The home of the haikulator



My Stand-up & gigs
The Coding Craftsman

The Musical!
Incredible Productions


Previous Posts

Group delusion You know, people will say any old s...
Months with silence How can I possibly have spent ...
The Missing Post
My last day in the office before going away to Tun...
Time after work, was mainly comprised of mowing th...
You can't beat fate. I tried and I failed. I had h...
The last day of the ludicrously early breakfasting...
Another early wake up for breakfast. This was foll...
We awoke at 8. This was owing to the rather bizarr...
I drove to Reading after work on Friday and stayed...

Blog Archives

October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
August 2009
September 2009
January 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
October 2011
December 2011
February 2012
March 2012
April 2012
May 2012
June 2012
July 2012
March 2013
April 2013
May 2013
June 2013
July 2013
August 2013
September 2013
October 2013
December 2013
January 2014
February 2014
March 2014
May 2014
July 2014
January 2015
February 2015
March 2015
April 2015
May 2015
June 2015
July 2015
August 2015
January 2016
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016
May 2016
July 2016
August 2017
January 2018
August 2018
September 2018

Global Domination

Locations of visitors to this page

Wednesday, November 16

Remember to be nice
My life is sometimes a mass of minor irritations, which constant repetition has exaggerated beyond reasonable proportion. My training as a stand-up comedian, where a quick mind and a quick tongue are key to keeping a room under control, means that I sometimes express my annoyance straight away, in a pointed jokey form. Maybe this is an outlet for me, maybe it's a pain in the arse for people who are on the receiving end. Sometimes I get away with it. Something joke-shaped, said with a smile, may in fact conceal the bile beneath. Sometimes, the opposite effect can occur. I'm not all that bothered, but I make a joke and people feel like the butt of it. I'm not sure I give a damn in all cases, but I do consider myself to be a nice person, so perhaps I should ensure that I don't allow my mouth to go round creating disharmony when i don't mean it to.

The case in point for this particular thought comes from the sandwich shop in the building where I work. I make sandwiches myself, and would happily make my own, to my own specification. But, going behind the counter and doing it for them is considered taboo in the catering industry. So, I must tell them what I want, usually twice, in order to get the sandwich of my choice. Over years of making sandwiches, I know the tricks and I also know that I can't specify exactly how I want them to make my sandwich... well, I could, but it would take so long and just depress everyone. So, I leave them to it.

I don't like a sandwich, that's in a big roll (rather than between slices of bread) to be cut up. There's no need for it. That's the point of a roll. It's an individual-portion mini loaf of bread. It's not meant to be messed around with. I've been frustrated when my sandwich has been given to me in pieces, in much the same way as the parents of a kidnapped child might have preferred to receive their entire child back from the captors, rather than the severed limbs and torso. Still, I've bitten my tongue. If they offer to cut the sandwich, which is, at least, preferable to doing it without asking, I politely decline, rather than pointing out the whole hostage example. However, it still bothers me. I am, of course, a very petty and trivial individual (maybe that's tautology, I don't know).

Yesterday, I lost my temper a little. I'd asked for a sliced meat to be included in my sandwich. The person making the sandwich had set about adding these two slices, but decided to cut them up further, into little strips. Like you might for a child, or old person. I stood there silently fuming and then, when she was about to start on the second piece, I stopped her. "Don't worry about cutting it up.", I said, in as friendly a tone as I could muster. "Are you sure?" she replied, concerned. I tried to make a joke of it - "Yes, it's okay. I've got teeth.". I don't think anyone took offence. I hope not.


Post a Comment

<< Home

All content ©2001 - 2012 Ashley Frieze