to all photographers/artists that sell to the public

seriously, guys. i'm going to help you out here. read carefully.

when you are selling photos or art, and tell the customer it is 'standard size', meaning they can fit it into a 'standard size' frame, MAKE SURE YOU KNOW WHAT THE STANDARD SIZES ARE.

there have been waaaay too many customers being very angry, because the person they bought their art/photo from said it would be standard size, when in fact, it was NOT.


those are the popular sizes that every store with a decent frame department should carry. measure your art, if it is not any of those sizes, THEN IT IS NOT STANDARD. there are few exceptions, we carry 11x17 and 12x17 and 10x13 in limited selections.

i'm helping you out here. would you rather have a customer come back and buy a few more prints from you, or get an angry call that they had to drop major money on getting that 12x19" pic framed cause there's no such thing as that size in standard?

sigh. that's all.

not that any of you, my friends, would do that, but i am just educating on what standard sizes are.


I hate my job sometimes

So I was working the night shift the other night...3-9pm. for some reason i hate working that shift. it always seems longer than the 9-3p shift, even though it's not. maybe i like seeing daylight when i leave. i live in one of the northern states and we get sunshine for maybe only a good two months out of the year.

anyways, it's closing time, i've already counted off my register,and am generally hanging around and annoying my co-workers til the manager tells me to clock out (yeah we can't clock out AFTER NINE when the store closes til they tell us to...).

well, this woman (mid thirties, maybe? heavyset, definitely not a real blonde), and her friend come up to customer service, complaining about how they were charged extra on their purchase. lue (name changed), being the awesome CSR she is, looks at the receipt, and listens patiently to this woman as she complains about being over charged TEN FUCKING CENTS. that's right, ten cents.

well apparently, how our computers add is this:

when we have a sticker for something (like her 10 felt pieces) for 24 cents, what the customer doesn't see is the taxed numbers after that. it works out to something like, 24.345 cents or something. now usually, the computer rounds to the next closest number (in her case, 25 cents) ONLY if you do a 'quantity'.

quantity, for those of you not being cashiers, is a handy device they make so you don't have to consecutively scan ten dowel rods, twenty felt pieces, fifteen frames, etc. you count the items, hit a button, type in the number, and then scan. voila!

well this woman, thinking we cheated her out of her ten fucking cents, proceeded to bitch and whine at our manager (which, being new, i've actually warmed up to), for fifteen minutes. all while lue is trying to figure out if her comp will let her give back ten cents.

now me being me, i was more than willing to give her the dime out of my pocket, but really, i was tired and went and clocked out (without permission, but by this point, manager didn't care), and came back up. by this time, the woman was gone.

'holy shit, really?!?!?! FOR TEN CENTS?!?!?!' i said.

'i can go beat her ass out in the parking lot for you', i said to manager.

'well, first off, you're still wearing your store shirt, and second off, no.' said manager.

'i can take my shirt off and be some crazy no-shirt bra-wearin' lady that just happens to have a dime she feels the need to shove up someone's ass.'

'no, that's ok. but i bet we'll get a call to corporate about our 'adding up' policy.'

'f that. i'm not ringing everything up individually, i already hate being on register.'

she shrugs, and tells me to go home.

i hope that woman gets karmic payback. ten fucking cents. wtf is wrong with you.



So one of my exes came into work the other day.

we didn't end on the best of terms, with me all punching him in the face and stuff.

i told some co-workers that he was around and they wanted to know the situation.

well, i said, we met at the bar, and after an on and off love/hate thing, i think we maybe hooked up, but i really don't recall. he's really super skinny, and one of those cocky, braggart, i-know-more-than-you types.

-hugging him was like hugging a bag full of wire coat hangers-

everyone laughed at that.

that's why i'll never date one of those indie rock skinny jean wearing douches again. i like my dudes with at least some muscles. or above 2% body fat. i'm not perfect, i hate waking up to someone who thinks they are.


more dating

back in my 'hey day' i was a fun-loving girl looking for a good time. now, i'm a fun-loving girl looking to get drunk and dance her ass off surrounded by people she knows once every two weeks.


anyways, back when i was living in akron, i had a studio apartment on the third floor of a building a couple blocks down from one of my hangouts. well, being the 'artistic' type, i hated the fact that i had to lug my garbage down four flights of stairs on a VERY NARROW stairwell, and then, walk half a block up to where the dumpsters for our building were. it was winter, at this time.

so of course, there were about four big black hefty bags full of trash sitting in my extremely tiny kitchen. i couldn't even open the fridge. i didn't let that fact bother me, cause it was saturday night, and it was drinkin' and dancin' time.

at the bar (this one was across town), i proceed to get very drunk with some acquaintances. i notice, however, this very adorable Skater Boy giving me the eye while he plays pool in the back with his friend. he has sandy blond hair, nice lips, and looks really good in the jeans he was wearing.

we eventually strike up a conversation, although for the life of me i cannot remember who said what first. well, the night goes on, and i say i'm going to head home.

Skater Boy- "Um, did you need some company?"
Me- "Sure, but you have to do one thing for me. If you do that, you can stay the night."
Skater Boy-"Anything!" (sigh, i wish i could hook them in like that nowadays!)
Me- "You have to take all my garbage out."
Skater Boy- "What?!?! You're joking."
Me- "Nope. Deal or no deal."

Cut to Skater Boy looking horribly disappointed when he not only saw how much garbage i had, but where he has to dump it.

but he took that trash out in record time, and he got to stay the night. ;)


so i was working yesterday, and the store decided to have a 'sidewalk sale'. that's pretty much bringing the carts of discontinued, non-selling, past holiday crap outside for the cheapskates to peruse.

the first thing they do is call 'all associates' to 5c for 'sidewalk sale'. now by 'all associates' they mean 'any associate that isn't old or infirm' cause those carts are heavy, a bitch to steer, and half the time i end up banging my knee on them.

while our store has a EOE policy, most of the employees are definitely OLD and INFIRM. that leaves about five people to take 12-15 carts from the back ass-end of the store to the front, dodging customers, aisles, things on the floor,etc. and as i mentioned before, steering these things is like trying to drive a badly aligned car while blindfolded on icy pavement. just a big pain in the ass.

well anyways, as i was pushing cart after cart of useless junk out, i found, against the outside wall, right by the door, a half chewed up cigar.

just laying innocently on the sidewalk.

you know what that means, right?


holy shit.

i hate retail

inside the mind of a customer

Oh man, I've got to hurry up, it's ten minutes to close and I need A LOT of stuff! Okay, grab a cart, lessee...OOO sales? Yes! I mean, I don't really need that, but I'm crafty I'll do something with it. Lemme get twenty just in case.

Wow, this store is big, I'd better take it nice and slow so I don't miss anything.I wonder why that worker asked me if I need any help? Of course I do! But I told her no and then she walked away. Jeez, what bad service. I guess I'll just have to wander around till I find what I'm looking for.

Hey, there's a dollar aisle? Oh man, that stuff is sooo cheap! I'll do something with it, I'm crafty. Now, I know I had a list somewhere, that looks like what I might need, I'll get some of that, and that. What? ANOTHER worker asks me for help? I wish you asked me five minutes ago. Wait...I say, "Hey do you have that one thing I saw here a year ago? It was red, and I thought it was back here." Why are they looking at me like that? Don't they know what I'm talking about? I described it. They said they don't think they have it. Of course. I give her a dirty look and walk away. Oh wait, that thing was in another store. Oh, well.

What was that on the intercom? Something..something...five minutes...close? I don't know. They'll stay open for me. I'm the CUSTOMER. Oh, I need that. I think. Oh great, where is everyone? Now I've gotta go up front and ask a question. Wow, they look really happy to see me up front! I ask the worker behind the service desk where that one thing is. Aw, she looks sad. She says it's aisle 25. Oh, back where I was at in the back of the store. I knew that. I tell her it'll just be a minute. It's not like they're doing anything else.

Hm, I pick up some more stuff on my way back. What aisle did she say? 22? Let's go down there. WHAT??? That's not what I'm looking for! Don't these people know every single item in the store and it's location? AREN'T THEY PAID TO DO THAT? Jeez. Oh, what was that on the intercom? Closing? They can't be closing, I'm still shopping! I'm the CUSTOMER!

Oh here's another worker. She tells me that the store is closed, and I have to go check out. Fine, fine, I'll just come back tomorrow morning and wait in the parking lot for half an hour cause they never open early for me.

What bad service! Okay, up and register...why is she taking so long? I only have a cartful of random stuff! I try to help her by piling all of my stuff on the counter. Why is my stuff falling on the floor? Oh, the counter's only four feet long, they need bigger counters then! I'll just make a teetering pile of my stuff.

Okay, IT'S HOW MUCH?!?! No, that's not right, you rang up things wrong. The computer added things up wrong. I don't trust computers. I'm good at math. Well, let's just go through every item again, I'll just dump the bags back out on the counter. THIS time I'll pay attention to every item and argue the price. Oh, I guess the computer was right.

I wonder why the cashier has a big vein in her forehead. Wow, that's throbbing. What is she asking me? Oh, for payment. Well, here's my credit card. I.D?!?!??! What the hell? Why do I need an I.D? Oh, it's not signed? Okay. Let me spend ten minutes looking through my purse...oh, I remember. It's in my car. I never keep it on me. It's a photo I.D. what do I need that for? Fine, fine, I'll go get it.

Ugh, it's cold out. I'll just walk really slow to conserve my heat. In the car now, lesse...oh there it is. I get back to the store. Wow, that vein is really pulsing now. She should go see a doctor. I sign the recipt, she gives me mine, back outside again. God, it's cold. Wow, I wonder if that store knows they've got someone screaming in anger in there. Maybe its just the wind.

Ah, all my stuff is loaded, I'll just leave the cart behind this car, it's too cold to walk the five feet to the cart corral. As I'm pulling away, oh hey, there's my cashier...oh, I guess I put that cart behind her car, wow, it sounds like she's really screaming!

Oh well, maybe it's just the wind. I'll be back tomorrow to return half of this stuff anyways cause I don't know what to do with it. I'll be at the store at eight-thirty, I think they open at nine, but it's okay, cause I'm the CUSTOMER.

Back in the day

so i found one of my old punk rock compilation cds.

it brings back fond memories of days gone past, and summers and winters that were fever bright compared to the dull grey light of today.

the times i spent couch surfing so i wouldn't have to drive up again that same night to see a band, strange showers, using other people's shampoo (and filling it with water so they wouldn't notice), waking up and wondering if this is actually my shirt, flipping off the assholes who went to bed early.

considering putting a litter box in my car so i wouldn't have to come home to take care of captain, always having a toothbrush in my purse, even if i had to brush my teeth with leftover beer. meeting all sorts of intresting and cute lead singers and drummers, flirting shamelessly, and then bidding goodbye when they went to a different house party than me.

going to work to get money for rent for a place i barely lived in. keeping extra clothes in my car, and during the summer, a bathing suit, cause you never knew who had access to a pool and hoping your fence climbing skills were good. looking around you and seeing people smiling, drunk, fighting, making out, playing on a kid's drum set someone had found, telling each other that they should collaborate on the next cd.

putting names in your phone like "that one chick with the dog" and "cute drummer guy mexican", or the "that lead singer didn't do it w him" or something like that. people looking up when i came into a room, and high fiving me. not needing red bull or even food as long as there was beer and some kind of pizza leftovers.

seeing how many 99 cent red lipstick shades i could buy at walgreens. ha dodging my landlord. lying to the old men. getting tattoos. getting a discount cause you brought the guy cake everyday and wanted the tat just how he drew it.

screaming like a baby. not remembering the one guy's name, but being best friends with his gf, and getting her super drunk. fighting with my old gay upstairs neighbor. thinking no one should be up before noon. crashing in my bed while people watched tv in the same room.

gettinng up at four, driving down to the bar so i'd have time to drink before i had to work at seven. hating all the stupid makeup i had to wear. becoming used to nakedness and women. no catfights cause i straight didn't care as long as the vodka and red bulls kept coming. funny money. that one time i made 1400 in one night, and blowing most of it buying everyone drinks.

trusting everyone and believing that this could go on forever. this dream of what all those punk songs talked about. being free to do what i wanted, be with whoever, no consequences, no thought to tomorrow. spinning around and around in my head, full of beer and fun and hoping that one day that everything had to stop was far away.

raising my fist. here's to the past.