Tweet
The long commute is over... Arizona in da house!
As much as I have preached patience, knowing that I would eventually receive my copy, I have to admit I was getting pretty darned antsy, since as recently as last Thursday, Amazon still wasn't showing my order as shipped.
So I am doing my normal rush to work this morning, juggling my morning can of coke, sparking up the first cig of the day, getting into the car, and multitasking by dialing into an important early morning conference call with a customer who needed me to explain exactly why my company can't provide the data they want in the format they want. Typical. As I announce myself on the call, simultaneously pulling out of the garage and pushing the garage door remote as I pull out of my driveway, I happen to notice a small corner of a cardboard box on the walkway leading to my front door. I dismiss it as a figment of my imagination because it isn't where deliveries are usually placed, its way too early, and it wasn't there last night.
Still, that little piece of cardboard nagged at me as put the car in drive after backing into the street. Instead of continuing down the street like I should have, I decide I need to check out this aberration. I pull back into my driveway, put the call on mute, and pop out of the car.
There it sat, laid carelessly on the walkway at least 5 yards from where almost all my packages are left. The distinct Amazon logo calling me to retrieve this early morning gift from its precarious situation. I am equally amazed that this box has been delivered before 9 am, well before I've ever seen something left at my house.
I ignore at least one question asked directly to me while I grab the box that is clearly big enough to hold the most anticipated order I have placed all year. Tossing it on my car seat, I finally take myself off mute, re-engage the mental midgets that don't understand diddly squat about data specifications or the nature of the data they even need, and proceed on my way to work. I patiently explain the reasons why they can't have exactly what they want, even managing to make them feel like they did a good job of designing their data specs, despite the fact that they were completely fubared. All the while this package kept calling to me from my passenger seat to hang up the call, pull the car over and open the danged box! I ignore the siren's song, and continue to provide the customer with alternatives that will accomplish what they want with some minor adjustments (which I had previously already offered in multiple emails).
After finally finishing the call, I manage to complete my 45 minute commute to work, which usually takes me 35 minutes, but when I am dealing with dimwits, I like to drive close to the speed limit.
I arrive at work with about 15 minutes to spare before I need to join my next conference call. With as much grace as a slobbering and hungry dog at dinnertime, I tear into the package to confirm that my copy of World's Greatest Toys is inside, and not some corny cookbook written by some pompous Food Channel jackass, or some other pointless tome ordered by the missus.
I spend the next few minutes in the parking lot just paging through the book to marvel at the quality, barely taking time to look at the pictures, yet the text.
Of course I am a couple of minutes late dialing into the next call, finally getting out of the car only when my Treo nags me into submission.
I spent a long lunch (35 whole minutes) doing much the same thing in my car in the afternoon, deciding not to bring the book to my desk for fear of accomplishing nothing productive.
Thank you for distracting me from yet another mundane day Benjamin. I plan to actually read more than 10 words in a row this weekend, but just knowing the book is now safely in my grubby little hands has lifted my spirit tremendously. I'll post more when I have had some time to absorb the Mego goodness.
So I am doing my normal rush to work this morning, juggling my morning can of coke, sparking up the first cig of the day, getting into the car, and multitasking by dialing into an important early morning conference call with a customer who needed me to explain exactly why my company can't provide the data they want in the format they want. Typical. As I announce myself on the call, simultaneously pulling out of the garage and pushing the garage door remote as I pull out of my driveway, I happen to notice a small corner of a cardboard box on the walkway leading to my front door. I dismiss it as a figment of my imagination because it isn't where deliveries are usually placed, its way too early, and it wasn't there last night.
Still, that little piece of cardboard nagged at me as put the car in drive after backing into the street. Instead of continuing down the street like I should have, I decide I need to check out this aberration. I pull back into my driveway, put the call on mute, and pop out of the car.
There it sat, laid carelessly on the walkway at least 5 yards from where almost all my packages are left. The distinct Amazon logo calling me to retrieve this early morning gift from its precarious situation. I am equally amazed that this box has been delivered before 9 am, well before I've ever seen something left at my house.
I ignore at least one question asked directly to me while I grab the box that is clearly big enough to hold the most anticipated order I have placed all year. Tossing it on my car seat, I finally take myself off mute, re-engage the mental midgets that don't understand diddly squat about data specifications or the nature of the data they even need, and proceed on my way to work. I patiently explain the reasons why they can't have exactly what they want, even managing to make them feel like they did a good job of designing their data specs, despite the fact that they were completely fubared. All the while this package kept calling to me from my passenger seat to hang up the call, pull the car over and open the danged box! I ignore the siren's song, and continue to provide the customer with alternatives that will accomplish what they want with some minor adjustments (which I had previously already offered in multiple emails).
After finally finishing the call, I manage to complete my 45 minute commute to work, which usually takes me 35 minutes, but when I am dealing with dimwits, I like to drive close to the speed limit.
I arrive at work with about 15 minutes to spare before I need to join my next conference call. With as much grace as a slobbering and hungry dog at dinnertime, I tear into the package to confirm that my copy of World's Greatest Toys is inside, and not some corny cookbook written by some pompous Food Channel jackass, or some other pointless tome ordered by the missus.
I spend the next few minutes in the parking lot just paging through the book to marvel at the quality, barely taking time to look at the pictures, yet the text.
Of course I am a couple of minutes late dialing into the next call, finally getting out of the car only when my Treo nags me into submission.
I spent a long lunch (35 whole minutes) doing much the same thing in my car in the afternoon, deciding not to bring the book to my desk for fear of accomplishing nothing productive.
Thank you for distracting me from yet another mundane day Benjamin. I plan to actually read more than 10 words in a row this weekend, but just knowing the book is now safely in my grubby little hands has lifted my spirit tremendously. I'll post more when I have had some time to absorb the Mego goodness.
Comment