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In a previous career, my father served on the front lines of the human resource industry–he worked at a temp agency. His responsibilites included many things, most notably interviewing people who came in off of the street to find jobs for them. One story always stood out:

Each applicant had to fill out an application form that included fields for previous work history, references, and the reasons for leaving their last employment. Once a man walked in who had worked as a short order cook for Waffle House for seventeen years. Think about that, that’s probably hundreds of thousands of orders for pecan waffles, patty melts, eggs over easy, and of course, hash browns scattered, smothered, and covered. It’s a pretty stressful job I would imagine. Think of hours standing next to a hot griddle, the temperment of the waitresses as they yell out orders one after another. Think of going home every night smelling like breakfast. Enough for someone after a period of time to say, take this job and shove it. Imagine my father’s surprise when he read the man’s reason for leaving his job.

One word was written on the form. “Jellypacks.”

My father couldn’t let that one go without an explanation. Seems that the uppity-ups at Waffle House corporate had attempted to abandon the time honored practice of calling out the order by developing a system whereby plates were set out and the arrangement of the condiment packets on the plate would tell the cook what had been ordered. For instance, a ketchup packet laid face down on the side of a plate might mean hash browns, diced and chunked or something like that. A packet of grape jelly in the center of the plate might mean eggs over medium. I’ve never seen this in action, I don’t know if it’s a current Waffle House policy.

At any rate, if I’m ever in a position where I’m asked my reason for leaving my last employment, I’ll surely have an answer. “Jellypacks.”

So, I couldn’t get the camera out of the bag in time. And my phone cam wouldn’t have done it justice. So bear with me for a second, and I’ll try to describe what picture is missing from the box:

Coming back from the airport this afternoon I saw a man driving a 1970s model Ford pickup. The pickup was rust colored, not really as much dull red as the quarter panels were totally oxidized. This man had a worn face, and was smoking the dregs of a cigarette. I saw that he was holding a blue straw, the kind like you get at Jack-in-the-Box when you order a large milkshake. What made me notice the straw was the way he was holding it relative to the position of his neck. You see, he was using the blue Jack-in-the-Box straw to CLEAN OUT HIS TRACHEOTOMY. WHILE SMOKING HIS CIGARETTE. WHILE DRIVING.

If I could multitask like that, I might actually be able to get something done in a day.

I have several friends who work as pharmaceutical reps, and while being very respectful, I’ve always questioned the real necessity for their jobs. They don’t sell the drugs, they don’t distribute drugs to pharmacies, as best I can tell their job is to look pretty, deliver lunch, and distribute swag.

You�ve all seen this stuff, pens with advertisements for Prevacid or Lexapro, post-it notes with Zocor or Zyrtec. Most of this stuff is pretty banal, but when you work for a company like Pfizer, you can evidently have a sense of humor. Especially if you rep Viagra.

Found at a Goodwill store for $.99, the Viagra branded soap dispenser. (If you’re following along at home, this is where infection control meets the erection jokes.)

Obvious one liners follow:

• I keep pumping and pumping but nothing ever comes out.
• Viagra, in a bottle? The more I put on, the more I have to put on.

I don’t know why everyone is complaining about the lack of coverage by News2 of their own sponsored event: “News2 Presents: An Evening With Mr. Roboto”. People are saying the only thing covered were Nashville bloggers in a general sense, and not News2’s cutting edge new media fusion of journalism and crunk. I must have seen a different story.

Here’s my proof:

1. Mr. Roboto setting up pre-party. Obviously showing the hard work that is being Nashville’s Greatest nightlife blogger.
2. Keenly subtly placed logo graphic. Old media types need a bit of transitioning to the new rules.
3. Coverage of the beautiful ladies. Needs no explanation.
4. Captain T in the the getaway car. Because a Camaro and a western shirt are where it is, baby.

I rest my case.

Walking into Petsmart yesterday I saw that someone had littered a Pepsi bottle on the sidewalk. Trying to be the person that my dog thinks I am, I picked up the bottle to place it in the trash receptacle located at the store entrance. The bottle had one of those yellow iTunes caps, so before throwing it away I unscrewed the cap to reveal that I had won a free song from iTunes.

This is also the first time I’ve ever forgotten to put the gas cap back on. This tells me, pay 2 bucks for gas, you become an idiot.

This is the first time I’ve paid more than 2 dollars for gasoline.

I realize this would have been funnier a month ago, but sometimes you just have to let the ideas rattle around until they form something coherent.