So last night I was closing @ work. But I wasn’t really closing, I was supposed to be “training” on the computer. But it turned into a busy night, and I got pulled/volunteered to help the real manager on duty to get everything caught up, so that we’d all get out on time or at least close to it.

Somewhere along the course of the night, it came up in conversation that some of the closing requirements seem sort of redundant and wasteful (of time at least), such as counting all the debit/credit receipts. Seems silly, because if we’re off according to what the computer has tallied, we then go into the computer and print the missing receipts… so it would seem rather redundant to make sure we have paper copies, when if the paper copies are off, we just print the transaction out of the history of the machine. Where it’s already stored. So uh, couldn’t we just not worry about the paper copy?

Anyway, I mentioned something along the lines of “once I’m the store manager…” at which point the other manager asked if I’d fire her if I was the store manager. Uhhh……

How do you answer this when the honest answer is “yes”?

Here’s how: you stutter, say something along the lines of “I’m not qualified to make that sort of assessment now,” and wait – no, hope – for some sort of timely interruption. That’s how.



Decór decisions
The place The Girl works at is a little, well, strangely decorated to say the least. It’s not modern, it’s not old-fashioned, it’s a mishmash of ideas that don’t really flow so well. I’m sitting at the place right now, looking around, wanting to smack a certain someone.

That certain someone is a local artist whose work is locally acclaimed. He’s like a god around these parts. And most definitely, the bastard is talented. I have seen some work from him that is very very good. But his taste… his taste is that of Picasso at his Cubist best.

F*ck Cubism. I’m sorry, it’s not good art. Whenever I look at it, I want to pull it off the wall and wipe a certain nether-region with it, then flush. It’s a crock. It’s not art. It’s bullsh!t. It’s Pablo Picasso selling his 3 year-old son’s work to someone for lots of money, and laughing. And more people buying crap like that thinking it’s “high art,” and him laughing at them. I can’t help but think that it’s all one big joke, and Pablo just laughed and laughed, sort of like the guy who faked the Sasquatch footprint, let it build into a huge thing, and never told anyone; just laughed and laughed at everyone’s expense over their own naiveté.

Yes, that’s what it is. I am convinced. Pablo is laughing at all of you who think cubism is art.

Ha- freaking ha. Losers.

Tags: hate