Mexico!!! ...and other stuff

Mexico :D

Press play to be taken on a whirlwind journey through the nine and a half weeks I spent in Playa Del Carmen (and Chiapas) Mexico in just five minutes and nine seconds.  I had an absolute blast, and plan on sharing some of the experiences I had down there in the coming weeks.

In other news, I was doing a couple of google searches under "dish battling fortress" and "taking one for the tim".  This is what came up:

So I'm essentially beating the internet by 2 points right now.  Plus every follower on my blog and on twitter is a point so that's another... 14 points.  Oh and also:

So another point for me.  I mean yes, there are other results for sffs, but I'm first!  So I think I actually get bonus points for this one.  5 seems fair.  So I'm up 22 points on the internet right now.

Well... I guess that's not entirely true.  There were those times I forgot various passwords and had to reset them... not to mention a few times when the internet managed to sneak in a few unwanted toolbar installations when I've downloaded programs over the years.  Alright fine!  That's what... 8 points to the internet?  I'm still winning by 12!

While this is a fairly solid lead I still need your help in beating the internet.  Join me.  Together, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy!

Peace :)

*UPDATE: Well it has very quickly been pointed out to me that a search for my blog name does NOT in fact put me at the number one spot.  Looking back I realize that this is true, and that I am in fact in the number 2 spot.  So, I lose my six bonus points, bringing me down to 16 total.  Well played internet... well played.

The Night I Survived Explosions, Dodged Velociraptors, Fought A Machine, and Escaped A Labyrinth to Cheat Death

Once upon a time it was Sunday at midnight, and I had to get the frack home because I had to start work in about 11 hours.  The trouble was that "home" was about three hours away for me.  My options were limited:

1. Crash on a friend's couch and head out early in the morning.
2. Miss work, get fired, and become a hobo.
3. Head out now, drive really fast, and keep myself awake through rigorous slapping of the face.

Option one probably would have been best, however I'm what you would describe as a nervous sleeper.  Strange sounds and unfamiliar environments tend to very much keep me awake, as does the thought that I'll potentially be kept awake by my strange and unfamiliar environment and not get any sleep whatsoever and so end up staying up all night and having to leave early in the morning on no sleep whatsoever.  Living like a hobo seemed glamorous on the outside, but I've grown accustomed to eating pizza pockets and buying seasons of The Big Bang Theory on DVD over the years, so I had to abandon my hobo-ish dreams.  I had no choice but to go with option 3.

My plan was to make it to the first checkpoint, aka the toll booth with the big honking parking lot, so that I could take a nap.  I figured I'd be too tired at that point to care what my surroundings were like.  My friends, under the guise of "concern for my well-being", tried to thwart this well conceived plan by brewing me coffee so that I would be unable to nap at all.  Perhaps they wanted to see me end up as a hobo so that I would have more time to spend on them.  But I saw through their selfish motives!

So off I went, slapping my face every five seconds or so to get the rush I needed to stay awake.  The problem was that this quickly wore off.  I considered pulling over on the shoulder to sleep, but everytime I did I kept getting visions of a huge Superstore truck throwing a tire just as it was coming upon me and sending me screaming to a painful fiery death.  No thank you.  I had collected had too many unspent PC Points to allow that to happen.

At last I had made it to the toll booth.  I pulled over into the parking lot and tried to sleep.  For some reason I only managed to nap for about 15 minutes and could not get back to sleep afterwards.  I figured that all my body must have needed was a quick power nap and that I was fine to drive the last two hour stretch of my journey home.

After about 10 minutes though I found myself resorting to self-inflicted beatings just to stay awake.

I knew it was only a matter of time before fell asleep at the wheel and died a fiery explody death.  So after having driven for another hour I pulled into a gas station off the highway, put my seat back, and took another nap.  This second nap went much better, and I ended up sleeping for nearly three hours.

In fact, I probably would have slept straight on thru until morning had it not been for a knocking sound I was hearing.  I awoke to some dude at my window.  I was so groggy that I mistook him for a worker from the gas station.  I thought I was being asked to leave.

Me: "Mmm wha..?  Oh... um... I'm sorry, I was only taking a quick nap.  Yeah I'll just be heading out now."

Dude: "Hey man you need to give me a ride, it's an emergency!"

Me: (Still massively confused) "A ride... what?  How'd you get here?"

Dude: "My friends dropped me off brooo-wah."

Me: "Well... can't they pick you up, brooo-wah?"

Dude: "Naw man they like, just left me here after we went to the bar."

Me: "Why would you go out and get drunk right before your shift?"

Dude: "My shift?  What're you talking about dude?"

It was at this point that it slowly began to dawn on me that this guy didn't work at the aforementioned gas station.  Cautiously stepping out of my vehicle, I encountered a young chap that smelled of liquor, cigarettes, and failure.  Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe it was the eloquence of his words that won me over, but somehow I ended up agreeing to drive this upstanding young drunk to his home about 45 minutes away.

Dude: "Yo bro I really appreciate this man.  This is so great of you.  You have no idea how screwed I am right now."

Me: "Not nearly as screwed as I'll be if you go into an alcoholic rage-blackout during the trip and decide to shank me."

Dude: "What'd you say dude?"

Me: "I said I have to go pump some gas."

Dude: "Oh hey man let me get that for you it's the least I could do."

Me: "Oh that's quite alright I..."

Dude: "Naw naw man you sit there I'm getting out to pump the gas man don't worry about it!"

It's at this point that Dude walked out of the car and grabed the gas nozzle.  Amazingly he managed to pry it away from the gas pump, and then somehow managed to unscrew my gas tank cover.  He was 2 for 2.  Sadly, he couldn't quite pull off a perfect game.

*Clang clang clang... clang clang CLANG*

Me:  "What's going on out there?"

Dude:  "Duuuuuuuuude! The pump won't fit in this gas tank.  I don't think your tank's big enough!"

Me: "Well have you tried..."

*Clang clang CLANG*

Me: "Perhaps you should stop for a moment and let me-"

*CLANG CLANG CLANG*

I started to become alarmed that Dude was going to blow up my car any second.  I quickly sprinted out of the car to see what was going on.  Turns out he was trying to pump diesel fuel into my gas tank. 

(On a side note I'd like to take a moment and thank whomever it was that decided that color-coding the diesel pumps in bright fluorescent green was simply not enough and that the diesel pumps and tanks needed to be shaped differently from the regular pumps, just in case.  Thank you so... so much.  You quite possibly saved me from exploding to death.)

Oddly enough, after all of that I allowed Dude back into my car.  I ended up pumping the gas myself.  Now I should note at this point that my gas tank had a hole in it and so could only be filled about a third of the way.  This becomes important later on in the story.

The trip to Dude's place went rather well.  I classify this as such because I wound up not getting carjacked or shanked during the entire way there.  Instead, he simply regaled me with many a tale of screwed-overness, how his cousins were jerks for stranding him, and how thankful he was and how he was "totally going to pay me back for this".  He asked me for my phone number and address so that he could "thank me properly".  As tempting as the offer was, I had to decline.  I ended up saying something like "the satisfaction of helping my fellowman was payment enough".  That seemed to quell his need to find out where I lived.

Eventually I dropped him in a little town off the main highway. It was a charming place with architecture based loosely on labyrinth-era Greece.  After dropping him off I came to realize that I was now thoroughly lost.  That's when I decided to play what I thought was my trump card for these situations.  I grabbed the GPS out of the glove compartment

It started off by telling me to turn right onto the road, the complete opposite direction of where we had just come from.  I figured that my GPS knew best though so I followed it's advice.  I mean, it's connected to satellites right?  And satellites can see the whole world from outer space and whatnot.  It must know a better way out of this place.

After a few minutes of driving I was told to take just enough turns to get me lost from the point at which I had first become lost.  I was now double lost.  It then told me to turn onto a road which I drove down for about 10 minutes until it took me to a very ominous dead-end filled with dumpsters and black garbage bags.  I believe the sole purpose of this place was to dispose of the unfortunate visitors who failed to find their way out.  What's worse is that my GPS had achieved sentience and was now working with the town's central computer to try and kill me! (I didn't know that for a fact, but it seemed the only logical explanation for what had just occurred).

In horror, I unplugged my GPS to deprive it of it's power source.  I knew I hadn't killed it and that it was only sleeping, but I would deal with that later.  Right now, I had to escape!  I turned my car around as fast as I could and sped back up the road.  I took another left, a few rights, and possibly another left.  The houses started to get fewer and fewer at this point, replaced by trees and terror.  Desperate, I activated my GPS once again in the hopes that I had purged the evil program that had taken it over and that it would now faithfully lead me out of this death hole.  It mapped out a path that was supposed to take me back on the highway for real this time.

However, it was not going to make things that easy for me.

The "road" it took me to barely qualified as such.  On top of that it didn't seem as though anyone had bothered to plow it since the beginning of winter, and I mean the very first winter to ever hit this particular piece of land.  I'm also pretty certain that the road was originally built on top of a mountain, as it was more bumpy and twisted than Charlie Sheen's logic (Buh-dum pish!).  The moment my tires touched down on this gravelly death path I knew it was a bad idea.

The telephone poles were the first thing to disappear, followed swiftly by my cell service.  Next to go were the remaining houses and with them any trace of civilization as I knew it.  It was at this point that the needle on my gas gauge edged toward the empty mark (remember the hole in the gas tank from earlier?).  I willed my car to go forward as it slowly bobbed up and down across this uncharted area of Canadian wilderness. 

"So this it it" I thought to myself.  "This is how I'm going to die".  I was alone, exhausted, and quickly spiraling into madness and paranoia.  Betrayed by my own GPS and feeling like I was about to run out of gas, I was certain I was going to either freeze to death, be attacked by a pack of velociraptors (which I was sure the town's central computer had sent after me by now), or be eaten by a were-bear ("Just do the were-bears countdown: 5-4-3-2-DEATH!!!").  Or possibly all of the above.

Just as I started to accept my fate and wonder which unholy terror would claim me first, I began hearing wooshing sounds.  Thinking it was the velociraptors, I pressed on the gas a little more.  These monsters weren't going to get me without a fight!  However as I continued on the sounds became more distinct.  I began to recognize them as the sound of other cars on the highway!  Still, I wasn't ready to rule out the possibility of were-bears or dinosaurs, so I continued to accelerate and inch closer and closer to the noises.  Finally I began to see lights in the distance.  I kept on driving.  Suddenly I felt the road  became a whole lot smoother as I hit actual pavement again!  I was back on the highway and headed home.

Rick - 1.  Crazy labyrinth computer-controlled were-bear town - 0.

Epilogue:  The GPS I borrowed is now safely in the custody of my parents.  I told them to make sure they sent it back to either the manufacturer or enlist the services of John Conner before using it again.  I managed to sleep a few more hours before the start of my shift at work.  And the young man who tried to lure me to my death under the guise of being drunk was never seen or heard from again.  The End...?

Taking One for the Tim

I told you guys I work in a call center right?

I should probably be wearing shoes.

That's better (even though it looks like I'm wearing wooden clogs).

Forget it, let's go back to the socks.  Just pretend I have shoes on.

I can remember when I first started working here.  I came to learn that if I could crush the competition (eg. my coworkers) in sales that I could win a cool five dollars in gift card money as a reward.  It's not much, but it sure beats, say, being set on fire.

Which is actually what they did to low performers in medievial call centers.  To answer your first question, yes there were call centers back in medievial times, and to answer your second question, I know they didn't have phones back then.  Two words:  Carrier pidgeons!  They tried voice recognition once using parrots but it didn't work out so great.

But I digress.

We took inbound calls and only had one product to sell.  Some of my coworkers struggled with the sales but I found they came pretty easy to me, at least at first.  It didn't take long for me to climb the ranks like Nelly to become number one.  Pretty soon I was winning gift cards all up in this place!

Things were going pretty smoothly until one day when I won a gift card for Tim Horton's*.  I naturally assumed that this would be five dollars as well, but not so!  I was told that these ones only had two dollars on them.  The reasoning was that this was enough to buy two small or one extra large coffee. 

Being the rebel that I am though I wanted medium coffee.  This however would leave me with about 43 cents left over on the card,  which would then quickly disappear into my wallet or pocket under many layers of point reward cards and never seen or heard from again.

To make this endeavour a little more worthwhile and reduce such frivolous waste, I decided to save up 4 or 5 Tim cards and buy some manner of lunch combo from them.  Over the next week or so I secured the necessary amount of cards needed to buy a proper lunch.  It was at this point that I began to think, "Wouldn't it be funny if I saved up seventy five of these bad boys and bought the actual Tim Horton's coffee machine instead?"

...

Initially I dismissed this thought as too insane to actually work, and I tried to reason myself down to a more reasonable course of action.  It didn't take.


To put the final rock on the gas pedal I decided to also send out a team-wide email to my coworkers, promising that I would win enough cards to buy the coffee maker and brew everyone coffee with it.

I sat down in my cube and readied myself for another day of work.  Nothing to do now except sit back and wait for the sales to come rolling in and, by way of extension, a copious shower of Tim Horton gift cards.

It was about this time though that I hit an inexplicable wall in my sales.  Suddenly I was starting to hear the word "no" a lot more than I had been accustomed to.  I even tried to spruce up my pitch a little but to no avail.

As you can see I was clearly a victim of defective customers.  As I started to drown in my own sea of grandiose ideas and rash promises, panic began to set in.  Before this I had been at the top of my team in sales.  "What if this is it?"  I kept thinking.  "What if I've reached the pinnacle of my career and never sell another thing in my life?"  This nervousness only served to fuel further panic which led to an even sharper drop in my performance.

By this point, I wasn't winning squat.  I felt as though I had let down myself, my team, and most all, the Timster himself.

"This is it" I thought.  I was almost certain that I'd soon wind up an unemployed hobo living in the streets, surviving off the precious few gift cards I had won back in my glory days.

It was around that low point that an older gentlemen on our team came over to me and said: "So I hear you're saving to buy a Tim Horton's coffee machine with the cards you win from the sales incentives.  Well I think it's a great idea and I want to support it.  Here, take these cards.  They were sitting in my desk."

I managed a stunned thank you.  I couldn't believe someone else bought into my crazy dream!  This turned out to be the small boost that I needed to get back on track.

Suddenly the intense feelings of despair started to fade and the aroma of failure began to dissipate.  I was selling again!

Soon I had surpassed the 20 card mark.  And that's when the dam burst!  Soon everyone was pitching in to help make my dream a reality.  I was trading regular gift cards to coworkers for their Tim cards, and my boss would even slip me an extra Tim Horton's card here and there come prize time.  I was on a roll! 

At last the big day came.  After four months of saving, I finally had the seventy fifth card and the $150.00 worth of Tim's money that I needed!  Emails were sent, cards were gathered, and off I went.  I marched right out of work, went straight home, and... took a nap.

But right after that I found a friend who would be crazy enough to film the experience, and then very carefully selected my target: A Tim Horton's that was very much out of my way, thus ensuring that I would never be seen in there again.  Actually I was pretty certain that I wouldn't even be allowed back into that location after the stunt that I was about to pull.

I barged into the store, picked a Tim Horton's machine up off the shelf, went up to the counter, and waited for the cashier to ring it in. 

I then handed her about 5 Tim Horton's cards to start with.  She scanned them in efficiently and watched as two dollars came off the price for each one.  When the cashier had finished with that stack she announced the new total to me.  I noticed her beaming with pride at the quick work she had made of my tiny stack of cards.  She announced the new total to me, as if thinking I was out of cards and expecting me to be paying for the rest of the coffee maker by some other means.  How wrong she was!

I started to pull out more cards, and when she was done scanning those, more cards still.  I was pulling them out of pockets, my hat, and anywhere else I had hidden them on my person.  Pretty soon almost every worker in the store stopped what they were doing to come and watch as I made this poor girl scan card after card.

When the cashier was finally done scanning all the cards, she wearily asked me if I wanted my receipt.  I told her that I did.  She hit the print button and the receipt began to spew forth.  

It took almost a minute for the receipt to fully print.  It was massive!

Coffee machine in hand, I triumphantly marched into work the next day to fulfill my much anticipated promise.  I even had coworkers pitch in extra Tim's cards and money beforehand so that we could turn it into a full blown epic Tim Horton's day.  I blissfully spent that afternoon careening through on an out of control coffee-soaked sugar ride, brewing pot after pot of coffee for my happy coworkers as we gorged ourselves on donuts, muffins, and timbits.

I'd like to think that the Timster would have been proud!

*For all my foreign readers out there, be sure to check out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tim_Hortons