My last post about fast food employees leads quite nicely into this one. It's about nasty people serving food.
Now, before y'all go nuts, I'm not talking about Joe or Jane Anybody who some might consider to be unattractive. I'm talking about people that when you take a look at them you simply loose the urge to eat - for a long time.
This one all started a few years back when my wife and I went into a Subway to get some lunch and were served by this nice lady with some massive demented bubbly goiter looking thing on her neck. We honestly thought it could fall into the cheese bin at any second. Needless to say, we had no appetite after that and slammed our $20 sandwiches in the trash after one bite. It still makes me shiver when I think about it.
That one incident has heightened my senses immensely as it pertains to The Nasty People and their proximity to my food. I don't think it's too much to ask that if someone is going to serve me food that the sheer sight of them doesn't instantly make me want to go on a hunger strike.
Now that's not to say that The Nasty People shouldn't have the same job opportunities as anyone else; they should just be limited to areas where people aren't actually being served food. Or eating it. Or buying it. Or growing it. Please... learn to type or something.
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Hindsight Healing
I got nothing. Seriously. I can't think of a single thing that will make me see the "good" in this. I really can't. Maybe my slight paranoid hypochondria is not so slight or maybe I'm just a big asshole. Either way I'm never going back to that Subway.
Just to be clear: If you have any part of your body that looks like it could fall into my lunch, even if it's only a temporary condition, you should not be serving food.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Drive-Through Employees
I don't want to sound condescending or elitist, but really, what does it take to be an employee at a fast food drive through? College diploma? University degree? Heartbeat? Tom Vu seminar attendance receipt?
(seriously, people would go out of their way to come to this place just so they could get a first hand glimpse of how inept they were - one employee actually asked me how to make TEA!!!)
but as it turns out, it's not limited to that one place and it's not limited to Tim Horton's either. McDonald's and Wendy's do a pretty nice job of pooching the order quite regularly. Don't even get me started on Taco Bell.
OK, you got me started on Taco Bell...
Recently I picked up some food for the kids and the babysitter. I asked for an extra order of fries, was asked if I wanted more fries, confirmed I wanted more fries, asked if it was just one fries, confirmed it was just one fries, asked if I wanted anything else, declined anything else, was asked at the pay window if I was the guy who ordered the extra fries, confirmed I was the guy who ordered the extra fries, was asked if the pop was in fact a Sprite, confirmed that I did request a Sprite, had my pop spilled on me as it was passed from the window, drove away with a bag full of food, got home, and then dished out everything to the hungry hoard.
No fucking extra fries.
Even in light of the fact that Taco Bell couldn't have done anything worse in this instance, I'd have to say that the good 'ole drop-outs at Timmy's have got the World's Worst Drive-Through Service Championship Belt hanging proudly in the back room. Black 1 sugar does not mean double double. Tea with nothing in it does not mean hot chocolate! When I get to the window, an apple fucking fritter is not, "What kind of doughnut was that again? Oh sorry, we're out of apple fritters"!
If eating all this fast food crap isn't killing you (which it most definitely is), try going to the drive-through. At the very least you're guaranteed higher blood pressure and a Boston creme instead of a honey glazed.
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Hindsight Healing
Two words: Minimum wage teenagers. It's either the minimum wage teenager or the recent immigrant who for some screwed up reason the stupid Canadian Government refuses to recognize one of their 3 PhD's. Either way I'm getting a coffee for less than a buck fifty and a doughnut for a buck and a quarter served to me in my car by someone making next to nothing who's probably been shagging this shit all morning for assholes like me.
Without the minimum wage doughnut slingers I'd have to drink the crap they have at work and there would be more punk-ass kids crowding up the streets and higher taxes. OK, I'm not sure about those last two points, but for sure I'd be drinking crappier coffee.
So, check the order before you leave the window. Check it again, and then politely thank the fine people behind the window when after the third try they finally get the order right. If they nail it on the first go, then thank them extra nicely. If it happens that way a few times in a row, then go in for a change and tell their manager how much you appreciate it.
I can understand that they may not be able to hear through the state-of-the-art sound system provided, but what's wrong with clarifying an order if they are having trouble hearing? Would that not be a better idea than just throwing anything in a bag then waving good bye and smiling."A lot of your friends will tell you, 'Don't come to the
seminar. It's a get-rich-quick plan.' Well, tell them, It is a get-rich-quick
plan because life is too short to get rich slow."- Tom Vu, 1990
I mention this only because for about 40th time I had a Tim Horton's drive-through screw up my order. I used to think it was just this one store I went to all the time in Cambridge"Thank you, come again! (Sucker)".
- Drive-Through Employee, Every Day of Every Year
Ever
(seriously, people would go out of their way to come to this place just so they could get a first hand glimpse of how inept they were - one employee actually asked me how to make TEA!!!)
but as it turns out, it's not limited to that one place and it's not limited to Tim Horton's either. McDonald's and Wendy's do a pretty nice job of pooching the order quite regularly. Don't even get me started on Taco Bell.
OK, you got me started on Taco Bell...
Recently I picked up some food for the kids and the babysitter. I asked for an extra order of fries, was asked if I wanted more fries, confirmed I wanted more fries, asked if it was just one fries, confirmed it was just one fries, asked if I wanted anything else, declined anything else, was asked at the pay window if I was the guy who ordered the extra fries, confirmed I was the guy who ordered the extra fries, was asked if the pop was in fact a Sprite, confirmed that I did request a Sprite, had my pop spilled on me as it was passed from the window, drove away with a bag full of food, got home, and then dished out everything to the hungry hoard.
No fucking extra fries.
Even in light of the fact that Taco Bell couldn't have done anything worse in this instance, I'd have to say that the good 'ole drop-outs at Timmy's have got the World's Worst Drive-Through Service Championship Belt hanging proudly in the back room. Black 1 sugar does not mean double double. Tea with nothing in it does not mean hot chocolate! When I get to the window, an apple fucking fritter is not, "What kind of doughnut was that again? Oh sorry, we're out of apple fritters"!
If eating all this fast food crap isn't killing you (which it most definitely is), try going to the drive-through. At the very least you're guaranteed higher blood pressure and a Boston creme instead of a honey glazed.
___________________________________________________
Hindsight Healing
Two words: Minimum wage teenagers. It's either the minimum wage teenager or the recent immigrant who for some screwed up reason the stupid Canadian Government refuses to recognize one of their 3 PhD's. Either way I'm getting a coffee for less than a buck fifty and a doughnut for a buck and a quarter served to me in my car by someone making next to nothing who's probably been shagging this shit all morning for assholes like me.
Without the minimum wage doughnut slingers I'd have to drink the crap they have at work and there would be more punk-ass kids crowding up the streets and higher taxes. OK, I'm not sure about those last two points, but for sure I'd be drinking crappier coffee.
So, check the order before you leave the window. Check it again, and then politely thank the fine people behind the window when after the third try they finally get the order right. If they nail it on the first go, then thank them extra nicely. If it happens that way a few times in a row, then go in for a change and tell their manager how much you appreciate it.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Blogs
I couldn't even begin to imagine a more appropriate place to start.
BLOGS annoy the living hell out of me BUT it just so happens that they are the perfect vehicle for spreading the word about all the annoying things in the world, and how all those things ultimately interact with me at some point. Plus, a touch of irony is good for the blood - keeps it that nice deep red colour.
If you were to look at it closely you'd find that, like most things found on the Internet, a great number of blogs are a serious waste of time and space. Like anyone in the entire world cares how you feel about doughnuts or what you had for lunch on your way to Phoenix. If someone does care, hell, even if a few people care, send them an email for crying out loud. Even a mass email (you know, the ones where people are too dumb to use "Bcc:" and you end up with a "To:" list as long as your arm), is more personal than just pointing people at an aimless URL.
BLOGS annoy the living hell out of me BUT it just so happens that they are the perfect vehicle for spreading the word about all the annoying things in the world, and how all those things ultimately interact with me at some point. Plus, a touch of irony is good for the blood - keeps it that nice deep red colour.
If you were to look at it closely you'd find that, like most things found on the Internet, a great number of blogs are a serious waste of time and space. Like anyone in the entire world cares how you feel about doughnuts or what you had for lunch on your way to Phoenix. If someone does care, hell, even if a few people care, send them an email for crying out loud. Even a mass email (you know, the ones where people are too dumb to use "Bcc:" and you end up with a "To:" list as long as your arm), is more personal than just pointing people at an aimless URL.
"Hi Mom & Dad!!! There's SO MUCH going on in my life right now it's really amazing and you can read it for yourself on my blog because I'm so busy that I couldn't even begin to describe it to you in an email or God forbid on the phone or in person OK? now I have to go have 10 more Red Bulls and then go to the gym and then go shopping and..."
You get the idea. I did a quick check and started clicking "Next Blog" in the Blogger header and took stock of what was out there. It all sucked. Who knows, this blog will probably turn out to be no exception. At least my theory would hold a little water then, eh?
___________________________________________________
Hindsight Healing
OK, I've had a long time to reflect on this post and I can honestly say that most of what I said still rings true. This rant was from almost 3 years ago and clicking "Next Blog" today yielded even worse results than it did back then.
___________________________________________________
Hindsight Healing
OK, I've had a long time to reflect on this post and I can honestly say that most of what I said still rings true. This rant was from almost 3 years ago and clicking "Next Blog" today yielded even worse results than it did back then.
What has changed? What have I learned? Why is today any different?
Well, for starters I think I've found a very good reason to keep a blog: memory loss. You see, my wife and I have two children now (Girl 51/2 and Boy 18 months) and trying to keep up with all the amazing things they say and do is next to impossible. When recounting a story to my mother, she would always tell me, "You should write this stuff down". So we started to blog it. My wife on her blog and me on another (sorry, desires to maintain some blogger anonymity prevent me from sharing those links).
Due to the rise in "social networking" sites like MySpace and Facebook the lives of family and friends past and present are becoming more and more intertwined. Hearing from an old friend, or a long lost cousin and being able to share stories and "catch up on old times" is an invaluable part of our lives. In a small but significant way these crazy little things called blogs are actually doing their part to help us come closer and stay closer together.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Introduction
I’ve always been one to harbor a certain amount of rage and until a few years ago that rage had been completely balanced by a healthy obsession with hockey. Whether it was dropping the gloves on the ice, attacking the net in the gym, or yelling profanity at the television; I have always used hockey as the perfect rage therapy. Then the unthinkable happened: an NHL hockey lock-out.
It was fairly easy to deal with at first, I just found other interests - such as writing. but then the winter seemed to drag on and on, and between the lack of good hockey on TV and the damn cold here in Canada I started to go a little crazy. The rage was building and I had to do something about it before I went all bitchcakes.
As a matter of pure happenstance, I stumbled upon one of the greatest ideas I have ever had: I would take my newfound interest in writing and start to chronicle the comings and goings of all the things that were driving me nuts and sending my blood pressure through the roof. But what good was a written rant if there was no one around to read it, sympathize with it, empathize, laugh, disagree, argue or simply feign interest? I needed a suitable conduit for my rage; one that wouldn’t get me fired from my job. I just had no idea what it should be.
In a twist of true karmic proportions, I started reading these new fan dangled things on the Internet called Web Logs or (or BLOGS for shortas they are commonly known). Basically they’re just running commentaries or diaries that people write and post online for friends and family (and random Internet readers like myself).
The answer was now clear. The vehicle that would carry my rage to the world would be a BLOG.
What you are about to read is a collection of stories written over the span of over a year, shelved for a while, and later ressurected so the ideas could receive another kick at the can. So while these stories have appeared in some form online before, this time they are more refined and have seen a couple re-writes and some creative editing. They are all my stories so I can take such liberties. The subject matter is the same, the messages are still clear, and most importantly of all, they are the truth; or at the very least, my version of it. Plus, someday soon I hope to have all these in print so it would be in my best interests to tidy them up a bit.
Now, this is where things start to take an interesting turn. Throughout this whole journey of ranting and raving and blogging, something strange was happening. After I completed each rant I felt a little bit better. Each time someone replied to one of my posts with a comment I felt a little bit better. Each time I tried to brew a rant; it took a little bit longer to write. It was as if day-by-day I was actually getting starting to feel a little bit “better”. Was I losing my mind? If so, that would certainly be a giant step backwards. No, I was pretty sure that something good was happening.
I was healing.
So what I have done now, so that you may receive the same therapeutic benefit from reading these entries as I did from writing them, at the end of each one I’ve written a summary - some “hindsight healing” if you will - of what I’ve learned from that particular experience and how it has changed me for the better. I spent years figuring out all this stuff and with any good fortune it will only cost you a few minutes of your day (and if I can get this damn thing published maybe only a few bucks out of your wallet).
Enjoy and happy healing.
It was fairly easy to deal with at first, I just found other interests - such as writing. but then the winter seemed to drag on and on, and between the lack of good hockey on TV and the damn cold here in Canada I started to go a little crazy. The rage was building and I had to do something about it before I went all bitchcakes.
As a matter of pure happenstance, I stumbled upon one of the greatest ideas I have ever had: I would take my newfound interest in writing and start to chronicle the comings and goings of all the things that were driving me nuts and sending my blood pressure through the roof. But what good was a written rant if there was no one around to read it, sympathize with it, empathize, laugh, disagree, argue or simply feign interest? I needed a suitable conduit for my rage; one that wouldn’t get me fired from my job. I just had no idea what it should be.
In a twist of true karmic proportions, I started reading these new fan dangled things on the Internet called Web Logs or (or BLOGS for shortas they are commonly known). Basically they’re just running commentaries or diaries that people write and post online for friends and family (and random Internet readers like myself).
The answer was now clear. The vehicle that would carry my rage to the world would be a BLOG.
What you are about to read is a collection of stories written over the span of over a year, shelved for a while, and later ressurected so the ideas could receive another kick at the can. So while these stories have appeared in some form online before, this time they are more refined and have seen a couple re-writes and some creative editing. They are all my stories so I can take such liberties. The subject matter is the same, the messages are still clear, and most importantly of all, they are the truth; or at the very least, my version of it. Plus, someday soon I hope to have all these in print so it would be in my best interests to tidy them up a bit.
Now, this is where things start to take an interesting turn. Throughout this whole journey of ranting and raving and blogging, something strange was happening. After I completed each rant I felt a little bit better. Each time someone replied to one of my posts with a comment I felt a little bit better. Each time I tried to brew a rant; it took a little bit longer to write. It was as if day-by-day I was actually getting starting to feel a little bit “better”. Was I losing my mind? If so, that would certainly be a giant step backwards. No, I was pretty sure that something good was happening.
I was healing.
So what I have done now, so that you may receive the same therapeutic benefit from reading these entries as I did from writing them, at the end of each one I’ve written a summary - some “hindsight healing” if you will - of what I’ve learned from that particular experience and how it has changed me for the better. I spent years figuring out all this stuff and with any good fortune it will only cost you a few minutes of your day (and if I can get this damn thing published maybe only a few bucks out of your wallet).
Enjoy and happy healing.
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