Now, SHE could use some benzos...

This weekend I had the pleasure of donating blood at a local drive. They had trailors set up in the parking lot where the techs were working, and a registration table set up inside the lobby of the establishment who was hosting the blood drive.

Flash forward to me sitting in the lovely recliner in the trailor, as I'm being drained of the red stuff. A middle-aged woman starts her way up the stairs of the trailor and opens the door. A few words are exchanged between her and the technician, who pleasantly told her she needed to register and obtain the paperwork in the lobby first.

You would NOT believe the tantrum she threw. Out of nowhere, I hear SCREAMING! She was pissed because she didn't know where to go. "You guys really need to get your act together! I don't know where to go! Why don't you put some signs out! This is RIDICULOUS!"

Granted, I didn't know where to go when I pulled up in the parking lot either. But wouldn't common sense tell you to go inside of the shop who is sponsoring the event, and, I dunno...maybe ASK someone? Just sayin'.

I hope she got the technician she bitched at. HELLO! NEVER scream at the person who is about to stick you with a needle...

These people...what has happened in their lives that they have to be so angry at the world? Chillax, people.

WTF

Have you ever noticed how tampon boxes report their absorbency?

The side of the box has the levels of absorption listed, but what gets me is how they are classified. For example, "Regular" is defined as 6-9g of fluid. What normal person knows how many grams of flow they have? I realize they need to define this in some measurable, quantifiable way, but is it really necessary to put it on the box? I don't stand there in the drug store and go, "Yeah, let's see...I shed 6-9grams of endometrial lining. That's about right!"

But then I got to thinking about my experiences in dealing with the public, and the ridiculous things that people will complain about. Some idiot probably called and complained that she bought the "Super" and it wasn't enough, or whatever. (Hi, do you not know when you're leaking?) So now, when you have an incident due to the failure of your feminine products, you'd better know your facts (in grams) before you go calling and blaming Tampon, Inc!

Not So "Daily"

Just want to say sorry to the few readers that I have, for not posting quite that often. Feeling a little blah lately, and uninspired. I promise I will try to write more frequently in the coming weeks...

You're a Dick - Here's Your Meal, For Free

We had carry-out for dinner tonight at one of our favorite Italian restaurants. The pickup area was empty with the exception of a man and his son on the bench. I proceeded to check in with our name, pay the bill, and the young woman told me it would be out in a few minutes. Shortly after, the man approached the counter and acted like a complete jerk to the girl, sarcastically asking if toasted raviolis actually take THIS long to cook, etc...

She politely went to check on his order and apologized. When she came back, she had his food in hand and the manager by her side, who comped a large portion of his carryout bill.

I sat there thinking to myself a number of things: a) I'm glad I gave her a tip; b) There are much nicer ways of inquiring about the wait time of your food; and c) Our culture has taught us that we are rewarded for acting like a shmuck. Whine and scream, be a little bit more pushy than you need to be, and people give you something to shut you up.