Berkeley: places and employees that suck.

BUS DRIVERS:
The bus drivers around the Bay Area, especially in the East Bay are some of the crudest people ever. That 5 seconds just as you are entering the bus is the most uncomfortable part of the bus ride -- that includes the time you spend getting tossed around like a ragdoll if you are standing and the smell coming from your neighbor if you are sitting.

The bus drivers in Berkeley are almost always female, aged 27-34, and a weave that can only be described as ghetto. You walk on the bus and they stare straight ahead and pick at their long nails that appear to be press on while you insert your money into the machine. They may lazily glance up at you with a glance that says, "what the fuck do you want?" And you better know the bus rider protocol or you'll be hit with a snappy remark.

My first time riding the Berkeley bus system, called AC Transit, I deposited my money and waited. I was waiting for some kind of acknowledgement that my payment had been received or a transfer ticket like they give you on the San Francisco busses. Well, I certain did get an acknowledgement from the bus driver. After a second or two of me standing there, she says, "That’s it." Judging by the tone in her voice it was more like, "Sit the fuck down already." Then, hurt and pissed off, I start to walk away and I hear her say, "Wake up." What a total bitch.

I guess I can take redemption in the fact that she hates her life.

DMV:
If you've never been to an Oakland DMV, read Dante's Divine Comedy for a pretty accurate description. I'm still debating on what circle of hell it is: the fifth or the ninth. The fifth circle is about wrath and sloth -- both found in abundance at the DMV. But the ninth is the worst hell -- that fits the DMV as well. I would rather go on a scavenger hunt for dirty syringes in the People's Park at night with sandals on then have to deal with the DMV.

Here's an account of my recent Oakland DMV visit:

Stand in a line that extends out the door to get a number. Sit down next to a lady with three screaming kids. Watch the monitor for an hour waiting for your number. Talk to someone finally. Receive minimal eye contact. She expects me to know everything about the process and is irritated when she has to explain something. Looks for her stapler. Says, "I can't believe that white bitch took my stapler," as I'm standing there. Tells me to get in the next line. Wait in this line for another hour. Get my picture taken but the framing is awful because the lady running the camera doesn't give a shit. Have some documents stamped.

Total time: 3 hours.

I guess I can't be too mad about these workers, though. The DMV employees may have a legitimate claim to bitchiness. If I had to work 8 hours a day in that hellhole, I wouldn't be very pleasant either.

MUSIC SHOP PEOPLE:
Music shop people can be top-notch douches, although one of my friends was one once, so uh.. I hope he isn't reading this. I walked into this place called "The Starving Musician" to grab a cable so I can play my iPod through my stereo. There is so much crap in this store and I'm kind of in a hurry so I walk up to the front desk to ask for help. There are two workers sitting at the counter; both of them playing on the computer. I stand by their cash registers and wait for a response. Nothing.

I'm not a particularly pushy person so I start rustling around to catch their attention. Finally one of them looks up and picks his ass up out of the chair. He never really said anything mean, but his body language said it all. Total lethargy. Helping me must have be such a strain.

Music shop people aren't shitty customer service workers because they hate their jobs, however. They love sitting in a music shop all day. What they hate are the customers. I always get the feeling of being looked down upon by the "elite" when I walk into a music shop.

To the two guys who work the counter at The Starving Musician: no one cares that you can play Van Halen's Eruption and that you've been in more unsuccessful cover bands that you can count. Just help me out with my purchase and hold the attitude. It's my money that allows you to sit around, read mags, and play classic rock riffs all day. Don't make me go to Target.