Current mood:amusedMy "Political Incorrectness" got the best of me last night. I am still tittering about it today. Both my neice and nephew have been indictrinated in that PC bullshit at their respective colleges, so their dinosaur Uncle is quite a shock to them at times. Oh, they are used to me, I guess. More like they just tollerate me.
Not sure what started this, unless it was my quiet as a statue nephew who started telling us tales of his mis-adventures with various roomates at school. Or it might have been my calls with the 3rd World Customer Support call to Dell that morning. Who knows.
As I watched my neice's jaw drop open, while I told that tale, the more she reacted, the more I carried on. One thing is for sure, they will never walk into another convience store, or hotel, with out smiling.
My neice only said a couple of things (she pretty much was speechless) but she managed to get in a question. She just wanted to know how I put together the stuff I say. How the thought process worked itself out.
I know how it did/does. Things work ouot in my head in a linerar process. One thing lgoes to another. On more than one occasion, I have been told I talk in circles. I will start something, go in all sorts of different directions, talking about all kinds of stuff (related to the subject to me - although they probably do not know this) eventually ending up where I began, wrapping up my thought p rocess.
And, so it goes. A week, or so earlier, I had driven past a house I lived in as a teenager. It is now boarded up, and abandoned. It was a good house. Lots of great memories. I have written about that plce in here before. I had stopped in the street and looked at the porch that was crumbling, by the garage that had been converted into a den, by my father and some of his friends.
It was the nails that jumped out at me. They used some sort of framing nails that came hooked together by pink/reddish cellophane, that I used to peel the nails out of them, and hand them to the workers.
I guess after talking to the non-English speaking B-B-Bob from Bangladesh, or India, or some other 3rd world shithole, that Dell uses, all of that ran into itself, as I explained my theory on why Slurpee Indians (not to be confused with the Cowboys and Indians types) talked in that sing-song broken english.
Now, if you read any of the customer survey articles in the news, the number one complaint that consumers have - after getting stuck in those electonic phone menu's mazes (which I did, several times - anyone else besides me scream into the phone during that?) that the companies use, is trying to explain a problem to some assrag, who does not speak english.
I ran that gauntlet yesterday, and Praze GAWD got transfered to a gal in Memphis, and then to a dude in Texas a(I wanted my problem fixed, so I did not go into the fact that they serve dog food in Memphis, and Texas, passing it off as bar-b-que. Everyone eknows that good bar-b-que comes from Carolina), who walked me thru my needs (I had begged not to be sent back to India).
I can't explain why, but all of this makes sense to me. I think that these folks speak english just fine, until they come over here. or get a position where they have to speak english. At that point one of those nails, with the red cellophane on it is driven into their skulls...Into their speech centers of their brains...Ting...Ting...Ting...until the red plastic is left sticking out. Which results in that pigeon english that we all get to enjoy.
I guess the aghast look on my neice's face, should have told me that her Political Correctness Indoctrination Officers, er I mean her Professors, say otherwise.
Oh, I can't wait to explain some of my other theories to her. That is, if she is ever speaking to me again...