Free and clear. That's how I escaped the Sprint store yesterday. Everybody just expects to get screwed by their cell phone company, cause there's nothing to compare it to. There are no granddads saying, "In my day, a person would hold a door for you, and they wouldn't nickel and dime you on your cell phone bill. Just didn't happen.". So we're all lost. And then on the corporate side, there is a 25' long table in a board meeting where there are clueless well-dressed folk saying, "How about its a flat $20 a month?" and some little marketing genius adds, "How about we just nickel and dime them?".
When I walked into the store there was a man yelling at the service woman that he has not gotten 3 of the broken phones that he received from Sprint wet. She was eager to help me to get away from the lune, and I announce upfront that I did get my phone wet. I am all prepared to tell her how I managed to keep my last phone for 4 years, and that I am a valued customer since 2000. She didn't want to hear it. She told me to come back in an hour. And it was the free and fixed plan!
Then today, my service industry luck changed. At the Enterprise car co. I request that the insurance be lifted now that the crazy season is winding down. He calculated for 8 days it will be $100- because insurance is taxed? I immediately switch to crazy bitch customer mode. Without going into all the details(mostly cause I don't know em), I was told before it would be much less. He responded to CBCM by saying, "tell you what- I don't want to argue with you over $10 so I will give it to you." And after I restored my feathers over the financial defeat- I realized A> The clever mathematical bastard still cheated me! B> He treated me like one of those customers that stingily argue over .50! This is a hit and run total. cut me some slizza!
12.30.2004
12.27.2004
The End of the Maritime Era, Part I
In 1990, I took my first job at a school for Marines as a waitress in an "upscale' dining room. The word at my high school was that you could work at 13, making serious spending dough. What it actually turned out to be was cheap labor in a high school that had suddenly delegated it the hip place to be. So about 25 of my peers signed on as salad preps, dishwashers, and waitstaff for $4.25/hr no tips. The shift was fully accomodating to the commute from the junior and senior high school.
Arrive at 4:30. Put on black pants and tuxedo shirt. pull hair back. Grab your complimentary salad from the salad bar.(sneak a hot roll cause they were so good).Sit down for the dinner meeting. Put on your bowtie while the full kitchen and serving staff went over the menu of the day that consisted of 3 entree choices prepared daily with 3 sides and 2 soups. Serve 4 or 5 4-8 tops. Race your friends to finish cleaning. do an absolutely shitty job. get recognized for ways to cut corners.
The really exciting thing about this job was that it never felt like I was actually serving people food. It felt like a giant theatrical production night after night. And even though I happened to be dropping off plates to people who sometimes requested it. It was mostly about fooling with the cute dishwasher, on the way through to the kitchen and fooling with the cook. And bitching at the pickup window with the other waitresses, and stealing another dinner roll out of the heating drawer, and then locking someone in the walkin after a long-nights work.
In most cases, our poor white brededness required introductions to most items on the menu at the meetings. And since we were scarfing salads and adjusting mooserakes, they didn't stick. During dinners, it would commonly translate like: "It's not a real dolphin. It's a fish. It comes from the Pacific Ocean. I don't know if its grilled." Very tasty sounding eh?
Milton, my first manager, was gay and everyone loved him. He would turn his head at alcohol parties, but stop things when they got out of hand. He was so alive, and he was the most popular one among our group. When he resigned, we threw a surprise party for him at his house. We broke in. It was one of the most exciting adventures of my life. We were doing something for Milton.
Then came manager #2- Jon. And then I learned why jobs suck.
This guy would brag about his volleyball skills. He had a belly laugh. He wore a gold chain. He kissed management ass. He thoguht he was funny. He thought he was Italian. He spoke with his eyebrows. He was no Milton and he knew it.So he made attempts to kid with us the way Milton did. He was always darker and off.
One meeting I poured half a shaker of salt in his water. He pulled this very dramatic act as he spit it out and said somebody would pay. I'm not sure if I fessed up to it, or if he found out, but either way he'd pinned me up against a wall that Sunday in the dining room before dinner and I was pretty scared, even though I fronted mad.
When our 9th grade English teacher heard some of the stories that happened in the kitchens and dishrooms, and even bathrooms, she was outraged and took testimonies for sexual harrassment action. Of course this scandal brought more attention to the place, and the recruits doubled!
Things eventually just mellowed out there. He either got the scare, or it became less interesting, but either way I was approaching my 2nd year there as one of the head waitstaff. At 14, I was feeling like I was on the top of the dogpile to the 13 year olds.
I remember the exact table I was refilling sugars when it hit me that I COULD quit. It suddenly occurred to me that it wasn't school. It was MY LIFE and I wasn't an indentured servant to the marines. That evening I put my first 2 weeks in and didn't look back until 14 years later.
Arrive at 4:30. Put on black pants and tuxedo shirt. pull hair back. Grab your complimentary salad from the salad bar.(sneak a hot roll cause they were so good).Sit down for the dinner meeting. Put on your bowtie while the full kitchen and serving staff went over the menu of the day that consisted of 3 entree choices prepared daily with 3 sides and 2 soups. Serve 4 or 5 4-8 tops. Race your friends to finish cleaning. do an absolutely shitty job. get recognized for ways to cut corners.
The really exciting thing about this job was that it never felt like I was actually serving people food. It felt like a giant theatrical production night after night. And even though I happened to be dropping off plates to people who sometimes requested it. It was mostly about fooling with the cute dishwasher, on the way through to the kitchen and fooling with the cook. And bitching at the pickup window with the other waitresses, and stealing another dinner roll out of the heating drawer, and then locking someone in the walkin after a long-nights work.
In most cases, our poor white brededness required introductions to most items on the menu at the meetings. And since we were scarfing salads and adjusting mooserakes, they didn't stick. During dinners, it would commonly translate like: "It's not a real dolphin. It's a fish. It comes from the Pacific Ocean. I don't know if its grilled." Very tasty sounding eh?
Milton, my first manager, was gay and everyone loved him. He would turn his head at alcohol parties, but stop things when they got out of hand. He was so alive, and he was the most popular one among our group. When he resigned, we threw a surprise party for him at his house. We broke in. It was one of the most exciting adventures of my life. We were doing something for Milton.
Then came manager #2- Jon. And then I learned why jobs suck.
This guy would brag about his volleyball skills. He had a belly laugh. He wore a gold chain. He kissed management ass. He thoguht he was funny. He thought he was Italian. He spoke with his eyebrows. He was no Milton and he knew it.So he made attempts to kid with us the way Milton did. He was always darker and off.
One meeting I poured half a shaker of salt in his water. He pulled this very dramatic act as he spit it out and said somebody would pay. I'm not sure if I fessed up to it, or if he found out, but either way he'd pinned me up against a wall that Sunday in the dining room before dinner and I was pretty scared, even though I fronted mad.
When our 9th grade English teacher heard some of the stories that happened in the kitchens and dishrooms, and even bathrooms, she was outraged and took testimonies for sexual harrassment action. Of course this scandal brought more attention to the place, and the recruits doubled!
Things eventually just mellowed out there. He either got the scare, or it became less interesting, but either way I was approaching my 2nd year there as one of the head waitstaff. At 14, I was feeling like I was on the top of the dogpile to the 13 year olds.
I remember the exact table I was refilling sugars when it hit me that I COULD quit. It suddenly occurred to me that it wasn't school. It was MY LIFE and I wasn't an indentured servant to the marines. That evening I put my first 2 weeks in and didn't look back until 14 years later.
12.21.2004
Temping up S-Crik
As a new blogger, I get pretty excited when something introspective happens. I mean I always have. But now it comes with a title in mind--which is kinda gay cause it takes away from the 'moments' of live. Somewhere in the midst of that last sentence I returned to my entry after getting a little s-faced. And while I personally have little patience for a poorly spelled drunk entry, I am going to try to defeat that from happening. Wow that word took a long time to spell.
So the agenda of today is the really bad experience I had today filling in for the online editor at the el papel de ciudad (in order to cut down on google refs I will operate as my spanish teacher always said, in 'el sood-hunk-tivo'- which is actually not the tense I will be operating in, but just the language), is anyone not ever amazed at there grasp on intellect during inebriation or is it just me?
ok. so just hit the frijoles de holy. ehhhh. no translations to be had there. El vino did flow with the Shelley. and I got to run into a number of pals I rarely get to see. what a bonus. ¡que bonisima! it all detracts from the day of online hell I experienced which I have put off expressing.
here it is. last year I published the paper- with very little understanding of the scope of things.Thats not true. I knew it was huge, but like in the sense I know the universe is huge. no real sense. and as much as bastards will want to contest my spacial genius, oh I got it bitch. BUT back then- I had no grasp of the big picture, so in that sense - its really hard to stress appropriately.
but this time around, with training and so forth. I was what I thought was prepared. Even anxious to go in and knock out the job and be the online publishing hero of the week. yeah. but no. something happened. Something that has never happened. Well rarely, according to the guy I was forced to consult on vacation. the server was down. I am locked out. the paper doesn't get published online.
Anyone who has ever worked in print for newspaper knows these kind of evil nightmares and learns of there false meanings and inuendos-- but this one was real. FOR REAL said the headline NO FUCKING PAPER DEL CIUDAD! So after I got my bowels in a real twist, the art director insisted it was no fault of mine and encouraged my timely departure. It was such a grat sense of relief. I had to do it. I had a stommy ache!
in the interim of the day when my resolve was to stay thorugh the night - thick o thin - to publish, I had experienced many things. As a temp/freelance, I found myself latching onto permanent employees. Just telling them my deal and hoping for an ounce of sympathy. so not my style. but I am a human person. thats a human persons style!
While I was explaining to the advertising director- my publishing plight, (she was enrapt during her wait to use the bathroom located directly next to the office) I give her the scenario. She appears to empathize. Meanwhile, I see a file open on my desktop. its a photo in photoshop. its the photo for the crit pick "Toys for Ta tas" which, if the title didn't indicate enough- bring a toy worth $10 to 'el casa de take your clothes off, and we'll donate it to needy kids'. a great measure to enlist seedy perverts to help high-risk children, but the photo- God the photo! it was of two lesbo santas helpers who have somehow managed to get on top of one another in santas chair. And it was a high res so it took a while and it was big yknow- do you grasp that idea? Shes in semiclear view of the screen and I just continue to bitch. well. I can see the empathometer drop and her bathroomometer rise as she is trying to get out of there.
In my mind. I don't mind. in fact I am starting to become a little relaxed to the fact that these type of uncomfortable interactions are always going to attack my character. its part of either my karma or one of my ancestoral sense of humor. I really feel like I managed to not blush even, which for me, is some feat. I classified it as usual activity as it happened. it went into a category that was called something like this:
"yes, madragada, people do think you are a real freak"
So the agenda of today is the really bad experience I had today filling in for the online editor at the el papel de ciudad (in order to cut down on google refs I will operate as my spanish teacher always said, in 'el sood-hunk-tivo'- which is actually not the tense I will be operating in, but just the language), is anyone not ever amazed at there grasp on intellect during inebriation or is it just me?
ok. so just hit the frijoles de holy. ehhhh. no translations to be had there. El vino did flow with the Shelley. and I got to run into a number of pals I rarely get to see. what a bonus. ¡que bonisima! it all detracts from the day of online hell I experienced which I have put off expressing.
here it is. last year I published the paper- with very little understanding of the scope of things.Thats not true. I knew it was huge, but like in the sense I know the universe is huge. no real sense. and as much as bastards will want to contest my spacial genius, oh I got it bitch. BUT back then- I had no grasp of the big picture, so in that sense - its really hard to stress appropriately.
but this time around, with training and so forth. I was what I thought was prepared. Even anxious to go in and knock out the job and be the online publishing hero of the week. yeah. but no. something happened. Something that has never happened. Well rarely, according to the guy I was forced to consult on vacation. the server was down. I am locked out. the paper doesn't get published online.
Anyone who has ever worked in print for newspaper knows these kind of evil nightmares and learns of there false meanings and inuendos-- but this one was real. FOR REAL said the headline NO FUCKING PAPER DEL CIUDAD! So after I got my bowels in a real twist, the art director insisted it was no fault of mine and encouraged my timely departure. It was such a grat sense of relief. I had to do it. I had a stommy ache!
in the interim of the day when my resolve was to stay thorugh the night - thick o thin - to publish, I had experienced many things. As a temp/freelance, I found myself latching onto permanent employees. Just telling them my deal and hoping for an ounce of sympathy. so not my style. but I am a human person. thats a human persons style!
While I was explaining to the advertising director- my publishing plight, (she was enrapt during her wait to use the bathroom located directly next to the office) I give her the scenario. She appears to empathize. Meanwhile, I see a file open on my desktop. its a photo in photoshop. its the photo for the crit pick "Toys for Ta tas" which, if the title didn't indicate enough- bring a toy worth $10 to 'el casa de take your clothes off, and we'll donate it to needy kids'. a great measure to enlist seedy perverts to help high-risk children, but the photo- God the photo! it was of two lesbo santas helpers who have somehow managed to get on top of one another in santas chair. And it was a high res so it took a while and it was big yknow- do you grasp that idea? Shes in semiclear view of the screen and I just continue to bitch. well. I can see the empathometer drop and her bathroomometer rise as she is trying to get out of there.
In my mind. I don't mind. in fact I am starting to become a little relaxed to the fact that these type of uncomfortable interactions are always going to attack my character. its part of either my karma or one of my ancestoral sense of humor. I really feel like I managed to not blush even, which for me, is some feat. I classified it as usual activity as it happened. it went into a category that was called something like this:
"yes, madragada, people do think you are a real freak"
12.15.2004
Ro to the Fo to the H Quo
Today I have made a total of 5 trips across the street to the Royal Farms. When I used to live up the street, that would have been against my rule of no more than 3 trips to the avenue a day due to oppresssion overload. I still try to adhere to the rule, but the exception are hangovers-- when a trip to the Kings Kitchen is a regal treat. One time, when I was not up to the unpredictable environment, I went online to 'browse' the kitchen just 30' away. Its the new equivalent to walking to your refrigerator 20 times, only lazier. I highly recommend taking the tour through their Royal Kitchen with this, um just take a look for yourself...and then tell me. You will never look at Chillsville the same way again.
Today I opted for the Philly cheesesteak. I knew it would be dissapointing and no Kings sub, but the curiosity to be sure of this fact was killing me. so I did it. and it was gross, but not like its supposed to be. I also noticed that Daisy, the indian cashier was getting hit on AGAIN today. Yesterday it was the man in front of me that wouldn't get out of my way to tell the other cashier that the word 'Daisy' is derived from the word 'day'. I immediately rolled my eyes than realized maybe it is, what do I know? Today the man buying lottery was singing "Daisy is my lady". It really wasn't as depressing as it might read.
One day I am going to have to write the exchange I had at the coffee counter there with a fellow named Leonard.
Today I opted for the Philly cheesesteak. I knew it would be dissapointing and no Kings sub, but the curiosity to be sure of this fact was killing me. so I did it. and it was gross, but not like its supposed to be. I also noticed that Daisy, the indian cashier was getting hit on AGAIN today. Yesterday it was the man in front of me that wouldn't get out of my way to tell the other cashier that the word 'Daisy' is derived from the word 'day'. I immediately rolled my eyes than realized maybe it is, what do I know? Today the man buying lottery was singing "Daisy is my lady". It really wasn't as depressing as it might read.
One day I am going to have to write the exchange I had at the coffee counter there with a fellow named Leonard.
12.14.2004
name afraidology
I think there must be some condition for trying to come up with a perfect name. I have no idea how I've arrived at office wizard, except for the fact that I tried to respond to the first (not 100th) thing that made me giggle in an effort to remove the former name- that I decided meant something more besides blog. Not that blogs don' mean anything. I know I am taking myself way to seriously here. but that doesn't help. I need to change it again. its not me, its me.
anyway this is not going to be a politcal entry, quite obvious. I just finished hanging the most half-assed lights in all of Hampden. This might be grounds for a lynching. didn't even go outside to see what they looked like. I guess I was afraid I would have to fix them. Instead I am sitting in bed, typing by the flashing light they emit behind the glare of my screen. I am giving myself a second epileptic screening. The kind that doesn't involve heavy doses of THC.
anyway this is not going to be a politcal entry, quite obvious. I just finished hanging the most half-assed lights in all of Hampden. This might be grounds for a lynching. didn't even go outside to see what they looked like. I guess I was afraid I would have to fix them. Instead I am sitting in bed, typing by the flashing light they emit behind the glare of my screen. I am giving myself a second epileptic screening. The kind that doesn't involve heavy doses of THC.
12.09.2004
veteran affairs
I am seeing way more "support your troops" yellow ribbon magnets on mini vans this week. I am guessing it's that christmas consumer spirit that people get at the counter of Royal Farms. Those things are really pissing me off--if in fact, they are all like the $3 magnets sold at Royal Farms for two reasons.
One- Because nowhere on the package did it indicate that it was actually 'supporting our troops'. No charity or donations of any variety. Not even a retroactive donation to the VA's of Vietnam. Its not like its too late to appreciate them too. Let's assume every vehicle comes equipped with an assumed "support our troops ribbon" as we gas them up. So why buy them?
Two- Well its only yesterday that I saw the Ravens purple ribbon magnet- which I am sure isn't $3 and probably DOES have proceeds going to the M&T Stadium. Its only a matter of time when these things are going to become teddy bears and other things my eyes aren't going to be able to handle. I actually had the adolescent urge to find someone with one in the suburbs and tack it on their neighbors. why? To smoke them out before they become the huge fad of the mid 2000s.
Onto bigger smoldering issues. Rumsfeld recently responded to troops in Kuwait that they need to rummage through scrap piles to find armor for trucks because new and fully equipped trucks were headed to Iraq where they were more urgently needed. As if the questioning soldier was being selfish. This comes after the Vanity Fair article identified piles like these yield real health risks by the cheap depleted uranium they are made by. Rumsfeld needs to do a magnet check.
One- Because nowhere on the package did it indicate that it was actually 'supporting our troops'. No charity or donations of any variety. Not even a retroactive donation to the VA's of Vietnam. Its not like its too late to appreciate them too. Let's assume every vehicle comes equipped with an assumed "support our troops ribbon" as we gas them up. So why buy them?
Two- Well its only yesterday that I saw the Ravens purple ribbon magnet- which I am sure isn't $3 and probably DOES have proceeds going to the M&T Stadium. Its only a matter of time when these things are going to become teddy bears and other things my eyes aren't going to be able to handle. I actually had the adolescent urge to find someone with one in the suburbs and tack it on their neighbors. why? To smoke them out before they become the huge fad of the mid 2000s.
Onto bigger smoldering issues. Rumsfeld recently responded to troops in Kuwait that they need to rummage through scrap piles to find armor for trucks because new and fully equipped trucks were headed to Iraq where they were more urgently needed. As if the questioning soldier was being selfish. This comes after the Vanity Fair article identified piles like these yield real health risks by the cheap depleted uranium they are made by. Rumsfeld needs to do a magnet check.
12.05.2004
capacity building
oh look 2 entries for the price of 1. this weekend was Patrick Henry Br1nkman III's birthday and I got to party with him. He got wasted on soda and chocolate cake. He dumped his entire vocabulary for a high-pitched "Thomas" and "runnin, runnin". He chased us around all day. His dad had to work but stopped in to see him. He blew out some candles. He took his pants off. He got ALOT of videos. He turned 3 officially.
I wonder what age kids raised in a digital world would consider ego-searching on google. They haven't made it out in the world to have any reason to discover themselves in an online capacity. It's exciting to know that he has a gift waiting. "oh. my cool, rich aunt has left me a nugget to add to my google results." and more respectably, a timecapsule of his third birthday. right. yeah, thats to make up for that lame robot growth chart you teared through to get to the next Thomas video.
I wonder what age kids raised in a digital world would consider ego-searching on google. They haven't made it out in the world to have any reason to discover themselves in an online capacity. It's exciting to know that he has a gift waiting. "oh. my cool, rich aunt has left me a nugget to add to my google results." and more respectably, a timecapsule of his third birthday. right. yeah, thats to make up for that lame robot growth chart you teared through to get to the next Thomas video.
Blogo dev
So even though I begin with feelings of guilt for not having had any other entries, I never vowed to be tearing this up nightly. So its like you get em when you get em. I am having some name regrets. I wanted a new day. A new dawn. I guess I might change it frequent-like. I would like to list some of the name ideas that got tossed softly in the trash that came out of my notebook dela ideas. in the format of "name- why they were wrong".
big crumb -- too hat-tipping to Borat.
dr.varsity -- too nerdy jockish
dr.monkey -- too nerdy
zombietsunami -- funny as a one time image. don't want to commit it.
awesome possum -- initially, I was elated to use this. I discovered it was taken by a 14 year old asian girl.
d-some -- still like this one but worried about the dash, and without the dash, it might be "djzhome".wierd.
drunksome -- funny. but thats just not about me and my blog
projectmercury -- starting to get a little too serious with myself
mercuryocean -- yeah, not too embarrassed to say I considered this for a moment
bearinthecity -- taken!
smileattheworld -- way too emo. take a break for a while.
dawnold -- still like this. but maybe as just the nickname as it was.
mulebox -- really liked this as a concept for a blog. but the sound of it was somewhere between donkey punch and camel toe.
Anyway. if you have any name donations. Accepting still. if you like any of these, they are $10 or BO.
big crumb -- too hat-tipping to Borat.
dr.varsity -- too nerdy jockish
dr.monkey -- too nerdy
zombietsunami -- funny as a one time image. don't want to commit it.
awesome possum -- initially, I was elated to use this. I discovered it was taken by a 14 year old asian girl.
d-some -- still like this one but worried about the dash, and without the dash, it might be "djzhome".wierd.
drunksome -- funny. but thats just not about me and my blog
projectmercury -- starting to get a little too serious with myself
mercuryocean -- yeah, not too embarrassed to say I considered this for a moment
bearinthecity -- taken!
smileattheworld -- way too emo. take a break for a while.
dawnold -- still like this. but maybe as just the nickname as it was.
mulebox -- really liked this as a concept for a blog. but the sound of it was somewhere between donkey punch and camel toe.
Anyway. if you have any name donations. Accepting still. if you like any of these, they are $10 or BO.
12.01.2004
On the first day of blog
Well I finally made it after days, and even embarassingly weeks of blog name toil, with which I already have amassed enough eh'material' to already belt out another entry! I figured I would treat this first entry, in a back to school approach: "Its my job to let you guys know exactly what I expect of you, so you can do a good job and get an A." Otherwise there's going to be alot of children/desk storms, general disrespect of the blog space, and most importantly, kids not thinking I'm cool.
So preliminaries, I want to say this place is pretty doggone cozy. For those who wonder about them, but can garner no info off those veteran blogheads (is that what I can call them?), heed these NPMs: (Never Pondered Misconceptions)
- They are free somehow.
- There are several very stylish or unstylish templates
- They can be updated by merely sending an email to your blogsite. This part seems really amazing to me. I guess since I always uploaded changes manually. leads me to want to deliver one of my mom's favorite lines,"you got it nice!!!"
- You can be on a team.
-There's a free photo host site that you can register for and download all their software, and then find out its only for PCS.
- Finally, theres a cozy little personal settings navigation called the "dashboard" and when I saw it, I immediately thought that a certain emo band was born outta blog. am I right or what???
Okay so those are my reasons for the blog-curious, blog veteran-bored, and the lazy blog-marketers looking for a list to ease their heart. But to stay focused: Expectations. maybe Ill just continue on with the academic metaphors. Where class participation is part of your grade, people! This is AP Pompommer. People!
So preliminaries, I want to say this place is pretty doggone cozy. For those who wonder about them, but can garner no info off those veteran blogheads (is that what I can call them?), heed these NPMs: (Never Pondered Misconceptions)
- They are free somehow.
- There are several very stylish or unstylish templates
- They can be updated by merely sending an email to your blogsite. This part seems really amazing to me. I guess since I always uploaded changes manually. leads me to want to deliver one of my mom's favorite lines,"you got it nice!!!"
- You can be on a team.
-There's a free photo host site that you can register for and download all their software, and then find out its only for PCS.
- Finally, theres a cozy little personal settings navigation called the "dashboard" and when I saw it, I immediately thought that a certain emo band was born outta blog. am I right or what???
Okay so those are my reasons for the blog-curious, blog veteran-bored, and the lazy blog-marketers looking for a list to ease their heart. But to stay focused: Expectations. maybe Ill just continue on with the academic metaphors. Where class participation is part of your grade, people! This is AP Pompommer. People!
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