American Flag: $24.99
Gasoline: $5.32
Cigarette Lighter: $2.50
Catching Yourself on Fire Because You’re a Flag-Burning Asshat?
PRICELESS
Aside from spending a small fortune cleaning viruses and browser hijackers from your computer after surfing porn sites, there are other, more disturbing dangers of using the Internet to help satisfy your carnal nature…
Could’ve been worse…
“Hey, Mark, I need a small project done by 2PM. Can you do it?”
“Sure,” I said assuredly.
But that was early this morning.
“Hey, can you help with this other thing?”
“I have a 2PM deadline on the first one,” I tell them.
“It’ll only take a minute.”
Wrong.
Back on track, an hour later.
“Hey, Mark? I need you to hold up while we send you some more specifications.”
“Okay, but… we’re running out of time here.”
“It’s nothing major.”
An hour later, I get the new information and have to sart over.
“Hey, Mark, can you do something else for us?”
“Look, I spent two and a half hours off, and I’m running out of time here. You need your first project at 2PM, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, but this is more important right now.”
“Okay…”
Another hour later, I’m back on track.
“Hey, Mark. This other guy over here needs some software installed.”
“I can’t,” I told him.
“Why not?”
“I don’t have time, since you need this done by 2PM,” I explained. “But I can do it after that.”
“Yeah, we have to have that. But if you can’t do this for us, then we better find someone else to do all of it.”
“Well, you could, but I’ve already done this, that, the other, and spent an hour and a half on the first thing you asked for. If you be patient, then I can get you taken care of.”
“Yeah, ok. Well, we need that by 2PM.”
“Great… talk to ya then.”
Back on track. It’s 1:15PM. I have forty-five minutes to finish.
“Oh, but, Mark, we really need…”
“Okay, do you need your project by 2PM?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
“Okay, I’m trying to finish it, in the next 45 minutes, so if you could just make a list of what all needs to be done and e-mail it to me, I’ll be happy to knock that out promptly at 2:01PM.”
“Yeah, well, we have to have this, too.”
“I can’t do both right now. Both are very involved projects, and I need to finish this one by 2PM. In 45 minutes, I’ll do whatever else you need.”
“Well, that’s just not acceptable. Haven’t you ever heard the customer is always right?”
“Yes, and if you ask me to complete a task by 2PM, I’m going to, if you’ll allow me to.”
“Oh, yeah, well, I think we’re just gonna scrap the whole project and find someone els to do all of it.”
“Well, I could certainly do them, but I think perhaps you guys need to prioritize your needs a little better. Here it is with forty minutes to spare, and I’ve only been able to work on a five hour project for about two hours. I can get it going, but I can’t do it and talk on the phone and do all of these other things. If you can bear with me for forty minutes, I’ll get you all taken care of it.”
“All of it?”
“Your project at 2PM, and everything else by 4:30.”
“That’s not acceptable. You said by 2PM.”
“Yes, sir, for the original project. All of these other things are peripheral, and taking the necessary time away from that project.”
“That’s not acceptable. We’re going to find someone else!” he yells as he hangs up.
I call back. “Ya know, there is the matter of your bill.”
“You didn’t have the project finished by 2PM.”
“No, but you contracted my time to do it, and proceded to use that time to finish several other, smaller projects.”
“Apparently, our time isn’t important, Mark!”
“Excuse me?” I monotoned in disbelief.
I do the impossible. I do a good job. And above all, I treat my customers with respect and proceed to my duties in a professional manner.
“So you’re not going to pay me?” I ask.
“Why? You didn’t get the job done.”
“No, but I got three others done for you in the time where I was supposed to be finishing a project. I explained repeatedly that I couldn’t get the project completed by 2PM if you continued to come to me with other, less important requests. You said that these were just as important, and I stopped to complete those tasks, as well. I am not a time traveller, and apparently, that is what you need.”
“Yes, we do. So f$*& you, Mr. Steel! We’re finding someone else.”
“F$*& ME? Apparently, sir, you have a problem with my performance, though I fail to see how that could be, considering all of the assistance I’ve offered you today. Perhaps you should find someone else.”
“Don’t f$*&ing cuss me you piece of sh….”
*click!*
I will not walk away empty handed, and then sit there to be insulted and screamed.
A little respect is never too much to ask.
Funny that it’s now 2:06, and neither their projects nor their additional side tasks are completed. I wonder how long it’s going to take the next guy?
[ And if you’re said customer — who pretends to be my employer — do you realize that I QUIT?! ]
This isn’t a Halloween prank. It’s absolutely true.
So, first off, let’s get one big-ass presumtion outta the way: I don’t believe in ghosts. I generally think they’re a nutjob’s way of attempting to give order to a chaotic life.
In fact, I’m an extremely logical person, with a stranglehold on reality. Truth is stranger — and, generally, funnier — than fiction, so I don’t bother with the latter…
…even though I’ve had a couple of really weird experiences which’ve made me question my own sanity.
So this? This is a weird one. It’s one of those borderline, “Oh, yeah, he’s nuts, look! There’s the proof!” kinda posts. But honestly, I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. Fortunately, there were other people with me, witnessing the same things, and saying, “Oh crap!” right along with me. Or words to that effect…
Earlier this year, the twenty-first of February to be exact, the Pirates and I lost a close friend. The reactions were mixed. Some were angry about the way she went, some were distraught that she was gone, and some were nostalgic.
A very tiny minority of us remembered the way she was, laughed along with our memories, and kept right on laughing and smiling. Our attitudes helped us be there for the others who weren’t doing so well.
On February 25th, after a brief meeting with some of the aforementioned, Zacque and I decided to head off somewhere other than the usual hangout to have a drink.
That’s crucial to this story, see, because neither of us had been drinking yet.
So I’m driving down I-75 when all of a sudden, my telephone rings. I always look at the Caller ID, and was shocked to “Susan” appear. I decided, logically, that her daughter was calling from her phone.
“What’s up?” I answered.
“Nothing much,” the voice on the other end replied.
That voice… “Susan?”
“Oh, HA-HA! You don’t say!” she laughed.
“Uhhh, what the Hell? This isn’t funny!” I yelled.
“Oh, Hey, hey, hey!” she yelled, still laughing. “You know what you should do?”
“What?” I snapped. It was her… but I knew it couldn’t be her.
“You should take Zacque out for a drink!” she said.
“That’s what we’re doing…”
“Yeah, I figured. Well, you two be careful, ok?” she mothered.
“Always,” I monotoned.
“Love ya, bye!” she said. Same as she ever was.
She hung up.
I was about to tell Zacque what was going on as the tears welled in my eyes, but the phone rang again — again from Susan.
“Oh, hey!” she yelled when I answered. “Mark, listen to me — this is very important!”
I was pulling into the parking space at the bar. “What’s up?”
“You have to check your right, rear wheel. It’s really important!”
“Uhhh, what?” I asked, confused.
“Just do it, ok? Promise me!”
“Okay, I promise,” I said.
“Oh, and fix your speaker!” she added. “Love ya, bye!”
I turned the car off. The tears began to stream. Was I losing my mind?
I looked at Zacque. “Look at the Caller ID,” I said as I handed him the phone.
“What’d she say?”
“To check my rear passenger wheel and fix my speaker…”
We sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, finally deciding to head to my place instead of hanging out drinking. Zacque was visibly shaken, nervous.
“Ok,” I said. “Guess I’ll drive so I can check my wheel tomorrow…”
As I started the car, the right rear speaker blasted out nothing but loud static.
I turned the car off.
“On second thought, Zacque,” I started. “You drive.”
I lost it… Crying. Scared.
The next day, with great hangovers, we drove back to my car to inspect this mysterious “right rear wheel.”
As we laid down on the concrete, we simultaneously saw a quarter-inch off-brand wrench hanging precariously from the brake’s bleeder valve inside. It was close to falling off by itself, and most probably would have locked the wheel, if only temporarily… but certainly enough to cause major damage to the car, and maybe even to me if I hadn’t found and corrected the situation.
Saved by a phone call from a dead friend?
Oh, there was more over the next few months. Sporadic phone calls, voice mails, and miscellaneous other forms of “contact” which were witnessed by others.
In April, I was going through a bit of a legal mess. One night, while sitting around with a group of friends, I got another of her strange phone calls.
“Well, hey! Well, hey! Well, hey, hey, hey! Do you know what you should do?” she said.
“No.”
“Well. goddamn! What happened to you?” she said with concern. “You have to remember one thing.”
“What?”
“I’m rat-cheer,” she said in her best Southern drawl.
“What?”
“Rat-cheer.”
“Right here?”
“Rat-cheer.”
“No… You’re not.”
“But if you need me to testify for you, you know I will.”
“What?”
“I’m rat-cheer. See ya!”
*click*
I turned off my phone that night.
As for the court case I was involved in, I wished Susan could’ve been there. She witnessed a lot of what I was testifying about, as well. In court, I attempted to get another witness to repeat what Susan had said about the incidents, but the testimony was kicked out as hearsay (which it wasn’t).
Still, I won my case. Her call made me get my ducks in a row.
The last fully verifiable contact I received from her was on May 19th, 2007 at 9:26AM EDT. Here it is:
On June 29th, a girl I know told me she had late night conversation with Susan when calling my telephone. I was verifiably passed out at the time, having taken a tumble through a glass tabletop. Others who were around that night swear that no one talked to the girl in question, either.
At the time, I chalked it up to nonsense. But in retrospect, perhaps it was her way of keeping me safe again…
Every once in a while, I run across some crazy names — things which are innocent, but could certainly sound like a prank phone call if you didn’t know any better. These are all true:
