When Work Attacks. Part Noir

So yesterday, I'm working, standing behind the counter, when my assistant manager walks past where I'm standing.

His name is Cliff Emerson, and he's much more macho then you, however he is 52 years old.

So I, being an excellent employee, say, "Morning Cliff"He responds with "Hey Nate. Whats on the agenda today?"
I say "Well, I have to defect out all these broken modules, break down the boxes, and stock out all our new merchandise. You have to try not to break a hip."
Naturally, Cliff punches me in the arm.
So I ask him if he's too old to still fight, and assume a boxing stance.
After a few playful jabs, which were not really intended to hit anything, I drop my guard and start to walk away.At this point, it seems that Cliff wasn't done yet, becuase he switched hands, and hit me right in the face. Not like a mock hit either, he actually punched me right in the nose.
So, my nose starts to bleed, and both of us are just standing there kind of stunned, becuase i mean, I dont really expect to get hit in the face when I come to work.
(Cliff "apparently" just misjudged how far he was going to punch, but I dont know how true that really is.)
So I'm standing there with blood running down my face, and four or five people laughing at the whole ridiculous scenario.

The moral of this story is: Don't assume that you're going to not get hit in the face just cause you're working at Paddock.

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Answering Machines Bring out the Masochist in Me

I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.


Here's what happened.
So I'm calling a nameless friend of mine, who does not answer his/her phone. (probably because they had something REALLY important going on.) After about 5 rings, the call shifts to voicemail, which goes something like this.
"Hi you've reached _____, I'm not here to get the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you. Bye!"
This may or may not have been how it actually went, but since it is my post, I will say whatever I want too.
Anyways.
After the message, comes the automated instructed giver, whose dialogue goes something to the extent of "To leave a call back number, press 1. To go directly to voicemail, press 5 now. When you are finished recording hang up, or press 3 for more options" *Beep!*
Ok. I get it. I've been leaving messages since cell phones weighed 8 pounds. I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to do it.
"Oh, you want me to leave my name AND number? What kind of a renegade asks for both?!"
Everyone has that message on their phone, and everyone listens to that message, and everyone leaves that message. That's because, frankly, everyone sucks.

Unless you have something special that you want to know about me, and you feel the need to ask it in your answering machine, cut the crap and save about 19 seconds of my life listening to your stupid, boring message.
Like:
"hey, you've reached Jorma, leave me your name, number, and percentage of body fat, and I might get back to you. Word"
Or even something like:
"I don't suck"
Because you know what, that works for me. That will ease the pain of listening to the automated voice mailbox woman drone on for minutes about what buttons to press if I want to leave my number, how to access the options menu after I finish my message, and how to make toast.
Seriously people, I can't believe we allow ourselves to be patronized like this.
I henceforth, promise that if I ever run across the aforementioned automated woman, there will be a good, old-fashioned American lynching.
I also promise, that I do in fact know how to leave a message, I am not handicapped, and the next person to assume so by detailing how I should leave a message on their phone, will be stabbed repeatedly.

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On a sadder note..

Dear Friend,
I fear that I have not spoken with you on a matter that troubles my heart. A matter that has needed to be addressed for quite some time. I take full responsibility for this, however I often wondered why you remained so quiet these last few months.
None of that is important now, however it seems unbearably hard to put together the words needed to express myself in this present time.
Let me just say this, and take the burden off my chest.
I can no longer be involved with you. The person that I am, no longer can exist with who you are in a symbiotic manner. There are just too many corrosive emotions between us. I feel that you are dragging me down to your level again, and I don't want this to happen. Even though you once were sweet, I get a bitter taste in my mouth just thinking about you.
Ever since you changed your looks, it seems that we have drifted farther and farther apart.
I realize, that none of this is your fault. You are simply a feather in a wind, a result of a series of events beyond your control.
But I am afraid that this is why we must seperate. I feel that I have grown to much, and too quickly for you to satisfy me anymore.
Alas, we did have a wonderous few years together. You were always there to pick me up when I was low, and I would always return the favor. Some of my favorite times were spent with you by my side, and some things that I acconmplished, I could not have done without your help.
So, think fondly of these things, and dont let the sadness fill you, or get you down. I know there will be others that will replace me, others with more of a thirst for what you offer.
I hope that we will some day meet again, and that we will both be better off this way.
Thinking fondly of our memories
Nate

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So Check This out...

So last night, I sat on my own couch contemplating things.
My thoughts moved to the frightening power our thoughts have on our actuall physical selves, in addition to out personality and the way we view ourselves.
So for whatever reason, mostly being that I was at home alone, so I can do whatever I want to, I decided to try this out.
If you don't know, I get a tremendous amount of nose bleeds. Not from the cocaine, or from anything in particular, it just happens.
So as I sit on my couch, I decide to see if I can actually make myself bleed just through the act of thinking about it.
So, I sat down with a napkin handy, and proceeded to concentrate on making my nose bleed.
15 seconds...Nothing
30 seconds....Nothing
45 seconds....Nothing
1 minute...Nothing...Wait...Hold on
Oh yes, I had done it. Without any physically provocation, I had made my nose start to bleed uncontrollably.
I then spent the rest of the night trying to make it stop bleeding. Which is harder.
(not kidding, 4 hours later it finally stopped)
So, that was weird.
I totally rock

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A Quick 30 second Update...

So today at the wonderfully acclaimed Scottsdale Community College, I was fortunate enough to engage in a wonderful game of softball between (and during) two classes. I got let out early of my delightful Geology 101 class, and proceeded to lie on the grass on contemplate things, until I was approached by some dude with a a bat.
He asked me if I didnt mind moving so that they could play their game, and I agreed on once condition, If they would let me be a part of it.
So we played about 3 innings before campus security broke it up.
Note:
There was one girl on the grass that refused to move for our game, and she was right between 1st and 2nd base, So the game became more interesting as we had to hurdle this stubborn girl on her towel reading Cannibis: A History.
End Note
Also, I own my geology class.
and your face.

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The Simple things in life...

I, Nate Palmer, once again succumb to peer pressure and create a blog. I'm hoping that my college education will have better prepared me for this kind of responsiblity.

anyways.
At my work, we recieve large trucks with many boxes on them filled with marvelous suprises and treasures. After we empty these boxes of the aforementioned treasures, the boxes are cast aside like so much garbage. Now, it is my responsiblity to see to it that the boxes are broken down and thrown away.
However, on one such truck day, the amount of boxes that we had was almost inconcievable. As we began to stack them higher and higher on the side of our building, it seemed that the pile would touch the sky. Or at least, be like 15 feet tall....
At the end of the day though, with the boxes still sitting outside, I decide to fufill a childhood dream (not really) by jumping off the roof onto this large pile of cardboard.
So, I climb up a chainlink fence that protects the fire alarm system. This chainlink fence is a problem though, because even though it would enable me to get on the roof, its design is such that I have almost no chance of getting down the same way. Thats why the boxes are such an excellant source of comfort to me. Because that way, I'll be able to get up onto the roof, and then get down off it.
As I look down from the roof of Paddock pools, I am begining to feel the pangs of skepticism permeate my once rock solid desire to hurl myself from the roof onto a pile of boxes.
Dont get me wrong. There is an unbeleiveable stack of boxes. More then I have ever seen before. However, the roof is also a lot higher up then one would think at first.
To make a long story still decently long, I "cross the Rubicon" and jump off the roof.
Quite literally, the most frightening thing i have ever done before.
Nevertheless, I live, but I have many bruises and cuts to show for it.

Extreme Rating: 8.5
Fun Rating: 5.5
Coolness Factor: 9.0
Overall Score: 1 Jillion

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