2005-09-27

Game Off

Oh God it's going to be a long day.
There's a paper jam over at the main printer and, oh my god, the world must be ending.
"Who takes care of this? Do I call IT?" That's the question that was posed by the guy who curses loudly over the phone and who wears high school teacher pants every day., Early one morning, I was in the mini-kitchen and waiting for coffee to finish brewing. He came in with a mug that said Best Uncle Ever and that was covered, inside and out, with coffee stains.
He asked me who made the coffee over there.
I pretty much laughed at him openly when I replied, "Whomever wants it first, Don. If you want coffee, cut the pouch open, dump it in a filter thing and press play on the machine," I walked out of the mini-kitchen, shaking my head in disbelief. (FYI: Karma totally got me back because one Saturday I came in to work and I set off the alarm, which set off a panic attack in my and the alarm company couldn't understand me and guess who showed up to turn the freakishly disturbing alarm system off. Yeah. Don. Don't mess with Karma. It's serious business.)
But I digress.
Who makes the coffee? I did just now and you're lucky it's all pre-packaged so that people like me can't come in and actually make coffee. But Don?
Make it yourself.
Boobs do not mean an automatic increase in you Coffee Skill Ability points.
I'm totally keeping an ear on the situation because I normally fix the printer over here when there's a jam or something. I'm trying not to jump up and go fix it because the people with whom I work desperately need some independence from my Printer Skill Ability points. I mean, if this was Diablo II, I'd be kicking their asses. Boobs and Printer Fixing? They wouldn't have a chance. So right now, all I can hear is his voice calling the printer names and two of the women that I work with over there trying to help him fix the Hell Jam. The Jam that was sent to him by Satan and then followed by a bunch of printer nonsense-printing.
I am pretty sure that he pissed off the two ladies who are helping him to the point where they decided to just do it themselves.
That's so lame!

I hate it when men act the fool so that the women around them will fix the things they don't understand. Or make coffee. They wait around, pissing and moaning to the point that women can't take the whining anymore and then when a couple of chicks go over to help. When they do, the guy of course acts like he didn't know exactly what he was doing by whining loudly enough for the ladies to get sick of it or have pity and run over to help him. He's all, "What is that? That's not mine, That's still broken." and he's all up in the lady's face who is actually FIXING the problem.
God I can't stand that and deal with this: It's a known ploy. Women know that game.
Women are smarter. When we let you play it, it's only because we are going to get something out of it.
But I think that is kind of stupid, honestly. Games are only fun if people agree to be playing them. Teasing, imitating games, and again, agreeing to play with each other is fun but when someone tries to run a play on an unsuspecting party, I just get skeeved out.

Trust me, my lady-like ass is sitting right here in my cube, making no move to fix the situation. I've monitored the verbiage, listen for any cracking noises that might signify actual printer demise and neither are cause for alarm.
I have a puppy, people. You can't sneak anything by me. I know everything that is going on within a nine foot radius of my failing rock-and-roll ears because of that doglet and her penchant for eating beauty products, anything accessible on the closet floor should I have been so stupid as to leave the damn door open, and cat treats - both the pre-eaten and post-eaten kind.
My ears WORK.
So I monitored the situation but there's no way in hell I am going to be suckered into fixing something that a guy thinks a girl should fix because she does more printing and copying.
Just like I'm not making coffee for you. I'm making it for me. If I didn't want coffee this morning, there wouldn't be any going right now until someone, say… you, Don?... Comes in and makes coffee. I make gross coffee anyway, even when it's basically done for me and all I have to do is put the pouch in the filter; my coffee doesn't taste very good. My best friend make amazing coffee but that's a side note... me, being asked to make coffee, is some guy wearing high school teacher pant's WORST NIGHTMARE.

Ugh.
I know - at first glance, it's a total hypocrisy, right? I chat with the greeter at Wal-Mart about how nice it is when a man opens the door or helps a lady with her coat. I declined a second date with a dude because he walked in front of me as we were shown to a table.
But those are manners, not an old-fashioned mind set.
If a printer isn't doing what you want it to, pick up the phone and ask someone, female or male, to help you figure it out. If you don't want to be the person who makes coffee, do like this one chick I work with and wait until some sucker like me comes along and dumps the packet in the filter and presses play.
Then go get your coffee.
But mercy, is it rude and obvious when you ask me, "Who makes the coffee over here", or when you pitch a fit to manipulate a girl into helping you.
It's the year 2005. There's no shame in having good manners.
And those pants are really ugly.

arizonasarah at 9:06 a.m.

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