Photo Op

Having Oleg Freaking Volk at your blogmeet is bound to turn up some great photos.. what surprised me was just how sneaky the man could be. He's very good at that unobtrusive thing, until he thinks of a shot that he really wants that requires him to be obvious.

I had a couple of twitchy moments, I admit, but all in all it was a good experience, even when I was obviously in front of the camera. Since it will get out soon anyway (these things always do) for those of you who weren't aware, yes, this is me.

There goes my faceless blogger status, but really, if you're going to come out of the anony-mouse closet, what better way to do it than in pictures taken by the immortal Oleg Volk? At least you're guaranteed to look good, cause the man is a genius.

For any potential stalkers* out there: remember, I carry, I'm never entirely unarmed, and I have an intimate familiarity with the process of relieving male critters of their boy bits without causing them to die.

If you haven't seen his stuff (and if you haven't, you're an uninformed heathen, which should be corrected immediately) check Oleg out at his LiveJournal or website ... but do it when you have plenty of time to waste cause you're gonna be entranced.




*Oleg made several joking remarks about how many stalkers I would gain thanks to the pictures, and how most of them would likely have enough sense to realize that actually hurting/touching/otherwise upsetting me would likely result in their gaining several new and interesting orifices. It required a special mention.

"Ass Kisser" Takes On A Whole New Meaning

Got a few minutes before I have to run off to work until midnight so I'll jot down a note about one of the highlights of the weekend... please excuse me if I'm not up to my usual standard since I haven't slowed down much since everyone went home and I'm not caught up with myself yet.

So, this Blogorado we failed to demolish any cars (the worst damage was a couple of flat tires, I can live with this) field-dress any roadkill whilst slightly horrified young deputies stood by, or create any international incidents, thankfully.

What we did manage to do... or rather, I managed to do, is provide what may become this year's epic moment.

With my birthday approaching, the Nerds brought me a gift of a lovely pie plate. (My birthday being the same as LabRat's, they remembered that it was coming, while everyone else thankfully forgot... I worked hard to keep Blogorado away from my birthday, thank you. I know how sick and twisted all those freaks are)

The pie plate is, as I said, lovely. What came in it however, was heavenly. I got a piece of my birthday pie, brought to me at the second job since unfortunately the scheduling monkeys decided that I needed to be chained to a register the night the Nerd Beer arrived.

No joke... my (new) manager looked at me and said "I don't think you're allowed to do that at work..." because of the noises I was making over this pie. It is strip down and roll in it naked and pull muscles to lick it all off good.

Well, at the range, Farmmom was smarting off that she wanted that recipe. Stingray, being of the "Mine and I'm not sharing" persuasion, which I can't blame him for, said "Kiss my ass."

I turned around and looked at him and said "For that recipe, I will no shit get on my knees and plant my lips to your naked ass. You write it down, and I'll do it."

Apparently this challenge was just too tempting for Stingray because I did acquire the recipe. I'm not sure how many people got pictures or how Stingray feels about them being posted, but barring any objections from him, I'm sure they'll surface at some point, from someone.

Totally worth it. My only regret is that I haven't had time yet to get the berries and make the pie... or con Farmmom into making it for me.

Mmmmm. Pie.

You Know... It's Kind Of Sad...

For nearly a week now I've been eating quite well on mom's cooking, GC's cooking, LawDog's pepper poppers, Stingray's ass-kissin good pie (story later) and now I'm sitting here eating a bologna and chip sammich. (Sour cream and cheddar Ruffles crushed and on the sammich.)

.... Something just ain't right with me, really.

Important Blogorado Information

For those of you attending Blogorado, an update.

I've been told by a couple people that their motel reservations were lost... luckily they had called to confirm and got it all taken care of, but if you've made reservations, I suggest you call again and make sure they haven't vanished into thin air!

Not that long now... and so much to do!

Sleep? What's That?

So, after shifts going from 4pm to midnight one day, to 9am to 5pm the next, followed up with a 4:30am to 1pm after that, fair week (with all the excitement and rush associated with it both at work and off) and two dances in two nights at which I had decided to blow off some steam and didn't get nearly enough sleep, this week I have a steady schedule. I'm closing all week, which I don't mind. My body is having a touch of trouble trying to get the whole "ok you were up till some gawdawful hour of the morning last night but you're not going to bed early tonight so you can actually sleep" concept, but it'll adjust.

Met a new guy in town Friday night at the dance. His immediate backstory is almost cliche. On his way to take a job in Oklahoma City (of a skilled labor variety which makes a buttload of money) his truck broke down in the middle of the night. Having not much money on hand, he couldn't afford to both fix the truck and, ya know, eat, for the period it would take to get the repairs done, and so being a self sufficient lad he started looking for work. Temporary, at first, but as he was directed hither and yon to folks who might have something for him to do to earn a few bucks he became fascinated with the area, and decided to stay a while.

That decision actually got him a job, since he was looking at being around for more than a couple weeks, and he's been settling in, and falling in love with, the county.

I think Hollywood did that movie, even if I can't remember which one it was at the moment.

In all seriousness, he seems like the sort to fit in well here, and be a positive addition to our tiny population. After one night of discussing everything from books to livestock to philosophy over the top of the noise of the dance and one much quieter conversation with just as much variety but less background noise, I'm prepared to give him the provisional Farmgirl stamp of approval for living in my county.

I've promised him a tour of some of my favorite places, and we'll get to that one of these days when schedules permit, what with him working farm hours and me working... whatever hours the manager wants me to work.

Since one of my favorite things to do is show people the places and things about this area that I adore, I'm sure it'll be no hardship.

Now, for something completely different....

As with most convenience stores, we carry condoms. And, as with most convenience stores, it's a fair bet that, especially on the closing shift, some shy youngster will mumble something to the clerk to the effect of "doyoucarrycondomsandwherearethey" in sotto voice.

So far, I've managed to keep a straight face, even when the shy one was not such a youngster, and point them in the right direction.

Harder is keeping my giggles under control at the reactions to the discovery that we only carry these.

It's just a packaging difference but to someone looking to not be seen buying condoms, (and this just blows my mind, frankly... I want to congratulate the younger people on their good sense every time I ring up a package of condoms, just to give some positive reinforcement) it throws them off in their hurried search.

Then when they find them, you can see, across the store, the confused look, and the slowly dawning realization that hey, this might actually be kind of brilliant. Plus, the relief that if they didn't spot them right away no one is likely to associate that packaging with condoms, and they might get out of the store without their mom's best friend (who of course walked in at precisely the wrong moment) noticing that they're planning on having s-e-x tonight.

The entertainment value makes me kind of glad that they took out the 75 cent dispensers in the bathrooms.

Remember Folks... It's Not Your Clerk's Fault...

So apparently last night the computer system running the gas pumps, credit card and check verification systems took a big ol' dump all over itself, resulting in there being several hours of no gas, no credit cards, no checks, cash only. (The pumps would work, but since the credit card information couldn't be transmitted you couldn't pay at the pump, and since the pumps weren't sending anything to the registers you couldn't pay inside...)

Oh yeah, and no loyalty cards either.

See, the store I now work for is part of the group that owns a couple of large grocery store chains as well. In trying to tie in all of their stuff, apparently, they've instituted a few perks for customers using their loyalty cards, like a gas discount and a point system... for every dollar of applicable merch in the store you get a point, and if you get such and such points in a month you get a higher gas discount.

Now, everyone loves a gas discount, and since the cards are free and easy to use, most people in the area have them and use them, if they fill up at our store.

Problem is, when the system crapped out, and got reset, somehow the gas pumps decided that there was no such thing as a valid loyalty card anymore. The cards have a magnetic strip and a barcode, and the newer ones are linked to your phone number, if you want, so that if you forget your card you can (supposedly) still get all your benefits. I haven't been able to get that to work yet but no one seems really surprised when it doesn't.

It was probably about five thirty this morning when I got my first grumpy customer saying that the cards wouldn't work. The pump said invalid loyalty, please enter phone number. After that, it was all downhill. People would come inside before pumping their gas and demand that I go out and show them how to get their cards to work at the pump, in spite of the line of customers stacked half way to the back of the store. As I tried to explain that I could apply their discount inside before they paid only if they prepaid, or they could fill up, then come inside and pay and I could apply their discount then, I was trying to check out other people attempting to get drinks or breakfast or snacks on their way to work, but this didn't faze the irate people, they by god wanted their three cents a gallon off.

And when they would pay at the pump with a credit card, and come in and demand their discount, and I figured it and handed them a handful of change, they got even more snippy, even though I had clearly told them that I could only apply the discount to a credit card purchase if they paid inside.

The system allows us to pay out the loyalty card discount after the fact, but not to refund that amount to a credit card. When you're talking thirty some cents as the largest pay out for the card I did, it's understandable that they're just not set up for that.

But I swear, by the time I got off work at one, I was ready to absolutely beat people. Not because they wanted the discount, not because they were grumpy that it wasn't working right, but because they refused to understand that there wasn't a damn thing I could do about the pumps.

"Go hang up the nozzle, and hit cancel until you get back to the first screen you usually see. Don't put your cards in the pump, just hit pay inside and select your fuel grade, pump your gas, and then when you come inside and pay, I'll apply your discount."

Simple, right? Apparently not. My ass got chewed so hard that "I'm-sorry-but-our-system-fried-last-night-and-its-not-quite-right-yet-but-we're-working-on-it-and-I-can-get-you-your-discount-in-here-if-you'll-just-hand-me-your-card-thank-you" was just about on automatic as a greeting as soon as a pissy looking customer stepped in the door. And even getting the discount, whether in change because they didn't listen or on their gas because they decided to pre pay or actually follow instructions, didn't resolve their grumps, in a lot of cases.

Instead, I, as the newest employee (and everyone who is a regular and used to getting their fuel discount knows I'm the newest) got ass chewing after ass chewing about how we should fix that because it's just such an inconvenience for them.

Well, here's a news flash. We had absolutely no freaking control over what was happening. The only thing we could do was log a helpdesk thingy, which the manager did as soon as she finished transmitting her paperwork at about eight. At noon they contacted us back wanting to know what the pumps were actually displaying, so she went out and tried to make her card work and then called them back and told them. When I left at one, it still wasn't resolved, and only time will tell if it will be at five in the morning when I open.

The moral of the story is, I had a miserable day because customers just didn't seem to realize that I had no control over the issues they were having.

When the problem is computer related, I.E. the credit card reader on the pump or such... don't get cranky at the clerk. They have no secret knowledge, as I can now tell you with certainty. There's no mystical handshake that magically fixes glitches in that kind of stuff. The thing that controls all that stuff is pretty much a magic elf box to us. We have no way of altering, fixing, corrupting, or otherwise effecting the thing.

So be nice, be patient, and listen. I promise it'll make things seem so much better if you just pull your panties out of that knot and take a breath.

I feel so much better now....

Blogging Forecast:

Light, with a chance of scattered snarky commentary.

See, I got a second job this week, so I'll be even busier than usual. I'm in training at one of the local stop'n'robs, which is not the best job in the world I'll grant, but it's still more money in the pocket which is always good. It's honest work, no more or less demeaning than digging a ditch and decidedly less sweaty if people will just remember not to turn the thermostat down too far and freeze up the AC.

I have a feeling I'm going to wind up muttering a bit about co-workers and customers, but I'll try to make it the amusing stuff rather than the old refrain of "customers suck, coworkers suck, when does my paycheck show up?"

It shouldn't be too hard, considering my second day on the job I got beaned with a 20lb bag of ice, and proceeded to tell the manager that N was trying to kill me, since he'd stacked the ice bags that had fallen on me (after the vendor had stacked them exactly where N had told him not to.) She laughed and said "You can't kill her yet.. for one we need her, and anyway, her insurance hasn't kicked in yet."

So far the company hasn't seen fit to activate any of my stuff... the online forms needed to finalize my paperwork (so that I can, you know, get paid...) have vanished and my code for the register doesn't work yet either. I also can't take any of the tests that I supposedly have to pass in order to work there because I don't seem to exist in the database that keeps track of what employees scored on the various tests (for proper handling of alcohol and tobacco sales, health department regulations, company policies with ridiculous acronyms, etc.)

In other news, we just got back from another trip up state, and on the way home, just outside the next town north, I swear I saw three cops playing rock paper scissors to decide who had to haul the creepy nutjob lookin dude who didn't appear to be wearing much more than the (clear) thin rain parka that cops in this area carry to hand out to hikers and bicyclists when there's a storm overhead.

At least, that's what it looked like to me. There's an outside chance that the two sheriff's deputies were actually shaking their fists at the State Patrol officer in a threatening manner, but it sort of looked like they were pretty much in sync so I'm guessing it was rock paper scissors.

(Yeah, I really am pretty sure the dude was naked as a jaybird under that parka. Only pretty sure because he was sitting on the side of the road, but unless he was wearing a flesh-colored unitard, he definitely didn't have a shirt on, at the very least.)