Damn It, Achmed!

So many of you may not know this by now, but I finally got a real full time job. Unfortunately this job has required me to move to the South. Yes, the South... the deep south. We're so fucking stupid we built our city below sea level South. That's right. I am now a not so proud resident of the not so great state of Louisiana, New Orleans to be exact. I'm not gonna lie, moving and getting adjusted to life outside of Cleveland has been a little rough. For the first time in my life I've finally realized what an amazing culture Cleveland has and how proud of it I am. But that's a topic for another day. The south is interesting to say the least. In the simplest of terms, it's about 40 years behind the rest of the country in terms of innovation and political correctness. But anyways, it's on to the good stuff.

On my first day with Company X I had to travel to Dallas for "Spirit of Company X" day (I'll be referring to my current employer by various names other than its real name to prevent myself from getting fired...yes I'm being dead serious. I can't risk it). So I had to travel to Dallas. I was a little worried about this because I wouldn't have my car and I hate relying on others, especially strangers to get around. Fortunately I landed in Dallas, and made my way to the hotel without incident. Later that night i scheduled myself a cab to get to the office that morning. Everything was set. I was ready for the next day... or so I thought. The Next morning I woke up and got ready to go. Once I got downstairs I saw a truly awesome sight. My cab was parked out front and on time. I breathed a sigh of relief and made my way out the door. Unfortunately I had no idea that my great Dallas adventure was only about to begin. Keep in mind that by adventure I mean a fucking half hour tour around the city on what should have been a 5 minute drive.

I walk outside and the guy, let's call him Achmed, asks me if I'm room 431. Sure enough that's me so i get in the cab. I tell Achmed where I need to be and he's like OK! we pull out of the parking lot and start driving down the road, 2 seconds later he turns and says "OK which way I go? Which direction? I need exit number!" Really...

Are you fucking serious???

I'm from the god damn O-H-I-O, ACHHHHHHHmed. What did your plane land in Dallas 2 days before mine? Seriously? Like really??? Really...

I then spent the next 25 minutes shitting my pants and trying to get ahold of someone...ANYONE... that could tell me how to get to where I needed to be. Of course I call the phone number for the people that set this shit up and they're in Kentucky and never been to the Dallas office. Let's hear it for corporate America in the 21st century.

Achmed's grand idea is to call his dispatch, scream at them in some way that I can only assume was some sort of foreign language...or a sneeze... I'm not really sure. After getting off of the phone we pull into an office complex. I'm thinking sweet we're here....then i see the address. I need 2100. We're at 6300. OK Achmed... not close at all. We pull out and now I'm thinking he knows where he's at and where he needs to be. 2 minutes later he pulls into a second office complex. Again not close to 2100. Really Achmed? This is how we're gonna do this? Pull into every complex till we get lucky? I felt like I was in some bass akwards game of where's Waldo. Eventually though, he figured it out and got me to where I needed to be and surprisingly just in time to be 5 minutes late. Thanks Achhhhhhmed.

Actually I enjoyed the drive so much that I actually called him to pick me up and take me to the airport. Fortunately he knew how to get to the airport.... wait... maybe that's not a coincidence. Oh stereotypes....

When Target and Arabica Collide

So as many of you know, I currently work at Target. Before working at Target I slaved my life away for Arabica Coffee House. Now as many of you can assume these are two very different entities with two very different styles of business. The most glaring of these differences are these things called rules and regulations as well as their enforcement. Target is all about their rules. Arabica... shit, I think the only rule we had was wash your hands... most of the time. You might think I'm kidding there. I'm not. However, despite these differences there seems to be one overwhelming similarity between the two. This would be the people and by people I mean customers, or in Target speak, the guests. Arabica customers and employees shop, and unfortunately work, at Target. This has led to some very awkward exchanges for me. Allow me to explain a little more.

There are a few kinds of encounters I have working at Target with former Arabica customers. Despite how it may begin it always ends the same fucking way, with them assuming we're best friends. Typically I'm met with either an "OH MY GOD HOW ARE YOU!?!?!" or the ever so depressing, "Why do you look so familiar?" "Arabica..." "OH MY GOD HOW ARE YOU!?!?!" How am I you ask? I work at Target for a whopping $7.55 per hour... HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK I AM!!! Seriously. Small talk is exchanged, I end up explaining the tale that is the demise of Arabica, I swear it's a local legend by now, and then a "well it was good seeing you." It's especially awkward when I hated the person to begin with and they believe us to be bosom buddies. I share bosoms with only a select few. If I relied on your "generosity" to support me financially... chances are we do not share bosoms.

The second encounter which is limited to one, thank God are former Arabica customers who I work with. Robb is cool...he is the lone exception. The other R-tard to fall into this category I'm pretty sure is an actual R-tard. Deaf Jimmy, aka Terry FUCKING Bradshaw. He was a deaf guy that used to come into the store and try and place orders. This was a problem because he was deaf, sucked at reading lips, and screamed what he wanted. Communicating with Helen Keller would be easier. Yes a Helen Keller joke. I don;t have the energy to be more creative. Anyways, Terry Bradshaw saw me in the break room and proceed to give me two thumbs down and scream COFFEE SHOP BAD! BAD! BAD COFFEE SHOP! This wasn't awkward at all considering it happened during my first week, in the middle of the break room, in front of like 8 people. Fucking Terry Bradshaw.

Last are the encounters when I run into my fellow co-workers. These are few and far between because when I'm at work I hide. Apparently they all suck at finding me. It's a like this glorified game of hide and seek. But I have to say these encounters are enjoyable. It's good to catch up with them. Let it be known that I know you laugh about my stupid khakis and red shirt as you walk away. It's like I'm Carrie in the final scene of "Carrie" being laughed at up on stage covered in fake blood. Oh if only I had telepathy. REVENGE SHALL BE MINE!!! errr I completely understand, I look like a douche. But I gotta make a living. I can;t wait until the day comes when they all have shitty jobs and I can stop in and "say hello to them" err make fun of them. Fuckers.

So there you have it. Just a simple little glimpse further into my life at Target. You Know you're all jealous.

Target: Screwing the Elderly Since... Wait What?

So today I'm going to share a story that actually happened at Target. I've been working a lot of hours lately so the odds of something funny happening have increased. Today, being Sunday and all, was prime for some priceless exchange. Around 1:30 it happened. There was a call on hold for lawn or patio chairs. It's August so a lot of that stuff has been gone for a while now. However that doesn't stop the masses from harassing me about what they do and don't have. The other factor that makes this just one huge clusterfuck is that every store at this point has different amount of inventory left and at different prices. It's really just a crap shoot. And so our tale begins.

I answer the phone call and it's an elderly man. I know this because, well... he sounds old as dirt. Plus he did that fun thing that old folks love to do on the phone where they say what after everything you say. He proceeds to ask me if we have a specific chair in a specific color. It's at this point I know this is going to end badly. Not only is he asking for something we more than likely don't have, but he wantss wants a specific color. I do what I can and make an honest effort to look. I find what he's looking for, at least I think its what he wanted, I'm still not really sure but I rolled with it. He asks me to put 4 of them on hold and I say yes that I could do that. He then asked me what the price of the chairs was. This is when it got fun.

I tell him that the chairs are priced as is at $30 apiece. He wasn't happy about this...AT ALL. He proceeded to tell me this story about how he was in New York and bought 2 of them there for $15 apiece and that he was looking for 4 more, and how come the price is different. In all honesty who buys lawn chairs or patio furniture when they're on vacation in another state? If you know, please enlighten me. I explained to him Target's policy when it comes to pricing seasonal items after the season has ended and that's when he drops this little nugget on me. "I just don't understand why you're sticking it to the elderly. We don't have money like that. Why would you do that? Charging a different price for the same thing." He then tried to haggle with me. At least I think he was trying to haggle with me. I'm not really sure because there was no actual offer. In retrospect I'm surprised he didn't off me a goat or one of his daughter's hands in marriage. Or better yet, one of his goats in marriage or one of his daughters for milk... think about it.

Anyways, I ask him one more time if he wanted the chairs put on hold. He says sure but in that way that kind of tells me "sure put those on hold for me. Go to all that trouble and then I'm not going to come in and get them thus wasting all of your time." I love it when I get that tone from people. the whole conversation becomes a pissing contest, only I'm rendered "pissless" because well... I need my job. So i ask him for the name and he gives it to me. Then...THEN he asks me what my name is. Ultimately I'm sure it's so he can throw me under the bus if in fact he does come in. What an asshole. The long and short of this all tells me that these Target stories suck ass. Seriously if you read this and actually laughed at all... Thank you. I miss my old job. The stories were sooooo much better.

Karma's a Bitch, Ain't it Kids? (Uncensored)

Warning: The following post includes crude language

and jokes... more so than normal. I did not censor myself.

And we have come full circle. What do I mean you ask? Well, with Wickliffe being the hotbed for gossip that it is, it was only a matter of time until we learned something about the fate of Arabica Wickliffe and those mother fuckers who screwed all of us over. For those of you just now tuning in, or for those that need a recap of the events that took place, allow me to tell you a tale. To paint a picture if I may. To spin a web of sarcastic irony.

Back in February of this past year, The No Name Cafe, aka Fut(fuck)bol Cafe, aka Arabica, aka piece of crap was bought by a family. This wasn't just any family however. In fact Ryko told us that we were bought by a man, who would be dubbed "The Owner," who was very family oriented. In fact, he was so family oriented in fact that he decided to procreate with his succubus, demon woman wife. seriously... there's bitch... and then there was this woman. How "The Owner" was physically able to become sexually aroused enough by the sight of this apron over dress wearing 24/7 "woman" to be able to stick his penis inside of her. MORE THAN ONCE! (I use the term woman loosely, which is also ironic because after popping out twelve kids I'm sure you could park a semi truck in her vag) But honestly, my dick ran and hid from this woman like a fucking ninja turtle fighting The Shredder when she was around. I would rather had sex with a young Vietnamese girl during the Vietnam war. Sure they hid razor blades in there to fuck over the soldiers but those wounds heal. The psychological wounds of being with that hell beast would never wash away. OK, I've really, REALLY gotten off track here...back to where I was going.

Anyways, "The Owner" bought us out, switched us back to Arabica, and then after subjecting us to zero communication, an operations manager that would make Ben Stein look like Robin Williams, and then his pig whore wife coming in and turning everything upside down.... they let us go. Every single one of us. Well technically Matt and Lorrie were spared, but it was only temporary. Our Family was broken. Over the course of the year leading into these events we had been through some devastating events. Davor sold the business and essentially broke up with Tony. It was like our parents got divorced and we were the kids left taking the blame. Was it our fault? Could we have done more? Who knows. All I know is that instead of making sure the kids were OK we were left in the care of the world's worst foster parent...Ryko. Hindsight being 20/20... we would have been better off being left in the care of a child molester. But it was OK, because Ryko sold the business and we were getting a new owner, a new start, someone wanted us god damn it! and then the events played out and we were cast aside like the trash that over flowed from the back dumpster after 3 weeks.

In the aftermath of it all some of us were left unemployed, others found there way to places such as Marc's, Target, Red Lobster and Panini's, understanding what it meant to actually have to work for a living. It was a strange new concept and we hated it. I think I worked more in one week at Target than I had worked in 1 year at Arabica. Things haven't really been or felt the same since. Sure we keep in contact, but not how we used to. But one thing has kept us united throughout it all... our loathsome hatred for "The Owner," Twatosaurus Rex, and their Jesus freak family. Well, as fate would have it we would have our redemption of sorts.

This past weekend through the grapevine that is Wickliffe it was discovered that "The Owner" and She-Beast were getting a divorce. It's so tragic. Really, we're all crying on the inside for them (jerking off motion). So what does this mean exactly? Well I'm sure there were a number of factors at play. The buying of two stores probably without Medusa's approval by "The Owner." The fact that "The Owner" was married to the queen bitch of all bitches. And they have twelve kids, some of them still very young. That's a lot of fucking child support. *WARNING: JON AND KATE PLUS 8 JOKE AHEAD* I think at this point all that's left is for the owner to sit down with Jon Gosselin and have him spill his secrets for picking up drunken party sluts all while raising a fucking litter. Meanwhile Kate and Ursula can get together and hold the first meeting of the Queen Bitches Society. Topics on the ledger for that meeting are rumored to be "How to Better Control a Man" and "How to Steal Ariel's Voice...Again."

So there you have it. Karma has come back to officially bite these people in the ass. Does it make me feel like a terrible person to be laughing at their misfortune and how their family has been broken? It did... for a millisecond. Then I thought about what they put us through for 3 months and how they ended it. The unprofessional, discourteous, down right despicable way in which they treated us. It only makes sense. If they are willing to treat other people like that, how must that have treated each other? Helps explain A LOT, at least I think so. All I can hope for is that "The Owner" keeps his fucking empire in his pants and that Jabba the Hut doesn't score some kind of lucrative book deal. I wonder if Kate is looking for a business partner...Oops, that was another of those jokes.

New Feature: The Scoreboard

Nicknames Used For Owner's Wife:

Demon Woman

Bitch

apron over dress wearing 24/7 "woman"

The Shredder (comparison purposes)

Hell Beast

Pig Whore Wife

Twatasaurus Rex

She-Beast

Medusa

Queen Bitch

Ursula *bonus points for a Disney reference*

Jabba the Hut

Jon and Kate Plus 8 Jokes: 2... I'm sorry... so very, very sorry....

Long over due...

So I now I haven't posted anything on here in a long, long while. It seems to be a problem with motivation and partly because writing about the exploits of my life at Target and my previous job makes me realize how much I miss that wonderful place I called a workplace for close to 7 years. Target just isn't the same. Anyways, enough of that nostalgia crap. On to the good stuff.

I've come to realization lately that in order to retain a lot of the funny crap that happens at work I have to actually care about the job. I don't really care much about Target and because of it, nothing sticks! I've sat here for probably 20 minutes trying to think of something funny that's happened which would be worth mentioning because people might find it funny, but I can't. I can go on and on about Arabica stories for hours on end because I'm convinced I cared about that job. Also a story about a broken can of hairspray doesn't really compare to a story about someone shitting in a urinal or creating a soccer themed cafe in America. So here we go. Arabica story time.

Our second boss Carlo had a little bit more going on upstairs than Ryko, but not much. Under the Carlo regime we were a sunglasses rounder, cigarette vending machine, and gas pump away from being a gas station. Seriously the guy brought in the Ohio Lottery to sell scratch off lotto tickets. I'm also pretty sure the way were were doing it was illegal because he didn't know how to account for the tickets or pay out the money properly. He also served home made wine to minors. smart guy.

However the best part about Carlo was his "extra curricular activities." He would lock himself in his office for hours on end. We had all joked that Carlo was looking at porn again. Did we actually think he was looking at porn? ya... kinda sorta. there was evidence but not anything really of substance other than the door was always locked and he would take 15 minutes to come out if you needed him. After Carlo's reign came to an end a shocking discovery was made. John, the owner of the building and our first boss was helping Tony figure out the computer and finding all the files for the store. They soon discovered that yes, Carlo in fact was looking at porn. However, it wasn't your typical guy on girl type of stuff. Carlo had been spending all of this time looking at gay porn and surfing gay internet chat rooms. This quickly helped us realize why our staff went from female dominated to a fucking sausage fest and also why a video camera which broadcast to a TV in said office was installed. I feel so violated. The most ironic part of this whole situation is that at one point Carlo attempted to fire our gay, weekend piano player because he "didn't want that kind of stuff in there." I'm thinking that maybe he asked him out and Carlo got shot down. it's kind of sad really.

Hey There... How's It Goin'?

Sooooo... I successfully went the entire month of May without posting a single update. Give it up for me! It's not that I didn't have things to write about. It was more a matter of motivation and free time. I didn't really have much of either during May. However, I've found my hours at Target dwindling and now on a boring ass Tuesday afternoon I really don't have much else to do. So what's going on in my world?

First, as you can all guess I work at Target still, aka the retard mecca of the world. Seriously, last night a woman kept asking the same stupid question over and over because she didn't understand the difference between a chair and a table. The job is slowly killing my will to live. I need to get out of their or find another primary job and pronto. I mean as much as I love cashing paychecks for a whopping $70 every two weeks. Ugh...

Anyways, funny story time. The only question is what do I want to tell? Ok let's go with this. Target generally has a policy where if there is a discrepancy about a price then cashiers should give it to the guest for the price they thought it was going to be as long as it's within about $20 of the actual price. Last week a very hormonal and pregnant woman tried to buy a pair of swim goggle she thought cost $6.00. They got rung up for $8. Now the rational decision here is to change the price to $6 and everyone is happy, but no. the GSTL for that night decided she was going to have a war of words with this woman. This led to a price inquiry which i had to deal with. The woman decided to come back to sporting goods where I was working and see for herself. I was then stuck because the peg she got them from said $6...only it was the wrong peg. When I walkied the front end I got the response, "then they're $8." Great. The woman hears the response and then proceeded to go on a profanity laced tirade towards me about prices and customer satisfaction, and how to be a competent human being and how the GSTL was a bitch, and ya it lasted a good 5 minutes. And i just had to sit their and listen to it. Granted i could have said something, but then I'd be unemployed... again. what a bitch!

The Melting Pot of...Confusion

So one of the great things about this country continues to be the way all of the world's different cultures continue to come together to make up this great nation. I love cultural differences. They help make things interesting... especially when I'm at work and have to deal with someone who has spent approximately 1 week, 3 days, and 14 hours in this country. I know that's a pretty radical estimate there. The actual time is probably a lot less. Anyways, If there's one thing I hate it's dealing with people with accents in the workplace. Foreigners made life a living hell as a barista and as a slave at Target. I come baring examples.

As a barista it was hard enough trying to understand what the hell normal Americans were talking about. Foreigners brought this confusion to a whole other level. This one time I was closing the store by myself and an Indian man walks in. By Indian I mean like Apu, not Chief Wahoo. He's on his cell phone and is looking at the menus talking to the person on the other end about what he wants. After about 5 minutes of argumentative conversation in a language I couldn't understand, he turns to me, hands me his cell phone and says "he wants to talk to you." I say hello and this is what takes place.

Oh! And when reading the man's dialogue use an Apu style accent.

Man: "Hello, I would like the drink you make with all of the steam."
Brian: "Oh, well I use steam to make everything, it's just a way to heat everything."
Man: .... "I want extra steam...lots of steam"
Brian: "I can't actually give you extra steam...it's just air that heats it up."
Man: "Yes...OK.... Then extra steam please. You make it with extra steam on top."
Brian: *Forehead in my hand thinking to myself Fuck it* "Sure extra steam"

I proceeded to make a cappuccino with extra froth. Froth was the closest thing I could think of that could qualify as "extra steam." I made all the drinks, the man walked out. I immediately locked the door.

At Target it becomes even more adventurous. As a barista I was dealing with a very limited number of products and drinks. At Target I'm answering questions about things ranging from bikes and storage totes to pet food and tampons. No... I don't know what brand is the most absorbent. Case in point. On Sunday this woman, again Indian, corners me over by the board games and starts talking the following nonsense. I am not making this up. This is what she actually said.

Woman: "I am looking for strings, things the kids use, make characters and shapes, they watching TV, Disney Channel, Not adhesive, not stick, look like these strings, *points to a board game, the name escapes me but its the one where you put the plastic sticks though this bowl type thing and fill the bowl with marbles and one by one pull out the sticks and whoever causes the marbles to drop loses. Does anyone know what I'm talking about?* for the kids, strings, make things, you have? Not find anywhere. Like strings." *points to the box again*

What I was thinking: "SHIT! What the Fuck did you just say? Can I just turn and walk away and pretend I didn't just have this exchange?"
What I said: "Ummm what exactly are you looking for again?"

She repeats all of that...again. I'm pretty sure the second explanation was more confusing than the first.

I responded with "well, if your just looking for those sticks I'm sure they'd be over here and if you don't see them than I guess we don't have them." meanwhile my brain can only repeat "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK ME" over and over and over.

She decides to describe for a third time. I concede. I have no idea what this woman is talking about. I decide to call Desi for help. The impressive part of this is Desi gets over to me, listens to the woman one time...and realizes shes saying shes looking for pipe cleaners. pipe cleaners... how the hell... I walked away and went in hid in the pet dept. for the next 20 minutes. Of course as luck would have it the front end called for register backup so I decided to respond. Guess who I got to ring out? YYYYYYup...pipe cleaner lady. I hate my life.

Guarenteed Next Day

So I had the day off today but didn't get a chance to get to any of this until just now so needless to say today's post won't be much because I'm just not in the mood right now. However in order to keep the momentum going I'm gonna post a short blurb back. This one is from WAY back in the day. It involves Stan "The Man" and a Fed Ex worker. Enjoy...

Stan: "Hi, what can I get for you today?"
Fed Ex Guy: "Umm... I was actually wondering if you could tell me where the nearest Starbucks is?"

Keep in mind he is standing inside of a rival coffee shop that hates Starbucks in the same way the IRS hates offshore bank accounts in the Caribbean. Stan, in his usual overly sarcastic way, chimes right back.

Stan: "No actually. But hey I got some packages I'm looking to mail. You think you can tell me where I could find the nearest UPS Store?"
Fed Ex Guy: ".... I'll take a large latte..."
Stan: "Comin' right up."

Footnote: Stan didn't get a tip

I think I'm gonna start implementing this strategy simply for the reactions it could generate. Walk into a McDonald's and ask where the nearest Burger King is. Ask the kid at blockbuster if he can help me sign up and explain how Netflix works. Maybe walk into the New Yankee Stadium and ask for directions to Fenway Park. On second thought forget that last one. That would involve me having to step foot into that monument to excess and improper use of tax payer money. Fuck the Yankees...

I Missed the Cavs Game for This???

So Tuesday night the Cavs played game two of their first round series against the Pistons. Normally I'd be parked in front of the television the entire time. Unfortunately I got to spend the entire time at my new personal hell, Target. I was "lucky" enough to somehow get the awesome 7-11pm shift. I had never worked this shift before so I didn't really know what to expect going into it. All I really knew is that the entire time I was there I was going to be wondering "what the hell's going on?" "are we winning?" "what's LeBron doing?" etc. Worst part of all. My cell phone would be in my back pocket the entire time providing me text message updates... that I couldn't check. CURSES!!! With that in mind I have decided to steal something from one of my favorite writers, Bill Simmons, and provide a diary of the pointless 4 hour shift I worked while the Cavs played.

7:00 pm
I arrive at work and clock in. I'm told to go find Debbie in order to find out what it is I should be doing for the next 4 hours. I track down Debbie and she tells me that I am going to be "zoning" for the next 4 hours. Zoning is Target speak for rearrange and reorganize the shelves. I spent the next four hours pulling boxes from the back of the shelf to the front of the shelf, grabbing clothing from the market section and food from the toy section because no one can put anything away once they decide they don't want it. All I did was take the stuff on the shelves and rearrange it to make the shelves seem "fuller" UGH! shoot me.

7:25 pm
Debbie asks me about my girlfriend. So i proceed to tell her about our situation and my two degrees and whatnot. She proceeded to rip on me for the next three hours about how I can date the same girl for 8 years and not marry her. And there it is, the running of joke of when am I gonna make the leap has found its way to Target. Can you sense my excitement? I proceeded to try and cut myself but soon realize the Hannah Montana dinnerware set isn't actually sharp. What doesn't Disney slap Miley Cyrus's face on? Everyday I find something new I swear. It's become a running joke. What will we find next?

8:00 pm
"Evening Huddle." Huddles are Targets way of getting us info for the night. What the sales goal is, what tasks need to be done, and... warm up for work. While LeBron was just finishing warming up to bash in Rasheed Wallace's skull... i was warming up for work...with arm and wrist circles. Where's that Hannah Montana dinnerware set again?

8:30 pm
Debbie drops and breaks a lamp. I like to think it's Karma on my side. LeBron apparently has dropped about 4 dunks on the Pistons.

8:45 pm
I end up answering questions about blankets. Like I know anything about blankets other than they keep me warm and can be delightfully comfortable. Karma has officially put me back in my place.

9:10 pm
Vic reports that the Cavs are up 46-32 at the half. I was genuinely excited but still kinda bummed. I would much rather have been watching this unfold rather than hearing about it second hand.

9:15 pm
YES! BREAK TIME! Time to go in the break room and watch some of the game for the next 15 minutes. I sit down right in front of the TV, turn off the walkie talkie, and officially fall off of the Target grid. The game comes back from commercial and... it's still halftime. DAMN IT! OK , it should be over soon.

9:20 pm
Still half time... come on guys let's get this show on the road only 10 minutes of break left. Apparently Drew Carey addresses the crowd at halftime and proceeded to mess up what he was trying to say. He decided to say the brown word on the microphone for about 20,000 people to hear. (for those that don't know, the brown word is shit). It's nice to see him showing some emotion though. I was afraid the Price is Right had completely stole his soul....sort of like a Succubus.

9:25 pm
Still half time... OK, now I'm just getting annoyed. How long is NBA halftime again? I try to start up a quick text message convo with my buddy Steve. He decides not to respond, ass.

9:28 pm
Awesome! I get to watch 2 minutes of the 3rd quarter. LeBron commits a foul. Well at least I can say I saw him do something.

9:30 pm
Back on the floor and back to zoning...WOO!!!! I then decide to rip into Debbie "what the hell Debbie you guys aren't any farther then when I left? What have you been doing?" "you know what new guy? Go zone the fridges and freezers. Ugh... Karma 2 Brian 0.

10:00 pm
The store is finally closed and I'm done zoning the last of the freezers. I now have frost bite. I can't wait to not be at the bottom of the bitch list anymore. Target...HIRE SOMEONE ALREADY!

10:30 pm
We've moved on to zoning cosmetics. On the plus side we can hear the TV in the break room through the wall. CAVS WIN! 94-82! On the negative side. Zoning cosmetics is like trying to sort out the wreckage after two trains collide. It's a mess, it's going to take hours to clean up and sort through all of the carnage. It's impossible to tell which bottle of nail polish or severed arm goes where. The only plus side about the train wreck...once it's cleaned up it's over. With the cosmetics aisles you know that in 12 hours its going to be a wreck again. It's a never ending battle that you will never win...EVER!

10:45 pm
Finally into chemicals. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Just make the Tide end cap look fancy and full of product and we're done. Debbie chimes in again for about the 400th time about dating my girlfriend for as long as I've dated her. Is this night over yet.

11:00 pm
Punch out, stand around and wait to be released back into the world. Zoning the market section made me hungry so I decided once I left I was going to stop and pick up a bit e to eat. I reach into my pocket to see how much cash I had on me. I forgot my wallet at home. I'm going to bed hungry. Karma 3 Brian 0. Debbie apologizes about all the ribbing she did tonight. I say it's OK and I don't really mind it. Admittedly even I think it's hilarious. She hits me for the 401st time. Damn it...

11:20 pm - 12 am
I get home, shower, and fall asleep knowing I had to be back there... in 7 hours

So there you have it. That is how I spent my Tuesday night in Target rather than in front of the TV. Is getting a paycheck really worth all of this? I have no idea. What I do know is that I have the rest of the Cavs playoff schedule printed and up on my wall. Ironically I think I can feel myself starting to come down with something *cough cough*

Safety First!

Let me just say this. I am all for safety. It's important that when you do anything that you always make sure it's being done properly. However, there's a limit to the amount of safety precautions that need to be taken. Typically the amount of danger involved dictates the number of safety precautions you need to take. If you're handling radioactive toxic waste, you might wanna take more precautions than if you were cleaning your cat's litter box. On a related note, I don't think there's anything more degrading than cleaning a litter box. We clean up after dogs because the law says we have to, but cats shit into a small plastic box full of litter and then the owner gets to scoop it all out while the cat sits there and laughs. To make matters worse, how does that cat show his appreciation? Clawing you half to death when you try and pet it. Holding a cat in your lap is like holding a ticking time bomb. Eventually it's going to go off and you are going to get very, very hurt. I'm half convinced if cats had opposable thumbs, they would rule the world. Did I just go on about cats for an entire paragraph? Yes...yes I did.

Anyways, the other day I was having coffee and I got to see quite a sight. The guy sitting on the other side of the store got up to leave, let's call him Captain Safety. At this point I realized The Captain had ridden his bike today. I realized this because he had brought it into the store in order to keep it from being stolen. This bike was older than me... no one was going to steal it. He then proceeded to get suited up for some hard core bike riding to work action. He put on a wind breaker and then covered it with a sweat shirt, which i still don't understand. Next up was his helmet. Not only did he put on a helmet, but over the helmet, and the best way I could explain it, was a day glow, highlighter yellow, shower cap thing. The helmet also had one of those tiny rear view mirrors attached to it. Next, Captain Safety put on these huge ass sunglasses and I mean these things were like the one's Bret "The Hitman" Hart used to wear. You know the reflective ones that take up your entire face. For a minute I could thought I heard his intro music playing. I immediately feared having the sharp shooter put on me. Anyways, The captain then proceeded to put on gloves, with no fingers, and then put a rubber band around his right pant leg to keep it from getting stuck in the chain. He was wearing jeans, not nice dress pants. So that's the complete picture. Take a minute to take it all in.

This guy seriously resembled a cross between Lance Armstrong and The Forty Year Old Virgin. None of it made any sense...until later that day. Driving out to Best Buy I was coming up on a biker who was riding in the street. Mentor Ave. gets prettyy busy. So my natural reaction was "Get the hell out of the street jackass!" and then I got closer. I saw something strapped to his bike rack on the back. This "thing"... a twelve pack. As I passed him I realized the sheer stupidity, or maybe awesomeness of the situation. I'm not really sure to be honest. I'm leaning more towards awesome stupidity. This man was riding his bike, down a busy street, in the middle of the afternoon in broad daylight... drinking a beer. He was pedaling under the influence, PUI. When I told my best friend his immediate response was, "Can I adopt that guy as my dad?" There is something seriously wrong with bike riders in Cleveland, Ohio.

So there you have it. In the same day I managed to see the world's safest and unsafest bike riders ever. It was also the first real nice day we've had this year. If that's any indication of how this summer is going to go, I am officially excited.

Did I Really Need to Know that?

"TMI? Too Much Information. It’s just easier to say "TMI". I used to say "don't go there", but that's lame."

-Michael Scott, Regional Manager, Dunder Mifflin Paper Co.

So I've been struggling for about 15 minutes now trying to figure out a way to lead into the following story. I guess that some stories you just can't build up. You just need to tell them and let them work their own magic... I think this is one of those stories:

It's a Saturday afternoon and Kari has been stuck working by herself...

Kari waits on 2 teenagers and after ringing them up this is what unfolds:
Kari: "Alright here's your change. Hope you two have a nice day."
Boy: "Ya me too, at least I hope it goes a lot better than last night and earlier today. I had a serious case of explosive diarrhea."
Kari: "Uhhh... what?"
Girl: "Oh don't even complain. I just started my period today and it's heavy as hell. I already changed my tampon twice and I think I'm about to go change it again."
Boy: "Oh that's gross"
Kari, Still standing at the register dumbfounded: "Uhhhh....what?"

This is what one could call a TMI moment. In fact, this was a two'fer. A tag team effort of sorts. Kari got to hear about explosive diarrhea AND a period that seemed to resemble that scene in the shining when the elevator doors open up and all the blood comes rushing out with Kari playing the role of Jack Nicholson. Who feels it completely necessary to tell a complete stranger about these things? How did Kari manage to keep herself so composed? Why do I have so many stories revolving around feces? Some questions just go unanswered.

On a completely unrelated note, I once found a dried up, used tampon in the woman's bathroom... TMI?

Seeing Red...

OK...so I would like to apologize. I realize that I have a hugely successful following (please note the sarcasm) and my lack of posts over the course of the past 2 months has been alarming. I went away on vacation and once I came back I never really got back into the groove of writing these things. I also didn't really have time seeing as how the job search went into overdrive. What a tremendous waste of time that was, but I digress. In fact the only reason I'm writing this right now is because I'm that bored and figured why not. So here's to hoping that this one post born out of extreme boredom is enough to rekindle a fire under my ass.

Anyways, since I last wrote a lot has been going on. For starters I still can't find a decent full time job that is willing to pay me for what I'm worth. There just simply aren't any $100,000+ entry level jobs out there. How the hell am I expected to get my mansion and all my bling with a measly $30000 (this is a joke fyi. I would gladly give up my left testicle in order to be making $30,000 right now). So in an attempt to stop the bleeding from my wallet I decided to apply at Target, not thinking anything would come of it but rather I could say well I tried. All time classic back fire right there. Apparently everyone and there mother who works at Target came through the drive through, including the girl that saw my resume and hired me... before I even interviewed. Who knew that with that simple 10 minute point and click process that along with my resume I would also be submitting my dignity along with it. And why is it that I couldn't have a connection somewhere important where I could start off using my degrees. No, instead I'm stocking shelves and taking orders from bosses who are my age or younger...fun times. Although I could work my way up... but that could take a long... long time. Especially considering the people who have been there the longest are no higher than I am. Most of you are probably think so they've been there a few months longer it'll be OK. NO! These people have been working at the same Target upwards of 14 and 11 years. I don't have that kind of time. So yes... I work for Target now. I am officially a slave to the corporate retail world of America.

In the three weeks I've worked there I can already tell that it is going to provide me with an awesome amount of material for this sight. However I'm gonna wait and let the collection of stories build before I unleash them to the unassuming public. Just know this... If you ever shop somewhere, grab something off a shelf, carry it around the store and then decide 20 minutes later you don't want this piece of crap and set it on a random shelf 47 isles away from where you grabbed it... I don't like you... we are no longer friends. Yes, I now hate myself as well. I also hate screaming children. The next time I'm walking around the store avoiding people at all costs (yes I try to avoid all human contact, back end caps are my friend) and I hear I WANT! I WANT I WANT IT!!!! being screamed at a terrified parent I'm going to calmly walk up to the child and say well you know what I want you to shut the fuck up!

Anyways, now that I've reached the end of this little re-start post I can feel the ideas beginning to percolate. So in actuality I guess this worked. I'm motivated again to write all these crappy stories and post them on the interweb for everyone to not read. More to come... that's for sure.

P.S. I just got done surviving "Easter Week." Let me say this...If come Thanksgiving I am still working at Target... I'm quitting. Christmas season will be the death of me.