I didn't know he worked in a grocery store

I saw this sign on a display of apples at my local grocery store.

Apples McIntosh FCY

The FCY part threw me off. I know that it means "Fancy" which is a grade of apples. But when I read it, I thought it was saying "Fucky" which is what angry stand-up comedian Darren Frost often calls audience members. For a split second, I thought Darren had been hired to write these things. Which would be awesome. I also imagine he'd put up signs like:

"They're carrots, dumbfuck."

"These are condoms, please use them so we don't get little fuckies like you."

"It's chocolate cake. You might as well eat the whole thing, lard ass."

"This is non-alcoholic beer. Pussy."

Next Stop: Snarfle Marfle

I imagine that every successful job interview for a bus/subway/streetcar driver with the Toronto Transit Commission goes like this:
"Can you call out the stops with a mouthful of ball bearings?"
"Yes, of course."
"You're hired."

Time

A sign outside the Color Your World store on Lawerence Ave E in Scarborough:

"Help wanted - Trade Division. 30-40 hours."

My first thought: 30-40 hours is not nearly enough notice for most people.

What a way to make a living

So I'm back in the workforce finally. No more stay-at-home daddy life for me. I started on February 1, back at the company where I was working before I did the whole full-time parenting thing. Happy to be back, but I miss my days with my boy.

After two weeks back in the ofice, I have a few observations:

1. In two weeks, nobody has cried when it was time to change activities.
2. I have not been peed on once while in the office.
3. It is nice to have a reason to shave five days in a row for the first time in a year and a half.
4. I forgot what it was like to have multi-sylabic conversations all day long.

However,

5. Nobody has given me a random hug at any point in the day.
6. Nobody seems thrilled beyond belief when I walk into the room. (not that they aren't happy, but just not as happy as Eric often is when I walk into the room)
7. In the past two weeks, I have not once had an afternoon nap with a little boy asleep on top of me.


The office world would be a lot better if we could have afternoon naps with our kids. I think I would be much more productive.

Lloyd's Advertising Agency

I would like to get into advertising copy-writing, but I don't have the time to start at the bottom. I'm 35 and have two kids to feed. I need to make money! So, I decided to just start my own advertising agency and write my own ads. Of course, I don't have to worry about being held back by limitations of my clients, because I don't have any clients. So I can just make up my own products and write ads for them.

So, without any further ado (what the hell does that mean, anyhow?), here is my first ad:

Announcer: “Some car companies claim to offer versatility. Now, one car company really does. Introducing the car called the most versatile car ever by ‘Car and Collectable’ magazine.”

(dramatic music)

Announcer: “The Kia Chia.”

Singers: “K-k-k-k-kia. Ch-ch-ch-chia”

Announcer: “Simply plant the seeds on the specially-designed chassis, and watch them grow! Then, cut the grass into the shape of your dream car.”

Woman: “With my brood of soccer stars, I needed more space, but couldn’t afford a large vehicle. I cut my Kia Chia into the shape of a minivan! Now the whole family can travel together!”

Young man: “I never had any luck with the ladies, until I cut my Kia Chia into a hot sportscar. Now I’m getting more dates than I can handle!”

Middle-aged man: “I was the coolest guy in town with my Kia Chia motorcycle. Then, I got married and the bike didn’t fit my lifestyle anymore. I let it grow out a bit, and cut it into a practical sedan. Now my wife is happy, thanks to my Kia Chia.”

Announcer: “Kia Chia. How will you cut it?”

Announcer, speaking extra-fast: "Warranty does not cover grass fires or goat attacks."

A quality I never knew I had

I've been home in New Brunswick (the Canadian province, not the New Jersey city) visiting my mother for the past week and a half. When I'm here, and see how my son loves being around his grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, I get a major urge to move back here. We can't afford a move right now, but I can still dream.

I was searching through online job ads for the Moncton area, and saw one for a marketing-type position. At the bottom of the ad it said:

To make sure your resume is accepted, please understand that we will only be looking for individuals who possess the following;

1) Outstanding work ethic

2) Past career / workplace advancement

3) Ability to work in a Team Environment

4) Customer Service and Sales skills

5) Some Inventory

6) Light Administrative

If you possess any of the qualities mentioned above, please email your resume immediately

"Some inventory" is a quality you can possess? "Light administrative"?

I think I will apply, and in the interview process when I get the usual question that goes something like "What qualities do you possess that you feel would add value to our organization?" I can answer with:

"Well, I have some inventory. You know, it's just a bunch of stuff. Books, CDs, and a few photo albums and stuff like that. It's not much, but I do possess it. It's mine. I can give you a detailed list if you want. Another quality of mine is light administrative. In fact, I think light administrative is one of my best qualities. That, and an outstanding work ethic."

On second thought, I'm not going to bother. If you run the HR department for what your job ad calls "one of Canada's premier Marketing Companies" (their capitalization, not mine), and that is the best you can do at writing a job ad, maybe I don't want to work with your Company After All.

The Language Barrier

Copied from my MySpace blog. Originally posted August 24, 2006

I just saw a comedian on TV talking about misunderstandings that can arise when two people who speak different languages try to communicate with one another. It reminded me of a couple of stories from an old job. So I thought I would share. Because that's what I do. I am a sharing kind of guy.

I used to work in a roadside restaurant along the Trans-Canada Highway in New Brunswick. It was attached to a Motel. I think you can picture the kind of classy joint I'm talking about. I loved working there, but classy it wasn't.

I was the only one there who could speak any French, and I can't speak French. But when the servers had a problem understanding someone, they would call me. Which didn't often help.

One time, I spent five minutes trying to figure out what Onaise was. This French woman wanted Onaise. I thought she was asking for something in French, but I couldn't figure it out. Finally, I asked her to spell it. She said "H-O-N-E-Y. Onaise." I felt stupid.

Not as stupid as the late-night bartender guy did one night. After the restaurant closed and the "lounge" (AKA a bar with some stools and some taxidermy on the wall) was the only thing open, the bartender would also work at the front desk in case someone checked in to the motel late or if a guest called from their room.

One night, a Dutch family was staying there on their way through town. The mother came in to ask a question, just as Dave was about to start closing up. She asked him for "stems from lettuce." He asked her to repeat it several times and every time she asked for "stems from lettuce". He figured that it was some strange foreign thing, so rather than seem culturally retarded, he went into the kitchen and cut the bottom off of a couple of heads of romaine lettuce.

When he presented her with her lettuce stems, she laughed and said "no, stems from lettuce. You know." She reached into her purse to pull out an envelope and said "Stems, from mailing our lettuce."

"AH! Stamps for mailing your letters."

"Yes, that's what I said."

Stupid English speakers.