Marc
Just do your job: Spending time complaining about what you are required to do does not help matters out when one is in a critical crunch-type-work-related situation. "This just doesn't ..." or "Well, I don't think ... " or "In my opinion ... " are not valid, getting-things-done-in-a-timely-and-efficient-manner-type thoughts. Just do your job, stop complaining, so everyone else can get on with their lives. Point In Case: North American packers came to pack up some computer terminals this afternoon. Not only were they late, but they weren't even sure about what they were supposed to be doing (which shouldn't be held against them, but still rears its ugly head everytime I think about it). They were told they would be packing up computers. Nothing more, nothing less. One decides to just dive right in, get it done, and get on with the rest of the day (which worked out great for all parties involved b/c - as I've said before - they were late, which was about to result in some kind of issue with begging and pleading for the permanent employees of said residence to stay later than usual (which, if they decided they would do, would allow them to file some sort of Postal Worker's Union grievance against HQ b/c they would've had to work overtime for the week, and resulted in someone on my side of the fence getting seriously chewed out (maybe even me) ). The other guy (we'll call him Vicky) just looked at all the work involved and started to raise a stink that was noticeable by not only me, but also by the three very wonderful women that permanently worked in said office, his partner (the one that was already halfway through the job), and a postal-clerk in training. This guy gave new meaning to the word "bitch". And for him, the worst part only took about twenty minutes. I sat there, quietly reading Infinite Jest, only standing and talking when his complaints got out of hand. I think that people in his position sometimes have a problem taking orders from people of my obviously unadvanced age. What can I say?
Nothing Like Being Trashy: If you stay with one hotel chain enough nights in a row in a given amount of time, and you are part of their frequent customer programs, perks get involved. For me, this means access to rooms on top levels (15 out of a possible 16 floors u p in downtown Portland), quicker check-in, special offers, and FREE FOOD (if you're willing to be sneaky about it). Marriott's (only full service ones - not offshoots like Fairfield Inn's & Courtyard's) have what are called Concierge Lounges. In these lounges, Gold and Platinum members are invited to eat small portions of food between 5pm-7pm (usually it's some whacked out dish that I've never quite seen before, so I pass it and go straight to the cheese and crackers). If you're sly enough to get in right at 5pm, when the Concierge person is still sorting out forks and knives in the backroom, you can easily steal all the cheese and pop (or soda, if that's what they call it in your neck of the woods) without anyone noticing. I easily sauntered back to my room with a hefty portion of muenster, cheddar, swiss, and pepperjack cheese; and 3 Dr. Peppers stuffed into my cargo pants. It's all about keeping it on the download.
Just do your job: Spending time complaining about what you are required to do does not help matters out when one is in a critical crunch-type-work-related situation. "This just doesn't ..." or "Well, I don't think ... " or "In my opinion ... " are not valid, getting-things-done-in-a-timely-and-efficient-manner-type thoughts. Just do your job, stop complaining, so everyone else can get on with their lives. Point In Case: North American packers came to pack up some computer terminals this afternoon. Not only were they late, but they weren't even sure about what they were supposed to be doing (which shouldn't be held against them, but still rears its ugly head everytime I think about it). They were told they would be packing up computers. Nothing more, nothing less. One decides to just dive right in, get it done, and get on with the rest of the day (which worked out great for all parties involved b/c - as I've said before - they were late, which was about to result in some kind of issue with begging and pleading for the permanent employees of said residence to stay later than usual (which, if they decided they would do, would allow them to file some sort of Postal Worker's Union grievance against HQ b/c they would've had to work overtime for the week, and resulted in someone on my side of the fence getting seriously chewed out (maybe even me) ). The other guy (we'll call him Vicky) just looked at all the work involved and started to raise a stink that was noticeable by not only me, but also by the three very wonderful women that permanently worked in said office, his partner (the one that was already halfway through the job), and a postal-clerk in training. This guy gave new meaning to the word "bitch". And for him, the worst part only took about twenty minutes. I sat there, quietly reading Infinite Jest, only standing and talking when his complaints got out of hand. I think that people in his position sometimes have a problem taking orders from people of my obviously unadvanced age. What can I say?
Nothing Like Being Trashy: If you stay with one hotel chain enough nights in a row in a given amount of time, and you are part of their frequent customer programs, perks get involved. For me, this means access to rooms on top levels (15 out of a possible 16 floors u p in downtown Portland), quicker check-in, special offers, and FREE FOOD (if you're willing to be sneaky about it). Marriott's (only full service ones - not offshoots like Fairfield Inn's & Courtyard's) have what are called Concierge Lounges. In these lounges, Gold and Platinum members are invited to eat small portions of food between 5pm-7pm (usually it's some whacked out dish that I've never quite seen before, so I pass it and go straight to the cheese and crackers). If you're sly enough to get in right at 5pm, when the Concierge person is still sorting out forks and knives in the backroom, you can easily steal all the cheese and pop (or soda, if that's what they call it in your neck of the woods) without anyone noticing. I easily sauntered back to my room with a hefty portion of muenster, cheddar, swiss, and pepperjack cheese; and 3 Dr. Peppers stuffed into my cargo pants. It's all about keeping it on the download.
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