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Okay so I decided to take an early lunch and meet my dad over at Seaboard Cafe, 'cause hey, I don't see the man much anymore. I waited around for the admin here, Betsey, to show back up at the front desk so I could tell her that I'm leaving for lunch a bit early and I'll be back around 12 or so, but she never showed up so I left her a post-it with what I was doing on it. So I'm on my way there and then I get a call from Betsey, "Where arrre youuu?" (In a very impudent tone of voice, mind you.)
"I'm ... on my way to Seaboard. What's going on?"
"These guys here want their lunch and I was going to order it for them in half an hour."
"Well if you want me to pick it up, I can turn back around."
"Are you meeting somebody for lunch?"
"Yes, I'm meeting my dad over at Seaboard."
"Well.... I suppose I can put off the order until noon, but they're going to be upset."
Okay, so what the hell? She never told me that I was going to have to pick their lunch up for them this morning, and there's no rule about taking an early lunch like that - you get an hour a day for lunch, not you get 12-1 for lunch. SO... I get to the place that she ordered the food from, and they're SWARMING with people. The two old people that run things there were running all over the place freaking out. I finally get up to the counter, and they were a bit rude as well... but I can understand why, they're stressed.
"Okay, you have eight drinks. What are they?"
"Um... I don't know, they never told me. Let me call them and ask them, it's no biggie."
"We have a phone if you want to use that."
"I have a cell phone, I'll just run out to the car since I don't remember their number."
"Here, use ours."
"O no, it's okay, I'll just run out to the car because I can't remember the number, but it's in my cell phone."
"Okay, well just use our phone, that way you don't have to run out to your car."
"....but I don't remember the .. number... ... ..."
"... .. . ..... ...okay..?...???"
So I get my phone and call them, then I start filling them and the old guy puts the tops on for me, but they're not that tight so my passenger door is now coated with Pepsi. w00t w00t! I then arrive back here, at HDR, and get the evil eye from Betsey.
I'm seriously fed up with this job right now... I may not be tomorrow or Monday, but right now, I really want somebody to either: (A) Shoot me in my fucking face, (B) Stab me in my neck, (C) Fire me, or (D) Blow up the building with me inside of it. Does anybody know the number for Al Queda?
Oi. I guess this all falls under the whole equilibrium/karma/yin-yang umbrella of life because yesterday evening was QUIIIIITE enjoyable. It's been a while since I could talk to somebody and loose track of time. That was pleasant.
So in summary - shoot me. Shoot me in my eyeball.
That is all.
"I'm ... on my way to Seaboard. What's going on?"
"These guys here want their lunch and I was going to order it for them in half an hour."
"Well if you want me to pick it up, I can turn back around."
"Are you meeting somebody for lunch?"
"Yes, I'm meeting my dad over at Seaboard."
"Well.... I suppose I can put off the order until noon, but they're going to be upset."
Okay, so what the hell? She never told me that I was going to have to pick their lunch up for them this morning, and there's no rule about taking an early lunch like that - you get an hour a day for lunch, not you get 12-1 for lunch. SO... I get to the place that she ordered the food from, and they're SWARMING with people. The two old people that run things there were running all over the place freaking out. I finally get up to the counter, and they were a bit rude as well... but I can understand why, they're stressed.
"Okay, you have eight drinks. What are they?"
"Um... I don't know, they never told me. Let me call them and ask them, it's no biggie."
"We have a phone if you want to use that."
"I have a cell phone, I'll just run out to the car since I don't remember their number."
"Here, use ours."
"O no, it's okay, I'll just run out to the car because I can't remember the number, but it's in my cell phone."
"Okay, well just use our phone, that way you don't have to run out to your car."
"....but I don't remember the .. number... ... ..."
"... .. . ..... ...okay..?...???"
So I get my phone and call them, then I start filling them and the old guy puts the tops on for me, but they're not that tight so my passenger door is now coated with Pepsi. w00t w00t! I then arrive back here, at HDR, and get the evil eye from Betsey.
I'm seriously fed up with this job right now... I may not be tomorrow or Monday, but right now, I really want somebody to either: (A) Shoot me in my fucking face, (B) Stab me in my neck, (C) Fire me, or (D) Blow up the building with me inside of it. Does anybody know the number for Al Queda?
Oi. I guess this all falls under the whole equilibrium/karma/yin-yang umbrella of life because yesterday evening was QUIIIIITE enjoyable. It's been a while since I could talk to somebody and loose track of time. That was pleasant.
So in summary - shoot me. Shoot me in my eyeball.
That is all.