A letter to Apple

Dear Apple: What the fuck, guys?!

I greatly enjoy your products. I have an iPod, a MacBook, and I want pretty much everything else. However, if my MacBook is anything to go by, I ought to make sure I have a shitload more money than I do before I even think about buying anything else.

You see, Apple, most of my Apple products ... nay, ALL of them, have cracks in them at this point. My iPod has cracks along the right side of the screen, like so:


This was tolerable for some time, as I have a habit of keeping my iPod inside a third party case (I have three). But then, sometime in the fall of 2008, I began to notice cracks appearing in the wrist-rest areas of my MacBook. Eventually, they became detached from one end and started poking me in the wrist, leading me to just remove the goddamn things, like so:


These were annoying but again, somewhat tolerable. I took to canned air-spraying my computer on a more regular basis just in case something got in through these new openings. But then, today, this happened:


What the fuck, Apple? What the fuck?

I'll be visiting one of your stores to see if I can get a "Genius" to recommend a course of action. I'm under AppleCare, so you motherfuckers really better do something. Srsly, I don't want this MacBook to end up like my old Vaio:


Fix my goddamn computer,

Matthew Wolber ("Lestack")

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Now playing: De La Soul - The Mack Daddy On The Left
via FoxyTunes

FUCK IT'S HOT

I got ready for work this morning by watching the Doctor Who Christmas Special (awesome) and checking the weather. That wasn't hard to do because I was watching the special on my computer, and a weather thing popped up saying it was something like 70º. Liz and I sort of did a double-take at that, because yesterday it was round 45-55º and the day before it was just above freezing. Christmas Eve it was the same, and the day before it was icing.

What the fuck is up with the weather? I know, global warming and that, but seriously? And that explanation has its doubters! Mind, I don't see how, given ... evidence, but there we are. Are people happy about being able to wear shorts out on the Feast of Stephen? Is it a common goal of the public to have pools open throughout Christmas Break? Does no-one think THIS SHIT IS CRAZY?!

But enough about the weather. Every moron with a mouth talks about the weather, so I try to avoid discussing it at length. Instead, I want to follow up on stupid people. On Christmas Eve I bitched about people bitching about not being able to find exactly what they wanted on the last day before the biggest gift-giving occasion on the planet. Well, I think some of the returns shoppers might be worse.

Today, I was at work sorting the returns. This was my job for the entire day, that's how many returns we had. A side project of this job is to find and resolve price disputes when the manager is away from the front end of the shop. I did this for one customer and went back to find the sign that she was sure was there, saying that particular shirt was $9.99. I looked at the endcap she said it was on, looked on either side of the endcap thinking she might've read the sign for the items in the aisle, and double-checked, but to no avail.

She then stormed back there her damn self after I told her there was no sign. She claimed that there was "a sign there when I was back here" and stormed out of the shop. After shaking my head in disgust at her stupidity and arrogance, I went back to sorting the returns for the day.

Later, when I had but an hour left, I was reshelving some of the pre-sorted returns, and I found myself in an area near where she found her shirt. It was an aisle away and well inside the section (as opposed to near the middle lane), but there was indeed a sign saying that there were in existence, and in the shop, shirts for sale for $9.99.

The twelve rules of Christmas (shopping)

Well, I'm back working retail for the holidays. Goddammit.

I actually like the job. It's easy, it's fun, and I'm surrounded by smartasses. That means I get to be a smartass in return! Huzzah! The downside is it is of course retail, with all the cultural trappings. This isn't a problem per se but it is certainly the source of amusing stories and reasons for me to yell at people, so the blog is back, baby!

Rule number one: You don't get to be an asshole on Christmas Eve. If you're an asshole on Christmas Eve, I'm going to spit on your clothes you just bought. Now, sure, you can just wash them when you get home, but that's effort.
Rule number two: Prank calling stores and insulting the people who work there is pathetic. When I heard about the prank call in question, I had a 'nam flashback where I was beating this douchebag's head into the wall of the jewellers at the centre of the mall while shouting, a la John Goodman in The Big Lebowski, "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK A STRANGER IN THE ASS!"
Rule number three: if you want a store credit card, you will have to supply your social security number. If you are unwilling to do this, you do not get the card, and you do not get the sign-up discount that comes with the card. You do not get to leave all your stuff there because you didn't get to save $12 and storm out of the shop crying because you are retarded.
Rule number four: No, you may not use the stepladder to get something down yourself, you god damned idiot. I'm this close to printing up ten half-assed liability waivers and having people who want to borrow stepladders sign them before they do.
Rule number five: if you can't find the size you need, tough. It's Christmas Goddamn Eve. You're lucky we HAVE stuff left to sell you. You're going to have to get the nearest size and tell your gift recipient to either gain or lose weight.
Rule number six: The mall always closes at 6 p.m. on Christmas Eve. Don't phone up and ask. The closing times for the entire Christmas season, starting from one week before Thanksgiving to one week after New Year's Day, has been posted on every entrance to the mall since the day after Halloween. It is not our fucking fault if you can't read.
Rule number seven: Miley Cyrus should not be allowed to sing, let alone sing Christmas carols.
Rule number eight: same for punk bands.
Rule number nine: Only John Lennon can get away with singing kids. Similarly, only Paul McCartney cannot get away with using an 80s digital keyboard as his only accompaniment.
Rule number ten: you are under our control. We control how fast the line goes. If you are in a hurry, you should not be Christmas shopping. If you are an asshole, we will make the line go so much slower. If you're nice, we'll try to converse with you while the stupid register takes an hour to do anything.
Rule number eleven: Why do you all have to walk seven across in the mall seriously do you all have to talk to all your friends and can you even understand anything get out of the fucking way
Rule number twelve: in the immortal words of Sir Wil Wheaton, "Don't be a dick."


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Now playing: De La Soul - Betta Listen
via FoxyTunes