How can I direct your call?

One thing that will never cease to amaze me in retail is the number of phone calls I receive both before opening and after closing. Over 95% of these calls can be broken down into two categories: "What time do you open?" and "What time do you close?" Now this may seem trite to those of you who are not in the retail industry, but to those of us who are, this is a very real epidemic. Now, I wouldn't mind giving a simple answer to a simple question, but, once again, people feel the need to talk to you when they have you on the phone. Not satisfied with a time, and unlike cats, they must fill the awkward silence because they just don't understand that I don't want to hear what they have to say. Granted, if you have a legitimate question like "Do you have..." I'm happy to oblige. It's the inane ramblings that go along with the time question. We can break this down into two scenarios: the opening question and the closing question.

Many people do not understand that opening or closing a major retail center is nothing like they have seen on TV. There is a lot that goes into it. There is the counting of money, the prepping of cash drawers, morning reports about the previous day's sales, closing reports about the current day's sales, payroll, working freight, receiving new freight, signing, pricing, etc., etc., etc. However, there is a large number of people who think that opening a store is as simple as changing the "closed" sign to "open". VIOLA! we're open! In retail, a day will start at 7am or earlier. Many times, I have worked in a store at 5am. The phone will ring and I will answer with the proper phone etiquette. Then the opening question comes:

Her: "Oh, you're open already?"

Me: "No, ma'am, we open at 9." (mind you, it's 5:17am)

Her: "Then why are you there now?" (I'm preparing to shoot myself for answering the phone)

Me: "Well, there's a lot to do before we open. What can I help you with?"

Her: "Well, I was looking for a product you sell." (sure, what else would you be doing at 5am)

Me: "What item was it?"

Her: "You're not open now?" (no, we're still closed)

Me: "No, ma'am, we open at 9. What item was it?"

Her: "Well, I needed it right away. What time do you open?"

Me: "We open at 9. What item is it?" (like I really care at this point)

Her: "You open at 9 in the morning?" (no, at night. it's a new thing we're trying)

Me: "Yes, ma'am."

Her: "I'll call back then. Should I ask for you?"

The closing questions are the same type but in reverse. These people usually needed something but just could not find the time in the 12 hours we were open to amble on in and get what they needed. The same people who thought it was that easy to open the store are amazed that you just can't stop what you were doing when it came time to close and help them with their problem. In fact, they get downright aggressive when you tell them that you are closed. Just as a day starts at 7am, closing the store is a 9pm chore. Lock the doors and begin to close everything down. Count the money, wash the floors, clean the aisles, run the reports. The same thing as before. If the door closed around 9pm (but it very seldom closes then because someone felt they were entitled to stay in your building after you closed it, because, hey, you're still there so why can't they stay, right?) the first phone call comes in at about 9:35. Answering the phone with proper etiquette, you are greeted with the closing question:

Him: "What time do you close?"

Me: "We closed at 9."

Him "What time is it now?" (what the hell? did I say my name was Timex?)

Me: "Its about 9:30."

Him: "And you're closed?" (now you're gettin' it)

Me: "Yes, what can I help you with?"

Him: "Didn't you used to be open later? Doesn't matter, I need an item..." (oh please, tell me)

Because, why shouldn't you stop everything you're doing just to help. I foresee a future where everything is open 24 hours a day. Nothing will ever close because everything will always be open. Nights, weekends, holidays...OPEN. But that phone will still ring. It will ring and I will answer. And someone at the other end will say: "Oh, you're open now?"

Senile Felines

I like cats.

Cats are nothing shy of the perfect animal. At least in a social aspect. They let you know when they've had enough attention. They thank you when you bring them food. They leave the room to do their business. And my most favorite thing about cats, they have no opposition towards awkward silence. In fact, they revel in it. A cat will sit and stare at you like you owe it money. No whining, no whimpering, just sit and stare. I wish cats could replace people. I at least hope people could be more like cats. There is nothing worse than someone coming up to you and feeling forced to speak to you. Don't speak to me, because I don't want to speak to you. Not someone I already know of course. I mean strangers. I don't want to force conversation with someone just because I have come face to face with them. It's simply the way we are raised. Think about it. What do your parents teach you from a very early age - "Don't talk to strangers." Then, someone they know comes up to them and they command you to "Say hi." Motherfucker, you've been telling me for years not to talk to strangers and here comes this goofy-looking prick who has to be the strangest person I've ever seen. I don't wanna talk to him! At my job, I am forced to make conversation with all kinds of strange people. And they all seem to have the sae reportoire of jokes.

Her: "Can you tell me where the beach towels are?"

Me: "They're actually right behind you."

Her: "For the love of...if i was a snake it would've bit me."

Yeah good thing we don't sell snakes. Oh, that one never gets old. But you have to chuckle because its the polite thing to do. A cat would just glare at you for a moment and then walk away. That's why I like cats. They would also walk away from this old classic which someone will crack out the minute the thermometer hits 90:

"Hot enough for ya?"

No, why don't you go turn up the thermostat for me. I mean, why say something like that? Of course its hot enough, what kind of stupid question is that? Oh and, by all means, get offended when I don't answer that one. Here's a hint for next time: if you can't think of somethng original to say, keep your mouth shut. I am perfectly happy with you not saying a word to me.

Cats should run the world. In ancient Egypt they were worshiped as Gods. You know why, because those people knew cats were on to something. A cat knows its place in the world. It knows you are the bringer of food so it respects you. It also knows that it could kill you in your sleep, but it knows enough not to because it can't work the can opener. Cats control you mentally, also. You may be the bringer of food, but they decide when. Household cats exercise this control with a certain type of urgent-sounding, high-pitched meow, according to findings. This meow is actually a purr mixed with a high-pitched cry. While people usually think of cat purring as a sign of happiness, some cats make this purr-cry sound when they want to be fed. The study showed that humans find these mixed calls annoying and difficult to ignore. But if you do decide to ignore it, the cat will make you pay. Usually at the most inopportune time. You will get as far away from the cat as possible, when it will find its way onto your bed or your expensive carpet and start making that huffing sound which translates into: "I am going to puke all over this in five, four, three..." And by the time you come running to get the cat off you expensive whatever, it is covered in half-digested meow mix and hair. You yell and scream but the cat just looks at you, like you owe him money, and walks away, tail in the air. Wouldn't it be great if you could do that when someone you don't want to talk to decides they have to speak to you about everything. In mid conversation, you start choking and convulsing and then vomit all over their shoes. Then stare at them like they've done something wrong. Because they have, they decided they needed to talk to you. Silly person. When cats rule the world I'll be the first one to say I told you so. Actually, I probably won't. I'll just sit and stare at you like you owe me money. Then slowly, I'll turn, walk away, tail in the air.

I like cats.

Step into my office...

One of the hardest parts of a manager's job is firing someone. Although there are many people I feel the quickening for, when it comes right down to the act of termination, it is not always a pleasant action. It's not like it is in the movies. You don't walk up to someone and say, "You're fired." There is a lot of red tape that you must unravel before you can walk down that road. It would be much easier if it was like a movie. "You're fired!" The expression "to get fired" comes from centuries ago. When clans wanted to get rid of their unwanted people without killing them used to burn their houses down. Thank your lucky stars we don't do that anymore. Imagine that,

"Johnson, I'd like you to come into my office. You've just been fired. Not only do you no longer have any means of monetary support, you no longer have a home and all of your worldly possessions are gone."

That would send a message to the staff!

In England they use the phrase "get the sack" or "sacked." It comes from the time when tradesmen carried all their worldly goods and tools around in a sack. They had of no fixed home, so if they were employed in a certain building they were able to leave their sack in a safe place, probably equivalent to the boss's office nowadays. If at the end of the day they did good work they were allowed to pick up their own sack, however if the boss was not pleased with their work, or felt they had not done a fair days work for a fair days wage then the boss waited for them to finish for the day and literally "gave them the sack". That would have a different vibe.

"Mulchahey, come into my office. You see Johnson crying out there? Well, he just got fired. You, however, are getting sacked. Here's your things, on your way now."

It just seems so tough to tell someone you got fired from a job. It can sound truly terrible depending on your profession. Priests get defrocked. Lawyers get disbarred. I mean, shouldn't everyone else follow suit? Could a plumber be deducted? Florists deflowered? Butchers delivered? Electricians delighted? You catch my drift. But, you still have the difficult task of explaining to the human resource person why you want to get rid of them. If you ran an orange juice factory, could you fire someone because they couldn't concentrate? What about a doctor that didn't have any patience? Unfortunately, when it comes to human resources, they want specific reasons for why you want to fire someone. You can't be general because that won't hold up in court. If you manage a shoe making company you can't fire the guy who doesn't fit in. You also can't fire a tailor because you think he isn't suited for it. Or a barber because he just can't cut it. No sir, you have to have specifics. And, you can't make assumptions. You can't fire a fisherman with a family of four because you've decided he can't live off the net income. Or a musician because he isn't note worthy. It's times like that when you have to look at the root cause of the problem. You know, have a real, honest discussion with the employee and find out why they want to work for you and see if you can distinguish the problem. Who knows? Maybe you will learn something about someone that you never knew. Like the guy who worked second shift at the muffler factory and was constantly exhausted. Or the girl who is having trouble working at Dunkin Donuts because its always the same old grind. Sometimes people just want to try something new. There was a deli worker who tried his best, but any way you slice it, he just couldn't cut the mustard. I, myself, once wanted to become a historian. But there was no future in it...

Where am I?

Giving an Interview or "How to prove you're stupid"

Being in this business a long time, I have had the opportunity to interview many different people from a multitude of backgrounds. Lots of people have a different approach as to how they are going to make the interview work in their favor. Sometimes, people study their resume and practice different answers to questions that might arise in the interview process. Some opt for the open approach of letting the interviewer ask the questions and giving short direct answers. Many people like to try the method of honestly answering every question to the best of their abilities and hoping this lands them in good favor. And then there are others prefer to "wing it." Those are my favorite. These dumbasses are unfamiliar with their resume, they have not taken into account for the gaps in their work history, nor do they have a plausible explanation for any red flag that may pop up on their application. They just walked into an interview and figured, "What's the worst that can happen?" I'll tell you what the worst is...they could be interviewed by me.

Let's begin like this. I have read the application. As you may, or may not, recall (doesn't matter) the application is the watermark to see if you're stupid. First, if you haven't read your own application, then you are stupid. Because, I am going to see all those little nuances on that piece of paper and I am going to attack them just to see what will happen. Now, if you aren't stupid you might have an answer to put me back in my place. But you probably are so you don't have an answer. That's where the fun begins...

Me: "So why did you leave your last job?"

Him: "I wasn't getting enough hours."

Me: "And you've been out of work for six months now?"

Him: "Yes."

Me: "So you thought no hours was better than the some you were getting."

Him: "Well, I was only getting like 18 a week."

Me: "And now you get zero."

Him: "Well, I told my boss that I needed more but he didnt give me any."

Me: "Guess you showed him."

This scenario occurs more times than I can recall.

This one is good too:


Me: "So what did you do at your last job?"

Her: "Everything." (remember, this is the short direct approach)

Me: "Everything?" (ok, here's you chance to try again)

Her: "Yup, everything." (sticking to your guns I see. Well try this.)

Me: "So if you weren't there the place was closed?" (her face goes pale)

Her: "Uhhh..." (playtime over; time to let her off the hook)

Me: "What I'm asking is: what did you do there?" (that was nice of me)

Her: "I did everything." (right back on the hook)


And, please Jesus, don't ever tell me this:

Me: "So what did you do at your last job?"

Him: "Not much, that's why I got fired."

My head hurts....

When do we get to Weekapaug?

I recently spent some time in the great state of Rhode Island.

The biggest little state in the union has the biggest case of little man syndrome ever seen. Just look at their name: The State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. That is the biggest name of any state in our nation. Rhode Island is the smallest state in size in the United States. There are a lot of things in Rhode Island that try to make up for it's small stature. The dome over the capital building is the third largest free-standing dome in the world. Standing 11 feet tall and 278 feet above ground the Independent Man is a gold-covered, bronze statue placed atop the State House on December 18, 1899. The world's largest bug is on the roof of New England Pest Control in Providence. It's a big blue termite, 58 feet long and 928 times actual termite size. The Foxy Lady is home to the largest...egg buffet in the central part of the state.

There are lots of famous people from Rhode Island.  James Woods is from Warwick.  The Farrelly brothers are from Cumberland. Ruth Buzzi is from Westerly. Marilyn Chambers (yes, THAT Marilyn Chambers) is from Providence.  I've never heard any of them speak with a Rhode Island accent, but I've often wondered if they say things like other Rhode Islanders.  For example:  Is James Woods' couch NiRoPe?  Has Ruth Buzzi ever made a packy run?  Has Marilyn Chambers ever had a gagga in her mouth?  Ok, that was unfair, a gagga  is a small hot dog with a natural casing, slathered in mustard, meat sauce, chopped onions, and celery salt, and served in a steamed bun.  Not what you thought.  Oh, it gets better.  A "spa" is a convenience store.  "Elastics" are rubber bands.  And the very bottom of your house is the "down cella".

As if that wasn't strange enough, there are a bunch of laws that were made up by someone who got pissed about something. Impersonating a town sealer, auctioneer, corder of wood, or a fence-viewer is against the law. Why would anyone want to impersonate one of those? And what the hell is a "fence-viewer"?  Although I'm sure this has been in place since the first two Portagees stumbled off a boat onto dry land and went looking for some sweet bread. It probably went like this:

RI Guy 1:  "Hello, I am an auctioneer, my friend here is a town sealer please give us some coffee milk at no charge."

Spa Owner:  "Do you have identification?"

RI Guy 2:  "No, but we also moonlight as a wood-corder and a fence-viewer so fetch us some hot weiners and pizza strips to go with that."

Spa Owner:  "Shut up. De boatayuz."

Just as an aside De boatayuz is more than one and less than three.

In Newport, you can't smoke a pipe after sunset. In Providence, you may not sell toothpaste and a toothbrush to the same customer on a Sunday; you also can't wear transparent clothing. Which sucks for the Newport guy who was driving to Providence Place mall to get a toothbrush so he could brush his teeth after his pipe at sunset.

Newport Guy: "Please, I just need a toothbrush."

Spa Owner: "Sorry sir, you already bought the toothpaste. Come back next week. Oh and please put on some opaque clothing, the cops are out in force tonight."

But this one is my favorite: Any marriage where either of the parties is an idiot or lunatic is null and void. Yup, you read it. Don't belive me? Google it. Now, it would seem to me that if anyone enforced this particular law, the amount of idiots born into the world would have greatly decreased and we wouldn't need so many of the other laws listed. Because you know these laws were put on the books because some idiot did it. And, somewhere along the way, some other idiot said, "You know, there should be a law." Like this one: No one may bite off another's leg. I guess the arm is still in play. How about cap guns are illegal in the state of Rhode Island. Fair enough. But what about: rope may not be strung across a highway. Who would do that anyway? I know, the guy trying to enforce this law: Riding a horse over any public highway for the purpose of racing, or testing the speed of the horse is illegal. He probably figured he could stop the horse when it tripped over the rope.

The state of Rhode Island covers an area of 1,214 square miles. Its distances North to South are 48 miles and East to West 37 miles.  It has some of the weirdest named towns ever.  Some are easy to say; others, not so much.  Woonsocket.   Pawtucket.  Quonochontaug.  Hog Island.  Misquamicut. Scituate.  Onleyville.  You get the point.  So if you get lost, just ask for directions.  It'll go like this:

RI Guy:  "OK, get on 95, then get off down city.  Ya gonna make a left.  Go all the way down til you see that empty lot where the Benny's used to be.  Hang a right.  Keep driving til you see that place what used to be a Texaco.  Make ya next left.  Go past like 40 lights and take a right.  Ya gonna see all the triple deckas all side by each.  You know where Joey's boy "Boots" used ta live.  Well, not that one but the one two ova from that one.  Make a left there and then stop.  You'll be good."

RI Girl: "Boots didn't live there, he lived in Federal."

RI Guy: "CALM YA LIVER! I'M TELLIN HIM WHERE TA GO!"



But, you know, Rhode Island never ratified the 18th Amendment prohibition.

So they got that going for them.

Which is nice.



By the way, there's no school in Foster-Gloster tomorrow

 

 



Job Applications

I've recently been interviewing new applicants. Although the majority of interviews are straightforward, there are many that are ten different kinds of wrong. The job application is the water test to see if your stupid. If you can't follow the directions on that simple piece of paper then you sure as fuck won't be able to take directions from me. When filling these out there are people that just don't know how badly they could fuck up their chances at landing a job just by being a blithering moron. If there is a spot on the application for your email address leave it blank. No one is going to contact you via email. If you feel compelled to write something there, please make sure it is your name or some variation thereof. Get a Gmail or Hotmail or Yahoo account. They're free and usually you can make your name and a series of numbers your email address. You know what you shouldn't do? Enter an email address of NOFATCHICKS@, ILIKEMETH@ or my all time favorite PLZCUMONME@. Now, any of these applications could have been terrific. And, who knows, I mght have passed n a great employee. But, if you don't have the filter to know the PLZCUMONME is an inappropriate thing to write on a legal document, then you were probably an accident waiting to happen. Also, know how to spell. If you don't know how to spell, have someone check it for you and avoid a situation like this:

Me: "Tell me about your last job."

Him: "Well, I spent the last ten years as a night watchman at a warehouse."

Me: "A warehouse?"

Him: "Yes."

Me: "Oh, because you wrote whorehouse."

Him: "I did?"

Me: "Yes, and you were there for ten years?"

Him: "Yes."

Me: "Think you would've learned to spell it in that time."

He didin't get the job. Another great one is the "reason for leaving" line. Don't write: "My boss was a moron." Maybe he was, but find a better way to explain that to me. And definitely don't write it as the reason for your other two jobs also! Another great one: "I was fired." And you probably will be here too dumbass.

Me: "So all three of your previous bosses were 'stupid' as you say."

Him: "Yes."

Me: "So, if I can ask, why were you fired from job number 4?"

Him: "My boss was a wicked jerk to me."

Me: "And that makes four."

Him: "Well, let me explain..."

Me: "No, that's ok. I'm not really interested in becoming fifth on the list."

And they wonder why they're unemployed...

Supermarket Follies

Being in retail for so many years has given me an appreciation for those who also work in this venue. I can sense when someone is having a bad day or has just had a bad encounter with a customer. I can also sense when someone is going to take out their bad day on me. Now, I know that it can be difficult to mask your emotions when you are upset. Not everyone is Mr. Spock and can push those emotions down into a dark, tightly filled jar that is ready to explode at any given time but doesn't, because..."the customer is always right." Those of you laughing read my last entry. Those of you who aren't, go back and read my last entry and get with the fucking program. You're supposed to read these in order as they build on one another, dumbass. Sorry, the cover of the jar slipped open a bit. Won't happen again. At least not soon. I have sympathy for these people, but no sympathy when they decide I will get the sharp side of their tongue. First of all, A). you have never met someone as smarmy as me. And, B). see A).

Into the grocery store I go with a return of an item that just didn't taste right. I know its not their fault, but with everything else, I shouldn't have to pay for it if it isn't right. The girl at the counter is having one of the aforementioned days. To ease her pain, I stepped up to the counter and said,

"I'd like to return these. I just didn't like them. Here's my receipt."

This was the obvious breaking point for her. She stopped, looked me scathingly up and down several times, and sighed like I had just asked her to blow me. (sidebar: If you walk up to the customer service desk at a grocery store and ask them to blow you, someone will hit you in the side of the head with a very heavy object. Don't ask me how I know.)

"How about 'Hello'?" she said, "Could we start with hello?"

Ok, sunshine, your store, "Hello," I started. "I'd like to return these. I just didn't like them. Here's my receipt."

Another sigh. "Yeah, I'll do that, but..." (Fuck me, here it comes) "...all you have to do is be nice about it."

Ok, at this point, I should probably let it go, but the point of the matter is that I was being nice about it. It's not like I said something off color, gave tremendous attitude about how terrible her store was or even stuck my finger down my throat and puked up that which I had already eaten.

"I thought I was being nice. I'm sorry I didn't say hello, that was wrong of me so let's start again. Hello, I'd like to return these. I just didn't like them. Here's my receipt."

This attempt at smoothing away an unpleasant situation through the medium of sarcasm was quickly going nowhere.

She started with, "You know..."

To which I quickly stopped with a big 'ol fuck you of, "No, YOU know that all you have to do is process this return. Give me back my money, drop the attitude and I walk away. So how's about we forget all the niceties and get on with this transaction and the rest of our lives."

Taken aback, her retort came quickly, "Anything wrong with them?"

Motherfucker! Have you not been listening to me?!

"I just didn't like them."

"But there's nothing wrong with the package?"

"No."

"Because if there was something wrong with the package I'd have to send you to another line." A quiet smile came over her face. I recognized this as an attempt to make a funny to calm a situation that she had escalated. This is something we call "smoothing it over." So, as she smoothed it over I continued to look at her in silence. The time for smoothing had passed.

"You know," she said, "you could laugh."

"I would laugh if I heard something funny."

Accepting she had met her match she went on with the transaction. Someone in the back of her brain had obviously showed up late for the party, but got there in just enough time to remind her to shut up and smile. And, at the last possible second, she said, "Sorry for all that before, I'm just having a bad day. You're pretty funny. I like you"


I can accept when someone comes to the epiphany that they should have realized moments earlier. I can also accept when someone tries to make a wrong a right. And far be it from me to ruin that moment. So, I processed everything she had to say. Looked her straight in the eye and said,

"It's not a mutual feeling."

Why I work in retail

Many people subscribe to the phrase, "The customer is always right." What's wrong with that statement? One word..."customer". The word should be "money." As in, "You're wrong as fuck, but I still want your money so I am willing to acquiesse so you can feel right and I can get your money." But since that phrase is too long, those of us in the industry changed it to, "The customer is always right." It sounds alot like whoring out your moral standards because that's exactly what it is. Our job is to separate you from as much of your wallet as you came in with. You see, we work in a business that is based on the exchange of money in return for goods and services. If I refuse the goods and services, I don't get the money. If I don't get the money, the company goes broke. If the company goes broke, I lose my job. If I lose my job, I don't get paid any money. If I don't get paid any money, I can't get goods and services. If I can't appropriate goods and services, that guy can'get money. If he can't get money, his company goes broke. And I don't want to feel responsible for an entire economic collapse because old lady sonofabitch forgot het coupon and won't buy this $4 item without one and I refused to give it to her. Let's face it; it's a slippery slope. I've worked in lots of different retail establishments in my career and I have heard many different things. Some of the best come from old people. Ahhhh...old people. The pillars of wisdom that hold society together. Or so they think, and if you don't believe me just ask them, they'll tell you why everything is your fault because they're five days younger than dirt. They veil it under this guise that they just want to make conversation, but they don't. They simply want to complain to someone who can't walk away from them or tell them to shove their complaint up their ass sideways. So where do they feel the best place to complain is? That's right...your local supermarket, department store, mini mart, wherever there is someone behind a counter that can't get away because they are chained to it with that motto of "The customer is always right." I will now relate a story that begs my point. A lady, roughly 127 years old, comes up to me and asks if I am the manager of the store:

Me: Yes, I am

Her: You are, but you're so young (I'm 41 but compared to 127 I am just a tot)

Me: Thank you , but yes I am the manager. Can I help you?

Her: I can't believe you run this big store at your age.

Me: I do. Can I help you? (my name gets paged over the intercom)

Her: There must be lots to do. (and you're keeping me from all of them)

Me: I keep busy. Can I help you? (my name gets paged again)

Her: Is that you they're calling? (yep, but you keep going this is so much more fun)

Me: Yes, if you give me just a moment I'll be right back.

Her: Typical young person, always in a hurry. I'll ask an older person maybe they can help me.

Me: I'd be happy to help you but you haven't told me what you need. (my name is paged again)

Her: It's so hot in here. It was never this hot before. (what the fuck? where did this come from?)

Me: I'm sorry about that, what did you need, though?

Her: It was never this hot back in the 30's. All the young people running around like they're in a big hurry. (this is clearly aimed at me)

Me: I'm sorry, Miss. What can I help you to find?

Her: You know what, it wasn't in this store. I'm sorry to bother you.

Twenty minutes of my life gone...

I went on my way, missed a phone call from my boss and shook my head wondering how it was cooler back in the 30's. But since I wasn't there, I'll have to take Methusala's word on it. After all, she probably remembers when the rainbow was in black and white. As I walked around my store, I met up with her once more. I smiled and nodded as she looked at me and said, "Excuse me, do you work here?"

And that, boys and girls, is why I work in retail.

More to think about

Two days into inventory and I am glad to report that I am no longer sick as a dog. I am actually happy as a clam. Happy as a clam is a portion of a phrase quite commonly used in the US in the early 19th century. It even made it into the poetry of John G. Saxe, who wrote Sonnet to a Clam and waxed poetic about the secure state of clams when they are immersed completely in water. Happy as a clam is only a portion of the phrase, and the full phrase should be "happy as a clam in high water," or at high tide. Clams can't be dug at high tide, only low tide, hence their happiness in high water. A group of clams is called a bed which is where I should be since I've awake since 3AM. I suppose I could be happy as a lark since work is over because then I could go skylarking. 'Larking about' or 'lark about' has been used to mean 'getting up to mischief; playing the fool' since at least the middle of the 19th century. At source its origins may well be somewhat earlier than that; how much earlier depends on which of the proposed origins proves to be correct. A group of larks is an exaltation. An exaltation is a state or feeling of intense, often excessive exhilaration or well-being. Like when the work day has ended and you're on your way home, tired and ready for bed. Either one; sleep or maybe clams for dinner. Others eat clams for dinner. Larger crabs, such as blue crabs, green crabs and mud crabs, eat clams. Crabs will not eat the shells of clams. To reach the edible clam body ...inside the shell, crabs crush clams between their claws, which breaks the shell open. Soft-shell clams make up the bulk of the green crab's diet. A group of crabs is called a cast. Apart from that meaning, cast means to throw (something) forcefully in a specified direction: "lemmings cast themselves off the cliff". A group of lemmings is called a slice. Perhaps because they are the slice of life. Slice of life is a phrase describing the use of mundane realism depicting everyday experiences in art and entertainment. They could have been in a play with a cast of crabs...or they just like pie. Maybe they could eat it in one gulp. But, then again, a gulp is a group of Cormorants. A cormorant is any of several large, widely distributed marine diving birds of the genus Phalacrocorax, having dark plumage, webbed feet, a slender hooked bill, and a distensible pouch. It is also a greedy, rapacious person. Someone who eats a lot of pie. Not necessarily by the slice. Certainly not one bite. A bite is a group of midges. Midges comprise many kinds of very small two-winged flies found world-wide. While some midges are vectors for disease, many others play useful roles as prey items for insectivores, such as frogs. A group of frogs is called a knot. Maybe they could tie the knot with the cast and then crawl into bed and scream exaltations as they bite slices of pie in one gulp. They would all be in good company...but the again, a company is a group of widgeons...

Thinks I've Thought

Since I am sick as a dog today I thought I'd share this: "Sick as a dog," which means "extremely sick" and dates back to at least the 17th century, is also not so much negative as it is simply descriptive. Anyone who knows dogs knows that while they can and often will eat absolutely anything, on those occasions when their diet disagrees with them the results can be quite dramatic. And while Americ...ans may consider themselves "sick" when they have a bad cold, in Britain that would be called "feeling ill." "Being sick" in England usually means "to vomit." So to really appreciate the original sense of "sick as a dog," imagine yourself seated in the parlor having tea with the Vicar on a lovely Sunday afternoon, when Fido staggers in from a meal of sun-dried woodchuck and expresses his unease all over your heirloom oriental carpet. It's actually rather amazing that goldfish aren't more popular. But then again, a goldfish can't lick it's own junk and dogs can. That's probably why they're sick.

So now that I'm feverish and ranked on dogs, let me talk about cats. A group of cats is called a "clowder" or a "glaring". A male cat is a "tom" but when he's been neutered, he's called a "gib." My cat is glaring at me right now. Maybe because he's a gib. Or that he feels I owe him money. If anyone owes money its him. $135 to get a cat neutered. Couldn't I just change his name to Gib and hope he doesn't know the difference. That would cost a lot less. Why it's called a clowder I don't know. I groups of crows is called a murder, but I'm about to be sick.

As for why we call a group of crows a “murder,” the inspiration for the term is a mystery, lost since the 15th century. As the Oxford English Dictionary suggests, “murder” may “perhaps [allude] to the crow’s traditional association with violent death, or … to its harsh and raucous cry.” Then again, since crows have recently been demonstrated to be capable of advanced reasoning and even tool-maki...ng, maybe they actually did plot a few murders back in the 15th century. Crows have been known to kill a dying member of their group. This could also be the basis for the name. However, only poets call them a murder. Scientists would refer to them as a flock. A group of foxes is called a leash. I once knew a fox with one white ear named Alex. I never learned the name of the other ear, but I digress.

Another name for a group of foxes is a skulk. To skulk means to lurk about sneakily for some sinister purpose. Maybe the foxes should be a murder. A group of foxes is at least 4 members. Opposed to a group of baboons which minimally consists of 6. A group of baboons is called a Congress. I bet you know where this is going...but you'd be wrong. I have no quibbles with Congress. The politicians or the baboons. And I am not, as my wife would have you believe, in the throws of a mad cow disease induced rant. I merely like words and their alternate meanings. For example, the sinister skulk of foxes might not be evil but rather left handed. But then they'd be gauche. Only in France though. They could get there on a boat, starboard side of course. Which is also the left side. But wouldn't all those foxes have to go to the poop deck at some point?

Because then they would be in the aft end or stern of the boat where they would feel more secure. You see foxes are rarely at sea and are prone to sea sickness. And you wouldn't want a fox to be sick as s dog would you? I suppose they could count the seabirds. A group of pelicans is called a scoop. Maybe the skulk could view the scoop from the poop and then inform congress about the murder that was glaring.

Or words to that effect...