Instant Karma's Gonna Get You

Today I wore blue tights, a black skirt, blue shirt, red scarf, pink fleece jacket and, to top it, a red bicycle helmet all while riding my bike (also red) to work. And still some meat head decides to turn right across my front tire while I'm in the flippin' crosswalk! If dressing like a clown doesn't get you noticed I don't know what to do.

A block past that incident (and, really, every day I go to work) I pass a truck with one of those white decals on the back -- you know, like Calvin pissing on the Chevy logo, a decal that is actually on the side of said truck -- that has deer antlers and large, hanging breasts pictured side-by-side. Beneath this cartoon is the phrase "2 racks are better than 1."

On reaching the office I open my email to a notice from my boss telling me not to be the boss that he's the boss and makes up the boss rules even though I have denied being the boss and always *always* refer to the boss on boss questions ... but, since he only hears 1/4 of the conversation on our side of the wall, I guess his misunderstanding is ... ... well, inexcusable.

But it's all balanced out. The new stereo is hooked up and the cousin/roommate and I are playing Battle of the Bands. I think I may have pushed the envelope with my Sheila E. single ("The Belle of St. Mark" whose "erotic persuasion" fills Sheila with desire). He's threatening to put on one of those hideous Fresh Aire lps from his step-father's record collection. I'll say this, Marillion, Lord luv 'em, have never sounded better. That little 45 rpm is 20 years-old and it's like new on this turntable. Nik Kershaw wasn't so lucky (warped). Thank God I've got that one on CD.

Winner! He's just put on my Cliff Richard record.

You're Not the Boss of Me

The cousin/roommate has only been gone for a few hours and already the pet is pushing the envelope on bad behavior. Without the Alpha-Male to keep her down, she's climbing, eating, scratching and generally disrespecting me left and right. Which leads me to a feminist rant ... which actually started when my boss talked down to me this afternoon (computer problem? No. Human error because the computer says so. Why am I wasting his time with logic?) and has now escalated to getting my authority run over by a flippin' cat.

Why is the male dominant? Why? We do all the clean-up, dammit. We have the babies and do the problem-solving and laundry. We multi-task to there kingdom control. Is it because they wouldn't have anything else to do if they weren't dominant?

And that would lead to pity ... thinking of all those guys with nothing going on all day except online gambling or cable television ... Let the baby have his dominant bottle then. It keeps him off the streets.

At least they were nice to me at Taco Bell (cook? pfffft no way), but then again, they were all women at the drive-up window.

My name is Lil H. ... and I'm a gameaholic

Having now crashed my computer twice, I'm going to swear to you all that my days of Yahoo Games are over. Especially that evil thing with the weird monkey skulls and the diamonds and the ... the ... uhhh ohhh God! I have to play it just one more time. I know I can get 4 gold teeth on the statue!

I'm fascinated by the new language of the Internet (including the verb/noun "blog"), by the way. Anyone who's been fool enough to play Jewel Quest would know exactly what I was talking about with the gold teeth, etc... It's a world created by people who read fantasy novels -- those things are all one big private club where it all makes sense if you know that Flurdin killed the Dragon of Murrks with his Shirvish potion/sword/animal mentor. Bottom line: if you have the lingo you can Slingo, daddy-o.

Today's customer quote of the day: "I'm very disappointed in the terrible service I've received. I'll never shop with you again. But you've been very helpful. Thank you."

The ol' pat on the head after it's dropped into the basket under the guillotine ... It made it even better that this was a customer I had actually bent over backwards for: I called said-customer by phone about her order, shopped for her to find something in stock and similar to what she wanted that was out of stock, re-created her order for her, and shipped it next-day ... and UPS lost it in transit, but somehow my lack of attention and shoddy customer service was to blame. Cah, I'm such a slug.

Is it any wonder (I'll reject you first ...)

Here's a quick sample of what I do for a living:

Me: Thank you for choosing [office supply company - name removed]! Is this your first visit?
Visitor: Yes mam it is.
Me: Great! We appreciate the opportunity to assist you! How can I help you today?
Visitor: I was interested in pricing your Enclosed indoor cork boards (3 door) and I see two that I really like but I need to know how big they are in feet. One is 72w x 36 and the other is 72w x 48h.

Now ... if *I* can divide 72 by 12 anyone can. Honestly. Anyone. That, and who goes to on an office supply website to ask a basic math question? Can you not at least ask me if the cork is imported or domestic?

Thank God Jacksass is on. Johnny Knoxville makes everything okay again.

Thank God it's Friiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiday

What a week. I don't know if it was the Pope's death or the eclipse or Prince Ranier or Boone not making it (why couldn't it be Shannon? WHY?), but people were particularly beastly this week. My top phone call of the week: the woman who was eating while talking to me, but who apologized for chewing in my ear (although not for talking over her food), and then ruined the apology by taking another bite of food and continuing the conversation.

As a treat tomorrow I'm spending the entire day at the show catching cheap flicks for $1.50 (popcorn: $12.50; soda: $10.00; paying more on snacks than on the movie itself: priceless).

Or I'll entertain myself with reading the drama that unfolds in other parts of this great country of ours. Reading these posts is amusing, disturbing, and finally, downright sad, but ultimately they boost me up when I'm feeling like a lonely single.

The world is a mighty messed up place.

Mighty messed up.

She's just a devil woman with evil on her mind

I was told today that I was demeaning. I was told this weekend that I said mean things.

Allow me to describe my job: For 8 hours a day, every day, I have to listen to people carp at me about:
- why they don't trust the internet
- why they don't trust me or my company because we belong to that evil internet
- why we should make some imaginary object that would be the one item that would make their lives easier
- how we pull "the old bait and switch" when the item they want is out of stock and I recommend a replacement item that may (or in some cases even may not be) a little more expensive
- how our customer service is lacking because we don't recommend a replacement when the item they want is out of stock
- how we rip people off in Alaska and didn't I know they're part of the United States?

I get barked at over pens that cost $.69. I get grief from people who want to send a typewriter to their relative/boyfriend/penpal in prison and they don't feel they have to find a street address for UPS delivery; that's *my* job. Today I had a customer blow my hair back because she though she was getting 25 folders for $4.00. Honestly, if something looks too good to be true, don't you want to read the details where it says "EACH"? I would. Wouldn't you?

So maybe, in the course of a day, it gets to me. In the course of a week I sometimes blow a gasket. It's got to let loose in some fashion, and I don't want to be a wino, so maybe I can be a little bit testy sometimes.

In the words of Chief Brody "I can drive the boat. Why don't you come down here and chum some of this shit?"

The problem is, I've really dug my own grave. I wanted a job without responsibility, but I don't think I truly understood that lack of responsibility leads others to assume you're a complete idiot. Oddly enough -- or perhaps not -- it's the idiots who treat you the worst. It's the ones with the addresses that include a space number who scream the loudest on the phone and teachers who know for certain that someone is an idiot but since they have a degree and a job instructing others there's No Way it's them.

To sum up, I'd like to paraphrase from "Too Much, Too Soon" - a portion of which I just saw in the Errol Flynn documentary on Turner "Buy-Our-Stuff" Classic Movies - in which Errol, as John Barrymore, implores his daughter who's walking out the door to accept him for what he is, instead of "making me jump through fiery hoops."

Amen, brother.

Grammar Police

The following phrases were all passed along by a co-worker last week:

- I thought of you when I seen it
- This order needs to ship to Chicago, Illinois (pronounced Illa-noise)
- Alls I knows is ...

The last one is a perpetual favorite and was once used while speaking with her son's teacher. The topic: his need to improve on Language Arts.