Friday, March 29, 2013

The ABCs of Misery

I have a few jobs. That makes it sound like I work a lot harder than I actually do, but technically it’s true. One of the many hats I wear is a shirt. A polo shirt I have to wear as part of a uniform at a retail establishment. Working retail is not something that I would necessarily recommend. But if you find yourself looking for work in the retail sector chances are you’ve defied your guidance counselor more than a few times. That being said if you are looking for work in the retail rector I would recommend avoiding any retail job that has you dealing with both the public and things that are alphabetized. CDs, DVDs, or books. Nothing on this earth will have you lose faith in humanity quicker than seeing how the average person responds to things in alphabetical order. Which is not well.

The biggest problem you’ll run into is a problem in any job, and that’s that people are lazy. People look at a whole section of DVDs and they just want to give up. It’s hard enough to find out what genre House Party 2 is going to be filed in, and now I actually have to find the letter it goes after, the letter it comes before and look in between them! Unacceptable! More people than I can count just bypass the whole section and will walk up to me asking if we have a movie or CD. At first I assumed they’d tried to look for it and just couldn’t find it. I would look up whatever it was they were looking for and see that we had oodles of them. I would walk over to wherever it was (properly) filed and see a neat stack of them exactly where they should be. I then will hand it to them and sometimes that still isn’t enough. I would go to hand it to them, and I would then expected to walk them to a register as to avoid them having to carry this heavy piece of media. For the record I don’t ever do that. They get it handed to them. If they don’t want to carry it I will put it back, and the cycle begins anew. 

This poor bastard is the first thing that comes up under lazy

Another common problem is that people expect everyone to have the same shitty taste they do. Media products aren’t quite the focus of most stores anymore, so most stores don’t have a whole lot of them. What they carry is what the most amount of people are going to be looking for. That makes sense to everyone until you tell them you don’t have or don’t carry whatever it is they’re looking for. The worst offenders of this are Downton Abbey fans. If a season (or I’m sorry “a session”) of that show has just come out, we’ll probably have it. Shortly thereafter we won’t have it. If you just discovered it and want all sessions to catch up you have to look elsewhere. No amount of arguing will make it appear out of nowhere. A common followup is always, “oh, you must be soldout.” To which I reply, “nope.” Sometimes if I’m feeling shitty I’ll say “I guess not enough people like it for us to carry.” At which point they have to open my eyes. Evidently EVERYONE LOVES this show. I’m sure a lot of people do love it, but you loving a show does not mean everyone loves a show. It’s on PBS for Christ’s sake. Yes, it’s the most watched show on PBS just as I’m the tallest person who lives in my apartment. I don’t assume I must be the tallest person on earth because of that. Some people don’t realize that their book club is not a statistically sound sample to conclude 100% of people adore something. 

Have you sen me? Probably not, because I'm on PBS and I suck

Also people are animals. People will stroll through the media section pick out anywhere between fifteen dollars and a million dollars worth of CDs and DVDs and then decide that they don’t want any of them. At which point they will do whatever the fuck they want to with them. This leads to another problem because if someone looks on the computer and it says we have a certain title, they expect to find it. If we only have one and it’s not alphabetized I have to suggest they look anywhere from here to the garbage can in the men’s room. People are usually not happy about this. I don't have to put them back so I don't really care.

Well, now that I've picked all these out I think I'll throw them into the air and run giggling from this establishment

People are lonely. These are the most common, the most frustrating, and the hardest group to hate. Listen, I understand that the world is a lonely place. It can be hard to make friends. But if you find yourself without anyone in this world could you please get either a cat or a gun. Don’t assume because I work at a place that sells DVDs I would like to discuss every DVD. It's almost always old men and they're almost always are trying to convince me something is a “classic.” The thing is I don’t care. If I’m alone in my department not talking to a soul, I’m not lonely I’m zoning out. Which is my favorite thing to do at work. I don’t have a retail job because I love having inane chitchat with strangers. I work retail because I didn’t have money, and they were willing to give me some every other week. If I could find a job zoning out I would take it in a second. I have a cup of coffee and I’m staring I don’t really want to discuss the relative merits of every fucking movie you’ve seen ever. Also Crash is not a classic. I don’t care how many Oscars it won (too many) Crash sucks. And we don't carry it anyhow.

Well that about does it. That's most the reasons working at a place where things are alphabetized sucks, and join me next time for why working at a place where things are alphabetized is GREAT!

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Manny Up!

As I’ve mentioned before I got robbed recently. A lot of stuff was taken from me (my poor old Iron Gym among them). If this happens to you you look for someone to blame. Chances are you’re not going to find the people who actually did it to you. And even if I were to, I’m not the kind of person who thinks it’s a good idea to fight criminals. But luckily I think I’ve found a scapegoat.

When I told people one of the questions I got the most was “didn’t anyone in your building see something?” The answer is yes. My window is about ten feet from my neighbor Manny’s window. Manny is an old man who does nothing except wait for the mail to come and stare out his window for hours on end. While the part of me who doesn’t like old men knowing what I look like naked hates this, one would think it would be good in case your place ever gets broken into. Turns out not so much. It looks like Manny decided to pass the time that cold February night by watching me get robbed blind while doing absolutely nothing. Perhaps that’s a little unfair because he did do something. He called another neighbor, Asha. She’s about 10 years older than Manny (98 I think) and the only person in the building more annoying to share an elevator with than Manny. Together they did nothing.

Manny's lair of ineptitude

I didn’t expect him to leap in through our window with a nunchucks and kick some ass. He could have called the cops though or at the very least banged on the side of the building with a broom, which is what he does whenever he sees that squirrel. He didn’t though, he just watched, called Asha, and tried to sweet talk her into sweet “boy, this neighborhood has really gone to shit” sex (speculation on my part). What he did was come over the next day let us know he saw us get robbed and brought a old package of frozen chicken. Which would have been appropriate if as he watched us get robbed he noticed that all that was taken was an old pack of chicken.

You may have gotten my computer and sense of safety, but you'll never take my chicken

It pissed me off most, because Manny is old. And like a lot of old people can sometimes have a bit of trouble with everything manufactured after 1956. So even though he watched people walk out with my TV he expects me to come over to his house nine times a week and help him turn his TV on. Etiquette suggests he should at least turn his TV to the window to I can watch it. He can’t hear for shit so I already have to listen to it.

But it did give me an idea for revenge, and a means of keeping my apartment safe in the future. As we start to replace stuff we’re going to have boxes. Boxes that are going to look pretty enticing to ne’r do wells who live in my building (5B, looking at you). As we get new stuff I leave the empty boxes in front of Manny’s door. I’ll print out a couple bogus address labels to place on the stuff we throw out front, let the whole neighborhood know that Manny is sittin’ pretty these days. Try to let people know that he has jewelry hidden in small safes that look exactly like frozen chicken patties in his freezer. Also, I haven’t figured this part out yet, but I need a way to imply that Manny keeps large stockpiles of cash in a vault. A vault that is so secure the only way to open it is to rip up all the pictures of his grandchildren.

Then when he has nothing and all has been taken from him, I’ll come over with a Banquet meal for one, present it to him, and I’ll laugh a maniacal laugh. Then and only then will my revenge be complete. Or I might just wait until he dies. I haven’t decided yet.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Las HabladurĂ­as: The Director's Cut!

Sometimes blogs don’t live up to our expectations. Either due to time constraints or budget cuts it just doesn’t live up to the hype you had in mind for it. Such is the case of the last one. Let’s be honest it could have gone a lot better, so I’ve revisited it, and I present you with the last blog: The director’s cut! I’ve increased the swearing a whole lot and I added a new ending.

    This is a conversation that happened between me and a lady who lives in my building as she was in the elevator with me:

Her: You know you can throw that trash in the compactor on your floor you don't have to go all the way down to the fucking basement.
Me: Yeah, I know but I have fucking recycling too.
Her: Oh, your garbage stinks do you have fucking babies?
Me: No, a cat. A real fucking stinky cat.
Her: Okay, you have a nice fucking day.
Me: You too. Fuck

On its own this is a really dumb elevator conversation, but impressive in one. I was speaking English and she was speaking Spanish. I walked away feeling pretty good about myself. I was happy that people of all races creeds and languages can still communicate with Adam Sokol in a fluid and friendly matter. My friendly face transcends cultural and language barriers. But then again I don't speak Spanish.the conversation could have gone this way for all I know:

Her: hey asshole, you stink up this fucking elevator again I'm gonna throw you in the trash compactor.
Me: yeah, I know, but I have fucking recycling too.
Her: you stink, you stupid fucking baby
Me: I've got a cat. A real stinky fucking cat.
Her: go fuck yourself jerk who moved to the fucking neighborhood without knowing a lick of Spanish.
Me: you too. Fuck

I speak so little Spanish I don't even know if that's actually the language she was speaking to me. I just assumed because usually when people are talking and I don't know what they're saying they're usually speaking Spanish. I think. I only assume that's the language people are using when I don't understand them. I actually could live in an Armenian neighborhood for all I know. The only evidence I have that people are speaking Spanish is that there are a lot of empanada stands all over the place. Armenian people must love empanadas.