Although some may argue that and say never is much better. But oh well.
Julien is quite into his stock commodity research. He's always busy with graphing, sorting, downloading, searching, renaming and other strange and boring things. He got an e-mail on the 18th that sent him into complete and utter despair. It turns out a place he purchased data from (at a non-exorbitant price) was shutting down. Someone had unexpectedly died (the cheek of it!) causing it's demise. He was very crushed indeed. Hard to believe data could be the cause of so much pain and anguish. However, that being said, it can also be the cause of total euphoria. The story follows...
All of you may not have been aware that the 18th of February was a very very special day indeed. You probably went about your lives totally unaware of the importance that date held. I know I did. That is, until Julien grew extremely excited and informed me rather ecstatically of my total ignorance. :o)
It turns out that CBOT's (The Chicago Board of Trade) 2nd incorporation had its 149th birthday. Now Julien isn't sure, but he thinks it may have been spot on 2pm, which suits me fine because I like the number 2. However, I must add that he read that somewhere and isn't sure if the place was an authoritative source. So it could be wrong. Julien's much more pedantic and obsessive friend believes it was actually formed at 10:27am. Which I don't like because it reminds me of high school. 10:27am was when we went to morning tea. Albeit morning tea was great and all, but it was short and I'd rather not have been on the school grounds in the first place.
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Anyway, now that you're all feeling so much smarter (I know I am) I'll get to a very pressing topic. This is something that simply must be said. I can't keep silent anymore! Pens! WHY oh WHY do pens go missing all the time? There's something about a pen that just attracts people. It's like it has it's own gravitational pull and anyone within 2 meters of it will be sucked right in. At work on Saturday when I left at 2:30pm, there were at least 5 pens lying around doing nothing in particular. When you needed one you just grabbed it and all was good. When I returned at 6:30am on the following morning the only pen I could locate was the one tied by a portion of ribbon to our huge order book. When a customer came in and needed to sign their invoice for said orders, I had to hold this massive monstrosity up while they used the pen attached. This method was proving extremely frustrating and a complete waste of time (as I had to stand there and hold the book while they signed instead of busying myself with other tasks). So at my first available chance, I went on a mission to find a pen. I spent like 5 minutes rummaging around until I finally found one. I placed it on the register where it proceeded to sit, obviously feigning innocence when really it was plotting who it's next human target would be. So Ruth and Jen arrive, followed by little Michael and Gabby. The pen is still there. Doing nothing in particular (or so you think). About half an hour passes. A customer requires their order. I hand them their invoice, turn to get the pen and.... GONE! No where in sight! Just completely vanished! I was pretty irritated. So it was back to the massive order book.
Later that afternoon I went somewhere with a pen. I sat it on the seat with my books and departed. I actually thought as I put it down, "Maybe I should put it behind my books." But no. I stupidly left it on top. When I came back, wouldn't you know it? Gone. No more pen for Chikory.
This happens all the time. People are always on a search to find a pen. It doesn't happen with pencils, or pacers, or nikko pens, or texters, or even colouring-in pencils; Just pens. It's always the pen. What is it about pens? I don't understand.
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Now it's about time someone realised the importance of hygiene. I'm sick of going into public toilets and having to battle not to touch the taps, doors and the soap dispensers. Those places are a breeding ground for all sorts of evil diseases just waiting to infest your body and kill you from the inside out. I hate 'em. I'll avoid them wherever possible
At school they didn't provide us with any soap. If they had bar soap, the kids would flush it down the toilet. If they had pump soap, the kids would waste it and squirt it everywhere. So during high school I always had my own bar of soap in my school bag. I much preferred to go to the office to wash my hands though. It took longer, especially when you had to go during class. My fellow posse-member Katherine and I would go down there (you had to go with someone else because it was dangerous otherwise, or so the rule was), do our thing and then walk up to the sick room located at the main office. Mrs Smith would always be sitting there in the admin room next door and we'd say "Hi Mrs. Smith." She knew we were just being hygiene-conscious and was totally cool with our tooing and froing. So she'd smile and say "Hi girls." Then we'd wash our hands, leave and say "Bye Mrs. Smith." and we got a "Bye girls." in return. Good times. Found memories....
Anyway. Have a squiz at this article:
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And now for something funny. My mum's British and this is her down to a 'T'. I've also inherited this trait (like you hadn't noticed).
I know I'm trying to be all positive and stuff, but sometimes you've just got to have a whinge! So that's what I'm going to do. I wouldn't be a true female if I didn't.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I applied for (and accepted) this bakery job. It was a moment of insanity. And unfortunately I will be feeling its affects for quite some time.
I just don’t understand why people assume that just because you’re behind a register you have no feelings and you’re basically just a robot there to fill their requests lickety split. Whatever!
It seems I made a mistake when I surmised that tourists would be a lot more happy and laid back than your average member of community doing their grocery shopping, or dragging their kiddies around the shopping centre. This isn't the case at all. If anything it's worse! For instance: -
The Germans are very demanding. Do it NOW! I'm going to speak to you like English is your second language, be nice and slow and very affirmative. You won't get it wrong because there just won't be any room for it. It WILL be right.
The Americans think you're stupid. They're impatient. They want their order filled before they even finish telling you what it is they want. They expect table service and they constantly think they're being ripped off.
The French are just plain rude and aggressive.
The British keep asking for a "Devonshire tea". Then they get grumpy that you don't know what it is, because hey, it's not like it's written on the board as something we actually provide.
There are those who have no time for pleasantries. They actually get mad at you when you stop and greet them. Gee, sorry. My bad. I should've just appeared with a scowl on my face said, "I suppose you want something then?"
Then there are the regular customers: -
One guy is this hippy biker guy. He thinks he's top you know what. He walks in a few weeks ago, I've never seen him before in my life, so it's safe to say I've never served him. So I say, "Hello, how are you today? What can I get for you?" And I get this blank look, he turns to one of the bakers and yells out, "Have we got a new one here?" Idiot. He orders the same thing every time, sits outside and reads a paper and then takes the best bits of said paper and leaves the rubbishy part behind. This ticks me off because he should take his own rubbish with him.
So the other day he turns up and says to me, "The usual." So I just gave him an exasperated stare, sighed and said "Do you have ANY idea how many people I see every day?" I guess I made a good point because he told me what his usual was. I could remember what he wanted. But I don't feel that I need to retain that information. Just because he's too lazy to tell me what he wants. I've got more important things to do. The guy's a moron anyway. He demands a special cup. Not just any cup, it has to be the round one. And then he orders a long black which is hot water and a shot of coffee. But he only wants the shot of coffee... Thus making it a SHORT black. So why not just ask for that in the first place? ID-I-OT! >:or
Then there's this old French lady. I had never laid eyes upon her before either. She comes marching in and says she wants her bread. Well heck, we've got a whole rack of it, which exactly is her bread? So I ask which bread in particular she was referring to. "MY BREAD!" Well that really narrowed it down. Now I know which one she's talking about. So again, I tell her to be more specific. It takes a few minutes, but finally we establish that she ALWAYS gets rye bread and it should be there for her. Okay, now I know. So I get her rye bread and she pays for it all the while umming and arring about whether or not to purchase a pie. You see she wanted a vegetarian pie, but we don't make those. So she hands me the money for the bread, I put it through and then she decides she wants a cold meat pie. "Eating meat won't kill them." she says. What a charming lady. So respectful of the person's choice to avoid meat. I go and get it and then tell her it's going to cost her 3 dollars 70. "Haven't I already paid for it?" Clearly I am meant to have special powers where I know that she was intending on buying that pie when she so obviously was in dire straits as to whether or not to buy it. "No. You didn't ask for the pie until after you paid for the bread." So then I get complaints about the price of the pie. "It's disgusting. The price of things these days have gone up. But my pension hasn't gone up." Well lady, you're pretty darn lucky to actually have a pension, because most other countries don't offer that luxury. Maybe you should go back to France. I wonder if they pay their old people while they await their expiration. Probably not.
I've noticed old people are very ungrateful when it comes to their pensions. They eat less, they don't rack up as many house-hold bills, they don't have kids, they shouldn't be paying off a house or anything anymore, they get rebates for medical expenses that are really quite generous, so why do they need more money? What do they use it on?
Finally I get to the shockingly rude, impatient old fart I had the delight in meeting a few days ago. It was pretty quiet, so we were all out the back getting some cleaning done. I was doing dishes, Liz was cleaning the door and Ruth was doing something else. I dunno what. She was only standing there for a minute, if that, as I was frequently looking to see if anyone had arrived. I look up and she's waving at me. So I smile, put the bowl I'm wiping down and come out the front. "Hello. How are you today?" I say She's snorting with steam coming out of her ears and her arms folded in a purely disgruntled fashion. "Are you going to serve me, or do I have to go next door?" Well gosh. What does one say to that? I thought about it for a moment and to my credit despite her clear hostility I responded with a smile and a pleasant expression. Had I been at Woolies I would've had a face that evidently expressed a desire to jump over the register and beat her to death with the little plastic divider. Now I'm not into dictatorships. Australia is a free country and far be it from me to change that. So I said quite simply, being sure to state the obvious. "Well that's entirely up to you." This shocked her. I don't know what response she expected, but it's safe to say it wasn't the one she got. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water and finally settled upon a bewildered (yet indignant) "Oh. Okay then." and walked out. There was a lady behind her patiently waiting and let's just say that she thought she was a total tool. Honestly, why people have to make scenes in public I don't know. They only come off looking like complete and utter tards. What do they hope to gain? What do you possibly gain from being so self-entitled that you assume you have the right to express your disgruntlement in such a rude manner when you feel you've been wronged? It irritates me. But I guess I just need to build up more tolerance when it comes to self-centered people.
Next we have a story that will probably make most women jealous. This Brazilian chick came in to the bakery yesterday with her very much older and fat fiancée. It pretty much looked like a mirror image of Celine Dion and her husband. That kind of age gap, ya know? Anyway. They bought a small piece of apple struddle and went outside to share it. A few minutes later they returned and purchased the big apple struddle. Now this thing is 7 or 8 inches long and about 4 and a half inches wide. Most people buy those sorts of things if they're A) Feeding a large group outside and all want the same thing or B) Taking it away to some sort of function or to use as a dessert later on. They took it outside and devoured the entire thing between them. And they weren't done there. Back in they came and bought a 2L carton of milk. She drank half, straight from the carton and he drank the other half. Now here's the bit to make women jealous... She wasn't even fat. My flabber was ghasted. How does one eat and drink that much? At dinner time, sure, I can understand that. But a sweet thing for afternoon tea followed by a liter of milk? Insanity! I hope that weight doesn't catch up with her later.
That'll do for now. I feel so much better now that I've vented. Now to hang out my washing.
