3.25.2009
3.18.2009
On "THE LIST"
Today I received a message from one Sergeant First Class Richardson. I am leery of some of these messages because usually they are spam telling me I could get several million dollars mailed to me from soldiers who discovered a stockpile of money in Iraq. Apparently these soldiers don't have family members, or they would rather place their trust in a complete stranger through email.
This message was a little different--
Not long after that, I received another message:
And not long after that...
It's all fun and games if it's on company email address, not so much if you're sending it to "hotbootykiss@yahoo.com." This went to my personal email address, by the way (and no, I am not "hotbootykiss"). I very vaguely remember giving my email address out to someone when I was in the Army, but how this guy got it is beyond me. To quote someone from another event, all I have to say is, "please kindly remove me from this listserve."
This message was a little different--
Good afternoon,
This is SFC Richardson, I am a Career Counselor with the Army Reserves,
the reason for this email is due to your current or past interest in
the
Army Reserves.
Shouls you still have questions or need more detail informaion about
current vacancies, I can provide you with all vacancies across the
states for your current MOS and your current grade or next grade.
I can also provide you with current vacancies in the IMA Nation Wide.
Please email me or call me on my cellphone and we can set an
appointment. If you prefer we may conduct all transaction through
emails, as well.
Thank you ahead for allowing me an opportunity to assist!
Respectfully,
Not long after that, I received another message:
Richardson, SFC USAR ARRTD would like to recall the
message, "Army Reserves (UNCLASSIFIED)".
And not long after that...
SFC Richardson,
The email you sent out is an invasion of personal privacy. You made visible the personal email addresses of every single IRR soldier on your contact list (1377 total).
I am requesting that you remove my name from your list, and I will be placing a complaint with the Human Resource Command in St Louis regarding this matter.
I have included everyone your original email went out to in the B.C.C. line the way you should have in the first place if you knew anything about privacy and information assurance (which I am sure is still mandatory training in every branch of the military). It would also be in your best interest to run a spell check when you send out your SPAM announcements.
It's all fun and games if it's on company email address, not so much if you're sending it to "hotbootykiss@yahoo.com." This went to my personal email address, by the way (and no, I am not "hotbootykiss"). I very vaguely remember giving my email address out to someone when I was in the Army, but how this guy got it is beyond me. To quote someone from another event, all I have to say is, "please kindly remove me from this listserve."
3.17.2009
Do you want cheese and crackers with that?
This morning there was some train drama. One train ahead of ours malfunctioned and this meant that ours was going to be packed by all of the stragglers from the offloaded train ahead of us. It meant a slight delay, but that was not really a big deal. You have to be patient when you take public transportation. When you take the train, you must do so with the understanding that any number of events that have absolutely nothing to do with you can result in being late for work. You also have to accept the smells, sights, loud headphones, excessively personal or boring cell phone conversations as well as the occasional personal space invasion.
Our train was a little crowded, but humming along until we reached Dupont Circle. This is three stations from my stop, where I transfer to the train that takes me directly to work. This is close to the point where I start closing my book and organizing my crap so I’m ready to hop up and exit in a quick and orderly fashion. It was at this stop when the doors closed and the train operator announced that the people in the third car would have to try to shut one of the doors. After years of riding metro I can tell you that that’s usually not a good sign. The doors fail if people try to hold them open or mess with them in any way. I appreciate the operator giving it the ol’ college try (and incorporating teamwork into the process), but in the end, we ended up getting off of the train and crowding up the platform.
In addition to this, people were still coming down the escalator from the upstairs entrance. It was like water flowing in a toilet that’s already plugged up and filled to the brim. Another train came by, tooting, and of course, it was empty. I don’t know why metro does this. Empty trains with LED signs saying “No passengers” have come through after a malfunction more times than I care to remember. You stand there knowing that everyone beside you is thinking, “WTF metro? What gives?”
Finally another train came, and then another. People were still spilling down the steps from upstairs. One guy in front of me—a tall wall of a man saw these people and cried “Stop coming down! There’s no room!” There was room. It wasn’t comfortable, but there was enough space to pack it in a little more. He continued his pleas to no avail.
When he brought it up to the metro employee trying to control the flow, she snapped. “What can I do, sir, I’m just one person!” Yes, she said sir, but it was not said in the respectful manner, but with a tone of contempt--Go fuck yourself, SIR.
“Tell them to stop coming down!” he whined.
The fourth train pulled in and people swarmed the entrances. I wasn’t going to make this one unless I moved. Sir-Whines-A-Lot was standing off to the side, complaining that the people coming down the stairs could bypass those of us waiting since the bottom of the stairs lined up almost perfectly with the train doors.
So I moved.
The first car was packed, but the people inside were far more jovial and welcoming than Whine Man. I wedged myself in, prayed for the doors to close and just like that, we were gone.
Our train was a little crowded, but humming along until we reached Dupont Circle. This is three stations from my stop, where I transfer to the train that takes me directly to work. This is close to the point where I start closing my book and organizing my crap so I’m ready to hop up and exit in a quick and orderly fashion. It was at this stop when the doors closed and the train operator announced that the people in the third car would have to try to shut one of the doors. After years of riding metro I can tell you that that’s usually not a good sign. The doors fail if people try to hold them open or mess with them in any way. I appreciate the operator giving it the ol’ college try (and incorporating teamwork into the process), but in the end, we ended up getting off of the train and crowding up the platform.
In addition to this, people were still coming down the escalator from the upstairs entrance. It was like water flowing in a toilet that’s already plugged up and filled to the brim. Another train came by, tooting, and of course, it was empty. I don’t know why metro does this. Empty trains with LED signs saying “No passengers” have come through after a malfunction more times than I care to remember. You stand there knowing that everyone beside you is thinking, “WTF metro? What gives?”
Finally another train came, and then another. People were still spilling down the steps from upstairs. One guy in front of me—a tall wall of a man saw these people and cried “Stop coming down! There’s no room!” There was room. It wasn’t comfortable, but there was enough space to pack it in a little more. He continued his pleas to no avail.
When he brought it up to the metro employee trying to control the flow, she snapped. “What can I do, sir, I’m just one person!” Yes, she said sir, but it was not said in the respectful manner, but with a tone of contempt--Go fuck yourself, SIR.
“Tell them to stop coming down!” he whined.
The fourth train pulled in and people swarmed the entrances. I wasn’t going to make this one unless I moved. Sir-Whines-A-Lot was standing off to the side, complaining that the people coming down the stairs could bypass those of us waiting since the bottom of the stairs lined up almost perfectly with the train doors.
So I moved.
The first car was packed, but the people inside were far more jovial and welcoming than Whine Man. I wedged myself in, prayed for the doors to close and just like that, we were gone.
3.13.2009
Lament
Remember how I posted about feeling like I just had to have something? No? Okay, well I'm too lazy to find the entry, so trust me. I can be compulsive sometimes. A little irrational about things, even. If I want something, I feel as if I will just die if I don't get it. I will spend a day hand-wringing from the suspense of not knowing if the object of my desire will wind up in my hot little hands in the end. Sometimes I do get it, and it's a disappointment (remember the saga of the boots? No? Well look it up, I'm feeling lazy and not in the mood to link it right now). Sometimes I get it and it's everything I had hoped for and more. Sometimes if I don't get it, I get over it and move on. Then there are the other times.
Yes, I'm talking about the times when I want something, don't get it, and it haunts me for days, weeks or years. Price is not the object, it's that this is the one that got away. If only, you think. I never die when I don't get these things, but man I hate life for awhile. The last time this happened, it was when I wanted to buy a portrait of Heffer.
I know, I know. "Who?"
If you didn't watch the show Rocko's Modern Life, chances are, you don't know and you don't care about Heffer. This was the sidekick friend to the show's main character (Rocko) who serves as the greedy, yet loveable oaf. He's the precursor to Patrick from Spongebob. He's a gluttonous, childlike cow raised by wolves. It's funny--please just trust me on this.
Well on my list of blogs, I have linked to the journal of the show's creator (Joe Murray). Recently he's been auctioning off animation cels from the show and eventually he put up a piece of original art--a 5X7 framed painting of Heffer. I intended to bid on something eventually, but when this came up, I got that feeling in my gut. I HAD TO HAVE IT. The moment that feeling comes along, all rational thought is overruled.
"Can you bid on this?" I asked my husband after deciding I HAD TO HAVE IT. I used to be an eBay junkie and I'd like to say I stopped bidding because I calmed down and broke the addiction, but the truth is, I can't remember the original email address I used when I signed up for the account. I have a yahoo address I've been using forever, but I signed onto eBay using an old account from an internet service provider that I don't use anymore (*cough*Roadrunner*cough*). Now that I can't figure that out, I stopped bidding because I'm too lazy and impatient to log in and update my profile information. Here's a nice thing about being being married--my husband knows his account information so he can bid on my behalf. It's like the low rent version of rich people getting someone else to make their bids at Sotheby's.
Anyway, I kept the end date in my head. There was one bidder already, but if my husband swooped in, I had a chance. The bidding was set to end right around the time my daughter's bedtime, so if all worked out as planned, he would win the auction and I would be tucking in our daughter. Then we could go collapse on the couch with our glasses of Champagne, celebrating our purchase of the Heffer painting.
"The auction ends soon!" I reminded my husband, just before heading up from the basement. He was multitasking, with his iPhone in one hand and the game controller in the other.
"I won't forget; I've got it." he replied, urging me to go upstairs. Nothing makes you feel better than knowing someone's got your back. I went upstairs and finished putting our daughter to bed. About a minute until the end time, I texted my husband (yes, he was two floors down, don't judge). Then I went downstairs for confirmation. His face very clearly told me that he indeed did forget, and did not have it at all.
And what happens when that happens? I don't know about you, but I get pissed (hey, I'm not proud). There was a misunderstanding. Apparently he did not get that this was a one of a kind thing--there would not be another original Heffer painting just like the one we didn't win. There wouldn't be another one simply because that WAS the one. Really it's my fault. I should have done my own dirty work and if I had lost fairly, at least I knew I tried. I didn't try.
What I did do was get in the car and drive across the street for a little retail therapy. (hey, I'm not proud) I didn't find any Heffer paintings, but I calmed down.
My husband emailed the seller (Mr. Murray), but nothing came out of it. The next part was killing off the hope that maybe my husband was playing a little joke with the intent to surprise me later on. When there was a lack of mysterious packages in the mail and the Heffer painting failed to materialize for Valentine's Day, I gave up.
I realize the final step is getting over it and moving on. I considered removing the link to Joe Murray's journal. After every auction, he posts a photo of the item with the announcement "SOLD!!!" in the title. I can't even bear to look. In fact, I can't even go there to see what else he's put up for sale, if anything. If I see something and decide I HAVE TO HAVE IT, then if I don't get it, I really might die this time. Sometimes it's just better not to look in the first place.
Yes, I'm talking about the times when I want something, don't get it, and it haunts me for days, weeks or years. Price is not the object, it's that this is the one that got away. If only, you think. I never die when I don't get these things, but man I hate life for awhile. The last time this happened, it was when I wanted to buy a portrait of Heffer.
I know, I know. "Who?"
If you didn't watch the show Rocko's Modern Life, chances are, you don't know and you don't care about Heffer. This was the sidekick friend to the show's main character (Rocko) who serves as the greedy, yet loveable oaf. He's the precursor to Patrick from Spongebob. He's a gluttonous, childlike cow raised by wolves. It's funny--please just trust me on this.
Well on my list of blogs, I have linked to the journal of the show's creator (Joe Murray). Recently he's been auctioning off animation cels from the show and eventually he put up a piece of original art--a 5X7 framed painting of Heffer. I intended to bid on something eventually, but when this came up, I got that feeling in my gut. I HAD TO HAVE IT. The moment that feeling comes along, all rational thought is overruled.
"Can you bid on this?" I asked my husband after deciding I HAD TO HAVE IT. I used to be an eBay junkie and I'd like to say I stopped bidding because I calmed down and broke the addiction, but the truth is, I can't remember the original email address I used when I signed up for the account. I have a yahoo address I've been using forever, but I signed onto eBay using an old account from an internet service provider that I don't use anymore (*cough*Roadrunner*cough*). Now that I can't figure that out, I stopped bidding because I'm too lazy and impatient to log in and update my profile information. Here's a nice thing about being being married--my husband knows his account information so he can bid on my behalf. It's like the low rent version of rich people getting someone else to make their bids at Sotheby's.
Anyway, I kept the end date in my head. There was one bidder already, but if my husband swooped in, I had a chance. The bidding was set to end right around the time my daughter's bedtime, so if all worked out as planned, he would win the auction and I would be tucking in our daughter. Then we could go collapse on the couch with our glasses of Champagne, celebrating our purchase of the Heffer painting.
"The auction ends soon!" I reminded my husband, just before heading up from the basement. He was multitasking, with his iPhone in one hand and the game controller in the other.
"I won't forget; I've got it." he replied, urging me to go upstairs. Nothing makes you feel better than knowing someone's got your back. I went upstairs and finished putting our daughter to bed. About a minute until the end time, I texted my husband (yes, he was two floors down, don't judge). Then I went downstairs for confirmation. His face very clearly told me that he indeed did forget, and did not have it at all.
And what happens when that happens? I don't know about you, but I get pissed (hey, I'm not proud). There was a misunderstanding. Apparently he did not get that this was a one of a kind thing--there would not be another original Heffer painting just like the one we didn't win. There wouldn't be another one simply because that WAS the one. Really it's my fault. I should have done my own dirty work and if I had lost fairly, at least I knew I tried. I didn't try.
What I did do was get in the car and drive across the street for a little retail therapy. (hey, I'm not proud) I didn't find any Heffer paintings, but I calmed down.
My husband emailed the seller (Mr. Murray), but nothing came out of it. The next part was killing off the hope that maybe my husband was playing a little joke with the intent to surprise me later on. When there was a lack of mysterious packages in the mail and the Heffer painting failed to materialize for Valentine's Day, I gave up.
I realize the final step is getting over it and moving on. I considered removing the link to Joe Murray's journal. After every auction, he posts a photo of the item with the announcement "SOLD!!!" in the title. I can't even bear to look. In fact, I can't even go there to see what else he's put up for sale, if anything. If I see something and decide I HAVE TO HAVE IT, then if I don't get it, I really might die this time. Sometimes it's just better not to look in the first place.
3.11.2009
Late to the Party
After the day of Corporate Twitter, someone apparently received the emails the following morning and felt the need to send this:
"please stop sending emails saying stop sending emails!"
This morning the same person sent this:
All,
Regarding the email incident on Friday, March 6, I truly didn't knowthe issue was ended on the day before because I wasn't here Thursday. It is my fault I didn't check the time frame before I sent out the email so I seriously apologize for that. However, as you see the contents of the email was never intended to offend or harm anyone where it was just to stop the chain. So I really appreciate if you stop sending me vicious emails containing offensive words. Thank you so much.
I'll admit that I was a little pleased that his late response elicited a few nastygrams (funny how those people knew not to "Reply All" when sending out their death threats) but why in the world did he feel compelled to mention the "email incident on Friday, March 6?" Is that really helping things?
It only spurred someone (one of those types who just HAS to get in the last word, no doubt) else to write this:
I am replying to all on purpose. Please stop replying to all!! This email has taken on the life of a virus and has consumed so many man hours with just people deleting replies from their in boxes that there needs to be a charge number for it.
Apparently there are far too many computer challenge people in this company. It is a very simple concept. If you want to reply to the sender, don't push the "Reply to All" button; use the "Reply" button.
Let's put this email to rest. Do not reply to this email!
And with that, this horse is ready for the glue factory.
"please stop sending emails saying stop sending emails!"
This morning the same person sent this:
All,
Regarding the email incident on Friday, March 6, I truly didn't knowthe issue was ended on the day before because I wasn't here Thursday. It is my fault I didn't check the time frame before I sent out the email so I seriously apologize for that. However, as you see the contents of the email was never intended to offend or harm anyone where it was just to stop the chain. So I really appreciate if you stop sending me vicious emails containing offensive words. Thank you so much.
I'll admit that I was a little pleased that his late response elicited a few nastygrams (funny how those people knew not to "Reply All" when sending out their death threats) but why in the world did he feel compelled to mention the "email incident on Friday, March 6?" Is that really helping things?
It only spurred someone (one of those types who just HAS to get in the last word, no doubt) else to write this:
I am replying to all on purpose. Please stop replying to all!! This email has taken on the life of a virus and has consumed so many man hours with just people deleting replies from their in boxes that there needs to be a charge number for it.
Apparently there are far too many computer challenge people in this company. It is a very simple concept. If you want to reply to the sender, don't push the "Reply to All" button; use the "Reply" button.
Let's put this email to rest. Do not reply to this email!
And with that, this horse is ready for the glue factory.
Broke, Fabulous and Gross
Let me preface this by saying I'm cheap. I will pay a little extra for the things I like but I resent
articles like this one. First they lure you in with the title (Get Gorgeous in 4 weeks!) without mentioning that it will cost no less than $811.50 to do so.
I guess the solution would then be saving a buck on your dry cleaning and laundry detergent by wearing the same dirty clothes throughout the week.
articles like this one. First they lure you in with the title (Get Gorgeous in 4 weeks!) without mentioning that it will cost no less than $811.50 to do so.
I guess the solution would then be saving a buck on your dry cleaning and laundry detergent by wearing the same dirty clothes throughout the week.
Why do people say this?
"When God closes a door, He opens a window."
First of all--probably not. Have you ever closed a door and seen a window open in response? I've opened a window and the change in air pressure caused a door to slam, but it usually doesn't happen the other way around.
Also--how is this encouraging? Unless the window is on the first floor or it opens to a fire escape, the outlook doesn't look so hot. When people are exiting through windows it's usually due to something very, very bad. Give me another door (hopefully it's not the closet).
First of all--probably not. Have you ever closed a door and seen a window open in response? I've opened a window and the change in air pressure caused a door to slam, but it usually doesn't happen the other way around.
Also--how is this encouraging? Unless the window is on the first floor or it opens to a fire escape, the outlook doesn't look so hot. When people are exiting through windows it's usually due to something very, very bad. Give me another door (hopefully it's not the closet).
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