Wednesday, 14 November 2012
California
Hey peeps! So right now I am at the Halifax International Airport getting ready to board a flight which will ultimately take me to California. I will post more about it in a future blog, however if you would like to follow me in realtime you can follow me on Instagram under the handle "ricdiculously". See you in the states =)
Thursday, 8 November 2012
The Most Dangerous Game
The Birdman Game is a game of honor, skill, and minor inconvenience. It can be played with as little as two players and no upper limits on the maximum amount of players. It can be initiated anywhere and at any time (some exceptions apply, see Rule#13). Those who stare into the eyes of The Birdman must suffer the penalty. Those who refuse lose their honor and suffer shame. Once you play, you play for life.
I have searched the internet and their are a few posts on how to play The Birdman Game. I have even noticed that someone recently posted a wikipedia article on the subject. My post is far superior to these because I was introduced to The Birdman directly by one of it's 3 founding members. As such, I have compiled below a list of the rules for those who wish to play...the most dangerous game!
Rules of The Birdman Game:
4) When two players Birdman each other, the effect is cancelled out and neither player has to lie down.
5) If a player is birdmanned while driving, he or she must get out of the car and lie down at the first possible opportunity.
6) Birdmans may be stacked based on quantity of attacks. For example, if a player is birdmanned more than once before laying down right away, then they may be stacked at intervals of 5 seconds each to a total maximum of 9 times. In other words, if someone is birdmanned 9 times before laying down, they must then lay down for a total of 45 seconds. The stacking rule also applies to group attacks, ie. If someone is birdmanned by multiple players then that person must lay down for a total of 5 seconds per attacker.
7) Peripherals may be used to detect an attack. As long as no direct eye contact is made the player who is under attack does not need to lie down. Abuse of peripherals however will lead to an indefinite suspension from play. Multiple abuses may result in a lifetime ban.
8) When a person looks at himself in the mirror while in the Birdman position, that person must lie down. This is known as "suicide".
9) Pictures, videos, and drawings are all legal. For example, if someone sends you an email attachment of themselves doing The Birdman and you look at it, you must immediately lie down.
10) If a player is already laying down and is successfully birdmanned, they must stand up before they can continue lying down.
11) If player 1 watches player 2 get into the birdman position with the intent of birdmanning player 1, player 1 does not have to get on the ground. However, according my friend who is a proven founding member of the game, player 1 may in fact be birdmanned while watching player 2 go into the birdman position with the intentions of attacking player 1. However, it is not important if this rule is played the original or the modified way. Whichever way is generally accepted among a group of players in a given area is ok to play.
12) The Birdman Game is a game that shatters ethnic, cultural, gender, and social barriers. No one may be denied the right to participate.
13) Play can be suspended for a limited time. For instance, if a group of players belong to church or are coworkers at their place of employment, gameplay may be temporarily halted. However, all members must unanimously agree to any such suspension of play.
Let the games begin!
Thursday, 1 November 2012
Shawarma, Assemble!
Despite the title of this post I did not in fact assemble any Shawarma. Instead I went out and bought a dozen of them for my friends and I to have on our movie night. I didn't get any pictures of the Shawarma, but that's ok because I have something far more awesome up my sleeve:
Yes, you are actually seeing what you think you're seeing and, yes, you can get your very own shirt just like it. There's only one place I've come across that sells this shirt so far. It's a little pricey but it was worth every penny!
The Avengers are a group of awesome super heroes who eventually assemble into something even more awesome and who go on to save the world. Shawarma is a group of awesome ingredients that eventually assemble into something fiercely delicious and has probably saved the world? My point is that Avengers + Shawarma = one freaking sweet marriage of epicness!
Of course the whole idea behind this stemmed from the movie itself, where Iron Man (aka. Tony Stark, aka. Robert Downey Junior) tells his fellow Avengers after the action-packed final battle that he is seriously craving some shawarma. He doesn't know what it is, he admits, however he's always wanted to try it. This leads to the hillarious scene after the credits of all the Avengers gathered around and enjoying a meal of shawarma together.
I know what you're all thinking: How cool would it be if I had my OWN Avengers/Shawarma party. Well you've come to the right spot. I'll show you EXACTLY what said party looks like:
The moral of the story: You need a Shawarma/Avengers shirt. Also people. Plus there's a movie.
Anywho, I think we can all agree that my shirt looks pretty sweet. Speaking of sweet, I had a few friends over the next night, and one of them brought a few props. Why couldn't I have had these on Shawarma night?
So that's essentially how Shawarma Avengers Night, and the ensuing after party, went down.
Friday, 19 October 2012
Fun With Trivia
Here in Nova Scotia we have this little flyer you can get at most coffee shops and fast food places called the Flying Cow.
I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere but it's not coming to me right now.
In one of their recent editions they printed a different front page but kept all the other pages from their flyer last week. Each week they print trivia on the front page, with the answers to the questions usually found on the inside cover. Needless to say, it made for some interesting answers to the trivia questions. I've listed 4 of the 5 below and their corresponding answers:
1) What musical movie has the song "It's the Hard-Knock Life"?
If you answered "Annie" you are wrong! The answer is actually "80.5km", a movie about a bunch of orphans who hijack a school bus and other stuff happens and also there's Jay-Z.
2) What drug did the University of Pennsylvania animal-behaviour clinic prescribe for depressed dogs?
The answer: "1960s". Because nothing says mind-bending drugs for canines like the 1960s.
4) Whose marriage was headlined in Variety as "Egghead weds Hourglass"?
The answer:
Iron!
What the...?
5) What two-word term is defined as "the lowest possible temperature"?
In the past I would have said "absolute zero" but according to Flying Cow I'm dead wrong. The real answer is actually Truman Capote.
So now when you feel chilled, instead of saying "Man is it freezing in here!" you can say "Man it sure is Truman Capote in this place!"
I don't know how to end this post so I will simply end it with the following picture:
Majestic!
Also, you're welcome.
In one of their recent editions they printed a different front page but kept all the other pages from their flyer last week. Each week they print trivia on the front page, with the answers to the questions usually found on the inside cover. Needless to say, it made for some interesting answers to the trivia questions. I've listed 4 of the 5 below and their corresponding answers:
1) What musical movie has the song "It's the Hard-Knock Life"?
If you answered "Annie" you are wrong! The answer is actually "80.5km", a movie about a bunch of orphans who hijack a school bus and other stuff happens and also there's Jay-Z.
The answer: "1960s". Because nothing says mind-bending drugs for canines like the 1960s.
4) Whose marriage was headlined in Variety as "Egghead weds Hourglass"?
The answer:
What the...?
5) What two-word term is defined as "the lowest possible temperature"?
In the past I would have said "absolute zero" but according to Flying Cow I'm dead wrong. The real answer is actually Truman Capote.
I don't know how to end this post so I will simply end it with the following picture:
Majestic!
Also, you're welcome.
Wednesday, 25 July 2012
Sorry to Hear Your Grandmother Died Before You Could Bake Her a Present. That Must Have Been Like, So Pissy.
Lately I've been using the bus for all my transportory needs. There are a few perks. For example, money. I've been saving a ton of it.
Plus I occasionally get treated to a few rather amusing sights, such as this one:
I can't tell if this is an ad placement fail or a juxtaposition win.
Of course nature has a way of restoring the money saving/spending balance. Since I am without a car I find it hard to get to the grocery store from time to time, and have seen my fast food intake increase significantly, thus countering the money that I save. Other examples include when I was a young lad with my first car and totalled it just as I got a nice juicy tax return that I was going to spend on some fun youthful past-time. The irony that the few money issues I have are tied to my means of transportation is not lost on me.
I think what I love most about the bus though is the ambience and the lovely conversations that take place that I otherwise would not normally be privy to. Just the other day I happened to be directly in front of a delightful young woman and her companion, and was treated to the following little bit of ear candy:
Girl: So I have all these like, sculptures that I've been procrastinating on. Some of them need to be baked, a few of them still need to be glazed, and then there's this one sculpture I made for my grandma, but then the kiln broke down, so I couldn't give it to her, and then she died, which was really pissy.
Poor her. I felt bad for her and set out to find her a card. Hallmark doesn't exactly make a card for quite these situations. So I went and made her my own. Mine's awesome 'cause there's a dinosaur on the front.
I didn't exactly get a forwarding address, so I hope she reads my blog. It's all about the healing here at Science Fiction Fantasy Stamps.
Plus I occasionally get treated to a few rather amusing sights, such as this one:
I can't tell if this is an ad placement fail or a juxtaposition win.
Of course nature has a way of restoring the money saving/spending balance. Since I am without a car I find it hard to get to the grocery store from time to time, and have seen my fast food intake increase significantly, thus countering the money that I save. Other examples include when I was a young lad with my first car and totalled it just as I got a nice juicy tax return that I was going to spend on some fun youthful past-time. The irony that the few money issues I have are tied to my means of transportation is not lost on me.
I think what I love most about the bus though is the ambience and the lovely conversations that take place that I otherwise would not normally be privy to. Just the other day I happened to be directly in front of a delightful young woman and her companion, and was treated to the following little bit of ear candy:
Girl: So I have all these like, sculptures that I've been procrastinating on. Some of them need to be baked, a few of them still need to be glazed, and then there's this one sculpture I made for my grandma, but then the kiln broke down, so I couldn't give it to her, and then she died, which was really pissy.
Poor her. I felt bad for her and set out to find her a card. Hallmark doesn't exactly make a card for quite these situations. So I went and made her my own. Mine's awesome 'cause there's a dinosaur on the front.
I didn't exactly get a forwarding address, so I hope she reads my blog. It's all about the healing here at Science Fiction Fantasy Stamps.
Monday, 9 January 2012
Time Travel and Other Randomness
Today I began a week of vacation from work. This will be a nice change of pace for me. The other day at work I spent some time on the phone trying to set up someone to view their account online. When it came time to type some in some numbers the gentleman asked me if I he needed to type in the zeroes, and I told him he did. Then he proceeds to ask me: "Is that upper-case or lower case zeroes?"
The call lasted 45 minutes.
So yeah, this is a nice change of pace.
I was looking thru the to-do list on my phone, which has piled up quite high recently, when I came across one item in particular that caught my attention:
"7:10pm, 12/06/2011; re: time travel to Josh's car"
It was then I had remembered the lively debate me and a friend of mine were having while driving in his car about whether or not time travel was actually possible. The discussion went back and forth until I finally told him that I was going to make a note of the exact date and time and time travel to the back seat of his car and pop up in about 30 seconds just to prove him wrong. I was pretty disappointed when my future self didn't show up to help me out in my debate. What a jerk!
Either that or I simply never get around to inventing backwards time travel. In my head though I've always lived in the future or in the past and never quite in the present. Really though we're all time travellers, moving forward into the future one millisecond at a time. The trick is making the most of that millisecond and letting each successive one determine what our future will be like. In other words, the key to living in the future is living in the present, and key to living in the present is learning from our past. As Doctor Brown once told Marty McFly, our future hasn't been written yet, it's whatever we make of it. So make it a good one.
That doesn't mean I won't still continue my work on time travel, if only to spite Josh.
The call lasted 45 minutes.
So yeah, this is a nice change of pace.
I was looking thru the to-do list on my phone, which has piled up quite high recently, when I came across one item in particular that caught my attention:
"7:10pm, 12/06/2011; re: time travel to Josh's car"
It was then I had remembered the lively debate me and a friend of mine were having while driving in his car about whether or not time travel was actually possible. The discussion went back and forth until I finally told him that I was going to make a note of the exact date and time and time travel to the back seat of his car and pop up in about 30 seconds just to prove him wrong. I was pretty disappointed when my future self didn't show up to help me out in my debate. What a jerk!
Either that or I simply never get around to inventing backwards time travel. In my head though I've always lived in the future or in the past and never quite in the present. Really though we're all time travellers, moving forward into the future one millisecond at a time. The trick is making the most of that millisecond and letting each successive one determine what our future will be like. In other words, the key to living in the future is living in the present, and key to living in the present is learning from our past. As Doctor Brown once told Marty McFly, our future hasn't been written yet, it's whatever we make of it. So make it a good one.
That doesn't mean I won't still continue my work on time travel, if only to spite Josh.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Time Well Spent!
I have fallen off the radar for a bit. My apologies to all nine of you. I think you'll agree though that it was time well spent:
Also if you've never see this before, you're truly missing out.
Reading that comic is like getting a rare glimpse into my everyday life. And if like me you think that the traditional Garfield comic has gotten painfully unfunny over the years, you should also give this a try. You're welcome.
Which leads me to another reason for blog neglect besides wasting time on the internet: Unexpected Sudden Social Life, or USSL as it's often referred to. Symptoms include a week or so of doing nothing, followed by BAM-everyone-wants-a-piece-of-you! Planning to go away for a couple of days? That's usually when the USSL hits. Pretty soon you'll be getting asked to parties, sporting events, and trips to the moon, all of which just happen to be taking place on those two particular days.
Things seem to have settled down somewhat now so I should be hitting the blogosphere on a semi-regular basis once more, ever ready to entertain.
Also if you've never see this before, you're truly missing out.
Reading that comic is like getting a rare glimpse into my everyday life. And if like me you think that the traditional Garfield comic has gotten painfully unfunny over the years, you should also give this a try. You're welcome.
Which leads me to another reason for blog neglect besides wasting time on the internet: Unexpected Sudden Social Life, or USSL as it's often referred to. Symptoms include a week or so of doing nothing, followed by BAM-everyone-wants-a-piece-of-you! Planning to go away for a couple of days? That's usually when the USSL hits. Pretty soon you'll be getting asked to parties, sporting events, and trips to the moon, all of which just happen to be taking place on those two particular days.
Things seem to have settled down somewhat now so I should be hitting the blogosphere on a semi-regular basis once more, ever ready to entertain.
Monday, 3 October 2011
Saying Goodbye to an Old Friend
Despite having enjoyed many good times together, we both knew that they couldn't last. Still, I secretly wished we could've found a way to be together forever. However I reluctantly came to accept that there really wasn't any alternative.
Thus, with a heavy heart, I walked up to another friend of mine who was particularly eager to see this relationship end. I knew that she would want nothing more than for things to go back to the way there were before. I could not end this alone and was certain that she would provide the needed help to break free.
Me: "So you know that friend I have that you keep begging me to get rid of?"
Friend: "Yes!"
Me: "Well... I've decided that the day to do so has finally come."
Friend: "YES!"
Me: "I remembered how you said you always wanted to be there when that day came."
Friend: "Yes!"
Me: "So... can you help me?"
Friend: "I sure can. When do we get rid of it?"
Me: "I was thinking of shaving off my mustache in about a week from now."
Friend: "I'm so there!"
Yes, the time had finally come to shave off my mustache. I had grown my new friend about halfway into my 9 week Mexico trip. It was the first time I had ever truly grown one and I was quite pleased with the results. I got many compliments upon returning to Canada, including one I won't soon forget.
"I'm not hitting on you or anything Rick, but man I have to say you look fantastic with that mustache!" --Male coworker
However we all know that for every supporter there's bound to be a hater as well. I had a few, including the friend to whom I was now turning for assistance. I had also been thinking of cutting my hair around the same time so as to transform my look completely. I had considered going to a barber at first, but I made the mistake of having the following conversation:
Me: "I'm also thinking of getting a haircut at the same time. Do you cut hair at all?"
Friend: "Of course. I cut people's hair all the time."
Me: "Are you sure?"
Friend: "Absolutely! I have all the stuff for it."
Me (Trustingly): "Oh cool... okay bring your stuff and we'll do it up."
The day came and we got ready. We took a few before shots.
The closest approximation I could find to one of those barber capes were my shower curtains. So I tied them around me, sat down on a chair in my kitchen, and prepared for the worst.
Things started off well enough. My friend began buzzing the sides of my hair and trimming some of the unruly bits that the buzzer missed. Another friend who was also there stopped us every so often to take pictures along the way.
In retrospect I probably should have had a mirror at the ready, as these photos clearly demonstrate. My slow descent down the rabbit hole though had only begun.
*My friends, laughing*
Me (becoming slightly alarmed): "What's so funny guys?"
Friend: "Oh um, nothing... nothing at all."
Me: "There's obviously something going on, what's up?"
Friend: "Nothing, don't worry about it. I can fix it."
Me: "Fix it? Fix what??"
Friend: "Relax I know what I'm doing."
So I sat back and tried to calm down a little. I was growing more and more nervous by the minute, but I trusted my friends to do the right thing. How misplaced that trust was.
*Buzzing sounds*
Me: "So... how's it going up there."
Friend: "Um... fine?"
Me: "Are you asking me or telling me?"
Friend: "No no it's going great, trust me."
Me: "You know you keep saying that but so far you've given me no basis for such faith."
Other Friend: "Uh guys? I think I can see a bald spot."
Me: "A bald spot! What are you talking about??"
Friend: "I can fix it relax."
Me: "Relax? How can I relax when I'm being shaved bald by own friends???
Other Friend: "What do I have to do with this?"
Me: "You're allowing it to happen!"
At this point, the situation was looking pretty grim.
Finally I decided I had enough! The time had come to take matters into my own hands. Friend tried to stop me but I ended up throwing a hair filled towel at her to stun her as I made my escape.
Me: "Eat barber hair and fury!"
Friend: "AAACK!" *spitting* "I can taste your hair, it's all in my mouth! THBT THBT THBT" (Spitting noises)
Me: "Bwa ha ha haaaaa!"
Revenge is sweet.
Unfortunately though it turned out that I was just as useless at cutting hair as my friend was. Finally the cameraman, aka. Other Friend spoke up.
Other Friend: "Rick... sit back down and I'll finish cutting your hair."
Rick: "How do I know I can trust you not to screw things up further?"
Other Friend: "Well I can't do any worse than she did."
For some reason this seemed to make logical sense at the time. I sat down and allowed Other Friend to work his magic.
In the end I had lost far more hair than I had initially hoped to. But I knew that my hair grows quicker than mold in my basement apartment. Also, not bald! I decided to count my blessings.
I had survived the blade, vanquished the Barber, and came out relatively unscathed. My Herculean-style labours however were not quite over.
Friend: "Ok we're finally ready to shave the stache."
Me: "I think you lost that privilege when you nearly shaved my head!"
Friend: "No no this is simple. This time if I shave it all off it's ok."
Me: "What if you take my upper lip with it in the process?"
Friend: "Well then you'll be glad you grew a mustache while you had the chance."
Me: "I think I'll just shave it mysel--"
Before I could complete that sentence my friend practically lunged at me with the buzzer. I let out a muffled scream as she held my head back and tore into my mustache with furious abandon. I managed to escape her once again though. I stumbled into the bathroom and tried to reach for the razor. My friend beat me to it though.
Friend: "Here you big baby! I'll do it for you"
Me: *Sigh* "Fine go ahead."
Friend: "I just have one quick question first."
Me: "What is it?"
Friend: "Are you supposed to go up or down when you shave?"
I snatched the razor out of her hand in horror. The time had come to take matters into my own hands. Again.
And so, with a few swift final strokes, it was finally over. I looked down at the masacre that lay before me.
Thus, with a heavy heart, I walked up to another friend of mine who was particularly eager to see this relationship end. I knew that she would want nothing more than for things to go back to the way there were before. I could not end this alone and was certain that she would provide the needed help to break free.
Me: "So you know that friend I have that you keep begging me to get rid of?"
Friend: "Yes!"
Me: "Well... I've decided that the day to do so has finally come."
Friend: "YES!"
Me: "I remembered how you said you always wanted to be there when that day came."
Friend: "Yes!"
Me: "So... can you help me?"
Friend: "I sure can. When do we get rid of it?"
Me: "I was thinking of shaving off my mustache in about a week from now."
Friend: "I'm so there!"
Yes, the time had finally come to shave off my mustache. I had grown my new friend about halfway into my 9 week Mexico trip. It was the first time I had ever truly grown one and I was quite pleased with the results. I got many compliments upon returning to Canada, including one I won't soon forget.
"I'm not hitting on you or anything Rick, but man I have to say you look fantastic with that mustache!" --Male coworker
However we all know that for every supporter there's bound to be a hater as well. I had a few, including the friend to whom I was now turning for assistance. I had also been thinking of cutting my hair around the same time so as to transform my look completely. I had considered going to a barber at first, but I made the mistake of having the following conversation:
Me: "I'm also thinking of getting a haircut at the same time. Do you cut hair at all?"
Friend: "Of course. I cut people's hair all the time."
Me: "Are you sure?"
Friend: "Absolutely! I have all the stuff for it."
Me (Trustingly): "Oh cool... okay bring your stuff and we'll do it up."
The day came and we got ready. We took a few before shots.
(I look so calm, cool, and collected)
The Barber and I.
Enjoying my last few moments with my mustache to the full.
The closest approximation I could find to one of those barber capes were my shower curtains. So I tied them around me, sat down on a chair in my kitchen, and prepared for the worst.
In retrospect I probably should have had a mirror at the ready, as these photos clearly demonstrate. My slow descent down the rabbit hole though had only begun.
*My friends, laughing*
Me (becoming slightly alarmed): "What's so funny guys?"
Friend: "Oh um, nothing... nothing at all."
Me: "There's obviously something going on, what's up?"
Friend: "Nothing, don't worry about it. I can fix it."
Me: "Fix it? Fix what??"
Friend: "Relax I know what I'm doing."
So I sat back and tried to calm down a little. I was growing more and more nervous by the minute, but I trusted my friends to do the right thing. How misplaced that trust was.
*Buzzing sounds*
Me: "So... how's it going up there."
Friend: "Um... fine?"
Me: "Are you asking me or telling me?"
Friend: "No no it's going great, trust me."
Me: "You know you keep saying that but so far you've given me no basis for such faith."
Other Friend: "Uh guys? I think I can see a bald spot."
Me: "A bald spot! What are you talking about??"
Friend: "I can fix it relax."
Me: "Relax? How can I relax when I'm being shaved bald by own friends???
Other Friend: "What do I have to do with this?"
Me: "You're allowing it to happen!"
At this point, the situation was looking pretty grim.
Me: "Eat barber hair and fury!"
Friend: "AAACK!" *spitting* "I can taste your hair, it's all in my mouth! THBT THBT THBT" (Spitting noises)
Me: "Bwa ha ha haaaaa!"
Revenge is sweet.
Me after escaping to my bathroom.
Unfortunately though it turned out that I was just as useless at cutting hair as my friend was. Finally the cameraman, aka. Other Friend spoke up.
Other Friend: "Rick... sit back down and I'll finish cutting your hair."
Rick: "How do I know I can trust you not to screw things up further?"
Other Friend: "Well I can't do any worse than she did."
For some reason this seemed to make logical sense at the time. I sat down and allowed Other Friend to work his magic.
My other friend actually managed to fix the mess caused by my initial friend.
In the end I had lost far more hair than I had initially hoped to. But I knew that my hair grows quicker than mold in my basement apartment. Also, not bald! I decided to count my blessings.
I had survived the blade, vanquished the Barber, and came out relatively unscathed. My Herculean-style labours however were not quite over.
Friend: "Ok we're finally ready to shave the stache."
Me: "I think you lost that privilege when you nearly shaved my head!"
Friend: "No no this is simple. This time if I shave it all off it's ok."
Me: "What if you take my upper lip with it in the process?"
Friend: "Well then you'll be glad you grew a mustache while you had the chance."
Me: "I think I'll just shave it mysel--"
Before I could complete that sentence my friend practically lunged at me with the buzzer. I let out a muffled scream as she held my head back and tore into my mustache with furious abandon. I managed to escape her once again though. I stumbled into the bathroom and tried to reach for the razor. My friend beat me to it though.
Friend: "Here you big baby! I'll do it for you"
Me: *Sigh* "Fine go ahead."
Friend: "I just have one quick question first."
Me: "What is it?"
Friend: "Are you supposed to go up or down when you shave?"
I snatched the razor out of her hand in horror. The time had come to take matters into my own hands. Again.
And so, with a few swift final strokes, it was finally over. I looked down at the masacre that lay before me.
I miss my mustache already.
Friday, 23 September 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
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...?
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...?
Monday, 12 September 2011
Taking One for the Tim
I told you guys I work in a call center right?
I should probably be wearing shoes.
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.
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.
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
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.
...
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
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