Crunchy Muppets

Muppets love snack foods.
Muppets love to eat.
If it's in the office, and it's edible, they'll eat it.
If it's here and it's questionable, I can think of at least a few of them (Pepe the King Prawn) who will eat it anyway.
They're not big on bringing snacks, but if you have snacks here, they're all over it like ants at a picnic.

Here in the front office of the Muppet Daily News, we have a pretzel jug.
It's a big, clear plastic jug that was originally filled with little pretzels. They were quickly consumed but we keep the jar.

Periodically it gets refilled.
"Periodically" means "When I do it."
Because, evidently, I am the only person at the Muppet Daily News legally allowed to buy Utz Sourdough Special Extra Dark pretzels.
It must be a law or something.. because either I buy them or the jar stays empty while the Muppets walk by, gazing at it longingly.
Or, in Pepe's case, eating the crumbs and grains of salt out of the bottom of the jar.
(Yes, he really does that.)

I'm not exaggerating.
In the six months since the Muppets became addicted to those pretzels, not one single Muppet has ever bought a bag.
Not one.
Ever.

When they whine ... and oh how they can whine ... I point out that these super-duper exclusive pretzels are available at Wawa, SuperFresh, Acme, Shop-Rite and that any of them can feel free to bring a bag or two in and add them to the jar.

Nope. Hasn't happened yet.

I did fill the jar Monday. Two bags of the magic Utz pretzels will fill the jar nearly to the top.
I poured two bags in Monday morning.
It's more than half-empty already.
It's only Tuesday afternoon.

I hope they're pacing themselves, or storing away pretzels like squirrels store acorns, because this is it for October.
They can bring in more or they can starve.
I'll get some of my own, and bring single servings, in little Zip-Loc baggies, each day, just to torment them.
Poor hungry Muppets.

You can't fix arrogance

So Rizzo the Rat is exactly that... a dirty, sneaky, evil rat.
It's all about how he can use other people to make himself look better, look more important, look like he has a clue what he's doing.

He doesn't. He just wants to look that way.

In the "Hierarchy of Pompous Asses" that lurk in the shadows, skulking around to make life for all at the Muppet Daily News as difficult as possible, Rizzo is an underling. He likes to think of himself as "The Hatchet Man."

I like to think of him as he is... a clueless, pompous rat. The kind even other rats don't like because he makes them look bad.

So today Rizzo threw me under the proverbial Rat-bus. Something I had taken to him back in December, he was going to follow up on and didn't. Now, when the rat-crap starts hitting the fan, he feigns Rat-amnesia and puts it all back on me.

Why?
Because he's a rat. Always will be.

And today, I got a royal nasty butt-chewing by the evil bean-counter.
The one that sits even closer to the right hand of "Oz" than Rizzo.
(think of an ungodly person, with a god-complex ... a cross between Scrooge McDuck ... if that was a Muppet ... and Ebenizer Scrooge ... that's our Oz.)

So I got the butt-chewing from the bean counter (Oooh, pardon me, VICE PRESIDENT OF BEAN COUNTING), for something that was Rizzo's screw up.
And I let it happen.
Why?  Not out of the goodness of my heart. Where Rizzo and VPofBeans is concerned, I don't have a heart.
But because, if I told VPoB the truth, he'd go back to Rizzo. Rizzo would deny everything.
Then I'd be on the VPoB's schnitzel list AND in the crosshairs of Rizzo.
So I fell on my muppet-sword, took the hit, whatever you want to call it.

It was difficult to do.
Infuriating, actually.
But it was probably the wisest decision.
The lesser of two evils, when dealing with evils.
And those two are.

Still waiting to see the backlash, once the drama-level fades from the VPoB.
Who knows.
And through it all, trying to keep it quiet... not because it's such an issue.
Just trying to keep Pepe the King Prawn out of it.
Because Pepe is so far up Rizzo's butt, he can see his tonsils the hard way.
Pepe wants to grow up to be Rizzo.
Proving what an idiot prawn he really is.

What I really need is the patience to ride it out, a schnitzel-deflecting machine, and a winning lottery ticket, so I can walk away from this idiocy.

Here's your Etch-a-Sketch...

Computers are wonderful tools in the hands of the right people.

Statler and Waldorf are not the right people.

They should not be allowed to touch anything even related to a computer because, well, they don't understand how it works, they don't ask if they don't know (before they start hitting buttons), and even when you explain the most basic task, as soon as the explanation ends it is forgotten.

Today at the Muppet Daily News, Waldorf had to print the subscription renewal postcards.

It's not like she really has to do anything high tech.
There is a printed sheet of instructions ... exactly what to hit, when to hit enter, etc.
No thought. Just following directions.

Then she has to print the postcards.

Again, written out instructions that tell her, step by step, how to do it .. including the most basic steps, such as "1. Put the postcard paper in the printer."

Okay, let's be honest... she messed up starting with step one (above).
Yes, really.

Then the postcard stock keeps sticking... a combination of it being thicker than regular paper and the average humidity level here being around 95 percent.

If it sticks (and yes, this is on the instruction sheet), you open the paper drawer, close the paper drawer, and hit the button labeled "OK."

Simple enough?
One would think.
One would be wrong.
Nothing is so simple that Waldorf can't screw it up.
Today, she took that to an all new level.
She would get the order wrong (open drawer, hit 'ok', close drawer).
She would hit the wrong button, changing what was on the digital menu (which, until she hits the wrong thing, actually reads "Hit OK").
Then, when she hits the wrong button, the printer goes off into Never-Neverland, printing other things. Mostly this 3-page program thing, built into the printer.

So she did the only "logical" thing... she turned the printer off.
Okay, logical in HER mind.

She can't find a big button labeled "OK" but she can find the power button, which isn't labeled and is built flush to the front of the printer?

Then, because she did that mid-batch of printing postcards, she has to REprint the entire batch.

It's like "Lather, Rinse, Repeat."
Because when she restarts, it will restick, and she will repeat the same mistakes.
And she did.
Three times.
That's three times after I reviewed the written instructions with her, reviewed WHICH button (Oh, the LABELED one?) is the "OK" button, and what she should NOT hit.

It'd be much less stressful to do it myself.
But I won't.
Because the first time I do it, it becomes MY job, not hers.
And I already have too many jobs.
So I'll just buy more Excedrin, hide the sharp objects, and try to come up with a standby, unflappable alibi ...
... for the next time she has to print these things again.

Like I said... some people should never touch computers.
Waldorf is a prime example of "some people."
She'd probably screw up the Etch-A-Sketch too.
no, really, she would.

It's an epidemic

Today, the Muppet Daily News appears to be suffering through an epidemic of AMD (Aggressive Muppet Disease).

The symptoms?
Well, you know that old adage, "The Customer is Always Right"?
Yeah, not so much here today.

Someone called with a subscription delivery problem.
The problem? They're not getting their paper.
So Waldorf got the call.
Usually Waldorf isn't here on Fridays, but she came in this morning because she will be out Monday morning ... and her work load (Umm, an hour's worth of work at most?) would be too much on Monday, if she comes in late.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Back to the call...
The customer called because they aren't getting their paper.
Waldorf told them "Well you paid in March, so you're paid up, so you need to call your post office. It's their fault."

(said rather aggressively, I might add, in a very "how dare you think we did it" tone).

Simply put, the Muppet Daily News does battle with the post office all the time - as does any newspaper that uses the mail.
The post office (the sorting centers, not the individual towns) throw the mail sacks into the corner, til they "get around to it."
Sometimes folks get their papers in two days, three days ... a week and a half.
Depending on the post office's mood.

But I digress... the key issue is Waldorf and how she handles customers.
She has no people-skills whatsoever.
When customers call for simple things, they are no longer simple if Waldorf gets the call.
Complicated things? She can't figure them out.

Even other Muppet coworkers go out of their way to NOT ask questions when Waldorf is here.
Instead they hold them until she isn't here to screw things up.
Waldorf is a sweet person ... but worker-bee she is not.
Not by a long shot.

So Janice (another Muppet ... think of the Muppet Rock Band) ... called and got Waldorf ... (SURPRISE!) ... and got so frustrated trying to get Waldorf to give a simple answer, she hung up... and promptly called back, asking for ME.

Waldorf answered that call, and then got snitty with Janice, because she called asking for me.
So now we have a Muppet snit-off.
Throw in a few snitty advertising Muppets (let's pretend shock that Pepe the King Prawn inserted himself into the middle of everything that has nothing to do with him) and yes, we have an epidemic.

AGGRESSIVE MUPPET DISEASE.

There are days I really dislike when no one else is here (AT ALL, Literally) ... but then I have days like today ...
I have a lot to get done.
A huge amount of work to get done.
Waldorf keeps asking me questions.
Many are questions that have nothing to do with her ... like "what's that?" "What are you doing?" "Is it always this quiet?"  "Where is (insert other Muppet name)?"

Nothing that has anything to do with anything.

I'm trying to smile through it all.
I'm fighting off an onset of AMD.
I refuse to fall victim to their moods.
At least I'm trying....

Taking "Not My Job" to the extreme

I rolled into the offices of the Muppet Daily News exceptionally early this morning ... like two hours before I had to be here.
Insomnia is annoying, but hey, I might as well make use of the time, peace and quiet, right?

So when I got off the elevator and rounded the corner, I saw the door to the advertising department's office standing wide open, lights a-blazing.
I knew, before I even checked, that it wasn't because one of the Ad-Muppets was here.
Hellz bellz, they don't even show up when they're supposed to be here. They're certainly not going to show up early.

No, no, once again (third time in two months, at least), a "highly complex" duty -- closing the door when they left last night -- was far too complicated for them to grasp.

I honestly don't mind if they want to leave their door open ... if their stuff gets stolen ... I really don't care.

But that office connects to the graphics department and the editor/publisher's office ... both of which have higher end equipment in them -- including at times a great deal of camera equipment -- and the Muppets in those offices lock their doors when they leave ... so I think they'd appreciate a little help from Ad-Muppets.

Mind, it's not a high risk building, but it is a building with offices for many different businesses, and we have no control over the comings and goings on any of the floors. Our only defense is closing/locking our office doors when we leave.

Kind of like we would do in our homes. Really not tough to do. It's a door. Close it.

Which brings me to later today ... I had to be out of the office for work-related business from about 9:30 a.m. to just  before noon.
There are 9 other people that SHOULD be here working today.
When I left, several of them were here.
I told them I was leaving. I told them I didn't know when I'd be back.
I left.

When I returned ... I found every single office door unlocked and wide open.
And every single Muppet was not to be found.
None.
Nada.
Not a soul.
Or not even one of the soul-less.

I could get worked up about it ... but why bother?
I just can't fathom how it never occurred to even one single Muppet to think "Hmmm, no one else is here. I should wait a little while til someone gets back."
Or maybe "Hmmm, no one else is here. I should probably close our office door."

Because, honestly, that's what I'd do.
Actually, I'd be Option-A ... if no one else was here at all, and we were open for business, I'd stay (barring life threatening reasons) until someone else was here.
And if I couldn't stay, I would absolutely have closed and locked the door ... put up a "be right back in XXX minutes" sign ... not just walked away and leave all the office equipment (including all MY camera equipment) for the taking.

Thankfully, nothing was taken that I know of.
Nothing of mine was taken.
I don't really care about anyone else's.
Well, other than Fozzie's.
Yeah I'd like his stuff to not get stolen too.
Otherwise, have at it folks.
If they don't care about it, why would I?
And obviously they don't.

Cranky Bear

Fozzie is a cranky bear today.

Oh, who are we kidding? Fozzie has been a cranky bear, largely, for the past few months or more.

If we're really, really honest, Fozzie Bear has been cranky since Oct. 30, 2012.

That's the day after Hurricane Sandy took out the Muppet Daily News' building.

There have been "up" moments - moments of the usual Fozzie Bear behavior - since then, but they have been few and far between.
And right now, Fozzie is hitting an all-time low.
He's off the charts on the grump-o-meter.

Part of it is long-term isolation - he lives at the end of the hall here at the Muppet Daily News and, despite multiple times he and we have pointed out he needs to get out of his bear-cave down there, he sits, he lives in isolation, he broods.

You know "Here's a solution, but I'm not going to do it, because that would eliminate my excuse to be a crabby s.o.b." 

Of late, anyway, there is an additional reason for Fozzie's being a bear. (okay, grumpy as a non-Fozzie-bear). 
Fozzie has empty bear-cave syndrome.
The youngest cub has gone off to bear-school, and Fozzie doesn't deal with this well.
We all know this, because this is the third cub to go off to bear-school.

So knowing the reason, we'll do our best to cut Fozzie a break ... for a while anyway.  We will let him wallow in his crabby-bear-ness.
He gets a week.
Then he needs to pull up his big-bear-pants and move on.
Because his miserable mood is (a) contagious; (b) impacting what everyone else does here; (c) affects his - and thus our - workload and work schedule.

Now as far as his long-term crabbiness? There is a cure. It's a fairly easy cure.
But he'll just keep ignoring it and grousing and growling at us instead.
Maybe it makes him feel better to not only be miserable, but to share that with the rest of us.
So far that hasn't worked out so well for him ... but Fozzie will do what Fozzie decides to do.
As long as he doesn't expect me to buy a ticket on the crabby-train next to him ....

Much like stupid (and he's not that), you can't fight someone determined to be a miserable, crabby old bear.

Selfish Shellfish

Pepe the King Prawn is a very selfish shellfish.
It's what he wants, when he wants it, regardless of anything else ... like the fact that it's not his computer
not his printer
not his business
not his job
not his desk... shall I continue?

When I left the Muppet Daily News office Saturday afternoon - after working my day off, but I digress - Everything was hunky dorry and set up for Statler and Waldorf, who had to work Monday (I was off for Labor Day ... they were off Friday).

So before I walked out the door Saturday afternoon, I made sure everything was set up the way they needed it to do their work.
The computer was on the screen they needed.
The printer was working fine.
I left Scooter instructions to let them into the building (because of the holiday, the main door was locked and, despite several lessons, the "security code" entry falls outside the realm of what they can handle)

Taking the time to do that, I knew (ha!) everything was going to be fine and dandy while i was out, and no Muppet-headaches this morning.

WRONGO!!!!

I would have been correct in my guess ... but I didn't factor in the Pepe-factor.

Pepe the King Prawn rules the world.
Well, in his head he does, but since he is all-knowing, he believes we believe he rules the world too.

We smile and nod a lot at Pepe. He's "special."

But Monday, Pepe took it upon himself to work at MY desk, on MY computer, and change how everything was set up to print to MY printer.

Why?
Because he's Pepe, the King Prawn and that entitles him to do it.
(I think that's how he justifies it in his head).

Besides, if he isn't working at screwing up my computer and printer, how can he subtlely search through everything on my desk?
You know.. because National Muppet Security is at risk, yanno.

(Pepe is not only  the King Prawn ... he's also a delusional Prawn).

I'd get offended by the searching of my desk, but why bother?
It won't help.
It won't make him stop.
It won't make anyone else make him stop.
If anything, I think if he wants to search through my desk, he should have to file everything he touches.
Fair enough? I think so.

So Pepe the King Prawn, while "working" at my desk, reconfigured the printer so that it doesn't print from the proper paper-source.
He made it print from where HE thought it should.

(The paper-source was changed by us for a reason ... this old fossil printer ... circa 2001? ... wore out the paperfeed Pepe switched it back to ... so we had to redirect ... but what do we know? We're not King Prawns.)

Pepe also decided to run random reports he will never look at and - despite being asked multiple times - left the computer mid-report.

Statler and Waldorf don't know how to get the computer back to the program they use from Pepe's report screen. He knows that. He didn't care. He left it there. He does that all the time. He's the King Prawn, after all....

Which meant this morning, I had to scramble to get Statler and Waldorf's data entry put into the computer ... because they couldn't do it yesterday (thanks to Pepe) and they work at the rate that paint dries, so if I wanted to get to do MY job before lunch, I had to do theirs first.

But that's okay ... I really didn't NEED to do my work.
What Pepe the King Prawn wanted is much more important.
Because he's that special.
He's a legend in his own mind.

Beaker has trust issues ...

Poor poor Beaker.
Everyone is always out to get him.
Didn't know that? Just ask Beaker.

So today Beaker got a check he receives for doing delivery of some of the Muppet Daily News' special editions, products, etc.
Happy, happy, joy joy - extra money. Right?
Of course not!

Immediately, he wants more.
He's like that insurance commercial.
"I want more, I want more, I really like money, I want more."
That's Beaker's interpretation of "Thank you."

The next inevitable step - and it took less than 30 seconds this time - is "It's not enough."

Somehow, Beaker loves to assume I'm trying to steal his money.
Odd, since first of all, it's not MY money I'm giving him, it's the company's.
Secondly, and I told him straight-out, it is exactly the same amount he received for doing the work in the past two years.
Thirdly, after this many years of dealing with him, I'd pay him anything I could to just get him to shut up and go away.

"LIAR LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE!!!"

(well, okay, he said it with more colorful words, including that stuff that comes out of a male cow's butt, but I chose to hear the 'pants on fire' part.)

I know there is no arguing with Beaker.
First of all who can understand all his "meep-meep-money-meep" talk?
And no matter what I say, it's not going to be right.
Because Beaker is never wrong.
At least in Beaker's mind.

So I give him a few options:
1. Call Fozzie and ask him. I paid what he said.
2. Want to look at my Quickbooks, so you can see with your beady Muppet eyes that yes, it is the same amount?
3. Want to talk about the stuff you get paid twice for, in comparison?

So Beaker, the money-whore-Muppet, grumbles off, potty-mouth-meeping.
I don't care ... at least he left.
Obviously he didn't pick options 2 or 3.
Because evidentiary proof is so, well, hard to argue against.
Poor Fozzie.
I'm sure his cell phone is a-ringing.
Hopefully he looks at caller-ID first.

Vertically Challenged Eyes

Waldorf, one of our resident Muppets here at the Muppet Daily News, needs more paperclips.

In her amazingly challenging task of doing tearsheets (reference many, many earlier blog entries on that subject), she needs to paperclip the copies of the ads to the invoices.

But alas, she needs more little paperclips.

She looks on the "supply shelves" in the office. Nope, doesn't see any there.
Which is strange, since I know they're there.
She sees the "Jumbo" paper clips, but not the regular sized ones.
And she wants/needs the regular sized ones.

Waldorf (standing in front of the shelves): "I don't see any little ones."

Me: Are you sure? I know they're there.

Waldorf (staring again at the shelves): "No, I checked. There are jumbos, but no regular sized ones."

Me (knowing we just got in 10 boxes of them): "Waldorf, did you check all the shelves?" 

(**please note there are only four shelves, about 5 inches deep and maybe, at most 3 feet wide... we're not talking cavernous area to check)

Waldorf: "Yes I looked. They aren't here."

So I walk over to the shelves. There, on the third shelf (which is just slightly above eye level for the average height Muppet, and Waldorf is average height) sits a group of ten boxes of "normal" paperclips.

Me: "Umm.. Waldorf? They're right there."

Waldorf: "Oh ... (pause) ... thank you. I didn't look up. I only checked this shelf" (pointing to the one that was at eye level).

Oh yeah, vacation is over. I'm back ... sigh.

A week away comes to an end

I've been away from the Muppet Daily News for a week.
One whole, glorious week as of today.
And one more day to go.
Vacation is awesome!

The break from the Muppet Daily News has been important, and long overdue.
Sadly - for Fozzie anyway - this has made me realize I really do need to take more breaks.
As in using my vacation time.
Since I have two whole glorious weeks still to use by the end of December, that should make it interesting.

(and that's not even discussing the mythical, but legally required, comp-time. Summing that one up in two words: ELEVEN WEEKS)

Don't get me wrong - I really do enjoy working at the Muppet Daily News.
And since I've been put in an "Editorial Time-Out," it was nice to actually have the time to do MY job.
I enjoy writing and taking photographs. I really do.
And if that was my primary job, there wouldn't be any question.
But it's not. And when I lose so much time during the week to do that job (the secondary job of writing), I don't get my primary job (financial wizard) done.
And when that happens, and the schnitzel starts flying, I'm the one getting hit by weird German food.
Unappealing.

Anyway... back to the break from the MDN. I took a week off and, solo, I wandered.
I would have rather wandered with my sibling partner in crime, but that was impossible, so I wandered solo.
And in doing so, I unwound. I unstressed. Even driving through the bizarre traffic patterns of Boston, I relaxed.

Most importantly, I rediscovered my laughter. My smile. My work-to-live, instead of my live-to-work.

And Monday, the nine days of freedom come to an end.
In some ways, I can't wait to see.
I'm sure Pepe the King Prawn has been in rare form.
I'm sure he's going to be a demanding tyrant.
In other words, the same old Pepe the King Prawn as always.

And Beaker, ahh, dear demented Beaker.
As his summer winds down, he gets absolutely mental.
Well, MORE mental.

Unfortunately for them, I'm not going to take the bait.
They can just deal with it.
Make a list.
I'll get to it.
When I'm done the "have-to's"

Can't wait to see what mischief and mistakes Statler and Waldorf have gotten into.
What issues they've caused.
How many "I don't know why it happened but..." moments there are.
Let's see... my guess would be ..hmm.. the credit card machine, the billing system, at least one voicemail/call transfer problem, no less than six "Can't find this one" tearsheet questions, and a few surprises.

I haven't missed the insanity.
More importantly, I've enjoyed rediscovering my sanity.
Now the key will be holding onto it when the madness in Muppetland begins again.
That, and start counting days til my next vacation.

Miss Piggy moves on

Miss Piggy is moving on from the Muppet Daily News, to bigger and brighter lights.

How will we ever go on?
Just fine, thanks, but I know the bigger question is how will Miss Piggy survive in the big cruel world outside of our little corner.

Don't get me wrong ... Miss Piggy does a very good job, and has mad-crazy skills.
Work-skills.
As in technical job skills.

But otherwise?
Miss Piggy is in for a rude awakening.  The real world, out there, isn't like the Muppet Daily News.
The real world doesn't have a dress code that basically consists of "wear clothes ... please."
The real world doesn't let a person - even a highly skilled Muppet diva - take a 20 minute break only 15 minutes after they show up to work. And another 3 or 4 20-minute breaks throughout the rest of the day ...
.... in addition to a paid hour lunch break.

Sure there are some down sides to the Muppet Daily News world we live in.
We have some high strung, ornery, obstinate my-way-or-no-way Muppets working here.

Miss Piggy should know that though....
Because Miss Piggy is one of them.
In fact, Miss Piggy is one of their leaders.

And I think Miss Piggy may find that Diva-licious attitude doesn't translate well to the real world.
Where temper tantrums - oh, I'm sorry, "artistic temperment expressions" - are frowned upon.
Where saying things without thinking first - particularly if you are in a leadership position - are frowned upon.
Or litigious.

So good luck out there, in the big cruel world, Miss Piggy.
I know you're waiting to take it on.
I just hope you realize it's not waiting for you in the way you expect.
The big, cruel world doesn't realize how FANTABULOUS you are.

But I have no doubt you will be sure to tell them.
Over and over again.

The "Hold" button is not just for show....

So both Statler and Waldorf have a very very bad habit, here at the Muppet Daily News.
They tend to say harsh things about customers that call ... with the line still open, and without hitting the "Hold" button.

It's really not that tough to do. It's a pretty red button. You push it once.
And with that one little push, you eliminate all the anger or frustration of the person who called that, despite you putting your hand over the receiver, really CAN still hear you.

It comes in especially handy when you then finally transfer the call to me ... not because it's anything I should have to deal with, but because you get frustrated and so THEN you hit "Hold" and tell me to pick it up.
Although usually, it's telling me to pick it up, but then you sit there with the receiver in your hand, and the call is still live.

Yeah, that was Statler this morning.

She won't accept the fact that she isn't hearing as well as she used to.
She won't hit the "volume" button on her phone, if a call is difficult to hear.
And when she gets frustrated and starts talking crap about the person who called, who is "mumbling" or "doesn't know what he/she wants" or "is talking on one of those damn cell phones, so you can't understand a thing," she doesn't first hit that beautiful "Hold" button.

She did that today, because she couldn't understand the customer's name.
Her guess wasn't even close.
I'm not sure why she was even trying, since she doesn't have a computer on her desk to look up the customer's account.
I do.
But first I have to listen to her go back and forth with the customer, about the ad, about her name, about everything.
Then she starts in with "She isn't even speaking clearly, I can't understand her" etc., etc., etc.

I pointed out that she did NOT have the call on hold.
Her response?
"My hand is over it, so she can't hear me."
Then she got totally frustrated, and said "you take it." and put the call on hold.

When I picked up the phone, the first thing the customer said to me was "Yes I could hear her."

So add "Diplomatic relations" to my job description because now I have cranky Muppets AND an angry customer.

All of which could have been avoided if Statler would just hit the dang "Hold" button.
Such a simple solution ... which will never, ever happen.

Not all Muppets are nice Muppets

There are a few Muppets here at the Muppetville Times who are extremely high maintenance.
That is, unless  you ask them.
Then they're sweeter than sugar.
We call that "delusional."

For some reason, a few of these "darling" Muppets feel they are more entitled than anyone else to things they want, regardless.
And when they don't get what they want and feel they are entitled to, they whine.
A lot.
To the point where, too many times, they get what they want just to get them to shut up.

A key example is Miss Piggy.
Talk about a diva.
Wow, big diva.
No one is harder working, more special, more lovable, and more deserving of every little thing he or she might want than Miss Piggy.
Don't believe me? Just ask Miss Piggy.
And Miss Piggy takes whining to the level of an art form.

Then there's Pepe the King Prawn.
Biggest baddest shrimp in the underwater kingdom.
Don't call him a shrimp though.
He's a PRAWN.
Big difference there... well, to Pepe anyway.
And because Pepe is the King Prawn of Muppetville, then no one should question whatever Pepe decides is best for the Muppet-Prawn kingdom over which he rules.

Did I mention "Delusional"? Delusional meet Pepe. I think they're synonyms.

And there are no boundaries to which Pepe or Miss Piggy won't go to get what they want ... oh, I'm sorry.. what they EARNED and DESERVED ... moreso than any other Muppet in the land.
Why?
Because that's how divas do things.
And those are two honkin' big divas.

True legends in their own minds.
Pains in the ass in everyone else's mind.
But to true divas, there is no difference.
And these two are true divas.

It's the same, only different

Poor Statler is having a bad day.

Statler needs three copies of the B-Section of the Muppetville Times from three weeks ago.
She has three copies of the B-Section, but because it only says "Times" at the top, she doesn't know if it's the Muppetville Times or one of the other two Times.

This, despite the fact I have now told her four times in the last five minutes that ALL the Times have the same, identical B-Section, so if the date is right, it's the right B-Section.

Not "just close."  All three Times ... ONE joint B-Section.

Yet, here she goes to pull more papers, the Muppetville ones this time, to get the RIGHT B-Sections.

But wait... she just looked at it and saw it's the same B-Section as the one she already has.

Does she begin to understand "Hey, that's right... they all have the same section"???

No, of course she doesn't.

She grumbles because "someone" put the WRONG B-Section in the front section of the Muppetville paper.
In fact, she checked and ALL the Muppetville papers that date have the wrong B-Section.

In her mind anyway.
Because, of course, that's a much simpler explanation than SHE HAD THE RIGHT ONE ALL ALONG, BECAUSE THEY'RE ALL THE SAME.

Sigh. Oh muppets. And so her hunt continues.....

Tearsheets - take two.

Tearsheets seem to be a popular source of Muppet-frustration, perhaps because it's Waldorf doing them, week after week.

Waldorf is living in the movie "Groundhog's Day," where every day is that dear little Muppet's first day on the job.  Every day, everything is shiny and new and whatever she did previously is gone, gone, gone.

Today, Waldorf is pulling tearsheets for ads that ran last week.
Today's episode centers on South Jersey Marina.

Waldorf: "I can't find the ad for this one."  (Waving the invoice around like a flag)

Me:  (reading the flapping invoice)  "See the post-it on it? What does it say?" 

(note: It's a hot pink flower-shaped post-it, with writing clear as can be, done in a nice, sharp black Sharpie marker)

Waldorf: "It says 'It's the fishing tournament ad.'"

(I wrote that, so she would know it's an ad saying "fishing tournament."  Simple enough? One would think....)

Me: "Do you see the fishing tournament ad?"

Waldorf: "Yes, it's in the sports section. But this (invoice flapping again) says 'South Jersey Marina', not fishing tournament."

Me:  "Waldorf, South Jersey Marina is running the tournament. They're paying to advertise the tournament. The ad is for the tournament they're running."

Waldorf: "Well, why doesn't it say that on the invoice?"

Me: "It says 'fishing tournament ad' on the invoice."

Waldorf: "But the invoice says it's South Jersey Marina."

(I pause, to hide all sharp objects before the last bit of self control vanishes.)

Me: "Waldorf, look at the ad."  (she pulls out the ad)  "What does it say?"

Waldorf: "It says fishing tournament."

Me: "And where does it say the tournament is?"

Waldorf:  "At South Jersey Marina."

Me:  "Okay, so fishing ad, South Jersey Marina, that's the ad."

Waldorf: "Okay," (tearing it out) "But it says they have an ad in one of the other papers too. What is that one for?"

Me: "The same ad. Seriously. Same ad. S-a-m-e-e-x-a-c-t-a-d."

Waldorf: "Oh, so it's for the fishing tournament too?"

Me: "Yes"

Waldorf: "Okay...."

(she looks in the paper)

Waldorf: "I don't know if this is it. All I see for a fishing tournament is for one in Cape May. This is the Ocean City paper."

Me: "Didn't I say 'same ad'?"

Waldorf: "When?"

Me: "Just tear the thing out and go with it."

Sigh.

Tearing up over tearsheets

Here at the Muppet Daily News, there is this wonderful little creature called a "tearsheet."
What it is, basically, is the page an advertiser's ad appears on, torn out of the paper, and mailed to them along with the invoice for that ad. It's like proof that the ad actually ran.

Advertisers that need tearsheets do so for several basic reasons:
1) They are out-of-area and don't receive our newspaper directly.

2) It is an advertising agency, and they need tearsheets (usually 2) as proof to their client that the ad ran and also for their files.

3) (the most common) Because someone in the ad dept. here at the Muppet Daily News, in their effort to look impressive, told their client "Hey, and I will get a copy of the ad mailed to you every single week."  That occurs primarily because the ad-muppets aren't the ones who have to tear up that many papers.

Anyway... back to Muppet happenings.

One of the few jobs that Waldorf has here is to pull tearsheets.
At least to most, it would be a small job.
To Waldorf, it is epic. And Waldorf still gets it wrong.

Now I'm not being tough on poor Waldorf ... but how she gets it wrong still boggles my mind.
Note: Waldorf gets the invoice.
On it is a post-it.
The post-it tells Waldorf, specifically, which newspaper(s) the ad is in.
In some cases, it tells Waldorf what page it is on.
Some of the ads that have to get pulled are in the same spot every single issue, every single week.
Their invoices still have to be labeled, or Waldorf won't know where to find the ads.
Also, on the invoices (to which the post-its are stuck), it says exactly what type, and what size, the ad is. Sometimes even what the ad says.
Simple?
Oh one would think so.
At least one who doesn't work with Waldorf would think so.

So this month's episode of "Fun with Tearsheets" went like this:

Some ads, if she wasn't sure, got skipped. Just skipped. Didn't ask me (I am a whole 8 feet away, at most). Just skipped them.

Some ads, if she wasn't sure, she guessed. And guessed badly, I might add.

When I asked about the wrong tearsheets, Waldorf said things like:
"Well, the ad was in the paper, so I thought that was it"
"I didn't know which one it was."
"Well how would I know what ad is for Broadley's?"
   -  note: The ad says "Broadley's" in it

Asked why Waldorf didn't just ask me which ad it was, or if one was the right ad, Waldorf's answer was:
"Well, I was busy."

Really? Waldorf hasn't been busy at work since about 1996. And that's a generous estimate.

So now I have a pouty Muppet, because I gave the invoices back to Waldorf, and am making her pull the RIGHT tearsheets.
Waldorf said she doesn't think she should have to pull the RIGHT tearsheets, because she already pulled tearsheets for those invoices.
The fact that they were the wrong tearsheets is apparently lost on Waldorf.

Sorry, my little Muppet, but this one, I'm not backing down from. Get tearing, or I'll go all Oscar-the-Grouch on you.

Our own Grilled Cheesus.

The surgeon called my sister Kathy last night, to change the date of her surgery from Wednesday to Friday.
Kathy decided to have some fun with it, when telling Mom ... and so she called and told Mom the surgeon "Cancelled" the surgery because, Kathy said, he "saw a face" in the lump on the back of her neck and wanted more tests first.

Not thinking clearly, evidently, I decided to tell Statler and Waldorf (who both know Kathy) about what Kathy did to Mom.
It should be noted that I explained to them before beginning the story that Kathy told Mom this as a joke.

So Statler got the joke.
Waldorf, however, was deeply concerned, because there shouldn't be a face in Kathy's neck-blob.
"What does he think it is," Waldorf asked. "Is it a person?"

At times like these, I begin to chant the "Why? Why? Why did I even go there?"

So, I told Waldorf that it is kind of like when people see Jesus in their grilled cheese, or the Virgin Mary on a piece of fruit. That we are wondering if it is a way they are letting Kathy know she is blessed. Because "Of course" we can't think of any other way or reason there would be a face in this mass on her neck.

Sometimes it is almost too easy, seriously.

So now I am fairly certain Waldorf believes that Kathy has a blob-with-a-face growing in the back of her neck, despite three or four times telling her "She was kidding. She was pulling a joke on my mom."

Sigh.

Here's Your Sign....ers.

So Beaker comes into my office.
"I need a check for Blah-Blah-Blah Company. He's coming to get it today," he meeped.

"Okay, Beaker, except one small problem," I told him. "It's a two-signature check and only one of the signers is here."

"Okay," he meeped. "So he can get the check this afternoon?"

"No, he can't. The check has to have two signatures on it. Only one of the people that can sign it is here, and that's me," I try again.

"Well, he's coming to get it," Beaker meeped.

"Well he can have the check all he wants to," I explained. "But the bank won't cash it. TWO signatures. ONE signer."

"I told him he can get the check," Beaker continues. "Fozzie said he could."

"Well, Fozzie didn't sign a check before he left, so Fozzie was wrong."

"Okay, well when he gets here, I'll tell him to see you for the check."

"He can see me, unless I'm invisible, but it's not going to get him a check," I explain again.

"Can't you sign it," Beaker asks.

"Yes I can. Can you count to two?"

(as a side-note, the Blah-Blah Company guy just got here, and yes, indeed, Beaker just sent him to my desk, to get the check. Luckily, the Blah-Blah guy can count to two and understands it. Beaker, however, is still mystified. I think he needs to start hanging out more with The Count.)

Fun with Voicemail

This morning, Statler was picking up voicemail. Same system we've had for about 8 years. Same method, same password, same everything.

Statler: How do I pick up my voicemail?
Me: Do you know your password?
Statler: Yes, extension 100.
Me: No, not your extension, your password.
Statler: What would that be?
Me: When you call in to pick up your messages, that code you punch in, and then it plays your messages.
Statler: That's my password?
Me: Yes. Do you know what it is?
Statler: Yes, extension 100.

(insert a few deep breaths here)

Me: (walking over to stand beside Statler at the desk)  Okay, go through the steps to pick up your voicemail, like you always do.
(Statler picks up the phone, hits the button for voicemail and starts listening to the recording)
Statler: Okay, it wants my password (reaches down and types in her password code, like she's known it all along)
Me: Okay, good, so now you can get your messages.
Statler: It says I don't have any messages.
Me: Was your 'message' light blinking on the phone?
Statler: No, but I always have messages from the weekend. I figured the little light wasn't working.

(walk away, shaking my head, straight to the bottle of Excedrin)

People wonder why I get migraines?

Decided to pull out, and add, some past Muppet highlights...


April 16:
Statler and Waldorf are trying to figure out how to "save" a Word document. Not going anywhere for a while? Grab a Snickers.

Old dogs and old Muppets

The saying is "you can't teach an old dog new tricks."
While I may not always believe it to be true, in the case of teaching old Muppets new tricks, it is 100 percent accurate. Sitting in my little corner of the work-world -- working a supposed "day off," which happens all too often lately -- I get constant reminders of that.

Today's examples include highly technical accounting and billing aspects. Won't you play along?

Example One:  Telling Waldorf to search for accounts in the system by last name, rather than phone number.
Granted, when the screen comes up, the first line is "Phone Number," but just two little lines below it is that ever popular (except to Statler and Waldorf) "LAST NAME" entry.
Why is it so important? Because some people now have two, three, four accounts, because they give their out of state number, local phone number, cell phone number, work phone number, and who knows what else.
When I point it out to Waldorf -- usually right after she asks someone "What is the phone number?" -- her response is "I do go by last name."
Really? Then why didn't you ask name instead of phone number?
Why when I'm posting payments in the system, am I finding new customers with more multiple accounts?
It's really not a hard concept; we all have last names (well, excluding Cher, Madonna, Beyonce and a few other famous people, but I'm fairly certain none of them have placed classified ads in our newspapers).
When I point out that she didn't do it, she gets all miffed and whiny: not a good look for anyone, not even a worn out Muppet.

Am I crazy? I don't think so. Am I asking too much? I didn't think so, but evidently I am ... because, as she told me, "If they didn't want us to go by phone number, it wouldn't be the first line on the screen."
I'm not sure who "they" are, or how she knows their intention ... but I know that each month, I can count on more and more customers having more and more accounts in the system.
Because you can't teach old Muppets new tricks .... no matter how simple, or how many times you try.

Muppet Intro

There are some people who should never be allowed near computers.
I work with two of them., affectionately known as "Statler & Waldorf."
Every day is a new and exciting day, watching them discover and demonstrate their total inability to use and understand anything more technological than a crayon.
Since I've been told to "Play Nice," this shall be my outlet of Magical Muppet Moments.
As adventures take place - like the baffiling "save as" on their computer screen - they shall find a home on this page.