.....you save $.35

I wish I were a salesman. I wish I was a preening, self-indulgent dick that could sell people anything. I can say that I've met one decent, honest salesman in my life, but mostly they all suck. Richard (the good salesman) wasn't exactly a salesman, but he had the personality that could convince people to do things they didn't really want to do. We worked at the grocery store together, and when people would come up and ask for a pound of ground beef he'd always say, "A pound? How about two?" Nearly 95% of the time the customer would say yes. Whatever it was in his smile, or his tone, or his overall demeanor, people caved in. Granted it was hamburger and not a boat or a car or a house or anything like that, but I'm sure he could have sold those things too.

What really gets me is, if I tried the same approach I'd get shot down almost every time. People have no problem saying no to me. Either I'm just too much of a pushover, or people have no problem crushing my sales aspirations, but either way, they never cave into my sales pitches. But I don't like to be sold to, so I don't usually try to sell to others. That whole golden rule thing? I try to stick by that as much as possible. And not that I'm exactly in an occupation that requires me to make sales, but it's just the principle of the thing. I wish I had that knack for getting people to do something they don't really want to do. And not in a negative way, and not to abuse my power or anything, but simply having that instant rapport with people would be nice. "Sure I'll take an extra steak. I don't need it, but you're just awesome!" That would be nice.

Here's the problem I have with most sales pitches these days. They aren't even deals. The other day I'm at the Star-B's and I order a grande coffee. (You can't say medium or they throw you out on your ignorant ass). The clerk asks me if I want to upgrade to a venti coffee, the big one, and save .35 cents. Think about it. Buy a bigger coffee and save .35 cents. The last time I checked they weren't going to deduct .35 cents from my original purchase and then hand me more coffee. No, they're going to charge me more for a bigger coffee. That's how it works. There is no extra change in my hand, only a bigger coffee and a bigger charge to my debit card, so tell me, how did I save money? I know their logic is that I'm getting x number of ounces for less than if I bought the same x number of ounces spread out over two smaller sized coffees, but dont' tell me I'm saving .35 cents. If I'm an idiot and order two medium coffees instead of the cheaper, bigger coffee, sure, offer that shit right on up. Otherwise, don't tell me I'm going to save money when I'm not going to save money. Saving money means I get to watch my bank account grow, not decline.

enough for now.

a new game I'm inventing...

Actually, I suppose it's not a game really, it's more of an attempt to let idiots know they're idiots, which in its own right can be somewhat of a game. Kind of like, you do realize you're an idiot, right? No? Well, perhaps I can trick you somehow into agreeing with me. After all, you're wearing a wife beater in the middle of winter and drinking a PBR at 8:00am, it shouldn't be too hard. But that's just a hypothetical situation, friends.

Anyway, this new pastime I'm creating here is going to be called Slurpeeing, or Iceeing, or Jamba Juicing. It's pretty self-explanatory, and a good pastime for those of us who are fed up with morons but lack the testicles to do anything about it in person. The way this works is you drive around fully stocked with juicy, smoothie-type beverages and throw them at people who piss you off. The bicyclist who rides in the middle of the car lane instead of the bike lane, then crosses three lanes of traffic to make a left turn while everyone else comes to a complete stop. Or the idiot making a right turn who looks at you coming, pulls out anyway, then goes about ten MPH slower than the posted speed limit. Or the person with the Yes on 8 stickers on their car--they are a definite target. I suppose the scope of this game is pretty limited, unless you find the stones to take it out into more public place. Like, wouldn't it be awesome if everywhere you went you had a smoothie to throw at someone stupid? Like the person who gets all the way through the checkout and then realizes they forgot their wallet in the car? I'm always the guy behind them trying to buy one thing--it never fails. A nice smoothie to throw in their stupid face would seem like a nice reward for their idiocy.

I guess it all boils down to the old bumper-sticker adage, "I'd be nicer if you were smarter." Stupid people should get slurpee'd. Maybe then they'd stop being so stupid. I'm not the smartest person in the world, but I like to think I'm aware enough of my surroundings to not inconvenience others when I don't know what's going on. If I don't know something, I ask. I don't assume that my needs will be attended to when I'm the one in the wrong. Like if you're the person who makes the entire lane of traffic stop because you decided you wanted to turn left at the last minute, why should everyone be nice and let you over? I've made that mistake plenty of times, but I don't slam on my brakes, flip on the turn signal and make everyone else wait while I inch across to the next lane. No, I drive my happy little ass to the next street, make a right, make another right, and make a left turn from that intersection. It's not a difficult procedure really. Ater all, you're the one who screwed up, you should be the one who makes the extra effort. Otherwise, some smart person driving by should throw a slurpee at you. Or a jamba juice--it's really up to them.

It's not like eggs that corrode your paint, or paint that paints over your paint, it's just a little ice, juice, sorbet, and fruit. It washes right off, but it will certainly make you think twice about being an idiot. Or at least you would hope so. But probably the idiot in the wifebeater with the PBR at 8:00am will never learn, no matter how many slurpees to the face he gets. It's unfortunate, really.

Medi-o-core for the last time

Ok, as much as it pains me to say this, I think I've gone to my last NOFX concert. Not just because they suck live, and have actually gotten worse live, but because NOFX used to belong to a genre that was tolerant of being different, actually embraced difference, and now they (meaning Fat Mike) are preaching hatred and bigotry of all things religious. "Punk in Drublic" was one of the first CD's I ever bought when I first started listening to punk rock, and one of the last songs on the album is a song called "Happy Guy." The lyrics describe a man who has turned to religion to balance out the imbalance he sees in the world. While interspersed within the lyrics is negative criticism of "happy guy's" choice, the last lines of the song say, "Don't try to judge him, his theological ideas/His hopes may be false but his happiness is real/Don't try to judge him, he's just a man."

What happened to that attitude of tolerance? While you may not agree with religion, or even a belief in God, the least you can do is not judge others for their beliefs. But apparently Fat Mike doesn't feel this way anymore and decided to rant most of the night about the "idiots" who believe in God, and why they "don't belong at a NOFX show." Fine. See you later, buddy. I am sorry you have chosen to ostracize a group of people simply for their beliefs. Last time I checked, that wasn't punk rock. Last time I checked that was known as bigotry.

I'll be the first to admit that organized religion has its flaws, and blind faith in anything is an ignorant attitude, but I don't think that a belief in God, or at least something greater than yourself in this world, is a belief that should be criticized. What happened to, "We're the 'brews/sportin' anti-Swastika tattoos?" Don't those lyrics suggest the attitude of rejecting those who persecute someone based on their religion/heritage? I think so, but apparently Fat Mike lives by different rules these days.

So, sorry NOFX, I won't be buying anymore of your records (they've all sucked since War of Errorism anyway) and I won't be going to anymore of your shows. I wish that you would stick to strong social commentary instead of religion bashing, but who am I to judge--I'm no Fat Mike after all.

the girl-coffe-drink drunk

Does this only happen to me, or is everyone privileged to the annoyance of every moron within a ten-mile radius coming into contact with them on the same day?  It's some kind of weird Murphy's Law thing--one moron simply leads to another and pretty soon we're on a big strange idiot spiral.  

The other day I get to school early to get a coffee for the fiance before class and naturally encounter a ridiculous line.  (That was part of the idiot problem too, lines everywhere as though everyone woke up from a week long nap and wanted to get in my way.)  So anyway, the employees at the Starbucks are actually pretty efficient until some weirdo tries to order some ridiculous drink.  When did this happen?  When did coffee become so complicated?  When I was young coffee was either black or with a packet of sugar, and maybe some half and half.  These days it's either skinny, upside down, extra hot, steamed, molested, iced, or any other strange thing you can imagine.  Why can't people just man up and drink coffee the way it was meant to be consumed?  Hot, black, and with enough caffeine to keep you up all night.  But I digress.

So anyway, I'm standing in line and this guy two people ahead of me orders a strawberries and cream Frappucino.  I'll repeat it for those of you who missed it.  Strawberries and cream Frappucino.  I'm sorry, but no self-respecting man should order a fruity Frappucino.  Shouldn't the same principles that apply at a bar apply at Starbucks?  Men don't walk into a bar and order Appletinis, Cosmos, scooby snacks, bay breezes--even Long Island's are a tad questionable.  I know they taste good, and I'm all for being metrosexual or whatever, but lines must be drawn somewhere.  I say we establish some defining gender roles here and now.  Men should stick to beers, whiskeys, vodka tonics (no vodka Sprites, no vodka cranberrys), and women can drink all the sweet sugary stuff.  That's just the way it should be, and these rules should carry over from the bars into coffee shops and any other place where a manly drink can be ordered over some sort of fruity concoction.  So Strawberries and Cream Frappucino guy, order a tall, black coffee next time.  It'll put some much needed hair on your balls, and it also takes less time so I can get my vanilla, carmel, white chocolate, skinny, half-sugar, triple shot, extra hot, soy latte.  Thanks.

After class I needed to go the bank, a chore I avoid at all possible costs.  Not because I dislike the bank, my bank actually doesn't dick me over like most people's banks, but for some reason I always show up when everyone else does.  I can go at 9am, 12:46pm, or pm, and there is always a line.  Today I was blessed with the old man who is apparently the Romeo of the san marcos credit union.  On occasion he is known to bring in gifts for the tellers (females only, sorry dudes) and chats them up with all his free time.  Not that there is anything wrong with this, and he is probably the nicest old man in the world, but shit, I just wanna deposit my paychecks, get my Andrew jacksons and be on my way.  But alas, I get to stand in line with the guy I almost ran over in the parking lot,  some lady who keeps letting people go ahead of her while she waits for her favorite teller, and a big fat guy who looks like John Goodman in "O Brother Where Art Thou" --same outfit and everything, sans eyepatch-- while Old Man Winter tells the teller all about his dog and why he's withdrawing 200 dollars for his dog.  

Maybe it's just me, but I try to be considerate of others when out in public.  I don't aimlessly wheel my shopping cart around oblivious to people behind me who want to get by, and I also don't take up customer service personnel's time when there is a line behind me.  If Old Man Winter walks into the bank and no one else is there, he should feel free to talk all day long, but when lines are forming, stick to the business at hand.  This is not to discount formal pleasantries, and a bit of small talk here and there, but when your talking interferes with the conduction of business, you need to keep the mouth shut.

Well, I've got to get ready to go.  gotta be somewhere not very important to do some very important things.  And I have to pee.

This blog has no followers

They really try their best to crush your self-esteem here, don't they?  When your blog has no followers and you click on the "View all followers" link a blank page comes up that says in very bold letters, "This blog has no followers."  It's kind of like turning over the cap on the soda bottle that says, "You are not a winner."  

My self-esteem didn't really need that kind of defeat today.  (sigh)

A Few Ways to Spend $6.48

As our economy heads even further down the shitter, here are a few ways to spend your last remaining dollars in a useful, meaningful way.  This post stems from an email to a friend who now, at the age of thirty, has to move back in with mom and dad because the mortgage industry is now DOA.  The text of the original email follows:

In the spirit of helping a brotha' out, here are a few ways to spend your remaining $6.48.  Hope this helps.

1.  find an $5 all-you-can-eat pizza place and go to town.  if they offer you salad, turn it down. fill up on bread, sauce, and meat, and enjoy the diarrhea later.  you will still have $1.48 left, which will buy you some cheap malt liquor after your meal.  drink the malt liquor, cry, and wonder why you just wasted your last bit of change.

2.  put two bucks worth of gas in your truck, head to an indian casino.  exchange the rest of your money for chips (you may only get one, that is if they make a $4.48 chip), and head to the nearest $1 blackjack table.  sit there long enough to get some free drinks, then double down, and cash in.  once you've made enough to afford the crab leg buffet, quit, and enjoy the fine eats.

3.  buy some black paint from home depot.  paint the windows on your truck (except the front, you will need to see where you're going).  drive to a rich part of town and kidnap a small child.  hold the child ransom, cash in.

4.  fuck the all-you-can-eat pizza idea and just spend all $6.48 on malt liquor.  you'll pass out, wake up tomorrow and have no memory of why you slept in a gutter.

5.  save all $6.48 and head to the macadam's house.  raid their fridge.  skip the food, head straight for the Steel Reserve in the back.  Drink.  pass out in gutter.

6.  buy a used porn movie from a liquor store for $4.99 plus tax.  enjoy hours of pleasure jerking off to women who used to be men and one midget.  save the last dollar to buy a roll of 1-ply toilet paper to clean up your man-goo.

7.  the first six should keep you busy, if i think of more, I'll let you know.

balls

ps -- 8.  pay a homeless person $1 to fondle your balls.  you'll get six great ones, but the last one  you'll have to choose between your left nut and right nut.  but hey, a half-fondle is better than no fondle at all.

A Brief Introduction

Ok, so I've been toying with setting up this blog for some time now, and I've finally done it.  I feel like a fraud because I've criticized these on-line, faceless, impersonal interactions for some time now, but perhaps the benefits of blogging have started to wear down my standoffishness--that's not really a word, but you know what I mean.  

Anyhow, for informational purposes here are a few reasons behind the creation of this blog.

1.  I've worked in a grocery store for 10+ years.  Beyond providing a wealth of discussion topics, such as why all the people that come to take inventory look like former roadies for Queensryche, it has given me the opportunity to work a seafood counter for quite some time.  Hence the name--Fish Slinger.  Hence, hence, the name for the blog, "The Fish Slinger Rants."

2.  I am on my last semester as a Lit/Writing major and have to take one final creative writing class.  Seeing as how I am completely unmotivated this semester, and almost always distracted by my XBox and the wonderful nonsense that TiVo decides to tape, I am hoping this blog will provide some sort of outlet for writing that will transition nicely into the creative writing class.  It's convenience really, doing class work while also entertaining myself.

3.  Last, I've been "lurking," at least I think that's what it's called, reading the BSC (Bad Sandwich Chronicles, for you uninformed readers) and after reading BK's most recent post, (look at me, I refer to him as BK like we're close personal friends and we've never even met), I wanted to leave a comment and figured no better time than the present.  

So anyway, here's to the beginning of The Fish Slinger Rants, and thanks to BK and BSC--abbreviations are fun--for inspiring me to do this.  Next time The Larry Arms come to San Diego I'll buy you a beer and pretend we're old friends.  That's a bit creepy, huh?  But perhaps now I'll stop watching TV and playing video games all day and contribute something to this faceless, impersonal, digital world.