Saturday, 15 December 2012
Who Employs These Idiots?
A True Story...
A man living in Kandos (near Mudgee in NSW, Australia) received a bill in
March for his as yet unused gas line stating that he owed $0.00.
He ignored it and threw it away. In April he received another bill and threw
that one away too. The following month the gas company sent him a very nasty
note stating that they were going to cancel his gas line if he didn't send
them $0.00 by return mail.
He called them, talked to them, and they said it was a computer error and
they would take care of it. The following month he decided that it was about
time that he tried out the troublesome gas line figuring that if there was
usage on the account it would put an end to this ridiculous predicament.
However, when he went to use the gas, it had been cut off.
He called the gas company who apologized for the computer error once again
and said that they would take care of it. The next day he got a bill for
$0.00 stating that payment was now overdue. Assuming that having spoken to
them the previous day the latest bill was yet another mistake, he ignored
it, trusting that the company would be as good as their word and sort the
problem out.
The next month he got a bill for $0.00. This bill also stated that he had 10
days to pay his account or the company would have to take steps to recover
the debt.
Finally, giving in, he thought he would beat the gas company at their own
game and mailed them a cheque for $0.00. The computer duly processed his
account and returned a statement to the effect that he now owed the gas
company nothing at all.
A week later, the manager of the Mudgee branch of the Westpac Banking
Corporation called our hapless friend and asked him what he was doing
writing cheque for $0.00. After a lengthy explanation the bank manager
replied that the $0.00 cheque had caused their cheque processing software to
fail. The bank could therefore not process ANY cheques they had received
from ANY of their customers that day because the cheque for $0.00 had caused
the computer to crash.
The following month the man received a letter from the gas company claiming
that his cheque had bounced and that he now owed them $ 0.00 and unless he
sent a cheque by return mail they would take immediate steps to recover the
debt.
At this point, the man decided to file a debt harassment claim against the
gas company. It took him nearly two hours to convince the clerks at the
local courthouse that he was not joking. They subsequently helped him in the
drafting of statements which were considered substantive evidence of the
aggravation and difficulties he had been forced to endure during this debacle.
The matter was heard in the Magistrate's Court in Mudgee and the outcome was
this:
The gas company was ordered to:
[1] Immediately rectify their computerized accounts system or Show Cause,
within 10 days, why the matter should not be referred to a higher court for
consideration under Company Law.
[2] Pay the bank dishonor fees incurred by the man.
[3] Pay the bank dishonor fees incurred by all the Westpac clients whose
cheques had been bounced on the day our friend's had been processed.
[4] Pay the claimant's court costs; and
[5] Pay the claimant a total of $1500 per month for the 5 month period March
to July inclusive as compensation for the aggravation they had caused their
client to suffer.
And all this over $0.00
This story can also be viewed on the ABC website - Who employs these idiots?
Remember, these "people" walk among us and breathe the same air we do.
Sunday, 9 December 2012
Five Rules to Remember in Life:
1. Money cannot buy happiness, but its more comfortable to cry in a Mercedes than on a bicycle.
2.
Forgive your enemy, but remember the bastard's name.
3. Help
someone when they are in trouble and they will remember you when they're in
trouble again.
4. Many
people are alive only because it's illegal to shoot them.
Saturday, 8 December 2012
The Story of Carl
Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake.
Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, No one could really say they knew him very well.
Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us.
He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in WWII.
Watching him, we worried that although he had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity.
When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up.
He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened.
He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?"
The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a malevolent little smile.
As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled.
Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him.
Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it.
"Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet.
Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday."
His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water.
Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?"
"I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm reply.
Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose.
This time they didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to foot in the icy water.
When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done.
Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.
The summer was quickly fading into fall Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches.
As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack.
"Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time."
The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl.
"What's this?" Carl asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet" "I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you we picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate."
He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back."
He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street.
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather.
In particular the minister noticed a tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church.
The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life.
In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care for Carl's garden."
The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door.
Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.
The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl.
He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done.
During that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.
One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday."
"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?"
"Carl," he replied.
That's the whole gospel message simply stated.
Take 60 seconds give this a shot! Let's just see if Satan stops this one.
All you do is:
1. Simply say a small prayer for the person who sent you this.
God bless this person in whatever it is that You know he or she may be needing this day!
2. Then send it on to five other people. Within hours five people have prayed for you, and you caused a multitude of people to pray to God for other people.
Then sit back and watch the power of God work in your life for doing the thing that you know He loves.
Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake.
Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, No one could really say they knew him very well.
Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us.
He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in WWII.
Watching him, we worried that although he had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity.
When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up.
He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened.
He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?"
The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a malevolent little smile.
As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled.
Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him.
Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it.
"Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet.
Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday."
His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water.
Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?"
"I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm reply.
Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose.
This time they didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to foot in the icy water.
When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done.
Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.
The summer was quickly fading into fall Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches.
As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack.
"Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time."
The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl.
"What's this?" Carl asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet" "I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you we picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate."
He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back."
He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street.
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather.
In particular the minister noticed a tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church.
The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life.
In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care for Carl's garden."
The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door.
Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.
The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl.
He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done.
During that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.
One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday."
"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?"
"Carl," he replied.
That's the whole gospel message simply stated.
Take 60 seconds give this a shot! Let's just see if Satan stops this one.
All you do is:
1. Simply say a small prayer for the person who sent you this.
God bless this person in whatever it is that You know he or she may be needing this day!
2. Then send it on to five other people. Within hours five people have prayed for you, and you caused a multitude of people to pray to God for other people.
Then sit back and watch the power of God work in your life for doing the thing that you know He loves.
Thursday, 6 December 2012
Is Honesty Really the Best Policy?
Our teacher asked what
my favorite animal was, and I said, "Fried chicken."
She said I wasn't funny,
but she couldn't have been right, because everyone else laughed.
My parents told me to always
tell the truth. I did. Fried chicken is my favorite animal.
I told my dad what
happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA.
He said they love
animals very much.
I do, too. Especially
chicken, pork and beef. Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal's office.
I told him what
happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.
The next day in class my
teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was.
I told her it was
chicken. She asked me why, so I told her it was because you could make them
into fried chicken.
She sent me back to the
principal's office. He laughed, and told me not to do it again.
I don't understand. My
parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn't like it when I am.
Today, my teacher asked
me to tell her what famous person I admired most. I told her, "Colonel
Sanders."
Guess where I am
now...------------------------ ------------------------------ ----
"In a time of
universal deceit, telling the truth becomes an act of rebellion."
--George Orwell
--George Orwell
When Parents Give Their Money Too Early...
(Phil. Star Article by: Letty Jacinto-Lopez )
At their 54th anniversary, my friends made a decision to distribute their combined assets among their living heirs. Their rationale, Para walang gulo. (To avoid trouble). They added one proviso: While still alive, income
from these properties will be used to maintain our present lifestyle inclusive of medical expenses, extravagant trips and unlimited shopping.
That's easy, replied the heirs. The income was substantial to indulge the old folks with a bonus that the heirs can use in any manner they wanted.
The first year passed without a hitch, but soon the problem surfaced. Each child used all kinds of tactics to keep the money from his parents. It reached a point where the poor retirees had to beg for sustenance, robbing them of the dignity they worked hard to uphold.
What went wrong?
Bad decision, said a cautious friend who warned the couple of this scenario. Children are so unreliable when it comes to inherited money. Money received, which was not expected and not a direct result of something they worked for, is not given the same value as money earned with their own sweat and tears. They lose their sense of propriety; gratitude is tainted by greed and decency gone. This is compounded by in-laws who can tilt or convince their respective spouses to throw out good sense and filial affection like soiled rugs, Honey, they're going to die anyway, so why waste good money on them?
To avoid falling into this vulnerable, pitiful state, keep these 10 tips in mind:
1. Do not retire. If you're over-aged, retire and get all the benefits but find another income-generating job or open a business that will keep you active physically and mentally. Travel and bond with true friends, play a
sport, learn a new hobby and volunteer in your community or parish. Don't loaf around. Your spouse will hate you because you've become a sloppy, listless bum with nothing good to say about the household and things that you never bothered about before. Solve crossword puzzles, play Scrabble, write your memoirs, and above all, read ...this will keep you alert and keep Alzheimer's at bay.
2. Live in your own place to enjoy independence, privacy and a solo life. If you move in with your children, your rank or degree of importance is reduced to that of a bed spacer who has no place of honor or, worse, like crumbling furniture merely displayed with no added value. Might you kowtow to conform to their own rules that are not kind, considerate or mindful of you? If you witness your children engaged in a war of will and wits with your grandchildren, whom will you side with? Will they even appreciate your arbitration? Remind your children that silence is not a sign of weakness; you are merely processing data that is taking longer to complete.
3. Hold on to your nest egg, bank deposits and assets. If you want to help your children, do give, but not to the extent that you wipe out your life's earnings, singing heroically not a shirt on my back nor a penny to my name. Staying solvent and in the black is a good hedge against all kinds of tempests. You will sleep better, you will not be afraid to express your opinion and you will be confident about yourself.
4. Don't believe your children's promise to care for you when you grow old. Priorities change. Many children are not guilt-ridden or filled with a sense of moral obligation when the wife and offspring take top billing in
their lives. There are still children who would consider it a privilege to show compassion, genuine love and deep concern for their parents but be warned that not all children think alike.
5. Expand your circle of friends to include young ones who will definitely outlive your old BFFs. Keep up with new inventions, trends, music and lifestyle including all the scams and schemes you should guard against.
Remember that when you mix with the young, you also open a fresh avenue to channel your thoughts, experiences and values through so that the lessons you learned are not lost, forgotten or buried with you.
6. Be well groomed and smelling fresh of spring water all the time. There's nothing more depressing than seeing people exhale when you walk by because you reek of baul (camphor chest) or lupa (dirt). Old age or bust, don't look and smell like a corpse when you're not one yet.
7. Do not meddle in the life of your children. If they ask for your counsel, give it, but be ready to accept that they may not take it. Their situations in life cannot be compared to the situations that you experienced in your life. The playing field has changed and they need to develop their own set of survival skills. If you raised them to be street smart, they can handle themselves in tough situations and be able to read people. Champion and encourage their dreams and desires but on their own terms.
8. Do not use old age as your shield and justification for turning grumpy. There's nothing more annoying than an arrogant, old fool. Welcome each day as another chance to be kind and forgiving, to yourself and to others.
9. Listen to what others may say. Do not throw your weight around just because you are a septuagenarian or a nonagenarian. You are not a depository of knowledge. Even if the roles have been reversed, make growing
old a fun-filled, pleasant experience for you and your brood.
10. Pray always and focus on your eternal life. You will definitely leave everything behind, a final journey detached from burden and care. Be more accepting that, sooner, not later, you will croak. Prepare your swan song with a humble and contrite heart. If you believe in a merciful and loving God, there is no need to strut like a star. Nobody is.
Thursday, 5 April 2012
Doctor, Why Are You So Irresponsible?
The doctor was called one evening for an urgent surgery. He answered the call, rushed to the hospital in minutes & went directly to the surgery theatre.
The boy's father, waiting in the hall for the doctor, yelled at the doctor on seeing him, "Why did you take all this time to come? Don't you know that my son's life is in danger? Don't you have any sense of responsibility?"
The doctor smiled & said, "I am sorry, I wasn't in the hospital & I came as fast as I could after receiving the call...... And now, I wish you'd calm down so that I can do my work".
"Calm down?! What if your son were in this room right now, can you calm down? If your own son dies now what will you do??" said the father angrily.
The doctor smiled again & replied, "I will say what "Job" said in the Holy Bible: "From dust we came & to dust we return, blessed be the name of God". Doctors cannot prolong lives. Go & pray for your son, and we will do our best."
"Giving advices when we're not concerned is so easy" Murmured the father. The surgery took some hours after which the doctor came out happily, "Thank goodness! Your son is saved!"
And without waiting for the father's reply he was heading for the door. "If you have any question, please ask the nurse!!"
"Why is he so arrogant? Can't he wait a few minutes so that I ask about my son's condition?" Commented the father to the nurse.
With tears in her eyes, the nurse said, "His son died yesterday in a road accident, he was in the burial when we called him for your son's surgery. And now that he saved your son, he is getting back to his son's burial."
Friday, 30 March 2012
Excellence
A tourist once visited a temple under construction where he saw a sculptor making, an idol of God.
Suddenly he noticed a similar idol lying nearby.
Surprised, he asked the sculptor Do you need two statues of the same idol ?
"No said the sculptor without looking up, We need only one, but the first one got damaged at the last stage.
The gentleman examined the idol and found, no apparent damage.
Where is the damage? he asked.
"There is a scratch on the nose of the idol, said the sculptor still busy with his work.
"Where are you going to install the idol ?"
The sculptor replied that would be installed on, a pillar twenty feet high.
"If the idol is that far who is going to know, that there is a scratch on the nose"? the gentleman asked....
The sculptor stopped his work, look up at the, gentleman smiled and said I will know it"
The desire to excel is exclusive of the fact whether someone else appreciates it or not.
Suddenly he noticed a similar idol lying nearby.
Surprised, he asked the sculptor Do you need two statues of the same idol ?
"No said the sculptor without looking up, We need only one, but the first one got damaged at the last stage.
The gentleman examined the idol and found, no apparent damage.
Where is the damage? he asked.
"There is a scratch on the nose of the idol, said the sculptor still busy with his work.
"Where are you going to install the idol ?"
The sculptor replied that would be installed on, a pillar twenty feet high.
"If the idol is that far who is going to know, that there is a scratch on the nose"? the gentleman asked....
The sculptor stopped his work, look up at the, gentleman smiled and said I will know it"
The desire to excel is exclusive of the fact whether someone else appreciates it or not.
"Excellence " is a drive from inside not outside...
Excellence is not for someone else to notice but for your own satisfaction and efficiency...
When is Enough Ever Enough?
The secret of life is to know when enough is enough.
This was my father's favorite saying in his final years, and one of the last thing he said to me before he died. I was contemplating selling my house and moving to a smaller one, and that was his pronouncement on the subject.
It was kind of ironic, since there he was, a family doctor for forty years, gasping and wheezing over the phone, barely able to speak, dying from smoking too much.
But the fact that he learned the lesson late doesn't negate the truth. And it goes straight to the heart of the issue of gratitude; namely, that gratitude makes us feel like we have enough, whereas ingratitude leaves us in a state of deprivation in which we are always looking for something else.
That's why the idea of cultivating "the gratitude attitude" is so popular among twelve-step programs. As Emmet Miller notes in "Gratitude: A Way of Life".
"Gratitude has to do with feeling full, complete, adequate - we have everything we need and deserve; we approach the world with a sense of value."
Addictions of all sorts come from a sense of deprivation, a feeling of lack that the user believes can be filled with a substance or activity, whether it's drugs, shopping, alcohol or food.
Caught up in lack, we feed the need but never feel truly satisfied because our substance of choice can't fill the lack. Consequently we continue to want more and more.
As many people have pointed out, our consumer society owes its very existence to its ability to fuel a sense of never being satisfied.
If we were happy about the way we looked, for example, why would we spend billions on cosmetics and plastic surgery?
Or on expensive cars that supposedly convey a certain image that we don't have?
An attitude of gratitude gets us off the treadmill and out of the rat race. As we cultivate a true and deep appreciation for what we do have, we realize that our sense of lack is, for the most part, an illusion. No matter our material circumstances, the richness of our soul is ultimately what brings happiness, not another Martini, bigger breasts, or the latest video game.
In the words of Lao Tzu, "He who knows enough is enough will always have enough."
-Written by Dr. Vincent Ryan-
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