StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Broomstick wrote:Look, if someone has a hearing aid or cochlear implant and still has trouble hearing that one thing, but I'm fed up with old farts who can't hear and don't make any effort to correct the problem. The little old lady with the hearing aids yelling "WHERE ARE YOUR HEARING AID BATTERIES? I NEED SOME NEW ONES." was actually kind of amusing. Even better, she had a keen sense of the irony involved herself and pointed it out. The old guy today who was asking about hemorrhoid creams at the top of his lungs not so much fun. Especially since in order for him to hear my replies I had to be even louder in return. YES, SIR, WE HAVE PREPARATION H. THE HOUSE BRAND HAS THE EXACT SAME INGREDIENT. NO, SIR, THAT'S NOT HEMORRHOID CREAM, THAT'S FOR NEW TATTOOS. TATTOOS. YES, TATTOOS. NO, I DON'T HAVE ANY MYSELF. NO HEMORRHOIDS EITHER. THANK YOU. HAVE A GOOD DAY. A GOOD DAY.

Years back, when I was working at a gas station, one of the regular customers was an old guy who would insist on telling me about the cysts and boils on his junk, because that's what I want to hear about when I ask how much gas to pump.

DRUNK ASSHOLE: Take me to the Hyatt.

YOUR DRIVER: Which one?

DRUNK ASSHOLE: The one downtown.

YOUR DRIVER: There's two Hyatts downtown.

DRUNK ASSHOLE: The one on Welton.

YOUR DRIVER: They're both on Welton.

DRUNK ASSHOLE: Fuck! The closest one!

YOUR DRIVER: They're both exactly ten blocks east and one block north or south from here.

DRUNK ASSHOLE: You're the fucking cab driver, figure it out!

So which one did you take him to, and did he yell at you for taking him to the wrong one?

Borgholio wrote:So which one did you take him to, and did he yell at you for taking him to the wrong one?

I guessed correctly, completely at random.

The better question is why, given those directions, there are two of the same hotel chain on the same street two blocks apart.

White Haven wrote:The better question is why, given those directions, there are two of the same hotel chain on the same street two blocks apart.

In case you didn't know - Raw Shark Occasionally Knows Stuff:

So once upon a time, the Hyatt had a big hotel at 17th and Welton and the city seized a big parking lot at 15th and Welton, built a hotel there, and decided that the smart move was to rent it out to the highest bidder, right across the street from the Convention Center, because why the fuck not, right? Hyatt was the highest bidder, and thus took control of that property. Given full prescience of the events to follow, Hyatt probably would not've opened the place on 17th at all and instead saved their money for the far-more-profitable place on 15th, but IMHO they acted in their best interest given the information they had at the time.

HOT LONG-TIME REGULAR: I love sneezing! Sneezing is my favorite thing ever.

YOUR DRIVER: That's random. Your favorite thing ever?

HOT LONG-TIME REGULAR: Okay, second-favorite.

[later in the same conversation]

HOT LONG-TIME REGULAR: So yeah, that didn't work out. I kicked him out of my apartment last week.

YOUR DRIVER: That sucks, I'm sorry.

HOT LONG-TIME REGULAR: I'm not! I don't miss that loser or his fucking cat. The only thing I miss is that he used to give me head every day. Do you know how hard it is to find a man with a job who enjoys that?

YOUR DRIVER: I dunno, I see one in the mirror on a regular basis...

HOT LONG-TIME REGULAR: [long pause] Pull over.

YOUR DRIVER: Yes, ma'am.

DRUNK BARTENDER: So yeah, my last breakup was actually one year ago today, when I caught my boyfriend cheating on me with my best friend.

YOUR DRIVER: Wow, that sucks.

DRUNK BARTENDER: Yeah, but we're still friends, though. Actually, I need to get him a birthday present before next week.

YOUR DRIVER: You're buying a guy who cheated on you with your best friend on Valentine's Day a birthday present?

DRUNK BARTENDER: Yeah, I got him one last year, too.

YOUR DRIVER: ... Does this guy have an epic shitload of money?

DRUNK BARTENDER: How'd you know?

YOUR DRIVER: Call it a hunch...

YOUR DRIVER: Yeah, hi, I need to talk to Driver Services, please.

DISPATCH: What's your pick-up address?

YOUR DRIVER: Just put me through to [name].

DISPATCH: I need a pick-up address before I can proceed, Sir.

YOUR DRIVER: I don't need to be picked-up, I just need to talk to [name].

DISPATCH: I need an address, Sir.

YOUR DRIVER: [sigh] Look, I'm at [address]. Will you just give me Driver Services, please?

DISPATCH: You're a driver?

YOUR DRIVER: YES!

DISPATCH: You need to talk to Driver Services! One moment, please!

YOUR DRIVER: [forcefully suppressing the urge to go up to the station with a gun or maybe a brick or something and kill everybody I see on the third floor] Thanks.

YOUR DRIVER: So how'd you arrive on, "Pandora," for your stage name?

"PANDORA" THE STRIPPER: Well, it's kind of mysterious, kind of gothy; it evokes mythology and danger; it's completely unlike what anybody I actually know would think I would pick...

YOUR DRIVER: Wow, sounds like you put a lot of thought into this. One of my regulars who works with you chose hers based on the author of the song that was playing at the time.

"PANDORA" THE STRIPPER: Tori?

YOUR DRIVER: Yep.

"PANDORA" THE STRIPPER: Hah! Figures. Yeah, I thought about it for a few days before I started. I also like it because it makes people think about my box. I am trying to maximize my profits, after all.

YOUR DRIVER: A lot of thought...

I officially think that stripper is awesome. That is like, 3rd order abstraction there. I like it.

Alyrium Denryle wrote:I officially think that stripper is awesome. That is like, 3rd order abstraction there. I like it.

She called me last night with a very successful response and is now officially a regular. My best friend has already yelled at me about not sleeping with her, but I think she's pretty clever and I'm hoping that she'll be good for my business.

PS - Got her real name already. I kind of like her, despite terrible idea.

It seems strange to me to NOT be taking advantage of opportunities to enjoy sex with attractive and smart members of your preferred sex . . . but that's coming from someone with no sex life. Maybe things are different for people with reasonable access to sex?

Without knowing dick about his situation, he may be of such a mind that the financial benefit of a non-sexed, but happy regular patron outweighs the brilliant joy but possible later awkwardness of a sexual relationship.

Lagmonster wrote:Without knowing dick about his situation, he may be of such a mind that the financial benefit of a non-sexed, but happy regular patron outweighs the brilliant joy but possible later awkwardness of a sexual relationship.

True. If they're in a relationship, whatever he earns in tips will go straight to buying her dinner and shiny things. So she's worth more as just a customer.

Or, to look at it another way, he might be doing fine without. People with a full belly don't feel the need to stare and drool at a four-course steak dinner no matter how succulent the meats.

People with a full belly don't feel the need to stare and drool at a four-course steak dinner no matter how succulent the meats.

Well yes but some people (myself included) would stare and drool anyways.

Or, to look at it another way, he might be doing fine without. People with a full belly don't feel the need to stare and drool at a four-course steak dinner no matter how succulent the meats.

Yeah, that's kind of what I was getting at. Well, I can at least browse cooking sites.

This is not a terrible metaphor at all!

My plate is a little full right now (HL-TR from upthread is delightfully insatiable, though knowing her for six years makes me kind of uncertain whether we'll progress beyond FWB), and "Pandora" is a very good client*, but my strongest objection to the urge was my personal, "Don't fuck strippers," rule, which exists at the intersection of my, "Don't stick it in crazy," rule and my, "Strippers are almost-always bugfuck nuts," experiences. "Pandora" is a moot point, anyway; found out she's happily-married. The sane ones are taken. She wasn't really my type anyway, other than being witty and thin.

* Strippers are some of the best cab customers. A self-speculated majority of them can't get up on stage without using some kind of mind-altering substance (most strip clubs give the girls free drinks, and the dressing room usually has a resident coke dealer; many have legal or illegal access to some kind of benzodiazepine; at the very least in Colorado, they smoke a lot of pot), so they always need rides, they make more money than they generally bother to calculate ("A Fistfull of Dollars," is frequently a literal thing when I get paid in this scenario), and they take every stereotype about Service Industry people straight up to 11, especially the culture of over-tipping each other. "Stripper-Tipper," is a common slang term in the industry for a client who will reliably provide you with a roughly-100% gratuity while expecting nothing more than adequate service, and even more (possibly much more) if you're actually good, which does not only apply to literal strippers but exists for excellent reasons.

I want to switch jobs with Raw Shark for one day, because I would like to see him manage the unbridled joy of moderating discussions between two 50-something men on the colours in pig poop, and because to date I haven't had any heart attacks - and it seems like the kind of thing I should do at least once.

Lagmonster wrote:I want to switch jobs with Raw Shark for one day, because I would like to see him manage the unbridled joy of moderating discussions between two 50-something men on the colours in pig poop, and because to date I haven't had any heart attacks - and it seems like the kind of thing I should do at least once.

I'd handle the poop color thing like a boss, because art school. I've only had near heart-attacks on the job, however (see the Relationship Front Lines thread for my one possible experience at actually having one). Regardless, I recommend that everybody try my job for a day for the adrenaline rush and perspective, especially the management at my company on the latter note.

REALLY DRUNK COLLEGE GIRL #1: No, really, I literally can't find my phone!

REALLY DRUNK COLLEGE GIRL #2: You had it when you got in, right?

REALLY DRUNK COLLEGE GIRL #1: Yes! It's got to be here somewhere, right? I am literally shitting myself right now!

YOUR DRIVER: If that's literally literal it's going to cost you an extra hundred bucks, FYI.

REALLY DRUNK COLLEGE GIRL #1: Seriously, I've got to find it! Will you call my phone?

REALLY DRUNK COLLEGE GIRL #2: My phone's dead, use your own!

YOUR DRIVER: If that's literally literal it's going to cost you an extra hundred bucks, FYI.

Sir, you are my hero.

Sinewmire wrote:

YOUR DRIVER: If that's literally literal it's going to cost you an extra hundred bucks, FYI.

Sir, you are my hero.

Thanks!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of heroics, here's some highlights from a fun one that happened about five years ago (I'm not trying for 100% accuracy or to reproduce it in full, but you'll get the idea), dedicated to anybody who's contemplating dating a stripper:

TINY INSANE STRIPPER: [crying] Thank you so so much, [Name!] You're a total lifesaver!

YOUR DRIVER: Yeah, any time. Why am I picking you up in an alley with no shoes, and what the fuck happened to your hand?

TINY INSANE STRIPPER: I was at this party a few blocks from here, when in walks that bitch [name], the one who fucked [name!]

YOUR DRIVER: Weren't you guys broken up then?

TINY INSANE STRIPPER: So then I grabbed her by the hair with both hands! I was trying to knee her in the face like in UFC, but then she had a knife!

YOUR DRIVER: Clearly. Okay, put pressure on your wrist, like this with your thumb here, and hold it up like this. Squeeze it as hard as you can until you think your hand's about to start turning blue, and then back off a little and hold it there. We're going to the hospital.

TINY INSANE STRIPPER: [near-hysterical] NO HOSPITALS! Hospitals are a conspiracy to get people sick! They killed my Mom by giving her the wrong shit for her liver! I've been reading about it on the-

YOUR DRIVER: [hits the gas angrily] Fuck! Okay, no time for this, we're going to King Soopers and then your place.

TINY INSANE STRIPPER: We're going shopping!? Now!?

YOUR DRIVER: Yes, unless you have rubbing alcohol, a brand-new toothbrush still in the box, a lot of gauze, and Neosporin. Seriously, keep it up this high, always, and over you, not the seat, please.

TINY INSANE STRIPPER: This was so dumb. I did a lot of Jame-O shots and coke [ed: not the bubbly liquid kind] right before that and I wasn't thinking.

YOUR DRIVER: I'm not going to debate the first part of that, and the second part is why you're bleeding like a stuck pig. Don't your parents both teach college-level math?

TINY INSANE STRIPPER: Hey, I'm good at math!

[time passes]

ABRIDGED VERSION: She didn't die, but the scarring clearly indicates first aid administered by an adrenaline-pumped amateur.