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Check Your Gig Line ... Again
Monday, August 25, 2008 at 10:44PM NOTE: To my four faithful readers, no, I have not left the planet or run away with Johnny Depp. I've been busy for the last week with depositions and traveling to North Carolina and having daughters and granddaughters visit with us, and for many days I have been unable to keep a thought in my head long enough to compose a decent post. I was nearly ready to post the following rerun earlier this evening as torrential rain drummed our roof, when suddenly our neighborhood suffered a power outage that lasted two hours. But for your reading enjoyment (I hope), here it is ... from September of '07, a reminder about something we should all do from time to time: check our gig line.
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A few weeks ago, when we were down in San Antonio to see our boy graduate from Air Force basic training, I couldn't help but notice how spiffy all the new airmen looked, and how aware they seemed to be of the tradition involved in wearing their uniforms. They were so good about snatching their flight caps off their nearly-bald heads the moment they stepped foot indoors, tucking the end of the flat, Air Force-blue cap carefully inside the waist of their dress trousers. When they stepped outside again, quick as a flash the caps went back on their heads and they did what I surmised was a special salute. It didn't look like any salute I had ever seen before, yet as they walked around outside they all seemed to be doing it, so I figured it was a unique salute they'd been taught just to show respect for visiting parents! I finally asked my son what the special salute meant. HAHA, he said, Mom You Can't Be Serious. Well, YES, I said, I Am Totally Serious And Why Can't I Be?
Turns out the "salute" was really the easy way the trainees were taught to adjust their flight caps at exactly the correct angle, since they were whipping them off and replacing them on their heads constantly! They put their index and second finger just above the bridge of their nose and, if their middle finger touched the edge of the cap, they were wearing it correctly! Ingenious! After all, there is a specific way the cap is to be worn, because there is a certain way it is supposed to look. Here is a picture of Andrew doing the special "salute" (at my behest) as he talks on the phone to his girlfriend during graduation weekend:
See what I mean? It does look like a salute, doesn't it?
Another thing I noticed that the neophyte airmen were constantly doing was checking their "gig line." Now, the gig line, in military parlance, is the vertical visual continuity created by the edge of your shirt placket aligning perfectly with your belt buckle and the outside edge of your trouser fly, forming one long straight line. While wearing dress blues, my son is required to wear garters that pull his socks up tightly and his shirt down tightly, so that everything always looks very, very smooth and unwrinkled. The airmen constantly check that gig line, running their fingers down the shirt placket to the belt buckle, looking down simultaneously, to make sure it is as straight and tight as humanly possible. They get in trouble if it goes off-kilter, because that looks sloppy and the Air Force does not do sloppy. And although the mechanism for achieving this sparkling appearance is somewhat uncomfortable, it is effective. Attention to the gig line results in a look that is very impressive, let me tell you ... especially when multiplied by 600 and on display at the parade grounds. Most impressive indeed.
He didn't know I was her mother, after all ... so I decided to enlighten him. Gently.
But the phrase "check your gig line" got me thinking about how often in life it is necessary to check ourselves. I like to talk. Alert the media! Breaking news, that. But the more you talk, the more you attempt to communicate, the greater the chance that, sometimes unintentionally, you may say something you really didn't mean to say, or that could easily be taken the "wrong" way and hurt someone's feelings! Or worse, say something about someone in front of someone you don't realize is connected somehow to the someone you said it about. I am, like, the poster child for this. I could be the postage STAMP for this, for crying out loud. When and if they decide to commemorate me and my ilk on a stamp, it will undoubtedly be rendered as a picture of a great big open mouth with a foot wedged inside. Probably not the one you'll pick for mailing wedding invitations.
But, I am happy to report I'm not all by me onesie when it comes to hopping around with one foot in my mouth. And it's always gratifying to know you're not the only one making a hash of things about half the time! I am reminded of the occasion, a little over ten years ago, when our daughter Stephanie got her first official job. I mean, she had done some babysitting and what-not, but this was different. She was getting ready to start her senior year in high school and she hoped this job would see her all the way through college, and as it turned out, it did. It was at a brand new Winn-Dixie grocery store that opened up about five miles from our house. This is when we were living in East Tennessee. Stephanie went down to the store before it even opened and applied for the position of cashier, and was hired on the spot. It was late summer; she was 17 and a straight-A student who would graduate second in her class the following spring.
Stephanie began attending cashier orientation and training meetings as the store prepared for its grand opening. She brought home her teal-striped Winn-Dixie uniform smock and her brand-new name tag. In the few weeks before opening day, she and the other cashiers were carefully trained on use of the computerized cash registers and scanners and related equipment, and were given detailed instructions on everything from greeting customers to processing their grocery orders. There was a lot to remember but Stephanie worked hard and applied herself. Eventually the big day came when she was to report bright and early at the store for the first day of business. I remember taking her to work and dropping her off with a promise to come back later and check on her. Surely that would be helpful!
I returned to the store at mid-morning. The parking lot was packed out! There were eager shoppers everywhere, taking advantage of the store's grand opening promotions. I cruised the aisles for about twenty minutes, put a few things in my cart, then headed for the front of the store and queued up at Stephanie's register. All the lines were backed up as the young, green cashiers struggled to remember everything they'd been taught ... but this time under the watchful eyes of real (and in some cases impatient) customers. From my vantage point in Stephanie's queue I could tell that she was a little nervous as she processed the orders, but she seemed to be holding her own. Still, her line was not moving all that quickly. I said a silent prayer for her as I hummed under my breath.
In due time I became aware of the elderly gentleman in line directly in front of me. Clutching a few purchases, he was getting antsy. Presently he turned, made eye contact with me, and muttered something I couldn't hear. "Pardon me?" I asked, leaning in towards him. I thought I knew what was coming. He looked me straight in the eye and said, disgruntled: "It seems to me they could have trained her a little better than that. She doesn't know what she's doing." He was talking about my brilliant, diligent, newly-employed 17-year-old daughter! I smiled at him; I wasn't angry. He didn't know I was her mother, after all ... so I decided to enlighten him. Gently.
"Well, you know," I began, "She happens to be a straight-A student." He blinked a few times and I could tell he was wondering how I was privy to that particular piece of information. I decided to enlighten him some more. "Actually," I continued, "She's been training for several weeks now, but it's her first day on a new job and she's only 17, and you know what that's like." He looked at the floor and then back up at me. I decided to clear it up for him once and for all. "See, she's my daughter. As in, I'm that cashier's mother."
I wish you could have seen the look on his face. He was enough of a gentleman to be embarrassed. He didn't officially apologize (not that he needed to; I have been impatient with cashiers enough times not to hold his remarks against him), but he did say something to the effect of, "Well, I'm sure she's doing the best she can." Which she was, and after all, what more can we do? I mean, I think most of the time it's safe to assume that most people are doing just about the best they can. Notice I said most. I know that as I drive here and there, go wherever I'm sent to cover depos, come home and balance housework, family obligations, deadlines, and so forth, I'm doing just about the best I can. I'll bet you are too. It's all about giving one another the benefit of the doubt, as we all want others to give us.
It occurs to me that, as touching the sometimes thoughtless things we are quick to say, perhaps as we pass in and out of all the doors of our lives, we should pause as we go to put the index and second finger to our forehead, to make sure our flight caps are on at just the right angle. Make sure we wear the uniform of our humanity just so, in keeping with the time-honored tradition of extending kindness and forgiveness to our fellow man. Make a heroic effort to keep things aligned, sparkling, and smooth. Make it a point to often check our gig lines, as it were.
Reader Comments (16)
Thanks for this reminder to give people the benefit of the doubt. It's a good tip.
I must confess--I was beginning to think you fell off the face of the earth.
I might be a more faithful reader were I not so forgetful and could remember to go to your site every day! Why is it that so many folks like me are scatterbrained? Ha! June
Well I'm gonna sound like a spammer here but that was a great post! Seriously.
My brother was in the Air Force and was stationed in Chicksand,England and then Homestead, Florida..
@ Ruth ... not so easy, is it? We all need the Lord's help.
@ Lyn ... nope, still here, still talking, LOL! We need to get together. Tell Alicia I said hey.
@ Joonie ... Why ask me? I'm one of the scatterbrained!
@ LL ... thanks ever so, luv! Those are some precious memories of Andrew's achievements at boot camp. But I'm glad I don't have to go to San Antonio the last day of August this year! It was so hot there.
This is my first time stopping by, but it's great to know that you didn't run off! :)
Yes indeed - we are (most of us) doing the best we can at any given moment and sometimes that isn't enough for other people. And yes, sometimes I'm that 'other person' and I get impatient. I do try to remember to make allowances. I'll have to remember that special salute and the gig-line.
I don't think we need to be made quite so uncomfortable as those poor neophytes in their garters and dress blues but there's a middle ground, huh?
And you know what I'm thinking, don't you? It makes me even more proud of our man Johnny, when I see him working the barriers at premieres and on occasions when the public hasn't even been invited and it's four in the morning but he's still doing that special salute and giving everyone his very best.
@ SS ... thanks for stopping by and I hope you'll honor this blog with your presence again!
@ Jay ... yes to the first, yes to the second ... yes to all! Johnny amazed me again and again this summer during the PE shoot. Going down fan lines at four and five o'clock in the morning after working all night (of course the fans had been standing all night, and much of the day before), giving hugs, taking his time, posing for pictures. He doesn't have to do that in order to collect his phenomenal salary. He does it because he wants to and becuase he appreciates those of us who appreciate how hard he tries. He is an inspiration.
Hey Jenny! Life just gets in the way sometimes, doesn't it? Don't fret about the blog... we'll be here.
darla
ps: I'm glad you don't have to be in San Antonio on the last day of August, too.... because I can promise you, it isn't any cooler now than it was in 2007 when you were here. We're all melting...... I'm about 4 1/2 hours from San Antonio.
@ Darla ... girl, by all means stay indoors with the A/C cranked up to snowball! That's the only way you'll survive it. Thanks for stopping by!
My father-in-law was career Air Force, making my hubby an air force brat. He intended to join too - but I got in the way! (Actually I would have been fine with him joining). The only thing more stressful than your own first day at work is your child's! That man in the line reminds me of an old, half-deaf, irascible gentleman at church that would LOUDLY complain about things to his wife or ask questions and she'd be so embarrassed - she'd try to shush him or explain things, but of course that would just make him worse. Enjoy your time with your family and activities - we'll live without our daily fix for a while!
It's so easy to be impatient and intolerant. But so much more gratifying to be patient and understanding. Thanks for setting such a good example!
I hope you're having a wonderful time with your family!
@ Tracie ... awww, you are so kind to me. I wish I could provide a daily fix worth having! The old curmudgeons are always around us, aren't they? We must love them right where they are but try not to be like them, LOL! And serving our country in the Air Force is certainly not a bad life. Andrew is enjoying being part of the Tennessee Air National Guard.
@ Keli ... girl, I am no kind of an example but thank you for saying that. We've got another family weekend planned for Labor Day and the joint will be jumping again! I'll do my best to stay in touch.
See, here I was thinking you HAD run off with Johnny Depp...
@ Kev ... what are you doing in my fantasy, man? Three is, like, so a crowd.
Interesting stuff here, plus an important lesson. Sorry it's taken me so long to come here and catch up. I'm almost there. Hope all is well with you. Do you listen to any audio books while you drive from place to place?