Wednesday, June 01, 2005

"Shufflepuck Cafe, This is Lexan" (Or, A List of Crazy Things I Did While Working at the RB on BYU Campus)

The RB is the P.E. building at BYU. This is the place where students, faculty, and alumni (read selfish, piggish, brutish, dorky-heads) come to play racquetball and get guest passes for their friends (read mooching, insulting losers). I had the privilege to work at the information desk: I sold lockers and guestpasses, answered questions and phonecalls, and spent a lot of time playing tetris and shufflepuck on the computer.This was the perfect job for a girl in college, except for when the Intramural Office had their way with us, causing me to write an RB Information Center "Declaration of Independence" and tape it to their door. Marcy Dibbleblotts worked here, too, and boy did we have a laugh riot (read nearly get fired several times).

Among the things we did for laughs were causing the computer voice on the office I-Mac to say surprising things to unsuspecting workers: They would click on the wrong icon, and suddenly, computer voice would yell, "There are two types of people in this world: those who like Neil Diamond and those who don't," or my favorite "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 shlameel, shlamozzel, Hozzenfeffer Incorporated" Marcy also had computer voice saying "adesso sesso," the translation of which can only be obtained through Marcy. I wash my hands of the Italian phrase, entirely. It got to the point where our boss made us turn off the sound because it was driving her nuts.

One time Marcy called out "good luck on your skin fold test!" as her customer walked away, red-faced and ashamed.

Another time I closed down the office for five minutes to use the bathroom and put a sign that said "gone peein'" on the door.

Occasionally I would answer the phone "Shufflepuck Cafe, this is Lexan" when Marcy or our other friends called. I was supposed to say "RB Information Center." But you should have seen this shufflepuck game on the computer. There was this cafe full of strange aliens (reminiscent of Jabba the Hut's place in Star Wars), and they had strange names like Lexan. Lexan was the hardest to beat, I'll tell you what. But I beat him, oh yes, I beat him loads of times...

Marcy would leave cryptic and hilarious notes for me to find in the mornings.

Sometimes I would leave notes for myself, signed by Bono, to find in the mornings. (When you close at 10:00 p.m., and open at 6:00 the following morning, you do anything you can to cheer yourself up.)

Occasionally I would use the office laminator to laminate pictures of Bono. I also used the embosser and various stamps to make all my notes to Marcy and myself appear more "official."

We used to look up our love interests on the computer system to find out their age, place of birth, GPA, etc. This could technically be called stalking.

Once in a while I would sneak into the boss's office to watch my favorite TV shows when I worked at night. I'd put up a bell, okay? I wasn't as neglectful as it sounds.

Every morning that I worked there I would go to the vending machines and purchase the following items: 1 6-pack of little chocolate donuts from Hostess; 1 red Powerade.

Brick Oven Pizza knew my name and my order just by looking at the phone number, and could get to my office in less than 15 minutes.

I dominated the top ten score list on tetris, but, in order to appear more humble, I disguised my name with clever things like "I am the Champions!" and "Carly-Carlino."

Both Marcy and I were in love with several of our co-workers, most of whom had code names such as "wedgie boy" and "caro mio;" one of whom was from Russia, was overweight, and twice my age.

I think I'd better stop the list here, or else I might incriminate myself further. Needless to say, those were our wild and crazy days.

17 comments:

Marcy Dibbleblotts said...

ahh, the memories. I think the RB was the prime location for coming up with our Roses are Reds, too...Remember the one about Doug having a gun? And I think we were the reason that the number of rows they stocked with chocolate donettes kept increasing...And remember when your former fiancee left you the note there that said "I Love You" and my cousin Lee wrote that he loved you too on it (and I think he did).

Carly said...

How could I forget the roses are reds?? And I NEVER forgot having your cousin tell me he loves me. I think I still have the note.

Lexan said...

No, THIS is Lexan! I challenge you to a duel.

Kacy said...

Ah, information center clearance. I too abused that privilege. Who is this "Lexan" character? Sounds like you got yourself a stack-a-lee. (I make dreams come true. It's what I do.)

Heidi said...

I wish I had worked someplace cool at BYU. Instead I worked at the Daily Herald stacking inserts into machines. I can still smell newspaper and B.O. (as a combination) during certain times of the day.

P.S. Not my B.O. My boss's B.O.

Carly said...

Lexan,
Are you THE Lexan, with three eyes and a lizard-like complexion from the Shufflepuck Cafe? I am truly in the presence of greatness.
Heidi,
Thanks for clarifying on the whole B.O. thing. I was curious.

Lexan said...

Some might call me Lexan, some might call me a secret admirer from your past. I also go by Valdez Shanko.

Skewedview said...

And this was a "paying" job? Did anyone ever actually work. Oh I have heard of having fun while working or enjoying your job, but this is borderline....

No wonder my eldest chib has shown excellent judgement when it comes to work, from BYU's Candid Camera to a 4 day a week office job where Friday is always a holiday, and which lacks a "real" full-time boss.

Man oh man.

I did have a job as a young man working at a Mom & Pop eatery. Night mgr so to speak. One night, my other cohort, my buddy Kevin (also known in those days as Leonard Skinner Rocker Boy, who did a mean air guitar to Freebird) were closing down the place. It must have been 11 PM or so. When LSRB shot a huge squirt of mayo in my back pocket,using one of those large cauking cartrige guns, smashed it and ran. I took out after him with my own mayo gun, running in circles around the back work island to the front counters, shooting and sliding all the way. Oh I almost forgot, this was after we had our tomato war back in the kitchen area. But not to loose focus, as we made our way sliding around the front counter out in to the Lobby area, we were met by the owner, jingling the mega ring of keys as he came in to the building. He paused, looked up and down the aisles, turned and walked into store office and shut the door. Stone face, not saying a word. Kevin and I, in our embarrassed amazement quickly got back to work. After only a few minutes, Boss Frank, opened the office door and emerged with the nightly deposit in hand. Glanced back at the cooking and serving areas (by that time were plastered with mayo, lettuce and other fine condiments), walked to the kitchen (still tomato ridden), came out again, all the while never speaking a word, cracking a smile or giving us an inkling if this was our last day of employment. After casually walking to the outside door, he turned, looked at Kev and I and said "I hope you guys get out of here sometime tonight", turned and locked the door behind him on his way out. That was it. We laughed our heads off.

Quickly. Another short. My eldest chib's mom (my first wife) and I worked at that very same eatery. One slow night we took the trash out to the big dumpster at the back of the lot. The trash cans were those huge 55 gallon rubbermaid tubs with the swinging door lids, on wheels. After pulling the trash liners out and dumping them, we discovered that the cans were extremely clean. I talked her into climbing inside so I could push her back to the store. After several minutes of racing around the back lot, I managed to man handle her down into the can and put the top on. AND YES, you guessed it. Pushed the can back to it's place in the middle of the dinning area. It was hysterical. I couldn't stop laughing and I don't know how she kept quite, hoping to be undetected. After several minutes of peering out from a slightly raised door, she asked the man sitting at the booth next to her not to dump his food tray on her and if possible, to help her out. He was totally surprised to hear the trash can speaking to him. Hahaha.

Ahhhh, those were the days!

Robyn said...

So Carly, why is it that I remember the name Valdez Shanko? Was it from a video? Who is this mysterious Lexan? Hmmmm.

I remember when you worked at the RB, and man, I had no idea of what went on behind that mild-mannered little info booth front. Time well spent it sounds like, especially laminating pics of Bono.

Carly said...

There are only two people in this world who could possibly know about Valdez Shanko: Robyn and Kacy. So fess up, Kacy (or should I say, LEXAN?)

Skewedview: I am afraid to say that your mayo war would have sent me to the toilet to throw up. But it sounds like a riot.

Suzie Petunia said...

My first job at BYU was with the catering service. There's nothing like having the CRAP from other people's forks and knives all over your hands. But, the left-overs were always tasty...and forbidden.

Robyn said...

Now I remember. It was filmed largely outside your house, right? Did just Kacy make it? Or were you in it too? Foggy foggy memory, but the name stuck. Much like Anthony Montgomery or Robyn Rohation. Classic.

By the way, less than a week! I'll keep you posted.

Carly said...

Robyn,
It was actually s video I made by myself in the really early video-making era. I was upstairs in my parents bedroom, I turned on the camera, sat down, and said "hi, my name is Valdez........Shanko" I think that's all there is. Less than one week is v. exciting. Please call me when the baby comes.

Otto said...

Carly, as you now know, I was stack-a-lee/poor player. I regret that my trickery implicated you as the mystery commenter on Kacy's blog and in some crimes, i.e. Kacy's mailbox.

That said, Isaac Walter's used to work at the RB Info booth, and my wife used to play racquetball there when she was at BYU. One day he asked her (before she was my wife) if she wanted to play racquetball with him. She consented and soundly defeated him, and he never asked her out again. I just thought that was an interesting coincidence. I doubt he had as much fun with his job as you did, though. He seems like the type to have taken it very seriously. "May I see your I.D.?"

And may I say to your mysterious Lexan, not to do what I have done. The truth shall set you free.

Mark Felt said...

I can't take it anymore. I don't know if I am guilty of heroism or treason but I am Lexan. STOP CALLING ME CARLY!

Carly said...

Dearest Otto,
I am glad to know that it was YOU who posed as Stack a Lee and Poorplayer. I only hope that I didn't come on too strong about the Bob Dylan thing. Isaac Walters rings a bell. I think his mother taught my fledgling drama club class in 6th grade. She made me be the "woman tree" in the school play (though I tried out for the part of the wicked witch). Am still bitter, and v. glad that your wife beat her son at racquetball.

Carly said...

Mark Felt: I will stop calling if you will tell me how you know about Valdez Shanko.