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- Name: Nathan
- Location: United States
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This is functioning as a bi-annual, semi-regular, entirely made-up humor column, written and directed by Christopher Saint (which is not, in fact, my real name. If you don't like the fact that I use an alias, you may bite me.)
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
Picture the following scene:
I am at work, which is the retail giant, Best Buy. I work in the back, in inventory. Someone calls inventory and asks us to bring a 51 inch plasma TV to the front door for a customer.
This is an undertaking similar to climbing Mt. Everest...without oxygen. I am 5'8" (on good days) and I weigh 140 pounds (also on good days). The TV is a malevolent entity specifically designed to be as big and awkward as possible. It weighs nearly twice what I do, and it's at least three times my size.
So, with the help of another inventory worker, I put the TV on a hand-truck (one of those little two-wheeled deals that movers always use) and begin the trek up Mt. Everest. Actually, the first 20 feet or so are easy, and things look promising, but as soon as I turn the corner and come out from behind our "wall-o-fridges" in the appliance section, all hope leaves me. For there, not 20 more feet away, are the teeming masses.
What is especially unfortunate is that these particular teeming masses are made up of consumers. Ravening, drool-spewing, craven beasts who will do anything to get the lowest price on an item and who become manically excited at the word 'sale'. Sometimes though, the consumers are children, and their job is to make their parent consumers even more desperate and ravening through the use of the 'whine technique'.
This is when the child consumer whines at such a high pitch that it drives the parent consumer into a buying frenzy just to make the pain stop. The parent consumer is full of anger at the pain, and at the fact that they can feel their wallet shrinking, and they take their anger out on the nearest helpless individual: ie, an employee.
Now, I am usually immune to the anger because I am carrying a huge freaking TV. But I do face danger of another kind. Well, of many kinds actually.
The least annoying of the dangers I face is the Random Walking Consumer. This consumer is merely trying to get from Item A to Item B, and their path crosses mine, often with results similar to that of a black cat crossing your path. Ie, I come to a screeching halt, and possibly take out some display of expensive stuff. Fortunately, the damage is minimal, and I am able to continue on.
But suddenly, I face danger number two! A child consumer darts into my path, carrying about 500 dollars worth of electronic equipment. Once again, I come to a screeching halt, nearly breaking my back trying to hold back the 280 pounds of raging TV. The child looks up innocently at my struggles. I snarl at it. It runs to mommy, whining. Mommy buys it 500 dollars worth of electronic equipment, including, but not limited to: a radar detector, a palm pilot, a cell phone, a Buzz The Robot Smart Child Spelling Apparatus, and a pack of 200 rewriteable CDs.
The parent storms up to me, in a rage at what happened, and shouts: "Next time, just run the kid over!!"
But, bravely, I keep going. And suddenly, I am confronted by yet another danger: the Slow-Walking Oblivious Consumer. This is a consumer who is in my personal way, and who has their back to me, and who is walking at the pace of badly injured snail. They are also apparently engrossed in trying to find something, so that they can't feel my hot breath on the back of their neck. I hollar, "Excuse me!!" at a volume that makes everyone turn and look.
So, I continue on, and then, suddenly, the second worst danger. This, just so you know, annoys the heck out of me. I call this one the "Deer In The Headlights." Basically, what happens is that I am coming down a long, fairly empty aisle, nearly to the final stretch, and there, in front of me, is a single, over-large consumer. Said consumer stands, in the middle of the aisle, right at a crossing, so that they could simply take a step to the left or the right and be out of the way. But instead, they just stand there, watching me come. The TV is behind me, but it's towering above my head by at least 2 feet, not to mention still being wider than my body. Couple this with the fact that I am sweating and obviously having trouble dragging the bloody thing along, and it's pretty obvious what I'm doing.
Not to this consumer though. They stand there and watch me come. What is running through their heads I can only guess at: perhaps, "He's going to turn at the last second, I know it! Despite the fact that that thing he's dragging has the maneuverability of a freight train with no wheels." or maybe, "He's not really coming, it's just a mirage." and possibly, "Ooo, pretty colors."
Either way, I have to come within two feet of this consumer and say "Excuse me!" at a high volume before they get a clue and move, with a look of slighted anger, such as: "How dare that impudent little wretch ask me to move my massive butt out of the way when he could have easily lifted that 280 pound TV over my head?"
And, nearly to the door, the worst danger ever. Despite the fact that I am obviously travailing here, I am actually approached by a consumer and ASKED A QUESTION. Like, "Excuse me, can you tell me where the computers are?" This forces me to stop entirely, often nearly toppling the TV (which would break), and address the question. "Under the HUGE FREAKING SIGN THAT SAYS BLOODY COMPUTERS!!!!!!!!" No, I'm very polite, in a strained sort of way.
But finally, all the danger surmounted, I make it to the door. Now all I have to do is put the TV in someone's vehicle for them. Sometimes, this will be a little old lady (or worse, someone less cute and endearing, such as an angry redneck lady with hair issues) with a car that is only slightly bigger, total, than the TV. And of course, they will then proceed to ask questions like: "Do you think that will fit in the trunk? Can we at least try?"
"NO"
"HECK NO"
"As much as I hate to be a wet blanket, this TV wouldn't fit in your car if we removed all internal car parts, and the roof, and the doors, and the engine."
But the consumer manages to misunderstand.
"Well can we at least TRY to stick it on the back seat?"
Anyway, that happens (to varying degrees, most of the people actually have cars that will fit the TV they order) at least 5-10 times per day. What joyous fun!
So, send your donations to me, FalcontheHunter@netscape.net. We accept credit cards.
I am at work, which is the retail giant, Best Buy. I work in the back, in inventory. Someone calls inventory and asks us to bring a 51 inch plasma TV to the front door for a customer.
This is an undertaking similar to climbing Mt. Everest...without oxygen. I am 5'8" (on good days) and I weigh 140 pounds (also on good days). The TV is a malevolent entity specifically designed to be as big and awkward as possible. It weighs nearly twice what I do, and it's at least three times my size.
So, with the help of another inventory worker, I put the TV on a hand-truck (one of those little two-wheeled deals that movers always use) and begin the trek up Mt. Everest. Actually, the first 20 feet or so are easy, and things look promising, but as soon as I turn the corner and come out from behind our "wall-o-fridges" in the appliance section, all hope leaves me. For there, not 20 more feet away, are the teeming masses.
What is especially unfortunate is that these particular teeming masses are made up of consumers. Ravening, drool-spewing, craven beasts who will do anything to get the lowest price on an item and who become manically excited at the word 'sale'. Sometimes though, the consumers are children, and their job is to make their parent consumers even more desperate and ravening through the use of the 'whine technique'.
This is when the child consumer whines at such a high pitch that it drives the parent consumer into a buying frenzy just to make the pain stop. The parent consumer is full of anger at the pain, and at the fact that they can feel their wallet shrinking, and they take their anger out on the nearest helpless individual: ie, an employee.
Now, I am usually immune to the anger because I am carrying a huge freaking TV. But I do face danger of another kind. Well, of many kinds actually.
The least annoying of the dangers I face is the Random Walking Consumer. This consumer is merely trying to get from Item A to Item B, and their path crosses mine, often with results similar to that of a black cat crossing your path. Ie, I come to a screeching halt, and possibly take out some display of expensive stuff. Fortunately, the damage is minimal, and I am able to continue on.
But suddenly, I face danger number two! A child consumer darts into my path, carrying about 500 dollars worth of electronic equipment. Once again, I come to a screeching halt, nearly breaking my back trying to hold back the 280 pounds of raging TV. The child looks up innocently at my struggles. I snarl at it. It runs to mommy, whining. Mommy buys it 500 dollars worth of electronic equipment, including, but not limited to: a radar detector, a palm pilot, a cell phone, a Buzz The Robot Smart Child Spelling Apparatus, and a pack of 200 rewriteable CDs.
The parent storms up to me, in a rage at what happened, and shouts: "Next time, just run the kid over!!"
But, bravely, I keep going. And suddenly, I am confronted by yet another danger: the Slow-Walking Oblivious Consumer. This is a consumer who is in my personal way, and who has their back to me, and who is walking at the pace of badly injured snail. They are also apparently engrossed in trying to find something, so that they can't feel my hot breath on the back of their neck. I hollar, "Excuse me!!" at a volume that makes everyone turn and look.
So, I continue on, and then, suddenly, the second worst danger. This, just so you know, annoys the heck out of me. I call this one the "Deer In The Headlights." Basically, what happens is that I am coming down a long, fairly empty aisle, nearly to the final stretch, and there, in front of me, is a single, over-large consumer. Said consumer stands, in the middle of the aisle, right at a crossing, so that they could simply take a step to the left or the right and be out of the way. But instead, they just stand there, watching me come. The TV is behind me, but it's towering above my head by at least 2 feet, not to mention still being wider than my body. Couple this with the fact that I am sweating and obviously having trouble dragging the bloody thing along, and it's pretty obvious what I'm doing.
Not to this consumer though. They stand there and watch me come. What is running through their heads I can only guess at: perhaps, "He's going to turn at the last second, I know it! Despite the fact that that thing he's dragging has the maneuverability of a freight train with no wheels." or maybe, "He's not really coming, it's just a mirage." and possibly, "Ooo, pretty colors."
Either way, I have to come within two feet of this consumer and say "Excuse me!" at a high volume before they get a clue and move, with a look of slighted anger, such as: "How dare that impudent little wretch ask me to move my massive butt out of the way when he could have easily lifted that 280 pound TV over my head?"
And, nearly to the door, the worst danger ever. Despite the fact that I am obviously travailing here, I am actually approached by a consumer and ASKED A QUESTION. Like, "Excuse me, can you tell me where the computers are?" This forces me to stop entirely, often nearly toppling the TV (which would break), and address the question. "Under the HUGE FREAKING SIGN THAT SAYS BLOODY COMPUTERS!!!!!!!!" No, I'm very polite, in a strained sort of way.
But finally, all the danger surmounted, I make it to the door. Now all I have to do is put the TV in someone's vehicle for them. Sometimes, this will be a little old lady (or worse, someone less cute and endearing, such as an angry redneck lady with hair issues) with a car that is only slightly bigger, total, than the TV. And of course, they will then proceed to ask questions like: "Do you think that will fit in the trunk? Can we at least try?"
"NO"
"HECK NO"
"As much as I hate to be a wet blanket, this TV wouldn't fit in your car if we removed all internal car parts, and the roof, and the doors, and the engine."
But the consumer manages to misunderstand.
"Well can we at least TRY to stick it on the back seat?"
Anyway, that happens (to varying degrees, most of the people actually have cars that will fit the TV they order) at least 5-10 times per day. What joyous fun!
So, send your donations to me, FalcontheHunter@netscape.net. We accept credit cards.
Sunday, December 21, 2003
Whatever happened to recycling empty pop cans for money? Why the heck can't we take our used cans to some big smelly place and get 2 cents per can anymore?
If I had 2 cents for every empty can that has sat on my desk for more than a day, I would be the first "Can Recycling Magnate" ever. I could become wealthy off these things.
So I really think that someone should re-institute that whole system. Give to the people so that the people can give to the earth! A better world through paid recycling!
Or even a point system of some sort: you would recycle cans and earn "Earth Points" that you could use to get nifty government merchandise, such as a "I'm A Fed" hat, or a "Beware of Taxpayers" hat. Or a shirt that says (on the front), "If a man cheats on his taxes in a forest, and there are no IRS agents around to witness it, will he still go to jail?" and on the back: "Yes. And he'll probably rot there too."
Oh! Wonderful idea: what if you could turn in enough cans, and earn enough points to get one "Free Traffic Ticket": the next time you get pulled over for something minor like speeding or running a stoplight or stop sign, or vehicular manslaughter, you get to hand over a certificate to the cop and you don't have to pay anything for the ticket! What a wonderful idea!
Or possibly you could earn a tax break. Wow. I'll take it.
Or you could get "Natural Stuff (tm)", like a potted tree. 500 points gets you a trowel, with which you can till the land and produce crops. 1000 points gets you one of those little useless fork things. 50,000 points gets you a lifetime supply of petunia seeds. And, the highest, 100,000 points gets you an acre of land in North Dakota, and three seedling trees.
However, I must say alas, for these are dark days that do not provide incentives for recycling. So mankind shall continue to bury the roadsides in cigarette butts and empty plastic bottles. Woe to you foolish humans! What waste! Thou heapest ruin upon thy own head!
Whoa. Sorry. I guess I was getting a little worked up.
--Christopher Saint
If I had 2 cents for every empty can that has sat on my desk for more than a day, I would be the first "Can Recycling Magnate" ever. I could become wealthy off these things.
So I really think that someone should re-institute that whole system. Give to the people so that the people can give to the earth! A better world through paid recycling!
Or even a point system of some sort: you would recycle cans and earn "Earth Points" that you could use to get nifty government merchandise, such as a "I'm A Fed" hat, or a "Beware of Taxpayers" hat. Or a shirt that says (on the front), "If a man cheats on his taxes in a forest, and there are no IRS agents around to witness it, will he still go to jail?" and on the back: "Yes. And he'll probably rot there too."
Oh! Wonderful idea: what if you could turn in enough cans, and earn enough points to get one "Free Traffic Ticket": the next time you get pulled over for something minor like speeding or running a stoplight or stop sign, or vehicular manslaughter, you get to hand over a certificate to the cop and you don't have to pay anything for the ticket! What a wonderful idea!
Or possibly you could earn a tax break. Wow. I'll take it.
Or you could get "Natural Stuff (tm)", like a potted tree. 500 points gets you a trowel, with which you can till the land and produce crops. 1000 points gets you one of those little useless fork things. 50,000 points gets you a lifetime supply of petunia seeds. And, the highest, 100,000 points gets you an acre of land in North Dakota, and three seedling trees.
However, I must say alas, for these are dark days that do not provide incentives for recycling. So mankind shall continue to bury the roadsides in cigarette butts and empty plastic bottles. Woe to you foolish humans! What waste! Thou heapest ruin upon thy own head!
Whoa. Sorry. I guess I was getting a little worked up.
--Christopher Saint
Something you should know about me: I am a bat...or a vampire. Or an owl possibly. Any way you look at it, most of my waking hours are at night when other people are (or should be) sleeping. So that's also when I do most of my writing and web-browsing.
Anyway, just thought you ought to know that...for some reason.
--Christopher Saint
Anyway, just thought you ought to know that...for some reason.
--Christopher Saint
Alright. So, now we are ready for the kick-off of Christopher Saint's new weekly humor column. A single pair of hands claps.
The humor in this column will be crazy, off-the-wall stuff because that's the way I think. So, if that's your kind of humor, then I think you will like this. If not, then you may wish to seek elsewhere for your laughs.
Sometimes this will be short, sometimes long. We'll see how it goes.
--Christopher Saint
The humor in this column will be crazy, off-the-wall stuff because that's the way I think. So, if that's your kind of humor, then I think you will like this. If not, then you may wish to seek elsewhere for your laughs.
Sometimes this will be short, sometimes long. We'll see how it goes.
--Christopher Saint
