We were traveling through the void, the ship and I. How long we had been traveling, I can't say. Time didn't seem to have much meaning for us, as the stretch of awareness which I was currently experiencing had just seemed to fade in from black oblivion, condensing out of nothingness. When I tried to remember back to something else, I only encountered the frayed ends of existence. It didn't matter.
The ship's representation appeared before me on a large computer screen. It was just an abstract jumble of lines which vaguely formed the features of a face. Noticing the screen for the first time, I took note of my immediate surroundings. Everything around me was gray and featureless, and I found myself strapped into a comfortable reclining seat. I turned my attention back to the face on the screen.
"We are going to encounter degenerate matter soon. I won't be able to continue, it will be the end of my mission. You must be my eyes."
"But how?"
"I will give you mine. You will be in contact with me until the last second. I will relay you all information that I can gather."
Suddenly my awareness was outside the ship. I could see it in front of me, heading for a bright object which was radiating fiercely in all spectra. Then I saw myself. I was a ring of components sailing along behind the ship, recently detached. As I watched, another ring detached from the ship. I knew that this ring was the ships' eyes. I willed my ring towards the eye ring. We touched, and together formed two rings which joined at a common tangent. My view backed away until I could encompass the entire system. We were heading straight for a dense ball of degenerate matter, the source of the radiation. With the ships' eyes, I could see every band of the electromagnetic spectrum, from gamma radiation to radio waves, as the energy was thrown violently into space. This energy acted like a kind of wind, and with my 'infinity' configuration, I was able to spread out like a sail and catch these rays. The powerful rays buffeted me violently, slowing my forward velocity and eventually reversing my direction. The ship, however, had also spread itself into a new configuration. It became a sparse net which passed the battering ram of energy through it evenly and cleanly. The ship actually sped up as the gravity of the degenerate matter gained more and more influence, and slowly the core became visible.
Seeing with the eyes of the ship, I magnified the dense ball until I could make out it's structure. It looked like a cluster of red spheres, all of them close together and touching, with a soft, snowy material acting as a kind of mortar that held the spheres together. I only got to observe the detail closely for a few seconds before the ship slammed into it at close to the speed of light.
The explosion was spectacular. I have it all recorded. As I play it back in slow motion, I can see the cluster of spheres starting to expand as the ship impacts it's surface. A tiny explosion bursts forth, lighting the snowy material and causing much of it to evaporate. As the explosion gains force and grows, the spheres start to unravel until they become flat hexagonal planes which meet and join, forming a kind of soccer ball pattern. This new configuration continues to expand, and even with the video slowed down to millions of frames per second, the speed with which it grows is marked. My view zooms out as the sphere grows, keeping it within the viewframe. Finally, a critical threshold is reached, and the hexagonal structure flies apart, releasing a bright, surging turmoil of energy. Once this energy is free, the explosion increases it's expansion exponentially. The shock wave finally reaches me and I am pushed violently away. The explosion continues to grow and grow, until it encompasses the entirety of existence, and I am finally pushed beyond the boundaries of the cosmos. As I drift aimlessly and eternally, once again surrounded by void, I realize forever that I have witnessed the birth of a new universe.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
A dream - things to come
It was damp and overcast as I walked down the empty suburban street. Everything was still and quiet. There were no cars parked anywhere, and no other people visible. There was a chill in the air, and the humidity made my breath come out in dense white clouds. Everything was described in oppressive shades of grey. The only sound was the noise of my feet striking the sidewalk, and that was muted and dull. There was a thin fog, not enough to really obscure anything, but objects in the distance looked as though they were only partially there, as if my reality was traveling through a phantom world that only took on substance as I approached. I tried a shout, just to break the oppressive silence. The sound was instantly smothered and clipped short, as if by dense cotton, with nary an echo. I put my hands in my pockets and concentrated on the sidewalk. I had a green pillow tucked under my arm. At least, it was supposed to be green. I remember it being green, anyway... but here it was just grey.
After a while I heard something behind me. It was another set of muted footsteps. I turned and saw a girl following, just barely visible on the edge of the fog. She was wearing a green button down shirt and blue jeans, and her hair was pulled back. She had her hands in her pockets, the same as me, and was studying the sidewalk in front of her, the same as me. I continued walking, looking back every now and then, but she never looked up. I realized that her green shirt was the only color besides grey that was visible anywhere. I thought about that for a while, and then realized that her shirt was a Subway shirt. You know, the sandwich place. I seemed to remember them being red before, but they were green now, apparently. I wondered if she was walking to work. I tried to sync my steps with hers, but every time I managed to merge the sounds together, she would move them out of sync again. It sounded like my footsteps were echoing. After a while I stopped trying to sync the sounds, as I rather enjoyed the false echo. It made things seem less oppressive. Maybe she was doing that on purpose.
I finally came to an intersection and stopped. I expected to find my car parked there. It wasn't. This was quite a shock to me, that plus the realization that I had been walking here expecting to find it. I cut across somebody's yard stopped at the curb where my car was supposed to be parked. I looked around frantically, panic building. Apparently, someone had stolen my car. I tried to scream out loud, and I know that I meant to shout "Somebody stole my car!", but it only came out as a stammer, a series of smothered sounds that were supposed to be words but were only noises. I fell to my knees, dismayed and broken. I covered my hands with my face and I sobbed quietly. After a while, I wiped my hands on my pants and looked up. To my right I saw an old couple on the front lawn of the house which this particular curb served, the one I had cut across. They were raising an American flag. There was no color in the flag; it was all grey, and as they raised it, it disappeared into the dense fog. This surprised me, and it was then that I noticed for the first time that the tops of all of the houses and trees were obscured by a low ceiling of fog. I tried calling out to the old couple, to ask if they had seen my car. The words came out jumbled again and were immediately smothered by the cotton effect. The old couple regarded me for a few seconds, then went inside.
I suddenly felt extremely tired so I laid down on the sidewalk with the pillow under my head. I was just about to drift off when I heard the muted footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes and saw two sandal clad feet stop right in front of me. I looked up. It was the Subway girl with the green shirt. She sat down next to me. After a while, she snatched my pillow away.
"Hey, give that back." Funny, I was able to talk again.
"No. You don't need it. I want it."
I couldn't think of anything else to say immediately, so I just laid my head back down on the concrete.
"Do you see that bird over there?"
"Huh?" She was talking again. I propped myself up on an elbow and looked around. The girl was pointing to a black bird which was hopping around on the lawn of the old couple. I confirmed that I did in fact see the bird.
"Watch what it does."
I watched. The bird hopped towards us and then stopped. Then it hopped again. It was finally on the sidewalk beside me. I stared at it intently. It stared back. Then it pecked my arm.
"Ow!" I sat up and rubbed my arm. The girl was laughing. I tried to reach for the pillow but she pulled it out of my reach.
"Do you know who stole my car?"
"I think Clint took it. You knew that though, why ask me?"
I laid back down on the sidewalk, on my back this time, and covered my eyes with my forearm. Yeah, I guess I did know that after all. Clint had taken the car, and he would likely crash it or get it impounded or something. The girl stretched out and put her legs on my stomach. I looked at her legs and then looked at her, reclining easily on my pillow. I massaged her leg distractedly.
"Do you work at Subway?"
She didn't reply. Instead, she leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.
After a while I heard something behind me. It was another set of muted footsteps. I turned and saw a girl following, just barely visible on the edge of the fog. She was wearing a green button down shirt and blue jeans, and her hair was pulled back. She had her hands in her pockets, the same as me, and was studying the sidewalk in front of her, the same as me. I continued walking, looking back every now and then, but she never looked up. I realized that her green shirt was the only color besides grey that was visible anywhere. I thought about that for a while, and then realized that her shirt was a Subway shirt. You know, the sandwich place. I seemed to remember them being red before, but they were green now, apparently. I wondered if she was walking to work. I tried to sync my steps with hers, but every time I managed to merge the sounds together, she would move them out of sync again. It sounded like my footsteps were echoing. After a while I stopped trying to sync the sounds, as I rather enjoyed the false echo. It made things seem less oppressive. Maybe she was doing that on purpose.
I finally came to an intersection and stopped. I expected to find my car parked there. It wasn't. This was quite a shock to me, that plus the realization that I had been walking here expecting to find it. I cut across somebody's yard stopped at the curb where my car was supposed to be parked. I looked around frantically, panic building. Apparently, someone had stolen my car. I tried to scream out loud, and I know that I meant to shout "Somebody stole my car!", but it only came out as a stammer, a series of smothered sounds that were supposed to be words but were only noises. I fell to my knees, dismayed and broken. I covered my hands with my face and I sobbed quietly. After a while, I wiped my hands on my pants and looked up. To my right I saw an old couple on the front lawn of the house which this particular curb served, the one I had cut across. They were raising an American flag. There was no color in the flag; it was all grey, and as they raised it, it disappeared into the dense fog. This surprised me, and it was then that I noticed for the first time that the tops of all of the houses and trees were obscured by a low ceiling of fog. I tried calling out to the old couple, to ask if they had seen my car. The words came out jumbled again and were immediately smothered by the cotton effect. The old couple regarded me for a few seconds, then went inside.
I suddenly felt extremely tired so I laid down on the sidewalk with the pillow under my head. I was just about to drift off when I heard the muted footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes and saw two sandal clad feet stop right in front of me. I looked up. It was the Subway girl with the green shirt. She sat down next to me. After a while, she snatched my pillow away.
"Hey, give that back." Funny, I was able to talk again.
"No. You don't need it. I want it."
I couldn't think of anything else to say immediately, so I just laid my head back down on the concrete.
"Do you see that bird over there?"
"Huh?" She was talking again. I propped myself up on an elbow and looked around. The girl was pointing to a black bird which was hopping around on the lawn of the old couple. I confirmed that I did in fact see the bird.
"Watch what it does."
I watched. The bird hopped towards us and then stopped. Then it hopped again. It was finally on the sidewalk beside me. I stared at it intently. It stared back. Then it pecked my arm.
"Ow!" I sat up and rubbed my arm. The girl was laughing. I tried to reach for the pillow but she pulled it out of my reach.
"Do you know who stole my car?"
"I think Clint took it. You knew that though, why ask me?"
I laid back down on the sidewalk, on my back this time, and covered my eyes with my forearm. Yeah, I guess I did know that after all. Clint had taken the car, and he would likely crash it or get it impounded or something. The girl stretched out and put her legs on my stomach. I looked at her legs and then looked at her, reclining easily on my pillow. I massaged her leg distractedly.
"Do you work at Subway?"
She didn't reply. Instead, she leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.
OWWW
This morning at, oh... around 3:00 am, I woke up and decided to read a little. It was chilly in my room so I turned the heater up some and got back in bed. This didn't satisfy me immediately, so I reached down on the floor to grab the shirt I was wearing yesterday... and immediately snatched it back. Ow! MOTHERFUCKER! SOMETHING FUCKING STUNG MY FINGER! FUCKING FUCKING COCKSUCKER SHIT! I shook my hand like it was on fire, because it sure as hell felt like it. I fumbled around on my nightstand for my lighter so I could light the oil lamp. Waves of pain corruscated from my finger as I flicked the lighter, forcing me to stop and shake my hand again and then flick again and then shake again, flick shake, flick shake flick shake. Finally the pain settled down to something bearable after about a minute, and I was able to get the lamp lit. I turned it up and held my finger up to the light, examining it intently for the injury. I couldn't see anything at all. It wasn't red, it wasn't swollen, there wasn't a bite mark, nothing. After about another minute, the pain had faded completely. Well, by that time I was in no mood to stay up and read, what with excruciating pain being one of the first sensations of the day, so I blew out the lamp and went back to sleep.
At about 5:30 I woke up again and decided to give it another go. I lit the lamp first and put it on the floor. I got out of bed and examined the area around my shirt, searching for signs of whatever it was that had caused me grievous harm earlier. I didn't find anything, so I carefully picked up my shirt and gave it a thorough going over. Finally satisfied, I put on my shirt and proceeded to start a new novel by Orson Scott Card called Invasive Procedures. It's a medical thriller, not the usual fare by this author, but he's never let me down. I was just starting to get into it, when lo and behold, a god damn hornet lands on my lap. You little motherfucker, I thought, as I carefully closed my book and SLAMMED IT DOWN ON THAT FUCKER WITH ALL MY MIGHT. Now, hornets are tough little bastards, so I was sure that it was still alive and wriggling under the book, as it was pressed against my soft blanket. I looked around and found a piece of paper, which I folded up twice, and carefully lifted the covers and the book and reached underneath and SMASHED. After holding it there for about 30 seconds, I carefully lifted the book. Yup, it was still alive and wriggling, so I picked it up with the paper and folded it up inside about 3 times, then shoved the whole thing into an empty orange juice bottle that was on my night stand. Bye bye hornet, you shouldn't have stung me you fucker, now you get to die crushed and suffocating in a plastic bottle.
I am somewhat surprised however that there is no mark on my finger at all. I've been stung by wasps and bees before, and invariably there will be a red, swollen area with a small little prick mark where the sting occured. Not so with the hornet. Weird. I guess hornets just ain't got shit on me.
At about 5:30 I woke up again and decided to give it another go. I lit the lamp first and put it on the floor. I got out of bed and examined the area around my shirt, searching for signs of whatever it was that had caused me grievous harm earlier. I didn't find anything, so I carefully picked up my shirt and gave it a thorough going over. Finally satisfied, I put on my shirt and proceeded to start a new novel by Orson Scott Card called Invasive Procedures. It's a medical thriller, not the usual fare by this author, but he's never let me down. I was just starting to get into it, when lo and behold, a god damn hornet lands on my lap. You little motherfucker, I thought, as I carefully closed my book and SLAMMED IT DOWN ON THAT FUCKER WITH ALL MY MIGHT. Now, hornets are tough little bastards, so I was sure that it was still alive and wriggling under the book, as it was pressed against my soft blanket. I looked around and found a piece of paper, which I folded up twice, and carefully lifted the covers and the book and reached underneath and SMASHED. After holding it there for about 30 seconds, I carefully lifted the book. Yup, it was still alive and wriggling, so I picked it up with the paper and folded it up inside about 3 times, then shoved the whole thing into an empty orange juice bottle that was on my night stand. Bye bye hornet, you shouldn't have stung me you fucker, now you get to die crushed and suffocating in a plastic bottle.
I am somewhat surprised however that there is no mark on my finger at all. I've been stung by wasps and bees before, and invariably there will be a red, swollen area with a small little prick mark where the sting occured. Not so with the hornet. Weird. I guess hornets just ain't got shit on me.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Graveyard Shift
Last night at about 9:00 pm a cold front blew in. It went from 70 degrees to 30 degrees in a matter of minutes. I had already washed what I was going to wear to work (in the bathroom sink with dishwashing detergent) and dried them (center oven rack at 225 degrees) so I had no choice but to wear them, as everything else was dirty. These articles consisted of a plain black polo shirt, undistinguishable from any other plain black polo shirt except for '7-Eleven' printed unobtrusively along the edge of the left sleeve, a pair of socks (they match), and some khaki colored shorts that have that built in underwear that's a kind of a synthetic knit fabric or something. Like a swimsuit but not a swimsuit, as it has pockets and stuff. I hadn't been outside since about 8:30 when I hooked up my inverter to the cigarette lighter in the car for the purpose of providing my laptop with power, so after getting dressed, I opened the door. My face, arms and legs (the bare parts of my body) are immediately ensconced in freezing cold air.
At first I didn't really process that information because I could have sworn that an hour ago it was 70 degrees outside. I even almost fooled myself into chalking it up as some kind of tactile hallucination, but halfway to the car I had to turn around and go back in the house for a jacket. Damn, and there I was in the only clean clothes I own currently, most significantly the pair of khaki shorts. I imagined that I would be suffering some freezing cold cigarette breaks later on, which turned out to be true.
So, I worked with David last night, the new Chinese American guy. Up until I started working with him, I hadn't been sure what to expect from the guy, as I had heard reports that he was kind of... well, slow. This turned out not to be the case. Not only was David probably just as smart as the next Joe Schmoe, he's also just about the friendliest peson I've ever met, aside from this guy named Eddie who I used to work with at The Alps Restaurant in Mt. Pleasant (my old stomping grounds in East Texas). Anyway, like I was saying, David is just uber friendly and a very likeable guy. I quite enjoyed working with him, as he always had something to say and seemed genuinely interested in whatever I had to say. He was extremely eager to learn new things, so I showed him how to do write-offs, how to enter data into the MOT, and oddly enough, how to sweep. He actually asked me if I would show him how to sweep! I thought this an odd enough request, but I obliged him and before he knew it, he was sweeping like a pro. His only real problem that I noticed last night was when he was selling beer. Occassionally a group (usually three or four) of young kids would all be at the counter with one of them purchasing a 12 pack or whatever. Now, Texas state law requires that we card not only the person who is purchasing the beer, but everyone who is obviously with that person. The reason for this is because some of them might be underaged, even if the purchaser is over 21. In the eyes of the law, the person purchasing the beer could realistically be buying it for one of the accompanying minors, and if we sell it to that person without carding everyone and one of them turns out to be a minor, we could be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor and go straight to jail. So ANYWAY...
Several times David was presented with this situation, and each time he would only card the one person. Each time I would advise him that he should card everyone in the group. After a few times, I felt like I might have been coming off as a nag, so I told him that I was only trying to look out for him because I didn't want him to go to jail (which was true). Once I mentioned jail, he sat up and took notice. Well, as it turns out, we have both been to city lockup before and neither one of us had found it to be a pleasant experience. After that he carded pretty much everyone.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully with both of us growing progressively more weary as the minutes dragged on. I'd have to go outside for a smoke for the sole reason that the freezing cold would wake me up somewhat. When I went into the cooler to stock it after coming in from outside, it actually felt pleasant in there. So, David and I both stayed in the cooler for a good long while stocking beer and gatorade and water and all the other various shit that needs to get stocked in the cooler.
The end of the shift finally arrived, as shift endings are wont to do, even though it seemed like a small eternity before it happened, especially because Mike C. was running about 15 minutes late. This was going to REALLY piss me off if it got much later with him not showing up, as he had been at the store earlier, at around 3:00 am, riding out the tail end of a late night drunk. This didn't seem like a very wise thing to do, getting drunk the night before you're supposed to work, and actually being drunk three hours before you're scheduled to show up, but hell, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't ever done it. However, with Mike C. growing later with every passig moment, I could only visualize him passed out somewhere, oblivious to the fact that his presence was required immediately at the local 7-Eleven so that I could scoot my happy ass home.
Terry arrived at about 6:15 and proceeded to call Mike C., who conveniently wasn't answering his phone. By 6:20 I asked Terry if I could go ahead and count my drawer, and with a furrowed brow he agreed. After I counted my drawer, at about 6:28, Mike C. came staggering in. 'The prodigal son returns!' I exclaimed loudly and with marked enthusiasm. He just kind of grunted and continued walking towards the office, his head lowered, his shoulders hunched, his eyes half closed, walking with a shuffling motion in which his feet never actually lifted from the floor... they just kind of slid-scooted-stumbled the rest of his body forward. Poor guy. Oh well, I'm done, that's all that matters.
After that, Terry gave me my performance review. I got called on dress code adherance, due to my ubiquitous 5 o'clock shadow, plus he said that sometimes I wear too much jewelry and that I shouldn't wear rings that are 'spiky'. I'll keep that in mind in case I am ever tempted to wear a spiky ring. And that 7-Eleven employees are only allowed to wear two earrings. I'm wearing two earrings, so why did he point that out? I think that what he really wanted to say was that I personally am not allowed to wear any earrings. I'm pretty sure he has a problem with any earrings I might be wearing, plus my long hair, as he actually asked me if I would cut it when he was giving me my interview way back when. I thought this a rather odd thing to say, as I, Ryan, Patrick, and just about everybody else have been wearing shorts to work since before summer, and Terry has never said anything about it at all. Anyway, I wound up getting mostly A's and a couple of B's (I assume those are good grades).
The review finished, I packed up my laptop, put on my jacket, shouldered my backpack and began to make my way to the front door with the intention of vacating the premises real quick and in a hurry. I make my farewells to Mike C. and David and Terry and they all reply in kind. Terry is hold the MOT and studying it intently as I reach for the door, when he says 'Oh, you didn't get to order anything, huh?'
? thought I. Order? WTF? I ordered everything yesterday. Snacks... fountain drinks... coffee... cleaning items... 'Holy crap,' I said, 'I totally forgot to order the CDC.' I curse out loud. 'Dammit! Mother F'er! Crap on a cracker!' So I tell Terry that I'll stay and order the CDC, which I do, and I finally walk out of the store at about 7:30 am.
At first I didn't really process that information because I could have sworn that an hour ago it was 70 degrees outside. I even almost fooled myself into chalking it up as some kind of tactile hallucination, but halfway to the car I had to turn around and go back in the house for a jacket. Damn, and there I was in the only clean clothes I own currently, most significantly the pair of khaki shorts. I imagined that I would be suffering some freezing cold cigarette breaks later on, which turned out to be true.
So, I worked with David last night, the new Chinese American guy. Up until I started working with him, I hadn't been sure what to expect from the guy, as I had heard reports that he was kind of... well, slow. This turned out not to be the case. Not only was David probably just as smart as the next Joe Schmoe, he's also just about the friendliest peson I've ever met, aside from this guy named Eddie who I used to work with at The Alps Restaurant in Mt. Pleasant (my old stomping grounds in East Texas). Anyway, like I was saying, David is just uber friendly and a very likeable guy. I quite enjoyed working with him, as he always had something to say and seemed genuinely interested in whatever I had to say. He was extremely eager to learn new things, so I showed him how to do write-offs, how to enter data into the MOT, and oddly enough, how to sweep. He actually asked me if I would show him how to sweep! I thought this an odd enough request, but I obliged him and before he knew it, he was sweeping like a pro. His only real problem that I noticed last night was when he was selling beer. Occassionally a group (usually three or four) of young kids would all be at the counter with one of them purchasing a 12 pack or whatever. Now, Texas state law requires that we card not only the person who is purchasing the beer, but everyone who is obviously with that person. The reason for this is because some of them might be underaged, even if the purchaser is over 21. In the eyes of the law, the person purchasing the beer could realistically be buying it for one of the accompanying minors, and if we sell it to that person without carding everyone and one of them turns out to be a minor, we could be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor and go straight to jail. So ANYWAY...
Several times David was presented with this situation, and each time he would only card the one person. Each time I would advise him that he should card everyone in the group. After a few times, I felt like I might have been coming off as a nag, so I told him that I was only trying to look out for him because I didn't want him to go to jail (which was true). Once I mentioned jail, he sat up and took notice. Well, as it turns out, we have both been to city lockup before and neither one of us had found it to be a pleasant experience. After that he carded pretty much everyone.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully with both of us growing progressively more weary as the minutes dragged on. I'd have to go outside for a smoke for the sole reason that the freezing cold would wake me up somewhat. When I went into the cooler to stock it after coming in from outside, it actually felt pleasant in there. So, David and I both stayed in the cooler for a good long while stocking beer and gatorade and water and all the other various shit that needs to get stocked in the cooler.
The end of the shift finally arrived, as shift endings are wont to do, even though it seemed like a small eternity before it happened, especially because Mike C. was running about 15 minutes late. This was going to REALLY piss me off if it got much later with him not showing up, as he had been at the store earlier, at around 3:00 am, riding out the tail end of a late night drunk. This didn't seem like a very wise thing to do, getting drunk the night before you're supposed to work, and actually being drunk three hours before you're scheduled to show up, but hell, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't ever done it. However, with Mike C. growing later with every passig moment, I could only visualize him passed out somewhere, oblivious to the fact that his presence was required immediately at the local 7-Eleven so that I could scoot my happy ass home.
Terry arrived at about 6:15 and proceeded to call Mike C., who conveniently wasn't answering his phone. By 6:20 I asked Terry if I could go ahead and count my drawer, and with a furrowed brow he agreed. After I counted my drawer, at about 6:28, Mike C. came staggering in. 'The prodigal son returns!' I exclaimed loudly and with marked enthusiasm. He just kind of grunted and continued walking towards the office, his head lowered, his shoulders hunched, his eyes half closed, walking with a shuffling motion in which his feet never actually lifted from the floor... they just kind of slid-scooted-stumbled the rest of his body forward. Poor guy. Oh well, I'm done, that's all that matters.
After that, Terry gave me my performance review. I got called on dress code adherance, due to my ubiquitous 5 o'clock shadow, plus he said that sometimes I wear too much jewelry and that I shouldn't wear rings that are 'spiky'. I'll keep that in mind in case I am ever tempted to wear a spiky ring. And that 7-Eleven employees are only allowed to wear two earrings. I'm wearing two earrings, so why did he point that out? I think that what he really wanted to say was that I personally am not allowed to wear any earrings. I'm pretty sure he has a problem with any earrings I might be wearing, plus my long hair, as he actually asked me if I would cut it when he was giving me my interview way back when. I thought this a rather odd thing to say, as I, Ryan, Patrick, and just about everybody else have been wearing shorts to work since before summer, and Terry has never said anything about it at all. Anyway, I wound up getting mostly A's and a couple of B's (I assume those are good grades).
The review finished, I packed up my laptop, put on my jacket, shouldered my backpack and began to make my way to the front door with the intention of vacating the premises real quick and in a hurry. I make my farewells to Mike C. and David and Terry and they all reply in kind. Terry is hold the MOT and studying it intently as I reach for the door, when he says 'Oh, you didn't get to order anything, huh?'
? thought I. Order? WTF? I ordered everything yesterday. Snacks... fountain drinks... coffee... cleaning items... 'Holy crap,' I said, 'I totally forgot to order the CDC.' I curse out loud. 'Dammit! Mother F'er! Crap on a cracker!' So I tell Terry that I'll stay and order the CDC, which I do, and I finally walk out of the store at about 7:30 am.
Acronyms
An interesting occurrence today... I discovered 70 dollars in my PayPal account. OMG LOL WTF BRB GTG ROFL LMFAO BBQ TTYL WTH IMO BTW PWN TEH NOOBZ!!!11!1!! I wasn't expecting that. I merely checked it to see if I at least had a dollar or two to buy some smokes so I wouldn't have to payroll them AGAIN.
So, now I have a new inverter for my car and I am sitting once more in my living room with a fully charged laptop. No more hoofing it to the campus. I don't even have to charge it at work anymore, but as long as I'm on 3rd shift, I'm taking it with me because it gets hella boring up there after about 3:00 am.
Now, as to that 70 dollars. I really have no idea why it's there. I remember transferring some funds from my bank account a couple of months ago so I could buy something online, but I could have sworn I had transferred only enough for the purchase. Hmmm... a miracle, perhaps? Nah, if it were a miracle, It would have been enough to pay the electric bill.
Thusly armed, I drove to Wally World and bought that inverter, plus some more lamp oil and about 8 of these little oil candle things - supposedly they last for about 20 hours. Anyway, the price on the shelf said $1.69 for each one, but when I took two of them to the register they rang up as 20 cents each. I even pointed out to the cashier that they were supposed to be a buck 69, but she said no, they're 20 cents. Ok, says I, so I went back and gathered up 6 more. I was tempted to buy every single one of them but that would be piggish.
So now I have two oil lamps, two oil lanterns, and eight oil candles all burning and my living room is bright and cozy.
So, now I have a new inverter for my car and I am sitting once more in my living room with a fully charged laptop. No more hoofing it to the campus. I don't even have to charge it at work anymore, but as long as I'm on 3rd shift, I'm taking it with me because it gets hella boring up there after about 3:00 am.
Now, as to that 70 dollars. I really have no idea why it's there. I remember transferring some funds from my bank account a couple of months ago so I could buy something online, but I could have sworn I had transferred only enough for the purchase. Hmmm... a miracle, perhaps? Nah, if it were a miracle, It would have been enough to pay the electric bill.
Thusly armed, I drove to Wally World and bought that inverter, plus some more lamp oil and about 8 of these little oil candle things - supposedly they last for about 20 hours. Anyway, the price on the shelf said $1.69 for each one, but when I took two of them to the register they rang up as 20 cents each. I even pointed out to the cashier that they were supposed to be a buck 69, but she said no, they're 20 cents. Ok, says I, so I went back and gathered up 6 more. I was tempted to buy every single one of them but that would be piggish.
So now I have two oil lamps, two oil lanterns, and eight oil candles all burning and my living room is bright and cozy.
One more thing before work
My dog, who is insane, is busy pacing back and forth like a lunatic from the bedroom to the living room. And a while ago he was making the nastiest lickingest sounds as he chowed down on his ass. Schlorp schluck schlorp schlop schluck schlorp schlop. It was disgusting.
With the electricity cut off, there is no background noise like my fan or the fridge, so I hear every little miniscule noise that dog makes as I'm lying in bed trying to sleep. Ironically, it's not so bad when I'm sleeping during the day, as I have been doing lately because I'm working nights... but this dog is, like I said, insane and afraid of just about everything except for the living room sofa. So, he doesn't eat or drink until the middle of the damn night because he's afraid to during the day, and I can hear every irritating crunch of the dog food, every lappity splash as his tongue dips into and out of his water dish, every scritch as he scratches himself in the same exact spot every single day (he likes to be pet there so he scratches it himself), and every pad of his skittish little doggy feet as he paces back and forth from one room to another like the fruitcake he is.
Sometimes when he's making these little noises while I'm trying to sleep, I seriously want to get up and kick the damn dog. But instead, I grab his food and water bowl and take them into my room and shut the door. Then, I prop the broom up in the living room doorway that leads to the kitchen because he is petrified shitless of the broom (as he is of every object or item that isn't the sofa). Thusly barricaded, he won't go near the doorway with the broom standing sentinel, so he stays either in the kitchen or my brothers room.
Now, it may sound like I hate my dog. This is not true. When I'm not trying to sleep, or when my fan is providing adequate background noise, his little noises don't irritate me at all because 1. when the fan is going I can't hear them, and 2. when I'm not trying to sleep they don't bother me. He can be a playful dog, say... in the middle of the night, outside in the front yard, when there are no cars going by, and when there are no people taking walks. In those circumstances, he'll run around and wag his tail and play 'tag' with you. And when he's on the couch, he's like that too, except there's no room for him to run around and play tag, so he just crawls on your lap with his front legs (he's about 50 pounds) and basks in ecstasy while I scratch him in that place he likes to get scratched (the place that makes his back leg thump) and behind his ears. Sometimes as a special treat to brighten up his little doggy existence which is filled with so much terror on a daily basis, I'll make some beef broth and pour it over his food. He likes that.
With the electricity cut off, there is no background noise like my fan or the fridge, so I hear every little miniscule noise that dog makes as I'm lying in bed trying to sleep. Ironically, it's not so bad when I'm sleeping during the day, as I have been doing lately because I'm working nights... but this dog is, like I said, insane and afraid of just about everything except for the living room sofa. So, he doesn't eat or drink until the middle of the damn night because he's afraid to during the day, and I can hear every irritating crunch of the dog food, every lappity splash as his tongue dips into and out of his water dish, every scritch as he scratches himself in the same exact spot every single day (he likes to be pet there so he scratches it himself), and every pad of his skittish little doggy feet as he paces back and forth from one room to another like the fruitcake he is.
Sometimes when he's making these little noises while I'm trying to sleep, I seriously want to get up and kick the damn dog. But instead, I grab his food and water bowl and take them into my room and shut the door. Then, I prop the broom up in the living room doorway that leads to the kitchen because he is petrified shitless of the broom (as he is of every object or item that isn't the sofa). Thusly barricaded, he won't go near the doorway with the broom standing sentinel, so he stays either in the kitchen or my brothers room.
Now, it may sound like I hate my dog. This is not true. When I'm not trying to sleep, or when my fan is providing adequate background noise, his little noises don't irritate me at all because 1. when the fan is going I can't hear them, and 2. when I'm not trying to sleep they don't bother me. He can be a playful dog, say... in the middle of the night, outside in the front yard, when there are no cars going by, and when there are no people taking walks. In those circumstances, he'll run around and wag his tail and play 'tag' with you. And when he's on the couch, he's like that too, except there's no room for him to run around and play tag, so he just crawls on your lap with his front legs (he's about 50 pounds) and basks in ecstasy while I scratch him in that place he likes to get scratched (the place that makes his back leg thump) and behind his ears. Sometimes as a special treat to brighten up his little doggy existence which is filled with so much terror on a daily basis, I'll make some beef broth and pour it over his food. He likes that.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Choice tidbits
I've been working graveyards for the past few days. Drunken idiots abound during the small hours, especially on the weekends after the bars close. Here are a few choice tidbits:
Sloppy drunk chick: Hey, I wantsh a taquito. Can I gesh a taquito?
Me: (rings it up) Do you want anything else?
Sloppy drunk chick: Yeah, some cock.
Flamboyantly gay drunk guy: (picks up a magazine with Michael Phelps on the cover) Hey, can I buy just the cover of this magazine? He is SOOOO hot! (hugs the magazine to his chest)
Me: (no reply to a question like that)
Really really stoned guy: Hey, whats up! Can you run these lotto tickets through and see if they are winners? I need 20 million dollars so I can buy some WMD's to prove that Bush was right. What? No winners? That can't be right, run em again! Oh well, ok how much? $36.00?? For beer and cigarettes? Well, hell, there goes all of my hard earned drug money. Oh, and run this ticket through also, I think it's worth a couple of mil. What? Two dollars? Hell, ok just give me the cash. No, wait, give me a Weekly Grand. See those guys standing around out there? I'm taking my time just to piss them off, they're waiting for me. I'm buying the beer, so they have to wait! HAHAHA. They can't outrun me anyway. HAHAHA... (etc.)
(two drunk douche bags wearing sunglasses at night)
douche bag 1: (yelling across the store) Hey, what kind of donut you want?
Douche bag 2: (standing at the counter, yells back) Powdered! No, glazed! No, frosted! No, chocolate! No, glazed! No, powdered!
Douche bag 1: (approaches counter with donuts) I bet you have to deal with a lot of drunken idiots late at night, huh?
Me: Yup.
Douche bag 2: We're not drunk though.
Douche bag 1: No, we're not drunk. This job must suck, huh?
Me: It has it's moments.
Douche bag 1: What time do you get off? How long are you stuck in this hell hole?
Me: About 3 hours from now, at 6:00 am.
Douche bag 2: 6:00 am? DAYUM! That sucks! You must really hate this job!
Me: I deal with it ok.
Douche bag 1: Hey man, hey man, we need smokes! Don't forget the smokes, man!
Douche bag 2: Are you guys still selling beer?
Me: No.
Douche bag 2: Dammit! What time did they stop selling it?
Douche bag 1: What time did you stop selling it?
Me: 1:00 am.
Douche bag 1: Damn, that sucks! Why they hell do they do that? Stop selling beer?
Douche bag 2: I don't know man, but it sucks!
(they gather their shit and leave, I step outside for a smoke)
Douche bag 1: (approaches pushing a shopping cart filled with rocks, real estate signs, and broken pieces of wood) Hey man, do you want some rocks? I've got rocks in here.
Me: Nah, that's ok. You keep them.
Douche bag 2: Where the hell did we get this shopping cart, man? Oh shit, we need a ramp or something, I can't push this thing over the curb!
Douche bag 1: What am I gonna do with these rocks?
Douche bag 2: Let's put them in a circle and build a fire!
Douche bag 1: Yeah! (they walk away pushing the cart) Thanks 7-Eleven guy!
Some weird freaky looking guy: (he's in the bathroom for 30 minutes)
Random customers: Hey, whats up with the bathroom? It won't open.
Me: Somebody's in there.
Some weird freaky looking guy: (walks out of the bathroom carrying a large duffel bag) Hey, do you have a comb I can borrow?
Me: Uh... no, not personally, but you can buy one. They're over there.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Oh, ok, thanks man. (wanders over to the comb section, peruses them, then walks up to the counter and just stands there for a while)
Me: (I just stand there for a while too)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (opens his wallet and extracts a VISA card, then looks at the pinpad REALLY closely, his glasses are actually touching it, mumbles something)
Me: (I stand and watch)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (runs his card through the reader repeatedly, mumbling all the while)
Me: That won't work unless you're actually buying something.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Huh? Oh. (wanders over to the coffee bar and fills a cup with hot water) Hey man, how much for the cup?
Me: Nothing.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Ok, cool. (works his way slowly over to the nutritional bar rack)
Me: (keeping an eye on him)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (picks up two Nutri Grain bars and a bag of chips, then stands there for a while)
Me: (keeping an eye on him)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (looks at me briefly, walks to the back of the store, hangs out for a minute or two, then walks towards the door)
Me: Would you like to pay for those Nutri Grain bars and that bag of chips now?
Some weird freaky looking guy: Huh? (looks around nervously, pats at his zipped up jacket, acting confused)
Me: I saw you walk to the back of the store with them. Would you like to pay for them now?
Some weird freaky looking guy: (stands there looking nervous and confused some more, then walks down an aisle with his back to me and subtly puts the chips and Nutri Grain bars on a merchandise rack, then turns around and picks them up) Oh, you mean these? Nah, I don't want them. (he brings them to the counter)
Me: Thanks. (I put them back)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (walking out the door) Hey man, is it clear weather outside?
Me: Uh, I couldn't say. It's pretty dark out there and I can't really see the sky from here.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Oh, ok... (mumbles something and leaves, then pops back in) I'll be back for some more hot water later. (leaves the store)
Those are just a few. My laptop is getting low on power now so I'll post some more later.
Sloppy drunk chick: Hey, I wantsh a taquito. Can I gesh a taquito?
Me: (rings it up) Do you want anything else?
Sloppy drunk chick: Yeah, some cock.
Flamboyantly gay drunk guy: (picks up a magazine with Michael Phelps on the cover) Hey, can I buy just the cover of this magazine? He is SOOOO hot! (hugs the magazine to his chest)
Me: (no reply to a question like that)
Really really stoned guy: Hey, whats up! Can you run these lotto tickets through and see if they are winners? I need 20 million dollars so I can buy some WMD's to prove that Bush was right. What? No winners? That can't be right, run em again! Oh well, ok how much? $36.00?? For beer and cigarettes? Well, hell, there goes all of my hard earned drug money. Oh, and run this ticket through also, I think it's worth a couple of mil. What? Two dollars? Hell, ok just give me the cash. No, wait, give me a Weekly Grand. See those guys standing around out there? I'm taking my time just to piss them off, they're waiting for me. I'm buying the beer, so they have to wait! HAHAHA. They can't outrun me anyway. HAHAHA... (etc.)
(two drunk douche bags wearing sunglasses at night)
douche bag 1: (yelling across the store) Hey, what kind of donut you want?
Douche bag 2: (standing at the counter, yells back) Powdered! No, glazed! No, frosted! No, chocolate! No, glazed! No, powdered!
Douche bag 1: (approaches counter with donuts) I bet you have to deal with a lot of drunken idiots late at night, huh?
Me: Yup.
Douche bag 2: We're not drunk though.
Douche bag 1: No, we're not drunk. This job must suck, huh?
Me: It has it's moments.
Douche bag 1: What time do you get off? How long are you stuck in this hell hole?
Me: About 3 hours from now, at 6:00 am.
Douche bag 2: 6:00 am? DAYUM! That sucks! You must really hate this job!
Me: I deal with it ok.
Douche bag 1: Hey man, hey man, we need smokes! Don't forget the smokes, man!
Douche bag 2: Are you guys still selling beer?
Me: No.
Douche bag 2: Dammit! What time did they stop selling it?
Douche bag 1: What time did you stop selling it?
Me: 1:00 am.
Douche bag 1: Damn, that sucks! Why they hell do they do that? Stop selling beer?
Douche bag 2: I don't know man, but it sucks!
(they gather their shit and leave, I step outside for a smoke)
Douche bag 1: (approaches pushing a shopping cart filled with rocks, real estate signs, and broken pieces of wood) Hey man, do you want some rocks? I've got rocks in here.
Me: Nah, that's ok. You keep them.
Douche bag 2: Where the hell did we get this shopping cart, man? Oh shit, we need a ramp or something, I can't push this thing over the curb!
Douche bag 1: What am I gonna do with these rocks?
Douche bag 2: Let's put them in a circle and build a fire!
Douche bag 1: Yeah! (they walk away pushing the cart) Thanks 7-Eleven guy!
Some weird freaky looking guy: (he's in the bathroom for 30 minutes)
Random customers: Hey, whats up with the bathroom? It won't open.
Me: Somebody's in there.
Some weird freaky looking guy: (walks out of the bathroom carrying a large duffel bag) Hey, do you have a comb I can borrow?
Me: Uh... no, not personally, but you can buy one. They're over there.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Oh, ok, thanks man. (wanders over to the comb section, peruses them, then walks up to the counter and just stands there for a while)
Me: (I just stand there for a while too)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (opens his wallet and extracts a VISA card, then looks at the pinpad REALLY closely, his glasses are actually touching it, mumbles something)
Me: (I stand and watch)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (runs his card through the reader repeatedly, mumbling all the while)
Me: That won't work unless you're actually buying something.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Huh? Oh. (wanders over to the coffee bar and fills a cup with hot water) Hey man, how much for the cup?
Me: Nothing.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Ok, cool. (works his way slowly over to the nutritional bar rack)
Me: (keeping an eye on him)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (picks up two Nutri Grain bars and a bag of chips, then stands there for a while)
Me: (keeping an eye on him)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (looks at me briefly, walks to the back of the store, hangs out for a minute or two, then walks towards the door)
Me: Would you like to pay for those Nutri Grain bars and that bag of chips now?
Some weird freaky looking guy: Huh? (looks around nervously, pats at his zipped up jacket, acting confused)
Me: I saw you walk to the back of the store with them. Would you like to pay for them now?
Some weird freaky looking guy: (stands there looking nervous and confused some more, then walks down an aisle with his back to me and subtly puts the chips and Nutri Grain bars on a merchandise rack, then turns around and picks them up) Oh, you mean these? Nah, I don't want them. (he brings them to the counter)
Me: Thanks. (I put them back)
Some weird freaky looking guy: (walking out the door) Hey man, is it clear weather outside?
Me: Uh, I couldn't say. It's pretty dark out there and I can't really see the sky from here.
Some weird freaky looking guy: Oh, ok... (mumbles something and leaves, then pops back in) I'll be back for some more hot water later. (leaves the store)
Those are just a few. My laptop is getting low on power now so I'll post some more later.
CRITICAL UPDATE
Yes, the electricity is still off.
No, my inverter doesn't work anymore.
Yes, I have to hoof it to the college library to charge my laptop.
No, it doesn't last for four hours.
Yes, it lasts for about two.
No, I'm not enjoying third shift.
Yes, there are some amusing drunk people who show up late at night.
No, I'm not asleep right now.
Yes, I should be.
No, I don't want to go in tonight.
Yes, I am however looking forward to the new crop of drunks.
No, I haven't updated my blog enough lately.
Yes, it's because my laptop battery is usually drained.
No, I can't think of any more crap to type.
Yes, I'm going to hit the sack for a few hours.
No, my inverter doesn't work anymore.
Yes, I have to hoof it to the college library to charge my laptop.
No, it doesn't last for four hours.
Yes, it lasts for about two.
No, I'm not enjoying third shift.
Yes, there are some amusing drunk people who show up late at night.
No, I'm not asleep right now.
Yes, I should be.
No, I don't want to go in tonight.
Yes, I am however looking forward to the new crop of drunks.
No, I haven't updated my blog enough lately.
Yes, it's because my laptop battery is usually drained.
No, I can't think of any more crap to type.
Yes, I'm going to hit the sack for a few hours.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Victory!
My previous blog entry, I'm certain, left everyone in a breathless state of panic, wondering how I would manage to extricate myself from these dire straits which threaten my very well being. Fear not goodpersons, for all is well. By employing my ingenuity and resourcefulness, I have managed to 'stick it to the man' in a most satisfying way.
As I type this, I am sitting on my couch and basking in the soft, comfortable glow of a shaded electric lamp, while my laptop computer is enjoying full power. How did I accomplish this? you might ask in wonderment. Here is the situation:
Currently, my car is parked in my driveway, idling. Follow an extension cord (to which the lamp and laptop are attached) and you will see that it travels through the drivers side window. The extension cord is plugged into a power inverter, which rests comfortably on the center console. The power inverter, in turn, is plugged into the cigarette lighter, which by way of the idling engine, provides the ample power that runs the laptop and lamp. All the comforts of electricity, and I am still able to enjoy the warmth of a well heated living room while my dinner cooks.
How is this possible? Why, I paid my gas bill, of course. Dinner and a comfortable environment shall not be denied.
As I type this, I am sitting on my couch and basking in the soft, comfortable glow of a shaded electric lamp, while my laptop computer is enjoying full power. How did I accomplish this? you might ask in wonderment. Here is the situation:
Currently, my car is parked in my driveway, idling. Follow an extension cord (to which the lamp and laptop are attached) and you will see that it travels through the drivers side window. The extension cord is plugged into a power inverter, which rests comfortably on the center console. The power inverter, in turn, is plugged into the cigarette lighter, which by way of the idling engine, provides the ample power that runs the laptop and lamp. All the comforts of electricity, and I am still able to enjoy the warmth of a well heated living room while my dinner cooks.
How is this possible? Why, I paid my gas bill, of course. Dinner and a comfortable environment shall not be denied.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Electricity
My electricity got shut off the other day. Why? Because I hate opening mail. I just flat out ignored my bill. It came as a total surprise when all the lights and fans and stuff went off. At first I thought that it was a neighborhood thing, that somebody had crashed into a telephone pole or a transformer had blown or something. I walked to my front door and looked outside, expecting to see others doing the same thing soon. I stood alone for a while. I went back inside and scratched my head and went to the fridge and opened it. The light didn't come on. Damn. I went back in my room and my fan wasn't blowing, so I turned it on. It was already on. Damn... oh yeah, the electricity. I sat down and read for a while, waiting for it to fix itself. About an hour went by and I went to the freezer to get a popsicle. I didn't hear any motors whirring or anything. WTF? I got a popsicle anyway. I went back in my room and was just about to turn on my fan... oh yeah. Electricity. I sat back down and read some more. Another hour went by and then I realized that all the electricity was off. WTF? I got up again and tried to turn on the bathroom light. It wouldn't come on. Shit. I turned on the water at the sink... hey, we still have water. About this time it occured to me that I might better start looking for the bill. I rummaged around for the better part of half an hour and finally found it shoved in a drawer in the living room lamp table. I opened it and sure enough, it had been shut off. Dammit.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Oh yeah...
I forgot about what happened the other day at work. Lets see, it was... Saturday, I think, and I was there alone because Ryan had gone to the bank. So this guy comes in and wants some cigarettes. I ask him for his ID, and by the look he gives me and the vocal inflection as he says 'yes', it seems as though he is put out by this, and doesn't immediately produce it. Instead, he pulls out his credit card and swipes it. Well, I can't run his card until I verify his ID by pressing a button on the screen, so I ask him again if i can see his ID. He looks daggers at me and says 'YES!' in a loud, obnoxious voice. So he opens his wallet and shows it to me. Well, I can get irritated just like everybody else, so I ask him to remove his ID from his wallet. Just because I can. So he throws his wallet on the counter and says 'You remove it. You can see that I'm injured here.' He raises his hand, and one of his fingers has a metal brace with a bandage wrapped around it. I hadn't noticed this before, so I say 'no, I didn't see that'. Anyway, he says 'forget it, I'll get my cigarettes somewhere else,' and he stalks off.
This fairly pisses me off, so as he's half way out the door, I do something I probably shouldn't have done. I say one word... 'attitude', fairly loudly, so that he can hear me. He's standing there with the door half open and he says something back to me, but I can't understand what it was. I wish I had heard what he said. Then he leaves.
In the entire year of working at 7-Eleven, I've never talked back to a customer or expressed anger in any way. I'm usually pretty good at holding it in, and I think I was pretty good there too. After all, I only said one word, and I didn't go off on him like I used to go off on people when I worked at Stop & Go back in '94.
I thought of some good things that I could have said to him after the fact that would have been completely in line and non-abrasive but which still would have put him in his place, but dammit, that's always the case. I can never think of the right thing to say at the moment when it's required.
This fairly pisses me off, so as he's half way out the door, I do something I probably shouldn't have done. I say one word... 'attitude', fairly loudly, so that he can hear me. He's standing there with the door half open and he says something back to me, but I can't understand what it was. I wish I had heard what he said. Then he leaves.
In the entire year of working at 7-Eleven, I've never talked back to a customer or expressed anger in any way. I'm usually pretty good at holding it in, and I think I was pretty good there too. After all, I only said one word, and I didn't go off on him like I used to go off on people when I worked at Stop & Go back in '94.
I thought of some good things that I could have said to him after the fact that would have been completely in line and non-abrasive but which still would have put him in his place, but dammit, that's always the case. I can never think of the right thing to say at the moment when it's required.
Wake up
I fell asleep last night watching The Darjeeling Limited. I did that the other night watching Iron Man. I always wake up when the credits start to roll though, every time I fall asleep during a movie. It's like my brain is still listening to the movie, and now that the boring stuff is done, it's time to wake up so WAKE UP! Anyway, at the end of The Darjeeling Limited, a song is playing called Champs Elysees by NOFX. I dunno what else to say, it's just playing. Well, I take it back. I'll say this. It had a strange impact on my half-awake mind last night. The last time that happened was when I woke up to Porcelina by The Smashing Pumpkins, and before that, when I fell asleep to The Modern Things by Bjork. It really does make the song (usually it's a song, since I'm half-asleep and only hearing it) more... I dunno. Carved thusly into the brain or something. It's a singular experience, I suggest whoever reads this should try it. Although it isn't something you really plan, it just happens. Oh well.
Anyway it's morning now and my day off. It's cold. And last night was nice with the heater but dammit now it's too hot, so I turn it off and it gets too damn cold, wtf. So, what to do with my day off... hmmm... I think I'll read some more and maybe watch The Darjeeling Limited again. I think I'll watch all of Wes Andersons movies today, all in a row, starting from oldest to newest:
Bottle Rockets
Rushmore
The Royal Tenenbaums
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
The Darjeeling Limited
Yeah, that's a great way to piss off an entire day. I'm looking forward to it. But first:
je m'baladais sur l'avenue,
le coeur ouvert a l'inconnu.
j'a vais envie de dire bonjour a n'importe
qui n'importe qui et ce fut toi,
je t'ai dit n'importe quoi,
il suffisait de te parler,
pour t'apprivoiser.
aux champs-×™lys×™es,
aux champs-×™lys×™es
au soleil, sous la pluie, a midi ou a minuit,
il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux champs-×™lys×™es
tu m'as dit "j'ai rendez-vous
dans un sous-sol avec des fous,
qui vivent la guitare a la main,
du soir au matin".
alors je t'ai accompagn×™e,
on a chant×™, on a dans×™ et l'on n'a
mךme pas pensי a s'embrasser
aux champs-×™lys×™es,
aux champs-×™lys×™es
au soleil, sous la pluie, a midi ou a minuit,
il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux champs-×™lys×™es
Those are the lyrics to Champs Eylsees. If anyone knows what they mean, clue me in please. I can't find a translation.
Anyway it's morning now and my day off. It's cold. And last night was nice with the heater but dammit now it's too hot, so I turn it off and it gets too damn cold, wtf. So, what to do with my day off... hmmm... I think I'll read some more and maybe watch The Darjeeling Limited again. I think I'll watch all of Wes Andersons movies today, all in a row, starting from oldest to newest:
Bottle Rockets
Rushmore
The Royal Tenenbaums
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
The Darjeeling Limited
Yeah, that's a great way to piss off an entire day. I'm looking forward to it. But first:
je m'baladais sur l'avenue,
le coeur ouvert a l'inconnu.
j'a vais envie de dire bonjour a n'importe
qui n'importe qui et ce fut toi,
je t'ai dit n'importe quoi,
il suffisait de te parler,
pour t'apprivoiser.
aux champs-×™lys×™es,
aux champs-×™lys×™es
au soleil, sous la pluie, a midi ou a minuit,
il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux champs-×™lys×™es
tu m'as dit "j'ai rendez-vous
dans un sous-sol avec des fous,
qui vivent la guitare a la main,
du soir au matin".
alors je t'ai accompagn×™e,
on a chant×™, on a dans×™ et l'on n'a
mךme pas pensי a s'embrasser
aux champs-×™lys×™es,
aux champs-×™lys×™es
au soleil, sous la pluie, a midi ou a minuit,
il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux champs-×™lys×™es
Those are the lyrics to Champs Eylsees. If anyone knows what they mean, clue me in please. I can't find a translation.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Fun at Work
So Today is Thanksgiving and I have to work. Whaaaa poor me. Well somebody had to do it, I guess, and now I can be a martyr for the cause. What cause? I dunno. I just like answering customers when they ask me what I'm doing for Thanksgiving with a sigh and a "Oh, I have to work, no Thankgiving for me" and then a downcast look and another sigh. Oh, I'll have Thanksgiving after work, I think. I'm not sure.. anyway, at some point I'm supposed to go to my sisters, I don't know what day exactly. It's not very organized this year, what with me, the revolving point of everyone's lives, throwing everything into chaos by working. Anyway, a few customers promised to bring me pie and plates of food and stuff. We'll see which ones make my good karma list.
So yesterday, I was at the coffee bar and this lady is there, POURING her coffee into the trash can. I see this, and automatically a Mr. Miagi "HAT -T -T-T-T-TTT!!" escapes from my mouth as I reach over and pause before presuming to grab her wrist or her coffee cup. Well, this kind of freaks her out and she jerks the cup back, sending coffee flying in that ballistic way that gravity sends liquids when yanked or jerked or launched, and she says, "Oh, my bad, sorry, I'm so sorry, oh oh oh, sorry...". So I tell her it's ok, of course, everything is really ok, didn't mean to freak you out, it's no biggie, people do it all the time (lie, nobody has ever poured a cup of coffee down the trash that I've actually seen) I'll take care of that for you, and I take the cup and pour it down the sink. Whew. It feels like a close one, even though the coffee can is now full of wet coffee. But at least the customer didn't break out into tears.
Later this young cutie tries to buy some grape cigarillos. Maybe she thinks she'll get them on looks alone, but I ask for her ID. "Oh come on, you've got to be kidding, I come in here all the time" (I've never EVER seen her in the store and I've been working there for a year) "I always buy cigarettes." Sorry. "Really?" Yes, sorry. It's a state law. "You're awesome," she says with a roll of the eyes, and stalks out to where her boyfriend is airing up her tire. So, I make a note of that, she has a boyfriend, and whaddya know, about 10 minutes later, he comes in the store and wants to buy two packs of grape cigarillos and some zig zags. "Sorry, but I know you're with the girl who tried to buy those eariler, so according to state law, I can't sell them to you." Well, he just looks at me with wide eyes, like he just can't fucking believe what is happening. Yes, his ironclad scheme to buy tobacco for his girlfriend has failed. He says something like "I can't fucking believe this," and turns around and walks out of the store like a zombie. Rarely do I ever get the chance to enforce state law to that degree and as a result I am filled with a giddy shaky feeling, like I might pass out.
So these two chicks are at the store yesterday, I dunno... taking inventory or something, or reorganizing the shelves. One of them is very pushy. I'm outside smoking with the MOT in my hand, ordering stuff, and she says "Have you ordered bread yet?" Ok, at this point I have no idea who this lady is. I tell her yeah, I've ordered bread, "Well you need to go back and change it. I want ONLY ONE SHELF of the RED BREAD. And ONLY 3 of the THIN SLICED. And ONLY 3 of the LARGE and maybe 2 of the SMALL. Ok? Got that?" So I kind of just look at her and don't say anything. Seriously, I just stand there and look at her. About 30 seconds go by and I guess she finds her center and she tells me that she's with the bread or something like that. So I say, ok, and go back to ordering. Later I'm in the store and there's another lady with wearing a 7-11 shirt with her, so I can now safely surmise that she probably works for 7-11 and that I should probably re-order the bread, and that she wasn't just some crazy bread lady.
Later the Crazy Bread Lady motions me over to the bread aisle and proceeds to give me the same lecture but with references this time. "I want ONE SHELF of the RED BREAD" she motions towards the wheat bread "and ONLY 3..." etc. Finally she gets to the donuts. "And these are our TOP SELLERS so I want the HAWAIIAN BREAD RIGHT HERE NEXT TO THEM." Well, I have been subserviant up to this point, but the Hawaiian bread was moved to the top shelf for a reason, because it doesn't sell well on the bottom shelf next to the donuts. I tell her this. "Oh, you'll sell them RIGHT HERE NEXT TO THE DONUTS." I tell her that they've always been there, right next to the donuts, and they've never sold, that's why we moved them to the top shelf. "Oh, they'll sell, TRUST ME ON THIS." So, I say "if you say so," and she gives me this look plus daggers. So later on I try to make some conversation with her, just to kind of break the whole "I hate you " vibe that seems to be going on, and she never answers me when I talk to her. I even asked her once, twice even, if she needed help with that shelf that she was manhandling with chips falling over her shoulders, and she never replied. Maybe she just never really heard me.
So later I'm sitting in my car smoking a cig and reading, thinking to myself that this is all I want to do, just to sit back and read, and that I really really don't want to go back in the store, and I start to get really tired for no real reason... I guess the Crazy Bread Lady kind of took it out of me today. I still have two hours left though, so I go back inside and bravely endure them. Eventually the day finally ends, as days are wont to do, and I go home and I am overwhelmed with just being really tired and I go to bed at 3:30 and the next thing you fucking know, it's 4:30 am and here I am. Weird, that.
So yesterday, I was at the coffee bar and this lady is there, POURING her coffee into the trash can. I see this, and automatically a Mr. Miagi "HAT -T -T-T-T-TTT!!" escapes from my mouth as I reach over and pause before presuming to grab her wrist or her coffee cup. Well, this kind of freaks her out and she jerks the cup back, sending coffee flying in that ballistic way that gravity sends liquids when yanked or jerked or launched, and she says, "Oh, my bad, sorry, I'm so sorry, oh oh oh, sorry...". So I tell her it's ok, of course, everything is really ok, didn't mean to freak you out, it's no biggie, people do it all the time (lie, nobody has ever poured a cup of coffee down the trash that I've actually seen) I'll take care of that for you, and I take the cup and pour it down the sink. Whew. It feels like a close one, even though the coffee can is now full of wet coffee. But at least the customer didn't break out into tears.
Later this young cutie tries to buy some grape cigarillos. Maybe she thinks she'll get them on looks alone, but I ask for her ID. "Oh come on, you've got to be kidding, I come in here all the time" (I've never EVER seen her in the store and I've been working there for a year) "I always buy cigarettes." Sorry. "Really?" Yes, sorry. It's a state law. "You're awesome," she says with a roll of the eyes, and stalks out to where her boyfriend is airing up her tire. So, I make a note of that, she has a boyfriend, and whaddya know, about 10 minutes later, he comes in the store and wants to buy two packs of grape cigarillos and some zig zags. "Sorry, but I know you're with the girl who tried to buy those eariler, so according to state law, I can't sell them to you." Well, he just looks at me with wide eyes, like he just can't fucking believe what is happening. Yes, his ironclad scheme to buy tobacco for his girlfriend has failed. He says something like "I can't fucking believe this," and turns around and walks out of the store like a zombie. Rarely do I ever get the chance to enforce state law to that degree and as a result I am filled with a giddy shaky feeling, like I might pass out.
So these two chicks are at the store yesterday, I dunno... taking inventory or something, or reorganizing the shelves. One of them is very pushy. I'm outside smoking with the MOT in my hand, ordering stuff, and she says "Have you ordered bread yet?" Ok, at this point I have no idea who this lady is. I tell her yeah, I've ordered bread, "Well you need to go back and change it. I want ONLY ONE SHELF of the RED BREAD. And ONLY 3 of the THIN SLICED. And ONLY 3 of the LARGE and maybe 2 of the SMALL. Ok? Got that?" So I kind of just look at her and don't say anything. Seriously, I just stand there and look at her. About 30 seconds go by and I guess she finds her center and she tells me that she's with the bread or something like that. So I say, ok, and go back to ordering. Later I'm in the store and there's another lady with wearing a 7-11 shirt with her, so I can now safely surmise that she probably works for 7-11 and that I should probably re-order the bread, and that she wasn't just some crazy bread lady.
Later the Crazy Bread Lady motions me over to the bread aisle and proceeds to give me the same lecture but with references this time. "I want ONE SHELF of the RED BREAD" she motions towards the wheat bread "and ONLY 3..." etc. Finally she gets to the donuts. "And these are our TOP SELLERS so I want the HAWAIIAN BREAD RIGHT HERE NEXT TO THEM." Well, I have been subserviant up to this point, but the Hawaiian bread was moved to the top shelf for a reason, because it doesn't sell well on the bottom shelf next to the donuts. I tell her this. "Oh, you'll sell them RIGHT HERE NEXT TO THE DONUTS." I tell her that they've always been there, right next to the donuts, and they've never sold, that's why we moved them to the top shelf. "Oh, they'll sell, TRUST ME ON THIS." So, I say "if you say so," and she gives me this look plus daggers. So later on I try to make some conversation with her, just to kind of break the whole "I hate you " vibe that seems to be going on, and she never answers me when I talk to her. I even asked her once, twice even, if she needed help with that shelf that she was manhandling with chips falling over her shoulders, and she never replied. Maybe she just never really heard me.
So later I'm sitting in my car smoking a cig and reading, thinking to myself that this is all I want to do, just to sit back and read, and that I really really don't want to go back in the store, and I start to get really tired for no real reason... I guess the Crazy Bread Lady kind of took it out of me today. I still have two hours left though, so I go back inside and bravely endure them. Eventually the day finally ends, as days are wont to do, and I go home and I am overwhelmed with just being really tired and I go to bed at 3:30 and the next thing you fucking know, it's 4:30 am and here I am. Weird, that.
Monday, November 24, 2008
A question someone asked me
I've been hanging out at some online forums for the past 8 or so years, and I post a lot of these blog entries there. The people there all know me pretty well, and they of course all know that I work at 7-Eleven. For the most part everybody there gets a kick out of my frequent descriptions of 'life at work' and what-not, but one guy in particular apparently would like to see me doing more with my life because he sent because he sent me a private message asking this question:
"Just curious, you obviously seem like a very intelligent person; so why do you work at a place like 7/11?
I don't mean to pry into your life, just seems very out of place."
His screenname is Prosperous, by the way, and he makes about $250,000 a year. Here is my reply:
Hmmm... well, first off money isn't important to me. Oh, sure, I like it and we all have bills to pay, so I need it. However, I really don't care too much about it beyond what I need to survive. I guess that's why I've never been very motivated to take more of an active part in this 'life' thing. I could have gotten a degree in a more lucrative field like accounting or business or something that would have guaranteed me a more comfortable income, but no; what did I do? I got my degree in computer animation, the most competitive field other than politics. So I have a kick ass demo reel and no connections, and as a result I'm paying back 30,000 dollars in loans with no career to show for it. I could really be pissed off about that I guess, but fuck it. It's only money, and it was a good experience.
What is money anyway? Just something that most people are addicted to and will do lots of unsavory things in order to get more of. I have my own addictions, but thankfully money ain't one of em. I'm also thankful that I don't need money in order to be happy, as most people think they do, as I have been at my happiest during periods of my life when I was flat broke. Most people who do get money find out that it doesn't make them happy anyway. And what would I do with a shitload of money? I'd buy all of the things I wanted all at once, and I'd wind up with nothing to look forward to; nothing to work towards. Life would become boring. Personally, I would like enough money to buy a house and set myself up so that I would be in the black for life. I don't really want any more than that, and I'm probably not ever going to even get THAT much, anyway. So, I'll continue to work Joe Schmoe jobs until I retire... maybe. Who knows. I might go back to school when my loans are out of default, because then I'll be able to qualify for more loans. Maybe I'll get a library science degree. One of my co-workers has her masters in library science, and it's something I've often thought about pursuing. It would be nice to be able to have a career doing something that I enjoy (and I definitely enjoy books); that's why I took the risk with the computer animation degree.
Why do I work at 7-Eleven now? Because I needed a job and I have no pride. I'm not ashamed because I work at 7-Eleven. There are some good folks working there, and if I had never gotten that job, I never would have met certain people. I can't say that I really enjoy working there for every hour of every day, but it certainly is interesting. And strangely enough, I do make enough money to get by, and what with all the training they're putting me through, soon I'll get another raise and who knows? Maybe I'll decide to stick with it and manage my own store some day. I could make up to $60,000 a year doing that, and that's definitely enough for me. My only debts are my loans, and a few piddly little tidbits on my credit report. I certainly wouldn't need any more money than that.
So, intelligent though I may be, I choose to live life by a set of rules which puts money low on the list of my priorities. Instead, I use my intelligence to try to comprehend things that are important to me, like what is the universe? Why is there anything as opposed to nothing? How much of it is within my ability to understand before I croak? I do a lot of reading, a shitload; and it's probably the thing that gives me the most pleasure in life, other than friends and family. Luckily for me, knowledge, friendship, and books are all pretty cheap.
"Just curious, you obviously seem like a very intelligent person; so why do you work at a place like 7/11?
I don't mean to pry into your life, just seems very out of place."
His screenname is Prosperous, by the way, and he makes about $250,000 a year. Here is my reply:
Hmmm... well, first off money isn't important to me. Oh, sure, I like it and we all have bills to pay, so I need it. However, I really don't care too much about it beyond what I need to survive. I guess that's why I've never been very motivated to take more of an active part in this 'life' thing. I could have gotten a degree in a more lucrative field like accounting or business or something that would have guaranteed me a more comfortable income, but no; what did I do? I got my degree in computer animation, the most competitive field other than politics. So I have a kick ass demo reel and no connections, and as a result I'm paying back 30,000 dollars in loans with no career to show for it. I could really be pissed off about that I guess, but fuck it. It's only money, and it was a good experience.
What is money anyway? Just something that most people are addicted to and will do lots of unsavory things in order to get more of. I have my own addictions, but thankfully money ain't one of em. I'm also thankful that I don't need money in order to be happy, as most people think they do, as I have been at my happiest during periods of my life when I was flat broke. Most people who do get money find out that it doesn't make them happy anyway. And what would I do with a shitload of money? I'd buy all of the things I wanted all at once, and I'd wind up with nothing to look forward to; nothing to work towards. Life would become boring. Personally, I would like enough money to buy a house and set myself up so that I would be in the black for life. I don't really want any more than that, and I'm probably not ever going to even get THAT much, anyway. So, I'll continue to work Joe Schmoe jobs until I retire... maybe. Who knows. I might go back to school when my loans are out of default, because then I'll be able to qualify for more loans. Maybe I'll get a library science degree. One of my co-workers has her masters in library science, and it's something I've often thought about pursuing. It would be nice to be able to have a career doing something that I enjoy (and I definitely enjoy books); that's why I took the risk with the computer animation degree.
Why do I work at 7-Eleven now? Because I needed a job and I have no pride. I'm not ashamed because I work at 7-Eleven. There are some good folks working there, and if I had never gotten that job, I never would have met certain people. I can't say that I really enjoy working there for every hour of every day, but it certainly is interesting. And strangely enough, I do make enough money to get by, and what with all the training they're putting me through, soon I'll get another raise and who knows? Maybe I'll decide to stick with it and manage my own store some day. I could make up to $60,000 a year doing that, and that's definitely enough for me. My only debts are my loans, and a few piddly little tidbits on my credit report. I certainly wouldn't need any more money than that.
So, intelligent though I may be, I choose to live life by a set of rules which puts money low on the list of my priorities. Instead, I use my intelligence to try to comprehend things that are important to me, like what is the universe? Why is there anything as opposed to nothing? How much of it is within my ability to understand before I croak? I do a lot of reading, a shitload; and it's probably the thing that gives me the most pleasure in life, other than friends and family. Luckily for me, knowledge, friendship, and books are all pretty cheap.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Today again - pissed off customer
I'm at work again, and here's something that happens a lot. I think it has something to do with the 50 missing IQ points, and I forgot to mention it in the other blog. So, I'm standing at register 1 and nobody is at register 2. I'm open at register one, ready to check whoever needs checking. So, this chick walks up to register 2 and sets her stuff down. There's nobody else in the store, just me standing there behind register 1, and her standing there in front of register 2, waiting to be checked. So, I continue to stand there for a few seconds, making sure that what is happening is indeed happening, again. Yup, it is. So, finally, I kind of just 'wave' over at her, holler 'yoo hoo!', and smile, and she looks at me, completely taken aback, as if she has just noticed me standing 3 feet away from her. She gathers her stuff up and moves over to register 1, where she proceeds to look daggers at me. I scan her stuff, she pays, and as her receipt prints, I ask her if she needs it. She just stares more daggers at me. So I ask her again, pulling the receipt out of the machine, 'do you need this?' She just continues to give me an evil, foul look. By this time, I'm wondering if she speaks English, because she hasn't said a word the whole time, and she's Asian. So, I hold the receipt up in front of me and say again, 'Do you need this? Your receipt? Do you want it?' And now she impatiently holds her hand out in front of her, still looking at me like she wishes I was dead, and I give her the receipt and she stalks out of there.
What the fuck? What did I do? Was it because I didn't move over to register 2? Well excuse the F out of me. Sorry you had to physically pick up your bag of chips or Arizona Tea or whatever it was and carry it 3 feet and put it down again so I could scan it. I realize that you must be very tired after that ordeal. Please forgive me for being so callous.
So anyway, I was more amused than anything about this situation. The only thing that ever really pisses me off about work is just being there... not necessarily the stuff that happens there. That's usually pretty amusing or at least interesting.
edit: I just told my brother about this, and his idea was that the lady was embarrassed at being 'lost in space' for a few seconds and me having to snap her out of it. Maybe she saw my 'yoo hoo' as condescending. Who knows. Anyway, some people you just can't please.
What the fuck? What did I do? Was it because I didn't move over to register 2? Well excuse the F out of me. Sorry you had to physically pick up your bag of chips or Arizona Tea or whatever it was and carry it 3 feet and put it down again so I could scan it. I realize that you must be very tired after that ordeal. Please forgive me for being so callous.
So anyway, I was more amused than anything about this situation. The only thing that ever really pisses me off about work is just being there... not necessarily the stuff that happens there. That's usually pretty amusing or at least interesting.
edit: I just told my brother about this, and his idea was that the lady was embarrassed at being 'lost in space' for a few seconds and me having to snap her out of it. Maybe she saw my 'yoo hoo' as condescending. Who knows. Anyway, some people you just can't please.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)