The Expense of Manners

No, they don’t.

You know there’s a problem with Humanity when you  stand in front of a cashier and greet them with a “How’s your day been so far?” and they reply “Are you seriously asking me about my day? No customer ever does that!” Then there’s the moment that you step onto a public bus and greet the driver with an enthusiastic “Hi! How are you?” and the driver does a double take.

Upon further observations of one of the mysteries of life, I decided to ask Humanity for an honest explanation.

What I mean to say, is that it does not matter whether the Bus Driver (who has spent hours driving like minded people around town) is doing well or not. He’s just the driver. I guess that makes him somewhat less human. What about the cashier? They’re about as stupid as the computer they use.

Who cares if I’m not well mannered? They’ll never see me again. It does not matter that I’m the one behaving less like a human and more like a barbarian. I’m just here to waste the quality education and respect provided to me by my parents. Duh!

It’s too much effort saying ‘Hi, How are you today?’ or replying with a ‘Well, Thank you!’ Shortening it all into one breath such as “Howaya” or even a grunt seems more practical. Less oxygen used, you see. I can then savour that oxygen for further inconsiderate and disrespectful forms of speech. Heaven forbid I waste such valuable lungs on longer sentences and a little decency!

I’ve  discovered that being nice, kind and well mannered is extremely difficult. I’ve thrown the towel in and I’ve decided to walk back down the evolutionary line. Manners are just too expensive.

Evolution? What evolution?

Rule for Humanity: The cost of Manners = $0.

A return trip to Hippopotamus please!

I just came across this baby at work this morning! There’s nothing like a little humour to get you through a shift.

10 Weird requests for a Travel Agent

*sigh* Oh humanity!

The Miracle Worker

I’m a miracle worker. Did you know that? Apparently things that are basically impossible can happen. On demand. You simply have to ask.

Today,  for example, I dealt with a customer who was in dire need of one of my miracles. A school shirt she had purchased for her son wasn’t top notch quality. She returned it of course. She even got a full refund. For good measure, she also abused the Store Manager. She wanted more, though. She wanted a miracle.

She wanted the company to create the same shirt, but better quality. A refund wasn’t enough. She didn’t want a different shirt. She wanted THAT shirt but better and she wanted it NOW. Suggesting a better quality item to the manufacturer for next year simply was not an option. Sending them an email was not an option. She wanted them to call her back.

I’m the miracle worker, you see. I make the impossible possible. Unfortunately my magic is not advanced enough to banish the likes of this women onto a planet far far away.

The sense of entitlement of this women (and other members of society, at that) inspire in me a desire to make life as difficult as possible for them. I’m no miracle worker. I’m most definitely not here to give into a customers every desire. If that were the case, I’d be sitting down stitching this new shirt by hand instead of typing this blog.

Humanities sense of entitlement extends beyond customer service. Whilst participating in some circuit interval training at the gym, some lady used a machine for over 2 minutes as opposed to the required 30 seconds. Upon standing besides her, huffing and sweating away, waiting for her to finish what she should have finished a minute ago, she had the nerve to shoot me a glare.

I’m not the one in fault lady! Go to another class if you want to workout on your own terms. Better yet, invest in the machine, take it home and live happily ever after with it. Just don’t hold up my workout! 

How about people with very poor time management? Whilst this deserves a post for itself (and it will get one, trust me), I’ll briefly touch on how selfish it is for people to think their time is better than others time. I’m speaking about those people continuously late to work, to dinner, to coffee or (even worse) to a movie. They prance in with an air of indiffierence with their petty excuses expecting to be forgiven out of pity.

NO! Simply no. Your time is no more valuable than that of others. You’re no more valuable than any one else.

Selfishly entitled beings, rid yourself of your pathetic sense of entitlement and get off that ridiculous high horse of yours or else you’ll be galloping your way into people’s bad books and a life of loneliness.

Rule for Humanity: A sense of entitlement only entitles you to ridicule.

Do NYE with Etiquette

The NYE celebrations begin this evening in Australia. As I journey to work this early morning, I’ll be bringing you my top 3 tips on celebrating NYE with Etiquette! If society has taught us anything, it’s that some can party in style – and then some can party like trash.

Tip One: Don’t be a dumb drunk.

If there’s one thing that society has shown me is that there is a difference between a smart drunk and a dumb drunk. Drink a few to be happy. Heck drink enough to get tipsy!For the sake of society though, don’t be that moron doubled over a garden/lap/road/feet purging the contents of your stomach and more!

What you expected to be a good night is now ruined or never recalled. Your friends are either equally plastered (making them just as stupid) or ruining their night looking after the idiot that thought it’s cool to down a bottle of Vodka and more. Soon you’ll be swaggering down the streets unable to decipher left from right (and hopefully) landing yourself in a cell. Quite frankly, if you’re stupid enough to become a public nuisance – you deserve that cell.

Tip Two: The end of the year does not mark the end of classy fashion.

Simple.

– Pockets should not hang lower than shorts. 
– Shorts and Skirts should not be shorter than your underwear (Gosh, please wear underwear!)
– Topless is not an option.

Come NYE the “Trashy Convention” comes along. Stupid attire and Stupid attitude. Tell me again how you’re not taken seriously? How about taking your dress and attitude seriously?

The year may have ended but society’s stock of fabrics is still flowing abundantly, allowing sexy and classy fashion.

Tip Three: Wear heels you can walk in.

This one is for you, ladies.

Society baffles me with their eagerness to see ladies in heels. Such Attrocious devices of pain and torture! NO ONE is forced to wear heels. Yet many are adamant to wear heels knowing well that they:

– Are a pain to walk in
– Hurt your toes/heels
– Are difficult to walk in

They may have looked flash in the shop window but if you can’t walk in them, you will look like a little child learning to walk for the first time. The NYE drinking surely won’t help!

If you aren’t stumbling everywhere, you’ll be sitting down to save yourself from pain. Maybe you’ll be up dancing through the pain. Regardless – you’ve ruined your night courtesy of High Heeled shoes. All in the name of fashion.

Wear heels you can walk in or simply wear sandals or flats! It’s equally stylish and much more practical this party season.

Three simple tips society is bound to ignore. At least then I can start my year off in style – reading my Newsfeed on Facebook and watching the news to begin 2014 with a hearty chuckle at the idiots who drank till they were blind in their trashy outfits and terrible shoes.

Rule for Humanity: Enjoy your NYE celebrations and Stay Classy!

Thanks for the 2013 memories and the reminder that society needs to be straightened out! Looking forward to many more months of your blunders in 2014.

Easy as eBook

Working in customer services opens your eyes to the the stupidity of the world. I often feel I’m being too critical and just acting like a bitch but then I think, had stupidity been nonexistent, I wouldn’t even have the amount of work that I have. Heck, I could be jobless! Thank you stupidity?

The cake today goes to a customer who tried to refund an eBook because she ‘thought it was a hard copy’.

A moment of silence, please, for her dead brain cells.

Not only did she enter a website that holds no other purpose than to sell eBooks, she then claimed to have bought this without knowing what an eBook actually was. So she’s knowingly accessed a website to buy something that she doesn’t know anything of?

Explain to me again, miss, how this is my fault?

When I explained that her error STILL meant she can’t exchange her eBook for a hard copy because:

A) I have no way of retrieving the eBook and guaranteeing she won’t still use it.

B) We don’t sell hard copies of books. It’s an eBook website!

She wasn’t too pleased and once again went on about how the website was misleading.

A website specifically for eBooks which she used to buy (you guessed it!) eBooks is misleading?

It’s safe to say her threats to involve a lawyer will cost her more than her $10 eBook. Her refusal to shop with me again will be a blessing. And her stupidity lives on another day to entertain another person.

Rule for Humanity: It’s okay to be unsure. Call and clarify. It’s okay not to know. We are blessed with Google. It’s not okay to walk yourself into trouble and then try and be compensated for your mistake. You’ll land yourself on my blog.

A blunt problem

I’m going to be quite blunt about this problem because, quite frankly, I’m sick of blunt knives at cafes and restaurants. The only time I’ve ever received a sharp knife is when ordering a steak. After many complaints. And a long search in their kitchen as they tried to locate what I would think is a staple at all eating establishments. Like water or towels or the dishpig.The fact is, butter knives are for spreads. Butter. Jam. Vegemite.

After much pondering, late nights, procrastinated work and many notebooks (I kid. It took me 5 minutes), I bring you:

3 Reasons why butter knives are preffered
(brace yourselves!)

1. COSTI’d say it’s cost,  however (as we recently discovered in a previous entry), cafes already charge me an arm and a leg for simple sides such as extra cheese, that I doubt money is a problem. They’re probably rolling in it!

2. OH&S Maybe cafés are following OH&S regulations? In that case the OH&S dictator is either a two year old child who is still fearing sharp things courtesy of their parents or that PC freak we all know (and secretly hate).

They all seem quite outrageous, right? (And if you don’t think it’s outrageous, feel free to leave this blog and migrate to a planet other than Earth.)

So here’s the only reason that would make the slightest of sense to me…

3. SAFETY The last thing a cafe wants is to become the victim of the latest crime involving knives. And I kind of understand. I’d happily throw a knife in the direction of any one that makes a go at a piece of crispy bacon on my plate. Or a chef who poaches my eggs but overcooks them (it’s all about the yolk!) Maybe I’ll be so envious of the food on the table next to me, I’ll devise the ultimate plan involving a knife to ensure the food is mine. ALL MINE! Food fuelled crime is quite serious!

But to be honest, even if any of that happened to me, I’d still find a way to do it with a butter knife. 

Rules of Humanity: Stop being blunt. Bring us sharper knives!

Reading the Movie

Or I’ll do it in my blog.

 

I take great pride in my bookshelf. A mix of guilty pleasures, classic literature, pop culture and hidden literary treasures. I don’t claim to know everything and anything about any author or novel but I do understand the significance of literature. I particularly understand (and I strongly hope many others understand) that the MOVIE IS NOT THE SAME AS THE BOOK.

Whilst many producers have brought our favourite novels to life on the big screen, they do have a bit of creative license to alter and modify the story. Even if the author writes the script (I.e. Melina Marchetta’s ‘Looking for Alibrandi’) there are still elements of difference drawing a line between the movie and book. I don’t even know why I even need to clarify this as it seems like commonsense! But while I’m at it, let us look at the movie and novel ‘Atonment’. ‘Atonement’ the movie is a tragically romantic movie about a couple seperated during WWII. Their seperation was caused by the nosey sibling who couldn’t mind her own business and was keen to jump to conclusions. Whilst this sister is in the book too, the two are not the same! The book follows the story of the sibling as she attempts to atone for splitting the couple. ‘Atonement’ the book is actually about atonement – not tragic love! How about ‘Pride and Prejudice’? Whilst we all want Mr Darcy, this novel is not a romance as the movies lead us to believe. It’s a social commentary of society, families and how silly we become in order to fall in love. It mocks love. ‘Harry Potter’? The nerdy Hermione turned into a sex goddess in the space of a movie when in actual fact there is no beauty transformation in the books. Logic, people! She may be a witch but she’s still human! Grand transformations don’t occur overnight when you’re living in a boarding school with no personal income for plastic surgery!

Evidently it’s quite clear that you can’t exactly “read” the movie. A recent argument with a friend regarding a Mary Shelley classic made me realise that people are quite silly indeed. It came to a sudden halt when I realised that my (no longer) beloved friend was arguing and providing evidence from a movie. A movie based on a novel they had NEVER READ! NEVER READ! NEVER.

How can you claim to know a story without having read it? How could you embarass yourself in an argument? How can you claim that you’re “above” such literature?! Sorry but it stands that Shelley is above you in all aspects as not only did she write a successful novel, it is still being studied across schools all over the world! After so many years!

….and they had the nerve to claim they’re above it.

 

I rapidly put her in her place.

Now if I was in a fantasy world, I will take inspiration from Mary Shelley and write a little short story about using her limbs and electricity to bring to life a monster. I shall call it the monster of literature. The monster who can gather her followers and read movies on another planet away from me and my fellow literature fanatics.

 

Rule for Humanity: Don’t judge a novel by its movie.

 

 

Tangled Secrets

Getting my hair cut is one of those things I’m always too lazy to get done. I’d like to say I get it done every three months but the reality is I think about it three months after my last haircut and then finally make it into the salon another three months later. My three-months-turned-into-six-months recently came and I walked into a random (yet bustling) salon one afternoon. 

Now call me conceited but when I pay for a service, I expect to get exactly that – SERVICE. Instead I sat at a seat and was shoved and pulled to the hairdressers liking because apparently asking me to move this way or that was out of the question. Speaking to me seemed to be out of the question completely as any of my attempts for small talk was ignored. I’d like to say that the hairdresser simply wasn’t the talking type but we all know that that’s impossible.

She did like to talk to her other colleague though! The one standing next to her cutting someone elses hair. They managed to discuss how they couldn’t discuss who they invited to an upcoming dinner because it was a secret. A secret so secret it was worth mentioning in public. This was followed by a little workplace gossip that suddenly escalated to non-stop bitching about their boss. THEIR BOSS who was frantically walking up and down the salon trying to get his job done.

It appears I forgot to read the disclaimer as I entered the salon. “Expect rudeness and bitchiness because you’re not paying to be one of our customers. You’re paying to be a means for us to kill time.”

Rule for Humanity: I can’t believe I have to actually spell it out for these rude aliens who try to be human – but ignoring is not cool. NOT. COOL.

The Wicked Bitch of the West

My recent journey to work via public transport brought me face to face with the Wicked Bitch of the West. The supposed mythical character that only seemed to appear in exaggerated stories told by others and fuelled by anger actually existed! And she was on my train this morning!

I entered the carriage and took the most appropriate seat. I typically ask myself a couple of questions before picking a seat.

Are there any free seats? No? How about three seaters with a space? No? Well two seater it is. Is there one with a seemingly skinny person so it doesn’t become too uncomfortable while our thighs rub? Bingo! The Bitch!

I firstly sat down and accidentally sat on the side of her Prada bag. (Seriously. She’s heading towards the city from the west with a Prada bag!) She rudely snatched it from near me which I thought nothing of. Heaven forbid contact with my regular discount store jeans come in contact with such a prestigious yet horrendously ugly bag!

At this point, Miss Bitch (I’m assuming she’s single because quite frankly I don’t know what relationship she can sustain other than that with her bag. Is that why she was so protective?) Yells into her phone to the very unfortunate person on the other end “F**k my life! Are you kidding me?! No. I’m not talking to you”.

I can see her glaring at me from the corner of my eye. She’s obviously talking to me.

Upon ending her phone conversation,  she looked at me (I’m looking at my novel) “surely there’s another seat?!”

To which I responded by ignoring her, turning the page of my novel and chuckling at a supposedly funny scene.

Sorry Wicked Bitch of the West. This is a public train. PUBLIC. No, there aren’t any other seats. You’re on a public train. People will sit next to you. If you’re so concerned about who sits next to you on your way to work, dust off that witch’s broom of yours and fly there!

Rules for Humanity: if you’re seriously concerned about who you will encounter on a train, invest in your own transportation. It’s public for a reason!

I can’t Tate it anymore!

I’m not big on museums and galleries. I probably pop into one twice a year or so. During my current tour of London I thought it was time to revisit art and visit the Tate.

You would think a place made for the ‘smarter’ of humanity to unite in a shared interest would call for proper behaviour – particularly in the Queen’s country!

I was mistaken. 

Whilst viewing artworks, people would stand infront of, shove you, stick their hands in your line of vision and jabber away about crap, ruining the art experience!

Now I don’t want to take the fun out of viewing art, but stand to the side and form a neat arch around the artwork! Do you want a closer look? Wait for the crowd to clear! Need to take a phone call or chatter about nonsense?  You walked in through a door – now walk out!

Rule for humanity: Share art!