Yesterday I saw a hipster wearing a checked shirt and drinking from a juice box and it made me sad. Also making me sad is how long I have been spelling "wiener" wrong for. Sorry, guys. Guess that makes me Wiener of the Week. (It still looks wrong.)
I just had a job interview for an internal role which would be heaps of fun but which, realistically, I am seriously under qualified for. I love job interviews, especially the part where they ask things like, "How do you deal with irate customers?" and you say, "I acknowledge their right to be angry, reassure them that we will find a solution, then work with my colleagues and manager to sort things out as quickly as possible," and not, "I smile through my teeth, take their shit, then hang up and shout, "FUCKING WANKER WHOSE FUCKING FAULT IS THIS AND WHY AM I DEALING WITH IT YOU ARE ALL A BUNCH OF RETARDS I AM GOING TO GO AND HAVE A CIGARETTE.""
Also in interviews I tend to be a bit too honest - they say things like, "How does it affect you when a colleague's mistake creates extra work for you?" and while I know I am meant to say, "I am mildly annoyed, but I realise that people are only human, and mistakes happen" I tend to say, "It's fine if it's a human error but if I can't do my job properly because someone else is lazy or can't be bothered it really fucks me off" and then not only do I sound like a psycho but I just said fuck and now the interview is over. (I have actually never said fuck in an interview, but I have dropped into those phrases like, 'it gets right up my nose' and 'I find that very difficult to accept' which are pretty much corporate speak for fuck anyway.)
Headline of the day from stuff.com - Player fights with fan, ballboy wets his pants. The two events were unrelated. Said an official, "The ball kid peed on himself. It was unfortunate."
The woman who sits next to me is taking an ad for the Found column. It reads like this: "Found in Christchurch Central. Wheelchair." I really want to know the story behind this one. Was there some kind of a miracle?