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.

Dry Cleaners

So I went to the dry cleaners the other day to get some of my pants done. Since I’ve moved here I have been starching all my clothes on my own. Outside of the New York City area, dry cleaning is outrageously expensive. Just to make this story clear, I brought my clothes in on a Monday. They didn’t tell me the price or anything obviously. But I dropped off three pairs of pants.

I went to pick them up on Thursday and I went around 7:15. They closed at 7 it said on the door. They were still standing in there folding clothes or whatever nonsense they do at a dry cleaners. I walk in and the girl says, “we’re closed.” I just told her, “I just want to grab some pants.” She responded, “No sorry we’re closed.” I kept my cool and just walked out. I can’t get mad at everyone, especially not a girl who looked like she was barely out of high school. If I’m going to argue, I want it to at least be fair.

So I return to the dry cleaners the next night…at exactly 6:59, just to be a dick. They actually didn’t give me a problem which was surprising to me (and also sort of a let down). I give her my name and she grabs me my pants and she says, “36.50 please.” 36.50! What the fuck are they doing to the pants for that kind of money. You might as well get a new pair of fucking pants. I say “What could possibly cost $36.50.” She said, “Well, we did an amendment” (at least that’s what I heard). I said,” An amendment! An amendment to what? The fucking U.S. Constitution?” She looked at me like I was a moron obviously. No they didn’t take any money off for “mending” not “amending.” Apparently I was a bit confused. Fucking $36.50 though. That’s actually insane. So, I will not be dry cleaning pants ever again. At least not for a few months. No Ragrets.

Millennials (Generation Y)

 So, I want to provide you “millennials” with a little bit of advice. You should be careful what you post on the internet. You shouldn’t talk to strangers. Nah, I’m just fucking with you. It’s fucking 2017 people. If you didn’t meet your significant other over the internet, then you’re just the other 50%. But you know what I’m sick of. I’m sick of people complaining about us. Yeah “US.” I was born in 1992. I’m not a fucking 90’s kid. I don’t even want to be a 90’s kid. I don’t want to wear a stupid windbreaker. I don’t want to pretend that I had a phone on a cord. No. I was given a cellphone when I was 16 and 4 years later I was provided with google in my pocket. But constantly, us millennials are shit on.

So, as millennials, we are always looked down upon. I honestly don’t know if this is new. I don’t know if this is something that every generation receives. Maybe every generation gets shit on by the previous. For the first time, I’m not here to complain. No I won’t give the satisfaction. I won’t pretend like I’m here to complain. I’m here to stick up for us. We need a voice.

Are you happy? This is the generation that you created. And by you, I mean the people who say we text too much. I mean the people who say we’re not outside enough. The people who say we’ve had too much screen time. The people who believe we are sheltered.

We’re not sheltered. Us “so-called” millennials know more than any generation born yet. We have more information at our fingertips than was ever given to any past generation. No I don’t know the dewy fucking decimal system. But I can tell how to carefully change a biological man’s voice to be perceived as a woman’s voice. I’ve crafted my skills, through careful internet research, how to do my job at its best. But here is what I hear. Let me tell you the bullshit, stereotyping, judgement that our generation bereaves. Let me destroy 4 stereotypes they place upon us. By “they,” yes, I mean “the man.” We’re going to take down the man.

One. “Millennials don’t work hard.” Don’t work hard? This is the fastest growing technical generation of all time. Don’t work hard? I went to school with people who essentially finished their first year of college before even leaving high school. They don’t work hard? They took 3 AP classes every year of high school just to please their parents, their family and their school. I finished college in three years. Where’d that get me? No where. Had to do another 2 years.

Two. “We can’t communicate.” We communicate with more people than ever before. I wouldn’t have my beautiful girlfriend without this internet that YOU created. Communication has changed. Communication is instant. Communication is now. We communicate with thousands of people every day. Some people send one tweet and it reaches thousands of people. Yeah, maybe no one is that manly man that you expect to communicate with, but trust me we know how to communicate. By sending this blog out I get at least 30 people to read it. No, I’m not trying to brag.

Three. We’re selfish. We are the “me” generation. We are non-committal. We can’t do for others what we can do for ourselves. I have a friend.  His name is Dan. Dan raised a thousand dollars for a cause. I don’t even remember the cause. But I’ll tell you what. I sent him some cash. So, did the rest of my friends. We all love being a part of something bigger. Maybe some of us want it known. Maybe some of us don’t. But that’s fine with me. I don’t care if people want to be known for donating. They made a difference. We don’t all have to be humble. That’s more bullshit than pretending we want to be modest. Try to make a difference  whether people know about it or not.

Finally, four. We still live at home. Yeah, we still live at home! Your credit destroyed any possibility that we could ever move out of our parent’s house. I feel for anyone who stayed in New York. The chances of them moving out of their parent’s house is close to impossible. I mean, I owe $79,646 to the United States government. I couldn’t afford to live on my own back in New York. Yeah, here in Vegas, I get to live with my dope roommates. But, no, where I’m from, I couldn’t even imagine it.

Overall, the point is, time is different. The people are different. The times are different. You can’t expect “us” to live how “you” did. It’s impossible now. We do our best. We’ll change the world, don’t get me wrong. But for now, let me tell you one thing. Let us make our change. Let us make the change we want.

Tropical Smoothie

So I went to tropical smoothie today after the gym. Love that shit. Anyways I go to this place somewhat often. Maybe once a week. If I’m being honest, it’s kinda gross. You walk in and the temperature almost goes up from outside. Keep in mind this is Vegas. The temperature should always go down walking into a store. But I walk in today and the girl behind the counter looks like she’s struggling. She is on the proverbial struggle bus. She’s the only person working in this place, but it’s by no means busy. There were three people sitting waiting on their drinks and me who hadn’t ordered yet.

This girl keeps yelling from the back, “I’m so sorry I’ll be right there!” And “I’m really sorry, it’s just me and I’m so busy!” I was looking around like what the fuck is she doing back there. Let’s keep track of time though (yes I checked my phone the second I walked into this shit show). 10 minutes go by and finally she says ok can I help you. So I order my drink and pay and now I’m waiting again. Now we’re are 15 minutes and I’m standing there waiting and she comes out with 2 people’s drinks and they leave. The last woman gets up being extremely impatient and starts getting angry with the girl. She finally gets her drink and this family of five comes in and she takes their order. Now we’re at 20 minutes and she comes out from the back. This time she looks like she’s about to cry and I just sorta laugh. Not at her. I wasn’t trying to be rude but the whole thing was hysterical. She again starts apologizing like crazy, “I’ve been here since 4AM and it’s been crazy since I got here.” I’m still laughing, wondering how busy a tropical smoothie could be at 4AM. But then she’s like I broke something in the back and it’s leaking everywhere. She goes back there again and another 3 minutes goes by. She comes out and now she’s “all wet” as she put it. Her shoes were soaked; I’ll give her that. But there must’ve about an inch of water in the back. She was in the verge of tears now. Barely able to handle the smoothie ridden stress. Now we’re at about a 25 minute wait and I’m debating on leaving but I already paid and I really wanted to see where this could possibly go. In reality, I just wanted to see if she’d actually cry.

She proceeds to ask me for my order. I ask what she means. She totally forgot about my order. I just laughed cause this poor girl who was probably at her very first job clearly was not handling it well. Finally after about 28 minutes I get my drink. I walk into places almost hoping shit will go wrong nowadays. What do people say again? Oh yeah. Do it for the story.

Lonely Brunch

So, on Sunday I had a pretty good hangover going. I decided to head over to this place for breakfast. I walked in and said I was just one for breakfast. The girl said she could seat me right away but then kind of just walked away. I stood there for about 5 minutes, which is really no big deal. But this place was packed, it was hot, and there were so many kids. So. Many. Kids. So I decided I was going to leave. So, I said to the girl, “Hey, sorry but I think I’m going to leave, thanks anyway though.” She gives me a dirty look and says, “well I was going to seat you right now.” I looked at her odd and said, “well I just kind of changed my mind.” She then tells me that if I leave and come back I won’t have my spot on the list anymore. I laugh at her and just respond, “I don’t understand, I’m not coming back, I don’t want to be on the list.” So, she just dismisses me and says, “well ok.”

Jerk off me, I decide to try the place next door, where I’m the only person in the entire restaurant. I sit down at the bar and no one is there. Not even a bartender so I was about to leave when finally, this guy walks out of the back. This guy with the longest ponytail in the world, smiling at me like he wants to lick my bald fucking head. So, I obviously think to myself, “what a fucking mistake.” Now instead of sitting in the hot room with the screaming children, I get to sit here with smiling ponytail man. I order a Bloody Mary. And the guy hands me a glass with vodka and tomato juice and says the Bloody Mary bar is over there. I’m the only person in the entire restaurant and I now have to get up, walk to the other side of the restaurant and make my own Bloody Mary? I get up and go make the stupid thing and sit back down. I order a salad with chicken. He asks me, “Do you want a sandwich instead?” What kind of questions is that. When I order a coffee, do they ask me if I want tea instead? No, of course not. He was like “well, the sandwich comes with a little salad.” No douchebag. I want exactly what I ordered. I don’t want something completely different and not what I asked for.

It’s incredible the planet we live on. Instead of sitting in the crowded hot place, I got to listen to this bartender’s sob story. He tells me all about how shitty Vegas is after I just told him I’m new here. Tells me how terrible it was growing up here and blah, blah, blah. Listen GUY, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around. Isn’t me, sitting at a bar alone, supposed to be the cue to the bartender that I get to complain, not him? Well I guess not. Anybody still reading this is essentially my internet bartender I guess. I say that as I pour myself a second glass of wine. So, thanks for listening to all my sob stories. Stay tuned fuckers.

Car Problems

So since I’ve made my trek across the country to Vegas, every time I get an oil change they proceed to give me a list of a thousand things wrong with my car. Naturally I ignore them because as long as the oils clean the car is fine, right? Well, apparently not. I finally decided to take my car to Jeep to get some of this shit fixed, the rack and minion, my shaft, serendipity belt, you know, car parts and mechanic language. So last week I drop my car off for two days, and on the second day he tells me he can’t fix everything because he has to order parts. Well ok, I thought at least something was done. They of course fixed all of the shit that wasn’t covered by the warranty and left the other stuff for another time. So I go in to pick up the car and he tells me to bring it back next Wednesday (which was yesterday). So I drop it off yesterday morning and they ask me if I want a rental car. Naturally I have to say no because at age 24 they wanted to charge me $75 a day for a car with manual windows. So fuck that. I’ll just Uber everywhere.
They call me last night and tell me the job will push into today. That’s fine I figured, just one more day without a car. This morning I get a call from the guy telling me they won’t be able to finish it today. I ask him why and he replies, “Well we just started replacing such and such part and it’s stuck so we had to cut it off.” He starts going more in depth but I had to stop him. “You just started taking the part off, what the fuck did you do yesterday?” I questioned. “Well we had to uhm” and again I stopped him and replied, “Sir you told me the car would be ready yesterday, why wasn’t the job started yesterday?” He started getting annoyed and changed the topic to starting to explain what would happen next. Essentially there were two different jobs that needed to be done on my car this week. The one they just started and the one I will explain in a moment. He told me the part would be here tomorrow and promised it would be done. Fine, I let my temper settle and just said thank you call me tomorrow.

Not ten minutes later he calls me back. “Well sir, you’re not gonna be happy with me” he stupidly mumbles through the phone. I said, “What now?” He reports to me that because of the rust on the other part of the car, He needs to order more parts and they wouldn’t come until next week. About to jump down the guys throat, I slow myself down and ask “so what does this mean, can I still pick it up tomorrow?” “Well no we’re gonna need you to bring the car again,” he reports. He then goes into detail about the reasoning which basically was because of rust. He then states to me, “well our head engineer figures your car is probably from the east coast.” I respond, “Oh yeah did he figure that out from the New York registration, the New York inspection, or the New York State trooper sticker in the window?” He then says, “I think he just noticed all the rust.”This guy must be a real fucking genius.

At this point I’m losing my mind so I just tell him I’ll see him at 1 to pick up the car and hang up. We can’t all be idiots but we’re definitely surrounded by them. Stay tuned for an update next week.

Well, I Guess I’m Just a Big Jerk Off

So as you all know I live out in Vegas and friends here are hard to come by. I thought they were joking when they said this place is transient, but essentially everyone I have met since I’ve been here has already moved. I hangout at a few different places regularly where I talk to the bartenders that know me as a regular. I went to one of those bars today to catch the last round of the Master’s. I’m sitting there alone. To clarify it is very obvious that I am alone. I am at the bar eating and having a drink and there’s no one in either seat next to me. It is a semi-circle bar and I’m at what you could call the left corner if you were looking at it like it was a smile. Two seats to my left is a couple and two seats to my right is a girl by herself. So we’re all just sitting there. About ten minutes after I get there, the couple yells, “hey are you all alone?” Naturally, I look because my answer is about to be yes. But they are talking to the girl to my right. She replies back, “Uh, yeah?” The couple asks her to have a drink with them. The girl in the couple literally says, “oh my god you’re alone? come have a drink with us?” What the fuck. For a second I look down at my shirt to see if I’m wearing anything offensive. No of course I’m not wearing anything offensive, PLUS my dick was still in my pants. SO for a second I wasn’t sure why I got passed over for the invite. Maybe they were sexist. Maybe they were trying to get a Menage trois going. I don’t know. We were all similar ages. But please people… COMMENT, tell me what you fuckin think cause I’m baffled. But, maybe,  I guess it could all be that I’m just a big jerkoff. We’ll never know but opinions are welcome.