sunshine0221's Diaryland Diary
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Freudian Typos
Freudian Typos, and What I Will Do To Take Care of our Customers
We get a lot of our furniture from a guy in Egypt. His spoken English is excellent, but written, not so much.
The boss was sharing some of Egyptian Dude�s emails with me, and we were totally cracking up. The best typo by far was �shits�. The boss said it took him a couple of emails before he figured out that when Guy in Egypt went on about how he would get him the shits, and that he didn�t have the shits yet, and that he was, worst of all, making the shits, that he meant sheets � in other words � paperwork.
Which reminded me of Telecom Job, where I had this guy in the Netherlands who worked for me. He sent me a big, long email, which I read while I was on a conference call (thank GOD for the mute button). This may very well be a Dutch thing, but instead of �file folder�, this very nice, sweet guy wrote �stiffy�. I wish I had saved the email, but it went on and on about how he had the stiffy, would send me the stiffy, was looking at his stiffy, etc, etc. I almost died. Seriously.
Which brings us to last Friday. There is one particular mail order product that we just have not been able to get. We get some of them, but then they need to be fixed before they can be sold, and the fix-it guy is never there, etc. Major manufacturing problems � and I am the one that has to talk with the mail order company�s customer service people about eta�s, and new revised later eta�s, and it is making me nuts. If I had any control over the issue it would be fixed, but I don�t.
So Friday, I had just had it. I called the person who runs the warehouse down in Georgia, and asked her who I had to SLEEP with to get some of these shipped. Her answer. Was priceless. She came right back and seriously asked how picky I was about whom I sleep with, and I told her, if it would get these products shipped, I would sleep with whoever it took. And I was only half kidding.
I was telling my boss about my desperate offer, and a light bulb went off. I was offering to sleep with the wrong people! We needed to go to the source, the dude in Egypt who is not sending us this product! So the boss immediately emailed Egyptian Dude, and I didn�t see the email, but he says he offered my �services� if he would just freaking get us this product.
He got a reply back right away that said something about �shits� and �deeps� and something being �worsted�. Neither the boss nor I have a clue what he was trying to say, but I think my generous offer was rejected.
Also on Friday, and I blame everything on being loopy from getting ready for the Big Show, I had the following conversation with our top salesguy. We are discussing the high-backed, armless, overstuffed red velvet chair that we are introducing at the show.
Me: Look I have the 8 x 10�s of our new products for you!
Top Salesguy: Great! And oh crap, it�s the red chair!
Me: Well, we affectionately call it the Whorehouse Chair. I like it.
TS: Well I can�t sell that thing to save my life!
Me: Perhaps you are not trying to sell it in the correct venues? Have you tried whorehouses?
TS: If I go to a whorehouse, you can be damn sure it won�t be to sell chairs!
And the recipe for the Brie with Pears , as requested by biodtl , whose journal is excellent and you should read it:
Brie with Pears
Thaw puff pastry per box instructions.
In a small saucepan, cook one or two finely chopped pears in a few tablespoons of butter, and sugar to taste.
Take a whole round brie, set in middle of sheet of puff pastry. Pour pears on top. Wrap everything up in puff pastry and seal at the top.
Bake at 400 degrees until puff pastry puffs and browns.
Serve and be prepared for lots of compliments.
And last but not least, my Inner European:
Your Inner European is Irish! |
You drink everyone under the table. |
9:44 p.m. - April 10, 2005
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