When Equal Employment Opportunity Goes Wrong

This post may seem like I’m being a jerk. And in some part I will agree. But I just want it known that ultimately the individual(s) who put this gentleman in this position are the true jerks.

The following is a 100% true story and it took place on Friday, August 16, 2013.

The scene? Downtown Los Angeles in the Department of Transportation headquarters, otherwise known as the DOT Building.

On Friday, I decided to eat lunch there. As is customary, you walk up to the guys at the grill, tell them what you want, they print out a ticket that you then take to the cashier where, of course, you pay.

Everything was moving according to plan. I had my ticket, went over to get my drink and filled it up using my recipe: one quarter fruit punch, one quarter sierra mist, one quarter fruit punch, one quarter sierra mist, no ice.

I get to the cashier and the very nice gentleman said to me “may I help you please”. The only problem was I was standing right next to him but he was looking straight ahead.

I said “here’s my ticket” and I noticed it kind of startled him. I looked at his eyes and they were all over the place and it seemed like they couldn’t stay fixated on any one thing. Clearly this guy did not have marginal visual impairment, he was blind as a bat!

Let me pause for a second. I am not a monster or anyone’s judge. I am not making fun of the fact that this man can’t see. I’m merely pointing out the irony considering his particular profession. Sure, it’s probably better than him being in the kitchen. But still. Cashier?

Before I could say or do anything he asked me what the ticket says because he can’t see, proving not only is he blind but he’s also apparently a master of pointing out the obvious.

I must confess that at this moment, despite going to a training at work on Ethics in July, it was very difficult to not tell him my ticket was $1.39. Not like he would know. I mean, come on how often do you get to name your own price for lunch?

Despite my desire to I resist the temptation. I tell him the correct amount. It’s $7.95 on the ticket. Then he asked “anything else?”.

(sigh) Oh boy. Okay, okay. I didn’t get a $2 lunch, but hey a free drink sounds like a good deal. What about this gum I have too? They shouldn’t be charging $1.50 for it anyway. What to do. Curse those DOT people for hiring this man and putting me in this position.

I again decide to do the right thing. I tell him I have a regular drink and a pack of gum. He then asked me what the total said on the register. This one wasn’t hard since he had to put in the prices manually when I told him what I had. Plus I ruined any chance of a substantial Stevie Wonder discount when I told him my ticket was $7.95. So I figure I’m safe. No more temptation. I’m good. I hand him a $20 bill and breathe a sigh of relief. Then he said….

“How much is this?”

Dear God, why do you torture me so with these ethical tests? Yes I get that I’m supposed to stay on the right path and live my life honestly, but may I point out that it was probably one of your beloved children who proclaimed ‘there’s no such thing as a free lunch’. Well, I’ve got an argument for otherwise. You know as well as I do that they had no business hiring this man as a cashier. Amen.

“It’s a 20”, I reply reluctantly knowing it’s the right thing to blah blah blah.

He then gives me the correct change, I’m guessing because he knows the order of the bills in the register. I thank the admittedly very nice man and even had a part of my heart tweak a little when he said “may I help you please” to the person behind me as I had to tell him there was no one there.

I go back to the grill and wait for my food. Normally what happens is the cashier stamps the receipt with a Paid stamp and you give the receipt back to the grill guys in exchange for your food.

When he gave me my food I handed him the receipt and told him it wasn’t stamped but I did pay for it. With all of this ethical temptation going on I needed him and anyone within ear shot to know! I almost said “and I paid the correct amount too”.

My goal wasn’t to get anyone in trouble. It was just to say hey I paid, I’m a good guy and I want to go to Heaven. Now give me my food and I’ll go celebrate my victory over temptation in peace.

He looked at the ticket for a minute and then yelled out in an irritated manner, “hey (whatever the cashier’s name was) you have to make sure you stamp the ticket paid”.

Really? Either he’s been forgetting to do it all day in which case why say something now, or he has been stamping it all day and he forgot one. Either way leave the man alone! He’s a blind cashier for crying out loud.

So the cashier says “which one?”.

The grill guy says “the chicken sandw-”

I interrupt, “well, he can’t see what it says on-”

The cashier interrupts, “the $7.95?”

Grill guy: Yeah

Cashier: Ok

They both get back to work.

And I’m standing in the middle thinking yeah, like THAT was the big problem here. Feel free to name your own price and tell him you gave him a $20 when you really gave him a $5 and get change. But this man had better make sure to stamp the receipt.

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The Best Advice I’ve Ever Given

I have this condition where if something doesn’t make sense to me, my sarcastic nature takes over.

Sometimes it gets me in trouble. Other times it….wait, no actually it always gets me in trouble.

Anyway about 15 years ago when I was a young lad in this church I used to go to, I was hanging out with an adult friend of mine who’s goal I suppose was to be a mentor of sorts to me.

As he drove around the valley we tried to figure out what we were going to eat.

We approached one of those McDonald’s that happened to be attached to a Chevron Gas Station. I suggested we eat there. He adamantly rejected the idea.

Since he was so opposed to it I had to ask why. Too unhealthy? McDonald’s has nasty food? Some of their food is not real? All true and good arguments. Which one was his reason?

As it turned out, none of the above.

He answered with a serious tone, “I have a real problem getting my food from the same place I buy my gas”.

So I provided a solution to his plight.

“Oh that’s no problem”, I told him. “You don’t have to not eat there. Just when you place your order, make sure you ask very politely for them not to run your food through the underground gas tanks outside before giving it to you”.

For some reason he never spoke to me again.

How One Small Letter Makes A Big Difference

Random thought, because ya know, that’s what I do.

I was typing something on FB, oh sorry for you non-abbreviation people out there (is there an abbreviation for abbreviation?), but FB is Facebook.

Oh sorry for you non Facebook people…..never mind.

Anyway, in that comment on FB, I wrote about a celebrity who got a ticket for Reckless Driving.

As I wrote that phrase it dawned on me the difference a W makes in this case, but just in general how one letter can be a major game changer.

Reckless Driving may potentially cause a Wreck. But if you added a W it would be Wreckless Driving, then there would be nothing wrong.

So technically the only way to avoid driving Reckless is to drive Wreckless.

On the other hand, not driving Reckless doesn’t always guarantee that you will drive Wreckless.

So if you’re ever pulled over and the officer tells you he pulled over for driving Wreckless, tell him thank you and drive away. But don’t tell him I told you to.

 

What Exactly Is TMI?

I like to think that I have a ‘free’ sense of humor. Not just because I don’t get paid anything for it, but because I like to be free to find humor in anything. No topic is off limits. Nothing offensive, just any subject has the potential to carry a haha.

Sometimes though in this extremely sensitive, lightweight world we live in it may be difficult to get the world to laugh at the odd.

So with that said, after going for a walk at lunch time yesterday I got back to the office, sat in my chair and felt an immediate discomfort on my back side.

Relax. There’s nothing crazy associated with it.

I know what it was that caused my discomfort. At that moment I had a revelation.

I picked up my iPhone (doesn’t everybody have one?) and launched the Facebook app. I updated my status with the following:

Ladies, be happy that you don’t have ass hairs. Well, most of you at least

Ok look people. This is a very honest observation. Depending on how you sit, what you’ve been doing or what mood they’re in those little hairs on your butt hurt. And it’s not like your head when you can moisturize them either. Fortunately most women will never know that.

On my post, one of my friends, Baron, commented:

TMI bro. TMI

And just in case you don’t know, TMI = Too Much Information

To which I became confused. I spoke nothing of my situation, nor (despite my temptation) did I take a picture of mine and post it. In fact I didn’t even mention if I had hair.

My coworker told me she couldn’t believe that I posted that.

You would think that I told a dirty joke and added a picture shot of an adult movie and tossed it on my Facebook page.

Geez people. We cannot be that far gone as a society that mentioning hairs on your butt is a cause for panic.

Richard Pryor would be rolling over in his grave. Whatever that means.

You wanna hear TMI?

I’ve been home sick watching tv in the daytime. Just before I find out if Jerome, the 8th dude tested, really is Shaquita’s child’s father,  Maury tells me we’ll find out after the break.

Then a commercial starts and after they’ve shown a woman in a dress of some sort prancing around the back yard in a straw hat smiling, the voice-over starts:

“Is your Period too severe? Do you find yourself gushing more than usual?”

Then Sandy, Lori, or Susan looks at the screen and speaks her part:

“My Period was so bad I wondered if I would bleed to death. I ruined all of my clothes and was not allowed in a public restroom in six different states. Until I discovered Vagimoxinitis EM.”

Shoot to a shot of her running on the beach with her dog….

“Now I’m free, clean and dry. I’ve even had those bans lifted in the six states.”

Cut to a digital image of the product. Voice-Over returns.

“Vagimoxinitis EM is high tech support created by leading officials. Unlock other feminine products,Vagimoxinitis EM is designed to keep you fresh for days at a time.”

Digital image fills with virtual blood but no digital liquid escapes the product. Voice Over continues….

“Consult a doctor if you have hives, stink naturally, or think you may be pregnant. Vagimoxinitis EM is not for women over the age of 94, anyone on Menopause, and can be fatal if you take while battling diarrhea….

“…..side effects may include, nausea, diarrhea, migrains, anal secretions, uncontrollable gas, cancer, heart attack, and in rare cases, instant death. Consult your physician if bleeding last for more than 45 days or if you’re still watching this commercial.”

Shoot back to Sandy, Lori, or Susan who is sitting on the white couch next to her husband Tom, Bill, or John. They are both grinning on the sofa at the camera. She concludes…

“Taking Vagimoxinitis EM was the best decision I ever made”.

And cut.

Ok there were like 26 TMI’s in that ad and yet nobody says a word. You mean to tell me that…well, never mind I’ll just quit while I’m behind.

Oh, and Jerome…You are NOT the father.

Of course I had to rewind the DVR to get the results because after that commercial I had to go toss my cookies.

Aw crap, TMI?

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