I thought, you crafty little so-and-so. OK, this is war.
I will not be outplayed at the water cooler, and certainly not by THAT girl from the Account's section. I mean, who wears Culottes anymore - it's not the eighties honey...
"Crushed walnuts are OK" I replied, "but are they the Persian or Butternut variety? Did you know the butternut ones are extremely high in fat?" I watched her smile wobble for a moment before she regained her smugness.
"Oh, definitely the Persian ones" she replied, a little too gaily. "They're sooo expensive - but then all my greengrocer's produce is organic - do you buy organic?" Now it was my turn to falter. She stared at me evenly, as I withered ever so slightly. Temporarily beaten, I retreated to my usual fall back position of delivering the truth in economical portions. Sometimes, intemperate people call this lying.
"Oh yes. Have done for years." She tilted her head thoughtfully, seemingly awake to my every move. "Hmmm" she uttered softly, while her eyes screamed 'liar, liar'.
"Have you tried Goji berries?" Unshackling myself from the burden of honesty, I was inspired to turn defence into attack. "I've had so much more energy after eating a scoop of these every morning".
She brought her glass to her lips and drank. Was she now playing for time? I quickly pushed on, growing in strength, like a young lion circling a fallen prey. "It's really hard to get the genuine berries, I have them flown out from Tibet for me each week".
"Really", she replied, drawing the word out in preparation for her ambush: "I suppose the Dalai Lama brings them out for you in person?"
Bitch. I'm sure the colour drained from my face before I realised I'd thought it and not said it. I then opened my mouth to assail her with a witty rejoinder - but found myself bereft of anything approaching prudence.
"Bitch". The word escaped from my mouth, but I did manage a half-smile in a forlorn attempt to soften the invective. Surprisingly, she smiled in self-satisfaction as she turned, wordlessly, and strode the walk of the winner back to her desk.
Accounts girl 1, arrogant charlatan Nil.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
And the magic number is 8.
Everyone uses it, everyone needs it. No, it's not internet porn. Well, not in my story - maybe in yours?
Supermarkets. Not a place for much planning and thinking, unless you're one of those obsessive types, with a list, who mutters to herself as each item is ticked off. The rest of us are too busy manouvering our wonky-wheeled trolleys, while talking (loudly) on our mobile phones and simultaneously shaking our heads at the stale produce that our supermarket duopolists provide for us - fresh food indeed.
But we should. Think that is. About our public actions and what others would conclude from them. Let's face it, while we go about our supermarket business quietly, every now and again we take a peek into someone else's trolley just to see what they have. And what they're about. And then we can rush to judgement in an "Oh, I see you have potato chips and soft drinks - not going to help you with that big bottom is it?" kinda way.
It's for this reason that I have a strict three item trolley limit rule on generic or home branded items. I will NOT have anyone review my purchases and conclude that I am a tight-arse. Sometimes, mainly as a pick-me-up if I'm feeling down, or alternatively, as a f-u all if I am feeling mischievous, I will perch a forty dollar bottle of olive oil high in my trolley, as a beacon of ostentatious wealth, and wheel that baby around for a bit before quietly returning it to the shelf immediately prior to check out.
But, I digress. Let's cut to the chase here.
Have you ever reflected on the type of statement you make when you haul that 24 pack of toilet paper through the aisle and hoist it onto the checkout conveyor belt? Consider, for a moment, the thoughts of your fellow shoppers and/or checkout operators:
"Hmm. That's a lot of toilet paper - why on earth would they need that much." Or perhaps, "I wonder if he/she/they use that much toilet paper every week?". And hopefully not, "Geez, I wonder if they have a problem with their 'plumbing' - that is a serious amount of toilet paper - he/she/they must have issues".
We pondered this at work the other day (5thcorner.com.au). Agreement was quickly reached that purchasing a 24 pack was, quite simply, a very brave call indeed.
I'm just asking you to think about it.
Supermarkets. Not a place for much planning and thinking, unless you're one of those obsessive types, with a list, who mutters to herself as each item is ticked off. The rest of us are too busy manouvering our wonky-wheeled trolleys, while talking (loudly) on our mobile phones and simultaneously shaking our heads at the stale produce that our supermarket duopolists provide for us - fresh food indeed.
But we should. Think that is. About our public actions and what others would conclude from them. Let's face it, while we go about our supermarket business quietly, every now and again we take a peek into someone else's trolley just to see what they have. And what they're about. And then we can rush to judgement in an "Oh, I see you have potato chips and soft drinks - not going to help you with that big bottom is it?" kinda way.
It's for this reason that I have a strict three item trolley limit rule on generic or home branded items. I will NOT have anyone review my purchases and conclude that I am a tight-arse. Sometimes, mainly as a pick-me-up if I'm feeling down, or alternatively, as a f-u all if I am feeling mischievous, I will perch a forty dollar bottle of olive oil high in my trolley, as a beacon of ostentatious wealth, and wheel that baby around for a bit before quietly returning it to the shelf immediately prior to check out.
But, I digress. Let's cut to the chase here.
Have you ever reflected on the type of statement you make when you haul that 24 pack of toilet paper through the aisle and hoist it onto the checkout conveyor belt? Consider, for a moment, the thoughts of your fellow shoppers and/or checkout operators:
"Hmm. That's a lot of toilet paper - why on earth would they need that much." Or perhaps, "I wonder if he/she/they use that much toilet paper every week?". And hopefully not, "Geez, I wonder if they have a problem with their 'plumbing' - that is a serious amount of toilet paper - he/she/they must have issues".
We pondered this at work the other day (5thcorner.com.au). Agreement was quickly reached that purchasing a 24 pack was, quite simply, a very brave call indeed.
I'm just asking you to think about it.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Do the math people..
Let me return now to a topic requiring immediate attention. I'm figuring that a national summit of the finest minds in the country won't be enough, we will have to cast our net further afield. To continental Europe perhaps, or beyond? I have drafted the below document for international and possible intra-galaxy release.
Attention: Baristas of Melbourne
A take-away coffee cup is a different sized vessel to the standard latte glass. Please adjust your ingredient portions accordingly so that my take-away latte does not taste like hot milk alone and thus make me gag.
Thank you. Surely it's not that hard.
Attention: Baristas of Melbourne
A take-away coffee cup is a different sized vessel to the standard latte glass. Please adjust your ingredient portions accordingly so that my take-away latte does not taste like hot milk alone and thus make me gag.
Thank you. Surely it's not that hard.
Net Worth Zero
I have recently returned to Melbourne after a one year mis-adventure in Brisbane. Gosh is it good to be back. I feel more relieved than anything else. Happy days.
Through a complicated series of events I am presently performing a quasi house-sitting role for my friends and one set of their parents. I am thus "in charge" of a $2 million house in Brighton, a $700,000 apartment, also in Brighton, and three automobiles. My first task, of course, was learning to say the word "Brighton" just so - getting the correct intonation on the second syllable is a devil of a job thank you very much....
What to do, what to do. With 6 bedrooms, 5 toilets, 4 bathrooms, 4 fridges, 3 washing machines and a cubby house. And more passwords, keys, codes and responsibilities than any man should have to bear.
None of it is mine of course. Other than one modest vehicle. So an all-care but no responsibility rule applies. Which doesn't mean that I'm a recalcitrant friend without any sense of accountability, far from it. I'm just saying that when I leave the gas/iron/sandwich maker on and the house/apartment/cubby house burns to the ground they shouldn't really blame me. There, it's always best to get those things off your chest.
Through a complicated series of events I am presently performing a quasi house-sitting role for my friends and one set of their parents. I am thus "in charge" of a $2 million house in Brighton, a $700,000 apartment, also in Brighton, and three automobiles. My first task, of course, was learning to say the word "Brighton" just so - getting the correct intonation on the second syllable is a devil of a job thank you very much....
What to do, what to do. With 6 bedrooms, 5 toilets, 4 bathrooms, 4 fridges, 3 washing machines and a cubby house. And more passwords, keys, codes and responsibilities than any man should have to bear.
None of it is mine of course. Other than one modest vehicle. So an all-care but no responsibility rule applies. Which doesn't mean that I'm a recalcitrant friend without any sense of accountability, far from it. I'm just saying that when I leave the gas/iron/sandwich maker on and the house/apartment/cubby house burns to the ground they shouldn't really blame me. There, it's always best to get those things off your chest.
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