I planted my garden back in April. I faithfully watered it, fertilized it with coffee grinds; pulled the weeds.
And I've gotten to eat almost NONE of it because someone keeps stealing all of the tomatoes and the jalapenos.
I'm happy to share, but REALLY? Do you have to take every ripe vegetable? Just went down to pick my dinner and I won't be eating ANY of the meals I planned this week because TEN ripe tomatoes disappeared between yesterday and today. TEN?
That fresh mozzarella I bought? Won't be making a caprese salad.
The bacon? No BLT's for me.
The pasta? Who needs fresh tomato, garlic and basil sauce.
Stop stealing my dinner!!!
Showing posts with label pet peeves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pet peeves. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Phone Etiquette
Since I do sex toy parties for a living, I have to call people all the time to set dates, follow up on orders, etc.
I make these calls as a group. If I don't reach someone, I leave a discrete message and dial the next person on my list. Sometimes I go straight from my work calls to calls I need to make for the animal rescue I volunteer for, or during the presidential election, calls for the campaign I was supporting.
Invariably, someone will call me back and demand, "Who is this?" without identifying themselves. If I ask, who they are, they ALWAYS say, "You should know, you called me."
Not really. While I did call you at some point, you're now calling me, and because you're a total dumbass and didn't listen to the message I left (hm, what do you think the voicemail option on your phone is for?) you're now calling someone whose name you don't know, for a reason you don't know. Not exactly a productive use of time and I shudder to think what Miss Manners would have to say.
Of course, I can't say that. Instead, I explain that I make a lot of phone calls to know why I was calling you particularly, I need to know who you are. (Can you imagine the political fallout if I mistakenly told a registered voter I was calling about the "dildo party"?)
Usually, that explanation is enough to jog the caller into the world of common courtesy and to actually IDENTIFY themselves. Every now and then, however, a person will refuse to tell me unless I tell them who I am. In those cases, I give my first name and when that produces the expected "huh?", I tell them I need to know who I'm talking to so I can figure out why I initially called them. (All the while, biting my tongue so I don't say, "LISTEN TO THE MESSAGE I LEFT YOU, YOU MORON!!!")
This week, however, I got a total psycho. Even after I told her my name, she refused to say who she was. Finally, I hung up.
But then she called again, and again. My phone was turned off while I was at yoga and a meeting and in that interval, she left 3 messages, all demanding to know who I was, but never giving me her name. I finally matched her number to one of my lists and she was a customer. And she booked a party. Yikes!
I make these calls as a group. If I don't reach someone, I leave a discrete message and dial the next person on my list. Sometimes I go straight from my work calls to calls I need to make for the animal rescue I volunteer for, or during the presidential election, calls for the campaign I was supporting.
Invariably, someone will call me back and demand, "Who is this?" without identifying themselves. If I ask, who they are, they ALWAYS say, "You should know, you called me."
Not really. While I did call you at some point, you're now calling me, and because you're a total dumbass and didn't listen to the message I left (hm, what do you think the voicemail option on your phone is for?) you're now calling someone whose name you don't know, for a reason you don't know. Not exactly a productive use of time and I shudder to think what Miss Manners would have to say.
Of course, I can't say that. Instead, I explain that I make a lot of phone calls to know why I was calling you particularly, I need to know who you are. (Can you imagine the political fallout if I mistakenly told a registered voter I was calling about the "dildo party"?)
Usually, that explanation is enough to jog the caller into the world of common courtesy and to actually IDENTIFY themselves. Every now and then, however, a person will refuse to tell me unless I tell them who I am. In those cases, I give my first name and when that produces the expected "huh?", I tell them I need to know who I'm talking to so I can figure out why I initially called them. (All the while, biting my tongue so I don't say, "LISTEN TO THE MESSAGE I LEFT YOU, YOU MORON!!!")
This week, however, I got a total psycho. Even after I told her my name, she refused to say who she was. Finally, I hung up.
But then she called again, and again. My phone was turned off while I was at yoga and a meeting and in that interval, she left 3 messages, all demanding to know who I was, but never giving me her name. I finally matched her number to one of my lists and she was a customer. And she booked a party. Yikes!
Monday, January 21, 2008
It ain't easy being green
Boy, Kermit sure had it right, but I don't think he was talking about the environment when he sang those words so many years ago.
For three years, my husband and I have shopped every Sunday at our local farmers' market. In addition to the usual fare, our market has several vendors who sell artisan soaps. We like these soaps very much, but much to our chagrin, every time we buy it, we have to FIGHT not to get a bag.
I heard today on NPR that one trillion plastic bags are produced every year, about 1,000 for every person on the planet. Even before I knew that horrifying piece of trivia, I've been a fan of reusable, canvas shopping bags. I mean really, it's not that hard to say, "I don't need a bag." Five simple words that can do a lot of good for our seriously diseased planet.
Five simple words that are simple to say, but not so easy to hear, at least not for any of the three different soap vendors at our market. Every other vendor at the market has always respected the fact we bring our own bags. Soap vendors really have an issue with it, even when I show them that one of our canvas bags actually has a separate pocket where the soap can sit all by its lonesome, safe from whatever terrifying injuries our tangerines might want to inflict on it.
We've tried all sorts of tricks to avoid arguing with the soap vendors. At one vendor, we've learned to always have exact change --that way we can pick up our bar and scoot away while he's still waving a plastic bag at us. Yesterday, however, we bought from a vendor who has to cut the bars from a large brick. Despite our objections, our soap was wrapped in a cardboard take-out container, which I have now set aside to bring back to the market so I can avoid having another one forced on me next week.
What are these soap vendors so in love with their packaging? Is naked soap really so offensive? Or perhaps they are afraid that without a bag, their beloved soaps might -- gasp! -- get dirty???
For three years, my husband and I have shopped every Sunday at our local farmers' market. In addition to the usual fare, our market has several vendors who sell artisan soaps. We like these soaps very much, but much to our chagrin, every time we buy it, we have to FIGHT not to get a bag.
I heard today on NPR that one trillion plastic bags are produced every year, about 1,000 for every person on the planet. Even before I knew that horrifying piece of trivia, I've been a fan of reusable, canvas shopping bags. I mean really, it's not that hard to say, "I don't need a bag." Five simple words that can do a lot of good for our seriously diseased planet.
Five simple words that are simple to say, but not so easy to hear, at least not for any of the three different soap vendors at our market. Every other vendor at the market has always respected the fact we bring our own bags. Soap vendors really have an issue with it, even when I show them that one of our canvas bags actually has a separate pocket where the soap can sit all by its lonesome, safe from whatever terrifying injuries our tangerines might want to inflict on it.
We've tried all sorts of tricks to avoid arguing with the soap vendors. At one vendor, we've learned to always have exact change --that way we can pick up our bar and scoot away while he's still waving a plastic bag at us. Yesterday, however, we bought from a vendor who has to cut the bars from a large brick. Despite our objections, our soap was wrapped in a cardboard take-out container, which I have now set aside to bring back to the market so I can avoid having another one forced on me next week.
What are these soap vendors so in love with their packaging? Is naked soap really so offensive? Or perhaps they are afraid that without a bag, their beloved soaps might -- gasp! -- get dirty???
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