The One with the Road Rage

So last week I went home to NY for the weekend. I got back to Vegas late on a Sunday and was exhausted by the time I got to work the next morning. Fast forward to the afternoon when I’m done for the day and have to drive home. I get in my car, naturally, I’m just annoyed because it’s a Monday afternoon. I still have to go food shopping and cook for the next few days. I’m driving home, and as I’ve said before (if you’ve been listening), there is a ton of road work every where. A lot of the roads near my house are one lane for this reason. So I’m on this one lane road by my house and get stuck behind this person trying to make a left. There’s no stop sign in the direction I’m going but the crossing street has a stop sign. Finally, the guy in front of me makes a left and I start to go forward when this jerk off on my right side decides it is his turn to go. Which, it is obviously not his turn, vis-à-vis the stop sign.

Naturally, I start waving my arms at him in New York fashion. This fucker has the balls to open his window and start yelling at me. He literally says, “what the heck man?” He said heck. Like if you’re going to yell at me at least make it worth your while. So I open my window and release the last 36 hours of New York on him. I yell back, “Fuck you jerk off you have a fuckin’ stop sign.” So then he proceeds to tell me about my manners and responds with, “you have no manners man.” That actually kind of pissed me off because who is this guy to talk about my manners and in reality what the fuck does manners have to do with driving. So that’s when I told him, “we’re in the middle of the road not your mother’s dinner table, follow the fucking rules of the road!” He starts to retort but I had already decided I was done arguing with this moron. I stuck my head out the window and used the manners my Mother taught me and yelled a polite “Fuck you!” So to my fellow transient New Yorkers, remember your manners, but more importantly, remember where you’re from.

Memberships

So I was sitting here think about what I should write about and then it hit me. As I’m sitting here I get an email from a company I ran a 10K through saying my trial membership is up and they charged my credit card on file with 70 bucks. Before I even made the phone call I knew this is exactly what I was going to write about. I was just saying the other day that it’s almost like I hope people do stupid things just so I can write about it. Without fail, there will never be a lack of material.

So I call this company up and explain that I didn’t sign up for a membership, I signed up for one race. I also explained how I never got an original email telling me about this “trial membership” I supposedly signed up for. The guy tells me, “I’m not sure what I can do about that.” I obviously than retorted with, “Well here let me explain, you’re going to cancel the year long membership you signed me up for and had me pay in one shot and you’re going to refund the money. Does that help you be more sure?” He grumbles and says, “relax sir, we’re going to figure this out.” At this point, after he tells me to relax, I’m ready for a real argument. Nothing like a real good argument. So I say, “There’s really nothing to figure out. Cancel the membership, refund the money and let’s make this a quick phone call.” He tells me, “Alright sir, I’ve been authorized to refund the money. You must have opted in for the year long membership when you signed up.” This guy just had to throw this in there. He had to say it was my fault. He doesn’t even know me and he can’t accept the blame. Clearly the company is conning people into signing up. I didn’t sign up for a year long membership to run races. Who the fuck am I Usain Bolt. I did one fucking race. So I said “Listen guy, thanks for the refund but I didn’t sign up for a year long membership. That’s why I’m on the phone with you.” He hung up on me. But that’s fine man.

I appreciate the stupidity in the world. I’m sure I’m part of it. I’m sure the guy I got in an argument with in the middle of the road the other day would have some pretty choice words to say about how stupid I am. But I’ll save that story for another time. Nothing like some good old-fashioned New York road rage. I’m surrounded by assholes. Stay tuned.

The Tailor

I’m sure everyone has been to a tailor before. I always have to get pants hemmed. I went to the dry cleaners yesterday to drop some clothes off and I figured I’d get a pair of pants hemmed while I was there. So I walk in hand them my clothes and everything and then tell the guy about the pants. So he proceeds to ask me “how much do you want off the pants.” So I answered back “I don’t know the right amount.” So he calls the manager over and she asks the same question to which I respond “I don’t know I’m a short fat guy and the pants are long I want them shorter.” The woman obviously was not going to measure me as she asked next “what size are you?” she never actually measured me. So she’s basically going to guess how the pants are going to look on me. I’ve never had pants tailored like this. I’ve never not had them measured. I don’t know why people aren’t smart. I can’t answer that. I can tell you that I’m very well aware that these pants are not going to fit me when I go back, either that or they’ll look like fucking bell bottoms. I just don’t understand how no on else has ever been confused by this at her business. No one else ever wonders why they don’t get measured. Maybe I should have walked out. I probably should have. But they already had my shirts so was I really going to say you’ll probably fuck up the pants so I’ll just leave the shirts. I’m really interested in how this is going to turn out so I guess we’ll just have to see. I am excited to try the pants on in the store though so that when they don’t fit, she knows what she did.