Doing what my guidance counselor says
I really hate computers. I loathe them. Hardware is never reliable enough, software is never easy enough. On one hand, this provides a lot of anger that drives me to expose all the bugs and flaws in software. In my younger and more vulnerable years, I thought that maybe by testing software I could help people get more enjoyment from the Great Tool That Is A Computer.
What a load of bullshit.
The craft of software testing is nothing more than an endless battle against the poor bastards who cram more power and memory into those accursed devices and the sons of bitches who decide to use that power and memory to create great shiny, spinney things that go PLING! and erase your hard drive. There is a circle of hell reserved for those people, and it is called Ring 0.
I really hate computers.
I used to tell people, when I was especially angry and frustrated, that I was going to quit my job and become a farmer. That was a fine plan, until some great, smiling bastard decided that computers could make our already overly-productive farms even more productive. I bet he raised corn. I hope he's sick of corn by now. He's probably got quite a lot of it. But there's no escaping the computer-controlled irrigation algorithms, the GPS-monitored crop rotation and fertilizer allotments, the laser-guided harvesters and the self-milking cows. So farming is right out.
What I've settled on as my new new career came to me in a flash of inspiration on the way home from a housewarming party. I'm going into a growth industry--full of anger, disappointment, and revenge. That's right: I'm going to be a florist.
Oh, but not any old florist. I'm going to be a revenge florist. My shop will be called something like "The Flower Shop of Doom" or "Thanks For Nothing" or "Bugger Off Florists" or something suitably clever and with a pun or some such.
I won't be part of the FTD network or anything like that, because those bastards use the internet. No computers here. No credit cards. You're angry? You're disappointed? You're vengeful? Fine. You're paying in cash. But it will be worth it.
Doddering old Auntie Bernice made you wax her upper lip and rub her bunions, and left you jack squat in her will? Send flowers! Dead flowers. A whole mess of them. For a little more, we'll include fresh (yes, fresh!) Poison Ivy. Sure to be a hit at her closed-casket funeral (and we both know why they won't open it, don't we? But Revenge Florists LLC won't tell.)
Your pretty friend Janet was supposed to be your designated driver, right? But she hooked up with that guy you'd been talking up all evening, the little harlot. His name was Carlos, too, and he had beautiful eyes and a bulging... wallet. You had to cab it across town at 4 AM? No problem! Send her our Lil' Hussy Gift Basket: Dead roses (with extra-sharp thorns), moldy cake, and an extra sprig of that Dogwood she's so terribly allergic to. That's the standard size; spring for the super size, and we'll throw in some poisonous mushrooms and a paper bag with dog poop (flaming poop is extra).
We don't even have to grow our own flowers! We can buy the crap other florists throw out, and pass the savings on to you!
Groom (or bride!) left you at the altar? Pawn that fake diamond ring (or cash in those discount honeymoon plane tickets) and send your unloved one 16, 24, or 48 ounces of the concentrated pulp of Indonesia's titan arum--aka, the Corpse Flower. Out-of-tune singing telegram included! Guaranteed to sound like cats drowning! Free flaming bags of poop (for his or her parents) with every order of 24 ounces or more!
Come one, come all! Get your vengeance florally! Place your order with Revenge Florists LLC. (Patent pending.) Just remember: we only take cash.
Comments
Posted by: eldan | January 30, 2006 09:02 PM
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January 31, 2006 01:08 PM
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January 31, 2006 07:10 PM
Posted by: rog | February 1, 2006 12:36 PM