What Nightmares May Come
Tonight I went out with my sister and Kandra to my favourite hole in the wall bar, Morts. Morts is cool enough to be listed in Cigar Afficiado as one of the happening places in Kansas. The drink specials for a Thursday at Mort's includes $2.50 pints of Guinness, Bass, or Black and Tan (Guinness and Bass mixed together to create this neato parfait effect). I started off drinking Bass, which is perfectly fine by itself. After listening to some smooth jazz and eating several baskets of spicy popcorn, I switched to Guinness. I figured this would be a nice combination and that the loveliness of a Black and Tan would be mixed in my stomach. For the most part, I think this is still correct.
When I got home I was so tired/fatigued that I crashed right away (well almost). That's when the horrible dreams started. I started having traumatic flashbacks to working at Office MAX and dealing with *shudder* customers. The typical Office MAX customer is kind of like Milton from the movie "Office Space". Instead of a stapler fetishist though, most of the time I dealt with pen freaks. Pen freaks are people that want you to sell them a pen as if it were a Cadillac. They require wooing. They need to swoon at the sheer description of a uniball micro pen. Here's a sample of the typical sale:
Brent: Hi, can I help you with something?
Pen freak: I need the Excalibur of pens!
Brent: These uniballs are pretty nice, they are nice and smooth until the last drop of ink.
Pen freak: Can you describe the manufacturing process of a Uniball?
Brent: No
Pen freak: How can you guarantee the quality of your product then?
Brent: It's a pen. If it doesn't write, you can return it I guess.
Pen freak: Will you compensate me for gas on the return trip?
Brent: NO
Pen freak: How are these Bic Click-A-Sticks?
Brent: They write
Pen freak: Is that the best sell you can come up with?
Brent: That army of Post-It's doesn't stand a chance against your well-trained platoon of Bic click pens.
Pen freak: That's better.
Inevitibly when thinking of the customers, I'm always reminded of the boss. My particular boss was named Dick Heineman (pronounced Hiny man). With a name like that, we didn't even bother with a nickname. Dick was the epidemy of the Napoleon complex. He was shorter than me, and had a mean temper. He always had to assert his authority with strange outbursts. My personal favourite is "If you mess up in school, I'll kick your ass just like you were one of my kids". The funny thing is, his son was on a wrestling scholarship at Penn State. I could never imagine this strapping kid crying for mercy as his tiny fat father whipped him with a belt for getting a D in Pottery. Dick Heineman is now a district manager for GNC. Beefcake!
Anyways, I think I've narrowed down the cause of the bad dreams to the following:
I feel better already.
When I got home I was so tired/fatigued that I crashed right away (well almost). That's when the horrible dreams started. I started having traumatic flashbacks to working at Office MAX and dealing with *shudder* customers. The typical Office MAX customer is kind of like Milton from the movie "Office Space". Instead of a stapler fetishist though, most of the time I dealt with pen freaks. Pen freaks are people that want you to sell them a pen as if it were a Cadillac. They require wooing. They need to swoon at the sheer description of a uniball micro pen. Here's a sample of the typical sale:
Brent: Hi, can I help you with something?
Pen freak: I need the Excalibur of pens!
Brent: These uniballs are pretty nice, they are nice and smooth until the last drop of ink.
Pen freak: Can you describe the manufacturing process of a Uniball?
Brent: No
Pen freak: How can you guarantee the quality of your product then?
Brent: It's a pen. If it doesn't write, you can return it I guess.
Pen freak: Will you compensate me for gas on the return trip?
Brent: NO
Pen freak: How are these Bic Click-A-Sticks?
Brent: They write
Pen freak: Is that the best sell you can come up with?
Brent: That army of Post-It's doesn't stand a chance against your well-trained platoon of Bic click pens.
Pen freak: That's better.
Inevitibly when thinking of the customers, I'm always reminded of the boss. My particular boss was named Dick Heineman (pronounced Hiny man). With a name like that, we didn't even bother with a nickname. Dick was the epidemy of the Napoleon complex. He was shorter than me, and had a mean temper. He always had to assert his authority with strange outbursts. My personal favourite is "If you mess up in school, I'll kick your ass just like you were one of my kids". The funny thing is, his son was on a wrestling scholarship at Penn State. I could never imagine this strapping kid crying for mercy as his tiny fat father whipped him with a belt for getting a D in Pottery. Dick Heineman is now a district manager for GNC. Beefcake!
Anyways, I think I've narrowed down the cause of the bad dreams to the following:
- using my stomach to mix the Black and Tan
- too much spicy popcorn
- trying to decipher what the Neutral Milk Hotel's album is really about
I feel better already.
posted by Brent at 3:07 AM
1 Comments:
Dude $2.50 for Guinness and Bass? In the middle of Kansas?! That's fucking awesome! I've never paid less than $4.50 for a pint of Bass at any bar I've ever been to.
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