Having an apparently-difficult-to-spell-though-totally-phonetic name, this bugs me. It doesn't bother me so very much when I'm speaking to somebody, I verbally tell them my name, and they write something like "Roslyn." I get that. I understand when I'm private messaging with somebody who recently met my friend Stephen (but had no reason to see his name spelled out) and they say "So, Steven's cute! What's his situation?" I do not fault people for attempting to spell something they have not seen in writing and assuming the more common spelling. When it bugs me is when this name is written down in front of a person and they still can't figure out.
Like on Facebook. Let's say there's a woman named Abbie. Her Facebook profile states her name on every single thing she writes. On her birthday, Facebook announces to all of those on her Friends list that "Today is Abbie's birthday!" When she gets home from work, she checks Facebook and sees a barrage of messages, half of which say "Happy birthday, Abby!" Friends, come on now. You have now seen her name at least twice in the last ten seconds. You are literally typing right next to her name, spelled out for you. Let's try this experiment.
Abbie
Okay, folks. How does Abbie spell her name?
Or totally illogical spellings. Rozz? What *is* that? You've seen the name written down thousands of times in your life. I can see a misguided writing of Ros. But why would you add a second, totally pointless consonant?! I work with a few women named Jennifer. Pretty much any time ANYBODY writes a note for ANY of them, they are all addressed to "Jenn." Not a single one of these women spell their diminutive with that second "n." Additionally, all of these women wear name tags with their preferred spelling of "Jen." I know women who do spell their name that way, and I'm not saying they are wrong to do so. If your given name is Zhenipher, that is how your name is spelled and it is not wrong. If you choose to be known as "Jenn" though your legal name is Zhenipher, it's still not wrong. But if your boss insists on writing your name as "Jennifer," your boss is wrong and frankly a bit disrespectful for dismissing a crucial part of your identity.
Perhaps the most irritating thing I'm noticing lately is my boss's constant refusal to acknowledge the correct spelling of her employee's names. A few weeks ago, I went to work to find notes written for everybody on my shift and literally every person's name was misspelled. Now, some people have a hard time spelling, and I get that. However, if you are leaving notes for people whose names are six inches away from you on the roster, and you know you don't spell well, maybe glance up and see what the appropriate combination of letters is. We recently hired a young man named Geoff. I understand this is the less common spelling in this generation. In fact, I spoke to him on the phone before he started, and left my boss a note saying "Jeff called." Was I wrong in the spelling? Absolutely. However, then he started, wearing his "Geoff" name badge. Oh, sorry, man, I spelled your name wrong on a note once. Now that he has been entered into the computer, "Geoff" is what prints on the roster. He leaves notes for others signed "Geoff." Yet every day, my boss leaves him a task list that says "Jeff" on it. The first few times, he crossed out "Jeff" and replaced it with "Geoff." Boss didn't catch on and three months later, I still notes for "Jeff" everywhere in the store.
Maybe I shouldn't bitch/blog when I'm still half-asleep.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Thursday, January 9, 2014
The Human Torch
At one point in my long string of terrible fucking jobs, I worked overnights at a gas station/convenience store. I actually rather enjoyed that job. I worked alone. Not too awful many customers; not that much work to do. Lots of getting paid to sit on my ass and read a book. And free soda, so that was cool.
One night, this man came into the store. He looked dirty and spoke and moved as though he was...let's say chemically altered (i.e. stoned off his ass). He drumbles up (oh, yes. We're busting out the Shakespeare words) and slurs at me: "D'y'all sell butane?"
Oh boy. Yeah, dude, you should totally have something that flammable. "No."
"K."
He wanders back outside, gets to his car, then turns around and ambles back in. "D'y'all sell butane?"
Even if we did, I sure as Hell wouldn't sell it to you. "Nope. Sorry."
"K."
He wanders back out to his car, and this time gets in it. He drives away and starts off down the road, going about five miles an hour. I rejoice and return to work. About twenty minutes, I see a familiar black Jaguar pulling into the parking, moving at about five miles an hour. I stop what I'm doing and watch out the window.
Dude parks in front of one of the pumps. He turns on his dome light and I see him take a smallish plastic bottle off the seat next to him. I grab the phone and have my hand hovering over the emergency shut-off button, afraid I know exactly what's about to happen. Sure enough, he begins filling a Zippo style lighter while sitting in his car, which, again folks, is parked at a damn gas pump. I watch as he carefully pours butane into a lighter. Then stops being careful. I watch him shake his hand. I dial 911 just in time to watch him light the lighter, resulting in his butane covered hand bursting into flames. Fortuately, it burned quickly and went out. I still phoned the police. And then the dumb fucker lit his lighter a second time. He didn't catch himself on fire this time, but a fireball did shoot up and appeared to touch the ceiling of his car (it's called a ceiling if it's the inside, right? Roof when it's the outside?).
I still don't know how we didn't both die that night. Or why the fuck he came back to my store after obtaining butane. I imagine he has since died and been nominated for a Darwin Award.
One night, this man came into the store. He looked dirty and spoke and moved as though he was...let's say chemically altered (i.e. stoned off his ass). He drumbles up (oh, yes. We're busting out the Shakespeare words) and slurs at me: "D'y'all sell butane?"
Oh boy. Yeah, dude, you should totally have something that flammable. "No."
"K."
He wanders back outside, gets to his car, then turns around and ambles back in. "D'y'all sell butane?"
Even if we did, I sure as Hell wouldn't sell it to you. "Nope. Sorry."
"K."
He wanders back out to his car, and this time gets in it. He drives away and starts off down the road, going about five miles an hour. I rejoice and return to work. About twenty minutes, I see a familiar black Jaguar pulling into the parking, moving at about five miles an hour. I stop what I'm doing and watch out the window.
Dude parks in front of one of the pumps. He turns on his dome light and I see him take a smallish plastic bottle off the seat next to him. I grab the phone and have my hand hovering over the emergency shut-off button, afraid I know exactly what's about to happen. Sure enough, he begins filling a Zippo style lighter while sitting in his car, which, again folks, is parked at a damn gas pump. I watch as he carefully pours butane into a lighter. Then stops being careful. I watch him shake his hand. I dial 911 just in time to watch him light the lighter, resulting in his butane covered hand bursting into flames. Fortuately, it burned quickly and went out. I still phoned the police. And then the dumb fucker lit his lighter a second time. He didn't catch himself on fire this time, but a fireball did shoot up and appeared to touch the ceiling of his car (it's called a ceiling if it's the inside, right? Roof when it's the outside?).
I still don't know how we didn't both die that night. Or why the fuck he came back to my store after obtaining butane. I imagine he has since died and been nominated for a Darwin Award.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Future Self
I had a vision of my future self today.
You know the bitter old bastards who start ranting and bitching about people who don't speak English? And everyone just kind of lets them be jerks because they'll probably die soon and nobody wants their final interaction with somebody to be lecturing about rude behavior? Yep. That's gonna be me.
"But Roz! Wasn't your Plan Z to be an English as a Second Language teacher?"
(Note: This must be pronounced in the British way, Plan "Zed" and not the American Plan "Zee." Why? Who the Hell knows. Something about over-exaggerating the amount of frustration that comes with having my life plans disrupted so often and having 26 back up plans. It makes it sound more fatalistic, doesn't it?)
Why, yes. Yes, it was! I considered graduate school for a TESOL program. I tutored ESL. I enjoyed it. I love helping people learn something they're interested in learning, and most of my ESL students were genuinely interested in learning English. I appreciated their enthusiasm. And I don't mean I'm going to be a racist old jerk. I'm not going to tell Indian people who speak English perfectly well to go back to Mexico. I mean the obnoxious people who were born and raised in the States and just refuse to respect language. Or the people they're attempting to communicate with.
My vision of my future self occurred tonight at work. Two twenty-something Caucasian men with Mid-Atlantic accents came in. I did not get the impression they were joking or attempting in any way to be funny during the follow conversation.
D-Bag One: Where you at, Brah?
D-Bag Two: I be here!
D-Bag One: I finded it!
D-Bag Two: Tits!
My future self then busted out my Old Lady cane and whomped them both upside the head.
You know the bitter old bastards who start ranting and bitching about people who don't speak English? And everyone just kind of lets them be jerks because they'll probably die soon and nobody wants their final interaction with somebody to be lecturing about rude behavior? Yep. That's gonna be me.
"But Roz! Wasn't your Plan Z to be an English as a Second Language teacher?"
(Note: This must be pronounced in the British way, Plan "Zed" and not the American Plan "Zee." Why? Who the Hell knows. Something about over-exaggerating the amount of frustration that comes with having my life plans disrupted so often and having 26 back up plans. It makes it sound more fatalistic, doesn't it?)
Why, yes. Yes, it was! I considered graduate school for a TESOL program. I tutored ESL. I enjoyed it. I love helping people learn something they're interested in learning, and most of my ESL students were genuinely interested in learning English. I appreciated their enthusiasm. And I don't mean I'm going to be a racist old jerk. I'm not going to tell Indian people who speak English perfectly well to go back to Mexico. I mean the obnoxious people who were born and raised in the States and just refuse to respect language. Or the people they're attempting to communicate with.
My vision of my future self occurred tonight at work. Two twenty-something Caucasian men with Mid-Atlantic accents came in. I did not get the impression they were joking or attempting in any way to be funny during the follow conversation.
D-Bag One: Where you at, Brah?
D-Bag Two: I be here!
D-Bag One: I finded it!
D-Bag Two: Tits!
My future self then busted out my Old Lady cane and whomped them both upside the head.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Perfume/Cologne: Knock it the Hell Off Already!
I like things that smell nice. I think a man who smells good is incredibly sexy. I have some scented candles in my home. I have nice smelling shampoo and scented hand soaps. I even wear perfume most days (okay, cheap body spray, but whatever). Here's how I put that on. I get out of the shower. I dry off. I spray one spritz of body spray between my breasts, touch the area with my wrists, then touch my wrists to my neck and then the inside of my elbows. Then I wander about my home for a bit before I put my work clothes on. Ta-da! The scent stays with me all day without being overwhelming.
If I walk near you and can TASTE your cologne, you need to take your ass home and shower.
So let's say you go a store, such as Bath and Body Works. Bath and Body Works has a lot of fantastic products and a lot of great scents. Sometimes, I like to smell the various things they have. "Hey, Black Amethyst! I wonder how that smells!" So, I grab a little strip of paper that they provide, spritz the paper, and smell it that way. Or maybe I pick up the tester lotion and sniff that. Sometimes, if I really like the scent, I'll even put a little lotion on my hands - it's a sampler, that's why it's there!
The wrong way to go into Bath and Body Works, or any store that sells perfume/cologne/body spray/whatthehellever: "Oooh, Aspen! I wonder what the smells like!" Rip open bottle, dump over head. Yeah, that's right. Get your theft's worth out of it. If you give yourself and improvised cologne bath, it'll last longer after all. Oh, wait. It won't. Fail.
If I walk near you and can TASTE your cologne, you need to take your ass home and shower.
So let's say you go a store, such as Bath and Body Works. Bath and Body Works has a lot of fantastic products and a lot of great scents. Sometimes, I like to smell the various things they have. "Hey, Black Amethyst! I wonder how that smells!" So, I grab a little strip of paper that they provide, spritz the paper, and smell it that way. Or maybe I pick up the tester lotion and sniff that. Sometimes, if I really like the scent, I'll even put a little lotion on my hands - it's a sampler, that's why it's there!
The wrong way to go into Bath and Body Works, or any store that sells perfume/cologne/body spray/whatthehellever: "Oooh, Aspen! I wonder what the smells like!" Rip open bottle, dump over head. Yeah, that's right. Get your theft's worth out of it. If you give yourself and improvised cologne bath, it'll last longer after all. Oh, wait. It won't. Fail.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaames!!!!
Le Boyfriend and I went out to dinner with my mother the other day. It was mostly really nice. Le Boyfriend is wonderful; Mom is wonderful. Put them together, it's pretty much an automatic win.
Here's where dinner got stupid. Le Boyfriend and I walk into the restaurant and are seated by the host. Now, normally I create pseudonyms for people, but I just can't make up something more ridiculous than what was said to us: "Tequila will be your waitress."
Host walks away, and I lean over to Le Boyfriend. "Did he just say 'Tequila'?"
"Sounded like it. He couldn't have...."
We sit down, we start chatting with my mom, and our waitress approaches. "Hi, I'm Tequila. I'll be your waitress." And holy damn, her name tag said "Tequila."
At this point, I'd like you to picture me staring at my feet, pinching the bridge of my nose, and shaking my head in dismay.
Okay. Liquor is not a name. Do not name your child after liquor. (The major exception that I can think of to this is Brandy. If the alcoholic beverage shares a name with a region and is an accepted human name, go nuts.) Let's discuss other words that are not names.
Adjectives: Lacey, Blue, Precious
Fruits: Gwyneth Paltrow has more money than God and is from a fucking dynasty. She can name her child Apple. She can afford the therapy. If you can afford the therapy, go ahead and name your child Raisin or Apricot or Pomegranate.
Household Objects: Doorknob. Wrench. Spade. Definitely do not name your child Spade. Trust me. Just don't.
Barnyard Animals: If you ever thought, "Hey, I should name my daughter Pig!" just go punch yourself in the face.
Body Parts: Foot. Eyeball. Keratin. Sadly, I can see somebody naming their daughter Keratin. Please don't be that person.
Appliances: I love TV. LOVE it. I'm watching it right now. But if I were to name my son Television, I'd call social services on myself. Blender, Alarm Clock, and Nintendo Wii are also unacceptable.
Happy Concepts, but You're Spelling it Differently and Pretending It's a Name: Luv, Kumpanionship, Piece, Justys. No. It also doesn't work if you give your daughter a Happy Concept Name with an "a" on the end of it. "Dreama"? Nope-a.
Titles of Family Members: It's just weird when you name your infant son Uncle. Even weirder when you name him Great-Great-Grandpa.
Cardinal Directions: I dated a man with the last name West. I dig it as a last name. Leave it as that.
President's Names: I don't mean the first names. Most of the US Presidents had solid first names. I can even get on board with giving your child a President's last name as a middle name. But for the love of sanity, don't give your child the first name Garfield. Or Polk. Really. Not cool. And cool it with the Kennedies already. Fantastic last name. I can even dig it if the mother's maiden name is Kennedy and wants to carry on that name. But I listened to a woman discuss what she wanted to name her next child and say she wanted to stick with the theme of president's names. "I have a Madison, a Jefferson, a Kennedy..." Your children aren't a novelty. You don't need to collect the whole set!
Royal Titles: It's cute when you name your dog Duchess. Not cool when you do that to your child.
Super Heroes: Don't name your son Superman. Please. Just don't do it.
ADOLF FUCKING HITLER: There was some crazy ass couple who named their son Adolf Hitler. No, not a couple that lived in a cave and happened to have the last name "Hitler" and thought "Hey, Adolf is a good, strong German name!" Not Alois and Klara Hitler in 1889. A couple who intentionally gave their son the first name Adolf, middle name Hitler. They also gave their daughter the middle name "Third Reich." If you're a hateful, ethnocentric, Manifest Destiny-Loving bastard, then that's on you - don't saddle your child with that shit.
Some examples of names that are pretty awesome:
Boys: Alexander, Bradley, Charles, David, Edward, Frank, Greg, Hank, Ivan, Jerry, Kenneth, Leonard, Michael, Nicholas, Oliver, Paul, Quinn, Richard, Steven, Thomas, Victor, William, Zachary
Girls: Amy, Bethany, Catherine, Darlene, Elizabeth, Glenda, Hannah, Ingrid, Julie, Kimberly, Laura, Mary, Nancy, Olivia, Quinn, Rosalind (it's a good one!), Sarah, Theresa, Veronica, Wilhemina (unless your last name is Murray. That's a big role to fill).
Can you spot the common thread? THESE ARE NAMES!!!!!
Don't throw Scrabble tiles and make up a name. Pick up a damn baby names book. Reading won't hurt you.
Here's where dinner got stupid. Le Boyfriend and I walk into the restaurant and are seated by the host. Now, normally I create pseudonyms for people, but I just can't make up something more ridiculous than what was said to us: "Tequila will be your waitress."
Host walks away, and I lean over to Le Boyfriend. "Did he just say 'Tequila'?"
"Sounded like it. He couldn't have...."
We sit down, we start chatting with my mom, and our waitress approaches. "Hi, I'm Tequila. I'll be your waitress." And holy damn, her name tag said "Tequila."
At this point, I'd like you to picture me staring at my feet, pinching the bridge of my nose, and shaking my head in dismay.
Okay. Liquor is not a name. Do not name your child after liquor. (The major exception that I can think of to this is Brandy. If the alcoholic beverage shares a name with a region and is an accepted human name, go nuts.) Let's discuss other words that are not names.
Adjectives: Lacey, Blue, Precious
Fruits: Gwyneth Paltrow has more money than God and is from a fucking dynasty. She can name her child Apple. She can afford the therapy. If you can afford the therapy, go ahead and name your child Raisin or Apricot or Pomegranate.
Household Objects: Doorknob. Wrench. Spade. Definitely do not name your child Spade. Trust me. Just don't.
Barnyard Animals: If you ever thought, "Hey, I should name my daughter Pig!" just go punch yourself in the face.
Body Parts: Foot. Eyeball. Keratin. Sadly, I can see somebody naming their daughter Keratin. Please don't be that person.
Appliances: I love TV. LOVE it. I'm watching it right now. But if I were to name my son Television, I'd call social services on myself. Blender, Alarm Clock, and Nintendo Wii are also unacceptable.
Happy Concepts, but You're Spelling it Differently and Pretending It's a Name: Luv, Kumpanionship, Piece, Justys. No. It also doesn't work if you give your daughter a Happy Concept Name with an "a" on the end of it. "Dreama"? Nope-a.
Titles of Family Members: It's just weird when you name your infant son Uncle. Even weirder when you name him Great-Great-Grandpa.
Cardinal Directions: I dated a man with the last name West. I dig it as a last name. Leave it as that.
President's Names: I don't mean the first names. Most of the US Presidents had solid first names. I can even get on board with giving your child a President's last name as a middle name. But for the love of sanity, don't give your child the first name Garfield. Or Polk. Really. Not cool. And cool it with the Kennedies already. Fantastic last name. I can even dig it if the mother's maiden name is Kennedy and wants to carry on that name. But I listened to a woman discuss what she wanted to name her next child and say she wanted to stick with the theme of president's names. "I have a Madison, a Jefferson, a Kennedy..." Your children aren't a novelty. You don't need to collect the whole set!
Royal Titles: It's cute when you name your dog Duchess. Not cool when you do that to your child.
Super Heroes: Don't name your son Superman. Please. Just don't do it.
ADOLF FUCKING HITLER: There was some crazy ass couple who named their son Adolf Hitler. No, not a couple that lived in a cave and happened to have the last name "Hitler" and thought "Hey, Adolf is a good, strong German name!" Not Alois and Klara Hitler in 1889. A couple who intentionally gave their son the first name Adolf, middle name Hitler. They also gave their daughter the middle name "Third Reich." If you're a hateful, ethnocentric, Manifest Destiny-Loving bastard, then that's on you - don't saddle your child with that shit.
Some examples of names that are pretty awesome:
Boys: Alexander, Bradley, Charles, David, Edward, Frank, Greg, Hank, Ivan, Jerry, Kenneth, Leonard, Michael, Nicholas, Oliver, Paul, Quinn, Richard, Steven, Thomas, Victor, William, Zachary
Girls: Amy, Bethany, Catherine, Darlene, Elizabeth, Glenda, Hannah, Ingrid, Julie, Kimberly, Laura, Mary, Nancy, Olivia, Quinn, Rosalind (it's a good one!), Sarah, Theresa, Veronica, Wilhemina (unless your last name is Murray. That's a big role to fill).
Can you spot the common thread? THESE ARE NAMES!!!!!
Don't throw Scrabble tiles and make up a name. Pick up a damn baby names book. Reading won't hurt you.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Roz's Night In
I mentioned last night that I was sad and working on clearing out my bookcase. Well, still sad tonight. I took an excellent photo that I wanted to share on here, but there seems to be some issue right now that is preventing me from posting. So, let me paint you a word picture!
Three beautiful round items of varying size sit on the clean kitchen table. The largest item is mostly orangey-yellow, with small red objects arranged in concentric circles. The medium sized item is a gorgeous, golden brown with a slight orange undertone. The smallest in circumference is the tallest item. It's mostly black, with splashes of color. As you look down on this item, you can see letters on the top, written in a fun, groovy font. Upon closer inspection, you make out two of the most glorious words in the English Language. "Phish Food."
Pepperoni Pizza. Pumpkin Pie. Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream.
If you'll excuse me, folks, I need to go discuss my feelings with some food.
Three beautiful round items of varying size sit on the clean kitchen table. The largest item is mostly orangey-yellow, with small red objects arranged in concentric circles. The medium sized item is a gorgeous, golden brown with a slight orange undertone. The smallest in circumference is the tallest item. It's mostly black, with splashes of color. As you look down on this item, you can see letters on the top, written in a fun, groovy font. Upon closer inspection, you make out two of the most glorious words in the English Language. "Phish Food."
Pepperoni Pizza. Pumpkin Pie. Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream.
If you'll excuse me, folks, I need to go discuss my feelings with some food.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Some Books or Something.
I'm sad tonight, so this somehow led to me cleaning the bookshelves. And man alive, are there a lot of books. There are, of course, the books I read. There are still some old books from college. And then there are all of the books people have given me for various reasons, such as "Oh, you like books? Here's the entire Danielle Steele collection for some reason!" So this then led to me going through my half.com inventory and lowering prices. So if you've ever read this blog and then thought, "Hey, what does Roz read? I wish I could buy her used books!" well, this is your lucky day! Also a great place if you want to pick up some 90s sci-fi on VHS!
http://shops.half.ebay.com/einkleinblitzfan_W0QQ
http://shops.half.ebay.com/einkleinblitzfan_W0QQ
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