The Fish Slayer

First let me begin by saying that from the beginning of the Toad's childhood, fish seem to have extremely limited lifespans when in my house.

He won a goldfish at the fair. It died within days. Not really a big shock, but we purchased a replacement fish. It died within days, spawning a new childhood rhyme:

One fish
New fish
Dead fish
No fish

If my mother is in charge of feeding the fish, there's a good chance we'll come home to a cloudy fishtank and dead fish. The Fish Slayer gene is apparently hereditary.

Kevin, the Howler, and I left on a Wednesday evening. The Toad was given specific instructions: feed and water the cats, feed the fish. The cats are easy--if the bowls are empty, fill them. Feeding the fish, however, seems to be akin to doing brain surgery--how much is a pinch? What do you mean by "Twice a day"? Too hard....must kill fish.

We get home on the following Sunday afternoon, and the fish tank is not only cloudy and populated with half-and-half fish. Half are dead, and the rest look like they are dying.

Kevin cleans the tank, all the while muttering about Theo the Fish Slayer. He fishes (HAH!) out the dead ones and we hope for the best. More fish die.

Kevin is now singing along with cartoon theme songs, changing the words to reflect the Toad's new title: Fish Slayer.

Squirrel Bait

There was an article in our local paper this week about a mail carrier in the Oil City, PA, area who was attacked by a squirrel.

It made me wonder why there are not more attacks on people by squirrels, at least in the tri-county area I live in.

My mother has the uncanny ability to attract crazy people. I call 'em "Squirrel Bait." These women are nuts.

Their sense of entitlement is surpassed only by their warped sense of reality. Their children, in jail and out, are, small wonder, nutcases themselves--at least from what I hear in the endless parade of stories featuring these people.

One lives on the same street I do. Her adult son, and his preschooler daughter, live with her, in a cramped two bedroom house. She's currently angry because the only *daycare* in the area that provides free busing does not have openings. She refuses to believe that this *daycare* is Head Start, because Wes, her son, told her it's not--even though when Head Start called and left messages for him regarding this, they identified themselves as Head Start.

Wes, apparently, only lies to the police, girlfriends (current and exes), work, and credit card companies. He does not lie to her--even though, in her stories about Life With Wes, there are contradictions galore.

The stories are mind-numbingly the same, and numerous.

Squirrel Bait 1, has lifted off and left town for a while. She is apparently spending time at the home colony in Florida.

There is no rest for the wicked....Enter Squirrel Bait 2.

It's like being forced to watch reruns of really really bad CBS sitcoms--or what I'm getting now, a whole brand new season of SSDT (same stupid, different twit). Of course, it all seems so familiar somehow.

Much like a wild animal caught in a trap, I'm considering chewing my own foot off.

Yet again

More than anything, all I want is to be allowed to do my job, and to have the things I need in order to do that.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It is impossible to be at the farthest reaches of the building without a working phone. I've done it--I know that it doesn't work.

And I hate to do the phone dance.

Yet again this year, the protect-you-from-the-wind house is up, and yet again this year, something on that register BROKE, making it more difficult to do the job.

It's frustrating, especially knowing that we've all known for months that the phone was hanging on by, literally, a wire, and that it could, at any time, snap.

It snapped today. Friday. When ALL the plants are clearance priced--and with all those clearance prices needing an override to input them.

The only other working phone is 10 yards away.......in what will become, yet again, a slalom of people and plants (and once the house is up, it is necessary to pull those carts, or your sorry ass into the doorway of the house so that I am trapped in there....)

Ugh. They'll all be surprised, yet again this year, when I get really really bitchy by the end of my shift. Even after I told them today to NOT be surprised!

This is a classic example of "if you keep doing what you've always done....why are you surprised when you keep getting what you've always gotten"!

I think I will adopt the mantra "Resistance is futile" for the weekend, though. I think they'll appreciate it.

Tagged

WTH does that mean? It means I answer questions and then tag someone else--as if I have friends. Do I strike you as a people person? Do I look like someone who can do the technical stuff like that?

Thanks loads, Jen!

Anyway, to oblige:
What do you like most about where you live?
My neighbors, who pee in their yard, are moving back. It's been so quiet and I am actually looking forward to the entertainment they provide.

What's one of your all time favorite music albums and why?
Hmmmmm. August & Everything After by Counting Crows. Little Creatures by Talking Heads. Inside Job by Don Henley.

Did you have a passion for something as a kid that you still have now?
Reading and writing. Not that I get to do much of either.

What do you like most about having a blog?
It's a good way to vent my frustrations, document stupidity, and, in general, deal with the stuff that's inside my head. It also keeps me from feeling like I have to respond to comments. I just put myself out there--the world (you know who you are) can like it or lump it.


Katie you're up.

Happy Birthday to Me

My birthday always sucks.

If we make plans, someone gets violently (read: projectile vomiting) ill, major appliances explode, something gets set on fire...and not because of the candles on the cake.

What do I want for my birthday? I want to hear "Happy Birthday" often. That's it. No prizes, no cards, no nothing special. Just "happy birthday" is good for me.

This year, what I got was a pap smear. Just what you want to hear about--my cootch. lol.

I did not choose this date for the exam, but after 3 cancellations earlier in the year (2x the doc's; 1x mine), I am glad to have gotten it FINALLY over. And, next year, joy of joys, I can start with rectals and mammograms.

If I'm lucky, next year, I'll get to have a root canal, too.

Hun, I Need To Take A Shower

Kevin: Man, I need a shower.
Me: Okay.
K: I need to take a shower.
Me: Okay. Take a shower.
K: When's supper?
Me: You've got time.
K: Are you sure?
Me: Yes. Go take your shower.
K: Okay. I'm gonna go take a shower. {wanders into livingroom, sits down}
Me: Supper will be ready in 20 minutes.
K: Okay. I'm gonna go take a shower.
Me: Okay.
K: {moving from LR back into Kitchen} Do you need help with anything?
Me: No, thanks. Go ahead and take your shower. You have time.
K: {still standing there} Okay. I'm gonna take a shower.
Me: Okay.
K: {heads towards basement} I'm gonna have a smoke first.
Me: Okay. Then take your shower.
K: Okay. {goes down to basement}
Me: {I continue fixing supper, amusing Howler, setting table, etc.}
K: {coming up from basement} I need to fix that thing down there. {heads back to basement}
Me: Okay. Supper in 15 minutes.
K: {putter putter bang rattle putter}
Me: {continue what I was doing}
K: Okay. I'm gonna go take my shower.
Me: Okay.
K: Okay. Do I still have time?
Me: Yes. {starting to sound exasperated}
K: Okay. I really need a shower.
Me: Okay.
K: Do you need help with anything?
Me: Nope. Go ahead and take your shower.
K: Okay. {turns to head to the stairs} Oh. I forgot to bring up the dry laundry. {heads, again, to basement}
Me: yah huh.
K: What?
Me: Nothing. Go take your shower.
K: Yeah. I need a shower.
Me: I'll go get the laundry. {heads to basement}
K: Thanks.
Me: {in basement, getting laundry}
K: {bang rattle rustle jingle}
Me: {back from basement} I thought you were going to take your shower.
K: Yeah. I am. {said with his head inside a cupboard, God alone knows why}
Me: So, go take your shower.
K: I am. Do you need anything?
Me: NO. GO take your shower.
K: Okay. Thanks, I really need a shower.
Me: Okay. Supper will be ready when you're done.
K: Okay. {heads to stairs....stops in LR, starts to fold clothes}
Me: I thought you were taking a shower?!
K: I am. I want to fold these first, though.
Me: Yah Huh. {roll eyes}
K: What?!
Me: Nothing. Fold the clothes, take you shower.
K: Is supper ready?
Me: Yes.
K: I thought you said I had time to take a shower.
Me: You DID. Now you DON'T.
K: I really need a shower.
Me: SO TAKE THE SHOWER ALREADY!
K: Did I do something?
Me: {says nothing, just beat my own head into the wall}

What Makes Me a Target?

I can only guess.

I have not always been so well behaved, but, as of late, I am VERY well behaved.

I go to work on time. I do my job. I do my job extremely well. I don't complain (much) and I don't spend time bitching about what--or who--I do not like. I don't whine or holler or gossip.

Sure, I find some of the people the company has hired to be weird. Unnervingly weird. I also find a good many of them to be barely competent--as in, "You've worked here how long?" But I don't complain, even if that's who I will be spending a good portion of my very busy day with.

I talk fast, and the more angry or rushed I am, the faster I talk. That, I'm working on. I'm trying to remember that most people cannot listen as fast as I can talk.

I have made great strides in letting lots of things that used to bother me slide--and not carry them 'round with me. (Of course, the really crazy things, I do share with others.)

BUT, what I don't get: Why am I THE chosen target of women managers who, while not entirely the smartest tack on the board, seem to be competent. That's taking into consideration that everyone makes mistakes.

I have no illusions regarding the department. I don't believe that managing approximately 30 people--most of whom are women--is easy. Especially not when you have to deal with personalities, competence levels, and work all that into a schedule that puts bodies where they need to be, when they need to be there.

I don't, however, understand what it is about ME that causes these women to have complete and total breakdowns in logic and basic thinking skills. If it's got my name on it, it's got to be wrong.

After something close to 3 years, you'd think that, as a department manager, she'd figure out that I am competent. And that messing with me--my schedule, my head or company policy--is NOT the way to get anywhere.

This is a woman who began her tenure with me (Plankton) by messing up my schedule, sneering and snorting at me, snipping at me, shorting my lunchtimes and breaktimes, lying to me, and stranding me at the end of my shift without coverage (can't leave my post without it). At the time, she was salaried, meaning, she got PAID to be there, regardless of her actual posted shift, until HER job was done. That job includes MY end of shift coverage.

She punched out and went home--AFTER I had made no less than 2 phone calls to her in less than 30 minutes.......and the ONLY reason I got coverage at all was because I called the Manager on Duty. My manager was already LOOOONG gone by that time--punched out and left, without making so much as a phone call to GET me coverage.

That's just the beginning.

She has, in the years following that, proceeded to continue playing the schedule games, and has kept me past my shift, at close of business for that day, while sending home others who were scheduled later. She has also singled me out to do jobs that even the store manager doesn't ask those in my position to do.

She can't tell time. One of her scheduling games is to send me on a 15 minute break immediately upon my return from my lunch. She does that when ever I have a longer shift, and would, therefore, work close to or exceeding 4 hours then, without a chance to go to the bathroom. If I were to call and request such an opportunity, she'll say "I don't have the coverage.", but I insist, I will see for myself that her not having coverage means that she has 3 other people justing standing around, making weak efforts to look busy.

This is "par for the course" and are certainly things I'm used to. She's not the first, and God knows, she won't be the last.

What sets this one above the others would have to be her blatant attempts to get me written up and/or fired.

Employee policy be damned! If she wants to ring out her own purchases on my login, that's okay.

If she makes schedule changes while I'm on vacation--changes that put me ON the schedule while I'm on vacation, well, SURE! DO IT! Do it everytime I'm on vacation--and not actually going to be IN the building to check the schedule.

Totally disregard my availability, which has been in place for a year! A YEAR! I know that I have, myself, on at least 6 separate occassions clued her in....and so had HER manager. But, hey, that's not really when I'm available, you know. It's more of a suggestion of a request of when I don't want to be there. It's not like I don't have a babysitter or other places to be, really.

Geez.

What I wouldn't give for a big bag of clues to hit her with.