The Changing Of The Boards
There are a few billboards just outside my bedroom window. I can't recall if I've ever mentioned this fact. I know some of you know this, and some of you may know of the problem I'm currently having because of these strategically placed advertisements. For those of you not in the know, here's the rundown.
When I say "just outside my bedroom window", I mean it. If I open my window I can touch the back of the billboard. Hell, if I wanted, I could climb out there and spend a lazy Sunday picnicing beneath a ten foot tall hand holding a Razr.
The problem I'm currently dealing with only arises every few months; or when it's time for a new advertisement to go up. Whichever comes first. Since there are two ads side by side, it sometimes happens more than that.
And now for the problem. The men (or women) in charge of changing the ads like to do so with the company vehicle's radio on very loudly, and they leave the van doors open or the windows down. This wouldn't be a problem if I were a morning person or if I enjoyed the type of music blaring into my bedroom. I'm not, and I don't.
The first time it happened I walked outside with my hair looking like it had been put into a blender and set on the highest speed possible. I was wearing pajama bottoms and I was barefoot. I stood there a moment and waited for the reaction I was hoping for. The worker turned around, knowing he was being watched. His eyes said it all. I simply slammed his van door shut and he jumped down and silenced the noise for me.
The last time it happened I was already awake and on my way to work. But I didn't care. I thought he'd learned his lesson. It may not have even been the same worker. Again, I didn't care. I locked up my apartment, headed outside the building and walked over to the van. Careful to keep my anger in check, I simply shut the van door. The worker heard the muffled sounds of his music (terrible rock, not the good kind) and turned to say something to the party pooper which would be me.
He didn't say a word.
I emailed the company on Friday and got a reply this morning. Miss Manners (she was oh so polite) promises to bring the offending issue to the attention of the Operations Manager.
I'm keeping a Super Soaker next to my bedroom window in case she forgets.
When I say "just outside my bedroom window", I mean it. If I open my window I can touch the back of the billboard. Hell, if I wanted, I could climb out there and spend a lazy Sunday picnicing beneath a ten foot tall hand holding a Razr.
The problem I'm currently dealing with only arises every few months; or when it's time for a new advertisement to go up. Whichever comes first. Since there are two ads side by side, it sometimes happens more than that.
And now for the problem. The men (or women) in charge of changing the ads like to do so with the company vehicle's radio on very loudly, and they leave the van doors open or the windows down. This wouldn't be a problem if I were a morning person or if I enjoyed the type of music blaring into my bedroom. I'm not, and I don't.
The first time it happened I walked outside with my hair looking like it had been put into a blender and set on the highest speed possible. I was wearing pajama bottoms and I was barefoot. I stood there a moment and waited for the reaction I was hoping for. The worker turned around, knowing he was being watched. His eyes said it all. I simply slammed his van door shut and he jumped down and silenced the noise for me.
The last time it happened I was already awake and on my way to work. But I didn't care. I thought he'd learned his lesson. It may not have even been the same worker. Again, I didn't care. I locked up my apartment, headed outside the building and walked over to the van. Careful to keep my anger in check, I simply shut the van door. The worker heard the muffled sounds of his music (terrible rock, not the good kind) and turned to say something to the party pooper which would be me.
He didn't say a word.
I emailed the company on Friday and got a reply this morning. Miss Manners (she was oh so polite) promises to bring the offending issue to the attention of the Operations Manager.
I'm keeping a Super Soaker next to my bedroom window in case she forgets.
Honey, you want the Oozinator. You know, the Super Soaker that shoots "globs of gooey bio-ooze". Hand to God. We are talking bukkake here.
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