You’ve told me repeatedly that you bought your house for £40K twenty years ago.
You’ve also told me to get a mortgage after I have told you I spend £800 a month on rent.
Well guess what fuckmeister we get the same salary, and house prices went through the fucking roof which is why your home is now worth £300K.
I would need to be making £70K to get a mortgage to buy the shithole you live in.
You had twenty years on me, and in retrospect would you pay £300K for a house that in your eyes was overpriced at £40K twenty years ago … huh.
Fuck UK house prices.
I was having such a good day today, I forgot my mini-rant. I’m sure I’ll have more in a few days, when it’s not the weekend.
Dear Gladys Kravitz,
It’s really none of your business which printer I’m using. All I want to do is get my work done. If that means I have to use your precious color printer, then dammit, I’m going to use that printer. Yes, I have access to another color printer, but it took two days and several people to get me connected to it, and when I could print to it, it didn’t work right and Xerox has been called to fix it. I explained why I was using the printer, so why did you have to email my boss the next day and ask why I was using that printer? It’s not even next to your desk any more, and you rarely use it, so why do you even care? Please mind your own business. I don’t care what you do. Why are you so interested in what I do? If you keep on worrying so much about stupid, petty things, you’re going to end up having a heart attack. You’re a pain in the butt, but I really don’t want that to happen.
Thanks!
Dear mature cow-orker who I’m supposed to supervise even though you’re not in my work group, only in my cubicle-row:
You’re a group captain, so lead by example. Stop the interminable chatting in the aisles. Stop the long phone calls on the company line. If you need to plan your next vacation three months down the line, do it on your cellphone outside during your lunch break. Oh, you don’t take a lunch break? Well, start taking one. While you’re at it, stop proclaiming your love for Jesus. While wearing headphones. Off-key. Or worse, singing along to Barry White. Off-key. One more thing – you’re a clever woman, that’s why you have the job you do. Even though you come from Columbia, you’ve lived half your life in New Orleans. When I call you out on your behaviour, stop pretending like you’ve lost your English. We all know that’s a passive aggressive crock of shit designed to make me feel like I’m beating you up. Others have noticed it and say it’s phony as hell. Now get back to work. :mad:
Columbia or Colombia?
I’m having a visualization of you stopping your work, turning around, and slowly and deliberately putting earplugs in while looking her right in the eye, then turning around and going back to work. Hah! I would looooooove to do that to some people.
wring, I think it might be a communication style difference between men and women. My husband is a very smart guy, but he can’t figure out what I’m talking about if I refer to something we were talking about an hour ago (I can get his references to things we talked about weeks ago). It frustrates me sometimes - “We just talked about that - how can you not know what I’m talking about?” It’s probably related to the multi-tasking thing that men just don’t do (in my experience).
Anybody who walks away and leaves the office copier set to anything except quantity one needs to have all the extra copies the next person printed stapled to their body. There is a handy little re-set button front and centre on all copiers I’ve worked with - lift that little ol’ finger of yours and push it, okay?
People, when you call to make an appointment to have your dog groomed and I tell you I need to take a message because The Boss isn’t around, please give me a first and last name plus a phone number. I know that The Boss knows you, she’s been your groomer for twenty years. But I don’t know you yet, and if I’m taking a message, I want all the information so that a) I learn who the fuck you are and 2) she can call you back because I can pass on the info! Sometimes I have to get this info off the caller ID. This doesn’t help when you’ve blocked yours, or you’re calling from work, though. Just tell me, and all will be well, and your dogs will be happy. Really.
And people, this is a small town, but you do need to look before you back your car out of the parking spot on the main road. I barely missed hitting you. Thank you.
To the manufacturers of knitting accessories: Why do the stitch markers (little plastic round thingys) get packaged up in bunches of 20 large but only 10 small? 95% of the knitting I do is with size 8 or smaller needles, and the large ones are big enough for two of my needles to go through, they’re waaaay too big for what I’m doing. Would it kill you to either provide an equal number of large and small or, better yet, package them up separately? Sheesh.
Colombia, my error. :smack:
Why does every tasselled bookmark I buy always end up unraveling?
Fucking telemarketers-what the HELL? We’re on the DO NOT CALL list for this state. (Sadly, it seems, legislation is making it so we have to renew, dammit)
I don’t care if you ARE a charity, no, you can NOT call back. And a solicitation is NOT a “courtesy call.” There’s nothing “courteous” about it!
(Yes, I know that’s not what’s meant by courtesy)
AAAAARRRGHHH!!! Me too!!! After seven years of having nothing but a cell phone and working in call centers with IVR systems we just got a landline for the office. OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD! I had NO idea the telemarketers had become so incredibly numerous and so fucking pushy! I now have it down to a science;
Pushy Telemarketer: “Hi, this is Bob, can I speak to the owner/manager please?”
Me: “Is there something I can help you with?”
PT: “Only if you’re the owner/manager!”
Me: “Did someone from this number call you soliciting your business?”
PT: “No, but…”
Me: “Then it might interest you to know that we’re on the national “do not call list.” Have a nice day.”
Hangs up.
The worst, though, is those fucking RECORDED telemarketing calls! Does ANYONE actually listen to these things? The worst thing about them is that they disturb my concentration and it takes me a minute or two to get back in the groove–something that doesn’t bother me for a legitimate call from a customer, but which constitutes nothing but lost time and productivity every time it’s a telemarketer.
I really hate those fuckers…
Why do computer cases have doors on them, obscuring accessibility of all the buttons and drives? What possible use do they have, aside from inconvenience? I hate them I hate them I hate them!
I was reminded today of an ongoing problem. It burns my butt immensely when I park my small Corolla properly between the lines of a parking space, the small car next to me has parked properly between the lines, and I still can’t get my car door open enough to get in and out easily because THE PARKING SPACES ARE SO FRAKKIN’ SMALL. Hey, parking lot size deciders, do a little research - if your parking spaces are too small for normal sized cars, how do you think the avereage behemoth-mobile is fitting in them? Here’s a clue - NOT WELL. You absolutely, positively have to squeeze one more space into each row instead of making usable spaces, eh? Wankers.
GuanoLad: Theoretically, they serve as dust guards. More, they stop people from whacking the CD eject button with a knee constantly.
featherlou: Yeah, that’s why I switched to driving a four door. My coupe’s doors were just two inches longer… but ye gods, what a difference.
I already DRIVE a four-door. :mad: There’s nowhere to go from here except an ejection seat that will shoot me up and out onto the pavement.
That’s a pretty crappy reason for this ubiquitous extraneous nonsense. I bash my knee into the open door more often (several times whenever it’s open) than I have ever bashed it into the CD drive (never).
And dust guard? On a vertical side of an upright box?
Whatever.
Sorry OP, this one’s about customer service, sort of. At least this one example is, but this sort of thing happens a lot.
So I work for an environmental company, and we ship a lot of hazmat type samples outside to the lower 48. We have a giant field P/U that frequently has a lot of weird looking gear in the bed, including a large, round, yellow tank-like drum.
(preface, this isn’t the first time the drum/cooler confusion has taken place. And yes, I’m QUITE clear, and not, these aren’t ESL folks, they’re plain old born in the USA “should be able to comprehend simple English” folks).
counter: are you picking up?
me (very clearly and with hand signals and pointing at the truck and freight door in question): No, I have two sample coolers to send out, they are in the bed of the green truck parked in front of your freight door (there’s only one freight door), and they’ll need to be unloaded.
counter: Oh my GOD! You’re not going to try and ship that big uh…Tank are you?
me: No, I said two coolers.
counter: (very relieved) OH! okay, where are they?
me (sigh): In the bed of that green truck, in front of your freight door, they’ll need to be unloaded, do you have someone available?
counter: Oh, okay. wanders off to shuffle papers a few feet away, looks at some small boxes, takes a few turns around the X-ray machine, goes out to the warehouse area, comes back, stares at the computer screen without doing anything. then. (brightly) Well! let’s go get your coolers.
She gets them, weighs them, and then wanders around some more. Starts working on something some other coworker brings up to her (until I intervene and basically tell him “MY clerk, back off!” he gripes, but slinks away).
After about 19 years she finally gets my shipment finished.
Last night, same thing, different shift, completely different clerks on shift.
counter: are you picking up?
me: no, 3 coolers/green truck/freight door
counter: OH my GOD! You’re not going to ship that big thing are you!!!
me: GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! It’s a DRUM, it’s STRAPPED to the damned truck! Does it even remotely LOOK like a cooler? Do you know how often I ship here and whenever that blasted drum is in the truck every clerk does the same ridiculous thing? Do your brains short circuit? (okay, it was a lot less ballistic, but I couldn’t stand not knowing, what the HELL?)
counter: well, I just saw that, so I didn’t know.
me (thinking): you heard “coolers” but you saw the tank, which looks nothing LIKE coolers, and somehow you deduced that I really wanted to ship that instead of a cooler? ZZZZZtttttt…fizzle…brain explodes.
This isn’t the only example of this, and it’s not just in retail. What on earth makes someone hear "Okay do A., then B, and finish with C, but their brain translates it into Xcubed?
Fuck those vandals who went around last Thursday night breaking into cars in my neighborhood. I’ve lived her four years and have never felt unsafe. Thanks for taking my sense of security in my own home. I hope you fall into a ditch full of stagnant water and get eaten by nutrias.
We went to a concert last night (K-os, for anyone interested - pretty good), and the music was just a wall of painful noise. I wore earplugs for the entire show - if I hadn’t, I suspect I wouldn’t have heard any of the synthesizer or upper register sounds. Phooey on live music, I say. I want to support bands, and I like live music, but it’s always too loud, and I’m damned tired of it. I want to hear all the music, not just the thumping bass.
What have we here? A big red spot on my eye! What fun! Now I get to freak out about it all day because of my hypochondriac tendencies, regretting that I have not removed my contacts in a while, unable to do anything about it because I left my glasses at home, but I can’t go home to get them, because for the second time workers outside have ruptured a gas main, preventing us from leaving or entering the building. Yay! What is this red spot on my eye??? And when do I get to go home?
I’m hungry! I want to live a healthy lifestyle, so I work out a bunch and try and eat well. But I don’t have time to make a dinner every night, so some times I try and eat one of those ‘healthy’ frozen dinners, but I’d like more than 300 calories!