Great idea, sir! Complain to the desktop publisher about SALES issues!

That’s what just happened. This random guy called on my line and started ranting. He said this girl Kimberly called. He didn’t know her last name but she was in sales. Then he said how he’s trying to get to an operator and he can’t get one. Then he started pushing buttons and rang my phone. He’s saying how screwed up the company is and how mismanaged we are.

I said, “Well, we probably are.” I informed him he couldn’t have found a more clueless, useless person to talk to than me. Not only am I NOT in sales but I don’t even know anyone IN sales. I just got hired here. I haven’t met even 1/4 of the people that work at this company not including anyone in the sales department. This is maybe only the 3rd outside call I’ve gotten at this company and I don’t even know how to use my phone to transfer calls. I could tell by now he felt kinda bad. I said I will try to put him on hold without disconnecting him but can’t guarantee anything, and I will walk up to the other side of the office and find someone who knows a Kimberly or else knows how to use the phones here.

I found a Kimberly’s extension. Dunno if that’s the right one, but whatever and then I tried to transfer him after warning him he’ll probably get disconnected.

So this was the highlight of my day.

Stupid things that annoy me

Here is one of my big pet peeves:
People who leave the remote(s) on the TV.

Putting the remote ANYWHERE (i.e. on the coffee table, the couch, the floor) is better than putting it right on or right next to the TV.

Does this not defeat the purpose of the remote? You sit down on the couch and feel around for the clicker and see it sitting on top of the TV which makes you have to get out of your comfy position and stand up and walk across the room, when in that case you can just manually turn on the TV now. >:(

This just happened to me.

Going to kill someone

There is absolutely no words that can describe what I just went through. Needless to say, I hate shopping. It’s hit a low I don’t think I’ll ever reach again.

Lori and I decided, instead of flowers, to get Teresa’s baby a teddy bear. So we go to vermontteddybear.com to look for one. Turns out this would cost more than $100 including a ridiculous shipping price. Then I recalled that there’s this new Build-A-Bear Workshop store in the Burlington Mall. Why not do that? Well, I’ll tell you.

So we go there during lunch break. We enter this store with shiny, happy, prozac-medicated employees. First guy wasn’t so bad. Gave us the low down on what’s up. “Have you ever been here before?… Well, here’s how it works. Yadda yadda. You pick out an unstuffed bear, stuff it, give it an air bath, and then dress it and pay at the end.” Well he said it in semi-toddlerish words. I guess he forgot we were adults. Whatever.

We’re looking around, trying to ignore the Channel 2-ish music looping again and again in the background. We finally decide on a bunny which we bring over to stuff. So what could this all involve? Get the rabbit, stuff it, dress it, and be on our merry way. No, no. You’re forgeting this is happening to me, not to mention Lori’s with me and she seems to have the same kind of “every day’s a Monday” days that I have.

Anyway, so we bring our unstuffed rabbit to the stuffing booth. This OVERLY, and I can’t express that enough, man says, “OK. I’m going to need your help.” Oh, good god. “I need you to step on this pedal.” Lori and I look at each other. I’m thinking, “We’re paying for this thing. You step on the pedal.” But I was nice. I reluctantly step. It would be nice if that were all I had to do.

Then he says, “Now pick a little satin heart to go inside.” Fine. Here you go. “Now rub the heart. You don’t want to put a cold heart inside.” So I squeeze the heart with a look on my face that combined embarrassment and a look that said, “We really don’t want to waste time here.”

Guy: “Now put it on your forehead so the bunny can be smart.”

Me: “Are you serious?”

Guy: “Yes.” (So I comply.) “Now, put it on your chin for good luck.” (I don’t believe I’m doing this. Then he tells Lori to do the same.) “Now, put it on your stomach so the bear doesn’t go hungry.” (Oh we mustn’t have that now.) “Now kiss the heart.”

Finally, this excruciating ordeal is over. Well, the heart part anyway. Then he tells us to go give the bear an air bath. It clearly had no point except to make it fun for kids. Lori did this. I just stood and watched. Then we dressed the bear. Man, I can never see me dressing a child. I’d probably be arrested for abuse. I’m cramming the feet into the shoes on this table that’s about knee height. I had Lori do the rest of the dressing ’cause she’s got a baby so she’s used to it. To me, it felt almost perverted, especially when we put the underwear on it.

Now it’s time to make the birth certificate. I have to type all this info into this computer with Funhouse font on the keys and every letter I press, it talks to me telling me what letter it is. That was just obnoxious, but not nearly as obnoxious as the people.

So now we’re done. We go to the register and this woman who I’m expecting to be halfway normal is far from it. She’s talking in a voice that’s about 2 octaves higher than the average person’s and apparently she’s the “sheriff.” Says she, “Oh, no! I lost my star! I’m the sheriff and no one’s gonna know I’m the sheriff now!” After all, what happens if we need help from the law? So the whole time she’s talking to us like we’re 3. She’s also talking to the rabbit. She’s trying to get it into the box and she’s like, “Sorry, but we’re going to have to sit you down so you can fit in here?”

Lori tells me later that the “sheriff” asked her, “Do you play this kind of music at your work? Oh, you can come back here anytime and listen to it.” Thanks. I’ll pass.

Now, on entering the store at first, I saw the people talking like this to a little kid making his bear and I thought, “Oh, it’s nice they’re involved with him through the whole process.” I am still in utter disbelief that they did the exact same thing to us. It was obvious we were people buying for someone else, we’re on lunch break, and we’re not toddlers ourselves. There are times you know people are just joking around or they’re really the way they are. These people were totally like that. Sooo soo creepy. It started out annoying, then it just got creepy. The whole aura of the place felt like everyone had just gotten out of a psych ward, high on some kind of happy pill.

Again, nothing I can write here can even explain what this was like. When we left, I was a combo of aggravated and freaked out. There is much to be said for shopping online and this is yet another example.

Thank you, Paul, for killing my dream

Two nights ago, I had the most incredible dream that I was seriously dating P. Diddy. I’m not really ga-ga over him in real life, but hey, if that’s the kind of guy I end up with, I’m not complaining. Sounds like the average dream, right? But this is one of MY dreams, so you know it’s about to get weirder.

This is all taking place at like a ho-down thing. It’s actually the exact same picture I get in my head when I listen to “Rocky Racoon” when Rocky’s fighting Dan.

Anyway, trying to figure out where this dream all started, but I can only trace it back to the point where I’m making out with Diddy in the back of a parked hay ride. Well, miniature hay ride. It was like one of those pickup trucks with a wooden fence-like thing around the bed. It had hay in it. It was a ride. It was a hay ride.

So this was a fun dream. Funny how dreams can be like movies with cuts and fades and zooms and slo-mo effects. Anyway, all of a sudden it cuts to a point where I’m wandering around the setting what has turned desolate and almost fake stage looking. Diddy is doing this concert-like thing in one of these barns. I wasn’t there. Dunno why. So then I was questioning where our relationship was going and he sent out one of his guys to discuss things with me who looked like that hottie from “Above the Rim” who shot Tommy at the end. (Sorry to kill the ending for whoever hasn’t seen it. )

So Mr. Hottie takes me into this big, dim, empty, barn-like shed to talk about Diddy and what’s up as far as where we stand, whether it was a fling or whatever. Last thing he was in the middle of saying was that I was different than the others. Haha! Take that, Jenny from the block! All this time we keep getting interrupted by EVERYONE and EVERYTHING. We keep kicking people out or moving to another barn. Finally, Paul barges in needing to talk about something. I’m like, “Can’t this wait?!” He’s like, “NO, it can’t.” We try to avoid him by leaving him there and like beaming ourselves into other places (which is perfectly normal in dreams), but he keeps finding us!! Arghhh.

It then cuts to the point where I guess we let Paul have his way and pay attention to what he’s doing. He’s proposing to this girl and I guess he wanted to ask advice on it. This moose of a woman is middle-aged, fat as anything, around 6′ tall, wearing a lime green laced moo-moo (sp?), and basically looks like an enormous version of the stereotypical lunch lady, hair net and all.

In this dream, it was customary to propose to someone in the middle of a circle of people, much like in elementary school music class where you’d play “Farmer in the Dell” and there’s a circle of people surrounding the “Farmer” as he picks a wife. So me and Mr. Hottie are standing there at the perimeter, rolling our eyes, waiting for it to end. Paul then says in the most deadpan voice you can imagine, “I want you to marry me.” At this time, he pulls out a large flip flop from his back pocket (magic back pocket like a clown car) and tosses it on the ground. The lime green flip flop had the typical flip flop bottom but had what looked like several strings around the top that held the shoe to the foot. Tied on these strings was a giant 1″ diameter diamond. Bling bling, Paul.

So picture this, “I want you to marry me.” <plop> The equally deadpan look on the woman’s face said to everyone that she consented.

Just then a random voice in the crowd pipes up, “HEY!! That’s not the way it’s supposed to happen!! You’re supposed to put it on her foot!” I guess that’s why you have an audience—never know when you need help with the traditional proposal. So Paul does just this. He takes the flip flop, but alas to his dismay, it’s a few sizes too big and keeps falling off. BUT, Paul comes prepared! (Only in dreams.) Gorilla woman had monstrously hairy feet, which her beau knows quite well. He was equipped with a few bobby pins which he used to attach the flip flop to her foot so it wouldn’t fall off. So we have an engagement. Congrats to the apathetic couple.

Now that this whole interruption is over, me and Hottie can get back to our convo about Diddy and stuff. Just then I wake up. &@!^*#!@^&%!*@#@!# PAUL!!! If you could’ve just waited 5 minutes for your engagement, I’d have gotten an answer. AUGHHH!!!

Reason number… I lost count… why I hate to go shopping.

Reason #?: I swear, people were having sex in the changing stall across from me.

This is a bit late. Last week I faced the fact that I needed to buy a shorter skirt since it’s getting hotter out. So in the spare hour I had before I went home, I stopped at Macy’s and attempted to shop.

Sidenote: I’ve recently taken to logging my life via pen and paper so I’ll summarize a rant I made about Macy’s that’s not on the LJ. Long story short (I swear this time), Macy’s in Boston has fitting rooms with doors that I can clearly see over. I’m not the tallest person in the world so this means the doors are really low. So you try to tuck yourself into the corner and throw clothes on as quickly as possible. See? Short story. Now back to my long rant.

So I find a skirt that looks presentable and go into the fitting room to see if it fits. Redundancy, I know. This is when I’m hearing what clearly is a man’s voice coming from the stall across from me. I sit there in my changing cubicle thinking, “Nah, it can’t be,” just to then hear a woman’s voice in the same stall. Then it all starts to get steamy. They’re making all these moaning, groaning, gross noises and after a minute I hear her say, “… and then we can go home and have SEX.” So much for inuendos. I wanted to yell over, “As opposed to what you’re doing in there now?!?!” But I didn’t. I think I was too nauseous to speak.

Then I gather my things and get out of there just as he leaves his stall. I give him this look of, “What the *^!%!@#*?!?!” and the bizarre thing is he gives me this same look back. Hey buddy, YOU’RE the one in the ladies’ fitting room. Don’t give ME that look. (And to think there are some times I don’t feel “lady” enough to shop in the lady’s section of Macy’s, but now I guess it’s all relative.) As I’m walking out and he’s walking out and in the other direction, he maintains his dirty look at me. Oh, and he walks out the fitting room, right past the cashier and she doesn’t even look twice.

Who’d have thought I’d have to list “perverts in the fitting room” on my list of why I hate to shop, but there it is. I should make a sign for them, “Welcome to Macy’s. Children under 17 not admitted without parent.”

Oh, and the skirt didn’t fit.

Kara’s toothbrush rant

What ever happened to good old square shaped toothbrushes with straight handles?

This past weekend I left my toothbrush and stuff in NH so I had to go to CVS and buy new things. So I’m in the dental hygiene aisle and am looking for a toothbrush. I couldn’t find a normal one anywhere. I’m looking for a Colgate, Reach, Oral-B, generic, anything plain toothbrush.

So I decide on this over-priced Colgate brush with a fat handle and spread-out bristles. I am not happy. I tried it when I got home and barely any bristles make contact with my teeth. So I’m left brushing twice as long. Says it’s more efficient cause it reaches more surface at once, but when it doesn’t cover that surface, what’s the point? On top of it, it topples over when I sit it down and I can’t put it in the average toothbrush holder ’cause the handle’s too fat.

Ya know, I’m just looking right now at what I’m writing and I sound insane, so I’ll stop right now… and buy a new toothbrush tomorrow.