FFOAD – IOS TEL & Verizon

The latest Friday FOAD goes to those thievin’ bastards from the Dallas area – IOS TEL. You can’t call ’em, you can’t find ’em but they will rip you off if you’re stuck in DFW Airport and use your credit card to call someone.

Yeah I know, you’re saying, “But, everyone knows airports are really expensive!” You are correct, I know that as well. However, there is expensive and then there is IOS TEL, the folks that brought you $8 per minute phone calls, and you don’t know you’re getting ripped off until days later.

Oh, and a special FFOAD to Verizon, the lying bastards that have signs near their phones that long distance is provided by Verizon, which obviously is total BS. Obviously Verizon is getting a cut from what IOS TEL steals from the unsuspecting traveller.

So enjoy your FFOAD IOS TEL and Verizon! I hope a homeless person sneezes on every one of you.

FFOAD: Dean Koontz

I don’t really hate Dean Koontz. He’s an excellent author with a fine body of work enjoyed by readers around the world. It’s just how he writes his chapters.

2-3 page chapters, which keep you reading. “Oh it’s only 2-3 pages, and I don’t want to quit now!”

Next thing you know you’re looking at the clock and realized if you take a quick shower and stop a a drive-thru for breakfast, you can just make it to work on time. Sleep? Later.

So thanks for all the wonderful books Mr. Koontz. But on behalf of those that have spent many sleepless nights because you can’t seem to write longer chapters – this Friday, FOAD.

FFOAD – 7-11 Clerk Boy

I try to keep things simple in the morning when I’m headed to work. I like to buy a newspaper, and maybe a Frappucino to sip while I read about world events.

7-11’s provide a nice way to get those things and a tank of gas (for under $2 a gallon!) in one easy stop. At least it’s all set up to look that way.

I use a debit card and fill my tank, and then walk into the store to grab a paper. I see the Starbuck’s Frappucino and get one of those. After that it all goes downhill.

Taking my two items to the counter, the kid at the counter asks “Did you get gas?” Pretty simple answer – “Yes. But I paid for it with my card outsi-”

The kid goes and looks at his “gas machine” or whatever technical name it has. “Which pump?”

“No” I say calmly, “I already paid for it outside. Look, here’s the receipt.”

Clerk Boy is looking out the window, trying to see which pump number my truck is near.

“Hey, are you listening? It’s already paid for. I just need to pay for this paper and coffee.”

Clerk Boy turns. “Did you pay for it already?”

Damn. I knew I should have learned American Sign Language. “Yes.” I bite off the sarcasm. Yay me.

Then it gets worse. Clerk Boy looks at the register like it’s some alien technology, and he is the first to find it, and must now research it and bring forth its secrets to the world. I decide to preempt any potential problems and get out cash to pay for the paper and coffee.

Clerk Boy is still checking out the register like a cave man would investigate his first encounter with fire. I’m starting to boil over now. I’ve spent longer in the store at the counter than I did pumping an entire tank of gas. I want to get to work. I express those sentiments – somewhat rudely – to Clerk Boy. This action generated a visit from the Manager (Yes, and in perfect “Simpsons” stereotype, it was an Indian) who was “concerned” over my tone of voice.

I explained the situation, and the Manager took my cash and bid me on my way. Did he teach Clerk Boy how to use the damn register? Didn’t appear to. He closed the register, handed me my change and walked immediately back into the back room, apparently leaving Clerk Boy to torture the next unsuspecting customer.

So Clerk Boy, start the weekend right. It’s Friday. FOAD.

FFOAD: Drive-through worker

I’m not sure what test you have to fail in order to qualify for one of these jobs, but I think you need to answer “No” to all of the following questions:
1. Speak and Understand English in a clear fashion?
2. Able to follow instructions?
3. Willing to ask customers to repeat themselves if unclear on their order?

Seemed like a simple enough thing. I was running a little late, and didn’t eat breakfast at home. So I hit McDonald’s for a sandwich, hashbrowns and coffee. Only I didn’t want cheese. McDonald’s cheese tastes like yellow rubber to me. I don’t like the taste, so I don’t have it ruining my food.

I’ve learned to check my order before I leave the window, because the drive-through people that McDonald’s hires are a testament to “Hire the Handicapped, they’re fun to watch”. I give the order and say “no cheese”. The order comes up on the screen and I don’t see the usual extra line that says “without cheese”. So I mention it again.

“Okay! Please pull up…”

I pay, get the order, and open the sandwich. Cheese. I give it back, and say “I don’t want cheese”. So I get the new sandwich, with…

Cheese.

I park, walk in, and finally get what I ordered. Any time saving I had hoped for was lost at this point. If I had WANTED to walk in and order I would have done that in the first place. But oh no, I have to deal with someone that talks like a shit salesman with a mouthful of free samples, and can’t get their head around the idea of “no cheese”.

So FOAD Mr. Drive-through worker. Next time I’ll go somewhere else. I’m going to have to get out of my truck anyways, I don’t want to be angry and frustrated to start my day.

FFOAD: Chipper Weather/Road Reporting Person

Picture this. It’s Austin Texas, and it’s cold.

Damn cold.

Sleet, Ice, and winds have covered an entire city, and the place is shut down. Government offices, Businesses, Schools, you name it – closed.

Weather and Traffice reporters are telling everyone how bad it is, and asking people to please stay home for their own safety. Austin-Bergstrom Airport has untold numbers of people stranded because there is no deicer to clear the planes wings. The City and County Road Services are unable to spread sand/deicer on roads because they don’t have enough.

Yeah, it’s ugly.

Into this mini-disaster rides “Miss Happiness” on Cable Channel 8, smiling and pointing out that trucks on I-35 are “going 55 mph!”, just gushing at how wonderful it is that the expressway is clear and… and… wonderful!

Cut back to the studio where the guy giving road reports looks like he wants to hire a hitman. “Folks, stay home.” – that’s a quote ladies and gentlemen.

So Miss Chipper, Up With People, Oh I’m So Cute I Shit Kittens – this FFOAD goes out to you. Gleefully telling people that if they could slip and slide over secondary roads and avoid going in to a ditch or being part of a 200-car pileup, then I-35 would allow them to drive 55?

Yeah. FOAD.

FFOAD: Shopping Cart Demolition Derby Drivers

Since the season of Peace on Earth and Goodwill towards Men is past, I’d like to chat about some folks no doubt standing in the returns lines at WalMart right now. Yes, I’m talking about you idiots that have Black Belts in Shopping Cart.

Holy Christ I hope you don’t drive a car the way you push that damn cart around. It seems I can’t go into a WalMart or H-E-B without having to limp out, go home, and ice one or both of my ankles that have been blasted by one of you blind twits.

And oh yeah, I mean BLIND. Shopping carts are by design somewhat large, the better to hold lots of groceries. And you people, OMG you’re good at just leaving them all over, making it impossible to walk past (albeit much better to slow me down so some other sadisitc bastard can ram into me).

Totally oblivious to what’s going on around you, and just rolling along until you smash into some unsuspecting shopper trying to pick the best price on soup or other items.

I especially get a kick out of you Moms that have little Joe Bob push the cart for you. Yeah, he’s being Mommy’s Big Boy, but when I see a shopping cart handle with nothing but knuckles on the handlebar, I immediately start hoping my auto-icemaker isn’t on the fritz. So thanks Moms for yet another sore ankle and thigh bruise. Guess that little design there to allow kids to sit IN the cart is too technical for you to handle.

So this Friday, please FOAD and allow me to shop for groceries this weekend in safety.

It’s a planet, not your damn phonebooth

This weeks FFOAD goes out to all you cell phone-abusing cretins that have no sense of self. You useless, simple-minded asshats, the lot of you.

Cell phones were, and are a great idea. Better than the old CB radios, people stranded on a highway can call for help – privately. Need to make contact in an emergency? Cell phones are great. But it’s gone so far beyond that. People have those damn things welded to their fucking heads all the time. (Better still, they get those neat little earpiece/microphone sets that you can’t see for even more fun.) Walking, talking, driving, talking, shopping, talking. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Please.

It’s been proven that people that talk on cell phones – even using “hands free” systems – while driving have worse reaction times than drunk drivers. (Personally I think that’s because drunk drivers are at least trying not to have an accident.) “Phone drivers” are just lost in their own little conversation world, oblivious to the rest of us (and “the rest of us” is a steadily shrinking number right now) that have to avoid these asshats.

What is it with you people anyways? Are you so fucking insecure that you can’t go to a store and make a purchase without a conference call and the use of a camera phone to send pictures of your intended purchase to all your friends for approval? Oh, and to the guy in line at H-E-B that called his wife to ask “Paper or Plastic?” – the Men’s Club called, they want you to turn in your testicles.

Oh, and when you’re talking on your cell phone, why do you people always have to talk THIS FUCKING LOUD? I don’t wanna be part of your damn conversation. I especially don’t like it when someone standing near me asks a question, and I answer it – only to have them smile and point at their phone earpiece. I really want to give those people a black eye to go with their Bluetooth. I mean that.

In truth, I don’t want to be part of or annoyed by your conversation in a store, in a theatre, or in a restaurant. I can’t believe there is a conversation so important that it can’t wait until you are in a secluded spot. Especially you retards that have your spats over the phone. What, you expect me to cheer you on or something? STFU!! I also think that cell phones are a way that people abdicate their requirement for personal responsibility. If there’s a choice to be made, have someone else make it!! That’s right! The movie you wanted isn’t in? Hey no problem! Don’t even try and make a decision, yank out that damn cell phone and call home and ask.

Maybe it’s my age showing. I have no problem getting into my car and being alone with my thoughts and the radio. I don’t need to my phone, to be a stereo. When I want to watch TV I use a – wait for it – TV. I can enjoy sitting in a quiet house reading a book, where the only “soundtrack” is the birds singing and the odd buzz from insects flying close to the screen.

Since this is the season for giving, please give us a break and on this Friday – FOAD.

Where did you get your license?

Today’s first Friday Fuck Off And Die goes out to Austin Drivers that can’t get their heads around the idea that you “Drive Right, Pass Left”, and instead keep their slow-driving asses in the left lane, going 40 in a 60, with traffic piling up behind them.

You oblivious assholes don’t look in your rearview mirrors, because if you did you would notice the lights flashing, and also see that the person behind you is moving their lips – and they ain’t singin’ along to their favorite song, asshat.

Bad enough that you can’t seem to get your asses in gear to go the speed limit. but you go just as slow as the driver in the right lane, meaning you are part of a 2-Man Traffic Jam, all because you have to drive 10 miles in the left lane because you’re going to make a left turn. Somewhere. Eventually. It’ll probably happen.

The police are never around to pull you over and pummel you into a coma like you deserve. No, the police are tied up directing traffic around an accident one of your kind has caused, because people that just want to get the work and get away from your sorry asses take chances and do dangerous things.

So please. This Friday, FOAD. Save us a weekend from your no-drivin’ asses.