Ah, Me!--'Tis the Hour for Mine Sitting Down and Uttering Many A "Fuck," Methinks

Fuck.

This is absolute bullshit.

Have you guys ever had a problem with some huge company's service, such as Yahoo!? I have.

Let me tell you, it's no picnic. There's probably three people in their employ for customer service, and those three people are probably just struggling to make ends meet and actually have no idea about the code--or probably don't even have any idea how to do anything with these services other than the simple tasks neatly spelled out for them on notecards that any monkey can do.

Actually, I was loathe to make such a comment, and I've been holding out for a very long time. Why's that? Because I know that if a business-degree-toting, practical-experience-lacking, self-obsessed Yahoo! corporate staffer (who is, no doubt, just steeped in a "can-do," "look-out-for-number-one!" attitude) ever takes a gander at this post, his or her first inclination will be to fire one of the said three people.

Why's that, you ask? Every publicly-owned corporation in this country has a wonderful motto these days: "Your number-one controllable expense is payroll." For some reason, people who have never had experience on a "rubber-meeting-pavement" sense (such as in a retail store or customer service line--at the level where they actually deal with the marketplace face-to-face) have just decided that the best thing to do for ay company is to gut it.

When I was in retail management, our store was one of the best in the chain.

Aha!! There it is! I can hear you groaning already, fatcats. Do you see what you're doing? You were reading this up to the point where I mentioned that I actually worked at a store, and then, you said, "Ahhh, here it comes--he has no idea what he's talking about! He can't possibly understand! All he ever did was run a store; he couldn't possibly have any idea what it is to run a BUSINESS, like I do, with my fancy University of Phoenix diploma. He obviously lacks drive or motivation if he ever deemed it a worthwhile endeavor to actually enter those filthy ranks of lowly 'commoner' workerbees, so he's obviously neither a mover nor a shaker, like I am."

The fact remains that when I was running one of the highest-selling stores (and yes, that was "comp" sales)--and one of the only stores in the area to even be making money, period--no-one got bonuses. We lost staff left and right. They had us pared down to such a skeleton crew that two days before Christmas, I was closing the store alone with only one cashier--and I'm talking a two-story unit with hundreds of customers (oh, I'm sorry, "guests"--you sure fooled a lot of people with that wordplay, by the way) that was reeling in over $70K that night.

And why? Because "your number-one controllable expense is always payroll." Why are we unable to ever even write a simple e-mail to a company whose product isn't working? Because their number-one controllabel expense was payroll.

The truth is that you CAN control your payroll. You could save hundreds of thousands of dollars by simply firing everyone below you. But then, what would happen when people wanted to buy your products or enlist your services? Well, nothing; there just wouldn't be any orders processed.

But that's alright for an MBA. All they have to do is jump off the ship while the stock is still at a reasonable price, right?

Fuckin bitches.

Anyway, enough whining about vague corporate entities (read: motherfuckers). Let's just talk about my personal experiences these past few days with Ms. Bitch-Cunt or whatever her fucking name is, my boss (kinda).

This fucking insane lunatic calls me up every fucking day and just excretes these words all over my poor brain that are like this horrible soup of nothingness, with neither shape nor form nor apparent reason. I'd really rather not go into the particulars, because I don't want to be sued, since that's the knee-jerk reaction of cuntfucks like that in this country, but let's just say I run a tiny warehouse and she suddenly wanted to send me so much stuff to store here that it would fill our warehouse about three times in its physical girth.

So, she consulted me about it, which is nice and all, considering I'm the sole worker here, and the only one who would know what I was talking about. Even after my careful advice in our phone conversation (which lasted many hours, mind you), I return to work on Monday to find she's elected to place this enormous order anyway.

I call.

"We can't physically fit that much," I say, using "we" for some unknown reason--did I think I was British royalty, or something? "Plus, even if we could fill it to capacity, we couldn't ship because we wouldn't be able to sort it or get to a specific carton when need arose."

I've been saving this up, reader. I've been waiting to tell someone this response. It's really one of the best lines I've heard in a long time.

"That's your problem."

Listen up, corporate-types. I've heard this crap over and over from different bosses, and it goes back to the "no pracitcal experience" shit. When your warehouse manager tells you that the amount of product you'd like stored at a place is, by physical volume, three times the amount you can store in at said place, maybe, then--just maybe--it's three times as fucking much as you can store at that place. I'm not saying "gee, I kinda wanna get less because I like to have a lot of room" or "I don't want to deal with a shipment." I'm saying "this is three times as much as can fit at this place."

Considering I was the only sales rep for this company until our distributor came along, she might want to listen to my input on how much traffic we get, too. We just simply don't get this many fucking orders. I could show her our sales graphs for 36 hours straight, with her fucking dumb ass tied to a chair and while using simple verbage at a deliberately slow pace, and she'd apparently still just say "I'd like to see three times that amount delivered to you today for no reason whatsoever."

All of that nonwithstanding, I have a response to her comment. "It may be my problem first-hand, but then, since you're managing this, it'll become your problem."

Anyway, it will become her problem. How? Well, when the container arrives and the truckers show up at my warehouse and I say, "I refuse this shipment," then it will become her fucking problem. They can store that fucking shit at the freight company's warehouse. I'm sure they'd just love to do that; they wouldn't call her up and or get in a lawsuit between us and them and all that wonderful stuff.

I guess if I knocked down the walls to this little office area, took out our shelves, just literally threw out the old stock items (which would be stealing anyway since I don't own it personally), and then just literally filled every square inch of my warehouse, I could fit most of it. Hell, I dunno; maybe all of it, all airtight and packed so that you'd have to remove hundreds and hundreds of cartons just to get to the back.

Know what I'd do then, tho'? I'd drive right on over to her office, drop the key off, and say, "do whatever you want with 'em; they're all yours."

"But what will I do with them?!"

"That's your problem." ("BITCH!")

Fuck

FUCK FUUUUUCK

There. I said it was time for uttering many a "fuck." I was right!

Masturbating Donkeys vs. 30-Pound-Testicles-Having Guy!!

or, "Fuckin' I can't enjoy my fucking sandwich lolz Jesus Raptor"

Seriously, I am so tired of "memes."

You wanna know why? Because not only do like fuckin unimaginative people throw up stupid pictures of like the ORLY owl all over the place, but like, then you have to hear a million lame, whiney little bellyaches about how some idiotic internet addict is tired of seeing said ORLY owl pictures all over the place.

To me, that's the greatest meme of all--the "waaaugh, I hate memes!" meme. All your stupid meme-hating bases are belong to you, Mr. Hypocritical-Whiner. Hey, here's a hint: you don't wanna see memes or read silly, maudlin blogs all full of histrionics? Then just stay out of forums and blogs and such, ya friggin' knucklehead!

As some of you may know, I'm too into videogames for my own good. I've noticed a big trend there with this same kind of sour-stomached, bitter little misanthrope: bashing on other folks' videogame prowess. Seriously, it's like, the first ten responses to a simple question about a game on most decently-trafficked gaming boards will be things like "ohh, man!!!!! what the hell dude, you suck!! you can't even do that?!?!?"

Or, "fuck, that question was already answered! stfu noob!!"

I often wonder if shinigami_naruto9999 (sample handle, folks; many apologies to the millions of shinigami_naruto9999's out there in advance before their flood of hate mail ensues) thinks that one day the guys who made Halo or whatever elf-laden MMORPG he plays are going to show up at his door and say, "Alright! You did it! Your knowledge is the greatest and you are win for like a million times--all hail the champion!!" Did this person fantasize about The Last Starfighter being real?

Or are they thinking that one day, Death will beat on their door and challenge them to a game for their immortal soul, and that game will just randomly happen to be their favorite deathmatch-style first-person shooter?

It's the same mentality with all those naysayers out there saying "nay" to memes and leaving weird critiques of other people's blogs. I have a question: What the fuck is the deal with you bitches? Are you like self-loathing morons who will like run home and cry while masturbating furiously, like that motherfucker in The Scarlet Letter who goes and preaches hellfire sermons against the very chick he was having an affair with?

Bellicose cockblockers!

Wait...what the fuck is this blog about? Oh, well. I'm tired.