The sync cradle that came with my Kyocera Smartphone is not compatible with my computer, so I can't get any of the Palm OS LiveJournal programs. These have been written in no particular order since Sunday. Try to read all of them. I'm also not in the mood for using weird time travel posting since I like the date to reflect when I actually posted something, not when I started thinking about it. I usually start thinking about posts years before I can express them coherently enough to write them out.
The Mall is tiresome. The people wander in and ask all sorts of stupid questions - including and especially asking how much a clearly-labeled item costs. People are constantly surprised that I've never used any of this crap. The only places I know of that require their personell to know thie rwares are fancy electronics stores and The Cheesecake Factory.
I am usually the only person at the store for the entire day, so the only time I get to leave is when the store is empty and the guy who runs the mall cart(s) outside can cover for me. He is one of those middle-aged immigrants who discovers only too late that America is not all it's cracked up to be. Still, he is friendly even when he doesn't sell anything all day. I just hope he only *works* at the cart. He reminds me *way* too much of G-Fresh. The only stores here that still carry any interest for me are KB (I'm keeping an eye out for the new transformers that just started appearing) and Chesapeake Knife & Tool (where a friend of mine works). Sometimes, I suppose, I am kind of interested in what the Food Court has to offer, but I should really start bringing my lunch to work as I can make something much healthier and nicer.
Sigh. I sometimes feel like I work in a wildlife refuge for yuppies.
And Unless I just got grifted for $70, the Trinidad equivalent of a Navy Seal just returned one of the crappy Digital Cameras we sell. At first I thought maybe he didn't know English very well as he kept speaking in the second person (we). Then I wondered if he was insane. Turns out that it was really a group of people who bought it along with four others, but they were only allowed to bring four home.
Final thought: Why do parents constantly insist on making "petulant child" the only way I can think of to describe them?