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You are my happiness

Le 23 juin 2017, 06:56 dans Humeurs 0

She was dancing. My crippled grandmother was dancing. I stood in the living room doorway absolutely stunned. I glanced at the kitchen table and sure enough-right under a small, framed drawing on the wall-was a freshly baked peach pie.

I heard her sing when I opened the door but did not want to interrupt the beautiful song by yelling I had arrived, so I just tiptoed to the living room. I looked at how her still-lean body bent beautifully, her arms greeting the sunlight that was pouring through the window. And her legs... Those legs that had stiffly walked, aided with a cane, insensible shoes as long as I could remember. Now she was wearing beautiful dancing shoes and her legs obeyed her perfectly. No limping. No stiffness. Just beautiful, fluid motion. She was the pet of the dancing world. And then she'd had her accident and it was all over. I had read that in an old newspaper clipping.

She turned around in a slow pirouette and saw me standing in the doorway. Her song ended, and her beautiful movements with it, so abruptly that it felt like being shaken awake from a beautiful dream. The sudden silence rang in my ears. Grandma looked so much like a kid caught with her hand in a cookie jar that I couldn't help myself, and a slightly nervous laughter escaped. Grandma sighed and turned towards the kitchen. I followed her, not believing my eyes. She was walking with no difficulties in her beautiful shoes. We sat down by the table and cut ourselves big pieces of her delicious peach pie.

"So..." I blurted, "How did your leg heal?"

"To tell you the truth—my legs have been well all my life," she said.

"But I don't understand!" I said, "Your dancing career... I mean... You pretended all these years?

"Very much so," Grandmother closed her eyes and savored9 the peach pie, "And for a very good reason."

"What reason?"

"Your grandfather."

"You mean he told you not to dance?"

"No, this was my choice. I am sure I would have lost him if I had continued dancing. I weighed fame and love against each other and love won."

She thought for a while and then continued. "We were talking about engagement when your grandfather had to go to war. It was the most horrible day of my life when he left. I was so afraid of losing him, the only way I could stay sane was to dance. I put all my energy and time into practicing—and I became very good. Critics praised me, the public loved me, but all I could feel was the ache in my heart, not knowing whether the love of my life would ever return. Then I went home and read and re-read his letters until I fell asleep. He always ended his letters with 'You are my Joy. I love you with my life' and after that he wrote his name. And then one day a letter came. There were only three sentences: 'I have lost my leg. I am no longer a whole man and now give you back your freedom. It is best you forget about me.'"

"I made my decision there and then. I took my leave, and traveled away from the city. When I returned I had bought myself a cane and wrapped my leg tightly with bandages. I told everyone I had been in a car crash and that my leg would never completely heal again. My dancing days were over. No one suspected the story—I had learned to limp convincingly before I returned home. And I made sure the first person to hear of my accident was a reporter I knew well. Then I traveled to the hospital. They had pushed your grandfather outside in his wheelchair. There was a cane on the ground by his wheelchair. I took a deep breath, leaned on my cane and limped to him. "

By now I had forgotten about the pie and listened to grandma, mesmerized11. "What happened then?" I hurried her when she took her time eating some pie.

"I told him he was not the only one who had lost a leg, even if mine was still attached to me. I showed him newspaper clippings of my accident. ‘So if you think I'm going to let you feel sorry for yourself for the rest of your life, think again. There is a whole life waiting for us out there! I don't intend to be sorry for myself. But I have enough on my plate as it is, so you'd better snap out of it too. And I am not going to carry you-you are going to walk yourself.'" Grandma giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound coming from an old lady with white hair.

"I limped a few steps toward him and showed him what I'd taken out of my pocket. 'Now show me you are still a man,' I said, 'I won't ask again.' He bent to take his cane from the ground and struggled out of that wheelchair. I could see he had not done it before, because he almost fell on his face, having only one leg. But I was not going to help. And so he managed it on his own and walked to me and never sat in a wheelchair again in his life."

"What did you show him?" I had to know. Grandma looked at me and grinned. "Two engagement rings, of course. I had bought them the day after he left for the war and I was not going to waste them on any other man."

I looked at the drawing on the kitchen wall, sketched13 by my grandfather's hand so many years before. The picture became distorted as tears filled my eyes. "You are my Joy. I love you with my life." I murmured quietly. The young woman in the drawing sat on her park bench and with twinkling eyes smiled broadly at me, an engagement ring carefully drawn14 on her finger.


Five Minutes to Fear

Le 15 mai 2017, 05:59 dans Humeurs 0

 Our families camped together once a month, so when the Fourth of July fell on our scheduled weekend, we never gave it a thought not to proceed with our plans. The drive to Rehoboth Beach took six hours, counting four bathroom stops for three children and two women and two men who swore they would lay off the water SmarTone.


The campsite was five miles from the pristine1 shoreline and boardwalk. We couldn't wait to dig our toes into the warm sand. Our daughter was seven at the time and our friends' daughters were eight and three. We packed enough toys, beach towels, and tanning lotion2 to last three weekends.


After pitching our tents and setting up camp, the seven of us piled into our cars and began the hunt for parking spaces closest to the water so that the men would not have to resort to camel-like behavior when hauling our supplies to the beach.


We staked our claim on the remaining ten feet of sand and sent the children to the ocean's edge. Our striped towels and white flesh blended with the thousands of other sun worshipers. Music blared from cranked-up radios while Frisbees whizzed overhead. Fair-haired recruits in muscle shirts hawked3 their ice cream sandwiches and cold soda4 while I poured lukewarm Kool-Aid SmarTone broadband.


From where I reclined, I had a clear view of the three girls splashing near the water. They chased the waves and tunneled into the wet sand, building castle after castle. It took extreme persuasion5 to convince them to relinquish6 the sea long enough to split soggy sandwiches with us. Periodically, the men would drop their books and leap into an incoming wave while capturing an unsuspecting child. I could only imagine the giggles7 above the beach clatter8.


After hours of play - and sunburned feet - we motioned for the girls to join us. I packed the towels and lotion while my best friend packed the toys and food. We each had our responsibilities but neglected the most important one. My daughter and her eldest9 daughter arrived by our side. Their youngest girl didn't.


We locked eyes. Our previously10 orderly world shrunk to the beach and the thousands of people strewn around us. Instinct jolted11 us into action. We screamed her name and pushed past bathers and tanners, frantic12 to find a missing child in a green bathing suit. Each second ticked by as though specifically designed to torment13 us.


"Angela!" My head snapped as the perfect picture of a mother and daughter reuniting exploded in my vision. I wanted to fall to the ground and weep amid the mass of strangers who had been unsuspecting participants in a drama unfolding before them.


Since that day, I've relived those five minutes of fear at Rehoboth Beach too many times. I relived them each time my daughter hid from me behind a store fixture14 or ventured out alone in the car after passing her driver's test. I relived them when she was late returning home from dates and when she married and moved to a city far from my reach SmarTone broadband.


Years later, we relocated to Florida, where once a month we frequent the swarming15 beaches of Daytona. My husband and I rent beach chairs and an umbrella and stake our claim along with the other beach lovers hoping for a relaxing time in the sun. Invariably, I spy a child dropping his bucket to search for his own cluster of recognizable faces. My heart freezes until I witness the mother wrapping her arms around him again. Only then do I breathe and rejoin the masses.

Aquatics Reception

Le 13 septembre 2016, 11:07 dans Humeurs 0

When the customer asked me for service, if I can I will pleasurably serve them, if I can't I always say that:

"I am the aquatics receptionist, please wait a second, let me find expert staff to serve you event mangement."

So around the aquatics and pets areas you can hear me call staff to serve often.

Sometimes I couldn’t find any staff around, so I went to the manager’s office to ask him come out serving. I was running up and down, as I didn’t want any customer waiting for a long time and try to do the service as quick as we could. When I found a member of staff, I like to introduce the staff to the customer:

"His English better than me, let him serve to you would better." or "He is an expert, he knew all wrinkles . You can ask any question and got the right answer from him school finder."

The customer are always happy and gives many thanks to me.

For customer service answering the telephone is very important, our ringing normally comes from the information desk, tills, customers and others. Mostly they ask for prices, advice or looking for some staff to use. At the beginning, if I was near the telephone I liked to pick up and answer it, after a few times I was afraid, because I couldn’t completely understood what’s said by the customer at the phone.

One time there was a call from the till asking for a price and I didn’t know. So I went to the till, took the goods back and found the price from the shelf.

After that when the telephone was ringing, I always called another member of staff to come and answer. Sometimes when it was ringing I said:

"Hello! Aquatics, I’m Jinglebell how I could help you?" But I didn't pick up and kept some yards away from the telephone Online Reputation Management!

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