We still have no manager and things are going all right, but none of us knows what to do with the serious customer service issues.
Co worker #1 had a small fit today because I asked him if he could get it together and try to figure out what to do with the guy who opened a dispute because his item did not arrive.
CW#1 says "I don't know what to do, I don't know how to handle a dispute, I've never done it before"
Me "CW, I've never done it before either."
CW1 "Well, I sent the guy and email on Friday and I'm not doing any more. I don't know what else to do, and I ain't doing shit. In fact, I'm going home."
Me "Bye."
He didn't leave.
The item in question was being shipped to Canada. Sometimes things get stuck in customs when shipping international. You know, since those buildings got knocked down in NYC a few years ago. Nothing has been the same, really.
We have tracked the item to leaving the post office on July 14th or so and that's all there is. So the guy goes and complains to try to get his money back from us. I got the CW#2 to look at the post office website and gather up all the facts he could and I put together a lovely little portfolio, which I pinned to the wall in my cube. I tried to call the buyer and got no answer, so I started a call log, so I could try and keep track of the times I tried to contact him.
Then I emailed him and told him to call me personally tomorrow.
Then I moved on because there wasn't really anything else I could do. Not that I know of, anyway.

CW#2 said to me later, "hey, I got something to tell you"
I said, "is it going to make me happy?"
CW#2 "probably not."
Me "sigh. what is it?"
CW2 "well, they have it narrowed down to four people for the manager position."
Me "Oh, yeah?"
Cw2 "one of them is **Name deleted**."




















I nearly shit.















NONONONONONONONONONONONONO!!!!!!!!!!!!!






This can't happen.
If it does, then my theory that there is a god and he's a bitter old bastard is true.

**name deleted for security purposes. The fate of the universe is at stake. I will now perform a mind wipe on you all. Look at my pen. OooooKay. On with the show.

===========================

I went to Jerry Garcia day at Maclearen Park (I'm sure i spelled that wrong).
It was full of stinky hippies but I sat on the grass with Erik and Jr and Jr Sr (who is Jr's big brother and Eriks stepson, 17, I think def underage and is now living with Erik)drinking yummy beers and flavored vodka and eating greenies, which I shouldn't do, because it gets me really higher than I want to be, but DAMN, they taste good.
There was a Grateful Dead cover band, whose name I can't remember (I want to say Grateful ED, but Im not sure) and I do like the Dead (even though I don't like people who like the dead (well, in a general way. I usually like most people on an individual basis (yes, i do, shut up))) so it was fun.
Jr went and got on stage a few times. He kept going back stage and getting food and bringing it back to us. Once he came back and had a backstage pass thing.
Erik asked him where he got it and Jr said, "oh, there is a whole bunch of them back there, you want one?"
By this time the music was done and the hippies were packing it in, so we all got up and went to the stage with Jr leading the way in his tie-dye shirt and satin pants.

We got up there and dodged roadies trying to get in and get at the passes and the foodies.

And we did.

All the musicians were gone and it was only roadies and crew. The buffet table was loaded with cheese and cracker and vegies and meat and bread.
Personally, I had the munchies pretty bad (terrible invention, that. Munchies that give you the munchies. Oi) and the lady cleaning up the stuff said, "please, please eat as much as you can.

I ate until Erik dragged me away, still filling my plate the last time past the table.

There was this great cream cheese spread with nuts and raisins in it. Sooo good.

Now I'm home.

I had a great weekend. I was happy most of the time.
Jr Sr is a GTA Vice City expert and I got to watch him play. It mad me sad for missing watching Tman play but it was fun. I could say things like, "what would happen if you parked the bike next to that van and then blew the van up? would it blow the bike up too?" and he would just go do it so we could find out. Fun.

Jr has learned a new tone of whine that is particularly annoying. I don't remember ever hearing him use it before and it is piteous. High pitched and long. Also frequent.

I love staying the weekends there. I like being home all week by myself and me and then on the weekend being submerged with them.
Jr Sr is a nice boy. We get along very well.

Have I written enough yet?
NO?

Man, you all are demanding. All three of you.


Oh, hey, I bought pants on eeeeeebbbbbaaaayyyyy.
Who does that? Someone must.

I have a new definition for the perfect pants.

They will have classic 5-pocket styling. I have to have the little pocket for my cell phone. There. I said it.
They will be my perfect size. Not a size too big or too small, but the perfect size. I have measurements now, so I can get them perfect to the inch, mofos.
They will not have flaps on the pockets. This is negotiable. If they are perfect in every other way, and the price is right? I could live with flaps. The perfect pants, will not have flaps on the pockets.
Theperfect pants will have a rise no longer than 11". I could go to twelve, but they had better have magic powers with a rise of 12".
The perfect pants will be a solid color. Black, khaki, certain shades of green, or blue. In that order of preference.
The perfect pants should be capri style with a cuff of 10" or larger, up to 12".
The perfect pants will have an inseam that is 29", but they could be longer, for I have the power to hem.

I think that's it.

My fingers hurt. I'm done typing.

ME!