One of the things I learned at the mall was that, among the great unwashed, the plural form of the computer mouse is "mouses". Where are the mouses? Do you have wireless mouses? Like that. Don't ask me why, because I haven't a clue.
One of the last customers I had was adamant about finding a new Mighty Mouse.
Lame Ass Customer: "Do you have any of the new Mighty Mouses?"
Me: "Well, we have a couple on display that you can play with, but I'm afraid that we're out of stock."
LAC: "You don't have any?"
Me: "Uh, no... we are out of stock."
LAC: "I was here yesterday and you didn't have any. They told me that you were getting more in today."
Me: "Be that as it may, we are out of stock."
LAC: "I know what that means.* When do you expect another shipment?"
Me: "Well, every time a box comes in the back we all crowd around to see if there are any inside."
LAC: "Look, did you get any more today or not?"
Me (giving up): "Yes. We did. But we sold them all. We are out of stock."
* Thinking to self, if you DID know what that meant, this conversation would have been over two questions ago.
On a related note, when I was on the train yesterday, the guy in front of me had the telltale white cord of an i-pod trailing out of his ear. I poked him in the shoulder, held up the plug of my own headphones, reached over, unplugged his headset and swapped his for mine. Then I plugged him into my i-pod. We listened to each other's music for about ten seconds, showed each other our screens, and then swapped back. It was very cool. He was a khaki-clad, serious glasses-wearing sort of guy, and he was listening to Sting. I was dressed in a sensible work dress, in olive drab, and wearing scary-pointed toed shoes. I was listening to Tom Petty. I'm going to have to do that (swap i-pod jacks) more often with even more random folks.
Finally, here's a scary, scary photo for you.
Little Steven, baby, what happened to your neck? Please tell me that all that weight is for your role on the Sopranos. Eek.
The only good thing about this photo is that it accompanied a story that said that a judge in New York stayed the eviction of CBGB's saying that the landlord was just as culpable in not noticing for four years that the club was underpaying its rent as the club was for not noticing that the rent had increased. She even went on about what a landmark and historical site CBGB's is, which leads me to believe that she might have been walking around in the late seventies with purple hair, too, just like me.
One of the last customers I had was adamant about finding a new Mighty Mouse.
Lame Ass Customer: "Do you have any of the new Mighty Mouses?"
Me: "Well, we have a couple on display that you can play with, but I'm afraid that we're out of stock."
LAC: "You don't have any?"
Me: "Uh, no... we are out of stock."
LAC: "I was here yesterday and you didn't have any. They told me that you were getting more in today."
Me: "Be that as it may, we are out of stock."
LAC: "I know what that means.* When do you expect another shipment?"
Me: "Well, every time a box comes in the back we all crowd around to see if there are any inside."
LAC: "Look, did you get any more today or not?"
Me (giving up): "Yes. We did. But we sold them all. We are out of stock."
* Thinking to self, if you DID know what that meant, this conversation would have been over two questions ago.
On a related note, when I was on the train yesterday, the guy in front of me had the telltale white cord of an i-pod trailing out of his ear. I poked him in the shoulder, held up the plug of my own headphones, reached over, unplugged his headset and swapped his for mine. Then I plugged him into my i-pod. We listened to each other's music for about ten seconds, showed each other our screens, and then swapped back. It was very cool. He was a khaki-clad, serious glasses-wearing sort of guy, and he was listening to Sting. I was dressed in a sensible work dress, in olive drab, and wearing scary-pointed toed shoes. I was listening to Tom Petty. I'm going to have to do that (swap i-pod jacks) more often with even more random folks.
Finally, here's a scary, scary photo for you.
Little Steven, baby, what happened to your neck? Please tell me that all that weight is for your role on the Sopranos. Eek.
The only good thing about this photo is that it accompanied a story that said that a judge in New York stayed the eviction of CBGB's saying that the landlord was just as culpable in not noticing for four years that the club was underpaying its rent as the club was for not noticing that the rent had increased. She even went on about what a landmark and historical site CBGB's is, which leads me to believe that she might have been walking around in the late seventies with purple hair, too, just like me.