Got a call yesterday from my brother-in-law who is also my accountant. I took in all my receipts and documentation to do with my income taxes a week or so ago and he's completed my taxation already. For the first time in years, I'm finally going to get a refund, as opposed to having to pay in. I guess unemployment has it's perks, although I'd imagine the fifty-two bucks coming my way will be diverted into the outstanding amount owed from four years ago, which I'm thinking is still in the thousands, or something along those lines.
I asked B___ what I owed for doing my taxes and he compassionately told me to simply bring him a coffee with cream. As I said, unemployment has it's perks. So I stopped at the nearest Tim Horton's by his office, to assure freshness and temperature, but what a chore that ordering process was. [Head slap!]
I asked B___ what I owed for doing my taxes and he compassionately told me to simply bring him a coffee with cream. As I said, unemployment has it's perks. So I stopped at the nearest Tim Horton's by his office, to assure freshness and temperature, but what a chore that ordering process was. [Head slap!]
I've voiced my opinions on this subject before and god damn it, I guess I'll be voicing them again. I feel for any poor f*ck who faces oppression on a day-to-day basis in whatever backward f*cking country they come from, having to flee to the freedoms provided by one of the greatest countries in the world, Canada, but god damn it. Learn the f*cking language.
It's good that there are people coming into this country who are willing to take those shitty f*cking jobs that no one with a grain of self respect would ever do as a life long vocation. Flipping doughnuts, schlepping french fries or whatever the f*ck, but damn it! Learn the language. If you want to speak your jibberish in the back of the kitchen while preparing salads or cream-filled eclairs, then by all means, do that. If you're going to work the front counter, then learn the language. If I, myself, decided one day, "F*ck it! I'm going to move to Buttf*ckistan." I'm going to learn to speak Buttf*ckistani, come hell or high water. I would show the Buttf*ckistanians that much respect. I wouldn't dream of clumsily selling goat milk with my thick non-Buttf*ckistanian English. The same should go for here in Canada.
An order that should have taken sixty seconds, at most, to place, took nearly four minutes of my endless failures to comprehend the less-than-broken English of (more consonants than vowels) girl. I asked for an extra large coffee with cream and got the response, and I'm not exaggerating, "Doo da tray dee dee?" I assume she asked a question as her tone rose at the end of her garbled speak. "No," I said, "I want a large co-ffee, with creeeeam."
"Doo da tray dee dee?" she asked, with a look on her face like I was supposed to know what the f*ck she was saying. "WHAT?" I confusedly responded. She just smiled and repeated, "Doo da tray dee dee?" I stared at her blankly... "I... I don't know what that means."
"Doo. Da. Tray. Dee dee?" she said slowly, as if that was going to help.
It's good that there are people coming into this country who are willing to take those shitty f*cking jobs that no one with a grain of self respect would ever do as a life long vocation. Flipping doughnuts, schlepping french fries or whatever the f*ck, but damn it! Learn the language. If you want to speak your jibberish in the back of the kitchen while preparing salads or cream-filled eclairs, then by all means, do that. If you're going to work the front counter, then learn the language. If I, myself, decided one day, "F*ck it! I'm going to move to Buttf*ckistan." I'm going to learn to speak Buttf*ckistani, come hell or high water. I would show the Buttf*ckistanians that much respect. I wouldn't dream of clumsily selling goat milk with my thick non-Buttf*ckistanian English. The same should go for here in Canada.
An order that should have taken sixty seconds, at most, to place, took nearly four minutes of my endless failures to comprehend the less-than-broken English of (more consonants than vowels) girl. I asked for an extra large coffee with cream and got the response, and I'm not exaggerating, "Doo da tray dee dee?" I assume she asked a question as her tone rose at the end of her garbled speak. "No," I said, "I want a large co-ffee, with creeeeam."
"Doo da tray dee dee?" she asked, with a look on her face like I was supposed to know what the f*ck she was saying. "WHAT?" I confusedly responded. She just smiled and repeated, "Doo da tray dee dee?" I stared at her blankly... "I... I don't know what that means."
"Doo. Da. Tray. Dee dee?" she said slowly, as if that was going to help.
"I want an extra large coffee with cream." I said.
"Ah." she muttered, and I swear I saw a light coming on.
"Oh good," I said, "I thought I was going to have to shoot myself in the head over that."
"Ah." she muttered, and I swear I saw a light coming on.
"Oh good," I said, "I thought I was going to have to shoot myself in the head over that."
"Oh. You want shot o assass-oh?"
"What?!" I charged, "Who shot Will Sasso?"
"No. You want shot o assass-oh!"
"WHAT?!?" I just stared at her, as she stupidly smiled back at me. Truly a living example of: The lights are on, but nobody's home. Dumb as f*ck!!
The one thing that stupidity has that I would consider to be a good trait is; Stupidity is colour-blind. In fact, stupidity is affirmative action. Stupidity, for all intense purposes, accepts people of all colours, cultures, creeds, and etcetera. No matter what background you come from, whether you're a camel jockey from Kuwait or a race car driver in Milan or that Ivy League professor in Connecticut, you all possess the possibility of being painfully stupid*.
"No. You want shot o assass-oh!"
"WHAT?!?" I just stared at her, as she stupidly smiled back at me. Truly a living example of: The lights are on, but nobody's home. Dumb as f*ck!!
The one thing that stupidity has that I would consider to be a good trait is; Stupidity is colour-blind. In fact, stupidity is affirmative action. Stupidity, for all intense purposes, accepts people of all colours, cultures, creeds, and etcetera. No matter what background you come from, whether you're a camel jockey from Kuwait or a race car driver in Milan or that Ivy League professor in Connecticut, you all possess the possibility of being painfully stupid*.
I don't know what the solution is to all this. I wish there were a simple vaccine that people could get shot in their asses, that would vanquish stupidity forever, but until that day comes, I'm afraid all of us, myself included, are going to have to grow thicker skins in order to deal with these stupid f*cking people, whether they are domestic or imported. In the meantime, maybe we need support groups. A weekly meeting where us normal people can meet up for tea and cookies and a sympathetic shoulder to lean on while we talk out the idiocies that we're forced to contend with on a daily basis.
I did, finally, get my order. Like I said, it took way longer than it needed to have taken, and it was finally because (more-consonants-than-vowels) girl finally handed me off to another bloke. His English was atrocious, as well, but at least he was smart enough (barely) to take my order, accurately, and send me on my way.
I did, finally, get my order. Like I said, it took way longer than it needed to have taken, and it was finally because (more-consonants-than-vowels) girl finally handed me off to another bloke. His English was atrocious, as well, but at least he was smart enough (barely) to take my order, accurately, and send me on my way.
.
Side Note: (*I met a college professor once, who was highly decorated with all kinds of diplomas and certificates. He had a brand new car, which was failing miserably. The cause was no oil. He'd run the car for a couple of years, never changing the oil or even checking it or anything of the sort. Then one day, he turned the key and the engine had seized up on him and he couldn't figure out why. No oil, stupid!!)
