I set my alarm for 9:30 am on workdays, and today I jerked awake, my heart pounding, at 12:07. I vaguely remember hitting the snooze button a number of times, and at some point was apparently able to stop the terrible chirping altogether.
Grrr… This is not the way I like to start a day.
In any case, I was going to tell you about my latest altercation with a park ranger today, and will try to squeeze that into whatever time I have available — which isn’t much. Shit, I’m starting to feel like an excuse factory…
What’s the deal with park rangers, anyway? Seriously. Every time I spend time at our local state park, I find myself in some sort of “conversation” with one of those guys. Every single time, without exception.
The day before my latest yurt adventure was to kick-off, I called the park office to see if I could check-in at 1 pm, instead of 3 pm. There’s nobody in that campground this time of year, especially during the week. I figured it wouldn’t matter, one way or the other. Right?
Wrong. The woman said I had to wait until 3, so they could clean it. And she acted like my request was simply outrageous, and unprecedented.
“Are people actually staying in it the night before?” I asked.
“Well, no. But somebody could show up later,” she said.
“Forget it,” I said, with a hint of attitude. “I don’t want to throw everyone into a panic by asking that the rules be relaxed a tiny bit. My god, that would be unthinkable.”
“Would you like to speak with the park manager?”
“No.”
So, I was already aggravated. Anyone with even a droplet of common sense knew that ridiculous thing would not be rented the night before. It was cold and rainy, and the campground was empty. But whatever.
I arrived at 3 pm, and the yurt was locked. It’s supposed to be open, with the key on the table. But it was locked-down, and not another human was there. And at this point I started using a lot of grown-up words…
I still had the office number in my phone, from the previous day’s fun, and called it. A busy signal. My blood pressure was rising, steadily and consistently. I stood around and waited for about five minutes, and called it again. Busy.
So, I’d have to drive over there. And it’s not exactly right next door. It’s a bit of a haul.
When I got there, an older woman said, “Can I help you?” in a tone that suggested I might be smeared in animal feces. What the hell, man? Why the constant hostility? I told her the story, and she grabbed the key off a nail sticking out of the wall.
“I’ll have someone bring it to you,” she said.
“Why can’t you just give it to me now?” I asked.
“That’s not the way it works,” she answered.
Good god! I went back to the yurt, and eventually a man showed up, and unlocked the door for me. He then handed me the key, and told me to enjoy my stay.
I don’t want to sound cocky or anything, but I’m fairly confident I could’ve opened that door without his help.
A little later, an official ranger showed up and apologized for the mix-up. He was friendly, and we stood around talking for a few minutes. He seemed like a good guy, and I wondered if I might be judging the place a little too harshly.
But the next day I received my answer. I was writing, it was mid-afternoon, and I heard a car pull into the driveway in front of the yurt. So, I got up and looked out the door. It was another ranger.
I walked out onto the porch, and the guy had an angry/exasperated expression on his face.
“Can I help you?” he said, aggressively.
“No. Why?”
“What are you doing here? What are you doing inside this yurt?”
“What the hell? What do you mean? I rented it.”
“You rented it?” he chuckled, sarcastically. “Well, would you happen to have your paperwork handy?”
“Yeah, it’s right here,” I told him, and went back inside to retrieve it.
And he came inside behind me, and started looking around. WTF? The guy was all cocky and accusatory, and I handed him the paper.
“You’re supposed to tear off the bottom, and stick it to the pole outside,” he said.
“Nobody told me to do that.”
“Well, that’s the way it works,” he grumbled.
“So, you think I just go around from state park to state park, breaking into yurts?”
“If you’d followed the rules, I wouldn’t have had to bother you,” he said, and left.
What a fantastic, fully-realized asshole. And it happens every time I go there. It’s not the same guy, but one of them hassles me about something every time. Every single time.
Toney says I should file a complaint with the park manager, and I considered it. But I have trouble hanging on to anger. Know what I mean? Some people seem to maintain it for a good long time, but it usually evaporates quickly with me. Oh well.
And that’s my latest run-in with the forest police, or whatever. Have you ever had any problems with one of those guys (the rules! the rules!), or am I just the lucky one? Tell us about it, if you have.
In fact, why not tell us about your latest encounter with an asshole, whether it was in a state park, or at Target, or wherever. Use the comments link below.
And I need to go, like right now.
See ya tomorrow!
Uno
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters !!
First first first.. I’m First McFirststeen!
And entirely too happy about this… Pretty sure I need counseling..
As a state employee, I can tell you that the state likes to do things the long, hard, and most complicated way possible.
I just spurted.
Never pays to get overly cocky Deb, gotta be quick!
I’ll be back later with an asshole story, I think.
Like you could be trusted to unlock the door. I think not!
My recent brush with official assholedness was barely that. I encountered independent record store employee level attitude from a Yeti man-child working . . . wait for it . . . at a UESD BOOK STORE. Imagine that guy with the keys to a yurt.
You’re right WB.. I was busy reading the update and touching myself when I should have been commenting! Sonsabitches..
Too many assholes to count. I deal with them on a daily basis.
I was sitting on the very same barstool as a real bona fide asshole just the other night at Jeff’s yuppie bar. I don’t even think he remembers leaving the place, or if he paid or not, or if they’d be happy to see him again.
My neighbor came over yesterday evening after a huge rain and asked if I would come over and check out the mighty flood in his basement. He had already called the city because it was after all, their inadequate storm drain system that had backed up into his basement.
The city engineer “supervisor” got there and started spouting on about, “I already told you what you need to do…blabla…”.
I then pointed out that the water was coming from the sanitary line and not the storm drain. As I was speaking he started repeating, 3 times, “is this your house?”, each time elevating the volume and stress in his voice.
I then told him that the way he was addressing me was unacceptable and reminded him that his pay comes from part of mine.
A complete asshole indeed!
My last encounter with an asshole was at a Mexican restaurant. Our waiter was an older man who CLEARLY did not want to be there and obviously had very little experience waiting tables. He practically reeked of l’eau de “Recently Laid Off from My Real Job”. Our dining experience culminated when he mumbled under his breath the available dessert selections. My daughter couldn’t hear him and asked “pardon me?” and he shouted DESSERT!!! Everyone in the vicinity stopped talking and looked at him. I am usually an extremely generous tipper, but that time, not so much.
Oh yeah, I have survived lots of shitty park ranger experiences. Early check-in request? You might as well have requested permission to install a meth lab.
I think a surf reporter mass action is called for here. Don’t file that complaint, let your minions do it for you.
Christ!! Are you kidding me? Assholes?? On a daily basis and it’s wearing on me. Especially when one of them is the boss’s wife…who happens to also run the office. Then there are some patients that have already hit the “asshole” rung on the ladder and quickly moving up to “fucking douchbag” at the top step.
i got kicked out of a bengals game because i had the audacity to ask a security gaurd why i couldn’t stand on the other side of the yellow line in one area. he said it’s reserved for handycapped people and i said that none were around. he said i still couldn’t. i then asked why the cops were allowed to stand there. same conversation i was informed that i couldn’t stand across the line because it was a fire lane. i informed them that it was a concrete structure and not likely to burn. that broke it.
i was escorted out. i walked to the other side of the building, bribed a security guard 20 bucks and got back in.
it was at the bengals/browns game last year in cincy.
i don’t like authority much and i really hate rules that don’t make sense, or the enforcers who can’t explain to me why those rules are in force.
Went to a state park to camp a couple years ago. I was driving out to get beer and charcoal for the grill and was “pulled over” by a park ranger for doing, and I quote “17 in a 15 zone.” He threatened a “written reprimand” which in his words was “just like a ticket”. My brother was in the passenger seat laughing his ass off. I was not as amused. Then the douche says “I’ll be watching yall tonight” like he has some kind of mythical power. Needless to say, I’m not a preferred camper there anymore.
Personally, my favorite type of assholes are the ones who get an advanced degree so that they can become “Dr Asshole”. I’ve met more than a few of ’em.
Is it even possible to ask someone “What are you doing inside this yurt?” with a straight face, much less an angry one??
I could write a book about the assholes I encounter on a daily basis. From the douche-keteer waitress who slammed 2 cups down after we told her we brought our own wine and wouldn’t be needing her pepsi in a red plastic cup, to the fuck tard in a challenger revving his engine while waiting for me to finish gassing up (yes, there were 6 more avilable pumps – I must have been at his “lucky” pump). That was just a day ago.
Kristin, I would have replied “working up a good spurt”.
I sell shit on eBay so I deal with aholes on a daily basis but at least it’s via a computer and not in real life. Of course, I bring it all on myself by selling shit on eBay.lol
The best ones are those in other countries who are clueless when it comes to English but insist on buying shit from me or asking me questions about what I am selling. Someone needs to tell these people that using an online translator and sending the LITERAL translation of your question or reply to me often makes NO freaking sense. fun times….
OT, but this looks like a “Further Evidence” link:
http://www.abebooks.com/books/weird/index.shtml
Good to see you back Jimmy.
Somehow, seeing the cast of the “Facts of Life” in the nude just ruined my day. Thanks Jeff
Bombproof your horse.
Sorry, for this long story of a situation with asshole “authority” type figure:
I stayed at a hotel just this past weekend for a comic book convention. (Snicker all you want, I am a comic book artist as well as a fan-girl, so…um…yeah. I’d laugh too…)
Anyway, after the convention, we all had a gathering in the “Rosewood Room” of this hotel and lots of creators attended, shmoozed, drank, etc…
Now, there were three wedding receptions going on right down the hall from our party room, and someone “dared” me to go into one and ask for a piece of wedding cake.
Never DARE me to do anything, I will probably do it. (Unless it is dangerous).
So, I happily made my way to one particular wedding party (and I was dressed as though I were a guest and might have belonged there) and I stuck my head through the main door to this wedding, Door B, to seek out the bride.
I was NOT going to steal a piece of cake, I was going to ask the bride if I could take a piece back to my party. She thought it was very funny, was lovely, and friendly and actually offered me TWO pieces to take back, one chocolate, and one strawberry! I told her she looked radiant and congratulated her as well. She asked me to just “please bring back the plates when you are done”. I said I would do so, just for being so kind and going along with our silliness. She also thought it would be a great story to share about something funny that happened at her wedding reception.
I head back down the hallway toward my party room, with cake in hand, and a VERY drunk young man from that wedding party (wearing the same color and style as the groomsmen and bridesmaids that I saw in that room) starts to follow me back to my party room. I explain to him that he cannot get in without a badge. He mumbles something about losing his. And he lost his wife too, have you seen her? he asks. I’ve never seen this guy before in my life but I say, “Yeah, sure, um…she went thataway”…as I pointed back down to the hall to his wedding party. I walk away and he shouts, “AND DON’T COME BACK!”
There is NO ONE else in the hallway all this time, and I get back to my party room with cake. Everyone is laughing, and sharing pieces of wedding cake, and thought it was quite funny.
Not, however, the hotel “security” who are now SCOURING the floor looking for the person that SNUCK into a wedding and STOLE cake. WTF???
Apparently, drunk guy had made a fuss and now…
It is like a scene from Mission Impossible out in the hallway with “security” opening room doors, standing “aside” the room doors, (like you see cops do with their guns out), seeking out the culprit just in case the big bad cake stealer is going to toss frosting their way, or something.
I walk out into the hallway, introduce myself, and point to the room where we are having our party, and explained EXACTLY what happened. Mr. Big Bad Security Guard isn’t having any of it. He INSISTS that I “snuck in” through a side door, when I clearly told him to check his tapes, you will SEE me going through Door B, NOT any side door. Nope, he REFUSES to go look at ANY tapes, and says that ANOTHER person with the hotel SAW me sneaking through a side door! I said, well let’s go get him/her then, and ask them. as well. Nope. MBBSG isn’t calling anyone.
I told him there was NO ONE in the hallway other than myself and Drunk Guy, and obviously, Drunk Guy was raising all kinds of Hell and causing problems where there weren’t any.
He tells me, “No, we saw you.” At this point, he starts threatening me, and I offer him the opportunity to walk down the hall WITH ME, to Door B, and let’s ASK the bride if I snuck in and stole the cake. He once again, declines and says there is no need for that, we saw you, and continues to threaten me.
I, am not pleased…as he continually REFUSES any chance to PROVE that HE is WRONG, because he has a pretty little bronze plated name tag that says “Security” on it, and he can’t POSSIBLY be wrong.
In the end, he calls the hotel manager up (that Big Bad Security Guy claims ALSO saw me do this dastardly deed). Hotel Manager comes up and says he has never seen me before in his life. I suppose he expected his co-worker to back him up. Hilarious!
What it boils down to is that MBBSG was not at his post and I got IN to a wedding where I didn’t belong. I understand there is a lot of money and lots of gifts at these things, and there are lots of bad people out there.
However, I am not one of them. I do not “look” like a thief, I was dressed as though I were a guest, and the guard was simply sleeping on the job, and didn’t want to look like the Extreme Asshole that he is.
Not “was”. Is. Probably on a daily basis…
BTW…I said:
Never DARE me to do anything, I will probably do it. (Unless it is dangerous).
Add: Or illegal.
Oh yes, I certainly have had an encounter with forest pigs.
Myself and a good friend of mine decided to go get a six pack and travel far, far into the woods and relax on top of a sturdy, but unused bridge crossing the Kankakee river (Illinois), and have a few beers and gossip uncontrollably like 20 year old girls do.
I had half a beer down, about 20 minutes later, when we see a boat passing underneath the bridge. So we casually waved and continued on with our afternoon. About 10 minutes later, we see two conservation police come towards us, doing the typical ‘cop pants adjust’ maneuvure, and we knew we were caught. But of course, they play it off like they are totally cool with what we are doing, and try to make casual, awkward conversation about the weather. Finally they eased it in, “So, are you girls 21?” I replied, “In 17 days” or something, and my friend said ‘Yes.” But she wasn’t actually 21, she just had an astonishingly good fake ID that I gave her from a girl I worked with. Another latino girl, just like her. It was uncanny.
So they jabberjawed about how they could take us to jail, or we could accept a ticket, which we reluctantly took. It was in stupid Indiana, which we didn’t know at the time, but the bridge was the connection between Illinois and Indiana. We were fucking pissed. When I went to court for it (an hour away), they tried to tell me my fines were over $500 bucks for underage consumption. $500 bucks?! That’s a really expensive half a Bud Light! And they gave my friend a contributing to minor, which she never showed for because it wasn’t actually her.
It was infuriating. I mean, yes, we were breaking the law, but I they couldn’t have just given us a warning and taken the beer away? I had a half a beer for crying out loud and I was 2 weeks away from 21. We weren’t making trouble, just minding our P’s and Q’s in the middle of nowhere.
I fucking hate cops SO much, and conservation police. I have so many cop encounter stories, wouldn’t believe it I don’t think.
Oh and I work for a Caribbean Medical School, so I talk to elbows and assholes all day long.
Rich, snobby med students are the biggest assholes ever. And most of them are retarded. I actually had one call me one day and ask what ‘Vinereal disease’ was. Seriously.
I am from administration, I am not a nurse, and I do not discuss genital diseases with strangers. Thanks.
I had a vinereal disease once. I had a real grape vine growing out of my ass.
PS: I did not pay the fines. Fuck Indiana.
Did you harvest the grapes and make wine? You can feed it to your enemies.
Ass grapes make good wine.
Add “That’s not the way it works” to my list of annoyances
(and all of its derivatives)
I have been out and about in public these past few days and I have clearly noticed a SERIOUS lack of decent customer service. Basics like greeting, smiling, explaining policies/rules in a clear manner.
Grrr ..I was reminded of my desire yet inability to lift one eyebrow at these people. Short comings.
I see assholes. They’re everywhere. And they don’t even know they’re are assholes.
I live about 3 miles from a State Park. Had so many run ins with those pricks in my late teens/early 20’s it pisses me off thinking about it. Skinny dipping, drinking in the park, harrassing federally protected migratory game. Whatever it took to harass you they had some “rule” you were breaking.
Jeff, Park Rangers are typically Job Corp graduates. But you didn’t hear that from me. *** He says while looking around feverishly for an exit*** You’ve got to remember that these are just simple folk. These are people of the land. The common clay of the new West. You know… morons.
Give the guy a break. He’s a government employee. He was selected for his lack of common sense and shitbag personality.
WB in OH – Try getting fussed at by a ranger because my cruiser decided to drift within a few yards of an eagle’s nest. “Sir, your watercraft cannot be within 50 yards of nesting eagles!” I then told him assholes shouldn’t be with 50 yards of an angry pissed off black man who works for the SHP. He sneared at me and putted off in his aluminum boat. I could see he wanted to use the “boy” tone but was without any backup so he wimpered off in defeat.
Honeymoon Island, FL. 1990 or so. There with my then-husband and his folks, who were in their early 60’s or so and just as nice and unconfrontational as can be (this becomes important).
Had had a long hike out to one of the nicest beaches in the world (accessible only through sawgrass and poison-frog webs, or something) and by the time we realized it was getting time to go it was well PAST that, and wound up hiking the last 20 minutes back to the car in the dark. Through the sawgrass. That alone would make a body pissy, but it was the greeting by our dumpty-assed park ranger that threw us all into a dang snit.
Instead of being concerned for our welfare and maybe coming INTO her park to look for the people who were obviously still there (lone car in the parking lot…) she camped out by the car stewing in her outrageously dyketacular juices until such time as she saw us 4 sweating hurting tired WASPS come staggering out of the evil forest. At which point she started threatening us. And telling us the cops were on their way. And waving her MagLite in our faces. And not unlocking the gate so we could just leave already.
At which point my former FIL (bless him) lost his shit altogether and blasted her with every irate word he could muster, with a side of thrust-out chest and flying spittle. It was…..amazing.
In the end we got out alive, with nary a ticket or incarceration among us. And with a nice case of family bonding time to boot. Good ol’ times.
Oh come on Jeff, don’t you remember the one armed bandit at Coonskin? He used to harass the hell out of us for beig of legal age and drinking or driving past and area one time to many in the aloted amoutn of time or whatever.
He even camped out at our Jr prom at the armery, and followed people out of the prom when we left. I guess he was making sure we didn’t go into the park. What a jerk!!
This reminds me of an incident that still burns my ass. I rented some lake space for a party and was told that everyone could come and go as they please as long as they were on my list, which I was to turn in the day before. I turned in a list with about 15 names on it, nothing radical.
The next day (the day of the party) there was an unfamiliar zealot in the guard house. He informed me that after 6:00 nobody could leave. The party didn’t start until 7:00. I argued with him for a while and blew it off.
At about 11:00 a few people decided to leave but they said they couldn’t get out because there were tire spikes at the exit. These things would let you enter but if you tried to exit they’d slash your tires. So we decided to roll some huge logs over the spikes so we could drive over them without getting flat tires.
And that old cunt was waiting in his VW van RV thing and he started raising hell. I told him to suck a cock and told him to fuck off. He said he was calling the police but he never did. However, he kept moving the logs and we had to reset them each time someone wanted to leave. That old shit acted like it was “his” lake.
I have no problem holding on to anger. If I saw him tomorrow and his leg was on fire I’d toss gas on him. Fuck him. I hope he’s dead by now.
Tiff: “dyketacular” HA!
Oh, I still hold onto a little anger from my memorable run-in with a park ranger. 1990, just started college, decided to have one last hurrah at the beach before I had to put my nose to the grindstone. So, a friend and I went down to a state park along the beach in NJ. Had a blast. And since it was just after Labor Day we had the beach to ourselves. No one for miles.
So it gets to be late afternoon and we decide to head on out. As I’m leaving the deserted bathhouse parking lot I come to a “rolling stop” at the exit. I was rolling because, again, no one was there and I could see five miles straight down the road. Well, no one was there but a shitbag park ranger. He came swooping in out of nowhere and popped me for “failing to come to a full stop and looking both ways”. You gotta be kidding me!
But I was young and afraid and let this half-wit scold me for five good minutes about how I “coulda killed someone”. Then he demanded my license and registration, which were from PA. He didn’t understand or recognize my papers, so he started raising hell, implying they were clever forgeries or otherwise illegal. And then I really started sweating bullets as I imagined rotting away in some hellhole jail in Newark.
Just as images of becoming Molly the Mangler’s bitch began dancing through head, my friend’s bikini top fortuitously popped off. And thank gawd for that, because my palm pilots ain’t exactly of the “get me out of tickets” variety!
End result: I got off with a warning and he simply got off. Asshat.
I’ve got nuthin – up WAY too early on a Wed… The post and comments are hilarious this morning!!
Oh, and I deal with many assholes, I work as an insurance field investigator….
@SaucyDeb, you were technically first.. A_ZARKO and JCIII forgot to attach the “first” sticker on the pole outside the website before they posted. Congrats! 🙂
Okay, only two remarkable assholiness stories stick out…both while doing National Guard duty
I was at the Yakima Firing Center for annual training, and drove my commander over to the post office to pick up the company mail. I parallell parked…but the front tire of my was sticking out two inches over the shoulder of the road. NOT the actual…just the profile.
When we came out, Sargeant First Class ****** was in the prcess of writing me a parking ticket. I was cool with..not a big deal. Unfortunately, Sargeant dickhead took exception with the fact that I didn’y fully understand the full ramifications that a parking ticket on a U.S. Army facility entailed.
So, he basically cuffed me and stuffed me in the back of the squad car, and took me down to HQ. My Commander, a Major in the Air Force, walked down to the police station ahead of us to talk to the person in charge. When I walked in in handcuffs, the Major whispered to me, “Uhhh, bad news! Saregeant First Class ****** is the guy in charge!!!!”
But, it all worked out well, my Commander, being a cop in “real” life sweet talked Sargeant First Class Dickhead, and it ended with him releasing me after I admitted to being a totally unpatriotic scofflaw, who didn’t fully understand the ramifications that illegal parking could have to our American way of life.
…Oh, and I later got a court summons to Federal Court in Yakima, Washington for not paying the $10 fine for the parking ticket!!!! Actual Federal frickin’ court…I couldn’t believe it!
Just a few comments on comments…
Deb –
Happy Shavuot Ms. McFirststeen. Hou’s aw wi ye?
And thanks for the “reading the update and touching myself”. Not the sexual content, but the syntax. Casual funny is very funny. Although Jimmy Kuhn did spurt again shortly thereafter.
.
Qweezy Mark –
Thanks for understanding where the asshole is in most of these stories.
.
Slugmama –
I’m with you. I don’t understand why all those assholes in foreign countries don’t speak English.
.
Stephanie –
Nice to see you commenting. Great story. Thanks. And by the way, being a comic book artist and a fan-girl sounds like the coolest job on the block. Are there any openings? (I guess I’d have to be a fan-guy).
.
Taiwan On –
Thanks for the perspective. Either you or your heart must have returned to Asia. Thirteen words and a world of wisdom.
.
tiff –
I see that Honeymoon Island was Hog Island until 1939 when developers took it over. Perhaps it was correctlly named in the first place.
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Gretchen –
Thanks for Molly the Mangler.
.
Poisonally, I find very few assholes out in the world. Especially since I stopped being one twelve or thirteen years ago. I’m not a paragon. I”m quite capable of backsliding into assholery, but I feel bad about it when I do. The screwiest thing is that it seems the more respect I show others the more I get from others. What should one thing have to do with the other?
It’s a zenish world and I don’t understand much about it except for its brevity.
Shalom…
jtb
I get called all kinds of nasty names every day, because I enforce rules that people are unaware of or choose not to follow. I am not being an asshole, I am just doing my job.
No crap, park rangers are douche bags of the highest degree.
I was working search and rescue operations in New Orleans after hurricane Katrina and had a run in with a one of Americas finest retards.
There were a lot of Louisiana National Guard guys working with me at the time. And most of them lived in and around New Orleans. So, while they were working their butts off for everyone else, many of them never had a chance to assess the damage to their own homes; or even recover anything valuable to them. So one day after work they all had an opportunity to go to their homes and check out the situation.
Well since the park rangers were the highest level authority (federal, who gave a shit anyway) they thought that they were running the show. They told the Guardsmen that they couldn’t leave the compound (we were housed at the New Orleans Saints practice facility just outside of New Orleans). The ranger said that without a mission order the soldiers weren’t allowed to leave; not even to check on their properties or families. There was a back and forth for a little while and the Guardsmen said phuckit and decided to wait until later.
Once a guy in my group heard that, he had enough of this particular ranger (he had run ins with him before) and took charge of the situation. Him, me, and a group of the Louisiana guys jumped the ranger, tied him to an office chair and rolled him off the compound and out into the street. Somebody rescued him later; but, the Soldiers got to go check on their stuff, andwe had no problems with that park ranger anymore.
Have you ever seen as asshole up close? It’s all puckery and squinty with whisps of hair flying in every direction….kind of reminds me of Donald Trump.
There are so many blind spots in here someone is going to have an accident.