My roommate, his girlfriend, her roommate, and I all took a trip tonight to Party City. His girlfriend wanted to exchange a costume she had bought earlier, and I tagged along to take a look at the selection.
If you have ever been to the Party City on York Road (by Panera), you know how poorly run it is and should probably just stop reading now. By the time we finally got out of there we were affectionately calling it the "Giant Shop of Horrors," which is appropriate on so many levels.
Their product selection is great; certainly nothing to complain about. The layout of the store is pretty good, too. Things start to fall apart when you take a look at the employees working there.
I can't imagine liking myself if I worked at Party City for a living... and I imagine the people working there tonight were actually working there for a living. The manager, who was a fairly attractive girl not too much older than us, was stomping around like she was running a Vegas casino or something. We walked past as she was laying the smackdown on two of the employees. She was completely owning them.
"You do know how to straighten things, right? So, if I go through your aisles I'm not going to throw anything on the floor?"
Apparently that's how she tells them if they did a shitty job cleaning up an aisle; she just starts throwing shit on the floor while screaming and pulling at her hair. You work the nightshift at Party City, no one cares. On the other hand, if I had her job I would probably be pissed off all the time too. I'm most likely only sympathizing with her because she was hot.
When we had all finished doing whatever it was we went there to do, and it was time to check-out, we got more of an idea of what the manager has to deal with on an everyday basis. And at that point I had to secretly applaud her for not murdering everyone in the world, although I'm sure she's tempted.
Of course there was someone in front of us stocking up on Halloween candy, party streamers, a fucking helium tank, a billion costumes, and decorations for next Valentines Day because you can never be too early. I don't go to Party City often but every single time I do, I swear, I wait in line for over ten minutes. Even though this asshole was buying everything but the kitchen sink (he may have even had one of those, I wouldn't put it past him), it still shouldn't take that long to ring him up. But, apparently, nothing in Party City has a price sticker/SKU/barcode/resale value. And also their receipt printer is fucking retarded and their computers are from 1973. And the one person that does know how to work the finnicky Point of Sale system is in the back taking bong hits, unable to be contacted via walkie talkie or intercom.
When we finally got to the front of the line, my roommate's girlfriend said "Oh God, I have an exchange," and we all just started laughing because we knew we would be there forever. They rang up her friend first as the rest of us waited.
Once up front, I got a look at their computer screens and started laughing again. They were six inches wide and completely in black and white. I'm pretty sure there wasn't even text, it was just spitting out binary code. No wonder none of them knew how to work it.
Everything that had gone wrong for the people in front of us went wrong for us, and then some. The printer broke, the employees didn't know what the fuck they were doing, someone touched the computer and it disintegrated into a dust clowd.
After about seven minutes of this bullshit, another employee who was just idly standing by decided to open up the second register and ring up my roommate's girlfriend. Watching the two of them get rung up on separate registers by separate employees... it was a race. It was almost like watching the Preakness. Only instead of horses it was people filling out paperwork and hitting computer keys, and I could go wander around aimlessly for several minutes and come back not having missed anything.
At some point during all the confusion, consulting with other employees, and delays, my roommate looked over at me and said, "Hey, it's Party Bureaucracy."
From the minute we entered the checkout line to the time we left the store was easily 20 minutes. No joke.
As we walked to the car, I suggested that they open a bar right next to Party City. After checking out, I argued, you could (and would most likely need to) go get hammered. There is a liquor store across the street though, so I guess that will have to do for now.
>I just received an invitation via Facebook to National Sex Day, which begins at 12:00am December 21st, and ends at 12am December 22nd. They even have a link to a resource for getting free condoms. For some reason I am endlessly fascinated by this and my brain has been on overdrive. Some thoughts:
I've thrown my fair share of parties. In fact my roommate's and my house has become somewhat famous. There's even a picture from one of our parties on CollegeHumor.com, so it must be legit.
Not only that, but I've been to my fair share of parties as well. In no way am I a partying guru, though. In the grand scheme of things, I'm still a rookie. I did, however, cut my drinking teeth at Arizona State University. Between three semesters there, going on two here at Towson, and a smattering of visits to friends' schools, I've got a decent resume' behind me and I've learned a thing or two. That being said, here is some advice for the underclassmen who want to get shitty like a pro.
Come Late, Stay Late
No matter how late the official "start time" for a party is, people will generally be at least half an hour late. Things won't really get started for at least an hour or more. Also, the later you show up, the drunker everyone is and the easier it is to start having fun right off the bat. Walking into a room full of sober people who don't know eachother is kind of like being stuck at the nerd table in the highschool lunchroom. Don't come TOO late though, or you'll get stuck paying $5 to scrape the bottom of the last keg.
You should stay late for essentially the same reasons. First, everyone will be hammered. This is beneficial in so many ways. For example, people will start to disregard the beerpong list, allowing you to play multiple games in a row even if you lose. There will inevitably be that one person, though, who is standing there waiting for you to get off the table so that he can announce it loudly to the next team on the list. Just pour some chloroform on a rag, knock him out, and throw him in the closet. Done and done. Second, the drunker people are, the more they want to hook up. Do with that what you will. Third, when you leave early, you get chastised and booed and called names that you didn't even know existed. Don't be that person.
Guys, Bring Girls. Girls, Bring Girls.
It is a scientifcally proven fact that the amount of fun you have at party is directly proportional to the amount of girls you have with you. Especially if you're at a party where you don't know that many people (this was a lot more common at ASU), there is a HUGE difference between walking in with a bunch of guys and walking in with a group of girls. I mean, massive. You can almost hear the collective groan from every guy at a party when a random group of dudes enters the party. In fact, I'm pretty sure the girls aren't happy to see them either.
The Movies Are Full of Shit
It's not like that. At all. So don't expect it to be. Never once have I seen Snoop Dogg perform at a frat party, slept with Elisha Cuthbert, or not had to wait in line at the keg. Purely the stuff of fairy tales.
Don't Call Your Out-of-State Boyfriend or Girlfriend
Seriously, no good can come of this. If you guys go to different schools, forget about it. I have seen this way too many times for it to be coincidence. You'll end up spending 45 minutes on the phone arguing before you even get to the party. Inevitably, you'll end up talking during the party at some point, just in case you were thinking about starting to have fun. And then the entire ride home you will be on the phone again, quite possibly in tears. Call them later when you're not drunk, lie to them, or just don't call at all. For good measure, participate in an ecstasy induced orgy.
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Like I said, I'm no expert, so take everything I say with a grain of salt. Just know that this is pretty solid advice. This is by no means all-inclusive, so I'll be happy to do some Q&A if anyone has concerns.
These are just the basics; common knowledge for a lot of people. Stay tuned for Partying 102: At The Party
I'm a student at Towson University in Baltimore, MD. I run a website...