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Nov. 29th, 2005 03:57 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
the-paco.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
techrecoveryMy coworkers don't know how to open a door.
Why does a 6'+ guy walk up to a partially open door and try to sneak in the crack? He's not 10 inches thick. Why does he then try to open the remainder with two fingers? Why does he give me a look when I impatiently open the door, using my hand, at a speed greater than that of a meth-happy snail which he was using?
Idiot. I dislike stupid people normally, but people who are too stupid to operate doors should not be in my callcenter, let alone on my team. And yes, he could have some compulsion, some strangeness, some oddity that makes him so. You know what? I DON'T CARE. All that 'sensitivity' bull puck they handed me rolled like water off a ducks back. I'm perfectly willing to let people who are different from me live their lives as long as they don't get in my way, or try to turn me to their way of thinking because it's 'better'. It's the only reason all the churches in my city are still standing. They don't get directly in my way.
Same thing with techs who can handle their customers. Dammit, tech. Don't call me, all snively and whiny, telling me how the customer is unhappy. I know what you want, you want me to clean up this mess, well guess what, pussy, that ain't my effing job! I'm not here to take everything away that makes you uncomfortable. In fact, I try to pile MORE uncomfortable things on you when you try that shit with me, because I don't like you! Stop your fucking bitching, take what I tell you as the word of god, strap on an Acme Port-a-Pair, and fix the issue! If the issue is telling the customer he needs to troubleshoot, DO IT! If the issue is telling the customer he gets no DSL, DO IT! If the issue is calling the customer back with bad news about his dispatch, DO IT!
Gods they're all so damned WEAK! I hate these little non-confrontational, half-assed alive, whiny little shitstains who think they can depend on me to do their job! This is what putting safety labels on everything does! This is what parents spending their lives sanding the edges off the worlds tables (or demanding their congressman pass laws against edged tables) does. We get waterheaded little sissies who can't do anything worthwhile. No wonder women consider assholes good dating material. Compared to all these invertebrate tits I normally have the good fortune to not see, people who have some cajones, even if they're ALL they've got, must be some kind of godsend.
Most of these techs, I just want to sit down and tell them this: "Here. Take all your training material, soak it in this glue, make it nice and wet. Now twist it into a long tube. Ok, now tie this shoelace around the middle, and tie it on your back. There, that's your spine, now you can stand up to a little old lady who doesn't even live in the same damned STATE as you, you ignorant little sack of monkey urine!"
Why does a 6'+ guy walk up to a partially open door and try to sneak in the crack? He's not 10 inches thick. Why does he then try to open the remainder with two fingers? Why does he give me a look when I impatiently open the door, using my hand, at a speed greater than that of a meth-happy snail which he was using?
Idiot. I dislike stupid people normally, but people who are too stupid to operate doors should not be in my callcenter, let alone on my team. And yes, he could have some compulsion, some strangeness, some oddity that makes him so. You know what? I DON'T CARE. All that 'sensitivity' bull puck they handed me rolled like water off a ducks back. I'm perfectly willing to let people who are different from me live their lives as long as they don't get in my way, or try to turn me to their way of thinking because it's 'better'. It's the only reason all the churches in my city are still standing. They don't get directly in my way.
Same thing with techs who can handle their customers. Dammit, tech. Don't call me, all snively and whiny, telling me how the customer is unhappy. I know what you want, you want me to clean up this mess, well guess what, pussy, that ain't my effing job! I'm not here to take everything away that makes you uncomfortable. In fact, I try to pile MORE uncomfortable things on you when you try that shit with me, because I don't like you! Stop your fucking bitching, take what I tell you as the word of god, strap on an Acme Port-a-Pair, and fix the issue! If the issue is telling the customer he needs to troubleshoot, DO IT! If the issue is telling the customer he gets no DSL, DO IT! If the issue is calling the customer back with bad news about his dispatch, DO IT!
Gods they're all so damned WEAK! I hate these little non-confrontational, half-assed alive, whiny little shitstains who think they can depend on me to do their job! This is what putting safety labels on everything does! This is what parents spending their lives sanding the edges off the worlds tables (or demanding their congressman pass laws against edged tables) does. We get waterheaded little sissies who can't do anything worthwhile. No wonder women consider assholes good dating material. Compared to all these invertebrate tits I normally have the good fortune to not see, people who have some cajones, even if they're ALL they've got, must be some kind of godsend.
Most of these techs, I just want to sit down and tell them this: "Here. Take all your training material, soak it in this glue, make it nice and wet. Now twist it into a long tube. Ok, now tie this shoelace around the middle, and tie it on your back. There, that's your spine, now you can stand up to a little old lady who doesn't even live in the same damned STATE as you, you ignorant little sack of monkey urine!"
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 10:18 pm (UTC)But did I learn to walk? OR did I learn to sand down the edges of my furniture? Either seems equally intelligent.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 10:20 pm (UTC)This is why people don't stick their hands in fires. They learn.
Take away the corners, take away the fire, and you're left with an idiot that doesn't know how to function in a world that isn't insulated in cotton.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 10:47 pm (UTC)I feel that the best lessons are learned when a side helping of pain is delivered, especially with dangerous stuff.
I learned not to tailgate people whilst doing 70+ on the freeway. it cost me a $23,000+ vehicle and about 10% movement in a finger. And I count myself very lucky.
Hey if we are gonna talk about scars now....
Date: 2005-11-29 10:23 pm (UTC)upper lip, left side (barely visible): Back claws of cat. 10 stitches from a cosmetic sturgen.
two barely noticable burn marks on the outside bottom of BOTH hands. (one from a tail pipe, the other from a hot pizza pan. Can't remember which was which.)
there's a hole scar where they draw blood from on my left inner elbow.
th thin lin down the inner right thumb was from the time I landed HARD in the test lab and sliced open my hand on some junk that had been put in that room (and was later uncerimounious tossed in the trash bin)
AND my front tooth used to be chipped (the dentist ground it down about a year ago) from when I rear ended a car with my bike and put my head through the back windshield. Fortuantely, I was wearing a helmet. (whch had glass embedded in it all the way up to when I tossed it.)
Re: Hey if we are gonna talk about scars now....
Date: 2005-11-29 11:03 pm (UTC)*mental images of a fish with a scalpel*
Re: Hey if we are gonna talk about scars now....
Date: 2005-11-29 11:15 pm (UTC)The joke ended up being on my dad, who had to foot the $400 bill for that...
(Note: Dad divorced Mother when I was like 5 or something. He's not exactly a paragon of virtue.)
Re: Hey if we are gonna talk about scars now....
Date: 2005-12-08 04:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 10:18 pm (UTC)On day you and I shall meet, my friend. And we shall get completely and utterly shitfaced at a bar of your choosing.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 10:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 11:03 pm (UTC)Couch? Please, my spare room has a queen sized bed :P
no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 05:18 am (UTC)you realise that stuff is only drunk *outside* of Australia?
no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 11:46 pm (UTC)This will be my new favorite moto!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 07:41 am (UTC)*chews the scenery*
no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 08:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 04:18 pm (UTC)Amen, brother.
Inherent Danger In A Job? Adjust!
Date: 2005-12-01 10:45 am (UTC)Jumpin' Jeezus on a pogo stick! I went for about six months being the only driver (indie pizza place in Berkeley) willing to take runs west of San Pablo Ave. For all the machismo inherent in Brazilian culture --- I was the only white boy working there, the majority of drivers were Brazilian nationals --- they curled up and whined when given a tag going to, say, 7th & Allston or 5th & Virginia. All because of two robberies in the space of a month. This place averaged 180 deliveries a day, so that's not bad odds.
It's called "be prepared." I carried a 4-'D'-cell MagLite capable of taking out a windshield in one swing, and a canister of cop-quality pepper spray, both holstered on my belt. (I'm also a big guy, but I'm no threshing machine.) And yeah... There were a few tense situations, but it was obvious to the homey-Gs scoping me that I was not going to be a simple hit. (Also worth mentioning: my vehicle had no identifying marks, no roof signs or door-magnets. Our 'uniform' was a black T-shirt with the store logo silkscreened in dark orange on the back. Nobody would know I was "the pizza man" until I actually got out of the car, carrying the pizza bag.) Was I nervous? Well, duh: that's called 'survival instinct'. But I sucked it up, kept my eyes and ears open, and got the job done... And was usually tipped well by the customers, who knew their neighborhood sucked and appreciated getting the service. Both Domino's and Round Table had 'redlined' neighborhoods that we serviced.
The pathetic part? The only time(s) I had to offer to hurt someone while working wasn't on the west side or south side, but at fraternity houses up on Piedmont or Channing. ('Sonny, you're drunk, you're stupid, and you're from Orange County. Between you and your friends, yeah, you'll probably get my pizza... But it'll be hard to eat without any fuckin' teeth.')