Mundane Midweek

I'm linking up with Charlotte again this week for the Mundane Midweek Linkup.

My week at work was spent largely in the "dish room", putting clean dishes away only to pull them back off the shelf two days later to fill dish orders for the coming weekend. Fortunately for me, most of this weekends dish orders were not as massive as last weekends (175 of everything). But between all the dish orders, a lot of dishes still went out.

Today (Friday) I spent two hours taking an SOS pad to rusty knives. The owner had to pack the silverware so tight when the dishes were returned on Monday that many knives came out with a lot of rust stains. So there I sat for two hours at a little table in the corner where I could still easily greet and help customers should they come in. Which, of course, they did. And I had to keep a small fan blowing on me because it was 110*(F) here (for you Celsius folks that means it was really effing hot) and it felt like it was 80* or so inside the building and a little muggy. UGH.

This morning I had a phone appointment with a company I had applied to earlier this week - selling pet food on weekends at local pet stores. The title being "Pet Nutritional Consultant", and having worked in pet retail and veterinary offices, I'm a shoe-in. We had an appointment for the gal to call me at 11am as I had told her in an email that I had to be at work that afternoon. 11am came and went until noon showed up. I finally left the house for work and she called a couple hours later. She told Granny she'd call me back at 7pm tonight. She did call at 7pm and apologized profusely, saying she'd been out in the field and had forgot to bring my phone number. She then told me that they had just hired someone for the Redding area, but that 30% of potential hires fall through because they don't have the correct amount of auto insurance (or aren't insured at all) or fail the background or DMV check. I agreed to go ahead with the interview in case something happened. We spoke for close to half an hour and she loved my answers to everything, especially to her question, "Give me an example of how you've dealt with a customer who complained about the cost of something." Oh. Do I have stories. The only stumbling block for me would be, if I were to be hired, I would have to purchase a tablet. Evidently laptops and Kindles are a no, but an iPad or Tablet is okay. The company would reimburse up to so much of the cost of the tablet, but I honestly told her that I have other bills that have to be paid and that a tablet is not something I would normally purchase because I have a smart phone and a laptop, however if I was offered this position I would see what I could do about purchasing one. (I'd rather not, though). In the end she was ready to hire me, and said she would keep in contact about the situation via email.

Also got an email this week from a pet food company who had a similar position as the company above, so hopefully will have a phone interview with that person, too. Which reminds me, must do research on that pet food company because I don't know all that much about them.

Neither of these positions are full time - they are part-time, Friday through Sunday, and do a 4 hour demo at a time for the brand(s) you're hired to market to retail customers. Basically you wander the store for 4 hours, stalking customers and asking them what brand of food they feed their pets, and see if you can't get them interesting trying Brand A versus whatever their buying. But you still get paid over $10/hr for a pretty easy job. And I could use the part-time work AND the extra few bucks it would shoot my way.

Keep your fingers crossed one of these work out for me, because I'm totally qualified and I could use some extra work and money. (Well, really, who couldn't these days??)

 

Just another reason why Dr. J is AWESOME

Yesterday (Wednesday) marked my final day with Dr. J at the Sticksville clinic. The morning started off a bit slow, but picked up as usual. He told me he wanted to take me to lunch, but that we'd have to go early as we had to euthanize an old dog with a tumor growing between its eyes at 12:30.

We got to the restaurant and started visiting. We discussed the new girl, who is doing okay, but her biggest issue I think is her maturity level and lack of experience. I think she'll do okay, but she needs time and practice. Time is not something the clinic can offer a lot of, and practice unfortunately comes with time. Dr. J had a meeting with her that morning and told her he was going to give her a few more weeks to see how she's catching on. Working at a vet's office is a lot to throw at someone who has no background in the job.

Also, during our lunch we visited about my job hunting. Which, until I move isn't progressing as quickly as I want. I told him I'd sent my resume to a couple of places and he asked if I had contacted a large/small animal clinic around Redding. I hadn't yet, but it was a place that I worked at during college and had planned on talking to them after I moved. Dr. J said, "I should call them. I'll call them now."

He put down his hamburger and dug his cell phone out of his pocket, looked up the number and called.

I sat there staring at him thinking he was just completely crazy.

He asked for one of the doctors that owns the clinic, and he apparently is out of town until next week. So he asked to talk to the gal that runs the office. He spoke to her about me saying, "I've got a gal that's worked for me awhile and she's moving back to Redding this weekend and is looking for employment. I wanted to call and put in a good word for her. I had wanted to talk to Dr. G, but I understand he's out of town, so I wanted to talk to you. . . She's not a licensed tech, but she assists us in exams, handles prescriptions, does reception . . . She's been running our satellite clinic in Sticksville and also works at our main clinic in Town. . . . On Monday? I will tell her. Thanks a lot."

He turns back to me and says, "Sounds like they're looking for someone. Head on over there on Monday." With a smile on his face.

He truly is a nice guy. I never expected him to call some place for me ahead of time. I knew he'd give me a good reference if people called after I'd turned in a resume, but this was just plain crazy cool of Dr. J. I'm really going to miss working for him.

Please keep fingers crossed that something good happens. I really don't want unemployment. If this just fell into place it would be AWESOME.

Today is the day that I have to get the last minute stuff done: take in my recycling, wash my sheets and pack them and the rest of my bedding (so I spend the last nights in my sleeping bag), and just get all the odds and ends packed up leaving only the bare essentials for the next couple of days.

My last day of work at the vet center is tomorrow and they will be getting a Subway platter for everyone as my "good-bye lunch". I'm already getting tears in my eyes, thinking of saying good-bye. Saying good-bye to several of the customers has been pretty rough already.

Dammit. Pass the Kleenex.

 

Oh. My. Gawd.

Saturday's at the vet clinic can be a variety of things: slow, busy but easy, busy but rough, or downright insane. I'm putting this last Saturday on the downright insane list. Not only were we busy, but it was my day for the crazies and the talkers. You know the type: they never once take a breath while speaking the entire time their on the premises. I had not one but two of those.

Walking in I looked at the book and though, well, we're busy, but not insane. I think I may have jinxed myself.

Things were going well early on, but somewhere between 9am and 10am I noticed a slight spiral. First, I get this gal who calls in about a pregnant Yorkie who is having some discharge out her hoo-ha and they're not sure if this is normal. So this tells you that these folks are backyard breeders because they have no idea what they are doing. A person who has bred dogs before or is a professional breeder would know what's normal or not. So I took her name and number and told her I would talk with the vet, Dr. A and get back to her. Poor Dr. A has no idea as she's still a recent vet school graduate. So she starts looking stuff up. Eventually this gal calls back and then asks if they brought the dog in to be checked out how much it would cost and what would they do? I start by telling her the price of a regular exam, and then eventually hand her off to the vet. The vet then comes back to me and says this gal is coming in. They show up shortly before lunch, and I start taking down the dog's information as it hadn't been in before. When I asked a question, both mother and daughter answered in unison. Which of course I didn't understand because it wasn't perfect unison. I kept thinking, this isn't rocket science folks - just one of you answer me. The dog goes into the back and as I'm closing up for lunch the owners start panicking that we were going to leave the dog all alone suffering in the back. Seriously? I explained that we were giving her a drug to induce her labor and that we would keep checking on her about every 20 minutes, but that she did need some peace and quiet. I don't think the puppies survived as they were a bit premature - the vet did a c-section and then spayed the dog.

Also in the morning I had another gal call who literally never shut up. She had a service pet that was bleeding from it's rectum, and she had no money as her husband had taken $300 out of their account, and she was worried that her neighbor had poisoned her cat. She spoke so disjointedly about where she was from (as in, couldn't get the name of her town right the first time), the story of her service pet, and this cat that I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. I talk to Dr. A and she said that we're not taking any new charge accounts, and to have her call the Humane Society to see if they might help her out. Now the first time I talked to her I couldn't get her to stop talking. The second time was just as bad. I called her up and told her that we are unfortunately not taking on any new charge accounts (this is ruined of course by the idiots who make us take them to collections/court over $30), and then she runs her story by me again, which I had already heard twice in the first phone call. I gave her the number of the Humane Society, telling her that maybe they can help her out. She calls back a little later saying the Humane Society was going to loan her the money and she'd pay them back. Then I heard the whole story again. I kept trying to get her off the phone as I had other lines on hold and people waiting at the front desk. I finally say, "Okay, well we'll see you when you get here," click.

While I'm dealing with that lady, another lady comes in for her appointment. I grab her file and say, "Are we seeing Mugsy?" She replies with, "No, she's dead. This is Sophie." Um. Okay. So while she doesn't shut the hell up either, I'm trying to figure out why she keeps telling me we've seen this dog before but I have no record of her. Finally she says to look in a certain file. I tell her that's the file I have - hers. Then she says to look in her mom's file. Um. Okay. Well, there's the dog's record. She has yet to shut her trap. I have no idea what the hell she's talking about, but she keeps talking. I, of course, have a ton of other things to do, and don't have time for her chatter. Finally one of the girls takes her back to an exam room, and she continues whatever she's saying to the poor girl as if she's been there for the whole conversation. Yeah. When she comes back out, she's still going. Non-stop. And continues as I'm trying to check her out. In my head I was screaming, SHUT UP! And go get me a Cosmo! I need a drink!!

After lunch (sans Cosmo) it was just busy. We were still dealing with the pregnant Yorkie, had our scheduled appointments, phones ringing off the hook, and random people coming in for shopping. Plus I had payment checks to enter not to mention other stuff to finish.

Around 2pm, the phone call gal came in - with the service pet. Turns out, this service pet is a cat. It's a therapy pet, suggested by her mental health professional. Yep. She was a few sandwiches short of a picnic. From the minute she stepped foot in the door, she wouldn't shut up. I heard the story at least once more. After that I just tuned her out, saying, "yeah . . . uh huh . . ." every so often. I was never happier to hear the phone ring. And guess what? She still rambled on while I was on the phone. While I was on the phone, a guy came up to the counter. Once off the phone I wrote up a ticket for him, and during that time, the mental lady was still talking to me. The guy kept giving me a funny look as I was trying so hard to concentrate on writing up the ticket, and I kind of just looked at him. One of the girls took the gal back, and she was still rambling. No joke. I'm not sure how the vet ever got a word in, but she did. Once we got her all squared away billing-wise, it took me forever to get rid of her.

Then at 5 minutes til 4pm (which is closing time), some gal walks in saying she needs to get her dog his shots. Dude. Really? When she tells me her last name I paused and checked the appointment book. She had an appointment. For 11am. OMG. Seriously? So I mention that fact, and she mumbles something that I can't understand. *grrrrrr* Luckily, because we were so behind, our vet had called in one of the retired guys who had popped in earlier in the morning. He was doing some cattle work that was scheduled at the clinic while she did that spay on that Yorkie. So I had the girl go get him to do the vaccines instead - on a dog that had on a serious muzzle and the gal could barely control. Yeah.

Oh. My. Gawd.

In the end, I realized there's just not enough chocolate or Cosmopolitans in the world.

My head hurts from all the talkies that wouldn't shut up.

Christmas Shopping, Pet-Sitting, and Piss-poor Spanish Skills

Sunday was my day to deliver the publication down to Redding. I woke up around 6am, and was packed and loaded with the publication and on the road by 7:30. Not bad. However, it was about 15*F here, and 12*F over the hill when I gassed up. (That's about -9*C and -11*C). Yep. Cold. Fortunately the roads were not icy.

I pulled into Redding around 11, had lunch with Mom and then spent the entire afternoon Christmas shopping. Mom usually helps me buy stuff for everyone in the family, because I never know what to get my grandparents or my aunt and uncle. My parents I can sometimes think of something on my own, but not always. Plus, it's always a good excuse for the two of us to enjoy some quality Mother-Daughter time. We tend to have a few good laughs. The kind that make other patrons either look at us funny, or make comments like, "It's nice to see such a relationship". Usually it's the former.

We started off at Target, visited Kohl's, paid homage to Bed, Bath, & Beyond, Pier One, World Market, the mall for a soda and a Godiva chocolate bar while we shopped, a beauty store, back to Target, off to Lowe's, and then it was pizza for dinner - take out. While in Bed, Bath, & Beyond, we were making silly comments on things, and giggling. At one point, my mom picked up this tiny Santa Suit saying it was the perfect size for Libby, although the hat was just way too small. I always roll my eyes when my mom picks up doggy clothes because I don't necessarily thing dogs need clothes. However, I will give my mom props for not buying Libby anything blinding, embarrassing, or just plain hideous. As we were staring at this particular Santa suit, it suddenly dawns on us that it's a wine bottle hugger. We both started laughing. To the point of tears and worried we may pee our pants. After that, every time we saw a "wine bottle hugger" we started giggling uncontrollably.

I got all but Mom done on Sunday, and then I went back into town Monday morning to buy something for her, run my errands and continue my delivery route.

I got home in Sticksville around 7pm-ish. I unloaded everything into my living room, repacked my over-night bag with my work clothes, grabbed my work coat and muck-boots and ran back out the door. Our neighbors, the H's were gone for a couple nights and had asked me to house-sit again. Luckily their ranch hand was going to take care of the sheep this time, and all I really had to do was look after one dog and a few cats. It was so freaking cold I slept with the heater on high all night. But when they're gone, they prefer someone be there at night to make sure everything is okay. I woke up, fed the dog and cats, and sped off to feed cows at my grandparents ranch by 7am this morning. I got a call from the H's this evening telling me they were heading home and to just make sure the one dog is in on the porch where it's warm. They should be home by now. So my two nights of pet-sitting turned into one.

Today at work at the Sticksville clinic, I called the main clinic to go over appointments for tomorrow. The girl started rattling off stuff and I was like, "Whoa! I have appointments during those times" and got a reply of, "You do?" Anyway, the vet will be running round to a few ranches working some cows. I had to call and reschedule a few appointments. Everyone was fine with it and understood. I feel horrible doing that, but according the main clinic, these ranches all called this week and said this cattle work had to be done this week. I'm quite sure they knew this stuff was coming down the pike, so I'm a little clueless as to how all of a sudden they're realizing they were running out of time. Anyhoo, one client I had to call is Hispanic and I know the adults in the family don't speak much English. Their kids do, and usually one of them is present when they come in the clinic to help translate. I nearly had a panic attack calling this gal because my high school Spanish is bad. Like, really bad. I mean, I can introduce myself, ask how you are and reply, thank someone, ask where the bathrooms are, and apologize (all of it very slowly). That's about it. So, here's how my conversation went with this very nice Hispanic lady:

Lady: Bien.

Me: Hola. Habla ingles?

Lady: No.

Me: shit. Um, me llamo Jamie . . . from the vet clinic?

Lady: Oh, si.

Me: you can do this-you can do this-I can't do this!! Um . . . para Marshmellow?

Lady: Si! says something and then . . . 1:30?

Me: Si. Um . . . okay, pero. . . I don't know the words! I should know this! Um . . . is 1:00 okay?? sigh. shake head. utter shame.

Lady: Oh si! Okay. 1:00.

Me: sigh of relief. Oh muchas gracias!

Lady: De nada. Adios.

I swear, my high school Spanish teacher would die of a coronary after hearing that.

Is this proper dinner conversation?

Well, this was technically post dinner and I believe post dessert discussion, but either way . . . it was funny and probably not found at the average dinner table.

I really have no recollection of how this topic came up, but at some point we ended up on Eskimos. It started off innocent enough, and then it turned into them gnawing on things. So, K's brother said, "A good Eskimo wife would chew on her husbands boots to soften them up for her husband in the morning." 

Someone said they call their boots "mukluks".

That's when Papa D looked at K and asked, "Would you chew on my mukluks tonight?"

There was a pause from all four of us and then sheer laughter. Papa D laughed and said, "That didn't sound right, did it?"

K's brother started say something about mukluks, but nearly spit out what sounded like "muknuts", which sent us into a tizzy. K had to dab her eyes she was laughing so hard.

So, um, we're just going to refer to those things as boots, okay?

Friday Randomness

So, Wednesday I had a fit of coughs. I was out of cough drops, and I only had Robitussin and DayQuil in the medicine cabinet. I decided I'd stop by Wal-Mart on my way into work that night. I despise Wal-Mart with every fiber of my being, but they are the only store open that late at night. And I wanted some kind of relief. I walked in, and in two minutes had some cough drops. It then took me nearly 45  minutes to get through a fucking check-out line. You think I'm kidding. At 10:30pm, they had 3 lanes open and each one had a line over a mile long. And 90% of those carts in line were so full they were taller than me. Not one single express lane was open. Ass. Holes. I get in one line. Fifteen minutes later, I haven't moved an inch. Ten minutes after that, I switch lines to one that's actually moving. About 15 minutes later, I finally reach the actual checker. I hand him a ten dollar bill and he slowly gets my change. But there's a snag. He's out of pennies. This idiot was going to make me wait for three fucking pennies. He kept trying to call out to one of his peeps to bring him change. When I realized what was happening, I said, "Are you waiting on pennies?" He said yes. I said, "I've waited 45 minutes in line, I'm late for work, you can keep the pennies." He looked panicked and said, "Are you sure?" I replied, "Dude. It's three pennies. Give me my change please." And I literally sprinted out of the store, to my car and showed up nearly 30 minutes late. Thanks a lot.

I'm also loving Mother Nature this week. (please note sarcasm). My sympathies go out to everyone affected by the blizzard, which I believe was over half the country. However. My company has labs scattered all over, and they all had to send their work to us. I find this interesting. They package everything and send it to us. Fed Ex can get off the ground and get it to us. Because we don't have enough work. We had about half a dozen labs send their stuff to us.  So, Mother Nature, knock this shit off, because I'm tired. Oh and if you read my blog and you're in the area that had a blizzard and your animal needed blood work, we here in CA might have done it. Sorry for the delay, but seeing as we are apparently the only state in the country not buried under 20 feet of snow, it had to come here. Because we here in CA don't have enough pets to work on. Especially considering we barely have enough people to do our own work. (I love corporations). And don't think I'm mad at the pet owner or vets. Every time a lab is down for whatever reason, all the work comes to our lab. However, if we break down some how, we have to wait for it to get fixed. Our work doesn't go anywhere. We always get the short end of the stick.

So, I am not always up on my current events. I see headlines on Yahoo! or see the paper occasionally at work. That is, when it hasn't been destroyed by the other shifts first. But I try to at least skim headlines and whatnot when I can see the paper. I hate being in the dark all the time. Wednesday night, while on my lunch break at work, I was peacefully eating while reading an article on the goings on in Egypt. This whole protesting of Mubarak has me interested. One of the department supervisors sat at my table to her lunch. At one point while reading, I must have said something or murmured something as the topic of Egypt came up. I said something like, "Oh this whole thing going on in Egypt. It's getting nasty now." She comes back with, "Oh? There's something going on in Egypt?" Luckily I was mid-bite of food so the jaw drop didn't show. I mean, after two full weeks, who doesn't know that there is something going on in Egypt? I mean, journalists and their crews have been attacked. Mummy heads have been stolen. There have been fights from horseback and camelback. After I explained all of this, she says, "Oh, I'm not up on my current events." Then I started mentioning that the article stated other Middle East countries are threatening protests or other countries have already taken action. I started listing the countries, "Jordan, Tunesia, Yemen, Omar . . ." And she asks, "Are those men?" Um. No. Read. A. Fucking. Paper.

Now I'm going to try to sleep. I've had little sleep this week and in the past few days, I've captured enough over-time to add an extra day to my week. It's my day off. I'm going to nap some. Pack some. Nap some more. And try not to cough up an internal organ.

Have a great weekend.  :o)

Half-Assed Weekend

Not to rub this in to the poor folks freezing to death in snow banks, but I enjoyed a good portion of a 70 degree day. I spent my morning at Saddle Pals after work, and got out early from that to run a few errands before finally getting home to be able to open my windows and air out my place. Seriously. It gets stuffy in here keeping the windows closed all winter. My cat is currently sleeping in my room with the sunlight pouring on her. She's happy.

I only get one day off (that would be today), and I'm back to work on Sunday night. Yay for me. (rolls eyes dramatically)

I found out this morning that one of my favorite horses at SP, Rio, is being officially retired. I mean that literally, not "figuratively". He's 30 years old, and for a horse, that is old. His eyesight is starting to go and he's taken a couple of spills. I'll be sad to see him go, he's such a sweet old horse. 

I went to Target today to pick up a few items. I saw the most patient mother ever. Her toddler was just so excited and running around pointing at things. He ran to the tea and yelled, "TEEEEAAAA!!" His mom replied, "You really like that one, don't you?" She just followed him around the store while she shopped, saying, "Wow, that's cool", "What did I say? Walk please", "Remember, no running", "Wait for mommy, sweetie".  On my way to the checkout I saw a different mother with the opposite style. All I heard was, "Yeah, let's go ahead and cry in Target. Let's go ahead and cause a scene. That would be great. And you're the oldest. That's just great." At least the parents that shop at Target "parent" their kids. As opposed to the ones I see in Wal-Mart . . . because they don't.

My mom and I had the funniest texting conversation this afternoon:

Mom: OMG! Why does this ALWAYS happen to me? The biggest butt crack ever!

Me: Um, what?

Mom:  Oh it was disgusting.....and IN the grocery store!

Me: LMAO!!

Mom: omg! Fat guy....funny blue pants buttoned under his fat belly and a red shirt too short for his belly! After he left the checker started singing "I'm too sexy for my shirt". I laughed and said  "you should have been in the soup isle!"

Me:  LMAO Niiiice.

Obviously her portion of the conversation involved real words. I was too busy laughing my ass off at her expense.

 

 

Conversations

Last night I realized something. I was tired of hearing the same conversation that I've been hearing recently. It's possible I've been hearing it the whole 6 years I've been there, but maybe only recently have actually paid attention to it (for some reason unknown to me). I mentioned this to another co-worker and they agreed - they didn't want to hear it anymore either. Nor did we want to hear any of the conversation that took place between two folks simply because of this: if it had been us talking like that, we would have been told that we were too loud.

 

Last night was another long night at work. For some of my newer followers, I work graveyard. Trust me, the hours suck. But it pays the bills. Back to last night. Two people called in sick, which meant that we had no one. Here's how it should go: 3 people each running a hematology analyzer - one of them running a chem analyzer as well. One person mans the main chemistry bench. One person processing all the urine. One person reading all that urine under a microscope. One person processing cytologies for the pathologists. A minimum of 3 people reading CBC diffs. And one person doing hematology miscellaneous testing.

 

That's, what, 10 or 11 people. Here's last night: Two people on hematology machines, one of them running a chem analyzer, the other person was borrowed from another department. One person on the main chemistry bench. One person processing the urines. The person reading the urines had to be pulled from diffing CBC's. That leaves two differs - one of them having to cover breaks of those running the analyzers. One person processing cytologies - only because they were super sweet and came in on their night off. And one miscellaneous hematology person helping cover breaks. And we had to call the boss to come in to help, on their night off.

 

To you, it may not sound like we were short-staffed, but trust me. We were. Had two people not come in on their night off, and one person not come over from another department to help out it would have been down-right ugly. In reality, we only 6 people in total last night. That makes it really hard to get done on time. Oy. Ve.

 

Now, on this conversation. One person was running a hematology analyzer, the other person was on the other side of this machine at a scope. Hollering was involved to be heard over our machines. To be anonymous, they will be called A & B.

 

A: I'm so tired. I was here until 1:30.

 

B: I'm tired, too. I got out at noon.

 

A: I didn't sleep well. I was up at 5.

 

B: I went down at 2. I got up 6. And went back down at 8.

 

(This continues on as a repetitive conversation for awhile.)

 

B: I don't feel very well. I think that's why I'm missing stuff. (meaning that she's missing things on the diff cards or mixing a stack of cards with the wrong stack of slides)

 

A: Why don't you feel well?

 

B: I don't know. I'm wondering if it has something to do with the patch.

A: Why are you wearing the patch? You don't need the patch.

 

B: Yes I do. I'll smoke otherwise.

 

A: No you won't. You don't need the patch.

 

B: I wonder what would happen if you were to smoke while wearing the patch?

 

A: Maybe you could try the gum. You don't need the patch.

 

(This continued until even I was a wee bit disgusted by the topic. Something about guzzling down cigarettes or something. Whatever. It was disgusting and it was obviously worth repressing from the get-go.)

 

B: Well, it starts at 2, but she wants us there at noon.

 

(Obviously some party . . . I missed what kind. But if it starts at 2 . . . why do you need to be there by noon? Assurances that you'll show?)

 

B: Jday was already worrying about tomorrow night.

 

A: Why is she worrying about tomorrow? Tomorrow should be fine.

 

B: I don't know. I heard her telling someone earlier that she's worried about tomorrow.

 

(FYI. I wasn't worried about the next night. And dude, you're talking about me whilst I'm directly behind you? Yeah. Professional.)

 

Me: What? No I'm not.

 

A: Jday, why are you panicking about tomorrow?

 

Me: I'm not worried about tomorrow. I had been talking about tonight.

 

B: Oh well I guess I didn't overhear the whole conversation.

(Obviously not.)

 

Seriously? For starters, I hear about the whole bedtime thing on a regular basis. I don't give a shit what time they went to bed or what time they woke up. It's none of my damned business and I'd like it to stay that way. For those that I like, I don't mind hearing something like, "I had the weirdest dream" or "I couldn't sleep for shit today" or "My neighbors kept me up". Also, it's awesome that their quitting smoking. Really, it is. But I don't need to know that you're still craving cigarettes to the point that you want to eat them smoke a pack. For those of us that don't smoke, that is nasty. If you feel you need the patch and the gum, by all means, knock yourself out. Maybe you should save that yummy chat for the break room. And for Pete's sake, don't repeat a third of the conversation you think you heard. And don't be talking about me when I'm right there. Talk about me behind my back, like proper girls do.

 

And lastly, if the everyone else had been talking that loud and that often, everyone else would have gotten in trouble and told to basically shut up. However, some folks seem immune to some rules.

Now. Let me point out who these two folks were.

The supervisors.

Whistle while you work

Nothing makes a day (or night, in my case) of work go by slower than silence. Especially a strained or forced silence. This is geared to those professions that do not directly deal with the public.

Every day, millions of people get up and go spend 8 hours a day with a set of people they see as much or more of than their own families. You spend at least 40 hours a week with these people; you get to know each other. In some cases you might make a few friends out of it. Some are more or less acquaintances, and others you downright despise.

People have a tendency to talk to one another. It's only natural to do so. Because we wind up spending so much time together at work, you find that maybe you have similar movie or book interests. Sometimes you want to tell a funny story because you know your co-workers have a similar sense of humor and you'll know they'll find it funny, too. But most of all, you talk while you work to make the day go by faster.

Unfortunately, not everyone agrees to this. Managers hate to discover that their minions are doing more talking than working. They hate when they realize that their minions are having far too much fun while at work. They hate not being involved in said fun.

I find this to be true. In my experience, when the managers are a part of the loudness and the laughter, they don't really give a snit. However, when they are working or sitting in their office and they can't be a part of it, they "politely" tell us to shut it.

Lately, my job has been pretty stressful. For those of us on the front lines, we feel that we are incredibly short staffed. We are busting our collective asses to get the job done on time. When one person is on vacation, we don't have enough coverage. This is because we have to rotate weekends so during the week there is always someone off on any given weekday. It's tough when someone is scheduled "off", but when you add in "vacations" or "sick time" we are screwed. Simply put, there's not enough minions to cover yet we are expected to do so.

With all the staffing stress, we also deal with machine stress. While mechanization is extremely handy in our profession, it's also a headache. Why? Machines apparently have minds of their own; or rather, they have temper tantrums. Case in point - last night, one of our analyzers decided it couldn't figure out how to replace a reagent. This was definitely not operator error, it was a simple matter of the machine not figuring out that the box of reagent was in fact full, but apparently it didn't want to suck it up. I had to call service, who decided the best option would be to send out our local service engineer on Monday morning to take a look at it. Our analyzers have issues, folks. Some nights I swear they all are stuck in the "terrible twos".

On top of staffing issues and analyzer issues, then you have personal conflicts. We can't all get along. I mean, where's the fun in that? Whatever conflicts you have with another co-worker can massively affect how your day at work will go.

Either way, there's quite a bit of stress in all our jobs. My job is no different. I have a permanent knot in my right shoulder from my job. Just ask my mother, she's tried rubbing it out on several occasions. But that's where the laughter comes in. Laughter helps melt away some of that stress. In all reality, if you can't joke about it, it's not a good sign. However, we do have a tendency to get a bit loud sometimes without realizing it, and that's when people will complain. But the complainers have a tendency to make it look like we were standing around doing nothing while talking and laughing real loud. It's actually pretty rare that we're doing that. Most of us can talk and work at the same time, and that's typically how it happens.

I myself wind up getting in trouble for talking. Not so much for the talking part, but because I was blessed with a nice set of lungs. Meaning, I can be a bit on the loud side. Now, I don't try to be loud, it just unfortunately happens. So, I get in trouble most often because people can hear me. However, I'm not sitting there talking and laughing with myself now am I? No. Why? Because I don't require a straight jacket, an IV full of meds, nor a padded cell. Thank. You. Very. Much.

My favorite complainers of the loud talking are the managers. Who can be quite loud on their own. Considering they have conversations that are being hollered from one department to another. And half the time they can barely hear or understand what the other is saying. If you need a reminder of the types of conversations these folks will have, please go here, to my very first blog to get a taste.

My second favorite complainers are those that often feel "left out" of said fun. And love to complain about everything anyway, so why not about the fun that's going on without them?

So, to those that complain about those of that can talk and laugh while at work: Get a life. Just because you're not involved in said fun, doesn't mean you have to suck it all out of the room. Don't go tattling on us to the managers later that we weren't doing anything. Because oddly enough, all the shit still got done. Pretty much on time, too. Go suck the fun out of another room, ya funsuckers.

Strange the impact a few words can have on you

A few hours after posting about how I was loving yesterday - the clouds, the rain, watching Psych and laughing for hours, and cuddling with my cat - it took a turn. An odd turn, to say the least. Slightly upsetting. I called my BFF and cried on the phone with her and felt better in the end making each other laugh. I also started chatting with my cousin, and she helped me feel better, too. All the while, I was getting play-by-play text messages from my mom regarding the Phillies/Giants game. BTW, the Giants better pick up their game and kick some Philly ass. (no offense to those Philly fans out there!)

In a previous post, from about a month ago, I spoke about WB. I had been trying not to chat with him much on Facebook recently, considering I realize how not into me he is. Except for last night, I was in a good mood, and felt like chatting with someone, so I started chatting with him. We talked about work, my internal struggle regarding possible opportunities, and whatnot. He tells me that he unfortunately broke a girl's heart recently, but she wasn't right for him and he didn't want it to drag on. I know for a fact he wasn't speaking about me to me, considering we've never had that discussion. Then he says he's thinking of doing something crazy: proposing. Talk about your 180.

Now, oddly enough, while this proposal idea isn't what bothered me, it did shock me. Rationally, I knew he wasn't talking about me. Turns out he wants to propose to a woman whom he's dated off and on for nearly 20 years. I told him to go for it; that if in his heart he felt it was right, that he should do it. He thanked me my good advice and answered my questions about how and where, and told me that he'd tell me the results. I remember him mentioning he was going to bring her roses, as apparently he's the only man to have ever bought her roses. I thought about that for a second, and had a very small epiphany and told him that only one boyfriend had ever bought me roses - my very first boyfriend, ages ago.

WB then pulls another 180 and says this to me:

"You are an attractive gal. I especially thought that the last time you stopped by when my friend and I were working on his truck."

Several things happened at once. I felt a chill, a shudder . . . and then I started bawling. I cannot tell you how long it's been since someone has said that to me. Someone not being a family member or best friend. It was a double-edged sword that ran me through. I know he meant it as a compliment, and that's how I took it and understood it. And in a sense, I guess it told me that, at least for that fleeting moment when we 'dated' this spring, he had been attracted to me. At least for a moment. Although, I'm still not sure how take him saying it to me . . . between the conversations I had with my cousin and BFF, and me not being able to wrap my mind around it, all the while crying over it. I have a feeling though, that he had no idea what kind of an impact that would have on me.

I wasn't lying when I told him I hope it all works out for him. I want him to be happy. But, it really sucks when the so-called "man of your dreams" tells you you're attractive whilst telling you he's planning on proposing to someone else.

(sigh) Boys. (shakes head)

Say what?

I'm not sure about the rest of the world, but I have had my fair share of funny/odd/stupid things said to me over the years. Anyone who has ever worked in retail can attest to the fact that some people are definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic. But you can find these people or moments even in your workplace. Some things are definitely not stupid, yet are silly. Some just make you go "huh?" and think before you either understand it or decide it's not worth giving yourself a headache over. I won't be using any Psycho Suzi ones in this, mostly because those really belong in blogs about that situation where I can properly set the stage for such comments. (Trust me, they're worth it). However, here are a few anecdotes from the silly questions/comments to the annoying, to the really dumb.

"You know about horses, right? Well, what is a 'draft' horse?" (a horse that pulls heavy loads, like the Clydesdales - they pull that big Budweiser cart) "Oh, see, I thought they were called draft horses because they hauled the beer!" (I totally see where she got that! Easy to make that reference! But still, funny shit.)







"Can I put boy hamsters with girl hamsters?" (Sure, if you're looking to breed them.) "Don't they come to you fixed or something?" (O.M.G. who would PAY money to spay/neuter a hamster?!)

"I have this dog . . . he needs someone to visit him." (Uh-huh. You're old enough to be my dad, you're drunk, and this is your pickup line?) "He's at home, and he's lonely." (Seriously, dude, WTF? I'm going to have nightmares for a month.)

"What am I going to do with my machine? It keeps giving errors." (Okay, um, I don't know what errors you're talking about.) "Well, service called us yesterday." (FYI, I'm not psychic. I still don't know what you're talking about.) "It keeps beeping." (Yeah, that psychic-ness I mentioned earlier, still on the fritz.)

"I'm looking for a book on a dog breed." (ahh. easy.) "I think it's called (I'm spelling it how she sounded it out) Bitchin' Fries." (Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Shit.) I reply, "Um, do you mean, Bichon Frise? It's a french breed." (Stop laughing at the customer.) "Oh! That's how you say it? Well, now we won't have to whisper it in people's ears." (Please walk away so I can let the real laughter out - it hurts holding it in.)


"I'm gassy today." (Oh dear Lord. Thanks for the warning, but, over share, dude. Over share.)

"I'm really sorry for freaking out. I have G.A.D." (dazed & confused look.) "General Anxiety Disorder." (Riiiiight. Self diagnosis, am I right?)

"I'm really sorry for my attitude/mood swings." (One word: postal.) "I think my glucose levels are off today." (Ohh, that's --- what?)
"I think we're kindred spirits." (Um, okay . . .) "I feel like I could tell you my deepest, darkest secret." (On our third date? Please let it be he has a wife and three kids in Sydney.) "I don't like cheese." (.....................)

"I collect little Lego men." (pffft! really? I think my drink came out my nose.) "I'm currently living with Mom & Dad while I'm looking to buy a house." (buying a house? okay, I'll bite.) "I've been hunting for about two years." (............... blank stare .......)

"Hey, that's a cool bridge!" (Yep, the Brooklyn Bridge is pretty awesome.) "Hey, isn't that the Bay Bridge??" (Um. No.)

"Cool, a map of the US Mints. Let's see . . . where's Boulder?" (That would be in Colorado.) "Where's this one?" (That would be where WE ARE.) "Oh my gosh! You mean D.C. is all the way across the country?!" (and THAT would be why we had a 4 hour flight here. Duh.)

"Wow, what pretty graffiti." (pretty graffiti? isn't that an oxymoron?) "I wish all graffiti was like that!" (that's what we like to call a mural, sweetie.)

"Donate to our church!" (you guys realize you're in an intersection. literally.) [bangs on car windows] "Will you help us help our church?" (help yourselves away from the car.) "No donations means you're going to Hell!" (and you're not on my list to get into my party.)

"You're from California???" (yep, that's what I said.) "So, do you know a lot of celebrities?" (hahaha - no.) "Don't you live in L.A.?" (you do realize there's MORE to CA than just L.A., right?) "Well, you're by a beach then, right?" (the beach of the Sacramento River. does that count?)

I worked for Petco for 3 years, and I came across several nice folks who, while it was obvious the lights were on, it was apparent that no one was home. In some cases this shocked me; like how many times I had this conversation:

Me (heeeyy, he's cute): Hi there, can I help you?
Customer: Sure. I'm really loving this fish here. It's beautiful. I think I'll take it.
Me (ooh, switching to default mode): You'd like the Yellow Tang? Do you have a saltwater tank set up at home?
Customer: I'm sorry - a what?
Me (another one bites the dust): A saltwater tank. The Yellow Tang is a saltwater fish.
Customer: It's a fish. Doesn't it just need water?
Me (trying not laugh): Well, yes. But it needs saltwater, like the ocean. If your looking for freshwater fish, we have plenty to choose from over there in that section.
Customer: What's the difference?
Me (laughter subsiding, urge to slap commencing): Saltwater would be the ocean. Freshwater would be a stream or lake. Saltwater tanks are beautiful but really high maintenance. What sort of system do you have set up?
Customer: Well, I was just going to get a bowl. From the shelf out there.
Me (hello? anyone home? hello??): If you buy the Tang and put it in a bowl, it will be dead in mere minutes. If you're looking for a fish-in-a-bowl type, you can go with a Betta or a simple gold fish.
Customer: Well, how much would it cost to set up a small tank for this guy?
Me (waste. of. air.): About $500 minimum. I'll let you look around some more.

In my first three months, I had this "wonderful" encounter with an older gentleman:

Customer: I'm looking for something to keep the cats off my car.
Me (dumbfounded): Off your car, sir? I'm not sure that's physically possible.
Customer: I'm sick and tired of the cats running all over my car, leaving their paw prints.
Me (you and the rest of the world): I understand that - cats are notorious for going where ever their little hearts desire. But we don't really have anything that would keep a cat off a car.
Customer: Well, what do you have? I can't take this anymore.
Me (oh dear . . .): Well, we do have boundary/repellent sprays.
Customer: No no no, that won't do it. I need to keep them off the car. I don't think that will work on my car.
Me (well no shit Sherlock): Well . . . the only other thing we have are things to prevent cats from scratching furniture, but--
Customer: YEAH! Where's that stuff at???
Me (omg, what HAVE I done??): Ummm, okay. As you see, it's to stick on your couch or chair. It's all sticky and cats don't like it.
Customer: So if I put this on my car, they'll stay off it.
Me (danger will robinson, danger!): You want to put adhesive Sticky Paws on your car? Sir, that will damage the paint job.
Customer: Well, I'll put newspaper under it.
Me (uhhhhh......): So when the cat lands on the car, all of it will slide off - cat and sticky paws.
Customer: No, it won't.
Me (I can't believe I'm having this conversation): So you're going to drive around with Sticky Paws plastered all over your car?

Turns out his daughter forced him to come back the next day and return said items. During my conversation with this man, another coworker was laughing his ass off (literally) at the cash wrap and was in my view the whole time. Made it that much harder to keep a straight face.

Sometimes, you just have to wonder.

Dude, be careful what you say.

Have people not died protecting our many freedoms? Including the freedom of speech? Now, I understand not wanting to offend others - to a point. There is simply no way you will offend anyone in your life. That is why people will sometimes say, "I don't want to offend you, but...." even though it's potentially a very bad way to start a conversation. But sometimes, there are just no ways around it. That is why Political Correct speech showed up. However, I come to find that sometimes trying too hard to nevernot offend ends up being . . . well, offending. Now that I've had that little say, here's something else. The other night at work I was reading the paper and came across an article that astounded me. Shocked me. Literally made my jaw drop, and made say, "Whaaaaat?????"

In the Sacramento Bee the other day, there was an article regarding the Roseville Galleria and a pastor being in a lawsuit. Apparently, this nice young man was placed under "Citizen's Arrest" by a security guard from the Galleria until the Roseville PD showed up to take him to the station and book him. Why, you might ask, did this nice young man get arrested?

He spoke to a couple young people that he had never met, and whom had agreed to talk with him. The kicker? Security placed him under arrest for talking to these strangers about things other than the mall. I'm dead serious. Google "Roseville Galleria" and it'll pull up the info.

According to Westfield Galleria of Roseville, (and I'm taking this from the article by Denny Walsh): The specific rule at issue prohibits a person in the center's common areas from "approaching patrons with whom he or she was not previously acquainted for the purpose of communicating with them on a topic unrelated to the business interests" of the mall or its tenants.

Anyone else finding this an extremely ridiculous rule? So, quite literally, if your shopping and the lines are long (or sitting on a bench for a few minutes to rest your feet) and you're bored, you're not allowed to turn to the person behind you or next to you and ask about the latest baseball scores. Or the new fall line-up on TV. Not even the weather. However, as with just about any rule on the books, there is an exception to the rule: (again, taking this from Denny Walsh's article) Another rule requires written applications for permission to make such contacts "to be submitted to the mall's security office four days in advance. Mall management will review the application to determine if the proposed activity is permissible."

(Insert picture of me rolling my eyes) I'm sorry. Four days in advance? Kiss my ass, folks. Now, on the other hand, I can understand that rule if you're applying it to groups/organizations who want to set up a booth, like Relay for Life, the Humane Society, etc. But to restrict normal, every day patrons from speaking to strangers, if it's not mall related, is completely stupid, ridiculous, unconstitutional . . . need I go on? And it gets better. (I know, right?) Apparently, the Galleria's spokeswoman says this: "We are disappointed that the court … determined that the rules in question did not satisfy the required legal standard for reasonable time, place and manner restrictions. We are reviewing the court's decision and will consider our options … including appeal to the California Supreme Court."

Awwww. The courts hurt their little feelings. For Pete's sake, people. How on earth can you possibly prevent strangers from talking to one another in a mall? You'd have to have a lot of security. Oh wait, they must, they're just following all the youth pastors because those are some shady characters. I think security needs to pay closer attention to those who actually look shady, like the kind of shady that shoplifts from little old ladies. Not the kind of shady who asks others if he can talk to them about God; especially if said "others" agreed to the conversation.

So, morale of the story? Make sure you take a friend to the mall - that way, you can talk about whatever you want, like it's your constitutional right to do so. If you go alone, be careful of the wolves out to get you if you need to ask a stranger for the time, or (God forbid) how to get to the hospital. Or . . . better yet - learn sign language. Security will have no idea you're not talking about the mall.

The Stainer Conversation

Have you ever been sitting at work, doing your job, when suddenly a conversation pierces the radio you're listening to? And that conversation makes you stop, roll your eyes, shake your head, and almost start talking to yourself? Out loud. Where your co-workers could possibly hear you. The other night, at work, this very thing happened. Although I may have mumbled a few things out loud . . . hopefully not loud enough for anyone to actually overhear said mumbles. Here's the set up:

Two ladies are hollering at each other over machines in regards to a stainer that stains blood smear slides. For anonymity's sake, I shall call them Lady 1 and Lady 2.


Lady 1: Is there something wrong with your stainer?

Lady 2: I don't know. Is there something wrong with my slides?

Lady 1: There's something wrong with your slides. I think there's something wrong with your stainer.

Lady 2: I don't know what's wrong. What's wrong with my stainer?

(At some point Lady 1 comes to Lady 2 to try to figure out what is wrong with said stainer. Turns out, the stainer was out of Methanol, which fixes the blood to the slide so it won't wash off when the slides go through the actual stain cycle and the rinse cycle. There was a long pause in this conversation because apparently neither lady knew where the Methanol was stored if it was in the magical cabinets within our department. When they find some, Lady 1 has Lady 2 refill the Methanol in her stainer, and the conversation proceeds . . .)

Lady 1: You're slides are still messed up. Did you prime the stainer?

Lady 2: Is priming cleaning?

Lady 1: Yes. Cleaning is priming.

Lady 2: How do I prime?

Lady 1: Just prime the stainer.

Lady 2: So priming cleans the stainer?

Lady 1: What? No. Priming isn't cleaning.

Lady 2: So what is priming?

(Now mind you, at least three people who are hearing this conversation know the difference between "cleaning" and "priming". For starters, there's a button that says "CLEAN". And there's no direct button for priming. Also, these three people -including myself - are chuckling to ourselves because this all sounds totally ridiculous. They are literally hollering to each other over machines. And any one of us could easily have walked to the stainer and shown Lady 2 the difference and how to do it. Yet . . . we didn't. And finally Lady 1 comes back to the stainer . . .)

Lady 1: We need to prime the stainer. It's washing the blood off the slides.

Lady 2: I've been telling you I don't know how to prime. Isn't priming cleaning?

Lady 1: Oh . . .no, it's not. I have it priming, just clean it when it's done.

Lady 2: What do I do to clean it? (Oddly enough, she actually does know this, but by this time I'm not sure she could find the stainer, which sits right next to her, considering Lady 1 has her turned upside down).

Lady 1: Just clean it once it's done.

Lady 2: It won't let me clean it, I have to prime it again.

Lady 1: Why are you priming again?

Lady 2: You want me to clean it after priming?

(By this time, I'm ready to either burst out laughing or scream in frustration.)

Lady 1: (back at stainer) I'm cleaning it. Stain some slides when it's done and I'll check to see if your stain is ok.

Lady 2: So you don't need me to clean it?

Seriously. Almost sounds like a horrific version of "Who's on First" to me. Yes, granted, I could have stopped it. Two others could have stopped it. However, we were busy. And though it was annoying as hell, it was also quite entertaining. Because at some point it really hits you as to who is having this conversation.

They're your supervisors.