I’m really feeling my age lately. It may be a combination of my desire to be in bed by 10pm and how completely wrecked the skin around my eyes looks, but I think it also has a bit to do with working next to people who are significantly younger than me. The kind of young that makes me do math in my head and realize I could have been their parent. Yeah…that kind of young. But I’m learning a lot of things that I think will really help me in the long run. Like when I want to ruin my own teenagers life with comments like “That outfit is on fleek.” Which brings us to my first lesson.
- Things are “on fleek” or “ratchet”
When I got to work yesterday with my new haircut, one of my coworkers said “Your hair is on fleek” to which I replied like a senior citizen with “What are saying to me?” I felt like it would have served the whole situation if I had been forced to turn up my hearing aid or pull it out completely so I wouldn’t have to continue to be confused. Having something on fleek is what old people like myself would have called awesome or dope or bomb. Which is what I like to say in my house to keep everyone consistently rolling their eyes and reminding me that people don’t say bomb anymore. Everyone except me. You can also have a ratchet face which is not a good thing. I think it’s like saying someone took a ratchet to you and now you look hideous. I’m not planning to use this one, so I don’t feel compelled to understand it. I’ll just turn down my hearing aid.
2. Group text is the new backroom cork board
Remember back in the day……yeah that’s where this is going. All the jobs I’ve ever had provided a wonderful space for employees to communicate concerns, find coverage for shifts, or complain about who was taking their tuna sandwich from the fridge even though their name was on it. It was cork board/blackboard/white board in the break room and it gave everyone the opportunity to passive aggressively keep other co workers in the loop. Those days are gone. The cork board has been replaced by group text and I personally would like to ban this practice from any company i have to work for, forever and ever. AMEN. As you know, when a group text is sent you will receive any and all correspondences to said message regardless of whether it pertains to you and regardless of whether you give one flying panty fuck about it. Which I don’t. You also have early morning people, late night people, people with insomnia, and people without kids sending out group texts about garbage bags at 6am on my day off. So instead of trying to guess who wrote “Keep your f@#$%&* hands off my Vanilla Coke” I have to guess who’s number sent a message about the amount of coconut milk in the front fridge. And I have to do it when I’m not at work. I’m petitioning to bring back the cork board or I’m going to be forced to get burner phones every week so when those group texts come through, I won’t feel as guilty about pulling out the battery, backing over the phone with my car, and not covering that shift for whoever is faking illness this particular Friday evening.
3. This mass hysteria about Chipotle
The one thing folks at my work want all the fucking time is the chance to run over to Chipotle for a burrito that outweighs my left leg by three pounds. I’m a sucker for a good burrito, but this whole thing is out of control. Even when they are serving up E-coli burritos, people cannot and will not stop thinking about/talking about/eating those giant foil wrapped belly babies. I’ve had the Chipotle and only because my daughter made such a fuss for the entire week we were on our road trip about finding one and eating there and maybe eating there again the next day. Calm your tits, teenagers…these burritos made with fresh ingredients that are the size of a Mini Cooper have been around for a hot second. (No one says hot second anymore, so I have to keep it going.) Ten years ago I was eating at a burrito joint in downtown SLC that served massive turd burritos with twelve pounds of guacamole and enough rice to feed a family of four. I think what has happened is that this Chipotle has made a name for itself on the internet web with You Tubers and other famous people I don’t understand pushing Chipotle bowls the way my neighbor growing up used to push weed. It’s a drug, guys. And it’s not even that good. There I said it.
4. My movie and music references are as outdated as the term ‘hot second’.
Pretty In Pink is 30 years old this year which means that it’s a decade older than most of the people I work with. “What is Pretty In Pink?” And then I fall to floor of heart failure or more likely because I slipped and was unable to catch myself. I brought up Nine Inch Nails in conversation once and got blank stares. “You know, Trent Reznor…lead singer.” Crickets chirped and someone changed the subject to Chipotle or something being ratchet and I just stood there in shock. It seems unfair to be almost finished with your teen years and never have had the experience of rocking out to Head Like A Hole. I feel like that’s child abuse and I won’t stand for it.
This shit keeps me young. Seriously. It also gives me new ways to connect to my teenager in ways that probably make her cringe and want to be adopted by a band of carnival workers. Which in itself is worth every group text I get on my day off.