Just your average "Evil" conservative
More and more I’m noticing a new trend in bathrooms. There’s this little rectangular box on the wall and every few minutes it makes a “shhhht” sound, and out comes some air freshener. Not a bad idea.
Now when I go into bathrooms, instead of thinking “It smells like shit in here”, I think “It smells like someone took a shit in a flower shop in here”.
I hear the title is going to be “The Ins and Outs of Child Rearing”.
I’ve heard from three different people now who tell me that since I left, things have been going downhill at Old Job. In just two weeks, the corporate email system has apparently reached a point where the parent company of Old Job decided they needed to step in and take it over to make sure it works correctly.
Ah, vindication.
You find a suspicious briefcase abandoned in a third world country, and you think it might be a bomb. What do you do?
Definitely not what these people did.
*****WARNING! EXTREMELY GRAPHIC CONTENT!******
Now you really want to see it, don’t you? Don’t say I didn’t warn you…
Click here.
At least the guy with the camera had the sense to keep his distance.
I’m sitting outside some apartment complex right now on the steps. Since I don’t have Internet in my new place until Saturday, I had to locate an open access point. Thanks to whoever’s Internet connection I’m borrowing right now.
So at 6:44PM, I got my 100,000th visitor. It was someone from Italy who got here via Google. I doubt they would appreciate a picture of a faux testicle as much as some of us, so I’ll just pass on the giveaway.
Maybe when I hit 200,000…
UPDATE: I was going to do some more blogging, but it’s damned hot out here. I’m going back inside.
Yes it is. It takes three wheels to make a vehicle called a tricycle.
However, there’s an even more magical number approaching. I’ve crossed the 99,000th visitor mark. Odds are I will bust the 100,000th visitor mark some time on Thursday.
Hard to believe, but yes, it’s true. Especially when you consider that I rolled 50,000 just before my one year blogiversary back in April.
So, one year to get 50,000 visitors. Then another three months to get the next 50,000. I couldn’t have imagined that would happen so fast when I first started. I would like to thank all the regular visitors, and not the not so regular visitors, especially in light of my recent absence. And most especially those who were my inspiration to start blogging. Mainly Kevin, Eric, SondraK, and Kim (who is a sexy beast, by the way).
Since Thursday will be a travel day for me, I’m not sure I’ll be able to spot the 100,000th visitor, but if I can, well, I don’t have any faux testicle to offer, but I’ll be grateful nonetheless.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. That’s the saying. So in order to soak up some Springfield culture, I was taken to lunch today to experience what the locals call a “horseshoe”. I only had a half-horseshoe, but double what I’m about to describe, and there you have it.
What I had started with a slice of Texas toast on the bottom. On top of that, one can choose from a variety of meats, including, but not limited to corned beef, Italian sausage, bacon, or hamburger. I went for the hamburger. It looked to be about a half-pounder. On top of that and all over the rest of the plate are french fries. Then on top of all that was a cheese sauce. So much that it actually puddled on the plate. Man, was that good, but I probably gained five pounds. Not exactly what you’d call health food.
I can only imagine what it would have been like with bacon.
With all the traveling I’ve been doing lately, I’ve noticed something. More and more, restrooms are being engineered so that you don’t actually have to touch anything to do your business. Well, for guys just taking a leak anyway.
Many bathrooms are designed these days with no doors, instead opting for a maze-like entrance to deter any looky-loos trying to sneak a peek. And the urinals flush automatically. You stick your hand under the sink, and the water flows automatically. And there are either hot air blowers, or towel dispensers that are triggered by waving your hand in front of them. I can understand that. How do you know that the guy just before you doesn’t have hepatitis or herpes or aids or the clap or syphilis, or, God forbid, cooties. Health concerns are high on people’s minds these days. I’m sure you’ve seen the freaks who won’t open the bathroom door without a paper towel between them and the bathroom door handle. Yeah, I don’t want any of those things, but really, not touching the bathroom door handle is a little paranoid.
But with all these new-fangled amenities, I have yet to see an automatic soap dispenser. You still have to mash the button to get soap. If you want to get rich quick, all you’d need to do is invent the automatic soap dispenser. Now I’ve heard tales from fellow travelers that automatic soap dispensers do indeed exist, but I have yet to see one, and I’ve been in six states in just the last week alone. This leads me to two possible conclusions. Either they are lying, or such an item does exist, and the company who makes them has such a bad marketing department, they may as well not exist.
So when you invent this marvel of modern science, just remember who gave you the idea. My commission for the idea is a mere ten percent.
I worked there for quite a long time. A few months shy of six years, to be more exact. When I got there, that place was a wreck, technologically speaking. Crappy email system, switches plugged into hubs, and on and on and on. I single-handedly brought that company out of the dark ages as far as all their internal systems.
Not to mention at least three of the years were spent working twelve-hour days. And countless weekends. And during several situations, I was at the office for over twenty-four hours straight.
So after all that, when I put my two weeks notice in, you’d think Old Job would be appreciative in retrospect, given the body of work I was leaving as my legacy. You would think that, wouldn’t you? Not so.
Company policy dictates an exit interview. I did not receive one of those. I was looking forward to it, frankly. I planned on telling them exactly what I thought was wrong with the place. And I had a list. But alas, no exit interview. Oh well.
Now I wasn’t expecting a gold watch from them, but after nearly six years, perhaps a card or something. No such luck. My immediate manager wished me luck with wherever I was going, but that was it. Our VP, whose office was just a few feet from my cubicle, had nothing to say. No “thanks for all you’ve done for the company” or anything like that. Just silence. And our Director’s office was next to the VP’s office. Silence from there as well.
And here’s another thing. When a person leaves the company, it is standard policy to disable their account. Mine wasn’t. It was deleted. Permanently. As if they were afraid I was going to try and sabotage them after I left. I, of course, have no such plans, and frankly I was insulted they would think as much after all I’ve done for them. Ungrateful bastards.
So, in light of those facts, I’d like to extend a heart-felt “up yours” to the upper management of Old Job.
Ah, I feel better already.
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