Today I woke up at my old work time and did my old getting ready for work routine. Except, I had more time and less pressure. I went to the Michigan Works place--which was empty--and filled out 2 pieces of paper, went over how to use the website with a nice lady who was otherwise useless. Got pressured into getting a teaching degree, and left.
So far, it's 11am. I have eaten 2 breakfasts, done P90X Plyo workout, and played with Radar for a few minutes.
I made a list of things I have to do to make me feel useful and busy. If I feel useless with nothing to do, I'm pretty sure I would just sit and cry, eat some chocolate, and feel sorry for myself. Maybe I can work that into my list next week-the list for today and tomorrow is too long. Today: baking chocolate cupcakes! Picking up dog poop! Vacuuming the couch! Cleaning the bathroom!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
I can catch up on my infomercials
I woke up a little before 6 and wasn't able to fall back asleep. My head hurts (possibly from the wine?) and my eyes burn (definitely from the crying.)
My point: Yudu. Ok so I can't find the infomercial on YouTube. And, really, my only complaint is that it's clear you can only screen print on flat surfaces. And yet this creepy lady screen printed "Diva" on her dogs bowl. Which is super lame because you can just buy bowls like that. Also, she screen printed "Diva" on the dogs (travel?) bag. Although little towels were hanging out like the dog would be taking that bag to the gym, and it didn't have any vent holes, I hope that's just the bag she carries the dog around in because why does your tiny tiny dog have a gym bag?
My point: Yudu. Ok so I can't find the infomercial on YouTube. And, really, my only complaint is that it's clear you can only screen print on flat surfaces. And yet this creepy lady screen printed "Diva" on her dogs bowl. Which is super lame because you can just buy bowls like that. Also, she screen printed "Diva" on the dogs (travel?) bag. Although little towels were hanging out like the dog would be taking that bag to the gym, and it didn't have any vent holes, I hope that's just the bag she carries the dog around in because why does your tiny tiny dog have a gym bag?
Live Blogging the Recession
4:05pm Laid off
4:16pm Crying in the street outside work waiting to be picked up because boyfriend and I car pooled to work together for the first time.
5:15pm Signed up for unemployment.
6:30pm Boyfriend makes me eat guacamole he got pulled over to get for me to make me stop crying.
6:57pm Thought I stopped crying, but was just a wine high.
7:00pm Got angry about a girl I forgot I was "friends" with on Facebook. Got so loud, I made myself poop.
8:39pm Checked horoscope to see if it would tell me I was getting laid off. No warnings, although suspicious mention of "freelance" projects.
8:53pm Checked boyfriends horoscope. Said he was having best year ever and has never been so lucky. Cry some more about unfortunate life and birthdate.
9:07pm Thought Project Runway was on. New episode isn't until 10pm. Still drinking.
9:11pm Watching old episode of Biggest Loser I fell asleep during in its initial air.
5:00pm--present Make constant comments about how I can neither do nor aford things because I no longer have a job. Also, things I can do: watch The View, watch Oprah, exercise, manage the dogs, clean the house, not take boyfriends 2 week old clothes out of the laundry.
9:15pm Boyfriend is shining blind-inducing flashlight INTO HIS EYES. His horoscope is gifting without consideration for common sense.
9:16pm Not impressed with fat people's ability to run for 5 minutes.Ok. Mildly impressed.
9:18pm This is fun.
9:18pm Boyfriend adds to log, makes himself giggle.
9:20pm Boyfriend feeds me the good bits out of the ice cream. I remind myself I am dating the right man.
9:23pm Getting more wine.
9:27pm Boyfriend tried to ferventally fan away fart. I now have a Smirnoff Ice - Green Apple... Better than the
wine!
9:33pm Realize boyfriend is the one putting my razor face down instead of face up on the ledge in the shower. He has been using it to shave the hairs off his hands. (side note: 3rd man card loss)
After this, I finished my Smirnoff and fell asleep on the couch, but woke up to see the models walk the runway.
4:16pm Crying in the street outside work waiting to be picked up because boyfriend and I car pooled to work together for the first time.
5:15pm Signed up for unemployment.
6:30pm Boyfriend makes me eat guacamole he got pulled over to get for me to make me stop crying.
6:57pm Thought I stopped crying, but was just a wine high.
7:00pm Got angry about a girl I forgot I was "friends" with on Facebook. Got so loud, I made myself poop.
8:39pm Checked horoscope to see if it would tell me I was getting laid off. No warnings, although suspicious mention of "freelance" projects.
8:53pm Checked boyfriends horoscope. Said he was having best year ever and has never been so lucky. Cry some more about unfortunate life and birthdate.
9:07pm Thought Project Runway was on. New episode isn't until 10pm. Still drinking.
9:11pm Watching old episode of Biggest Loser I fell asleep during in its initial air.
5:00pm--present Make constant comments about how I can neither do nor aford things because I no longer have a job. Also, things I can do: watch The View, watch Oprah, exercise, manage the dogs, clean the house, not take boyfriends 2 week old clothes out of the laundry.
9:15pm Boyfriend is shining blind-inducing flashlight INTO HIS EYES. His horoscope is gifting without consideration for common sense.
9:16pm Not impressed with fat people's ability to run for 5 minutes.Ok. Mildly impressed.
9:18pm This is fun.
9:18pm Boyfriend adds to log, makes himself giggle.
9:20pm Boyfriend feeds me the good bits out of the ice cream. I remind myself I am dating the right man.
9:23pm Getting more wine.
9:27pm Boyfriend tried to ferventally fan away fart. I now have a Smirnoff Ice - Green Apple... Better than the
wine!
9:33pm Realize boyfriend is the one putting my razor face down instead of face up on the ledge in the shower. He has been using it to shave the hairs off his hands. (side note: 3rd man card loss)
After this, I finished my Smirnoff and fell asleep on the couch, but woke up to see the models walk the runway.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Are you reading ANOTHER BOOK?
I read in my spare public time a lot. In my spare private time, I prefer to snuggle and watch TV. I don’t read magazines much. I don’t read Dan Brown (though I have read 1 book). I don’t read Steven King (though I have read 1 book). I don’t read Eat Pray Love or The 5 People You Meet in Heaven. I read books no one has heard of by authors no one has heard of. I read a few classics now and then to see what the fuss is all about. I have rarely read a book in public someone has commented on because they, too, have read it. Maybe twice in my life (not counting sitting in Anspach hall). I have college degree opinions about books. I took classes strictly on analyzing. I PASSED A FINAL EXAM ON WAR AND PEACE. I'M NOT FUCKIN' AROUND HERE. Interrupting me while I'm reading is tantamount to interrupting a couple on a date. Asking me if I like a book is like asking Ebert (he’s the not dead one, right?) if he liked a movie: the answer isn’t yes or no. There are parts, there are moments, there are symbols and themes and story lines. It’s just too hard to explain.
At work, especially, I hear it a lot:
“You like to read?” Yes. Yes I do. This book in my nose is not just to give me reason to ignore you, although that is one of its skills.
“What do you like to read?” Now, I began answering this question with “books” several years ago. Mostly because “even if I told you, you’ve never heard of it” sounds rude and presumptuous even it is true. I try and name my favorite authors (Ayn Rand, Chuck Palahniuk, Jeffery Eugenides, Lorrie Moore) but people just stare blankly.
“Do you have a favorite genera?” Ugh. Is phenomenal a genera? Fiction. Always fiction.
“Do you read best sellers? Oprah books?” Sigh. “Sometimes.”
“You know Steven King/Dan Brown? I read one of his books. I like him.” That’s like having never seen a football game in your life and never watching one again and saying, “I like the Lions. I think they’re good.”
My little literary heart breaks.
The me who memorized the first act of Romeo and Juliet at age 12 cries.
The college me who refused to ever use feminism as a paper topic is ignoring you.
The college me who wrote a paper entitled “Horatio: I’m still standing” upon her 3rd reading of Hamlet, that described how the actual protagonist in the play is Horatio makes a frowny face.
The college me who wrote a paper trying to prove that that wretched Jane Eyre was a bitch and her and that guy she was with weren’t really in love, but actually in a codependent relationship huffs away angrily.
The college me who read Waterland twice in one semester (4 times total through the course of school) and cried for 3 days because she couldn’t narrow down a term paper topic because the book is Just. That. Damn. Good…. She wants to punch you in the face.
The 18 year old me who spent 3 years crooning over the quotes from The Fountainhead and then spent 4 weeks reading it religiously except for that 2 day break where she put the novel in the freezer because she was so emotionally involved with the characters, they were becoming a drain on her real emotions… that girl wants you to shove your made for TV books up your ass.
It’s like that time there was a nerd joke on a mouse pad and I asked JD what it meant. He essentially told me that to even explain the joke, I’d have to understand expert level computer functions. It’s like calling someone who is 450lbs. “big boned” Like calling a hoarder “messy” Like calling a drug addict a “stoner” or an alcoholic a “social drinker”
I like reading more than I like people. I prefer to have my eyes in a book then accidentally lock stare with a stranger and have to make conversation.
The reason I’m so snooty about literature is because I’m not intelligent enough to have an opinion on much else. I don’t know history. I can’t name a war or a person who fought it in or the president it was under. I couldn’t label China on a map, ok? I don’t know which way is East. I have to remind myself the difference between republican and democratic, and I don’t know which color belongs to which, and I don’t know who gets the donkey. But if you want to compare and contrast pedophilic tendencies in James Joyce’s collection of short stories entitled Dubliners, send me an e-mail because I don’t like to talk on the phone.
At work, especially, I hear it a lot:
“You like to read?” Yes. Yes I do. This book in my nose is not just to give me reason to ignore you, although that is one of its skills.
“What do you like to read?” Now, I began answering this question with “books” several years ago. Mostly because “even if I told you, you’ve never heard of it” sounds rude and presumptuous even it is true. I try and name my favorite authors (Ayn Rand, Chuck Palahniuk, Jeffery Eugenides, Lorrie Moore) but people just stare blankly.
“Do you have a favorite genera?” Ugh. Is phenomenal a genera? Fiction. Always fiction.
“Do you read best sellers? Oprah books?” Sigh. “Sometimes.”
“You know Steven King/Dan Brown? I read one of his books. I like him.” That’s like having never seen a football game in your life and never watching one again and saying, “I like the Lions. I think they’re good.”
My little literary heart breaks.
The me who memorized the first act of Romeo and Juliet at age 12 cries.
The college me who refused to ever use feminism as a paper topic is ignoring you.
The college me who wrote a paper entitled “Horatio: I’m still standing” upon her 3rd reading of Hamlet, that described how the actual protagonist in the play is Horatio makes a frowny face.
The college me who wrote a paper trying to prove that that wretched Jane Eyre was a bitch and her and that guy she was with weren’t really in love, but actually in a codependent relationship huffs away angrily.
The college me who read Waterland twice in one semester (4 times total through the course of school) and cried for 3 days because she couldn’t narrow down a term paper topic because the book is Just. That. Damn. Good…. She wants to punch you in the face.
The 18 year old me who spent 3 years crooning over the quotes from The Fountainhead and then spent 4 weeks reading it religiously except for that 2 day break where she put the novel in the freezer because she was so emotionally involved with the characters, they were becoming a drain on her real emotions… that girl wants you to shove your made for TV books up your ass.
It’s like that time there was a nerd joke on a mouse pad and I asked JD what it meant. He essentially told me that to even explain the joke, I’d have to understand expert level computer functions. It’s like calling someone who is 450lbs. “big boned” Like calling a hoarder “messy” Like calling a drug addict a “stoner” or an alcoholic a “social drinker”
I like reading more than I like people. I prefer to have my eyes in a book then accidentally lock stare with a stranger and have to make conversation.
The reason I’m so snooty about literature is because I’m not intelligent enough to have an opinion on much else. I don’t know history. I can’t name a war or a person who fought it in or the president it was under. I couldn’t label China on a map, ok? I don’t know which way is East. I have to remind myself the difference between republican and democratic, and I don’t know which color belongs to which, and I don’t know who gets the donkey. But if you want to compare and contrast pedophilic tendencies in James Joyce’s collection of short stories entitled Dubliners, send me an e-mail because I don’t like to talk on the phone.
Listing annoying people is OK
It’s true: I’m getting to be an old crotchety lady. I like Tim Horton’s. I like Canada. I do not like the TH’s by my house. I like the guy who works Thursday mornings and make the good mochas. I do not like the tiny dark haired woman who acts like I’m ruining her day by walking into the store.
This morning, though, was the worst. I walked in to see 4 people standing around with their arms crossed over their chests. No one was in the drive thru; I was the only person in the store. When I got to the register, no one moved; they just looked at each other with a huffy “I’m too good for this” face (and believe me, I know the face, I make it all the time.) One of the girls said “you take her” and the other shuffled over unnecessarily slow, rolling her eyes the entire way. I placed my order; I said please and thank you. The gay guy with the goatee walked over as slowly as possible, made my coffee, tossed it onto the counter, and walked as slowly as possible back to his bitching post where he started. It’s like everyone who works there has pennies shoved up their ass and if they fall out, you’re fired. Their behavior was completely disrespectful. I just wanted to scream, “I CAN SEE YOU! I AM A CUSTOMER AND I CAN SEE YOU! DO YOU THINK THIS IS HOW CANADA WANTS TO BE REPRESENTED?!”
Listen, I get it. I worked at Dairy Queen. I worked for $6/hr. I worked at 7am. I don’t have high expectations. My expectations include you not defecating (or anything else) on my food, and you doing your job.
So, I made a formal complaint with TH’s. That’s right… I’m that person. I WILL NOT send food back in a restaurant or even order something else, but I will passive aggressively compose a witty complaint to your corporation.
One time, I got my hair cut by this robust angry lady, who didn’t cut part of my hair. I called the place the next day, asked to speak to the manager, told her the lady didn’t cut my bangs (and gave me a shitty hair cut, but that wasn’t a big deal because it’s hair and it will grow back. See what I do? I prove I’m a reasonable person. I relate and I say it’s ok, but you pushed it too far.) When she asked me who cut my hair, I told her I didn’t know her name because she never introduced herself. I heard the woman gasp on the other line. This wasn’t super cuts either. I pay $45 + $10 tip for the good chick. The crappy woman still works there, but the nice girl who cut my bangs became my new stylist. Except she’s too expensive for a trim so I don’t see her anymore.
I don’t like my job all the time either. Not just this current job, but many of my previous jobs. The trick is to be as unhappy as possible when people aren’t watching. Get all your whining out to your boyfriend, your best friend, your mom, your blog. And when people whose comments and observations of your behavior have the potential to directly affect your job, you smile so your mouth stays shut.
Unless that person is trying to get you to pump the hand sanitizer. You gotta stand for something, right?
Two guys came in for a Co-Worker who is notorious for making people wait for him. He is also notorious for talking on his blue tooth headset while peeing and then not washing his hands, but I digress. These 2 guys came in at 10:04am. I paged the Co-Worker at 10:05. I called him on his cell phone at 10:08. “Co-Worker, you have 2 men here for you.” “O RLY?” “Yes.” “I’ll be right up; thanks.” He came up to the front office at 10:18. He then went into someone’s office. One of the guys creeped around the window I have at 10:20 and at 10:22 asked if Co-Worker knew they were here. “Yes. He knows you’re here, he just stepped into an office.” At 10:25 he walked out and someone stopped him to chat. He said, “Oh it’s OK I’ve just got these guys.” Eventually, he lets these guys in. While they’re signing in, he walked away to check his email and was gone 5 minutes. Someone else set them up in a conference room.
Co-Worker is an asshole for treating these guys like they’re interrupting his time.
I’m an asshole who didn’t think to ask if they should go into a conference room.
Work Fail.
While I’m at it, you know who else I don’t like? Guy At Work Who Takes 30 Seconds To Respond To Everything You Say. You know that guy or gal. They ask you something, you immediately answer, they stare at you or off into the distance for 30 seconds before responding. It’s annoying because you’re not sure if you should be waiting for them to say something else or if they’re just coming to you via satellite.
This morning, though, was the worst. I walked in to see 4 people standing around with their arms crossed over their chests. No one was in the drive thru; I was the only person in the store. When I got to the register, no one moved; they just looked at each other with a huffy “I’m too good for this” face (and believe me, I know the face, I make it all the time.) One of the girls said “you take her” and the other shuffled over unnecessarily slow, rolling her eyes the entire way. I placed my order; I said please and thank you. The gay guy with the goatee walked over as slowly as possible, made my coffee, tossed it onto the counter, and walked as slowly as possible back to his bitching post where he started. It’s like everyone who works there has pennies shoved up their ass and if they fall out, you’re fired. Their behavior was completely disrespectful. I just wanted to scream, “I CAN SEE YOU! I AM A CUSTOMER AND I CAN SEE YOU! DO YOU THINK THIS IS HOW CANADA WANTS TO BE REPRESENTED?!”
Listen, I get it. I worked at Dairy Queen. I worked for $6/hr. I worked at 7am. I don’t have high expectations. My expectations include you not defecating (or anything else) on my food, and you doing your job.
So, I made a formal complaint with TH’s. That’s right… I’m that person. I WILL NOT send food back in a restaurant or even order something else, but I will passive aggressively compose a witty complaint to your corporation.
One time, I got my hair cut by this robust angry lady, who didn’t cut part of my hair. I called the place the next day, asked to speak to the manager, told her the lady didn’t cut my bangs (and gave me a shitty hair cut, but that wasn’t a big deal because it’s hair and it will grow back. See what I do? I prove I’m a reasonable person. I relate and I say it’s ok, but you pushed it too far.) When she asked me who cut my hair, I told her I didn’t know her name because she never introduced herself. I heard the woman gasp on the other line. This wasn’t super cuts either. I pay $45 + $10 tip for the good chick. The crappy woman still works there, but the nice girl who cut my bangs became my new stylist. Except she’s too expensive for a trim so I don’t see her anymore.
I don’t like my job all the time either. Not just this current job, but many of my previous jobs. The trick is to be as unhappy as possible when people aren’t watching. Get all your whining out to your boyfriend, your best friend, your mom, your blog. And when people whose comments and observations of your behavior have the potential to directly affect your job, you smile so your mouth stays shut.
Unless that person is trying to get you to pump the hand sanitizer. You gotta stand for something, right?
Two guys came in for a Co-Worker who is notorious for making people wait for him. He is also notorious for talking on his blue tooth headset while peeing and then not washing his hands, but I digress. These 2 guys came in at 10:04am. I paged the Co-Worker at 10:05. I called him on his cell phone at 10:08. “Co-Worker, you have 2 men here for you.” “O RLY?” “Yes.” “I’ll be right up; thanks.” He came up to the front office at 10:18. He then went into someone’s office. One of the guys creeped around the window I have at 10:20 and at 10:22 asked if Co-Worker knew they were here. “Yes. He knows you’re here, he just stepped into an office.” At 10:25 he walked out and someone stopped him to chat. He said, “Oh it’s OK I’ve just got these guys.” Eventually, he lets these guys in. While they’re signing in, he walked away to check his email and was gone 5 minutes. Someone else set them up in a conference room.
Co-Worker is an asshole for treating these guys like they’re interrupting his time.
I’m an asshole who didn’t think to ask if they should go into a conference room.
Work Fail.
While I’m at it, you know who else I don’t like? Guy At Work Who Takes 30 Seconds To Respond To Everything You Say. You know that guy or gal. They ask you something, you immediately answer, they stare at you or off into the distance for 30 seconds before responding. It’s annoying because you’re not sure if you should be waiting for them to say something else or if they’re just coming to you via satellite.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Saved by my blog!
Dear Meijer Brand Dino Mac & Cheese,
You must think I am not a PMSy, fat kid at heart, person who has to eat immediately upon arriving home from work. I don’t know who told you this, but they were clearly pulling your leg. I noticed the lack of delicious misc. dino shaped pasta in your box. I noticed my unnecessary amount of butter (honestly, it surprised me and before I put it in the pot, I thought, oh god this is too much butter I need to put some back. I didn’t. That’s how I roll) added to my vanilla flavored soy milk and your packet of faux-cheese substance. Had I thought ahead, I would have made 2 boxes. So I wouldn’t have felt so disgusted with myself for WANTING desperately to eat the entire box. I had to add a can of peas and a VanDeKamp fish fillet to my meal to make me feel satisfied.
So if I can offer one humble suggestion for your box: please add more dino shaped pasta. I like to take some to work. I like to eat out of the Tupperware of food I’m saving for work (those calories don’t count). I don’t like to share, but I also don’t like to feel as if I could eat the whole box and it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
-Me, your loyal customer
Just as I become easily influenced by food talk, I am easily confused by the time and the date. I was looking up a date in April on my Outlook calendar and forgot to change it back to February. I glanced over there for just a second and believed it was April. Thought bubble: April already?
Interesting story:
I wrote this whole complaint about an email I got regarding travel and how the person didn't give me dates when they copied and pasted the itinerary they wanted. In my bitch, I pasted the e-mail I was sent. Lo and behold, the dates were in the e-mail, but in white so they were invisible. Even when I pasted them into Word they didn't show. So good news bad news, you miss out on me complaining about my job and you also miss out on the AMAZING faux letter I wrote where I called myself socially and mentally handicapped.
Maybe next time.
You must think I am not a PMSy, fat kid at heart, person who has to eat immediately upon arriving home from work. I don’t know who told you this, but they were clearly pulling your leg. I noticed the lack of delicious misc. dino shaped pasta in your box. I noticed my unnecessary amount of butter (honestly, it surprised me and before I put it in the pot, I thought, oh god this is too much butter I need to put some back. I didn’t. That’s how I roll) added to my vanilla flavored soy milk and your packet of faux-cheese substance. Had I thought ahead, I would have made 2 boxes. So I wouldn’t have felt so disgusted with myself for WANTING desperately to eat the entire box. I had to add a can of peas and a VanDeKamp fish fillet to my meal to make me feel satisfied.
So if I can offer one humble suggestion for your box: please add more dino shaped pasta. I like to take some to work. I like to eat out of the Tupperware of food I’m saving for work (those calories don’t count). I don’t like to share, but I also don’t like to feel as if I could eat the whole box and it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
-Me, your loyal customer
Just as I become easily influenced by food talk, I am easily confused by the time and the date. I was looking up a date in April on my Outlook calendar and forgot to change it back to February. I glanced over there for just a second and believed it was April. Thought bubble: April already?
Interesting story:
I wrote this whole complaint about an email I got regarding travel and how the person didn't give me dates when they copied and pasted the itinerary they wanted. In my bitch, I pasted the e-mail I was sent. Lo and behold, the dates were in the e-mail, but in white so they were invisible. Even when I pasted them into Word they didn't show. So good news bad news, you miss out on me complaining about my job and you also miss out on the AMAZING faux letter I wrote where I called myself socially and mentally handicapped.
Maybe next time.
Monday, February 1, 2010
All I have are work complaints and my 57 cats who NEED ME
True story:
(Last Friday)
Dear Travel Planner,
I need a flight from Detroit to LA leaving the evening of the 11 and returning the evening of the 12.
-Traveler
Dear Traveler,
Here are you options.
-Travel Planner.
...
(Monday afternoon…)
Dear Travel Planner,
Please look for a flight leaving LA around 5pm maybe stopping in Memphis.
-Traveler
(Inner thoughts: Stopping in Memphis? Are you talking about an actual flight you saw and are testing me to see if I’ll google some obscure airline that has a flight leaving exactly at 5pm and stops in Memphis with just enough time to pee and head to the gate without waiting? Or, are you that much of a douchebag that you think you control the flight schedules with your mind and saying it will make it become a reality and you’re working your airline telekinesis through me, your humble servant?)
Dear Traveler,
Listed below is every single flight option leaving LA on the 12 between 4pm and 6pm. (and to make it seem like I’m not trying to be an asshole) I hope this helps.
-Travel Planner.
I was complaining to JD one time about how I thought it was weird people speak to me like I’m a 12 year old and also ask me questions they should very much know the answer to. I wonder if it’s their way of feeling sorry for me. “Well, I basically called her an idiot because she couldn't get me on the booked 5pm flight, but then I asked her how to pick up “line 701” so it should have boosted her spirits a little.” I sit right next to the printers so I should know better when they’re broken not to print something, but I did it anyway today. A manager who has been here I dunno maybe 5+ years asked me where the paper is kept because it seemed the printer was out of paper.
(Last Friday)
Dear Travel Planner,
I need a flight from Detroit to LA leaving the evening of the 11 and returning the evening of the 12.
-Traveler
Dear Traveler,
Here are you options.
-Travel Planner.
...
(Monday afternoon…)
Dear Travel Planner,
Please look for a flight leaving LA around 5pm maybe stopping in Memphis.
-Traveler
(Inner thoughts: Stopping in Memphis? Are you talking about an actual flight you saw and are testing me to see if I’ll google some obscure airline that has a flight leaving exactly at 5pm and stops in Memphis with just enough time to pee and head to the gate without waiting? Or, are you that much of a douchebag that you think you control the flight schedules with your mind and saying it will make it become a reality and you’re working your airline telekinesis through me, your humble servant?)
Dear Traveler,
Listed below is every single flight option leaving LA on the 12 between 4pm and 6pm. (and to make it seem like I’m not trying to be an asshole) I hope this helps.
-Travel Planner.
I was complaining to JD one time about how I thought it was weird people speak to me like I’m a 12 year old and also ask me questions they should very much know the answer to. I wonder if it’s their way of feeling sorry for me. “Well, I basically called her an idiot because she couldn't get me on the booked 5pm flight, but then I asked her how to pick up “line 701” so it should have boosted her spirits a little.” I sit right next to the printers so I should know better when they’re broken not to print something, but I did it anyway today. A manager who has been here I dunno maybe 5+ years asked me where the paper is kept because it seemed the printer was out of paper.
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