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.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
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..."
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..."
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
"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.
Friday, June 20, 2008
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.
"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.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
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-@#$% for us, but today all we got was a couple of church ladies and some soft-ball players. The highlight of the afternoon came when a little-league coach ordered FORTY junior cheese burgers.
Business got so slow that they sent me and three others home to save on payroll. I didn't mind because my back has been bothering me today and I needed to lay down for awhile.
Normally Sundays are a total cluster-@#$% 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.
Friday, June 6, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
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!
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!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
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.)
"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.)
Saturday, May 10, 2008
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!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, April 21, 2008
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?"
Friday, April 11, 2008
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:
http://www.coudal.com/shhh.php [link]
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:
- Nobody gives a flying F* about who you think you are, or about your dumbass business deals.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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*
- 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.
http://www.coudal.com/shhh.php [link]
Thursday, April 10, 2008
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.
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.
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