As I muddle through my daily routine, I find things that amuse me and in a new effort to not forget them so I can regale all of you, I have started taking notes with my iphone. Today's blog will just consist of random notes which may or may not include elaboration.
- My job involves entirely too damn much typing. I probably spend 1/3 of my day sitting on my fat ass ticking away at my keyboard at a blistering 19 words per minute (or something like that). It's really ridiculous that in this day and age, with all of our technology, that I have to enter so much inventory by hand. I either need a more modern computer system, or a sexy robot secretary.
- Part of my duties include receiving account payments. Today I got a customer's check in the mail for $1.50. I appreciate the honesty and the effort to keep one's charge account 100% current, but it hardly seems worth the postage or even the ink I used to endorse the check. Just let it ride until next month, bro.
- One of my drivers told me today that his left turn signal wasn't working. Not a problem. With the mileage we put on our vans, we burn out bulbs all the time. I went to change it and discovered that the lens was cracked and water had gotten in. I explained to him that since water and electricity don't mix, light bulbs are rendered inoperable when submerged. I pointed out the locations of the three mirrors the van is equipped with, and politely suggested he use them when backing up in the future, as to not damage the tail lights again.
- Auto mechanics are a proud bunch, and many of them will flat out refuse to admit when they've made a mistake. When a part they've ordered does not fit the car they are working on, it is NOT THEIR FAULT. Usually the stupid parts counter person is to blame. When said mechanic respects said counter person's ability to do his or her job, the only solution is to blame the part. It's true that auto parts packages accidentally get labeled incorrectly at the factory, and sometimes a faulty part will pass through quality control, but when I deliver three of the same part to the same customer for the same car and none of them fit, I am forced to conclude that the mechanic is the one who is defective.
- Cupcakes are awesome.
- I am working on a new theory that I call "The Four Digit Threshold". Everything in my warehouse that has a number of four digits or less is shelved neatly, and always easy to find. Every time I look for something with a part number containing 5 digits or more, it's usually in the wrong place. For example, a part numbered 380017 can sometimes be found next to a similar part numbered 38017. A simple mistake, sure, but the six digit number should actually be about 10 shelves further down. My guys seem to have some weird attention deficit where their brains can only hold up to four digits at a time. Perhaps more to follow on this later...
- One of my accounts is a small used car lot. It is family owned and operated. There are usually at least three people in the office, and zero people who know what is going on at any given time. It's a pretty entertaining conglomeration of idiots, when viewed by an outsider. The owner usually shuffles his ample frame into the office in the afternoon, and yells at everyone for not doing things right when he himself really has no clue what's happening. He is a big fat buffoon, with a mouth larger than his brain. I love it when he writes us a check, because they usually feature amusing misspellings like "evelen" and "tweevle". Now when something mysteriously goes wrong in my store, we blame it on a fictitious person named Evelyn Tweevle.
it was mom! she told me!
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