I Can't Resist The Soup. I Can Resist Workers Who Give Me The Silent Treatment

I decided I wanted to hang out at a coffeeshop and work on both alumni club stuff and my receipts last/Tuesday night.  The main thing in the evening -- well, besides LeBron James passing Kareem for the NBA's all-time scoring record -- was The State Of The Union address, and while it's important and while I am on the side of Dark Brandon, I do not want to be anywhere near a television set when a president has to make that boring speech.

On my drive there, I saw that my car was at a quarter tank.  It was possible I could have gone a day without filling up, and today/Wednesday is a no-spending, eat-at-home day for me.  But I didn't want to risk needing gasoline and not having the time for it when I had time after getting coffee and doing some work on my computer.  So I went to a particular gas station to fill up ... and to get some soup.  This particular gas station has a bevy of soups, but I regularly go for the macaroni in meat sauce.  I went to the gas brand to see if they had it, and tonight they had it.  So, even though I wasn't hungry, and in fact ate dessert at the coffeeshop (along with tea) which to me signifies that that's it when it comes to eating, I ate soup.  And by the way, it's the second cup of soup I've had at this kind of gas station; after work, along with putting air on one of my tires, I decided to get another cup of soup -- different station although it's the same brand.  Not the same soup; there was no macaroni in meat sauce, but I got a mac 'n' cheese instead.

As a result, I feel fat.  I guess I could have gone without the soup.  But I didn't.

---

Oh, by the way, when I was getting the soup, I was "helped" by a worker there who didn't speak at all to me.  I ladled the soup into my cup, but I needed a lid.  The worker was walking by; I asked her if she had any lids.  She went into the cabinet, took out a plastics sleeve of lids, opened it, and gave one to me.  It slipped out of my hands and onto the counter, but thankfully it didn't reach the floor.  I grabbed it and said thanks to this worker.  She said nothing.  Nothing at all throughout this encounter.  Yeah, I got what I wanted, but her silent treatment was disturbing at best and offensive at worst.  I don't know if I want to go to this station anymore. ...

People Who Should Be Fired: That Either Stupid Or Trifling Bitch At Sonic

After the EURO Final Sunday I wanted to eat before going home.  I drove to Sonic because I liked the drive-thru aspect of it that day, but I don't have the app and therefore I couldn't get points for my visit.  I brought up Dairy Queen's app, but their deals didn't appeal to me.  So I stayed.

Big mistake.

This was a cash day, because when I went to Part Wolf for the soccer Match I was afraid the new owners kept their policy of charging extra for purchases with a credit card from the old owners, when the place was called the Nomad.  No matter; I needed to use cash anyway.  So I got a double cheeseburger and a dessert, and it was, like, $11 something.  I had an extra dollar and I really could have used a ten, so I gave the carhop $21 and change, expecting ten bucks back.

She later comes out with my food ... and nine bucks back.  Now I already got upcharged at Part Wolf; the Fair State I bought should have been four bucks but it was much larger than that.  I need my soccer pubs, however, and so I crammed my misgivings down because I need to keep going to this place.  But Sonic?  There isn't another one close by, but dammit, I was owed another buck.

So I hit the red button and called her back.  And I don't want to get into it because the conversation was stupid.  But she kept insisting that she gave back the extra dollar I gave her in order to get back a single $10 in change.  DO.  NOT.  GASLIGHT ME.

But you should have seen this girl's (and I mean girl's) attitude.  She basically threw a temper tantrum, with all those tsks and, "I keep telling you I gave back your dollar!"  This wasn't a worker trying to resolve a dispute with a customer; this was a brat getting into a fight with her sibling over who gets to use the family desktop.  And I don't want to be a Karen when it comes to complaining about customer service that falls well below what it should be but ... SHIT MAN, SHE RIPPED ME OFF AND NOW SHE'S SAYING SHE DIDN'T AND SHE'S YELLING AT ME!  WHAT THE HELL ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?

If I were less tired and, frankly, more sober I might have let this go as well.  But I was tired and was not that sober, so I decided to be a brat about this too to stand up for myself.  Finally, the carhop said, "Am I not going to argue this with you!" and she said it in a way where she was trying to assert control of the conversation when, I think deep down, she started believing that she didn't give the dollar back.  My fucking God.  She reached into her billfold, handed me my rightful tenth buck in change.  I grumble an "Eh," and got the hell out of there.  I have no idea what she could have pulled if I stayed there and ate.  She could have asked one of her goon co-workers to beat my ass.  So I got the fuck outta there with the quickness.  I ate those things at the parking lot of the Target.  Glamorous, huh?  Well, at least it was safer.

It's more likely than not that she flat-out forgot I gave her $21+ and then insisted she gave me the correct change because she thought she did.  The possibility that she sized me up as some pushover from whom she could graft an extra buck for her measly pocketbook pisses me off to no end.  Regardless, I got my correct change.  Unfortunately, I can't go back to that Sonic, like, ever again.  Well, at least not until she's fired.  Fuckin' A. ...

I Confess -- I Made It Awkward

I am finally going to do something about the empty helium tank we still have.  I bought it for the alumni club about, ah, a decade ago to blow up balloons for parties.  When we didn't need that anymore, Mother used it to blow up balloons for my niece.  And when it finally ran out, I thought I could just give it to Wal-Mart for them to recycle, like I did with the previous helium tank.  They wouldn't take it.  It's been sitting in my old bedroom for, like, two years now.

Have no idea if we can recycle it, but maybe I can take it to the county hazardous waste center?  So I called them and got a woman with a robotic, faintly polite voice.  She didn't say, "How can I help you?" which struck me as odd.  So I told her about the tank, and she asked me, "Which city?"  But I was listening to 5-3-4 on The Common Man on The Fan when she said that, so I asked her, "I'm sorry, did you ask me which state?"

"Which city," she replied.  I'm sure she was thinking, "Dumbass."

So I told her which city, which is weird since I thought the number was for my city's hazardous waste center.  Then she told me I could dump it there, or some other places ... and she didn't name any of those places, she just said that there were other places.  And I figured she was passive-aggressively trying to end the call.  OK, sorry I wasn't paying attention, I made it awkward, thank you, and I hope I hung up on her before she hung up on me.

Maybe that bitch should be fired, but maybe I should've paid attention, who knows?

People Who Should Be Fired: Intercom Parking Ramp ...

... (sigh), I know I shouldn't call women bitches, but that's who she was.  Straight-up truth.

I was getting out of the parking ramp that I now always use when I'm in St. Paul (I was there for the Boys' State High School AA Hockey Final) when I and another car were stuck at the gate.  The tickets we need to insert to lift up the arm weren't being taken up by the machines.  So I called the intercom and told her, as I was trying to make myself heard through the ambient noise of the ramp and surrounding area, that we were stuck at the gate.

To which this bitch replied, "Can I help you first before you help other people?"

And, well, I just got triggered.  I did not take the high road, but with the tone she gave me, the only thing she deserved was tone back.  She asked me to read the address, so I went, "It is ... 96 ... 3rd Ave. South!"  And when she asked me if I put in the ticket with the stripe up and to the right, I snapped back with a sigh and, "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees, I put in the ticket with the stripe up and to the riiiiiiight," like I was rolling my eyes at another of my parents' stupid questions.

What was worst of all was this asshole then asking, "Are you sure you're not putting in your receipt and not your ticket?"  I told her yes.  I should have told her, "Yes, I put in a ticket.  Receipts don't have stripes!  You keep harping over putting in the ticket with the stripe up and to the left -- how in the hell would I do that with a fucking receipt?!  Come on!"  After I barked out the ticket number and the price I paid for parking, she finally lifted the arm.  I told the ladies in the other car what I did, wished them good luck, thanked them and drove off, hoping that the unneeded thanks I gave the two women (what am I thanking them for?) wasn't taken by the idiot over the intercom as me thanking her.

My God -- customer service, right?

Assholes All Day, Man

Sometimes the lab is expecting something from me, but when there isn't anything from me because there's no work, I've been trained to e-mail that there is not anything coming.  This something has to come by 11 o'clock Saturdays, and once I forgot to e-mail and someone from the lab e-mailed me saying hey, where's thing something.

OK, so there's nothing of this something today, because it's the Saturday after Thanksgiving and there's no work.  (I was able to clean my desk in this department and stretch my day till 1:30.)  So I do the courteous thing and alert these people not to expect anything.  That's all I did.  So I get this bitchy message back saying ... well, I don't think I can divulge this particular piece of information, but she basically said, "I already told you we don't have anything for you."  OK, I kind of screwed up last week by asking if they have something for me when they never have something for me on Saturdays, so maybe that's behind the bitchy tone.  Or there is no bitchy tone because you can't tell tone through e-mail.  But when the person capitalizes the word "NOT," my ears prick up.  Because I don't think all caps is all that professional.

That reminds me: A couple months ago I took in a phone interview from a temp agency.  I promised to send my interviewer an updated resume.  I should update and send it.

I can imagine blowing up on her if she brings it up.  Then again, I need to know who the hell this person is.

---

Oh, I bought something to eat while watching the Gophers-Badgers Game.  Didn't know what I wanted, but then I remembered Jimmy John's is advertising this smaller sub for three bucks.  I go in, forgetting that I usually get indifferent, if not shitty, customer service.

And that's what I got.  The lazy asshole mumbled my total, and when I asked my receipt, he bitched at me: "You'll get it with your sandwich."  Oh, excuse me, sorry, how elitist of me.  Dumbass needs to be fired.

I have heard of the quote that comes from the TV character Raylan Givens of the show Justified:

If you run into an asshole in the morning, you ran into an asshole.  If you run into assholes all day, you're the asshole.

Nah, not me.  I ran into two assholes in the late morning/early afternoon, so they're the assholes. 

Person Who Should Be Fired: That Bitch At The Movie Theater Last Night

Ugh!  I know I shouldn't use the word "bitch" anymore, but my God, I've used it so often I really, really want to use it because it is so accurate to use that word for this narcissistic girl -- white, shorter than me, glasses, fat -- who has shitty customer service skills.  I know I cannot keep going on and on and on about shitty service, but goddamn, I hate it when people in positions like her won't say thank you.  Yes, it's important to me!  Yes, I think it's important, period!

But this fucking idiot (guess I'm finding words to describe her besides "bitch") hit the sweet spot of both rude and shallow.  It was going downhill when she answered my question about whether the theater had small sizes with a terse and quiet "No."  But her ill-mannered cherry on top was when I asked for my receipt.  Like some anti-social psycho, she printed it, ripped it off the dispenser, folded it, slapped it right in front of the popcorn I hadn't yet picked up (handing things is important to me, OK?), then started talking to her co-workers while I was still at the cash registered.  Oh, how rude.  Oh, what a rude cunt (yes, I know I really shouldn't say that, but women aren't that protected of a class of people to the point where I can't use a gender-specific insult, please??).

My only recourse is to not go back.  Maybe I can go on the website and complain about this asshole.  Or go on Yelp.  Yeah, Yelp is where everybody complains about everything.

People Who Should Be Fired: TSA Power-Tripping Motherfucker

Oh, so just because I forgot to take off my belt you get to go on a power trip ... "This is what you get for not taking of your belt, meep-meep-meep-meep-meep-meep-meep. ..."  Yeah, I bet you got off groping my groin, TSA asshole.

THESE AREN'T STUPID QUESTIONS!!!

Alright, need to get this off my chest.

So there's this one Facebook friend I have who I have never really met, I just saw on her naked in Playboy's "College Girls" issue once and I friend requested her out of the blue.  She's really cool -- I think.  Anyway, she has adopted two kids (she has two biologically) and is in the process of adopting a third, and I think she is a single mom as of right now.  Total respect.

Saw Instant Family Tuesday.  Very good, heartwarming film.  It's one of those films where people who hate Hollywood and say, "No one there makes a family movie!" should watch -- provided they can get over the swearing.  Anyway, once I saw the film, I thought of her, and so I messaged her about whether she has watched it yet.  She didn't.  She is going to rent it next year, and the only bad thing she's heard about it is the portrayal of these cartoonish, buffonish foster parents from which the main characters rescue these three kids.

"So you're saying that on the whole, foster parents aren't bad people?" I said.

Silence.

Haven't heard from her in two days now.

Now, you can't tell tone on the Internet.  But dammit, my insecure, paranoid persona is running wild in my head now.  I can't help but think that this hot Facebook friend looked at what I wrote back to her and thought, "Ugh, such a stupid question.  Of course foster parents aren't bad people -- that's what I just said, moron."  I have half a belief that she's de-friended me by the time I publish this blog post.

Look, it's not a stupid question!  I am just confirming -- making sure, you know? -- what she is trying to communicate.  I hope she's not telling me, "No shit, Sherlock."  Man, why the hell are so many people outraged over a simple back-and-forth conversation?  Can't fucking talk to people anymore.

---

Wednesday I had to talk to our gas company because we (in my parents' name) were sent bills for a property they had sold (and they had told the company that) back in the summer.  I needed to follow up even though, for some reason, another, "final" bill came with a refund.  On it was a line item for a payment made in late October.  That frightened me because that would have meant that I had paid for something that I should not have paid for, and I overlooked it.

I initially called about this before Thanksgiving and was told to call back either Monday or Tuesday.  I remembered to call Wednesday and, after getting the runaround where I was told to wait and then was sent back to the introductory message not once but twice, I finally got someone.  After looking up the case number I provided, she said, "You will receive a check as a credit for this property" ... which is precisely what I was able to glean from the statement just sent.

But what about the payment supposedly made in October?  I was trying to ask the question while giving the long story so as not to make her think I was stupid.  But then I realized that my folks were getting a credit, which means that any payment made from our household was going to come back to us.  (Although, for some reason, I'm still not entirely sure about the logic behind that.)  So I finally got around to asking the customer representative, "So, can you tell me about the nature of this payment and ... uh, whether you can confirm to me I'm getting all of it back?"

And all she said was: "You will receive a check as a credit for this property."  Again.  Oh, and her tone was definitely, "You're an idiot."

Look, it's not a stupid question!  I see amounts added up and subtracted, and all of a sudden I see some payment three hours after my parents' account was supposed to be deactivated, and you sound like you're pissed that we've been given the runaround?!  Fuck you!  I don't care how mushmouthed my question was.  You can answer better than just repeating what you said, you bitch!  I declined answering their survey after the call because I had been given that runaround three times, but if I had known she would have treated me this way, I would have definitely agreed to the survey so I could torpedo her chances of keeping her job as much as I could.  Goddammit, man, I mean, seriously.

WHY ARE PEOPLE THINKING I'M ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS???  I'M NOT ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS!!!

Sunday Was Rudeness Day, Apparently

I don't know, man, but yesterday (Sunday) people were just pissy all over.  There was the owner at Caffetto, who threw down my change in front of me instead of handing it to me.  There was My Asshole Brother who, after I texted him advice on what to expect when getting Comcast, just replied, "No" (not even a period, brother?).  And then there was the Comcast bitch, Rhonda, who, after throwing me a card with the installation appointment day and time and asking, "Is there anything else?" to which I stammered out a no because I wasn't quite sure if I had no more questions, she blew me off by saying "Thank you, bye-bye," while not making eye contact with me at all.  Something on her computer was totally transfixing her, like maybe Candy Crush.  Oh, that good ol' Comcast customer service.

You know, I really am not big on manners.  But with all the bullshit I got yesterday, I am big on manners right now.  Was it just that it's a holiday weekend and people just didn't want to be nice and instead wanted to be real?  Is that it?  The worst is Comcast, partly because I was and am still afraid of their notoriously shitty customer service, partly because I knew all of that shit and still decided to sign up for them anyway.  At this point they've got me by the shorthairs.  Rhonda, by fucking God, I hope to need to deal with your bitch-ass face ever again.

Went to Wendy's for a late lunch, and even though the service was better -- the manager was actually nice to me, and the two other people who helped with my order at least weren't rude -- the service wasn't really that competent.  It took me five minutes to get my "fast" food order.  This day I'll take slow and not rude over fast and rude.  But shit, can I at least get someone who's both professional and competent, please?

So thank Buddha for the young woman who helped me get tickets at the gas station close to my house before I came home.  You don't need years of experience; just a good attitude and the understanding you're there to help someone.  That's not too much to ask.

Person At Work Pissing Me Off, #3: Chuckles (Scheduled Post)

I feel kind of bad for complaining about this person.  She seems to be a nice person.  But goddammit, she bothers me.

Why?  Once in a while she will chuckle.  All we're doing, as far as I can tell, is reading papers.  I have never laughed out loud at a single essay I've been reading.  Not a one.  And yet she's there chuckling once an hour.  Now she might be doing that whenever she calls over her immediate supervisor.  Once in a while I would look over at her to see what the hell she's laughing about and he's there standing behind her.  Maybe she is laughing at something he said.  But, well, whenever I have my immediate supervisor come look at something alongside me I have never even guffawed, so she's still terribly annoying in that case.

Is she as bad, or offensive, as Mr. Inside Voice or Coughing Fit Man?  No.  Both of them do their things way more often than Chuckles, and they are much, much louder.  But Mr. Inside Voice is in the middle of the room and Coughing Fit Man is near the front of the room.  I'm off to the side, near the back; I can hear both of them, clearly, but they're physically far from me.  But Chuckles is in the row behind me.  So even though her chuckles are quiet, I can hear every single one, clearly.  And the fact that I can hear something so quiet aggravates me even more.  It's like a secret only I can hear, even though I don't want to hear it at all.

Seriously, what the fuck is so funny that she has to laugh like that so goddamn often?  People who work here are weird.

Person At Work Pissing Me Off, #2: Coughing Fit Man

This asshole is coughing so much I assumed that he'll keel over and drop dead one of these days.

Old white guy (they always are, aren't they?) has been coughing from Day One.  But this guy's coughs are not just incessant.  They are loud, throaty, guttural belches from the deep recesses of his stomach.  And it's not just one cough; he seems to cough up a lung, then cough up another one, then somehow a third, then finally his bladder before his fit is over.  And it's a series of these silence-shattering coughs every single time, several goddamn times an hour.

I doubt that I am the only one truly pissed about this guy.  I can't believe no one has done anything about this, including Father Time.  Like I said, a guy that coughs this loudly, this violently, this frequently and for this long should be dead by now.

Person At Work Pissing Me Off, #1: Mr. Inside Voice

OK, so for as long as I am on this project, I am going to have to put up with a lot of crap.  There are about 70 people in a room, and even though it's a big enough room where we're not knocking knees and elbows, sometimes it feels as though we are.

In particular, a personal tic, tolerated hour after hour and day after day, becomes unbearable.  That is the case with four such individuals.  I have had it with all three of them, and therefore, to blow off steam so I don't get into it with them at work, I'm just going to talk about it here.

The first, and possibly the worst, asshole at work is the one who sent me over the edge yesterday (Thursday).  The guy is old, schlubby, probably stinks.  He has two deals.  The less aggravating one is that, without fail, if he has a question, he will go to the overall supervisor in the room.  That's not a total big deal, but the way the organization in the room works is that there are us worker bees, immediate supervisors, and then the room supervisor.  There is an immediate supervisor for, oh, every 10 of us drones.  I'm sure he has one, but for some goddamn reason he does a disrespectful (IMHO) end run around that person and goes to talk to her.  Because he's Senor Hotshit or something.

But the most galling fucking thing he does is talk in a loud, outdoor voice.  All.  The.  Fucking.  Time.  I first noticed it when he beckoned the room supervisor over to his computer to look at a paper he has trouble scoring, which is much more often compared to the average.  I could hear him talking.  He's in the middle of the room while I'm off to the side, and he's talking loud enough for everyone to hear.  And when he goes up to the front of the room to ask this supervisor for help, I can still fucking hear him.  Does this old fart know how to whisper?  Seriously, one of these days if he's going to start talking as if he's the only one in the room, I'm going to either sidle up behind him or shout from my workstation, "Just give it a 1!"  And when he asks, "Who asked you?" I'll go, "Well, it ain't my business, but you're talking so goddamn loudly you've made it my business.  So give it a 1!"  And then he'll get mad and at that point I'll be so pissed at him that I'll be spoiling for a fight and I'll be ready for one.  And then I'll be fired.  And then I won't have to worry about him shouting and distracting me, because I'll be out of a job.

Why #imwithher

(If I may say, I've had a pretty shitty, uh, 18 hours.  Father accused me of not looking for another job -- I haven't, but that's because I'm happy with the job I have -- and then today I had a huge back-up on the way to work, thus losing all the advantage in time I thought I got even though I voted before going to work, and then this asshole didn't look back and hold the door open for me while getting into the building.  Just a weird vibe I'm feeling ... is it because of Election Day?)

Yes, I voted for Hillary Clinton.  I do so with some trepidation: I think she is too cozy with Wall Street, she is a hawk when it comes to defense and world affairs, and honestly, I'm still not really over that her husband fucked around with an intern while he was President.  (I have no issues with her standing by him, I just have sort of a problem that the soon-to-be First Husband used to fuck around with an intern while he was leading The Free World.  And by the way, I'm taking Clinton's weaknesses as my own after reading Charlie Pierce regularly on Esquire.com.  I really have no original ideas anymore.)

However, even though I know a lot of people who will vote for Clinton while holding their noses, I'm not at that point.  I am OK with voting for her.  In fact, I am more than OK with voting for her.  And I can affirmatively vote for Clinton for several reasons.  Like her or not, she is more than qualified for the office; remember that she has served as a Senator and as a Secretary of State.  She has worked in government -- effectively -- for more than three decades, especially helping children.  And from what I have heard, she is a policy wonk that gets shit done.  No, she isn't a great campaigner or speaker or politician, but once she gets into the White House, she doesn't really have to do any of that.  She actually, you know, governs.  And there is plenty of testimony, from Republicans as well as Democrats, that she knows what to do and how to do it.

Before I list all the obvious things that make her opponent uniquely unqualified, I want to say something about the philosophical arguments against voting for Clinton and why one could ever vote for Donald Trump.  First of all, a lot of people dismiss all the shit Trump has said because, according to them, "It's just words.  I'm less concerned about what he said than what she (or her husband) did."  Ignoring the obviously distorted accusations that form the basis of the "doings" they accuse the Clintons of, despite his distinct lack of civil service (which is a huge demerit for me), Trump has done things -- a lot of things that convince me that he has no business being in the White House unless he's taking a tour.  Ties and debt to Russia?  Multiple bankruptcies?  And, by the way, vague concepts about how to deal with the problems this country faces instead of actual plans?  And where the hell are your taxes, anyway?

However, let this damned campaign he's running prove that sometimes words do matter.  All the insults and threats and baiting that is the bedrock of his candidacy disqualifies him from the presidency.  I do not want a stupid, vapid, lying pig whose views (and I'm not sure if he truly believes them or not) are the voice of so many Americans leading this country.  He has been so hateful, and he has capitalized so well on that hate, that now I feel the need to use my vote to stomp out his campaign and with it the hopes and dreams of far too many goddamn people who share this country with me.  He truly leads an enemy of millions, and they'll need to be torn asunder lest we need to face them again in two or four years.  So yeah, words do matter.

(And by the way, I've heard that people like to vote for candidates they think "they can drink a beer with."  Uh, news flash: Candidates for president will never drink a beer with you.  Because they have more important shit they need to do.  So stop with this "everyman" crap, it's never going to happen.  Only Trump supporters think this way.)

I think I need to end this now.  Besides, if I keep going on with my thoughts, I don't think I'll stop.  I'll just say that if Trump becomes President, I have no doubt that he won't give a shit about doing the government's business.  He'll leave it all up to Mike Pence while he goes around trying to make money for himself.  That's how he'll give up, like, nuclear secrets to Russia in exchange for millions or millions in forgiven debt.  That's going to happen; he doesn't give a damn about running this country, he's only out for himself.  (How so many people don't see that bothers the hell out of me.)  Meanwhile, with Clinton in the White House, shit might actually get done.  Because she's serious about this job.  She's the only one who is.  And if she doesn't make Wall Street heel, or if she steps up drone-bombing campaigns in the Middle East, we'll have to make her.  Because that is what democracy is -- the people stepping up and telling the people in government what we want them to do.

So that's why I voted for Clinton, and you should, too.

Person Who Should Be Fired: My Contact At The Temp Agency

OK, this bitch who didn't listen to me before I started this job did it again.  Today at work I get this frantic e-mail (and I know you can't really tell frenzy in an e-mail, but trust me, she was frantic) from her saying that I needed to fill out my I-9.  Except that I did.  I even replied to her with a screengrab of my temp agency account that showed I did the I-9.  And without referencing my e-mail at all, she told me I had to go into their offices and do it again.

Taking time out of my workday to do this is already annoying.  I now have to adjust my schedule to make sure I get my hours in.  But it's the impression that she didn't even acknowledge what I said in my e-mail that really pisses me off.  This really isn't my issue, but she's making it my issue because she said I don't get paid if I don't come in.  And beyond that, filling out tax forms is something usually done before a job begins, not now.  I had time to do this before this job began, and I resent that I have to take valuable time out of my schedule to do this now.  That I don't think she understands or cares about this plight she put me in infuriates me.

I thought my first contact at the temp agency was bad, but I hated her only because she was stupid and a liar.  This one is a nag and selfish and completely indifferent to my feelings.  Plus she's affecting me now, so she's worse.

Oh, by the way, I had to come in and see her in the summer.  She has bad skin.  Also, she was wearing a shirt that she didn't button.  I could see all the way in to the bra/tank top she was wearing.  I would be turned on if she weren't my contact, and if she weren't so dumb.  How lazy, how unprofessional.  I should have known that was a sign of how she would treat me.

People Who Should Be Fired: The Bitch At The Wienery

So I was at the Nomad last Sunday and I was so hungry that, at halftime, I went to the Wienery, just a couple blocks down from the bar, to get one of their really good hot dogs.  (The Nomad is cool in that, even though there is a food truck that is open sometimes, they allow you to bring outside food.)

When I got there, though, the front door was locked.  That is weird because there were customers inside the restaurant.  I checked my watch; it was ten to 3.  I checked the "OPEN" neon sign; it was on.  And, once again, there were people inside.  So I don't get it.

Finally the cook comes from the kitchen to open up the door.  She says, "May I help you?"

"Yes, I would like to order something to go."

And as she opens the door to allow me inside she says, get this, "You're being very rude."

WHAT?????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Bitch, you're open!  Business hours aren't over yet!  Your goddamn sign is on!  You're fucking open!  So how in the fuckety-fuck am I rude????!!!!

I wish I had said something like that, but I stammered out something that, in retrospect, was a good comeback, even though I could have used a little more consternation and confrontation: "Am I?  You know, I don't have to order anything," to which she mumbled something and said if I knew what I wanted to order.  I didn't, but I made up something quick, because, frankly, I thought I wouldn't have someone who was in over her head.

I'm late for the second half of the soccer game.  I regret giving this place even a dollar tip.  The cook/bitch who told me I was rude then referred to me as "buddy" as she was getting my fries ready.  I would rather you not try to buddy up to me after being so rude to me.  In fact, don't talk at all.  Just shut up and give me what I order.  Better yet, if I was being so rude, don't let me in in the first place.  Say something like, "I'm too busy and I have to go to my other job like right now, so, I can't."  (She was complaining that she would be late for her other job.  Whatevs.)  I'll leave thinking, "What is up with that place?"  But better that than thinking you're a cunt.

Had to bitch to the bartender at Nomad about the customer service.  He said it was "bullshit" and that place is just riddled with "dysfunction."  Man, wish I had known before I went!

---

You know, I want to say something that will boost my own spirits.  Immediately after this bullshit happened I wanted to blog about it.  But I couldn't, so I thought I would wait until I got home.  And I did get home, but I got tired, and then when I decided to blog I blogged about something else.  I still remember this incident, but it's only now where I finally decided to talk about it.

At first I thought the reason it took me a week to blog about it was because of the trauma of being so mistreated.  And then I thought it was just procrastination.  But now -- and hopefully this is a sign of growth and security -- the reason I think I haven't bothered to write about it is because I don't feel as victimized about it as I initially did.  I'm realizing that, hey, she's the one who fucked up.  I had no reason to think they were closed because they were fucking open.  If she doesn't like it, well then, she should've said something, or turned off the fucking neon sign, or just fuckin' quit.  She didn't, so dammit, that's her problem.

That's so stupid that I think I had better things to think about, let alone write about.  Also, I did learn something: Don't eat at The Wienery for a long, long time.

I Might Have To Change Gas Stations Now

Oh yeah ... have to talk about what I said in a moment of frustration last week when I was getting gas.  It was a long day and I needed to get gas at the gas station because it was Double Discount Tuesdays.  I pay inside because I have a coupon that they need to discount me for.

So I go in and see two lines.  The line farther from me has people, but the one nearer me does not.  However, there is a "use other line" sign on the counter.  However-however, there is a cashier there.  I sensed some dissonance there, so I waited to see if maybe the matter about whether or not this girl is actually serving people would work itself out.

She was talking to another person there.  I recognized her as another worker, but she seemed to be off the clock with the way they were chit-chatting with each other.  That would be fine if she weren't holding up the line ... if there was a line.  Finally, she came over and slammed down some items on the counter.  That's when my patience finally ran out; I lined up behind the off-work worker and asked if she was open, to which she said, with a flippant tone, "Yes."

Good -- I finally know where to line up, and it looked as though I picked the right one because it seemed liked there were so many people lined up on the other line.  But then this stupid off-work bitch begins to pull out coins to pay for all of her shit.  And they start yakking it up while she was at it, too!  It took so long, in fact, that the other guy on the other end of the line got finished and turned to me and said, "I can help you over here!"

I sped out like The Roadrunner in order to get to him before other people did.  And they were converging; this one scary-looking dude beat me to the counter, but he let me through first.  Thank God he wasn't a dick, otherwise who knows what could have happened in my frustrated state.

However, I was still frustrated enough to sigh and, while I was going from this near line to the far line, in a voice that was audible, say, "Slow!"  Oh, I know they heard it.  And at the time at least, I wanted them to hear it.

Unfortunately, that blurted-out comment may have put me on the wrong foot.  First of all, I'm afraid that even with all of her goddamn coins, that line finished before mine.  Therefore, I picked the wrong line twice, essentially.  And worst of all, if either of those two lazy bitches is working next Tuesday, they might fuck me over when I get gas over there.  I already have an issue with the General Manager, and now I think I'll have problems with two of his stupid underlings.  All this because that girl didn't have the decency to let me know if she was or was not open!

It's gotten so bad that I need to find another gas station.  There is another one close by and another one not too far away.  However, I don't know if I can pay inside at either of those places after I fill my car's tank.  Moreover, one of those gas stations actually closes at night, so I can't just sneak in there at, say, 11 p.m. and pay even if that place does allow me to fill up old-school.  Should drop by and ask them.

If either of those places aren't the right fit, then I'm stuck with this place and a couple of employees I pissed off by accusing them of being slow.  And then I'm fucked.

I'm Surprised This Hag Hasn't Gotten Fired Yet

As this New York Times piece notes, damage control in public relations has become a cottage industry.  And the latest person to go through the washing machine of rehabilitating her image is Dr. Melissa Click, the bully bitch at the University of Missouri who needed some "muscle" to physically remove someone exercising his First Amendment rights and documenting the protests going on in the university back in November.

While rightly (and astonishingly) being fired and pleading guilty to misdemeanor assault (to which she'll serve community service), she still has her reputation to save, so she's putting the word out that she's not the monster that she'll forever be on YouTube.

No dice from me.  A (former) journalism and (current, still, somehow!) communications professor damn well better know that everyone has a right to document and record what is going on in a public space no matter if people there don't want to be seen.  Tough shit.  In the article, which was published Friday, Dr. Click says she was defending Concerned Students 1950, a black student organization that probably could have done just fine without this white woman meddling to the point where she called for violence.  CS50 has a lot of valid points; preventing reporters from reporting on the movement when they curry publicity for the parts of their protests that they want people to see definitely is not one of them.  And Mel Click here apparently is trying to atone for centuries of white privilege by overly protecting this group, a move that, obviously, turned into assault.

Apparently she has been suspended, but not fired.  As far as I know she is still a member of the comm. dept. at Mizzou.  And, at least according to this columnist at the Miami Herald, her fellow academics in Communications have defended not only her but her actions.  I am skeptical about that claim; Glenn Garvin only mentions this supposed letter in one paragraph, and there is no link to it.  I also question Garvin's objectivity.  He bemoans weird new politically correct things that have become vogue on campuses like safe zones and students reporting on teachers they don't like.  Those are weird and troubling, but he mish-mashes them together in a way that makes me believe that Garvin is nothing more than a conservative crank.

However, if this letter from the communications department is true, then I hope every single student who majored in communications at the University of Missouri switches majors, and I hope every single prospective comm student to Mizzou either selects something else or doesn't go there.  Defending the shrill actions of this woman is nothing short of unfair and stupid.

Oh, and Click should have been fired yesterday.  When both Republicans and reporters hate you for what you did, it's time for you to go.

A Hypothetical Letter To Melt Shop

I was going back and forth as to whether I should make this a regular blog post or if I wanted to turn this into a complaint letter/message directed to Melt Shop (or The Melt Shop, I don't care, as you'll see why).  What I've decided to do is a hybrid of both.

Dear Malt Shop:

After work and in order to wait for the evening traffic to subside, I stopped by the Mall of America.  I planned on eating at Qdoba, but when I arrived, I saw that the Maltshop facade had dropped and in its place was the actual restaurant.  It was finally open.  (Didn't realize until I came home in the evening and looked them up that The Malt Shop opened that day, Monday.  How fortuitous.)  I've eaten at Qdoba before, and since this place was brand new (although I also didn't realize until I came home in the evening and looked them up that this restaurant isn't brand new; it was born in New York City, where it has several locations, and one spot in Washington, D.C.), I figured I would go to them.

The first thing that blew me away -- and it really blew me away -- were the prices.  That's why I opted for their "Classic" -- it was the cheapest sandwich on their menu.  They also really touted their shakes, so instead of having yet another Coke I got one of those -- Nutella, because it was listed first.  And a regular size, because it was almost five bucks, just like their "Classic."  No sides like their so-called famous Tater Tots.  Probably better that way anyway since I spent more than seven bucks on lunch.

The menu described what their "Classic" was, but only when I actually got it did I realize exactly what I got.  It's a goddamn grilled cheese sandwich.  That's it.  If I recall correctly the description said "Wisconsin and American cheese on white bread," and oh, that's it.  Now, it was delicious, and it was expertly made, or at least expertly made as something as basic as a grilled cheese sandwich can be made; I like the buttered white bread in particular.  But I don't see how it would be appreciably different from any crap I try to make at home, and that would cost me, what, 30 cents unit price?

But what really bugged me about you guys was when I handed my money over.  The total for the grilled cheese sandwich and Nutella shake (which, by the way, was fantastic, and I can justify the price of that, at least a little bit) was $10.49.  I hand over a twenty.  I get $9.50 back, not $9.51.  I ask the cashier, "Where's my penny?"  To which he replied, "Oh, we don't give out pennies here."  I have absolutely no idea what the hell that means.  I have never heard that before, and I was so gobsmacked by what this guy told me, I didn't know what to say, so I just waddled over to the side to wait for my food.

"You don't give out pennies here?"  What does that even mean?  Why can't I get my exact change?  Why are you guys unable or unwilling to get pennies for your cash registers?  Is not giving out pennies for change a millenial thing?  I know it's just a penny, but if the cash register says to expect $9.51 back, I want $9.51 back.  If it is Melt Shop policy that its stores will not supply pennies -- which I still think is fucking weird -- do me and all of your customers a favor and round up your prices to the nearest nickel.  (Oh, by the way, I don't appreciate the price of my meal being rounded up arbitrarily.  You people just took another penny from me.)  Oh, actually you need to do one thing first: TELL YOUR CUSTOMERS BEFORE THEY ORDER THAT YOU DO NOT GIVE OUT PENNIES FOR CHANGE.  Something like that only seems fair.  By the way, if it isn't Melt Shop policy to not supply pennies, then it looks like you guys hired an asshole who fucked me out of a penny, and he needs to be fired yesterday.

But hey, it's just a penny.  I want to think that I paid a lesson for it: Never go to Melt Shop ever again.

People Who Should Be Fired: The Bitch Ticket Lady At The Concert Tonight

It's not totally her fault.  I went downtown to catch a concert by a group for the second time, which I usually never do, but it was the weekend and my parents aren't here to judge me, so I went.  The tickets were $15, and I thought that was reasonable.  But when I went up to the box office, I had to pay $17.  What the fuck?

Later in the concert I remembered that when I had to buy wrestling tickets for my friend and I, they also tacked on a service fee.  But I thought that was because I bought them at the restaurant next door.  I just checked the FAQ, and it points out that there are service fees only if you buy them at that restaurant.  So I thought buying them in person would save me that service fee.  Guess not.

See, this is why I buy tickets from scalpers.  Once you agree on a price, that's the price.  Meanwhile I've been told that $15 is, in fact, not $15.  I'm not used to that, and I don't want to ever get used to that.

But what really incensed me is the girl who I gave my hard-earned money too.  I couldn't help but roll my eyes and whine a bit.  Do you know what she said?  "There's nothing I can do about it."  Well, no fucking shit there's nothing you can do about it!  It's a service fee, and she didn't look like someone who had the power to override the charge by swiping her supervisor card.  Whenever I hear something like that, that person is doing a very lame job of explaining the situation while doing his (or in this case her) best to abdicate responsibility for it.  Responsibility I didn't assign to her when I, in frustration, snapped back at her nothing excuse, "I didn't say that you could do anything about it!"

Our "conversation" went straight down into the volcano pit from there.  I sure as hell didn't want to speak to her more than I absolutely had to, and I'm sure she felt the same way.  Yet she said something to me that I could not hear at all, even though I was standing less than a foot from her, because the opening act was playing.  (Good music, BTW, it just doesn't facilitate talking at a normal level.)  I thought she was just muttering something to the effect of, "Thank you" (even though she obviously wouldn't mean it), but she nonchalantly showed me her wrist, meaning that she needed to stamp my wrist and give me my ticket.  From looking at her and remembering that she refused to raise her voice at all so I could hear her, I know that she thought I was stupid.  To which I reply, Bitch, you want to be understood, speak up.  This is a rock club.  You know, with loud music.  Loud enough to drown out voices.  Like yours.

And oh, by the way, having pink streaks in your hair doesn't make you edgy.  I can tell you live in fucking Burnsville with your parents, so stop acting like you're some damn rocker chick, you poseur.

Temp Agency Woman Lied To Me! Again!

OK, so this woman at the temp agency, one I've had to speak with on occasion, got me this current job.  But yesterday as I was getting oriented to the project I saw written on our orientation sheet our end date of this Friday.  Trouble is, she told me that this was going to last two weeks, which would have been perfect, because what I thought was going to be my last day would be a Friday and I would begin the test scoring project the following Monday.  Wouldn't have missed a beat.  Now, I will miss a beat -- a week's worth, in fact.

I was told to call her and tell her how my first day was.  I got someone else instead, and I told him that she told me this was going to last two weeks instead of one.  What I did not say to him is that this was not the first case where she misled me.  My first run-in with her, if I recall correctly (and I might be wrong) was where she told me I had a job when in fact I didn't.  She has also told me I needed to update my resume when in fact I didn't have to; I think she misled the people I had to supervise at the flu billing place about what their job exactly entailed, which I still do not appreciate; she told me last week that I had to do this background check even though I didn't (and she said she eventually took care of it herself, which is in itself odd, because it's my background check); and now this.

She's nuts, is what I'm saying.  And even though it sucks that, in my opinion, she lied to me, she has done that so often that I just assume that she's chronically untrustworthy.  Besides, I am trying to make lemonade out of these lemons.  This gives me time to make an appointment to get new insoles for my flat feet.  I am working on arranging some sexytime with a woman who only blows dick during the daytime.  And, frankly, after the long and boring day I had trying to work the phones, maybe one week of this job is more than enough.  (I will say that even though the work is arduous, the people I work with and for are great.)

And hey, maybe this temp recruiter will get a dressing down, or maybe even get fired.