A chum of mine sends incessant Spam. Rarely an actual e-mail - but two or three a day come jokes, photos, comic strips, etc. He also has no notion to BCC the 100 or so names on each e-mail.
So this morning - I see a reply from one of the recipients. And it's that reply that I often dream of sending myself - but... can't bring myself to:
"B,
Although I like your twisted humor, please remove my email address from the humor mailing list.
J"
Of course, this Spam was obviously going to J's work address. And J hit reply to everyone.
But - even better - a second reply comes from J,
"J would like to recall the message ... "
So, there was that moment of remorse.
Alas, that recall feature doesn't work as smartly as some would like.
Showing posts with label etiquette. Show all posts
Showing posts with label etiquette. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Sunday, April 11, 2004
Queen for a Day... or Two
If I were Queen... I would smite some folks - and verily.
> The hands-free headset in-duh-viduals. They who wear their hands-free "safe as houses" headsets while they drive - but still, they are holding the cellphone in one hand as if it were a communicator pad or they're triangulating. Use headset. Place phone in lap. Hands on wheel. Drive. Talk. Stop it!
I've had some weird moments in stores standing next to someone who bursts into laughter or asks a question out loud -- the first thing I look for is that wire snaking from their ear into a pocket.
> "My kingdom for your cracker!" Yesterday a woman zigged into my lane and I into the shoulder lane. Then she zagged back into her own lane and then slightly back my way again. She was reaching for something in the passenger seat. As I drew up next to her, it was to see that she was wrestling with a sleeve of saltines to get a cracker free to munch on.
Your life - ahem - my life is worth a cracker?!
Let the smoting begin.
> The hands-free headset in-duh-viduals. They who wear their hands-free "safe as houses" headsets while they drive - but still, they are holding the cellphone in one hand as if it were a communicator pad or they're triangulating. Use headset. Place phone in lap. Hands on wheel. Drive. Talk. Stop it!
I've had some weird moments in stores standing next to someone who bursts into laughter or asks a question out loud -- the first thing I look for is that wire snaking from their ear into a pocket.
> "My kingdom for your cracker!" Yesterday a woman zigged into my lane and I into the shoulder lane. Then she zagged back into her own lane and then slightly back my way again. She was reaching for something in the passenger seat. As I drew up next to her, it was to see that she was wrestling with a sleeve of saltines to get a cracker free to munch on.
Your life - ahem - my life is worth a cracker?!
Let the smoting begin.
Friday, July 27, 2001
TMI Filter
A TMI filter is desperately needed in the world:
I work in a company that is all about customers and their personal issues and the things they will confide in over the phone, in their anonymity.
Some of my favorites phone calls:
1) My husband is having an affair and if I don't lose weight he will leave me for good.
2) I like large women, and there are two I am in a relationship with. There is nothing better than being in bed with them together, but I am concerned for their health. What would you consider too large?
3) I have Syndrome X and Disease Y and because of the medication I am on, I can't eat certain foods because they give me the runs. Oh, and sometimes my urine burns.
4) Yes, I am looking to start a diet plan of some kind and, oh, hold on a moment - [person then takes the phone away from their mouth and begins screaming BLOODY murder and all kind of heinous threats and inappropriate things at her child in the other room and then returns, sweet as candy to the phone] - sorry about that, sometimes that kid makes me --- Goddamnit you little bastard!!! *click*
That last call made me wish I could have gotten her address and called the authorities in quickly. I watched the news for her for a few days.
And their are always assorted nose blowings, chunky burps, and toilet flushings that have always made me glad to be on the other end of the phone. Urp, indeed.
I work in a company that is all about customers and their personal issues and the things they will confide in over the phone, in their anonymity.
Some of my favorites phone calls:
1) My husband is having an affair and if I don't lose weight he will leave me for good.
2) I like large women, and there are two I am in a relationship with. There is nothing better than being in bed with them together, but I am concerned for their health. What would you consider too large?
3) I have Syndrome X and Disease Y and because of the medication I am on, I can't eat certain foods because they give me the runs. Oh, and sometimes my urine burns.
4) Yes, I am looking to start a diet plan of some kind and, oh, hold on a moment - [person then takes the phone away from their mouth and begins screaming BLOODY murder and all kind of heinous threats and inappropriate things at her child in the other room and then returns, sweet as candy to the phone] - sorry about that, sometimes that kid makes me --- Goddamnit you little bastard!!! *click*
That last call made me wish I could have gotten her address and called the authorities in quickly. I watched the news for her for a few days.
And their are always assorted nose blowings, chunky burps, and toilet flushings that have always made me glad to be on the other end of the phone. Urp, indeed.
Thursday, June 07, 2001
Mr. Manners
Rudeness, it's not just directed at ladies anymore. It happens to us little guys, too.
Returning from Key West, in Miami SubSpace Station and Airport, Mr. Ireland and I decided a coffee was needed. I spied a Starbucks and scooted over to join the line. Mr. Ireland tells me what he wants and turns to go sit down.
As I am standing there, tall-white-haired-tweed-coat-corduroy-patches-with-glasses authoritatively takes a haughty stance in FRONT of me, joining the line ahead of me, and making no eye contact with me.
I said, "Excuse me, sir."
No response, no turning, no blinking.
I said, "Excuse me, sir."
No response, no turning, no blinking.
I pick up my carry-on bag, squeeze into the spare inches between him and the person who was in front of me before he came along.
I take my own authoritative, slightly shaking stance facing him, back to the line.
He continues to look up at the menu board, looks down at his watch, yawns, and then walks away from the Starbucks and me, heading off as if to find a faster coffeeplace somewhere else.
Seconds later, he reappears around the corner, money in hand, sees me in line, looks at his watch and goes to sit in a chair at one of the gates, reading a newspaper.
I wanted justice.
But really what peeved me is that he never even acknowledged my award-winning performance as a waiting-in-line-person done wrong.
Is society really growing increasingly selfish and rude, or is it just a coincidence that more and more of these types of things seem to happen everyday?
Conscience: Hey, is that a rhetorical question?
Akethan: Hmmm, you may be on to something.
Returning from Key West, in Miami SubSpace Station and Airport, Mr. Ireland and I decided a coffee was needed. I spied a Starbucks and scooted over to join the line. Mr. Ireland tells me what he wants and turns to go sit down.
As I am standing there, tall-white-haired-tweed-coat-corduroy-patches-with-glasses authoritatively takes a haughty stance in FRONT of me, joining the line ahead of me, and making no eye contact with me.
I said, "Excuse me, sir."
No response, no turning, no blinking.
I said, "Excuse me, sir."
No response, no turning, no blinking.
I pick up my carry-on bag, squeeze into the spare inches between him and the person who was in front of me before he came along.
I take my own authoritative, slightly shaking stance facing him, back to the line.
He continues to look up at the menu board, looks down at his watch, yawns, and then walks away from the Starbucks and me, heading off as if to find a faster coffeeplace somewhere else.
Seconds later, he reappears around the corner, money in hand, sees me in line, looks at his watch and goes to sit in a chair at one of the gates, reading a newspaper.
I wanted justice.
But really what peeved me is that he never even acknowledged my award-winning performance as a waiting-in-line-person done wrong.
Is society really growing increasingly selfish and rude, or is it just a coincidence that more and more of these types of things seem to happen everyday?
Conscience: Hey, is that a rhetorical question?
Akethan: Hmmm, you may be on to something.
Sunday, May 06, 2001
Tip.
Tips.
What a good idea that can go so very bad. Pay a person just enough that they will show up for work, and then allow the customer to determine what the service was worth - good if the customer isn't a cheap bastard and good if the waitstaff isn't as dumb as a post.
No offense to posts intended.
I tip 20% in almost every case. But my litmus for service is typically the closing of the meal, namely the delivery and retrieval of the bill with payment.
Restaurants use one of two methods, the open plate on which rests the receipt (face down is best), or the secretive bill-fold in which hides the bill. This is a little more distinctive, but tends to lend itself to a question I cannot abide, "Would you like change?"
WOULD I LIKE CHANGE?
Don't ever ask me this. Tip goes directly to ZERO and cannot be resuscitated, no matter how sweet you may have been during the entire meal. DOA.
Such an ignorant question - so presumptuous and rude. How about, "I will be right back with your receipt/change/what-have-you."? How about that? That gives me the option to say, "That would be nice, thank you," or perhaps, "No change, thank you." That is my option to exercise, not the waitstaff to assume.
Have you met the victims of assumptions? Always the last to know.
WOULD I LIKE CHANGE?
Grrrr... that question burns me. Bad question. Bad.
Then, let's just say we have survived this test, here's the second part which you must be clever enough to dodge: You are bringing me change, this change will be used to make a tip, don't make me have to ask you to break the change in to smaller change so that I may tip appropriately.
If the change is fifty bucks from one hundred, don't bring me a ten and two twenties. That is an assumption that you are due a 20% tip. It irks me. It makes me want to leave you the metal coins and a handwritten note to your parents about their rearing techniques. Maybe even the need to finally wean you.
How about a twenty, two tens, a five, and five ones. That is respactable and earns you your 20% for not being an ass.umer.
Have you met the victims of assumptions? Always the last to know.
I guess this is really asking a lot of a wait person. I really am good for the 20%. I know a lot of people I eat with are clueless and tip poorly; I attempt to educate where I can. I was educated by a friend who waits tables for a living. And MAKES a living at it. I understand it better, though I only waited tables for one evening in my life. That one evening was all it took to convince me not to do it again. And that a wait person, even some of the worst, work very hard to keep it all together and not plunge a steak knife in the heart of an aggressive diner.
WARNING: Aggressive diner imaging in use.
Put the fork down, step out of the booth, sir.
What a good idea that can go so very bad. Pay a person just enough that they will show up for work, and then allow the customer to determine what the service was worth - good if the customer isn't a cheap bastard and good if the waitstaff isn't as dumb as a post.
No offense to posts intended.
I tip 20% in almost every case. But my litmus for service is typically the closing of the meal, namely the delivery and retrieval of the bill with payment.
Restaurants use one of two methods, the open plate on which rests the receipt (face down is best), or the secretive bill-fold in which hides the bill. This is a little more distinctive, but tends to lend itself to a question I cannot abide, "Would you like change?"
WOULD I LIKE CHANGE?
Don't ever ask me this. Tip goes directly to ZERO and cannot be resuscitated, no matter how sweet you may have been during the entire meal. DOA.
Such an ignorant question - so presumptuous and rude. How about, "I will be right back with your receipt/change/what-have-you."? How about that? That gives me the option to say, "That would be nice, thank you," or perhaps, "No change, thank you." That is my option to exercise, not the waitstaff to assume.
Have you met the victims of assumptions? Always the last to know.
WOULD I LIKE CHANGE?
Grrrr... that question burns me. Bad question. Bad.
Then, let's just say we have survived this test, here's the second part which you must be clever enough to dodge: You are bringing me change, this change will be used to make a tip, don't make me have to ask you to break the change in to smaller change so that I may tip appropriately.
If the change is fifty bucks from one hundred, don't bring me a ten and two twenties. That is an assumption that you are due a 20% tip. It irks me. It makes me want to leave you the metal coins and a handwritten note to your parents about their rearing techniques. Maybe even the need to finally wean you.
How about a twenty, two tens, a five, and five ones. That is respactable and earns you your 20% for not being an ass.umer.
Have you met the victims of assumptions? Always the last to know.
I guess this is really asking a lot of a wait person. I really am good for the 20%. I know a lot of people I eat with are clueless and tip poorly; I attempt to educate where I can. I was educated by a friend who waits tables for a living. And MAKES a living at it. I understand it better, though I only waited tables for one evening in my life. That one evening was all it took to convince me not to do it again. And that a wait person, even some of the worst, work very hard to keep it all together and not plunge a steak knife in the heart of an aggressive diner.
WARNING: Aggressive diner imaging in use.
Put the fork down, step out of the booth, sir.
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