So I'll bet you're thinking that since I haven't blogged that means I've been busy doing stuff that'll be really cool to read about! Right?
Yeah, sorry... Not so much.
I felt horrible all week and didn't do a whole lot of anything. But here's some randomness that you'll hopefully find amusing:
Halloween Horror Nights at work have been a huge success, which is actually a bad thing. We've been grazing the point at which high ticket sales makes executive types very uncomfortable, not from a crowd control stance, but moreover, long wait times this year could result in unhappy patrons and less ticket sales in the coming years. Like the day time, the Studio Tour is the most popular attraction and our line is going through our queues, up our escalator and spilling into the theme park. Last weekend a food stand that sells 'Dodger Dogs' complained that our exit blockades were right in front of them and as a result their sales were pathetic. Our management was annoyed that a meager food stand would challenge the most popular attraction but for the sake of corporate synergy they struck a deal. Our lines would stay but the tour guides would encourage everyone on each Terror Tram to get a Dodger Dog as they left...
The night this began I was working as a guide and a friend who was opening tram gates at the unload area sent me a text half way through the night asking what the hell was going on with the Dodger Dogs? "The guests are screaming to get off the tram because of the infomercial!" he wrote. It was annoying to everyone working the unload area who had to hear it repeatedly and apparently to the guests too, but it worked! Our menacing intent was to keep Dodger Dogs so damn busy that they'd be sorry for messing with us, and indeed, they sold out!
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Earlier this week Oprah did a show on rudeness and the fact that it's a national epidemic. It focused a lot on cell phone etiquette and restaurant behavior but a question in an 'are you rude?' quiz asked if you'd knowingly taken more than the allotted number of items through an express check-out lane. I think that's a forgivable offense if you're in a huge hurry and not too far over the limit.
Jump to the next day - I find myself in the grocery having a horrible day. The usual ghost-town of a pharmacy has a line of people and a wait to get something filled, causing me to rearrange my afternoon and possibly making me late for work. After finally dropping off a prescription I grabbed a half gallon of milk and went to the pill aisle for Midol. I searched and searched with no luck. I glanced in the "feminine hygiene" area with no luck there either. It was not in the glass case under the pharmacy window either. The closest employee was a middle aged man stocking potatoes. Great! Modesty be damned, my finger had gone numb from the milk and I had fulfilled my daily workout pacing back and forth in front of the pills.
"Hi, I realize you're the produce guy," I said. "But I need help in aisle one, from you or whomever." He put down his potato and asked what I am looking for. "Midol. Which, by the way, is a pretty stupid product to hide from a women in need of purchasing it." He looked confused for a moment, thought about it, then laughed. It was located by the tampons, but hidden behind one of those dangling displays that jut out from the middle of a shelf. "Are you freaking kidding me? You know this is terribly placement, right?" I looked at him with a bullshit smile, knowing he'd go back to his potatoes and not pass my concerns along. For the record, all my comments were veiled with humor; I was not rude. Bunt, but not rude.
In the express lane with my Midol, milk and loudly ticking watch, the woman in front of me clearly had more than 15 items. I knew she was real trouble when asked if she'd like paper or plastic. "Double plastic," she replied. Mind you, the express lane didn't have a bagger so asking the cashier to double bag immediately negated the word 'express.' Her transaction seemed to take five years; she had two or three bottles of wine that couldn't be quickly scanned and tossed. Then, as the poor cashier handed her one of her bags, the woman complained, "Oh, this is so heavy!" The cashier took the time to separate it into two bags. EXPRESS LANE!?!?!?
Yeah, sorry... Not so much.
I felt horrible all week and didn't do a whole lot of anything. But here's some randomness that you'll hopefully find amusing:
Halloween Horror Nights at work have been a huge success, which is actually a bad thing. We've been grazing the point at which high ticket sales makes executive types very uncomfortable, not from a crowd control stance, but moreover, long wait times this year could result in unhappy patrons and less ticket sales in the coming years. Like the day time, the Studio Tour is the most popular attraction and our line is going through our queues, up our escalator and spilling into the theme park. Last weekend a food stand that sells 'Dodger Dogs' complained that our exit blockades were right in front of them and as a result their sales were pathetic. Our management was annoyed that a meager food stand would challenge the most popular attraction but for the sake of corporate synergy they struck a deal. Our lines would stay but the tour guides would encourage everyone on each Terror Tram to get a Dodger Dog as they left...
The night this began I was working as a guide and a friend who was opening tram gates at the unload area sent me a text half way through the night asking what the hell was going on with the Dodger Dogs? "The guests are screaming to get off the tram because of the infomercial!" he wrote. It was annoying to everyone working the unload area who had to hear it repeatedly and apparently to the guests too, but it worked! Our menacing intent was to keep Dodger Dogs so damn busy that they'd be sorry for messing with us, and indeed, they sold out!
-
Earlier this week Oprah did a show on rudeness and the fact that it's a national epidemic. It focused a lot on cell phone etiquette and restaurant behavior but a question in an 'are you rude?' quiz asked if you'd knowingly taken more than the allotted number of items through an express check-out lane. I think that's a forgivable offense if you're in a huge hurry and not too far over the limit.
Jump to the next day - I find myself in the grocery having a horrible day. The usual ghost-town of a pharmacy has a line of people and a wait to get something filled, causing me to rearrange my afternoon and possibly making me late for work. After finally dropping off a prescription I grabbed a half gallon of milk and went to the pill aisle for Midol. I searched and searched with no luck. I glanced in the "feminine hygiene" area with no luck there either. It was not in the glass case under the pharmacy window either. The closest employee was a middle aged man stocking potatoes. Great! Modesty be damned, my finger had gone numb from the milk and I had fulfilled my daily workout pacing back and forth in front of the pills.
"Hi, I realize you're the produce guy," I said. "But I need help in aisle one, from you or whomever." He put down his potato and asked what I am looking for. "Midol. Which, by the way, is a pretty stupid product to hide from a women in need of purchasing it." He looked confused for a moment, thought about it, then laughed. It was located by the tampons, but hidden behind one of those dangling displays that jut out from the middle of a shelf. "Are you freaking kidding me? You know this is terribly placement, right?" I looked at him with a bullshit smile, knowing he'd go back to his potatoes and not pass my concerns along. For the record, all my comments were veiled with humor; I was not rude. Bunt, but not rude.
In the express lane with my Midol, milk and loudly ticking watch, the woman in front of me clearly had more than 15 items. I knew she was real trouble when asked if she'd like paper or plastic. "Double plastic," she replied. Mind you, the express lane didn't have a bagger so asking the cashier to double bag immediately negated the word 'express.' Her transaction seemed to take five years; she had two or three bottles of wine that couldn't be quickly scanned and tossed. Then, as the poor cashier handed her one of her bags, the woman complained, "Oh, this is so heavy!" The cashier took the time to separate it into two bags. EXPRESS LANE!?!?!?
I did pick up the 'scrip and make it to work on time, never mind the misplaced Midol and egotistical express lane bitch.
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My roommate's parents are in town for a visit. They got in late last night and stayed at our apartment, but are now in a hotel. I am here much more than my roommate, so I put away the things I'd been using, like the ironing board, and straightened up a bit. I didn't sweap or go too far out of my way though, I mean, they're not my parents! The last time her mom visited (by herself) I have to admit, I was a little disappointed that she didn't give our apartment that "mom cleaning" that I'd heard people talk about in my college years. No big deal; just an observation. But imagine my surprise when I awoke this morning to find a sparkling clean cook top and microwave! Nice! Yes, they were both a bit dirty with left over splatter, but not like bachelor pad disgusting or anything. I had to smile and laugh as I thought "it must have been her dad!"
I think a clean microwave is a mans domain! My guy always bugs me about not covering every single thing I put in the microwave with a paper towel and he commented on my slightly splattered microwave the last time he was here. My dad is pretty good about cleaning stuff like that too. I hate gender roles, but the obvious joke here is that the microwave is a lot of guys primary cooking medium, so like a car or a tool set, they keep it clean! ;)
I can't wait to ask my roommate if she saw which parent cleaned our microwave. It doesn't really matter, I'm grateful it was done for us, but more than that I am amused by the quirky little things that make me think of home.
I think a clean microwave is a mans domain! My guy always bugs me about not covering every single thing I put in the microwave with a paper towel and he commented on my slightly splattered microwave the last time he was here. My dad is pretty good about cleaning stuff like that too. I hate gender roles, but the obvious joke here is that the microwave is a lot of guys primary cooking medium, so like a car or a tool set, they keep it clean! ;)
I can't wait to ask my roommate if she saw which parent cleaned our microwave. It doesn't really matter, I'm grateful it was done for us, but more than that I am amused by the quirky little things that make me think of home.
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