Jun. 17th, 2009


Jun. 17th, 2009 06:01 pm
hafoc: (Default)
If there is one person or more on your friends list who makes your world a better place just because they exist and who you would not have met (in real life or not) without the internet, then post this same sentence in your journal.
hafoc: (Default)
Another uncompleted story:

There were two cars in the parking lot at Kentucky Fried Chicken. Both were very plain, rather battered full-sized Fords. They had no hubcaps, just the black-painted steel wheels that shout of lowest-bid government contracts. They had spotlights mounted above the driver's side mirrors. They had no license plates.

"Let me go first," the angry one shouted. I couldn't hear the reply.

"Yeah, you did, Dad, but you were across two or three lanes and over the double yellow line half the time!"

"No. I go first. You follow. The end."


I had it up to HERE today, so I went out to lunch instead of eating the canned soup I'd brought from home. I went to Culver's, a Wisconsin-based chain that's just recently spread into the area. Culver's sells frozen custard, which is different from soft-serve ice cream in some way that rather escapes me.

While wondering how the Pot Roast Dinner that looked so good on the menu had morphed into a plateful of toast soaked in gravy with a few shreds of mystery meat on top, I took a look around to see what teeshirts were on view today. We had the usual- a few unmarked, and one of those "I'd rather Push a Chevy than Drive a Ford" worn by a guy who looked tired enough that I thought maybe he'd gotten what he wanted.

We had one advertising the Pasolde Bud-Fest, whatever that was. I was wondering whether it had to do with drinking or smoking.

Then there was one marked SecuriTy, the T being a Christian cross. A Jesus Cop? Another guy was wearing a bright green teeshirt marked Big Coordinator, with some intricate pattern or small-print message that I couldn't make out. The point of the shirt was lost on me.

Ah, they were together! Now it made sense. The red shirted SecuriTy and green shirted Big Coordinator were with the Big Ticket Festival, the festival of Christian so-called Rock so-called Music that they throw on the empty expanse of grass behind one of the grocery stores each year. I don't know why they'd need SecuriTy if they have JC watching over them as they say.. maybe don't want the youngsters drinking too much ginger ale and belching bubbles through their noses or something.

I was surprised they were clueful enough to know the Star Trek convention that Security, or SecuriTy as the case may be, wears red shirts. I wondered if they also knew about the Star Trek convention that redshirts are disposable characters that die in their first scene. Or what they'd think about it if they did.


I printed a report and put it in my supervisor's in-box. A few minutes later he brought it to my cell (backspace backspace backspace backspace) cubicle. "You printed this on watermark paper."

"Yes. I know. Somebody filled the main paper tray on the printer with watermark." Darned lazy of them, I thought; to print their stupid report or, more likely, about a hundred handouts for their junior hockey league on the expensive, official-letters-only watermark paper instead of the cheap recycled, just because they'd have to walk 100 feet to get some packages of recycled paper out of the storage cabinet. "I filled the tray with the right paper now, but I'd already printed my report."

"You can't print reports on watermark. You have to print them on recycled paper, to save money."

"But it's already printed. The watermark paper is already used. I can't un-use it."

"But it has to be printed on recycled, to save money."


He was getting exasperated now. "What don't you understand? You HAVE to print on RECYCLED because WATERMARK COSTS TOO MUCH. So you have to reprint this report on recycled and recycle the report you printed on watermark. Because it costs too much!"

He signs the reports-- and authorizes my paycheck. So I did it.

You want to know why my work drives me nuts sometimes? Things like that are why.

You want to know why I don't want to become a mamager? Fear of the brain-sucking machine. Managers never seem to feel any pain afterward, but having their brains sucked out through their nostrils during the management qualification process just HAS to hurt REAL BAD.

January 2015

    12 3

Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 19th, 2017 01:33 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios