So the other day I had a flier sent to me. A person had cold called the store (which I can’t image to be very fun) and asked if we would carry their stuff. I told them the same thing I tell every single company, vendor, or joe/sara schmoe that tries to get their stuff on our shelf – “Bring in a sample, we’ll try it out and we’ll let you know.” I guess I don’t say those exact words but that is a rough outline of what I tell them. I learned this from my boss, who has delt with this for seven years, so I assume she knows what she is doing. I proceed to tell this person our normal deal. Of course they soft-of listened. Sure, they’ll bring in a sample, but they wanted to send me this near worthless sheet of paper (what a waste) and asked when a good time to show up for a tasting would be. This is where I try to nail people down to a time, because of a couple of reasons; I can and like to work from home, as well as when samples are left for more than a day it can either be eaten or taken home within a day or less. So to try to set something up where they can come in and talk to me about their wonderful olive oil, but for some strange reason this person cannot be tied down. I even tried to give a general time when it would be best and that didn’t work for them either. I just had to breath heavy, roll my eyes and say what amounted to “whatever.” Not the best way to start off with someone that will be one of two votes on getting your product on the shelf.
I’m not flaunting my power over a vendor, but it’s kind of a waste of their time and money to send me info I could and would much rather get from them personally. Which I would like to set up a good time for the two of us to talk about the ins and outs of their olive oil. Sure it’s nice to crack open a letter mailed to me at work, something I rarely get, but come on.
Today I’m board at work without my boss here. I wrote a blog. I posted on facebook. I know I could be doing more, something a bit more productive than posting here on my blog but I’d really rather avoid work. Just one of those days I guess.
Tonight I’ll take photos of the Sweetwater Bath stuff. It was pretty damn good and am looking forward to writing that post. That’ll be tomorrow though.
I took a couple notes for future references at work on Saturday.
- Girls with ugly guys & vice versa
- Full beard with bald head
- “This is what it’s like downstairs”
- Guys who “stand too close”
I’m supposed to put out pickles for people to try today ‘at lunch.’ I made menus this morning, and posted to facebook and twitter about our surprisingly successful Cupcake contest. I’m trying to find more work, and make sure I keep this job.
Whole wheat flower, sea salt, butter, egg, sugar, sugar in the raw, butterfinger, vanilla, baking soda. Heavy modified Martha Stuart recipe.
Today I’ll be working from home (hopefully) banging out a handful of new food blogs for SPG. I’ve got a couple things to do around the house but, it shouldn’t stop me from getting work done. I brought home a couple items from work yesterday. Tasting and writing about the BBQ bath should prove interesting – I know the Peach vin rules, but I want to make sure to get the taste down on paper as well as try a few recipes.
I’ve been thinking of ways of making this something with a bit more substance than just my scrawls terribly thrown together in a mess of incoherence (which is okay), and lack of direction, meaning, or theme (not okay). So here is the deal. I’ll detail all of the shit I do in a day, maybe even throughout the day. Examples: If I’m at work and I have a crappy product, I’ll write about it – unabashed; if I’m on the phone with a magazine that sells ‘editorial spots’ I’ll log my experience; if I have to host the restaurant, I’ll tell of the horrible people by taking notes of their shitty-ness.
I’m kind of tired of having this be a wasteland of slowly dieing posts about my “life” and over arching themes that I couldn’t give a shit about going back to. Most of the time I have no idea why the fuck I wrote something here, or why I think it matters.
So look forward to my real self: the crabby old man who lives inside of me and my crappy sentence composition.
That’s right. It’s fucking hot. We all know. Repeating it over and over to each person you see in passing isn’t going to make it better. I feel the same way about people walking their dogs. Don’t ask me to explain it.
What I really want to talk about is the mini-dvi port on my Macbook – or really all the god damn proprietary plugs on my macbook. I want to start with the mini-display port.
Yes, I have an extra monitor hooked up at work. No, your right – I don’t need it. But this is getting past the heart of the matter. First and obvious point is that the plug is proprietary. Yeah, big pain. Apple loves to make a buck off of extras (see: Apple Store, Apps). It’s easily a two buck plug from any shady website that sells wires and plugs to connect every device into your house to each other, but at Apple it’s a thirty dollar hunk of “California Designed” Chinese-made plastic. This again isn’t my point. So what is my point? The connection is weak at best. Now, let me preface that I’ve got a 2008 black macbook. So you may not know my pains if you have another model. The connection: it feels cheap, barely in, and worst? Just kinda hangs in there. No clip or snap, just resting in there like a pair of overalls lay over the obese – sure they are on but they are just waiting for a strap to fall. A sleeping dragon of interrupted social media toolkiting.
(Author’s Note: I’m just going to publish this b/c I’ve been sitting on it for a while.
I’m at this point in life, like a handful of points previously, I have to make a leap. Do I go to college? What is my Major again? Do I stay in grad school? What is my career?
The other day Liz asked me if ‘this was what I wanted to do, for a career’? Was it? Fuck if I know. I know it comes easy and it uses a tiny bit of my degree. Sure. I can do this. Can’t I? We’ll find out.
There is this something about the summer air in Chicago. It’s hot and wet, it sticks to you like long wet ooze from slug, the city kips up dirt and the wind carries the find street particles – you’ll be nice and gross before dusk. Chicago summers are two-showers-a-day summers.
My only friend is moving away to South Dakota. He’s lived far away for some time – but we saw each other a couple times a year. I have ‘friends’ at work, but I guess I considered this one a real ‘friend.’ We’ll stay in touch.
I’m not sure what is wrong with me. In the empty spaces between being happy and sad, for me, there is this wallowing ever waining feeling of not being good enough and being kinda okay. Clear you plate child, desert is almost ready.
Eh, I’d write more but I’d rather not complain more than I already have.
Chicago summers and a single air con to our apartment. I picked up a book called ‘lemonade’ by Fred Thompson in which nearly 100 pages are devoted to different lemonades. See, this is what is great about my job is that I am exposed to new things every single day, and when I say things I mean many many things. For example today we had hand made and bottled syrups that were all natural and damn good. Two for Italian sodas, two were coffee – I can’t even remember what all they had in them, one was ginger passion fruit maybe? I dunno, but it was interesting. That is what this job lends it self to be – interesting.
I leave for New York on Saturday. Two e-mail newsletters, 5 posts to facebook about the weather, and 6 about new stuff were canning and I’ll be ready to go. I’ve got three days to finish the above.
Five – six days till I land in Spain. The second (third kinda) country I’ve ever been to. There will be pictures.