Wednesday, December 15, 2010

When they found her Christmas morning at the scene of the attack there were hoof prints on her forehead and incriminating Claus marks on her back

People's idiocy cracks me up.

Case in point: I'm checking the customer voicemail at work on Tuesday, and this voice reminiscent of Marge Simpson's mom grates across my eardrums with "hellooo??? hellooooo?? Is anyone there? Well... it's 10:30 and your message says your business hours are from 9:30 a.m. and I'm supposed to call during business hours and yet NO ONE is answering the phone. My husband is outside in the mall parking lot and I just need to know if you're even located in the mall *note: we actually say in the outgoing message that we are located in the mall* and I need to tell my husband" CLICK. So I move on to the next message, and it's "is anyone even there??? my husband is out in the parking lot and he's just driving around not knowing where to go, and I don't understand how to use this message machine and... HELLO???? HELLOOOOOO???" CLICK.

I literally laughed my ass off.

11 more shopping days until everyone can kiss my butt:)

*Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer*

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

My words are like a rope that's wrapped around my throat wash my mouth with soap for words unfit to quote

Since we last spoke...

Last Friday I decided it was time to bite the bullet and take my ancient (read: 1997) Cavalier in for service, which is guaranteed to result in at least one technician, and my sister (who is a service advisor) and her deskmates all having a good laugh/eye roll at my expense (just to give you an idea, the last time I took her in, it was because her muffler fell off. And yes, it's a girl. Her name is Carmelina). Anyway, my plan was to tough it out until my loan was paid off, and go ahead and buy a new car sometime in the spring, without doing any major work to Carmelina, who, by the way, sounds a lot like a hot muscle car, but is really a very rusty 4-cylinder who has seen much better days. So my sister comes out to the waiting room to tell me the news, much akin to a doctor coming out of surgery to let the family know, yes, your loved one has made it, unfortunately he no longer has a left foot. Ok, maybe not really, but whatever. So Carmelina has, in the last few months, sprung an oil leak somewhere in the engine, and me, fed up with yet another repair, said to hell with it, and bought myself A NEW CAR!!! I am now the proud mama of a 2010 Dodge Avenger SXT, and am fully in love. His name is Rico. I blow kisses to him as I leave him in the parking lot at work in the mornings, and may have checked on him before bedtime, you know, just to make sure he's not lonely.

R.I.P. Carmelina. I'll miss you...

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am knee-deep in the holiday season at work, work being a retail clothing store, and every year I am astounded at the people I encounter in my days. Today, for instance, I had a rather pleasant (sarcastic, for snotty bitch) woman come to the counter with a $15 scarf, who then proceeded to demand that I gift wrap it for her (ok, yes, we are a high-end retailer, but we still don't actually gift-wrap. You can have a box and wrap it yourself), and gave me supreme attitude when I told her I was sorry, we had just run out of tissue paper. I'm thinking this shouldn't be the end of the world, I mean, it's not like I ran out of SCARVES, I ran out of tissue, but she stood there staring at the scarf as though debating whether she now wanted it, and after a moment of awkward silence, said to me (in the most condescending voice) "HOW do you run out of TISSUE during CHRISTMAS?" which, of course, hit my jackass button with a vengeance, causing me to immediately bite back the plethora of sarcastic responses that were swirling around in my head like whirling dervishes. After telling her I was terribly sorry, but it's BECAUSE it's the holiday season that we unfortunately ran out, and have tissue paper on order, and would she like me to box it for her, she stared me down again, and asked for our head office number. I MEAN REALLY?!?!? Are you going to tell me you are actually going to call my office in Toronto to complain that my store didn't have a sheet of paper to wrap her scarf in? Where do these people come from? I would love to have the kind of time some of these people have. And it's still early in the season... let's see what other dumbass issue someone has next week...

This is why malls are always in close proximity to lounges. Customers drive me to drink...

*All Hell for a Basement - Big Sugar*

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Working hard to get my fill everybody wants a thrill paying anything to roll the dice just one more time

What's a girl gotta do to get a Red Wings game televised in Canada? (Yes, I already know... subscribe to NHL Centre Ice. I get it. I also get that I can buy at least 2 new pairs of shoes with the money I would spend on a hockey season's worth of cable bill. Hmmm... cable... shoes... cable... shoes...)

I love hockey games. Great butts. Get over yourself. You were thinking the same thing.

So I am ankle-deep in my 13th Christmas season at work (I'm a retail store manager and regional trainer), and, as such, am compiling my annual top-ten list of un-favourite things (Oprah would hate this) about holiday shoppers. Read on...

10. People who respond with "I'm just looking" to every statement I make, then proceed to make a huge mess in my store, because they have refused my help, and think they can find what they're looking for more efficiently than I can.

9. People who think that it's perfectly ok to let their children run amok in my store, smearing their grubby little hands on mirrors, walls, and, oh yah, $1300 shearling coats.

8. Snapping fingers for service. Ditto for whistling, and, believe it or not, "yoo-hoo-ing". (Yes, I've been "yoo-hoo-ed". By someone who likely thought she was Zsa Zsa Gabor) Let me tell you this: If you do this in a restaurant to your waiter, I put my money on the waiter spitting in your main course. Don't do this. It makes you a patronizing git.

7. Customers who think they can treat me like "the help" because I am in the service industry. Here's a head's up, my friend: I probably make more than you do, AND I'm better looking.

6. People who ask me if a particular item makes their butt look fat. No, it's not the garment. It's your ass.

5. Handing me your empty coffee cup and saying "get rid of this for me, will you?". Um... again, not "the help", and probably make more than you. Throw out your own trash.

4. Acting like what I'm showing you is the most hideous thing you have ever seen, all the while sporting faux-fur lined Crocs, a fanny pack, track pants with "JUICY" emblazoned across the aforementioned humongous ass, and a scrunchie.

3. Women who think I'm trying to hit on their husbands/boyfriends, and proceed to treat me like I'm wearing the scarlet A. Here's the thing ladies... I've dated a lot of guys, and all of them have been way better than your pencil neck boyfriend. You can keep him.

4. Men who hit on me because I'm helping them. Please know this: I am paid to be pleasant. I will laugh politely at your bad jokes, listen earnestly to your "fascinating" stories, and make you want to spend a lot more money than you probably should. This does not mean I want to go home with you when I leave for the day.

3. "Big Spenders" who return their entire purchase the very next day. Thanks for that. You only took up an hour of my time...

2. Women who want me to shoehorn them into skirts and dresses that were never meant to fit over their girth. What did that poor dress ever do to you?

1. People who feel the need to swear profusely while speaking to me in regular conversation. Doubly so people who feel the need to scream and swear when they don't get their way. Lovely. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?

I feel better now:)

Funny story... as a die hard Red Wings fan, I am obviously glued to the t.v. during playoff season (because, obviously, the Wings will never miss playoffs), and last year one of my best friends came over to my place a few times while the home games were on, and was convinced that everyone who lives in Detroit must be a huge Journey fan, as they played the song at every game. After I gave him the "gimme a break" face (something I've perfected over the years), and had a good laugh at his expense, I told him to listen to the words, and to get back to me when he figured it out. A week later he got it. Poor guy... not so quick on the uptake...

I though it was funny...

*Don't Stop Believing - Journey*