I got a comment on my last blog to post some limericks I've written while at work. Well, they aren't good. I never said they were. They're cheesy. But they fit the formula, so fine. I'll post ones I can (some are about particular people, so they are either not fit for public consumption or they make reference to things only they know about so they'd make no sense). But don't say I didn't warn you about their quality...
There once were some bulbs named 'Soft White'
Who dreamed of becoming a kite.
He attempted to soar,
But instead hit the floor;
It's agreed he was not very bright.
My car has a new trick. This little development showed up last week, and I can't think of anything except that my car is maybe trying to kill me. The Camry's new trick is that whenever the needle on the speedometer (which is inaccurate, I might add) hits 65 MPH, my hood pops open. Yup. No bumps required. Just going 65 is all it takes and THUNK! Pop goes the weasel! Luckily there is a second catch in there that has to be manually unlatched. Of course, my luck is that someday that will fail too. Maybe when I decide to pass someone and speed up to 70 MPH. Then my hood will shear off, take out 6 other cars full of families and a tour bus full of old people... I'll run off the road, maybe flip a few times. Hit a school building or something. Burst into flames and explode like in the movies, and forever be labeled as a domestic terrorist.
For tonight at Returns I am stuck,
Which at first made me think 'What the fuck?'.
But time I can pass
By scratching my ass.
I can stand here and still make a buck.
Want a poorly written cheeseball limerick? Give me a topic. I'll do what I can.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A Wee Post
I have a Midget Shower.
Which is strange for me to be concerned with, since I myself am only two measly inches and a diagnosed dwarfism gene away from being able to be a card-carrying member of Little People of America, and am quite eligible to join the National Organization of Short Statured Adults.
But yeah. My shower is short, and it annoys me. I didn't notice it when I looked at the place. But when I went to take that first shower I got in the tub and BAM. The shower head was right in front of me. At eye level. Nothing is ever at eye level for me, and never have I been in any shower that is that low. I can't imagine how the guy that lived here before me dealt with that for over a year. I once lived in an apartment where the shower head was so high I couldn't reach it to redirect the spray. I lowered it. Brought it closer to my level. But this... this is just bizarre. To have to MAKE SOMETHING TALLER so I don't bump into it. So's I got a nifty showerarm extender thing- has a lovely 'S' shape and makes the shower head 6" higher. But now I can't get the old arm off. Stuck tight. Gah. I was so looking forward to being able to stand under a nice hot shower rather than getting blasted right in the face. Probably for the best right now, since I still only get a nice hot shower for about 4 minutes.
My new entertainment is writing really stupid limericks at work. About things at work and people at work. It started with a package of broken lightbulbs. And it has escalated rapidly. Now I feel the urge to write a limerick about everything there. Jeebus. I really might be going insane. What do you think?
Which is strange for me to be concerned with, since I myself am only two measly inches and a diagnosed dwarfism gene away from being able to be a card-carrying member of Little People of America, and am quite eligible to join the National Organization of Short Statured Adults.
But yeah. My shower is short, and it annoys me. I didn't notice it when I looked at the place. But when I went to take that first shower I got in the tub and BAM. The shower head was right in front of me. At eye level. Nothing is ever at eye level for me, and never have I been in any shower that is that low. I can't imagine how the guy that lived here before me dealt with that for over a year. I once lived in an apartment where the shower head was so high I couldn't reach it to redirect the spray. I lowered it. Brought it closer to my level. But this... this is just bizarre. To have to MAKE SOMETHING TALLER so I don't bump into it. So's I got a nifty showerarm extender thing- has a lovely 'S' shape and makes the shower head 6" higher. But now I can't get the old arm off. Stuck tight. Gah. I was so looking forward to being able to stand under a nice hot shower rather than getting blasted right in the face. Probably for the best right now, since I still only get a nice hot shower for about 4 minutes.
My new entertainment is writing really stupid limericks at work. About things at work and people at work. It started with a package of broken lightbulbs. And it has escalated rapidly. Now I feel the urge to write a limerick about everything there. Jeebus. I really might be going insane. What do you think?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Sunday Morning Coming Down
Location: Customer Service Desk, Blue/Red motif Big Box Home Improvement Store.
Scene: Sunday, February 14, 2010. 8:07 AM. "Valentine's Day"- a holiday celebrated by some, but not all. First incoming phone call of the day.
*Phone Rings*
Me: "How may I direct your call?"
Man on Line: "I don't know, but you better tell me where I can get some salt or I'm going to Home Depot."
Me: "Um... I'm sorry. What is it you're looking for?"
Man on Line; "I said, 'I don't know, but if you don't tell me where I can find salt I'm going to Home Depot!' Salt! Or I'm going to Home Depot!".
Me: ... ... (squelching the 'oh, no you didn't' response about to burst forth)... ... One moment.
Transfer call to department that carries road salt, knowing full well that the store is completely sold out.
Really? Wanna try that exchange again, fuckwad? Where do you get off? And what makes you think anyone at my place of employment wants to deal with some jerkoff who thinks that by harrassing the phone operator he'll get his way? Oh, I'm sorry, sir... I can tell you are in serious need of some salt- of course it's not your fault that you waited until today to go looking for it. Why don't I produce some Ice Melt out of my ass for you? Douche. Go on across the street. Go for it, bud. I'm sure they'll welcome you.
Today was Valentine's Day. Bah fucking Humbug. While I think it's a stupid, cheesy, mushball of a day... I did realize today that I've never gotten anything for Valentine's Day (well, not since middle school. Which does not count). Most years, I've not been anyone's, or had a, valentine. But even last year when I (officially) did, I didn't get so much as a text message. I got him a card- a big joke of a card too, which I am proud of because it was funny as shit and I knew it would be right up his alley- and a little thing of candy and snuck into his apartment and left it for him on his computer keyboard. I at least showed I was thinking of him. I got zilch. Le sigh. Yeah, it's stupid. And I wouldn't ever want anything super-cheeseball. No giant balloons or ridiculous numbers of flowers (puke). No retarded dinner out on a night when EVERYONE does that. Nothing over the top. But for once, being acknowledged as someone's valentine would be nice. A hug. You know, just a little sweetness.
And chocolate is always good too...
Scene: Sunday, February 14, 2010. 8:07 AM. "Valentine's Day"- a holiday celebrated by some, but not all. First incoming phone call of the day.
*Phone Rings*
Me: "How may I direct your call?"
Man on Line: "I don't know, but you better tell me where I can get some salt or I'm going to Home Depot."
Me: "Um... I'm sorry. What is it you're looking for?"
Man on Line; "I said, 'I don't know, but if you don't tell me where I can find salt I'm going to Home Depot!' Salt! Or I'm going to Home Depot!".
Me: ... ... (squelching the 'oh, no you didn't' response about to burst forth)... ... One moment.
Transfer call to department that carries road salt, knowing full well that the store is completely sold out.
Really? Wanna try that exchange again, fuckwad? Where do you get off? And what makes you think anyone at my place of employment wants to deal with some jerkoff who thinks that by harrassing the phone operator he'll get his way? Oh, I'm sorry, sir... I can tell you are in serious need of some salt- of course it's not your fault that you waited until today to go looking for it. Why don't I produce some Ice Melt out of my ass for you? Douche. Go on across the street. Go for it, bud. I'm sure they'll welcome you.
Today was Valentine's Day. Bah fucking Humbug. While I think it's a stupid, cheesy, mushball of a day... I did realize today that I've never gotten anything for Valentine's Day (well, not since middle school. Which does not count). Most years, I've not been anyone's, or had a, valentine. But even last year when I (officially) did, I didn't get so much as a text message. I got him a card- a big joke of a card too, which I am proud of because it was funny as shit and I knew it would be right up his alley- and a little thing of candy and snuck into his apartment and left it for him on his computer keyboard. I at least showed I was thinking of him. I got zilch. Le sigh. Yeah, it's stupid. And I wouldn't ever want anything super-cheeseball. No giant balloons or ridiculous numbers of flowers (puke). No retarded dinner out on a night when EVERYONE does that. Nothing over the top. But for once, being acknowledged as someone's valentine would be nice. A hug. You know, just a little sweetness.
And chocolate is always good too...
Thursday, February 11, 2010
You can ring my bell, ring my bell...
It's back to cold here in Athens. For a few days it warmed up a bit, gave us a break. But bam, freezing again.
Been a fun week. My friend Elton came and stayed with me for a bit. We had a few super-fun nights out (where was my tiara??), and some super-fun nights in watching Family Guy and crappy (read: awesome) movies. One night we went to the grocery store and made a smorgasbord for dinner- ugh, I was so full! I just wish I wouldn't have had to be up early every morning for school, and wouldn't have had to be away at work some nights until 10pm. It's been a while since I've had someone to hang out with more than once a week... alas, he went back to Trasa's today, so it's just me and the cats again.
Got to work the other day... they put up a damn bell by the exit door. "If You Received GREAT Service... Please Ring Bell!". Yeah. One of those. It looks just like the ones you find in fast-food restaurants; the Arby's on the Eastside comes to mind. It makes me want to be mean to people to keep them from ringing it, because the bell is loud and distracting and startles me when it's quiet otherwise. Also, I seriously dislike that type of motivation to do my job. I work in a retail store at the customer service desk. I know I am supposed to be nice to people, blow sunshine and sparkles up their asses, and even wipe it for them if that's what they want. And I guess I do a good enough job that they keep me scheduled there. But I don't need a bell to validate that for me. I find it horribly degrading. It's like giving a treat to a dog when he sits, or putting a gold star on a chart for elementary school children when they're good little conformers. I'm not a fucking performing monkey in a ruffled collar; I'm not willing to jump through flaming hoops for the bell-ring of acceptance and praise. You want to motivate me? You want to raise morale? Try some of these: Schedule enough people at once so that everyone working isn't so stressed and on-edge ( I can't ring up two people, take three credit payments, transfer a call, rent the truck, and take a phone order at the same time). Don't make me beg the not-so-bright, infantile, power-tripping 20-year-old they hired as a supervisor off the street for a bathroom break (You were a shift manager at [fried chicken fast-food place]?? Holy shit, you're the most qualified ever!). Acknowledge the fact that I have 10 years of work history (almost 7 at one employer) and a bachelor's degree and pay me more than $8.82 an hour, or at least pay me more than that 18-year-old with no experience. Or even this: try speaking to us with some respect and not like we're all six years old. Pretend we're not expendable, even if we are. Don't just boss us around and bark orders at us; let us have just a little bit of fun- especially if you're just standing around doing nothing and chatting it up too. Don't allow the public to walk on us and treat us badly because they know that you'll just apologize for our 'poor service' and give them whatever they want to keep them from bitching to Corporate. And lose the frickin' bell.
I thought I had more interesting things to say, but I thought wrong. So be it.
"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee..."
-John Donne
Been a fun week. My friend Elton came and stayed with me for a bit. We had a few super-fun nights out (where was my tiara??), and some super-fun nights in watching Family Guy and crappy (read: awesome) movies. One night we went to the grocery store and made a smorgasbord for dinner- ugh, I was so full! I just wish I wouldn't have had to be up early every morning for school, and wouldn't have had to be away at work some nights until 10pm. It's been a while since I've had someone to hang out with more than once a week... alas, he went back to Trasa's today, so it's just me and the cats again.
Got to work the other day... they put up a damn bell by the exit door. "If You Received GREAT Service... Please Ring Bell!". Yeah. One of those. It looks just like the ones you find in fast-food restaurants; the Arby's on the Eastside comes to mind. It makes me want to be mean to people to keep them from ringing it, because the bell is loud and distracting and startles me when it's quiet otherwise. Also, I seriously dislike that type of motivation to do my job. I work in a retail store at the customer service desk. I know I am supposed to be nice to people, blow sunshine and sparkles up their asses, and even wipe it for them if that's what they want. And I guess I do a good enough job that they keep me scheduled there. But I don't need a bell to validate that for me. I find it horribly degrading. It's like giving a treat to a dog when he sits, or putting a gold star on a chart for elementary school children when they're good little conformers. I'm not a fucking performing monkey in a ruffled collar; I'm not willing to jump through flaming hoops for the bell-ring of acceptance and praise. You want to motivate me? You want to raise morale? Try some of these: Schedule enough people at once so that everyone working isn't so stressed and on-edge ( I can't ring up two people, take three credit payments, transfer a call, rent the truck, and take a phone order at the same time). Don't make me beg the not-so-bright, infantile, power-tripping 20-year-old they hired as a supervisor off the street for a bathroom break (You were a shift manager at [fried chicken fast-food place]?? Holy shit, you're the most qualified ever!). Acknowledge the fact that I have 10 years of work history (almost 7 at one employer) and a bachelor's degree and pay me more than $8.82 an hour, or at least pay me more than that 18-year-old with no experience. Or even this: try speaking to us with some respect and not like we're all six years old. Pretend we're not expendable, even if we are. Don't just boss us around and bark orders at us; let us have just a little bit of fun- especially if you're just standing around doing nothing and chatting it up too. Don't allow the public to walk on us and treat us badly because they know that you'll just apologize for our 'poor service' and give them whatever they want to keep them from bitching to Corporate. And lose the frickin' bell.
I thought I had more interesting things to say, but I thought wrong. So be it.
"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee..."
-John Donne
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
