MIA

Yes, I've been MIA. Lots going on, and I'm not doing it. Obviously.

Still working retail. Still getting random weirdness. Still dealing with OPK and assorted crazy.

I promise, tho, I'm working on actually writing again. Soon. Before I go insane from all the words still bashing 'round my head.

Just so you know what to look forward to:

~My brother is a jackass. Possibly the King of Jackasses.

~I've worked retail for almost 12 years now. This qualifies me as insane.

~I still don't like OPK.

~I have a neighbor, a friend really, who attracts more weirdness than I ever did.

~And finally, I'm actually gonna comment on a controversial issue.

"The Man"

The other day at work, this lil' ol' man comes in through the gate.

He asks for permission to use a cart. (no, not just "where are the carts?" but, "may I use this cart please?")

When he comes to the register with his patio pavers, he is waving around the corner chunk from one of the gray pavers. He tells me that while he is getting the pavers he brought me, this one paver back there, it just fell apart when he touched it. I finally realized that he was worried that we'd think he had done it on purpose. I held out my hand for the chunk. He hands it to me and I successfully lob it into the garbage can.

He pays, he leaves.

He comes back.

He tells me, "you see, the township man keeps coming around to check on me." Oh, OK. "He's trying to catch me, to make me get a building permit." Oh, OK. "So, you see, when I add on to my buildings, I put everything on wheels." Oh, OK. "This way, they're not permanent, so they can't make me pay for a permit. And sometimes when I know he's coming, I move things around. Because it's all on wheels." Oh, OK. "But the wheels sink, so I get these blocks to set 'em on." Oh. OK. "I'm FIGHTING THE MAN!"

Oh, OK.

Moving Violation

I think I do this. Indiscriminately throw pheromones into the air and attract the freaks that find me to hump my leg.

And sometimes, they're stronger than others.

I think this because, when they're stronger, My Sweetie sleeps on top of me. Think of it as a very large man-sized cat curled up on top of you. (Then, just for fun, add a few real cat-sized cats too. Yeah, there's a reason I don't sleep well.)

And when I'm at work, or even just not hiding inside my house, all sorts of freaks and weirdos approach me. Some of them are women, too.

Anyway, they just can't seem to be close enough to me. Or talk to me enough. Or something.

If I liked people, maybe I'd enjoy the attention. But considering how little I actually do like most people, it's just annoying. And creepy.

The creep factor today got an added dimension:  when I was driving home from work, I was sitting in the right hand lane (go straight thru the stop light) and a yellow pickup truck with a scruffy dude for a passenger pulled up beside me in the left lane (turning). He looks at me, smiles big, and says, "HI!" and continues eye contact.

They're now approaching me while in moving vehicles.

Kill me. Kill me now.

Tab A

It's been over a month...and I'm just now deciding that yes, I do have a blog and I do need to actually write something on it.

I've been busy, if busy means my pain levels are up, and my head feels like it's been stuffed with rags every day.

The Howler is growing up. On her birthday, this became VERY evident. The following week, she lost another tooth. This is just flat-out wrong. 10 year olds are not supposed to be doing that...and if you're doing that, you shouldn't also have holes in your head where the extra parts are falling out.

I look like I'm dealing with it really well, and "oh, how lucky she is to have a mom like me" (not batshit crazy, dumping my issues with her growing up onto her) but it's hard. When it happened, I wanted to jump up and down in a Yosemite Sam tantrum and curse and swear and just say no. I didn't, because she cried when it happened, and I couldn't make it about me. And we knew it was going to happen, I had just been hoping I would have a few more months.

But you get what you pay for in this instance, and dammit! We didn't pay nothing. So.

What happened next has been interesting. And no matter what the experts say about answering the questions they're asking, regardless of your impressions of how young they are when they ask...I just couldn't fully answer the question she asked later that week.

Yes, she asked me specifically, "how do you make a baby?" I simply could not explain to her that "tab A goes into slot B." I just couldn't. I don't remember the exact wording I used; I did answer the question, I just didn't get as specific as maybe I should have. So sue me.

Her next question was even better:  "Isn't it gross?"

I'm a terrible mother, because I laughed. I couldn't help it.

The conversation got worse, if you can imagine. She asked if it took two or three times of having "a sex" before you could make a baby...and she asked about the "Life, A Beautiful Choice" signs she's seen in yards and on billboards.

Kill me now. I got to try and explain abortion to a 4th grader. Yowza!

Finally, she moved in for the kill (as if the preceding conversation wasn't hard enough!)

She grinned maniacally, and said, "Do you remember that morning a few years ago, when I woke up really early and came over to your room?"

I am so screwed.

Manic Monday

Happy Monday! bwhahahahahahaha!

My day started with a courtesy wake up call...from work. I was scheduled to be there at 7am. I had copied last week's schedule onto my calendar for this week too. Sure, I had printed out my schedule, but apparently, March now has more weeks in it than ever before. Crap and damn.

Once I got to work, I learn I'm at the Hell Desk today. This is great, because, you know, today didn't suck enough. Anyway, Smiley was covering it 'til I got there. She was in the middle of some phone thing, so I just went to cover where she was gonna be until she was done. No problem, right? Right. When we traded places, I discovered the one daily business report that has always been a total brain fart for me. And now, with the techno-updates we're doing to finally join the rest of the world, there's no way-no how I'm tackling that beast today. Which should be fine, because, there it sat, all marked and stuff like it's supposed to be...BUT. Did I shout BUT? I should shout WTF! She had it partially done, and has, up to this moment said absolutely NOTHING about where she was with it. Part of this report thing is to sign it when it's done. No how-no way am I going to sign MY name on HER report doin's. Soooooo, I call ol' Smiley, and ask her about that. She tells me, in her wonderfully non-committed, vague ass way, that "Yeah, uh, that's there. It's kinda done. You might need to print some of it, yo." AS IF! I tell her, as politely as I can that my day is already shot to hell and I'm not finishing this report. She can trade me back, finish it, then we'll switch again.

THEN, I learned that today was "I WANT TO SPEAK TO A MANAGER FOR MY PIDDLY ASSED PROBLEM THAT DOESN'T EVEN INVOLVE YOUR STORE" day. It was great. I loved answering the phone, or just random people approaching the desk, and having them shout "MANAGER." My personal fav was the dude who kept telling me he needed the shipping department. And no matter what I said to him, even after he told me he'd been transfered to the not-shipping department several times (no answer)....I was to reach up my own ass and produce someone who could help him (not happening, btw) Finally, I convinced him to give me his name & phone number, after I gave him my name...he demanded to know how that was gonna help. I explained to him that since he had no one else's name who was to take care of this, AND his call was long distance, we would call him back, after I got to someone to look into it and do it. I actually said the words, "And now you have MY name, and I promise you, I will NOT have you calling back telling anyone I didn't do my job. Someone will call you back, or I will be in deep doo doo." Even that didn't passify this moron, because he called back 20 minutes later.

While trying to get that taken care of, I get this lil' trolly woman. She begins demanding a manager. I ask her if she can tell me a little bit about what the problem is, so I can give the manager a heads up when I call him. She bought a refridgerator--when is top secret eyes only information btw--and it's not making a noise. YAY ME! I ask her if she's already talked to someone in Appliances. She says, "NO. I want the manager." Well, baby, today isn't a good day to get a manager, but you can head back to appliances and the dude back there will be able to help you. "IS HE A MANAGER?" No, ma'am, he's not but "I WANT A MANAGER." Well, ma'am, any manager I call is going to ask me to direct you back to Appliances and this dude. "I WANT A MANAGER." Exasperated, I finally tell her, Ma'am, any manager I call is going to tell me to have you go back to Appliances and start there. If you insist that he come up here, he's going to walk you back there, and give you, and your problem to the dude back there to handle. The dude back there is very capable--he's the guy I always recommend to people when they need anything Appliances. You talk to him first, and when a manager is needed to make this right for you, HE will call the manager.

And that was just my morning. Wait til lunch...it gets MORE exciting! (NOT)

Temperatures Are Not An Indicator

Early last week, the Gnome said he had to talk to me. Then he hauled someone else into the office, and never got me. Still hasn't. Wanna know what he wanted to talk to me about? Yeah, I'm kinda curious too.

Anyway, today, it was brought to my attention that Hell has not actually frozen over, and probably never will.

Today, I received the prize our company gives out to those employees who have managed to suck up enough that the customer emails and tells the company how fabulous you are.

Yeah, I know!

I've had a few of these, but since no one ever got my last name, even though I'm the only person in our store with my name, they wouldn't give me prizes. But that was well over a year ago.

Today's prizes were for compliments sent out last year--November, December and January (it's retail, so we don't need to stinking calendar!) When handed my prize, I shrieked with laughter. I took my prize to the break room, and shrieked with laughter.

And my coworkers are just wonderful:  one walked into the break room from the right door, glanced at me with my obvious prize said, "Oh, you've got to be kidding." and strolled right on out thru the left door.

Another coworker sat there and asked, "So who'd you get that from?" Sounding for all the world like I'd mugged someone who did actually suck up enough to get one.

I also got a few comments about how "emails from your family don't count."

Everyone wanted to manhandle my letter--sure it's a form letter, but it's pretty funny. It tells me that they are "especially proud to have an employee with [my] dedication" and that I "help set the tone and define the customer service culture among all employees in [our store]" and they reminded me that "These items are only awarded to employees, like [me], who clearly understand and practice being customer focused."

They also urge me to proudly display my pin (which I didn't get--apparently, those pins only go to exceptional suck ups employees.)

It's great--but no one in the store actually saw the email. And it was never posted, like the others who have gotten them. Odd, because corporate, much like God, does not make mistakes.

The end is near--with little snow, and few days of subzero weather, it's hard to imagine what part of the Apocalypse this represents.

Immunity

I think I have finally become immune to the weirdness that attacks my life.

Tonight at work, I was covering a break at the customer service desk. A woman comes up, and while I don't entirely remember how we came to discuss it, she began the conversation by explaining that she has a new purse. (don't worry, it gets weirder)

Then she explains that while she has her ID, she doesn't have her credit card with her. Well! I can actually help with that, so I do. During the time I'm getting her a temp copy of her card, she asks about my glasses. I explain where I got them (Sears) and that they are progressive lenses (I'm old, okay?) She is all atwitter about that....and at some point, she wonders, out loud, what she'd look like in my glasses.

Yes, she actually wanted to try on my glasses. And I, like the weirdness goddess I am, LET HER. I handed 'em over, and she put 'em on.

It didn't strike me as weird until she actually began the old ladies version of Vogueing them for me:  she turned so I could check both profiles and asked me how they looked on her.

It worries me that I seem immune to the utter oddness of the people I deal with. It worries me more that instead of being totally freaked out and skeeved by this, I simply handed a woman I've never seen in my whole life my glasses and let her slap 'em on her face. And then, God help me, THEN, I simply told her they looked fine on her. Like passing out my glasses for a quick looky-loo is totally normal, everyday kind of stuff for me.

This, yes, THIS is my life.