I’m starting to use this “aaS” suffix more and more in casual conversation now. I’m not just stooping to bag my dog’s fecal dispersions, I’m providing Feces-aas or FaaS. I’m not talking shit around the coffee pot anymore, I’m providing BSaaS. That’s right, I claim it as the first official use of “Bull-Shit-as-a-Service”, even though technically, the act itself was perfected by the US government a hundred years ago. Nobody can touch them now.
So, this week has immersed me in a series of, shall I say, annoyances. The kind that spin my brain platter around to that classic tune: “Stupid AF but we’ve gotten so used to it that it seems normal now”.
…and that’s only the beginning.
Then I heard a clerk at the grocery store talking to a customer ahead of me. It went a little like this…
Clerk: “No maam, once you write the check out for the actual amount, I can’t give you cash back, unless you write another check.”
Maam: “This shit is bullshit!”
Clerk: “Well, I suppose that it has to be some kind of shit. But that’s all I can do.“
Now, technically he was absolutely correct. But I don’t think is manager was amused, but he obviously agreed with this employee, and dammit, my beer was getting warm on that slimy conveyor belt waiting for her to move on.
Then I found out that “SCCM” has been hijacked, like all good initialisms/acronyms, by some glue-sniffing, child-abducting gang calling themselves “Society of Critical Care Medicine“. The nerve of those people thinking their silly medical skills somehow matter more in this dangerous world than deploying patches to machines over shitty WAN/VPN/Wi-Fi links at 3am.
For the love of caffeine, can we get someone to form an official group to manage all these acronyms which now have multiple meanings?
Then I walking my dog, Dory, who at 100lbs, actually walks me, but that’s beside the point, and one of my neighbors stops me on the street…
Her: “OMG. Did you see the rabid fox running around here?! It chased me into the house with my two little dogs dragging behind me!”
Her: “So, I called the police, they said I had to call Animal Control, who said unless I could keep my eyes directly on it, they can’t come out to do anything. And I said…” (this is where I started to glaze over and pictured my dog getting mauled by some rabid animal and me trying to fend it off with a roll of poopoo bags in a plastic container…) “and so I just wanted to let you know. Be careful!”
She went inside, I kept walking (getting walked by) my dog, and then saw the rabid fox limping around like it had finished off a case of beer or something, about 100 yards to my right. I called our action-packed police department…
311: “Police non-emergency. What’s the problem you wish to report”
Me: “We have a rabid fox running around our neighborhood.”
311: “I’ll patch you through to Animal Control. If you get put on hold too long, their direct number is (insert “1-800-IDGAF”). Please hold…”
20 minutes, no answer. Repeated recording about how important my call is.
Hang up. Call back. 10 minutes on hold. Another call, 5 minutes. Never mind. At this point, I’m hoping it bites the first city employee that drives through the area, but I don’t really mean that, it just sounds snarky.
So I tweet our tax-paid folks with my complaint…
It’s now 4:51 PM ET on a Friday, which means those folks left work about 5 days ago.
Anyhow. I’m staying away from work this weekend, but I will be doing something. Maybe cleaning up my Github tragedy, or rebuilding my lab catastrophe, or staring at my belly button and thinking “I was once connected by a cable!”
Seriously, taking the wife and two of our kids to see Bohemian Rhapsody tonight. I hope it’s good.