Compared to Tim Hortons this is true. Even their muffins and mini donuts taste better than Tim's muffins and donuts. Where I work there's a Tim and a McDonalds in the same business area and the Tim's drive through is always busier in the morning which is astonishing when you consider McDonald's coffee and breakfast food is far superior.
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Some people have stable routines, and when it gets altered, things can be overlooked. Ever been driving along and have absolutely no recollection of the past 15 minutes? Our brains go on autopilot all the time it's human nature.
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I know I watched a true crime episode where a man forgot to drop off his kid to daycare on his way to work and the kid passed away after being in the car all day and he was charged and convicted.
Dropped my wife off at the dentist and had to make a stop at a store. Went in and they were making my order when I remembered and bolted out to grab my son. Thankfully it was only 5 minutes but it's a scary thought knowing I forgot he was with me. What if I wasn't going into a store and going to work? I probably wouldn't have remembered after 5 minutes because my mind would be so occupied.
Anyone else?
When my daughter (17 now) was little she wouldn't sleep. I mean it was like owning a ####ing cyborg.
I would sometimes take her for car rides to nap. If she was asleep when we got home I would leave her in the car to sleep. I mean generally I would hang around the garage, but sometimes a fella needs to grab a beer.
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I, fortunately, have not had this happen to me, but it does happen a lot.
I do have a harmless similar story. It was a long ordeal with my first child. There were pregnancy complications, hospitalization of my wife 1100 kms away from home, kid being born extremely premature (28 weeks/6 months), a roller coaster of a NICU stay, and a very long drive home. We had to drive from Red Deer to Yellowknife (~1500 kms) and had to stop and take the baby out of the care seat every 1 to 1.5 hours, otherwise she could stop breathing in her delicate state. It took like 6 days to get home. Anyway, we finally got home after like 4 months of hell and put the baby in the crib in the nursery that my family set up. Then, exhausted we just relaxed in our house for the first time in 4 months. During the moment, we completely forgot we had a baby. When she woke up and started crying, we were both like, OMG, we have a kid!
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Some people have stable routines, and when it gets altered, things can be overlooked. Ever been driving along and have absolutely no recollection of the past 15 minutes? Our brains go on autopilot all the time it's human nature.
Agreed. I'm nearly paranoid that this will happen, so I do the occasional double checks just to be sure (ie: look through the window at the back seat as a forced habit to make sure there's no one there). My wife and I also message each other for confirmation (usually just in the form of, "Thanks for dropping off X today") as a form of gratitude pick me up / double check. I still do not completely trust myself to not make this blunder at least once in my lifetime.
With these double checks, I've never once forgotten my kid in the car, but I've definitely driven right past the day home a few times (it's basically on the same route as work and I don't drive him every day) and had to back track. On one occasion, my kid was like, "Aww, I thought I'd get to go to work with you today."
I saw an article about a grandma who removes a shoe and leaves it in the back with the grandchild when her grandchild is in the car. I guess this works well if you don't always have a kid with you. IMO it's impractical, but if it is effective, who am I to make fun of someone who goes that length to ensure the safety of their loved one?
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I feel so bad when I read those stories, because I can totally see it happening. My kids are 13 and 15 now, so I think we're good, but man, I remember every day sitting down at my desk and going through my head that I really did drop them off. I remember a couple time going back to my car to make sure I really did drop them off. The closest I ever came was missing the turn a couple times and realizing a few blocks late. Also, living in a place where they'd die pretty quickly on a summer day makes it even more terrifying.
I remember some of those early weeks where one or the other was up literally every hour of the night for weeks in a row, and add in something like a boss calling and saying he needs to talk to you when you get in, and I could totally see being on autopilot especially with a sleeping baby in a rear facing child seat.
Something similar to this happened to me. I dont have young kids anymore, but for years I'd bring my dog with me to work.
It was just part of the morning routine, wake up, get ready for work, grab my stuff which I usually prepare the previous night so I can just grab it and go.
Get the dog, go to work.
But when the Pandemic started and my wife started working from home full time I stopped bringing the dog to work with me.
In the beginning there were a few times I got to work and thought: 'Oh crap! Wheres my dog??'
Before remembering that the world was ending and my wife was riding it out at home with my dog.
It takes nothing.
You do the same routine for years and it only takes a slight hiccup to disturb it. Your wife has an early morning dentist appointment or something and you have to take the kids to school/daycare.
Its not part of your normal routine and once you're in the car your brain just goes to 'Normal Routine Mode.'
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I once forgot my son was in the car with me, but I didn't leave him in the car. He was 3 or 4 and we were driving along to drop off something somewhere. Smokin' in The Boys room came on and I got into it. I cranked up the song and rocked out as I drove to the destination. The song wasn't over but I turned off the vehicle anyway. Then the sudden silence and I hear from the back "Smokded in de boys room!"
I have forgotten to go pick up my kids. All three of them. Each one individually. Each time I was leaving the office and getting into my car with the thought "Must go pick up little Buff". By the time I reached the parking lot exit I was in auto-pilot and drove home. That is something you only do four times!
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When did you realise you’d forgotten it? I’m guessing you didn’t just smack your forehead and exclaim ‘damn’ apropos of nothing. The realisation probably didn’t dawn on you spontaneously. More likely, you reached for your phone, pawing open your pocket or handbag, and were momentarily confused by it not being there. Then you did a mental restep of the morning’s events.
####.
In my case, my phone’s alarm woke me up as normal but I realised the battery was lower than I expected. It was a new phone and it had this annoying habit of leaving applications running that drain the battery overnight. So, I put it on to charge while I showered instead of into my bag like normal. It was a momentary slip from the routine but that was all it took. Once in the shower, my brain got back into ‘the routine’ it follows every morning and that was it.
Forgotten.
This wasn’t just me being clumsy, as I later researched, this is a recognised brain function. Your brain doesn’t just work on one level, it works on many. Like, when you’re walking somewhere, you think about your destination and avoiding hazards, but you don’t need to think about keeping your legs moving properly. If you did, the entire world would turn into one massive hilarious QWOP cosplay. I wasn’t thinking about regulating my breathing, I was thinking whether I should grab a coffee on the drive to work (I did). I wasn’t thinking about moving my breakfast through my intestines, I was wondering whether I’d finish on time to pick up my daughter Emily from nursery after work or get stuck with another late fee. This is the thing; there’s a level of your brain that just deals with routine, so that the rest of the brain can think about other things.
Think about it. Think about your last commute. What do you actually remember? Little, if anything, probably. Most common journeys blur into one, and recalling any one in particular is scientifically proven to be difficult. Do something often enough and it becomes routine. Keep doing it and it stops being processed by the thinking bit of the brain and gets relegated to a part of the brain dedicated to dealing with routine. Your brain keeps doing it, without you thinking about it. Soon, you think about your route to work as much as you do keeping your legs moving when you walk. As in, not at all.
Most people call it autopilot. But there’s danger there. If you have a break in your routine, your ability to remember and account for the break is only as good as your ability to stop your brain going into routine mode. My ability to remember my phone being on the counter is only as reliable as my ability to stop my brain entering ‘morning routine mode’ which would dictate that my phone is actually in my bag. But I didn’t stop my brain entering routine mode. I got in the shower as normal. Routine started. Exception forgotten.
Autopilot engaged.
My brain was back in the routine. I showered, I shaved, the radio forecast amazing weather, I gave Emily her breakfast and loaded her into the car (she was so adorable that morning, she complained about the ‘bad sun’ in the morning blinding her, saying it stopped her having a little sleep on the way to nursery) and left. That was the routine. It didn’t matter that my phone was on the counter, charging silently. My brain was in the routine and in the routine my phone was in my bag. This is why I forgot my phone. Not clumsiness. Not negligence. Nothing more my brain entering routine mode and over-writing the exception.
Autopilot engaged.
I left for work. It’s a swelteringly hot day already. The bad sun had been burning since before my traitorously absent phone woke me. The steering wheel was burning hot to the touch when I sat down. I think I heard Emily shift over behind my driver’s seat to get out of the glare. But I got to work. Submitted the report. Attended the morning meeting. It’s not until I took a quick coffee break and reached for my phone that the illusion shattered. I did a mental restep. I remembered the dying battery. I remembered putting it on to charge. I remembered leaving it there.
My phone was on the counter.
Autopilot disengaged.
Again, therein lies the danger. Until you have that moment, the moment you reach for your phone and shatter the illusion, that part of the brain is still in routine mode. It has no reason to question the facts of the routine; that’s why it’s a routine. Attrition of repetition. It’s not as if anyone could say ‘why didn’t you remember your phone? Didn’t it occur to you? How could you forget? You must be negligent’; this is to miss the point. My brain was telling me the routine was completed as normal, despite the fact that it wasn’t. It wasn’t that I forgot my phone. According to my brain, according to the routine, my phone was in my bag. Why would I think to question it? Why would I check? Why would I suddenly remember, out of nowhere, that my phone was on the counter? My brain was wired into the routine and the routine was that my phone was in my bag.
The day continued to bake. The morning haze gave way to the relentless fever heat of the afternoon. Tarmac bubbled. The direct beams of heat threatened to crack the pavement. People swapped coffees for iced smoothies. Jackets discarded, sleeves rolled up, ties loosened, brows mopped. The parks slowly filled with sunbathers and BBQ’s. Window frames threatened to warp. The thermometer continued to swell. Thank #### the offices were air conditioned.
But, as ever, the furnace of the day gave way to a cooler evening. Another day, another dollar. Still cursing myself for forgetting my phone, I drove home. The days heat had baked the inside of the car, releasing a horrible smell from somewhere. When I arrived on the driveway, the stones crunching comfortingly under my tyres, my wife greeted me at the door.
“Where’s Emily?”
####.
As if the phone wasn’t bad enough. After everything I’d left Emily at the ####ing nursery after all. I immediately sped back to the nursery. I got to the door and started practising my excuses, wondering vainly if I could charm my way out of a late fee. I saw a piece of paper stuck to the door.
“Due to vandalism overnight, please use side door. Today only.”
Overnight? What? The door was fine this morni-.
I froze. My knees shook.
Vandals. A change in the routine.
My phone was on the counter.
I hadn’t been here this morning.
My phone was on the counter.
I’d driven past because I was drinking my coffee. I’d not dropped off Emily.
My phone was on the counter.
She’d moved her seat. I hadn’t seen her in the mirror.
My phone was on the counter.
She’d fallen asleep out of the bad sun. She didn’t speak when I drove past her nursery.
My phone was on the counter.
She’d changed the routine.
My phone was on the counter.
She’d changed the routine and I’d forgotten to drop her off.
My phone was on the counter.
9 hours. That car. That baking sun. No air. No water. No power. No help. That heat. A steering wheel too hot to touch.
That smell.
I walked to the car door. Numb. Shock.
I opened the door.
My phone was on the counter and my daughter was dead.
We were driving back from Expo 86 in Vancouver, and we stopped at a rest stop near Three Valley Gap. Many hours later we make it home, and my brother asks where our dog is. Many hours later my dad returns, our dog had waited patiently at the rest stop.
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I can’t remember leaving kids in car, but I do remember being outside with my young son, looking up, and seeing him out on the collector road in front of the house, with traffic stopped, waiting for him.
Saw a guy driving down the road with new steel toed boots on his roof of his truck with his thermos sticking out the top of one of his boots.
I smiled and pointed .....he smiled and gave me the bird so I laughed, clapped and watched his new boots/ thermos fly off the roof when he gunned the gas and sped off.
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When I was probably 6 or 7 we went to my dad’s corporate Christmas party at the Blackfoot Inn. I remember it was raining.
On the way home, my dad got out to fill gas and asked my mom to go in and get him a pack of cigarettes. She went in, he filled the gas, and hopped back in the car and drove off with my sister and I in the back seat.
After a few minutes I asked, “Where’s mom?”
Still pretty sure it wasn’t by accident.
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