Mattsapundit

It’s going to be a long night at the office, so I went to Randall’s for a Diet Pepsi and a TV dinner a few minutes ago. I approached one of the express lanes, which was clearly marked with a large sign: 15 items or fewer.

The woman in front of me had approximately 40 items splayed all over the conveyor belt, which bugged me. But I didn’t say anything. Then, as the woman was bagging her groceries, she asked the cashier why there wasn’t an employee there bagging her groceries.

The cashier responded that it’s an express lane, and the sackers work at the regular lanes.

The shopper, a bit flustered, then said, “I didn’t know that.”

Bullshit.

First of all, there’s a large sign proclaiming “Express Lane,” and specifying the details thereof. On this sign, the letters and background are in contrasting colors, and the text is printed in block letters in the English language. The sign is suspended directly above the entrance to the lane. Furthermore, it’s positioned in such a way that you can’t see the light indicating the lane is open without having the sign directly in your field of vision.

Secondly, this store is configured like virtually every other grocery store in the English-speaking world. The first two or three lanes are always express lanes.

The cashier started to say something, and the woman cut her off: “Why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me.”

Now, I have a working knowledge of human nature. I understand that all people — myself included — have an inclination to duck responsibility for their mistakes. No one likes to think they’ve failed, so people shift the blame. I understand that. But this woman didn’t blame circumstances, or society, or something else out of her control. She blamed an innocent person for her wrong action. And that pissed me off. I had to say something, so I did.

“No, she shouldn’t have told you,” I said. I turned and pointed to the sign above the register, a sign you can’t miss, even if you’re a stupid, inconsiderate boor.

“There’s a big sign right there. It says ‘15 items or fewer’ in 8-inch letters. You can’t miss it.”

The woman quickly, but not quickly enough, bagged her groceries and left in a huff. I paid for my purchase and the cashier gave me a smile. Made my day.

Matt Bramanti | September 20, 2006 at 5:57 pm
Posted to Out and About, Overanalysis, Stupidity, Personal

17 comments

I now have my very own office. Four walls, a door, the whole nine yards.

One of my coworkers recently tendered his resignation, an event which freed up an office here at the palacial MattCo executive suites. Prior to this event, I had been sharing a larger office with a colleague, which was cool (I really like the guy), but it’s nice to have my own space.
The furnishings are much better. Now I’ve got a larger L-shaped desk with more surface area:

Sweet.
I also have two bookcases, a table big enough to spread out blueprints and a cushy wheeled chair that reclines startlingly far.

As far as decor goes, it can best be described as…um, basic. Speckled, nondescript carpet, off-white walls, flourescent lighting. The boss’ wife put a sort of plant on one of the bookcases. Not really a plant, though. More like a few dried sticks in a nice vase. I hung my diploma from the wall and put a picture of Diane on my desk. I’ll have to put something else on the wall, too. I’ll keep an eye out.

First things first, though. I have to go through all the crap I moved from my old desk. I managed to throw out quite a bit. The sort of thing you hang onto in case you need it, but you never do. But here’s the stuff I do need — contents of file drawers and current files:

Yikes!

Actually, it looks worse than it is. I’m going to get this all cleaned up by lunchtime. Or rather, I’ll refuse to eat lunch until it’s all cleaned up.

Matt Bramanti | September 18, 2006 at 11:14 am
Posted to Business, Personal, Photos

3 comments

I was coming out of the 11th Street Border Stop — a combination gas station, convenience store, check-cashing place and taqueria near MattCo Headquarters — when I was approached by a young, smiling guy carrying a laminated list. Here’s how the conversation went down:

Guy: “Hey man, what kind of cologne you wear?”

Me: “I don’t.”

Guy: “Nothing? Well, today’s the day to start!”

Me: “Nah, that’s okay.”

Guy: “Come on, man, it’s Friday and we got the panty-droppers!”

Me: (laughing and getting into my car) “Sorry, dude, not interested.”

Guy: “Put this on, you’ll wake up tomorrow with 15 kids and child support, it’s that good.”

Heh. That made my day.

Matt Bramanti | September 15, 2006 at 12:42 pm
Posted to Out and About, Humor, Personal

2 comments

Got my phone yesterday and got it all charged up. Works like a charm, so I’m back in modern life.

It sucked not having a phone for a couple days, but from a customer-service perspective, it was a pretty good experience. Got the phone via FedEx when I was supposed to, and it worked beautifully. Verizon’s customer service has always been really helpful, and I strongly recommend the company.

I didn’t want to re-enter all the contacts manually, so I used a little app by Verizon called Backup Assistant. It backs up contacts to a remote server over the air. Then when you get a new phone, or your phone gets wiped out, just install the Backup Assistant app and restore all the contacts. It worked great. Costs $1.99 a month, though.

I used it and then deleted it, because I’ve got better uses for two bucks a month.
If the application also backed up ringtones, photos and text messages, I’d gladly pay $2/month. Are you listening, Verizon?

Matt Bramanti | September 15, 2006 at 11:34 am
Posted to Tech, Personal

2 comments

There is a group on Facebook called “If this group reaches 100,000 my girlfriend will have a threesome.”

Okay, dude, if she agreed to that, she’s already had a threesome. And you weren’t in it.

Matt Bramanti | September 12, 2006 at 12:36 pm
Posted to Stupidity

6 comments

Check out this video. Four dudes, eight treadmills and “Here It Goes Again” by OK Go.

Matt Bramanti | September 12, 2006 at 9:44 am
Posted to Humor, Video, Music

1 comment