Classmates.com can eat my ass! (via Shouts from the Abyss)
Am I prescient? I must be. This has happened so many times. I love it when something I’ve bitched about becomes a class action lawsuit. Because of my luck (or lack thereof) I have been in many!
This morning I got an email that informed me, essentially, I am already a winner!
There has been a settlement and Classmates.com has agreed to pay $2.5 million.
In 2008, San Diego man Anthony Michaels sued Classmates.com for using the names of his former classmates to mislead him into upgrading from a free membership to a paid one. Michaels claimed the site had sent him emails to alert him that his old peers were trying to contact him, and when he upgraded his membership and logged in, he learned that it was all a ruse.
As part of the settlement Classmates.com, of course, denies any wrongdoing. Duh. But we all know you’re a bunch of ass weasels.
At least I’ve got one thing in my favor. Unlike Anthony Michaels, I didn’t fall for their bullshit. You see, I already knew it was impossible anyone from high school would ever try to contact me, therefore the Classmates.com fishing expedition was exposed.
The only problem now is where do I go to cash my $2.5 million check? I’m thinking the 7-Eleven down the street.
Huh? My share of the settlement will be approx. $5 to $10? What the fuck?
I want to buy all of my reader a round! The drinks are on me! (As long as they cost two cents each.)
Termination Tuesday – Round 6
Termination Tuesdays – Ways To Die Poll
The madness continues…
The premise is simple. It’s a poll comparing two ways to die to find out which one is liked the least. Fun, eh? I guess that will be determined by the execution of this idea.
Heh! I slay me! 🙂
We’ll do it bracketology style. If I can think of 64 worthy entrants, each weekly poll will eliminate one contender. Eventually we’ll be left with only the final four and then we can have some sudden death playoffs.
Yeah, that’ll be fun! Come on and play along. After all, it won’t kill you now, will it?
Last week, in a record number of votes, food poison ate away at rattlesnake bite and came out on top. Who will survive this week?
Guru Comic: Freshly Depressed
The Guru says: Never achieve your dreams because, after that, you’ve got nothing left.
Tweet of the Day – Thursday Edition
I tweeted 24 times on Thursday, August 25, 2011. In those tweets I deftly weaved a grand tapestry that captured the limitless spectrum of human intensity. I did it all. I was sweet. I was tender. I was grosser than a fart joke. I was funny. I was witty. I was ironic. I was sarcastic. In short, I was a Twitter version of the Renaissance Man.
Along the way I personally went on a Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride of human emotion and, I think, the arc of my tweets reflected this.
The day started like most any other: Literally making myself physically ill at the mere thought of going to work. (I have to face the possibility that I may not have the best attitude about my job.)
But then, something weird happened. My morning was acceptable, I was left alone enough, and somehow I got in a pretty good mood.
Continue reading →
Guest blog: The date from Hell
Today is our sixth wedding anniversary. I checked the “official” book of anniversary gifts and found that “electrons” are the appropriate gift for number six. Therefore, I am turning over the blog (for today) to my lovely wife who will waste no time at all in availing herself of the opportunity to publicly eviscerate me. Enjoy!
My family are all fisherman and have had a long tradition of teaching each generation to fish. The older generations used bait and tackle – the easy way to fish. The young ones fly fish – the more difficult way to fish. My uncle was the first fly fisherman of the family. He taught my aunt to fly fish and my aunt taught my brother and me to fly fish. In keeping with tradition, I thought it was time for me to teach someone in my family. I figured it couldn’t be that hard. I caught on fast myself. For my first pupil, I chose Shouts, my indoor only, Star Wars loving, extremely logical, computer geek of a husband. This should have been my first clue that not everyone can be a teacher no matter what the subject.
Continue reading →
Me and Jessica Alba
Here’s a disgusting piece of unfinished shit. No, not Jessica Alba. I’m talking about another unfinished flotsam from my Drafts folder. See how much I value you, the loyal reader? I’m still suffering a severe case of writer’s block so this is what happens.
Thus we launch yet another meme here on the blog. This one is called “Tales from the Drafts Folder.”
Just for the hell of it, I decided to calculate the odds off me and Jessica Alba hooking up. It could happen.
- Population of Earth: 7 billion (rounded up from 6.75 billion)
- The population is about 50/50 by gender
- There is only one Jessica Alba
- There is only one precious and special snowflake known as “me”
Complicated mathematics formulae go here.
Q: Assuming a random “getting jiggy with it” between one male and one female on planet Earth, what are the odds it would be Jessica Alba and Tom B. Taker?
A. One in 12,250,000,000,000,000,000.
Unfortunately, that number is so big, I don’t even know what it is called. Probably something like a bouillon. So we’ll just use our poetic license and say the odds are about one in 12.3 bouillon.
That’s like winning the Powerball lottery 62.7 billion times. So I’m hopeful.
Great Moments in Employment History
Welcome to a new regular feature here on the Abyss. It will allow me to talk about work without actually talking about my job. That’s a true win-win! For all of us.
I recently hit the wall. Hard. Every time I sat down to write, nothing would happen. If I did write, it was pure crap and went to the Drafts folder to die. I had lost it.
But then I realized there was a bountiful cornucopia of blog posting ideas already inside of me: My personal employment history. So I’m back, motivated, and ready to bring you this ongoing series I have decided to call, “Great Moments in Employment History.”
I hope you enjoy…
When babies are born, they are so pure, so innocent. Naturally our urge is to shield them from the ravages of life on this planet and the true nature of the universe. We lovingly protect them and nurture them until they are old enough to face what they must, even if we wish that wasn’t necessary. Our work done, we then send them out into the real world to get a job and go to work.
That’s when the shit goes sideways. Sorry, mate. Now the real education begins.
I once worked at the same company for 16 years. I started out working part-time on the night shift on the dock loading vehicles. Our shift was 11pm to 4am. The following scenario was not uncommon:
The supervisor would let everyone know that when the work was done, rather than clocking out and going home, we were to meet by the telephone in front of the loading dock for a “meeting.” So there we gathered, at four o’clock in the fucking morning, loitering and waiting. When all of the stragglers finally arrived and we were fully assembled, the meeting was on.
“You can all be replaced,” the supervisor told us. This was my humble introduction to the concepts of motivation and inspiration in the workplace. I remember it vividly as if it was only yesterday. “We had to wait around for this?” I knew I had latched on to something good. That must be why I stayed 16 years.
Later, after I had worked my way up to supervisor, it was time for my education to continue. Our clients paid us big money to process their things. (I’m deliberately being vague to protect the identities of the evil.) These things were not cheap. There were big machines we owned that did this processing. The nature of our business was such that the things were time sensitive and our processing was decidedly not verifiable by the client. They had to trust us. All we had to offer was our integrity and our word. (Ha!)
One night, one of my fellow supervisors fucked up. The shift was over and the crew was already sent home. He then discovered shitloads of product that he had failed to process. This was an extremely common occurrence, although it was not usually of this magnitude. (When this happened in small quantities unreported disposal was routine.)
While I did my end of shift duties, wrapping up the logs and producing reports, the supervisor waited until the coast was clear. He had fucked up. He had two choices: Admit the mistake and fix it later and make it right which would involve an admission of guilt and some form of future compensation to the client. Or he could hide the whole thing and cover his ass.
Anyone willing to place bets on what happened?
I saw him throw all of the forgotten product into a giant garbage bin. For once in his life he didn’t bark orders at some minion. He actually did the deed himself. Furiously he worked at it until all of our client’s product has been tossed into the bin. He then took the bin around back and found other stuff to dump on top to hide his handiwork.
This guy was good. After all, he was a supervisor, right?
So the client had paid twice. Once to create the product, then once again for us to process it. If our service was “destruction” then we had done an admirable job. In the end, the whole thing was a fucking joke and the client got absolutely nothing for their money, although they never even knew it. And for what? So some incompetent idiot could avoid a black mark on his record.
I hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane. If I try really hard, I just might be able to think of more memorable moments from my personal work history to share. Perhaps we’ll explore this wonderful topic from time to time. Do you have any of your own? I’d love to hear them.