You better be sitting for this one.
I just don't know how it happened. When. Why. It's terrible, reprehensible. Who could do this to me?
I have to keep busy to stop myself from breaking down and crying.
I mean, it's just so vile. I've lost all faith in humanity.
You've probably guessed what's happened by now, so I'll just say it outright.
Sir Baron Bouncy Biggles Barnum Baxter Francis III. Is...
Missing!
...I need a moment here.
Just breathe. Breaaathe....
...I promised myself I wouldn't cry.
Who knew that the rubber band that I added to Sir Bouncy on Wednesday would be his last. I don't know what's worse, the fact that he's missing or the fact that I don't know if he's happy or safe. Is he cold or hungry? Did one of those slimy interns take him or (gasp!) throw him away? I knew their annoyingly helpful attitude was just a front for their fiendish plans. Is he being violated, tortured by having his rubber bands removed slowly, one by one? Is he being taken care of? He needs more rubber bands to survive!
I think I just need to go home early and rest. It's been a trying day and I just can't look at that empty spot in my paper clip holder anymore. It's too much to take!
It's just...we've been together so long. I remember when I first made him. It was when I first started working here. I started with his heart, a small balled up piece of scrap paper. I took every single rubber band I could find on my desk and shaped him into the young man he became before he was so suddenly taken from me. I've watched him grow from a tiny little oval-shaped thing into a beautiful round ball who would bounce for me whenever I got bored. He was growing so big and had such a bright future. I was so proud of his accomplishments.
I just don't think I can ever feel safe at work again if people can just kidnap other people's rubber band balls without even leaving a ransom note. What kind of atrociously abhorrent astihophobic world world do we live in? I'm afraid to even think about beginning another--it could never fill the hole in my heart that Sir Bouncy made when he disappeared and I couldn't bear the trauma of losing another of my precious creations.
So boys and girls, the lesson to this story is this: Hold your office supply creations tight, for you never know when they might bounce away from you forever.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Being Sick is Not Awesome.
Let's talk about being sick. Why? Because I'm sick right now.
This is stupid. It's the beginning of June and I've got a freaking cold. I never get colds in the beginning of June because there's never a reason to get a cold in the beginning of June. I mean, seriously, weather? I don't know if anybody told you, but this is California, not the Midwest. We don't get thunderstorms and tornado warnings in June in California. People should be complaining about how hot it is now because even though it gets super hot every year, they seem to forget that fact by the time winter's over. It's like everybody doesn't realize that they live in California and it's going to get crazy melt-your-eyeballs-out hot.
Usually in June, I'm freaking out because I'm frantically studying for finals while trying to finish that one paper that my sadistic professor decided to have due on the day of the final. Seriously, who does that? And I'm all worried that I didn't study enough and that I'll fail whatever final it is and ultimately fail the class, which I have never done so it's kind of an unfounded worry, but I do it anyway.
Back to being sick. I went to work yesterday. Meaning, I got my sick and delirious ass up at 8 a.m., somehow got ready and drove 26.6 miles to work, where I was barraged with questions from my boss about why I was there and how I got there. After I confirmed that, yes, I did drive myself, the conversation ended with "you don't look good."
Great. So not only did I feel like a puddle of brain mush and snot, I looked like it too. It didn't help that I just got new glasses a few days ago and my eyes are still trying to adjust to being able to see so clearly when they were just fine with the slightly blurry vision that my old glasses provided me. So I had this kind of eyes-not-focusing-and-getting-slightly-dizzy shit going on and I couldn't tell if it was the cold or the glasses.
So I tried to work. And I'm sure I made many mistakes and I'm surprised that I didn't manage to somehow blow the whole building up even though I didn't have access to anything that would cause anything to blow up. And then I went home early because I wanted to leave before the big storm hit (and apparently, before all those tornado warnings...yes, tornado warnings. Thanks, weather.) and because I didn't want to blow everything up and I probably scared all of our patrons because nobody wants to see a big puddle of brain mush and snot when they come into a library.
So I may be turning into a zombie. It's not yet confirmed, but I'm starting to smell a bit like dead flesh and I can't help but drool when I pet Luna's head, like I can just smell her delicious brains, and that's never happened before so I'm sure it's not a good sign. So if you have to shoot my brains out because I'm trying to eat yours, then I forgive you in advance.
This is stupid. It's the beginning of June and I've got a freaking cold. I never get colds in the beginning of June because there's never a reason to get a cold in the beginning of June. I mean, seriously, weather? I don't know if anybody told you, but this is California, not the Midwest. We don't get thunderstorms and tornado warnings in June in California. People should be complaining about how hot it is now because even though it gets super hot every year, they seem to forget that fact by the time winter's over. It's like everybody doesn't realize that they live in California and it's going to get crazy melt-your-eyeballs-out hot.
Usually in June, I'm freaking out because I'm frantically studying for finals while trying to finish that one paper that my sadistic professor decided to have due on the day of the final. Seriously, who does that? And I'm all worried that I didn't study enough and that I'll fail whatever final it is and ultimately fail the class, which I have never done so it's kind of an unfounded worry, but I do it anyway.
Back to being sick. I went to work yesterday. Meaning, I got my sick and delirious ass up at 8 a.m., somehow got ready and drove 26.6 miles to work, where I was barraged with questions from my boss about why I was there and how I got there. After I confirmed that, yes, I did drive myself, the conversation ended with "you don't look good."
Great. So not only did I feel like a puddle of brain mush and snot, I looked like it too. It didn't help that I just got new glasses a few days ago and my eyes are still trying to adjust to being able to see so clearly when they were just fine with the slightly blurry vision that my old glasses provided me. So I had this kind of eyes-not-focusing-and-getting-slightly-dizzy shit going on and I couldn't tell if it was the cold or the glasses.
So I tried to work. And I'm sure I made many mistakes and I'm surprised that I didn't manage to somehow blow the whole building up even though I didn't have access to anything that would cause anything to blow up. And then I went home early because I wanted to leave before the big storm hit (and apparently, before all those tornado warnings...yes, tornado warnings. Thanks, weather.) and because I didn't want to blow everything up and I probably scared all of our patrons because nobody wants to see a big puddle of brain mush and snot when they come into a library.
So I may be turning into a zombie. It's not yet confirmed, but I'm starting to smell a bit like dead flesh and I can't help but drool when I pet Luna's head, like I can just smell her delicious brains, and that's never happened before so I'm sure it's not a good sign. So if you have to shoot my brains out because I'm trying to eat yours, then I forgive you in advance.
Monday, July 26, 2010
How to be a good customer
My life is depressing. I have a college degree and work a part-time retail job for $.50 over minimum wage (do they not put the cent symbol on keyboards anymore or am I retarded because I can't find it?). But instead of a woe-is-me rant in which I explain all the ways that my life sucks more than yours, I'm going to do something else...rant about why people suck more than I do.
See, in order to help your local retail salesperson from going insane and turning into a raging, hairy, one-eyed fire-breathing monster that's foaming from the mouth, there's a few things you must do. Otherwise, said retail person may go crazy, get sent to jail, and then come after you as soon as he/she gets out and do something childish and annoying, like take all your clothes out of your closet and throw them around the room, or stand at the foot of your bed on a cell phone while staring at you.
I hope I got your attention. This is an important issue...I just want to make sure you don't take it too lightly because there are serious implications if you do.
Now that I've created as much drama as possible, let's get to the point. Here are some things you should absolutely NOT do to any cashier or retail salesperson.
1. Create a mess. The best part of the day for anyone working in retail is when you're almost finished with a task. Folding clothes that just arrived on a shipment isn't the most fun you'll ever have in the world, but it's bearable. But if you go to put those clothes away on the shelf only to find that Hurricane Inconsiderate has created a Class 5 disaster area, then congratulations! Your day just got a whole lot worse. Now, I know that nobody can fold as great as a retail pro, but the next time you go to pull out that t-shirt at the bottom of the pile, do it gently. It's not like the tablecloth magic trick where if you do it fast enough and at the right angle, nothing falls. No, things are guaranteed to fall and cause havoc. And if you decide you don't want that t-shirt anymore, take two pieces of advice from me: 1, try to make up your mind before destroying a perfect display and 2, fold it up as best you can quickly and lay it on top of the other shirts. Don't even THINK about shoving it back underneath the pile of shirts. We will come after you.
2. Shove money in our faces. Look, I know you're in a hurry. So am I. I'm in a hurry to get out of the Chinese torture method they call retail and go home. But shoving money in my face while I'm still scanning your stupid gummy worms won't make things go any faster. All you're succeeding at here is making the person behind the counter angry at you for being so impatient. Most of the time, we move slower when that happens.
3. Talk on your cell phone. I can tell you're oh-so-important by the way you talked away on your cell phone the entire time you were in the store. I get it. I'm impressed--really, I am. But when you come up to the counter, could you please, maybe if you have the time, get off your cell phone? I don't want you to miss an important conversation about your friend having an affair with some married guy, but I would like to be acknowledged as a person. It kinda helps my self-esteem, which can't be too high since, you know, I do work in retail. For only $.50 more than minimum wage, remember? Human interaction is something that helps keep me from going crazy, and if I'm deprived of it and instead get stuck listening to your conversation about where you should buy a new bra, I feel like breaking that goddamn cell phone and shoving it up your ass so it can be closer to your brain, you dumb bitch! You, and your conversation, are NOT more important than me so show some damn respect! I fu---
Sorry. See, I tried being nice, but cell phone talkers make me so angry. Think of it this way: If I came to your house and talked on my cell phone the entire time, you'd get pretty pissed, right? Well, so do I. So stop doing it!
4. Just not talking. There's nothing more awkward than a person that buys a shitload of crap and doesn't say a single word to you as you're ringing him up. So if you'd rather avoid the conversation, don't buy a whole lot at a time, or just suck it up and talk about the weather or something. Again, it's that whole human interaction thing. If you spent all day dusting condom boxes and folding booty shorts then you start to long for another human being to talk to. If that doesn't happen, you just start talking to yourself. I won't go into specifics, but that can end badly. For you and the store. I'm just sayin'...
5. Flirting. Unless you're the absolute hottest person in the entire world (and, sorry to say, chances are you're not), there is a huge chance that the girl scanning your socks doesn't want your number. It's not that she doesn't like you. But there is a giant line behind you and she has a lot of work to do. And let's face it, meeting the love of your life while checking them out for $50 worth of drinks and snacks isn't the greatest love story of all time. In fact, it might be the lamest. Plus, if she already has a boyfriend, then she might just get annoyed or maybe even laugh at you if you start reciting Chaucer's Canterbury Tales to her (true story). And you don't want to be laughed at, do you?
6. Asking dumb questions. Try looking for something for at least 30 seconds before you ask somebody. Because if you just ask for headphones as soon as you get into the store and they're right next to the counter, you risk looking like an idiot and getting bashed on the head for asking the same question that the 20 people in the store before you asked.
So there you have it. Six simple tips to keeping your friendly neighborhood retail salesperson friendly and out of jail. Please follow them, or bear the consequences...MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
See, in order to help your local retail salesperson from going insane and turning into a raging, hairy, one-eyed fire-breathing monster that's foaming from the mouth, there's a few things you must do. Otherwise, said retail person may go crazy, get sent to jail, and then come after you as soon as he/she gets out and do something childish and annoying, like take all your clothes out of your closet and throw them around the room, or stand at the foot of your bed on a cell phone while staring at you.
I hope I got your attention. This is an important issue...I just want to make sure you don't take it too lightly because there are serious implications if you do.
Now that I've created as much drama as possible, let's get to the point. Here are some things you should absolutely NOT do to any cashier or retail salesperson.
1. Create a mess. The best part of the day for anyone working in retail is when you're almost finished with a task. Folding clothes that just arrived on a shipment isn't the most fun you'll ever have in the world, but it's bearable. But if you go to put those clothes away on the shelf only to find that Hurricane Inconsiderate has created a Class 5 disaster area, then congratulations! Your day just got a whole lot worse. Now, I know that nobody can fold as great as a retail pro, but the next time you go to pull out that t-shirt at the bottom of the pile, do it gently. It's not like the tablecloth magic trick where if you do it fast enough and at the right angle, nothing falls. No, things are guaranteed to fall and cause havoc. And if you decide you don't want that t-shirt anymore, take two pieces of advice from me: 1, try to make up your mind before destroying a perfect display and 2, fold it up as best you can quickly and lay it on top of the other shirts. Don't even THINK about shoving it back underneath the pile of shirts. We will come after you.
2. Shove money in our faces. Look, I know you're in a hurry. So am I. I'm in a hurry to get out of the Chinese torture method they call retail and go home. But shoving money in my face while I'm still scanning your stupid gummy worms won't make things go any faster. All you're succeeding at here is making the person behind the counter angry at you for being so impatient. Most of the time, we move slower when that happens.
3. Talk on your cell phone. I can tell you're oh-so-important by the way you talked away on your cell phone the entire time you were in the store. I get it. I'm impressed--really, I am. But when you come up to the counter, could you please, maybe if you have the time, get off your cell phone? I don't want you to miss an important conversation about your friend having an affair with some married guy, but I would like to be acknowledged as a person. It kinda helps my self-esteem, which can't be too high since, you know, I do work in retail. For only $.50 more than minimum wage, remember? Human interaction is something that helps keep me from going crazy, and if I'm deprived of it and instead get stuck listening to your conversation about where you should buy a new bra, I feel like breaking that goddamn cell phone and shoving it up your ass so it can be closer to your brain, you dumb bitch! You, and your conversation, are NOT more important than me so show some damn respect! I fu---
Sorry. See, I tried being nice, but cell phone talkers make me so angry. Think of it this way: If I came to your house and talked on my cell phone the entire time, you'd get pretty pissed, right? Well, so do I. So stop doing it!
4. Just not talking. There's nothing more awkward than a person that buys a shitload of crap and doesn't say a single word to you as you're ringing him up. So if you'd rather avoid the conversation, don't buy a whole lot at a time, or just suck it up and talk about the weather or something. Again, it's that whole human interaction thing. If you spent all day dusting condom boxes and folding booty shorts then you start to long for another human being to talk to. If that doesn't happen, you just start talking to yourself. I won't go into specifics, but that can end badly. For you and the store. I'm just sayin'...
5. Flirting. Unless you're the absolute hottest person in the entire world (and, sorry to say, chances are you're not), there is a huge chance that the girl scanning your socks doesn't want your number. It's not that she doesn't like you. But there is a giant line behind you and she has a lot of work to do. And let's face it, meeting the love of your life while checking them out for $50 worth of drinks and snacks isn't the greatest love story of all time. In fact, it might be the lamest. Plus, if she already has a boyfriend, then she might just get annoyed or maybe even laugh at you if you start reciting Chaucer's Canterbury Tales to her (true story). And you don't want to be laughed at, do you?
6. Asking dumb questions. Try looking for something for at least 30 seconds before you ask somebody. Because if you just ask for headphones as soon as you get into the store and they're right next to the counter, you risk looking like an idiot and getting bashed on the head for asking the same question that the 20 people in the store before you asked.
So there you have it. Six simple tips to keeping your friendly neighborhood retail salesperson friendly and out of jail. Please follow them, or bear the consequences...MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
NO! It's NOT a party in the USA!
Dear gym:
I beg of you, please please PLEASE stop playing that stupid Miley Cyrus song. You know the one I'm talking about. For the love of my last remaining thread of sanity, just stop! I've had the song stuck in my head ever since coming home from work at 4 and I am not amused.
Look, I know I'm just a lowly employee of the pro shop and not one of your valued exercise fiends, but I think I deserve just a little respect. I mean, does this really jazz up the people on the exercise bikes? Maybe they're trying to pedal faster to get away from that damn song!
I worked the entire weekend. I worked the past four days, and you never fail to play that song. Are you trying to torture us? Is this some sick twisted psychology experiment designed to test how far a person can be pushed before going apeshit insane? If so, I think four days of such a test is quite enough. Any further, and you may find me under the counter in the fetal position chanting "party in the USA."
There will no longer be a party in the USA, gym, if you do not straighten up. I know you're toying with me now because last time you were playing good music. I was singing along to the Beach Boys when it faded out in the middle of the song. And what should happen to fade in at that point? You guessed it...MILEY F$@KING CYRUS!
Do you really want to be responsible for the mental breakdown of an employee, gym? Do you think that'll look good on your part? Consider this a warning. If I hear "Party in the USA" one more time, I may begin to think I'm Miley Cyrus and run around the gym yelling "HANNAH MONTANA FOREVER!" while grinding on the exercise equipment. Do you really want that?
Think about it.
I beg of you, please please PLEASE stop playing that stupid Miley Cyrus song. You know the one I'm talking about. For the love of my last remaining thread of sanity, just stop! I've had the song stuck in my head ever since coming home from work at 4 and I am not amused.
Look, I know I'm just a lowly employee of the pro shop and not one of your valued exercise fiends, but I think I deserve just a little respect. I mean, does this really jazz up the people on the exercise bikes? Maybe they're trying to pedal faster to get away from that damn song!
I worked the entire weekend. I worked the past four days, and you never fail to play that song. Are you trying to torture us? Is this some sick twisted psychology experiment designed to test how far a person can be pushed before going apeshit insane? If so, I think four days of such a test is quite enough. Any further, and you may find me under the counter in the fetal position chanting "party in the USA."
There will no longer be a party in the USA, gym, if you do not straighten up. I know you're toying with me now because last time you were playing good music. I was singing along to the Beach Boys when it faded out in the middle of the song. And what should happen to fade in at that point? You guessed it...MILEY F$@KING CYRUS!
Do you really want to be responsible for the mental breakdown of an employee, gym? Do you think that'll look good on your part? Consider this a warning. If I hear "Party in the USA" one more time, I may begin to think I'm Miley Cyrus and run around the gym yelling "HANNAH MONTANA FOREVER!" while grinding on the exercise equipment. Do you really want that?
Think about it.
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