Weird Rants To Help Keep You Sane!

Thank you, Deb. I'm really feeling much better now.

I've weighed in on waiting before. I like the people, mostly, and want to kill the managers.

Lol to all of you!!!!


You've made me feel like god.


You know, I look at this, and think: "What in HELL have I wrought??!!!"

So far, we have ellipsis.

I must be giddy tonight ~ these two together made me almost pee my pants.

Pants-pee-ers piss me off.

So you're pissed by pissers, patiodog?

Re servers: They're probably just saying what they're told to say, although I doubt that the manager told Jennifer to mention the two Ns in her name. Unless she thinks you're gonna write her a check, why would you care whether her name has one N or two?

Well, I met boopsie at the table again today. I don't blame her. It's a system that I rant about on. I've ranted previously. Perhaps I'll roof in my rants into one superamarant.

Staples. I go there to buy some stuff. Paper. They have many, many, many different kinds of paper. Not one sheet of paper is on display. It is not possible to see what I'm buying. How do I know if I it's what I want if I can't see it? I complained to the helper-guy. "We can't open the packages of paper. People won't buy opened packages of paper." Big sigh. "I'm not suggesting that you open a package of paper, show me one sheet, and then try to reseal the package. I'm suggesting that you compile samples so that people can see what they're buying." To which he responds, "We can't open the packages of paper. People won't buy opened packages of paper." Bigger sigh." You could open one package of each kind of paper, take out one sheet, label it, and make a binder of samples of paper. Then you could put the opened packages on sale. People would puy the opened packages with only one sheet missing, and you'd have samples for your customers who don't like to buy something without seeing what they're buying." His response. "We can't open the packages of paper. People won't buy opened packages of paper." Stopped sighing. I walked away. As I was leaving, I heard the man behind me say to the clerk, "I wanna see this paper. Could you open the package for me?" I snorted.

Is it too much to ask that we see what we're buying? I guess it is. They're selling paper anyway, so what do they care?

I needed a new calculator. I decided to buy the Staples brand. They're cheaper, and hey, a calculator is a calculator. I get it home and check it out. It adds, subtracts, multiplies, and divides. It doesn't do percentages or square roots. I look at the handy-dandy almost unintelligible instructions. I follow the instructions. Not working. I call the Staples 800 number. I explain the problem. I'm told what to do. Wrong answers. The man on the phone is trying to mask his annoyance with me. We go over it again. Nada. Then he says, "Tell me exactly what you're doing." I tell him. It's exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. He says, "So you pushed the percent key that's to the right of the something else key." I said, "It isn't to the right. It's to the left." He tells me it can't be to the left. I say, "That's where it is." (Does he think I don't know right from left?) After further discussion, it turns out that the square root key and the percent key are in the wrong position, reversed. I'm able to find a percent by pressing the square root key, and vice versa.

He tells me to take back the calculator. If they give me a problem at the store, he can arrange to send me a replacement. I tell him that it's hard for me to get out and about. Why doesn't he just send me a replacement. He tells me to take it back to the store. I'm getting dizzy from this. I'm keeping the calculator. I know to push the square root when I want a percent and vice versa.

F--- you Staples, and the horse you rode in on. Not the most original or creative remark, but if the shoe fits, the should choke on it.

I wonder if it really is the horse they rode in on.



Sorry, I'm going to bed now.

I'm lucky or unlucky, as the case may be, that I've bought most of my work stuff from engineering/art supply stores, which are another whole subject re themselves.

All right, then. Ellepsis it is. Now... go and heal thy self.

Diane - The cell phone thingy was my first erased rant. I resisted getting the silly contraption for a long time. Wish I didn't have to have one now.

I run, like, a specialist service for kids with a particular set of problems.

Generalist kids' services refer to me.

Or, if they wish, I will work WITH, or consult with, the generalist therapist already involved with kid and family.


Really, I am happy either way.


Today a generalist therapist rang for help.


"How should I approach it"? she says.

I spend a long time talking about how she might approach it, on the assumption that she has asked me because SHE wants to keep the family.


I dunno, she says, could I refer the family to you?


Of course, I say, nothing simpler.

When could you see them?

Hmmmmm.....early January, I say...right after Christmas.



I dunno, she says. We have a good relationship with them.


Well, say I, I am happy to cowork for a while, and I am happy to do it at your office.


Hmmm, she says...we work very collaboratively with families, I am not sure that would fit with such a problem.

Controlling desire to make smart comment, I say that no, I think that fits very well, what I do is not a different animal, just has a few extra bits.


Well, she says indignantly, you are a specialist service, and we feel we ought to be able simply to refer to you.


REALLY controlling urge to bite, I say, "And you can, as I said earlier....nothing simpler. It is up to you and the family. I am very happy to do whatever suits you all best."

Well, I'd have to ask the family, she said, as though I had told her she mustn't.


Please do, said I.



Could I have killed her and pled justifiable homicide?

Snorkle, it's ellIpsis, I believe.


Wouldn't ellEpsis be how lepers feel when they have an 'ell of a day?



Whoodathunk ellipsis had so much staying power as a topic?

Professionally speaking, I hate dem damned dots.

Everytime I see them, they're wrong from a book publishing point of view. Gotta fix. Pain in the patoot.

Betcha didn't think there'd be still another comment on ellipsis. Back in the day when I was a fledgling editor, they were called leaders. Now, fancy shmancy ellipsis. The problem persists.

Almost 40 years of fixing the damned dots.

Bronx cheer.

I love...the ...dots.

(addresses changed to protect innocent buildings)

(names changed too)




Other day the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is Thimble there?"

"No she's not. Could I take a message?"

"This is Dumble from FedEx Express. We tried to deliver a package to her today and it appears she's moved."

"What address did you try to deliver to?"

"401 East Main."

I laugh. "I see what the problem is. That's not the address. That's the suite number?"

"Sweet number?"

"Suite number."

"What do you mean?"

"Really?" Bit tongue. I mean, why would somebody who works for Federal Express know what a suite number is. "That's, like, you go to the fourth floor of the building and look for the suite -- look for the set of offices -- with the number '401' on the door."

"Oh." Pause. "So it's 401 East Main?"

"No. That's where you tried to go. The correct address is One East Main, Suite 401."

"401 East Main Street."

Really? I want to ask. You hold a job at a supra-poverty pay scale. With benefits. Decent benefits, if you're working full time. But maybe you're just extra help hired for the holidays. Though you don't have the usual f*ck-it attitude of extra holiday help. You sound like you really care. "ONE East Main Street, SUITE 401."

"Oh, okay." Click.

Turns out he got it right before hanging up, but I had no way of knowing.





A FedEx employee who's never sussed out what a suite number is? Lord amighty...

Glad you're happy bunny. Ellipsis love to be loved.

Okay, I just poured coffee in the butter tub instead of the coffee mug.

Instant karma, I s'pose...

edgar- I have a related, but somewhat different problem. My husband is constantly finishing my sentences................................incorrectly.

Then I have to back up and tell him what I wanted to say, while his mind is off on a completely different tangent.

You'd think that after all these years............................