Tuesday, August 31, 2004
The other day I spent a few hours watching satellite TV in a nice leather chair while someone came around periodically to give me free non-alcoholic beverages and potato chips. The whole thing cost me $67 including tax -- not an egregious bill for New York City standards (although I did have to go to Queens).
What makes this experience noteworthy? The fact that at the end, I was no longer in Queens, but in South Florida. Yes I was on Jet Blue. How is it possible for them to take me to Florida for $67, when the cab ride to JFK airport was nearly $60? They're not using surplus Russian cargo planes powered with discarded restaurant cooking oil. As far as I could tell, the plane was not piloted remotely from some control room in Banglore (although I think my taxi was).
NO REALLY!
Jet Blue flies Airbus 320 aircraft configured with 156 seats. Assuming the plane was 75% full (the two seats next to me were empty) and each passenger paid $70, they made about $8,190 on that flight (reasonable I think, since a lot of my $67 ticket was taxes).
These planes have a fuel capacity of 23,860 liters, or about 6,300 gallons of jet fuel. At last week's spot price of $1.30 per gallon of fuel, the cost to fill the tank on that puppy would be about $8,190.
The revenue on that flight was about enough to fill the tank up. I didn't even pick those numbers so that they would add up to the same amount, they just did. Considering the airline claims to be making money, I guess we can assume that my assumptions are completely wrong, or my math. Either way, I'm not feeling too well about this.
What makes this experience noteworthy? The fact that at the end, I was no longer in Queens, but in South Florida. Yes I was on Jet Blue. How is it possible for them to take me to Florida for $67, when the cab ride to JFK airport was nearly $60? They're not using surplus Russian cargo planes powered with discarded restaurant cooking oil. As far as I could tell, the plane was not piloted remotely from some control room in Banglore (although I think my taxi was).
NO REALLY!
Jet Blue flies Airbus 320 aircraft configured with 156 seats. Assuming the plane was 75% full (the two seats next to me were empty) and each passenger paid $70, they made about $8,190 on that flight (reasonable I think, since a lot of my $67 ticket was taxes).
These planes have a fuel capacity of 23,860 liters, or about 6,300 gallons of jet fuel. At last week's spot price of $1.30 per gallon of fuel, the cost to fill the tank on that puppy would be about $8,190.
The revenue on that flight was about enough to fill the tank up. I didn't even pick those numbers so that they would add up to the same amount, they just did. Considering the airline claims to be making money, I guess we can assume that my assumptions are completely wrong, or my math. Either way, I'm not feeling too well about this.
Monday, August 23, 2004
New York times imitates me:
Them (today):
Michael Moore recently asked Bill O'Reilly if he would sacrifice his son for Falluja. A clever rhetorical device, but it's the wrong question: this war is about Des Moines, not Falluja.
Me (below, 6/24):
You can make almost any joke more funny by changing the geographical component to Fallujah or Des Moines. This is known as the 'Albuquerque Rule' and was popularized by Bugs Bunny.
Them (today):
Michael Moore recently asked Bill O'Reilly if he would sacrifice his son for Falluja. A clever rhetorical device, but it's the wrong question: this war is about Des Moines, not Falluja.
Me (below, 6/24):
You can make almost any joke more funny by changing the geographical component to Fallujah or Des Moines. This is known as the 'Albuquerque Rule' and was popularized by Bugs Bunny.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
The price was right, but I really wish I had read all the fine print before getting my hair cut at the Marine Corp barbershop training school. In retrospect, I probably should've been wary when I overheard them talking about that hippie, Johhny Unitas.
A new report out gives more details about the Sept 11 hijackers. They apparently violated several aspects of immigration law, including this one:
I can't wait until the next report, when they give us all the details about how Mohammad Atta violated federal law by tampering with the lavatory smoke detector.
- Each of the 19 submitted a visa application stating that he was not seeking to enter the United States to engage in terrorism.
I can't wait until the next report, when they give us all the details about how Mohammad Atta violated federal law by tampering with the lavatory smoke detector.
Friday, August 20, 2004
It's not so much that I care what ranking my school receives in the dang US News ratings, it's just that I care who beats her. Do you refer to schools as 'her' or is that only for boats and women?
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Note to readers (yes, I'm talking about you. You are the only reader):
It has come to my attention that things that are said on the web have consequences in real life, so much of the best material on this site has been removed, and future posts will attempt to respect the feelings of all people and places, except for Rochester or people named Randy. And I will continue to abuse grammar.
Also, you can assume that anything personal you read about on this site happened five years ago, as that is the lag time for the details of my life to be unclassified.
It has come to my attention that things that are said on the web have consequences in real life, so much of the best material on this site has been removed, and future posts will attempt to respect the feelings of all people and places, except for Rochester or people named Randy. And I will continue to abuse grammar.
Also, you can assume that anything personal you read about on this site happened five years ago, as that is the lag time for the details of my life to be unclassified.
What they don't tell you about the original Olympics in ancient times, is that after mating, the female athletes would then eat the males. Or is that spiders? No, I'm pretty sure I heard it was the Olympics.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
The Pareto principle states that basically the first 20% of your effort produces 80% of the results, while 80% of your time is spent getting that last little bit. This means that many people could work only one day a week, and our standard of living would drop by about 20%, roughly to the level of Canada, or Rochester.
I know it sounds crazy, but it's good, clean, science.
I know it sounds crazy, but it's good, clean, science.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
It's a scorching hot Atlanta morning in the summer of 1984 and Dan is feeling terrible. A couple of guys from work decided to grab a beer after work the day before, and before he knew it, Dan had passed out on his couch, apparently having spent some time the previous night unsuccessfully trying to get the pornographic channels unscrambled on his new 'cable' TV thingy. Dan is late for work, and totally unprepared for the big meeting this morning with the head of marketing.
The bosses have been all over Dan's R&D group for the past couple months. The hard-charging boys from Dallas have been gaining market share and today was the big day for everyone to put forward their best ideas for turning the company around. Dan had nothing. He had intended to spend the previous evening brainstorming for the nugget that would save his job, if not the company, but one beer turned into ten, and now he was totally screwed.
Everyone is tense as they file into the long conference room. The division head calls the meeting to order and Dan sinks down in his chair hoping that the meeting runs long and has to adjourn before he gets called to present. This particular manager is gruff and has been known to fire people on the spot, and everyone in the room is nervously playing with their notes.
"Dan, why don't you start us off with some of your ideas for fixing this mess."
Un-friggin-believable. Dan sheepishly walks towards the front of the room looking everywhere for inspiration. He passes the stupid fruit platter they always set up at these meetings. Why do they put cherries on those things, he thinks to himself. Then you have to sit there like an ass and spit out the pits in front of everyone.
Dan is at the head of the conference table and 30 guys are waiting for him to say something brilliant. The pause is getting a bit long, and Dan knows he has to say something fast, or it's going to get weird. Looking around the room one last time, he opens his mouth and says the first thing that comes to his mind...
"Why don't we make a cherry Coke?"
The bosses have been all over Dan's R&D group for the past couple months. The hard-charging boys from Dallas have been gaining market share and today was the big day for everyone to put forward their best ideas for turning the company around. Dan had nothing. He had intended to spend the previous evening brainstorming for the nugget that would save his job, if not the company, but one beer turned into ten, and now he was totally screwed.
Everyone is tense as they file into the long conference room. The division head calls the meeting to order and Dan sinks down in his chair hoping that the meeting runs long and has to adjourn before he gets called to present. This particular manager is gruff and has been known to fire people on the spot, and everyone in the room is nervously playing with their notes.
"Dan, why don't you start us off with some of your ideas for fixing this mess."
Un-friggin-believable. Dan sheepishly walks towards the front of the room looking everywhere for inspiration. He passes the stupid fruit platter they always set up at these meetings. Why do they put cherries on those things, he thinks to himself. Then you have to sit there like an ass and spit out the pits in front of everyone.
Dan is at the head of the conference table and 30 guys are waiting for him to say something brilliant. The pause is getting a bit long, and Dan knows he has to say something fast, or it's going to get weird. Looking around the room one last time, he opens his mouth and says the first thing that comes to his mind...
"Why don't we make a cherry Coke?"
All this talk about Bush vs. Kerry has gotten me thinking about what characteristics my ideal Presidential candidate would have. Minimally, he would be about 30 feet tall with a hard exo-skeleton, and would poop prescription drugs.
The art and science of giving gratuities is now completely out of whack and I am not happy about it. I'm sure at one point it was reasonable to base tip amount on the total dollar value of the service provided, but I'm afraid this is no longer the case. It partially has to do with the fact that most people cannot distinguish between quality and things that are expensive.
On a recent evening, several of my friends went to dinner at one of those places that is popular and expensive for no discernible reason. After dinner, the place turns into a club, and in order to remain at our table we had to buy bottles of alcohol. The waitress walked about 9 steps to get us a bottle of vodka and a bucket of ice. This took her about 14 seconds and there was absolutely no mixology or any other skill involved on her part. She did this for us 2 more times, and due to the fact that mass hysteria has overtaken the vodka industry, our bill was $1100, including $200 for the nice waitress, who did about 60 seconds worth of work.
Compare this to the guy who stands in the coffee cart outside of my office building. He gets there at about 6 AM every day, and always has my coffee and bagel ready. He is standing there in January when it's about -30 degrees and snowing like it does in horrible places like Siberia or Rochester, and he's there in July standing all day next to a huge steaming hot coffee dispenser in the 110 degree heat. He is there every friggin day, and for this effort what does he get? The price for a coffee and a bagel is $1, which after his expenses should net him around 2 cents. He does not ever get tips.
Off the top of my head (since I haven't been steamed by this for years), I can think of two decent solutions that would ameliorate my discontent.
Solution 1:
Break out the tipping values so we are all clear what we are paying for. In the case of the waitress at the club, the $200 tip would be broken down into 2 sections:
Vodka: $900
-----
Service Gratuity: $1
You Are Pretty: $199
-----
Total Tip: $200
Total: $1100
Solution 2:
Purchase bottles of vodka at the store for $20, hire several girls from New Jersey to dress provocatively and tell us to fuck off, and then in the morning give a couple hundred bucks to someone who is actually doing hard work and you appreciate.
On a recent evening, several of my friends went to dinner at one of those places that is popular and expensive for no discernible reason. After dinner, the place turns into a club, and in order to remain at our table we had to buy bottles of alcohol. The waitress walked about 9 steps to get us a bottle of vodka and a bucket of ice. This took her about 14 seconds and there was absolutely no mixology or any other skill involved on her part. She did this for us 2 more times, and due to the fact that mass hysteria has overtaken the vodka industry, our bill was $1100, including $200 for the nice waitress, who did about 60 seconds worth of work.
Compare this to the guy who stands in the coffee cart outside of my office building. He gets there at about 6 AM every day, and always has my coffee and bagel ready. He is standing there in January when it's about -30 degrees and snowing like it does in horrible places like Siberia or Rochester, and he's there in July standing all day next to a huge steaming hot coffee dispenser in the 110 degree heat. He is there every friggin day, and for this effort what does he get? The price for a coffee and a bagel is $1, which after his expenses should net him around 2 cents. He does not ever get tips.
Off the top of my head (since I haven't been steamed by this for years), I can think of two decent solutions that would ameliorate my discontent.
Solution 1:
Break out the tipping values so we are all clear what we are paying for. In the case of the waitress at the club, the $200 tip would be broken down into 2 sections:
Vodka: $900
-----
Service Gratuity: $1
You Are Pretty: $199
-----
Total Tip: $200
Total: $1100
Solution 2:
Purchase bottles of vodka at the store for $20, hire several girls from New Jersey to dress provocatively and tell us to fuck off, and then in the morning give a couple hundred bucks to someone who is actually doing hard work and you appreciate.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
The other day I was in line at the pharmacy to get some prescription strength pain reliever for my bum shoulder. There were a couple other people waiting, and none of them were elderly or appeared to be sick. What in the world were these people taking? I suddenly really wanted to know. There's really not too many innocuous things you can be getting at the pharmacy. Were these crazy people getting their Prozac? Maybe the other guy my age was headed on a great trip and had to pick up his anti-malarial? Maybe the Asian girl was getting another jumbo order of birth control pills? Nope, most likely they all had horrible and embarrassing diseases that had the pharmacist barely able to control busting out laughing. Since pharmacists are basically just very slow and inefficient vending machines, they must spend a considerable amount of time each day passing judgment. Or at least that's what I'd do.
