Quick update on the Advent calendar. It has been a hit thus far. It hasn't kept Tiny off the big tree completely, but she and Kiddo have been having fun. Kiddo picks out the ornament of the day, and Tiny points to where it should go on the tree. Then Tiny points out the different ornaments several times a day to me.
While I was working on my puzzle today, I streamed a playlist of Christmas pop music. It's a little bonkers how much those songs raise the expectations of this one day. I do my best to make the holidays bright and somewhat special, but I don't think I have the skills to make it the most magical day that ever happened. How on earth am I supposed to do that? What if the presents aren't festive enough? What if we make batches of the wrong cookies? What if it turns out that we are the same people, just in front of a lighted tree covered in a bunch of moderately tacky ornaments with a ham in the slow cooker?
I have the same issue with amusement parks. They are fun, with lots of rides and characters and such. I really do find joy in them, but I can't fully understand the folks who only feel truly at home there. I guess it's partially because I don't handle crowds well, and that I have worked in the industry long enough to see the awkward cash grabs and cut corners and corporate shenanigans. Kiddo loves them, though, so we go anyway.
Maybe I do the parks wrong, or maybe I'm too cynical, but I'm fully aware of how the lower levels of staff are treated. I know about the blame-based discipline systems in these companies, and it bothers me immensely, simply because I have been caught in those webs before. Everyone is so busy making sure they don't get blamed for the issue that no one solves it, and the person who successfully pins it on someone else gets a promotion. Sigh. It takes a lot of suspension of disbelief for me, but for Kiddo, I do my best.
It means that I also do everything in my power to be polite and patient with every employee I meet. I assure you that the person at the register at the food stand did not make the staffing decisions that led to only two cashiers in the area, nor did they make the supply decisions that led to a chicken nugget shortage. They will hear about it from irate guests (yes, we are trained to call them "guests"), and they will not have the backing of their management, who did make the decisions and will find a way to discipline them anyway.
So many of us love to play the tourist, but we also have the responsibility to treat the people facilitating our good time as just that--people. They are there to serve our food and clean our hotel rooms and make sure the bathrooms are sanitary and functional when nature calls, but they are not our servants, and they deserve polite treatment, too. As we go through another shutdown, this time for overflowing ICUs, this goes double for the people who take care of us, like the person running the drive-through, the employee loading your curbside pickup orders, the postal driver who is on their twelfth hour of delivering packages, and the cashiers who have been trained to not ask customers to wear their masks properly out of fear that the customer will turn violent. We can give our patience and kindness to them, not only in deference to the season, but also in deference to their personhood. Express your disappointment, not your anger. They might be able to help to alleviate your disappointment, but your anger will get you nothing.
All of this is to say that the magic of theme parks and tourist experiences and holidays are really created by people. Be good to those people.
Tomorrow, I'm making gingerbread for the first time from my mother's recipe and patterns. I should look at the recipe tonight to make sure it is something I am actually capable of. Magic takes a lot of prep work, and I have someone who wants to decorate cookie houses, which is why I have my weight in various candies piled up on the counter.
Perhaps we can be satisfied with a homegrown, simple kind of magic this year.
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