Archive for the “Work” Category

Last week I checked out American Gangster.  It was pretty good, and if you haven’t checked it out yet, you should give it a whirl.

Anywho, the day after I watched it a co-worker, Keila, and I were discussing it.

“You know,” I said, “American Gangster was pretty good, but now I’m confused.”

“Why’s that?” Keila asked.

“Well, in Boyz n the Hood, Laurence Fishburne said that drugs were brought over by the white man to keep the black man down.  Yet American Gangster shows that it was a black man that brought over the drugs.  Now I don’t know what to think.”

Keila studied me for a moment.

“Stewie,” she said, as if to a small child, “you have got to stop trying to learn about my people by watching movies.”

Laughter ensued.

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When I used to work dreaded retail back in the day, the company I worked for filed Chapter 11, forcing me to find another gig. Fortunately, I had made a lot of friends in the company, so another management position fell into my lap. The plus side was it was right up the street from where I lived. The downside was this was a mom and pop establishment.

While they paid me what I was making at my old place, the people who worked there had really liked the old management. Who had been terminated for the new management. One of which was me. I knew this going in, but I wasn’t prepared for the coldness that I was treated with.

One lady in particular, Miss Julia, was particularly nasty to me. Not to my face, of course, but when the owner of the store went to my boss, Marty, and said Miss Julia told him (the owner) that I better be watched because she thought I was stealing, it causes a little bit of bad blood. (And I don’t like people who insist on having a “Mr.” or “Miss” inserted in front of their first name anyway.)

Fortunately, the owner knew she what she was up to, and Marty had worked with me for years, so it was basically a non-issue.  A non-issue I had to deal with every time I worked with her, but I didn’t have to worry about job security.  Plus, she did what I told her to do without argument, so I got some satisfaction out of the fact it probably pissed her off to no end.

Yet I would hear shit she said I was doing (or not doing) all the time from either Marty or Jonathan (the other assistant manager).  I didn’t exactly dread having her on my shift, but I never looked forward to it.  And since she had worked for the company for like a 1,000 years, she wasn’t about to get terminated for gossiping — especially in a mom and pop establishment like this.

About six months after I started with the company, she died.  I was honestly a little surprised they didn’t shut down the store in her honor the way they treated her like a princess.  But since the store was to stay open, I volunteered to run it on the day of her viewing and funeral.  On the day of her viewing, Jonathan came in to relieve me that evening.  He asked me if I planned on going to her viewing when I left work.

“Nope,” I replied.

“Why not?” He asked.

“Why would I?”

“Because you worked with her.”

“And?  She hated me.  I hated her.  Her being dead doesn’t make me like her any more than she was when she was alive.”

Jonathan looked me with what appeared to be shock.  “You shouldn’t disrespect the dead, man.”

“What?  How am I disrespecting her?   Just because she’s dead doesn’t change how she treated me when she was alive.  I’m supposed to feel sympathy for her?  Maybe her family.”

Jonathan shook his head and walked off to take care of the store.

I honestly don’t get it.  What is it about someone dying that makes some people think the dead should be respected just because they are no longer hanging about?  Just because they are no longer wasting oxygen doesn’t change how they treated people when they were alive.

Respect the dead, my ass.  Besides, it’s not like they care anyway.

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It’s late, I just got home for work, so you get very little.

10 random thoughts:

1. You know that pic of me and my truckerstache? Well I obviously no longer have it. As a matter of fact, I’ve only shaved once since then (and that was about three weeks ago). I can actually feel my beard without touching it (that’s the best I can explain it, I’m betting guys with manly beards know what I mean). My goal is to make through Christmas without shaving. Just to do it. I’ll post pics because I’m an attention whore like that.

2. Today was a very good day. I’m suddenly happy I am on facebook, due to a very cool friend popping me a request today. That’s all I have to say about that.

3. The Lesley was of absolutely no help with blog ideas today. All she gave me was smart lip. One of her suggestions — the one where she said I should post some cleavage — made me laugh, though. For numerous reasons. And, no, you won’t get a cleavage shot. Unless it’s ass cleavage. And that, I just might do.

4. I think this writing every damn day bit is actually helping with my reviews. I wrote one on the train tonight, and the words were right there. I didn’t have to dig for them. It could be the fact that the movie was pretty bad (as in bad, this isn’t 1987 (although I wish it was)), and those seem to be the easiest to write. It could be I’m writing something every day. It could be both.

5. Joy called and said she and my nephew went and saw American Gangsta today. She was immediately corrected by my nephew that the movie is called American Gangster, not Gangsta. I giggled. On a side note, my nephew has been upset with his parents for while now due to the fact that he’s white. Seriously.

6. I truly love my co-workers Romka and Keila. They make even the shittiest days go by fast. I’m not just saying that because Romka reads this.

7. Romka is going to be down where I grew up on Thanksgiving. I warned him that he better rent a pickup truck if he plans to be there for long. Those hillbillies don’t take kindly to outsiders. I hate that town.

8. You know you’re all grown up when you get a meeting request email for happy hour. My buddy, Jafo, sent me one last week. I accepted, it went on my calendar. Today he sent another one with a date change. I responded with a “tentative”. Those who use Outlook should get that.

9. I handle laptop subsidies at work. Today, someone called for my opinion on a laptop. I also suggested an external drive. I told her 500 gigs should be plenty. I myself would like a terabyte. But only dorks need a terabyte. She laughed and said, “Yeah.” I can dig that.

10. I’m out of randomness.

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There was some back and forth email between myself and a coworker recently.

Here is his final reply to me in that email thread:


I hope you die in a fire.


My coworkers rock.

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Back in the day, I used to work in retail (a job, I feel, should be mandatory for everyone for at least one year in their life). There was this manager I used to work with that, while I think he was a good guy underneath, was a bit of a douche.

You know that guy that wants to have friends, and is somewhat of a nice guy, but he always goes and says something out of line, or just not funny, and it makes you keep your distance? That was Ed. But Ed was my manager, so it was worse. There were times were I was sure I was getting the shit job of the day because I didn’t laugh at one of his jokes.

One thing about Ed, though, was he opened himself up. If he said something which he thought would bust you out, it usually didn’t, and I (notorious for speaking first and thinking later) was always quick to turn it around on him — usually in the presence of other co-workers. My buddy, Jafo, used to do it to him, too. But Jafo was much, much better. Jafo would slam Ed without Ed knowing it.

So one day, quite a few of us were in the break-room, having lunch, shooting the shit. Then Ed walks in. He was saying something or the other, trying to be a smartass. It was directed towards me.

“What the fuck ever, Sloth,” was my reply. I had taken to referring to him as Sloth, that goofy guy from The Goonies, to the other employees. For some reason, Ed reminded me of him. This was the first time I said it to him. The employees exploded with laughter.

“What? What did you call me?” Ed asked. He wasn’t mad, he seemed a little hurt.

“Sloth.” More giggles.

“You know what a sloth is?”

“Yeah. He’s that dude from The Goonies. I NUV U, CHUNK!” Hahas ensued.

“It’s also a three toed mammal,” he replied. The room was dead quiet as he walked out. Damn turncoats.

Did I mention Ed was born with some sort of birth defect and only had three fingers on each hand?

That’s right kids. My powers are not just relegated to busting up funeral processions.

I rock.

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