My job in a 21st century economy

My job in a 21^st century economy.

2. In the service of your religion—I service you.

4. Being clueless just makes you clueless

Preamble

Well—it looks as if I am firmly implanted in the service industry. Not that I am complaining or anything like that, it's not like I spent $40,000 on my education. If I had, I would really be pissed that third worlders were doing my $50,000 a year middle management job for a mere $100 a month. I believe the third worlders deserve to make $100 a month. As for me—thanks to my zeal for education, I deserve to make as much money as I do. For effectively being able to ask, “Would you like plastic or paper?”

To their credit, the Cooter preference test and my English teacher were not far off in their assessment of my future. But as I stated earlier, I am not complaining. Because Americans like spending money and life being what life is and fair being what fair is. I am very well compensated for my eloquence. Who knew, being a service industry worker would afford me a better life style than my aforementioned English teacher. Not that I am bragging or anything, after all I can only say plastic or paper in one language. home

In the service of your religion—I service you.

I view myself as a spiritual person and I believe in full disclosure. So for the record, I have been referred to, as a godless heathen by some. What does all this mean to you. Well, if by chance your religion does not allow you to eat pork. I say, good for you. However, I do not appreciate you making your religious dilemma—my problem. If you do not like your meat touching anything that has touched pork. May I suggest that you find a place that specializes in that kind of thing.

Take a good look at your surroundings. On a Saturday morning, this place may look like the UN. But I assure you this is not the UN and I am not The City of New York. So if you think I am going to go out of my way to accommodate the religion of every Chang, Weinstein, or Mohamed? You are just sadly mistaken.

By the way, if for some reason you die and your mythological heaven, conducts blood screenings before allowing you to enter. You can just blame the godless heathen, who cut your beef roast, for the positive pork test results. I can take the heat. Because I have no desire to go to any place that would discriminate against a person who enjoys the finer qualities of a spare rib.

As for you people who won't touch, slice or cut up raw meat because you feel as if you are offending your ancestors. But have no problem chowing down on said meat once it is cooked. Between me and you, your religion and your god. You are going to go to hell! Or worst yet, you will come back as a frog, and I will serve your legs to a French person. home

Wide load.....not just for trucks.

Did you know there is a game we play at the store level. Just how fat is that person. We usually start while you are in your car waiting for the handicap parking space to open up. In fact we have a formula. Your weight is directly proportional to how long you wait for that handicap space, plus 20lbs. for every time you honk your horn. Your horn honking rudeness aside, unlike you, chances are the person in the parking space is actually disabled and not just mass challenged.

Which begs another question of mine. Why do you mass challenged people always grab the motorized scooters? Every time I see one of you on those scooters, I wonder, how do those things maintain their structural integrity. It is beyond me, but it clearly rates as a miracle of modern engineering.

Upon you sitting down on one of those scooters, a warning label should be attached to your backside. “Warning wide load and severe tilt hazard when turning”. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have seen the bus cornering scene from “Speed” reenacted in my location. It is just a matter of time before someone or more likely some child is killed in what I can only describe in my official report as “death via a crushing situation”. Parents—you should not let your children around these slow moving leviathans on wheels. Need another reason, I have seen some of these people eying your children. I swear, some of them are just one fava bean away from a Hannibal Lecter moment.

Speaking of unhealthy eating habits, I know people of large mass like to eat. However if you fall into the category of obese and you are riding around on a scooter. Stay away from the demo tables! There are people starving all over the world and it is apparent to everyone, except maybe you. That you are not one of them! So, just move along, will you.

Speaking of moving along. If I may give you a little hint, if the shelf is empty of something and someone like me is standing there with the product to fill the shelf. Move your fat ass. It's not like you have to actually do that much to move, just push the handle forward. Because as good as I may be or others of my ilk, we cannot astro-project through you. And even if we could, some of you are so large you distort the time space continuum. Any attempt to astro-project around or through you would result in a time displacement issue.

America is a great place to live now, but I am a brother so to speak, and there were times in the past when a brother was just not safe in America. My 21^st century knowledge and attitude is no match for people in white sheets with pointed hats, tall trees and lots of rope. My history books can vouch for that in more ways than one.

By now some of you may be wondering is he talking about me, my sister or my mother. If you are thinking about it, yeah I am talking about at least one of you, in all reality I am probably talking about all of you. Oh! Oh! You are going to make me go there. So I will. Your mama! Your mama is so fat she collapsed a small planet and a sun! And ushered in the collapsing universe theory. Yeah! Yeah! Call me a geek if you like. Beep beep beep......wide load backing up. home

Being clueless just makes you clueless

Here we go guys, hint hint. If you are standing before me or someone like me, asking a question about a personal preference of your significant other. Which should be a private matter between you and her, and we know the answer. Take it from me on both a personal and anecdotal level, that we are probably providing your significant other with better service than you would like. In this industry desperate housewives is not just a television show. It is an occupational hazard.

Well, that is how some see it. Personally I view it as superior customer service with fringe benefits. There are times when I am all about the customer service. As for you ladies, don't get the wrong idea. I have been speaking strictly from the male perspective. Ladies, god only knows what kind of customer service my females colleagues are providing. For all those confused and misunderstood guys wondering just what kind of sanitary napkins--you use. To sum this all up. I know what I know. The question is. Why don't you know what you should know? home

I have enough friends

Some of you are always asking why can't we be more friendly. There are several reasons for this. Chief among them is the fact that some of—if not most of you people are like puppy dogs. If we show you the slightest amount of attention you never go away. And unlike the puppy that follows you home, if I hit you over the head with the newspaper you do not shut up. Not to mention the fact, a dog has the good sense to die after about 13 years. People on the other hand, are like the energizer bunny. You just keep going and going while becoming more and more annoying every year.

In fact, if I may be honest for a minute or two. Some of you could not pay me to be your friend. Believe what you will about yourself, from my point of view, some of you would not know the definition of 'friend' if it was tattooed all over your bad breath, close talking, smelly bodies. As for your personality, all I can say is, some of you prompt me to do the following. Have the pharmacist replace your antidepressants with a placebo and then convince the sporting goods salesman to wave the 7 day waiting period. I can be a very civic minded person when the situation calls for it. It's the least I can do for my new best friends. home

My English......Your whatever

According to my English teacher, my inability to master the language I grew up speaking, would not bode well for my future. I concede, not only was she an English teacher, she was a prophet. Thus I serve you. As I serve you there is one thing you must keep in mind. There are 6800 spoken languages, indigenous to this planet. With the US being the great melting pot, believe me when I tell you. I don't speak Spanish, Korean, Japanese, Chinese or any of the other 6795 spoken languages indigenous to this planet.

Why bring all this up? As I noted earlier, I have enough problems with my native tongue. Soooo! Noooo!—I cannot understand that broken English, slash whatever the hell language you are speaking. Because I am goh komihn. That's Vulcan for 'only human'. Hey! Hey! We have already established that I am a geek!

By B. Bell

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