Having Fun With Those Absurd Agree and Disagree Applications

In this economy, employers should be asking the right questions. If you're one of those people applying for work, I can help you, if you ask, nicely.

While helping out a friend fill out a resume and some job applications the other day, I was starting to understand why she was getting so frustrated.  Those applications, online or offline, that ask you if you strongly disagree, disagree, neither agree or disagree, agree and so on can be confusing and, to be brief, just plain stupid .

There were a lot of applications like that, that she was filling out.  Quite a few of them didn't ask much information regarding what skills she had or where she worked all her life.  Most of the time, the way the questions were asked, were more of the confusing psychological type that wanted to play a game of absurd therapy with you instead of being direct and asking pertinent questions.

I liked it better, in the old days, which wasn't that long ago, really, where the employer would ask you for recommendations from other people.  Some cared if those came recommendations from family or friends or people you had worked with and worked for. Then they would ask for your work history.  All of this, to me, is acceptable.  You know.  Where have you worked?  How long, did you work, at each place? You would make a list of your skills, too and check a page or two full of those questions, pertaining to your skills.   Those questions, I can truly accept and understand.  I can get behind logic like that.

And a lot of these "Strongly Agree and Strongly Disagree situation and feelings questions" leave out important details and/or a lot to be interpreted wrongly, too.

You can try to convince me, if you want to waste your time, that the employers, these days, have you fill out the stupid agree and disagree questions for reasons that would make them believe you're not a thief or a sociopath or any other type of undesirable person.  I'm just not buying into it.  Be straight or be gone, moronic employer!  That's what I'd say to those employers looking to play psychological games with an application and the applicant.  I don't play games with people, no matter who they are.

This friend wanted my help in trying to figure out the confounding questions, sometimes, and I helped before I got to the point where I wanted to bang my head on the wall, in frustration.  I think we ended up looking at four of them in one day and while she filled them out.  Now, that my friends, was really work.

People are going to lie, most of the time, anyway, with these silly multiple choice questionnaires.  There are no guarantees in this society that someone isn't going to go from behaving normally to going, suddenly, batshit crazy and kill everyone in a office cubicle or in a warehouse. People know what their potential employer wants to hear or see when they check off on the options on the forms, electronic or not, given to them.  If they don't, I neither strongly agree or strongly disagree that the applicant will be living in their parent's basements all of their unnatural lives until their bones turn to dust mites.  Depends on the person's work habits and what place they want to get hired on as an employee.  Depends on a lot of things that would take a lifetime to explain, in truth.

This is where ordinary human robots can be found.  The typical office.  The supervisor is your overlord.  He demands obedience or else.

Still, all in all, I'm looking to hire some people for my next project.  But first, you will have to pass a test involving cage fights with genetically enhanced pythons with 7 inch fangs, lovable, smart-mouthed teenagers that scream and foam at the mouth, if they don't have the latest smart phone on the market, along with a team of circus midgets, riding ferocious polar bears.

You'll all be put in a cage to prove your mettle and that you're qualified for the job.  If you survive, you will be asked to fill out (this is just a sample) the following questionnaire.  There are a lot of similarities between this one and the ones my friend encountered and had to fill out.  Believe me!

_________________________________________________

I'm a team player most of the time.
_Strongly Agree
_Strongly Disagree
_Neither Agree or Disagree
_Agree
_Disagree

You will listen to a co-workers complaints, about a task given to them, then try to assist them.

_Strongly Agree
_Agree
_Neither Agree or Disagree
_Disagree
_Strongly Disagree

You wish to sell a product that a customer thinks may be over priced.  They're wearing a Batman mask and a pair of ruby red slippers (a la Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz).  You try to convince he or she to buy the coffee maker.

_Strongly Disagree
_Disagree
_Neither Disagree or Agree
_Agree
_Strongly Agree

A supervisor gives you lengthy criticism over the way you spoke to a customer on a Thursday afternoon, around 9:24, when the workplace had been suddenly overran by deadly spiders and wicked prostitutes.  You say, "Thank you, sir.  I enjoy pasta," in response.

_Strongly Disagree and Strongly Agree
_I'm not sure if I stopped my car, completely, at that one stop sign this morning
_Zena: The Warrior Princess, could probably answer this question.  Something just tells me this to be true.
_Agree
_Cantaloupe

Your day's work has been destroyed by a fire but your employer wants you to start back from scratch and will not be pleased until you finish the work.  Seeing that you're about to pass out from the fumes, she offers you a carrot.  A coworker later walks past you, pinches their hardened, fully erect left nipple and continues walking, while singing a show tune.

_Strongly Agree
_Strongly Disagree
_Strongly Have a Boner
_Strongly Eat the Carrot
_Strongly Shake Your Head and Wonder How You Got Here

Your co-workers and employer throw you a surprise birthday party on company time.  You open the gift that everyone but that one tight ass chipped in to buy you.  It turns out to be a worn out, heavily dented, wooden, sticky pencil.  You show an excited exuberance, toward the gift, that would put Las Vegas showgirls to shame, by comparison.

_Strongly Agree but do it with a side of Small Disagreement mixed with obvious apathy
_Agree
_ I want to make up my mind, but I'm missing the instruction booklet
_Disagree
_I will or I won't go on quest to find rainbow colored unicorns that enjoy consuming carrots or placing them deep in their anuses

This must be you, on any given work day.

One of your handicapped co-workers asks you for a favor, giving you the correct amount of money for the task, that involves you getting them a soft drink from the vending machine.

_Strongly Disagree to scream at them like a horrid banshee from the depths of hell
_Strongly Disagree to drool at the corner of your mouth but Strongly Agree that they should rise from their wheelchair.  Why? Because you have given them the power to become healed and heal the sick and impaired, themselves.  Your magic is just that strong.  Wow.
_Tickle their belly, instead.
_Strongly Agree to cut a fart.
_Strongly Agree that, sometimes, crazy people and their erratic behaviors just aren't worth putting up with, no matter how bad you want the money, the job or to get along with "your team" or your fellow species.

This is just a small sampling of my application questionnaire.  I wish you luck. You will be contacted, if you are to have an actual person to person meeting with me, with even more insipid questions asked, when I feel like responding to you.  Good day!

The Spy Who Watched Me (again)

This is an oldie but goody kind of post. One I did a few years back when I was a complete nobody on the blogging scene. Hell, who am I foolin'? It's still that way, isn't it? Anyway, I thought I'd give ya a post that might have not gotten the attention that some of my most recent posts have gotten. Plus, I'm going to be too busy over the weekend to write up anything new. Aren't I the lazy fuck who doesn't give a proper shit? Speaking of crap, I hope you like this tasty offering.

Years ago, I worked at a hair care product distribution center. I'll refrain from giving up the name of this hell hole, not to protect the innocent, but because I don't want to encourage any shampoo/conditioner freaks, reading this, to buy this company's goddamn products.

While there, my co workers and I would pack product in kit boxes for salons, while the conveyor belt ran between the 40mph mark to a thousand (perhaps an exaggeration). If you didn't get your particular thing (shampoo, brush or whatever) in your box in time before it passed your sorry ass you would receive a hostile, verbal thrashing from the line leader, or worse yet, from the one above that position. The head honcho, herself. Nola. She had the pleasant face of a six hundred year old Shar Pei Dog. Wrinkles Ahoy, Matey!

If you happened to be daydreaming on the line about some hot babe and you also happened to be "sporting wood" or "raising the phallic flag" and Nola, happened to come out of the office and you caught sight of her, your wood would melt like butter or fall like a Oak Tree or just disappear, entirely. Poof!

I know from experience.

In one episode, during my time working there, some freak was wiping shit (his shit?) all over the men's restroom walls, stalls, floors and sinks. Most everyone agreed that it was someone that had an unhappy confrontation with Nola- which could have been anyone, actually. This Spreader of Poo made Nola very angry. It didn't really sit well with the rest of us, either. Our bathroom break times were shortened, for one thing. Plus, we were lectured by Nola every day for the next 2 weeks about the juvenile antics that we, supposed grown-ups, were not to engage in. Whoever the Crap Culprit was, he wasn't creative, in the least. He didn't spell his name or draw puppies on the walls with his poop, like some masterpieces I've seen in some gas station restrooms. But, I digress.

Nola's plan was simple and moronic. She instructed her all-too-loyal and obedient assistant, Chris, to remain stationed in the men's restroom to watch, almost 8 of the nine hours of the day, the male employees pee and poo. Of course, we were given a tiny crumb of dignity. When our backs were turned, while pissing in the urinal, Chris the Brown Noser, refrained, thankfully, from peeking over our shoulders. Good thing, too, because it was rumoured Chris might be bi-sexual. He could have been in trouble for sexual harassment if he had done any peeky boo-ing. So Chris did, as he was told, without question. For him, Nola's word was his command. Nola's reasoning behind her plan? She believed Chris would somehow get real lucky and catch some disgruntled, but apparently, non constipated imbecile, painting walls with own excrement.

Maybe the nasty bastard would be caught.... brown-handed.

Moving on in this tale....

Diligently, Chris would watch our backs while we peed and checked inside the toilet stalls, after one of us exited, for fresh shit decor on the walls and so forth.

Being the considerate guy I am, I poked fun at the somber, serious Chris whenever I entered and left the restroom. This seemed to bring about a certain amount of good cheer to everyone who heard my words of wit, during that time. For instance, I would say to Nola's assistant, "Ah, the Poo Peeper, how nice of you to watch me squirt." Chris' face remained the same, showing consternation at my jovial remark.

After all, it was the kind of job one took seriously.

Titillating Tales of WalMart

My wife has worked at WalMart for over 15 years and has seen the strangest and worst behavior from customers, employees (they call 'em "associates"- in order to make their employees feel more important, I think) and managers. I, myself, worked there for close to 3 years, at one point working with my wife at the same period of time, on 3rd shift. My wife now works on 1st shift.

In the past, on this blog, I've written about my own personal stories (don't ask on which post- I couldn't tell you) about some of the odd happenings at WalMart I experienced and the other night, while having my friend up, we got on the subject of the fucked up people we've encountered or heard about during our "working" life on the job. We discussed some of these hilarious, disturbing stories at length.

The following incidents are my wife's stories that took place while she has been working at WalMart:

Lady On The Prowl

One evening a woman came into WalMart, wearing only a flimsy, nearly transparent, red negligee and high heel shoes. Up and down the aisles, she walked, shaking her hips. She wasn't pushing a cart so the employees knew she likely wasn't shopping for anything WalMart had on their shelves. It was concluded that she was probably attempting to shop for a girl or guy to fuck.

Personally, I think WalMart would be a piss poor choice to go looking for love (lust), unless you want to "get busy" with a hillbilly or whatever. Either way, I think she was either out of her mind or on drugs or drunk. Not long after the cameras caught her struttin' her stuff and everyone else noticed her, that management called the cops and they escorted her out of the store.

Returned Items

A woman once bought a carpet shampooer, used it once and then brought back in the next day to the Customer Service desk. It wasn't broken, according to her. She just didn't want it. You could tell it had been used because the water/waste tank was full of dirty water and cat hair. WalMart took it back, oddly enough.

Another woman bought a Christmas tree a couple days before Christmas. The day after Christmas, she brought it back to Customer Service. It still had tinsel on it that she had put on. WalMart took that back, too. Hundreds of pairs of shoes have been brought back, sometimes four or five months after they had been bought, to the store. Many times they were dirty and some of the tread had been worn off. Of course, WalMart takes them back and puts all returned items in the Claims Department.

The worst stuff returned would be panties and underwear neatly folded and put back into the original packaging. It's apparent the undergarments have been used because the little bags they are in have been opened and- worse yet- plenty of dark brown skid marks have been found on them, later.

But the very worst time something was returned has to be during "The Big Summer Sausage Log Incident". A lady (although I'm not sure she could be described that way) came into WalMart, wishing to return a huge roll of summer sausage. She claimed she had a problem with it because it had "leaked meat juice" in her bed. The associates behind the Customer Service desk were shocked to see that the plastic wrapping on the 16 inch meat log had been peeled halfway down and it was covered with pubic hair. I jokingly asked if somebody suddenly grabbed it from her and started lickin' it like a lollipop. Anyway, management was called to the front of Customer Service about the sticky meat log and, sure enough, they took it back and refunded her money. All true, I'm afraid. I wonder if they put if back on the shelf with new wrapping. :)

Associates, Management and Customers Having Sex

Throughout the years, employees, customers and members of management have been caught having sex back in inventory rooms, men's handicap bathroom stalls, outside in the parking lot, beneath the light posts and even the dairy cooler. When they've been caught, they will sometimes stop fucking and fooling around. Sometimes, they won't.

Lingerie Department Episode

A crowd was found surrounding and staring in awe at a man on the floor in the women's lingerie department. He was fondling and sniffing a pair of new, unused, lacy panties with his one hand while vigorously pumping his one-eyed trouser snake with the other. The associates and management were called to the scene. A member of management called the police and they were on their way. Even as the man was told the cops were on the way, he wouldn't stop wanking his willy while sniffing the panties and so on. Even as the cops were about to put the handcuffs on the guy, he continued to jerk off, smiling the entire time.

No word on whether he was able to spurt his load before the cops got there.

Buzzing Noise

As you could probably guess by the title of this particular episode, it involves a vibrator.

A woman could be heard using a vibrator on herself in one of the women's fitting rooms in the clothing department at WalMart. The employees could hear a buzzing noise emanating from the small room and could see a pair of feet underneath the door. After demanding that the customer open the door and come out, she refused and continued masturbating. Finally, after a half hour, management told one of the employees to open the door. When they did, they saw a woman with her pants and panties down around her ankles. At that point, she finally stopped sliding the vibrator in and out of her pussy. She pulled it out and it was dripping, literally, all over the fitting room floor, according to the employees.

The police were called and she was taken away.

So yes, if you're looking for some of the world's finest freaks, you can find them at Wallyworld, folks. I hope you enjoyed the titillating tales as much as I have over the years. My wife and I continue to be astonished by the outrageous behavior people will engage in, in a public place such as this. Happy shopping, everyone!

In One Part of The World

In one part of the world, there is a child, crying out to it's mother, wishing to be held. The mother, upon hearing the cries of anguish, runs to her child. The child sobs while holding onto his leg. A heartbreaking scene. The mother sees he has a scratch on his knee.

"What happened, Danny?," she asks.

"I ran and jumped on Woof Woof, then I fell off and he got me with his hoof," complained the boy.

Danny's mother bent down to inspect his scratch and pointed, with her index finger, saying, "I'll take care of this and you'll feel much better."

And with that said, she stood up and went into the house to get the first aid kit. When she came back out, she cleaned his scratch, put antibiotic cream on his minor wound and covered it with a bandage adorned with cute cartoon characters of orange dinosaurs and grinning unicorns. Her son's face brightened and was smiling.

After his mom was done, she kissed his forehead and stood back up. Woof Woof, the happy-go-lucky pig suddenly ran over and rubbed up against the mother's leg. She pat him on the head and was about to go back into the house to make an ice cold pitcher of fresh lemonade until she abruptly turned around with a large military weapon, calmly aimed and caused Woof Woof to explode in many pieces of various size. Bone fragments, blood, brain matter, other odds and ends and flesh scattered in every direction.

"There you go, sweety," said Danny's mother, "All better now."

The boy plucked a wet chunk off his face and ate it. "Tastes like chicken," said Danny.

Beside him, Woof Woof's mouth was lying on the ground. It opened up and said, "Rut roh." Danny giggled.

In one part of the world, a politician find himself in a tough quandary over cutting jobs in the fire department of his city in order to keep the budget from going into the red.

The middle aged man looks up towards the ceiling and says a prayer, almost whispering, "Lord, please give me strength."

That's when Tom Berkland had an idea that would solve everything. Quickly, he got up from his office chair, grabbed his suit jacket off the hook and went out the door of the mayor's office. He couldn't believe he had wasted this much time.

Minutes later, Tom was in church. The priest walked over to Tom, kindly placed his hand on the mayor's shoulder and asked, "May I help you, Tom?"

Tom looked at the church collection plate sitting on one of the stands. Hurriedly, Tom pulled down his pants, sliced off his genitals and gingerly placed his junk on the collection plate. Bleeding profusely, Tom groaned in pain while the priest smiled and followed that with the words, "A rather small offering, isn't it?"

That's when the circus clowns came in on their mini bikes, honking and cheering and pissing on the floor. Bright, multi colored streamers fell from the ceiling as the mayor collapsed to the floor, bleeding to death and shitting himself.

In one part of the world, a single man and his two married friends go to the only local pizza joint to pick up two large deluxe pizzas that had been ordered earlier on the phone. On the way home, they encounter a homeless person standing on a curb. At least, they believe he may be a homeless person. He's holding a sign that says he is hungry and has been traveling on foot.

The single man, who is driving, stops the car at the red light beside the curb. The panhandler smiles. The driver gets a digital camera out of his coat pocket, aims it toward the panhandler. The traveler sees this and decides to crouch down and strike a happy pose for the driver.

The driver takes the picture. The occupants of the car give him a friendly wave, thanking him for allowing them to take his picture. After the light changed, the car slowly turned right and continued down the road. One of them asked, "Do you think we should have let him have a piece of pizza?"

"Oh my goodness, I can't believe I did that!," exclaimed the driver.

"What?," inquired the other male passenger, "Take a picture of the homeless guy? Not offer him any pizza?"

"No," said the driver, "Forget to ask for extra garlic sauce at the pizza place."

The woman in the back seat put her hand over her mouth and snickered.

Then the others joined in and laughed just as a semi truck suddenly jumped over the raised concrete median strip. Laughs quickly turned into screams as the car, with no time to stop, plowed into the side of the huge truck, sending glass, metal, blood and body parts everywhere.

The truck driver slowly got out, visibly shaken and was about to inspect the damage of the crash and to see if he could possibly help anyone that was still alive. When he saw the destruction, the trucker shook his head. In that moment, the man who had just posed for a picture on the curb showed up. Carefully, the man picked through the mess until he found a pizza box. He opened it, took a bite from a pizza slice and frowned.

Then the panhandler remarked, "Those fuckers didn't ask for extra garlic sauce."

That's when a jumbo jet, without warning, crashed into the middle of the wreckage, exploded on impact, killing everyone on the highway in a substantial radius and engulfed property and people in the flames of death. That very same day, there was to be no more pizza deliveries or pizza carry out orders in town. A sad day for pizza lovers.

Somehow, they struggled on. And just as the townspeople adjusted to the reality of what had transpired and the fact they were unable to order pizzas, an atomic bomb was dropped upon the town and never again, would they be able to order a pizza. Neither pepperoni or the sausage variety. But... at least they had the clowns. And really, isn't that enough?

The 7 Facts Award

Wouldn't you know it? The great and wonderful me has gotten another award thrust upon myself and I want to thank the just as great and wonderful, if not better, LilPixi, from It's A Lollipop World.

LilPixi has got a kick ass, wild and humorous blog that features delightful topics ranging from popping penis balloons to pleasant experiences like having your heart abruptly stop pumping while slippery shit dumplings suddenly pop out of your ass like a Jack-In-The Box as you're attacked by crazed, jacket-eating giraffes. I'm might have added a bit of color to that last description but, basically, it's true. Check out her zany, original blog to see what I mean by all this insanity.

As usual, there are the rules. As usual, I will break one or more of them. Here are the rules:

*Copy and paste this award to your blog

* Thank and link to the person that tagged you with it.
* List 7 facts about yourself
* Give the award to 5 other bloggers and tell them they have it.

I shall list 7 facts of myself, once again, like I did at the beginning of this month, because I know how much everyone is just dying to know more about sweet lil' ol' me. I'll try my damnedest to tell something about myself I haven't before on this site but I can't guarantee you'll be oddly fascinated or even erotically stimulated by the answers.

#1- I can hear, just at this moment, at one o' clock in the morning, some asshole loudly rummaging around in the large garbage bin, down below one of my apartment windows, slightly off to the right side of the building. No shit! This numb nuts is hunting for I-don't-know-what at this time of night but it is unnerving. I'm wondering what kind of info he might be finding out. Damn, I hope he doesn't find the messed up Barbie Dolls I threw in the trash that have my name stamped on their plastic asses. That might be embarrassing.

#2- TV shows I watch on a semi-regular basis would include: House, Family Guy, Nova, Bizarre Foods With Andrew Zimmern, 1000 Ways To Die, Tosh.O, National Geographic specials, Baggage, NCIS, The Daily Show, Minute To Win It, History Channel shows and more I can't think of at the moment because the douche bucket down below won't stop making a racket.

Perhaps he's collecting cans. I hear a lot of tink-tink-tinking going on. Perhaps I'll save him the trouble of making a few lousy bucks by collecting cans at one in the morning to drag to the recycle center later for money and throw a few dollars out the window at him so he'll go away. Fuck it! I'll just pull the window up and activate "my amazing sprinkler system" (also called My Bladder and Tubular Sex Organ) and give the guy a golden shower. Nah. Strike that! That freak might enjoy it.

Moving on...

#3- Is an omelet really an omelet without the cooked flesh of some dead animal and some cheese? I think not. I don't eat omelets without meat and if you try to force one, sans meat, upon me, I will be forced to declare war. It would be as bad as drinking decaffeinated coffee to me. What's the point?

#4- I was taught how to fish, set up a tent and camp, chop wood, enjoy a good strong cup of coffee, reap the benefits of what worlds books can open for you, draw, paint, cook and observe before you blindly jump into something all before the age of ten. Imagining and creating stories came naturally to me. So did the ability to be direct and honest. An ability some people in society annoyingly lack for the purposes of not wanting to "make waves" or be open.

#5- I like animals more than I like people. A real shock, isn't it? Hahaha..... Okay. I'll stop.

#6- I was once an elf for the Keebler Cookie Company. But instead of doing our work in a tree, we did it in a factory filled with huge hot ovens. I was driven further into the depths of madness with this fast paced, stressful job. It was my duty to watch, from 10 at night to 8 in the morning, literally millions of goddamn cookies go down the conveyor belt very, very quickly and check for minor imperfections of each friggin' cookie. If you found one or more unsightly cookies, you had to have the reflexes of Flash to grab it off the line before it got to the packagers' section. Chaos often ensued when there were more than a few at a time that were "bad".

In only seconds, I had to judge the quality of each cookie as they whizzed by. Does this one have enough chocolate chips? Is that one perfectly round? Does that one seem photogenically balanced and capable of pleasing a typical obese American? Gosh, I sure hoped so. My eyes watered and glazed over after a few hours of this relentless burden and my back was about to break. Eventually, the stress got to me with this job (slave labor) and I allowed a billion and one cookies to pile up on the factory floor one night. When blood comes out of your ears and drips on the perfectly shaped cookies, you know it's quitting time. Boy, you should have heard what those potty-mouthed elves had to say about that mess. Goodness gracious, I was appalled!

#7- I've met eight of the major players of The Big Red Machine. The Major League Baseball World Champions of 1975 and 1976 were gracious enough to give me and our small town's citizenry, free of charge, a signed autograph of themselves back then. It isn't too often that a big name professional athlete does anything like that- free of charge- these days. It's all about the money. That was an amazing day for a 12 year old boy or for anyone else, for that matter. Click the link above for the significance of these guys. They are legends.

As for any recipients to pass this award forward to, I'm going to give it to one blogger I've never mentioned before and whose blog has given me chuckles aplenty past and present. He may do whatever he wants with it. Let it be known, I have officially bestowed this award/survey upon him like a crown of golden dingleberries.

The proud recipient is Rico Swaff of the spectacular blog, The Chronicles of Rico. Hey dude, follow the rules above as much as you want. Take care, folks.

Life Lessons From Father To Son

Minutes after placing the plastic Santa, sleigh, reindeer, snowman in the yard and decorating the house with many festive lights in order to give Sean's residence the appearance of a typical American home during the much commercialized season, Sean placed his arm around Timmy's shoulder. The 40 year old corporate executive was proud of his accomplishment. It was important, in Sean's mind, that he keep up with the other neighbors' decorated yards in his suburb. He looked down to see if his son was taking in the grandeur of the perfectly well placed decorations and lights, as well. As usual, Timmy was preoccupied with the latest version of his iPod, texting away another irrelevant message to a friend in a long line of trivial messages.

That reminded Sean. He needed to buy himself an upgraded version of an electronic gadget he had bought only a month ago. Texting, instant messaging and twittering was such a vital part of Sean's life and he just had to have the very latest electronic gadget in order to keep up with appearances and to make himself feel just that much more special than anyone who didn't have the latest electronic gadget at the moment. Sean's cars, mansion, big screen TVs, yacht and the rest of his possessions meant everything to him. After all, Sean thought, your portfolio, your money and the material things you own is a reflection upon your true value in society. And this thought, in turn, reminded Sean that he needed to have a serious talk with his 12 year old son about the facts of life.

"Son," said Sean, demanding Timmy's attention, "I think it's time we had THE TALK."

Sean had to snap the texting device out of Timmy's hands in order to stop the boy's addictive behavior and get his attention. It seemed that everyone during this time had such an addiction to electronic gadgets. At times, it seemed as though they were mindless texting, cell phone- talking zombies, incapable of standing in front of someone and communicating directly to them. With blank stares upon their little screens, they tappity-tap-tapped upon their hand held device's buttons, pausing only if it was absolutely necessary.

Timmy whined, "Hey, I was texting something to Ricky."

Sean said, "When we're finished talking, I'll let you have it back. Don't worry."

Timmy got a pout-y look on his face, thinking it would gain him back his gadget. It didn't. It was one of the few times Timmy didn't get his way with Sean.

Sean started, "It's time for you to know just how important is to run with the pack. To conform. Be a complete team player in life. And perhaps, most importantly, never differentiate from the norm so everyone, from your classmates in school to your fellow players in an organized league to your future co-workers in the office, will accept you during life. Never rock the boat."

Timmy looked up, asked, "Office? Why do I have to work in an office? Why can't I work at the supermarket with Uncle Frank?"

Sean laughed and then continued explaining, "Your Uncle Frank is what we call a loser. A no account. A grunt who performs routine tasks. A nothing, in truth."

"Why do you say that?," inquired Timmy.

As Sean walked Timmy back to the warmth of the interior of the mansion, the father said, "Uncle Frank didn't go to college. Instead of choosing a career where he would earn an annual six figure salary, Frank decided to waste his life and opportunities to work behind a deli counter, never to achieve what you kids today call the "awesomeness" of having considerable wealth and exceptional stature." With this said, Sean winked and nodded, affirmatively. He was hoping to get through to his son the importance of appearances and the never ending goal of attaining vast wealth throughout his lifetime.

As they stepped inside, Sean instructed Timmy to sit at the table for more enlightenment. At the table, Timmy said, "I don't understand. I always thought Uncle Frank was pretty happy. He's always smiling, the couple of times I've seen him."

Sean replied, "It doesn't matter if Uncle Frank is happy. What's important is wealth and conformity. Frank, from the day he was born, hasn't followed the rules of American society and as a result, doesn't measure up to our standards, my son. It's just that simple."

Timmy seemed confused at first, but then his expression brightened.

"So that's why you never invite Uncle Frank to Christmas or Thanksgiving every year," said Timmy, pleased that his father was smiling at his sudden comprehension.

Sean patted the boy on the head and said, happily, "You betcha!"

Timmy exclaimed, "Uncle Frank isn't as good as we are!"

"Why Frank has hardly any value as a human being at all," confided Sean, proud that his boy was eagerly learning a valuable lesson.

Timmy and Sean laughed heartily. This is going to be a wonderful day, thought Sean. The boy was soaking in all the wisdom Sean had to offer like a thirsty sponge.

At that moment, Vicky, Sean's wife walked in from the living room. She asked, "Will you boys be ready to go shopping in about an hour?" Sean and Timmy nodded. "There's a new upscale department store in the city that I've wanted to go into and we have reservations at The Capital Grille later tonight. I hear the Seared Tenderloin with Butter Poached Lobster is out of this world. I"m just so looking forward to eating there."

Sean and Timmy decided to go into the living room to watch TV. A news program was playing, showing the plight of people that had lost their jobs, recently, and were having trouble keeping their homes.

Timmy giggled, pointed and then exclaimed, "Look, dad! Poor people! They're stupid!"

Sean confirmed Timmy's outburst, saying, "That's right, son!"

Sean continued, "And if you should see any people at any time like this or any other losers that ask you for a handout, just pretend that they don't exist. It's easy. And it's the American Way"

The next images were of people fighting a war in the Middle East. Sean thought he could contribute more to his son's education by explaining the reason we were at war.

Sean asked, "Do you know the reason why our young soldiers are risking their lives over in the far away country called...? Eh, I forget the name at the moment... but that's not important anyway."

Timmy said, "Nope. I never really cared. Whenever they talk about war stuff on TV, I usually turn on my PS3 and play games."

Sean thought, Well, I really can't blame him there. Whenever the subject of whatever war we were currently in came on the screen, he'd quickly change channels to some televised sporting event.

"Well," said Sean, "The reason we go to war with people that are different than us is due to a number of things. One, they might have something that we want. Like oil, for instance. Two, our corporations and our government may have found ways to make a profit from setting up our "democracy bases" in these countries, therefore, we should be there. And three, it's the patriotic thing to do."

Timmy said, "I thought I heard it was about terrorism or somethin'."

Sean put his hand on his son's arm while saying, "Well, son, our government and politicians have used fear mongering and terms suggesting that you're not a true patriot unless you want go to another country and kill their people who have nothing to do with terrorism, per se. In fact, a lot of innocent civilians are killed over there for really unfair reasons, I suppose, if you really want to dwell on that sort of thing. Our own soldiers die over there, as well, but hey, ya gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelet."

Sean pointed up toward the air and said, triumphantly, "Heck, our country was practically taken and founded upon the massacre of people different than us. You've heard of Indians, right? Well, we had to wipe them out early on in order to spread across this land like a virus. They had our land and we took it from them. We even let a few of them live. 'Might is right', as they say."

Sean laughed a bit and then added, "But who says life has to be fair? It's the end result that counts. As Americans, we have to protect our gluttonous, selfish way of life by doing things that may seem immoral to some losers but that doesn't really matter. Money matters. Satisfying our needs is what matters. Doing what the government tells you to do and what to believe, no matter how much you think it is a lie, is what truly matters."

Timmy thought about what his father said and though a lot of it didn't make sense, he decided to go along with it. It seemed to him that if everyone else was going along with these rules, then it must be right.

Timmy said, "I guess I get it."

Sean said, "That's all I need to hear. Just remember... the majority is always right. Think and act like everyone else and you'll do just fine. In the future, you'll go to college, get a high paying career, get married, buy a big house and other expensive items, raise a couple rug-rats of your own and never question authority or the government. Don't rock the boat."

Timmy smiled and then said the words a father wants to hear the most from his son.

"I want to be just like you when I grow up, dad."

Sean said, "You betcha, son." Sean, assured of Timmy's compliance with all that was said, gave Timmy his iPod back.

Minutes later, the family gathered into the limousine and were taken into the city for a day and night of heavily commercialized Christmas shopping and fine dining. Life couldn't be better for Sean. Sean felt he had instilled valuable life lessons in his son and took exceptional pride in that accomplishment.

Man Quits Job To Realize Dream

Matt Green is an inspiration.

Thirty year old Matt Green worked as a civil engineer, a roadway designer, ironically, to quit his job to walk across America, a roughly 3,100 mile journey to a destination in Oregon. For Matt Green, there's just something about the act of walking that makes him happier than he ever would have been in his workplace cubicle in New York. In that cubicle, he used to daydream about doing something epic like this.

As he pushes his cart full of clothes, food and other gear, people often stop to ask him during his trek why he's doing it. Is it a fundraiser? Is he looking to break a record? Is it for any particular cause. The answer is no to all of the above.

"Good questions," he has replied.

Reflecting on his mundane life in Manhattan, inside his workplace cubicle, Matt says, "Playing it safe isn't really that safe. If you do that, you miss out on a lot of the great things life has to offer."

For months, Matt lived frugally in order to save up enough money and buy the supplies need to make his simple quest a reality. Along the way from Rockaway Beach in New York to Rockaway Beach, Oregon, people have offered him shelter, meals and money to realize his dream. He has seen many remarkable, beautiful sights and has met many charitable, interesting and kind people during his trek so far.

For the record, he has been walking his route for 63 days, thus far- with about 7 more months of walking to go.

You can check out his website, I'm Just Walkin', to read details of his experiences and to look at the photos of the people and the scenes he experiences every day.

How many of us would dare to walk away from our routine lives to live out a dream that we have only mused about in our normally stagnate existence? I know I've thought about doing something so grand and adventurous.

While working horrible jobs in hot, uncomfortable factories and filthy warehouses in the past, I would often search for a window to look out of for a chance that my mind could escape to somewhere I could call sanctuary for just a moment. Many places I worked at, there were no windows. As well as no air conditioning or reprieve from the hectic pace we were all expected to move at.

One such place, Mubea, was an automotive parts factory/warehouse. They manufactured stabilizer bars, suspensions and other similar parts for cars and trucks. It was the hottest, dirtiest and most unsafe place I've ever worked at. You would work next to dangerously hot ovens and assembly lines, receiving only two ten minute breaks throughout a nine and a half hour work day. After working at Mubea for five years, if you survived that long, you would be awarded a twenty minute lunch break during your working days.

Glowing red parts would pop out of the huge steel oven doors and you would be expected to grab them off of the above hanging assembly lines, wearing lightly protective gloves, to hurriedly put them on metal racks to be later shipped off to god knows where. The stench of the place, no matter where you were stationed, was overwhelming. A true sweat shop and hell hole with no windows, open or closed, to peer out of.

Everyone working there carried an expression on their face that seemed to be begging for a means of escape or quick death. Nearly everyone working there smoked and smoked their cigarettes until they hacked up black phlegm and gasped for air that was filled with paint and metal fumes. This often caused me to wonder if they were intentionally trying to kill themselves in order to leave anyway they could, only bound there to feed their families.

I withstood all the chaos and the inhuman environment that Mubea offered for roughly two months and left, never looking back.

When I could, while there, I would fantasize about being somewhere clean and a destination, whether in my mind or actual location, where I could feel at peace. A place like the Caribbean Islands- my destination this summer.

There was a scene in the movie, "Joe Vs. The Volcano" with Tom Hanks, that actually inspired me to take this upcoming cruise out on the ocean waters.

If you've never seen the movie, I'll give you a brief description of the scene.

Hanks' character, for almost the entire movie, mistakenly believes he is dying. Later we find out he was tricked by a greedy businessman in order for Hanks to willingly throw himself into a volcano. This movie is a comedy but it also has a lot of life's truths in it. To this day, I have no idea why this movie got mixed to bad reviews by the critics.

Anyway, the scene is this: Hanks is on a raft made of huge suitcases, out in the middle of the ocean. It is night time. He has been slowly dying of thirst for days. Meg Ryan's character is unconscious, lying off to his side. He has kept her alive by giving her small cap fulls of water each day. Suddenly the moon, huge in scope, is seen rising above the horizon of the water. Tom's character stands up, completely in awe of this wondrous sight, at complete peace and serenity with himself and the world around him. It's one of the most goddamn inspiring scenes I've ever witnessed in a movie and it's always been a secret fantasy of mine to see such a sight on the ocean waters.

Hopefully, I will. Hopefully, everyone can be taken in and enchanted by such an experience sometime during their lives. I think Matt Green, from New York, has the right idea. I wish him nothing but the best.

Dressed As The Statue of Liberty

It's amusing to see someone dressed as the Statue of Liberty, on the side of the road, waving at the passing cars. The ones responsible for this silliness is a company called Liberty Tax Service. I'm not sure if you have seen any of these people, dressed in the turquoise gowns with a crown of matching color before, but it's a little freaky to witness. I know. It's a job. Somebody has to do it.

I've seen these guys and girls in three different states so far and in every instance I see somebody in the SOL costume, I can't help but to laugh. I've seen a few of them rollerskating, doing their moves and seeming to have a good time with the job. Others, I've witnessed, will be dancing around or doing cartwheels on the side of the road. One of these times, I'm afraid I'll see one of them tumble out in the street and get crushed by a semi-truck. That would be shocking. How would you like to die with that get-up on? That would be embarrassing, to go out like that.

Lately, I've been seeing either this one chick or dude on the corner curb, in costume, waving frantically, smiling like a loon and jumping up and down while it has been either raining or snowing outside. That would suck -to have to be out in the snow, freezing your ass off in a Statue of Liberty outfit. The costumes don't look very warm. I guess they're attempting to keep warm with all the movement they're doing.

No matter what the weather is like, they're always so happy looking, nearly bursting with joy. That's great. Keep a positive attitude, no matter what you have to do to earn a living.

My first instinct,when we slowly pass one of these folks, is to give them "the finger". But, since I've had my fair share of doing some embarrassing things for my employers in the past, I kinda feel sorry for them. When I worked at a grocery store, I had to dress up in a Twinkie The Kid costume. It was hot, bulky and a real bitch handing out free Twinkies to a bunch of snot nosed brats all day long.

Still, the image of me rolling down the passenger side window, sticking my bare ass out towards these Statues of Liberty people and squirting projectile watery shit at one of them does make me smile. Give 'em some of that wacky sprinkler activity. I guess that's a natural impulse, though. At least it is for me. Would doing that be considered impolite?

But I would never do something like that.

I'm too much of a gentleman. :-) Actually, the real reasons I wouldn't do something so cruel to any of them is because I'm just too old and mature for those types of shenanigans, anymore.

Plus, I wouldn't want some asshole treating me with disrespect while I'm working, doing a job most of us wouldn't want to do. I will go as far as making a funny face at them at times while waving back at them. Sometimes, both my wife and I will put on our "stroke faces" where one side of our mouths are turned downwards, as our faces are pressed against the car window. We do that, at times, for laughs. They seem to really enjoy that, waving back at us with even more enthusiasm than before.

That makes me feel good.

Bad jobs

Thought I would offer a humorous post to lighten things up a bit....

You have a bad job if the guy sitting behind you pins you against your office desk like this

You have a bad job if it entails holding a bag for an elephant to shit in.



You have a bad job if you're working at the top of a really high skyscraper



You have a bad job if you're holding a target for someone to shoot at

The Spy Who Watched Me

Years ago, I worked at a hair care product distribution center. I'll refrain from giving up the name of this hell hole, not to protect the innocent, but because I don't want to encourage any shampoo/conditioner freaks, reading this, to buy this company's goddamn products.

While there, my co workers and I would pack product in kit boxes for salons, while the conveyor belt ran between the 40mph mark to a thousand (perhaps an exaggeration). If you didn't get your particular thing (shampoo, brush or whatever) in your box in time before it passed your sorry ass you would receive a hostile, verbal thrashing from the line leader, or worse yet, from the one above that position. The head honcho, herself. Nola. She had the pleasant face of a six hundred year old Shar Pei Dog. Wrinkles Ahoy, Matey!

If you happened to be daydreaming on the line about some hot babe and you also happened to be "sporting wood" or "raising the phallic flag" and Nola, happened to come out of the office and you caught sight of her, your wood would melt like butter or fall like a Oak Tree or just disappear, entirely. Poof!

I know from experience.

In one episode, during my time working there, some freak was wiping shit (his shit?) all over the men's restroom walls, stalls, floors and sinks. Most everyone agreed that it was someone that had an unhappy confrontation with Nola- which could have been anyone, actually. This Spreader of Poo made Nola very angry. It didn't really sit well with the rest of us, either. Our bathroom break times were shortened, for one thing. Plus, we were lectured by Nola every day for the next 2 weeks about the juvenile antics that we, supposed grown-ups, were not to engage in. Whoever the Crap Culprit was, he wasn't creative, in the least. He didn't spell his name or draw puppies on the walls with his poop, like some masterpieces I've seen in some gas station restrooms. But, I digress.

Nola's plan was simple and moronic. She instructed her all-too-loyal and obedient assistant, Chris, to remain stationed in the men's restroom to watch, almost 8 of the nine hours of the day, the male employees pee and poo. Of course, we were given a tiny crumb of dignity. When our backs were turned, while pissing in the urinal, Chris the Brown Noser, refrained, thankfully, from peeking over our shoulders. Good thing, too, because it was rumoured Chris might be bi-sexual. He could have been in trouble for sexual harassment if he had done any peeky boo-ing. So Chris did, as he was told, without question. For him, Nola's word was his command. Nola's reasoning behind her plan? She believed Chris would somehow get real lucky and catch some disgruntled, but apparently, non constipated imbecile, painting walls with own excrement.

Maybe the nasty bastard would be caught.... brown-handed.

Moving on in this tale....

Diligently, Chris would watch our backs while we peed and checked inside the toilet stalls, after one of us exited, for fresh shit decor on the walls and so forth.

Being the considerate guy I am, I poked fun at the somber, serious Chris whenever I entered and left the restroom. This seemed to bring about a certain amount of good cheer to everyone who heard my words of wit, during that time. For instance, I would say to Nola's assistant, "Ah, the Poo Peeper, how nice of you to watch me squirt." Chris' face remained the same, showing consternation at my jovial remark.

After all, it was the kind of job one took seriously.

Odd Jobs

Whether you like your job or not, you'll most likely agree these are some of the oddest jobs a human could have. A couple of these don't sound half bad. Maybe you've had one of these jobs. If you've had to do anything weirder (for money), let me in on it. I'll add it to the list.

By the way, I've been a Keebler Cookie Inspector in the past. I worked 3rd shift from 10pm to 8am. During that time, I had to watch millions of cookies go down a conveyor belt and quickly remove the ones that didn't have enough chocolate coating on them. It drove me insane!

NOW--ON WITH THE LIST....

Coffin Maker
What they do: Build customized coffins, ranging from simple pine caskets to bejeweled boxes.
Potato Chip Inspector
What they do: Oversee potato chips on an assembly line and check for overcooked or clumped chips to discard.
Wax Figure Maker
What they do: Mold wax to create figures, often, but not limited to, the human form. Figures are often made in the likeness of people who have achieved historical or celebrity recognition.
Foot Model
What they do: Work as a "parts model," modeling their feet for advertisements that feature footwear, lotions and other related-products.
Golf Ball Diver
What they do: Search the depths of golf course bodies of water to find lost golf balls to refinish and resell.
Doll Doctor
What they do: Repair, repaint and reassemble doll parts to doctor-up dolls that have missing, broken or damaged parts.
Egg Inspector
What they do: Examine eggs for cracks and other irregularities before they are graded and stamped for approval.
Knife Thrower's Assistant
What they do: Act as human targets for the knife thrower, which can involve mastering feats such as being tied to a spinning wheel while having knives thrown within inches of their bodies, or having objects cut above their heads.
Foley Artist
What they do: Use random items and whatever else they can find to create and record the noises used to make the sounds effects in films, such as heavy footsteps, rolling thunder or creaking doors.
Solfeggist
What they do: Listen to recorded music and monitor notes in indistinguishable compositions.
Snow Researcher
What they do: Collect and analyze ice crystals in snow to study the effects of pollution on area snowfall.
Wig Maker
What they do: Create and fit hair pieces such as wigs, beards, mustaches and eyebrows for clients requesting hair for costume or personal needs.
Gross Stunt Producer
What they do: Create new ways to gross out contestants on television shows, using insects, animal products and other things considered that could be considered "gross" by society's standards.
Mermaid
What they do: Entertain crowds as an underwater performer.
Whiskey Ambassador
What they do: Drink and explain the proper ways to serve and savor various whiskeys.
Dog Food Tester
What they do: Taste and analyze dog food samples and write reviews on the results.
Bonfire Builder
What they do: Gather discarded wood from trash bins, beaches, construction scrap heaps and similar areas to expertly build bonfires.
Dice Inspector
What they do: Inspect dice used in casinos for lopsided angles, misspotting and other blemishes that could cause error when the dice are rolled for gambling purposes.
Ethnographer
What they do: Research and study single groups of human behavior through fieldwork, observing and questioning participants.
Gum Buster
What they do: Remove gum stuck to sidewalks, street benches and other unwanted areas by de-sticking the gum through a steaming process.

Job Adventures

What do you call an anorexic with a yeast infection?

A quarter pounder with cheese.


Ba Boom Bah!

Well, I've got another job again. I've had four, I believe, since the middle of October. I was working at a place that assembled and tested brake parts. Did that for two and half years until things got so slow they layed me off. Since then it's been chaotic as far as employment goes. Two of those jobs I got laid off due to slow business. One job I left because it was too hard on my feet. I've got 2 inch heel spurs in each foot. Years ago, the podiatrist said that I could get them operated on to be removed but they would eventually grow back because of the shape of my feet. This job was all about walking constantly. I had to quit. My feet were in so much pain, even with shoe supports, that they felt like bloody stumps.

Now for Job#4, I have quite a tale to tell. So sit back, pop open a beer and relax while I describe the events as they're still semi-fresh in my depraved mind.

I applied for a job with a place called (name withheld). They hire people as caregivers for the elderly and mentally impaired. Being the caring and giving kind of gentleman I am, I thought myself perfectly suited for the job. Ha ha.... yeah right. Even though I told them I had zero experience with taking care of such folk, they hired me on the spot. Anyway, they stuck me with an uncontrollable autistic 15 year old named Derrik. Derrik was/is as big as I am. I'm pretty big. Five foot eight and over 200 lbs. They told me briefly some of his antics he would attempt to pull off during my 4-6 hour visits with him. But they neglected to mention some of the more important things. They did mention that 4 other people (women) had tried watching him but quit because of Derrik's hormones. He may be mentally impaired but he was horny as hell. They said Derrik would hunch their legs and try kissing them. If they told him to stop it, he would throw something at them. Like a vaccuum cleaner, for instance. After that, the father (the wife and mother left because she couldn't handle Derrik) brought Derrik to work with him at Domino's pizza. Once there, Derrik would frequently pull out his puffed pecker and commence masturbating while imitating an angry gorilla. Ta Da! The father told me this part the first (and only night) I handled him.

Naturally, it wasn't long till the boss told the father that he could no longer bring Derrik to work with him. Imagine that. I guess the customers gave a thumbs down on the dinner show. But getting back to me and my part in this tale.... They hired me on because they felt that he would respond better to a guy giving Derrik orders and taking care of him. They said they had luck one other time trying this. Anyway, I agreed. I had a bad feeling about it but I was desperate for a paycheck. I thought, at the very least, it might be entertaining. Sure enough, it was.

I had the brains, fortunately, to ask for someone else to be there to help me out my first night. The nurse, her name was Elma, came to their small efficiency apartment and met me. While there, Derrik threw plates of food against the wall. Threw open 2 liters down the stairwell. Took all his clothes off and stood to poop over the toilet. He screamed frequently. Tried to hunch the nurse and stick his tongue in her mouth. Jump up and down on the furniture. Grab my arm and bruise it. But never sit still for a moment. Elma and I would have him sit in a corner for a minute before he would suddenly jump up, lunge for one of us and make monkey noises.

I left their home that night, knowing I wouldn't be back. Hell, the company was planning on having me stay with this kid alone, four nights a week. And since I wasn't really allowed to grab hold of this kid and pin him to the ground, I knew there would be no way I could handle him. Besides, if I pinned him to the floor, he may hurt me later.... or get the wrong idea and hunch my leg.

Ick!

That's all for now. Tune in for another episode of This Is My Freakishly Insane Life in a couple days or so.