You know what drives me crrrazzzzy about answering the phones at work? When your guy isn’t available asking me:
Do you know how much longer he’s going to be? (Yes. Exactly seven more minutes. What the fuck?)
Is the meeting he’s at pretty involved? Could I call him on his cell phone? (Nah, the board is just sitting around shooting the shit about Tiger Woods. How the hell would I know?)
And finally, when it’s clear that your double-extra-urgent call cannot be taken this very moment, I - trying to aleviate your obvious anxiety - offer to take a message or email him to call you asap… best if you say, “Nah, nevermind, I’ll just call him later.”
Married people on the Dope who do the following behavior, I’m mini-pitting you.
Look, I know that when you become married, you become one with your spouse and they might constantly be on your brain or something. That’s a real nice phenomenon, honestly. But every since the board acquired the polling function, I’ve noticed that almost without fail, at least one married person will post to a thread about dating preferences seemingly for the sole purpose of declaring that they didn’t vote in the poll because the question doesn’t apply to them. And what is the reason that they give? Because they are married, silly. And married people don’t date! The poll doesn’t apply to them! And they are going to tell us about it whether we care or not!
Nevermind the fact that simply because you’re married, it doesn’t mean you can’t have opinions about dating preferences and deal-breakers or whatever the subject is. I mean, I’m not even currently dating anyone, but surely if I can step outside the confines of this particular reality and respond to the poll as if I were, married posters can too. But that’s besides the mf’ing point.
Posting in a thread about dating *for the sole purpose of stating that you’re married *is just plain obnoxious. Equally annoying would be strolling into a thread in which the OP asks “Which are better, tampons and pads?” just to announce that you don’t know because you’re a man. Bonus points if you throw in an invisible “ha ha!” for effect, because surely this is the funniest thing in the universe. We all smile when someone does this, the same way we smile while passing kidney stones in a flooded latrine.
“But you with the face”, you’re probably thinking to yourself. “You’re only saying this because you’re a single woman in her 30’s and all bitter about it.” No, I’m not just saying this because I’m single. Trust me. I have nothing to be bitter about. Just politely asking you to spare us self-serving posts that waste bandwidth. Either answer the poll as if it applies to you, or don’t answer it all. Save the exposition about being married for a thread that asks about marriage.
Word. That annoys the crap out of me. I’m not married, but I live with my S.O. I participate in those threads regularly and have never once even thought about posting some lame disclaimer about how the question doesn’t really apply to me.
No. The website address (i.e., the domain name) does not have spaces in it. It is 2010. You should fucking know this.
If I’m planning on spending a hundred dollars on one of your products, and you claim to be all customer service awesome, and you offer to help me, and your only job according to the website is to answer emails, then please answer within twenty-four hours when I ask a specific product question.
Also, to my friend whose Facebook page is full of pithy wisdom about being deep–you’re not. You’re someone who goes to lots of parties, gets drunk, and otherwise lives a mundane existance. You are not better than everybody else. Get the fuck over yourself.
To the racoon who woke me up three times last night by tossing the racoon proof garbage can around the patio - Next time I swear instead of letting the dogs bark through the screen door to scare you off I’m opening it. You’ve NEVER managed to get into this can in 3 years of trying. Please stop.
To the idiots in the apartment complex who insist on revving up your crappy little 4 cylinder shitboxes as you drive back and forth at 1, 2, and/or 3 in the morning, I ask, “Why?” I’m not even talking about tuned up rice burners either, but completely stock minus some exhaust pipe/muffler due to rust or whatever.
Seriously, it’s bad enough with the occasional truck with cherry bombs does it. At least I can write this off as the driver’s amplified, artificial caveman grunting. But you…you confuse me. Perhaps you’re living in some delusional fantasy land where you’re Paul Walker and your car is a Nissan Skyline. But back here on Earth, in Reality-Land™, you are driving a Ford Escort with cancer holes so big I might actually be able to toss a baseball into them as you drive by, performing your mindless, idiotic display.
Oh, by the way, go ahead and keep on revving the engine to red-line and holding it there as your fellow delusional friends stand around admiring your “whip.” Pretty soon you’ll be stuck with the stumper of trying to rev up a bicycle. That is all.
Being unable to sleep again. I just had a sleepless night two days before, then again. And I have just exercised in the morning, stayed off caffeine and all that. Just great.
You want to remove a contact from a distribution list.
You go to Contacts, open the list, highlight the person, then look up to the ribbon menu to find the appropriate function.
In the ‘Members’ group, there’s a ‘remove’ item (tooltip: ‘Remove a member from this distribution list’). This is the right choice, but wait…
Over to the left (i.e. in a place where many people will look first), in the ‘Actions’ group, there’s a ‘Delete’ item. (tooltip: ‘Delete this item’). Clicking this will delete the WHOLE FUCKING DISTRIBUTION LIST - an action for which there is also no undo.
What kind of bollocks design method came up with the idea of being able to delete (what is essentially) a document from within the document view? and decided to label it ambiguously as ‘delete this item’ (the people in the list are selectable ‘items’).
This is incredibly stupid, but it’s been driving me insane all morning:
I have this coffee mug from my husband’s business. It’s got a stainless steel insert, plastic outside and is supposed to have a really good seal between the insert and the plastic. But it doesn’t. So as moisture enters the plastic area, it’s making these soft, but ridiculously high-pitched irregular squealing sounds that are driving me out of my mind. It’s the absolute most annoying sound I’ve heard in months and I want nothing more than to throw the f’ing thing across the room, preferably at the holier-than-thou pious woman across the row who keeps tabs on employees in the row and reports to the boss when we’re 5 minutes late. I’m salaried, dammit! And I’m also your freaking senior! Our boss already told you he didn’t care (within my hearing), so knock it the hell off. And I hope that when I snap and hit you in the head with my cup that both your head and the cup make a hollow donging sound that I can record for posterity. I don’t think I’ll be disappointed.
It’s been snowing here all damned day. I just got groceries, and got my feet all cold and wet from it (the bane of my existence - cold wet feet). We are apparently due for about another 20 cm of snow, too. We needed the moisture badly, but it’s April 28th - could we just have a nice, normal rain? I got the green bug bad, man! I have to dig and mow and plant and stuff!
I hate the fact that men can make babies until they keel over but women have a large, ominious clock above our heads. I’m crampy and moody because I’m ovulating and I swear to GOD, it’s getting worse and worse every month as my eggs become more and more old and shriveled.
I am sick of hearing students complain that “school never accomplishes anything,” “I don’t even know why I’m here,” and “sitting in a classroom shoving somebody else’s ideas into my head isn’t the vision I had for my life.”
You know what? GO THE FUCK AWAY THEN. Nobody’s holding a goddamn gun to your head forcing your whiny emo Burning Man trendier-than-thou fake-tan fake-tits Tapout douchebag ass into the seats in my class.
I teach because I love my field. LOVE it. I worked in it for 14 years, both as a clinician in various settings and as a researcher, before I started teaching it. I teach because I want to bring the knowledge of my field, and the beauty of it, to you. I design lesson plans that relate what we’re covering in class to real-life current events and news stories, I bring in outside guest speakers to talk to you about their experiences with the field.
My colleagues teach because they love their fields. They do the same.
We’re certainly not asking you to love our fields. Some of you will, some of you won’t. No biggie.
But if you don’t want to learn anything from us and you feel oh so bored and persecuted by “the man”, then DON’T GO TO GODDAMN COLLEGE, you fucking mouth-breathing morons.
You’re either the most bi-polar person in existence, or you occasionally suffer from PMS that would drop a pachyderm.
How’s about a signal on the days you decide to come to work and basically fuck up EVERYONE’S day. Maybe wear a yellow scarf on the days when you’ll be taking leave of your senses.
I worked with a woman like that, Rysdad. She was also the co-owner of the company. She had new people in her department all the time (you can probably guess why) - we started making bets on how long they would last. The shortest was the one who went for lunch the first day and never came back. I was more or less okay at that company until I caught her notice - then, after getting yelled at in front of customers and called stupid, I was fired within a week.
See, that’s what I did on Tuesday. I may have a lot of crazy to go around, but at least when I recognise I’m not fit to be out in public, I don’t fucking go out in public.
