Why I Hate Babies

I have been working with the general public for about two weeks now, in an educational setting (think museum) that is really lovely. I am very much enjoying the experience – all the new people, working with the public, the different occupational duties and personal growth, all of it. Well, almost all of it – two weeks in, I have decided one thing for sure…

I hate babies.

I have seen more “humans” under the age of two during the past two weeks of my life than in the preceding two decades of it. Don’t get me wrong – kids I like. I hate babies. Wanna’ know why?

1. I worry every time I eat anything that “something” will become lodged among my front teeth. I mean, really – is there anything MORE embarrassing than being told you have food in your teeth, and then the subsequent “pointing” and “finger scratching” to find and remove said offending item? Not for me, either. Yet babies can look like this:

baby with dirty faceand it is ADORABLE! So cute. Really? A bit of parsley stuck in my front teeth grosses you out but this baby? You want to hug and kiss that face? YIKES!

2. Occasionally, the sheer volume of business where I work prevents me from taking a lunch break. And I guess that is to be expected and accepted. That said, sometimes I just get hungry but have to wait to eat. But no, not babies – they don’t have to wait, not ever. You see, babies never go hungry. Babies come with their own self-contained snack. Babies can just “nibble on their tooties” if THEY get hungry – it’s like babies come with a built-in snack, LOL! As for me, I am lucky of I can “get down there” to TIE my shoes, let alone nibble on my toes. I wonder if toes come in flavors – like, are there BBQ style toes, or do toes come with their own honey mustard dipping sauce? These are the questions I ponder as I stand before the snack machine, weighing the choice between Doritos and Sun Chips (I took the Doritos, LOL!)


3. As an adult, to get your “voice heard” or to “get your opinion across,” there will often be a discussion of some length in order to get what you want from another adult. Not the case if you are a baby. If you are 18 months or less, this is all you need to do to make a room “sit up and pay attention” to you:

crying babyYup, that’s all it takes to get whatever you want. You don’t even have to throw a full-blown tantrum ; just moisten up your eyes a bit and get that bottom lip a-trembling and, Voila! The world is your oyster, as they say. I saw what I think was an eighteen-month-old bring six adults (both her parents and both sets of her grandparents) to their KNEES today by emitting what could only be described as a sonic WMAD. It.Was.Loud. And long. L-O-N-G. Looonnnnngggg………

4. Finally, babies are allowed to sleep anytime, anywhere and, when they do, they rewarded for it (sleeping!) with a toy, or praise. “Did you have a good nap? Good boy, Timmy.” said no adult to me, ever, after I turned four years old…

baby hatPlus, c’mon – as if the “anytime napping” accommodation wasn’t great enough already, babies always have cute hats. REALLY cute hats. UGH…

So there you have it, why I hate babies… I don’t know – maybe I don’t REALLY hate babies, maybe I am just jealous of the “baby lifestyle.” It sure looks good to me: eat, play, poo, sleep, repeat. What could be wrong with that?  😀


And So It Begins

I am now about two weeks into my second job. I am working part-time at one of the celebrated institutions here in my hometown, in the gift shop, to both learn about how the business operates “from the inside” and – to be honest – to make some extra “scratch.”

So far, I love it. My new boss is great, my fellow employees are diverse, colorful and fun and working with the public at an institution is oddly rewarding; I mean, the gratitude you see on someone’s face when you tell them where the restrooms are? Priceless.

It has been years – YEARS – since I’ve held an “hourly” job. Frankly, I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to do it but, today? I knew it was going to be OK. See, today this happened:

untucked shirtUh huh, that’s correct – I worked my entire shift with my shirt “untucked.” We are issued uniform shirts – cute, embroidered-logo polo shorts that we pair with “our own khaki pants and comfortable shoes” that is the uniform for the gift store. During my first two weeks, I dutifully “tucked” my shirt in every day, enduring the tugging and pulling of a shirt trapped by a belt, sometimes roasting in the luxurious “60/40 cotton/poly blend” that is the fabric of the shirt. I watched daily as female store associates sometimes wore the shirts, sometimes not (ladies are allowed “appropriate business casual attire while at work”) and the gents I worked with – all younger then me – never tucked their shirts in. I mean – in their/my defense – the polo does have a square bottom hem, suggesting it is to be worn out. So today was my day to go “untucked.” I figured if anyone called me on it, I would bluff and flubber around and go tuck the shirt in, right? No one said anything. I worked all day in breezy, casual comfort, my shirt hem skimming below my middle-aged paunch…

It has begun. Today, untucked shirt. I mean, what’s next? Can “forgetting to clock out for lunch” be very far behind? My descent into rebellious hourly employee-ness has begun…  😉