Random Thoughts of the Day: 1/25/15

I haven’t done one of these “Random Thoughts” posts in a while, so I figured I’d throw some of my random thoughts together for you to ignore. If you have any random thoughts of your own, feel free to leave them in the comments. Remember, they don’t have to make sense. After all, they are random.

  • Is it just me, or is everyone else having trouble writing things here on WordPress? The past few times I’ve gone to write a post, I’ve had to copy and paste it from somewhere else because typing it is slow as hell. I’ll type a sentence and then have to wait for like two minutes before WordPress catches up and the whole sentence is on the screen. I already don’t have a lot of time to blog and this isn’t helping any.

Continue reading

RTotD: Dear Blank

I haven’t done a Random Thought of the Day post in a while. Today’s version will have a theme. I will be addressing certain places or things, giving my opinion on them. Let’s start off with one I think I’ve said before, but I can’t remember so I’m going to say it again.

By the way, I spend all day shipping packages all over the country so a lot of these have to do with city names. Continue reading

Things I Should Not Be Subjected To: My Coworkers

It’s been a long time since one of us has done one of these “Things I Should Not Be Subjected To” posts. I thought I’d bust out a post for this barely used category for you all.

At my job, there are two companies that work inside the building: the company that owns the building and the company that I work for (a small company of 15 people that does subcontract work for the other company). In my job, I rarely have to interact with the people from the other company. Every once in a while, I’ll have to drop things off to them, or vice-versa, but, for the most part, we stay separate.

The other company (which I’ll refer to as OC from now on) has some kind of fitness program set up for their employees. From what I’ve gathered, if the employees walk a certain distance each month, they get some sort of reward. Outside of the building, they have a course set up so that the employees taking part in this program can walk it during lunch and breaks. If they walk the whole course, they’ll know exactly how far they’ve walked.

So far, it sounds like a good setup. There’s just one flaw in it, though….the weather.

If it’s too cold, they won’t walk the course. If it’s raining or snowing, they won’t walk it. If it’s too hot, they won’t walk it. Basically, unless it’s nearly perfect weather outside, they won’t walk it.

Out of the 100 (or so) work days that have passed so far this year, they’ve walked outside for 10-20 of them.

Where do they walk, then? You guessed it. They walk right through my area.

My company leases the space we have from OC. In the entire warehouse, we have three aisles. That’s it. Three aisles. But instead of walking through one of their areas, these assholes walk through mine.

If they were nice about it (You know, saying ‘hi’ or even just smiling at me), I wouldn’t care. These douchetards, however, always look at me like I’m in their way; that my mere presence is an inconvenience to them.

Fuck you.

Don’t want to run into me? Walk down one of your own damn aisles, then.

If these bastards keep it up, I’m going to start eating beans for breakfast. That way, I can begin crop-dusting the aisles right before they walk down them.

Having Ears Is Sometimes A Bad Thing

Yesterday, at work, I was doing my normal thing. I was boxing up radios and shipping them off to idiotic car dealerships all over this nation. During most of that time, however, I was also contemplating cutting my ears off. For the last four or five hours I was there, they were being cruelly, and unusually, punished.

 

The tech room where they repair the radios is right next to the shipping room. Normally, the techs wear headphones when they test play the music. For some reason, yesterday they didn’t.

I can’t really blame the techs. They don’t choose the CDs that they use. They’re supplied by the company that manufactures the radios. So, I will be blaming those assholes because I had to put up with the most horrible music imaginable for over half a work day.

There were many things wrong with the music. One, it was a Celine Dion song. Two, it was the Titanic song. Three, IT WAS THE FUCKING CELINE DION TITANIC SONG FOR HOURS ON END!!!!!!!!!!!!

The only good part of it was that it was an instrumental version, which means I didn’t have to hear her voice. Unfortunately, it was a weird instrumental version. It didn’t sound like any instrument I had ever heard before. It sounded like a violin crossed with bagpipes.

It was 33 grams of torture. I might have to start taking ear plugs into work with me from now on….

They Don’t Like Me

I know I haven’t been on here very much lately, but I have a good excuse: I think the machines are out to get me.

For the past few weeks, it seems like everything that has wiring in it has either worked against me, or broken down. In the case of the radios I deal with at work every day, it’s both.

First, it was the shit covered radio. As an update, I will tell you that the radio was sent back to them, but only after my boss was unable to get ahold of the dealership’s parts manager on the phone.

(Mini Rant: I have no idea why they bothered to call the parts manager. I’m not sure what they thought he, or she, could possibly say that would make it acceptable to receive a radio covered in animal shit.)

Second, my car died. Last week, when the temperature around here dropped down into the negatives, I went outside to start it and it was dead. I thought it was just the extreme cold that was causing it to not start because it started right up when I jumped it. Nope. The battery was screwed. It wouldn’t hold a charge. It then took two attempts to get a battery that actually worked. Oy vey.

Third, my computer crashed. Windows apparently had a sudden disagreement with it. Personally, I think it’s because I have a picture of Baby E as my wallpaper and Windows got jealous. It knows it will never reach that level of perfection.

Twindaddy was able to get my computer working again (I knew having him for a brother would pay off eventually), which is a good thing because typing on a laptop is a pain in the ass. I’m not the best typist in the world to begin with, so shrinking the keyboard doesn’t do me any favors. Granted, it’s better than nothing, but I’d still much rather be doing my posting from my PC.

Finally, one of the joysticks on my Xbox controller is starting to stick. I know that’s nothing major, but it’s still an annoyance that goes towards my “the machines hate me” theory.

I’m not sure what I did to the machines to make them start targeting me. Maybe they know that I’m a fan of the Terminator movies, which always end with the machines losing. Or maybe the machines are just pissed because they know I’m so much cooler than they are. Perhaps it’s something else altogether. Whatever the case is, it needs to stop. It’s getting old.

Seriously???

I’m a fairly laid back guy. It usually takes a lot to get me angry. Most of the time, the things that piss me off are things that happen to me at work. This is another one of those times.

For those of you who don’t already know, my company repairs factory installed car stereos that are still under warranty from the car manufacturer. When I first get to work, my job is to receive all of the radios shipped to us, enter them into the computer, and then give the radios to our techs.

Yesterday, one of the radios we were sent elicited the following email. This is the actual email that was sent by my team lead to our boss. I’ve changed the names and removed something that could be used to identify the company I work for, but, other than that, this is his email.

Boss,

Today we received a (car company) unit that is literally covered in feces. It is the most awful smell I can think of. Should I reject the unit back to the dealer? Or just receive it and send it directly to scrap?

 It appears that there is no media inside but either way I think it should stay there if there is. Lol. I put the unit in a bag and taped every inch of it to seal in the disgusting-ness.

Thank you,

Team Lead

Right now I’m trying to decide what pisses me off more: That a car dealership would send us a radio covered in some kind of animal shit, or that we have to ask for permission before rejecting a radio covered in animal shit.

WTF???

If I ran a car dealership, and a customer brought in a car filled with animal shit, I’d tell them to where to stick that car. I certainly wouldn’t make my mechanics touch it any way. And, if I was the mechanic, and my boss told me to get that radio covered in animal shit out of the car, I’d tell him to get it his damn self because I’m not touching it.

I’m wondering what kind of asshole lets his car get covered in animal shit in the first place. From the looks of it, it was either rat or ferret shit (Granted, I’m no expert in animal shit. So, I’m going with what my team lead said it looked like). The car was less than two years old, so I have a hard time seeing how it was covered in that much shit.

Regardless, it reinforces my belief that people suck…..

Letter To Strangers

Dear people I haven’t met,

This might be a little hard for you to understand, but just because I’m wearing a football shirt (whether Ohio State or Carolina Panthers), it doesn’t mean I want you to come up and talk to me about it. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy talking about football. I just like to do it with family or friends, not random assholes that happen to be in my vicinity. I know that may sound harsh, especially since I try to be nice to everyone I meet (as I was raised), but there is a reason for me saying that.

Example 1: Today, at work, I was in the middle of a project. Someone who works for the other company in the building, who I had never seen before, comes walking by me. After seeing my shirt (A red t-shirt that says “Ohio State Buckeyes football” on it), he stops.

“Is Ohio State going to beat Michigan State in the Big 10 championship game on Saturday,” he asks.

I wanted to say something sarcastic, something like, “I must be wearing my fortune teller clothes today, otherwise how could you have known that I can predict the future?” I held my tongue, though, because, once again, I was raised to be nice. Also, I was at work and I didn’t want to risk getting in trouble.

So, I played nice and gave him the short version of my opinion on the game. I didn’t want to spend too much time on it because I had to get my work done. When I was done, he said a few things and I gave him the “I’m not paying attention, but good point” head nod. Thankfully, he finally took the hint as he walked away afterwards.

Less than a minute later is when I started calling him an asshole. Because he interrupted me, I lost track of what I had been doing and I now had to start my project over from the beginning. It took me 25 minutes to finish up something that would’ve only taken 5 more minutes had he just kept his mouth shut.

Example 2: In January of 2011, Mrs. Revis and I were shopping. Once again, I was wearing Ohio State gear, only this time, it was a jersey. We weren’t shopping for anything in particular, just kind of walking around when I heard someone say, “Hey.”

Since I didn’t recognize the voice, I kept walking. Then, they said, “Hey, Buckeye.”

With a sigh, I turned around and asked the guy what was up. He puts on a shit-eating grin and asks, “What does Ohio State’s football team have in common with marijuana?”

I didn’t care what his answer was going to be, so I simply played along and asked, “What?”

“They both get smoked in bowls.”

I will admit that it was a clever joke. During Jim Tressell’s run at Ohio State, with the exception of the year they won the National Championship, his teams didn’t do very good in bowl games.

However, that year (which turned out to be his last season because of the tattoo scandal), a year that they said a Big 10 school couldn’t beat an SEC team, my Buckeyes beat Arkansas in a BCS game.

So, in response to his joke, I said as I walked away, “Tell that to Arkansas.”

Either this guy was a Razorback fan (making him stupid for even bringing it up), or he was mentally unstable, because he went nuts when I said that. He started cursing and throwing a hissy fit in the middle of the store. Mrs. Revis and I got the hell out of there as quickly as we could because we didn’t want to end up on the news.

In conclusion, don’t assume that just because I like football that I’m willing to talk to anyone, at anytime, about it. If you feel that you must talk to me about it, at least ask if I have time to talk about it first. I might be in the middle of something. I could be working, or trying to have some family time. Or maybe I just won’t be in the mood to be hounded by weird strangers who assume I care what they think about football.