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YAY Tigers won 8-4 last night!
A series of random work anecdotes today, cut-taggedbecause I felt like making up dorky titles for your convenience.
At work, there are several regulars with whom I discuss baseball. Most of them are Red Sox fans, of course, but there's this one guy I refer to (in my head, not to his face) as my Designated Yankee Fan Nemesis. I think his actual name is Dan. He comes in two or three times a week and we exchange goodnatured trashtalk - there's no hostility, it's all in good fun. He hasn't been in while I was working for the past week or so, so I haven't had the chance to pick on him (a little) about the Yankees' latest slide into crap. (Which is kind of a shame, because I had this big plan to make a point of taking the high road about the Royals. But anyway.)
Dan knows that I am also a Tigers fan. So when he came in this morning, the first thing he said was, "Maybe we should both start rooting for the Detroit Tigers."
I checked the scores this morning, so I already knew what he meant - namely, the Tigers kicked ass while the Sox and the Yankees sucked it. I said, "For serious. Your team's getting whomped, my team's getting whomped - I'm just glad I have more than one team." Then, because all commiseration aside, he is a Yankee fan and I am a Red Sox fan, I couldn't resist adding, "At least my team's getting whomped by the Cardinals and not the Brewers."
Since these are, in fact, fighting words, that would normally be the spark for a couple minutes' snarking while I finished ringing him up, but not today. Today Dan just shook his head and muttered bitterly, "And the Royals."
"Yeah, that was pretty sad," I agreed, and I am proud to report that I didn't laugh too much.
But, man, you know things are at a sad state right now when Sox fans and Yankee fans are reduced to squaring off over whose team's losses are more embarrassing - and the Yankee fan's heart just isn't in it.
Our night shift guy, coincidentally also named Dan, has had a hell of a week. A few days ago, an altercation with a kid who'd been banned from the store for stealing beer (also during Dan's shift) - Dan wanted him to leave, the kid didn't see why - ended with the kid putting his fist through the window next to the door.
This morning at about five, Dan was held up. At - crowbarpoint.
A tip for those would-be hold up artists out there: A short range weapon such as a crowbar is not, in fact the ideal method for robbing a store when there is a good six feet and a waist-high counter between yourself and the employee you are threatening. It is an even worse idea when said employee has immediate access to some sort of gadget involving a length of solid steel pipe that could eat your crowbar for breakfast.
The employee handbook at Cumby's tells us to give a robber anything he wants so that we will not be killed and Cumby's will not be sued. I think the employee handbook assumes that most robbers are smart enough to use guns. Regardless, Dan was all, "FUCK THAT," grabbed the whatever the hell it is with the steel pipe, and took such a hard swing that he left a dent in the metal doorframe.
He did not mention whether the kid pissed his pants as he was running out the door.
Apparently, there were two other convenience stores in town with similar attempted robberies. That boy don't learn too good, do he?
One of the Red Sox fan regulars came to the counter and asked me, "What is the matter with your Red Sox?"
"Oh," I said, "so when they're losing, they're my Red Sox!"
He is not the first person to do this to me at work.
This regular also happens to be good friends with the manager and jokingly flirts with all us female employees at random (in a funny way, not a gross way). So while Lori was on the phone, he joked, "I can't decide whether to yell, 'Let's have a threesome!' or 'This is a hold-up!'"
All three of us, immediately: "We already had a hold-up!"
We got no end of mileage out of that story today. =D
A series of random work anecdotes today, cut-tagged
At work, there are several regulars with whom I discuss baseball. Most of them are Red Sox fans, of course, but there's this one guy I refer to (in my head, not to his face) as my Designated Yankee Fan Nemesis. I think his actual name is Dan. He comes in two or three times a week and we exchange goodnatured trashtalk - there's no hostility, it's all in good fun. He hasn't been in while I was working for the past week or so, so I haven't had the chance to pick on him (a little) about the Yankees' latest slide into crap. (Which is kind of a shame, because I had this big plan to make a point of taking the high road about the Royals. But anyway.)
Dan knows that I am also a Tigers fan. So when he came in this morning, the first thing he said was, "Maybe we should both start rooting for the Detroit Tigers."
I checked the scores this morning, so I already knew what he meant - namely, the Tigers kicked ass while the Sox and the Yankees sucked it. I said, "For serious. Your team's getting whomped, my team's getting whomped - I'm just glad I have more than one team." Then, because all commiseration aside, he is a Yankee fan and I am a Red Sox fan, I couldn't resist adding, "At least my team's getting whomped by the Cardinals and not the Brewers."
Since these are, in fact, fighting words, that would normally be the spark for a couple minutes' snarking while I finished ringing him up, but not today. Today Dan just shook his head and muttered bitterly, "And the Royals."
"Yeah, that was pretty sad," I agreed, and I am proud to report that I didn't laugh too much.
But, man, you know things are at a sad state right now when Sox fans and Yankee fans are reduced to squaring off over whose team's losses are more embarrassing - and the Yankee fan's heart just isn't in it.
Our night shift guy, coincidentally also named Dan, has had a hell of a week. A few days ago, an altercation with a kid who'd been banned from the store for stealing beer (also during Dan's shift) - Dan wanted him to leave, the kid didn't see why - ended with the kid putting his fist through the window next to the door.
This morning at about five, Dan was held up. At - crowbarpoint.
A tip for those would-be hold up artists out there: A short range weapon such as a crowbar is not, in fact the ideal method for robbing a store when there is a good six feet and a waist-high counter between yourself and the employee you are threatening. It is an even worse idea when said employee has immediate access to some sort of gadget involving a length of solid steel pipe that could eat your crowbar for breakfast.
The employee handbook at Cumby's tells us to give a robber anything he wants so that we will not be killed and Cumby's will not be sued. I think the employee handbook assumes that most robbers are smart enough to use guns. Regardless, Dan was all, "FUCK THAT," grabbed the whatever the hell it is with the steel pipe, and took such a hard swing that he left a dent in the metal doorframe.
He did not mention whether the kid pissed his pants as he was running out the door.
Apparently, there were two other convenience stores in town with similar attempted robberies. That boy don't learn too good, do he?
One of the Red Sox fan regulars came to the counter and asked me, "What is the matter with your Red Sox?"
"Oh," I said, "so when they're losing, they're my Red Sox!"
He is not the first person to do this to me at work.
This regular also happens to be good friends with the manager and jokingly flirts with all us female employees at random (in a funny way, not a gross way). So while Lori was on the phone, he joked, "I can't decide whether to yell, 'Let's have a threesome!' or 'This is a hold-up!'"
All three of us, immediately: "We already had a hold-up!"
We got no end of mileage out of that story today. =D
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