Thought of the Day 12/30/2013: Through The Eyes of a Snowman

On my way to work this morning I noticed a rather pitiful looking snowman; a half-melted Frosty left over from the snow we received just before Christmas.  I have no idea where the idea came from, but as I came to a complete stop at the 4-way (I got a ticket at that very stop sign when I first moved to McPherson for not stopping, so I take special care at this particular intersection), I thought 'if I made a snowman, I would use dog turds as eyeballs.'

My Snowman would be smelling carrots amongst other, perhaps less pleasant, odors.

Acknowledging that this was a rather odd spontaneous notion, I asked myself why I had come up with it; the answer was painfully simple.  Conventional snowmen ocular devices consist of two pieces of coal, which I neither possess nor know where to find.   My dog Charlie, however, is teeming with potential snowman sight-givers and is always willing to make a donation to the cause.

In inner contemplation this is really about something much more profound; I love how these types of thoughts come on suddenly and keep me amused by my own mental meanderings.  I find myself as odd as everyone else, which makes me a very interesting and formidable companion. This ultimately serves as the fundamental basis for my ability to maintain my own happiness, and its an attribute I will fight to keep sacred at all cost.

Travel Day(s): Final Edition

Flight 1 of 4: Thursday, December 19th Visakhapatnam to Bangalore 

We left for the airport straight from the plant and I can't pretend that I was horribly sad to leave.  Sure, there were things I would miss, largely the weather and food, but I had been working really hard and mostly felt burnt out and eager for my familiar routine that enabled me to deal with my typical amount of life stressors; without which burn-out comes on at an accelerated rate.  So, with fond remembrances of the people I had met and places I had experienced, I sat waiting for the first of four flights and what would ultimately be the beginning of a 39 hour journey home.

Flight 2 of 4: Friday, December 20th Bangalore to Frankfurt

Though we arrived in Bangalore around 8:45pm on Thursday, our flight to Frankfurt was not going to leave until 3:40am, Friday, so we got some food then alternated sleep and walking around to kill time.   Now, bare with me because things are about to get very personal, all for the sake of addressing a question that I've habitually pondered throughout my life: Why is the concept of shitting oneself so infinitely hilarious, even in the face of experiencing one of the most embarrassing scenarios a Human can endure?

I briefly mentioned in one of my previous posts that despite the exotic and extremely spicy cuisine my stomach remained a steel tank, retaining it's predisposition to clinical constipation.  During my Indian tenure there were occasional noises and pains, but nothing to cause any alarm; mostly I just felt weak, nauseous or sated if my tummy was off, but I never felt like I'd have diarrhea.  I had been very careful not to eat uncooked food or drink the water while there however, which is the typical culprit for such issues.  Well, at the airport I had a sandwich with uncooked lettuce and onion on it and also drank a cucumber lemon iced tea drink (delicious!) likely made from native water, and I distinctly remembered thinking.....'hmm, maybe this will help relieve my constipation.'  I would live to regret those words when my stomach began feeling queasy just as the flight began to board.  

I sat down and waited through the normal boarding hullabaloo and safety videos; I was miraculously left alone in a row of three seats so I was relieved at not having to disturb others if my stomach did decide to act up, and excited at the prospect of lying down to sleep.  Things seemed to have settled down until we taxied to the runway.  It hits like a ton of bricks; don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, the cold sweat the breaks on the brow when you realize there is a unmistakable possibility that you're going to shit your pants.  Immediately the thoughts began to stream by: We're taxiing so there's no way to get up, if I did they'd have to stop the plane and we'd lose our position in line for take-off.  And, worse yet, I was wearing the only pants I'd have access to for the next 2 days since I had to check my bag due to the extra weight all the brass deities I'd bought added to my luggage.  Oh sacred Ganesh, please help me now!  Perhaps if I did shit my pants, the stewardess could supply me with new pants?  Where the pants would materialize from I had no clue, nor did I care, I was just hoping they kept some around for such occurrences.  Maybe I could fashion a pair out of Lufthansa blankets, or borrow something from another passenger?  

As the cramps peaked so did my anxiety, my breaths coming in controlled and focused lamaze class-like huffs.  I didn't know whether I had 5 minutes or 5 seconds until the inevitable event, but I had to admit to myself in that moment that I would very likely shit myself somewhere between 0 and 10,000 feet; I paused and began to laugh, which didn't help the situation, but I couldn't help myself; this was f*$^ing hilarious!  I made it by the way, my prayers to Ganesh answered.

After that the flight was incredibly uneventful until I awoke from my slumber and decided to have a look out of the window.  I was confronted with a sight I was not expecting, glorious snow capped peaks, the likes of which I hadn't seen since peering out over the continental divide in Colorado.  Breathtaking and tear-provoking.  I hit the flight status button on the TV so that I could see where we were; I didn't recognize any of the city's names so I wrote one down and later discovered that we were near Sukhumi, Georgia and were flying across the Black Sea.  I was astounded by the beauty and made a mental note to come back for a better look if I ever had the opportunity.

Flight 3 of 4: Friday, December 20th Frankfurt to Chicago

We were late coming into Frankfurt and I already had a tight connection.  I made it to security as my next flight was supposed to start boarding so I asked the attendant how far Gate Z69 was, to which she replied 'very far;' awesome, I proceeded to haul ass to the terminal proclaiming many 'excuse mes!' and 'coming throughs!' along the way.  When I reached the gate I saw that the inbound flight hadn't yet arrived and we were also still waiting for the crew to report for duty, so our departure would be delayed.  I sat back and felt very thankful for the opportunity to get some exercise.  I also took the a few moments to capture the massiveness of the bi-level 747.

Once we finally took off, after a two-hour delay, I stayed awake long enough to eat lunch and chat up my neighbors.  Then I took two Xanax, and aspirin, donned my earplugs and eye mask and covered myself up with two blankets.  I woke up 9 hours later just in time for our snack, hahaha; truly the ideal flight!

First ride on a double-decker 747, the best part of which is that you hardly ever feel turbulence!

Flight 4 of 4: Friday, December 20th Chicago to Wichita

After clearing customs I headed to the my final flight of the trip, feeling extremely relieved yet exhausted.  Nothing, and I mean nothing in the entire world, could have prepared me for what happened next.  Now, I kindly ask you to stay with me because unless you're a fellow Hospirian you cannot fully appreciate the significance of this event.  Also bear in mind that I had then been traveling for 36 straight hours, for work, and had not performed any of my usual personal hygiene rituals one would perform within that length of time; I'd also narrowly escaped having to fashion an airline blanket as a skirt, going commando no less.  

As you may or may not know Hospira's corporate headquarters is located in Lake Forest, Illinois, north of Chicago, which is why when I saw who I thought I saw, I was not wholly surprised, because who I thought I saw was none other than Mike F&$@ing Ball, the CEO OF HOSPIRA!!!  Seeing Bradd Pitt could not have provoked the adrenaline rush I was then experiencing.  My immediate reaction was 'we're totally talking to him!'  Are you kidding me?!  I was, in that moment, a testament to the international presence and prominence of the company I believe in and work for, since I happened to be traveling from one Hospira site to another each half a world away from each other yet affirming the same fundamental mission: "Advancing Wellness through the right people and the right products."  I reasoned that the worse I looked the more dedicated I was to the company; my ripe scent that of the Hospirian spirit!  I won't give all of the details, but I will say this: Mike Ball is an incredibly affable and endearing man who contains no shred of the inflated egoism that has been displayed by many a pharmaceutcial CEO.  Fate put me in that O'hare terminal that day; I am, and will always be, eternally grateful for the opportunity to become steadfast in my admiration for our corporations leadership.  

Trip of a lifetime!

Thought of the Day 12/18/2013: I Talk the Talk, but am I Ready to Walk the Walk?

Citation

All my life I've struggled with the difference between what I'm trying to accomplish and what people perceive I'm capable of based on my age and appearance. In every role I've had people tell me how young I look, insinuating that I can hardly know what real life is like, and making me feel condescended too in general.  People can't tell by appearance, however, that I've supported myself since I was 17 years old and have had to work very hard to rise above my upbringing.  Life taught me some very tough lessons earlier than they hit most people.  The primary issue is that I was born old; always wise beyond my years and never able to convince others of my abilities, though admittedly not overly willing to try as my approval seeking days are behind me.  This, combined with my ambitious nature, has led to a somewhat frustrating life; only in my recent role have I been given more responsibility, and even then it's extremely limited and I still do my share of grunt-work.  Now, in stepping into my new position as a Compounding Production Supervisor I'll finally be taking that pivotal step in my career, from piss-on to not so much of a piss-on, haha, but I'm scared of this change; am I really ready for it?

I won't lie, there's a certainly a level of comfort that comes with being a piss-on.  Ultimately, the final decision comes down to my boss, and I can elevate issues that I don't want to deal with myself.  These practices will no longer cut it.  I will soon be the people others go to to make critical decisions and look to for guidance, and while I'll still have my own manager, these responsibilities are expected of me.  During my interview I made it clear that I both sought and felt comfortable with this level of responsibility, but when it comes time to make a call that will be the difference of 500G worth of product being accepted or rejected  I'll likely feel some butterflies in my stomach, or vomit.

Regardless, I am prepared to own my decisions, good or bad, and take responsibility for my mistakes.  I do this because I'm unwilling to hang my workers out to dry for any product lost on my shift.  I'm doing this for the production personnel who bust their butt everyday for 12 hours and never feel supported or hear that their doing a good, and extremely important, job.  I want to motivate the troops! I want to show them that attitude is a choice by walking in everyday with a smile on my face despite chaos and adversity, and telling them that their contribution to the company is absolutely critical.   I want to improve the quality of Hospira's products by improving the morale on the production floor, to cultivate job satisfaction in my employees by understanding their underlying motivations.  Granted, I realize there are some people who will not be responsive to my efforts, such people will never change and that's too bad.  I don't have   For the rest, however, I know I can turn negative to positive; that is my ultimate mission and it will require every ounce of serenity I have, it may even require that I excuse myself to some secluded corner, cry, and then come back to rally for the rest of the shift.

Will I make mistakes? Hell yes.  Will I make million dollar mistakes? Not without trying my damn-est to get help first.  Will my attitude elevation tactic work? I have no idea. Will I be able to maintain my own positive attitude while working a 12 hour over-night shift? Probably not, but I'm sure as hell going to try.

In short, I don't know if I'm ready, but I'm going to do it anyway. 

Random Fun Facts: Second Edition

Dog Days of India
Having been raised by a dog-fanatic, one extremely knowledgeable in all things breeds and behaviors, I've also acquired an interest in canines, and consequently it's not surprising that I've become extremely intrigued by what I'm calling 'India Dogs.'  These dogs are everywhere, sometimes in packs, sometimes solitary.  All of them look exactly the same except for their coloring, with what I immediately assumed were features akin to those of Australian Dingos.  But what I find most interesting about them is their extreme expressiveness in looks and manners. Each morning on the commute to the site I observe these pooches trotting along the roads, sitting at bus stops, or hanging around food stands looking up expectantly.  One gets the distinct impression that they have an agenda, almost like they’re also headed to work and beginning their daily routine, which I found phenomenally amusing.  India dogs have character! (And likely some have rabies)  I kept trying to get a picture, but since I've mostly seen them while we're both in motion and headed to work, it’s proven quite difficult until I found one on the beach enjoying the Sunday morning sun.  An Aussie has since confirmed what I initially suspected, they are Dingo-like in appearance.  Now I'll await my mother's assessment.

India is HOT
It's winter here yet the average high has still been around 85 degrees.  I broke a sweat while walking along the beach, and by simply sitting in the sun for too long at the hotel.  Today I read in the paper that it's been unseasonably cool..... Needless to say, I'll think twice before heading over here in July/August.

Down Under
Aussies say 'reckon' a lot... Who knew? Also, they don't drink Foster's in Australia, it's marketed for the US.  It's their equivalent to Natural Ice, haha.  They do, however, eat Vegemite daily.

"Finger Lickin' Good"
Here are the fast food chains I've seen thus far: Domino's, Pizza Hut, KFC and Baskin Robbins.  They seem to particularly like KFC, and I've even seen KFC knock-offs on the street (Konney's Fried Chicken).  I've also heard that there's a McDonald's and a Subway.  Oddly McDonald's in India is more of a family restaurant than a fast food joint, ideal for a Sunday night dinner.  This amuses me.  Though a bit disappointed, as long as I don't see a friggin' Applebee's or Olive Garden, I'm happy.

Swearing and Sex are Bad
I noticed upon arriving in Mumbai, and while walking on the treadmill and elliptizing, that they heavily censor western movies here.  There are a lot of western movie channels, and I've been able to enjoy at least one of the Harry Potters movies daily; I find it strangely comforting.  Anyway, the censorship seemed a little over the top, removing even the slightest reference to swear words and especially anything sexual.  Therefore, I was shocked while watching 'The Ugly Truth' and they let slip a 'bullshit;'  I then waited to see if they censored what I knew would follow.  Sure enough they blocked out 'tits,' 'ass,' and 'blow job.'  Interestingly, they also run banners at the bottom of the screen that state 'Smoking will kill you' when movie characters are smoking, which I first noticed while watching 'The Hobbit' and Bilbo was enjoying his pipe.  Another banner provides a phone number to call in case people find the content of the film offensive and wish to file a complaint.  While watching 'Cruel Intentions' I remember pondering how many calls they'd receive on that hotline, and also wondering if I'd actually get to hear any of the movie since I expected 95% of it to be censored out.

E6?.... Hit!
The view of the Bay of Bengal has looked like the set up for a game of Battleship for the last couple of days.  Apparently there's a naval base here.  Regardless, it's a bit intimidating.

Gingerbread Disco
One night while having some drinks my colleagues and I noticed that the beautiful Gingerbread house they had put up as a Christmas Decoration has disco lights flashing inside of it.  Yet another example of how they go above and beyond with their decor here, these people know how to make everything colorful and fun!

India Inspired Self Reflections

Part 1: Homesick? 

After a week of being in India I've heard all of my co-workers express their extreme eagerness to leave and return to their loved ones back in the States and Australia.  The typical reaction would be to agree, but I cannot because I'd be lying. Instead I get an uneasy feeling which fluctuates from gratitude to sadness; gratitude that I lead a flexible life that allows me to travel half way around the world with minimal impact on my responsibilities and the people in my life, and sad that I seem to be emotionally deficient in the eyes of my peers and lacking in 'loved ones'.  I felt exactly the same way during the November all-staff meeting at Hospira.  Our site manager asked how we'd feel if a 'loved one' received a Hospira drug in the hospital in order to inspire pride and care in ones work.  My immediate thought was, that's easy because I'm alone, I don't have any 'loved ones.'  That, of course, is completely untrue, but I found it exceedingly sad and disturbing that my initial reaction was to think of myself as completely alone in the world without people to care about, or people who care about me.

Anyway, both emotions originate from the fact that I live alone, nowhere near my family, and that I don't share my colleagues' enthusiasm for going home because I pretty much make wherever I am home, and whomever I'm with my family.   People always seem shocked that I don't miss anything or anyone, and can't relate to how I live my life largely free of material objects and close family members.  I keep myself free in this way because I'm extremely independent and I want, above all things, to be a world traveler.  It would be folly to build steadfast roots anywhere that hinder my ability to leave home whenever I'd like.  Indeed, I've always been  uncommonly independent. In eleventh grade I was selected to attend a week-long government training rally called 'Girl's State' in Albany, NY in no small part because I was the only candidate excited to make the trip.  It seemed odd to me to hear that others girls were unwilling to travel away from their familiar territory; I couldn't wait to see novel places and meet a group of diverse people.  This independence culminated in  my urge to move out of my Mother's house and support myself from the age of 17, working two jobs throughout my senior year of high school.

It's not that I don't miss certain things and people, because I definitely do, particularly my dog Charlie, home Eden, co-workers at Hospira, and the guys I spin with at the YMCA; I have many friends and feel truly blessed for having each and every one of them.  These people constitute my family.  I used to feel profoundly guilty that biological family somehow always got left out of the assessment, but I realized that it shouldn't surprise me as I've lived at least one time zone away from where I grew up for over seven years.  In that time I've become accustomed to not seeing them, therefore missing them is not a sensation I usually experience.  Granted, at anytime I'd give my right arm to see my beautiful and funny Sister, her three amazing children, my loving Father and Step-Mother, and my tough-as-nails yet selfless Mother; but since these sensations are always with me, it doesn't come into my consideration of missing home while traveling.  Thankfully they would never expect me to miss them in such a way, they know better, that I was born to be a wanderer and love regardless of our proximity.  I take great comfort in knowing that they support and love me no matter where I am physically.

Even still, I struggle with society's preconceived notions of how people should always want to be near their family, and often need to reiterate to myself that I'm just not like most other people, that I am different.  Most importantly, I need to let those feelings of guilt and self-resentment go and learn to embrace and love the strong person that I am; I was never meant to fit the typically mold.

Part 2: Some Things Never Change

Back home I struggle with the fact that I’d rather do my normal night routine of Dinner, Walking Charlie, Reading/Meditation, Pogo.com and Dessert.  It sounds boring I’m sure, but it’s a ritual I treasure to the point of addiction.  Often I’ll refuse to make plans and/or flake on tentative plans with friends, or allow them to come over but implement a strict time limit in order to keep this ritual sacred.  During the trip I realized that I’ve brought that addiction half-way across the world with me as I opt to spend my nights alone in my room with a Sudoku puzzle and ThinkThin bar instead of having dinner and drinks with my co-workers.  Perfect example, Thursday was a lot of peoples’ last night in Vizag so a group got together.  Now I’ve come to really love these people, but those feelings pale in comparison to my urge to go straight to my room, put on my robe, turn on the perpetual Harry Potter movie on the WB, and play Sudoku while eating my dinner and having a cup of tea.  This complete aversion to nighttime social functions has bothered me on and off for the last year or so, and as such I have often contemplated its origin. 

I’ve assessed that the probable root cause of my obsession is, paradoxically, my extreme extroverted Type A personality.  I spend 90% of my day with people; I love people.  I love interacting with them, watching them, listening to them inconspicuously, contemplating their inner thoughts and surmising their motivations; I even like to try and influence them using positive thoughts, like trying to put a smile on their face simply by visualizing them smiling.  Consequently, when I’m around people I emit massive amounts of energy and I rarely stop talking.  It’s due to this hopeless extroversion that I overwhelmingly prefer to keep my nights solitary; I simply need a couple of hours to recharge my batteries and enjoy quiet and solitude.  I once explained it to my friend this way: 'It’s not that I don’t want to be around you, it’s that I don’t want to be around me anymore, I can only listen to myself talk for so long before I begin to get annoyed and need to stop.'  I realize how insane that sounds, but when one is as self-aware as I am, it comes with the territory.

I did, at least, go down to say good-bye to my new friend.  Tomorrow night someone else is leaving, and I promised not to eat so much at lunch so that I’d be hungry enough to go out to dinner with her.  I can, at least, amend my schedule occasionally and definitely when I make a promise or commitment to a friend.  I never allow myself to break a promise without severe consequences.  Regardless, altering this habit requires an unusual degree of effort.  Perhaps someday I will change, but I love myself too much to keep beating myself up over my natural inclinations; instead I choose to accept my preferences and seek friends who understand and do not judge my behavior.  

Shopping Day!

Today we finally left the hotel to venture into Vizag to do some shopping.  I hadn't really intended to buy anything other than the items my co-worker from Kansas wanted as well as a deity for my house, but with the prices and quality of merchandise I just couldn't help myself!  We first went to the mall where I purchased my friend's items and some really cool earrings for myself. [Link to Pictures]

Durga, the Invincible!

Next, because a colleague and I both wanted quality deity statues, we went to a place we had seen on our daily commutes called the Eastern Art Museum.  Getting there turned out to be a real adventure since we weren't sure where to go and the Tuk-Tuk driver didn't speak English very well.  He took us to where we thought the place was located, but it wasn't quite right; in trying to find it my crazy sense of direction kicked in and told me that we were headed North toward the airport and not into downtown Vizag where I knew the shop was located.  Well, we were on a four lane highway and there was no place to U-turn, so he turned around right there in the middle of it and we went the wrong way down the highway for about half a kilometer.  It was a good thing I had went to the bathroom at the mall, otherwise I may have pissed my pants!

Anyway, here's my Vizag shopping experience inventory:

• Brass statue of Durga ridding a Lion
• Framed Lakshmi portrait
• Smaller framed Ganesh portrait
• A collection of 6 Ganesh statues
• Two India keychains
• Silk scarf 
• India doll 
• Mini bound version of the Bhagavad Gita
• Handmade clutch purse
• Cool Indian dangly earrings
• Peacock statue
• Small marble tower with a clock and adorned with small gems
• Two Indian yoga magnets

Grand Total: 4473 rupees ($71.93)

I think I did pretty damned well! According to my Bob Barker taught consumer knowledge, the brass statue alone in the states would have been priced at $100, and the marble clock would have fetched at least $80. The best part, something completely priceless, occurred while I was paying for the Lakshmi and Ganesh portraits; they took the time to bless these items using their three main deities (mentioned above); I'm not too proud to admit it brought tears to my eyes.  

Random Fun Facts: First Edition

1)  The bathroom is about a mile away from where I sit at the Site; ok, maybe not a mile, but it’s a good 2-3 minute walk that involves going outside.  I’ve noticed on such excursions that I consistently go to the wrong side of the staircase to pass people.  In the US we keep to the right, in India they keep to the left; both dictated by their respective driving practices.  The result is that I’m fairly convinced that all the Vizag personnel are wondering who the self-entitled white girl is who keeps making them deviate from their norm and move to the right on the staircase. Also, speaking of bathrooms, there are urinals in the woman’s bathroom and they put mothballs everywhere for fragrance.  Lastly, all bathroom stalls have little hoses to clean off your butt when you poop.

No, I haven't used this device.  I'm not sure it's more hygienic than TP.

2)  Indians do a sort of head bobble when they socially interact, typically to display understanding, but it kind of makes me dizzy when I engage them or even just watch.  Also, you can’t ask Indians yes/no questions because they will always deliver a ‘yes’ which means nothing.  They say yes primarily to please, but then whatever you asked for does not get accomplished.  This is particularly pronounced at restaurants, where service tends to be extremely slow; when you do get your food, however, they insist on serving it to you and will take the plate away from you to get you more if they see you trying to get it yourself.  Like in Mumbai, this continues to irk me.

3)  I took a tour of Vizag's manufacturing area and experienced something I never, even in my wildest dreams, thought I’d feel: Mixing Tank envy.  Granted, I don’t expect anyone to understand what I’m talking about since it exclusively relates to compounding pharmaceuticals, but an example may suffice to convey this sentiment.  Imagine you have a super pitiful small battered and bruised mixing bowl and all you have to blend its contents with is a shotty old-fashioned rusty hand-crank mixer.  One day you go over to a friend’s house and they’re sporting a state of the art KitchenAid Professional 620 Stand Mixer.  What you feel is not unlike how I felt looking at those gigantic shiny and new 6,000 Liter tanks with two built-in impellers designed for optimal mixing.  Oh, the drugs I could make!  Or rather, the drugs my Compounders could make since I’ll be Supervising Compounders, not actually compounding the drugs myself.  I'm so proud!  (PS Who in their right mind would pay $900 for a F$#!ing mixer?!)

4)  I’m no longer surprised in the slightest that the majority of NYC taxi cab drivers are Indian.  Compared to India, NYC traffic is comparable to a wide open country road.  Most importantly, though every instinct tells me I should be petrified, I sit back and relax as our driver maneuvers effortlessly around the mind-numbing array of motorcycles, buses, cement trucks, tuk-tuks, pedestrians, food carts, Indian dogs, cattle and tractors.  I simply trust him.  Interestingly, the traffic exclusively relies upon the culturally specific and intricate language of horn honking.  Everyone seems to understand and communicate via the duration and number of honks and moves accordingly like an elaborately orchestrated dance; its hypnotizing.

[Link to Pictures]

Suicidal Consumption

Tuesday, 12/10/2013

Although I despise talking about my ‘eating disorder,’ I’m struggling in a fairly humorous way so I thought I’d share my woes.  First I must mentally prepare you for the issue at hand.  Imagine that you used to be fat, like really really fat, like Oprah Winfrey circa 1993 fat.  Next, imagine that you busted your ass for one and a half years to lose 130 pounds but you didn’t implement a contingency plan to start eating normally again, and now you’re left with a paralyzing fear of gaining weight that leads you to err on the side of over-exercising and under-eating when you feel you’ve eaten too much.  Not to mention the horrific mental food guilt you suffer when you do overeat, or sometimes by simply thinking about eating a cupcake.  In summary, you can’t seem to get a grip on the one activity that all Humans must do to survive: Eat.

Now, put that mind-bend in your pocket and pick up these gems to boot.  When you do allow yourself to splurge and have a decent meal, you habitually go completely overboard, eat until you’re uncomfortable, and then have two desserts.  We’re almost there.  Finally, imagine that you get your favorite kind of food, in buffet form, for two straight weeks. 

Drum roll please….

Put all that together and what do you get? An enormous shit sandwich stuffed with a bloated stomach, poorly implemented buffet rules you’ve set for yourself yet consistently amend or break altogether just to get in one more bite, and lastly, extremely sore legs. It’s only been two F*#!ing days.  If I don’t do something to stop this cycle soon my legs are going to fall off and I’m going to look like Jabba the Hutt for multiple reasons.

I had a real scare this morning because I started feeling very sick and nauseous.  At first I thought the food was finally starting to bother my stomach, then I realized that I had rapidly went from eating seven 200-300 calorie meals a day to two 1,000 calorie meals a day with a protein bar for dinner; my stomach simply couldn’t handle the load, it’s being stretched and torn, causing the pain I experienced this morning as I poorly attempted my Yoga practice.  I also suspect I’m eating too much protein since I double up on the stuff to avoid eating fat-promoting carbohydrates.  I avoid them the same way an Orthodox Rabbi avoids eating Ham Hocks wrapped in Bacon served by a Prostitute.  It’s easy to forget, however, how difficult protein is to digest compared to carbs, so I tested my hypothesis at breakfast this morning.  I was feeling shaky, weak and nauseous and was even contemplating telling my boss that I couldn’t go into the site, but I knew she’d be disappointed so I sucked it up, ate some bran flakes mixed with yogurt and water, watermelon, half a piece of chicken sausage and some kind of extremely bland carb cake that I slathered with strawberry jam.  It was touch and go for a while but I started feeling better within the hour, and even got hungry after only four hours so I knew I had moderated effectively. 

But all that hard work was undone at lunch when I discovered Hakka noodles; well, those along with a super spicy pumpkin curry dish.  They looked like Lo Mein, so I thought I’d try that instead of rice, but it’s the Indian version and is superior to its Chinese counterpart in every way.  They’re kept lighter and are not cooked as long so the veggies are crispier and the noodles aren’t so oily.  Anyway, my final plan, which I sincerely hope works, is one plate with no over-lapping where I can see a bit of the plate between each selection. I’ll be honest, it has to work or I may become one of the only people who successfully killed themselves by eating too much. 

Seriously though, the food is amazing, hahahahaha, and I’m probably the only American who has ever traveled to India and still remained chronically constipated. Do I get some kind of trophy for that?

A Cultural Lesson

Monday, 12/09/2013
During the drive back to the Hotel tonight after a typical long day, to which I must become accustomed, and as I drowsed and drooled on my backpack, an amazing question dawned on me: What motivates Hospira Vizag Production Personnel?  This question for McPherson personnel has been near and dear to my heart in recent months after realizing how low the morale was on the production floor.  Ultimately, this obsession resulted in my applying and interviewing for a Production Supervisor job so that I can personally 'Motivate the Troops' and drive First Pass Quality (making a batch of drug without any errors) by supporting production, and my own staff within it.  I want to get people excited about what they do; making life saving medications, a job to be proud of indeed!  After a bit of contemplation, I realized that I'm able to motivate the workers back in McPherson because they are hard-working Americans like myself and have many of the same motivating factors; but I never realized this was cultural until witnessing the Hospira Vizag environment and learning about some of their biggest hurdles to starting production and passing their FDA audit, which are almost entirely due to cultural difficulties.  I can't give any details as it's confidential information but I can share this:  McPherson produces quality medications because our personnel profoundly buy into the Hospira culture of integrity and ownership of responsibility with respect to the quality of our drugs.  Furthermore, our production personnel are motivated to care about their work because they understand that the very medications they make could, and very likely will, end up in someone that they love.

In stark contrast to this, however, how do you motivate workers who have grown up in a culture of filth and 'Barely-Organized Chaos' to make quality medication when they know full-well that they, nor their loved ones, will likely ever have access to it. [Since we make generics, readily accessible to even the most destitute. I'd like to think this isn't the case, but I know first-hand the power of the poverty stricken mindset.]  How do you enforce good hygiene practices and careful execution of complicated procedures within a workforce whose cultural views do not align with the objective of integrity and producing quality medication for the sake of pride.  It surprised me to reason that though I'd likely be a great Production Supervisor back in McPherson, I'd be woefully worthless here because, culturally, I don't understand what motivates these people to work hard and do things correctly, or simply to care about their work and the quality of the drugs they manufacture.  Let me be clear however, I'm not saying that they don't care, only that I don't understand their motivations to care or how they display that caring, so I couldn't hope to support or motivate them as a supervisor.

PS Though it's not official yet, when I get back I expect to transition into that new role.  I couldn't be happier to be given my own crew and the chance to positively impact the quality of our medications directly through production, even if it does require me to work 12 hour overnight shifts.

Interestingly, India grows on me. Yes, it's dirty but the people are friendly and outgoing, always willing to put on a smile at the slightest provocation.  This also occurred to me during our drive through Vizag on the way home from the site tonight; it was a long drive.  The city was all lit up and buzzing with activity, it looked colorful and fun, and best of all the filth wasn't as visible in the dim lights. I even saw tractors and dump trucks at the site today that were adorned with colorful deities and pom-poms. Oh, and then there's one of the biggest selling points from my perspective: No fast food or chain restaurants!

India: First Impressions

Sunday, 12/08/2013 [Link to Pictures]

First of all, I'd like to make a retraction from my previous post.  While driving to the Mumbai airport, and being able to see part of Mumbai for the first time, I'm no longer disappointed, at all, that I didn't leave the hotel to explore.  Imagine the dirtiest street in Queens, multiply it by 1,000, and you may get close to the cleanest street in Mumbai.  I've never seen anything like it; one fellow Hospirian best described it as 'Barely-Organized Chaos.'  The weirdest part was seeing men and women dressed in professional clothes going about their daily business, the contrast between their appearance and their surroundings was astounding.

Once in Vizag I really experienced the thrilling adventure that is riding in a car in India.  There were cows and dogs wandering through the streets, stop signs that go wholly ignored, families of 5 on mopeds with the littlest haphazardly slung from their mother’s arm (see picture), many men urinating and sleeping in the streets, and the incessant blowing of horns which is the primary mode of communication between drivers of everything from Tuk-Tuks to Semis.  I could hardly believe my eyes, my immediate thought was ‘I could never function in this environment.’  Still, I consider myself lucky that I could think anything other than ‘I’m about to die’ as the car wove through two lanes of traffic being used as four lanes with everyone going different speeds and weaving unexpectedly into each other’s space.  I couldn't help but think that this environment and way of life is distinctly Indian; it wouldn't work anywhere else, nor would India be Indian without it.  It is unfathomable to conceive of India progressing to first world standards, it just wouldn't fit.

My boss and I were discussing a mutual friend and colleague back home who has accepted an ex-pat assignment here without ever having seen the place, or being in India in general.  On that ride, I couldn't help but feel afraid for them; if it was my first time here and I knew I’d be here to stay for the next 5 years I’d likely start sobbing uncontrollably.  That being said, my boss then asked me if I’d ever consider an ex-pat assignment, which I've conveyed interest in in the past, to which I replied that I’d have to see what type of housing they offer their Hospirians and it's location within the city.   Like anywhere, one adjusts only after getting into a routine and is comfortable with their surroundings; where they shop, eat and perform their other normal daily functions.  For me, it would be difficult to establish such a routine amongst all the filth and chaos as it’s simply against my nature.  Some people thrive in that arena, however, so I don’t wish to display an adverse judgment.

When we pulled up to the hotel I was instantly taken aback by the magnificent view that was the Bay of Bengal on the Indian Ocean, with gigantic waves crashing and a beautiful, lengthy coastline and massive ocean liners.  I could even see a lighthouse atop a mountain to the south.  The hotel itself is like a resort and has multiple restaurants, shops, bars, a gorgeous pool area, spa, fitness center, and even an outdoor track beautifully landscaped on the roof.  My room overlooks both the ocean and a vacant lot next to the hotel that used to have a building on it because all that’s left is a cool temple-ruins-looking staircase; oh, and a random cow that was lying under a tree.  I was confused at first when looking in the bathroom, my initial thought was ‘Where is the shower?’, then I realized that the bathroom wall, shower, and the wall on the other side of the shower next to the bed were all glass.  So basically, I can watch the waves crashing as I’m showering, very cool!

My co-workers and I got somewhat settled in and it felt particularly comforting to be able to unpack my stuff and lay down some roots to establish a routine for the next 12 days; then we had lunch and went wandering around the hotel and outdoor track to take in the coastline.  Next we went down to the lunch buffet area to see if we recognized any fellow Hospirians, and we found a whole bunch of them!  Brief introductions were made, but I didn't actually catch anyone’s name, but we arranged to meet for drinks at 18:00 before dinner. Lastly, we headed to the gym to work off lunch and jet lag.  I won’t discuss what completely derailed me before our meet-up time, but after this occurrence I was very much in need of a drink, so I showered, got my camera to snap some pictures, and headed downstairs to the pool/bar area a bit early.  While taking pictures of the pool I saw a table of four guys I recognized as some of the Hospirians I had met briefly earlier, so I sat down to shoot the shit.  What I truly love about Hospira and everyone who works there, is that we’re real, down to earth people; no inflated egos that can go along with inflated titles.  Instead, we cultivate a go-team mentality where everyone, no matter how low or high, does whatever is needed to get the job done and openly communicates with each other to achieve that goal.  I say this because I knew full-well that most of the people I was interacting with were Director Level pr even higher, otherwise they would not have been sent on this mission to India, yet they were dropping more f-bombs then I did back in my fondest days, and told great and crazy tales of their Indian adventures thus far.  Finally, I found friends with whom to explore and they promised to take me on their next outing!  I authentically liked everyone I met and best of all the diversity of the group was astounding.  Some people were Corporate, stationed in Lake Forest, IL, others were from our Rocky Mount and Clayton sites in North Carolina, we ever had some Aussies from the Mulgrave plant, and still others work remotely and are located all over the US.  Some had visited McPherson before and had dined at the very McDonald’s that I lovingly call home on the weekends.

On a final note, I'm afraid I have bad news for the friends I promised post cards too;  I'm not at all confident that I'll be able to get out and look for such items.  Also, no one here has ever seen postcards sold in the nearby stands; this isn't a touristy town to say the least.  I'll do what I can to make up for this deficiency with my ramblings and as many pictures as I can manage without offending people.

Marble Prison

Saturday, 12/07/2013 Mumbai, Hilton Hotel [Picture Link]
I'll begin by saying that this is, hands-down, one of the most beautiful buildings I've had the honor of being in; mostly due to my obsession with Marble and great landscaping, but please allow me to take a minute and explain my disappointment at being encapsulated within its boundaries.

My life's ambition is to travel, I want to absorb the sights, smells, culture and people of everywhere I go no matter how near to, or far from, home.  I typically achieve this goal by traversing where I am on-foot, I absolutely love to wander without any particular destination to see where life takes me and whom I may meet; and above all I congratulate myself on my independent nature and advanced sense of direction, both of which enable me to make smart decisions regarding my health and safety.  As I am now at the mercy of two Managers who do not encourage independent travel or the consummation or raw fruits or vegetables in this foreign land, however, I am not able to leave the hotel as neither of them wish to leave and I cannot go out alone without adverse judgement on my decision-making abilities from a professional standpoint.  I suppose this is the compromise I must make for 'Business' travel.

Ok, I'm done complaining ... thanks for listening, I feel much better. Note that what follows are facts and not to be taken as continued complaining.

The diverted flight to London did not end up leaving Heathrow until nearly 13:00, and once we flew to India, got through Customs and checked into the hotel it was nigh on 6:00 the following day.  I hadn't slept during the 8.5 hour flight, opting to catch up on some movies (The Internship, Meet the Miller and Wolverine-all great, and 21 Jump Street-not so great); I was so tired upon my arrival that it was all I could do to babble a few words and remember to use bottled water to brush my teeth.  My brain was so jet-lagged and confused in fact that I had no idea how to turn the lights in my room on or off, and had to ask one of the baggage handlers to show me as I simultaneously, and profusely, apologized for not having any rupees to give them, as I hadn't had the chance to change any money.  Everyone here is so nice and attentive it boarders on creepy, and this coming from one of the most extroverted Americans alive!  Once I had slept 4 hours I got up to have a light workout, and I was stared at by every hotel worker and guest as I got lost multiple times, both to and from the gym.  At first I was worried that my tattoos were offending them, and thus the basis of their staring, but finally decided that they'd likely stare at me like that anyway, so I let it go.  After all, I'm REALLY white.

Anyway, the day hasn't been a total bust.  I had a nice time sitting outside talking to my co-workers where it was delightfully warm and smelled of flowers, got to catch up on my work emails and partook of a fantastic buffet; I even tried Mutton!  The servers are so attentive that they insisted on getting the food for me, which I found unnerving, but I must remind myself to be culturally sensitive and tolerant.  Who could consciously be upset with people who simply, and authentically, wish to provide the best possible service? A bitch, that's who.... I'm not a bitch anymore.

Onto my final destination tomorrow: Visakhapatnam (Vizag)

Travel Day(s)

Flight 1 of 4: Wichita to Chicago (Wednesday, 12/04/2013)

This flight was largely uneventful other than sitting next to delightful pro hockey player from Vancouver whom I chatted with the entire way. 

Flight 2 of 4: Chicago to Newark

This flight was completely uneventful.  The best part was getting Sushi, which I normally shy away from, at O’Hare during our layover.  It was seriously phenomenal; grilled teriyaki chicken with avocado and asparagus wrapped in a super thin sesame paper instead of the typical seaweed wrap (the reason I normally don’t care for Sushi, that and I’m allergic to shellfish).

Flight 3 of 4: Newark to Mumbai (Entering Thursday, 12/05/2013)

Now, this was supposed to be a 15 hour flight during which I would almost completely miss the entire day of Thursday; no big loss as I didn’t have particularly high expectations for the day.  I could never have anticipated the luck, however, that a consistent and terrifying mechanical sound issuing next to me on the back of the huge Boeing 747 would issue on such a Thursday.  I have no idea how long we’d been on the plane when the noise started.  We got to cruising altitude and had dinner, shortly after which I put in earplugs, popped a Xanax, and settled in for the next God-awful number of hours.  The flight was relentlessly bumpy and the earplugs somewhat ineffective, so sleep did not come easy.  It wasn’t long before the noise started.  I kept my eyes closed and didn’t rouse but remember thinking ‘if this is what it sounds like with earplugs in, that sound must be really loud.’  I poked my head out for a peak and sure enough everyone was exchanging extremely nervous glances between each other and to the area from which the sounds was coming.  After a while the captain came on to assure us that they were aware of the issue, there was nothing wrong with the plane and we were safe, and that we’d be continuing on to Mumbai and returning to the States.  Well, for the next few hours the noise stopped and started in about thirty minute intervals.  I awoke from my weird ‘I’m resting but not really sleeping’ state with an extremely bruised ass and an urge to pee, so I got up to walk around and chat up the Stewardesses, which is when I found out we were being diverted to Heathrow airport where a mechanical crew was going to inspect the issue causing the noise.  Because the extra fuel that would take us to Mumbai made the plane too heavy to land, we had to dump it.  This seemed like such a horrible waste, but it was necessary and looked pretty cool too.  The stewardesses didn’t expect us to even pull up to a gate at Heathrow, stating that we’d sit on the tarmac while the crew did their inspection, then we’d take off again; turning our 15 hour flight into a much longer one.  This thought didn’t make me happy, but I was at their mercy and resigned to my sour-ass’s fate.  Regardless, I thought it was awesome that I was at least stopping in the UK for the first time.  We landed and were told to hold-tight until the inspection was done. 

After surprisingly little time, we were informed that the flight had been cancelled, but that we’d be shuttled to a hotel, given lunch, dinner and breakfast the next morning, and free internet at the hotel; but I was most excited that I’d be sleeping in a real bed, able to exercise and, duh, I WAS IN F@!$#ing LONDON!  Are you kidding me?! I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste!  After a quick lunch and shower, my boss and our co-worker and I headed to Heathrow Terminal 1 and the underground Piccadilly Line to downtown.  The sights and sounds were so beautifully unfamiliar, the people so dazzling to watch.  Since we had limited daylight time, as it gets dark around 3:45pm, we did to the biggies: Buckingham Palace on the Thames and Big Ben (my personal pick).  We walked along the river through a gorgeous park between the two destinations; there were still colorful leaves falling from the trees and the grass was a brilliant green.  It was so phenomenal I felt like crying; to be in London, the one place I’ve always wanted to go, I simply can’t explain how blessed and grateful I felt.  After getting caught in the cold London rain (in clothes that were intended for the 90F temperatures of India), we headed to a pub around Trafalgar square name The Clarence where I partook of the most delicious hot spiced red wine and a ‘Proper Sandwich’ of roasted butternut squash, malted brie, and sweet beet relish. PHENOMENAL! How could I have known that this seemingly uneventful Thursday would become one of the most memorable days of my life.

[Link to Pictures]

After our brief, yet sublime, outing we took the hour-long train and bus route back to the hotel.  Despite my extreme fatigue, I took a relaxing brisk walk on the treadmill to finish off the night and prepare for the long flight ahead; I slept like the dead.  I’m now comfortably seated in the United Star Alliance lounge waiting for the plane part to be installed so that we can continue to Mumbai where I’ll spend the night before flying to Vizag on Saturday morning.

On a more general note, this was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had for a couple of different reasons: 1) United handled the situation wonderfully and spared no expense to make the unfortunate situation as comfortable and convenient for the passengers as possible, and 2) I now have about 200 new Indian friends.  Seriously, I can’t get over how friendly everyone is! They don’t shy away from asking questions, or striking up conversations.  Most people even shared personal information regarding how the cancellation impacted their personal plans, and spared no details; it was extremely endearing.  Interestingly, I met a great couple from Toronto who once owned a hotel in Gananoque, Ontario right across the St. Lawrence from where I grew up. It truly is a small, and magnificent, world!

The Way

The only way to Feel is Grateful
The only way to Be is Patient
The only Virtue worth having is Serenity
The only Certainty to expect is Change

The only Path to Enlightenment is God

Thought of the Day 09/25/2013: The Bounce-Back of Death

Today my naiveté became palpable when I made a sad realization....

Last week, as was my habit, I sent out meeting minutes from one of the projects I serve on; one that has been ongoing since January and admittedly one of my favorites.  I enjoy this particular project because  substantial site leadership also serve on the team and my dedication and extensive preparation does not go unnoticed; a critical back-pat to an up-an-coming pharmaceutical guru.  This was how I became acquainted with one of my favorite team members, the Biological and Chemical Quality Director, and an extremely affable and intelligent person of India heritage.  After sending out the minutes I immediately received and email that this persons' message could not be delivered.  I had gotten this bounce-back at previous jobs for one of two reasons:

1. The person's inbox was full and couldn't accept any more incoming messages
2. They had been canned, or had otherwise unceremoniously left the company

Vs.

Surely it couldn't be the latter, I had just seen them the day before and nothing of consequence seemed amiss.  Thinking that this person may be missing more important emails than my own, I walked down to their office to inform them to clean out their inbox or contact IT about the issue.  THe office was closed up, but I thought nothing of it; instead, I meandered to one of his manager's offices and asked it this person would be in today.  The manager replied that they wouldn't be there that day, then awkwardly said they thought this person would be out all of next week as well.  Since awkwardness is this guy's forte I thought nothing of it; told the manager about the issue and asked them to convey my message if they saw their supervisor before I did.  

Supervisor's often go out on extensive vacations, so again, I thought nothing of the situation.  Then, at today's meeting, my own supervisor gave a sly smile and said she'd noticed the bounce-back and asked the rest of the team about getting a replacement.  I was confused, and told them what I had done in remediation of the bounce-back, and what the manager had said; our guy would be back from vacation next week.  They each gave me a pitying look as it dawned on me that this person was no longer with us, and I was crushed with sadness.  My boss said, here, there's only one reason for that bounce-back, 'oh' was my only reply, I felt dirty somehow. Our Regulatory team member shared their tale of one fateful morning they shot a quick email to their supervisor and got the bounce-back of death; no warning, no clues, just gone.

This got me thinking, for whatever reason a lot of these instances have been happening lately.  High-level personnel dropping like flies without any warning, clues are tips as to whether is was a 'canning' or a 'I'm running from a burning building'; though I heavily suspect the former.  It makes me feel insecure, who will be next?  I've come to care about these people, and enjoy working with them as well as for the company; it makes me feel a bit abandoned and I'm not sure who to be pissed at, HR or the person for leaving.  But shit, I may show up one morning and discover that my card won't let me in the front door.  

I really, now more than ever, need to watch my mouth at work.... and lock-up my tendency to sexually harsh my co-workers.

Thought of the Day 09/24/2013: Pinata of Self-Hate

Today my 'Laugh 'til the mascara Runs' daily calendar reads:

At first this inspired a cynical giggle, but then I thought: "Wait a minute, that doesn't make any sense; there's little to no room for the candy!"

So, new idea, fess up to the fact that the common hate we cast onto Supermodels is the direct result of our own body image self-hatred.  When I was fat, I indeed resented Supermodels; I didn't look like them but wanted to so I hated them.  Simply put, I projectile vomited my insecurities all over a specific profession, the members of which are very likely dealing with their own significant body image issues.  Now that I've worked hard on my body and feel good about myself, I could really care less about Supermodels; maybe even feeling a bit sorry for them.  Inflated egos aside, I've experienced first hand the devastating impact withholding calories can have on your brain, body and general thought processes. It's typical for these women to stare themselves into outlandish behavior, all for the sake of 'conventional beauty'.

In this light, I think it's far more constructive to make a pinata of the person who is really the target of the inner anger [insert self-image], and beat the shit out of that instead. Best of all, it's not only a great workout but also the fatter you are, the more candy you can fit in it!

I'm Lovin' It

Since I awoke at precisely the same time I was supposed to clock-in for my 7:00 am shift at McDonald's, I did not hold much hope of it being a great day; but, gratefully, I was wrong.

A severe storm around 4:00 am that morning had knocked-out the power sometime between then and the time my alarm was set to go off at 5:45 am.  So in lieu of leisurely showering, walking Charles and having a grand breakfast while playing some Pogo, as is my usual ritual, I hurriedly called 411 to get McDonald's phone number to warn them of my tardiness, brushed my teeth while kicking Charlie out the door to relieve himself, shoveling granola and yogurt down my gullet and calling a friend to get the number of the electric company to ensure the power issue was being addressed.  Stressful, indeed.

I walked in around 7:30 am to the usual weekend crew, a magnificent collection of eclectic Souls.  I had already delightedly deduced, by noting who was temporarily stationed there awaiting my arrival, that I'd be in my normal spot as the primary drive-thru order taker and intermittent cashier; then verified my assumption with a glance at the schedule.  After exchanging various greetings and grumblings over my loss of electricity, I happily took up my post, donned my headset and readied myself with a sunny disposition, leaving the morning's rift miles behind.  At 8:00 am the shift's cashier arrived and I busied myself with sporadic cleaning projects and brewing iced tea while taking orders.

Taking orders for drive-thru is perhaps a job better suited to me than any other as it relies exclusively on my characteristic auditory nature.  Typically people operate by sight, taking cues from visual stimuli to fire neural synapses and activate brain activity.  I, along with a small subset of the world's population, function solely by auditory stimuli, and I've honed this talent to the point where I often find myself closing my eyes to concentrate and tap into my optimal thinking potential.  This is why I prefer to attend meetings via conference call at Hospira, stare at a blank wall while running and entertain myself by listening to podcasts and audiobooks instead of watching television or movies.  Even if there is a TV on, I am at most paying attention by listening, I rarely watch it which is precisely why I do not own one; I simply don't find them as enjoyable as listening to my laptop or Ipod.  To that point, I'm able to listen to an order while crammed into some corner cleaning grease off the wall, retain the information, tap it into the computer, relate the order's total to the customer as I've memorized them for the majority of our common combinations (i.e. 2 large drinks, 2 McDoubles and a McChicken, an Egg McMuffin meal, etc.), then hurriedly get up and have the order into the store before the car even reaches the cashier.  I am, effectively, a machine; and I authentically take pride in my work.

Do you want Hot or Mild sauce with your breakfast burrito?

To say nothing of the enjoyment I get from the diversity and generally awesome real-world, down-to-earth, attitudes of my fellow McDonald's employees, to the Manager's that bust their butts right along with the rest of us (and typically harder), to the every day customers with whom I relate best to due to my own blue collar upbringing; I love the added dimension that this seemingly meaningless, trivial, job also brings to my position at Hospira.  This fact became especially pronounced on this particular day, as it served to give me a confidence boost and touched my heart in ways that has not happened in quite some time.  Now, I've delighted in seeing many of my Hospira colleagues while working my McDonald's shifts, mostly production personnel during their breaks, but this also included cashing out two of the tippy-top leaders at the plant, for Operations and Quality, respectively.  Since my job is mid-level and a big project has previously made some of my work visible to them, they've come to know me and looked at me quizzically wearing my McDonald's garb and a cheery smile as they reach the drive-thru window.  To one I joked, 'my boss doesn't pay me enough,' but I only did so because I was certain he'd understand that I meant it in jest.  In general, I do my best to be affable and get to know all my fellows Hospirians, offering any assistance I can, so my name and face are at least partially ubiquitous.  Yet it does not often occur to me that there are people who see me at both places who I fail to recognize.  What I view as my normal and mundane dual-job schedule thus becomes highlighted in my community, which is what led to my aforementioned confidence boost.

I was training a newbie on drive-thru, and since he turned out to be a natural, I left him to bee-bop around with my drive-thru headset intact so that I could continue to listen to his order taking abilities and come to his rescue if needed.  Meanwhile, I cleaned, cooked and packaged hash browns, sanitized trays, filled condiment containers, etc.  I saw someone, as is typical on the weekends, that I had seen at Hospira many times and who is familiar with 'my level' of work there; the usual quizzical look and brief exchange ensued whereby I explain that this is my 'weekend job, for fun,' then I scampered off, slapping the fun-loving front counter guy on the butt as I did so.  I didn't think anything of that exchange until later when one of the managers stopped me and said 'Summer, you're a really great worker.'  This surprised me, she continued, 'A customer was explaining to another today that you are very important and worked hard at Hospira, but work here on the weekends anyway.'  Now, I do not talk about what I do at Hospira with my McDonald's peers, nor do they know that I have a MS in Biological Sciences.  Simply put, I'm not into titles nor do I view myself as anything extraordinary or as possessing superior intelligence; I'm just a normal chick from Northern New York with a mild Canadian accent and a moderate eating disorder. In fact, one critical aspect of my McDonald's job is it is where I can go to just be another piss-on, where no one expects anything from me other than taking orders and cleaning when I feel ambitious. It also is a great way to let my filter adjust and interact with people I can relate too; as sometimes my head gets bogged down in corporate diplomacy. Regardless, I had certainly never thought of myself as 'very important' at Hospira, but now realizing how colleagues at both jobs viewed me served to warm my heart.  I think of myself as a hard worker, and though I neither seek nor desire validation of that fact, it is nevertheless nice to hear it's sociological verification.

This all gets to the heart of why I choose to work at McDonald's, I find it rewarding on multiple levels and genuinely love seeing and conversing with my colleagues as well as the customers, with astoundingly few exceptions. And yes, there are indeed exceptions.  One of my co-workers does nothing but complain. When he inevitably starts in about his fiancee's many correspondences with prison inhabitants (in truth, I find this hilarious and can't decide whether she's crazy or just really nice), lack of money, or the fact he's tired, I have to constantly remind him that he has two choices: change the situation or accept it for what it is. I will not suffer complacent complainers; I may have compassion, but I have not a shred of sympathy as there are few things that are completely out of our control to change. One can at least take steps to alleviate their discomfort, even if it doesn't completely fix their situation.  On another occasion, a old lady once bellowed, after I asked her if she wanted a Ranch, Honey Mustard or Chipotle BBQ Snack Wrap, "Can't you hear?! I said Ranch!."  I was so stunned that I just stared at her blankly, contemplating what on earth would possess someone to treat a complete stranger with such abhorrent meanness.  I quickly decided that she must be possessed by the Devil, and there was a split second as I acknowledged my pissed-off meter was near boiling over.  I knew I had to decide whether to rise above the situation with serenity or light into this old bag like a ravenous mongoose.  I decided to satiate the inner animal.  Unfortunately I don't remember the rest of the interaction because I suffer from mild rage black-outs, but I remember saying something about borrowing her hearing aid and came-to in the bathroom a short while later.

And though I don't work there for the money, there's also the fact that one McDonald's shift can buy me a week's worth of groceries, and is thereby allowing me to rapidly pay off my credit card debt and get work done on my house.  It's enough incentive to get me through the infrequent rough patches. So, for now, I'm Lovin' It!

Thought of the Day 09/08/2013: Things That Make You Say "Huh"

Three separate occurrences today made me stop and say "Huh;" first in a quizzical sense, the next in a 'that's interesting' sense and the last in a flat out 'WTF' sense.  Granted, my shifts at McDonald's are always fun in some way or another, or I wouldn't keep the job (I certainly don't work there for the money), but today was just kind of strange.

1. A production worker from Hospira came through early in the morning, as she always does when the B1 shift works weekends.  Though I can't say I've ever seen her at Hospira since we have over 1,000 production personnel, we've built quite the rapport during our run-ins at McDonald's when I'm cashiering for the drive-thru.  She'd seen me yesterday around the same time, but today when she saw me she exclaimed, "Do you ever take a day off?!"  I explained that I typically take one day off ever two weeks, but due to a plethora of circumstances I hadn't taken my day off for the past four weeks, and I have two more to go until the next.  I said this in the tone I truly felt, the 'It's no biggie' tone.  She warned me against working myself to the bone, and as she drove up to collect her food from the second window I thought "Huh."  Here's a woman that works 12 hour shifts in  production, something I could never do for multiple reasons and which subsequently leads me to believe that she is one of the hardest workers I know, yet she is telling ME that I work too hard.  Huh, indeed.
2. The next two 'Huhs' require me to provide some background on the inner workings of the McDonald's Drive-Thru; not a terribly titillating topic I admit, but necessary nonetheless.  Our store has two lanes.  The primary order taker, on the busiest lane since it's the closest to the building (I thought this was BS when I first heard it, but it's proven to me everyday I work there), is stationed at the back with the cashier.  The secondary order taker works upfront and helps make drinks and collect the food.  The cashier takes the money for both lanes via a computer that shows a picture of the car and their order; you tap the picture to cash out the car.  Sometimes when we're understaffed, or is not a busy time of day, the cashier also functions as the primary order taker.  It's manageable but can be quite confusing when you're getting change for someone while someone else is simultaneously giving you an order that has to be tapped into a separate computer.  When I do it this, I feel like a mentally impaired SuperWoman.  Both hands tapping both computers and making sure my mic out to the lane isn't on as I curse because I mis-counted someone else's change.  Anyway, when I returned from break the primary order taker went on hers and handed me the headset.  After a bit I took an order from a funny guy who asked me if I took 'Fours', as in a $4 bill since his order came to $3.something.  When he pulled up to the window he was still giggling.  Now, I love cashiering because it allows me to converse with everyone and I delight in talking to people and seeing their dogs, etc.  I greeted him jovially in return, and after I took his cash he said "You have a great smile," to which I beamed.  Who doesn't love a compliment like that?!  I empathically thanked him for the ego boost and he responded "Don't thank me, thank your Mother" as he drove off.  This made me stop and think, "Huh."  He's absolutely right, so, thanks Mom (and Dad)!
3. This one is kinda creepy.  I'm still not quite sure what to think of it.  It sometimes happens that a customer will order and then, for whatever reason, drive off.  When this happens I have to get a manager to take the car/order off my screen.  I was again flying solo and I noticed a nice looking silver mustang with a nominal order, a McDouble with some kind of special order (No Ketchup or whatever) and a small fry, but there were no cars in either lane and no one at my window, so I deduced that it was a drive-off.  I notified a manager, she removed it, all was well.  A short time later, however, a car came to my lane and ordered a McDouble without Ketchup and a small fry; which I thought nothing of at first, but when I confirmed the order a hit the 'Store' button that sends the order to the cashier computer, I saw the same mustang pop up and immediately thought 'Deja vu.'  It was the same order I had just had removed!  I naturally assumed the girl had forgotten her money or something like that, but thought it odd nonetheless.  Usually cars drove off because they're pissed at waiting, or at the incompetence of their order taker, haha; but random drive-offs during slow periods are not common.  When I took her credit card for payment I happened to look at her name.  I shit you not, this chick's name was Deja!  Deja, en Francois, literally means 'again'.  I damn near hit the floor.  I became convinced this chick was some kind of Voodoo queen, and hurriedly got her on her way.  I'm not sure why this spooks me so much, rationally it had to just be a crazy coincidence.  Still, WTF?!

Pumpkin Pie.....Mmmmm!

On a random note, though I don't typically condone eating the processed, chemical-ridden, sludge that is McDonald's food, try the new pumpkin pie; it's friggin' delicious! [Note: Please don't hold me responsible if you try it and don't like it, try it and burn your mouth because it was really hot, or try it and proceed to eat 100 more over the course of a week and consequently gain 10 pounds; none of these things are my responsibility.]

Thought of the Day 09/06/2013: Being My Own Best Friend

As I was mentally gearing up to enter the 'cold' bathroom at work (I usually opt to walk further to avoid this one since its kept at 58 degrees), I thought: "Ok, are we ready? We'll be alright so long as my ass doesn't freeze to the seat." I giggled as I walked in.

I say these types of things to myself often, funny reactions to things I see and experience, and today I realized that this is what makes my Mind my favorite companion.  So long as my sense of humor is intact, I'm my own best friend and live in a happy existence.  This epiphany came to me, however, because I know what its like to feel like I'm sharing my Body with a complete stranger, and its terrifying.  So terrifying, in fact, that it was the one and only time I consented to taking medication to control my anxiety.  My anxiety and panic attacks had gotten so bad that my sense of humor, and everything else I liked about myself, had completely disappeared; gripped only in terror every minute of everyday and never able to glean a beam of light at the end of the tunnel.  I was convinced I had lost my mind, and my extremely hilarious BFF was nowhere to seen; unable to help me see the hilarity of my chronic paranoia and unsettling thoughts.

Since then I've gone down the rabbit hole and back, and though it was a scary journey, I'm grateful.  It taught me that medication such as Zoloft, Paxil, Prozac and other anti-depression/anxiety medications are a fantastic tool to treat mental habits that we can not otherwise controls.  They do not necessarily have to be permanent, serving to correct a particular issue after which one can go back to their normal existence without them, or long-term treatment may be warranted.  Either way, the experience made me realize that there is help, and I shouldn't suffer needlessly because I obsessively think that I should be able to fix my own brain chemistry like some kind of friggin' Freudian Jedi.

My typical regimen of meditation, alone/down-time, exercise and healthy diet are typically enough to control my anxiety; even still there are times I completely flip my lid, seemingly for no reason.  During such times nothing is funny and my panic threshold erupts past its breaking point, raw adrenaline courses through my veins and I'm off to the crazy races.  That's when I know it's time to bust out a Xanax and take a mental vacation, everything is hilariously unimportant on Xanax.

[NOTE: I say this in jest, but it's critical to avoid dependence on short-term fixes like Xanax.  If the anxiety is chronic, then a long-term treatment like an SSRI (those mentioned above), are infinitely more appropriate.]

Thought of the Day 09/03/2013: The Ultimate Food Processor

Sometime between my typical 6am to 2pm shift at McDonald's yesterday, while taking drive-thru orders, getting drinks and generally cleaning up the different drink stations, my mind wandered to the concept of food processing.  I actually think it happened when I picked up a McChicken to bag a drive-thru order and felt how heavy it was; I was taken aback by the weight.  A single thought popped into my head, admittedly a bit snobbish in nature, and the light bulb illuminated.  The thought was this:

"The only processing I want my food to undergo is the natural process of bodily digestion."

When relying this to a friend later, I further realized the profoundness of this sentiment when I drew the very logical conclusion that this is how the food manufacturers have tricked us into eating an astonishing amount of calories in such small amounts of food.  They process all the food which makes it calorie rich, but it leaves our processing centers, i.e. the digestive tract, with nothing to do once it reaches our system.  Instead of breaking down the elements of the food from complex to simple, which requires digestion over long periods of time to extract all the nutrients in the form of long chains of sugars, fats and amino acids, it automatically stores the already digested forms of simple fat and sugar that the manufacturers have created for us; gee, thanks! Basically, full digestion occurs over hours such that you can burn off the food in real time, in lieu of automatically storing it first.

To drive my point home, I invite you to take place in this simple experiment: For breakfast tomorrow eat one serving of old-fashioned oats (1/2 Cup), add in 1 tablespoon of peanut butter (natural variety is preferred, of course), and a banana.  [Any combination therein is fine as well, just add some nuts (1/2 serving) and a fruit]  Eat that with one fried egg prepared using olive oil cooking spray.  Heck, you can even sweeten your oatmeal with Stevia, an all natural sweetener, if you'd like! Notice how you feel afterwards, I'm willing to guess you didn't get hungry again before lunch.  Ok, the next morning go to McDonald's and have a Bacon Egg and Cheese Biscuit, or Sausage Egg and Cheese McMuffin; whatever floats your boat.  How long did it sustain you compared to the previous day? How did your body feel lethargic, did you get the trots, or did you get hungry soon afterwards? Interestingly, my proposed meal contains a maximum of 420 calories, and a McDonald's breakfast sandwich contains around 480, not to mention the significant difference between the ratio of Fat : Carbohydrate : Protein between the two meals.  Take my word for it, the former is infinitely superior.  I know full-well that I'm being ridiculously biased here, but I sincerely want people to wake up to the fact that eating whole food makes a difference to your body.  When you eat this way, it's damn near impossible to consume more calories in a day than you burn, which of course, is the magic formula for weight gain/loss.

Take Your Pick

To that point, since my significant weight loss, I've committed to a healthy diet void of many popular processed foods but I haven't cut out processed foods altogether due to their convenience and price; two formidable factors that cause the majority of the American population to remain balls-deep in EasyMac. Even this modest shift in my eating habits has enabled me to fend off that 130 pounds for 5 years now. Recently, due to a combination of health issues, I've taken the next steps by eliminating diet sodas, caffeine and artificial sweeteners.  With this new epiphany however, I see the need to cut out the 100 calorie packs of Keebler cookies, yogurt, jello, pudding, bagels and lean cuisine meals that constitute the majority of the processed foods I still eat.  There are whole/natural alternatives of these products that I've avoided because they cost more, but I've decided that my body is worth the increase in price for the less-processed alternatives.  I say 'less-processed' because our reality is such that, unless you want to live in the woods and skin your own meals, we have to function in this society which processes all our food to some degree.  Still, the benefits have spoken for themselves in the form of migraine- and anxiety-free days, as well as better digestive health.

I'll step off my soap box now.  Look, I know it's simply not practical for the majority of Americans to do what I have done, but small changes can be made to at least make advances in the right direction; buying and preparing fresh or frozen fruits and vegetables, baking/broiling/grilling lean meats using olive oil when necessary, cooking minimally processed whole grains like Wild Rice and Whole Wheat Pasta, snacking on Almonds instead of processed carbs like Poptarts, are just some examples.

In general, I still eat some processed foods, it simply can't be completely avoided in our present day society, but here are my steadfast rules:

• No High Fructose Corn Syrup 
• No Monosodium Glutamate (MSG)
• No Artificial Sweeteners (Especially Aspartame!)
• Don't eat anything with a shelf-life older than some of my underwear (Seriously, if it can sit at room temperature longer than a month without going bad, don't eat it; feed it to an enemy.)

Aside: Here's a scary fact, the 'McChicken' filet come in different boxes than the 'Crispy Chicken' filet we use for the rest of our sandwiches; why you might ask? Simply because the McChickens are sold for a mere $1.  What this means is that the consumer is getting a whole lot more breading and chicken by-product than actual chicken when compared to their alternate that sells for at least $3.59. I haven't busted out my lab kit to prove this, but it's an extremely likely deduction given both the economics and quality history of such products.  For example, remember when McDonald's proudly advertised that their McNuggets were now made with all white chicken meat sometime in the early 2000's? It left everyone pondering the dubious question, "If it's white meat now, what the hell was it before?!"

Read anything by Michael Pollan if you're interested in educating yourself about the evils of processed foods.