Crazy... Frog... Dance... Remix...?
As if I didnt have enough insanity in my life WITHOUT a retarded frog appearing on my television screens creating havoc every 10 minutes.
*Shudder*
We had a driver fired from work on Monday.
Do you know how difficult it is to be fired from this job??
During the Korean War, American Surgeons were so difficult to come by and in such short supply, the ones that were there were able to bend the rules to the point of almost breaking them, because:
a) Young men were getting wounded
and
b) Noone but the American surgeons could help them.
Ergo, they could do pretty much whatever the fuck they wanted, and avoid disiplinary action.
Two facts of my job...
a) People want pizza.
and
b) Noone wants to work delivery.
So what you have is a limited pool of workers, to do a job that is woefully understaffed to begin with.
Outcome: It is very very very very very very very very very very difficult to get fired.
Yet somehow he managed.
You have to admire his perseverance.
Don't eat the yellow snow
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
There is NOTHING to do in Victoria.
So we came, we saw we road-tripped. Early Saturday morning, Marty, Daw and I jumped into a CRV and roadtripped our way to Melbourne for poops and giggles, and also to see Dave Matthews Band live.
For those who are not Australian distance savvy the trip is about an 8 hour drive (It winds up being about 9 hours once you factor in the half-hour time difference between us and them and the rest stops)
9 hours in a car was kinda fun. We listened to some music, some other random CD's, made asses of ourselves using a video camera in outback country towns, and chuckled at signs on the side of the road (Especially in Pimpino, where a clever local had removed the 'O' leaving his town as just plain "Pimpin'".
Topics of discussion over the time included...
Why the CSI francise is becoming shitty.
The urban legend of speed cameras in the tunnel out of town.
How how you shake someone's hand tells them everything about you.
Why David Hasselhof's singing career never took off.
Which is better? "A shark tale" or "Finding Nemo"
Michael Jackson: Innocent or guilty and do we give a shit
Why all the ugly people live in Horsham.
Nazi battle tactics during the war.
Why Pearl Harbour was good in theory, just poorly done in reality.
Why the movie Pearl Harbour was good in theory, just poorly done in reality
How if we were driving across Europe, we would have crossed about 4 countries by now.
The way you can see Melbourne from about 100k's away, but cant actually see Adelaide until you are in Adelaide.
How good it would be if Dave Matthews Band were staying in our hotel.
How visually impresssive Melbourne actually is.
Bond movies. The top 5 best, the top 5 worst and the best Bond debate rages on.
Remember, we did have A LOT of time on our hands.
We checked into our hotel about 4:30, the fantastic Crest on Barkley, which continues to serve us well, ever since the LAST time we visited.
After checking out the room and dumping our shit, we went to find some food.
At the Safeway, we picked up candy, cup noodles and mixers, as well as a bottle of gin.
While heading through the checkout, we grilled the checkout chick about places we could go out that night, as three young, virile Adelaide boys looking for trouble.
So we took her reccomendation, and headed back to the hotel to eat, drink and be merry, before we actually decided to order a pizza.
After some severe drinking, a bad pizza, David Duchovny in "Evolution" and an hour long nap, we were ready to take on Melbourne.
First place we hit was the Crown.
Now, the Crown Casino is apparently one of the biggest casino's in the Southern Hemisphere.
Compared to our tiny Sky City casino, It owns.
Killed some time in there, soaking up the sights. Daw and Marty tried their hand at gambling, Daw finishing $10 down and Marty $50 up.
Spent the rest of the night roaming around looking for some where good to go out. Talking to random drunks and asking their reccomendation. Didn't find anywhere that exciting.
Hitched a cab back out to St Kilda and found some places there.
At about 1am we found ourselves roaming around the streets near the Palais Theatre (The DMB venue for the next night.) There were big gear trucks around the back, so we went to have a sticky beak to see what was happening. The guys were hauling gear away after Norah Jones' gig that evening.
As we walked back up the front, a door opened and a woman with a crew shirt emerged struggling with a big box of trash. Being the gentlemen we are, we offered her a hand.
Thanking us, we got to talking with her and her associate, and the subject came around to who was performing the next night. (We were wondering who was supporting, she didn't know)
Taking this as a cue, she goes "So you guys are coming in for Dave Matthews tomorrow night then?)
"Well, Yeah" we reply, "We drove from Adelaide to see them"
She nods her head, thinking and goes "Well, run that trash around to the bin for me, and I will see what I can do about getting you in to a meet and greet tomorrow night"
Awesome, we did the errand for her and talked some more, got her name and she tells us to return before the gig the next night, and she will see what she can do.
So we wander off, sort of excited but about 98% sure that she won't follow through, and was making empty promises just so we would do her dirty work.
Head up back to the hotel and sleep till Sunday.
Getting up Sunday, we caught the tram into town and had breakfast at Melbourne's answer to the Pancake Kitchen. There, we were joined by the fourth member of our party, Big Tim, who had flown in that morning.
So we killed a day in Melbourne. Did a little shopping, wandered out to the Markets where we bought some junk (A dart shotgun and a dart SMG) and some not so junk (A gift for Daw's Sister's 21st).
A short tram ride later, hotel hilarity was had as a dart based World War Three exploded before dinner.
After another dinner of pre-prepared noodles in a styrofoam cup, we drove back down to the Palais in our best concert goin' clothes to meet up with our contact. She worked catering, and worked out of a large food van near the backstage door. So we stood around the side, chatting, watching people heading walking in to the gig. As we wait, Tim narrows his eyes at a backstage door about 10 meters further down and goes "Is that... That is fucking Dave Matthews"
That it was, Dave had stuck his head out the backstage door, and posed for a quick photo with a couple of fans before ducking back inside. We ran up, getting there just as he dissapeared back in.
As the rest of the rabble moved away, the three of us were left standing with three security guards (including the LARGEST security guard I have ever seen) and none other than Leroi Moore, Saxophonist for DMB. So we chilled there for a minute with Leroi, being the most reclusive member of DMB, we didnt ask for autographs or a photo with him, but he did strike a pose for us to take a photo just before he went inside.
Leroi Smiles for three retarded DMB fans. (Blurry photography by retarded Nick)
So we stand there going "Wow, that was pretty cool" and decide to loiter around by the stage door a little longer. Presently, unofficial member of DMB, Keyboardist Butch Taylor sticks his head out of the stage door for just long enough for us to wave before he dissapears back in.
About that time, our contact appears near the van, so I walk about 5 steps away to talk to her before I hear Daw screaming "Nick!!"
I look back to see Daw and McEvoy standing next to a big, buff, dreadlocked black man, who is chatting to security.
That man, is none other than Boyd Tinsley, formerly of Boyd Tinsley band, now violinist of Dave Matthews Band.
The glory part? There are 5 people standing there. One of which is security and one other fan.
We stand there shocked for a moment and then go "Boyd! Can we get a photo?"
He grins, and saunters over, shakes all our hands and has a chat to us before posing with us. Chats some more, excuses himself, shakes our hands again and dissapears inside.
Boyd Tinsley and three grinning loons.
Wandering away sort of dazed, we ran into random catering chick, who said that there was no meet and greet before the gig, but maybe one after and to come back and see her when the concert was over. So we headed inside, with just enough time to line up at the merch stand to get some t-shirts before wandering inside to see the last song of the support act. (The were called Carus in the end, didn't see much of them)
Due to a ticketing fuck-up again, we had two seats upstairs in the lounge, and one seat downstairs in the stalls. I took the stalls ticket. After realising that this seat (KK48) was the second to back row, in the far right corner, I decided to go looking for a better seat.
As the gig was not a sell out, there were seats everywhere, but the problem was finding one that wasnt taken by someone arriving late.
I decided to take a run upstairs. Met up with Tim and Daw after blazing past door security. (Even pausing to give him a cocky nod hello, as I infiltrated the lounge)
We found a primo position right on the edge of the balcony, that was GREAT but required us to stand. Just before the band came on, security asked us to move because us standing there was a quote " fire hazard" unquote. Tim and Daw returned to their seats, as I busted up a bit further back to avoid being kicked back downstairs.
I wound up standing in the main aisle, right next to the security post. Since there were no people sitting in the about 300 more seats behind the aisle, they didnt care that people were standing, so I killed the concert there with a whole heap of other DMB whackos.
We did a lot of singing and dancing in a big group, and even got a special mention from Dave.
"Thankyou all very much for coming out tonight, and thankyou to the people up there dancing. I see y'all dancing up there. Thankyou so much"
Because I was standing literally a meter from the nearest security, and for some reason, the Palais forbids taking photos with any form of digital, video or still camera. Which means they will warn you once before confiscating your camera.
Considering that my camera contained the all too valuable photo of us with Boyd, I didn't really want to lose it, but I managed to sneak a quick shot of the stage when security left for a second.
Band on stage. Blurry again. I rock at taking photos.
After the guys started, the set went down like this,
One Sweet World
What Would You Say
Grey Street
The Stone
Crush
Best of What's Around
Where Are You Going
When the World Ends
Bartender
American Baby
Warehouse
Rhyme and Reason
So Much to Say >
Too Much
Encore:
(Intro)
Don't Drink the Water
(Outro)
Tripping Billies
Personal favourites of mine that I NEVER thought I would hear live, "The Stone" and "Best of What's Around" made my night.
"Crush" came in with an extended jam and a hardcore Boyd solo that blended with the trademark Stefan bass line to form an awesome live version.
"Bartender" was the best version that I have ever heard, that was made even better by the uber-jam on the tail end.
We were the first audience on tour to hear their new studio single "American Baby" which rawked! Eternal favourite "Warehouse" was accompanied by trademark "Wooo" noises (The real fans know what I mean, Listen to the Central Park Concert version) and was customised with Aussie folk song by Butch Taylor on keys, as he played "Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree" as an outro.
"So Much to Say" segued straight into "Too Much" with a little help from an extended scat by Dave, and rounded out the set.
Ten full minutes of cheering brought the boys back on stage, with Dave starting a slow, morose solo acoustic intro which exploded into "Don't Drink the Water" as the whole band joined in.
The encore was wrapped up with a HUGE "Tripping Billies" with a violin solo that had Boyd bouncing round the whole stage.
We left and headed outside to meet our catering contact. As we met her, she said that Carter (The drummer) was feeling ill and there would be no meet and greet that night. But she told us to wait around near here. As we stood, we saw a convo of mini-vans pulling up onto the pavement. So this is where the band is leaving.
Security told us to stand behind a line on the pavement and wait. We stood up front waiting. After about 10 minutes, Carter exited, grinned, waved, and jumped in his van. Given to rumours that he was feeling unwell, the small crowd wished him well.
The crowd wound up being about 40 people big as we stood waiting in the cold.
As time wore on, the number of people in the crowd dwindled to about 20.
After about 20 more minutes, Boyd came out, and wandered over to the group accompanied by security.
Part dreadlocked Boyd, Mostly uber-large DMB tour security.
Amid the sea of ticket stubs, I gave thanks that I stuck in my copy of "Crash" and got Boyd to scribble on that for me.
We waited for a little longer; arguments broke out between Americans and Australians, Political debates raged, an American wanker hassled the (entirely do-able) female security guard and generally made a dick of himself, until the crowd made him leave amind cheers.
Sometime after that, Stefan (the bassist) ran through quickly waved and left.
We waited for about another half hour, just chatting with people etc etc. Until finally, Dave appeared and sauntered over to the group.
Dave meets the fans.
Shaking hands with randoms.
Signing crap...
And almost a little too close for comfort.
I shook the man's hand and got a signature. Others were getting photos. He hung out and chatted to the crowd for a bit as they asked him questions. Just as he was about to leave, Daw offered his hand, but instead, jumped on Dave and gave him a man hug. That was the funniest thing I have ever seen.
Awesome gig. Especially since it was my first time.
It was a life goal of mine to see DMB live, but I thought I would have to go to America to do it.
We slept away that night, and packed up and drove home the next day. Nothing really exciting happened. I slept most of the way..
Moral of the story:
There is nothing to do in Victoria.
So we came, we saw we road-tripped. Early Saturday morning, Marty, Daw and I jumped into a CRV and roadtripped our way to Melbourne for poops and giggles, and also to see Dave Matthews Band live.
For those who are not Australian distance savvy the trip is about an 8 hour drive (It winds up being about 9 hours once you factor in the half-hour time difference between us and them and the rest stops)
9 hours in a car was kinda fun. We listened to some music, some other random CD's, made asses of ourselves using a video camera in outback country towns, and chuckled at signs on the side of the road (Especially in Pimpino, where a clever local had removed the 'O' leaving his town as just plain "Pimpin'".
Topics of discussion over the time included...
Why the CSI francise is becoming shitty.
The urban legend of speed cameras in the tunnel out of town.
How how you shake someone's hand tells them everything about you.
Why David Hasselhof's singing career never took off.
Which is better? "A shark tale" or "Finding Nemo"
Michael Jackson: Innocent or guilty and do we give a shit
Why all the ugly people live in Horsham.
Nazi battle tactics during the war.
Why Pearl Harbour was good in theory, just poorly done in reality.
Why the movie Pearl Harbour was good in theory, just poorly done in reality
How if we were driving across Europe, we would have crossed about 4 countries by now.
The way you can see Melbourne from about 100k's away, but cant actually see Adelaide until you are in Adelaide.
How good it would be if Dave Matthews Band were staying in our hotel.
How visually impresssive Melbourne actually is.
Bond movies. The top 5 best, the top 5 worst and the best Bond debate rages on.
Remember, we did have A LOT of time on our hands.
We checked into our hotel about 4:30, the fantastic Crest on Barkley, which continues to serve us well, ever since the LAST time we visited.
After checking out the room and dumping our shit, we went to find some food.
At the Safeway, we picked up candy, cup noodles and mixers, as well as a bottle of gin.
While heading through the checkout, we grilled the checkout chick about places we could go out that night, as three young, virile Adelaide boys looking for trouble.
So we took her reccomendation, and headed back to the hotel to eat, drink and be merry, before we actually decided to order a pizza.
After some severe drinking, a bad pizza, David Duchovny in "Evolution" and an hour long nap, we were ready to take on Melbourne.
First place we hit was the Crown.
Now, the Crown Casino is apparently one of the biggest casino's in the Southern Hemisphere.
Compared to our tiny Sky City casino, It owns.
Killed some time in there, soaking up the sights. Daw and Marty tried their hand at gambling, Daw finishing $10 down and Marty $50 up.
Spent the rest of the night roaming around looking for some where good to go out. Talking to random drunks and asking their reccomendation. Didn't find anywhere that exciting.
Hitched a cab back out to St Kilda and found some places there.
At about 1am we found ourselves roaming around the streets near the Palais Theatre (The DMB venue for the next night.) There were big gear trucks around the back, so we went to have a sticky beak to see what was happening. The guys were hauling gear away after Norah Jones' gig that evening.
As we walked back up the front, a door opened and a woman with a crew shirt emerged struggling with a big box of trash. Being the gentlemen we are, we offered her a hand.
Thanking us, we got to talking with her and her associate, and the subject came around to who was performing the next night. (We were wondering who was supporting, she didn't know)
Taking this as a cue, she goes "So you guys are coming in for Dave Matthews tomorrow night then?)
"Well, Yeah" we reply, "We drove from Adelaide to see them"
She nods her head, thinking and goes "Well, run that trash around to the bin for me, and I will see what I can do about getting you in to a meet and greet tomorrow night"
Awesome, we did the errand for her and talked some more, got her name and she tells us to return before the gig the next night, and she will see what she can do.
So we wander off, sort of excited but about 98% sure that she won't follow through, and was making empty promises just so we would do her dirty work.
Head up back to the hotel and sleep till Sunday.
Getting up Sunday, we caught the tram into town and had breakfast at Melbourne's answer to the Pancake Kitchen. There, we were joined by the fourth member of our party, Big Tim, who had flown in that morning.
So we killed a day in Melbourne. Did a little shopping, wandered out to the Markets where we bought some junk (A dart shotgun and a dart SMG) and some not so junk (A gift for Daw's Sister's 21st).
A short tram ride later, hotel hilarity was had as a dart based World War Three exploded before dinner.
After another dinner of pre-prepared noodles in a styrofoam cup, we drove back down to the Palais in our best concert goin' clothes to meet up with our contact. She worked catering, and worked out of a large food van near the backstage door. So we stood around the side, chatting, watching people heading walking in to the gig. As we wait, Tim narrows his eyes at a backstage door about 10 meters further down and goes "Is that... That is fucking Dave Matthews"
That it was, Dave had stuck his head out the backstage door, and posed for a quick photo with a couple of fans before ducking back inside. We ran up, getting there just as he dissapeared back in.
As the rest of the rabble moved away, the three of us were left standing with three security guards (including the LARGEST security guard I have ever seen) and none other than Leroi Moore, Saxophonist for DMB. So we chilled there for a minute with Leroi, being the most reclusive member of DMB, we didnt ask for autographs or a photo with him, but he did strike a pose for us to take a photo just before he went inside.
Leroi Smiles for three retarded DMB fans. (Blurry photography by retarded Nick)
So we stand there going "Wow, that was pretty cool" and decide to loiter around by the stage door a little longer. Presently, unofficial member of DMB, Keyboardist Butch Taylor sticks his head out of the stage door for just long enough for us to wave before he dissapears back in.
About that time, our contact appears near the van, so I walk about 5 steps away to talk to her before I hear Daw screaming "Nick!!"
I look back to see Daw and McEvoy standing next to a big, buff, dreadlocked black man, who is chatting to security.
That man, is none other than Boyd Tinsley, formerly of Boyd Tinsley band, now violinist of Dave Matthews Band.
The glory part? There are 5 people standing there. One of which is security and one other fan.
We stand there shocked for a moment and then go "Boyd! Can we get a photo?"
He grins, and saunters over, shakes all our hands and has a chat to us before posing with us. Chats some more, excuses himself, shakes our hands again and dissapears inside.
Boyd Tinsley and three grinning loons.
Wandering away sort of dazed, we ran into random catering chick, who said that there was no meet and greet before the gig, but maybe one after and to come back and see her when the concert was over. So we headed inside, with just enough time to line up at the merch stand to get some t-shirts before wandering inside to see the last song of the support act. (The were called Carus in the end, didn't see much of them)
Due to a ticketing fuck-up again, we had two seats upstairs in the lounge, and one seat downstairs in the stalls. I took the stalls ticket. After realising that this seat (KK48) was the second to back row, in the far right corner, I decided to go looking for a better seat.
As the gig was not a sell out, there were seats everywhere, but the problem was finding one that wasnt taken by someone arriving late.
I decided to take a run upstairs. Met up with Tim and Daw after blazing past door security. (Even pausing to give him a cocky nod hello, as I infiltrated the lounge)
We found a primo position right on the edge of the balcony, that was GREAT but required us to stand. Just before the band came on, security asked us to move because us standing there was a quote " fire hazard" unquote. Tim and Daw returned to their seats, as I busted up a bit further back to avoid being kicked back downstairs.
I wound up standing in the main aisle, right next to the security post. Since there were no people sitting in the about 300 more seats behind the aisle, they didnt care that people were standing, so I killed the concert there with a whole heap of other DMB whackos.
We did a lot of singing and dancing in a big group, and even got a special mention from Dave.
"Thankyou all very much for coming out tonight, and thankyou to the people up there dancing. I see y'all dancing up there. Thankyou so much"
Because I was standing literally a meter from the nearest security, and for some reason, the Palais forbids taking photos with any form of digital, video or still camera. Which means they will warn you once before confiscating your camera.
Considering that my camera contained the all too valuable photo of us with Boyd, I didn't really want to lose it, but I managed to sneak a quick shot of the stage when security left for a second.
Band on stage. Blurry again. I rock at taking photos.
After the guys started, the set went down like this,
One Sweet World
What Would You Say
Grey Street
The Stone
Crush
Best of What's Around
Where Are You Going
When the World Ends
Bartender
American Baby
Warehouse
Rhyme and Reason
So Much to Say >
Too Much
Encore:
(Intro)
Don't Drink the Water
(Outro)
Tripping Billies
Personal favourites of mine that I NEVER thought I would hear live, "The Stone" and "Best of What's Around" made my night.
"Crush" came in with an extended jam and a hardcore Boyd solo that blended with the trademark Stefan bass line to form an awesome live version.
"Bartender" was the best version that I have ever heard, that was made even better by the uber-jam on the tail end.
We were the first audience on tour to hear their new studio single "American Baby" which rawked! Eternal favourite "Warehouse" was accompanied by trademark "Wooo" noises (The real fans know what I mean, Listen to the Central Park Concert version) and was customised with Aussie folk song by Butch Taylor on keys, as he played "Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree" as an outro.
"So Much to Say" segued straight into "Too Much" with a little help from an extended scat by Dave, and rounded out the set.
Ten full minutes of cheering brought the boys back on stage, with Dave starting a slow, morose solo acoustic intro which exploded into "Don't Drink the Water" as the whole band joined in.
The encore was wrapped up with a HUGE "Tripping Billies" with a violin solo that had Boyd bouncing round the whole stage.
We left and headed outside to meet our catering contact. As we met her, she said that Carter (The drummer) was feeling ill and there would be no meet and greet that night. But she told us to wait around near here. As we stood, we saw a convo of mini-vans pulling up onto the pavement. So this is where the band is leaving.
Security told us to stand behind a line on the pavement and wait. We stood up front waiting. After about 10 minutes, Carter exited, grinned, waved, and jumped in his van. Given to rumours that he was feeling unwell, the small crowd wished him well.
The crowd wound up being about 40 people big as we stood waiting in the cold.
As time wore on, the number of people in the crowd dwindled to about 20.
After about 20 more minutes, Boyd came out, and wandered over to the group accompanied by security.
Part dreadlocked Boyd, Mostly uber-large DMB tour security.
Amid the sea of ticket stubs, I gave thanks that I stuck in my copy of "Crash" and got Boyd to scribble on that for me.
We waited for a little longer; arguments broke out between Americans and Australians, Political debates raged, an American wanker hassled the (entirely do-able) female security guard and generally made a dick of himself, until the crowd made him leave amind cheers.
Sometime after that, Stefan (the bassist) ran through quickly waved and left.
We waited for about another half hour, just chatting with people etc etc. Until finally, Dave appeared and sauntered over to the group.
Dave meets the fans.
Shaking hands with randoms.
Signing crap...
And almost a little too close for comfort.
I shook the man's hand and got a signature. Others were getting photos. He hung out and chatted to the crowd for a bit as they asked him questions. Just as he was about to leave, Daw offered his hand, but instead, jumped on Dave and gave him a man hug. That was the funniest thing I have ever seen.
Awesome gig. Especially since it was my first time.
It was a life goal of mine to see DMB live, but I thought I would have to go to America to do it.
We slept away that night, and packed up and drove home the next day. Nothing really exciting happened. I slept most of the way..
Moral of the story:
There is nothing to do in Victoria.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
I just realised something troubling...
The Who have about 60 songs.
Which leaves room for about 57 more CSI variants.
Which is more shows than there are States in the states.
Which means at some stage they are going to have to go overseas.
Which means we could see some hardcore CSI : Sydney, or CSI : London action.
*shudder*
The Who have about 60 songs.
Which leaves room for about 57 more CSI variants.
Which is more shows than there are States in the states.
Which means at some stage they are going to have to go overseas.
Which means we could see some hardcore CSI : Sydney, or CSI : London action.
*shudder*
Monday, March 14, 2005
Customer Service:
(And why sometimes smearing my genitals with raspberry jam and putting on a jockstrap full of fire ants seems more appealing)
When you work in customer service for any amount of time, you realise that customer service is suckky.
Actually that's a lie. It CAN be suckky. It can also be really good.
The suckky part of it is, when all you want do is to tell customers to "Eat shit and die screaming with lots of sharp pointy objects in your face" what you have to say is "Thankyou, have a nice day"
Eventually you realise that you can classify all of the customers into broad separate groups. The following groups are arranged in order of increasing irritation.
Nice Customers:
Unfortunately they are reasonably rare, these are the customers that are GENUINELY nice and interesting. You can chat to them without wanting to tear their throat out. They will ask questions about your real life and so on and enjoy talking to people. Tippers fall into this group. If they have a complaint, they will register it in a friendly manner that will make you actually want to help them. Something along the lines of "That beer with a dash was a little weak, hit the next one with a bit more dash would you?"
Meh Customers:
The largest group by far. They don't actually care. They don't speak beyond a general greeting and a goodbye. If there is a small problem with their order, they will probably just eat it/drink it and shut up. They are the indifferent group. They WON'T check orders before they leave the store, they won't get out the chemical analysis kits to find out if you put a full shot of scotch in their scotch and coke and they definately won't whip out the calipers and measure the head of their beer. They will take it, pay, thank you and leave.
Pardon-me-but... customers:
They are almost like the meh-customers, however, if something goes wrong they will grab you with a "Pardon me, but..." which is inevitably followed with a complaint. "Pardon me but I ordered a pizza and this is a duck", "Pardon me but mine was the two scotches and a pint of pale, not a plum floating in purfume served in a man's hat." In short, they will accept the order, but if the order is MASSIVELY incorrect, they will complain in a nice fashion.
Whiners:
We all know them. They are the anal rententive and the spoiled. They often have complaints like "This beer is 7 degrees celcius, and I would like it to be 5 degrees celcius" or "I ordered a half hawiian half supreme, and this is a 7/16 Hawiian and 9/16 supreme" or "My beer has a 2cm head when I specifically requested a 1cm head etc etc. They piss on about stupid little details that dont matter to anyone else, and they bitch and moan until they get their way. The worst part is you have to deal with them pleasantly, when all you really want to do is kick their ass and tell them to get the hell over it.
Angry Customers:
Exactly like the whiners, but when something goes wrong, they fly into an unprovoked rage and attack you personally, the store, the bar, your supervisors etc etc etc until they have vented their spleen, had their little yell, and leave. They will shout, scream, threaten violence and in some cases resort to violence.
Incredibly painful to deal with.
Customers who think they are entitled:
The worst of the whole god-damn group. I hate them. These are the people who think they are entitled to some special treatment because of who they are. This could be because they are rich, because they are a member of the establishment, in a bar or pub; it could be that they are a regular, it could even be that during the day they are some sort of big wig who gets all their stuff done for them. Or it could be just that they are an asshole and they think that you are scum. These are the sort of people who will aggressively abuse you to your face, insult you, threaten to report you to your supervisor, request to see your supervisor, ask how long you have been working there, use phrases like "Don't you know who I am," "get me someone with some authority" "Never in all my years in (This position) have I had such bad service" Blah blah blah.
These are the sort of people who are widely hated in the industry, and generally wind up with even WORSE service because they are an asshole about it.
Which group are you?
(And why sometimes smearing my genitals with raspberry jam and putting on a jockstrap full of fire ants seems more appealing)
When you work in customer service for any amount of time, you realise that customer service is suckky.
Actually that's a lie. It CAN be suckky. It can also be really good.
The suckky part of it is, when all you want do is to tell customers to "Eat shit and die screaming with lots of sharp pointy objects in your face" what you have to say is "Thankyou, have a nice day"
Eventually you realise that you can classify all of the customers into broad separate groups. The following groups are arranged in order of increasing irritation.
Nice Customers:
Unfortunately they are reasonably rare, these are the customers that are GENUINELY nice and interesting. You can chat to them without wanting to tear their throat out. They will ask questions about your real life and so on and enjoy talking to people. Tippers fall into this group. If they have a complaint, they will register it in a friendly manner that will make you actually want to help them. Something along the lines of "That beer with a dash was a little weak, hit the next one with a bit more dash would you?"
Meh Customers:
The largest group by far. They don't actually care. They don't speak beyond a general greeting and a goodbye. If there is a small problem with their order, they will probably just eat it/drink it and shut up. They are the indifferent group. They WON'T check orders before they leave the store, they won't get out the chemical analysis kits to find out if you put a full shot of scotch in their scotch and coke and they definately won't whip out the calipers and measure the head of their beer. They will take it, pay, thank you and leave.
Pardon-me-but... customers:
They are almost like the meh-customers, however, if something goes wrong they will grab you with a "Pardon me, but..." which is inevitably followed with a complaint. "Pardon me but I ordered a pizza and this is a duck", "Pardon me but mine was the two scotches and a pint of pale, not a plum floating in purfume served in a man's hat." In short, they will accept the order, but if the order is MASSIVELY incorrect, they will complain in a nice fashion.
Whiners:
We all know them. They are the anal rententive and the spoiled. They often have complaints like "This beer is 7 degrees celcius, and I would like it to be 5 degrees celcius" or "I ordered a half hawiian half supreme, and this is a 7/16 Hawiian and 9/16 supreme" or "My beer has a 2cm head when I specifically requested a 1cm head etc etc. They piss on about stupid little details that dont matter to anyone else, and they bitch and moan until they get their way. The worst part is you have to deal with them pleasantly, when all you really want to do is kick their ass and tell them to get the hell over it.
Angry Customers:
Exactly like the whiners, but when something goes wrong, they fly into an unprovoked rage and attack you personally, the store, the bar, your supervisors etc etc etc until they have vented their spleen, had their little yell, and leave. They will shout, scream, threaten violence and in some cases resort to violence.
Incredibly painful to deal with.
Customers who think they are entitled:
The worst of the whole god-damn group. I hate them. These are the people who think they are entitled to some special treatment because of who they are. This could be because they are rich, because they are a member of the establishment, in a bar or pub; it could be that they are a regular, it could even be that during the day they are some sort of big wig who gets all their stuff done for them. Or it could be just that they are an asshole and they think that you are scum. These are the sort of people who will aggressively abuse you to your face, insult you, threaten to report you to your supervisor, request to see your supervisor, ask how long you have been working there, use phrases like "Don't you know who I am," "get me someone with some authority" "Never in all my years in (This position) have I had such bad service" Blah blah blah.
These are the sort of people who are widely hated in the industry, and generally wind up with even WORSE service because they are an asshole about it.
Which group are you?
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Howdy Partner!
Back in the good old days, there were three reasons that you would have a partner...
1) If you were a cowboy: In this case, everyone was a partner
2) If you were in law enforcement: Generally your partner in this case would be completely different to the person that you are. Complete polar opposites. And you would be on the hunt for serial killers. Think Mulder and Scully, Briscoe and Green, Starsky and Hutch etc.
3) If you were a spandex wearing super hero: You would be paired up with a handy, yet younger and more inexperienced partner/sidekick.
Now days however, it seems that the term is seeping into the language in place of other more common place terminology; like "Girlfriend/Boyfriend" or "Husband/Wife".
You know you have heard this happen; "Oooh, my partner and I went to see that new Johnny Depp movie" or "My partner has a severe case of genital rash"
This not only irritates me, but it makes me wonder "WHY GOD WHY?" I think it sounds pretentious and just plain stupid.
Now, women are most at fault of doing this, but I have heard guys doing it as well. Generally speaking it is used in place of boyfriend or girlfriend, (though I have heard it in place of husband or wife a couple of times)
This makes me wonder:
Is it a measure of the length, seriousness or successfulness of the relationship?
Is there a definite point in a relationship where someone is too serious to be your boyfriend but not serious enough to be a husband? And so the term partner gets applied?
Is that what it is? Sort of a generic term for someone who has no other name? When girlfriend seems too juvenile but "Chick-that-I'm-fucking" isn't appropriate in polite mixed company?
Or is it the androgynous nature of the world that holds the appeal? The fact that this "Partner" that you are referring to could be either male or female? Do you feel mysterious that you are playing your sexuality card that close to your chest? That there are people who have nothing better to talk about speculating on which way you swing over banana daiquiris in the club on a Saturday night?
I hate the term.
I am going to have a girlfriend until I have a fiancee, a fiancee until I have a wife, a wife until I have an ex-wife etc etc.
I promise at no point that I will have a "partner" and that's the way it should be!
HUH!
Back in the good old days, there were three reasons that you would have a partner...
1) If you were a cowboy: In this case, everyone was a partner
2) If you were in law enforcement: Generally your partner in this case would be completely different to the person that you are. Complete polar opposites. And you would be on the hunt for serial killers. Think Mulder and Scully, Briscoe and Green, Starsky and Hutch etc.
3) If you were a spandex wearing super hero: You would be paired up with a handy, yet younger and more inexperienced partner/sidekick.
Now days however, it seems that the term is seeping into the language in place of other more common place terminology; like "Girlfriend/Boyfriend" or "Husband/Wife".
You know you have heard this happen; "Oooh, my partner and I went to see that new Johnny Depp movie" or "My partner has a severe case of genital rash"
This not only irritates me, but it makes me wonder "WHY GOD WHY?" I think it sounds pretentious and just plain stupid.
Now, women are most at fault of doing this, but I have heard guys doing it as well. Generally speaking it is used in place of boyfriend or girlfriend, (though I have heard it in place of husband or wife a couple of times)
This makes me wonder:
Is it a measure of the length, seriousness or successfulness of the relationship?
Is there a definite point in a relationship where someone is too serious to be your boyfriend but not serious enough to be a husband? And so the term partner gets applied?
Is that what it is? Sort of a generic term for someone who has no other name? When girlfriend seems too juvenile but "Chick-that-I'm-fucking" isn't appropriate in polite mixed company?
Or is it the androgynous nature of the world that holds the appeal? The fact that this "Partner" that you are referring to could be either male or female? Do you feel mysterious that you are playing your sexuality card that close to your chest? That there are people who have nothing better to talk about speculating on which way you swing over banana daiquiris in the club on a Saturday night?
I hate the term.
I am going to have a girlfriend until I have a fiancee, a fiancee until I have a wife, a wife until I have an ex-wife etc etc.
I promise at no point that I will have a "partner" and that's the way it should be!
HUH!
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Thanks to the three hundred ring circus we call life...
Nick is now available in two flavours, "Super busy frantic (tm)" or "Sleeping"
Welcome back.
I know I know, I have sort of been ignoring you all, like that odd smell that seems to seep up through the floor in Room 0008 at uni.
However, what with the new uni semester starting, and me working what seems to be more and more like three jobs to keep up, things are getting a little crazy.
But I am back! I have returned-ed just like General MacArthur!
Worked WOMAD over the weekend. Had some crazy crazy fun. Saturday afternoon our peak lasted about 5 hours. I took a break at 11:30, and the next time I had a chance to look at my watch and register the time it was 8:45. Gotta love those busy busy shifts.
Have been put on the roster as a permanent part-timer at the golf club. Means that I might be able to make a little more money. That should keep me from going stir-fry crazy for just a little longer.
However, Back at uni for another semester full of fun and frolicks!
Week two down, and I have already begun to lose intrest in absolutely everything.
Oh well, This is life I guess. Using my free uni time to read up on things that I don't need to know, just so that I know things that I don't need to know.
Ill get back to you.
Nick is now available in two flavours, "Super busy frantic (tm)" or "Sleeping"
Welcome back.
I know I know, I have sort of been ignoring you all, like that odd smell that seems to seep up through the floor in Room 0008 at uni.
However, what with the new uni semester starting, and me working what seems to be more and more like three jobs to keep up, things are getting a little crazy.
But I am back! I have returned-ed just like General MacArthur!
Worked WOMAD over the weekend. Had some crazy crazy fun. Saturday afternoon our peak lasted about 5 hours. I took a break at 11:30, and the next time I had a chance to look at my watch and register the time it was 8:45. Gotta love those busy busy shifts.
Have been put on the roster as a permanent part-timer at the golf club. Means that I might be able to make a little more money. That should keep me from going stir-fry crazy for just a little longer.
However, Back at uni for another semester full of fun and frolicks!
Week two down, and I have already begun to lose intrest in absolutely everything.
Oh well, This is life I guess. Using my free uni time to read up on things that I don't need to know, just so that I know things that I don't need to know.
Ill get back to you.