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.