681252808350?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/3253663681252808350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/best-one-yet.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/3253663681252808350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/3253663681252808350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/best-one-yet.html' title='The Best One Yet'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652694812116727231.post-5586938488742506205</id><published>2009-10-21T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T21:41:39.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unofficial Purpose Statement</title><content type='html'>It has been observed that I run into many unique situations. I currently work nights at a Speedway in DeWitt, Michigan. It's a pretty diverse area, containing all types of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each night is the same, yet at the same time each night is defined by one event out of the ordinary. Sometimes that event involves a feuding couple. Sometimes it's just a Canadian returning to Toronto, stopping for some gas while looking for a Tim Horton's. Sometimes it's a tipsy waitress who seems to have forgotten her boyfriend is right next to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each night stands out, and this blog is intended to chronicle those stories. I hope to post a new update at the end of every shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't plan on staying on nights at Speedway forever. Sooner or later I'm bound to take a different job. I hope to keep this blog intact when that happens, although I don't know what shape it will take in that event. One things for sure: Someone is always on the clock, and someone is always watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to Humanity on the Clock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/652694812116727231-5586938488742506205?l=humanityontheclock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/feeds/5586938488742506205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/unofficial-purpose-statement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5586938488742506205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/652694812116727231/posts/default/5586938488742506205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humanityontheclock.blogspot.com/2009/10/unofficial-purpose-statement.html' title='Unofficial Purpose Statement'/><author><name>James Pahl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726584400967603997</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2opmMAFIIw/R_JTAkN9asI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P1u2Qz6XNRw/S220/superJames.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
