This is an exercise in taking two different concepts and bringing them into togetherness and love. Please keep your divs inside the allotted browser window. No malformed code allowed, not even in the comment box. Today’s post is brought to you by the letters “ooooooooh” and the word “lovely”. Lets now commence with the sense making.
For the past few weeks I’ve been watching my good buddy (you know the one with too much spare time) whenever he can pull himself away from the PSP as he manuevers the incredibly hot (and viscious) Kratos on his quest to kill Ares the God of War . What a sentence.
Now some of you might be thinking things like “that’s got to be boring” or “normal people would prefer to play the game themselves”. Not at all. This game is awesome and has only been made more awesome by the fact that I don’t have to worry about being eaten by Cerebus puppies and can pay attention to things like the lovely tilework and the fact that in a certain room you get three warnings before the floor opens up and you fall to your death.
Also it can rest heavily on someone elses concious that we missed the sex minigame or that to progress past a certain point requires “the ultimate sacrifice”. I rather enjoy the decapitations and breaking of necks and the ripping off (and out) of vital body parts. I even think it’s humorous that Kratos can kill the innocent run-around-in-the-middle-of-the-fight-with-my-hands-over-my-head bystanders for some more rage. but the sacrifice thing would have probably taken me a couple hours to figure out and sort of threw me off. The really odd and addictive part is that we’ve got to be almost to the middle of the game and and I’ve learned more about the story from the splash page on the game site than from the 8 or so hours of (watched) gameplay.
It does cause a tiny bit of anxiety that Jordan’s method of gaming is to go immediately to the most obvious next step (say killing all 600 medusas) and never look back whereas I tend to explore every accessible unit of space before weighing my options (ooohh you mean I can get past them without actually killing them all?) and moving on. Jordan has been very good about sensing my anxiety when it reaches critical points and going back to explore. Over all it’s a pretty synergetic mix of running commentary, sarcastic interjection and proper appreciation that reminds me of the good old days of web dev.
In other news.. I have joined the masses of people in Tallahassee (and around the world) that own a cell phone. I’m rather happy about it even though it wasn’t my idea and left up to me would have probably never happened. But it wasn’t left up to me and I picked it up at Greyhound package express almost a week ago. I almost have my number memorized.
It’s a lovely little flip phone with no camera, no keyboard, no intergalatic remote control… it’s just a phone. And I love it that way. It does have the capability for instant messaging and web browsing but I’m not impressed. I’m currently doing both of those things quite well on a 19 inch flat panel monitor with a nice full sized keyboard and wireless mouse. The thought of switching to an almost-two-inch cell phone display with a number pad is not appealing.
We’re using T-mobile and my phone is Samsung and between the two they have the worst user manual and written documentation ever. Ok it’s not the worst ever but kinda bad isn’t as dramatic. Basically I’ve been trying to figure out how I need to enter numbers into the phonebook so that they work when I try to call them. Seems like it should be a pretty basic need but I appear to be wrong since no help exists on the site or in the rather thick (and mostly useles) user manual for the phone. Such is life.
So thats the news from Lake Sparkalyn. Where all the women are geeks, all the men are obsessive and all the cell phone manuals are a waste of time. Images taken from ign.com and samsung.com respectively.
Dear Mr. guy with the black rectangular framed glasses whose name I can’t remember,
I’m sorry for not giving you a tip. I had really intended to but you threw me off by never coming back to the table to give us our check. If you ever serve me again, please do not spit in my food because I plan to make it up to you… assuming that your service next time is also adequate. If it is not adequate, I will probably be upset. I’m sure you wouldn’t do that. If this letter suggests that I’m a badass you should believe it.
P.S. John the ex info studies student who still remembers the little people… you ROCK! You are so going on the Christmas card list. And good luck with that PSP plan.
If you would like to keep your day job and have the minimum of people disgusted by you… then please don’t push your responsibilities onto others… especially if they are your customers.
Lets say that I come into your restaurant one fine spring evening for a my red meat and carbohydrate fix. I’m happy and in a lovely mood so I don’t really get irritated that it takes the waitress an abnormally long time to show up and offer me liquid refreshment. Furthermore, by the time I notice that the same waitress is sitting conversing with (apparent) freinds at the adjacent table, I’m pretty ambivalent because I’ve already got my beverage and buns.
It becomes an issue when the aforementioned staff member breaks her promise to restock the warm rolls “as soon as they get out of the oven”. It doesn’t help the situation when I bite into my previously lovely (if slightly rare) burger and have my taste buds assaulted by a taste so foul and putrid that my eyes begin to water. The multiple unsuccessful attempts to make eye contact with my server to bring this to her attention only increase my annoyance. This also leads me to notice that while there appear to be several hundred wait staff members… there is only one manager visible… and he is working the bar. I am a very sympathetic person so I understand that shit happens. But sympathy runs thin as minutes add up.
Now pay attention kiddies because this is the important part.
You’re dealing with a customer who has had an overall subpar experience in your restaurant but who is nevetheless smiling at you and explaining the situation in a calm and reasonable voice and who has demonstrated much patience as movie time draws closer and closer.
You should not
- Come over to the table and ask in a worried and above all distracted voice what the problem is
- Make a face and say “that’s odd” when I explain to you the stomach turning and unpleasant addition to my burger, as if to say…”You’re obviously lying. Our restaurant would never let that happen”
Practically calling me a liar is bad enough but to act as if it is completely inconceivable when the foul-smelling partially chewed remains are right there on my plate instead of apologizing as if your life depended on it… well that’s just rude.
- Ask what I would like you to do.
Why are you asking me? You’re the manager and I’m the upset customer. Tell me what you will do to make it better and if that is not acceptable… I will let you know. I would like you to do your job and try to make me happy. Thanks.
- When you are told what I would like you to do (pay the bill) hesitate for a good minute with a pained look on your face as if you are about to say no.
This is why you shouldn’t ask that question dear. If you’re not prepared to accept whatever the customer “would like you to do” then don’t even go there. Offer to the pay the tab or replace the food. Otherwise be prepared to smile and accept whatever the customer wishes without batting an eye or have a damn smooth reason for why you can’t/won’t.
- Look as if you are about to cry as you offer a limp handshake and beg us to “come back and see us.”
I don’t know that he ever actually apologized. (not an apology worth remembering anyway) I think he just said “that shouldn’t happen.” I should have let him smell it.
Robots was good even though I completely destroyed a bag of skittles while attempting to open it sending a rainbow (get it??) of artificially flavored pellets all over my lap and the heads of the people below me. Go me! Thanks Jordan for leaving the incident at your initial eyeroll of disbelief (which was priceless by the way). Now you can tell me that I’m being overly dramatic. And I owe you some skittles. 😀
This is Puppy.
Isn’t he the most adorable intelligent sugar-bear you’ve ever seen? He’s also incredibly silly. Behind him you see the bane of my formative years, the compost pile. Misbehavior of any sort promised a fume-filled, squishy day of “moving mulch”. While it did build character (and superior arm muscles) I can’t say I miss it much.