Out of nowhere, I got asked by an old friend which of the things I’ve written of old do I remember quite fondly. I thought hard for several seconds and was surprised, despite my bloated ego, that I could come up with… NOTHING. He said, and I hope I remembered the details correctly, that I wrote one post that made him say, “this guy is not an asshole.” Wow! That felt… no, not awkward, but good, actually. I did not tell him back then but I was totally, WOW, awesomed out!

Only today did I remember to dig up the article in question and here it is as an edition of REMIXED.

PROLOGUE:

Fritz: Sa’n banda rito mga dress socks nyo, miss?
Lady: (gestures to her ID badge that read: “I’M DEAF“)

MAIN:

Their inventory of retail merchandise consist of various stuff including those unlikely to be seen inside your typical “clothes” store like popcorn, gummy bears/worms, candies, and slippers. They, after all, specialize in selling quality/edgy clothes which can cater to almost anyone. That’s Bench to you: the supplier of all my boxer briefs from time immemorial.

One after-work afternoon, I went inside one of their stores looking for “emergency” socks. Mine’s all soiled and I need fresh ones to last me until three days after, the day I get my clothes from the cleaners. I approached one unsuspecting sales person to ask where they put ‘em. The lady, about 5’2 in height, shoulder-length hair, charming and pretty, clean-looking and pleasant, was everything that a helpful sales person ordinarily may look like. She then amicably showed the ID hanging from her neck that read, “I’m Deaf.” Without hesitation and almost instantaneously, I transferred all the articles I’m holding in my right hand to my left and lifted my jeans and pointed at the ankle socks I’m wearing underneath my Chucks. She got what I meant, nodded, and proceeded to guide me through the lined shelves and racks until we finally reached a low hanging wall divider where the socks were arranged neatly. They weren’t easy to find, mind you, and I’m not the type who’d usually ask for directions. I looked in her direction and mouthed a heartfelt “thank you” to which I got a sweet smile and a nod in return before she shuffled her feet to go back to the post where I found her.

As I was standing in line to pay for my stuff, I still can’t get over that fact that Bench was considerate enough to have physically challenged people in their payroll. I wish other stores would pick up this non-example of discrimination. It gives the company character that could warrant a whole different level of respect from the customers who are observant enough to notice.

Admiration aside, I bet I can never live without some of Bench’s stuff. I can’t remember feeling inconvenienced in any of their stores the past several years. If only they would take out their glaring brand in bold font and screaming colors from most of their clothes. Plain is IN, people! pfffft! It’s a bit of a turn off sometimes especially if the writings are as big as half the shirt. Quality, price, and design-wise, their products are still almost always a great enough buy.

It’s been nearly two years since I wrote this and the store still has deaf mutes in their employ. I’m sure you’ve seen some of them because this story is far from made up. Now THAT’S carrying on and following through a great corporate drive!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d have to work on bringing back the “asshole” in my vibe/character. LOL. BRB.

• Pictures from the bench/ Uncut Denim & Underwear Show (Part 1)

If you ever get caught in a situation, and pray to your God that you don’t, where you find yourself stuck outside your locked/jammed door (because your LOLzheimer’s yet again manifested itself when you forgot your keys somewhere you can’t for the life of you remember) and you have tried all means possible to hopefully get it to open, skim along the texts and pictures on this post and Ctrl+D it for possible future reference.

About a year ago, (yes, this is a recycled post, until I get to up another one a little later, huzzah!) my bedroom door acted up and wouldn’t let me in for some weird reason. My homie, who I shall name Tupé (short for “Stupid,” in reference to an old post that we shall bury in memory because holding on to bad memories is, well, bad), can only come up with the lamest possible suggestions so, yeah, thnks 4 th memrs (Yeah! FOB!) and thanks for trying to help. Thirty minutes later, all sweaty but still almost-model-like, I had already tired giving all of these a shot:

1. looked around the door to try to know what its problem is, thinking that maybe the problem is THAT obvious, but it wasn’t;
2. used a knife on the door’s hinge;
3. tried using other keys that may possibly fit the keyhole;
4. turned the knob to the hilt in opposite directions and timing a Herculean shove with each try;
5. turned the knob in one direction and barged onto the center of the door (which only dented my shoulders and collar bones, methinks, so ouch!);
6. considered climbing in from the outside through my bedroom window (but that would only get me trapped in the room since I will still face the same dilemma on either side);
7. analyzed the construction of the doorknob if there are possible screws left out or openings anywhere so I could start dismantling the blasted object (and there were none for security reasons, bless those doorknob makers for at least seriously considering our safety); and
8. tried asking for help (this one had to go since this thing happened a bit late in the evening and I hate my neighbors, to this very day, and they hate me back).

Something did work in the end. Behold and be enlightened! (cue in chorus of angels’ song here) I could even go so far as say that this post is going so helpful, you’d want to make this your home page! Done bookmarking? Atta boy-bastos! (SRY, that one’s for the spiders. Now, carry on.)

Prepare the ONLY thing you would ever need for this process: long-nosed pliers.

[Click on the images for the full sized picture and instructions]

1. Hold the pliers firmly with both hands on each of its rubber-gripped handles. Pull the handles at the same time on opposite directions such that the long steel tip opens at its widest.
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2. Position the pliers firmly (as shown on the image above) and pull the handle towards you with all the strength you have. Be careful though, the door knob might fall on your toes the moment it comes off. As a preliminary to this step, however, do an inverse pull-up by positioning the pliers with the handles pointing downward and the tip pointing upwards. This tends to loosen the door knob and would thus up your success rate with the “pull-down” procedure.
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3. Do Step 2 several times until the door knob gives.
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4. It would eventually fall off on your second try, or no more than the third try depending on the force you apply to the pliers.
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5. Remove loose parts from the hole the now-fallen door knob left.
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6. On one side of the now exposed hole of your door, a metal ring protects the “tongue” portion of the door knob that you would need to take out (pointing red hand is where the “tongue” I’m referring to is at). You would want to bend that ring in order to access the “tongue.” Use your pliers. Should there be jagged metal edges in the opening where the “tongue” should come out of, use your pliers to bend the edges outward.
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7. Pull the “tongue” out with your pliers and gently push your door open.
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This process leaves minimal or no damage at all to your door if done with the highest level of cool and awesomez00rz! Worked twice for me.
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DISCLAIMER: The procedures outlined here are for educational purposes only. The author will not be liable should said procedures be used for purposes other than tearing down the door of your own room or house or for damages resulting from use of the the same. Although the process has been tested twice, it does not preclude 100% success when applied. Regular check-up and maintenance of your doorknobs still are the best way to prevent door emergencies from happening.
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