Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Of thanks and rememberance...
I've been a real shit over these past couple of weeks.. I've run the gamut from suicidal to moody to outrage to numb.
A lot of people have been real cool with me, even when I was raging at them, and I didn't even realize how much of a cock I was being.
So, to the following people: Chris_, meowza, Jim (aka mysterybiscuit), jayce, Sliquid & Scarlette, kitten, Emmett, and pretty much any Worthian who knew me from September 11th 2004 to September 20th, 2004, you get a drink on me if I ever manage to see you.
And I'd like to thank one special girl in particular. Her name is Dana. She kind of showed up after a while of not having seen her at a moment when I *REALLY* needed someone to talk to. I'm quite happy now, and actually relatively stable... I really appreciate that.
I'm going to leave my prior post. This is a journal, after all, and if I go around editing things out of it, it won't be pure.
So... I thank all of you for helping me through a rough patch. :)
Later!
Citron
A lot of people have been real cool with me, even when I was raging at them, and I didn't even realize how much of a cock I was being.
So, to the following people: Chris_, meowza, Jim (aka mysterybiscuit), jayce, Sliquid & Scarlette, kitten, Emmett, and pretty much any Worthian who knew me from September 11th 2004 to September 20th, 2004, you get a drink on me if I ever manage to see you.
And I'd like to thank one special girl in particular. Her name is Dana. She kind of showed up after a while of not having seen her at a moment when I *REALLY* needed someone to talk to. I'm quite happy now, and actually relatively stable... I really appreciate that.
I'm going to leave my prior post. This is a journal, after all, and if I go around editing things out of it, it won't be pure.
So... I thank all of you for helping me through a rough patch. :)
Later!
Citron
Monday, September 20, 2004
Of relationships...
Heh...
You know, if you told me two months ago that I'd be writing a rant about how much relationships, love, and the opposite sex in a negative light, I'd have laughed at you. Loudly so.
And yet, here I am, prepared to engage in a cynical and vile rage about the disgusting thing that we call love. Let's do this.
Relationships are fucking traps. What's the point? Why would I want to get involved with someone on the off chance that I might spend the rest of my life with them? Sure, you feel happy, knowing someone's there to care for you. But the INSTANT shit gets tough, don't fucking count on ANYBODY to back you. Because in the end, EVERYONE looks out for themselves and themselves alone. And don't give me that "chivalry" shite. Never give me that, chivalry died the first time I got my ass beaten into the pavement for trying to be nice to someone.
Friends, family, co-workers all, just waiting to jump ship the moment you walk in with tears trickling off of your nose and a snarl curled across your face. I've been told the same thing.. "In time, it'll get better." Bullshit, it will. Things have been slowly spiraling down the drain since I got my first Dear John letter. Side note: Dear John letters are the second most cruel thing you can do to a person you claim to love. It's only slightly more cruel than slicing their throat with a dull knife and pouring salt into the wound. And it's only that way because the person with the slit throat dies after a few minutes. A Dear John letter makes you think about the other option as a positive, and frankly, it's a chickenshit way to go. Anybody who's *EVER* done that, you owe the recipient of the letter and their immediate family, as well as anyone who knows them well, a deep sincere apology. Of course, the reason you wrote that letter is because you're afraid to be honest for once in your meager little existance. If you're ditching somebody because you don't like them, fucking tell them that. *NEVER* tell them you still love them, never tell them it's because you don't want to hurt them, and *NEVER* say that you're sparing their feelings so it won't hurt later. BULLSHIT, all of it. You're doing it because you want to be with someone else, or you want to be with nobody.
But, since most people who write those letters are cowards anyway, you'll probably lie anyway. Next tip, if you're going to lie, is DON'T MAKE STUPID SHIT UP! Especially if the intended victim can easily find out, because let me tell you, we ALWAYS find out. And it's as if the breakup had just happened AGAIN. It hurts.. it hurts BAD.
Love... all I can really say is that love's a futile waste of a person's good time. I'd rather do something productive than pine on about love, and it'd be ironic and stupid to waste two paragraphs of *YOUR* time to tell you why. Just suffice to say that love is not in MY immediate future, and if you ever want to get anything done with your life, give it up and be happy with yourself. Or, failing that, try to ignore the pain of destined solitude.
Members of the opposite sex. *rolls eyes* Don't get me started right now.. just suffice to say it'd be cruel, and real broad, and I don't want to punish half the planet because I have a beef with one of you. But it's real easy to *NOT* be like that one person. Don't lie, don't be a bitch to people, and if you have to hurt them, be honest and do it gently. Otherwise, people like me crop up. People who would rather die than open their heart again. People who may very well pick the first option if things get worse. People who *WILL* forsake any sort of pleasure in exchange for never having to feel like this again.
By the by, in case you haven't figured it out, I am no longer involved, and it should be obvious by now exactly how it was done, and precisely how I feel about it.
Til next time.
You know, if you told me two months ago that I'd be writing a rant about how much relationships, love, and the opposite sex in a negative light, I'd have laughed at you. Loudly so.
And yet, here I am, prepared to engage in a cynical and vile rage about the disgusting thing that we call love. Let's do this.
Relationships are fucking traps. What's the point? Why would I want to get involved with someone on the off chance that I might spend the rest of my life with them? Sure, you feel happy, knowing someone's there to care for you. But the INSTANT shit gets tough, don't fucking count on ANYBODY to back you. Because in the end, EVERYONE looks out for themselves and themselves alone. And don't give me that "chivalry" shite. Never give me that, chivalry died the first time I got my ass beaten into the pavement for trying to be nice to someone.
Friends, family, co-workers all, just waiting to jump ship the moment you walk in with tears trickling off of your nose and a snarl curled across your face. I've been told the same thing.. "In time, it'll get better." Bullshit, it will. Things have been slowly spiraling down the drain since I got my first Dear John letter. Side note: Dear John letters are the second most cruel thing you can do to a person you claim to love. It's only slightly more cruel than slicing their throat with a dull knife and pouring salt into the wound. And it's only that way because the person with the slit throat dies after a few minutes. A Dear John letter makes you think about the other option as a positive, and frankly, it's a chickenshit way to go. Anybody who's *EVER* done that, you owe the recipient of the letter and their immediate family, as well as anyone who knows them well, a deep sincere apology. Of course, the reason you wrote that letter is because you're afraid to be honest for once in your meager little existance. If you're ditching somebody because you don't like them, fucking tell them that. *NEVER* tell them you still love them, never tell them it's because you don't want to hurt them, and *NEVER* say that you're sparing their feelings so it won't hurt later. BULLSHIT, all of it. You're doing it because you want to be with someone else, or you want to be with nobody.
But, since most people who write those letters are cowards anyway, you'll probably lie anyway. Next tip, if you're going to lie, is DON'T MAKE STUPID SHIT UP! Especially if the intended victim can easily find out, because let me tell you, we ALWAYS find out. And it's as if the breakup had just happened AGAIN. It hurts.. it hurts BAD.
Love... all I can really say is that love's a futile waste of a person's good time. I'd rather do something productive than pine on about love, and it'd be ironic and stupid to waste two paragraphs of *YOUR* time to tell you why. Just suffice to say that love is not in MY immediate future, and if you ever want to get anything done with your life, give it up and be happy with yourself. Or, failing that, try to ignore the pain of destined solitude.
Members of the opposite sex. *rolls eyes* Don't get me started right now.. just suffice to say it'd be cruel, and real broad, and I don't want to punish half the planet because I have a beef with one of you. But it's real easy to *NOT* be like that one person. Don't lie, don't be a bitch to people, and if you have to hurt them, be honest and do it gently. Otherwise, people like me crop up. People who would rather die than open their heart again. People who may very well pick the first option if things get worse. People who *WILL* forsake any sort of pleasure in exchange for never having to feel like this again.
By the by, in case you haven't figured it out, I am no longer involved, and it should be obvious by now exactly how it was done, and precisely how I feel about it.
Til next time.
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Of video games...
Do videogames affect people?
YES. That's ridiculous to think otherwise. All art affects people in one way or another, in the same fashion that a sad movie can make you cry, a funny cartoon can make you laugh, or jazzy music can make you up beat. I've played Manhunt, and I was a bit touchy and quick to anger after... but I calmed down. And somehow, magically, through the power of logic and my ability to remember that killing people is bad, I refrained from killing anyone.
Should videogames be held responsible for these crimes?
NO. That's a stupid thought. Though videogames, like movies, books, music, and any other sort of ARTFORM can have an effect, acting on it makes *YOU* the criminal, regardless of prior influences. A good example is the Son of Sam murders. Who told him to do his work? A dog. His dog, to be precise. Did we lynch the dog and let him go free? No, because that'd be stupid. We punished the MURDERER. And yet you tell me that because videogames have an effect on people, we should ban them?
Here's my proposal, families of Planet Earth (present company excluded, of course.)
QUIT SUCKING AT BEING FAMILIES. Real families are involved with their children at more than the peripheral level. Parents are supposed to punish, love, care for, and help their children. That's the way that stuff works. Video games, like anything else, are a diversion, but not a substitute for proper babysitting. Sure, we can't all afford a babysitter, but fuck, you know people, right? Send them around, arrange something with your friends, do something. Let's face it... children are impressionable. That's one of the reasons racism, ignorance, drug abuse, and sexism are still somewhat present, because it passes from person to person. Not genetic traits, mind you, but by emulation. Children want to be like their parents, because their parents are the greatest people in the world to them.
You know, it may seem like I'm a hostile videogame defender here, and I am defending them to a point. But even I admit that some games are a bit out of line, in my opinion. Is that going to stop me from supporting the industry? No. I wouldn't be who I am without video games. I am a gamer, plain and simple. It's not the only thing I do. I'm an artist, a writer at times, a hard-working man, and a bit of a nerd. But I do play video games. It's an artform, like music, like anything creative, and I'll defend them to the death if need be, to make sure that my children will have the right to experience and create as they wish.
The solution here is PARENTING, not legislation. Be involved with your children, talk to them, help them with life's problems, spend time with them. I've always felt I can go to my parents with my problems, and they're eager to help me if they can, and a little bit of involvement might help your kid grow up to be someone you can be proud of.
I remember Columbine, and I always will. And I remember every time a child picks up a weapon and takes the life of another. And I realize that they may or may not have had any idea of the consequences of their actions, or they may not have known that it was wrong to solve one's problems that way. And they missed these lessons because they aren't taught in schools, they're taught by parents, by moms and dads who, unfortunately, couldn't make time for their children. And now they blame the arts.
There's nothing wrong with slipping up, with making a mistake. Provided nobody gets hurt, and the problem is solved, mistakes are great ways to learn things. But if you blame something else for a mistake you made, or you fail to learn.. maybe you should rethink your parental techniques...
Thanks for reading.
YES. That's ridiculous to think otherwise. All art affects people in one way or another, in the same fashion that a sad movie can make you cry, a funny cartoon can make you laugh, or jazzy music can make you up beat. I've played Manhunt, and I was a bit touchy and quick to anger after... but I calmed down. And somehow, magically, through the power of logic and my ability to remember that killing people is bad, I refrained from killing anyone.
Should videogames be held responsible for these crimes?
NO. That's a stupid thought. Though videogames, like movies, books, music, and any other sort of ARTFORM can have an effect, acting on it makes *YOU* the criminal, regardless of prior influences. A good example is the Son of Sam murders. Who told him to do his work? A dog. His dog, to be precise. Did we lynch the dog and let him go free? No, because that'd be stupid. We punished the MURDERER. And yet you tell me that because videogames have an effect on people, we should ban them?
Here's my proposal, families of Planet Earth (present company excluded, of course.)
QUIT SUCKING AT BEING FAMILIES. Real families are involved with their children at more than the peripheral level. Parents are supposed to punish, love, care for, and help their children. That's the way that stuff works. Video games, like anything else, are a diversion, but not a substitute for proper babysitting. Sure, we can't all afford a babysitter, but fuck, you know people, right? Send them around, arrange something with your friends, do something. Let's face it... children are impressionable. That's one of the reasons racism, ignorance, drug abuse, and sexism are still somewhat present, because it passes from person to person. Not genetic traits, mind you, but by emulation. Children want to be like their parents, because their parents are the greatest people in the world to them.
You know, it may seem like I'm a hostile videogame defender here, and I am defending them to a point. But even I admit that some games are a bit out of line, in my opinion. Is that going to stop me from supporting the industry? No. I wouldn't be who I am without video games. I am a gamer, plain and simple. It's not the only thing I do. I'm an artist, a writer at times, a hard-working man, and a bit of a nerd. But I do play video games. It's an artform, like music, like anything creative, and I'll defend them to the death if need be, to make sure that my children will have the right to experience and create as they wish.
The solution here is PARENTING, not legislation. Be involved with your children, talk to them, help them with life's problems, spend time with them. I've always felt I can go to my parents with my problems, and they're eager to help me if they can, and a little bit of involvement might help your kid grow up to be someone you can be proud of.
I remember Columbine, and I always will. And I remember every time a child picks up a weapon and takes the life of another. And I realize that they may or may not have had any idea of the consequences of their actions, or they may not have known that it was wrong to solve one's problems that way. And they missed these lessons because they aren't taught in schools, they're taught by parents, by moms and dads who, unfortunately, couldn't make time for their children. And now they blame the arts.
There's nothing wrong with slipping up, with making a mistake. Provided nobody gets hurt, and the problem is solved, mistakes are great ways to learn things. But if you blame something else for a mistake you made, or you fail to learn.. maybe you should rethink your parental techniques...
Thanks for reading.
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Of complaints...
So here's how I feel right now. Pissy.
A friend of mine read my blog. She was.. displeased.. to say the least. She asked me `Why do you swear, curse, and use vulgar names?` I was hard pressed to answer her question. Recently, however, I've been able to articulate this nature.
Some of you might be aware of how litigious the United States is. There are a lot of things you can be sued for, and if a company feels like spending $10k to make some poor schmuck stop badmouthing them, they will, to keep their image clean.
But there's a certain art to it. Take, for example, Verizon Communications. If I were to call them `shameless thieves and liars, and a house of scam artists,` I could be sued. For a lot of money. They'd be hard pressed to prove that *I* have any effect on their business, but meh. However, calling them `fuckheads` and `cocksmokers` is fine. And to say that they're `no better than the mafia` is slanderous (or libellous, depending on how you're getting this, the latter applying if you're actually reading this), I can call them `bullshitters` and say they're `full of shit` all I like. So I apologize if you're offended, but otherwise, it's merely to cover my own ass.
Speaking of complaints, did you know there's an INDUSTRY themed around complaining? No, not LiveJournal sites, the business is called Professional Complaining. What a bullshit title, anyway. It implies that the rest of us don't KNOW how to complain properly, as if we were all a bunch of incompetent simps that can't hammer enough words together to voice an issue we've had. It's a ridiculous concept that somehow flies.
Now, one could possibly think that, hey, maybe the rates just cover the time and resources it takes to do this, and that they're just trying to help out their fellow man, right? BULLSHIT. Ellen Phillips, of Ellen's Poison Pen Inc, who's been doing this since the 60's, and even has a book out about how to complain. Care to know what she charges? $20 per 100 words in a letter and $50 per hour for letter preparation. Not so bad, but she insists that a complaint be pursued until something happens.
Drawing upon prior experience working for various companies and handling complaints, it's not a quick process. Most were handled within a week. The non-standard complaints can go on for months and months, depending on how bizarre a complaint is. And at that rate, a PC can cost hundreds of dollars, depending on the documentation and letter exchange necessary to handle a complaint.
Ellen is one of the least problematic of the PC fields. She's quite open with the way she works, and even though the book costs, it's good in the consumer field. There are others that exaggerate the bullshit about Customer Service Horrors to a ludicrous proportion. B L Ochman, owner of Rent-a-Kvetch, is one of these people. If you take a look at her article about her "hobby," you'll see some of these little tidbits, like the following:
At the point when consumers approach me with a problem, they have usually tried to solve the issue on their own. And in return, they have encountered poorly trained, unhelpful or customer non-service representatives. They've been put on hold forever or caught in voice mail hell, never given the option of speaking to a human being.
In all my years of customer service work, I have seen horror stories, for both the reps I worked with and the customers in question. Yeah, I make a big deal out of those horrible things that happen, but at the core of my being, I feel bad that stuff happens to customers out there, because, really, they're just people like you and I. They didn't *DO* anything wrong, they just got the raw end of the stick and want it fixed. No big.
People like Ochman are purveyors of bullshit. They play on made up customer fears and confusion to make a buck off of a simple process. The people you talk to are often more than capable of handling a problem, and the only reason it takes so long to handle a complaint is because SO MANY complaints come in and they all have to be handled the same way, to ensure validity of said complaint. Granted, there are people that are incapable, but handle it as it comes. Don't waste the time of a busy executive over a minor complaint. They're busy getting things together to eliminate these problems together and managing major functions of a business, to make the rest of the company run smoothly.
And for the love of all that is holy, quit paying people like Ochman money to do your work for you. All you're doing is throwing your money down some hole of bullshit. Here's some free advice. Don't yell. Ever. Seriously, most customer reps are already busy enough, or stressed about something at work or in their lives, and a number of the horror stories originate from someone crossing the line. Keep calm, explain the situation, and most problems can be solved quickly. And if it's not happening, there are a number of authorities you can take your complaint to for FREE. The Better Business Bureau, the Public Utilities Commission for things like phone serivice and electricity.. there's so many people you can call that will help for virtually NOTHING, there's no point to spend money on a pro that will do so very little for you. And you should *NEVER* need to go to a professional complainer. It's just putting a middleman in and slowing down the resolution process.
But what I say here isn't going to change anything. All I'm doing is showing you how simple some things are. And if either of the names mentioned happen to read this little rant, deal. I have my opinion, you have yours, I refuse to change it, no matter how nice or naughty you choose to write to me, and all I'll do is put the letters up here for everyone to read. And laugh.
-- Citron
A friend of mine read my blog. She was.. displeased.. to say the least. She asked me `Why do you swear, curse, and use vulgar names?` I was hard pressed to answer her question. Recently, however, I've been able to articulate this nature.
Some of you might be aware of how litigious the United States is. There are a lot of things you can be sued for, and if a company feels like spending $10k to make some poor schmuck stop badmouthing them, they will, to keep their image clean.
But there's a certain art to it. Take, for example, Verizon Communications. If I were to call them `shameless thieves and liars, and a house of scam artists,` I could be sued. For a lot of money. They'd be hard pressed to prove that *I* have any effect on their business, but meh. However, calling them `fuckheads` and `cocksmokers` is fine. And to say that they're `no better than the mafia` is slanderous (or libellous, depending on how you're getting this, the latter applying if you're actually reading this), I can call them `bullshitters` and say they're `full of shit` all I like. So I apologize if you're offended, but otherwise, it's merely to cover my own ass.
Speaking of complaints, did you know there's an INDUSTRY themed around complaining? No, not LiveJournal sites, the business is called Professional Complaining. What a bullshit title, anyway. It implies that the rest of us don't KNOW how to complain properly, as if we were all a bunch of incompetent simps that can't hammer enough words together to voice an issue we've had. It's a ridiculous concept that somehow flies.
Now, one could possibly think that, hey, maybe the rates just cover the time and resources it takes to do this, and that they're just trying to help out their fellow man, right? BULLSHIT. Ellen Phillips, of Ellen's Poison Pen Inc, who's been doing this since the 60's, and even has a book out about how to complain. Care to know what she charges? $20 per 100 words in a letter and $50 per hour for letter preparation. Not so bad, but she insists that a complaint be pursued until something happens.
Drawing upon prior experience working for various companies and handling complaints, it's not a quick process. Most were handled within a week. The non-standard complaints can go on for months and months, depending on how bizarre a complaint is. And at that rate, a PC can cost hundreds of dollars, depending on the documentation and letter exchange necessary to handle a complaint.
Ellen is one of the least problematic of the PC fields. She's quite open with the way she works, and even though the book costs, it's good in the consumer field. There are others that exaggerate the bullshit about Customer Service Horrors to a ludicrous proportion. B L Ochman, owner of Rent-a-Kvetch, is one of these people. If you take a look at her article about her "hobby," you'll see some of these little tidbits, like the following:
At the point when consumers approach me with a problem, they have usually tried to solve the issue on their own. And in return, they have encountered poorly trained, unhelpful or customer non-service representatives. They've been put on hold forever or caught in voice mail hell, never given the option of speaking to a human being.
In all my years of customer service work, I have seen horror stories, for both the reps I worked with and the customers in question. Yeah, I make a big deal out of those horrible things that happen, but at the core of my being, I feel bad that stuff happens to customers out there, because, really, they're just people like you and I. They didn't *DO* anything wrong, they just got the raw end of the stick and want it fixed. No big.
People like Ochman are purveyors of bullshit. They play on made up customer fears and confusion to make a buck off of a simple process. The people you talk to are often more than capable of handling a problem, and the only reason it takes so long to handle a complaint is because SO MANY complaints come in and they all have to be handled the same way, to ensure validity of said complaint. Granted, there are people that are incapable, but handle it as it comes. Don't waste the time of a busy executive over a minor complaint. They're busy getting things together to eliminate these problems together and managing major functions of a business, to make the rest of the company run smoothly.
And for the love of all that is holy, quit paying people like Ochman money to do your work for you. All you're doing is throwing your money down some hole of bullshit. Here's some free advice. Don't yell. Ever. Seriously, most customer reps are already busy enough, or stressed about something at work or in their lives, and a number of the horror stories originate from someone crossing the line. Keep calm, explain the situation, and most problems can be solved quickly. And if it's not happening, there are a number of authorities you can take your complaint to for FREE. The Better Business Bureau, the Public Utilities Commission for things like phone serivice and electricity.. there's so many people you can call that will help for virtually NOTHING, there's no point to spend money on a pro that will do so very little for you. And you should *NEVER* need to go to a professional complainer. It's just putting a middleman in and slowing down the resolution process.
But what I say here isn't going to change anything. All I'm doing is showing you how simple some things are. And if either of the names mentioned happen to read this little rant, deal. I have my opinion, you have yours, I refuse to change it, no matter how nice or naughty you choose to write to me, and all I'll do is put the letters up here for everyone to read. And laugh.
-- Citron
Friday, July 02, 2004
Rejection Letters
Thank you for your interest in Cingular's career opportunities. Although you have not been selected for the Retail Stores - Retail Sales Consultant Spokane, Valley Mall position (39643), we do appreciate your interest in this job opening.
We encourage you to continue looking for opportunities at Cingular by visiting our website.
God, I fucking hate rejection letters. They always have this sweet tone to them, like they didn't just tell you that you're a fucking moron. If I ever have a company, and I have to send out rejection letters, it'll be like this.
Dear Sir,
You are a moron. Goodbye.
Signed,
Someone Else.
P.S. Send Pocky
That's it. Then they know.. none of this `keep your spirits up` bullshit. It's not right to do that to another person. That's like saying `Sure, you're a great guy. Not great enough for me, but I'm sure someone out there has low enough standards.`
Fuck you, Cingular, I may not have the skittles you want, but cope. Seriously. You want someone to sell cellphones.. I've seen the people you hire. It's not like you're selective.
We encourage you to continue looking for opportunities at Cingular by visiting our website.
God, I fucking hate rejection letters. They always have this sweet tone to them, like they didn't just tell you that you're a fucking moron. If I ever have a company, and I have to send out rejection letters, it'll be like this.
Dear Sir,
You are a moron. Goodbye.
Signed,
Someone Else.
P.S. Send Pocky
That's it. Then they know.. none of this `keep your spirits up` bullshit. It's not right to do that to another person. That's like saying `Sure, you're a great guy. Not great enough for me, but I'm sure someone out there has low enough standards.`
Fuck you, Cingular, I may not have the skittles you want, but cope. Seriously. You want someone to sell cellphones.. I've seen the people you hire. It's not like you're selective.
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Of Dave Chapelle and stupid drunk people...
So we all know the Dave Chapelle gag where he impersonates Lil Jim (i.e. `WHAT?` `OKAAAaaaY!` and `YESSSSSTH!`) and his Rick James bit. If you don't, go find a copy and watch away.. it's quite amusing.. when HE does it.
So I'm at my new favourite dropspot, the Twelve Ten.. this little scary tavern that's actually quite enjoyable once you get inside. I'm in there for two minutes when I see an old friend from a while ago, and I traverse the floor of people dancing to old-school rock (you don't `freak` to Aerosmith, for any of you thinking it was any good. It's like polka dancing to Outkast, or glowsticking to Bach and Beethoven, in terms of awkwardness.) to get to her. I walk up, tap her on the shoulder, and skip back an inch to watch her bemused look as she sees no-one there. Then she figures out it's me, and gets all jacked. Somehow, someone I'd *NEVER* seen before crosses the room and gets *REALLY* into my face.. I guess he was going to approach her before I showed up or something. Don't know, don't care. All I know is that his fists were balled.. to no avail, as I used the wonderful combat tactic of laughing and sitting down at a table away from him. He storms off, and my friend, whom I shall call Sere so as to prevent her real name from getting onto the internet, laughs heartily.
We dominate a table and proceed to catch up, which is about an hour's worth of work, really. A bit of history. Sere was one of my first work-mates. I met her there, and we started hanging out off the workspace. Shortly after, she got a better job in graphic design, and is quite pleased with herself. Anyway... bout five minutes into the conversation, her friend shows up, damn near lies across the table and proclaims that she needs friends to sit at the bar with her. Biting back a comment about bending down in a skirt being the way to attract the *WRONG* kinds of friends, Sere and I begin negotiating with her for time to catch up. Ten minutes later, she's gone, I'm in need of a cigarette, and Sere's talking again.. which is cool.. she's got one of those relaxing voices.. like nothing's a big deal. She'd relax a person talking about how to murder people brutally. (There was never anything here ever.)
So we get wrapped up in this really deep philosophical conversation (another habit of mine when I drink) and all of a sudden, this dude pokes his head in right next to mine and yells `WHAAAT?` in a manner that was almost, but not quite exactly unlike Dave Chapelle impersonating Lil Jon.. louder than is needed, even for a noisy bar. God damn, was that annoying. Scared the hell out of me too, which cost me half of my drink. So him and his friend go about the whole Lil Jim exchange for the remainder of my time there, before I decide that my roommate needs to take me home, because I'm just getting drunker, and less aware of the things I'm doing.
Not a bad night, but far too much stupid for me to really enjoy very well. We'll see about next time I meander out there.
So I'm at my new favourite dropspot, the Twelve Ten.. this little scary tavern that's actually quite enjoyable once you get inside. I'm in there for two minutes when I see an old friend from a while ago, and I traverse the floor of people dancing to old-school rock (you don't `freak` to Aerosmith, for any of you thinking it was any good. It's like polka dancing to Outkast, or glowsticking to Bach and Beethoven, in terms of awkwardness.) to get to her. I walk up, tap her on the shoulder, and skip back an inch to watch her bemused look as she sees no-one there. Then she figures out it's me, and gets all jacked. Somehow, someone I'd *NEVER* seen before crosses the room and gets *REALLY* into my face.. I guess he was going to approach her before I showed up or something. Don't know, don't care. All I know is that his fists were balled.. to no avail, as I used the wonderful combat tactic of laughing and sitting down at a table away from him. He storms off, and my friend, whom I shall call Sere so as to prevent her real name from getting onto the internet, laughs heartily.
We dominate a table and proceed to catch up, which is about an hour's worth of work, really. A bit of history. Sere was one of my first work-mates. I met her there, and we started hanging out off the workspace. Shortly after, she got a better job in graphic design, and is quite pleased with herself. Anyway... bout five minutes into the conversation, her friend shows up, damn near lies across the table and proclaims that she needs friends to sit at the bar with her. Biting back a comment about bending down in a skirt being the way to attract the *WRONG* kinds of friends, Sere and I begin negotiating with her for time to catch up. Ten minutes later, she's gone, I'm in need of a cigarette, and Sere's talking again.. which is cool.. she's got one of those relaxing voices.. like nothing's a big deal. She'd relax a person talking about how to murder people brutally. (There was never anything here ever.)
So we get wrapped up in this really deep philosophical conversation (another habit of mine when I drink) and all of a sudden, this dude pokes his head in right next to mine and yells `WHAAAT?` in a manner that was almost, but not quite exactly unlike Dave Chapelle impersonating Lil Jon.. louder than is needed, even for a noisy bar. God damn, was that annoying. Scared the hell out of me too, which cost me half of my drink. So him and his friend go about the whole Lil Jim exchange for the remainder of my time there, before I decide that my roommate needs to take me home, because I'm just getting drunker, and less aware of the things I'm doing.
Not a bad night, but far too much stupid for me to really enjoy very well. We'll see about next time I meander out there.
Monday, June 14, 2004
Of insanity and meager wages...
My week has been less than productive, and it's only Monday. The things going wrong are only getting more interesting.
So, work today. The switch ( aka thingy that provides a new way for people to bug me while I'm trying to get paid for reading :D ) went down a total of four times over the course of an hour today. We were given official orders to `relax and wait.` So we did. We set about initiating a game of `Toss the Stolen Stuffed Animal` about the office to keep our mind off of the inevitable shitstorm that was about to collide with our GPS coordinates.
Apparently `relax and wait` does not also mean `have fun and keep morale up` in boss speak. They immediately told us to sit down and log in, despite the fact that we couldn't take calls. Sure enough, we logged in, and there was a whole backlog of calls we could handle. We couldn't hear them, or interact with them in any way, but we were asked (read: forced with chains) to take those calls. So I investigated, and I found something alarming. As it turns out, every time a call touches one of the computers in the office, the caller is charged for one call to 411. Even if no actual call took place.
Another interesting policy at work is that we are not allowed to say the word credit on calls, unless the customer asks for it. So we put the math together. Hundreds of calls that last about 10 seconds + back to back in queue x $1.25 = lots of money. Combine that with the fact that of all owed credit in most companies, about 40% of it is ever pursued, and all of a sudden, I'm actively participating in scamming customers for coin. I felt like the lowest being ever to walk the planet every time I told a customer that I could not assist them due to technical issues. And that pissed me off.
Then I get home, you know, to relax and such because I'm having a crap day, and my father calls. Never good news when my father can be arsed to contact me. Sure enough, he's ragging on me about my car, of all things, and I'm having a hard time not telling him that someone who relies on a bald idiot with a mill degree and the universal hatred of anyone who understands Moby Dick doesn't have the right to tell people how to live their lives, because they don't know. So now I'm extra depressed because now my parents are making me feel low, and I just committed many instances of petty theft, and you have me wanting to drink a *LOT* of whiskey.
Which pissed me off.
So that's all I've encountered today.
So, work today. The switch ( aka thingy that provides a new way for people to bug me while I'm trying to get paid for reading :D ) went down a total of four times over the course of an hour today. We were given official orders to `relax and wait.` So we did. We set about initiating a game of `Toss the Stolen Stuffed Animal` about the office to keep our mind off of the inevitable shitstorm that was about to collide with our GPS coordinates.
Apparently `relax and wait` does not also mean `have fun and keep morale up` in boss speak. They immediately told us to sit down and log in, despite the fact that we couldn't take calls. Sure enough, we logged in, and there was a whole backlog of calls we could handle. We couldn't hear them, or interact with them in any way, but we were asked (read: forced with chains) to take those calls. So I investigated, and I found something alarming. As it turns out, every time a call touches one of the computers in the office, the caller is charged for one call to 411. Even if no actual call took place.
Another interesting policy at work is that we are not allowed to say the word credit on calls, unless the customer asks for it. So we put the math together. Hundreds of calls that last about 10 seconds + back to back in queue x $1.25 = lots of money. Combine that with the fact that of all owed credit in most companies, about 40% of it is ever pursued, and all of a sudden, I'm actively participating in scamming customers for coin. I felt like the lowest being ever to walk the planet every time I told a customer that I could not assist them due to technical issues. And that pissed me off.
Then I get home, you know, to relax and such because I'm having a crap day, and my father calls. Never good news when my father can be arsed to contact me. Sure enough, he's ragging on me about my car, of all things, and I'm having a hard time not telling him that someone who relies on a bald idiot with a mill degree and the universal hatred of anyone who understands Moby Dick doesn't have the right to tell people how to live their lives, because they don't know. So now I'm extra depressed because now my parents are making me feel low, and I just committed many instances of petty theft, and you have me wanting to drink a *LOT* of whiskey.
Which pissed me off.
So that's all I've encountered today.
