I’ve been working my way forwards from the beginning and backwards from the end, but haven’t gotten to the middle – does the Bathtub Nessie show up before or is this its debut?
I think subletter refers to the snake in the tub (as in Cat and Girl have sublet their apartment)?
Nothing puts me off being a regular more than becoming so familiar with the staff that they begin to anticipate my needs. I usually go somewhere else where I can be nice and anonymous again.
Someone needs to write a book about why everything they tell you about customer service is wrong. Do not bother the customers. Do not ask them what they want. Do not learn their names. You are not their friends. Do not show any recognition whatsoever that you have seen them before. Above all else, do not give the customer what they want before they ask for it, because they like to think that this might actually be the day they ask for the barbecue sauce instead of the tangy.
Oh i know exactly what you mean. It irritates me so much when customer service assistants are friendly to you. I also hate it when the gardener looks directly at me: can’t he just get on and do the job i pay him to do?
I play this to myself at the point in my work day when I look up from the spreadsheet and think, “What? What am I doing here? It’s sunny outside! Or rainy! It’s outside outside! I could be writing love letters, or throwing sticks in the water! Me and my pony.”
the only reason i like going to a farmer’s market is because i know the names of so many people there. “the usual” is different, as we all like to believe that we can change on a dime, that we are a little wacky once you get to know us.
And it’s horrible, really, that deceitful conviction I have within my heart that _if_only_I_had_a_boat_ then I would have left this place where my soul is rotting long ago and sailed far away to some place where things made sense and life had meaning or at least the weather was nice and I could find engaging occupation.
But I also know that I _used_ to have a boat, and even though it was in a different time and a different place and I was a different person, all I did with my boat was tie it to a smelly dock and catch fish from it.
Had a friend from Nashville who *hated* Pennsylvania (where we lived at the time) because waitpersons, etc. *didn’t* try to get to know you or ask about your day… go figure :-)
It’s funny. I recently dreamt that I kicked out the tenant of the bathtub I was subletting, since I only ever showered, and put out to sea to sail where’er the wind might take me. Having neither a sail nor an oar, I was lucky to pick up a tow from Nessie (who was never one to hold a grudge) and landed near the Highlands. Soon, we found ourselves in a nearby town being both tickled and mollified by the facial hair of the denizens, sometimes at the same time. Charging only a few pffennies, it wasn’t long before we saved enough for a down payment on an oar, and (of course) beat feet back to our little bathtub of happiness and the bliss of the infinite sea.
Mustaches are never sincere. they hide a dark secret. my theory is, only people who have tasted human flesh wear mustaches. the irony is, rather than hide it, it BROADCASTS IT! they are in effect saying, “WORLD, IVE EATEN A PORTION OF A HUMAN!” i have yet to be proven wrong.
People who don’t like being treated as regulars (or looked at by their gardeners) are, unfortunately, edge-cases with freakishly unusual desires, comparable to objectum-sexuals, and should have no expectation that society will alter itself to conform to their unnatural and profane needs.
I hear so much complaining from both customers and salespeople about how the other side “treats us like robots.” But I really wish people *did* treat each other like robots when their only connection is a professional one.
I do business with robots whenever possible. The self-checkout lane at Cub has seen me so many times that, if it were as nosy as a human, it could probably offer me “my usual”…
Bah… what’s the point in mentally preparing myself for every possible response to my question if Thomas isn’t even going to answer me? I should have expected it — people who insult me rarely wait around to hear my point of view, or even my clarification of an ambiguity. Righteousness is always bred from ignorance.
I guess that means my comments in “A Shotglass in the Dark” are also bred from ignorance. But at least… in that case I’ve made a valid attempt at comprehension.
Guy walks into a bar wearing a shirt saying ‘for a moment there, you bored me to death’. Why?
My guess is you went answered because “Thomas Davison” is a made-up respondent to you, David Thomsen. It’s a put-on like referring to former Houston Rockets coach as John Tomrudyvich. (Or Tom Johnrudyvich. Either variant will amuse me equally.)
November 3rd, 2009 at 2:15 am
best quote by cat ever… you know the one
November 3rd, 2009 at 4:22 am
why is it called “subletters”?
November 3rd, 2009 at 4:39 am
Oh, this one makes me cry a little
November 3rd, 2009 at 5:38 am
I’ve been working my way forwards from the beginning and backwards from the end, but haven’t gotten to the middle – does the Bathtub Nessie show up before or is this its debut?
I think subletter refers to the snake in the tub (as in Cat and Girl have sublet their apartment)?
November 3rd, 2009 at 5:42 am
Nothing puts me off being a regular more than becoming so familiar with the staff that they begin to anticipate my needs. I usually go somewhere else where I can be nice and anonymous again.
Someone needs to write a book about why everything they tell you about customer service is wrong. Do not bother the customers. Do not ask them what they want. Do not learn their names. You are not their friends. Do not show any recognition whatsoever that you have seen them before. Above all else, do not give the customer what they want before they ask for it, because they like to think that this might actually be the day they ask for the barbecue sauce instead of the tangy.
November 3rd, 2009 at 6:00 am
Oh i know exactly what you mean. It irritates me so much when customer service assistants are friendly to you. I also hate it when the gardener looks directly at me: can’t he just get on and do the job i pay him to do?
November 3rd, 2009 at 9:01 am
I guess it’s a personal preference.
I ask for “the usual” at places (read: bars) I’ve never been to before, to see if they give me anything.
More often than not, it’s a scotch on the rocks. I guess I look like that kind of person?
November 3rd, 2009 at 10:06 am
is the third panel the place where cat gets his paint?
November 3rd, 2009 at 10:28 am
If I had a boat, I’d go out on the ocean,
And if I had a pony, I’d ride him on my boat.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-_W18CWypE
I play this to myself at the point in my work day when I look up from the spreadsheet and think, “What? What am I doing here? It’s sunny outside! Or rainy! It’s outside outside! I could be writing love letters, or throwing sticks in the water! Me and my pony.”
November 3rd, 2009 at 10:47 am
the only reason i like going to a farmer’s market is because i know the names of so many people there. “the usual” is different, as we all like to believe that we can change on a dime, that we are a little wacky once you get to know us.
hint: we don’t.
November 3rd, 2009 at 2:06 pm
@Thomas, I have difficulty making eye contact with people. Perhaps if you met me you’d assume this is because I think I’m better than people?
November 3rd, 2009 at 5:50 pm
I don’t have a boat either.
And it’s horrible, really, that deceitful conviction I have within my heart that _if_only_I_had_a_boat_ then I would have left this place where my soul is rotting long ago and sailed far away to some place where things made sense and life had meaning or at least the weather was nice and I could find engaging occupation.
But I also know that I _used_ to have a boat, and even though it was in a different time and a different place and I was a different person, all I did with my boat was tie it to a smelly dock and catch fish from it.
I still miss the sea.
November 3rd, 2009 at 6:16 pm
Had a friend from Nashville who *hated* Pennsylvania (where we lived at the time) because waitpersons, etc. *didn’t* try to get to know you or ask about your day… go figure :-)
November 3rd, 2009 at 7:00 pm
[...] Check it out. tell someone: [...]
November 4th, 2009 at 2:16 am
It’s funny. I recently dreamt that I kicked out the tenant of the bathtub I was subletting, since I only ever showered, and put out to sea to sail where’er the wind might take me. Having neither a sail nor an oar, I was lucky to pick up a tow from Nessie (who was never one to hold a grudge) and landed near the Highlands. Soon, we found ourselves in a nearby town being both tickled and mollified by the facial hair of the denizens, sometimes at the same time. Charging only a few pffennies, it wasn’t long before we saved enough for a down payment on an oar, and (of course) beat feet back to our little bathtub of happiness and the bliss of the infinite sea.
November 4th, 2009 at 1:39 pm
“You don’t have a boat.” What a cruel thing to tell a cat.
November 4th, 2009 at 5:37 pm
Mustaches are never sincere. they hide a dark secret. my theory is, only people who have tasted human flesh wear mustaches. the irony is, rather than hide it, it BROADCASTS IT! they are in effect saying, “WORLD, IVE EATEN A PORTION OF A HUMAN!” i have yet to be proven wrong.
November 6th, 2009 at 8:37 am
People who don’t like being treated as regulars (or looked at by their gardeners) are, unfortunately, edge-cases with freakishly unusual desires, comparable to objectum-sexuals, and should have no expectation that society will alter itself to conform to their unnatural and profane needs.
November 7th, 2009 at 12:17 am
I hear so much complaining from both customers and salespeople about how the other side “treats us like robots.” But I really wish people *did* treat each other like robots when their only connection is a professional one.
I do business with robots whenever possible. The self-checkout lane at Cub has seen me so many times that, if it were as nosy as a human, it could probably offer me “my usual”…
November 7th, 2009 at 1:55 am
Bah… what’s the point in mentally preparing myself for every possible response to my question if Thomas isn’t even going to answer me? I should have expected it — people who insult me rarely wait around to hear my point of view, or even my clarification of an ambiguity. Righteousness is always bred from ignorance.
November 7th, 2009 at 2:06 am
I guess that means my comments in “A Shotglass in the Dark” are also bred from ignorance. But at least… in that case I’ve made a valid attempt at comprehension.
Guy walks into a bar wearing a shirt saying ‘for a moment there, you bored me to death’. Why?
November 9th, 2009 at 1:40 pm
My guess is you went answered because “Thomas Davison” is a made-up respondent to you, David Thomsen. It’s a put-on like referring to former Houston Rockets coach as John Tomrudyvich. (Or Tom Johnrudyvich. Either variant will amuse me equally.)