Today Was a Crappy Day
Note: My shitty day in 1100+ words.
It began quite like any other Friday with my morning spent volunteering at Banting and Best. On Fridays I have the grade 7s and 8s and they're normally a really pleasant group, and today was no real exception. The teacher I'm partnered up with is Mrs. Lee and she is also incredibly nice; I learn so much from watching her work the room. I figured it'd be an easy day since I could just nap after volunteering and show up for my four hour shift at work and be done with it.
Anyway, I'm at the intersection waiting for the bus and here comes an express bus. I put my token in and sit down, and then I see the bus driver on the phone talking to transit control. He calls someone from the back to the front and they talk and then he sits down. He's still on the phone and the bus hasn't moved. He calls the person from the back to the front again, and this time I listen in:
"I'm fine, really, I am. It's my fault, I fell down but I'll be ok!"
"Sir, this is protocol, I have to do this."
"But I'm not bleeding or anything, I'm not hurt, I'll be fine. Let's not delay this."
"I have to do this."
From what I can gather: the guy got on the bus, tripped and fell. The bus driver had to alert transit control to let them know what happened, guess it is protocol since they don't want any liability lawsuits or anything. Well the person who fell kept insisting he was fine and assured the driver that it was "his own fault" and that it would be better if they just kept going. He kept saying he was "making a big deal out of nothing" and was getting more frustrated at the driver as the conversation went on. This conversation went on for another few minutes when the driver just put the bus out of service, and had us get on the next bus.
Now, it was 3:30pm when I got on the bus, and I needed to get to Yonge/Sheppard by 4:30pm. The express bus takes 30 minutes to get to Finch station, and the regular bus takes 40+ minutes. If I had taken the express bus, I would have got to my destination in 40 minutes, which leaves me 20 minutes of breathing room. The delay caused by the driver's conversation with the customer meant that I was taking the next bus at 3:45pm, and it was a regular bus, not an express. I would most likely be late for work.
4:25pm rolls along and we're pulling into Finch station. I will still be late, but only by a couple of minutes, so it's not that bad. I run down to take the subway, and as I sit down I hear another announcement: "We are currently experiencing a delay southbound on our Yonge/University line at North York Centre station. One of our trains is experiencing a mechanical problem. Emergency crews are on the scene and are working to restore service as quickly as possible. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused, and we thank you for your patience."
Motherfucker!
It's two stops from Finch to Sheppard, and there just happens to be a delay at the stop in between Finch and Sheppard. ARGH! Of all the fucking days! So I wait, and 10 minutes later the problem is fixed and I'm back on my way. I arrived at work 15 minutes late, which irks me to no end, but the lot's busy and it's the end of the month meaning I have to renew people's monthly cards as well. Within 5 minutes of my shift a lady puts her bent-as-shit credit card into the machine and it not only fucks up the machine, but gets her credit card stuck too. I had to use a pair of scissors to get her credit card out, and then had to stand outside to talk to all the customers and make sure nobody else puts stuff into the machine. I called someone and they sent someone nearby in to fix the machine for me.
Could this be the end of my bad day? Nope! Because at the end of my shift what I'm supposed to do is put the money I earned into a bank bag, and the money that is from my float into a white bag. They were all out of white bags. What I wanted to do was call the supervisor to ask him if it was ok if I put the float into a bank bag, and label it clearly so people can tell the difference. Simple. Real. Fucking. Simple.
I called and it was one of the students on the line and I asked to speak to the supervisor. He told me that he was out and was busy, but that he'd get him to call me back. Ok, cool! Five minutes later I get a call back and it's the student asking me what's wrong. I asked him where the supervisor was, and he told me the guy was eating in the office and he wanted to see if he could figure it out with me.
Alright, I'll play along.
Red: "There's no more white bags, so I just want to know if I can put the float into a bank bag instead and just label it."
Student: "That's interesting."
R: "Yeah, any ideas?"
S: "Well, won't the security guys just throw it in without reading? I don't think they check."
R: "They do check, they have to make sure that the bags they pick up are the bags that are signed in. But, since this lot doesn't have a sign-in sheet, it's the supervisors that pick this up."
S: "I don't know man..."
R: "Can I just talk to the supervisor?"
S: "He's eating. I'll tell him to call you back."
*click*
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! CAN'T I JUST TALK TO THE FUCKIN' GUY?! IS IT THAT HARD?!
Five minutes pass and it's the student again. He tells me to put it into the bank bag and label it, because it's the supervisors who pick it up in the morning. THAT IS WHAT I TOLD HIM FROM THE START! WHY DID THIS PROCESS TAKE 15 MINUTES?!
All I wanted was to talk to my god damn supervisor, so I could tell him what I'm going to do. I ain't asking, because there isn't any other solution, so I'm telling him because this is the best way to do things. Instead I have to talk through some buffer who doesn't know shit about the situation or how to solve it, and 15 minutes later get the same fucking solution that I put forth in the beginning.
I am about to go fuckin' postal. Man, what a shitty day.
Shittiest Christmas Present Ever!
Every year this "family friend" we have gives the shittiest presents ever. It's not that I'm ungrateful, it's just that these presents are universally shitty, as in, no one would want this! Not even 'lil Timmy in the orphanage who will probably spit in your face if we gave him this.
I mean, last year we got expired chocolate that expired about 2.5 years ago. Why even bother giving something like that? Just throw it out, who do you think we are? How did they top that gift from last year? They give us chocolate that expired 3.5 years ago. Is this coming from the same pile? If it is they might as well give it to us all at once, or, better yet throw it all out at once! It's three and a half years old! What the hell is it still doing in your house? Are you using it to level a table or something?
So now I have a box of expired chocolate, and I don't really know what to do with it. Part of me wants to drive by and throw it at their house, but that's a little too extreme. The other idea I had was to wrap it up and re-gift it for next year. I'm still trying to wonder what my family has done to deserve this, because we never ask them for anything or really talk to them that much really. The mom always tries to one-up my family in everything which gets awfully annoying. Everything she has costs more, is worth more, and her son is better than me in every way imaginable. I can deal with that, even though I know it's not true (I'll rock his world in essay writing...I think), just, it fries me to see my mom still being nice to this woman. My mom was talking about taking her to the Nike Employee store on her friend's pass, which I vehemently objected to. I'd rather take one of my own friends to that store, someone who is actually a good friend and will appreciate that shit, and not someone who will turn around and give me expired stuff.
Ah well, what can I do?
What is Christmas?
I just read this article from The Star called "Atheists grapple with Christmas", which is about a new book coming out, a collection of articles written by atheists about how they deal with Christmas. What?! Deal with Christmas? I never really felt that strongly about Christmas as an atheist to boycott the event, or to celebrate the Big Bang instead by listening to white noise on the radio as Simon Singh suggests (jokingly, I hope, because that sounds like the lamest idea since this one*). What is Christmas now? It's apparently too commercial for some Christians, but, too Christian for others.
I don't get it. I'm an atheist and I've never really taken it that seriously. I thought that was the point of it! There's a quote in there about how Trottier wants to "stay true to his principles" and not celebrate Christmas. There's only ONE fucking principle as an atheist, and you don't have to believe in God to buy presents. Unbelievable.
*I would like a non-Christian cape for Christmas. Thank you.
Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Stop Flogging the Dead Horse
The point of Demotivational Posters is to parody those motivational posters that you might see in your office. It works if you actually parody it, like this guy:
But those are quite rare these days. Online, you'll more likely find these ones:
McPimpin'? This is more like a caption, than a demotivational poster. Yes, the car is ridiculous, but what is the point of making it into a poster? Once again, it's not funny. The picture itself would have done well enough on its own.
And if you want to see just how bad this trend has become, just check out this comic from My Apokalips:
Pretty funny right? Now, check out what this assclown did to it:
1) It's not demotivational.
2) It's not funny.
3) It ruins the joke.
I hate them. And it's absolutely terrible when people combine two unfunny things, like LOLCats and these posters:
Is there a way we can stop this? Chuck Norris jokes (and all further incarnations, technically, they started out as Vin Diesel jokes) need to go as well, especially the new Sue Sylvester jokes going around. The words "win", "fail", and "epic" must be also used in moderation, because I'm tired of everything I see online being described with three fucking words, when only one of them is actually an adjective.
But alas, I don't know what I'm doing here. I can't stop the Internet. It's just weird to me how a place can be both a beacon, and a desolate wasteland, for creativity.
Can’t Say You Hate It Unless You’ve Tried…
For the last few years I've shot down pretty much all invitations people have given me to go to a club. I've said, flat out, that I will never go for two main reasons:
1) I hate loud music.
2) I hate people getting into my space.
Of course, the next question that follows their invite is usually:
"Have you ever been to a club? No? How can you hate something you've never been to?"
And there we have it. Their trump card. How can I hate something I've never done? How is it that I can know before I have tried it? Well, pretty simple really. You can use that argument for food, because it is very difficult to imagine how something tastes so you can't really hate how something tastes before you've tried it (although, in some cases, you're right to assume it's going to taste terrible). But, I've been in situations before where it's been cramped and I've had people get into my personal space and I didn't like it. I've been in bars before that decided that the music wasn't loud enough until it can muffle a space shuttle launch and I hated it. So if you put the two together, I doubt it would create a positive experience. I thought that was a safe assumption to make.
Nonetheless, I went to Nava today, because I convinced myself that maybe I was wrong. Maybe if I got there, things would magically change and two bad things would somehow come up positive. Like, if you decided to blend Brussels sprouts and dog shit together, and a unicorn flew out of your blender, that would be awesome, but unlikely.
Anyway, "try to keep an open mind" was my mantra for the evening. I got in, got patted down, then paid the cover charge ($15.00!! Up yours Nava! I don't care if Nick Carter had his birthday here, this is ludicrous), and made my way inside, and sweet Jesus!!!!!
Why the fuck am I here?!
No amount of slutty girls dressed as nurses, superheroes and cheerleaders will make loud music any softer, and people any further away. I was constantly getting prodded and pushed around as I made my way anywhere in the place, all while I had to listen to music that was so loud that my ears are still ringing as I'm writing this (3 hours after I left.) I go out to relax, I go out to enjoy myself and for that to happen, I need to be in an environment where I feel comfortable. Clubs are not my thing, they were never my thing, and today, despite the fact that their argument was largely unusable in the first place, I can safely say "no, I'm not going to a club because I hate it. And yes, I have been before."