How was breakfast? Terrific.
Down to business.
Much as I don’t want to pigeonhole myself into writing only about my snot covered poop factory of a youngling, I also don’t want to be that guy that only writes about his work on his blog.
But, unlike stories of my fleshy little bundle of joy, lots of people of all walks seem to respond to stories about how infuriating my job is whereas only those with their own kiddlings – or those insane enough to work in day care – will relate to words about my own.
So at the risk of some form of enormous rebuke from the powers that be, here’s a little snippet of an at work experience from the other day.
For the purposes of me keeping my job there will be zero reference to the company name, location, country, names of clientel, company dress code, hierarchal structure or the jingle that is now listed as a top 10 ear worm globally. Also names and items in this story have been changed but you’ll get the gist.
C’mon, I have bills to pay.
Also, in the interests of me not lying to you, my buddy, this is really here as an exercise for myself in dialogue, differentiating between internal monologue and external dialogue in sentence structure and indenting of all aforementioned logs.
I sell shit.
I sell shit to idiots.
The shit I sell is, for the most part, entirely useless. Non conducive to the enrichment of the human experience save for a few items that will help one save some of the finite allotment of time dished out to them by the cosmic creator.
Also coffee machines.
Which are a necessity item and should be tax exempt.
One item of shit recently sold to an idiot was an electronic ice cream making whoosiwhatsit.
The couple that purchased the device came into the store complaining that it was faulty a mere day after its purchase.
Dead on arrival items aren’t uncommon, in fact they’re super-duper common and are simply swapped around once the fault is confirmed.
“That ice cream maker we bought doesn’t work, the display is busted on it.”
‘Seems unlikely but let’s play along’ “Oh bugger, well that’s no good. Does the display not light up or something?”
“No it’s just stuck on ‘ice cream’, we wanted to make gelato in it but it doesn’t matter what button you push you can’t highlight gelato. Plus it’s always stuck on six minutes. We’re so disappointed especially after you people spoke it up to us.”
‘You people?’ “Yeah I can see how that would be disappointing. Well come over here where I’ve got the display one. We can have a look at that and I’ll just make sure you’re working it right.”
“No. We’re working it right, we read the manual back to front, the machine is broken and we want to bring it back.”
“And that’s fine if it’s broken but just humour me for a moment if you could. So you changed the setting by pushing this button or spinning the dial?”
“The dial, we’re not stupid. It didn’t even change though, it makes a beep sound but doesn’t move on the display just like this one here. Are they all broken or something? We wasted a lot of gelato mix and aren’t very happy about that.”
‘Doesn’t move just like this one?’ “Tell you what, come over here and we’ll plug it into power and you show me how you use it.”
“This seems ridiculous.”
“It’ll only take a second.” I place the machine on a shelf, plug it into power and peel off the protective static sticker that sits over the units display showing how the LCD screen looks when in use. It also doubles up as a screen protector in transit.
This action is met with a low, long “Ooooooooooooh!” from the couple. ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’
I stare at my two pet idiots. Looking at their stunned, gawking faces as I deftly spin the dial changing from ice cream to gelato then pushing the button down to select.
‘This shit right here is why I turn up to work most days’ “So you’re saying yours doesn’t change when you spin the dial like this? Or are you not too sure because the screen protector is still on?”
“Well that’s a bit silly that they put that there. Why would they put that there?”
“So you can see what the display looks like when it’s on a shelf without having to plug it in. Also to protect the screen. I’d imagine.”
“Does it say anywhere in the manual that you have to remove that before using it.”
‘Where’s the hidden camera?’ “I can’t rightly say. Did you encounter that anywhere in your back to front reading?”
“If they don’t tell you then how are you supposed to know to peel that thing off?”
‘WAS THE FACT THAT YOUR MACHINES DISPLAY APPEARED TO BE FULLY ACTIVATED DESPITE THE FACT THAT IT WAS NOT PLUGGED INTO A POWER SOURCE AND STILL IN ITS GOD DAMN BOX NOT RINGING ALARM BELLS YOU DAFT PRAT?!’ “Probably the little tab right here that says ‘Peel here’ and the writing ‘remove before use’ at the top of the sticker would have indicated the need to remove it.”
“I’m still not impressed with them, that’s a whole batch of gelato mix of ours that they’ve wasted because they couldn’t be bothered to warn us in the manual. They’re lucky we don’t write a complaint letter for that alone. You should warn others about this. How many other people do you think would have got caught out with that trick.”
‘I can in all honestly only thing of two people in this vicinity thick enough to be caught by such a sinister corporate hoodwinking.’ “Yep it’s pretty amazing that. Well at least you know how it works now. Best of luck with your ice water and have a good afternoon.” The lady then dragged her (I assume mute) husband off in a terribly put on huff in order to save face.
Then I went out to the lunchroom and laughed so hard I had to wipe afterwards.
Now do this several times a day with varying degrees of rage being hurled at you for things you have no control over for a little over a decade and see if you can remember how to smile in public.
I think I’m doing ok.
– Jacob (is not doing ok)