I Work With Idiots

Also considered for title:

> Easy Pickings Should We Ever Be Overtaken By Mastermind Criminals/Terrorists
> People To Slap When I Get My Invisibility Super Power
> Natural Selection Needs a Little Help
> Pay Goes Up, Smarts Go Down

A couple of days ago a person who works for my company with an impressive sounding title sent an email to half the employees in the address book in error. Instead of ignoring the pointless email numerous people decided to hit reply all and asked to be taken off the list.

First, what list?!? There are no mailing lists at my work, it was one person who somehow instead of sending a message to 40 co-workers oops-ed it into a couple thousand or so people.

Second, why reply all? It was one person who hit ‘send’ and therefore the rest of us had nothing to do with it, nor do we need to be told that you want to be left off this “list”.

So while half the employees were inundated by these junk replies and the server was freezing up some people started getting annoyed. We began seeing angry emails berating the people who contributed to the whole reply all phenomenon while not even seeing the irony in their own idiocy. We saw emails with enlarged fonts, red coloured fonts, more than a reasonable amount of exclamation marks and even some insults. There was a direct jab at the lack of common sense shown by the original email sender, the person with the impressive sounding title.

That was actually funny. It’s another example of how top heavy organizations can be with people who don’t know squat. But then the reply all crowd are idiots in their own right too so there isn't much with which to lord over.

Sigh.

At one point me and Yager contemplated joining in. This would’ve been my message.

“Who the FUCK are these idiots hitting reply all??? You people are retarded losers who should be banned from email forever!




P.S. Please remove me from the list. Thank you.”

My Favourite People

I think it takes a special kind of butt slime to be a car sales person. We've been contemplating a second car lately and visited several car dealerships over the weekend to test drive as well as gather information for our future purchase. While any kind of sales person isn't my cuppa tea, I think car people have to be at the top of my list.

Maybe they go to special butt slime school to be the way they are, from the way say your name the obligatory three times in 5 minutes, feed you the "buy now or else" lines, try to be your best friend and project the just another joe on the road image I just find them so smarmy. Maybe I'm just prejudiced. I wonder what they're like outside of work.

Probably just as bad.

There was one guy we dealt with who to me looked like and gave the Paul Bernardo vibe. I kid you not, the entire time he was spieling all I kept thinking was: "Paul Bernardo Paul Bernardo Paul Bernardo Paul Bernardo" so I didn't hear much of what he said. Not that it mattered anyhow since he barely acknowledged my presence and talked solely to Mr. Stinky. Afterwards I physically felt dirty from having associated with him and wanted to scrub myself raw in the bath.

Anyhow, hopefully once we settle on a car we can get the deal done quick to lessen the contact with butt slime. I just wanted to let you know how much I dislike car sales people. That is all.

Womanizer

Last night I couldn't sleep because Britney Spears' new single 'Womanizer' kept playing in my head. I admit it, I like the song and sing along when it comes on the radio. I even downloaded it for my fluffy listening pleasure. Except now it's always playing in my head. Speak of the devil, it just came on the radio. Excuse me a minute.

Anyway, I had to resort to singing Sesame Street songs to block out the chorus which, as simple as it seems with about 4 or 5 words, I can never get. I'm dumber than a bag of building blocks... Back to the point, the Dixie Chicks used to be my safety net when songs got stuck in my head. Now it's Sesame Street. Damn.

And to Wrap Up Today...

Ladies, leaving a curly on the toilet seat is not the equivalent to guys leaving a trophy poo unflushed for the next guy to find and admire.

Just Because I Am That Bored

Me and Yager emailing each other because a colleague who temporarily got relocated to my office is upset. Temporary colleague’s moods operate much like a roller coaster. Or weather in the Rockies. She’s up, she’s down, she’s happy, she’s crying. It’s like watching a show, things are always changing and you’re not sure how, why, what or when but you just go with the flow.

Yager: I think she’s borderline crying.

StinkyT: I’m just ignoring her.

Yager: Cold blooded!

Stinky: I shit ice cubes.

Yager: Interesting.

Short Scene

Me and Yager were coming back from our coffee run – his, not mine, and saw another guy, Poker in the hallway. Poker looked at me, nodded and said “Good morning.” I nodded back with a “Hello”.

Moments later, Yager pouted.

Yager: I didn’t even get a ‘good morning’! He looked at you, he didn’t even look at us, just you and said ‘good morning’.

StinkyT: Yah man, I deserrve being looked at.

Yager: That was so rude! When am I gonna get a ‘good morning’?

StinkyT: Me and him are good. You gotta get in the trenches and get dirty. Earn your respect.

Yager: I don’t want respect, just a ‘good morning’.

StinkyT: Ha!

In the Faace...

This is my confession. I’ve finally joined and become a member.

I feel so dirty and at the same time completely lame.

I have nothing against Facebook or any of the other networking sites but had decided early on that it wasn’t for me. For some reason I didn’t want to get caught up in the craze and resisted pressures from people around me to join and be connected.

My cousin Whistler recently had a baby and she posts new pictures of him there. A good friend Timo lives on the other side of the world and we don’t get to talk too much anymore. My curiosity had finally gotten the best of me so it has come to this.

I was a rebel, man. A rebel in the crowd, diamond in the rough, lady in the red dress, whatever that super cool phrase to describe my non-Facebook-ness. And that’s why I feel dirty, because I’ve fallen into temptation and embrace it tightly with my mouse cord.

At the same time I realize that the Facebook fervor has dropped down to a tepid, golf clapping kind of yesterday’s news. Ergo, my non-cutting edge lameness. I’ll be back to prove my superior coolness soon.