An actual exchange I had at work while manning the facebook chat with a random nerd. This is the first time he contacted us:
Random person: Do you guys buy Magic the Gathering cards?
Me: We do. Bring your cards in and we fill out a form. We have a guy who prices them (who is not me), he usually get back to you within a day or two with an offer for store credit or cash.
Random Person: What do you think my collection is worth?
Me: You would have to bring them in to get that answered by our guy who knows Magic cards.
Random Person: Could I just tell you what I have?
Me: You could, but again, I am not familiar with Magic cards. You're going to have to bring them in. Have a good day.
-
Here's the thing about some of the people who play Magic--they do not care in the least that I don't play. They are still going to tell me about their cards and why they are awesome in the combination they have arranged.
If someone asks, "Do you play Magic?" that means I am about to hear about deck arrangements no matter what I say.
"God, no! Can't stand the game. The people who play it are even worse."
"Yeah? Well, my red-blue deck is defense heavy but if I can get this one artifact out and in play..."
Monday, April 24, 2017
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
Bastard of a Mood
I know I am a certain kind of a mood when I am annoyed I can't take my dog to work with me. It's not the kind of mood where I tell myself, "Go ahead! Speak your mind! Good things will come from your honesty."
Maybe the guy who get's a call from his wife won't come in today. Every time he comes in he drools over the cards behind the glass, his wife calls and the its:
"I'm at the bowling alley!" (there's only one in town and it is notorious for it's shoddy cellular service. If you ask if what the WiFi password is, the answer is "Ha!"
"I told you I have to stop at the bank first!" (the store is right next to the bank).
"I've hit every red light. I'm like three minutes away." I suspect he lives fairly close.
He always pays cash. When I offer a receipt he laughs and says to burn the evidence. He tries to joke about his wife being a ball buster. Today is not the day to point out he has something to do with that.
A lot of dysfunction walks through the door--we're open to the public after all but on days when I'm already low on energy it takes a lot more out of me to bare witness to it all let alone help them with their purchases.
Here is your $12 Magic card. A game meant to be fun and not to foster resentment between people. And it's no problem, I'll burn the receipt.
Maybe the guy who get's a call from his wife won't come in today. Every time he comes in he drools over the cards behind the glass, his wife calls and the its:
"I'm at the bowling alley!" (there's only one in town and it is notorious for it's shoddy cellular service. If you ask if what the WiFi password is, the answer is "Ha!"
"I told you I have to stop at the bank first!" (the store is right next to the bank).
"I've hit every red light. I'm like three minutes away." I suspect he lives fairly close.
He always pays cash. When I offer a receipt he laughs and says to burn the evidence. He tries to joke about his wife being a ball buster. Today is not the day to point out he has something to do with that.
A lot of dysfunction walks through the door--we're open to the public after all but on days when I'm already low on energy it takes a lot more out of me to bare witness to it all let alone help them with their purchases.
Here is your $12 Magic card. A game meant to be fun and not to foster resentment between people. And it's no problem, I'll burn the receipt.
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Foolish Bastards
Last year my April Fool's joke was not bad. I posted on facebook, "Guess who's going to be a grandpa?"
I thought it was hilarious. But then again everyone in my family called my high school daughter for any and all confirmations.
I think I'll give it at least another year to see what she thinks. Hindsight is 20/20 and part of the clarity is seeing the hilarity you missed that first go round because you had to tell both of your grandmas (and a couple of aunts, uncles and nosy cousins) three times you weren't knocked up as well as swear many oaths attesting to the fact.
I thought it was hilarious. But then again everyone in my family called my high school daughter for any and all confirmations.
I think I'll give it at least another year to see what she thinks. Hindsight is 20/20 and part of the clarity is seeing the hilarity you missed that first go round because you had to tell both of your grandmas (and a couple of aunts, uncles and nosy cousins) three times you weren't knocked up as well as swear many oaths attesting to the fact.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Such is the Bastard Himself!
Hey look at all these posts!
And all in one month no less.
I'd be lying if I said I knew what I was doing with this blog. My current goal is not to overthink it. Just write stuff and post it.
Weeee!
And all in one month no less.
I'd be lying if I said I knew what I was doing with this blog. My current goal is not to overthink it. Just write stuff and post it.
Weeee!
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Busy Busy
I had a plan for St. Patrick's day to write up some expectations for the evening working at the bar--one of two in the little town I dwell. I like that bars exist but I've never really hung out in one previous to working at one.
I don't go into work until 7pm. I had lots of time before work and I was playing catch with my son in the back yard, pondering the evening. The backyard has flagstone which has extremely sharp edges so when my son went down on one knee it was no wonder it split it open. From across the yard I knew it would be stitches.
"Eww! Gross!" My 12-year old half-bastard said when he looked at his knee. I ruffled his hair and told him we were going to see the doctor. The gash was severe enough it required five deep stitches before ten normal stitches.
The admitting nurse and the doctor had different opinions about the wound. The nurse asked us if we we had a knee brace at home. He was peering into the separated knee-flesh with a worried look. "Like one that doesn't let your knee bend?" He looked up to make sure he had my wife and I's attention. "Movement is going to be an issue."
So when the doc came in all smiley and happy I was thinking of ways to keep a 12 year old boy from bending his knee. I would definitely have to hid his skateboard The doctor sewed him up while I envisioned the stitches popping at the seems. Ambulance rides. Emergency knee saving surgery.
When the doctor was finished he told my son to move leg. "Go ahead. Bend it."
My son tentatively lifted his leg. There was fear scared.
"Come on! Your skin is rubbery. You're not going to pop anything." He pushed my kid's foot up to demonstrate and get the show on the road.
"You're going to want to move it around. Jog some but maybe hold off on full speed running."
"So no brace required?" I asked.
"What? No, no, no. You're going to want to limit any activity where falling is a real possibility, keep the wound as clean and as dry as possible but let it breathe." He pointed at the boy. "Take quick showers too."
The doctor left and the same nurse came in to bandage and wrap up my son's knee. "No brace required." I said.
"That's good." He said. "You're lucky."
I knew myself well enough to leave it at that. I was irritated past the point of saying something constructive to the point of waiting for the doctor to be the doctor and if he wanted to flap his nurse mouth he needed to seek more schooling. Working with teenagers I saw plenty of stitch-requiring wounds and it didn't phase me. It was just something to take care of. Seeing my son's blood coming from a deep, fatty-tissue exposing cut was different. It was more charged.
Later I was able to tell myself the nurse was probably doing his best he could. His intention was most likely to help. He had no way of knowing what my brain would do with the information, inaccurate at it may have been.
The experience did help me with the shit-crazy night at the bar where I was no allowed to drink--even though I am Irish. I was able to remind myself how not punching the dude in the face was the right choice then and it was probably the right choice with Drunky McDrunk.
I don't go into work until 7pm. I had lots of time before work and I was playing catch with my son in the back yard, pondering the evening. The backyard has flagstone which has extremely sharp edges so when my son went down on one knee it was no wonder it split it open. From across the yard I knew it would be stitches.
"Eww! Gross!" My 12-year old half-bastard said when he looked at his knee. I ruffled his hair and told him we were going to see the doctor. The gash was severe enough it required five deep stitches before ten normal stitches.
The admitting nurse and the doctor had different opinions about the wound. The nurse asked us if we we had a knee brace at home. He was peering into the separated knee-flesh with a worried look. "Like one that doesn't let your knee bend?" He looked up to make sure he had my wife and I's attention. "Movement is going to be an issue."
So when the doc came in all smiley and happy I was thinking of ways to keep a 12 year old boy from bending his knee. I would definitely have to hid his skateboard The doctor sewed him up while I envisioned the stitches popping at the seems. Ambulance rides. Emergency knee saving surgery.
When the doctor was finished he told my son to move leg. "Go ahead. Bend it."
My son tentatively lifted his leg. There was fear scared.
"Come on! Your skin is rubbery. You're not going to pop anything." He pushed my kid's foot up to demonstrate and get the show on the road.
"You're going to want to move it around. Jog some but maybe hold off on full speed running."
"So no brace required?" I asked.
"What? No, no, no. You're going to want to limit any activity where falling is a real possibility, keep the wound as clean and as dry as possible but let it breathe." He pointed at the boy. "Take quick showers too."
The doctor left and the same nurse came in to bandage and wrap up my son's knee. "No brace required." I said.
"That's good." He said. "You're lucky."
I knew myself well enough to leave it at that. I was irritated past the point of saying something constructive to the point of waiting for the doctor to be the doctor and if he wanted to flap his nurse mouth he needed to seek more schooling. Working with teenagers I saw plenty of stitch-requiring wounds and it didn't phase me. It was just something to take care of. Seeing my son's blood coming from a deep, fatty-tissue exposing cut was different. It was more charged.
Later I was able to tell myself the nurse was probably doing his best he could. His intention was most likely to help. He had no way of knowing what my brain would do with the information, inaccurate at it may have been.
The experience did help me with the shit-crazy night at the bar where I was no allowed to drink--even though I am Irish. I was able to remind myself how not punching the dude in the face was the right choice then and it was probably the right choice with Drunky McDrunk.
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