More Video Gamer Loser-dom.

In previous posts I've ranted about the absolute worthless losers who would get bent out of shape over the Nintendo Wii when I worked the electronics counter at Target.

Here's some more lovely idiocy that goes along with that:

Couple gets in fight over Wii. [link]

The guy gets pissed off because his girlfriend bought him a Wii, instead of the remote controlled plane he wanted. She starts to leave, he starts to whoop on her. She gives it back to him good, and both get arrested. The day after Christmas.

Is this guy stupid, or what?

His girlfriend manages to score a Wii, which is almost impossible to find, and he gets upset? What kind of idiot does a guy have to be? He could have easily sold it for twice what they paid (to begin with), but the least he could do is graciously accept what's given him by someone whose love is obviously misplaced. Then, he starts whooping on her the day after Christmas. Yessiree Mom and Dad, this girl has a real catch on her hands -- start addressing the wedding invites right now....

Ladies, I'll give you a helpful tip. If the grown man you're dating owns a video game set, ditch him and ditch him fast. Trust me on this one. When you marry a video gamer, you marry the back side of his head for hours at a time. You also marry his stunted emotional state, arrested somewhere about age twelve.

You'll have better luck marrying a Doctor who's always too busy for you. At least with the Doctor you won't be broke, and the Doctor will actually will be off his ass WORKING. At least a Doctor will posess half a brain and know what art and literature are. At least a Doctor will know how to bathe, brush his teeth, and shave once in awhile. A Doctor will know how to button his shirt right and match his socks.

When you walk down the street alongside a Doctor, you won't have a sign over your head shouting "I married a pathetic video game loser" in big, bright letters.

Ya Can't Fix Stupid

As I've mentioned earlier, I'm taking courses with an online university. My wife, who is a professional chef at a nice eatery here in town, has graciously consented to work while I finish my degree.

One thing became very apparent as I've been interacting with my online classmates, who on the average are significantly younger than I am: either our school systems around the country just generally suck, or these days kids are being born more and more stupid. Probably both.

Case in point: the class professor posted a discussion question asking us to define the term "weak dollar," and discuss the fiscal and monetary policies our government uses to influence the strength of the dollar.

My classmates immediately launched into a series of discussion posts that showed they hadn't done diddly-squat when it comes to reading the assigned text. They kept talking about inflation, and about how bummed they were about the rising price of clothes at the mall.

Jesus.

First off, the strength of the dollar does not refer to inflation. It refers to how well it trades against foreign currency on the international exchange markets. The professor posted a reply to one particular student telling her she needed to read the text again, when her responses had been showing that she had no clue.

She continued to make posts that looked like she had her head buried in the sand. I couldn't stand it any longer, so I made a post telling her as kindly as I could to read the text again. It's one of those situations where someone is making a complete fool of themselves and ignoring the warning signs, like walking out of the restroom with your skirt still tucked into the back of your pantie-hose.

She then replied to me very tartly, saying she had read the professor's post and didn't need a fellow student to lecture her about the text. All of her posts in the days after continued to show that she still didn't understand the subject, and she still continued to make a fool of herself.

Many of her classmates were in the same boat. It got so stupid in the virtual classroom that finally the instructor made a post literally BEGGING the class to understand the text before they discussed the subject further. A small handful of working professionals who are students in my class agreed with me that we needed to beg the university to get rid of all the morons.

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.