One Boston weatherman had a classic excuse for utterly blowing the forecast about a recent storm: The forecsast was correct, he said, he’d just given it for the wrong area. :rolleyes:
Grouchy little teeny rant, brought on by having a nasty pounding headache that’s a downgrade from the migraine it was turning into, after ingesting 4 Aleve and not enough caffeine:
I work in a medical center. My office is located such that it tends to get a lot of lost people showing up in it, looking for directions to other offices on this floor. Mind you, there are directories right in your face as you get off the elevators, and overhead signs pointing which way to which room, and a lot of patients should just flipping trust those instead of making me act like a human sign and point “thataway” when the sign is doing a great job of it… but I digress.
Anyway. A guy shows up in my office, and when I ask how I can help him, he says, “There’s no one in room 242 and I have an appointment. What am I supposed to do?”
Not my department, so I apologize that I don’t know their schedule and it’s not my area. I don’t know those people even. I go with him and look. Door is locked, the office suite is dim inside apart from some internal lights. I tell him that it looks closed, and he repeats, “What am I supposed to do?” At this point, that’s my thought as well, but I am a polite and helpful employee, so I keep my mouth shut.
Out of reflex I knock and then realize that was dumb, as he surely must have. I turn around and tell him I don’t know anyone in this office, and start forcing my brain to figure out what to do (which would have been to call the department’s administrative office after I looked the number up), and I see him look behind me.
There’s a woman coming to the door. He didn’t knock at all, contrary to what I assumed - or if he did, he barely touched the door, because I just did a two-knuckle light rap on it.
As I’m walking away, I hear him tell her that he has an appointment today with Dr. Smith. She says, “Dr. Smith is in (suburban branch office) today.” :smack:
Please knock on locked doors first, and let me suffer in peace. Better yet, confirm appointment schedules and locations - both staff and patients should, please.
To whoever used the ladies’ room last:
You sprayed WAY too much of that potpourri room freshener around. The air in the bathroom is 1 part normal air to 10 parts potpourri. I don’t care WHAT it smelled like before you let loose with the spray can. Even if it smelled like a cattle car used to transport cattle with severe intestinal disorders cross-country before, it reeks worse now.
ETA: I think I still smell it on my clothes. Ugh.
From Wikipedia:
Today, a similar program would only be 42 minutes long; a typical 30-minute block of time now includes 22 minutes of programming with 6 minutes of national advertising and 2 minutes of local.
… Isn’t that exactly what I just said?
Dearest Neighbors;
I understand that it is difficult to afford a house around here, and that adult children don’t always leave home - or stay away when they do. I also understand that legally you can have up to four people per room so it isn’t like your houses are over-occupied. But do you EACH have to have a LARGE vehicle? Particularly you across the street neighbors, who had to convert your two car garage into a bedroom - is it REALLY necessary to have three medium-large SUVs, a full sized van and a 1950’s boat-car?
I wouldn’t care how many cars you had if you could keep them to yourselves, but of course you can’t since these houses were built back in the day when people tended to just have two cars per house. But you know what? If you didn’t have three football fields worth of cars over there, I wouldn’t have to cone off the street in front of our house when we are having people over, or need to bring our trailer home. Or worse, go knocking on doors trying to figure out who owns the behemoth that is encroaching on our driveway, so I can get my car out without taking your bumper with me. And the next time one of you assholes parks in my driveway on street cleaning day? I’m keeping it. Particularly if it happens to be the 1950’s car - that thing is cool! 
My office is full of people who talk too much. Today, I’m calling out One-Upper.
Apparently, no one has or ever will suffer more or work harder than you in the name of employment. If I have a miserable 16-hour day, you’ll waste no time mentioning the 24-hour day you had two years ago. If my officemate has 50 new emails in his inbox in half an hour, you’ll point out that’s nothing compared to the 1,000 unread emails in your inbox. On top of that, you’re always busy, and you’re always tired. No one can ever be more busy or more tired as long as you’re around. So it’s understandable you jokingly give my officemate crap for taking one day off, but think that no one but you is more deserving of a three-week vacation next month.
We all know it’s bullshit. People who are really busy don’t take six smoke and drink-refill breaks per day. People who are really busy don’t visit other people’s offices to complain how busy they are. They don’t leave the office for two hours to get their hair cut. We know that your standard of busy is nowhere near ours, nor does it happen as frequently. Your department was never busy by ANY standard when you managed the day-to-day affairs. Right now, you have, at most, a week where you have to stay late, and you usually see the work coming. We can get hit out of nowhere and stay busy for months. It’s actually pretty remarkable how you bring your whines to the most righteously unsympathetic group in the company.
My favorite quirk of yours: You interrupt people to say, “No, no, no” before agreeing with them.
See, I can understand a conversation like:
Bob: I took the biggest dump today! I swear, it was six inches long and three inches around–
You: No, no, no, mine was nine inches long and as thick as a Coke can!
but when it’s more like:
Bob: I took the biggest dump today! I swear, it was six inches long and three inches around–
You: No, no, no, that would break my ass too!
you’re just an attention-whoring jerk.
Ah. You work with Camping Carl.
I’d have to go all passive-agressive and start collecting Topper comics from Dilbert to decorate my cabinet with.
You can breathe through your ears! I think I can arrange you a start in a business I can set up. 
I wasn’t disagreeing with you, I was giving more detail.
Yo! Pharmacist- refusing to sell oral rehyration solution OTC to the parents of a vomiting baby “because I need a prescription for under 2 years” is not a smart move.
They spent 24 hours giving only sips of water, and I get to deal with a severely dehydrated and hypoglycaemic infant with an electrolyte imbalance.
Thanks for that.
I’m sure you were “just trying to encourage them to see a doctor”, but why would you deny a child a safe, legal, cheap treatment in the interim?
Dumbass.
Dear Friend,
Stop opening up subjects on your Facebook if you don’t want them discussed. These are quite obviously subjects not everyone’s going to agree on, and it’s insulting to expect all of your friends to fall in line with your opinion. I know it’s obviously amazing and wonderful, by pure virtue of it falling out of your mouth, but sometimes some people may want to express a dissenting opinion in a respectful manner, and that’s ok. So please don’t comment on how “Everyone turns your statuses into a debate”. There’s an easy solution there, honey, and it’s not for me to shut my mouth and pretend everything you say is great.
Roommate, first of all, I can hear you through that piece of plywood the apartment complex calls a wall between our room. Secondly, I don’t give a shit what you think of our new TV. We put it where we did because there is literally no other place in the living room to put it. You apparently think you own the whole damn place and we three “other people” are not allowed to use the living room (which exists only so you can put your dogs on the treadmill*) or the kitchen (85% of which is stuffed with food she and her boyfriend never eat), but sister, that ain’t the case. We pay rent, too, and what’s more we work for our money. Our parents are long done with paying our bills so we actually have to have jobs and can’t lay around all day being obnoxious and smoking pot all night.
And yes we were playing with the bunny you abandoned in the laundry room. That is because we actually like her and give a shit about her and you obviously do not.
(*Yes, the treadmill is there soley for her miniature Pinscher/pomeranian untrained demon to take walks on. This is because taking that dog and the boxer/pitt mix outside for an actual walk would involve a) going outside and b) cutting into valuable being a bitch to her roommates time.)
Oh July cannot come quickly enough. Bitch needs to LEAVE.
I’m so tired of my dad’s bullshit. I’m going to start calling him Livia. As in Livia Soprano, the narcissistic/borderline mother character from The Sopranos.
Kids being “mean” to you? Daughter (not me) calls you on your bullshit? Well, of course you should stop taking your medications for a week in retaliation! Who cares that you’re a diabetic! Plus the fact that you can’t stand because you spend all day in bed! So, yay, you fall and can’t get up and your wife (with Alzheimers) has to call the EMTs in a panic and now you’re admitted to the hospital with an infection in your leg.
Boy, you sure did cause an uproar, and now everyone has to care about poor, poor you.
Jerk.
Arrrggghhh! Someone snapped up the used car I was going to buy a day before I could get there! Private sale, really good price, a model I actually liked and wanted… sigh
jayjay, Projammer, I love you both. But I can see it now:
“OMG, I have a funnier cartoon in my office!”
I think I have a serious case of inertia. It’s half past time to get off my ass and go get a temp job, yet I’m still sitting here. Has anyone got a cure for inertia?
I bet drinking would help. Try drinking.
Cheesesteak and pretzels.