Me Talk Pretty One Day, pt. IX

This is so old it's the test pattern for the Interwebs. Still, it raises a giggle EVERY time.

46 Things You'd Love To Say Out Loud At Work

1. I can see your point, but I still think you're full of sh*t.

2. I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce!

3. How about never? Is never good for you?

4. I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.

5. I don't work here. I'm a consultant.

6. It sounds like English, but I can't understand a damn word you're saying.

7. Ahhhh, I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again...

8. I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young and stupid.

9. You are reinforcing my inherent mistrust of strangers.

10. I have PLENTY of talent and vision - I just don't give a damn.

11. I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.

12. Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.

13. The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist.

14. Any connections between your reality and mine are purely coincidental.

15. What am I? Flypaper for idiots?!

16. I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant.

17. It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off.

18. Yes, I AM an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.

19. And your cry-baby whiny-*ssed opinion would be?

20. Do I look like a f*cking people person to you?

21. This isn't an office, it's Hell with fluorescent lighting.

22. I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left.

23. Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.

24. If I throw a stick, will you leave?

25. Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.

26. Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.

27. Oh I get it. Like humour, but different.

28. A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door.

29. Can I trade this job for what's behind door number 1?

30. Too many freaks, not enough circuses.

31. Nice perfume. But really, must you marinate in it?

32. Chaos, panic, and disorder - my work here is done.

33. How do I set the laser printer to stun?

34. I thought I wanted a career; it turns out I just wanted a salary.

35. I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.

36. Wait a minute - I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.

37. Aren't you a black hole of need?

38. I'd like to help you out - which way did you come in?

39. Did you eat an extra bowl of stupid this morning?

40. Why don't you slip into something more comfortable? Like a coma.

41. If you have something to say raise your hand... And place it over your mouth.

42. I'm very busy, can I ignore you some other time?

43. Don't let your mind wander, it's too small to be let out on its own.

44. Have a nice day, somewhere else.

45. You're not yourself today - I noticed the improvement straight off.

46. Ssshh, listen - that's the sound of no one caring.

Lions And Tigers And Bears, Oh My!

Do you know what really used to scare me? I mean apart from Tony Abbott BEING ALLOWED TO BECOME THE LEADER OF ANYTHING (NB. Abbott, keep your roasaries off my ovaries, or I may fail to keep my fist off your face, you sanctimonious, big-earred tw*t), and those urban legend horror stories you used to tell at sleepovers...

Waitresses with attitude. I actually felt like I was in the wrong for asking them to faithfully copy my order to the kitchen, and then carry the plate out to me. When invited to do so, I became an apologetic patron. Excuse me, if you have a minute, if it's no trouble, please don't stress...

And then, with absolute horror, I realised that my piglet sister is that waitress. Mainly because she lives with me, and it seems that the attitude isn't left at work. Part of the attitude is the, I'll do it because I'm awesome air of weariness in the face of the petty demands of wider humanity. Demands such as, if you've finished in the kitchen, please tidy up after yourself. Such demands are met with an invitation for me to go f*ck myself for such brutality. And I find myself falling for it. Excuse me, if you have a minute, if it's no trouble, please don't stress...

And then I realised that I really shouldn't be scared. You. Are. A. Waitress. It. Is. Your. Job. It isn't rocket science, it's carrying plates so that my carbonara doesn't end up on the floor. And really, if you're so awesome, how come you're doing the fetching while I sit with friends, drinking NZ whites and having a fine time?

Waitresses, you're not scary. You're staff.

Heil, Mein Fuhrer!

One day soon, I'll stop stealing your ideas, LD. In the meantime, I'm gonna surf your brilliance. (What am I saying? I'm gonna pursue it down a dark alleyway, knock it unconscious, rifle its pockets and steal the good stuff, rite before I kick it in the kidneys and run away giggling).

SO. According to LD, there are only 5 acceptable reasons for invoking Hitler's name in a discussion (what am I, your mother? No I'm not gonna outline them - see them in their original location here).

However, and God help me 'cause I'm going to hell for this one, I believe there is a little known but immensely satisfying 6th appropriate use: when arguing the toss with a attendant at a war museum. It must be used appropriate piss and vinegar, and hopefully with the kind of person who has a warped sense of humour. Otherwise, it's just a hate crime.

MelWuv

• Excuse me, sir, we're closing this area of the Memorial now. If you'd like to start making your way out

English Tourist

• /pretends not hear, fiddles with camera, takes another picture of the Mustang on display/

MelWuv

• /slightly less patiently/ Sir, the Memorial is closed, and I must ask you to start making your way out. Quick as you like!

English Tourist

• /baleful stare/ I've travelled halfway around the world to be here, and this is my last opportunity to visit the Memorial. Do you mind?

MelWuv

• I can understand your frustration, sir (yes, it's pretty similar to mine when f*ckwits wanna play the whinge card), but it is closing time, and I must insist you leave this gallery so we can close and secure the building. Now

English Tourist

• You know, if I was working at an Allied war memorial, I'm not sure I'd like to align myself so closely with a totalitarian approach reminiscent of the Nazis...

MelWuv

• Oh, CHAMPAGNE SIR! You totally just won another 5 minutes in here - go nuts.

Too soon for a Hitler joke?

The Customer is Always Right - Why Don't You Understand This?

Oh, oh, controversy - a charming way to start a Tuesday morning, dont'cha think?

I'm turning into Dylan Moran. This disheartens me - I'd always thought of myself as a glass-half-full kinda gal - but, I argue, it is inevitable. Why, dear reader? Because I am forced, by the constraints of modernity, to shop regularly at a supermarket.

I don't know what it is about large supermarkets (which, out of the goodness of my heart, I will not name /coughs/ Coles! /coughs/ ) that brings out the blackness of my heart. Oh, hang on, yes I do - it's the dreadful lighting, the warcrime muzak, and charmingly unrelated-to-reality prices.

And the staff. Dear God, the staff.

Here's the thing - I have worked menial jobs. In fact, I still do. However, I always worked as hard as the job required. If that meant learning how to use antiquated diary software that no one had ever heard of, then so be it. An afternoon of my time off wrangling with a multi-line phone system? Had to be done. That's the deal in the real world (or the bit I inhabit of it, anyway) - you do your f*cking job. If you do not wish to do you job, then quit/call in sick/hide in the stockroom. Do not make me, as the person paying for the privilege, suffer.

That's really the thrust of my rant today, peeps - I'm sick and tired of being told that I can't behave in any way towards customer service personnel (i.e. ppl who deal with me, the customer, in a variety of roles) that doesn't involve giving them a piece of cake, a pat on the back, and medal. If you're f*cking up, and it's so obvious that I can see you f*cking up, I want to be allowed to say, 'I see you're having difficulties with that, and I really need it to be done properly, can we call your supervisor over?'

I do not in any way, shape, or form condone physical violence - let's face it, if you need to thump the checkout chick because she's done something that you perceive as a violation to your human rights, what does that really say about you, f*ckchop? - or name-calling. All I'm asking for is the right to be allowed to say, You are not doing this task in a way that satisfies me, I'd like someone else to take over, without inducing floods of tears, recriminations and bans from the tobacco counter.

Let's all work hard to do the jobs we're paid for - it's the only way we're ever gonna move on those Management positions.

p.s. I reserve the right to say to ppl, Please do the job you're being paid for.

p.p.s. Should they fail to do so after having been made aware of the above attitude on my part, I reserve the right to throw dead badgers at them till they acquiesce. Don't push me, sunshine.