Irritable Male Syndrome

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

I value my time, and if there's a way I can shave off even a few minutes of doing some mundane task, I'll do it. Yes sir, real mind-bending and asinine things I speak here, huh?

This morning I was at the local supermercado to fill the void that is my gaping caffeine addiction and to pick up another 2 gallon pump-jug of soy sauce-- if there's two things I can never get enough of is a slight buzz and an elevated and irregular heart rate.

It only took a few minutes to grab my items and head towards the checkout lane, when I was stopped short of throwing shit at the head of a four person queue--each person with ten items--in the only goddamn open lane. I closed my eyes and pictured each of the four trying to buy Similac with expired food stamps, too, but I'm demented most of the time.

But, when I scanned one lane to the right and noticed that all four self-checkout lanes were open, and totally empty. Praise Jesus. I sauntered, or swaggered, depending on how you'd like to picture my ass in your imagination, up to the first open kiosk and deftly motored my way the process, and out the door in less than three minutes.

I gave everyone in line my patented "walking away, middle finger over the shoulder salute", hopped in my BMW 13 series and tried to run over 3 hobos and 2 prostitutes and 17 transvestites on my drive to work. I didn't succeed in any of those, but I so totally proved myself worthy of life by saving 1 minute and 45 seconds by trusting a computer.


Really, though, would you wait in that long of a line when you could use an empty self-checkout lane, and also not have to talk to a supermarket employee that hates living life? Granted, I understand that using technology is hard, almost sometimes as hard as addition and subtraction, or even radical ideas like chewing and breathing, but it's not that difficult once you realize that the whole secret is that the damn self check-out kiosk is a scale located underneath where you supposed to put your scanned items, you know, so the store knows you're not a thieving asshole, you hoodlum, you.

I'm looking right at you, Guy That I'm Usually Stuck Behind.

My job consists of a large amount of downtime, downtime that's normally filled by the internet. In order to become a better employee and curtail bad habits should I ever escape this cubicle gulag, for the past few months I've been trying to cut out my internet usage, or at the very least keep away from sites with the words "tight" and "teens" in the url. It's harder than you might think, no pun intended.

My most recent great idea--one on the same level as the Segway or taking a vow of celibacy--was to install a time tracker on Firefox.

It was working up until about a week ago, when I looked at the time and it said I'd spent 9 hours and 3 minutes on the internet. In and 8 hour workday. Now I just feel depressed.


Post a Comment

<< Home