As I have never blogged before, I have no idea what I'm doing. If you are currently reading this, I'm sorry.

Some things to know about me:

1. I am not funny. Well, I like to think I'm funny, but most people don't catch on to my dry sense of humour.

2. This blog is going to be used as a repository of my inane ramblings, musings, and various brick-a-brak. You may find it informative; you may even find it entertaining, but probably not. Anyway, as such a repository, I will only post when I feel like it.

3. I am a conservative Christian who believes in the Constitution as written by the Founders of the United States of America. If you have a problem with any of that, I will probably end up offending you.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Trampling "Lesser People"



I did something at work today that I’ve never done before in my nearly six years working at the sandwich shop.  Let me first say that I’ve dealt with angry and unpleasant customers before without much trouble.  Such as the old fellow who was outraged that I was unable to accept his $100 bill for lack of funds in the cash drawer, or the woman who couldn’t seem to understand that Italian bread is white, or even the other woman who complained about getting the end of the bread for her 6 inch sandwich, and (my favourite) the guy who got upset because the Swiss cheese had holes in it.  But this one just takes the cake.
This particular woman has come in before, and she has also been snippy with me in the past.  No big deal; I’ll just go quickly to get her out of the store as fast as possible.  I began making her sandwich, but forgot what cheese she had said, and so asked her to repeat it.  She responded with a definite edge in her voice, “Cheddar.”
*sigh*
We moved down the line (there were no other customers in the store); she told me what vegetables she wanted, and I put them on with all haste.  Then she asked for mustard.  I asked, “What kind of mustard?”
She looked at me with a grimace and repeated forcefully, “Mustard.”
I told her, “We have three…”
The woman cut me short, “Mustard.  Just mustard.
After a slight pause to gather myself, I said, “That could mean any of our three kinds, which is why I’m asking…”
MUSTARD!” she said with pure acid in her voice, then commented to the man with her, “See?  This is why I came in here with an attitude; he always tries to start s#!t with me!”
The dam holding back my anger cracked, and I said firmly, “You can leave.”  I then dropped the sandwich into the garbage, fixed her with a sardonic expression, and said with my voice full of irony, “Goodbye.”  With that, I turned around, stripped off my gloves, and tossed them smoothly into the garbage can as I disappeared into the back area.  Once there, I told my boss (who had been washing dishes during this) exactly what had happened.  I could barely take a drink from the water cup I had back there for my shaking hands.
The story doesn’t end there.  About half an hour later, our regional manager called us asking what had happened.  My manager informed her of everything I had said about how the situation had progressed (or digressed, depending on how you want to see it), and she said that she’ll have to call the woman back after checking the video/audio.  She also told us what the woman had said.  Apparently, she had omitted the part where she was yelling at me and using profanity, skipping directly from her telling me that she didn’t know what kinds of mustard we had (which never happened) to me throwing away the sandwich and telling her to leave.  Frankly, I think she was mostly angry because her punching bag talked back and refused to take her verbal abuse.

My point in telling this story is that it seems some many people think it’s perfectly acceptable to abuse low-level employees, be they food service, grocery baggers (which I have also done), retail cashiers, and others.  Why does this attitude prevail in a society that claims to be so obsessed with not making anyone “feel bad”?  How is it OK to treat anyone like that?
The way I see it, there are three types of people who you should never mistreat, for obvious reasons:
1.      People who handle your money
2.      People who watch your kids
3.      People who prepare your food
One final word I have on this subject is to admonish you to think about that fast food worker, or that bank teller, or that sales clerk.  They have a sucky job, and it makes it a bit more tolerable if you just demonstrate a little human decency.  I hope that’s not too much to ask.
On the plus side, that woman will probably never come in again.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

A Potentially Interesting Anecdote



I was just reading in Deuteronomy chapter 4, and happened upon an admonition to Israel beginning in verse 6.  I found it interesting, as I was reflecting on our most recent Presidential election, in which the Great Pretender, the Man-Child, even that one Obozo the Clown, was re-elected at a time when our nation is in the most dire straits I expect we have ever faced.  Please indulge me a moment as I quote the passage that leapt out at me:
6- ... Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.
7- For what nation is there so great, who hath God so nigh unto them, as the Lord our God is in all things that we call upon him for?
8- And what nation is there so great that hath statutes and judgments so righteous as all this law, which I set forth before you this day?
9- Only take heed of thyself, and keep thy soul diligently, lest thou forget the things which thine eyes have seen, and lest they depart from thy heart all the days of thy life: but teach them thy sons, and thy son’s sons.
Methinks we, as a nation, have NOT taken heed of ourselves.  Thus, many of our people, especially the younger generations (like mine; I’m in my mid-20’s), are lost to the random and entirely selfish teachings of the world, rather than safe in the teachings of God.  This is why we are no longer a Christian nation.  This is why we are no longer protected by the hand of the Lord in this country.  Now other nations will have hold over us, as partially indicated by the rise of UN interference in our sovereignty.  Now the freedoms we have enjoyed in this nation are going to be very openly trodden under foot by those who seek the downfall of the country.
The bridge is crossed; there is no going back.  Now we can either stand and watch it burn, or we, those still faithful to God and His commandments, will have to band together and maintain our dignity and our faith, never flinching in the eyes of the many adversaries unwittingly united under the one great Adversary.  But there’s something funny about life.  You see, I peeked at the end of the book, and there I saw that we, the faithful, will win.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

No-shave November



I decided to grow out a beard again this year.  There are no girls involved this time (as suggested in some of my previous posts), but I liked it last year.  So I went ahead and started No-shave November early, mostly out of laziness.  It has been about three weeks, and it’s starting to look decent.  However, I still have the problem of poor coverage on the sides, and have thus been keeping it trimmed down to a goatee.
My goatee is getting to the point where I could think about styling it if I was feeling crazy.  Maybe I could grow my mustache so it sticks out straight to the sides, and then have a big curl on my chin.
Heck, why should I stop there?  I could take to wearing a monocle and bowler hat, and start tying innocent, young women to railroad tracks.
But then I would need a friend with a chiseled jaw and cleft chin to interfere, standing akimbo, saying, “Unhand her, Dan Backslide!”
Then I could respond, pointing out something in the distance, “You’re too late, Eric Sideiron!  The train is almost here!!”  HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!”
And then he runs up and punches me; my monocle and hat go flying as I fly back dramatically while Eric produces an over-sized knife to cut the ropes binding the girl (named Dawn Goodman), and pulls her to safety just as the train passes.  But he and I are on opposite sides of the tracks, and I quickly grab the last car as it goes by, and then shake my fist angrily at him shouting, “You’ve thwarted me THIS time, Eric, but I'll be back, and THEN you’ll be sorry!!  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…!!!”
As I fade into the distance, Dawn swoons into his arms, saying, “Oh, whatever will we do, Eric?”
Eric replies firmly, “Don’t worry, Dawn.  If he comes back, I'll be ready for him.”
They climb onto his horse (which was waiting there the whole time) to ride back to town, the orchestra swells into the final chords, and the words “The End” scrawl neatly across the screen just before fadeout.

And THAT would be my idea for a movie!

Friday, October 19, 2012

Chronically Single…? Mk II



Those of you, my loyal readers (I am, obviously, referring to nobody here) may remember my original post titled “Chronically Single…?”.  In it, I described an incident in which I finally worked up the courage to ask a certain girl on a date, only to be turned down because I waited too long to ask (that, at least, was what I knew the reason to be).  Toward the end, I made reference to the fact that I had my eyes on another girl as well, and that “this wolf was still on the prowl”.  Well the wolf finally caught up with his prey… the “other girl”…
She came into the restaurant where I work yesterday; it was a rather slow day on account of rain and general drear, and I happened to be the one to respond to the doorbell.  Now, it should be noted here that my manager is what you might call a “cock-block”, which is anyone who prevents someone else (generally a male [a rooster, if you will]) from hitting on someone he finds attractive (or, the hen of his choice).  And the worst part is that she doesn’t even notice she does it!  I pointed it out to her a month ago when she slipped into the way just as I was about to ask out this particular girl.  I’m sure you can imagine how that made me feel
That was not going to happen this time…  As I was washing my hands, I shot to my boss a dirty look, and said significantly, “That’s her, by the way.”  I then went about making the girl’s sandwich, all the while attempting to take the advice printed in large, friendly letters on the cover of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (for anyone not so literarily inclined, it says, “Don’t Panic”).  I finished the sandwich, and moved over to the register (this being the most nail-biting bit, as this is where my manager generally managed to interrupt) where I rang up the order.
When I had finalised the order, I gave a moment’s pause, and then began, “I was wondering…”
She regarded me with polite interest.
I continued, “… if you’re not busy later, would you like to go get a coffee with me?”  I didn’t believe it myself, as I don’t drink coffee.  The readers who know me personally can attest that the last thing I need is coffee
The girl’s mouth tightened briefly before returning to normal, and she answered in a plain, though in no way unkind voice, “I have a boyfriend.”
Her words echoed around in my suddenly empty mind, followed briefly by my own internal voice from somewhere in the distance, speaking very unfeelingly, though in no uncertain terms…

“…
bugger…”

“Ah,” I heard myself say in an understanding way.  It occurred to me that, somehow, my schmooze had not been broken, and was running without my brain.
The situation had become very dangerous.
I vaguely heard her go on after the slightest of pauses, “… He probably wouldn’t like that.
Quickly, I tried to recover my faculties before my schmooze could say something along the lines of, “Ha!  Like that’s ever stopped me…”  I managed it, and said, in a jokingly reluctant tone, “Yeeaaahh, I guess he wouldn’t.”
As I began moving away to clean things up on the counter, she said, “Um, cup…?”
I had forgotten to give her a drink cup.  Resuming my usual manner for joking heartily with customers, I said, “Pfsha!  Details, details…” and handed her a drink cup.  The girl gave a small chuckle, and went to fill the cup.
She left shortly thereafter, and I numbly finished cleaning up the front area and moved to get some things from the back area.  As I passed my boss, she asked, “Sooo, did you ask her out?”
I said blankly, “Yep.”
My manager persisted, “And she said…?”
“Has a boyfriend,” I answered, and then lightly added, “Oh, well,” though that is certainly not what I was feeling at the time.

Some questions arise from this situation that I have yet to answer:
1.  Did I misinterpret her to be flirting the last time I saw her (over a month ago)?
2.  Is this just another case of me waiting too long to ask (like the last girl)?
3.  Is it bad that, when left unattended, my schmooze starts acting like Johnny Bravo?

Some mysteries can never be solved……

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

What Makes a Blog Post?

It has recently occurred to me that it's been over a month since I last made a post, and figured it was past time to do that.  Unfortunately, the thing I wanted to post on (i.e. the thing most on my mind at present) will take some (more) time to complete.  So I think I'll just say that it's in the works and ramble on a little bit more so maybe and perhaps you won't feel like your time was wasted for looking at this post that is not truly a post.
 But now that I think about it, what makes a blog post?  On the Blogoshpere, it could be some kind of heart-felt work of semi-literature carefully constructed to convince a madly busy world that your life was not vain, for this, yes, this thing is something you created, bearing a part of your soul amid the relentless bustle of our near mindless, post-industrial society.  But most of the time, it's a cacophonous admixture of flagrant plagiarism, raving lunacy, random things you took pictures of, and rants about how awesome/horrible Justin Bieber is to no one in particular.
How, then, can I say that this post is not truly a post?  I know not, as it seems to fit some of the above criteria.  All I can say is that there are better things we could all be doing instead of paying so much attention to useless crap on the internet.
But, what do I know?

... Winter is coming...