02.22.05

Phone conversation with customer:
X: Hello, (shop name), Xat here. How may I help you?
Customer: Which version of Photoshop do you use?
X: I am not certain, though I assume we have the latest available. I can find out for certain in a minute.
Customer: You don't have the latest Photoshop for Macs?
X: I'm sorry, I don't know for certain. Though I am sure what we have is compatible with your file. However, if you can wait a moment, I will find out.
Customer: So you don't know.
X: No, I do not. However, if you hang on for a moment I can find out.
Customer: No. Never mind. Why did they hire you, anyway?

What. It would have been better to lie, tell her what she wanted to hear, have her bring her crap in with the chance that I could have 1. given her bad information and 2. exacerbated it by lying.

I'm sure she'd be real happy if that happened. Oh well, just another miserable bastard, bound and determined to be a nasty and miserable as she can be. She's doing a fine job.

Yarn projects currently in a state of abeyance: 6

Level of annoyance that I've not done a thing about knitting a uterus? About 2.

Chance that I'm going to dive into the new yarn I got this afternoon because sometimes I'm such a Sagittarius (they are easily distracted by the new and shiny) it's frightening: 100%

I spent this afternoon over in the "so hip I have trouble seeing over my pelvis" Hawthorne area. It was fun. And funny.

I've fallen into a demographic black hole. Too young (and poor) for the pearls and sweater set. Too old to successfully pull off ragbag college fashion forward girl. So many of the clothes are so adorable, so cute, and so don't fit me. Ho hum.

I don't want to wear beige polyester and frost my hair. I don't want to drive a minivan. I don't want to be what some people expect a 40-year-old woman to be.

Goodness, though, they're trying to get me in the box. Eep!

One of the horrors of being shaped like a Real Girl is that I've never had an easy time buying clothing. Al the pairs of pants I've owned have gapped at the waistband (to the horror/joy/confusion of my classmates). It was amusing during the recent craze of thong-strap showing, hoochie mama fashion--not so much now.

Got into a conversation at one shop about movies that have been successfully made from novels. Neither one of the girls knew that the Princess Bride was a book, first. Had to get that straightened out, of course. This was after a conversation about the western calendar, leap years, the human creation of time, and if we could just get everyone to agree that it was Friday it would be.

Pretty nifty, huh.

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