Rant on:
Okay, going from piercer to barrista [that's a coffee-server to all of you unenlightened] is somewhat frustrating.
One job has persons coming to you for the sole reason of your specific training and knowledge of the anatomy, with the intent of removing a milli-micron of skin at various points throughout the body via a sharpened surgical stainless steel device, allowing for the insertion of a myriad types of adornment. Follow me?
The other job has me slinging a substance that mirrors liquid crack, as these gibbering, drooling noveau-riche little yuppie turds sneer with contempt when you forget they had a, "dry skinny decaf double-shot," as opposed to a, "dry skinny decaf tripple-shot."
In the tattoo world, if I got shit from a customer, I would simply tell them, "Hey, I tried to answer your questions or help you within the scope of my knowledge." If they were still unhappy, I'd send them to a competitor -- I'm good like that. If that fails to rectify the situation, and they remain even remotely belligerent, I tell them politely, "Apologies, apparently your knowledge of this situation is far superior to mine and I can't help you anymore, so fuck off."
Yep.
But now, with this new job when some male/female ass trumpet is wadding their pink frilly panties about their fucking java, I simply grit my teeth, smile obscenely and stick myself on the inside of the arm with a dull fork, all-the-while muttering inane statements like, "Oh, my apologies, it must be my mistake ... " followed with the semi-intelligible mumble, " ... that you suck my fucking ass, you pretentious wannabe shitbag-eater."
As I mentioned, I work at Barnes & Noble now, while still remaining an 'on-call' piercer for my old shop.
Barnes and Noble has two positions: barrista and book-seller.
I much prefer the book 'side'.
Oh yes, I do.
I worked at Borders Books for almost four years doing both these jobs, so I'm comfortable with both positions.
That all said, I took the job at B&N, with the understanding that as soon as a position opens up on the book 'side' of the store, I'll fill that -- so I'm slinging java until then.
I'm a much better book-seller then I am a barrista.
You see, I adore books.
Hell, I LOVE books.
I'd marry a book if it were legal.
I've had hotter dates with books then I've had with some girls.
Books never leave you, bitch about the toilet-seat being left up, or drink your beer and eat your last piece of pizza.
If you want to debate all day with me the tenants and moral intent of an authors writings, I'll do so whole-heartedly -- all the while selling you a book off of the New York Times Best Sellers List that I know is total tripe.
Ah, glorious, glorious books
But this damn coffee job ... I may have to begin finding places to hide the bodies.
Oh well.
I have benefits.
And a great discount.
And a Ruby Tuesdays next door that gives me good prices on drinks.
And a cat named after a simian.
Life could be worse.
-Me
PS Heya Nic-nac and Jo, yeah, I'm back. Miss me?
PPS Yo, Leaf, webcam. Soon. Definitely.
Okay, going from piercer to barrista [that's a coffee-server to all of you unenlightened] is somewhat frustrating.
One job has persons coming to you for the sole reason of your specific training and knowledge of the anatomy, with the intent of removing a milli-micron of skin at various points throughout the body via a sharpened surgical stainless steel device, allowing for the insertion of a myriad types of adornment. Follow me?
The other job has me slinging a substance that mirrors liquid crack, as these gibbering, drooling noveau-riche little yuppie turds sneer with contempt when you forget they had a, "dry skinny decaf double-shot," as opposed to a, "dry skinny decaf tripple-shot."
In the tattoo world, if I got shit from a customer, I would simply tell them, "Hey, I tried to answer your questions or help you within the scope of my knowledge." If they were still unhappy, I'd send them to a competitor -- I'm good like that. If that fails to rectify the situation, and they remain even remotely belligerent, I tell them politely, "Apologies, apparently your knowledge of this situation is far superior to mine and I can't help you anymore, so fuck off."
Yep.
But now, with this new job when some male/female ass trumpet is wadding their pink frilly panties about their fucking java, I simply grit my teeth, smile obscenely and stick myself on the inside of the arm with a dull fork, all-the-while muttering inane statements like, "Oh, my apologies, it must be my mistake ... " followed with the semi-intelligible mumble, " ... that you suck my fucking ass, you pretentious wannabe shitbag-eater."
As I mentioned, I work at Barnes & Noble now, while still remaining an 'on-call' piercer for my old shop.
Barnes and Noble has two positions: barrista and book-seller.
I much prefer the book 'side'.
Oh yes, I do.
I worked at Borders Books for almost four years doing both these jobs, so I'm comfortable with both positions.
That all said, I took the job at B&N, with the understanding that as soon as a position opens up on the book 'side' of the store, I'll fill that -- so I'm slinging java until then.
I'm a much better book-seller then I am a barrista.
You see, I adore books.
Hell, I LOVE books.
I'd marry a book if it were legal.
I've had hotter dates with books then I've had with some girls.
Books never leave you, bitch about the toilet-seat being left up, or drink your beer and eat your last piece of pizza.
If you want to debate all day with me the tenants and moral intent of an authors writings, I'll do so whole-heartedly -- all the while selling you a book off of the New York Times Best Sellers List that I know is total tripe.
Ah, glorious, glorious books
But this damn coffee job ... I may have to begin finding places to hide the bodies.
Oh well.
I have benefits.
And a great discount.
And a Ruby Tuesdays next door that gives me good prices on drinks.
And a cat named after a simian.
Life could be worse.
-Me
PS Heya Nic-nac and Jo, yeah, I'm back. Miss me?
PPS Yo, Leaf, webcam. Soon. Definitely.
and how would you consumate the marriage?
and who would be the best man?
and how do you tell the sex of a book?
and where do you take books on a date?
and how would they wear the wedding ring?
and what if munkee got jealous and ate the book like he ate the photos i brought over?
and did you ever read the perks of being a wallflower?