Your little Flapjam
Or, if you reflect on it, majpalF
So I just broke one of the ice trays at work. This is somewhat interesting when you consider the fact that just this morning, a co-worker told me about the genesis of all 9 ice trays. I guess it all started when the original ice trays went missing. (Fact: They were later found in the pantry's closet just a few steps away from their rightful place.)
But before they were found, someone apparently took it upon herselfbecause let's face it, I highly doubt one of the males around here did itbought a whole bunch of new ice trays. So yay.
I only use the ice trays when I'm too lazy to go down to the 17th floor or the basement to use the fun ice machines, and admittedly, I hate using the ice trays because the cubes are too darned hard to extract. (Case in point: I just broke an ice tray. Fortunately, no one was around to witness it. Unlike the mishap on Friday, when my tiny bucket of Chef Boyardee Mini Ravioli with Meatballs met its untimely demise in the microwave. There were two witnesses then, followed by a third. Not only did I lose my second lunch of the day, but I had to clean up the mess. On the upside, I was informed that someone had just cleaned the microwave tray, so at least I only had my own gook to contend with.)
Let me amend that. The Boyardee was not my second lunch, it was actually my third attempt to eat lunch on Friday.
I normally eat lunch around noon, noon-fifteen, maybe 12:30 if I'm meeting someone outside the building. But for reasons I'm not disclosing, lunch didn't happen til around 1:30 on Friday.
I didn't bring lunch, and on Fridays there is a "pop-up" restaurant in our lobby. It varies each week, but what doesn't vary is the fact that a bunch of eaters go downstairs and snarf ALL the [limited] food options so that folks who wander down, say, at 12:00 p.m., are often out of luck.
I didn't remember about the pop-up until 1:30. So I raced down to the lobby (as much as you can race when the elevator thwarts you by stopping on every other floor) and saw that the tables were barren. No more ravioli. No more pasta. Only flatbread chicken or turkey sandwiches, and plenty of portionettes full of red pepper or parmesan cheese. (Sadly, I have been informed that one should not make a meal out of parmesan cheese.) At least the lady behind the table seemed sympathetic and apologized as if it were her fault that they didn't have anything good left to eat.
Dismayed, I stepped over to the little bakery/sandwich counter that's also in the lobby. I was heartened to see that one of the soup choices was Chicken Noodle. I thought that was only a Monday soup (usually Fridays are bad for soup), and I like Chicken Noodle, so I was all, "yay!" But then I was told by the lady behind the counter that they were sold out of it, and that they had chili instead. Their chili is too hot for me, so that wasn't an option.
Disgruntled, I came back upstairs to check out my "Extreme Emergency" food stash. The "Extreme Emergency" stash consists of food I really don't want to eat, but somehow must have purchased at the grocery store at some point. There are soups in there I don't even want to try and have no idea why I bought them in the first place. In any case, The Chef was among the goods, so I popped him into the microwave and well, you know the rest.
If you're wondering what I ended up eating on Friday, it was a 2-piece dark KFC box of chicken, with some mashed potatoes and gravy, and a Dr. Pepper that had a citrus flavor profile to it. (Ugh.) There was also a biscuit.
Today, I am going to eat something that would normally go into the EE stash, it's a Velveeta cheesy skillet single, and I guess we'll see what happens with the microwave. I kind of don't want to go into the kitchen given today's earlier event, but what are you gonna do.
Btw, instead of tossing the trays, I refilled them both and stuck them back into the freezer. That may have been a mistake, seeing as how one of them has kind of a sharp edge sticking up. Oh well. Guess I'll be going downstairs for ice now.
Oh good christ. It looks like yet another delicious food product from my childhood (and let's face it, my adulthood) has met its untimely demise.
KFC's Little Bucket Parfaits.
What? You've never had a little bucket parfait? The shame. The sorrow. The sadness of missing out.
The bucket parfait was your basic three-tiered dessert. Some pie crusty crumbs on the bottom, then some pudding, then some whipped topping, with maybe a few sprinkles on it. That's if you got the chocolate one. They also had a strawberry one which contained some semblance of fruit, but that wasn't the one I liked.
Today when I went to the local KFC to pick up some tasty chicken lunch, I looked in the fridge and saw only cole slaw (not a great dessert option) and some stupid boxed pie slices (Oreo and Reese's). WTF. Because I had no better options, and because I wanted to prove to myself that yes, Oreo pie *is* as gross as I always think it is (apologies to my nephew, who really digs it), I took a slice.
I asked the cashier lady if they had any bucket parfaits, and she said no. Now, I had glanced at the menu board, and saw the word Parfait, but there was a block of the sign missing. Actually, maybe it said Dessert. I think it was parfait. But it's always a bad sign (surprisingly, no pun intended) when there is no price listed for the menu item you want.
I came back to the office to eat the tasty chicken lunch. I skillfully avoided the homeless man on the bridge who is friend to all things pigeon. I mean he's a nice guy, but come on, who wants to be near those flying rats?
When it came time to eat dessert, I did so with a heavy heart. (And probably some clogged arteries.) The Oreo pie was not very tasty. It just isn't a good dessert. For those who do enjoy it, I still bet you wouldn't call it the end-all, be-all of desserts. Because it just isn't.
Can I just say that KFC's website has the WORST customer comment form? And believe you me, I've been on many a website and filled out many a form.
On KFC's, they're only looking for comments from customers who REALLY want to speak their minds. Otherwise, they would just have a blank form ready and waiting for you. But no. First you have to fill in why you want to contact them. Then you have to do some drop-downs with more specific information. Then you have to do your name, email, blah blah, city/state, you also have to put the date and time of your visit, which KFC you visited, what color underwear you have on, and so on. By the time I got to the actual blank part, I was hopping annoyed.
But instead of ranting a lot, I only wrote the following:
What has happened to the Bucket Parfaits? I haven't seen them for a while, there are now only pie slices for dessert. I LOVED THE BUCKET PARFAITS and have enjoyed them for over 30 years. Why were they discontinued??? Can you please bring them back on the menu? Are they discontinued everywhere? I saw no mention of them on your website.
Please tell me if they can be put back on the menu, and why they were removed. Thank you. The parfait was always the most enjoyable dessert. Little pie slices that are too sweet aren't a great finish to a good chicken meal.
The future of the 'fait looks pretty grim. So this is me saying good-bye and farewell to my beloved Little Bucket Parfaits. Also, fuck you to the idiots in charge at KFC.
So, I'm moving. Yay. Everybody rejoice. Only I'm staying in the same building, so don't rejoice too much.
I moved into Chez Flapjam in the fall of 1999.
It is now 2012.
That's what I call staying power, people.
Anyhoo. A lot is involved in a move.
There is packing.
There is dusting.
There is trying to fool yourself into thinking you'll be able to wear those old clothes again one day. But sometimes even a fool knows when to say when. (I've already collected two bags of donations for the Salvation Army, and I'm sure there are a few more coming.)
And of course, there is the changing of address for magazines and utilities. I did the magazines first because let's face it, they're more important. Also, they don't give you a lot of guff when you call.
Let me tell you something. I'm old school. I'm so old school I still have a landline, even though I really only use it for the DSL Internet connection and maybe some local calls.
My local phone provider is none other than AT&T. I can't think of another dirty word that starts with T so I'm just going to forego the whole "or as I like to call them, A-holes, Twats, and Twits." Oh wait, that worked. Okay then.
First I went to the AT&T website. I thought it would be pretty simple to change my service online.
I can't remember everything that happened because, well, let's just say I've forgotten my reason for living over the past hour, but basically in order for me to do my thang online, I'd first need to create an account. No problem.
Except...they want to send you a confirmation code that you can use to log in to the account.
Except...since you want to access your home landline, they want to send the code to your home landline.
Except...I'm at work.
And I don't have voicemail.
Instead, being old school, I have a dilapidated, tapeless answering machine. And sure, I could call it and try to remember my passcode and then fast-forward through the 16 or so messages on there to try to get the code, but..
It is 2012, and I want my damned confirmation code e-mailed to me, okay?
Annoyed, I decided to go even more old school and call the Customer Service line. Surely they could help me with my simple request.
But since I'm posting on here, you probably surmised that that is not the case.
I called AT&T and listened to the a-hole automaton try to get info from me. Well, I don't like automatons and I don't like having to say things out loud at my desk. I do that all the time anyway but it's different when you're just saying stupid phrases in a monotone like, "Yes," "moving service," and the like. So I pushed zero and the automaton said something like, "It sounds like you want to speak to an agent. Is that correct?"
I thought about whispering, "YES, YOU ASSHOLE!!" but I didn't. Instead I just gritted my teeth and said, "Yes."
After I heard some musical interludes and a message saying that they were experiencing a heavy volume of calls, my wait time could be ten minutes, a man with some kind of accent picked up. I don't know what kind of accent. There was a ton of background noise (that I almost commented on, but didn't) and the guy struck me as maybe being from Senegal. Or some island in the Pacific. Eh.
It took forever for him to take the information I was giving him. I said I was moving, everything was going to be the same, I'd just have a new apartment number. 702 for those of you who know me in real life and want to send housewarming gifts. :D
He kept putting me on hold.
I kept answering work e-mails. Because I ain't no loafer.
He kept coming back and blah blah blah.
I told him my move date was September 15. For those of you who don't already know, that is a Saturday this year. And remember, I'm just moving into a different apartment in the same building. There is no need for a technician to come out. They just need to do a little flippy switcheroo. Or whatever.
But to make a long story short (because I need to visit the baño, I mean I was on hold for almost an hour, people), apparently AT&T doesn't do the flipping of switches on weekends.
The guy talked to his manager to see if he could do a manual override, but no dice.
I knew it wasn't Guy's fault. But I told Guy I wanted to speak to a manager so I could lodge a comment (that's right, I didn't say complaint). Because it is ridiculous that it took so long, that they can't do what I want, and when I mentioned the word "move" at the beginning, they should have said, "Hey just fyi, lady, we can't accommodate weekend dates." Like, just fucking tell me up front so I don't have to go through all the bullshit, k?
So, they are turning off my service on the 14th, and I'll get it back on the 17th.
In the meantime, I won't have Internet access via my computer. So there's that.
Also, I asked if they would prorate the dates I will be without service. I mean, right? I don't care if it's twelve cents, I'm not effing paying them for this crap.
WTF. It is 2012. WHY CAN'T THEY PROGRAM THEIR DAMNED COMPUTERS TO TURN MY PHONE OFF ON THE 14TH AND ON ON THE 15TH?
I looked at my electric company's website and fear the same thing will happen there, too. The weekend dates are blocked out. WTF. Are we living in the dark ages? (No pun intended.) Am I supposed to be in a place of worship all weekend? I dunno.
And, if that weren't enough, I'm still miffed about the attitude I got from pizza girl when I called for delivery last night. Maybe I'll bitch about that later. Right now, I gotta see a man about a horse. Or whatever ladies say when they go to water flowers.
In the meantime, I will seriously consider ditching my landline. :\