Look Into My Eyes...You Are Spending More Money...

People with lots of experience in sales can probably identify with this post.

After having dealt with so many people at a fast food counter over a long period of time, I've developed the ability to pick up on who is more likely to be an easy touch for an upsell on their combo size. 

There are certain signs in a customer's behavior and choice of words that indicate to me who would more likely agree to an upsize when pitched. I also have discovered that when I use a certain choice of words in a certain order, with a certain tone of voice, an upsell is almost guaranteed. I'm not going to reveal here what these things are, because I consider that information to be proprietary to my success on the job.

This evening I had a typical case. A guy with his wife and kids ordered their food, and were trying to order as cheaply as possible. When I noticed that, my sadistic streak kicked in and I worked my magic.  Sure enough, what would have been a $10 sale ended up being more than $25.

As the family left the counter, I overheard the wife whisper to her hubby "how on earth did we just order $25 worth!?" He told her not to worry about it, just eat it and be quiet.

Heh-heh-heh.

Of course, this is all a hold-over from my days as a failed advertising sales executive. I spent a lot of money on courses in Sales Hypnosis and Neuro Linguistic Programming.  I may have really sucked as an ad salesman, but I can really work 'em over at the burger counter.

For those of you who are curious, here's what I CAN tell you: read the following book, available at Amazon, and you'll understand what I'm talking about:


I put links to the pages where these books are sold.  

Many people scoff after reading them. That's ok. Maybe next time they wonder why they paid $25 for couple of burgers, they'll know why.

Lawyers from Hell.

If you're illegally downloading music, and the record companies want to sue you, apparently even your own death won't protect you. I've heard of persistent lawyers, but this takes the cake.

Read about it here. [link]

Corporate Buzz Word For Today.

"EXPOSURE"

A long list of big names in European banking have had to admit they suffered huges losses from the collapse of a Ponzi scheme perpetrated by ex-Wall Street tycoon Bernard Madoff. All told, losses aroung the world from banks affected by the scam number in the hundreds of billions.

Read about it at Yahoo News [link]

All throughout the above article, spokespeople for these companies continually referred to their losses as "exposure."

"Shares in Santander Bank [of Spain] plunged after the lender said it had an 'exposure' of more than three billion dollars to Madoff Investment Securities..."

Here's something that I find interesting. When large European blue-blood banks loose multiple billions of dollars because of some hot-shot phony on Wall Street, the proper word for such a debacle is not "exposure." The proper description for that kind of disaster should be more like "We walked out of the office, pulled our pants all the way down, displayed our assets to women on the sidewalk, and completely humiliated ourselves."

Heh. "Exposure." What a laugh.

Teenie Bopper Hell.

It's no secret I hate punks.

This evening, a police officer showed up. The manager went out to meet him, and filed a report. Turns out one of the teen punks on the grill line stole cash out of the back office, and the manager got him on camera.

They all dress like "Whiggers." Now, it's obvious they *steal* like whiggers, too. Freakin' loosers. I swear that if I ever have a business of my own, I will never hire anyone under 19. Neither will I ever hire anyone who dresses like a whigger.

= = = = = = = = = = =

Yesterday, one of my favorites from the original "grrrl pack" filled in at our store for a shift supervisor who quit. It was "S." the Our Lady of Guadalupe look-a-like with the face of an angel and the vocabulary of a sailor. I was glad to see her again.

You Can't Fix Stupid.

In the same vein of Bill Engval's "here's your sign" humor about stupid people, we had another moron in the drive through today.

"What's in your strawberry shake? It's only just vanilla frosty mixed with strawberry flavor right?"

It was all I could do to keep from saying "No ma'am, our strawberry shake mix is imported all the way from the Bordeaux wine region of France, and we only use specially selected gourmet blends of berries and grapes...."

Then she asked "can you put some extra flavor in mine?" Okay, lady. I'll put some "extra flavor" in yours, you betcha. And a little extra protein to go with it, too. Moron.

Not too long after that, when my co-worker was taking drive-thru orders, I was listening in on my headset when I heard the lady shout out in between items: "move it, ya f*ing b*!" (refering to the car ahead of her who wouldn't pull forward). Lovely. With citizens like that, our country is in good hands.

In earlier posts I mentioned my intense hatred for teenie-boppers in the workplace. Today's shift was no exception -- they were all slow, stupid, lazy, and worthless. They begged to leave early, then made a huge mess in the lobby as they sat around with their buddies. One of them drew a picture of a big penis on the table. Needless to say, the shift supervisor was furious.

I heard rumors afterward that our roster is going to be missing a couple of people after today.

Ennui.

I am the king of procrastinators. All week long I've been putting off my schoolwork, because I've been very depressed and listless. Right now, I'm tinkering with the RSS feed aggregator settings in my Outlook 2007.

I love Outlook, but it doesn't have a newsreader like Windows Mail (formerly Outlook Express). I love Windows Mail, but it doesn't have calendaring and task managing like Outlook 2007 does. Windows Mail coordinate its RSS aggregator with Internet Explorer, but Outlook 2007 doesn't. Outlook 2007 coordinates with my calendars in my Windows Live accounts, but Windows Mail does not.

I paid good money for Outlook 2007, but it's pretty much worthless to me except for task managing and calendering. Windows Mail does pretty much everything else I need, including access my online classes through the newsreader, and Windows Mail was free.

Why can't Microsoft make something that can do email, newsgroups, RSS, calendar, tasks, contacts, and synchronize with Windows Live all in oneapp, instead of dividing it across two? Where's the sense in that?

Dammit.

Hippie Mac Inspiration.

Damn Hippies.

By now just about everyone has seen those PC vs. MAC commercials, with the hapless, frumpy businessman standing beside a hip, Gen-X college-Joe peace-love-dope hippie.

As much as I laugh at them, I really resent those commercials, to be honest. They imply that because I use a PC I'm a frumpy nerd who is out of it. The smarmy, wise-ass hippie guy just makes me want to punch his flower-power lights out.

Microsoft recently launched an ad campaign showing PC users from all walks of life, who are hard-working intelligent people that refuse to be pigeon-holed by MAC's stereotype of PC users. I just love these commercials.

The one that really sticks out in my mind shows a commercial fisherman working hard on the deck of his boat, and he says "I am PC, and this is my office." I used to live in a commercial fishing town, and I have a lot of respect for the people who work in that industry, which is really tough. I have very little respect for goateed slacker gen-x gamer hippies in t-shirts who sit on their ass designing bad advertising for graphics firms with their MAC's.

I believe it was Eric Cartman who said it best:

"DAMN HIPPIES..."

Have At It, Kid.

My four year old daughter has been affectionately labeled as "The Marauder" by her older brother and sister. Anything she gets her hands on, she tears to pieces. It is a continuous struggle for everyone in the house to keep their valuables out of her hands, before she annihilates them. One of her favorite objects to try and steal is Bullseye, my stuffed animal in the shape of the Target mascot dog.

BullsEye was given to me by the HR Team Leader after I had won a customer service contest held at the Target store where I used to work. That little dog meant a lot to me -- it was a symbol to me representing the pride I took in my customer service, service that I received many commendations and good ratings for, service that I tried to keep giving wholeheartedly even in the face of the most obnoxious and abusive jerks ever to drive Cadillacs and Jaguars. All the customer service I conscientiously gave didn't amount to didley when they fired me on December 26th for a mistake I made, when I was so sick I could barely stand up and I hadn't had my mood-meds for weeks.

Today my daughter found Bullseye again. It used to be that I would take it away from her, to protect it. Today, I stopped myself, thought twice, and decided to let her keep Bullseye, knowing that in a matter of days it will be reduced to a pile of cloth scraps and stuffing.

After the screwing in the a* I got from Target, why should I keep the piece of sh*? So I told my daughter, "here you go, sweetums, all yours."

School Daze.

At the moment I'm not working -- I'm doing school full time with an online university. I'm looking for a different part time job -- something in the evening that doesn't require handling a super heavy volume of customers, or dealing with teenage coworkers, or dealing with politically correct managers who practice reverse gender discrimination against males, or dealing with managers who sit in the store cafe barking out orders over the walkie while everyone else is out working on the floor.

Actually, that's a tall order. I don't know if such a thing exists, but I'll take as close to perfect as I can.

Catching Up On Old Times.

I met up with my buddy from Target, Cedric the "alternative spirituality practitioner." We talked about old times. Cedric worked there for a little while after I was unceremoniously kicked to the curb on December 26th, but eventually he left voluntarily after he had enough of the back stabbing and corruption that went on in the store.

Cedric found out that the manager who had been my protective patron for awhile lost the ability to protect me after he had been transferred to another shift. Once my patron had been moved out of the way, people who had been jealous of my initial favorable reviews moved in for the kill. Cedric found out that the during the last couple of months I was at Target, all sorts of rumors had been circulated about me, and people made tons of complaints against me to the head of HR that weren't true.

Cedric told me exactly who was behind the campaign to get rid of me, and it came as no surprise. While I freely admit I gave Target a good reason to fire me, I am displeased about how the circumstances were staged which led to my behavior on that day. Cedric told me that management was waiting on pins and needles to find a way to fire me, and when I handed them the chance on a silver platter, they jumped at it like a soldier on half-priced hooker in Baghdad.

I asked him about Rupert. Cedric said he had lost touch of Rupert months ago, but last he heard Rupert was still love-lorn for "Miss-K." I feel sorry for Rupert -- his affection is misplaced. "Miss-K" acted strangely around me the last couple of weeks I was at Target. Thanks to Cedric, now I know why.

Cedric works for an electronics retailer now. We've made plans to keep in touch. Cedric gave me some parting advice and how to deal with the Karmic imbalance left by the circumstances at Target. Deal with them, I most definitely shall. They say that time heals all wounds. It is also true that time has a way of exacting justice, as well. We shall see.

SHANGO.

St. Lazarus.

High John, the Conqueror.

The "Decided Ones" of Jupiter The Thunderer.

FORSETI.

MonkeyBusiness Management Secret #29

MULTI-TASKING.

One afternoon I was sitting at a table in the dining area waiting for my ride home after work. I was close to the rest room. I heard a voice echo from the men's room.

"You want a Number One, biggie sized, with a coke - anything else?"

[flush.]

My coworker came out of the men's room, with his headset still on, and walked back to the drive through.

"Thank you very much, please pull forward to the first window..."

Whack A Mole, revisited.

In earlier posts, I had mentioned that manager "G" talked about getting rid of people in the shop he didn't like. Lately, he's getting his wish, although not in ways he expected.

The place has turned in into such a dis-organized mess, and working a typical shift is so chaotic, that people are quitting. In droves. Only in this case, the good are leaving right along side the bad. The remaining people are total morons and drama queens.

After one especially problematic weekend there, I did a cost/benefits analysis. I realized that I had enough stress to deal with at home, I don't have enough energy to deal with PREVENTABLE stress at work.

It is time to move on.

"All Your Base Are Belong To Us...."

Well, it's official.

I am moving forward with Phase Two of my fiendish plans for wealth, power, and world take-over. I start back to school next week. I'm going to work on finishing that Bachelor's degree I started years ago, before real life got in the way.

I had been doing some work on it last year, but was forced to drop out (again) because unforseen problems that I didn't ask for popped up (again) and got in my way.

This time I have a deal in place, brokered with special backers. These people have said they will help me get the degree completed. They have pledged to me their support in removing, by any means necessary, all obstacles that try to get in my way.

SHANGO.

My Homies Got Me Covered.

Last evening my main homies were at the shop, none of the GRRRL pack were there.

"K.L." was trying to change the oil in the vats, which is a long and complicated process. He finally had to abandon the project because he had to work the sandwich line frequently. This evening he looked like he hadn't shaved a couple of days. Being lean (and most likely, GAY) he had a certain kind of George Micheal look goin' on that was cool. The assistant district manager was teasing him about it. I ended up having to explain to him who George Micheal is, totally giving up my age in the process.

"A.D." is still in high school, but compared to many, he's a good kid. He tries his best to take his job seriously. When he first started, he was totally lost, and so I helped him out quite a bit. To return the favor, he lets me in on all the gossip around the shop (and that is one of the "MONKEY BUSINESS MANAGEMENT SECRETS.") He's got a "crew" that hangs with him alot, including "C" who works the grill. He does well with groups of people, which makes me think he'd be a good politician, minister, teacher, or ambassador.

"E" is still in High School also, but he's trying to prepare himself to be a managerial candidate when he gets out. At the same time, he's really laid back and pragmatic. He dangles his cigarettes like James Dean (there I go, showing my age again.) Like me, he can't stand the needless drama that the GRRRL pack brings to work. He goes out of his way to thoroughly bug the crap out of the GRRRls, just to get them off his back. "E" has also proved to be a valuable source of info like "A.D." All I have to do is go pick up his smokes for him, and he tells me all.

Anyway, business was slow we had more than enough people there last evening, so they sent me home. Business had really dived, and dived bigtime, since Father's Day.

Where's The Duct Tape?

This evening a member of the GRRRL-pack worked the drive-thru. Really sweet kid, but a total drama queen.

Her real name is one of those kinds that only hippie parents would give their kid, like Star or Moon-unit. For the sake of this blog, I'll just call her Dancer. She's an athlete in school and gets good grades, but she has a certain physique and exotic look that makes one think of, well... a POLE DANCER.

She's very, very skinny, which is why I chose the nickname, but really too skinny for my taste. (Myself, I like 'em CURVY. If a woman is such a stick that she can stir my drink with her elbow, she's not my type.) Female customers get extremely envious of her whenever she walks by. When the women see her the claws really come out. Oh, the things they say. I never knew such bile could come from ladies.

For all her beauty and her success as a student, Dancer has one problem. Two problems, actually. Everything is a disorganized mess with her, and she can't keep her mouth shut. This evening all she did was talk. By that, I mean motor mouth. It's a miracle she gets anything done.

All she does is complain and whine at the store manager. He found a big roll of duct tape in the office, brought it out to the drive through, and left it on the counter. When she didn't get the hint, he told her if she didn't shut up, he'd use it on her. Dancer just kept on talking all night.

At the end of my shift I sat in the car for a few minutes before I drove home, enjoying the blessed silence.

Dead-ski. Dead, Dead, Dead-a-rewski.

Father's Day is not very prosperous for the low-scale fast food industry. Everybody and their uncle stayed home or took their father out for more high-brow dining.

Normally Sundays are a total cluster-@#$% for us, but today all we got was a couple of church ladies and some soft-ball players. The highlight of the afternoon came when a little-league coach ordered FORTY junior cheese burgers.

Business got so slow that they sent me and three others home to save on payroll. I didn't mind because my back has been bothering me today and I needed to lay down for awhile.

MonkeyBusiness Management Secret #28

TURNOVER

Industries that rely on a small store-front building space, such as fast-food or specialty retail, are notorious for rapid turn-over in their ranks.

Those industries also happen to be the same ones that a trained monkey could work in. So what's the connection? Here's the deal: managers at the district level and above know full well that any bozo with half a brain could replace them. The problem, therefore, is how do they protect themselves from better people rising up from below?

The solution is simple -- TURNOVER.

Here's how it goes: work the people underneath you like dogs and give them impossible goals to meet. Then let them get burned out or pissed off and leave. Once they're gone, hire a new sucker (oops) I mean replacement.

It happened to me once when I worked a store management position for a certain dollar-store chain. By the time I realized what had happened I was already kicked to the street in disgrace. Since then, I have observed it happen to almost all of the other store managers I knew at that company. Lately it seems that the manager at the fast food establishment I work at is falling victim to the same scam. The district manager and the franchise owner, from what I can see, are masters at it.

The store manager is running around bugging everyone to achieve service levels that are physically impossible to meet in a real world. The owner and the district manager and pressuring him to meet those numbers, just like they did to all the previous managers before each got fired. I know this because a former manager once told me exactly how they dealt with him, and they are doing the exact same thing to the current manager.

What's worse is that sh* rolls down hill. Store managers who are desperate to keep their jobs work the hell out of their crews, and when the impossible goals aren't met, the store manager simply tells upper management that it's the crew's fault. The manager then replaces the crew.

While all of this is happening, district and regional managers rest at ease, knowing they are secure from any ambitious up-and-coming person who could very easily replace them. The turmoil of turnover keeps them safe.

Order Now! Operators Are Standing By!

Here's an interesting website I found during my Internet travels:

INFOMERCIAL SCAMS DOTCOM [link]

People write reviews about infomercial products they've purchased and post them on the website. Some of the horror stories almost made my hair stand on end. Many people got charged several times for the same product on their credit card. Naturally, the companies are nowhere to be found when people try to get their money back.

Here's one that will curdle your milk:

"Video Professor" is suing to have the names, addresses, and IP numbers of any online critics revealed, so he can individually sue them for libel in Federal court. Last I recall, personal opinion was supposed to be protected by the First Amendment. So when an unsatisfied customer posts a negative review, "Video Professor" acts like WHINING PUSSY and sues them in court, wasting our government's time and money with a frivolous lawsuit. Every time I see "Video Professor" on TV with his puppy-dog cuddly smile and pitch, all I can say is "shut up, ya stupid pussy!" and change the channel.

Video Professor Sues His Own Customers [link]

Consumer Affairs wrote an article laying out the facts [link] behind the suit. They quote the Professor, and in his own words he comes off as a whining, whimpering, titty-baby weanie.

It amazes me that we fight wars on drugs and terrorism, yet we allow slimeball companies to get by with taking people's money.

Here's the real kicker: both Wal-Mart and Target in my town have special sections where they feature infomercial products. When I examine several of them up close with my own eyes and hands, it amazes me just how shoddy most of the products are. Stuff that I thought looked pretty cool in the infomercial tended to look like total crap under the bright lights of my local store.

Only in America!

Power Moves

Much is afoot at the shop lately.

"C," one of the managers, was fired yesterday. The official reason was given as unacceptable performance results of the operation -- the rest of us who are in-the-know found out through our channels that "G" the co-manager campaigned heavily to get him whacked (you may recall my earlier post, "Whack-a-Mole," detailing how "G" has made plans to get rid of people.)

It seems that "G" has made good on his threats to start whacking.

"J," a member of The Grrrl Pack, used to be a really nice person to work with. Since she got red-shirted however, the promotion has gone to her head and she has been ordering people around like General Patton on steroids. She really pissed me off today. I've heard other people grumbling about her as well.

If she doesn't back down, I guarantee that a couple of other people in the shop are going to take care of it for her, whether she likes it or not (so says one of my sources on the grapevine.)

Blast From The Past

There's nothing like a vintage commercial to remind us of all the bad business practices of years gone by. Take this Flintstones commercial for instance. Filled with chauvinist misogyny, it blatantly pitches cigarettes to kids. Only in America!

The Plot Gets Even Thicker.

Yesterday the District Manager privately interviewed several people (including me) and quizzed us about our understanding of the company harassment policies. She filled out questionnaires and had us each sign them. She told us that corporate was making her conduct an investigation.

She wouldn't mention specifics of course, but judging by the way she phrased her questions I strongly suspect somebody complained about favoritism in the appointment of "My Grrrls" to their shift leader positions. Of course we're all paranoid now, wondering if anyone fingered any of us individually for a harassment charge.

As for me, I'm kind of pissed off. All I want to do is give my job 100% and go home in peace. I don't have time to worry about, or deal with, whiny-babies who can do nothing else but create drama. I have an idea who it might be, but right now I'm laying low and keeping my ear to the ground.

The Plot Thickens

Earlier I mentioned that two of "my grrrls" had been promoted to shift leader.

Here's the scoop:

Several people in the shop who have been there longer are torqued off about having been passed over. The rumors I had heard were that the franchise owner himself specifically requested that "my grrrls" be appointed, over the desires of the manager and the district manager. I don't blame him really, they are pretty cute.

The truth is though, aside from being cute, "my grrrls" are very intelligent and capable, and from what I have seen of their work, they're a heck of a lot better than the other bozos who got passed over. I just think it's all pretty funny. I'm going to school part time, so I have other career plans. It doesn't particularly matter to me who is shift leader.

Past experience in management has taught me that although there can be unfairness in promotions at times, often when a person is passed over it's for good reason. Whenever I've been passed over, I've always taken the hint and either worked to improve myself, schmooze more, or find greener pastures elsewhere. At the moment I freely admit it's my own fault I haven't gotten very far in the business world.

The positive thing is that I've learned from the past, and I'm working to change things.

Invasion of the Zit Zombies

In an earlier post I had ranted about working with the teenagers in the shop, during the evening shift.

I met up with one of my shift leaders in our neighborhood the other day. She normally works the day shift with the rest of us adults. She mentioned that she had to drop by the shop that evening to get something, and saw that the kids were completely screwing things up. She had to clock in, straighten them all out, and get the operation back on track again.

I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who can see things for what they are. After having seen those kids in action myself, some days I consider it a miracle we still have any customers at all.

Lookin Fine.

Two members of the "grrrl pack" (my favorite group) at the shop got promoted to shift supervisor recently. This week they received their new supervisor shirts. I've been teasing the hell out of them.

I tell them how much I liked Demi Moore in her sharp Navy officer outfit in the movie "A Few Good Men." I tell them how much I have a thing for ladies in uniform. Sometimes when "J" goes by I'll hum the tune "Hail To The Chief." She just laughs and tells me to shut up.

Actually, I'm proud of my grrrls. They don't know that I admire them. I hope they do well. They've been through alot of hell in their lives, they deserve a little status and respect.

Like, OhMiGawd.

Corporate officers were visiting today.

You'd think that Emperor Palpatine had just arrived from the Death Star, with Darth Vader and a garrison of Storm troops in tow. The store manager was all running about like a chicken with his head chopped off.

The District manager spent the entire morning moving everything around on the shelves and on the counters. Like it really matters to the overall success of the operation as to where the chili crackers are. If anything, all she did was slow things down -- we had to hunt around to find stuff when we needed it. Golly gee -- wish I could get one o' dem high fancy ed-yoo-ma-kayshens in Bid-ness so as I ken be smartful like that.

Folks, it's time for me to fess up.

Here's the main reason why I haven't gotten very far in the world. I have an intense dislike for overly pretentious corporate ICE-holes. Especially those who deliberately foster an air of "bow and curtsy" when they arrive. Especially those who think they are geniuses for showing the rank and file how to do things they already know how to do. Especially those who wave their college degree around like a sacred talisman, but couldn't remember the first thing they learned while getting it.

IT STINKS.

The shop is all abuzz of late. It seems that "M," one of the more stalwart members of the crew, experienced a fall from grace lately.

The management forgot to let him have a break one day and he let loose on them about it. It was a big to-do. Since "M" is a smoker, I suspect it had something to do with a desperate need to get a drag. Word has it that yes, it is indeed the case. After the argument he was no-call/no-show for a couple of days. Therefore, he has been removed from the schedule and put on suspension.

Here's what I really, really, cannot understand. Is it such a terrible thing to miss a smoke for a couple of hours that you engage in anti-social behavior and more or less loose a job over it? What's up with that non-sense?

I have made many mistakes during the course of my life, but there is one thing I'm really proud of -- I never got in the habit of smoking. I'm very proud to say that I give my employer a full shift of work for what he pays, and my employer never has to worry about me wasting time smoking somewhere when I should be working. I don't cheat my employers out of worktime just to satiate a nic-fit.

I have lost count of the times that I've seen smoker co-workers run outside to smoke right in the middle of the busiest parts of the shift. Their selfishness and lack of consideration for me and for our customers just appalls me at times. Selfish, lazy, and WEAK-willed, they are. At the end of their lives, these people are going to be hooked up to all sorts of equipment, gasping for air with swiss-cheese lungs. While they're doing that, I'm going to be playing with my grand children in the yard. I HAVE NO SYMPATHY FOR THE FOOLS, WHATSOEVER.

I believe it was Steve Martin who summed it up best during one of his classic comedy routines, where a person asks "mind if I smoke?" to which someone else replies "I don't know, MIND IF I FART?"

WORMS.

This evening The Mrs. and I went out to eat with our kids. The whole time we were there at the restaurant, a group of fools stood against the wall closest to our table, yammering into their cell phones like they were God-Almighty C.E.O. emperors of the world. If there's one thing that really annoys my wife and me to no end, it's rude a*h*les with cell phones.

Let's think a little about this scenario, shall we? Let me talk to all the cell phone owners of the world who like to strut their stuff hollering about their big business deals into a little box while everyone else is trying to eat in peace. Here are some things to consider:

1. Nobody gives a flying F* about who you think you are, or about your dumbass business deals.
2. If your business affairs have made you into such a desperate slave to your telecom devices that you can't or won't enjoy a public meal in peace with your friends, then GUESS WHAT? YOU AIN'T NOBODY. YOU AIN'T RUNNING THE SHOW. THE SHOW IS RUNNING YOU.
3. Do you really want to show people how important you are? Do you want to know how to demonstrate REAL brass balls kind of POWER? Here's how you do it -- TURN YOUR PHONE OFF, AND MAKE THE WORLD WAIT while you finish your meal and then move to a private location.
   
4. Make your lackeys handle the phones FOR you, back at the office. THAT, my friends, is REAL power. Otherwise, if you waste half your life with phone to your ear, you ain't J* Sh*
5. Last but not least, when the GRAVE WORMS are eating your sorry A* in the casket below ground, they're going to ignore your cell phone. Worms love flesh and bone of dead idiots who thought they were really something, but they have no use for electronics.
   

I found a website that features a document you can download and cut into little cards to give out to a*h* cellphone users.

http://www.coudal.com/shhh.php [link]

Yeah, What HE Said.

"I've always said, to my kids and to anyone who'll listen, that the key to happiness is fooling yourself into thinking that what you do matters."

-- Anonymous Lawyer.

Women! Ya Can't Live With 'Em, and......pass the beer nuts!

Call me old school.

Mamma brought me up to expect proper behavior in ladies. I used to go by that training for many years. Nowadays, I’m cosmopolitan enough to know that we live in a day and age where women are free to explore their masculine sides. Often in quiet moments as I observe the women make attempts to do this, I find their human candor to be oddly refreshing. There is no better example I can give than my female coworkers at the fast food business I work for.

With all their beauties and their crudities, their graces and their warts, their curtsies and their grunts, I find them to be absolutely adorable. No matter how much they may irritate or annoy me, I always consider them to be “my girls.” When the staff on shift is fifty percent male or more, they pretty much mind their P’s and Q’s. When the staff on shift is predominantly female and the males get busy with their own things, the females interact, clash, unify, coalesce, and move about with the disorganized beauty of the flows and currents in a vigorous brook.

Often men mistakenly believe that locker room talk is a “guy thing.” What they fail to realize is that while they are comparing notes about an individual woman and her relative willingness for certain activities, women compare notes about the relative lack of finesse, talent, or length that an individual man may or may not possess. Once you get them going, the women will describe this with all the frankness of a linebacker, while blithely shuffling fries into paper sleeves and capping lids on drinks with all the tender loving care of a mother feeding her child.

At times, the girls can really make me blush.

This afternoon “J,” one of my favorites, stepped behind the wall between the kitchen and the counter. She had a desperate, miserable itch that could be ignored no longer. She reached into her clothing, and with an earthy grunt, vigorously relocated offending undergarments into their proper position around sensitive places. Like a gentleman, I tried to be sure I gave her the privacy she needed by looking the other way and pretending not to notice. “Mama Kitty,” the female shift leader on duty at the time, shouted “J! Stop groping yer chick bits and get back up here to help out!”

Yikes. Never would I dare say such a thing, but I guess you can get away with it when it is woman to woman. By the way, they don’t call her “Mama Kitty” because she’s like a mother cat. One of the girls clued me in to the real meaning of the name, which is cruder and far more ribald.

“S” is another one of my favorites. For a brief time she used to be a model, but life and children got in the way of that dream, and she’s desperately trying survive while working the drive through. She’s part Latina, part Native American, part Caucasian, and the blend gives her a deeply enchanting, spellbindingly exotic look that still shines through her fast food hat, headphones, and baggy restaurant shirt. She has faded gang tattoos that have been reworked and redrawn into less stark images, yet when she takes change from the redneck construction workers, she stands tall with all the pride, majesty, and grace of Our Lady of Guadalupe. She is Mother Mary personified.

Whenever “S” opens her mouth to speak to the customers, I hear the kind of cheer, warmth and tenderness a new mother would give to her infant child. Then, on a dime, she can whirl around and give a stern warning to a female coworker who bothers her. “Back off, b*!” she says, and you realize that Mother Mary can command the very lightning of the sky. Today, she stepped up to the grill and laid out a line fresh beef to help Matt while he had to step away temporarily. “Mama Kitty” called her to help up front, and sweet little “S” shouted back “hold on a minute, I’m still playing with Matt’s meat!” She looked sideways at me and winked.

Of course, as I wax eloquent about what I love in these ladies, I conveniently forget all the times they sorely bother me. But with “my girls,” I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Corporate Mergers I'd Like To See.

In the wake of the Exxon/Mobil deal and the AOL/Netscape deal, here are some corporate mergers that would be interesting to see:

Hale Business Systems, Mary Kay Cosmetics, Fuller Brush, and W.R. Grace Company merge to become "Hale Mary Fuller Grace".

Polygram Records, Warner Brothers, and Keebler Crackers merge to become "Polly-Warner-Cracker."

3M and Goodyear merge to become "MMMGood."

John Deere and Abitibi-Price merge to become "Deere Abi."

Zippo Manufacturing, Audi Motors, Dofasco, and Dakota Mining merge to become "Zip Audi Do Da."

Honeywell, Imasco, and Home Oil merge to become "Honey I'm Home."

Denison Mines, and Alliance and Metal Mining merge to become "Mine All Mine."

Federal Express and UPS merge to become "FED UP"

Fairchild Electronics and Honeywell Computers will merge and become "Fairwell Honeychild"

3M, J.C. Penney and the Canadian Opera Company will merge and become "3 Penney Opera"

Grey Poupon & Dockers Pants will merge and becomes "Poupon Pants"

Knott's Berry Farm & National Organization of Women will merge and become "Knott NOW!"

Cessna Aircraft and the Whirlpool Corporation are merging to form "Cesspool."

Stock Advice.

One of the basic criteria most investors use when buying stock in a company is the performance of management. Some investors will even go so far as to examine the personalities and decision making strategies of executive running the companies they have equity in.

Here's an example of a company whose management obviously doesn't have anything better to do with their time.

T-Mobile has sent a cease and desist letter to the operators of the Engadget Mobile weblog demanding that they stop using the color fuschia in their logo, saying that it is trademarked and that it causes confusion in the marketplace. Read the article here at Wired News. [link]

I sure wish I could get paid millions of dollars a year just to sit around writing letters demanding that people stop using my color.

In an industry as fast paced, complex, and highly competitive as telecommunications, its a good thing to know that someone out there is paying attention to such vital, do-or-die details like the color pink. They must have taken a class about color as part of their Harvard M.B.A. curriculum.

If I were an owner of T-mobile stock, I would think long and hard about why I even have it.

Although the issue is minor, I take it as an intuitive sign that T-mobile management spends too much time in their offices, and not enough time in the trenches managing the company. I take it as an intuitive sign that they sorely lack marketing knowledge. Consumers care more about such complicated arcane things as GOOD SERVICE, than they do about logo colors. Time that management spends untwisting their panties about logo colors is time they could spend designing and producing better products and services that consumers want.

I can just imagine executive reports to the shareholders: "we added value to your investment because we earned our over-inflated salaries by spending hundreds of thousands on attorneys to defend the logo color."

Another blog article I found on the matter mentions that yes, T-mobile sales are declining and they are struggling for subscribers. What sense does it make, then, to give a rat's ass about the color when all the rats are leaving the ship before it sinks anyway?

I think it definitely would be time to sell.

Whack-a-Mole, part two.

In an earlier post I mentioned that the general manager had been speaking publicly about his plans to "whack" or get rid of some real losers we have at my workplace who are really dragging down the organization.

Yesterday afternoon I had to work with two of them at the front counter during one of the busiest times of the week. I only have two words for them -- SLOW and STUPID. Normally in a workplace situation I ignore the incompetent people, letting them draw management scrutiny away from me and on to themselves while I go about my business.

In this case however, their incompetence really got in my way, and after having to see grumpy customers all day looking daggers at me wondering where their food is because my helpers were slow morons, I finally had to turn to the manager and beg for someone to help me who knew what they were doing. Lowly and subhuman as my job is, I still take pride in giving my best efforts, and when other people screw me up it really bothers me.

One thing is certain -- whenever I regain my place in management again, I will be absolutely certain to avoid hiring teenagers. If I hire any teens at all, they will have to be perfect enough to walk on water. There are precious few of those. I used to criticize our competitor for hiring mostly people from his ethnic group, but now I understand why. His people work hard and they learn quickly, while American middle class white teenagers are lazy, slow, stupid, and dishonest.

As much as I don't want to admit that, it's the gospel truth.

Here's Your Sign...

Bill Engval is one of my favorite comedians. His most famous catch phrase is "here's your sign..." It refers to the act of putting a sign on someone's back that says "idiot," when they say something that sounds normal, but on further analysis reveals how stupid they are.

For example, I overheard this conversation in the drive through today:

Customer: "about the bacon and cheese baked potato -- what comes on it?"

Cashier: (silence)

Cashier: "bacon and cheese, ma'am..."

My mental response: "well ma'am, it comes with diced and sauteed porcine filet, with lightly braised fromage zests, garnished on the side with cream gently aged in cultures, as well as congealed milk solids."

(trans: bacon, cheese sprinkles, sour cream, and butter.)

HERE'S YOUR SIGN.......

Grumpity Dumps.

I've been feeling really crummy the last couple of days.

My home life is really bothering me, and mortality is staring me in the face, mocking me with fiendish laughter about all of my life's failures. I'm feeling the torment of some desperate needs I've had for many years that have gone mostly unfulfilled. At age forty two, everywhere I look I'm reminded about all of my most humiliating mistakes and failures, and I feel terribly, terribly alone in a house full of people.

Most of the time it's all merely a dull ache in the background, but the last couple of days it's been like a giant stone pressing down on my shoulders.

We're A "Hi-Tech" Company

MonkeyBusiness Management Secret #27

"WHACK-A-MOLE"

This term refers to the practice of newly installed management to go through an organization's ranks and whack anyone off the payroll they don't like, often for mundane reasons like "he talks too much," or "he plays video games at home."

Once this is accomplished, management goes through a hiring spree to appoint people they think will support them and their regime. Management thinks they are "cleaning house," or "revitalizing the organization," or "infusing fresh blood," yet they are sadly deluded. Like the global Communist revolution in the 20th century, basically all that happens is that one set of inept idiots gets replaced by another set of equally inept idiots.

A new manager is in charge of the restaurant where I work. He is committed to turning the place around, but doesn't see that our lower numbers are due to a heavy increase of competition in the area over the last couple of years. More establishments have moved in, and customers have more places to choose from, not to mention the fact that gasoline prices are sky high, so fast food goes by the wayside in most people's budgets.

This manager repeatedly talks to us about who he wants to get rid of. Even as the other manager is in the process of being transfered out, this new one is already making plans about who he wants to whack, and keeps mentioning it in public. He's either incredibly stupid, or he's playing a subtle game of intimidation.

I know full well what his game is. Homey don't play dat. I'll do the best that I can to keep from getting whacked, but this place isn't the only job in the world.

A Word Of Advice.

There is a certain college fraternity back East that uses this motto:

"Wer war der Thor, wer Weiser, Bettler oder Kaiser? Ob Arm, ob Reich, im Tode gleich."

(Which translates thusly: "Who was the fool, who the wise man, beggar or king? Whether poor or rich, all's the same in death.")

It's part of an initiation where the candidate stands in front of four skulls, at the feet of which are laid a crown, a sword, a rough bag, and a priest's hat. He is asked whether they are the bones of a king, nobleman, priest, or a beggar. As he cannot decide, the president of the meeting says to him, 'The character of man is the only thing that is of importance."

Upon graduation, the candidate is given a grandfather clock, to remind him that time waits for no man.

In simple terms, the lesson here is that when Death finally comes, it isn't going to matter a damn bit who you were, or thought you were, in life. Everybody rots in the ground just as fast as everybody else, so it's best to get over yourself.

Often in my working life I have had to deal with people from corporate offices of what ever company employs me at the time. Each time I have to do this, I dread it intensely. Corporate people have often treated me in ways that I would never treat a customer. It's gotten to be proverbial -- how dare I disturb them in their thrones above the clouds? Because I'm a peon trying to talk to them, obviously I must be faced with something I'm too stupid to handle, therefore needing their grand corporate vision.

Let me give all the corporate people of the world a piece of advice. It doesn't cost you any extra to treat your subordinates with the same consideration you would give a valued customer, because when the worms are eating your dead body in the coffin, they're not going to give a flying f* what the nameplate on your office says.

MonkeyBusiness Office Lingo #12

"thumb-butt"

A simple term; it refers to a person who remains completely idle while coworkers are struggling desperately to keep up production.

Ex: "all morning he's been standing around with his thumb up his butt." OR: "don't assign that to Johnny, you'll never see it finished. He's such a THUMB-BUTT."

Here's How To Deal With It.

Mortified.

Ok, time for me to 'fess up. I'm going to tell you the real reason why I didn't make it in management, back in the day when I was on my way up and the future looked promising.

This afternoon was exceptionally busy at the restaurant. Corporate has been coming down hard lately on the local managers to bring numbers up. Tension and stress has spread throughout the store, conflicts are rising, and morale is falling.

It's one of those situations where corporate executives are completely incapable of grasping a basic principle of production theory from Economics 101. I'm referring of course to the "law of diminishing returns," which basically says that there always comes a point where pushing harder and faster isn't always better, and the production process suffers if that threshold is exceeded.

In layman's terms: "haste makes waste."

In any case, we're all going bonkers as a result, and everyone in the crew argued all morning. The grill man gave me all sorts of flack, and the customers were all in a real pissy mood. Right in the middle of lunch rush, right behind the register, I got struck by an anxiety attack to end all anxiety attacks. The walls were caving in, and I felt like I wanted to die. When the rush was over I begged to go home, blaming my allergies and sinuses. I was too ashamed to tell them the real reason.

At home it took me all afternoon and lots of medication to work my way down from feeling like I'm crawling the ceiling.

There are always the nay-sayers who will tell me to buck up and deal with it, pull myself together and get on with things. That only adds to my embarassment. I only wish it were that simple. I'd give the world for it to be that simple. They should thank God that they never have to deal with being totally debilitated like that, in the middle of public.

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound" -- Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2

More than once I have lost a promising position because of it. Daily I deal with the shame of professional failure, as well as the shame of being totally helpless to cope when these things strike.

MonkeyBusiness Office Lingo #11

"VORTEX"

Every work-place has at least one.

This is always the person who stands around and does nothing while everyone else is running about desperately trying to get their work done, desperate to escape him.

If somebody is unlucky enough to get sucked into the attention sphere of a "vortex," they'll find themselves trapped for ages, listening to idle prattle that doesn't amount to anything, while having to watch their productive minutes and hours waste away into nothing, like stellar matter being sucked down into a Stephen Hawking style black hole.

(In fact, I think that Stephen Hawking even mentions human vortexes in his physics books, remarking how their rapacious sucking power cannot be quantified by any kind of mathematics known to science.) (Just kidding.)

Even the fast food industry is not immune. We have a "vortex" at the restaurant where I work. We were exceptionally busy this afternoon. The manager finally had enough of listening to the vortex while watching him do absolutely nothing during the rushes. The manager finally sent him home. I went back to the manager and groveled at his feet, thanking him profusely for getting the vortex out of our hair.

The rest of the afternoon was mercifully, blessedly quiet.

MonkeyBusiness Management Secret #26

"FEES"

For some strange reason I like to browse the Britney Spears headlines once in awhile, just to see what she's up too, since there's never a dull moment in her neck of the woods.

Lately, Ms. Spears' attorney is arguing in court that K-Fed's attorney fees are too high, and that Britney is not a blank checkbook. (Court rulings say that Britney has to pay K-Fed's bill.) Rather than the $900,000 K-Fed's attorney is charging, Britney's attorney says the fees should "only" be about $175,000 -- $190,000 (give or take.)

If there is one lesson I learned from that little tidbit, it's this: I should have gone to law school.

It only goes to show that if you are an "expert" of any kind, especially an educated one, you can charge whatever the hell you like for your "fees." Print some business cards, call yourself a consultant, whip up phony reports with impressive looking numbers and graphs on your spreadsheet program, have KINKO'S print and bind it, and then deliver it to your client with your invoice for any kind of ungodly sum you can think of. It helps if you scan the dictionary every day to find as many big, ten-dollar words as you can. Use them in your spiel, to make it sound like you really "know."

Hell Hath No Fury...

Hell hath no fury like four young women getting on each other's nerves while working the drive through and grill together on a Sunday afternoon, with one of them pregnant, the other one loosing a boyfriend, the third being totally new, and the fourth dealing with a painful back injury.

Luckily the manager had me work the front counter this afternoon, but I had the pleasure of listening in on the fireworks as they exploded in the kitchen. All day the girls had their claws out, ready for battle, and battle they did. The girl on the grill started to give me flack, too, but since I have a fondness for the ladies, I let it go and went home after my shift. They're all "my girls," so I just chalk it up to being one of those days.

The manager wasn't happy with them because their bickering interfered with good customer service, so he repeatedly had to call them into the office and straighten things out. I had to apologize to the customers a few times for the disturbances.

Interestingly enough, I'm feeling the Spirit of The Sabbath, enough to want to use what Cedric, my alternative spirituality friend, taught me how to do. As I write this, I've been visualizing and affirming for peace in my workplace. I realize this runs counter to my usual pissy, cranky, swearing self, but that's one of the beauties of being bi-polar. Today I'm feeling generous, so I'm praying for peace and healing amongst my co-workers.

Revelations.

I've made frequent mention of my buddy Fred in previous posts. Fred worked over at Wal-Mart about the same time I worked at Target. Many times we would talk shop over a coffee or soda at the Starbucks in my store. Not too long after I left Target, Fred left Wal Mart. Interestingly enough, right after I found a "replacement" job in the food industry, Fred went to work for one of my company's competitors, as well.

Once in awhile I'll visit Fred at his place. The weather has been bitter cold lately, and Fred likes to put a couple of beers out on the porch for a couple of hours in the late afternoon to chill them up. On days like today they can get downright frosty. I'll sit with Fred while he sips a few.

Fred told me a couple of interesting things about what goes on in his restaurant. One of my favorite menu items that his employer has is their chili. That is, until Fred told me that they use the old, crusty, unsold meat patties from the grill. They boil them in a pot of water for awhile, strain them, and mash them. Then they put it in the chili. NOT good eats. During cold weather like this, people line up to the door almost just to buy some. They just rave about it. Not me.

One of the interesting things about the fast food industry is the characters who work there. It's sort of like the The United States Army or the French Foreign Legion. They accept all the misfits and malcontents who have no place else to go. My workplace is no exception. Single moms pregnant out of wedlock, recovering alcoholics, ex convicts on propation, women fighting each other about their shared exes, mobile disc jockeys working the grill between gigs, immigrants with no English, anorexic high school athletes, cashier girls with hickeys the size of Toledo...you name it, we got it.

It's sort of like a certain clown character we all know, posing with a menu in one arm, holding aloft a shake in the other, with an inscription on his feet: "give us your poor, tired, and huddled masses." (Only in this case they'll get exploited with minimum wage.)

Learning The Lingo.

Today my fellow front man introduced me to a couple of fast food terms.

The fry vat had to be emptied and cleaned out. When that was done, I found a large pile of shriveled, rock hard, deep jet-black looking things the crew had left sitting on the counter. My front man explained "we call those little darkies."

"Let me guess -- the raw, frozen, uncooked pale white fries in the bag we call little honkies." My front man confirmed my estimation.

"Dude..." I chuckled. "That is SO wrong! Lightning is going to strike, you know...."

Monkey Business Management Secret #25

FENG SHUI

It's not something you have the vet do to your cat.

It's the latest craze in fast food restaurant design.

Yes folks, soon a McDonald's near you will be asking "would you like some extra Chi flow with your fries?"

According to an article at MSNBC [link], some McDonald's owners are using the ancient Chinese art of Feng Shui in the decor for their restaurants. They say that the use of certain "lucky" colors and materials increase customer's feelings of well being and contentment, and drive them to purchase more.

For those who cannot afford a consultant to remodel their offices with Feng Shui, simply hire a guard to stand in the corner with a whip, and let him lash those employees who don't produce. That'll get things moving, and you don't have to pay hundred of thousands of dollars.

The Sword Still Hangs.

Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin.


SHANGO.

Would You Like A Serving Of "F* You!" With Your Order?

Today I had a real A*H*LE come through my line. He made his order, I gathered everything together for it, collected the sandwich from the grill team, and as I'm serving it to him he asks:

"Does that have ketchup on it? I don't want ketchup on it!"

I thought to myself it would have been nice if he had told me before hand, so I can be sure he got what he wanted. I took the sandwich back the grill man and asked for another one without ketchup. The grill man was struggling to keep up and was not having a good day. In frustration he said "well, they sure didn't tell me that!" and threw the sandwich on the floor. I understood what he was feeling, because I've been there. I apologized to him and explained the customer's lack of foresight, and told him I would help him.

Unfortunately, the customer saw our exchange, and when I brought his corrected order to him he was angry at the grill man. He chewed me out for it. I thought to myself "well, f* head -- next time show some consideration for us servants beneath you and tell us beforehand what you want. Get out of my face d* head, and let me serve the hungry senior citizens waiting patiently behind your rude, sorry, red neck construction worker punk ass."

Of course I didn't physically say that. I just smiled wider than Ted Kennedy on the witness stand after Chappaquidick.

Monkey Business Office Lingo #10

New Corporate Buzz Words for the 21st Century

Blamestorming: Sitting around in a group discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible.

Seagull Manager: A manager who flies in, craps all over the place, makes a lot of noise, and then leaves.

Chainsaw Consultant: An outside expert brought in to reduce the employee headcount, leaving the top brass with clean hands.

Cube Farm: An office filled with cubicles.

Idea Hamsters: People who always seem to have their idea generators running.

Mouse Potato: The online, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.

Prairie Dogging: When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on.

SITCOMs: What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids. Stands for Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage.

Squirt the Bird: To transmit a signal to a satellite.

Stress Puppy: A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiny.

Tourists: People who take training classes just to get a vacation from their jobs. "We had three serious students in class; the rest were just tourists."

Treeware: Hacker slang for documentation or other printed material.

Xerox Subsidy: Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one's workplace.

Alpha Geek: The most knowledgeable, technically proficient person in an office or work group. "Ask Larry, he's the Alpha Geek around here.

Assmosis: The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss rather than working hard.

Flight Risk: Used to describe employees who are suspected of planning to leave a company or department soon.

GOOD job: A "Get-Out-Of-Debt" job. A well-paying job people take in order to pay off their debts, one that they will quit as soon as they are solvent again.

Irritainment: Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying, but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The O.J. trials were a prime example.

Percussive Maintenance: The fine art of attacking an electronic device to get it to work again.

Uninstalled: Euphemism for being fired. Heard on the voicemail of a Vice President at a downsizing computer firm: "You have reached the number of an uninstalled Vice President. Please dial our main number and ask the operator for assistance." See also Decruitment.

Vulcan Nerve Pinch: The taxing hand positions required to reach all the appropriate keys for commands. For instance, the warm re-boot for a Mac II computer involves simultaneously pressing the Control Key, the Command key, the Return key and the Power On key.

Would You Like Some Clearasil With Those Fries?

One of the competing fast food companies in town runs commercials sponsored by the local franchise holder, featuring an outstanding youth from the ethnic community that the franchisors belong to. They'll show a profile of the young person and detail their academic and athletic achievements during the length of the commercial, then play the jingle, and then fade out on the company logo.

When I see those commercials, all I can think is "jeez, where do they find kids like that -- they sure as hell don't have them where I work!"

My employer sorely lacks them. That's the whole reason I prefer to work days, because the evening shift is full of incredibly lazy, incredibly stupid teenagers. Weekends are the worst. When they see me actually working and trying to get things done, they get mad because it makes them look bad, so they try to slow me down and purposely get in my way. Total punks, they are. I told my boss as much. He said he understood.

I may be a loser who's had upteen bazillion jobs in his 42 years, but I sure as hell am not a stupid and lazy one. I try as best I can to bust and haul, to get things done. Time and time again, other people get jealous and pull all sorts of backstabbing garbage on me. I'm getting really tired of it.

Don't Be A Squidward.

My kids love watching SpongeBob Squarepants. They know most of the episodes line for line. One episode features Squidward, one of SpongeBob's co-workers at The Crusty Crab Restaurant. Squidward is known for his never ending pessimism and cynicism. This particular episode showed Squidward in all of his business-killing notoriety.

Squidward had to take an order at the counter from a customer who stared at the menu board with a blank expression, and who couldn't make up their mind. They asked nit-picky questions about several products. They continued to stand there and stare at the menu board.

Out of frustration, Squidward finally begged: "puh-leeeze -- can you go be stupid someplace else?" When I first saw that, I busted out laughing and couldn't stop.

Today I had to deal with a continual stream of stupid people. People who walked up to the counter, not knowing what they want, expecting me to read their minds, and who got annoyed when I tried politely to find out simple things like what kind of burger they want. The best way to look like a stupid idiot in front of your friends is to walk into a fast food place and say "gimme one of those burger things," and then clam up with nothing more to say.

Then, if you want to look more stupid, say "gimme a drink with that," and say no more. To top it off, you can pull out a big coin purse and count out change to the exact penny, VERY slowly, when there's a long line of hungry people behind you.

IT'S 4:20 P.M.

Monkey Business Management Secret #24

VOLUME gets things done

If there's one thing that annoys me to no end it's loud, abrasive people. Especially the type who get louder as their environment gets busier. Today I had to listen to one of those at work. I clocked in and jumped on the registers at the lunch rush. This other person was working the drive through, but she was so loud I couldn't hear my own customers up front. I had to keep asking my own customers to repeat themselves.

The loud person takes great pride in reminding me that she's a shift leader at another food establishment, while she works at ours part time. She barks out orders at our place as if she had a title there as well. She's one of those people that thrive on feeling important, and so make every effort they can to show they are.

All afternoon I just wanted to turn around and shout "will you just shut the %$#@ up!"

Of course, if there's one thing that being fired more than once in my life has taught me, it's that to survive at work I just have to keep my OWN mouth shut, because for some reason people in power can't handle hearing the truth. I also learned that promotion rarely comes to those who are best qualified, but more often those who are the most pushy, abrasive, loud, and brassy. Those types of people cannot handle hearing from others who actually use their minds and think. As long as you can bark out orders like a Marine, management loves you, and it doesn't matter if you've got cotton between the ears.

OH, DEER.

Watch this video of an 8 point buck running around the aisles in TARGET.
(video loads slow, be patient. Best with broadband.)

Knock On Wood.

Waste Not, Want Not.

Because I have heavy allergies that bother me often, I frequently have to blow my nose. Tissue just does not work for me, because I can go through so much, so I have a large supply of cloths that I have cut up out of old shirts, to use as hankies. When I've gone through them all, I launder them in hot water and heavy bleach, and re-use them.

I mention this sordid little detail for a reason.

Earlier this evening, my wife came across a work shirt with the logo of a former employer on it. It's from a certain dollar-store chain that is headquartered in one of the Mid Atlantic states. She asked me what I wanted to do with the shirt.

"What do you THINK I want to do with it?" I chided her.

"Snot rags?" she asked.

"HELL YEAH, snot rags. What other good use is there for that piece of trash?"

So, I took a pair of old scissors and cut up the shirt with reckless abandon. I made especially sure to drop the company logo into the trash with a wide flourish. Now I have several new hankies to add to my collection. I shall thoroughly relish blowing my nose into them.

PHARISEES

Today I received notice via registered mail that a judgment has been entered against me in the neighborhood of $13,000 or so for medical bills that I owe, which I have no hope of ever paying off because it takes everything I earn to support my children. Most of that amount is for treatment for kidney stones that had to be removed surgically.

I first received word of the legal action against me about a week or two before Target fired me and kicked me to the curb the day after Christmas.

Target, Inc. spends a serious portion of their marketing budget trumpeting how they give away millions of dollars back to the community and to charity. I say all of that is pure hype, absolute P.R. garbage.

I challenge Target to put their money where their mouth is. I challenge their charity to hear my side about what went wrong, give me my good name back, and help me with my medical bills for treatment of a condition that could have killed me.

I challenge them.

Otherwise, I will stand witness against them before the judgment seat of God as liars and hypocrites.

"MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN...."

"Go Ye Into All The World..."

I got to know one of my new co-workers today. He's a Christian who migrated from India to the United States. He ministers to a small group of East Indian Christians that meets in a small building here in the metro, a few miles from where I live. He had been studying for years in an Orthodox seminary, and then became a Born-Again Christian.

Listening to him share his witness was kind of funny. I tried to follow along as best I could, but his accent was really thick (quite a bit like the Indian call-center people you get on the line whenever you call tech support or something like that.)

Being from a different doctrinal bent, I had to politely avoid his efforts to persuade me to meet with his group, but he was an interesting fellow, none the less. After I got home from work, I spent time online looking up the history of Christianity in India, and found out that India harbors one of the oldest Christian communities in the world, surviving centuries of onslaught from non-Christian cultures, as well as from Euro-centric Colonialist Christian nations.

Ah, the things you learn.

Monkey Business Management Secret #23

POWER INSULATES.

In a recent post I pointed out how you can be like Stalin and execute millions of people by starvation in the Ukraine, and you still get to keep your leather chair in a huge government office. If you're a peon, however, and you so much as scratch the seat of your pants the wrong way, you're out on the streets.

All of this came to mind when I was watching a DVD that someone gave me for Christmas. It's The Simpson's Movie, the one where Homer gets a pet pig to walk on the ceiling. There's a certain character in the movie, "Mr. Cargill," who really gives me a good chuckle. Mr. Cargill is a high level bureaucrat with access to The President, and he plots to destroy Springfield. During the movie he said something that had me bust out laughing.

Assistant, to Mr. Cargill: "Sir, I think that you're going mad with power..."

Mr. Cargill, to assistant: "Have you ever tried going mad WITHOUT power? It's very boring....nobody listens to you."

That, my friends, sums it all up in a nutshell.

Industrial Arts.

Today at my new job I spent time learning the manly art of pre-packaged salad making.

Yumm-O.

In the meantime, I am still keeping my eyes WIDE open for other opportunity. I'm still plastering the town with applications and resumes as I write this. My focus right now is to keep working until my wife finishes school in a couple of months, and after she finds work I'll examine my options.

If my employment situation hasn't improved by then, I'm going to start the business I've always wanted to have.

Don't Do The Crime, If You Can't Do The Time.

Former Wal Mart executive Tom Coughlin's defense team is trying to delay his sentencing for wire fraud and tax evasion. They say he is in poor health, and can't do time in a prison. They're petitioning for house arrest at home, instead.

http://www.nwanews.com/adg/News/214546/

The funny thing is that friends of mine who work for Wal Mart say that his portrait in the company newsletters and news videos always showed him at the peak of fitness and virility. Now, as he is being sentenced in Federal court, all of a sudden he has coronary problems and ill health.

It's an interesting "coincidence."

The thing that bothers me is that I get fired over some chicken-scratch infraction, and I have to worry about a roof over my head and food for my children. This clown commits Federal crime, and he thinks he can stay home in his executive size house during his sentence.

I tell you -- sometimes there just ain't no justice.

Something Dark This Way Comes.

I had another one of those wacky dreams. This one was fairly short. I was standing where two main aisles meet at a corner, in the soft-lines department at my old job, in front of the operator's station.

I saw a wisp of dark black fog descend from above, and it formed into a figure clothed in tattered black swaths, whose face was hidden behind a dark shadow within the covering. The figure held a large, gleaming sword, standing there silent and motionless.

A breeze started to blow. Clothes rustled and billowed on the racks, and the ground rumbled slightly. Then all fell silent, and the lights started to go out.

That's all I remember.

I found another job, but I will only go so far as to say that it is in the food service industry. I intend to set my sights higher, and keep looking for something in a more professional environment.

Here's something interesting: a co-worker at my new job runs a business of his own on the side, just like the co-worker I had at Target. If one considers the principle of "synchroncity" as proposed by Carl Jung, this might be a sign -- an indication by the Universe where my destiny lies.

Inspirational Reading.

Harvey Mackay is one of my favorite authors. He's got a crusty, street-wise outlook that doesn't pull punches and tells it like it is. Right now I'm reading one of his more popular titles, "We Got Fired!" I am finding quite a bit of valuable advice that definitely comes in handy at this point in my life.

The last couple of days I've been pouring over the job-sheets and filling out applications. At the moment I'm going to take whatever I can get, but in the long run I've got plans. I had been taking steps to get my business started this year, and come hell or high water I'm going to do it. Right now, though, I've just got to pay the bills and get a car (it's sorta helpful to have one, when you start a business.)

What tips the scales in the direction of flying solo was a comment that one of my Target co-workers made to me before he quit. He told me he was earning more money working part time with his landscaping business that he was earning full time at Target. That got me thinking, HELL -- if he can strike out on his own, so can I. One way or another, I'm going to make it work -- I'm tired of being patronized and humiliated by arrogant management assholes. I'm tired of slimy, sleazy, backstabbing co-workers. I'm tired of sociopathic customers who take all their life's problems out on me just because my store is out of a certain product. I'm tired of it all. It's the desperate desire to get away from all of that which drives me to go out on my own.

Calls It Like I Sees 'Em.

A friend of mine who still works in management at one of my former employers recently asked me if maybe my critiques of the retail industry are a bit too SCATHING of late. In answer to that, let me share with you a quote by the venerable GEORGE BERNARD SHAW:

"The power of accurate observation.....is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it."

I rest my case. Any questions?

Vision Questing

I had another wacky dream, again.

This time, it was a visitation from St. Barbara. She asked me what my troubles were, and I explained all the circumstances of late. She touched me on my shoulder, and said "come with me."

I found myself standing at the front of the building of an employer I used to work for. Saint Barbara told me to look, and I did. There was a bright light of glory in front of the building, and I saw a hand reach out of the bright light. The hand wrote in flames upon the wall of the building, and I read theses words:

"MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN..."

I asked St. Barbara what the words meant. A voice spoke from the bright light, and the ground thundered and rumbled. The voice said:

"This is the meaning of the words: God hath numbered thy kingdom, and finished it. Thou art weighed in the balance, and art found wanting. Thy kingdom is divided, and given to thine adversaries..."

Then I saw a fire descend from the sky, and it burned up all of the workboots and hiking boots in the shoe department. The fire also destroyed all the flannel shirts in the men's department. I saw throngs of employees walking out of the building, shedding their uniforms, and then walking into other businesses in the area. I heard a loud thunder clap, the ground shook, and a huge crack rent through the whole building. A fierce wind began to blow, and then I saw the building standing empty, lights out, doors shuttered, and the shelves empty. Tumbleweeds blew by.

Then I woke up.

What I really should do is start collecting these in a book of some kind. It just might sell, I think. My buddy Cedric, the "alternative spiritual path" devotee, keeps telling me I should.

Monkey Business Management Secret #22

Good morning boys and girls! We have a new word for you today. It is called:

"Channel Stuffing."

Can YOU say "channel stuffing?" boys and girls? SUUUURE ya can!

Channel stuffing means that your corporate inventory is desperately overloaded, so you force your wholesalers, dealers, and branch stores to take it all off your hands and fill their own back rooms with it.

The advantages are obvious. Excess inventory looks like you can't run your business, which in turn drags your stock price down. In some states, it also gets taxed. Moving it out helps you to artificially inflate sales figures, which makes the stock price go up.

Other words for this include:

• Front Loading
• Dock Floating
  
• Phantom Warehousing.
• Sales Cramming.
• Freight Relocation.
• Logistics Legerdemain.
• Fraud.
  

In my several years in the retail business, I have repeatedly seen this happen. It's a shell game that district managers and regional executives play to inflate their own sales figures and also to help their corporate bosses look good.

But of course, I could be mistaken. What do I know? I'm just a peon who gets fired at Christmas.