All Stuff I Hate

What a terrible invention. I could go on several different rants all related to speaker phone.

Today I would like to taper down the list to one.

Like most of America I work in an office, surrounded by a cubicle that’s just too short to hide my head, but tall enough to make me terribly claustrophobic.

You’ve seen it before, it’s a huge room filled with these cubed contraptions, that I swear if you took an aerial shot, would look like a lab-mouse maze.  The cruel part is there is no cheese, its missing. So everyone just sits in their corners. On occasion you can hear a whimper, but don’t worry its just the last piece of Linda’s soul dying.

Speaker phone has no place here.

None of us have doors sir, and if we did we have no ceiling to keep your bellowing voice away from our ears. All we’ve been trained to handle is the clicking and clacking of keys, and the mumble of the person next to us on the phone speaking quietly into the receiver.

It starts with a dial tone, and you know.. this dude is going to subject us to his entire phone call out loud.

Is this a clever way to add several dozen other people as witnesses? do you really foresee whatever conversation you have to go so terribly that you want a legion of office workers to testify on your behalf?  Do you see yourself in municipal court with a state issued lawyer, calling Susie from accounting to the stand?

Oh but I have a plan.  When this telephonic abuser makes his next phone call, I’m going to the cube next to his and start a conversation about film with the inhabitant inside. In this conversation I will loudly begin quoting lines from the movie “Falling Down” starring Michael Douglas (it’s your fault for not seeing it man, not mine get Netflix like the rest of the world)  The person on the receiving end of the phone call will be so mortified with the entry level corporate violence that they will be forced to hang up.

The man will have no choice but calling back the person properly.

Thus bad habits are broken and new habits are formed.

Court is adjourned

After a very long hiatus I am back. I hate hiatus’s (hiatuses, hiatie?, I hate pluralizing words as well) I’m getting sidetracked, point is I’m back.

I hate the awkward period between shaking someones hand in form of first introductions, and realizing that they have a cold.

On one hand you don’t want to be rude; this is however, your very first impression, but on the other hand this person has a sneeze holstered ready to blow at any moment. His or Her hands are swaying at their sides waiting anxiously for that moment when old faithful, decides its going to let loose. The difference between and an ancient geyser and a 23 year old males nose, is that said nose is not on a time schedule, is not at all worried if you’re in its cross-hairs.

We always have an idea that someone has a cold, their voice sounds weak as if trying to avoid talking much in fear of a coughing fit. The stupid part is that the sick one always tries restraining the bio-hazard hand gesture and we, the ones so desperate to be liked and accepted, stretch our hands with absolutely no sense of self preservation. We walk into the line of fire, half hoping we won’t get burned but we know.

In the end what better way to get to know somebody than to share a bowl of campbells, and split a 7-up.

As if the title doesn’t say enough…

We all get excited when our favorite sporting team is winning, and we all get upset when the are doing pitifully. I’m not a huge sports fan, but I like basketball and I try to watch as much as possible.

This all being said, I think we can all agree when we say the men on the screen can not hear a thing you are yelling at them. Yes. yes. yes. Your insight is extraordinary, and you’re absolutely right the ref “needs to call those man!” but come on… At this point you are no longer talking to yourself (which should cause at least a slight amount of worry) you are screaming at no one.. Which could only leave yourself… You are screaming at yourself… How is this not the most ridiculous thing in the world?

Let me tell you my favorite scenario.

Team A gets a quick rebound suddenly man on couch lets out an incoherent gasp of some sort. This is his team. The man goes from comfortably sitting back holding his coke (insert drink of choice, for those subject to something stronger) He slowly leans forward, drink now resting on the coffee tables inches from the coaster. The excitement caused him to not care about the ring, the ring is not important. Player A passes to B but B can go nowhere. Man on the couch is sweating now, clenching his fists as hard as his teeth. Player B fakes a pass, and shoots.  “Uuuuooohh-” but his grunt is cut short as the ball soars through the air. His face in panic as it starts coming down. Swish. For Three points. Man now standing is shouting every vowel all in one breath… Now repeat this process at least 67 more times and you have an entire basketball game.

The way I see it, this causes WAY to much anxiety, and should not be used lightly by those at risk for heart disease. This is just plain dangerous.

Who was the genius that created this gem?

Caps lock may in fact be the largest downfall of the keyboard. I’ll tell you why…

Because of caps lock; excitement, anger, sadness, eagerness, neurotic behaviour all become a giant mix of guessing.

Don’t you hate when you get a text from a friend and after several moments of rapid fire texting back in forth, your eyes are stunned by the group of capital letters staring right at you?

Friend “wat r u doin l8r”  (texting at its finest)

Me: “I am going to go Brian’s house. Would you like to come?” (a man who clearly needs text education)

Friend: “TO BRIAN’S?”

What do I do here? Obviously a great deal of emotion went into writing that reply, but can anyone decipher at what capacity?

I have simple solution that works from time to time. It may seem extreme, but if it works, than I guarantee that this text situation will be under control.

When you are in this very awkward situation simply hit your caps lock button and reply.

WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP YELLING AT ME?

This will lead to several moments of silence followed by inquisitive text messages that will eventually lead to the disappearance of caps lock.

It’s a long journey I know, but someone has to take it.

On a completely unrelated note:

As some saw on my prior post.  I posed a bit of a challenge to my girlfriend. I think she may have accepted. Despite that fact I must say that she is actually pretty freaking cool, (Yes I used the word freaking because the other word is entirely to harsh and I really wanted to to include a word ending in -ing. Because the words running or singing or playing would not apply or make any sort of sense whatsoever, I opted for the word with no meaning ‘freaking’.) and I’m fortunate she hasn’t yet realized I’m an idiot.  I realize this being a blog about things I hate, me talking about how wonderful my girlfriend is, would be against its whole purpose.

get over it.

-chris

I don’t even know where to start.

Anyway I look at this I’m pretty much just calling myself a hypocrite.

I love the idea of hating Social Media, but I am torn in half because in reality I love it so much. I can’t think of how I would go a week without updating my Facebook account, or how I could take a month or two off from blogging. This being said I am a pitiful shell of a man who is about to ramble about something he has no business rambling about.

I envy my friends who delete their Facebooks, or God forbid, never had one in the first place. How on earth are the going to know what I’m doing 7 times a day? How will they know that I’m at home bored reading a book? Or Dear Lord…. How are they ever going to know that I had a bad day at work?  A phone call you say? You’re crazy… If you aren’t going to write on my wall or tweet at me, at least text me…. What you don’t text?? Well I’m sorry if you’re not my FB buddy or can’t text my mobile device clever ( omg, lol, lmao, :) :/….. you know the drill) then you and I just can’t be friends.

I’d like to start my own Social Networking site and call it FaceSpaceTweetTumb. Oh yeah that already exists… It’s called the Internet.

There really is no conclusion here. I may love the idea of hating Social Forums with every ounce of strength in my body, but it still doesn’t negate the fact that I’m sitting in front of my computer with, facebook, twitter, myspace, and tumblr all open.

I think I can summarize this by saying…. I suck.

The frequency of my blog posts have less to do with the fact that I suddenly have stumbled into a whirlwind of inspiration in the things that leave me with distaste, but more that I feel compelled to try to blog more than my girlfriend does. How I have made this a competition is beyond me, seeing as I am not competitive by nature (over competitiveness also falls as a hate). So you can thank her for yet another view into my idiosyncratic behaviours.*

* (I don’t hate her by the way… I’m quite fond of her)

Chris

You know what I’m talking about. That guy, usually a bigger man wearing a button down short sleeve shirt that doesn’t quite fit right. Often times it’s a red shirt with white offsets, and of course correctly matched with Khaki shorts that are just a few inches short of the knee. Usually he’s wearing running shoes with some sort of tube sock (on rare, but fantastic occasion’s the sandals with said socks.)

This person, this definer of fashion, this jolly slightly balding gentleman absolutely loves physical contact in a conversation.

Now please don’t get me wrong.

Whenever ANY person uses excessive physical touch in a common talk I get irritated; However, often times this man, well there are more than one, this group of people if you will, fall culprit to the elbow and shoulder grabbing.

I think this is used as an insurance that their audience won’t leave in the midst of their rant.

Man: “and the darnedest thing happened! He forgot to bring my silverware.”
Me: (as I start retreating slowly) “Oh… yeah… that’s really funn-

Just then I am stopped mid sentence by the shoulder grab.

Man: “Oh don’t I know it! and do you know what else…..?”


Two and half hours later, and 400 shoulder and elbow grabs deep, you’re both physically and mentally done.

Never fear I have a solution.

When you see this man that I accurately describe in full detail, same rules apply for a woman by the way.

Run.
Just Run.


You’re welcome. Trust me


Hate post: 006

When I go to a restaurant, or any other place of personal interaction with a person in a clerk to customer situation, I like to be polite and thank the person for their service. I for one have worked customer service a very long time and appreciate those nice guests who make everything a little easier. That being said my entire mood and demeanor shifts to the polar opposite side of the fast food spectrum when a clearly mandated response to my gratefulness is reciprocated.

“My Pleasure.”

Besides the fact that it just sounds annoying, out of place, and over all irritating. This is not anyone’s pleasure. At all. I have never spoken to a person who told me that they’re greatest pleasure in life is to serve fast food to pushy people who really want their chicken.

Whoever thought this phrase as polite or correct, is to put bluntly, dumb. Can we please go back to You’re welcome?

I hate that every piece of technology I own that reads time is different from the other.

I no longer know what time it is. At the moment My computer and my phone are 7 minutes apart, but despite my attempt to sync them they eventually drift to the same distance. My cable box is 3 minutes off from my computer. My ipod (which is an apple product of course) is different from my lap top, (which is also an apple product). Some would say to trust the time that is most repetitious in all of these items. Well here lies the problem, none of them match.

So when I leave my work thinking it’s a certain time only to look at my phone and find another time, but suddenly stopped by my car which reads yet a different time, you can imagine my confusion.

I now allow myself an hour window to arrive at places. My conversations have resulted to, “Yeah man, I’ll be there somewhere between the hours of four and five.”

Is this common with everyone, or is the universe playing some sort of practical joke on me.

Hate post:004

When I go in to my favorite diner or restaurant I demand certain basic amenities, Silverware, Salt and Pepper and also a selection of various sweeteners displayed in a very convenient holder (I know that these have a name, all you restaurant employees can fill me in on this later.)

My problem with this holder is not its design or purpose, because I am a fan of both. My complaint begins when people feel the need to stuff those things to the furthest limit it can take. The poor piece of plastic is beyond its capacity yet more packets of sweetness are put in it.

I, the unexpecting customer, proceed to reach for my favorite raw sugar. I struggle momentarily but the pressure inside of this little plastic contraption makes it difficult to release a packet. With a little force I manage to set one free…along with the 24 other ones that have flown across the table.

All of this to say, don’t do that anymore…. please..