Category: Memories

So I’ll never forget a shoulder mishap I had many years ago. I was teaching a fourth-grade class here in Orlando, and it was the night of Open House. I had stopped home to cook dinner for the kids before I returned to school for the big event. I planned to sport a sweet spaghetti strap dress that I always wore with a cream sweater to cover my shoulders. I changed and dashed back to school.

Upon arrival, I put on my “sweater”. Oops! I had inadvertently brought a vest (same color, same material). At this point, I had two options. I could race home to retrieve said sweater and risk having parents waiting on the late teacher, or tough it out and go with it. Keep in mind, it was a very appropriate and adorable dress, except for the exposed shoulders.

When the parents arrived, I made a joke of my “inappropriate” attire, and we all had a good laugh over the overscheduled teacher accidentally grabbing a vest on the fly. Needless to say, no one seemed to care and we had a great visit that evening.

Or so I thought…No, it wasn’t the parents who got upset; It was my administration at school. When called to the carpet, I explained the circumstances behind the mishap and how I handled it. Not a single parent complained, but the prudish admin team acted as if I had committed the worst possible sin.

The sarcastic side of me could not resist poking fun at the absurdity of the situation. Any time I wore something that required me to “cover up” I would walk through the front office and model my top layer. After all, I wouldn’t want to risk stirring everyone up into a sexual frenzy over my exposed shoulders. Yes, I’m a smartass…

 

Stay groovy…

–Susie

(Copyright 2019 Susie Krivacic)

So shoe shopping is very different today from when I was a kid. First of all, you didn’t own a ton of shoes back then. At the end of each summer, the family went to get “school shoes” for the new year. In addition to these, you had a pair of sneakers and perhaps a pair of sandals or flip flops.

Upon arrival at the shoe store, we were greeted by an eager salesperson with a foot measurer in hand. They’d take a quick measure to track our foot growth, and once we picked shoes to try, the salesperson went to the back to retrieve the shoes from the stockroom. When they returned with the shoes, they would neal down, remove your current shoe, and put on the new shoe to check for fit. The employee even had the handy shoehorn for less flexible shoes. They had you stand and checked the fit again before you sauntered around the store to see if the shoes were comfortable. This dance was repeated with subsequent pairs of shoes until the winner was declared.

Fast forward to today. You walk into a store with shoes piled high on the walls. You pull your own pair from the mountain of options and groan when the wrong shoe size is in the box. You try to find a seat on which to sit and usually wind up on the floor or hobbling on one leg as you put the candidate on your foot. If it doesn’t fit and you can’t find your size…too bad! Everything is on the sales floor, and many shoes are put back in the wrong spot by other customers. Have fun searching for them.

If you really need help, it’s hard to find. As a child my son, Ethan, had sensory integration issues, so we really needed an actual human to help us with our purchase. There was no one to be found. Fortunately, the manager took pity and assisted us himself in the old fashioned way. We were able to find the perfect shoe. I went back to that same store and that same person for years to get Ethan the help he needed.

I so appreciated the assistance from that manager, but why does it take special circumstances to get quality customer service? It seems to be a thing of the past…

 

Stay groovy…

–Susie

(Copyright 2019 Susie Krivacic)

So do you remember back in the day, when you pulled into a service station, you drove over a hose, and a bell rang? Someone in the station office would look up and saunter over to your car. “Hello, Joe,” you would call if you knew the proprietor (which you probably did). If not, a simple sir would do. You not only got your gas pumped, but your windows were washed, your oil and radiator fluid was checked, and your tire pressure was monitored.

Those were the days when customer service actually existed. Today the only person who will pump your gas or wash your windows is you. And good luck if something goes wrong at the pump. The “not my job” attitude will prevail.

I remember back in the early 1980s when the self-service gas station was becoming more prevalent, you could still get full-service gas in Gainesville, Florida. It cost more per gallon, but at least it was available. Over time that small convenience fell away, as full-service gas stations went the way of the dinosaur.

It bothers me that in their 80s unless someone performs a random act of kindness, my parents are pumping their own gas. We can never go back to that simpler time when customer service actually mattered.

 

Stay groovy…

–Susie

(Copyright 2019 Susie Krivacic)

So as I have entered my mid-50s, I find my thoughts often drift to the past. It was a time when children left the house in the morning and only popped back in if they got hungry around lunchtime. We played outside until the street lights came on or mom rang the dinner bell (whichever came first).

We spent a couple of years in South Bend, Indiana living on a cul-de-sac called Brandon Lane. As citizens of Indiana, we had a fondness for the Indy 500. This love naturally became visible in our outside play as we embarked on an intense race that tested our physical fitness and mental acuity. It was a bike race. It was the Brandon 500.

The whole neighborhood participated. I’m not quite sure for how many laps we circled that cul-de-sac, but the event was full of kids flexing their athletic prowess and experiencing controversy as accidents, bike malfunctions, and the occasional foul call made it an exciting experience for all.

The largest dilemma, that is still argued to this day, was the fight to the finish line. If we had video back then, it would surely have been akin to the disqualification of Maximum Security in favor of Country House at the 2019 Kentucky Derby. My eldest brother and sister were neck and neck just shy of the finish line. As they approached what would have required a photo finish, my brother’s bike pedal broke. This mishap helped ensure my sister’s victory.

To this day, my brother will declare that he would have won if his pedal had stayed intact. My sister disagrees. If you want to watch an exciting debate ensue, bring this topic up at a family gathering.

Keeping the memories…

 

Stay groovy…

–Susie

(Copyright 2019 Susie Krivacic)

 

Thinking back on my childhood, it’s amazing that the simplest things were so much fun. One memory that comes to mind is waiting for the garbage truck to arrive on trash day. I kid you not…

We lived in Phoenix, Arizona, and I was (at the time) the youngest of four kids aged four to ten. We had a fenced backyard with an alley. Now, the alley was the road in which the garbage truck came to pick up our rubbish. We had the usual swing set in our backyard and something we called the tangle tower. At the time, the tower seemed to be the height of the Empire State Building.

On garbage day, we would all raced to the tower and quickly climbed to the top to wait and then wave to the garbage men as they drove past us. They were always jovial and called hello back. We’d then scamper back down and continue our play.

I think of those men from time to time and wonder if they ever think about those four silly kids who waited with glee for their arrival. I hope other kids waiting along the same route to brighten their day as well.

 

Stay groovy…

–Susie

(Copyright 2019 Susie Krivacic)