Saturday, December 16, 2006


Row Your Own Damned Boat Ashore

Today I decided the time was nigh to get busy with some more do-goodery, seeing I couldn't be continuously outdone by the Mad Bastard Jam Master (that's her new gangsta name. Her pear/ginger jam is amazingly good.)

No rilly, she's involved in like 900 projects or something. It's quite frightening.

I had spent quite some time yesterday indulging in gloriously vulgar excess at My Little Fibre Pusher (seriously, I love this store) and was feeling marginally guilty even though everything I bought is to be dyed and re-sold. Apparently I'm just sort of an ass like that.

So anyhow, Her Surreal Highness and I got into the royal chariot (a.k.a. The Piece of Shit Van) and trundled out to Richmond to a certain Arts and Crafts Store which will remain nameless and unlinked, but only because they do some stuff for one of the charity dealies I'm involved with (and which I'm dropping in the spring) and despite today's events I would like them to continue to do so. Especially seeing I'll never have to see the inside of that particular store from now until the day I die.

We got there about 7:30. They're open until 9pm so it's hardly like we were doing a last-minute rush. Despite their central location and the imminence of The Dreaded Day, the store was startlingly empty. Perhaps this should have been my first clue, but I've been there several times before and I hardly took it as a harbinger of evil.

Oh dopey me.

We were there both as paying customers (I got an art set for my daughter, and something else I can't show you as it's the makings for a present for someone who reads this) and at the request of their Events Coordinator, who had called earlier in the week specifically to request that I come out to pick up five blankets they had completed.

It's cold out and I know folks are in need, so I happily agreed to spend a couple of hours picking them up and getting them out to the shelters, even though I really would rather have spent the evening drunk in the bathtub reading porn cleaning house, finding the lights for the tree and baking some cookies.

I guess I should have known by the blank looks on everyone's faces when I mentioned the organization I was representing that there was going to be some sort of trouble. I really didn't expect to be treated like I was attempting to swipe something I wasn't "entitled" to, or spoken to with overt hostility. I really didn't expect to be chastized for showing up after the person I had spoken to had already left for the day.

I stuck the kid back in the van (and had to use the starter to get it going, but this time it worked) and drove off in high dudgeon.

I reported it to my head office and they're including it in a report to the corporate head office of the place, because it would seem this isn't all that unusual with regard to their behaviour.

Guess I've been really spoiled 'cause the two or three stores I deal with the most have been fantastic for the last four or five years I've been doing this.

But as for the one in Richmond? Feh. I've dropped it from my roster, I won't be visiting again. The person who had asked me to come do the pick-up is now going to find herself responsible for all of the administrative features of the project with regard to her store. And she doesn't get paid extra for it.

Sorry dude, but you're gonna have to row your own damned boat ashore.

Hallelujah, and all.

Craptacular. No good deed goes unpunished, right?
Don't you just HATE it when they act like they're "doing you a favor" to LET you shop there? How RUDE!
phhhhtttt...jeeze louise....'humans' can be so arrogant...good for you though, let them connect the damned dots.
I already mentioned, but I LOVE my new gangsta name. I shall have to do some more nasty do-goodery, in a fully negative way, in order to continue to earn it. Glad you like the jam, babe.

A piece of coal for that nasty store. Pffffft.
I gotta tell ya, Rabbitch. I've always loved your blog, but I cant read it anymore without feeling compelled to Gizzogle it!
ugh, I hate that store.
A hearty back of my hand with my pinky extended to that store. Oh, that's for those who don't deserve the very best.
does that store start with an M?
I bet that the name of the store starts with an M, ends in an S, and the middle bits add up to a common boy's name. The one redeeming feature of that store is the Tim's in the same parking lot. Oh, and the Pier One Imports for browsing at pretty things.
Well that really bites! How rude. And to mess with The Rabbitch? Well add dumb to the list.
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