Christmas Party

This afternoon our office shall embark on a tradition as old as time. The Holiday Office party. We're having our bash (if finger food and drinks count as a bash) at The Royal Oak Music Theater.

Should be fun. Party punch and hanging out.

If nothing else, it a sign of the upcoming holiday break.

And there's no better reason to celebrate than that.

I promise not to drink too much Nog.

What Floor?

One of the perks and or downfalls, of working in an office is the elevator. Before I get started, yes I should take the stairs and often do when I'm coming back from lunch. But on my way into work I always have too much stuff, plus a cup of coffee and since I'm naturally clumsy well, I take the elevator.

Today's ride was better than most. I was far away from the door and the elevator was ready to close, but some nice guy shoved his hand out to hold it open a minute longer to let me get on.

Secondly, the button for my floor was pushed already. And finally when me and polite guy got off on our floor, he again held both doors for me to get inside our floor.

Success indeed. But I'm talking about those other rides. The ones where there is already a person on the elevator when I get on, and they're standing right next to the button panel, but don't bother asking what floor? They just stare and assume you're just hanging out. Last week, this woman got on and she didn't ask any floor for me, and then pushed her own button for the second floor.

One floor. I knew she was a jerk just from that moment. Maybe it's just women in elevators. Maybe this an area where men are winning the gender race hands down.

Red, Blue and OH NO!

It never fails to get my heart racing. The flash of blue and red lights behind you. And today it caught me totally off guard. You see I've been pretty responsible almost boring all weekend:

Going to the gym, cleaning my house, organzing files, with occassional breaks for a quick show on DVD, and today I'd only left to go get a newspaper, and was pulled over on my way home. So close to my house, I really could've walked.

When it was all said and done, the cop did me a favor. And gave me a ticket for an unsigned registration. But he was still a jerk the whole time, acting as if a speeding ticket should be treated with the same disregard, as if I'd killed somebody and stuffed their head in my trunk.

Ligten up, would you buddy? Anyway, the ticket is sitting on my fridge, and I plan to take care of it before work tomorrow morning. Out of sight, and out of mind.

Is it me or do you have the urge to rush home and pour a drink after talking to the police?

Where is the Customer in Customer Service

Last night after work I had some running around to do. The plan was to go to the Sprint store and find out why my phone wasn't charging,do some Christmas shopping and stop at the grocery store for a few things.

My first stop is the Sprint Store where they take my name, post it on a big screen so I know I'll be up soon.

I wait about 15 minutes to be called up for service. When my turn comes, me and the Sprint guy have a quick exchange about the phone not charging.

I give him my old charger. He asks if I have insurance on the phone, and I did. He says he'll take it the back and get back to me in 20 minutes.
After 5, he comes out & tells me the charger is the problem, gives me a brand new one free of charge(thanks insurance), and sends me on my way.

Considering Sprint is run by a big corporate plethora of paperwork, I was pretty pleased with the outcome.

Shortly after on my way to Christmas shop, I pass a small grocery store and decide to pick up a few things for my lunch. I get to the back where the deli counter is and have the following exchange with the mistress of the deli meat.

Me: Do you have Boarshead lunch meat?

Her: We haven't carried that brand for over a year. What do you want?

Me: Sorry, I've never been in here before. Let me look.

Her: What would I know I only work here.


She actually seemed offended that I didn't know the deli counter stopped carrying Boarshead lunch meat. Excuse me.

I try to be polite whenever I'm at a store. I say hello to the cashier. I don't take out my daily frustrations on them. But it seems the nicer I get, the ruder they are.

Maybe, it's time for a change. Maybe next time, we'll have this exchange.

Me: Hey Bitch. Give me some turkey.
Her: Why sure. Would you like anything else?

I wish.

Tis the Season to Forget Others

I find it ironic that we as Americans take this time of year to celebrate and pat ourselves on the back about how thoughtful, kind and giving we are. We shove ourselves like sardines into stores, to throw money at stuff to prove how much we care.

That just doesn't seem right. I don't think you can be a jerk all year, cheat on your taxes, be rude to everyone and then wrap up a new sweater, throw a bow on top and erase your shitty past behavior.

People need to remember what being thoughtful is all about.

First off, it's not about you. Get it? It's about calling a friend you know had a bad day, or taking time to go visit somebody who could use some cheering up. Sure, you might be tired, but sometimes the best thing you can do is show up for somebody else.

It's not like you have to have the magic response to their problems. You can't. But you show up anyway, offer a shoulder, an ear, and maybe a cocktail.

So next time your cart comes barreling down on me at the store, just know that if you'd said excuse me, I'd have gladly moved out of your way.

It's considerate to do so.

If you don't have a problem with being thoughtful than I'm clearly not talking to you so take no offense.