The Bad, Part II

(I know, I know . . . I took another hiatus! Shame on me!)

In part one I kind of introduced you to The Villagers (that's usually how we refer to them) and their sheer hatred of meters. And also their belief that we are fixing all the wrong things first. Case in point, I just had a gentleman in the office who was on the Board a few years ago who wanted to know "what hell was wrong with the generator" and why we have to spend money to fix it because "there's nothing wrong with it - change the oil and put a new battery in it". The generator in question hasn't run in a number of years and needs several things fixed. But I politely told the gentleman that I personally have no idea what may or may not be wrong with it, but that the guys would look it more in depth before winter hits and figure out what it needs.

That seems to have placated him for the moment.

As he left, another Villager called and spent the next 20 minutes telling me exactly who started one of the many rumors about those of us that work for the water company. We apparently need to make sure to wear our suits of armor because one of them is a "midget (I think the PC term is Little Person) with severe mental illness, who carries around a sword and a nigger-beater" and that her "husband/current boyfriend is a murderer" and that "they are both drug addicts". She believes that they've killed her cats because they accused her of doping their dogs when she took care of them after they over dosed on whatever drug of choice.

This has been my Friday afternoon.

And believe me, this is far from the worst of anything.

It began slowly, with Boyfriend talking to people about wasting water and issuing fines for doing so. A couple people started spouting off that Boyfriend has a bad attitude and he's menacing and harassing customers.

We took that with a  grain of salt. I mean, seriously, Boyfriend comes to town in the middle of the worst drought on record and tells people they no longer have "unlimited" water and that they can't wash their car in the street or water the road or drain their pool because they thought it looked crooked (yes, someone actually did that) or flood alley ways. Of course some people aren't going to like him. Duh.

The Board of Director's continued to tell Boyfriend to do his job and that if any customer gave him shit, to tell that customer that they could talk to the Board.

Part of this begins in May, when one Board Member resigned. According to our By-Laws, should a vacancy occur on the Board within 90 days of the annual shareholder meeting, then we have to hold an election. BUT, if the vacancy happens to occur more than 90 days from the meeting, then the two remaining Board Members can appoint someone to fill the empty seat. The appointed person would be confirmed at the next annual shareholder meeting.

One Villager expressed interest in being on the Board. The Board Members discovered that they lived outside of the subdivision and cannot be on the Board. In the end they appointed someone else. So this Villager comes to a meeting of the other water company and accosts us when we leave. He kept telling us we "can't do this to an American citizen". I think he thought that one of the reasons he didn't get on the Board was that he's a Cuban immigrant. We kept trying to tell him that the we had nothing to do with the decision and that he can come to our Board Meeting the following week and bring it up to the Board. Finally this Villager tried to push Boyfriend; when he didn't budge, the Villager then flopped himself against the wall and fell on the floor and claimed that Boyfriend assaulted him.

We both stood there like, "WTF? Are you serious??"

I lost my cool and said, "This . . . this here, is bullshit." And we left. And called the sheriff's department.

Later in June, Boyfriend and our other employee tell me that about 20 empty chemical buckets were stolen from the company. And not just from any part of the company - the wastewater treatment plant. My first question is, who in their right mind breaks into a wastewater treatment plant??? Boyfriend had kept the empty bleach tablet buckets to use for random things - carrying tools, hauling soil, or covered tomato plants so they wouldn't freeze. He had looked all over and couldn't find any evidence of forced entry to the treatment plant, which meant that someone must have either scaled the fence and made it over the razor wire or they had a key.

Of course, we're still dealing with the typical "you can't shut me off, so I won't pay my bill" customers; the "I pay my water bill so I can use as much water as I want" customers; the "You're gouging us customers to put money in your own pocket" customers; and my personal favorite, the "we're not in a drought" customers. You know, typical.

To be continued.....



The Bad, Part I

I alluded to some bad that has happened during my hiatus. Actually, a lot. First, here's some basics and a tiny taste of some of the negativity.

As I've mentioned, Boyfriend manages a small water company. It's a "mutual" so that means that all the customers "own" a piece of it. It's been run by the "good ol' boys" club for the past 40 years. They've never had a licensed operator to run the place and somehow managed to get away with it. Nothing was updated or upgraded. Band-aides were put on only when forced. Being so small, the state turned a blind eye. Until the last couple years. And the band-aides aren't working anymore.

Last year, the state finally inspected the surface water treatment plant and found some deficiencies - because it's 60 years old. Because of these deficiencies, when we have to use the river and run the treatment plant, we have to issue a boil advisory, per state law. Due to the drought, we've had to use the river to since March, about 4 months earlier than normal. We have 5 wells that, up until now, have provided adequate or near adequate water supply. But they are slowly running dry; two of them are dead in the water. One is consistent, and two are intermittent. If we don't get any rain this winter, by the first of the year we could be forced to use the river as our only supply. By law, we can only pull so much out of the river in a day; plus our plant is only designed to handle that maximum amount in a day. Any more than that and it just overflows and goes right back into the river.

Another problem is that when Boyfriend started, none of the customers were metered. Everyone pays a flat rate for what they believe is "unlimited water". No one has ever really been able to show these people how much water they waste. Earlier in the year, we instituted a strict water waste policy (well, strict for these people anyway), where if water was in the street, it's waste and fines are added to their account. We even made sure to take pictures to prove to people. They would argue about it while letting it continue to run in the street that they "pay their bill and therefore can use as much water as I want". Seriously.

A lot of changes have happened in a very short period of time. Boyfriend started last December, I started in April and the three Board Members have only been around a year or less each. They are all learning and have been surprised to learn how bad of shape the system is. They agreed to updating the water waste policy so that there were fines attached; they agreed to changing the due date (it used to be the 10th of the month and I suggested the 15th or 20th, they chose the 15th) and agreed that the due date should be enforced; they agreed to do public monthly board meetings, even though as a mutual, we don't have to; they loved the idea of a newsletter to go out with the bills; they want the water company to become a non-profit so we can pursue grant funding; they want meters installed.

All of us are aware that a lot of our customers have lived here for 20, 30 or even 40 years and they aren't used to the changes. They don't like and they don't want it. As one customer shouted during a special informational meeting about becoming a non-profit, "WE DON'T WANT METERS! WE DON'T WANT THEM!!" The anger over meters shocked the shit out of our panel. We had invited our attorney, our drinking water engineer from Ca Dept of Health, our waste water engineer from the Regional Water Quality Control Board, and a gal from Cal Rural Water Association; who are all in favor of us becoming a non-profit.

So what are people concerned with? Rates. That's it.

They associate changing to a non-profit with rate increases. They associate meters with rate increases. They associate grants with rate increases. They associate loans with rate increases. They believe we are fixing the wrong things first. They believe we're spending money where we don't need to.

They want an all new system with a guarantee of zero rate increases. They want us to replace the distribution system first because the pipes are old. However, our drinking water engineer says that is one of the lowest things on their list to fund, while things like new surface water treatment plants, new wells, new storage tanks - those are priorities.

We actually had some guy who, even after the difference between a grant and a loan were explained, said he didn't want to pay back a grant and would rather pay back a loan. He believed that it's fair that he pays $40 a month for water and two people live in his house, and a few houses down there's a house with 10 people living in it and they only pay $40 a month of water. He didn't believe, however, that his bill would go up at all in order to pay back the loan(s).

We have people that tell us that meters are a complete waste of money and they are inaccurate. We've installed approximately 35 meters. In July, we found 12 houses that used nearly 1 million gallons of water. One house alone used 240,000 gallons; the previous owner's son tried to blame that on the water company - that my guys installed a meter and broke pipes and refused to fix them. But Boyfriend didn't some looking around and discovered that someone had purposefully set the toilet to run non-stop. Meters have also shown some people just how much they actually use. One guy, who has one of the nicest and greenest yards was shocked to see that in two weeks he had used nearly 30,000 gallons. After that we noticed he cut back a bit.

We have not decided on a rate structure; that will probably happen sometime next year once meters are completed. We've been using a nearby water company's rate structure as an example since they are smaller than us. We've discovered that some people's bills would actually go down; some would stay the same, and yes, some would go up. But we're finding there are people who don't think it's fair to pay for the water that they themselves are using.

While this is just some of the negativity, there is more. Much, much more.

Oh The Tangled Webs We Weave

Wednesday seemed to go about like any other work day. Except there was a training meeting via phone conference for about an hour or so, starting at 8. Rather boring and until we start the new process, we really won't have that many questions or really understand the whole thing. 

Bubbles was her normal self - her utter cheerfulness infecting all those around her. Meaning the complete opposite of course.

I did my work throughout the day, finally coming to a point about 4pm where I didn't have anything to do. I had been working on doing some clean up on my "schedule" (pestering people as to why we haven't received payment), and had walked back in and heading to my desk when L asked me what I was doing. I replied that I was working on my schedule. She wanted to see what I had, which wasn't much as I've been keeping a close eye and it's been only one page long (when I started it was 3 pages) and I had addressed anything over 5 days old. I told/showed her and then asked her if she had anything I could help her with as I was pretty much done for the day. She said she had a project for me. Made me happy as I like to stay busy and didn't want to told to leave early if I didn't have anything to do.

I went to my desk to put my papers away and went back to L's desk so she could show me what she wanted me to do. She was looking to clean up our inventory online and make sure it matches what he physically have. As she's going over all of this, I saw an email notification pop up in the bottom right hand corner of her screen.

Now I'm not being nosy, as I was there for a reason and staring at her computer screen for the same reason. I was not snooping  or accessing anything I shouldn't.

The email was from Bubbles. The notifications also include the first couple of lines of the email. And since the notifications only pop up for about 10 seconds, I don't remember it verbatim. 

However.

What I do remember is this: "Dang! . . . . hope she'd go home early!"

I think the part I'm fuzzy on was something about me being done for the day or not having anything else to do.

Now, here's what bothers me. Bubbles sent this to L. I like L. She and I get along well and she's a good teacher. L is also the assistant office manager.

I will let that last bit sink in.

How fucking inappropriate is that? Only tons. My last hour of work I was really pissed off, but I didn't show it. I sat down with the printouts from L and set about matching what's in stock physically and online. Now, I know Bubbles and L are "friends" to a point. I believe they started at the company about the same time, and they take their lunches together. Well, to be honest, L, Bubbles, and T get to take their lunch at noon. I have to wait until 1. My boss typically doesn't eat her lunch until 12:30 or 1 and she usually eats at her desk.

So basically speaking, I am (in a sense) ostracized from the group having to take my lunch after everyone else.

Also, from day one, Bubbles has (for some reason) been quite hostile towards me. I have been chalking it up to her personality and that our personalities don't "mesh well". I am aware that  not everyone gets along, and I don't go to work to make friends. I do, however, expect civility and I don't believe I really get even that. Either that or her version of civility is vastly different than mine.

I talked it over with Boyfriend - saying I may need to talk to my OM on Monday when she gets back. As the whole situation is inappropriate and creating a hostile environment. However, if I complain, Bubbles will get talked to, and she knows exactly who will have complained. There are only 5 of us in the office, including the OM. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Boyfriend suggested I start documenting everything instead of going to my OM. Which I will start doing. Besides, either way I still take the brunt of it. If I leave it be, Bubbles will continue to exude her contempt for me. If I make a complaint, it will only make it worse.  So really, I'm screwed either way.

Also, Bubbles repeated a comment about having to fix stuff on her "schedules" and that those problems are due to other people's incompetence and laziness. She repeated it at least 3 times. If she's referring to me, I don't know what "problems" she's speaking of. She mentioned a few weeks ago for me to watch something and I have been. I even went to my OM to verify if I was following correct procedure. So I took measures to make sure to not make the same mistakes. If there are other mistakes she's referring to, I have no idea what they would be as no one has said anything. And if they are my mistakes and they aren't telling me about them, there is no way I can stop making said mistakes. I can't learn and grow if you don't inform me and teach me.

Oh. And that laziness bit? I'm not sure you could consider me slacking on the job. I do the deposit every day, process any and all dealer trades and wholesale transactions, process contract cancellation requests, and work on my "schedule". And when I run out of stuff to do, I ask L or the OM if there is anything I can help with, even if it's just filing. I even took on the dreaded task of shifting all the deals in the filing cabinets to make room. Me? Lazy? Doubtful. She may be referring to just our company, however, seeing as I'm getting the hint that she believes I'm incompetent and lazy, I'd like to say this to her:

"You think I'm lazy? I work three jobs, seven days a week. Three weeks in, I'm still unpacking and getting settled in my new place. I'm preparing to host my first Thanksgiving. Most every night I get home about 5:30 and do stuff around the house - clean, laundry, dinner, dishes, ironing, stack wood, go cut more wood, unpack, move shit around, write stuff for my grandparents magazine, do online training for my weekend job, and spend some quality time with Boyfriend. You're only 22 years old and you have a shit-ton of things to learn - one of them is basic civility. And trust me, you're not perfect either and you don't know everything. You are not entitled to anything so you can shelve your 'I'm better than everyone else' attitude. Also? Involving the assistant manager in your hatred of me is highly inappropriate work place behavior. So fuck you and the horse you road in on. Bitch."

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do some more unpacking before I go to bed.

Lazy, my ass.

Humpfh.
 

People Amaze Me (And Not Necessarily In A Good Way)

People sometimes just plain amaze me. No. Really, they do. I've worked in customer service for most of my working career and dealing with the people can be quite interesting. Or aggravating. It depends on the situation.

Last weekend I was doing my weekend Pet Nutritional Consultant gig. Saturday was actually quite busy even though we had a massive rain storm move through. Seriously,  it was like monsoon season that day. No one was really expecting the torrential downpours that kept happening all day long. But people kept coming as there is a local rescue group that does pet adoptions in the store I go to as well as the Humane Society. I talked to several people regarding pet food, helped lots of people find products they were looking for and answered lots of questions having nothing to do with pet food. Thank God I worked in pet retail and veterinary offices off and on for years. Comes in handy. I gave away coupons to a few new customers and also a few repeat offenders to keep my customer base happy. The happiest ones are the ones who receive the $10 off the large bags. Lot of "thank you's" happen over that one.

Sunday was its usual slow day; I only spoke to a few people and most of them had no intention getting pet food in any capacity. I gave away maybe three coupons and one of those was a cheat - it was Mom who came into buy cat food for me with a $10 off coupon. Bad, I know. But I figure I only buy cat food about every 6 months as I buy the 16lb bag and keep it in an airtight container for my one cat. Much cheaper that way. So, really, one coupon that I hadn't given out yet that day.

And the reason why I hadn't given one out that day is because I actually encountered people who brushed me off when I offered them a coupon.

I will let that sink for a moment.

People actually brushed me off when I approached them with coupons. Seriously. How sad is that?! People acted like I was bothering them, offering them a few bucks off their pet food. It. Was. Amazing. I felt like a schmuck for offering them coupons. One couple that accepted a coupon had absolutely no enthusiasm for getting $10 off their large bag of food. None. Whatsoever. Blew me away. 

I'm pretty sure I didn't look menacing or rude or anything. And I don't think my tone was bad.

"Hi there, would you like a $10 off coupon for the bag of food in your cart?" or "Hi, how about a coupon for $2 off the small bag of food for your cat?" or "I have a coupon for buy one get one free on those cans you have there."

I would have hugged someone who gave me $10 off a $45 dollar bag of food. And these people acted like I was a thorn in their side. Sheesh.

I am now in my second week at my new full-time job - which I am still getting used to this idea that I spend an actual 40 hours a week at. In the office there is a total of 5 of us gals - the Office Manager, and three other gals. Each of us has our own duties, but over time cross training allows others to be able to assist if and when they can. Right now I'm just learning the basics and I feel like a dunce. But that's what comes with a new job in an industry that I've never worked in. Also, what's nice is that I'm no longer the only newbie; T started on Monday. It's nice to not be alone.

Anyway, one of the gals, B, sits at a desk that is directly behind mine (which I despise having someone sit directly behind me). T sits to the left and behind me and L sits to the left of T. The OM has her own office (lucky her). OM and L have been very nice with my pestering them with questions and trying to remember "journals" and "schedules" and account numbers and rules and how to do things. It's a lot to take in. 

I have yet to ask B any questions. Not because I don't think she can answer any of them, but because I don't know what to make of her yet. She has yet to say a single word to me. Not a single one. She talks to OM and L, but not much if anything to T (at least not yet). I'm pretty sure it's a personality thing, so I'm not taking it personally. 

The other day some papers fell off B's desk - meaning they fell right behind my chair. I spun around and picked them up for her and put them back on her desk. Not even a thank you. She didn't even look at me. Seriously. Later, she sneezed and I said, "Bless you" and nothing. (Although, L and T also said "bless you" and she didn't say anything to them either). No thank you, excuse me, nothing. I was slightly offended by the lack of words coming out of her mouth for those, especially with the paper pick up. But I'm letting it roll off my shoulder.

She doesn't visit with anyone a lot, but still asks L how her weekend was. And maybe the OM. But not myself or T. Like I said, I'm pretty sure it's a personality thing.

The good thing is that last Friday as I was getting ready to leave, OM told me that I was doing well, asking good questions and she appreciated me keeping myself busy and helping L with "busy work" (like filing, faxing, etc.). Hopefully she'll still feel that way by the end of this week. ;)

And starting Friday, I will be doing dealer trades by myself (had a bit of a panic moment). L has been teaching me, but there are  a lot of steps and it's easy to mess up. I've only done a few with L looking over my shoulder, but starting Friday she'll be out of town til next week. I can ask my OM for assistance. Can't ask B as she's never done the dealer trades. Hopefully I don't royally fuck up any dealer trades and I am hoping that the sales guys don't do a lot of them over the weekend. But I've been doing the deposit all on my own this week and haven't completely screwed that up (yet). Learning the dealer trades and learning how to work on clearing my cash sales "schedule" (reconcile anything outstanding). 

Wish me luck.

I Am Most Seriously Displeased

Does anyone want to know the most annoying sound in the universe?

It's not that horrific sound Jim Carey and Jeff Daniels make in Dumb and Dumber.

Give up?

It's silence.

I have been job hunting since March. I've had two job interviews in three months. Two weeks ago, one of the three staffing agencies I'm signed up with called me and asked if I'd be interested in a potential job. I said yes (duh), and she put my resume in the pot. She called me a week later to tell me that I hadn't been chosen. (sigh)

I search online for jobs a few times a week. I apply for retail jobs, clerical  jobs, part-time and full-time. I apply for weekend only positions, and anything that doesn't require a phlebotomist license and a medical billing/coder degree. I apply for jobs I see in the paper.

My parents check online for jobs for me every couple of days and the paper every day.

And in the three months of job hunting and countless (read: couple hundred) applications I have sent in, only TWO have called me for interviews.

T.W.O.

And one of those that called me for an interview wanted to badly to give me a job - 5 hours a week for minimum wage.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

I am frustrated. I am pissed. I am annoyed. I am hurt. I am perturbed. I am irked. I am upset. I am miffed. I am fuming. I am offended.

I. Am. Tired.

How do people keep this going for months, or heaven forbid, years? How? My money is pretty much gone. And if not for the kindness of my parents, I'd be homeless. Unemployment didn't pay that much, and them assholes cut me off because they didn't believe me that we lost our mail distribution center (they say it only takes three days from mail to from Redding to where ever the hell they are and in reality, it takes 10 days. TEN.) and my stuff was always late because of it. But it can't be the mail, it must be me.

I am so tired of job hunting. Of constantly entering the same information over and over and over. And over. I'm tired of uploading my resume to "fill in the application" and it gets most of it wrong so I have to correct it. I'm tired of the fact that in this day and age, you rarely have a person to contact regarding your application because businesses prefer you to apply online. I'm tired of the online assessment tests. I'm tired of having to create a "log in" for every single business I apply to because they each have their own website or they use some random third party place and I have to "register" in order to apply for the damn job. I'm tired of applying for jobs I know I can do but can't get a call back on. 

Most of all, I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being worried - constantly worried about money. I'm tired of losing sleep - knowing my part-time job is only temporary for the busy wedding season (so through September at best) and the end of wedding season is looming, even though it only just began a month ago. I'm tired of wondering what I'm going to do if I still haven't found another job.

Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for my cousin for getting me part-time work and trying to keep me close to 20 hours a week. I'm thankful for him putting up with me at work most days of the week. I'm also thankful he gave Boyfriend a job doing deliveries and pick-ups. I'm glad to have a job to go to; something to go do for a few hours every day. But it will end at some point. And some point is just a few short months away.

I'm angry and tired. And I'm tired of feeling that way.

Handicap Accessible My Ass

Last week, I wrote a post about spending an entire Monday with my Granny in town as she thought she had a doctor appointment that day. Turned out it was in June. However, it brought to the forefront (again) how inaccessible many places are for those that are handicapped in some manner, i.e. wheel chair bound.

It depends on how far away something is as to what my Granny uses. If it's not very far, she will use her walker (that has a seat on it in case she gets tired). However, if the distance is a little too much she will use her wheel chair - well, if someone is with her to push her - because she can't walk long distances anymore.

Last week when Granny and I went to Applebee's, we used her wheel chair to get her up the ramp and inside. The distance from the handicap parking to the front door was a bit too far and she worried about the ramp. Plus we knew that the ramp inside the restaurant to get to a table was in the back of the restaurant. So I hauled the wheel chair out of the trunk. And that was also the day when the random lady too a moment from her lunch to come to the front and open the door to let  us in because it would be too much to ask that the employees be around to actually do that. Considering the doors are heavy and do not have a handicap button to open the doors, I'm going to go with they are not "handicap accessible".

One time I stopped at a McDonald's, mostly because I had to use a restroom. On my way to the restroom I saw a disabled lady attempting to open the door to the restroom. She was severely handicapped and could hardly reach the door handle . . . and you, of course, have to pull the door. Other patrons just sat at their tables, trying to ignore this poor lady. I came up behind her and asked, "May I help you with the door?" And she replied with, "Oh yes, thank you!" I also held open the handicapped stall door for her as it also a pull door. Doesn't seem so handicapped accessible to me.

The unfortunate thing is, is that you don't really notice the anti-handicap accessibility until you're helping someone. Restaurants or stores have doors that are far too heavy and if you are alone with someone in a wheel chair. Their front doors don't have the handicap button to open them. The handicap accessible ramp is all the way in the back of the restaurant. And there are some employees that just don't get how hard it is to turn a wheel chair on a dime.

I realize that "by law" these places are handicap accessible, however in reality, they are not. Law and reality really need to talk some more. Just sayin'.

Insults

Today, at work, I was insulted by a customer.

An upset elderly customer. She was upset because her puppy, Peanut, wasn't responding to her surgery as planned.

The puppy had a hernia, which was repaired on Monday.

She called this morning saying the puppy's belly was swollen and was having a hard time going to the bathroom. I told her to come straight in and we'll take a look and see what's going on with Peanut. She said, "okay."

Around lunchtime, I took a phone call, and it was this woman. I answered the phone as usual, "Small Town Vet Clinic, this is Miss CB" and her response was, "Is this the vet clinic?" I replied with, "Yes, ma'am, it is." Her response was, "And who are you?" I replied with my name. She told me her name and said that she was really upset that the doctor had "butchered her dog".

I was taken aback. No one butchered anything.

I responded with, "Ma'am, I'm very sorry that you feel that way, but it was not our intention for anything bad to happen to Peanut."

She responded, in tears, "I'm sorry you're so insensitive."

My response was, "Oh ma'am, please do not mistake me for being insensitive. Please understand that no doctor or technician would knowingly cause harm to any pet that walks through our doors. I am sorry that Peanut doesn't seem to be responding well."

She cried. Continuing to tell me how the doctor "butchered her dog".

At last she said, "I'm taking her to Davis. That doctor butchered my dog."

And she hung up.

I turned around to see my office supervisor staring at me, ready to take a bite of her lunch, with a look that said, "WTF?"

I told her what the client said, and asked if I had - at all - sounded insensitive. She said, "No. In fact, you handled that call really well. You know, that woman has been a client with us for a very long time. I'm surprised she reacted like that." Then she promptly got up and went to the doctor (the one the client complained about), told her what happened and then the doctor has for my input. She said she would try calling her to see if she could talk to her.

It didn't make much sense that she had wasted 5 hours of the day away after having called me the first time, then call to say she was taking her dog to UC Davis Vet Hospital - 3 hours away and would be close to closing time by the time she got down there. And if she were to wait another day, her puppy would be even worse off.

What we figured was that perhaps she was letting the puppy run around, which could cause sutures to break, re-creating the hernia, or causing worse harm. She probably took the puppy to another vet clinic, and the doctor there could have taken the client's word at face value, and saying that the doctor who performed the procedure had done it wrong. It seems the most logical explanation.

To my followers and friends that are pet owners: Please know that people don't spend several hundred thousand dollars to obtain their Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree to "butcher" animals. They work their asses off to obtain that degree because they have a love of animals, and they want to help. When your vet gives you explicit instructions, please follow them. No veterinarian wants to ostracize clients by "butchering" their animals, because trust me, that is no way to keep people coming through the front door. 

Remember that bad word of mouth always travels faster than good. And nobody wants that.

Remember that no matter what, shit can happen, even when you follow directions. We never know how each animal is going to react or heal after an injury or surgery.

But above all, please know that whatever happens, your veterinarian never wants anything bad to happen to your pet.

Ever.

 

What Are We Doing To Our Kids?

*steps onto soapbox*

Humans have a tendency to overreact. A lot. It's apparently in our nature. And inevitably, we upset ourselves, our society, our way of life, etc.

These days, our overreacting is hurting our children, who are innocent bystanders in this world. They are now being forced to grow up too soon because of how society works. The shootings in Newtown, CT and terrorism are huge things in America right now. Adults are often afraid because of racial or ethical stereotypes and what they see on the news. Or should I say "news".

If you've seen recent headlines with kindergartners being suspended over childhood items at school, then you know what I'm talking about. Kindergartners are 5 years old. Typically, they don't see the news headlines about the violence in not only our nation, but around the world. They are learning to color inside the lines, how to write their ABC's, how to read, and how to play with others and share. Most parents don't want their little ones to see headlines regarding school shootings, murder investigations, and that the guy who does the voice of Charlie Brown recently got arrested. Parents want to protect their kids from bad things like these. I am not yet a parent, but these things I know.

When a 5th grader gets called a "murderer" by her classmates and school administrators because of a piece of paper that she forgot was in her pocket that somehow resembled a gun (think more of a taser, really), and also gets a suspension, I think our overreacting has gotten way out of control. She's in 5th grade people, she's only 9 or 10 years old. She's fucking innocent. It's a piece of paper. If she had brought a real gun to school, then no, that's not overreacting. But it's a piece of paper that barely resembles a gun. What's she going to do, give someone a paper cut? Give me a fucking break.

This is the gun the girl had that was considered a "terrorist threat".

When a kindergartner is suspended for talking with a friend about shooting each other with a Hello Kitty Bubble Gun, I think we're overreacting. First, it's Hello Kitty. It's pink. It looks like a hair dryer. And it blows bubbles. Unless she forces the bubbles down her friends throat, I think the kids are safe. Holy crap, people. Stop and think about this. She's five years old. She doesn't know about the school shootings, doesn't understand the implications behind her words. Because she's five years old. She still believes whole heartily in the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Santa Clause. She still believes that unicorns exist and leprechauns. When I was her age, I would have been made to share it's use, or made sure I had enough for everyone. I wouldn't have been suspended.

Who is a afraid of Hello Kitty?

When a first grader is suspended for making a gun motion with his hand, I think we're overreacting. What's he going to do, poke an eye? OMG, call the cops! Trust me, at six years of age, he's not going to do much else with it. Maybe pick a nose. And eat the booger (hey, he's a boy, it happens). Boys do this sort of thing. They play cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, Harry Potter and Voldemort (I'm sure it's happened somewhere). And in the first two, guns are involved. Hand gestured guns. I remember playing those as kids. In school even. We didn't get in trouble. This little boy now has a record that states, "threatened to shoot a student". With what?! His finger nail? Are you fucking serious?! This little boy was sent to the Principal's office three times in one day for making a cutting motion with his fingers like scissors (WTF?! Don't people know that finger scissors don't cut anything?!) and making "hand gun" gestures. Because the school believes it was a threat of gun violence. He's six years old. He barely understands what a gun is.

 Obviously these adults don't remember Uncle Joey from Full House.

When six year old boys are suspended for making hand gun gestures with their hands while playing cops and robbers, I think we're overreacting. They. Are. Boys. Next you're going to tell them that the mud puddle they want to splash in will blow up and kill them all. Cops and robbers doesn't work as well without the hand gun motions. Besides, it wasn't like one kid was chasing the other with a baseball bat. Just sayin'.

What are we doing to our kids? These little ones will one day run the world. Do you think it's going to help them by forcing a psych evaluation on a 5 year old for her Hello Kitty bubble phase? What about the 5th grader who had been called a murderer over a piece of paper? How will this affect her in the long run? These kids are forced to pay for some random asshole's insanity and trigger happy finger. The kids are not the problem. Their play-acting is not the problem. We adults are the problem. Our propensity for overreacting is the problem. Our lack of healthcare for mental illness is the problem. Loopholes in gun control laws are the problem.

What happened in Newtown was a tragedy through and through. But it wasn't a kid's fault. No child died at the hands of another child in this tragedy. They died because a mentally ill adult had some kind of psychotic break and he wanted to inflict the most pain possible.

A 5 year old wanting to shoot bubbles from a pink bubble blower is not the problem. A 6 year old playing cops and robbers is not the problem. A 10 year old with a piece of paper that could easily be an "L" for all we really know, is not the problem.

The problem is the adults. We're not letting the kids be kids anymore. The world is constantly changing, sometimes for the worse. But kids should always be allowed to be kids. Simply put.

The next time those schools (or any school) have an issue like this, they should make it an educational opportunity. Not a lynching.

*steps off of soapbox*

 

Job Hunting: Week 2

My second full week of job hunting is coming to a close and the only two places that have called for an interview are insurance companies. That want me to sell insurance. One company, I have no idea where they got my resume, because I've never heard of them. So that's a bit on the creepy side. And no offense, but selling insurance is not something I'm willing to do. Clean houses? Yes. Work part-time in retail at Christmas? You betcha. Be a waitress? Okay. Insurance, car sales, and port-a-potty cleaning is where I draw the line. A very large, very thick line. Sprayed with lots and lots of Febreze.

My current beef with job hunting is the online portion. I understand that it may save paper for large corporations, or even smaller businesses in some cases. I understand that it's completely awesome for me as I can job hunt in my pajamas and no make-up while I watch reruns of random shows like Leverage, Criminal Minds, and Ghost Hunters. It saves me the hassle of getting pretty so I don't scare the real world out of its wits.

HOWEVER

Here's where I can't stand it. Many large corporations now have assessment tests that you have to take in order to be "qualified" to hire. They tell you to answer honestly to such questions, so you answer as honestly as you can - and in which your only two options are to "agree" or "disagree". Questions like: You think you've had more bad luck than others. You do/don't handle stress well. You are a glass-is-half-empty kind of person or a glass-is-half-full person.You often feel depressed.

While I do understand the basis of this line of questioning, it's also stupid. I personally don't think I've had worse luck than the world and I also don't believe the world is out to get me. I usually handle stress well, at least as well as the average person can. I'm typically a glass-is-half-full kind of person, but I have rare days where I wake up on the wrong-side of the bed 5th wheel and see it as half empty. Just like all normal people. Anyone can answer those questions how they think the company wants them to be answered, even people who suffer greatly from depression.

Another thing is that you have no contact person in which to follow up on your application. You don't have a store manager that you can show your face to and nag until he hires you just so he can have some peace and quiet. Nor does he have to call the cops because you're loitering on the company's "property", nagging him to give you a job, any job.

After you fill out your online application, take the assessment test online and finally submit the application to the company (or companies), you better not hold your breath waiting for a callback. It could get ugly. Being that you generally have no real contact person, you are at the mercy of some computer system that weeds people out so that only the "right" people's applications get sent to the manager of said store location of said company. More often than not, if you fail this assessment test, you are not qualified for an interview, let alone a job. I worked for a company in college, a national chain retail store, for three years. I somehow managed to pass the test I took in person and got hired. I have since applied to said company last week . . . took their newer assessment test online and submitted my application. I'm definitely qualified to work there and it's really not the worst company to work for - and they offer benefits for part-time employees. Holla! Anyhoo, this company (like so many others), doesn't tell if you passed or failed. Therefore, you wait on pins and needles and the company doesn't give a shit.

How many good people are being weeded out because of this? (I mean, besides me) Tons. If I don't answer their question how they think they should be answered, I fail and therefore am not qualified to work for a company that I am full-on qualified for. And have already worked for.

Does this make any sense? NO.

Also, I can guarantee this process does not weed out the crazies. I have lived it. With this retail store I worked for in college, a few people were hired on that simply did not work out. Some were just lazy. Some were just ignorant and couldn't get or do anything right. And others were fucking drug dealers. I'm so not kidding. We had this one guy who, at first, seemed okay. I had an instant disliking of him, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He was a bit defiant in his training at the register (I was his trainer). However, a few co-workers came to me at different times and told me this guy had come up to them while putting stock on shelves and said, "Hey, if you need some good shit, let me know. I got connections. I got good shit." And it wasn't pot. Later, he threatened the assistant manager in the office in the presence of two employees and all three of them were scared shitless that this guy was going to come back with a gun. And he qualified via the assessment test that he was a "good employee".

Really, I just miss the days of actually going in, asking for an application, filling it out, stapling my resume to it, and going back into the store and returning my application and resume to the manager in person so I know who the hell to nag to give me a job. It used to be so simple. Now it's complicated by assessment tests online so a computer program can filter me to a person or to the garbage.

I'm not saying that people are any better at eye-balling the crazies, the ignorant, and the lazy, but I think first impressions are extremely important. One of those should be handing your application and/or resume to a manager/owner of a business, dressed like a professional. I like having a face and/or the name of a manager to nag to hire me. It helps. It will either get me a job somewhere or a restraining order. I'd prefer the former, just so we're clear.

While I will continue to job hunt in person and online, just know how much I really don't care for the online portion of my new past time. Somehow, some way, I will persevere and find a job.

Until then, it stinks.

Hate leaves ugly scars; so why do we hate so much?

I am apparently a hated woman. I am apparently a man hater, as well.

Hmmm. I wasn't aware of either until recently. I'd like to thank the gentleman who has been spamming my inbox, starting with the whole "Boycott American Women" comment for pointing this out to me. Because I hate to walk around oblivious to these stated facts.

Whomever you are sir, I do sincerely apologize for how you've been wronged and hurt by women in your life. You may not believe my sincerity, but, it is sincere, whether you choose to believe it or not.

You think it bothers me that you have put me on your "man hater wall"? It does not, because contrary to your belief in a person you do not, nor will never know, I personally know that I am not a man hater. Perhaps I am a bit cynical from dating experiences, but I personally don't believe that classifies me as a man hater. On the flip side, I don't believe that a man who might be cynical from his dating experiences to be a woman hater.

You ask me to prove my lack of man hater-ness by joining your site which spews only hatred of my sex. Call me crazy (oh wait, you've already done that - so glad we got that out of the way), but hatred only begets hatred. I'm not necessarily a pacifist, I will fight for what I believe in. However, I fail to understand how sheer hatred will save anyone from any kind of wrong doing. And how you can expect me to join your cause after you have insulted not only me, but my mother, my grandmothers, my best friend, and many of my close girlfriends and acquaintances.

I cannot speak for every woman in America, and definitely cannot speak for women all over this world, American or not. I certainly do wish women did not falsely accuse men of horrible actions such as rape or domestic violence. I also, wish women would not marry for money, divorce for money, or keep children from good fathers just for the sake of being cruel. I agree with you that those actions are wrong indeed. Unfortunately, men do take advantage of women, beat women, and there are some fathers who keep kids from their mothers. You are not railing against them why? Because they are being falsely accused? No, it's because you are not one of them. Therefore, all men are innocent of any crimes committed against women because it's us women who are really to blame since the dawn of time isn't it?

Over the centuries, women had no voice because we were not considered "citizens". We could not vote, hold property, or speak our minds. For centuries, women were objects to men, property in a sense. For centuries, women ran the house, raised the children, and frittered away the hours doing needlepoint until someone held a party. Simply because we lacked a penis we were treated as second rate and were too dumb to understand politics and business. We fought hard for our rights to vote, hold property, and do anything a man can do. We are still fighting. Perhaps you would still like us women to hold our tongues, raise the kids, run the household, have dinner on the table by a time specified by you and have extremely limited opportunities in anything? Maybe we can summon Doctor Who for you and he can drop you off in an era more suited to your needs? Yes, let's.

Both men and women are at fault because we abuse each other. Though I know you will disagree with this, call me crazy (again, we've done that), call me a man hating bitch (oh, you've that already as well - aren't you efficient?), sexist, liar, possibly a discriminatory bigot, and many other hateful and spiteful things. You will call me all those things and more simply because I do not agree with you spreading hatred, or fighting hatred with hatred. You will still call me all of those things no matter what I say. Because not only am I a woman, I am a hated American woman. Mostly by you and those who have been touched by your hatred.

 I believe you misunderstood my previous post, sir. You insulted me with your comment and I responded. Perhaps you are angry that I referred to you as an asshat? Or was it douche-bag? Or was it when I called you a whack-job? Well, in my defense, I was insulted and upset. I am a woman, and I can get rather emotional. However, I will apologize for the name calling.

I kindly thank you for your offer of joining your cause, but I must respectfully decline your offer, for the reasons stated above. I know you will not accept my apologies, because you will not believe them to be sincere. My thoughts, my opinions will be sexist and bigoted in your mind. I cannot change that. I have accepted that fact. I do not hate you for your views. In fact, I feel sorry for you and your life without love. No, sir, I do not hate you. I am not, however, overly excited by your existence, nor how you are so willing to spread your hatred.

Call me what you will, make me your man hater pin-up girl, spam my inbox as much as you like. I'm sorry, in all my hated womanliness I have forgotten - you've already done that! I will not shed a tear over your hatred of me simply because I am an American woman. I am a good person. I know that; my friends know that; my family knows that. And that is what is important. My mother and my grandmothers raised me well, taught me responsibility and respect and ethics.

And though you will probably not oblige me when I respectfully ask you, sir, to please stop sending me hateful comments, I am going to ask anyway. Because I have a right to ask that of you. And if you are a gentleman at all, you will stop. Unfortunately, after reading your comments and having perused your site, I do not believe you will stop spreading your hate directly to my inbox. In that case, I will be reading your hateful comments and respectfully marking them as spam.

I know sir, no matter what I say, I am doomed to be hated by you. I accept that.

With my piece having been said, I will not be responding to you or your hateful comments in the near future. I will bow out gracefully. Or should I curtsey? You know what? Just to be safe and polite, I'll do both for you, sir.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

I (and other good women) have been insulted

Due to a sudden rash of "anonymous" comments, I'm now enabling comment moderation. Don't worry, no captchas to worry about, at least for now. These "anonymous" comments are complete spam, and one of them was actually quite offensive. My friend from Tilting at Windmills I know saw the comment I'm speaking about, and actually replied to the spam comment, calling the guy a "case" and stating "you're posting this on an American woman's blog".

Now, I know I shouldn't let what this asshat says get to me. But being that I've been hit with this spam multiple times, I think it's only fair that I get out my frustration.

I'm sure other bloggers out there have been hit with the "Boycott American Women" comment. I have been more than once. And to the douche-bag who posts the comment, you might want to take note of where bloggers live, and whether it's a woman's blog you're leaving it on. I'm sure that the reason you, as an American man (so you claim), hate American women is because you have a certain "type" you always go for. And it's this "type" who has used you and abused you and made you into the headcase you now are. I, however, am not this "type" of American woman. In case anyone is curious, this is what he basically thinks all American women are:

He believes that American women are mostly likely to cheat on you, divorce you, to get fat, to steal half your money, don't know how to cook or clean, don't want to have children, etc. They are immature, selfish, extremely arrogant and self-centered, mentally unstable, irresponsible, and highly unchaste.

Well. Alrighty then. Let's see, I've never cheated on anyone I've ever been in a relationship with. I've yet to be married, so I don't have a history of divorce and taking some poor schmuck for all he's worth. I have a little more on me to love, but I don't weigh a million pounds. I don't steal. I don't like to cook much, but I will. I do know how to clean. If I don't, I ask my mother and she tells me what works best. I do want children, but I'd prefer to be married. I doubt anyone who knows me would say I am immature. I try not to be a selfish person, but no one is perfect. I don't think I'm arrogant or self-centered (unless it's my birthday, but hey, it's my freaking birthday). I'm no more mentally unstable then the next person. I try to be responsible, and hopefully I am 99% of the time. And I'm about as freaking chaste as you can get, dude.

So, in a nutshell, this guy is a whack-job. And I'm sure in coming years as I continue to blog, I will be spammed with his bullshit comment about how horrible all American women are. Go find a therapist. Oh, and I'd love to see how long your mail order bride that can't speak English lasts - because it won't take long to see what a jackwagon you really are.

Thanks for insulting a GOOD American woman.

And before you ask:

 

Just so we're clear.

 

 

Don't you hate to wake up to a "WTF" moment?

Last week I woke a wee bit on the pissy side. Because of a dream. I was also very confused as to why my subconscious did what it did. I'm still clueless because it refuses to let me in on it's sick little joke.

Nothing bad happened in the dream, but there was a guy there. A guy I loathed. Since grade school. A true ass-hat before the phrase was ever coined.

What's worse was that in the dream, he wasn't the ass-hat that I know. He was a relatively nice guy. Which made me even more mad that my subconscious would try to trip me up.

Okay, I'm not saying he's not a nice guy now, but I don't give a shit. I don't like him. At. All. Never have.

We first met somewhere in Elementary school in Redding. I don't remember much, just that he was a little jerk. Just like most boys in that age range. I think he moved before I did. I don't remember. I really tried to just believe he didn't exist. My parents and I moved after my 7th grade year was up, putting me in a new school for my 8th grade year.

And there he was. Still an ass-hat. As were a couple of other people I'd thought I'd gotten rid of because they'd moved before me.

Again, I just went about my business as if he didn't exist because I didn't like him.

I think it was my freshman year when I nearly punched his lights out. On the school bus. My fist stopped about an inch from his face, and there was fear in his eyes. He was probably afraid of his reputation - I mean, how would it look to get a black eye or broken nose from a girl in front of a bunch of his friends? Bad. Real bad.

I'm not sure what stopped my fist. But when I finished having my say, I looked up at the bus driver and her eyes were on me. I sat down and endured the ride home.

Why did I nearly hit him? He touched me. Not anything horrible or perverted, but I didn't want his slimy ass-hat fingers on my belongings let alone me. And considering he ignored my "take your fucking hands off me" line, I had no choice but to put the fear in his eyes. Oddly enough, for the next 4 years he never touched me, and I'm pretty sure he never spoke to me again, which was perfectly fine with me. He would give me "looks" as we passed between classes once in awhile and I'd either ignore him or if I was feeling particularly sassy, I'd flip him the bird.

So what the hell was my subconscious thinking putting this ass-hat into a dream of mine? Albeit a weird dream - quite weird in fact. I don't remember many of the details now, but a few things still stick in my mind. I mean, I know dreams are typically weird. And I've had stranger, weirder dreams. I've had nightmares where I wake up hyperventilating with silent tears streaming down my cheeks. Luckily the latter are extremely rare. But why would my brain pick some guy I haven't seen since graduation, never think of, and don't care anything about?

Not a clue. But I hope it doesn't happen again anytime soon.

I just don't get it.

Last week I received a phone call from a client requesting two things: 1) her horse needed a chiropractic appointment, and 2) she needed a prescription refill for one of her dogs as well as an order of it's special food (diabetic dog), and that she'd pick that up the following week (aka this week).

 

I told her I would try to get Dr. R over here the next week (aka this week) for the equine chiro, and that I would call in the prescription for the pills I don't carry over in the Sticksville clinic and have them here for her. Her and her husband are super-dee-duper nice folks, and if I had any flexibility left, I might just bend over backward for them.

 

As soon as we hung up, I called the main clinic in Town to see what Dr. R's schedule looked like for the next week (aka this week), and the receptionist said it shouldn't be a problem sending him over to the Sticksville clinic that week. Then I told her that I also needed a prescription refill for the same people and to have them stick said prescription in the Sticksville box to send over the following Wednesday. She said (and I quote), "Sure. No problem."

 

Famous. Last. Words.

 

On Tuesday I called the main clinic in Town to verify appointments, and spoke to the other receptionist. After going over appointments, I wanted to double check about that prescription for Mr. and Mrs. Super-dee-duper Nice, because I'm paranoid. She wrote everything down because she didn't see a charge for it in the computer yet and said (and I quote), "I'll check on it, and make sure it's in the box."

 

Famous. Last. Words.

 

Wednesday rolls around, and Dr. R shows up this morning and we do our surgeries, chit-chatting, while I start putting stuff away that he brought me. What don't I find? The prescription I asked about. Twice. Dr. R hears me going, "oh no no no" and asked what was wrong - I told him I didn't get a prescription that I'd asked be brought over. The food, however, had shown up. Go figure.

 

When the phone finally stops ringing around 11ish, I try calling Mr. and Mrs. Super-dee-duper Nice, and while it's ringing, guess who walked in the front door? You got it.

I sheepishly told them the dog's medicine did not get sent over for some reason, but that I had their food. They of course weren't overly happy that they were going to have to drive over the mountain just for that, but seeing as the dog was out of medicine by now, they had to do it. They paid for the food, and I promptly called the main clinic in Town.

I spoke with the first receptionist, and I asked if the prescription refill was over there, and she said, "Yep. I have it right here." When I mentioned (politely) that it hadn't been sent over, she said, "It didn't show up on my desk until this morning and by then Dr. R was gone." I simply said okay and thanks and hung up.

I. Was. Fuming.

 

Now, here is what I don't get. There are two receptionists full-time Monday through Friday. If they know of a prescription that needs to be sent over to my clinic, either they need to inform a tech about it, or they can do it themselves. Oddly enough, that is what I do. Hell, I fill prescriptions because I don't have anything else going on and I'm happy to help out wherever I can.

 

Here's another thing: When I call in a prescription and ask for it to be sent over here, it's for one main reason - saving some poor soul a 40 mile round-trip drive. There are a few people that don't have a car. Or don't have a license. Or can't drive because they're too old. Or they just want to save the gas money if the doctor is coming over here anyway for work, he can bring the medicine, too.

 

That's what happened this time. These folks call in their refills or special orders a week in advance. I try to keep their dog's food over here at all times. I also try to keep a bottle of insulin for their dog.

 

 But what really pisses me off is the fact that I called it in last week, and for whatever reason, it didn't get done. So, when those really nice folks show up to get their order, I'm the one who looks like a douche when it's not here. Not to mention they now have to make a 40 mile round-trip drive (with gas sitting near $5/gal) because someone dropped the ball.

And I don't ever want to hear, "It didn't show up on my desk until this morning and by then the doctor was gone," because don't you freaking remember that I called and spoke to you about it a week prior?!

When I call to have a prescription sent over, it's not a suggestion.