IT'S SPRING! And you know what that means...yeppers! The crazy, the stupid, and the reality challenged are out en masse. And coming to see me.
Case in point:
Guy, aka Chuck Full o'Stupid, walks up to me and sez, "I got a question for ya."
Me: Sure
Chuck: Would you know if you carry those doors you put in fences?
Me with a blank look: Doors in fences?
Chuck: Yep. Those doors you put in fences so, like, yer dog can go in and out?
Me choking back evil cackle: Would you mean a GATE?
Chuck, understanding lighting up his face: Yanno, I think that is what they're called.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Stop Me If You've Heard This One
So, way back in January or so, after I joined Time Suck Central, I got a friend request from a person I knew way back in college (1986 or so.) She's not someone I was close with, and in all honesty, she was a classic insecure shrew. She cost me friends, people I still miss terribly. And she made me doubt my own sanity. And no matter what I did, she managed to still be there, sucking my life dry of the things and people I enjoyed.
Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't wish bad things to happen to her (okay, after the first two years or so of not having any contact with her in any way, I mean,) I just really really NEVER wanted to have to look at or think about her again. With her waving like a loon to get my attention, I HAD to think about her, and I got to rethink all about how much I didn't like her. All over again.
On the first request, I hit ignore without thinking about it.
On the second request, I thought about it for a while, then hit ignore.
On the third request, I also received a message from her. Ugh. I can't just hit ignore.
Crap.
Her message was written from the POV that we had simply lost touch with each other. And with the premise that she wasn't a whack job from whay back.
I wanted to just reply "who are you, and how would I know you?" But my Inner Bitch was screaming, even after 20 years, for retaliatory brutality. I didn't cave. I consulted a very wise woman who recommended not going passive-aggressive, nor aggressive-aggressive. Just be honest.
"I don't recall liking you very much when I knew you. I really don't want to be friends."
God, I LOVE that. It should be available on a t-shirt. Really.
That's what I replied. Exactly that. And, oh my! the insanity that lunged at me! I got back what was the single most beautiful attempt at subtle manipulation I've ever encountered. Lil' Miss Must Be Friends had been practicing.
A parried that attempt as well. "Thank you for your reply. It confirms that I made the right decision." hit home. Must've, because what I got in response was an out and out pouting tantrum, AND a block.
Hell, I didn't know you could set a block, even on Time Suck Central, that would remove you from even mutual friends lists. Make you totally invisible.
And oh, how I laughed then! It was the single BEST moment of being on Time Suck Central.
I did the mature thing. I posted my status as "I attract the freaks and nutbars even in the virtual world. So nice to know."
I was unblocked within two hours, so I'm guess that the Olympian contender Whack Job Gold definitely should be hers.
Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't wish bad things to happen to her (okay, after the first two years or so of not having any contact with her in any way, I mean,) I just really really NEVER wanted to have to look at or think about her again. With her waving like a loon to get my attention, I HAD to think about her, and I got to rethink all about how much I didn't like her. All over again.
On the first request, I hit ignore without thinking about it.
On the second request, I thought about it for a while, then hit ignore.
On the third request, I also received a message from her. Ugh. I can't just hit ignore.
Crap.
Her message was written from the POV that we had simply lost touch with each other. And with the premise that she wasn't a whack job from whay back.
I wanted to just reply "who are you, and how would I know you?" But my Inner Bitch was screaming, even after 20 years, for retaliatory brutality. I didn't cave. I consulted a very wise woman who recommended not going passive-aggressive, nor aggressive-aggressive. Just be honest.
"I don't recall liking you very much when I knew you. I really don't want to be friends."
God, I LOVE that. It should be available on a t-shirt. Really.
That's what I replied. Exactly that. And, oh my! the insanity that lunged at me! I got back what was the single most beautiful attempt at subtle manipulation I've ever encountered. Lil' Miss Must Be Friends had been practicing.
A parried that attempt as well. "Thank you for your reply. It confirms that I made the right decision." hit home. Must've, because what I got in response was an out and out pouting tantrum, AND a block.
Hell, I didn't know you could set a block, even on Time Suck Central, that would remove you from even mutual friends lists. Make you totally invisible.
And oh, how I laughed then! It was the single BEST moment of being on Time Suck Central.
I did the mature thing. I posted my status as "I attract the freaks and nutbars even in the virtual world. So nice to know."
I was unblocked within two hours, so I'm guess that the Olympian contender Whack Job Gold definitely should be hers.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Y Chromosome
I love my husband, truly I do.
With that said, someone please explain to me Y when he gets an idea in his head to do something, it must be done EXACTLY THIS MINUTE?! It cannot wait even 10 minutes beyond THIS EXACT MINUTE.
Last evening, he was outside scraping the leaves off the garden beds. (YAY Spring!) He noticed that the grapevine, which should by rights be dead but isn't, needed pruned.
That means that today, when he got home from work, that grapevine MUST BE PRUNED. THIS EXACT MINUTE. Doesn't matter that he's mentioned it, only in passing. Doesn't matter that neither of us knows the how-tos and whereofs of doing it. RIGHT NOW. is the ONLY TIME EVER that he will have to prune it. Tomorrow would be too late. And waiting for me to call, or email, someone who would know would take wayyyyyy to long.
Then he's hurt because I'm grumpy. Go figure.
With that said, someone please explain to me Y when he gets an idea in his head to do something, it must be done EXACTLY THIS MINUTE?! It cannot wait even 10 minutes beyond THIS EXACT MINUTE.
Last evening, he was outside scraping the leaves off the garden beds. (YAY Spring!) He noticed that the grapevine, which should by rights be dead but isn't, needed pruned.
That means that today, when he got home from work, that grapevine MUST BE PRUNED. THIS EXACT MINUTE. Doesn't matter that he's mentioned it, only in passing. Doesn't matter that neither of us knows the how-tos and whereofs of doing it. RIGHT NOW. is the ONLY TIME EVER that he will have to prune it. Tomorrow would be too late. And waiting for me to call, or email, someone who would know would take wayyyyyy to long.
Then he's hurt because I'm grumpy. Go figure.
Dope-O-Riffic
So much is happening in our neighborhood! Where, oh where, do I begin?
With the Clog-dancers on the other side of the wall.
First, let's talk about just flat out how WEIRD they are. And what slobs. Seriously. Having to duct tape the crack around the door that connects the basements to contain the smell to their side is a pretty severe stench, don't you think? Considering that we have 3 cats..and they have 3 cats...and no, it's not that we're used to our cats' smelly boxes. Our cat boxes get CLEANED OUT. And we don't pile all our garbage we're too lazy to take to the curb for pick up in the basement, either.
Second, they have a 3 year old. He's never wearing shoes when we see him--even in the dead of winter, he's not wearing shoes. I don't know why.
Third, they never let the kid out. Really, the kid stands in the screened open windows, winter and summer, like he's amazed there is a world out there. Occasionally, he'll pound on the windows in an effort to escape. And yes, there's ALWAYS an open window or six at their house--even in the winter.
Fourth, she has a boyfriend who has been staying over. And no, not when he's at work. While he's there. The guy has been here more than he's not been here lately, and we've suspected that he was living there. Mr Dope has been at home WITH the guy, when Ms Dope goes to work. The guy has spent the night there, with the family.
Yeah. Ewwwww just doesn't cover it.
With the Clog-dancers on the other side of the wall.
First, let's talk about just flat out how WEIRD they are. And what slobs. Seriously. Having to duct tape the crack around the door that connects the basements to contain the smell to their side is a pretty severe stench, don't you think? Considering that we have 3 cats..and they have 3 cats...and no, it's not that we're used to our cats' smelly boxes. Our cat boxes get CLEANED OUT. And we don't pile all our garbage we're too lazy to take to the curb for pick up in the basement, either.
Second, they have a 3 year old. He's never wearing shoes when we see him--even in the dead of winter, he's not wearing shoes. I don't know why.
Third, they never let the kid out. Really, the kid stands in the screened open windows, winter and summer, like he's amazed there is a world out there. Occasionally, he'll pound on the windows in an effort to escape. And yes, there's ALWAYS an open window or six at their house--even in the winter.
Fourth, she has a boyfriend who has been staying over. And no, not when he's at work. While he's there. The guy has been here more than he's not been here lately, and we've suspected that he was living there. Mr Dope has been at home WITH the guy, when Ms Dope goes to work. The guy has spent the night there, with the family.
Yeah. Ewwwww just doesn't cover it.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Neighbors in the Mumple Zone
My immediate next-door neighbors are strange.
They have windows open all year round (we live in western PA, for God's sake!) and they run FANS on-and-off throughout the winter, too.
They clog their kitchen drain with grease. Then can't figure out why it's clogged.
Their smell comes through the connecting-basement door (did I mention it's a duplex?) We have to duct tape the door to keep the stench down. And yes, it's worse than Ass Caverns, the Toad's room.
They're jarred the ballast in the downstairs light fixtures so often, that they've been replaced at least once a year since they've moved in. They don't know how to change lightbulbs.
Their toddler son stands in the windows, during summer, scratching at the screens. We think he's trying to escape.
They keep weird hours. Like all night long hours.
Currently, it sounds like they are clog dancing on the walls.
Most of this wouldn't be too much of an issue (the last tenants had sex in the living room every day for the first 8 months they lived there--I know this, because my basement is partway under their house and we could HEAR them, sometimes, through the walls, too.) except that, well, they are LARGE people. Supersized people.
Okay, there's no way 'round it. They're fat.
And when I hear the clog dancing begin, I get worried...if they are clog dancing on the walls, there's a pretty good chance they're coming through the walls at some point. And the reek with them.
Oh, and if I go over and knock on their door? There's a really good chance someone is answering that door without a shirt on. And it's not necessarily HIM. Bwah.
They have windows open all year round (we live in western PA, for God's sake!) and they run FANS on-and-off throughout the winter, too.
They clog their kitchen drain with grease. Then can't figure out why it's clogged.
Their smell comes through the connecting-basement door (did I mention it's a duplex?) We have to duct tape the door to keep the stench down. And yes, it's worse than Ass Caverns, the Toad's room.
They're jarred the ballast in the downstairs light fixtures so often, that they've been replaced at least once a year since they've moved in. They don't know how to change lightbulbs.
Their toddler son stands in the windows, during summer, scratching at the screens. We think he's trying to escape.
They keep weird hours. Like all night long hours.
Currently, it sounds like they are clog dancing on the walls.
Most of this wouldn't be too much of an issue (the last tenants had sex in the living room every day for the first 8 months they lived there--I know this, because my basement is partway under their house and we could HEAR them, sometimes, through the walls, too.) except that, well, they are LARGE people. Supersized people.
Okay, there's no way 'round it. They're fat.
And when I hear the clog dancing begin, I get worried...if they are clog dancing on the walls, there's a pretty good chance they're coming through the walls at some point. And the reek with them.
Oh, and if I go over and knock on their door? There's a really good chance someone is answering that door without a shirt on. And it's not necessarily HIM. Bwah.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Best EVER
The company I work for has decided that the best way to convince the consuming masses to continue to consume (ie spend loads of money with us) is to be all-up-in-yer-face with the whole customer service bit.
That means that there is never a customer in our store that is not harrassed into spending money or running for the doors when approached by EVERY.ASSOCIATE.EVER. asking some form of "how can I force you to accept my help today?"
Last night at work, I received the best customer response ever. And I am, of course, taking it out of context:
Me, in Full-On-Annoyo-Mode: "Hi. Can I help you find anything today?"
Customer: "My husband needs a screw."
That means that there is never a customer in our store that is not harrassed into spending money or running for the doors when approached by EVERY.ASSOCIATE.EVER. asking some form of "how can I force you to accept my help today?"
Last night at work, I received the best customer response ever. And I am, of course, taking it out of context:
Me, in Full-On-Annoyo-Mode: "Hi. Can I help you find anything today?"
Customer: "My husband needs a screw."
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Oddiments
In the past few months, I've ventured into the time suck world of facebook. I avoided it as long as possible, but eventually had to join to see pics of my Howler from Christmas. So, over all, an honorable reason for caving, or so I tell myself.
But this isn't about my justifying my cavyness, it's about how totally nuts some people are, and my shock at discovering it over and over and over again. (Just when I thought it was safe to acknowledge I knew ye...)
Anyway, I've posted about my crazyassed neighbor before. Anyway, she ended up with my email addy. Which, all things considered, I'd rather be able to delete her email than have to listen to her voice--getting on the phone with her can be worse than being on the phone with my mother. Trust me, email is a waaaaaay better option. So, she started sending me emails to join this thing or that thing...mostly so I can see pictures of her and her Loser boyfriend. Uh, no, thanks. Much as I'd like to see your 48DDD knockers in a bridesmaid dress....PSYCH! I mean, NOT!
Yeah, that.
So I get on Time Suck Central and eventually decide to go whole hog and look her up. And send her a friend request. And invite her to be my neighbor on one of the Time Suck Games.
This is the nutty part: She does NOT accept or ignore my requests. She instead invites me to JOIN FACEBOOK. Then proceeds to send me gifts and the crap that you can do when you play the Time Suck Game.
And then people wonder why I hear circus music when I see them.
But this isn't about my justifying my cavyness, it's about how totally nuts some people are, and my shock at discovering it over and over and over again. (Just when I thought it was safe to acknowledge I knew ye...)
Anyway, I've posted about my crazyassed neighbor before. Anyway, she ended up with my email addy. Which, all things considered, I'd rather be able to delete her email than have to listen to her voice--getting on the phone with her can be worse than being on the phone with my mother. Trust me, email is a waaaaaay better option. So, she started sending me emails to join this thing or that thing...mostly so I can see pictures of her and her Loser boyfriend. Uh, no, thanks. Much as I'd like to see your 48DDD knockers in a bridesmaid dress....PSYCH! I mean, NOT!
Yeah, that.
So I get on Time Suck Central and eventually decide to go whole hog and look her up. And send her a friend request. And invite her to be my neighbor on one of the Time Suck Games.
This is the nutty part: She does NOT accept or ignore my requests. She instead invites me to JOIN FACEBOOK. Then proceeds to send me gifts and the crap that you can do when you play the Time Suck Game.
And then people wonder why I hear circus music when I see them.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Phonophobia
It's a real thing, and it's really called that.
It's also really really annoying.
Why am I ranting about this now? The Smiling Cashier is afraid to use the phone. If she's covering one of the desks, you can bet your sweet ass that YOU will be answering the phone. In the off-hand chance she does answer the phone, she's going to transfer it to you anyway, no matter how deep in customer issues you may be.
She's also not going to answer simple questions regarding return policy (even though, it's my opinion that if you work for this retail megalomonolith, you should be able to know and understand the basic return policy by the time you've collected 2 paychecks--process a return? Not necessarily, but understand the policy that directs the return process: Yes, absolutely.
She doesn't page. Most of the time, if she has dialed the 3 digits that will connect her to the person most able to provide her with change/register tape/whatever and has either reached a busy signal OR is not connected, she simply gives up.
She generally doesn't dial the 3 digits that will connect her to a supervisor, manager, or department.
A few days ago, she was at the return desk (hence the beginning of the rant about not answering the simplest of questions) and she asks ME to call the guy with the key to get her register tape. I told her, out of sheer frustration at her stupidity, "I'm not a head cashier. Call 806." Unfortunately, 806 was walking near me at that point, so I had no choice but to do her bidding. Damm!
Last night, she walked PAST 3 other red vests, and several phones to ask me to call a department for a customer. It took everything I had to not pick up the phone, hand it to her, dial the numbers and tell HER to do the talking.
Afterwards, I turned to 806 and said, "PLEASE TEACH HER TO USE THE PHONE! Did you see her WALK AWAY FROM THE PHONE NEAREST TO HER, past a bank of working phones and TWO OTHER people to ask ME to do her job for her? TEACH HER TO USE THE PHONE. TODAY." What the hell does she do when I'm not there?
And then they call me "mean" when I say things like she couldn't find her ass with both hands, a map, and a tour guide.
It's also really really annoying.
Why am I ranting about this now? The Smiling Cashier is afraid to use the phone. If she's covering one of the desks, you can bet your sweet ass that YOU will be answering the phone. In the off-hand chance she does answer the phone, she's going to transfer it to you anyway, no matter how deep in customer issues you may be.
She's also not going to answer simple questions regarding return policy (even though, it's my opinion that if you work for this retail megalomonolith, you should be able to know and understand the basic return policy by the time you've collected 2 paychecks--process a return? Not necessarily, but understand the policy that directs the return process: Yes, absolutely.
She doesn't page. Most of the time, if she has dialed the 3 digits that will connect her to the person most able to provide her with change/register tape/whatever and has either reached a busy signal OR is not connected, she simply gives up.
She generally doesn't dial the 3 digits that will connect her to a supervisor, manager, or department.
A few days ago, she was at the return desk (hence the beginning of the rant about not answering the simplest of questions) and she asks ME to call the guy with the key to get her register tape. I told her, out of sheer frustration at her stupidity, "I'm not a head cashier. Call 806." Unfortunately, 806 was walking near me at that point, so I had no choice but to do her bidding. Damm!
Last night, she walked PAST 3 other red vests, and several phones to ask me to call a department for a customer. It took everything I had to not pick up the phone, hand it to her, dial the numbers and tell HER to do the talking.
Afterwards, I turned to 806 and said, "PLEASE TEACH HER TO USE THE PHONE! Did you see her WALK AWAY FROM THE PHONE NEAREST TO HER, past a bank of working phones and TWO OTHER people to ask ME to do her job for her? TEACH HER TO USE THE PHONE. TODAY." What the hell does she do when I'm not there?
And then they call me "mean" when I say things like she couldn't find her ass with both hands, a map, and a tour guide.
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