Most of our former years are spent preparing. Preschool is meant to assist you as you move toward kindergarten. Kindergarten is prepping you for elementary school. Five years of elementary school gets you ready for middle school. Three years of middle school shapes you for the hardships of high school. Four years of high school molds young minds for the challenges and freedoms of college. Roughly four years of college takes the last drop of your money while simultaneously preparing you for a career. In all, the first twenty-five years of our lives are largely spent planning and preparing for something ultimately bigger and better. I would venture to say that most of us aspire to hold some kind of career in our life. I would also venture to say that most of us were required to undertake some type of training to acquire that job. Then, when we desire another job, we do more training to move on to the next one.
However, there is one job that really requires no preparation at all. In fact, quite a bit of people obtain the position without any training at all. This job is 24/7/365. There are no sick days, vacation days, or even retirement packages. At this job, you have to work really closely with one single person every day. You two are demanded to make decisions about money, decisions about other human being's lives, decisions about religion, and decisions about dying. On some days, you witness your coworker going to the bathroom. At first, it shocks you, but soon it becomes normal. Eventually, one of you will observe as a baby comes protruding out of your colleague's body. The sight of this spectacle will make you want to gag; nonetheless, you will be instructed to comment on how beautiful your partner still looks. Unfortunately, there perhaps will be occasions when one of you becomes really ill. You will be obliged to care for your peer with no extra pay! At even more times, Suzy from Accounting or Bob from HR will seem more appealing. You might be tempted to work with him or her instead, but you can't without dire consequences. Quite shockingly, this job could last you as long as thirty, forty, fifty, or sixty years, so you will witness as your companion undergoes many physical and mental changes. One day, your once faithful associate might not even remember your name. Although this might distress you, you would never leave his or her side, for you would not want to. And if in the end all you are left with is love, you, my friend, have prepared well.
In all, any job with that much stress and demand would require extensive preparation with intense questioning on both sides of the parties. I am just a newlywed, so I do not have much experience. However, I do know that life comes after the wedding and being a wife or husband is far more important than any catering company or DJ service. Therefore, I implore you, no matter what religion your are (Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Atheist, Agnostic, Wiccan, Scientologist, Neo-Pagan, or a member of the Church of the SubGenius), to enroll yourself in pre-marriage counseling and tackle those tough questions that one day you will face ( i.e. Which way do you roll the toilet paper?). If you pass, you are rewarded with one of the best promotions of your life-being someone's husband or wife, and that is one of the most coveted jobs out there.
Bed, bath, and be(yawwwwn)d
I was fooled. Hoodwinked. Deceived. Tricked. The movies deluded me. My imagination mislead me. How could an activity appear so awesome but yet be so mind-numbingly tedious; how could an event seem as if it would make you feel so powerful when in reality it renders you powerless? That is the very definition of registering. Besides things that are actually the worst (ie. cancer, terrorist, poverty, and getting sunscreen in your eyes), registering for a wedding is the epitome of the worst.
In the deep realms of my mind, I pictured James and I dressed in all black, storming down the doors of Bed, Bath, and Beyond and tearing through that store, Mr. and Mrs. Smith style - James with the scanner gun and me drop kicking and karate chopping the crap out of things. "We'll take you, you Capthalon® nonstick muffin pan." Just two BA people registering for a wedding. In actuality, none of that happened even remotely. To start, registering took place during store hours when all the customers were still there. Apparently, this is a well-known fact that in my twenty-five years of life I was not privy to. Disappointment Strike One. Next, we were greeted by an employee whom for now on will be referred to as Woman Who Ruined My Fun, WWRMF for short. WWRMF was to lead us around the store. Disappointment Strike Two. Finally, WWRMF held onto that scanner gun as if it were the One Ring (Shout out LoTR fans) or the last Horcrux (shout out HP fans) that would inevitably lead to her doom if it were unclenched from her claws. Disappointment Strike Three.
So ten minutes into our registering, the whole process was on Disappointment Strike Three. Therefore, the next three hours was spent with my trying to survive and make it out of the store alive. WWRMF started out with taunting us into registering for fine China for a set of eight - mocking me into believing that I would ever cook a meal that would warrant China that totals over $500. Wondering further into the depths of the kitchen department, we found ourselves asking her (She still wouldn't let us even have one little touch of that scanner.) to scan cutlery that costs more than the therapy I was going to need when this was finished. When we finally made it to the beyond section, and I was delirious from the shrill pain of giving my opinion on such commonplace items ("It's a flippin' pepper shaker. I am going to shake pepper out of it."), James had registered for taco bowls and a bacon press that leaves an imprint of a pig. I couldn't even muster up the energy to stop him. In fact, by the last hour I had pretty much had blacked out and really had no recollection of how we managed to escape the clutches of WWRMF.
A few days later, when I was able to regroup and reenergize my soul, I had quite a chuckle glancing back at our registry. In the warmths of our own homes, we shifted through items we wanted and absurd items we had absolutely no need for in order to form the right registry for us. Yes, registering was beyond mundane, but we realized, as we were adding items to the registry, these items were meant for our new, joint life beyond the wedding. Pun and cheesy cliche 100% intended.
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