highlyeccentric: Minerva Mcgonagall sometimes thinks Hogwarts would be better with no kids (Potterpuffs - McGonagal thinks Hogwarts)
There once was a student presenting
The Green Knight's poetic beheading
From experience he knew
it's a hard thing to do
to cut off a head without hewing




There are poems like cats, a prof said,
that are pretty too look at, or read,
but more complex by far
when you take them apart -
but then cats, unlike poems, are dead.
highlyeccentric: Book on a shelf, entitled "Oh God: What the Fuck (and other stories)" (Oh god what the fuck (and other tails))
Picture the scene. There I was, alone in my office, with the afternoon sun finally reaching my chair and delighting me with its warms. I had the door open, but my office is in a cul-de-sac, so little of the usual comings-and-goings in the department actually filters through to my attention unless i'm distracted. Now, I had been very distracted for most of today, but just then, at 15.31 pm, I was absorbed in commenting on a students' essay proposal (a task made thoroughly fascinating by the fact that it wasn't the piece of thesis writing I had intended to be doing today).

Into this placid scene of academic seclusion arrives colleague H, appearing on my threshold with sudden exuberance.

'AMY!' she says, startling me out of my teacherly reverie. 'Are you interested in breastfeeding?'

Reader, I confess myself utterly flummoxed. Suddenly faced with the abstract notion of breastfeeding, I was utterly unable to provide it with any sensible context. Discarding the patently bizarre ('.. right now', '... during your professional career' or possibly '... as a means of earning spare income') I was left with the odd, but plausible: vis, this must be a singularly misplaced attempt to find a home for the copy of Your Baby and Child that had taken up residence on the departmental take-a-book shelf.

'NO!' exclaim I, utterly wrongfooted by this deviation from usual Swiss reserve and indeed workplace behaviour -

Just as colleague H finishes her sentence: '... in the middle ages?'

Rapid recalibration. 'Oh. No, I'm not, but Officemate is.'

'Does she know there's a lecture at 4pm today?'

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was that.
highlyeccentric: Garden gnome reading - text: can't talk. dorking. (Garden dork)
As with the previous instance, most social-media using persons have probably got the general idea, but here I present a summative post for friends, relations and the terminally curious, covering the period Halloween-Christmas 2013:

What I did in Europe, by Amy, Age 26 )
highlyeccentric: Four years of college, and plenty of knowledge, have earnt me this USELESS degree! (Four years of college)
YOU GUYS YOU GUYS I HAVE A *PLAN*. A wobbly baby fledgling of a plan, but one which doesn't rely on such things as my chances of getting a government job in Sydney, or me just slogging away at my job for another couple of years until I can comfortably up and leave it.

Firstly, note that, although I want to keep up with the medievalism, I keep coming back to the idea of doing *something* on Evelyn Dickinson and/or Louisa MacDonald. 19th century / early 20th century lesbian-like relationships are GROSSLY under-studied. [Says my mother: "don't you think that's for a reason? Says I: "yes. Systematic homophobia."] Evelyn's novels, so far as I can tell, are... odd. I will need to track down the rest of them and read them *properly* but they're odd. On the basis of the one I read, her depiction of romance and sexuality was *odd*. Her lead female characters had little to no personal investment therein. Plus there was the political side - a novel about a upper middle class british girl investigating NSW labor politics? That's just weird.

K tracked me down a reference: Evelyn wrote a review in a Sydney literary journal, of My Brilliant Career. If she wrote one, she may have written others. If she reviewed Miles Franklin's work, did she ever meet Miles? Did she know Miles was female? If Louisa MacDonald never met Louisa Lawson, but Evelyn was known to be more forthright, more masculine, and (from what I gather) maybe more hardline in her politics, and Evelyn was a writer... did Evelyn know the Lawsons? I'm starting to get a sense of a loose network of female Australian authors and feminist activists, and I want to know where and how Evelyn fits in with them.

I saw Awesome on Monday, and she pointed out that if I did an MPhil in Aus. lit and a PHD in medieval, I'd have two completely different streams of literature for my research fields. This might not give me an advantage at one of the big Sydney unis, but it sure would if I were applying for jobs in one of the regional unis. Oh hai, I can teach English literature up to 1500 and also I work on turn-of-the-twentieth-century Australian women's literature. Two fields in one academic!

This is sound advice.

TODAY, it occurred to me that I wouldn't need to go to Sydney to do an MPhil in Aus lit. I could do it here! I wouldn't need to be taking huge chunks of time off for research trips - just a week here or there in the NSW State Archives. I reckon I could do this part-time while working. It might send me crackers - part-time thesis on top of full time work???? - but it might also give me SOMETHING TO DO WITH MY GODDAMN BRAIN.

ZE PLAN IS TO READ AS MUCH OF EVELYN'S STUFF AS I CAN GET HOLD OF WITHOUT INTER-LIBRARY LOANS. Wait and see what happens with the current recruitment at work, find out where I'm going to be next year. Start looking for a supervisor in whichever city that is. Start mid-year next year, if I can.

OMG A PLAN.
highlyeccentric: Arthur (BBC Merlin) - text: "SRSLY" (SRSLY)
1. Just won third place in the annual awards for one of my minor fandoms. :D

2. Worked nine-hour day tomorrow, expect to do same at least once more this week. (Not EXPECTED to by boss, or anything. But I want to get the damn work done.)

3. FAILED AT CURRY. The box said 'add water', so I added water. Turned out to be about four times too much water, so now I have vaguely curry flavoured boiled veggies with boiled-tough meat and rice.
highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (Default)
One-Step-Up Boss thought he'd contribute to the Keeping Highly Entertained effort by giving me things to read. Including a book entitled 'Blog On: Creating Engaging Online Content'.

... thanks, boss.

W. T. F

Nov. 19th, 2008 04:22 pm
highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (shock!)
I'm apparently going to be a public servant.

Moving to Canberra next year to work for a govt. department which shall be henceforth known as the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, because it's about as well known as that.

Lucy: can I bring the LOTR Warhammer bits and bobs to you in person? Or does that come under the heading of Weird People From The Internet?

~

Of course, all of this is provisional upon me actually signing the  acceptance forms. See how I have right here applications to go to France and teach English? Yeah. DECISIONS.

highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (One Way)
This entertaining conversation between myself, my boss the Elegant Dutchwoman and the head Chef, henceforth known as Mad Scotswoman.

Highly looks up from reception computer and greets a waiting Student, just as the phone rings.

Highly: Just a moment, while I answer this. Hello, Obvious College Reception, this is Highly Speaking, how may I help you?
Phone, with a crackle for mobile transmission: Hello, Highly, this is Elegant Dutchwoman, calling for Mad Scotswoman. *sounds of students clattering around dining hall* There's quite a few boys here, have you sold any meal tickets?
Highly: Yes, one.
Elegant Dutchwoman, to Mad Scotswoman: Just one.
Mad Scotswoman: Who was it?
Elegant Dutchwoman: Who was it?
Highly: It was Generic Pymble Number Fifty-Five.
Elegant Dutchwoman: It was Generic Pymble Number Fifty-Five.
Mad Scotswoman: Ah, GPN55. *more clattering and banging*
Elegant Dutchwoman: Who else was there?
Highly: No one.
Mad Scotswoman: Well, there's Generic Pymble Number Seventy-Four.
Elegant Dutchwoman: GPN74. Write that down.
Highly writes down GPN74.
Mad Scotswoman: And I there's Generic Pymble Number One Hundred and Nine. Is that GPN109?
Elegant Dutchwoman: Yes, that's GPN109, write that down, Highly.
Highly writes that down.
Elegant Dutchwoman: There was someone else, who was it?
Mad Scotswoman, very reluctantly: Noo... well... there was [livejournal.com profile] kayloulee... with Highly's boyfriend.
Highly: He's not my boyfriend anymore!
Elegant Dutchwoman: He's not her boyfriend anymore.
Mad Scotswoman: He's not her boyfriend anymore?
Highly: He's not my boyfriend anymore, and he often comes to lunch with K without eating anything.
Elegant Dutchwoman: He's not her boyfriend anymore and he often comes to lunch without eating anything.
Mad Scotswoman: Oh.
Elegant Dutchwoman: Write those down!
Highly stares at the things she's already written down, and decides that's enough. Phone hangs up.

Waiting Student: I take it he's not your boyfriend anymore?

Ye Gods.

Jan. 9th, 2008 01:22 am
highlyeccentric: A character from silentkimbly.livejournal.com, hiding under a lampshade (hiding)
I have never worked this much in my life.
Total of ten hours today, double shift with two hours off in the middle. My third double in four days. Yesterday was nice and calm but tonight was freshly shat from the devil's arsehole. Evil customers with their mega-large group bookings and rambunctious children. Spaghetti from one end of the verandah to the other.
I swear, next time the CMS descend on Roxanne on Glebe Point Road with our finely tuned carousing habits, large collection of BYO wines, extra people without warning, and the "kids table" who lurk around drinking for hours, I am leaving them as large a tip as I can afford, and an apology. Large group bookings suck.

On the other hand, all the other customers who had the misfortune to be around tonight were lovely and patient with our understaffed insanity; tables 36 and 37 were so sweet and highlarious, respectively, that I wanted to tip them. The guy on 37 was Norwegian, on a last night out with his Australian girlfriend before leaving the country. They got completely overlooked for nearly half an hour due to the chaos surrounding the group bookings, but nevertheless when I went out to offer them dessert and be all charming, they pulled out all stops to entertain me, insulting each other and clowing around and generally making the night worthwhile. Then, while their dessert was coming, he got up and wandered over to 36 and charmed the wits out of the middle aged ladies there. When I came back outside he was kissing one of them up the neck from shoulder to chin (apparently because she had expensive perfume on, or so his girlfriend would have me believe). 36 said they had a wonderful night- the food was delicious and the entertainment spectacular. When asked if they meant 37, or either of the two Evil Family Tables Of Doom, they assured us that all were equally entertaining and you couldn't get amusement like that if you paid for it. Once 36 were gone we turned up the music and started on the mammoth cleanup job, while 37 danced- first romantically, then some kind of frenetic disco-dancing, across our verandah. The guy cleared up their table for us- turned up in the bar where I was polishing glasses with his arms full of plates and glasses, and wouldn't hand them over to me, carried them right out the back and stacked them all neatly for the chefs. Customers like that deserve prizes. We gave them cookies, because that was what we had.

Speaking of which, Manic!Manager, a co-worker and I did the Nutbush across the verandah on New Years Eve. Would have to be one of the best NYEs I've ever spent, actually, which just goes to show you that my social life is non-existent.

Spent my break today- what little was left after i rang the Goblin, and before I had dinner- in the public library, finally starting my Anglo-Saxon translations for the summer. Remembered that I actually adore this stuff, and I felt somewhat more like myself again, after a month or so as hospitality-zombie. Then I got slammed in the face with tonight's shift. You win some, you lose some, I guess.

Driving home is tougher some nights than others. New Year's Day, when I finished at 10pm, was for some reason much, much harder than tonight, even though I finished at twenty past midnight. Either way, thank the good lord for museli bars and the Coyote Ugly soundtrack.
highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (Tonks)
Had an AWESOME time at work tonight. Or maybe I only think that because the chief barwoman and baristress made me a mocha, and now i'm on a caffeine high.
Also, I think I've finally managed to get the hang of the doing-five-things-at-once thing. The way it goes at Swanky Restaurant Number Three is that on quiet nights I get assigned the bar, and on busy nights I'm assigned to run drinks and generally assist the chief barwoman. Thing is, I'm *also* supposed to be keeping an eye on the rest of the shop and subbing in wherever I'm needed- seating, taking orders, running food, clearing, as backup to the people who will have been specifically assigned any of these tasks. This was mindboggling, to say the least, for the first few weeks. But in the last week or so I've had a couple of two-person shifts, quiet ones where I've had to do some of *everything*, and can keep track of how it all happens and at what pace. That really makes the difference when you get in to find you're keeping up with three other waitstaff and ninety customers. NINETY.
Anyway. I seemed to manage it without breaking anything, and to keep the glasses washed and polished at the same time. We did run out of forks in the first hour, but that wasn't my fault.


There were fireworks tonight. Manic!Manager was on, so the firework show was accompanied by much "AMY, LOOK! FIREWORKS!" and "Oy, Table 10, check out the fireworks!". A few of the customers were a little scared, I think. Come the Grand Finale Firework Attack, she lost her head entirely and raced out the front of the shop, yelling "All my staff out side NOW. Customers can leave your money on the bench, we're off to watch the fireworks!"
Then she gave the outside front table a heart attack by breaking into loud cheering at the end of the fireworks.


*boingboingbounce*


There's just three of us on tomorrow night, Christmas Eve in Nelson Bay. This is a silly state of affairs, but Manic!Manager already asked the boss for extra staff and nothing doing. We will have matching Santa hats and be closing off orders after 7.30. So hopefully I'll be home before eleven, since I'm staying in Joel's room for the next week or so, and he'll be up at six on Christmas Day. Lucky guy, he has to work christmas...
But then, I'm on double shift on boxing day. Which, after Christmas Eve and then the manic organisational nighmare which passes for Christmas Day in our family (fortunately, numbers for the church lunch have dropped to thirty), should be LOTS of fun. Come home Christmas afternoon and I've been assigned the Task of cooking desserts for family lunch on boxing day... which I won't be here to eat, since I start at 12. Dad's going to run me out there on the bike, so's we can squeeze through the Boxing Day Bottleneck on Nelson Bay Road, and he'll have to come back for me in the evening. Dunno what i'll do with myself in the middle of the day- Manic!Manager did suggest I hide out at her place for a few hours, so I might do that.


*bouncebounceboing* ok, i'm starting to come down off this high now...


and instead, I shall offer you my

Enlightened Advice On Eating At Swanky Seafood Restaurants Without Spending A Whole Week's Paycheck


*BYO wine. Seriously, this will be cheaper than even buying soft drink at a Swanky Restaurant. $3 corkage per person isn't even equal to the cost of ONE glass of soft drink.
*Eat lunch rather than dinner. At Swanky Restaurant Number Three, we have a separate light lunch menu, where you can order a "lunch platter", which has most of the ingredients of the large and hideously expensive dinner platters, but, unlike them, does not contain enough food to feed a small african nation for a week. The lunch version will set you back about thirty dollars, which is an acceptable price to pay for a swanky meal, as opposed the usual price, which is roughly equal to the GDP of a small african nation.
*If ordering the full platter, eat a platter for one between two or three people.
*Order breads for starters, rather than entree dishes.
*If eating a dish for dinner which is ALSO on the entree menu (for example, calamari), order an entree size.
*If in Australia, order something with Balmain Bay Bugs or Morton Bay Bugs rather than lobster. Cheaper, possibly not QUITE as nice, but still a nice Swanky Treat Meal.
*Although we do do some good desserts, and good coffee (at least, when I'm not making the coffee we do good coffee), you could always skip that course, pay your bill (*coughandtipyourwaitressescough*) and go for a walk before coming back and buying icecream from the gelato place downstairs. Better for your pocket and your waistline.


some snarky observations:

*if you arrive early in the evening, you get your meal quicker. Amazing, isn't it?
*if your party booking lurk in the restuarant until midnight or later, we will want to stab you. Likewise when you turn up with four extra people, and we were allready booked full. (hoo boy, do I now feel sorry for the staff at the restaurant in Glebe upon which medievalists descend after the public lectures. Remind me to leave them a tip next time I end up there talking in french to my teacher about the woes of my love life until 11.30 at night.)
*no, this isn't Sydney. No, you WON'T get a walk-in table at 9pm. For that matter, you probably won't get a booked table that late either.
*what string of logic leads you to believe there will be any vacant tables at 7.30pm on a saturday night in one of the only three Swanky Restaurants in town?
*likewise, if you have ten people in your family, how have you not yet figured out that it is a good idea to book when you go out?
*also, a Seafood Restaurant doesn't sell spit roast. Shocking, I know.



and with that, i am all bounced out and am going to sleep in my own bed for the last time in a week or so.
highlyeccentric: Me, in a costume viking helmet - captioned Not A Viking Helmet (not a viking)
So, [livejournal.com profile] goblinpaladin and I set out, along with Awesome, Pixie and other most excellent members of Old English Reading Group (*waves* greetings Em, Hilbert), to see the much-bemoaned Zemekis/Gaiman/Avery movie that everyone has been going on about for the last month. Thanks to Richard Nokes, we had advance warning: this movie is aimed at people as dumb as Zemekis et al seem to think Anglo-Saxons were.
If you want proper reviews, check out the links I just posted- they take you to Dr Noke's comprehensive Beowulf-bashing carnival posts. I also recommend Gary Kamia's review, quoted by Dr Virago, from which the salient point is that "Beowulf" doesn't fail because it changes the story: It fails because it is so busy juicing up the story that it does not create a mythical universe. It seizes upon an ancient tale, whose invisible roots run deep into our psyches, and uses it to construct a shiny, plastic entertainment..

After seeing Beowulf, I feel all edumacated
I learnt LOTS of things. *nods*

*Fifth-century Danes LOOK like characters from Shrek and DRESS, but not consistently, like badly organised Romans.
*For some reason, unlike Romans, fith-century Danes haven't figured out that it is a good idea to wear a tunic under your chainmail. Thus, we get Beowulf Nudity. Presumably the fact that they haven't mastered the concept of under-tunics is responsible for Beowulf's shiny, nicely-waxed and oiled body (you'd think, after five days at sea, he'd be a bit stubbly, but no...). Can't have chest hair getting caught in your armour. No explanation has yet been offered for the lack of visible chafing as a result of wearing chainmail in a storm without a tunic.
*Faced with a group of Geats, you can tell which one the hero is, because he will look marginally less wooden than all of the others. He'll make up for it with wooden dialogue, though.
*Fifth-century Danish women are treated as chattel (please, someone send Gaiman a copy of Vicious Vikings, before Odd and the Frost Giants goes to print...).
*Also, unlike their men, fifth-century Danish women seem to be blessed with the amazing ability to get more realistic-looking as they get older.
*Only Evil, Slimy People advocate Christianity.
*Anglo-Saxons and/or Danes are all about the beer and violence and sex. (well... the first two, maybe. and i guess the third doesn't get written down much by monks... But, y'know, they were ALSO about honour and family and poetry and eloquence and stuff like that.)
*If, by some miracle of cinematic license, you should have a Norman stone mot and bailey in fifth-century Denmark, the sheer friction of anachronism will cause it to catch alight at the slightest provocation.

The dragon-fight was better than the one in Harry Potter Four, though.
And everyone note that lack of horned helmets. Points to them.

So what has Beowulf done for YOU lately?

I, at least, got something useful out of this... as I was polishing knives tonight, a happily tipsy couple come up to the till to pay their bill. They were debating whether or not to see the movie that had planned to see. My supervisor asked them what they were going to see.
Beee-owh-wolf, they informed us. Supervisor asked what it was about, and they seemed to have no idea. Should they see it or shouldn't they? Dither, dither.
I decided this was my time to step in and tell them they should DEFINITELY see something else. They seemed to like this advice, and gave us a nice credit card tip in return.
highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (shock!)
Well. Random resume-dropping is soul-destroying... except when you walk into Swanky Restuarant Number Three with your best job-hunting smile and say "Hi, my name's Highly, I was wondering if you need extra staff over summer"and rather than the usual take-resume-notice-you-have-no-experience-face-smile-we'll-call-you routine, they go "yeah, sure!" and pull out the tax forms.

So, I am Highlyeccentric, embarking on a career in waitressing. Which is cool. Swanky Restaurant Number Three have a very good reputation (due to being one of the few Swanky Restaurants in town); they didn't balk at lack of table-service experience or lack of bar experience, instead enthusing about their supportive training program; and they have uniforms. They handed over the tax forms at once, so it can be assumed that they do things by the book.

Only downside is that it's 5-6 shifts a week, which will make trips to Sydney difficult to schedule. But, y'know, price you pay. I really, really wasn't expecting any of the Swanky Restaurants to even look twice at me. Today, I am a happy Highly.
highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (waltrot)

The Omega Male and I on tills at work today, discussing eavesdropping- the things you overhear which remind you that you are more (or less) normal than you think you are.

Says I:
I was sitting out the back of Manning with my friend Tristan the other day, waiting for someone. We weren't saying much, and I was listening to the girls at the next table talk about their boyfriends. Girl One was talking about how her boyfriend wouln't commit. Girl Two cuts in and says: I used to think Bert* was like that. But then we went out the other night, and after he'd got home he rang me. And he said "I know I don't like talking about the future with you, but I want you to know that I do think about it. I think about us taking Abnormal Psych together next year!" Whereup on she sighed, and delcared, hand to breast, "I LOVE him!"

Says the Omega Male:
That's it! That's the definition of Commitment! Abnormal Psych!
I'm going to write on Susie's* birthday card this week, I'm going to write: I think about taking Abnormal Psych with you...

Says I:
I dunno about Commitment, but it sounds like the definition of marriage to me- Abnormal Psychology.

Says the Omega Male: haha, yes.
So I'll say to her: Susie, let's take Abnormal Psych together. Then we'll know it's for real. That will keep her satisfied- Abnormal Psych.
If only they were all that easy to please.


*names changed to... well, actually because I forget them

highlyeccentric: Steamed broccoli - an image of an angry broccoli floret (steamed)
rather late, i know. I was only just reminded of my intention to Rant, by [livejournal.com profile] rayneshadow's Rant about People Who Rant About  Valentine's Day. I'd like you all to observe her beautiful turn of phrase here:

Being single and complaining about V-Day is like being Christian and complaining about Hannukah or being American and complaining about Australia Day.

So, by this logic, I am, for the first time in my life, entitled to complain about Valentines Day. Hitherto I have successfully avoided having a boyfriend in mid-febuary, but it seemed a bit extreme to break up with the guy just so that i could smugly observe Febuary 13B on my own. So I gave Orders that we Not Do Anything. Flinn was somewhat downcast about this, but went along with it. He got his own back when, after he'd moved me into college last weekend, I said I owed him. The payback will be to submit to a date in febuary. He has allowed that I may pretend it has nothing to do with replacing Valentines Day ;).

As happens, V-day would have been just inconvenient, as we ended up having dinner with David and Sarah before she heads off to uni in Bathurst.

Anyway, not the point. My rant has nothing to do with Flinn. It has everything to do with being a Stationeer.* It has everything to do with the abysmal and appalling products on sale for Valentines Day. Fortunately we weren't selling all that much extra stock- just the cards, some *coughveryverycute* stuffed elephants and...

Red Hot Love Vouchers. As Sue put it, when asked who would have time to enact all the bizzare situations prescribed in the book of vouchers, "There's always time for red hot love."
But seriously- "an all over case of the goose pimples"? I can turn off the hot water system while you're in the shower, that's a sure way to do it.
"a never before tried romantic escapade"? never before tried because it's a bad idea perhaps?
"a replay of our first date"? Grant, on observing this one, realised that if presented with this voucher, he would be going out, getting outrageously pissed, and waking up the next morning to go "ah. i see." at the sight of his now-girlfriend. Fortunately, she's too sensible for Valentines Day.
what about "a teenage make out session- hot car, steamy windows and it doesn't have to stop there..."? Isn't the point of being Big that you don't have to do that sort of thing anymore? We have beds now, you know.

Valentines Day- Get Sexy: so read the sign above our frontmost display of cards. This display contained such gems as the 'super romantic poem about shagging'. One card, getting right to the point, declared "You show me yours and i'll show you mine." Or you could have chosen the sweet "I don't need a special day to tell you how much I love you.... but if it leads to sex, HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MERRY CHRISTMAS HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAPPY NEW YEAR MERRY ST PAT'S DAY!"
There was a cartoon, reading "oooh, Ranger Bob, that's the third time today i've had to suck snake venom from your penis.... Hope your Valentine's Day Sucks (in a good way)", and there was one of those 50s ads recaptioned to read "People felt sorry for Phillip, dining alone on Valentines Day. They didn't realise his girlfriend had been between his legs for the last ten minutes".
The first category I can sort of understand. If you have a particularly low-brow sense of humour, and/or you think Valentines Day is a load of hogwash and/or don't want to take it too seriously, they could be the way to go. Although, as Liam put it, "if all i was doing was shagging her, she wouldn't be getting a valentine's day card."
But what about the second lot? Who is supposed to give them to whom? If you think that sort of thing would make your boyfriend happy for Valentines Day, and you're inclined to oblige, wouldn't you just do it? If you weren't going to oblige, or he wasn't into that sort of thing, why would you give the card? In one case it would be mean, in the other pointless. And if you're a guy, and you wanted what Phillip was getting, the best way to achieve it would not be with a card like that. would it???
The only thing i could come up with was maybe it's some male equivalent of the Single Girl's Valentines Day Card (we had one of them, too- it said all i need is chocolate and a good book, a statement flatly contradicted by the purchasing of said card). Like a "good luck mate, hope you get some action" kind of card from your best manly buddies, or something.
All of them- Funny, perhaps, in a toilet humour kind of way. But not in the least romantic and definitely not sexy. A day for celebrating romance i can handle... a day for celebrating fucking, what's that supposed to be?

Multipe Cards: I expounded upon this phenomenom in this entry here. Grant tells me he once had a gentleman buy fifteen cards in one go (apparently it was an office ringaround, which might explain the instances i puzzled over the other day)

on the other hand... i shouldn't rant too much, as it's things like this which keep me employed ;)

*Stationeer: one who adventures with stationery.
highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (One Way)
weirdest customer, ever. EVER. in the history of customers.

He's in late middle age; hasn't got much hair. Has dyed his scalp to compensate. Is wearing big wraparound black sunnies, and has very dark olive skin, creating an overall impression of a member of the Mafia gone to seed. Walks purposefully into the store, heads right for the information counter, then stands around. Not looking lost, just standing.

Me: can i help you sir?
Weirdo: i'd like a million dollars and Renee Zelwiger.
Me: what was that, sir?
Weirdo: a million dollars and Renee Zelwiger. I'd settle for just Renee Zelwiger.
Me: *confused look*
Weirdo: she's in the movies.
Me: Oh, Renee Zelwiger. ahaha. I don't think we stock her.
Weirdo: you're pretty enough, but you don't cut it.
Me: *confused look*
Weirdo: You're no Renee Zelwiger. Shoulda become a nun.
Me: well, it's not too late now, i suppose.
Weirdo: you'll be the prettiest nun in there!
Me: *brain shuts down*

Weirdo then turns and purposefully walks into the bookstore, turns left and marches in the direction of their exit. Or possibly in the direction of the nearest blonde salesgirl, which just co-incided with the same direction as the exit.

My customers are weirder than your customers, Random David.
highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (sleepy)
1. Fold arms loosely, in a non-confrontational manner.
2. Proceed forward, rolling your hips slightly, taking measured paces.
3. Gaze into the middle distance, scanning in all directions but never looking at anything in particular.
4. Never let your gaze fall directly in front of you. This demonstrates your familiarity with the store, and also avoids unessecary contact with customers.
5. Square items on shelves as you go, maximising apparent business and minimising thought required.

6. When bored, alternate the SalesPerson Walk with Mony Python Silly Walks.

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highlyeccentric: Sign on Little Queen St - One Way both directions (Default)
highlyeccentric

September 2017

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