Tag Archives: humor

Idiot of the Week: I Can Do Anything You Can Do Better

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I am no stranger to the saying, “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” Just look at the title of this site; of course I think I can do everything better myself! Group projects? Pass! Screw you guys, I’d rather do the whole thing alone. Subway sandwiches? Move over, I’ll show you how to make a sandwich. (I mean, yes, I did ask for onions but did you honestly think I wanted two handfuls? And nobody needs so much lettuce that their sandwich can’t close. And who puts the mayo on last? You are supposed to spread it on the bread! I don’t want to take a bite of sandwich and have it just be lettuce and mayo!)

yumBut people forget that this adage has its limits, and few seem aware of the contrary and less popular saying, “If you want to fuck something up royally, by all means, do it yourself.” Like cutting your own bangs – even though it seems like you would just cut across in a straight line…you can’t. Or tailoring your own clothes. Or anything involving car maintenance. If you have some knowledge in these areas, then sure, maybe you can do it yourself. But if not…consider that there is a reason that people do this for a living, and that they may have honed a skill that you haven’t.

Even I will admit that not everyone is an idiot and that some people are better than me at doing their own job. One instance where this is true is at the grocery store. Ever since the introduction of the Self Check-Out, people have flocked to those kiosks to scan and bag their own items because they assume it will be faster. If it’s new and it’s technology, it must be better! And sometimes it is. When I have one or two items, and they both have a bar code, and there is no line for the Self Check-Out, I agree that it is just as fast for me to check out myself and enjoy the added bonus of not having to talk to anyone.

But beyond that, I’m sticking to my tried-and-true human check-out person. If I have a cart full of groceries to scan and bag, why would I want to do all that work when I could be standing there watching someone else do it at a much faster rate? These people bag groceries all day long. They already have the codes for avocados and Gala apples memorized. They sort cans away from eggs and bread without even thinking. If they double scan something they can just delete it and don’t have to clench their fists and teeth while an automated voice tells them there seems to be a problem and wait for the attendant to come help. There is no way I could be faster at checking out than this person.

So why is it that every time I want to go to the Self Check-Out to scan one freaking bag of tortilla chips so I can go home and enjoy my fresh guacamole, there is a line four people deep of idiots with a cart full of groceries? What are you people doing? Did you honestly think this would be faster? These kiosks were not designed for more than a handful of items. There isn’t even enough room at the kiosk to unload all your groceries, nor is there enough room to bag them. But if you remove one of your bags to make room for another, the machine freaks out and stops everything to accuse you of stealing. “Please do not remove items from the bag. No really, put that back, where do you think you are going with that jar of pickles? Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I am a machine, I know everything!”

How could this possibly be faster than someone flinging your items down a conveyor belt and bagging them like a human-octopus hybrid? I mean these people are fast. What makes you think you can waltz in there and magically do a better job than someone who does this 20-40 hours a week? Especially when you are in fact slow as shit. I am going to write a book called, The Audacity of Confidence, where I complain about people who have way more faith in themselves than they should. I’m sorry, but we aren’t all incredibly talented and competent. Ask Darwin. These delusional slowpokes need to face facts and just get out of the way so those of us with three items or less can get in, get out, and get on with our lives…or guacamole…whatever!

What do you think – are your local cashiers competent enough to earn your trust or do you feel better off alone? Take the poll!

My Other Car is a Private Jet

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I recently overheard a conversation between strangers about how many cars one woman’s family owned. There is one for each of the kids, one for Mom, one for Dad, and oh yes, the Porsche. Reading the judgmental expression on her friend’s face, this woman quickly followed up to explain, “But that’s just for date night.” Phew, that was a close one! She almost looked like a pretentious “bougie” snob but she totally saved it by explaining that her expensive luxury car is basically just an accessory. “Don’t worry, we don’t go driving that around on a daily basis like rich people, blech! No, no, we barely use ours.” I don’t know about you, but I think that makes it worse. If I drop tens of thousands of dollars on something, I make damn sure I use the crap out of it. A Porsche is an expensive purchase to trot out just for date night. I don’t have so much as a matching pair of underwear for special occasions and you’ve got a dedicated vehicle?

But it’s really not the idea of the spare car that bothers me. I know lots of people with a spare ‘fun’ car that they take out only for joy rides or date nights or what have you. People work hard and can spend their money however they want. Just own it! I hate when people act like they are embarrassed by their wealth. If it is so embarrassing to own a Porsche, why did you buy it? And why did you tell me about it? If this Porsche is your deep, dark, upper-middle class secret, keep it in the garage and only take it out at night with the headlights off. Or, man up and be proud of it! Stand behind your choices! When you say you have a spare Porsche, don’t apologize for it, as you suppress a shit-eating “I’m so happy for me” grin. Just let it spread across your face and with a sigh, acknowledge the elephant in the room, “Yup, guess I’m pretty fucking rich!”

Idiot of the Week: Me, Myself, and I

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I was unusually pensive as I got ready for work this morning, and I came upon a metaphor between my daily routine and a relay race. In a relay, different team members complete different legs of the race. Fast team members create a lead, but slow team members can quickly waste it away. And I realized this is where I am going wrong; I can’t get to work on time because not all my Team Members are pulling their weight! Get Out of Bed Marisa is the worst, I don’t know who picked her to start. She almost never gives us a lead, hitting snooze every five minutes and making lame excuses like, “I’m not sleeping, I am deciding what to wear today.” But Get Dressed Marisa doesn’t ever seem to get that memo because she wastes more time standing in front of her closet with a blank stare until she gives up and picks out black pants and a black shirt. Don’t even get me started on Take a Shower Marisa. She just stands there like she is shooting a Dove commercial until the hot water runs out. It usually falls to Hair and Makeup Marisa to pick up the slack. Any grand plans she had are abandoned for a quick swish of mascara and a pony tail.

But today was different. You see, Get Out of Bed Marisa ate a lot of salty food yesterday, which meant she drank a lot of water, which meant she really had to pee by 6am. Here it is, the lead we’ve been waiting for. Take a Shower Marisa didn’t even have to complete her leg of the race because after a month of being lazy and making excuses, she finally went to the gym and had showered the night before. Add 25 minutes to the lead. Even Get Dressed Marisa knew what she was doing today, saving more precious time. It all came down to Hair and Makeup Marisa, a pro at throwing something together and running out the door. But since I have the extra time, thought Hair and Makeup Marisa…. And just like that the lead was lost. Time flies when you are trying a new technique with your straight iron for the first time only to realize that your hair still looks bad and have to start from scratch. I just want to know, Hair and Makeup Marisa, was it worth it? You could have used that lead to leave work early today, but instead you spent it on your hair. Tell me, does the wall you face appreciate your new look? Is your computer monitor impressed by your attempt at beach waves? Let me remind you who you work for here. You aren’t on Team Look Good For Strangers, you are on Team The Sooner I Get to Work, The Sooner I Can Leave and Start Enjoying My Me Time. Get it together unless you want to be cut from the team altogether. You are nice to have but we can live without you.

If It Doesn’t Fit, You Must a-Quit Wearing It

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One of the many things I will never understand about people is why they choose to buy clothes that are two sizes too small for them. Well, I do know why. Ye olde Wishful Thinking. You don’t want to be a L, you want to be a S. So you buy the Small, thinking it will make you look small. But it doesn’t. It makes you look like a sausage exploding out of its casing.

Unfortunately, wishful thinking is not effective in these situations. Much like it does not turn Monday into Friday, it will also fail to make you shrink. So I will say that I understand this delusional thought process up until the point when you put on these tiny clothes and look in the mirror. Once you have that proof…how are you still making these poor decisions?

People fervently believe that smaller clothes make you look smaller and bigger clothes make you look bigger. Um….no. I will admit, in the extreme, big clothes can make you look big. If I put on a Muumuu, I might look like a house. But when I wear this certain pair of shorts I have that is two sizes too big because they were on sale and I was determined to get them even if they didn’t fit at all, I don’t look like a house; I look like one of those starving kids on the Feed this Sad, Starving Kid for 10 Cents a Day (If You Don’t, You Have No Soul) commercials. My little twig legs are standing there all lonely-looking inside my cavernous shorts. It’s great. But take those same legs, and stick them into a pair of shorts I still have from high school, and my legs suddenly look like dough exploding out of a Pillsbury can of biscuits.

Photo credit: workingmansdiary.com

Photo credit: workingmansdiary.com

I squeeze my legs through them and have a flashback to my days of playing with the Play Doh Fun Factory. How can I look thin one day and fat the next? Because it’s not just about what size your body is, but what size you put on your body. Even a 94-pound model can have a Gus Gus moment if you put small enough clothes on her.

So get over this mental block of refusing to buy a bigger size. Just accept the size you truly are. Not because it is “important to accept yourself” blablabla – but because it will make you look better! Do you really think that somebody is going to be impressed that you can fit into a 0? Not if you “fit” into it like this:

Photo credit: thejunoesque.com

“It fits!”
Photo credit: thejunoesque.com

Besides, who is even going to know what size you are wearing? No one. That’s who. Unless of course you forget to take that sticker off the front that repeats your size 12 times like I sometimes do. Or unless you proactively point out to people what tiny sizes you wear like some pathetic, desperate-for-validation loser. Or unless you have friends who go around pulling the tag out of your pants to read the size. In which case, I think you’ll be able to quickly change the subject from the size of your clothes to, “You fucking creep, get your hands out of my pants!”

But outside of those rare scenarios, no one can see what size you are wearing. Everyone, however, can see your muffin top spilling out over your jeans like an erupting volcano. So think long and hard about what you are really achieving here before you buy that XXS.