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In preparation for a project, I re-watched Watchmen this weekend. Let me get this out of the way – I’ve never been a fan of Zach Snyder. I haven’t seen every film that he’s directed, limiting to myself to his disappointing comic book adaptations instead. I’ll make the argument that 300 was probably his best comic book adaptation because that was the only instance where the source material actually benefited from Snyder’s muted colors and penchant for sporadic slow motion and extended fight scenes. Should there be any more narrative involved with the film, Snyder becomes utterly lost in his own artistic tendencies, producing a film that may entertain during certain sequences but one that is easily forgotten as soon as the film is over.

Snyder’s allergy to good story is probably best exemplified by Sucker Punch, a film he both directed and wrote. The film is filled with characters that suddenly get incredibly strong and gain Superman-like powers with little to no explanation. It also follows a boring structure where the characters have to get three different items after having their quest literally explained to them by a character that exists solely for exposition. What are their names? I don’t know and I don’t really care. Never before have I been too lazy to even provide a plot summary, but this film has broken my back.

So this was the film that proceeded Snyder’s adaptation of Watchmen. Which contextualizes, somewhat, why the studio would let him create his own project from scratch. I remember when the first trailer for Watchmen came out and one of the title cards read, “From the Visionary Director of 300.” I was cynical even at that point. Visionary? Really? You know what, fine, I’ll give it to him, at least 300 looked nice. At the time, I hadn’t read Watchmen yet and I didn’t even know about Alan Moore either. However, during the time the film was announced, my high school was ripe with anticipation because our very own drama teacher played Nixon in the film. It was a minor role (and honestly, looking back, I cannot say that he was the best Nixon I’d ever seen) but still, it was exciting. So in response to all the energy at my school, I finally read the “greatest graphic novel of all time.” After I’d read it, I could finally remove the quotations – it truly was a work of genius.

Now the problem with adapting something like Watchmen is just that – it cannot be adapted. The way in which the graphic novel is genius is its ability to utilize the medium in ways that only this particular medium can be used: the nine-panel grid repeats certain character positions in order to mirror how Dr. Manhattan exists in a fluid time; the chapter title pages all feature a clock that slowly clicks towards midnight; the image of the blood stain on the smiley face is repeated over and over again; we never quite see the entirety of the slogan, “Who watches the Watchmen?” and so on.

At the very core, film and graphic novels are astronomically different because the means in which they juxtapose images is entirely different – graphic novels use space while film uses time. All those techniques mentioned above are examples of a precise use of spacial juxtaposition: from panel to panel, page to page, or chapter to chapter. The fundamental natures of these two mediums are different! So why does Snyder think the graphic novel is a ready-made storyboard for his film? This is not only a failure to understand the graphic novel, but it’s also a failure to understand film.

It doesn’t quite surprise me that Snyder’s latest comic book movie was regarded with much disdain. Dull colors, mass destruction, a lack of story, it’s the same flaws over and over again, yet studios keep entrusting him with comic book adaptations – it’s about as mind numbingly nonsensical as Snyder’s understanding of adaptations in the first place. I haven’t seen Batman v. Superman and something tells me I never will. I know this post reads like a grilling of Snyder…well that’s because it is.

But to be fair, I don’t think anyone can do justice to a graphic novel like Watchmen, so long as we consider the film as an adaptation. The day a good “Watchmen” film is made will be when a director is able to pluck the very themes and motifs of the graphic novel, while restructuring and rewriting a large portion of the source material in order to accommodate a new medium. In other words, the best adaptation won’t be an adaptation at all.

At college, I’ve often felt the pressure to be a more cultured person. Especially as an arts editor at The Michigan Daily, it sometimes feels like everyone knows more about art than you—I feel like I have so many blind spots when it comes to movies (The Godfather, Forrest Gump), TV (Gilmore Girls, The Sopranos), and, especially, music.

To a degree, I’ve made strides to correct my blind spots, and it’s sometimes not that hard to do. I realized recently that I really didn’t know much of Kanye West’s music, and, like him or hate him, he dominates culture so much that I feel like I need to know him. So I’ve been listening to his music a lot, even if it’s in the background while I’m doing other stuff, and now that’s one blind spot that I’ve begun to correct.

But after listening to new music for hours, after going through playlist after playlist in pursuit of greater music knowledge, sometimes I need to just relax and play the music that I’m comfortable with. And that often means bands I discovered in high school or even middle school: Fall Out Boy, Simple Plan, The Story So Far, Yellowcard, All Time Low, A Day to Remember.

My Chemical Romance is one of those bands that usually gets dismissed as something you listened to when you were in your middle school goth phase. Pretty much any band classified as ‘emo’ fits that label. But you know what? I listened to the entirety of The Black Parade a couple days ago, and that shit is so good! Gerard Way’s voice is funny to imitate, but it’s so good, and the production is so good, and every hook is so infectious, and the lyrics themselves aren’t bad. The album got really good reviews when it was first released, being praised as “one of the most cohesive, engaging rock records of 2006,” “one of the best rock albums of the last decade,” and “a piece of work that will challenge every preconception you ever had about the people who made it.”

So why do people tend to laugh a little when that band is mentioned? Why do I feel a little reluctant to wear a My Chemical Romance t-shirt to a party that isn’t themed?

We all think of our tastes in music as evolving. We tend to think that whatever music we’re listening to now is the best music we have ever listened to, that whatever we listened to as kids was automatically worse because we objectively didn’t have as much musical knowledge. And so when we are reminded of those songs we used to like, we don’t get to enjoy them sincerely; we enjoy them ironically. We can dance to them and sing along, but we have to laugh a little and remind everyone around us that we know this isn’t good music; it’s just nostalgia working its magic. Apparently none of the music from our childhoods can be enjoyed on its own terms anymore.

Okay, let’s be fair: some music we used to listen to was genuinely shitty. I have no interest in returning to “Don’t Trust Me” by 3OH!3 or “Shake It” by Metro Station, though even those songs would still probably trigger a frisson of nostalgia at a party. There are some songs out there whose infectious hooks feel genuinely empty; I don’t really admire 3OH!3 for creating one catchy hit. There are some songs that are catchy despite not being especially well-crafted.

But most of the songs we loved when we were younger were great for a reason, and listening to The Black Parade, I don’t feel any embarrassment. There’s nothing ironic about how fucking good Gerard Way sounds when he sings, “My eyes are shining brrriiight” on “Famous Last Words.” There’s nothing ironic about the irresistible urge I have to tap my feet whenever the chorus of “Dead!” kicks in, nothing ironic about the heartfelt mourning of “Cancer” or the iconic piano opening of “Welcome to the Black Parade.” Great art resists irony.

In a way, I’ve already written this same article. In a post about the Disney Channel show Phil of the Future, I described the way people laugh at mentions of shows from their youth, as if those shows were enjoyable then but hold no value now. I argued that it’s worth it to check out the stuff that you used to enjoy, because there’s a good chance it’ll still hold some value. That’s partly what I’m trying to say again, but with regards to music—just because you liked something years ago doesn’t mean it’s automatically shitty.

But I’m also saying irony is a dangerous thing for art. It’s easy to dismiss your younger self, but think back to the time you first discovered those bands. Yeah, maybe “I’m just a kid and life is a nightmare” sounds laughably angsty to us now. But it held a certain appeal for a very specific generation, and it probably helped a lot of confused adolescents realize they weren’t alone.

And hey, maybe it could still help you as an adult. As adults, we’re so quick to layer everything in irony, but maybe what we could all use is a little more sincerity. And after all, if there was one thing Simple Plan and My Chemical Romance were, it was sincere.

With the continual growth of complexity in society, there are bound to be new roles created in order to account for these new complexities. One of the recently developed roles is that of the server. In this context, the server is not solely defined as the job in which a person serves food to another, but as any position in which a human is hired to interact with others and provide a service that the consumer cannot accomplish by their own means. These roles as they are defined here can include the previously mentioned waiter or waitress, the host, or the main topic of this article, the cashier. Other roles that cannot be categorized as such are mechanics, chefs, or any other similar occupation because the interaction between server and consumer is not a necessary part of the tasks that the worker must complete in order to fulfill their role.

Interactions between the server and the consumer is an everyday activity for all members of a heavily economic society like the United States, but it is not one that is often thought about. The rules of these interactions are so familiar to the two participants that it comes as second-nature; they do not need to think about how they should act with the other person. While there is a wide range of types of interactions, there are three main components that seem to be common to all types of tasks that a server must complete: promptness or speed of service, cordiality, and proper exchange of goods and payment. All three components must be fulfilled as completely as possible in order for the interaction to be considered a good one, otherwise the consumer exits feeling as if the server is not appropriate for their position.

In the service of cashiering, the speed at which the main task (ringing up goods) is completed is one of the most important aspects of success at the job. Often raises and promotions are contingent upon the speed at which a cashier can get a customer through their line. With my own work in the service industry as a cashier, I was lucky enough to find positions which allowed for promotions that were not reflected upon my speed, but even then speed is a necessary part of the social interaction. There is, of course, a variability of speed amongst cashiers and the quicker cashiers are often seen as better at their position by the customers. From what I have witnessed, it looked as if a person is more likely to go to a line where the customers are moved through quickly, even if the line in that aisle is longer than one of slower cashier’s. This along with the various compliments that were overheard about the swiftness of a cashier proves that in a consumer’s mind speed is directly related to perceived goodness and also that speed is much more prized over other beneficial aspects of a cashier.

Cordiality is perhaps least essential to completing tasks, but also the most important for the consumer. While speed is the first impression that a consumer will get of the cashier, the cordiality of the cashier actually lays the base and constructs most of consumer’s opinion on the quality of the interaction. Cordiality appeared as a universal in the interactions that I observed and participated in, but it also seems to manifest in many different forms. This component varies from one cashier to another, but also varies based on the type of consumer that the cashier comes across. In some of the observed interactions, cordiality meant “yes, sir” and “you’re welcome” with very minimal talking, with another it meant telling jokes, and with another still, it meant sharing personal stories. What seems to be evident from this is that matching cordiality with the consumer’s preferences is a very important aspect of the interaction. This helps to build a relationship between the two participants. This relationship may only last as long as the interaction does, but if it is strong enough, the relationship may span much longer as the consumer returns to the store and continually interacts with the server that they find the most to their liking (sometimes even insisting to only interact with that particular cashier).

Proper handling of the economic aspect of the relationship is the most important aspect of completing the particular task at hand and it is also important to finishing the structure of quality that was mostly created by cordiality. Unfortunately for the cashier, this part of the interaction cannot be completely manipulated by them like the other aspects. It is reliant equally on the server and the consumer. The consumer must be able to forfeit the correct amount of money and must also understand the transaction that is taking place. The cashier, on the other hand, must be able to complete the transaction with no incidence. An improper handling of this can quickly turn a previous neutral or good relationship sour. In one of the most alarming examples of transition from good to bad was with customer at a Sam’s Club when a customer was trying to buy products with her EBT card. She did not understand that those card can only be used for unprepared food and rather than trying to understand the issue, she placed all blame on the cashier and verbally attacked him until a manager had to be called. What was previously a good relationship quickly turned into an aggressive one.  It seems as if for some consumers, their finances are more important than the human interaction.

The relationship between consumer and server is a relatively simple one. The three main aspects that were previously mentioned mostly cover all there is to the interaction. Though within the simpleness lies many complexities. These complexities are the complexities of culture as a whole and some of them become more prominent in this interaction. Some characteristics of culture that are questioned in other relationships also come up in this one, such as the appropriateness of touching or the proper handling of words in order to not offend someone. Fortunately for both participants this interaction of cashier and consumer is short and often easily forgotten. This greatly alleviates the pressure of having a good interaction, bringing the relationship back to simpleness.