Geoffrey the Giraffe Ruins Children's Dreams, or "My Work History"

I just wikipedia’d pringles. That’s something that I just did. Nobody in the history of the world has ever wanted to know about the history of pringles. It remains a mystery as to who actually wrote the wikipedia page. But I just read it.  Halfway through the article I realized that I had already wikipedia’d pringles earlier in my lifetime. That’s how bored I am right now, and what scares me more is that I’ve been this bored before. And now, because of my utter boredom I am writing a blog about it. If someone had a camera on me all day at work it would be the best/worst thing ever made. I think people would be mesmerized by what I do out of sheer boredom on a day-to-day basis. One time, a coworker told me to stop using post-its because it was hurting the environment. So now I use post-its for almost anything that pops into my head. And then I stick them everywhere around my desk.  One of them reads, “Twelve Bagels”, because I was simply thinking to myself one day about what the maximum amount of bagels I could consume without vomiting everywhere was. I do this not to spite her, but out of complete boredom. And this, in some way, brings joy to my day.

My job isn’t the worst place I’ve ever worked. It’s just really really boring.  When I was fifteen I worked at a Chik-Fil-A as a cashier. That was where I learned that the world is full of terrible, stupid people. Or terribly stupid people. Or both. It is shocking how stupid people are. Once, a lady came up to me. This was a normal looking lady. She was not insane. She did not have a pack of sixteen cats following her around. She was not wearing a garbage bag and a tinfoil hat. She was just a normal, middle-aged woman. She came up to me and in all seriousness asked, “What’s the difference between the chicken strips, and the chicken nuggets?”

I blinked a few times and responded, “Uhhh, the strips are these long...Strips,” Motioning with my hand, as if I was holding a large chicken strip, “And the nuggets are...little round nuggets of chicken,” I made a little circle with my thumb and index finger.

She got very angry at my response and demanded to speak with my manager. Later, he came up to me and scolded me for talking down to a customer.  I facepalmed so hard my hand went through my face and out the back of my head towards the edge of the universe.

That job was pretty terrible. I eventually just quit coming to work because I didn’t feel like it. Little did I know, that would be pretty much how I quit every single job I’d ever have.

Soon after, I moved to the wonderful world of retail. Just kidding, it wasn’t wonderful at all. It was just as terrible as one would think. People yelling at you because the store is sold out of something. Or sneaky customers trying to slap a $0.99 sticker on a $50 dollar item.

I used to work at a large toy-store chain. My particular store was a sort of mega-store. We cut children’s hair, had our own little candy store, and we also threw birthday parties on the weekends. Parents would leave their children with one of our party leaders and they would run around the store, dancing and singing. Afterwards, they would end up in one of the party rooms where they would indulge in pizza and sodas.

It was kind of cute seeing all these happy children running around the store. The only bad part was that during the party, our mascot, Geoffrey the Giraffe would make an appearance. It was this huge giraffe costume, probably 8 feet tall. Whichever poor soul got chosen that day to go to the party had to dress  up in this really stinky costume. The bottom portion was really wide, complete with hoof slippers. This made it difficult to walk. The upper-half was this giant giraffe head that had to be worn. There was a little mesh grate in the neck portion that one was supposed to be able to see out of, but it was pretty difficult. So usually the person in the suit would be stumbling all around the store and knocking everything over.

One saturday I’m told to go put the suit on and head over to the party room.

“Great,” I thought. I changed and made my way to the front of the store and entered the room. The kids all gasped and started screaming in delight. I waved my hands and danced around in a circle. They all laughed. Everything was going great.

A few minutes in, this little girl, maybe 8 or 9 walked up to me holding her little baby sister was only a few months old.  She walked up to me, arms outstretched, and offered me the kid. I instinctively took the child from her. She then turned around and walked away.

Now, the giraffe costume also had these hoof mitten things that I had to wear. They were huge and bulky and made it difficult to grasp anything.. So I was standing there, arms outstretched holding this little baby. I had no idea what to do. And worse, the child was starting to slip from my hold. I frantically looked around, trying to get one of my coworkers attention, but they were all busy dealing with the party. It kept slipping.

At thas point, I had two choices:

A) let the baby slip from my grasp, thus, ruining the party.

or B) yell for help, breaking the illusion that there was, in fact, a giant dancing giraffe in the party with them.

I chose option B, and yelled, “Can someone take this baby?!”

The room fell silent. All the children were looking at me. Me, with this baby in my awkward hooves. My coworker ran over to me and took the child. Kids began to cry. I try dancing but it did wasn’t doing any good.

I quickly turned and exited the room. I stumbled my way to the break room at the back of the store, ignoring customers and their children as they tried to get my attention. After I undress and put back on my work uniform, my manager came in and told me that I was NEVER to handle a child.  Needles to say I was never asked to dress up as a giraffe ever again.

I left that job after my manager accused me of stealing from the register, which wasn’t true. I secretly believe she was the one stealing from it, and pinning it on me.

So now, as I sit in my cubicle amongst a sea of post-it notes and filing cabinets, I can feel a little better about the worst part of my job, boredom. It’s really not that bad. Sure, I leave work every day with a little part of my soul gone. And I have the sneaking suspicion that I’m growing stupider by the second, from lack of exercising my brain muscles. But at least I don’t have to deal with stupid questions or dress up as a giraffe. And that, is a very good thing.

Chapter 7: Use Lots of Exclamation Marks

When being a billionaire and managing all the day-to-day activities of your company, it is important to remember that sometimes people can get in bad moods. The worst possible thing for any multi-billion dollar organization is for any of its members to be sourpusses. The best way to address this issue is to send out a cheerful email to all of your employees using lots of exclamation points. It has been scientifically proven that the more exclamation points you use in an email, the happier everyone gets.

Here is an example of an email without exclamation points:

Good Morning,

It is with heavy heart that I am to inform you of your terminal disease.  You have only a few hours left to live. I wish I could have informed you earlier but my address book with your contact information was misplaced under a pile of newspaper clippings. My assistant was tasked with finding me various ways to save on groceries and fast-food, and apparently she left the excess coupons on top of my desk and I failed to see my contacts underneath. Not to worry, she has now been tasked with finding me one of those ‘smart phones’ so that I may carry my contact information with me all day every day. It truly is an amazing futuristic world we live in.

Best Regards,

Dr. Miller

Now, the above email contains approximately zero exclamation marks. I’m sure that if you were to receive that correspondence you would be fairly upset, and not in the cheeriest of moods.

Here is an example of an email with many exclamation points:

Well hey there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU ARE THE BEST PERSON EVER!!!!!!

With Warm, Sensuous Love,

Penelope Cruz

I am certain that if you were to receive that email, whether you were a male or female, you would feel a euphoric sense of joy. This is mainly due to the high amount of exclamation points at the end of every sentence.

Many people might tell you that the excessive use of exclamation points is unprofessional, and actually quite irritating. Some may inform you that it is actually putting them in a worse mood. It is important to remember this mantra that should be constantly running through your head all day every day.  It is called ‘The Billionaire’s Mantra’ and it goes like this:

“$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$”

That is the sound of an opening register ringing over and over again. This is something that should always be stuck in your head, even when you don’t want it to be. So let’s say someon comes up to you and says:

“Hey, excuse me. Your emails are so filled with exclamation points that it is becoming increasingly difficult to understand anything of what you are trying to tell me. It has become so troublesome and strange that I literally get emails from you filled with thousands upon thousands of exclamation points, and nothing else. Even the subject line just has about 40 exclamation points in them.  Now, I am your accountant, and need to know how to balance our budget for the next fiscal year, so please could you just send me that information instead of all these exclamation points?”

Everything that employee of yours just said should have gone unnoticed to you, because your head is filled with that ringing cash register. Furthermore, you should probably fire that employee for wasting your time with frivolous things. Time is money, afterall.

NOTE: I have provided a cassette tape with the sound on a continuous loop for you to wear every night before you go to bed. This will help in the transition process.

Can you taste that? It’s the sweet taste of success that you have almost reached. Only a few more steps to go. Soon, you will find yourself a billionaire!

The Tale of Bob - From 'Life Lessons and Fairy Tales' by Jonathan Miller

The Tale of Bob

One day Bob woke up with no arms or legs. He was merely a head atop his shoulders.  It was very unpleasant but Bob had to get to work, so he rolled out of bed and rolled all the way to his job.

“You’re late,” said Jeff, Bob’s boss.

“Yeah I’m sorry, but I woke up with no arms and legs, so I had to roll all the way to work.”

Jeff shot Bob an angry stare, “Yeah, you’re covered in mud, and you aren’t wearing any pants! I’m going to have to write you up for this. One more incident and I’ll have you fired.” Jeff huffed and walked back to his corner office.

How am I supposed to put on pants without any arms, and where are the pants supposed to go anyways? Bob rolled to his cubicle and looked up at his chair.  He sighed, “Can someone help me onto my chair please?” His co-workers ignored him as they continued about their day. “Excuse me! I need help getting onto my chair!”

Jeff stomped over to Bob’’s desk, “Bob, what’s all this commotion for?!”

“Nobody will help me!” Bob’s voice squealed.

“You’re fired you stupid baby!”

And so Bob was fired. There was lots of important things on his desk that he would have liked to pack up and take home, but unfortunately he didn’t have any arms or legs. And nobody wanted to help him, so he left all his belongings there.  

Bob was sad. He rolled outside and started to cry. Tears ran down his face and snot ran out his nose. But he didn’t have any arms, and could therefore not wipe away any of the tears or snot.  Soon, Bob’s face became covered in a mixture of snot and tears.

A garbage man walking by took one look at Bob and picked him up and threw him in his dumpster truck, mistaking Bob for a dirty tissue paper.

“What are you doing?” Cried Bob. “I’m not garbage!”

The garbage man glanced down, “Sheesh, my therapist is right. I am going bonkers. I thought I just heard this piece of dirty tissue talk to me!” He chuckled and tossed Bob into the back of his truck.

Bob rode for two hours on a pile of soiled diapers. The smell was putrid. Flies were buzzing around his face. Soon, the truck came to a stop and the garbage man opened up the truck and began throwing all the garbage into the river. He picked up bags and bags of trash, and one by one dumped the contents out. He get to Bob and picked him up.

“Please don’t throw me in the river!” Bob’s eyes were wide with terror.

The garbage man screamed and dropped him to the ground. “What in the world?!”

Bob coughed, “I’m not garbage! I’m a man and I woke up today with no arms or legs!”

The garbage man smiled, “Yeah okay. Whatever you say, Tissue.” He leaned over and picked him up. “I guess I’m losing my marbles, but I’ll take you home with me.” Bob was placed in the passenger seat of the truck and they both sped away.

“Excuse me, but could you just drop me off at home?” Bob asked.

The garbage man whistled.

“Did you hear me? I said could you just drop me off at home?”

He glanced over, “You’re my new best friend, Tissue. Me and you will have so many memories.”

Bob was getting nervous, “Why do you keep calling me Tissue? My name is Bob!”

“Tissue, Tissue, my best friend! Tissue, Tissue, best friends til the end!” The garbage man sang. He was slapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song. His head was bouncing from side to side as he sang. “Tissue Bob, that’s his name! Tissue Bob, and he’s my friend!”

Bob squirmed in his seat but could do nothing as he was strapped in with the seatbelt.  “Please, sir!”

The garbage man punched Bob square in the face. “Shut up tissue!”

Bob awoke in a haze. His head was pounding. He was lying on an old, yellow-stained couch. “H-hello?” Bob’s voice was weak. He looked around. It was a small living room. The plaid wallpaper was peeling to reveal rotting wooden panels. An old television was playing an endless broadcast of static. It was warm, and there was a sweet, sour smell in the air.

Someone’s footsteps could be heard thumping closer. Bob looked up to see the Garbage man walking out wearing nothing but stained white underwear. His large gut protruded over the elastic band. A trail of hair grew down his front.  He was carrying a video cassette tape in one hand and scratching at the crotch of his underwear with the other. A fuzzy ball of pubic hair was bursting out through the sides.

“Why hello there, Tissue! Are you ready for our first adventure?” The garbage man grumbled as he walked up to the television.

“Let me go! I’ve told you a million times my name is BOB and i’m a MAN!” Bob was squirming to and fro.

The garbage man put in the video and flipped through the channels. “Mmmhm, now let me see...” A clear image of four large erect penises popped on the screen. “There we go tissue, now it’s time for our adventure.”  He dug into his underwear and began violently mashing at his crotch.

Bob screamed.

Fatten 'Em Up

Fatten ‘Em Up

I giant balloon with GRAND OPENING on the front sat atop the restaurant.  Me, along with countless others, were drawn to that balloon.  It was calling us.  Promising to satiate our hungers ten times over.  I stared up at it as I walked into the small restaurant lobby. We were  herded like a cattle through a long and winding line.  Dozens of hungry, sweaty cows thankful to escape the blazing sun were packed single-file.  My stomach grumbled as I neared the register.  Before I could get through the turnstile and into the corral of food on the other side, I had to pay.  Just beyond the gates I could see piles of fried chicken.  Green bean casserole steamed underneath blinding lights.  And way off in the distance I could just make out soft serve ice cream.  The air smelled of burnt meat and cleaning materials.  

A young cashier greeted me with a cheerful smile and asked what kind of drink I wanted.  I found it strange that an all-you-can-eat buffet didn’t have the soda fountains out in the open.  Instead, my drinks were served to me by a sort-of waitress.  

I smiled at the cashier, “I’ll have a Diet...Coke.”  I stumbled over the word “diet” and it fell out of my mouth in a jumbled mess.  There’s something just not right about drinking a Diet Coke at a buffet.  

She smiled back at me and handed me the receipt.  Yes, I just ordered a Diet Coke.  No, I don’t think that it’s going to counterbalance the sickening amount of food I’m going to eat.  I like the taste, okay?

An older lady whisked me through the turnstile and guided me to my table.  I glanced around at what other people were eating, silently judging them as I passed.  You have a giant pile of food on that plate, and two others only half eaten sitting on either side of you.  Shame on you sir for being so wasteful.  Chicken and mushrooms?  Madame, I must say, how can you stomach such garbage?

The waitress pointed to my table.  I thanked her and darted towards the islands of food.  The plates were stacked in the center.  I grabbed one and made my way past each and every dish.  On one end pepperoni pizza and spaghetti sat waiting to be eaten.  A few yards further I came across the Chinese food portion of the buffet.  Lo mein and orange chicken were piled high.  Then the regular fare of mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese.  

First things first, I needed a salad.  I had to be sensible, and a salad with three boiled-eggs, bacon bits, shredded cheese, croutons, drowned in ranch dressing was the only sensible thing to eat.  After eating healthy, It was time for my second trip.  Already I was feeling full, but it was all-you-can-eat and damnit I was going to get my money’s worth.  A few drumsticks and steaks later and it was time for my third.  At this point my mind was swirling from all the grease.  My money’s worth played on a constant loop in my head.  

Somewhere during my fourth or fifth trip,  with options running low, I came across some sort of brownish-yellow mush.  The sign above the dish read “Chicken and Green Bean Casserole”.  Now, had I been anywhere else I might have stopped myself.  I might have considered the hypocrite I would have been if I ate it.  But i was in Golden Corral.  So I did what any American would do and filled my plate with the stuff.  Was I hungry?  Was this being completely wasteful?  Was I only taking this fourth or fifth plate to get my money’s worth?  Those are questions that I failed to ask myself that day.  

A few hours later, when I could stomach no more, I slowly rose from my table and headed for the doors.  I approached the front of the lobby and tried to make my way back through the turnstile.  

“Sir, sir you can’t go through those,” The young cashier said with urgency.

“What do you mean?”  My head was swirling.  My stomach bulged and I found it hard to think.

“That’s where you came in.  You have to head through those doors.  Those doors are the exit.”  She pointed to the other end of the lobby.

I waved at her and turned around.  I stopped and looked around at the hundreds of others stuffing their faces.  Something felt wrong.  Probably some bad chicken.  I blinked twice and headed for the exit.  

Mark and the Magical Carrot - From 'Classical Fairy Tales and Life Lessons' by Jonathan Miller

Mark was sitting eating a salad one Monday afternoon when he went to take a bite of his carrot.  He brought the stalk up to his mouth and bit down.

“Ouch!”

Alarmed, Mark dropped the carrot on the table and looked down.

“Why are you biting me? Why would you ever bite a living thing like that?”

Mark stared down at a large talking carrot. His eyes were wide. “How are you talking to me? Are you some sort of magical carrot?”

“Yes, I am a magical carrot, and I will grant you five wishes.”

This made Mark very happy for he had never met a magical carrot before, and also because he didn’t have any friends. “Well my first wish is for you to be my best friend in the whole world!”

The carrot twisted and shook. Tiny sparks flew out the top of its head. It gasped, “Your wish has been granted.”

“And what should I call you?”

“Just call me Carrot.”

Overjoyed, Mark took Carrot and gave him the biggest hug he had ever given anyone, or anything, in his entire life. “We shall have the most fun in the entire world, Carrot! First things first, I think we should go get something to eat.”

So off they went, Mark and Carrot, to go eat at the fanciest restaurant Mark could afford.  Which was the local soup kitchen.  Mark didn’t have a job, or any money. He just didn’t possess the social skills to obtain any sort of job whatsoever.

Carrot looked around at the old, stinky soup kitchen. “Wait, so this is where we’re eating?

Mark felt ashamed, “Yes, Carrot. It’s all that I can afford. But the soup here is just swell! You should try the chicken noodle soup, oh my! it’s so scrumptious.”

“You know, Mark, you could uh, just wish for a billion dollars...”

He wasn’t listening though. Instead, Mark was staring at all the delicious soups he could choose from.  There was chicken noodle, pea soup, tomato soup. The choices seemed endless.  “Wow Carrot, have you ever seen so many soups? I wish all I could ever eat was soups for the rest of my life!”

Carrot twisted and shook. Tiny sparks flew out the top of its head. It gasped, “Your wish has been granted.”

“Wait what? That wasn’t a wish!”

“You said ‘I wish’. It’s a wish Mark. Now shut up and lets eat.”

“Well, I guess it is a pretty swell wish. Now I can eat soup all I want!

They walked up to the counter. A large, sweaty, balding man was waiting to take their order. “Whadya want?” He said, as snot dripped out of his nose.

“Well, I’ll take a bowl of your chicken noodle soup please. And Carrot, what would you like? I’m buyin’” Mark winked at Carrot.

It sighed, “The pea soup I suppose.”

The fat man wiped the snot from his nose with the back of his hand and grumbled, “Ya want bread?”

Mark squealed like a schoolgirl and clapped his hands, “Oh yes! Bread would be just great. Thank you sir!”

The two went and sat at a table next to a smelly homeless person. “Mind if we join you?” Mark said.

The homeless man let out a large fart.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Mark dug into his soup, swallowing it by the spoonful. He picked up the bowl and slurped the remainder down his throat and went for the moldy bread. “My, this bread is delicious!”

Carrot stared up at Mark, not eating a thing.

Mark felt a stinging pain in his stomach. He grabbed it and fell to the floor.  “Owwwww, my tum tum! It hurts!”

“You wished that you could only eat soup for the rest of your life.”

Sweat was dripping down Mark’s face, “What? That’s not fair! That’s not what I meant at all!”

The homeless man let out another long fart.

“Fair is fair, Mark. Carrot floated above Mark, who was now shaking on the floor, “Your body is unable to digest that bread that you just ate. It doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Mark’s eyes widened, “Well make it stop!”

Short, staccato farts burst from the homeless man. The smell was putrid.

“Sir, could you please stop farting right in my face?!”

The homeless man grinned, “What’s the matter boy? Don’t like the smell of my ass?”

The aroma was making Mark’s head spin, “No, in fact I don’t. They smell like death to me!”

“Smell like a dozen roses to me, boy,” the man started to laugh.

“I wish you could smell your own farts the way I smell your nasty farts you sick old man!”

Carrot twisted and shook. Sparks flew from the top of its head. “Your wish has been granted.”

Suddenly, the homeless man grabbed at his throat. “What’s that smell?” He stood up and stumbled around the kitchen. He waived his hands in front of his face as one long, continuous fart spilled from the man’s ass. “I. Can’t. Breathe!” He fell to the ground and lay still.

Mark looked at Carrot, “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you? You were the one that wished it, not me.” Carrot floated down and sat upon Mark’s forehead. “Now, you should probably do something about that stomach situation. I fear it might be fatal.”

“Fine! I wish I could digest bread,” He spoke through clenched teeth. “AND I wish you were dead!”

Carrot twisted and shook. Sparks flew from the top of its head. “Your wishes have been granted,” And then, just like that, Carrot toppled over, motionless.

Mark’s stomach immediately felt better. He picked Carrot off the ground and got to his feet.  “Fuck you Carrot, you piece of shit.”  Mark took Carrot by the stalk and ate him whole.  “Now, you will be nothing but shit.”

Mark walked back to his home.  He was almost there when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his stomach.  “Owwwwwww!” Mark fell to the ground and rolled into a ball. “My tum tum, what’s wrong with it?” He could hear laughter coming from inside his stomach.

Carrot burst from his chest, spraying blood in every direction. He floated above Mark’s pale face. “Hello there Mark.”

“How, how are you...” Blood gurgled up from his throat.

“Oh, well you wished that you could digest bread. But that doesn’t mean you can digest CARROTS!

Mark couldn’t speak. Blood filled his mouth and spilled from his lips.  He stared up at Carrot who was floating just above him.

“And you also wished that I was dead.  And I WAS dead. I was dead before I was alive, so technically your wish has come true.” Carrot jammed his body into Mark’s eyes.  He stabbed at them over and over. But Mark was already dead.

“Fuck you Mark.” Carrot laughed as he floated off into the sunset.