Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Ham Madness

I work for a specialty ham company.  I would mention the name, but apparently the first rule of Specialty Ham Company is don't talk about Specialty Ham Company.  Once, years ago, I mentioned it by name in my personal blog.  The next day I was called up to the V.P. of Human Resources' office.  I had mentioned the company favorably, because I love it.  However, later in that post I may have mentioned something about wondering how many dead prostitutes can fit in the back of a garbage truck.

Apparently the Christian based, family value oriented, specialty ham company does not like its employees associating its name with theoretical truckloads of deceased whores.

Go fig.

Thing is, people love ham.  They need it.  I concede that there are a handful of vegetarian Jews out there that have transcended this basic human requirement, but the rest of  us live day to day, trying to figure out how we're going to get that next ham.

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, that need starts getting desperate.  The ham sellers build forts, trying to satisfy the hungry masses as best they can.  Sooner or later, they fail.  Their shipments come up late, a customer swears they ordered twice as many hams as they did, or one of their registers fails.  The latter is where I come in.

I do technical ham support.

When there's a ham riot, the consumers assault the hammeries.  The clerks work the best they can, but if a register goes down, there's nothing they can do.  They don't know what a USB cable is.  They don't know that the monitor isn't the computer.  Why should they?  They sell hams.  They're in a panic, because they're about to get stabbed by crazed ham enthusiasts, and they need their equipment fixed now.  "Do you know how busy it is?  Do you know the kind of people I have to deal with?"  Yes, I really do, and I sympathize.  I'm trying to help, but they won't let me.  They interrupt, try to correct me, put me on hold for twenty minutes, or just plain lie.  Everybody lies.  House taught me that, as well as life.  It wasn't until this job that I realized quite how much everybody lies.  They try not to.  They try to be decent people, but the stress is too much.  It's too late.

They've fallen to the Ham Madness.

Oh, and just so you know, the really inappropriate stuff is going to be starting soon.  Just giving you a heads up.


wbalelo said...

I love reading about you Adam. Just so you know, I get Adam madness, not ham madness. Not that you're a ham, but well...I admit it, I don't like ham. I love bacon, but even though ham is still pork, I cannot love it. Maybe I am a one pork pony kinda gal. You know, I can only love one pork product in my lifetime kinda thing. But I digress, I just can't get enough Adam thus my Adam madness. :)

Anonymous said...

Ham, is awesome, though, I prefer to cook it myself and not order it from someone.

Adam Jones said...

@wbalelo: Dearest Wendy, It's okay if you don't love ham. It may be repressed, or it may just all be channeled into your love of bacon, which is fine. I don't think any less of you. I'm not saying that everyone should love ham, just that most do. Besides, now I get to spend the rest of the day wondering what exactly a pork pony looks like... and tastes like. And let's face it, I am most definitely a ham. ^^

@TheLittlePecan: I respect a DIY ham enthusiast.

Laura Dell'Orco said...

I am thoroughly enjoying your blog, though I must admit that I'm stuck on the theoretical truckload of deceased whores question. How big is the truck? Garbage trucks are not a definite standard size. How about the whores? Crack whores would be small enough to fit double that of big betties. I myself have noticed that the whores on Michigan Ave appear to be wasting away compared to those on Warren. Does the truck compact? That would make their bone density and ability to squish come into question.

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