I’m in a fightin’ fuckin’ mood

I didn’t wake up in a bad mood this morning, but I sure as hell am in one nasty as fuck mood now. The first day of decent-ish weather to be had in about a week— ruined. Courtesy of the MTA jackhammering up the street…

MTA

this dude doing god-only-knows what

shitsucker

while these asshats watched.

sitting ON IT

Foolishly, I opened up the windows of my apartment to get some fresh air (HA!)— and shortly thereafter was assaulted by a noise that sounded like 1,000 chalkboards being scratched by Freddy Krueger amplified through Satan’s very own asshole (with Pete Townsend controlling the volume).

The melee that followed was not unlike something from Mutual of Omaha’s Animal Kingdom: a herd three very freaked-out cats bolted out of the living room en masse to get away from the noise. One of them saw fit to molest one of our female cats in order to make his displeasure (via displacement) known. I close the window and then spend five minutes placating everyone. Except myself.

After experimenting with different music* (to conceal the noise), I finally gave up and went for a walk. This walk netted me (ample) content for my very first Greenpoint crap map and a second-hand encounter with the very kind of person I do not need to be exposed to when I am in a mood: a clueless hipster chick wasting a cashier’s time (and as a consequence, my own, as I had to wait behind her in line).

Clueless Hipster Chick (to clerk): Can I park my bike in here?
Clerk: Uh. Sure.
CHC: Do you have, like small clothes for a dollar? (Behind her is a rack of children’s clothing in plain view.)
Clerk: (?)
CHC: Like doll clothes, you know, cheap?
Clerk: Maybe, try that bin over there.

This was the bin I happened to be going through. As a result, now I had a smelly-ass chick hovering behind me, looking over my shoulder. I went to the back of the store. Eventually I got bored and brought my selections to the register only to discover… she’s still there!

CHC: How much for this?
Clerk: (Utters a price)
CHC: What about this?
Clerk: (Utters another price)
CHC: Can I like, get a discount, if I buy a lot of stuff?
Clerk: (Utters an answer)
CHC: What about this wig?

(Aside: buying, much less wearing, an old wig is gross. Then again, it was probably cleaner than her hair. It was oily and matted. Nasty.)

Clerk: $10.00 for everything.
CHC: Do you take credit cards?
Me (thinking to myself): So help me god I am going to throttle this woman!

After several minutes of negotiation and inanity, the bitch pulls out a wad of bills and pays in cash. I get my turn.

Me: one picture frame (priced at $4.00) and one set of buttons (priced at $1.00)
Clerk: $2.00
CHC: (Throws one nasty look my direction.)

I have worked in public service.
I have worked in sales.
I have also worked in hospitality.

My resume is a patch-work quilt with one common theme: interfacing with the public. There is nothing that a public servant/salesperson/PR hack hates more than some idiot wasting his/her time by drifting into a stream-of-consciousness line (?) of questioning. ESPECIALLY if the transparent (if illucid) motivation underlying it is chiseling away at the price of something.

CHC (and her brethren) are blissfully unaware of the fact that “X” number of people (many being idiots, just like herself) are in line behind her. In my experience, this is the type of person also operates under the (erroneous) assumption that the clerk enjoys conversing with him/her— or finds him/her interesting. We don’t. We are paid to expedite business and be nice— and when the day is over, we stick pins in our ‘troublesome customer’ dolls with extreme prejudice.

Hopefully this squeaky wheel learned that she will not get the grease by being an annoying twit: she’ll get the shaft instead. The quiet, patient, non-haggling customer (with daggers in her eyes) is the one who gets the discounts. While neither asking for nor expecting them, I might add.

Eventually I came home. Upon arrival, I beheld the latest incarnation of our apartment buzzer ‘system’…

Fucking retarded

I’m speechless. Fucking speechless. When I see shit like this (and in my building/’hood I see it with disquieting regularity) I ask myself: at what point does the exertion required (X) to cover up/avoid doing a task (Y) prove to be more effort than actually hiring a professional to fix the problem (Z)?

When (in New York City apartment physics) does X-Y (prove to be) >/= Z? If Stephen Hawking is still asking/fielding questions on Yahoo, I’m gonna ask him.

Otherwise, if this cutesy arrangement proves to facilitate theft (of anything I happen to have delivered to my apartment), I will invoke a force neither Mr. Hawking nor god himself would dare reckon with: the United States Postal Service.

*ELO, Public Enemy, Pearl Jam**, Guns-n-Roses (which worked)

**To their credit, “Go” (from the album Vs.) came very, very close.

Comments

3 Comments on I’m in a fightin’ fuckin’ mood

  1. Spinboy220 on Sat, 22nd Jul 2006 12:16 pm
  2. Amen, sistah, on all points. I’ve lived in Greenpoint, now “lovingly” rechristened “The Point” by all the Slipsters (Slipsters are slimy hipsters with a gazillion tats and piercings and greasy hair and second-hand clothes who can’t afford “Billyburg”) for 4 years and though I embrace gentrification on some level, I don’t embrace what it has wrought: buildings being knocked down on my block and insta-ugly condos being put up so I’m dealing with noise from 6am on, slipster guys & gals holding up the line in The Garden and elsewhere, and my sub-standard landlord never fixing anything in his sub-standard building, trying to squeeze more rent out of me at every turn. Keep on fighting for the rest of us!

  3. scoker3 on Sat, 22nd Jul 2006 7:04 pm
  4. Kudos on this comment. I really like the term slipsters. This is both informative and descriptive. I think this should be added to my oed (oxford english dictionary).

  5. missheather on Mon, 24th Jul 2006 10:00 am
  6. Dear Spinboy220,

    You have given me a lot to mull over. So much so, that it will be made into a post. That said, a few thoughts:

    1. “Slipster”: Thank you for this new piece of terminology. My husband and I are having a field day with it.

    2. Condos: What I do not get is *WHO* is going to buy them? Take the building on Huron St. between Manhattan Ave. and McGuinness. They have had open houses several weeks in a row. Perhaps the condos are nice, but the rest of the block looks like SHIT.

    As this building frenzy has progressed, I have watched more and more working families pushed out of this neighborhood. They are very people who MAKE this neighborhood stable. In their place we get vacant buildings and trustifarians. Neither of the previous contribute any value to the neighborhood at large whatsoever.

    3. Sub-standard Building: I do not know the particulars of your situation, but there are avenues of recourse for this problem. If you live in a rent-stabilized building, I can probably be of some assistance to you.

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