wtf?

Here’s one of those things that makes me straddle the fence between admiration and scorn. Still, it’s impressive either way:

I don’t claim to know anything about typical shark behavior, but… how could this guy know the shark wouldn’t head straight out to sea, or just dive deep?

On the other hand, for that much steak maybe the shark did owe him a little something.

Just now I answered the main phone line at work. It was a young woman with an Asian accent asking for one of our managers. From her flat, speaking-by-rote inflection and her mispronunciation of the manager’s name, it was obvious that she was soliciting something. Very ordinary stuff - I screen at least a few sales calls for this gentleman every workday.

“He’s not in at the moment,” I replied truthfully, although if he had been here I would have said the same thing. “Could I take your information and have him return the call?”

“Yes, please,” she answered. “My name is Jingle, that’s spelled J-I-N-G-L-E.”

I stifled the impulse to say, “Get the fuck outta here, it is NOT!” Mr. Professional. Instead, I let her give the rest of the info and think I was writing it down. She wasn’t calling from an overseas call center, but from a company I’d heard of in New York City. I ended the call and sat back to ponder.

My first several thoughts were probably what you’d expect: what kind of sadist would saddle their child with a name like “Jingle?” I’ve known some people of my generation whose hippie parents gave them names that were a little loopy, but come on. If your name was Jingle, wouldn’t you gladly trade it with someone named Summer or Leaf or Harmony?

Or, wait - could Jingle be a nickname? Maybe an approximation of a foreign name that Americans wouldn’t be able to pronounce? Still, in either case wouldn’t a sensible person adjust her name in adult life to something a little less… I don’t know, hilarious?

Then it dawned on me… OK, I get it - “Jingle!” What else could she be but a telemarketer?

Seriously, people, have you ever encountered someone with a more ludicrous name? Any theories as to what her last name might be?

In the words of Seinfeld/SNL, “WHO are the marketing geniuses behind THIS one?”

(by way of Andrew Sullivan)

Although I’m usually reluctant to indulge in simple linkblogging, I would like to call your attention to a product that is, in more ways than one, exceptional. Via The Map Room and The Earth is Square:

Does your vehicle’s GPS navigation system confuse you more than it helps you? Do you glance at the screen to discover that you appear to be motoring over a golf course? When you pull out of your driveway on a quick run to the grocery store, does a disembodied female voice attempt to guide you to the Company Picnic you attended last August? Then you are among the millions of drivers today that just aren’t cut out for satellite technology.

Introducing the Analog GPS. It’s back to the navigational basics with this new (yet very old), state-of-the- Age of Enlightenment instrument. It’s just like the one great-great- great-great granddad used, with an attractive brass finish and its own wooden carrying case! As the vendor states, “Not included are the required declination charts (call for details) or the extremely accurate watch you are going to need to use this thing. Meets R.N. standard 3329-5 of 1787.”

So act now! You can be a Luddite on wheels for the extremely high price of $3,117 plus shipping - and by “shipping,” we mean six to eight months to the West Coast by way of Cape Horn.

Freshmakerccino?

Back in the day, the sleeve was for your protection. It was a 60% post-consumer fiber barrier between your precious drinking hand and the scalding side effects of an otherwise delicious cup of coffee. After a little while, corporate America inevitably got around to adorning the coffee sleeve with ad copy, or at least some brand marketing. Phew! My God, people - we can’t just have blank cardboard sitting there in people’s hands!

Today the coffee sleeve marketing channel took a turn for the absurd. I wouldn’t have known about this had I not needed cash to get out of the Encino Medical Center parking lot (proof positive that the Blog God watches over us all). The parking lot attendant told me that if I bought something with my ATM card in the coffee shop, they would give me change in cash. Thus did I end up with the Mochaccino Freeze pictured here, its gratuitous sleeve adorned with the sample packet of Altoids. So I was left there wondering, just how cold is this drink? Do I need gloves? If so, what kind of protection do you have for the inside of my mouth? Based on the evidence, my breath was the least of my worries.

As pretty much anyone surely would, I detached the mints and threw them away before I even took a sip. Turns out the mochaccino tasted like it had 60% post-consumer fiber ground up inside it (and possibly another packet of Altoids, wrapper and all). At least it got my car out of the parking lot.