no there isn't a full moon, you're just breathing tear gas!
Yeah the title pretty much sums up my weekend. The computer at work broke down on Thursday just in time for a weekend so busy it can only be explained by the chaos factor. Naturally this all coincided with district-wide inventory. So I spent hours alone in the storage room on Friday counting and doing other things that involved numbers. Every single transaction that we did that day and for the rest of the weekend had to be recorded on paper. While I was doing something else, this neurotic 19 year old girl that I work with, was faxing the CEO of the company in New York to complain that my manager and I are not properly recording all of the information on paper. Needless to say, this isn't over.
So the next day I have to go back to work. I find myself alone there when this crazy old hippy walks up to me and says "Hello. I'm here to fix your computer. GOOD GOD! Is that pepper spray? I'll be outside if you need me." I just stood there with my mouth open for a solid minute. Then all of the sudden everyone on the whole floor just starts coughing. The elevators all open up, and everyone on them runs out covering their eyes and mouths. All I can hear over the chorus of coughing is "pepper spray" or "tear gas" being repeated over and over.
The security guards started frantically searching through all of the trash cans and trying to ask people questions. Naturally everyone ran away from them, because they thought they were going to get pepper sprayed. I appeared to be the only person unafflicted, so the security guards all turned and looked at me in this perfect deputy deweyesque moment and just shrugged. If I would have had a camera this post would be a faux-brochure for pacific place mall. Imagine, three security guards with the most brain dead expressions a human being could muster surrounded by a mall full of panicked Asian tourists covering their mouths and running in all directions. Fucking priceless!
I decided that if I was going to get gased, it was gonna be on my terms! So I did what any well prepared American would have done. I ducked behind the fridge door and started consuming copious amounts of liquor chocolate. I'm thinking about peddling my story to the department of homeland security (or maybe SNL) to see if I can get on one of those commercials about being prepared for terrorist attacks. Just think, you knew me when...!
The rest of the day was spent playing leap frog with a sort of foul smelling computer repair man while being glared at, yelled at, and talked down to by a crowd of angry yuppies w/ a sweet toothe. I came home and fell instantly asleep, thus spending the most socially significant night of the week with the sandman. oh well.
I missed the memo about that time change, so this morning royally sucked. Work was worse today since I hated the world a little more than the day before. Imagine me, with a total disdain for math, doing what is essentially accounting work, to the sounds of stupid people asking stupid questions about things like chocolate bunnies and the mall jazz version of "sexual healing" playing on repeat in the background. If that isn't a recipe for 'bitter' I don't know what is.
Something good did come of today though. My boss, being a very pretty boy with a sweet disposition, seems to have quite a following with the transients and crazies. After we had closed the store this crazy mofo comes up to talk to him. His disposition is that of a French version of Nathan Lane in the bird cage, and he is dressed like Sherlock Holmes. He was acting like he was auditioning for something. He laughed, he cried, his name was Peppe. Once Peppe stopped flirting and left, this other crazy stopped to fill in. Long story shortened, Justin ends up tapping me on the shoulder and saying in a very reluctant tone of voice, "Lloyd, this gentleman would like to do a dance for you." I turn around and this guy goes "this is for you. Forever, Forever, you'll be in my heart....." You know the rest. Mind you a dance is going on while he is singing, and I'm pretty sure the bitch got up on point. I don't know what the appropriate reaction to something like this is, or if there even is one. astonished laughter hopefully.
To sum it all up I am thinking that a life of prostitution would be less degrading, and be more exciting and challenging. Plus I think I would get paid more. I'll accept plane tickets as payment;)
So the next day I have to go back to work. I find myself alone there when this crazy old hippy walks up to me and says "Hello. I'm here to fix your computer. GOOD GOD! Is that pepper spray? I'll be outside if you need me." I just stood there with my mouth open for a solid minute. Then all of the sudden everyone on the whole floor just starts coughing. The elevators all open up, and everyone on them runs out covering their eyes and mouths. All I can hear over the chorus of coughing is "pepper spray" or "tear gas" being repeated over and over.
The security guards started frantically searching through all of the trash cans and trying to ask people questions. Naturally everyone ran away from them, because they thought they were going to get pepper sprayed. I appeared to be the only person unafflicted, so the security guards all turned and looked at me in this perfect deputy deweyesque moment and just shrugged. If I would have had a camera this post would be a faux-brochure for pacific place mall. Imagine, three security guards with the most brain dead expressions a human being could muster surrounded by a mall full of panicked Asian tourists covering their mouths and running in all directions. Fucking priceless!
I decided that if I was going to get gased, it was gonna be on my terms! So I did what any well prepared American would have done. I ducked behind the fridge door and started consuming copious amounts of liquor chocolate. I'm thinking about peddling my story to the department of homeland security (or maybe SNL) to see if I can get on one of those commercials about being prepared for terrorist attacks. Just think, you knew me when...!
The rest of the day was spent playing leap frog with a sort of foul smelling computer repair man while being glared at, yelled at, and talked down to by a crowd of angry yuppies w/ a sweet toothe. I came home and fell instantly asleep, thus spending the most socially significant night of the week with the sandman. oh well.
I missed the memo about that time change, so this morning royally sucked. Work was worse today since I hated the world a little more than the day before. Imagine me, with a total disdain for math, doing what is essentially accounting work, to the sounds of stupid people asking stupid questions about things like chocolate bunnies and the mall jazz version of "sexual healing" playing on repeat in the background. If that isn't a recipe for 'bitter' I don't know what is.
Something good did come of today though. My boss, being a very pretty boy with a sweet disposition, seems to have quite a following with the transients and crazies. After we had closed the store this crazy mofo comes up to talk to him. His disposition is that of a French version of Nathan Lane in the bird cage, and he is dressed like Sherlock Holmes. He was acting like he was auditioning for something. He laughed, he cried, his name was Peppe. Once Peppe stopped flirting and left, this other crazy stopped to fill in. Long story shortened, Justin ends up tapping me on the shoulder and saying in a very reluctant tone of voice, "Lloyd, this gentleman would like to do a dance for you." I turn around and this guy goes "this is for you. Forever, Forever, you'll be in my heart....." You know the rest. Mind you a dance is going on while he is singing, and I'm pretty sure the bitch got up on point. I don't know what the appropriate reaction to something like this is, or if there even is one. astonished laughter hopefully.
To sum it all up I am thinking that a life of prostitution would be less degrading, and be more exciting and challenging. Plus I think I would get paid more. I'll accept plane tickets as payment;)