Showing posts with label thank you. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thank you. Show all posts


When all the ones are carried and the columns added up, I really am a prick. I love me. I really do. I have bad feeling that I would be shoving my wife and kids out of the way to the last parachute so that I could carry their memory on from the luxury of some life insurance paid beach.

But what keeps me loving me is the people that feed my ego. And that is you. So I owe you a bit of thanks for reading HolyJuan on a once a year basis when you remember that I actually exist.

When I thought for a few hours last night that my site was deleted and that I would have to piece together the backups and the old files that are on the bottom of the hard drive, I didn’t despair for one minute. Mainly because I know that I need you as much as you really don’t need me. And I can live with that.

Let’s continue as if this never happened.

Why, Thank You and Why Thank You

I hate people. Not you, of course. I like you. Just everyone else.

On the local talk radio, the topic of the day was rude people. A fired-up caller (oddly not a “long time listener/first time caller” which I thought everybody had to say on talk radio) had two stories to share. One was a general observation that people don’t say thank you anymore when you open the door for them. The second was a long winded story about how he found a wallet at a hotel, took it to the front desk, got the wallet owner’s room number, went to the room to return it and the man grabbed the wallet and shut the door without saying anything.

This is why I hate people. People should never do anything nice in life expecting to be rewarded for it. I think hard work should be rewarded. I think innovation should be rewarded. But don’t expect to get your ego massaged just because you think you are doing something nice.

Do the right thing because it is the right thing.

The caller on the radio was obviously a turd. Opening doors and expecting thanks is one thing. Going out of your way to try and weasel thanks/ a reward is ever turdier. I’m not sure why the hotel would have given the caller the wallet owner’s room number. That has got to be against some policy. What I didn’t mention was that the caller had gone through the wallet (I would have too), and was bitching because there was a lot of money in it and he wasn’t offered a reward.

You know this caller is a douche. A good person (you or me) would have dropped the wallet off at the front desk and went on their way. This guy was fishing for a thanks or a couple bucks as a reward. He should have cut out the middle man and taken the money, which I’m sure is what actually happened and the guy made the rest of the story up. No hotel would give out a room number to a total stranger.

I see these types at the four-way stop. The ones that smile and try to wave you through, when they should have gone first. I just sit there and stare right at them. They wave, franticly trying to be nicer. And I stare. Then they throw up their arms in disgust and tear through the intersection, pissed off. I love it.

Now, before you start sounding off the hypocrite alarm, I have in the past stressed that people MUST say thanks and send thank you notes. This is still true. If someone opens the door for you, say “Thanks!” If someone finds your wallet, explain that that is all the money you have in the world and that you cannot give a reward, but if there is anything you can do, you will. It is customary and polite.

But don’t ever give into these “Thank You” whores who force you into a Thank You situation. The nice guy that opens the door when you are 50 feet away. The nice guy at the four way stop. The nice guy that explains to everyone that he is doing something nice. Just use this secret code as you pass by them, “Why thank you”. No comma. You can add the question mark in your inflection when you get really good at it.

A belated thank you note from a Bitter White Republican Guy

Dear Holy Juan,

While belated, I wanted to send you a heartfelt thank you note for allowing me the experience of reading your blog. Your documentation of the work along 315 nearly brings me to tears and YOU Holy Juan were the one who broke the story on the sale of President Fords leg. Additionally, I dont mind telling you I would be a lesser person had you not brought the plight of the sugar packet to my attention. I will never use artificial sweetener again!

Holy Juan, you are an American treasure and your name will ring out forever with the likes of John Clancy, Walt Whitman and Perez Hilton. Reading your blog allows me to experience one of the all time greats, it feels just like my first trip to Neverland Ranch each time I log on.

Thank you Holy Juan, thank you for your greatness and sharing it with the world!

Very Respectfully,

Bitter White Republican Guy

p.s. Note that this thank you message is in email form, one of the approved thank you note formats and NOT a DM on Twitter which would violate your instructions.

The letter I cannot send

Hello XXX,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you are having a good summer. Have you run any office chairs through parking lots and into walls recently?

All joking aside, I was very disappointed that you didn't drop us a thank you note for your time spent at XXXXXXXX. It is possible that it got lost in the mail. It might have even been filtered out by our SPAM software. If you did send one and we did not get it, I am sorry as I was very interested to see what kind of creative letter you would put together. We thought that, though disjointed and sometimes uncoordinated, we provided you with an great learning experience and that you would have shared your appreciation with us by discussing the migration pattern of the Albanian tuskless walrus.

But if you did not take the time to thank us for the opportunity, allow me to be the one person whom you think of every time you should write a thank you note. There are three types of thank you notes: the kind you send your aunt when she gives you a sweater, the kind where you write about an experience and thank the people involved for their time and then there is the thank you note that you do not send.

The second one discussing your experience would have been great.
We even would have settled for the Aunt Sweater one.
But instead we got the third one. And sadly, the third one is the most memorable.

Next time, drop a note or an e-mail to the people who take time out of their lives to try and help you out. Whether it's a job interview or a gift. Even if it is a teacher or a coach. A thank you note says a lot about the person who is being thanked, but it also says something about the person sending it.

If you did send one, I am truly sorry you had to read this and I am sad that I didn't get to see it.

And if you didn't... obviously I am very disappointed. Don't let it happen again.

Take care and good luck,


1,003 posts... I mean 1,004

Somewhere along the way, I've created 1,003 posts with this one being the 1,004th.

I'm not sure how that is possible, so I stayed up all night doing some research.

745 of the posts were re-posts of the same article about me being drunk in Chicago.
20 were Jesus cartoons
15 were pictures Greg drew
12 were Erik Eats
200 were rants about comments in other posts
4 were articles about drinking and Margot and the Nuclear So and So's.
6 were poorly photoshopped jokes

Which leaves 2 posts that were actually real, down to earth articles about life, love, family and happiness.

Except that this is one of those two posts so I assume this one doesn't count.

Oh well, thanks for reading. When people blame me for being an egotistical bastard, I blame you for continuing to return and read my stuff.

Thanks, suckers.


The Power of Soup (ver1.2)

A very good friend gave me some of her thoughts on "Soup." I removed the name of the woman and I added a brief, new ending. Some other small edits as well.

Please let me know what you think.

The Power of Soup

In a very small house with two very small windows, lived a woman. She lived alone, but she was never lonely.

If you were to look through the very small windows, you would see a very small bed, a very small chair, a very small table, a very small lamp, a very small painting and a very big stove.

The woman loved to cook. She had a very big kettle to sit on the very big stove. She had a very big spoon to stir whatever was in the very big kettle. The woman could cook about anything, but she especially loved to cook soup.

Pea soup, bean soup, potato soup, vegetable soup, rhubarb and turnip soup, dandelion soup, and her very special soup which she called Soup Soup.

People would come from the villages near and far to the woman’s house and bring whatever ingredients they had so that she could make her delicious soup for them.

Miss Dryer came to the woman’s door, “I have carrots.”

“Then we will make carrot soup.”

Mr. Hearty came to the door. “I have potatoes.”

“Then we will make potato soup.”

The Simon twins came to the door, “We have turnips and leeks.”

“Then we will make turnip and leek soup.”

Somehow, though only one or two ingredients were added, the woman was able to stir and stir and stir and stir and soon that one ingredient would taste like many!

Everyone loved the woman’s soup.

One day, a little dark haired girl with sad eyes came to the woman’s door. She wore handmade clothes that were more patches than cloth.

“Can you please make me some soup?”

“What have you brought with you to make the soup?” asked the woman, knowing the answer.

“I have nothing. My mother is sick and father is away in the city. I have nothing to make soup.”

The woman said, “Come inside. I think you have something to add to the soup.”

The woman added water to the very large kettle. She lit the very big stove and began to stir.

“Now, little girl, you have nothing in your hands and you have nothing in your pockets, but you have something in your heart. All you need is to speak to the soup and tell it what your heart is saying.”

The little girl stood on a little chair and was just able to look over the edge of the kettle.

She spoke in but a whisper, “I love you Mommy. Get well soon.”

The woman then began to stir and stir and stir and stir.

And as she stirred and stirred the soup began to churn and bubble. Broth began to form and carrots and peas and beans and leeks and hundreds of herbs and vegetables and flavors mixed and melded in the pot. With a final stir, letters formed of pasta bubbled to the surface.


“I love you Mommy.”

…and they sank. Then…

“Get well soon.”

As the sun began to dip in the afternoon and create its own colorful soup in the sky, shadows of a smaller person and a bigger person together carried a very big kettle towards the village.

The next morning, the woman arrived back to her very small house with two very small windows. She carried with her a much emptier kettle, a simple bouquet of wildflowers and a very big smile.

As she walked in the door she said to herself, "I think I'll make some soup today."