Tuesday recap of goals, safety and math

I intended to write this post two hours ago as a form of relaxation when I got home from work. Instead, I got sucked into the proof of TRAPPED that came from the printer, and writing instructions on how to pitch a press release for a local high school student.

Opening page of TRAPPED

My spine is hurting, but as far as Tuesdays go today was a good one. I think I may have hit 98% if my metrics in the QC department of the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy.

Tuesdays typically leave me rather crippled— but for some reason this week I am doing better than usual. I performed 108% in Freestyle Sunday, and then my process lead and I found an error in the computation of yesterday’s metric in QC. The computer at first assigned me 91%. I suggested that might be wrong. That by my calculations it should be around 95%. Turns out my lunch wasn’t in the figure. So the computer thought I should have hit a higher goal.

My process lead seems perpetually impressed by my ability to perform math, and my tracking of my own performance. I also don’t agree with the official distribution of targets throughout the day, and eventually I will have my own numbers. (I basically have them now— but I’m still honing them. For instance, they say 40 by 9 a.m., whereas I aim for 42 by 8:50.)

Today might have been my best day since before the shift change. Not only because of the numbers but because I did a pre-interview or something like that for the safety team.

I’m not even really sure exactly what the safety team does, but I think I can bring perspective and the ability to explain to others with me to the table.

Apparently one of my former Midnight Society teammates “talked me up.” And it appears I did not disappoint. They had an ice breaker of one fun fact— and this colleague had to think I would talk about Parisian Phoenix or my cat fostering.

I warned him I was going to say something that would surprise even him. I mentioned my most exotic vacation included a visit to Mogadishu.

“Didn’t see that coming,” he said.

He then proceeded to tell them that I was a very interesting person with whom to talk.

All of that made today a little special.

Back-handed compliment


An older man came to the cafe today and bought a pizza from me. He wasn’t a particularly attractive older man but he obviously found himself witty.

He paid for a $5.61 lunch with $20.61. I automatically said, “$15 is your change.”

I typed it into the register and as I grabbed his bills, he said, 

“I’m proud of you.”

I ignored him.

“Don’t you want to know why I’m proud of you?” he asked.

“I believe I know.”

“You made change without using the register.”

Yeah, and I also count all the cash sales for the entire store. 

“I counted $22,000 this morning,” I said.

He left.

He meant it as a compliment. But it stung. It stung because he would have never said it to a person his age or to a man.

He said it to me because I look younger than my forty-plus years. I’m cute and I’m petite. And I work retail.

And I’m a woman.

So therefore it must be surprising that I can do math.

Never mind that I can speak more than one language. Or that I have two bachelors degrees and am working on a master’s in world history. Or that I used to run a newsroom. Or that I’ve traveled to (and fallen on) four of the seven continents.