January 31, 2015
I should have known there was potential trouble when they installed a point of sale computer and the only way they could look you up was by phone number. The old owners and I had an understanding; I would immediately throw away their silly pink tickets and they would keep track of my cloths. With these new folks no tickie (or in this case no remember wife's cell number because it's programmed in) no washie. You could spell your name all you wanted it didn't matter. Either they weren't trained on that search function or they didn't pay for the name search upgrade. But I learned to live with this minor annoyance.
Then they really screwed up. I was getting ready for a business trip and I undid the twist tie of suits that were just picked up the day before. Inside was a brown checked thing made for a dude that easily lugged around a hundred more pounds than I do. So no only are these new people sizeists (all big men look the same to them) but they cant keep people's stuff straight. I would have noticed another larger than normal human on drop-off day so I know there wasn't a counter top mix up. Anyway, I had to pack so my wife ran over to fix the problem.
She just wanted to exchange the big loud brown on for my more conservative little less big suit. Their response was that she was wrong and that was my garment. She flipped her shit. I wasn't there so I can't really go in to detail but I do know that she threw it behind the counter and told them to keep it. She also let them know that they were losing a once a week regular... but there was no response or customer service save attempt. This was more than two weeks ago.
I had to go in today and pick up the remaining couple shirts and a pair of pants that they still had. They knew my name this time when I walked in and even had my stuff at the ready. The woman ended our transaction with "see you next week" and I had to inform her that losing a new suit means I will never go there again. She started to argue and her husband walked up but I put my pointer finger to my lips and shhhhh'd them. "If you keep talking I'll sue you in small claims court for the $400. You are bad at this job by the way. You both should really think about doing something else with your lives." I do so enjoy a direct eye contact stunned silence.
January 29, 2015
I've witnessed a bunch of conversations go awry recently because the person moving their mouth could not fathom any perspective other than their own. This has been stuck in my skull for the last two weeks and the more I think about it the more it seems to show up. I'll give you an example:
My wife went sideways with someone in the neighborhood which is a rare occasion and I wish I would have been there but this was a female only gathering. Anyway, the conversation somehow spun around to wrestling which I've mentioned before that our son tried for the first time this year. One of the attendees started spouting off about incurable wrestling related diseases even saying that she would not let her child participate in the sport because of that.
She had no idea that the rest of her thought was basically "and anyone who would let their son do that is a bad parent." So she was shocked when my normally mild mannered bride wheeled with guns blazing. So surprised in fact that she chose a hasty exit over further confrontation.This is truly the fourth example in two weeks of people being stunned by the impact of their own words. I don't get it. Maybe because I over think most things and even when I fire off a comment from the hip I automatically know the absolute worst way it can be perceived. It's not a knack or a gift I just listen and pay attention. So much so that I have a storehouse of shots squirreled away in my brain. It's one of my favorite mental collections.
And by the way if I deliver a shot I am trying draw blood. Sometimes it might be a pin prick and other times its a jailhouse shiv ventilation. Either way, words meant to hurt not to accidentally offend.
But when I do try and lob a marshmallow and a hammer accidentally flies from my hand I realize it and attempt to mitigate the damage with a pile of apology. Most people when cornered with a mouthful of foot answer with the ever impressive... "what? that's not what I meant. they don't think that." ~quote from actual recent conversation This thing has no point. I can't tell people to think more before they speak because I don't always practice that discipline myself. Maybe I should start advising folks to be more deliberate? no, that's just weird.
January 27, 2015
This pressure is both real and artificial but knowing about the stuff I'm putting on myself doesn't make it go away. I am having that stuck on a treadmill feeling with work for the first time since I started this job and I remember what it feels like to no longer be gruntled. This is probably in part due to things going on around me at home as well but the focus and the reason my brain wont shut off is definitely work.
I have so much to do that anything or anyone getting in the way of that is an annoyance. Petty requests about nonsense immediately burrow deep under my skin but the nature of my job dictates that every problem gets treated like the most important thing that has ever presented itself. It is exhausting.
Now add in a rash of my current verbal foibles and you have a recipe for disaster. If you say the words "needless to say..." my mind automatically thinks THEN DON'T. I am plagued by words that the mutterer knows they do not have to add in to the conversation. I am baffled and this week I have spoken to more on a percentage basis than ever before.
Also if you say the words "you know what I'm sayin?" my brain flips out. YES I UNDERSTAND YOU! WE ARE SPEAKING ENGLISH AND IF I HAVE ANY QUESTIONS I WILL POSE THEM IN THE SAME LANGUAGE WHEN MY NEXT TURN TO SPEAK ROLLS AROUND. You know what I'm sayin? I have a burning urge to answer that every time. "Yes, I understand completely." or "No, could you elaborate?" holy crapcakes.
Add in this ridiculously names super storm that is hitting the east coast right now and I can't hang up the phone and take a breath before it rings again. I am just two days in to this week and I want nothing more than a nap. I'm only writing this as I wait for some people to call me from the other coast. I keep hearing that music from the old Ed Sullivan Show clip where the dude's talent is spinning plates. I need to find that...
January 25, 2015
Flying right now sucks. Airlines over sell most flights and charge you extra whenever possible. They don't understand that if they waived the check bag charge and just included a lower average increase on every ticket they could save themselves a lot of trouble on each flight and make more money. The $25 is so oppressive to some people that they will over-stuff a carry-on bag to the point that it cant be crammed into the bin. And if you have been on a plane lately you know that the loading time just before takeoff has some palpable anxiety.
Folks pulling their trolley behind them down the isle with another bag slung over the shoulder looking up into the bins for any sign of free space. And the stated rule if you find none is to wait until everyone else sits down and then walk your bag back to the front so the stewardesses can do what you should have in the first place.
People boarding the flight after the first two groups have almost no shot at overhead bin space. So most of them are given the option to gate check their bags. This is free and only adds a couple minutes if any time at all to their trip. Those bags are loaded last and unloaded first right in the gangway as you exit. Sure sometimes there is a slight delay but if your trip is down to minutes then you did some piss poor travel planning.
I pay to check a bag. I usually have to go that way anyway as the airport designers wisely placed the ground transportation next to the baggage claim. My average wait time is five minutes at most airports but it has been as long as fifteen. No big deal, I've got plenty of time. In fact I usually find a bathroom and then grab another drink for the ride. Like magic my bag appears and I'm on my way.
The other reason I do this is so my constant leather travel companion can ride up in the bin. He's not as big as a rolling carry-on but when you are six foot four that under seat in front of you real estate is precious. My weak status allows me to board at least second so I almost always find room. Friday night I was comfortably in my seat when a woman who boarded fifth started a ruckus.
She had pulled my bag out so everyone could see what she was talking about while she demanded to know whose bag it was. She said that she would keep that under the seat in front of her for the ride as if stating that out loud granted her permission. NO said I and she just stared at me so I continued in a stern even tone. "my bag is going to stay right where it is and you will stop touching it." The dude next to me shifted uncomfortably but I was all good.
She started to protest and look around for support but the other passengers were pretending her voice was inaudible. I just kept staring at her until she tucked it back in and glared at me. She even tried to protest to the crew but they just took her bag to the gate check. She sat in front of me and tried to burn me with an exaggerated can you believe that? to the guy next to her but it didn't work. My legs were completely stretched out and I was asleep before they finished pressurizing the cabin.
January 24, 2015
His friends hustled him out of the party to what I can only assume was the hospital but since this was not my crowd of friends I had no access to accurate followup information. No fancy internet or social media we were just left to whatever bullshit someone came up with that they heard from their cousins friend who knew a guy. I did check the local newspapers for the next couple of days and can distinctly remember being stunned that this wasn't front page news. When you are in High School your, or at least MY, world scope was very narrow. I choose to believe that they saved his sight.
From then on I obsessed a bit about the frailty of the eyes. Something with such an important function should be made of sterner stuff. The strength and armor equivalent of a ripe grape should not be in charge of all incoming visual data. Anyway, contact in any way with my eyeball scares me.
Those of you who wear contact lenses are freaks. You can touch your own eyes almost at will and it's just not right. I had someone today suggest that there was a topical something I could use to help my current situation and I stopped listening as my brain was already playing the thoughts. Nope.
But the current problem has spread which I am told is a normal part of the healing process. It doesn't stop it from scaring the crap out of me every time I glance in a mirror. I wore sun glasses driving around today because I kept catching glimpses of my malady in the rear-view. Holy crap I am a baby. As to make myself feel better I had a picture taken whilst holding things open wide.
January 22, 2015
So I stumbled my way to the bathroom in the dark for the final stages of productive coughing. In the final throws I went so hard as to see stars but I blamed some of that on the recent lack of oxygen. Business handled it was time to quickly wash up and grab the final remaining hours of sleep. I turned the light on, took care of some other unrelated business, and glanced in the mirror while washing my hands.
Holy H.R. Puff N Stuff! WTF is going on in my eye?! (full disclosure I took this later as I do not carry my phone constantly. also taking a picture of your eye is deceptively difficult and yes I realize that I should have cropped out all of that bathroom ceiling. bite me)
Now I was up and flipping the flock out. My adrenaline was pumping as I walked through all of the eye diseases and other maladies that were now manifesting in my right soul window. No exaggeration this scared the the living s*hit out of me and I'm not totally sure that I had any living excrement at all to that point. It took me twenty minutes of self examination followed by an hour of internet to calm down.
At some point I did remember the hard coughing and seeing of stars but well beyond the freak out midpoint. I am an normally a bit dim but 4:00am me is an amazing idiot.
Apparently there are folks who deal with these burst blood vessels on a regular basis thus proving once again that I am not made of the toughest stuff available. Now I have been teaching and interacting with humans all day looking like a movie villain. If they sold pirate patches in this hotel I would be a proud owner.
January 21, 2015
It turns out that I didn't miss much actual living. More than a dozen recommended videos mostly of amazing amateur singers and patriotic stuff that my friends supposedly shared. In-between those were somewhere around two dozen "suggested posts" or advertisements as they are more commonly known. Then a metric crap ton of religious, political, and supposedly inspirational, posts. Where are all of the actual people bragging about their lives?
I need pictures of folks I kind of know doing stuff. I want to see birthday parties so I can look around your house. I like looking at shots of you in your car and out on the town. I want my over-sharers! If this trend of selling me stuff and trying to inspire me continues I will have to break up with Facebook for good. If I want to buy something I will go to Amazon. If I want to be inspired I will watch YouTube videos of people unintentionally injuring themselves. I think the way these big companies are set up there comes a point where they all want to become everything to everyone.
Why not just be great at the thing that brought you to the top? I don't want to chat through Facebook. I don't want a Facebook phone. I don't want to shop Facebook. I am talking myself out of ever using the site again. This is really going to downgrade my spy game. Oh well, I guess I will just need to get back out in the real world and get back to interacting with other humans to find out about them.
January 20, 2015
All of this travel has me killing a bunch of time. Either while traveling, before meetings, or at night bored in a hotel room, I have become a bit of a YouTube junkie. I can't let this out at home as I am constantly on the boy for his own problem with the tube but I might need to seek help. My latest obsession is with the "unboxing video." This works for me on so many levels. First, why in the hell does anyone want to watch someone else open a box? For me it's the horribly awkward way that most of them get it done. Plastic they can't break, showing off their knife collection to slit open a couple paper tabs, tearing cardboard because they cant figure out how to gently slide it open, its all gold.
I hope YouTube evolves to the point where you could save certain clips from videos as favorites. I watched a dude not understand how to open a particularly fancy brand box and while he was trying to be funny he cut his finger and broke the charging cord. And he still posted the thing... Probably because he promised his fans an unboxing and he destroyed the box. so good.
Don't get me started on the whole promised the fans thing. The internet is an awesome ego infiltrator for those looking for said same. I know I am writing for ME and a handful of folks who have stumbled across me or those who were asking about my writing. I am an acquired taste and have no delusions of grandeur. I just like to write. Maybe filming your own video gives you a sense that you are talking to more people? I don't know but I want them to keep doing it. I started this thing with thoughts on screwing up and I need to get back to that before I stop.
A woman I was watching was taking me through everything she had installed on her phone. (don't ask, I told you I have issues) When she came to the Interned Movie Data Base IMDB she called it I-mob. Priceless, and it didn't stop at just once. She went on an on about how handy Imob was for looking up movie casts and even finding showtimes in her area. I scanned through the comments looking to battle anyone who tried to correct her but luckily she is just starting out. She is now one of my huge pile of subscribed channels and I can't wait for what will come next.
January 17, 2015
I have written before about not letting maids in to my room when I travel. I am generally neat when by myself and I don't like the thought of people poking through my stuff. The key to the success of this quirk is telling the front desk when you check in as well as permanently hang the do not disturb sign on the door. It's the second step that I failed to complete in my haste to go practice. I partially blame the phone call I was on during my exit which further reinforces my stance that no one multitasks well. They just half-ass more things at the same time but speaking of time no time for that rant now.
I got back to my room feeling pretty good until I noticed that the bed was made and my perfect pile of dogeared notes was gone. When you work on something that long and in more than a dozen different cities and meetings your thoughts can be written down on just about anything. And to the uneducated eye it could have looked like a briefcase exploded on the desk and all that was left should be thrown out. My heart took the express elevator to my feet.
I went down to the lobby and asked about the chances of recovering anything from the garbage or recycling but I didn't get back to the room until 8:00pm. I was told that I might have had a very messy shot until 6 but now, no way. I was out so late because I had forgotten to pack neck ties. Ironic as I hate the fashion invention originally designed to hide buttons and help prevent drafts in your clothing.
3 new ties and no notes. I do so love a nervous burp that is straight bile. tastes horrible but your teeth feel like you just got back from the dentist.
Anyway, it all worked out but my method was to recreate the notes each night from the book and materials for the class. No time for this nonsense. The class went well and I am pleased with the results. Some minor tweaks here and there but all in all a satisfying result.
January 13, 2015
January 12, 2015
I think the guys weekend is in our DNA. There was a time when the men went out as a group to provide for the rest of the tribe but all of that time wasn't spent hunting. There is plenty of boring ass travel time to get to the good hunting grounds and that is where their getaway took place. While I'm talking about hunting, that and fishing, and golfing, and whatever else you want to name are all just variations on the same theme. A little time to interact with others like you.
You can tell your guy friends about problems in your life and they have no skin in the game so they make great sounding boards. Said another way; if you tell your spouse about something that's bothering you like, say, your dissatisfaction with your current job, her mind immediately goes to how that could potentially impact her life. And her end of the conversation will head that way. Tell one of your friends that you're not happy and a more common response is "Shitty, what's going on?"
The dude who is bitching might just need to complain. If he did that at home it might come off as weakness. Show weakness to your guy friends and they will break it up by making fun of you. And that's one of the other beautiful things. No ones stuff is off limits. Sometimes making fun of your worst stuff makes it no seem so bad. The more people give you shots about it the less it seems to matter. Some of the mean and funny stuff we say to each other is very therapeutic.
Eat what you want - when you want - without concern for others unless you want to show said same. Trips to the grocery store look like a pack of 15 year old boys found a wallet with $400 and a fake ID. Nap whenever you want with the exception of passing out in the midst of everyone else, then you have declared yourself fair game. Sleep late or get up. It's all on you and I am not afraid to declare it delightful. Enough gushing about a tiny time out from regular life.
The next thing I want to explain is this nonsense. Over the weekend some of my real life friends thought that posts were aimed directly at them. It was said that I write at a specific audience and that couldn't be further from the truth. I write this crap for me and me alone. If something is on my mind I plop it on the page. In the case of the targeting conversation they were talking about my New Years Day smoker rant. Yes my friends were involved but I wasn't shooting at any of them specifically. I was really commenting on being massively hung over spending more than an hour sweeping, mopping, and freezing, cleaning up a mess that I had nothing to do with the morning after my birthday party.
Happy Birthday to ME *dry heave* followed by *uncontrollable shivering* wash, rinse, repeat. (that works in so many ways I'm proud of myself.) I was mad at the world that day and the incredible mess that my drunken smoking friends left for me was the cherry on my shite sundae. That's it. nothing more. Those of you new to this might not understand but if I have a problem with someone I am neither shy nor subtle about expressing my displeasure. I wouldn't deliver a passive aggressive anything here when a direct face to face confrontation is so much more satisfying.
That tag line somewhere on the original page I set up doesn't lie. don't take any of this too seriously...
January 10, 2015
The drive up here was a bit of a pisser. 50 miles north there was a whopper accident and the highway was shut down. This meant that any plows and salt trucks were otherwise occupied so the stuff got slick. Wait, maybe I can link to the video of the wreck I just watched
Speaking of weird... typing this shit with a bunch of my friends in the same room is more than a little strange. George is a foot away from me and he hasn't stopped speaking for ten minutes straight. It's awesome. I'm trying to keep track with one ear and I think there are at least three active thoughts and stories going on at once. This is why I hang out with these people.
January 9, 2015
My next favorite folks are those in magic four wheel drive vehicles who think that they have outsmarted the laws of physics. I counted eight of them in the ditch during my seven hour drive. One who hauled past me on an icy road and I just knew I would see him later. Yup, sixty thousand dollars worth of newer luxury SUV being towed out by a questionable wrecker of formidable size. A wise farmer once told me "you get stuck and your in 4 wheel drive there's nowhere else to go but you will bury the thing to the axles trying to get out."
I made it home in one piece not to happy about the extra couple of hours but none the worse for wear. Gale force winds had drifted the driveway over so I decided to shovel a bit. I would have blown the snow but I was out of gas and I figured I could use the exercise. Shoveling driveway a not-so-funny neighbor drove by, rolled down his window, and made some crack about a heart attack. I mumbled a courtesy chuckle as to not engage in any more conversation than necessary but it got me thinkin.
What is the difference between shoveling and the gym? No body walks past my fat ass when I'm on the treadmill and cautions me about impending death. Just because I pay for the privilege of stressing out the evil organ that will one day betray me doesn't make one thing better than the other. And if your going to site something about cold weather and heart stoppage you have pinned my bullshit detector before you opened your mouth. I have therefor adopted a new official stupidtom policy when it comes to folks making cracks about shoveling: Swear like an upset tourettes patient while getting back to work.
The offender should drive or walk away post haste and I don'e really know what that means.
January 6, 2015
I don't need the desert. We've done that as a family and can check that off the list. Best house we will probably ever own but our kids would have grown up a bit dim had we stayed. Plus that part of the country is gearing up for some trouble getting fresh water and that doesn't sound like fun. I think I would like something in-between climate wise with a side order of a reasonable state taxes and less political corruption. Cold weather and Illinois bashing aside this is miserable.
Something that's not miserable (all hail the return of the segue king) is this beautiful local news program that's about to start. I wrote earlier that I get all of my news from the internet but should have let you know that I am a huge fan of small market news. Minneapolis is a fairly big city but I get all the stuff that I love. Local accents, awesome outfits, bad sets and worse lighting. It all makes for some of the best TV on TV. If you live in a small market sit back and enjoy, its all gold.
If I remember I will try and take a picture of the big and tall weatherman in the early morning. He is my hero and he makes me feel good about every fashion choice I have ever made. I need to go as I am about to learn about frozen pipes screwing up you neighbors house as well. Nothing beats a house turning into a frozen waterfall.
January 4, 2015
I also like to keep up with what the average person is plopping out in the interweb so I read a lot of weblogs through newsreaders as well. I fall for other bloggers bullshit. A catchy title that promises something really interesting usually leads to a big pile of boring. I used to chalk that up to amateur writers trying to drive traffic to their site but now the baiting has spread to mainstream media pages and its pissing me off.
I get my news exclusively from online sources because local and national news have a horrible system for picking what they choose to report. It has something to do with scaring and depressing their audience but adding in a splash of funny or cute to keep you coming back. So instead of watching the news at night before bed I read it throughout my day as a break. I have a bunch of places I go for the news I want to keep up on and again you don't need to know my list to get the gist and I'm already beginning to bore myself with this topic.
The lords of the internet need to institute a universal BS button. The BS rating would show up next to the link and if a huge number of people hit the button you could decide whether you wanted to burn the time on clicking it. Right now the only thing I can do is leave my standard comment:
"Nice title but the story left me wanting. Next time, why not just write what you advertised? Ultimately I clicked the link and read your stuff so you win. But you should know you suck. Hard. Like a vacuum."One dude got upset and followed my link back to this site and reported it as inappropriate. I got some weird warning messages but ultimately I didn't really care. Although that is probably a lie because I no longer use the stipidtom.com email address that led to the trouble. Anyway I wrote this just after clicking my third straight trap while I delay packing for my trip. Not sure if I'm even going to hit publish on this one because it all seems like one giant whine.
January 2, 2015
This was one of the longest work days in a while. This was a Monday that just happened to land at the end of the week. Part of the pain was due to the stubborn ocd that drives the middle child and I. The family cracked open a puzzle yesterday. Everyone else punched out in about an hour.
I finally punched out at 1:30am because I had to be up at 6:00am. Middle pushed through the final half hour to finish. I'll try and include a picture but I'm posting from my phone so it's a crap shoot. I will also try to telestrate the piece that Francine helped with.
January 1, 2015
This morning can best be described as fits and starts. I clean, straighten, and put-away until a wave of tired and or nausea overtakes me. Rest a while and then back at it. Wash, rinse, repeat. I think I'm 5 hours in and have probably done a normal hour and a half's work. It turns out that gagging is a productivity killer. Who knew? In other news I think I feel an ab forming from all of the dry heaves.
And speaking of nonproductive full body retching, smokers earn every bit of grief they take for their habit. I spent the last half hour freezing my ass off sweeping up ashes and cigarette butts from the floor of my garage. The door to which now sits open as well as the windows to my eldest child's car because everything in there smells like an ashtray. I have never smoked but I was raised by a human smoke stack and there was a time when I chewed tobacco. The difference is that I never picked a section of a party to spit in or on. Nor did I ever leave a container for someone else to clean. I know what its like to find an abandoned chew cup but its no worse that bottles and cans with beer and floating butts. uurrrpppp
Plus that f*cking horrible cigarette smoke smell gets into everything. Holy shitsticks I am dry heaving as I type. Admittedly this has more than a little to do with some questionable decisions regarding shot consumption but still. This is not a shot at any one of my smoking friends as they are usually pretty tidy. For some reason the garage was not up to usual standards and I am paying a large price right now. I just sprayed a bunch of some crap called Natures Miracle that I think is for pet piss or some other unpleasantness so time will tell.
In spite of my horrendous start to this new year I had a great birthday. The party was fun and filled with good people. I got a lot of great gifts that made me uncomfortable and the house was filled with humiliating pictures from my past. In fact child number two told me that I was getting a peek at my wake boards (the pictures that are put up all over before your funeral not some kind of decoupaged water ski type thing) very funny.
I feel like ten dollars again so I will make a run at carrying out the consolidated cooler and dumping the empties into the yard. Then I might try lighting myself on fire to raise my core temperature a couple degrees. I am currently wearing 2 hoodies and a winter coat to no avail. I think my body is being a little spiteful at this point in time.
December 30, 2014
I am telegraphing my mental illness but there is some building anxiety over a class I have to teach for the first time in 2 short weeks. And I can safely say that I am flipping the f*ck out. The class is going to be great as I have delivered a beta version and run it past some of the smartest people I know but... This is the first thing that I have ever suggested, designed, built, wrote, practiced and delivered by my self. I am feeling just a pinch of pressure at this point.
The fact that there is a wait list for the class doesn't take away from the feeling. Next week I am traveling to work on some content that is months away. I hope I can get out of my own head long enough to do that work some justice. Maybe it will give me a break from the over-think-a-thon I'm in the midst of. I find myself questioning all of the work I've done to this point and trying to think of creative changes at this late date and its making me a bit sick.
I need to call a thinking time out and hopefully the brain cell massacre planned for tomorrow night will help that cause. Oddly enough writing about it just made me feel a little better and a little worse all at the same time. I'm going to call this one a wash. good night.
December 29, 2014
I also have a problem prepaying for college when they aren't even back. Not sure what it is aside from the sphincter tightening checks but those first payments due right after Christmas burn more than a little bit. I chant myself to sleep with one more semester, one more semester, one more semester. Oddly I don't wake up feeling any better. Oh well, this is what I signed up for so I'd better suck it up and mentally shut up about it.
And now from our stop-talking-to-me-about-my-phone department a quick word. As I walked in to my local Speedway this afternoon I secured my cup of ice cold carbonated chemicals and checked my phone while I waited in line. The dude standing beside me in line (and yes you read that right beside me because if her were properly lined up behind me as custom dictates he never could have seen my phone) asked "if that was the 6?" Nope, it's a Galaxy Note 4, knowing full well he wondered if it was the big iPhone.
"Why would you buy that?" Because it's the one I wanted you f*cking assh*le (I have no idea why I'm randomly typing swears with flowers in them lately) is what flashed through my brain but I am trying to be less abusive when out in public so I just answered that I liked it. The mutant behind the counter was having trouble filling the Chinese gentleman's complicated lottery order so we had plenty of time to kill. After a brief silence "What do you like about it?"
Holy shite (fancy European swears don't get a flower) this was going to be a test of my resolve... I answered that my favorite thing was the removable back and battery. This way I can swap them out in under thirty seconds and be back to 100% charged. Plug the dead one into the charger and I don't care that it takes a couple hours. He just stared at me with a BUT ITS NOT AN IPHONE look on his face so I shut down the experiment in civility. His followup question went unanswered as if he wasn't there.
I am constantly fascinated by folks and their thoughts on technology. Just not when I have to deal with them in a live no idea who you are situation. I'm going to start asking if I can take a picture of everyone from now on who wants to talk about my phone before I answer. That should creep most of them out and the ones who aren't scared away I will post and tell stories about. Win win.
December 27, 2014
The deal they had was if you turn in the old generation game you get the new one at a greatly reduced price. He was spending his own money so I was needed for my violence allowing age identification. Never-mind that he can watch beheading videos or whatever crazy crap the cramped Japanese can invent all over the internet... If he wants to play a game that is considered violent with his also not 17 year old friends I had to be there.
So we do the deal and he gets the last one in the store. This meant that they couldn't find the original case and when my child was asked if this was okay he said YES. As I quickly glanced over at him his face and eyes said "Dad, please don't" so I stood down. But it absolutely killed me. Then the kid behind the register kept adding to my misery. He only had an odd colored case was that okay and then he had to print out the replacement cover was that okay. Instead of cutting the paper to fit he tore it along the edge of the counter. NONE OF THAT WAS OKAY but I just stood there like a giant uncomfortable statue.
At least when we got in the car I got a mumbled thanks. My child knew it was killing me to endure shite covered customer service and I got a little appreciation for my efforts. He had no idea but that tiny act of thanks prevented my internal plan to go straight home and launch a flaming pen campaign. It's Saturday after all and the bulk of my chores are in the rear view mirror. Instead I will vent the remaining steam by writing about it here.
Going against your nature can be exhausting and when we got home I decided that falling down a half flight of stairs might be fun. I haven't taken a shot like that in a long time I thought I broke my arm and my back is having a great time f*cking with me right now. I might have to duct tape myself into the shower stall so it fills up with back soothing hot water. The tub upstairs would require some acrobatics that are painful to think about. I am going to be sore later.
December 26, 2014
I loved it but it did set a bit of a tone regarding the overall business. So I dropped the van off at ten after seven this morning and the guy was going over the paperwork with me when he said "we're supposed to inspect the outside for scratches and dents but at ninety thousand miles you probably aren't worried about that anymore am I right?" No in fact he was wrong and I let him know. He tried telling me something about the overall value so I went on to tell him that he might be on the hook for any imperfection I find after today's little visit.
They have a service manager that floats around like a Vegas pit boss and he came over to find out what the trouble was... I let the employee struggle and bullshit a little bit before I told him what happened. The service guy actually tried to say that I was mistaken. I might have elevated my tone just a bit so that other customers could hear and explained that my mental faculties are in perfect working order. And now this clown who had insulted me is trying to call me a liar to my face in an effort to stay out of trouble now that his boss wandered up. Things got bumpy enough that whatever higher level manager has to work the early shift was called and he asked me the magic question.
What can I do to make this right?I make it a practice to be ready for this at all times no matter where I am so I immediately responded that he could trade me even up for a brand new model of the same van. Anything short of that was just going to further agitate me. We ended up coming to an understanding that not only would my warranty work be done but the tires would be rotated and oil changed for my trouble. I don't really care about that I just wanted to deal a little pain to the dick that talked down to me about my shitty old van. Plus I had some time to kill while I waited for my ride. Mission accomplished.
Who knows what I'm going to pick up later this afternoon but life is a gamble and at least this was fun. If the wheels all come off on my way home I will need my real life friends to print this and give it to my wife as evidence. Our standard sue everyone policy will be easier if she knows the whole story.