Pet Peeves

I get peeved a lot. I’m not going to lie, I’m somewhat easily peeved–especially early in the morning or when I am tired. Now would be a poor time to try and back peddle and say that I am “easy-going; and let things roll off my back”, because I’ve already said that I get peeved easily. But those who know me, know that when I get peeved, I turn into a story, for all those around me to hear. I generally keep telling it, until everyone in my path has heard my story about how someone annoyed me on the subway, the sidewalk, work, or a store, etc. Most of the time, these stories are humorous, other times they fall short (we all have our off days, okay?!), and now I am about to share some of my pet peeves with all of you, my dear readers.

I was on the train yesterday, and there, across from me, were two things that bother me–all being done by one person. First of all, I don’t know who thought that these coats were a good idea; but they’re not. They’re terrible. They don’t flatter anyone, they are incredibly ugly, and I’m sure if I was ever unfortunate enough to get close to one, it would smell–like burnt rubber. Because that is what it looks like. It looks like someone has turned a tire into a jacket and then stamped in stupid designs–like an image of Scarface. Every time I see someone wearing one of these horrendous coats, it offends every sense that I have. It makes me hurt. It make me throw up in my mouth, at least 3 times. And this kid was wearing one. Not only was he wearing this jacket, but he was listening to music on his Sidekick, not only was he listening to music on his Sidekick, but so was I–because he wasn’t using headphones. Not everyone shares my taste in music, so I can only assume that not everyone shares his taste in music. The train is not your room, where you are free to play your music out in the open as loud as you would like–because there are other people around you! I don’t want to listen to R. Kelly on my way home from work, where I was just subjected to 8 hours of Madonna. Now you may be saying, “Why don’t you just listen to your own music?” and normally I would have put my Ipod on, but the battery was dead. That doesn’t make a difference to me, because I would still be annoyed even if I had my Ipod going. I would be annoyed for the people around me. The mere fact that I know that it’s going on, peeves me greatly, and that’s just the way it goes.

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but when people come up to the cash register to pay and have their earphones in or are talking on their cell phones bother me on a personal and professional level. First of all, it’s disrespectful, if you are going to be interacting with another human being, regardless of what hat interaction is, you should take a minute to pause your music or pause your conversation. I especially hate it when I have to repeat myself, because they can’t hear me, and then after the fifth time that I’ve repeated myself, they take out their earphone or hang up their phone. Then by that time, I have no interest in being nice to them, so they get all offended when I get all attitude-y. I once had an encounter with a woman, who the whole time while I was talking to her, was listening to her Ipod and then had the audacity to get upset with me, when she hadn’t been hearing clearly what I had been explaining to her–like how our credit card machine wasn’t working, but I would hold the chairs that she wanted to purchase for an hour while she went to get cash–which she took to mean that the chairs were hers and she could come back in two days and get them when she wanted, WITHOUT PAYING. Which is ridiculous. Maybe if she had turned off her James Taylor, she wouldn’t have stalked off all angry.

Sometimes the trains are crowded and we are all crammed in there like Crayola’s in crayon box, but that’s not what this is about. This is about those special times, when the trains aren’t crowded…when there are plenty of seats available, yet someone comes over and and sits RIGHT NEXT TO YOU. This happened to me today, on my way to work. Practically the whole was empty and this lady sat right on top of me. I don’t get it. I really don’t. There is no logical explanation for it. Try to find an explanation for it, makes my mind hurt. Also, one time, I was sort of in a coma, on my way home work. I mean, completely peaced out (definition number 1). Then I hear this man saying excuse me, because he wanted to sit down. I guess the two people on either side of me had gotten off the train, so I was still in the middle seat. Well, I look up, and to try and put it nicely, was not the smallest person I have ever seen. He needed me to scoot over, so he could sit down comfortably. Now, I’m no twig, by any means, but I certainly don’t take up two seats on the subway–and I wouldn’t be waking anyone up for them to scoot over if I did. I hate it when people try to squeeze themselves in spaces where they won’t fit. I try to gauge whether or not I am going to be able to fit my decent sized ass in that seat between people–because frankly, I don’t want to be uncomfortable, sitting with my arms straight out in front of me to make more room. I have limits. Also, if anyone else gets irritated when someone brushes up against them during their morning commute, chock it up to being more sensitive to touch early in the morning. I can’t link you to anything, because I read it in Cosmo a while ago–and it had nothing to do with what I just mentioned, it was more along the lines of, “surprise your man with a hand-job in the morning because we are more sensitive to touch and he will be greatly aroused,” or something. Do that, and have a sore wrist to add to your list of things that will irritate you for the rest of the day. Thanks Cosmo.

Girls who wear stupid accessories. I saw a girl on my way to work this morning wearing a really stupid hat. It was tiny, and she was wearing it at the front of her head and to the side–a cocktail hat. Like she was at a jazz club in Paris in the 30’s. All she needed was to be smoking a cigarette through one of those holders. I mean come on! It’s not like today was Halloween and it was 11 in the morning on a Wednesday, so I doubt she was heading to a costume party, plus, her hat didn’t really match the rest of her ensemble. She looked like a jack ass. I wanted to punch her in the face. Her tiny hat peeved me to the extreme for some reason.

I have a lot more pet peeves than this, but it is getting late and I have to work tomorrow. Perhaps I should turn my “Pet Peeves” into a weekly or monthly special. Anyone up for that? or should I just let this be it and move on? bottle up all my pet peeves until they finally bottle rocket out of me?

Post Office

I had a delightful weekend, jam-packed with excitement: A friend’s apartment warming party–there was a drunk foreigner and a transgen; doesn’t get more warm than that! As a small side note, I have not yet revealed to all you readers how much I love the transgen community. I have a special name for them, but that will be an entirely separate post sometime in the near future. However, this particular Transgen, reminded me a little bit of James St. James, if James St. James had an ongoing meth addiction. Then on Saturday my old roomie from college came down for a visit. Unfortunately the weather was completely disastrous, which killed some of the fun. Although, we did go to Shake Shack (also). Let me tell you. I walk past this place pretty much every day. In the summer, that line was kickin’, and people would be lined up practically around the park at like 1pm–now I know why. I’ve been hearing people rave about this place and now I can rave about it too. I had the ‘Shroom Burger which is a portobello mushroom that is jam packed with muenster (my fav!) and cheddar cheeses…and…wait for it….FRIED TO PERFECTION! It was delicious. Try it. If you love cheese half as much as I do, you won’t be disappointed. Finally on Sunday, after work, my associate (power adjectives to describe coworkers is all the rage) and I, retreated to the Crocodile Lounge near Union Square. You get a free personal pizza with every drink you order. After that we went to the Donut Pub. The old Polish man running the joint agreed with me that deciding whether or not to buy a house is easier than choosing a donut. So that was my weekend–I just wanted to bring everyone up to speed. I was not neglecting you.

So the post office. Does anyone remember back in the late-80’s early-90’s when the term “Going Postal” was pretty much the funniest thing you could say besides, “I’m gonna go medieval on your ass!” Well, every time I go into the post office, I can understand why they were disgruntled. Frankly, working in customer service has made me somewhat empathetic to those who harbor feelings of going postal. Customers are lame! Coworkers can be annoying! Management is stupid! It can be stressful. It’s a challenge to not throw a pen at a customer’s face when ask you to double bag a used t-shirt, because they have to go on the subway. What does that have to do with anything?! These people are cray-cray.

There is a post office next to where I work, so occasionally, I will pop in there to buy a stamp to mail my rent, or mail my brother’s birthday gift 3 months late. Now that they have that automated shipping thing, it really cuts down on time spent in the post office, unless you are behind someone that is technologically challenged. I can say, that speaking from my personal experience in this post office, it is usually the customers who are causing the delays. It is almost as if they have never mailed anything before and they don’t know how the post office works. It takes them almost 10 minutes to figure out how to mail something Priority. As I have learned, or maybe I am only speaking for myself on this, the teller, the cashier, the postal worker, etc., is only as fast as their slowest customer. So if I am at the cash register and am ringing up some confused old biddy, and have a line of people, they are just going to have to wait while she digs around in her purse for exact change. Short of snatching the purse from her and getting the change myself, there is nothing I can do.

Since I work next to the post office, a lot of the postal workers come into the store on their break. There is this really nice lady that I see pretty much every day, and she said that if there was ever a line, and I had to mail something, just to come to her, because she knows how it is trying to run an errand on your break. So today, I finally scrounged up the change to mail my absentee ballot (Obama/Biden, in case you were wondering). However, as I carefully placed that $.42 stamp on that over sized envelope, I began to have doubts that that was going to be enough postage to carry my vote all the way to Alaska where it would (hopefully) be counted. The line was long, and I had somewhere to be, and it was just a quick question, I figured I would ask and then go carefully place another stamp on the envelope and be on my way. So I stood next to the long line of people, trying to make eye-contact with my postal lady, which I did, and she waved me over as her previous customer was leaving. The best thing that has ever happened to me in a post office is as follows:

Me: I just have a quick question, is this enough postage? I just want to make sure my vote gets there!

Fav Postal Lady: Oh no! It’s too big, let me check for you. (she goes to weigh my ballot to see how much more postage I need)

Cray-Cray Line Lady: Aren’t we all waiting in line?! (I didn’t turn around, because I know better than to make eye-contact with the cray-crays.)

FPL: Excuse me? (Read that as sassily as you can)

CCLL: I said aren’t we all waiting in line?

FPL: (Sassily) Yes. And you will be called. Okay, it need’s another $.41.

Me: (Handing her my change) Thank you so much! (I start to walk away)

FPL: Don’t forget your receipt, baby

Me: Thanks! See you Wednesday probably! (running away from angry line members)

I got special treatment at the post office. I got to the jump the queue! I made other people angry by feeling entitled to go directly to my favorite postal lady. My favorite postal lady encouraged it and hates the other customers because they don’t understand the way that I can understand.

I am an elitest east coaster, who jumped the line at the post office–a real american institution–to send my ballot back home to elect Obama! I doubt what those people were mailing was as important as that.

Economic Crisis Diet

So, times are tough. I say this phrase at least 5 times a day, to try and make it really sink in to those around me. Especially my employer, because it’s the most passive away to imply that one needs a raise. Which I do. Because I am poor.

I basically live paycheck to paycheck–the last one I get in the month always being the one that I use to pay my rent. That paycheck is barely enough to cover my rent, and my rent really isn’t that high. But once you tack on things like electric (which is killer in the summer if you are not a hot/humid weather type of person, i.e. ME) and gas–generally not that expensive because the stove is more like a conversation piece than something I actually use on a regular basis–things get tight. Then there is my student loan, credit card, etc. I have no chance to save any money, because basically, I go through it like toilet paper–and I go through a lot of that because we aren’t allowed to put toilet paper in our toilet. It’s a long story that involves plumbing that I don’t quite understand, but maybe Joe the Plumber would.

So I am stretched financially. And that means something has to fall to the wayside. I’ve already practically given up on fashion–I’m wearing bootcut jeans that I got at a thrift store! Who wears bootcut jeans?! I might as well be wearing flares! It’s all about the skinny jeans, people. Also, I’m still wearing tank tops. It’s pretty much like 50 degrees outside. But I can’t afford the luxury of a long sleeve shirt. Not in this economy. Mostly all of my clothing at this point comes from the thrift store where I work. Sometimes I will buy a t-shirt–from work. Tres Faconnable. Tres Chic. Tres Pauvres.

Now this economic crisis of mine has asked to me to give up something else that I love. Something that I love almost as much as fashion–sometimes, even more, when I’m depressed. Food. Yes. Food. When did groceries become so expensive? When did eating a normal meal become a luxury? No longer can I enjoy a Chipotle burrito; my lifeblood; or a sausage, egg, and cheese on a bagel on those dreadful Sunday mornings when I have to work. No more.

But I know I am not suffering alone. And I want to help others out there, that are in a similar situation as I. I’m going to give some tips, some recipes, some advice.

If you work in retail, or anything sort of customer service related, where you interact with people–sometimes the same people–on a daily basis, try to make friends with a few of them. They are going to be essential in getting you the nutrients or snacks you so desperately need. This past Sunday, when I had forgotten my lunch, one of my favorite customers came bearing gifts of delightful little pastries, from a reputable bakery. They satisfied my sweet tooth for 3 days. Also, don’t be selfish; offer some to your coworkers–at least the ones you like anyways. When someone comes in asking to borrow a pair of scissors, try your best to find a pair, because you never know when they are going to be violently trying to open up a bag of Starburst Jellybeans and offer you some. When a customer comes in bringing food for your boss, who is not there that day, don’t be afraid to split it amongst you and your coworkers. That food could go bad, better yet, that food could be poisoned, and you will have saved your boss’s life. It is a great way to supplement the pathetic lunch you have packed for yourself (I added a soup to my sandwich today! For free!) and save you the hassle paying for a drink at the deli–with regards to that, just buy a can of soda, it’s only a buck and not as bad for the environment as those $1.25/1.50 bottles of soda. Arizona teas in the can are also a great bargoon for $.99. Also, if you buy one, $1 bottle of water, you can keep refilling it for free, from your own tap! Water is pretty much included in most people’s rent–and a lot of work places have water coolers.

If someone offers you some free food take it. Don’t ask questions, just be grateful that you are getting something for free. Also, mention foods you like, because a coworker may have some foodstuffs in her house that she gets from the government for free, like peanut butter, but doesn’t like and can’t feed to her child because they are allergic to nuts–you can benefit from that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Don’t be afraid of brands you have never heard of or the generic stuff. Tropical Fantasy Soda comes in a variety of, well, tropical flavors in a generously sized bottle for only $.65 (at least that’s how much it costs at the bodega by my apartment.)! Go for the $1.39 loaf of bread with a name you can’t remember–it tastes like Wonderbread, but better because it’s not $3. Also, generic pretzels, pretty much the same thing as Rold Gold, but CHEAPER. Hotel Bar butter? Bet you haven’t heard of it. It’s cheap, but it looks like butter, tastes like butter, and it fucking is butter–but it’s cheap, because their logo is a g.d. bellhop from 1957. And when you see a name brand cereal box touting a special price of $2.79, grab that mofo because that won’t last. And Froot Loops taste better when you aren’t being charged $4.39 for a box that is going to last you, in all honesty, like 3 days. We are adults, not small children. Our cereal intake is at a different level and just can’t be compared to that of a small child.

If you are going to order out, which I don’t recommend, unless your Father is paying for it, try to extend that takeout for as long as possible. That Chinese food I ordered on Saturday? Lasted me until Tuesday. I was having that stuff for lunch and dinner. It’s all about portion control. Don’t order from places like Papa Johns…my roommate makes this mistake all the time. A large pizza is like $23. That is too much. I can get a large pizza from Nick’s/Frank’s/Whatever-his-name-might-be for $14. At 8 slices in a large, that’s 4 meals if you eat two at each sitting. Everybody’s different, but 2 slices of pizza is a reasonable serving for someone who is grown and not binge eating because they are drunk. Also, Subway, $5 footlong–sure you may find a knife in your sandwich, but how can you beat $5 for a footlong?! That’s two six inch subs. That is lunch and dinner, or lunch and lunch. However you want to spread it out. I believe Quizno’s offers a similar deal–choose your poison.

Buy pasta. Buy the cheapest pasta you can find. It is all going to end up in the same place eventually (get what I’m saying?), so why splurge at this point? Cook it, put a little bit of your Hotel Bar Butter on it while it’s still hot, sprinkle a little salt, a little pepper–maybe some garlic powder if you have some–and there is dinner, every night of the week until you can find a new job that pays better or until someone does you a favor and puts you out of your misery.

Buy pancake mix, but be sure to read the box so that you are buy the “just add water kind”. I recommend Aunt Jemima–lady knows a pancake, okay? That can be breakfast and dinner until the box is gone. It will last a while (I’ve had my box for a good 5 or 6 months), unless you consume massive quantities of pancakes at each meal. Pace yourself. Also, Aunt Jemima syrup is delicious. You’ll want to have that around. Not only is it good on pancakes, but when you realize that you have no food in your apartment, except for a jar of Peter Pan peanut butter your roommate bought you to replace the one he ate while he was drunk, you can drizzle it on a spoonful of peanut butter. I can sense that you are judging me right now, and I am okay with that. Because when you try it, you will know what I am talking about. It’s the right blend of salty and sweet.

What started this whole thing for me, was that fact that, yesterday, in order to save myself some money, I bought Smuckers Goober Grape. For those of you elitist consumers out there, this is what real America is about. It is peanut butter and grape jelly combined. In one jar. For only $3.19 (at my bodega). Skippy peanut butter alone was $2.39 with jelly around the same price. I am saving practically half. It tastes okay. It wouldn’t be my first choice if I gobs of cash to be grocery shopping with. But it does the job. Slathered on some $1.39 no-name bread, served with some generic $1.19 pretzels and a $.65 Tropical Fantasy ( I recommend the Peach or Mango flavor) soda and you basically have a lunch for a little over a $1. That is true savings people!

Also, Halloween is coming up. You can either go trick-or-treating yourself and collect yourself some delicious candy bar meals, or you can steal the candy from children. It’s up to you. November is coming and if McCain wins, we could be facing even tougher times, and no amount of Goober Grape is going to be able to get us through it.

As with any diet, try and think of the end goal. With the amount of weight one will lose, from the lack of nutrition and food that is being eaten, when that new job comes, and one’s personal economic crisis is over, those brand new skinny jeans are going to look great!

Paper Bag or Plastic Bag?

It’s funny how such a simple question like, “Would you like a paper bag or a plastic bag?” would incite a small scale panic attack within a customer. Most of my day is spent at a cash register, ringing people up, explaining why I can’t sell something without a tag/price, explaining why I can’t sell it for cheaper/give them a discount, explaining why I can’t take something out of the auction case for them to look at, or reassuring them that we are not “closing this location”. In order to save myself some time, I generally like to ask people if they want a paper or plastic bag–only because I hate having already put something in a plastic bag and then they tell me they want paper or vice versa.

Just as a side note, our plastic bags are those of the lovely “I ‘heart’ NY” nature, and the paper are the inconspicuous brown kind that come in not one, but two different sizes; slightly less than medium and large. The paper bags aren’t the strongest, but we double them up for good measure for the heavier items. The “I ‘heart’ NY” bag is the Earth’s nemesis, but I think the actual plastic/carbon(?) content in those bags has gone down, because they seem awfully thin now as compared to when I started working at the thrift store back in February.

So back to me asking a customer if they want a paper or plastic bag. Almost every time I ask someone this question, their eyes sort of glaze over and their face slumps like they have bells palsy–I chose this image only because I enjoy the small illustration of him attempting to make a phone call. Also, they are the most trusted name in medical illustrations, who knew?! Their breathing becomes erratic, they start sweating, clutching their right arm, etc. It is as though I have asked them what the square root of 44937574 is; it’s 6703.549358362329, in case you were wondering; and if they don’t answer they will be forced to suffer a slow and painful death. I don’t understand why this question is so hard! Make a decision! Either you want a paper bag or you want a plastic bag, it is not that serious. Both are probably equally bad for the environment, unless the paper bags happen to be made from some percentage of post-consumer waste. Oddly enough, this is the reason why customers think I am asking them to choose. A good number of them always give a shameful laugh when they choose plastic and promise me that they will “reuse it”. Why they feel the need to tell me this, is beyond me. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Earth as much as the next person, but nothing about me screams “raging environmentalist”–except when I see someone litter I say, “I hope you get squashed litterbug”, because it seems appropro.

Another problem with the asking of this question, is invariably 3 out of 5 customers is going to say something along the lines of, “Ok.” “Sure, yes.” “Okay, bag.” “Hmmm, yes please.” This would all be well and good if the question was strictly, “Would you like a bag?”, but it’s not. I am giving them a choice! Let your voice be heard, people! Them saying, “Okay”, in response to me saying, “Would you like a paper or plastic bag?” gets us nowhere. NOWHERE. It only lengthens their stay in front of me. Which is not what I want at all. I want them out of my face. Because if they stay in front of me for 1 second longer, after they’ve asked 3.7 annoying questions, I will snap. I will put that plastic bag over their head and send them on their way. It just shows me that people don’t listen. They are either talking on their cell phone, or staring off into space. We as a society are not actively engaged in the present, in what is currently going on or what we are currently doing. It irritates me, because I have to repeat myself. Sometimes as often as 3 times. Which is pathetic.

Another favorite of mine in this little predicament, that I have unwittingly cooked up for myself at work is when when they ask if the paper bag has handles. Of course it has handles! I’m wondering if they ask this question at Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s. I doubt it. Or maybe they do. Because maybe they are that annoying.

As you can see, I’m getting irate–and we are only now getting to my favorite part of this whole scenario. So picture this: I’m at the cash register, ringing someone up. I ask them if they want a paper or a plastic bag. They have their mini-stroke, and then finally decide on a paper bag, after I’ve listed their options and given them a visual. I put their items in a paper bag and hand it to them. They look at me, as if they know what they are doing–because they live to irritate–and say, “Wait, can I have a plastic bag instead, this I’m going to be walking around and it will be easier for me to carry.” That statement right their, is the bane of my working in retail existence. At this point, I start giving dirty looks and just toss a plastic bag at them, because really, after I bag it once and hand it to them, it’s left my jurisdiction–I no longer care about that customer. They are dead to me.

I honestly don’t know why I continue to ask. It’s because I enjoy being punished for trying to be a good person–for caring about the items that these people purchased at thrift store and then want treated as though they just bought the Hope Diamond.

How am I not Employee of the Month, Year, or Decade?!