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Bite me, bitches.
May. 31st, 2007 08:37 amYou ever hit that cumulative tired that manages to make your eyes hurt so that you feel like you're going to cry or, if you closed them for anything longer than a blink, you'd pass out? Yeah, that doesn't happen often, but right now I'm exhausted and I don't really know why.
Elsewhere, there were terribly... flat... customs done in the land o' Pullip. Which is fine and good, I suppose. Your doll, your right to do pretty much whatever you want to it. Considering you're asking me to look at it, you're inflicting pain upon my sensitive eyes, so it's my right to call foul when the need/desire arises. That's the way this particular cookie crumbles. While I don't necessarily think it um, polite?, to comment in a "Why did you ruin a rare doll like that? WHY?!?" I do think it perfectly valid to point out that maybe painted on hair is not your best bet outside of a Ken doll. Also, if you don't like it, mentioning that fact doesn't make you an awful person. When it's something like a set of pictures or something blah, who cares? But customs are generally put out there for feedback. Yes, ideally, they want you to kiss their ass, but in some tiny portion of their soul, they also want to be [legitimately] good. If you think all comments should be sunshine and roses, well, then you either comment and focus on, say, the pretty paint job on the wall behind the goodies, or don't comment at all. But don't tell the rest of the world they aren't entitled to their opinion and their right to voice said opinion. Seriously, how's anyone supposed to learn if you do nothing but kiss ass? It's one thing if you know they'll figure out the exact formula for eyebrows, but overall it's fab, but when it's mostly an exercise in "ohgodwhy", then maybe you should point out the lack of goodness to be found.
The funny thing is yesterday, to kill time, I was random lj-comm hopping and found a tiny argument on whether it was cool to comment on the lameness of someone's professional photo shoot or not. [It totally is. When the goofy outtake is ten times cuter/better than the actual shot? Yeah, someone fucked up somewhere.] Basically, again, if you believe something to be crap, is it fair game to say so within reason.
I wonder if the snooty old couple with more money than sense will call and complain about me. I've been ruined by people buying and then wanting to recharge those gift card credit card things. So when someone hands me a card that doesn't scream "traditional VISA!" and goes ON and ON about charging/recharging said card, I do not automatically assume they want to buy a gift card and use the card they've just handed over to pay for it. Maybe because most people will not just blithely hand over their credit card before they've even picked up their intended purchase, especially not when they've stood in line for a couple of minutes. So please excuse my extreme blonde moment when I tried to figure out what the hell they wanted done. Eventually I figured that they either did not understand the concept of recharging a card OR they were just really trusting in their handing over of their credit card and a hundred bucks. To which they bitched at the surcharge. "CVS didn't make us pay extra." Yeah, well, CVS closed more than three hours ago, so it's us, the gas stations, or the Harris Teeter which is closed every other night and when they feel it convienant. Which I didn't say. I did slam my pen down on the counter when Lady Stick Up Her Arse said, ever so prissily, "Your pen doesn't work." For fuck's sake, whining isn't gonna help, lady.
No, the best part was after they paid. They leave. I haven't said anything particularly snotty to them, and the bitchiest I've been was the pen slamming. I even wished them a good evening and mostly meant it. Not two minutes later they come back in, and I wonder if maybe I had understood them correctly the first time and were somehow under the misguided belief that if they bought that card, it would switch to the other by magic!
Nope. Nothing that fun. Now, I should point out that the lovely machine I spend most of the night behind will NOT ring up a price on any gift card [and thus you cannot buy it] if I don't swipe it, thus activating it. It just... won't. It's like if you went in, bought a Pepsi, paid the correct amount and had a receipt that said as much, as well as the change back from the transaction. With that in mind, we continue. Huffy couple are demanding attention. They start asking if the card was activated, which they'd also asked before. Now, granted I was acting like a ditz before, but they started it. I informed them that yes, I had swiped it, and yes, it should be activated. They ask again. I repeat it again and then point out that they could not have PAID for it had I not activated it. "Well, I never saw you swipe it." You were too busy waving your credit card in my face! A third time, and now there's a line and a half. "This is a gift and we're leaving the state and we will be most unhappy if the card doesn't work. Well, how do we know you actually activated it?" At this point I'd had it. I'd been fairly polite right up to this point, pen not withstanding. I stare right at them [rare for me, as I don't make eye contact often], and drawled in the least Southern of my accents and highest of the bitchy, "You. Don't." I then turned to the next person in line who promptly burst into laughter.
It didn't help that I felt like a jackass, but asking me three times in a row is a little excessive. Also, if they'd read the damn card, the only two ways I know of to check on the card are to either try and use it or call the damn number they have listed and use the PIN I handed to 'em with their receipt. Meh. What did they want me to do? Wave a magic wand?
Sleep. Now.
what to do
sweetheart you'll find
mediocre people do exceptional things all the time
you coulda been a genius if you'd had an ax to grind
Elsewhere, there were terribly... flat... customs done in the land o' Pullip. Which is fine and good, I suppose. Your doll, your right to do pretty much whatever you want to it. Considering you're asking me to look at it, you're inflicting pain upon my sensitive eyes, so it's my right to call foul when the need/desire arises. That's the way this particular cookie crumbles. While I don't necessarily think it um, polite?, to comment in a "Why did you ruin a rare doll like that? WHY?!?" I do think it perfectly valid to point out that maybe painted on hair is not your best bet outside of a Ken doll. Also, if you don't like it, mentioning that fact doesn't make you an awful person. When it's something like a set of pictures or something blah, who cares? But customs are generally put out there for feedback. Yes, ideally, they want you to kiss their ass, but in some tiny portion of their soul, they also want to be [legitimately] good. If you think all comments should be sunshine and roses, well, then you either comment and focus on, say, the pretty paint job on the wall behind the goodies, or don't comment at all. But don't tell the rest of the world they aren't entitled to their opinion and their right to voice said opinion. Seriously, how's anyone supposed to learn if you do nothing but kiss ass? It's one thing if you know they'll figure out the exact formula for eyebrows, but overall it's fab, but when it's mostly an exercise in "ohgodwhy", then maybe you should point out the lack of goodness to be found.
The funny thing is yesterday, to kill time, I was random lj-comm hopping and found a tiny argument on whether it was cool to comment on the lameness of someone's professional photo shoot or not. [It totally is. When the goofy outtake is ten times cuter/better than the actual shot? Yeah, someone fucked up somewhere.] Basically, again, if you believe something to be crap, is it fair game to say so within reason.
I wonder if the snooty old couple with more money than sense will call and complain about me. I've been ruined by people buying and then wanting to recharge those gift card credit card things. So when someone hands me a card that doesn't scream "traditional VISA!" and goes ON and ON about charging/recharging said card, I do not automatically assume they want to buy a gift card and use the card they've just handed over to pay for it. Maybe because most people will not just blithely hand over their credit card before they've even picked up their intended purchase, especially not when they've stood in line for a couple of minutes. So please excuse my extreme blonde moment when I tried to figure out what the hell they wanted done. Eventually I figured that they either did not understand the concept of recharging a card OR they were just really trusting in their handing over of their credit card and a hundred bucks. To which they bitched at the surcharge. "CVS didn't make us pay extra." Yeah, well, CVS closed more than three hours ago, so it's us, the gas stations, or the Harris Teeter which is closed every other night and when they feel it convienant. Which I didn't say. I did slam my pen down on the counter when Lady Stick Up Her Arse said, ever so prissily, "Your pen doesn't work." For fuck's sake, whining isn't gonna help, lady.
No, the best part was after they paid. They leave. I haven't said anything particularly snotty to them, and the bitchiest I've been was the pen slamming. I even wished them a good evening and mostly meant it. Not two minutes later they come back in, and I wonder if maybe I had understood them correctly the first time and were somehow under the misguided belief that if they bought that card, it would switch to the other by magic!
Nope. Nothing that fun. Now, I should point out that the lovely machine I spend most of the night behind will NOT ring up a price on any gift card [and thus you cannot buy it] if I don't swipe it, thus activating it. It just... won't. It's like if you went in, bought a Pepsi, paid the correct amount and had a receipt that said as much, as well as the change back from the transaction. With that in mind, we continue. Huffy couple are demanding attention. They start asking if the card was activated, which they'd also asked before. Now, granted I was acting like a ditz before, but they started it. I informed them that yes, I had swiped it, and yes, it should be activated. They ask again. I repeat it again and then point out that they could not have PAID for it had I not activated it. "Well, I never saw you swipe it." You were too busy waving your credit card in my face! A third time, and now there's a line and a half. "This is a gift and we're leaving the state and we will be most unhappy if the card doesn't work. Well, how do we know you actually activated it?" At this point I'd had it. I'd been fairly polite right up to this point, pen not withstanding. I stare right at them [rare for me, as I don't make eye contact often], and drawled in the least Southern of my accents and highest of the bitchy, "You. Don't." I then turned to the next person in line who promptly burst into laughter.
It didn't help that I felt like a jackass, but asking me three times in a row is a little excessive. Also, if they'd read the damn card, the only two ways I know of to check on the card are to either try and use it or call the damn number they have listed and use the PIN I handed to 'em with their receipt. Meh. What did they want me to do? Wave a magic wand?
Sleep. Now.
what to do
sweetheart you'll find
mediocre people do exceptional things all the time
you coulda been a genius if you'd had an ax to grind