2005-08-02 - 9:15 a.m.

Current Tune: Worried About You, The Rolling Stones

Short little rant. Well, I'll do my best to keep it short.

Things that have happened befor 9:15am on this fine Tuesday that have me ready to take up arms against the general populace:

8:52: On the way to work, crested the usual hill before the intersection of Stewart and Providence, preparing to make a right turn onto Providence. In the lane in front of me sat a man on his bike, I won't say he was Asian, but he was Asian, (see my rant on racial stereotyping a few entries ago ((that may or may not exist))). Anywho, this fine specimen of a dickweed was sitting in the right lane (which also functions as the straight ahead lane), blocking any cars from turning right on red and thus stemming the flow of traffic. Any other biker would have a) been far enough to the right or left of the lane to allow cars to make the standard right on red, or b) would have gotten up on the sidewalk at such a busy intersection or c) realized that only dickweeds ride their bikes to work (apologies in advance to any dickweeds who read this and ride their bikes to work.) But no. This fucker sat motionless on his bike, just begging me to let off the brake and squish him under the wheels of my environmentally unfriendly SUV.

Current Tune: Diabolic Scheme, The Hives

I even went so far as to do the hesitant horn honk tap. You know the one. The one where you take a couple of swipes at the horn, the first ones don't even register, until you put just enough pressure on the button to cause the car to let out a hiccup of a horn honk. After about 4 or 5 of these hiccups, I realized that either Mr. Bicycle was deaf, or just plain didn't care. So I laid on the horn. It was only mildly satisfying due to the fact that the light changed at that precise moment, and Mr. DickBicycleWeed was able to mosey out into the intersection and head off to bother some other unfortunate driver. Did I mention he had a goddamn basket on the front of the bike?!?!?

Currrent Tune: Nice To Know You, Incubus

8:59: Pulling into the employee parking lot of the hospital, I cruise the usual lanes looking for a parking space that will leave me with the shortest jaunt from car to building. As I'm eyeing a spot, a white Camaro convertible whips around the corner and (get this) speeds up in an effort to get to the spot. I'm clearly in position to "win" the spot initially, I'm closer, I'm eyeballing it, and short of putting my blinker on and hanging out the window with a big foam fucking finger pointing at my spot, it is by all acounts, my spot.

Except for the fact that this is no ordinary Camaro driver (hahahaha, is there such a thing as an "ordinary" Camaro driver?). No, this is Uber-Tan, Uber-Sassy, Giant Sunglass wearing MEGA ULTRA BIOOOOTOCH.

Current Tune: Descender, The Black Crowes

This lady not only floors it, but then slams on the breaks and literally peels rubber as she swings her white trashmobile into the spot, as I sit, jaw -in-lap. I can think of no better strategy than to sit there and at least let her see me as she exits her vehicle, sort of a "Hey. Fuck you." So I wait. And after 4 minutes of hair-checking, lipstick applying and what looked like collagen injecting, she finally exists the car and (oooh I get angry just thinking about it) has the balls to flash me a crooked crest white strips smile. That's right lady. You sure showed me. At least I can rest comfortable in the knowledge that your impending death from tanning booth induced skin cancer can't be that far off. Bazing.

9:06: Every office has that lil know it all bitch who runs around the office gossiping about everything from supposed work affairs to current events, etc... She's often times a woman (though I don't put it past a lot of men to do the same thing, in this case however, it's a woman ((so get off my back ladies))) she's usually in her mid forties, unhappily married, and all in all, just a big ole fat, parking spot stealing, lane blocking bitch.

Current Tune: Star 69, R.E.M.

In the case of the Student Health Center, she happens to be 21 and quite possibly the most condescending, petty douche of a bag I've ever had the privilage of working with. She speaks to people almost twice her age like they were 15, goes out of her way to point out the shortcomings of people she works with, and most importantly, spreads the gossip likes it gospel.

Current Tune: Roulette Dares, The Mars Volta

And her voice... oh that God awful voice. It's a perfect match for the nasally challeneged face that produces it. Something about her nose seems... picasso-esque. And in turn, it makes the sounds that come out of her mouth very hollow and uncomfortable to the ear.

So as I walk into the office this morning, making a beeline for my cubical and the safety of IPOD ear plugs, I'm almost knocked backward by the tide of hot gossip bellowing from her craw. It's like those guys who try to walk in hurricanes, hands pressed against the invinsible barrier, one foot in front of the other, shirts and hair flying backwards as they march against the rage of mother nature.

Yeah I hate her.

9:11: I haven't even been at my desk for 5 minutes when in comes one of the receptionists. "Dave, you've got some people here to see you."

Not uncommon for me to have clients coming in and out trying to sell me ad space, marketing shit, etc...

But this early in the morning? Already perturbed and short fused thanks to the morning's events, I trudged out to find the two same faces that I'd sent home about three weeks ago when they tried to renew one of our contracts. They represent the Student Directory (an under-used piece o' shit directory that roughly 1% of the campus uses to look up pizza place numbers.)

Current Tune: Basketcase, Green Day

We used to advertise with them (before I signed on), dropping close to $6000 (!?!?!?) for the "privilage" of placing our ad on the divider tab page that seperates the buisnesses from the personal numbers. This tabbed page seemed like a good idea at the time (my boss explains) because it was a thick sturdy page, and the tab would make it stand out from the 1000's of other ads.

While I was doing some budget work last month, I came across this "Gem" of an advertising deal and actually went so far as to request a copy of the directory. Turns out, when they ship out the directory, the tabs are folded inward so as not to rip the packaging material they're shipped in. After spending that much time folded inward, with hundreds of directories stacked on top of one another, the tabs become a permenant fixture of the inside of the directory, and thus don't serve as tabs at all.

I even went so far as to run an advertising/marketing intiatives survey and found that only .4% (not 4, but.4) of our Users had even seen the ad. After pointing this out to my boss she quickly pulled the plug on that venture and patted my head for being such a good lil bean counter.

CT: Protection, Ben Folds

So last month, when this peppy little team came in, I politely explained that we wouldn't be renewing the contract due to budget issues. They pressed me for a little while, offering deals and whatnot, but eventually left, seemingly accepting defeat and realizing we wouldn't be swayed.

How wrong was I. As I rounded the corner this morning, there they sat, contract in hand, smiles on their faces. I half expected a mortal threat at this point, something nice and gangsterish that would scare me into signing the contract. They went with the "We really want your buisness approach" making sure to flatter me for my advertising design and pointing out what a great assest the Student Directory would be to the Student Health Center.

CT: What May Seem Like Love, Whiskeytown

At this point I was close to livid as they rattled off statisitc after statistic and finally I interrupted the spiel to explain, once again, that our budget would not allow for an ad this year and that perhaps we would give it a go next year.

Unmoved, the leader of the two started hardballing me, offering me "unbelievable" deals and almost hinting that I'd be an idiot not to take the deal. (Unfortunately $4500 is not an "unbelievable" price for such a piece of shit directory, in my book).

At this point, I gave up on being friendly and just whipped out the big guns.

"Excuse me. Do you have a directory on you?"

"Yes, we sure do!"

"Ok. Do me a favor. Show me where our old ad was."

(At first she's confident, opening the directory and starting to thumb through it. Then she realizes that since it's the ONLY tabbed ad, it should be rediculously easy to find. Only problem is, of course, the tab has ben folded inward and has become just another page in a 1000 page book.)

CT: Campaign of Hate, The Libertines

"Exactly. We're paying top dollar for an ad that no one could find if they were looking for it. The whole point of a "tab" is for it to stick out and make finding things easier. You've completely elimintaed the single perk that made us want to advertise with you in the first page. So that, coupled with the fact that less than half of a single percent of our users have even seen the ad, makes it very unlikely that I'd sink $4500 into this venture again."

"Uh..but..."

"Thanks for stopping by. I've got plenty of work to get to this morning. Have a good one."

I shook cold, clamy, defeated hands and parked it back in my cube. Where I sit now. And I feel a lil bit better.

CT: Expo '86, Death Cab for Cutie

Yeah. Just a little bit. So this wasn't exactly short. I don't even think it's very interesting. But at the very least, it was therapeutic. Ahhh. Tuesday.

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