Articulated Vulgarities

The Greatest E-mail in History

Date: TUESDAY, 9 JANUARY 2001 18:15 CT
Subject: EXPATATIONS OF INVENTORY

EACH PERSON IN THIS DEPT HAS HAD ENOUGH TIME IN TO UNDERSTAND THERE JOB. WITH
A FEW EXCEPTIONS. OUR JOB DOESN'T CHANGE FROM DAY TO DAY LIKE SALES, BUT OUR
JOB CAN CAUSE ALOT OF SHRINK IF A MISTAKE HAPPENS. SO THIS IS MY EXPECTATIONS
FOR THIS DEPT..

RECIEVINGS AREA:
A DROPS MUST BE LOGED AND RECEIVED DAILY, UNLESS A TAO SENT
TO US ( ROB , MATT, MYSELF.) ON WHY THEY WERE NOT. TO MANY INCOMPLETES ARE
HAPPENING SO THE LOG MUST BE REVIEWED NIGHTLY. ( START AROUND 7-8 PM ).
FOR ANY REASON THIS IS NOT DONE NIGHTLY THERE WILL BE DOCUMENTATION.

DEVO AND JUNKOUT:
DEVO MUST BE DONE DAILY,AND MUSIC NEEDS TO BE DONE ON TUES
ALSO ON THIS SUBJECT , EACH PERSON MUST DOUBLE CHECK A BOX OF DEVO ALREADY
DONE AND SIGN THE BOL ALSO. TAO'S MUST BE SENT OUT TO US (ROB,ME,MATT) ON WHAT
BOX ,XFER AND ANY ISSUES . THE DEVO AND JUNKOUT AREA MUST BE PRESENTABLE AT
,,, MOST ALL TIMES. WE KNOW HOW SO DROP DAYS ARE, BUT WE HAVE TO HAVE IT
ORGANIZED. THERE WILL BE A TRACKING BOARD PUT IN THE BACK TO KEEP TRACK OF
EXCEPTIONS FOR THE MONTH.. I WILL TRY TO SET UP A PROGRAM ON WHO PERCENTAGE IS
LOWER FOR THE MONTH WE BUY LUNCH OR SOMETHING..
THIS IS A NON-NEGOITABLE SO REMEMBER THIS..

N.C.O.
OUR BACK ROOM MUST BE NEAT CLEAN AND ORGANIZED AT ALL TIMES.
SO THIS MEANS THAT THE DESK MUST BE CLEARED OF ALL PRODUCT NIGHTLY AND THAT
THE PAPER WORK MUST BE FILED OR PUT IN A NEAT FILE WITH A NOTE WHEN IT WILL BE
FILED, (WITHIN 24HRS..) THE FLOORS MUST BE SWEPT AND BROOMS MUST BE PUT AWAY.
THE COUNTERS MUST BE CLEARED OF ALL PRODUCT, OR MUST HAVE NOTE ON WHY IT IS
THERE. (BOOKS,MAGS,ETC).......BATHROOMS... IS A PROBLEM AND I DON'T KNOW WHY,
EACH HOUR THE RUNNER MUST GET CARTS, CARRY OUTS, AND CHECK THE BATHROOM,
( TOILET PAPER , PAPER TOWELS , ETC ) THIS IS A NON-NEGOITABLE.

HDPL
HOME DELIVERYS MUST BE PULLED THE NIGHT BEFORE AND MANIFESTED SO ALL THE
PRODUCT GETS TO THE CUSTOMER. CAUSE IN THE MORNINGS THE SYSTEM COULD BE DOWN
AND HOW WILL WE KNOW WHAT TO SEND OUT IF THE SHUTTLE LEAVES BEFORE IT COMES
UP.THIS IS A NON-NEGOITABLE. THIS HAS TO BE DONE NO MATTER TRUCK OR NOTE.. IT
TAKESLESS THEN 1 MIN TO MANIFEST.. YOU CAN WRITE THE BOL AFTER THE TRUCK...

WAREHOUSE CLOSING
THIS NEVER HAS CHANGED. THE FRONT END MUST BE VACUMED AT THE
END OF THE NIGHT AND IN THE MORNING, AFTER CARTS COME IN DO THIS, GARBAGE MUST
BE EMPTIED AT THE END OF THE NIGHT.. SWEEPING THE BUTTS AND PICKING UP THE
TRASH CAN BE DONE IN THE MORNING. PLUS VACUMING.

DAILY PRODUCTIVITY
EACH DAY WE WILL BE FOLLOWING UP WITH THE TASK SHEETS AND
THE TAO'S YOU SEND US. TO MANY DAYS NOT ENOUGH STUFF IS GETTING DONE. DROPS
DEVO, JUNKOUT , ETC. THIS IS GOING TO STOP AS OF NOW. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO
WORKI WILL GET PEOPLE IN HERE THAT DO WANT TO . I HAVE GIVEN YOU ALL CHEAT
SHEETS TO USE AND SOME OF YOU CHOSE NOT DO.. SO THIS IS BY YOUR CHOICE , SO IF
YOU DON'T HAVE YOURS AND I ASK YOU A QUESTION THAT COULD BE ANSWERED WITH IT ,
THIS WOULD BE DOCUMENTED FOR IT.

THE MAD PART OF THE SEASON IS OVER AND IT IS TIME TO BE
NUMBER 1 AGAIN. TRAINING ISSUES SHOULD COME AND GO , TAKE NOTES AND ASK
QUESTIONS. THERE IS NO REASON WHY WE CAN'T BE ALL STAR AND BE NUMBER 1..
I REMEMBERBEING NUMBER 1 WAS A GOAL, BEFORE ALL STAR.THEN ALL STAR BECAME A
GOAL..THEM I REMEMBER BEING NUMBER 1 WITH ALL STAR.. THIS BOX CAN DO IT AND
THESE ARE MY GOALS AND EXPATIONS NOW,,,,,

THERE IS NO LETTER ( I ) IN THE WORLD ( TEAM )
SO LETS DO IT TOGETHER AS A TEAM.. LET THEM COME AFTER US FOR AWHILE .
INSTED OF US PLAYING KETCHUP TO THEM..

MARTY & ROB....

# 1 WITH ALL STAR. (GOAL)
ACHIEVIABLE = YES...

The First Rule of Lottery Club is...

Pay your dues on time, apparently.

Yes, I belong to a lottery club at work.  There are thirteen people in all, only several of whom I like at all, and we all contribute four dollars every week for tickets towards Mega Millions, Powerball, and possibly a few others.  I don't know; I don't look at the tickets.  I figure if we win I'll know when the other twelve people in the group simultaneously don't show up for work the day after the drawing.  Several of them may never be heard from again.  You never know, they may perish in bizarre accidents, thus increasing the survivors' winnings.  That would be a real shame.

The problem with paying four dollars every week is, like most people in the modern age, I carry no cash on me.  I use a debit card for nearly every transaction I make.  It actually irks me that I have to keep singles and quarters in my wallet just to get a soda every morning, and I sure as hell am not going to give my soda money to the lottery club.

This leads to me going several weeks without paying my dues, and receiving not-so-friendly, passive-aggressive reminders from the self-proclaimed President of the Lottery Club. 

Normally, she'll send me a personal e-mail and I'll bring the money in the following day, but today she took it a step further and copied all thirteen members of the group in the following e-mail:

From: [President of the Lottery Club]
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2012 3:06 PM
To: [Lottery Group, but really for my benefit only]
Cc: [Additional members of the lottery group so they can see her publicly humiliate me]
Subject: LOTTERY CLUB

Friendly reminder please, money is due every Friday (payday for most) for our Lottery Club.  As much as I would like to assist, I am not able to contribute for anyone but myself.  If you are not able to continue with the Lottery Club due to financial reasons, please let me know.

Thanks to everyone who has been giving me the money on time.

There are several awesome things about this.  First, that she capitalizes "Lottery Club," as if it's the most important thing ever.  Lottery club is not a proper noun.  There is no need to capitalize it.  You are not that important.  You're President of the Lottery Club, not the United States (in this case, it is proper to capitalize it because it's a nickname I have bestowed upon her, thus making it a proper title).

Secondly, the final sentence, "Thanks to everyone who has been giving me the money on time."  This is the same as saying, "make with the cash, you lousy deadbeats" by way of implication. 

As I know I am the only one of the thirteen members of the club who is constantly behind on their dues, I decided to respond and make my guilt known in my own special, unique way. 

From: Matt Antonich
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2012 3:15 PM
To: [Lottery Group]
Cc: [Additional members of the lottery group]
Subject: RE: LOTTERY CLUB

Fixed.  See below.

From: [President of the Lottery Club]
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2012 3:06 PM
To: [Lottery Group, but really for my benefit only]
Cc: [Additional members of the lottery group so they can see her publicly humiliate me]
Subject: LOTTERY CLUB

Friendly reminder Matt, money is due every Friday (payday for most) for our Lottery Club.  As much as I would like to assist, I am not able to contribute for Matt.  If you are not able to continue with the Lottery Club due to financial reasons, please let me know.

Thanks to everyone who has been giving me the money on time.  (Not Matt.)

PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

Unsurprisingly, one of my coworkers didn't quite understand that I had edited the original e-mail and thought the President of the Lottery Club had actually sent it out like that.  Honestly, it would have been less obnoxious if she had just called me out specifically. 

I'm not quite sure how she even became President of the Lottery Club.  I didn't vote for her.  She just sort of assumed power, like a tyrannical dictator.  I'm not sure she's the best candidate as she doesn't quite understand how the lottery works.  She likens it to a raffle, where your odds of winning are dictated by how many other people are playing and where you buy your ticket.  She will drive all over to buy tickets from different stores, thinking it increases our chances of winning, never realizing that you are not playing against other ticket-holders.  If you were the only person with a lotto ticket in the entire country, your odds of winning would not change because you are playing against the odds of your specific numbers being drawn and nothing more.  When we tried to explain this to her, she got fiesty and we told her to continue wasting her gas if it makes her feel better.

How about this: I'll pay my dues when you pick some winning numbers.  I think that's fair. 

Memo to All Employees

Roughly two months ago we had new phone systems installed at our office.  There's nothing particularly better about them, except for the managers who can now actually monitor whether our lines are open to receive calls versus our old system when they simply pretended they could.  There is one employee, however, who has been unable to grasp the concept of logging in.

The process itself is not that complicated.  You hit a clearly labeled "Log In" button, enter your (admittedly long) seven digit extension, then your four digit password.  Because he is old and confused by everything, this eludes him and has become a constant source of amusement for the rest of us.  Honestly, watching and listening to him wrestle with his phone (and losing), which makes a very distinct sound indicating failure and inviting mockery, has become one of our favorite parts of the day.  My neighbor has taken to excitedly exclaiming "Yes!" whenever he hears the noise.

The best part is that it's not only a daily occurrence, it happens twice a day - once in the morning, and once after lunch.  In an excellent display of senility, he manages to forget the process in the four hours between when he punches in for work, and out for lunch.  The experience peaked today when he surreptitiously invited D-Rex over to help him, and even their combined efforts failed to best the phone.  It has gotten so entertaining that I want to start sneaking over to his desk every time he steps away and log him out, just so I can force the process to repeat itself for my own amusement. 

Sadly, the fun will soon come to an end, as apparently the single-celled amoebas we employ have filed numerous complaints about the new phone systems.  This has sent a firestorm of change through the company, as it attempts to streamline its day-to-day operations.

These are memos we've received this week demonstrating our new committment to efficiency:

From: [Corporate HQ]
To: All Employees
Date: Monday, April 02, 2012; 10:03:43 AM (-EST)
Subject: New Phones

Memo to all employees:

It has been brought to our attention that many employees are experiencing difficulties with the new Avaya phone systems.  Since installation took place in the [location redacted] facility several weeks ago, we have received numerous complaints that the phones are too complicated to operate effectively.

In the interest of expediting our process flows and to better serve our customers and clients, we will be installing a newer, more simplified phone system in the coming weeks.  It is our hope this system will allow our employees to work faster and more efficiently, without the complexities of punching numbers in the same sequential order every day.  Please see the attached diagram below.

Attached file:

Managers: Please print and post this notice in a common area for the benefit of employees without access to e-mail.

Thank you.

From: [Corporate HQ]
To: All Employees
Date: Monday, April 02, 2012, 02:35:12 PM (-EST)
Subject: Further Streamlining

Memo to all employees:

In our ongoing efforts to streamline our business and make it easier for employees to do their jobs with maximum efficiency, it has come to our attention that the calculators we are using may be too complex for some, particularly those who have an aversion to anything even remotely technological. 

We understand that older employees view technology as a confusing, frustrating, and yes, frightening experience.  While technology has inarguably been a boon for humanity at large, older generations view it as a hindrance and rather than part ways with those who've provided decades of dedicated service and replacing them with people willing to adapt and learn, we will cater to their wishes.

In response, we will be collecting all current calculators and replacing them with the following:

Hopefully the multitude of colors will not be too confusing, but if you find you have difficulty operating your abacus, please contact us and we will attempt to replace it with a more monochrome (that means "one color") version.  

Managers: Please print and post this notice in a common area for the benefit of employees without access to e-mail.

Thank you.

Oddly enough, this next notice was passed out on a pre-printed piece of paper...

From: [Corporate HQ]
To: All Employees
Date: Tuesday, April 03, 2012; 9:35:01 AM (-EST)
Subject: Previous Memos

Memo to all employees:

It has come to our attention that many of you did not receive the last two memos as they were sent by a form of communication colloquially known as "e-mail" (short for "electronic mail") and you could not figure out how to open these messages.  Indeed, many of you expressed frustration in how to turn your computers on in the first place and instead filed these complaints by way of hastily-scrawled post-it notes stuck to the HR manager's door.  At least three people also appear to have written them in feces, and one of you in what appears to be blood.

In response, we have decided to do away with computers - or as you may know them, "magic word boxes" - and go back to keeping track of everything using paper and loads and loads of physical files.  We'll need to buy more filing cabinets, but since we're getting rid of the computers, we can just put them on your desk where the computers used to be. 

We will be printing and passing out copies of our previous two memos on paper, and we're pleased to announce we will be offering employees a variety of writing utensils to ensure the feces incidents never happen again.  Those of you who feel comfortable using pencils or pens may continue to use them, though we do advise that you do not eat them.  Those who are deemed unfit to wield sharp objects will be given crayons or, if requested, a piece of coal.  Again, we must stress, please do not eat these.  Whatever your preference, we ask that you refrain (that means "stop") from writing on the walls.

Managers: Please ensure employees do not eat this memo.

Thank you.

Lastly, we received this memo today:

From: [Corporate HQ]
To: All Employees
Date: Wednesday, April 04, 2012; 3:41:20 PM (-EST)
Subject: Jesus H. Fucking Goddamn Christ!

Memo to all employees:

It has come to our attention that the complaints we received written in feces were the result of slack-jawed trogladytes unable to wipe their own asses without twelve-step instructions.  Some of you bravely and tragically expressed shame upon admission that you were never taught that producing waste is a natural function of the body.

While we do not condone the use of feces as a means of communication, we do understand that some of you were not privy to the same education any civilized human being would receive.  As a result, we will be providing counseling, reading materials, and request that all employees attend a mandatory seminar on how to properly expel, dispose of, and properly clean bodily waste.  This is costing us thousands of dollars, a fact which we resent greatly and will slowly and subtly punish you for over a long period of time so as not to make it too obvious to anyone who might actually have cognitive reasoning skills superior to those of a goldfish.

You will receive your training manual (see the pretty picture below) in the next couple of days.  We would ask that you read it, but we realize now that is probably a futile request as it would most likely result in you tearing the pages out and using them to wipe your buttocks with. 

Please note, the apple picture above does not poop.  It's part of the waste cycle.  This will all be explained in the training seminar. 

Managers: Those of you who can read, please relay the gist of this memo to those who can't.

Thank you.

A Helpful Guide to Loading a Printer

Our office printers are... less than adequate, shall we say?  I understand that mechanical devices will break down and require regular maintenance, but the amount of time ours spend in an unusable state seems excessive.  For example, one of our two large printers - the ones we use the most - was down for nearly three full months due to constant paper jams.  It was down so long, I decided to tape this sign to it.

When the printer was eventually serviced, it soon broke down again, this time due to a part breaking clean off - a part that, apparently, is no longer made because our printers are so archaic and were most likely bought off the back of a box truck with no license plate in a dark Detroit alley for $20.  That resulted in this sign being posted, which remains there to this day.

I have now taken to calling that printer "D-Rex" because it never works.  One would surmise that our printers are just old and are ready to give up the ghost, but one would be wrong.  Thankfully, our resident printer expert - a geriatric, incredibly cranky old woman (because old people are the best technicians) - has given us the instructions we lacked to continue using our printers, presumably until the end of days.  She taught us the secret, and I'm going to share it with all of you now:

Concavity.

You might be wondering, "What does that mean, Matt?"  I will tell you, readers.

It turns out the problem with the printers was a simple matter of user error.  It wasn't that they were old, worn down pieces of machinery; the problem was we were loading the paper wrong! 

As it was explained to us, paper has a very subtle, imperceptable concavity and if it's loaded the wrong way, the printer's sensor will not detect it correctly and this causes paper jams.  Only amateurs would think paper is the same on all sides.  Our printer expert worked for IBM, so she knows about the concavity.  It's the secret Big Paper doesn't want you to know about.

One might wonder why, if there's some sort of curvature in paper that is undetectable to the human eye, paper reams are not marked "THIS SIDE UP" to ensure the end user loads it properly.  This is all part of the big corporate scam to force people into buying more paper.  Big Paper wants your printer to jam.  They want you to waste as much paper as possible so you're left with no other option but to buy more.  Those clever, devilish bastards!

One might also wonder how I've managed to load my desktop printer at home correctly and it hasn't faced a single jam in the three years I've owned it.  I suppose a lot of it has to do with pure luck, along with this helpful diagram.

Now that we know about the concavity of paper, we know that whenever our printers jam, all we have to do is just flip the paper upside down.  We just have to hope the concavity sensors in the printer don't break, because I hear those are expensive to replace.

Jingle Jangle Joe

I worked with some pretty interesting characters during my days at Best Buy, but none more memorable than the man we dubbed Jingle Jangle Joe.
 
We called him this because he wore, on his belt, at all times, the largest collection of keys in human history.  There must have been several hundred keys on that thing, for it was the largest keyring I've ever seen.  I am not exaggerating when I say the entire bunch was as big as my fist.  He had a key for everything.  He was like that guy in the second Matrix movie.
 
No matter where he was in the store, you could always pinpoint his location by the sound of his keys jingling loudly.  Even during regular store hours with customers and those insipid in-store CDs playing on an endless loop over our PA system, you could still hear the jangle of 10,000 keys.  It was like something out of a bad horror movie when the sound became louder and louder, indicating that he was drawing closer.  He would have made the world's lousiest ninja or secret agent.
 
Joe looked like an average guy.  Or rather, an average 40-something who is stuck in the glory days of hair metal.  He did not look like an average guy is really what I'm trying to say.  I was trying to be nice about it.  He had a long, feathery brown mullet and a creepy, villainous moustache (think Snidely Whiplash).  He was incredibly skinny and short - probably no taller than 5'5" - making us all wonder just how he was able to carry the weight of all that metal on his waistline. 
 
But what was most interesting about Jingle Jangle Joe is that he claimed to know every celebrity who was ever born or had lived in Detroit.  He claimed to be close friends with Kid Rock, Ted Nugent, and knew Eminem and Madonna.  He met them all at school, which leads me to believe one of those keys must have been to a secret lab with a time machine hidden inside because they all went to school at different times and locations.  Somehow, Joe went to school with all of them.  He frequently went hunting with Ted Nugent, or so he claimed, causing us to mockingly suggest that some of the keys must have been to the Nuge's ranch, as well as Kid Rock's crib.
 
One night while unloading a shipment of merchandise, a Kid Rock song came on the radio.  I do not like Kid Rock.  At all.  I think he records some of the shittiest, most uninventive, derivative shit that has ever been shat.  If you could take a shit as big as the universe itself, it still wouldn't be as shitty as Kid Rock's music.  I expressed my displeasure at having to endure the awful pablum that passes for his music by shouting, "Kid Rock sucks!"  Joe stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth agape, his eyes wide in shock and said, I kid you not, "I'm gonna tell him you said that!"
 
Every single person within earshot burst out laughing.
 
If any of us actually believed Joe knew Kid Rock, it would still be funny.  The notion that he was going to inform Kid Rock that a guy he works with doesn't like his music, and the implied threat of some future, non-specific comeuppance, was hysterical.  It's a safe bet that Kid Rock hears how much he sucks all the time, and it's also safe to assume that he goes home at night and wipes his tears with hundred dollar bills and comforts himself by having sex with strippers.  I think I'm gonna be OK on this one.  I don't think Kid Rock will be so upset that a fellow Michigan native doesn't like his music that he will track me down and confront me.  It's been over a decade now and there's still no sign of him, though I must admit I was a little worried when he appeared on stage during the Bon Jovi concert I took Deborah to in 2010.  It was even weirder when he announced from the stage, "Hey, does anybody know if there's a guy named Matt who worked at Best Buy and thinks I suck in the audience?"
 
I don't know what became of Jingle Jangle Joe.  I fear the worst, for if he was still alive I assume we would all be able to hear the echo of his keys jingling on the wind.  Hopefully he's still rocking a mullet, keepin' rock 'n' roll alive, and fighting the system like the untamable animal he was.  Joe, wherever you are, shine on, you crazy diamond!  And tell Kid Rock I still think he sucks.

This Job Would Be Great If It Weren't For The Customers

Before I landed a job working at the most innovative company in the world, I worked as Employee #598724 at a retail organization. In order to protect their integrity, I won’t disclose their name, but let’s just say it’s the largest electronics retailer in the United States.  We’ll call them “West Buy.”

“West Buy” was an interesting place to work.  We were all a bunch of youths in our late teens/early twenties, making more money than we probably deserved, and everybody fucked each other.  EVERYBODY.  I don’t mean figuratively.  Literally, everyone seemed to be having sex with someone else there.

There were these weird pockets of employees who all lived together, splitting rent three or four ways, and leaving plenty of expendable income, and for some reason this just led to everyone getting it on.  It was uncanny, and I’ve never experienced it anywhere else I’ve ever worked.  I doubt there was a single man or woman under the age of twenty-five working there who was dating anyone outside of the store.

I spent the majority of my time there in the warehouse, doing all the work for half the pay the lazy, worthless salespeople earned.  You ever wonder how all that product gets into the store?  It’s unloaded by bitter, angry, hate-filled young men forced to stay there until two in the morning, only to have to turn around and at six and come back for the morning deliveries, while the pampered, brown-nosing, cocksucking sales staff gets to go home no later than ten p.m..  Not that I hold any resentment or anything.

After three and a half years of being underappreciated in the warehouse, I was coerced into taking a position on the sales floor by one of my best friends.  Because clearly I’m a people person and interacting with dim-witted customers is sure to be a recipe for success.

He had me convinced that we would make an unbeatable team in the media department, selling things like game systems, DVDs, and music, because it was what we knew.  This was the last time I ever listened to anything he has ever told me.

The reason being that “West Buy” doesn’t care about sales of game systems, software, CDs, or DVDs.  There is little to no mark-up on items like that.  It’s the accessories and the service plans where “West Buy” makes their money – most of which are useless and unnecessary.  When buying an original Xbox, which comes with a built-in eight gigabyte hard drive for saving games and more, we still had to try and convince customers that they still needed a memory card.  My friend was exceptionally good at this thanks to his lack of a moral center; I was not.

Most of the time I would simply wander the floor, trying to avoid assholes and their stupid questions (you call them “customers”).  Occasionally, one would grab me and I would tell them what they were looking for was in some random aisle just to get them away from me, then run to the back room and cower inside a refrigerator box until I was sure they had left.

There were two customers in particular I avoided like the goddamn plague.  One was a tall, older man who stunk worse than anything I’ve ever smelled.  His hair was always tousled, his clothing was filthy, he wore sunglasses at all times, and he always spoke with his teeth gnashed together, which made him difficult to understand.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Perhaps his appearance and unacceptable personal hygiene is a result of low income.  Maybe he’s a stinky, smelly, sweaty, dirty, greasy, nasty, unwashed person who leaves a cloud of B.O. that hangs in the air for fifteen minutes after his passing because he’s poor, and I’m just an asshole for judging him.  He was in there every week, buying ten or more DVDs at a time.  If you can afford to buy movies, you can afford a fucking bar of soap.

You could always tell when this man had been around by the stench that lingered.  He left a trail of awfulness everywhere he went, but to stand next to him was enough to make you gag.  Whenever I saw him enter, I immediately retreated to the warehouse and hid in my Fortress of Solitude (the fridge box).

Less olfactorily offensive, but no less obnoxios was the man…woman… thing… I honestly don’t know.  I really don’t.  I wish I were kidding, but I’m not.  I have no fucking clue whether this person was a man or a woman, and it haunts me to this very day.

It would come in every week, and also had a penchant for DVDs, but had the annoying habit of asking if every. single. goddamn movie had special features.  You know how you can find out? Turn the goddamn package around and read the list of special features!

Because it had a voice that was somewhat high-pitched and feminine, I originally thought it was a female.  The thin moustache gave me pause, but I’ve seen women with more hair on their upper lip than I’m capable of growing, so I considered that it may have been a hormone problem.  Then it threw me for another loop one day when it picked up a Girls Gone Wild DVD from our “Special Interest” section and began commenting on the hot girls.  I started to believe perhaps it really was a man, but I suppose it could have been a lesbian too.  I just chalked it up as one of life’s great mysteries and tried to avoid contact with it at all costs.

The video game section, which should have been my favorite area to work in, became a constant source of irritation thanks to parents using our demo systems as makeshift babysitters for their stupid children while they shopped around.  There were two brats I especially hated.  The first was a Chaldean kid who came in just about every day for months on end and would play for hours.  I don’t know if his mother thought we were a daycare center or what, but he would stand at the demo units until we had to forcibly turn them off to get rid of him.  He even had the nerve to ask for a chair on several occasions.

Every time he came in, he asked if Grand Theft Auto: Vice City was out yet.  I gave him the same answer every time – “Not until October 27th” – but the next time he was in the store, he’d ask again.  This kid couldn’t have been more that ten.  Not exactly age-appropriate for Grand Theft Auto, and his mother was obviously one of the clueless masses who believed whatever her son told her instead of doing any research herself.  That little bastard bugged me for months, asking the same question over and over, but I had my revenge.  When the game finally came out and his uninformed mother brought him into the store to purchase it for her future-felon child, I warned her the game contained explicit and violent content including, but not limited to, killing police officers and having sex with prostitutes.  More importantly, once the game was opened, it could not be returned.  He tried to tell her it wasn’t that bad and accused me of lying, but I ignored him and warned her, “This is the worst game I’ve ever seen in my life. I wouldn’t buy it for my son.”  They left empty-handed, with that little shit begging his mom the entire way.

The other troublemaker was an Asian kid, probably in his young teens, who would accost people playing on our Xbox demo unit.  Having worked through the Xbox and Gamecube launches, I can definitively say the Xbox was the more popular console.  We sold out of our supply of Xboxes in a few scant hours, meanwhile I sat at a table with two pallets of untouched Gamecubes behind me the day that system launched.  I can only assume – and I’m basing this solely on racial stereotyping – that since he was Asian, his family had stock in Nintendo and he wanted the Gamecube to succeed, so he spent his time telling everyone playing the Xbox that the Gamecube was better.  Then he’d go over to the Gamecube demo and tell whoever was playing that it was better, just in case they needed affirmation, I guess.

He would also spread ridiculous, unfounded rumors, and end each one with, “Do you know about this? Have you heard about this?”  Every time he said those magic words, the urge to punch him in the face swelled.  Nobody has heard your rumor, because you just made it up.  Go away.  I hate you with the fury of ten thousand burning suns.

Those were some of the regulars, but the one-timers were just as bothersome, asking for help as they do.  Oh, you want to know where Aaliyah is filed?  Do you know the alphabet?  Oh, you want to know if I have Monster Balls?  Wait, what?!

Yes. A lady once asked me if I had Monster Balls.

Halle Berry had just won her Oscar for Monster’s Ball, and anyone who has ever worked in media retail knows there is a phenomenon that occurs anytime someone wins a major award (Oscars, Grammys), or dies.  People flock to the store to buy that person’s work, just to show they’ve been fans all along.  A lady approached me one afternoon, looked me straight in the eyes, and asked, “Excuse me, do you have Monster Balls?” – which is an entirely different question than “Do you have Monster’s Ball?”

I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to keep a straight face, and I simply responded, “Yes. Yes I do.”  I’m pretty sure cheap pornos start that way, but I took her to the section where Monster’s Ball was kept, grabbed a copy of the DVD, and then I pulled my dick out.

OK, that last part may or may not have actually happened.  I didn’t show her where the movie was.

We're Onto You, Human Resources!

What you are about to read may be the most shocking cover-up in history.  I'm in the process of alerting the media, and when the news breaks the ramifications of it will be felt the world over.  This conspiracy makes the corporate fraud committed by financial institutions look like child's play by comparison.  I hope to hell you're sitting down and not prone to fainting, because this is earth-shattering news, and only D-Rex and her crack team of investigators could have uncovered such a dastardly plot!

There are cheaper benefits providers than the one my company uses!

Our yearly benefit (re-)enrollment packages were sent out yesterday evening, and the firestorm began this morning.  Every year we go through the same cycle: People want better benefits, but if the prices go up, they want cheaper benefits.  Nobody seems to possess the simple, practical logic that the two things don't go hand-in-hand.  If you want coverage from a leading provider, it's going to cost you.  Healthcare is not cheap. 

But today it was uncovered that there are cheaper providers than the Blue Care Network and now they're ready to bring down the company for trying to hide this information from the employees!  I didn't even know there were other providers, let alone cheaper ones!  Did you guys know about this?  How long has this cover-up been going on?  If we aren't happy with the plans offered, we could simply opt out of them and choose to find our own coverage, but our company never told us this!  They tried to hide it with a more expensive plan from one of the nation's leading providers!  After all, one healthcare provider is just as good as another, right?  There can't possibly be any other reason for a cost discrepency other than a giant conspiracy.  Those bastards!

The suggestion - and I swear to God this is a real thing that came out of someone's mouth - was to let the employees look over the various plans from all the different providers when the time comes.  In other words, instead of letting the HR people who spend countless hours researching these things do their jobs, they want to leave it up to a committee of imbeciles who don't even read the summarized information HR sends out in the first place.

Yeah, that wouldn't be a giant clusterfuck.  I'm sure several hundred employees across numerous sites throughout the United States, each with different needs, would come to a quick agreement upon thoroughly reviewing a wealth of information.  I can't imagine anyone skipping to the cost breakdown and simply choosing the cheapest one without regard to what it actually covers.  That would be idiotic, and I think it's clear we don't hire idiots.  By the way, did I ever tell you about the employee who thought Michigan was an island because it's surrounded on three sides by water?

Of course, the suggestion was for "all employees to look over the plans," but really, it's about one employee - D-Rex.  D-Rex thinks our benefit plans are chosen specifically to spite her.  This morning she announced that it would cost her an extra $1,000 just to continue working here due to the increase in costs.  How dare HR not take into account how these benefits might affect her and only her?!  You heartless bastards!

This is just another in a long line of atrocities committed by our company upon its employees.  Thank goodness we have D-Rex - someone who is brave enough to get to the bottom of this conspiracy and stand up to tyranny!  I don't know how deep this goes or how it will change the healthcare industry, not to mention our company, but I'm sure it's going to be big news.  The lid has been blown off, and if your company offers you benefits it's a good bet there are other options for you too!  Revolt, brothers and sisters!  Rise against your oppressors and tell them you don't need their healthcare!  You'll find your own through hours of research and effort. 

Or, you know, you'll inevitably sign the Goddamn enrollment form and repeat the cycle of complaining next year.

Earth Day

Today is Earth Day - the day when everybody pretends to care about the environment and spends the rest of the year patting themselves on the back for their one good deed as they return to their normal, wasteful routine.  Cynicism aside, I do think Earth Day has its merit.  Do you know what my company's initiative was?

They invited employees to go outside and clean up the parking lot of our own building.  Oh, and volunteers had to bring their own supplies.  And did I mention you had to sign a waiver stating, in no uncertain terms, that the company will not be held responsible if you get run over by the psychotic drivers who speed through the parking lot like it's the set of the next Fast & Furious movie, prick yourself with a hypodermic needle, or possibly get attacked by the crazed geese that have made our building their nesting ground.

All this under the guise of "going green" (can we stop using that phrase already, by the way?), when in actuality it's so we won't have to pay an outside company to clean up our lot.  It's the same tactic they used to pull when I worked at Best Buy, except there they didn't even bother to hide it behind a pitiful ruse.  It was explained up front that the warehouse dogs (i.e. - me) were responsible for cleaning it every morning.

I'm all for Earth-friendliness, but when some of the biggest tree-huggin' hippies Earth Muffins I know (and I say that in the most loving way, as one of those tree-huggers is a close friend) scoff at the idea it's pretty obvious you need a better plan. 

Then there was Earth Hour.  Don't worry if you don't remember it.  Most people won't until next year when it rolls around again.  Everyone was encouraged to turn their lights off for one hour... at 8 PM EST.  Do you know what it's like at 8 PM on the East Coast in what is ostensibly still winter?  It's dark.  Sorry Earth, but I'm not sitting in the dark for an hour on a Saturday night.  Turning on the TV sort of defeats the whole purpose of the event, and lighting candles is out of the question.  I have had all the experiences I desire that involve open flames indoors, thank you very much.

Here's an idea: Let's take all the people who throw their cigarette butts out of their car windows the other 364 days of the year and make them clean up the parking lot, since I'm sure 95% of the trash is theirs to begin with.

Double Jeopardy

I love people who do not understand how the rule of double jeopardy works in the American legal system.

In a nutshell, double jeopardy ensures that an individual cannot be charged for the same crime twice.  In that short, common explanation, the wording is admittedly somewhat unclear.  What it actually means is that if you are accused of breaking and entering on January 1st, 2009 and subsequently found innocent, you cannot be pulled back into court for that same incident as it occurred on January 1st, 2009.

If you commit a separate act five days later however, you CAN be arrested and tried.  This is a separate offense.

Apparently one of my coworkers is dating a convicted felon, and I overheard her discussing it with another coworker.  During this conversation, she said that his probation was almost up and after that, he could "never be arrested for that felony again."  It's possible she was referring to whatever specific event landed him in jail in the first place, but the inflection in her voice made it sound as if she believed he had license to go on a crime spree.

I'm no lawyer, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way.  OJ Simpson does not have license to kill whomever he feels just because he was found innocent of the murders of Ronald Goldman and his ex-wife Nicole (of course, OJ currently resides in jail for a different crime, but you get the idea).  Double jeopardy does not give you cart blanche to commit a crime you were previously found innocent of (or have served time for) over and over again for the rest of your life. 

Of course, this very same coworker has been known to put their head down and sleep at their desk.  Because in our current job crisis, especially in the American automotive industry in which we work, that's clearly the smart thing to do.

Just... wow...

Alternate Title: "English, muthafucka, do you speak it?!"

I just found this little gem tucked away and I felt the need to share it with everyone.  This is one of the many letters, much like this one, that appeared on the doors of our break room during my tenure at Best Buy.  As you can clearly see, nobody from management bothered to proofread any of these notes (either that, or they were also "educationally challenged"), so I have taken the liberty of presenting both the original version, and then a corrected version for your entertainment.
This was typed up by the same supervisor responsible for the other note.  Yes, I said 'supervisor'.

There are times when I miss the fun I had working at Best Buy.  This is not one of those times.  This reminds me why I hated it there.  This guy made more money than I did, yet he couldn't pass grade school English.