by David Thorne
I was told, "Fuck off. You've worn them."
Being that customer service is arguably a company's most valuable asset, I assumed you would appreciate all the free marketing and promotional help you could get.
Regards, David.
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From: [email protected]
Date: Thursday 20 January 2011 4.18pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Advertisement
You bought gloves and ruined them and then you want to exchange them for a diffent pair? No store does that. You cant return something already worn. You have no idea about running a business. If I was working that day I would have told you to fuck off too. Dont be surprised if you get a call from the police. Are you going to pay for the extra staff I had to put on to take all the phone calls?
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From: David Thorne
Date: Thursday 20 January 2011 5.06pm
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Advertisement
Dear Anton,
I would actually be more surprised if the local constabulary hasn't got me on speed dial by now. And, going by the adage 'You get what you pay for' in regards to the level of expertise and customer service skills your staff display, I doubt the wages for 'extra staff you had to put on' would exceed the $44 I paid for the pair of destructogloves.
The three staff members working the day I purchased the gloves, who I will refer to as Fatty, Tatooey and Fuzzy for identification purposes, seemed rather annoyed by my interruption of their 'sitting in a chair looking cool' time. Fuzzy seemed the most inconvenienced but that is understandable what with having to deal with inappropriate questions such as, "Do you sell waterproof gloves for use in the snow?" in a snow-sports shop.
Although intending to also purchase board, bindings and boots that day in order to avoid dealing with rental-shop queues that make the Perestroika bread lines look like a couple of friends standing around having a chat, I did not wish to infringe any further on Fuzzy's prime duties of growing an awesome beard and showing a rash to Fatty and Tatooey. Although Tattooey provided him with a diagnosis of "dude, don’t pick it, let it scab" that could only have stemmed from several years in medical school, Fatty was less than impressed and only gave it a mild glance and noncommittal grunt before going back to playing Angry Birds.
I should probably be thankful that your staff were too occupied with having their earlobes stretched by Tonka-truck tyres and wearing pants around their knees to sell me a snowsurfingboard made of sugar or goggles made of bees.
While I may not have your experience running a business, I am pretty sure that if I owned a shop that sold chairs and you entered and said to me, "Hello shopkeeper, I am looking for something to sit on" and I replied "Sure, this one should suit your needs perfectly, it is made for sitting on" and you purchased the chair, took it home, sat on it, and it exploded, taking out previously purchased furniture with it, you would probably drive back to my shop and say, "Excuse me, I bought this chair an hour ago, used it in the manner you recommended, and it exploded - I am not asking for compensation for my other furniture but would like to exchange it for a non-exploding chair that performs in the manner originally described." Responding with anything other than "I do apologise, here's a replacement" would certainly come as a surprise to you and I doubt "Fuck off, you sat in it" would mean I'd see you, Fatty, Tattoey and Fuzzy at my premises the following week shopping for cushions.
Also, quick question: Having seen the publicity photo of you with your staff, I realise you probably use a child's board but what length would you recommend for a normal sized human? What would be ideal is a really wide snowsurfingboard with handles that I can lay down on. Or one with a seat and steering wheel. Perhaps with some kind of caterpillar tread based wheel system and a motor so that you can ride it up the hill instead of having to take the ski-lift. That thing is dangerous.
Regards, David.
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From: [email protected]
Date: Friday 21 January 2011 11.04am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advertisement
Its snowboarding not snowsurfing and 5"8 isn't short dickwad. I doubt my staff acted in that way but if they did then it is probably because we get hundreds of weekend warriors in here during ski season and we like to know if they are serious or just window shopping before we waste hours helping them.
I'm sick of noobs like you who dont know what they want or shit about snowboarding coming in wasting our time. If I refunded money or exchanged gear to every looser who had a problem with their gloves, I’d be broke.
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From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 21 January 2011 2.17pm
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advertisement
Dear Anton,
Yes, I am pretty sure if I ran a snowboardsurfing shop the last thing I would want is people new to the sport mistakenly entering my premises with the intention of exchanging goods for money. What a bunch of 'loosers'. You should probably have that on your front door instead of the welcome sign. Otherwise, people might read the word 'welcome' and mistakenly think they are welcome. Perhaps you could incorporate a sign similar to the 'You must be this tall to ride' kind displayed at carnivals, but amend it to 'You must be this cool to enter' with a big red arrow pointing to photos of Fatty, Tattooey and Fuzzy.
Also, I apologise. While the average male height of 5"9 statistically means anything under is considered short, my question was without diminutive intention. I'm sure there are many advantages to being so small. Target carries an excellent range of boys clothing at competitive prices and a lower centre of gravity should, once helped up onto the ski-lift, allow you to snowboardsurf with greater stability. If I were small, I would buy a cat and ride it.
I do object to the label 'noob' though. Thirty minutes of watching instructional Youtube videos have to count for something. One of them showed a squirrel water-skiing which is pretty much the same thing so how hard can it be? I am at least twice as intelligent as a squirrel and I once covered almost the entire distance of a slip'n'slide in a standing position so the basic skill set is there. I expect to be doing steezy jumps within the first hour and Olivers by lunch.
When I was nine I attempted to jump my new Standish 12 Selectaspeed racing bike across a creek. Building a ramp from timber removed from an adjoining playground fort, I calculated that a speed of 150mph - based on a previous evening's episode of Knight Rider - would see me safely over the fifteen metre gap. Having also seen episodes of Dukes of Hazzard where they jump bridges and the nose of the General Lee crumples a bit, I strategically placed a pile of leaves on the estimated landing point to soften the impact. In front of an expectant crowd consisting of two kids from the playground and a dog, I rode to the top of a hill, donned my father's welding mask and gloves (safety first) and began the descent.
Overcoming momentary speed wobble somewhere around eleventh gear, I believe I would have made it had the dog not run in front of me at the last moment, causing me to veer and miss the ramp by about four metres. Approximately half way over the creek and realising my trajectory was not going to make the distance, I attempted to pull the bike upwards, a midair bunny hop if you will, resulting in the handlebars separating from the frame. Somehow, while my bike dropped into the creek, my body managed to make it to the far bank and roll several times before coming to a halt. Jumping to my feet and exclaiming "I'm ok" to my horrified audience, one of them pointed and I looked down to discover a rib poking out of my chest as a red stain slowly spread outwards ruining my Return of the Jedi t-shirt. I also discovered that the dog had, minutes before my approach, defecated in my landing spot. Which for some reason seemed more horrifying to me than
the protruding rib at the time. Accepting the loss of Chewbacca and two Ewoks but attempting to remove my shirt before the bloodstain reached Luke, it caught hard on the rib and I blacked out from the pain. During the ambulance ride, I regained consciousness long enough to overhear one of the medics state, "Three broken ribs and a left... is that dog shit?"
While I was recovering in hospital, my father took the bike back to the shop it was purchased from, showed the defective handlebar bolt and described the accident - admittedly omitting the parts about the ramp, creek and dog poo. They replaced it with a new bike and threw in a helmet as way of apology. That store is where I bought my offspring's first, second and third bike twenty years later.
Regards, David.
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From: [email protected]
Date: Friday 21 January 2011 3.37pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advertisement
Its ollie not oliver. You really dont have a fucking clue do you. You bought gloves without doing your research first and WORE them and fucked them up and then tried to return them even though we have a sign that says returns are at our discretion. Just because you dont get it doesnt make you right.
I intend to call my lawyer about your stupid advertisement. You are banned from my store and I'm blocking your email address. I'm too busy making 40 grand a week from noobs like you to read your bullshit. Enjoy your gloves dickwad.
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From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 21 January 2011 3.51pm
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advertisement
Dear Anton,
I assumed Ollie is short for Oliver just as Anton is short for a normal sized human. While I appreciate your well wishes in regards to the gloves, I have already replaced them with a pair of black North Face 'Montanas' (for approximately half the price I paid for your 'alarmed squid' squishmittens) from another snowsurfing business named Freestyle who were also happy to recommend and fit a selection of boards, bindings and boots.
You should check them out. They have a lot of good stuff there and I can't recommend them enough. Ask for Justin.
Regards, David.
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From: [email protected]
Date: Friday 21 January 2011 4.09pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advertisement
I hope you break your fucking neck in a fall noob.
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From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 24 January 2011 9.20am
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advertisement
Bill tries to buy cheese. Part one
You have to do your timesheets. Everyone does.
I don't like doing time-sheets. I mentioned this to Holly and she said "God you are lazy, just write down when you arrive and leave. How hard can it be?" Which must apparently be how it works in non-design related companies. Although designers are rarely known for their organisational skills, we are expected to compile a methodical record throughout the day of each project we are working on.
I generally refuse to do this. Partly because there would be far too many unaccountable hours to explain and partly because if I wanted to 'clock in, clock off,' I would work in a factory. Probably making garage-door remotes or something. Even then, I doubt I would be expected to write down 'Made a garage-door remote' after making each garage-door remote.
Also, I received a bit of flack after posting a series of formal complaints recently. They are included in this book. Apparently, I was picking on Simon for no other reason than to be cruel and tormentive. While I am happy to be labeled such, and, to be honest, have been labeled worse, there are many other reasons to pick on Simon.
Here are just three:
1. Simon super-glued his calculator to his desk to stop people borrowing it. Its position at the back of the desk and the angle of the LCD screen requires that he stand to use it.
2. Simon times and records toilet breaks and personal calls on his time-sheets. He also times and records the time it takes him to do his time-sheets on his time-sheets.
3. I once asked Simon what three items he would rescue from a house fire and he replied, "My cat, the home insurance policy, and my Invicta watch collection."
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From: Simon Dempsey
Date: Monday 13 February 2012 9.11am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Timesheets
Did you use my desk while I was away? You're not allowed to go on my computer. I can tell someone used it because I shut it down before I left and pulled out the power cord but it was on this morning and where is my mousepad and what is this shit drawn on my desk?
I need to collect everyones time sheets for last week as well. Have you done them?
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From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 13 February 2012 9.52am
To: Simon Dempsey
Subject: Re: Timesheets
Good morning Simon,
No, I have decided not to do time-sheets anymore. I'm not a robot. As your new token responsibility as time-sheet collector is essentially the office equivalent of placing an OCD child in charge of equally spaced fridge-magnet distribution to keep it occupied while The View is on, this saves you from having to bother with the whole embarrassing process.
Also, while I generally avoid going anywhere near your cubicle of sorrow, lest the lack of atmosphere suck me in and cause my eyes to pop out like in that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie where he is on Mars and his eyes pop out, I was required to access your computer in your absence due to a client's request for files.
I actually missed you while you were away. To counter this, I placed a plank of wood in your chair and wrote ‘Simon’ on it. He said I could use your stuff.
Regards, David.
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From: Simon Dempsey
Date: Monday 13 February 2012 10.05am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Timesheets
YOURE NOT ALLOWED TO USE MY COMPUTER. What client needed a file off my computer? Youre not allowed to put things on the walls in the foyer either. It leaves holes. It was a waste of time anyway because I took it straight down. Some of us have work to do you know.
And you don't just get to choose if you do your time sheets or not . You're not special. Its the rules and accounts need them to bill the client properly. I’ve been here longer than you and I put my time sheets in every week.
Everyone has to do them.
1. YOURE NOT ALLOWED NOT TOUCH MY COMPUTER
2. DO NOT USE MY STUFF
3. YOU HAVE TO DO YOUR TIMESHEETS. EVERYONE DOES.
I took a photo of my desk and am going to email it to Jennifer. Is it permanent marker? And where are my pens dickhead?
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From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 13 February 2012 11.08am
To: Simon Dempsey
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Timesheets
Dear Simon,
I understand that following a set of rules saves you from having to make decisions but, as you are well aware, all branding services provided by this company are charged at a fixed quote and price. As such, time spent doing time-sheets might be better spent questioning the logic of requiring time-sheets to calculate a fee that has already been agreed upon. Or cleaning your desk.
I once read about five monkeys that were placed in a room with a banana at the top of a set of stairs. As one monkey attempted to climb the stairs, all of the mo
nkeys were sprayed with jets of cold water. A second monkey made an attempt and again the monkeys were sprayed. No more monkeys attempted to climb the stairs. One of the monkeys was then removed from the room and replaced with a new monkey. New monkey saw the banana and started to climb the stairs but to its surprise, it was attacked by the other monkeys. Another of the original monkeys was replaced and the newcomer was also attacked when he attempted to climb the stairs. The previous newcomer took part in the punishment with enthusiasm. Replacing a third original monkey with a new one, it headed for the stairs and was attacked as well. Half of the monkeys that attacked him had no idea why. After replacing the fourth and fifth original monkeys, none had ever been sprayed with cold water but all stayed the fuck away from the stairs.
Being here longer than me doesn't automatically make your adherence to a rule, or the rule itself, right. It makes you the fifth replacement monkey. The one with the weird red arse and the first to point and screech when anyone approaches the stairs. I would be the sixth monkey, at home in bed trying to come up with a viable excuse not to spend another fruitless day locked in a room with five neurotic monkeys.
