THAT is awesome! It feels so good when once in a while you get proof back that stuff you talk about doesn’t fall flat all the time, doesn’t it? I had a great moment with my mom and declawing when she used my lecturing her to talk someone else out of it. Woot!
I’m PMing you the rest in case it’s long and/or others don’t want to read about it. If they do, I’ll re-post it here if anyone asks.
That’s an easy enough one to get around, if one has the presence of mind to drop one’s seabag in the bilges. “Accidentally,” of course. 
To: a certain Italian restaurant.
Re: garlic bread and bruschetta.
“Garlic” is not the name of the town where it was invented, nor of the cook who invented it. It’s supposed to be an ingredient. As in, “garlic bread” should test positive for “garlic”, it shouldn’t be plain toast.
If what you’re trying to make is bruschetta, the amount of Stuff you put on the bread should not form such an enormous mountain over it that it becomes necessary to dig out the now-mushy, not garlicky at all toast. Promise.
“Garlic bread” is not the English-language version of bruschetta. They are different things. One is the base for the other.
As for the trout I’ll accept it was my fault for not thinking of asking whether “seafood” included “mussels”. Me bad. I took a triple dose of anticongestant and ate the trout anyway (it was good, although again it didn’t need to be hidden under half the chopped-up pomodoro in the country). But you guys really made me thankful for places which list the ingredients.
I see similar things in the metro (subway) here in Montreal at rush hour.
I don’t usually do that thing myself. I’m usually in a rush from the time I step into the station, or not in a rush at all.
(For the record, I’m also not bitching about it, just observing.)
Yep, I got my points back! Along with a snarky note from the professor saying she never changes grades after they’re posted. :rolleyes:
This week’s bitch about school is my midterm paper that was due today. Two different places in the same grading rubric had conflicting information about how long the paper had to be. One place said 3-5 pages, another said 4-6 pages. So I split the difference, my paper was 4 pages plus one paragraph on the next. I’ll be so glad when this class is done.
And this week I came down with my change of the seasons sinus infection. Two days flat on my back because I’m too dizzy to sit up. Fun.
Was a real butthead and was doing the passive aggressive bullshit about some banking stuff. I do lots of financial associated paperwork and have for years [my last gig was as a forensic accountant] and I am more than able to fill out tax paperwork with one brain hemisphere tied behind my back and I didn’t see any reason to actually pay someone to do our taxes.:dubious::rolleyes:
[URL=“http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/”]
I hate it when I come to an interesting (but derailed) thread, give a decent reply that should get at least one response, and the damned thing immediately dies. :sigh:
Most days I’m perfectly happy and content to be an atheist/agnostic, but every now and again, I really wish I believed in the sort of afterlife where the just and the unjust receive their rewards. My mother’s ex-husband died (I hope it was painful and lonely,) and I really wish there were a hereafter for him to learn the lessons he didn’t learn here…
The funny bit: I’m still relatively close to my youngest former stepsister and her son. After learning of the asshole’s death, I knew I needed some way to communicate my condolences to them, without being a giant hypocrite. I finally settled on the phrasing “I’m sorry about your father/grandfather.”
Fucking ford Contour tranverse mounted engines. I have narrowed my vacuum leak to “umm somewhere back under there”
To get anymore specific, It seems I have two options.
1.Remove the engine from the car, reconstruct it somewhere else and get it to run.
2. Develop the power of ant-man and go in for a better look.
I want to pit indecision. A potential donor had her final day of tests yesterday. They would not give her a yes or a no. One reason for the lack of answer I understand - they want to make sure meds she takes for other issues will still be kosher if she has only one kidney. The other reason straight pissed me (and her AND her mother) off - they think she’s too young to make an informed decision.
She’s 24.
She’s thought about it deeply. She knows her life will be forever altered. She understands the risks.
Shut up and let us know.
I go to my doc this week. I know I will be starting dialysis very soon - I have constant achiness and my body is telling me it’s time. I’ve managed to eke out 18 months with less than 10% function, I should be proud I’ve lasted this long.
I will remember this great idea!
You are so right about how good it feels to know that someone actually listened. Good for you on convincing your mom that declawing cats is not a good thing. Lucky came to us front-declawed and it makes me feel sad when he tries to do that “put claws into something and then stretch” thing. He still can’t climb up the back of the stairs, but he still tries.
Thanks so much for the PM info. I’ll reply there, but its possible that I might have to start making waves about the testing.
Every foodservice establishment in which I’ve cooked over the last 31 years has had that one female (always female) coworker who gravitates toward that one absolute pain-in-the-ass thing on the menu that every cook in the place absolutely loathes preparing, when ordering her free shift meal.
We don’t loathe that dish because it’s difficult. We loathe it because it’s incredibly time-consuming, and we can’t get anything else done while we’re making it. Anything else on the menu, we can knock it out in 2 minutes and get back to the other things we need to do, or else it’s something we can slap on the grill and do our other work while it cooks. But there’s always that one dish that requires us to hover over every single aspect of its preparation, and requires our undivided attention, and we can’t do anything else while preparing it. This is one thing when we’re preparing it for a customer. The customer is paying money for us to prepare this dish. It’s another thing entirely when it’s a coworker ordering it for their free shift meal. If nothing else, professional courtesy should compel these people to avoid making their coworkers’ jobs more difficult.
So yesterday I was considering visiting the local Humane Society to see if they would give me some dead puppies. Because I have some female coworkers who insist upon ordering eggs benedict for their shift meal.
I’m not currently cooking in a restaurant. I’m cooking in a retirement home, with scheduled meal times. At 9:00AM, I start tearing down the kitchen’s breakfast setup, as quickly as I can, because I have two hours to get lunch ready to be served at 11:00. And at 9:00 yesterday, two caregivers decided they want eggs benedict. So instead of clearing the breakfast setup and getting started on lunch (four different entrees and their accompaniments to prepare, along with a big pot of clam chowder, since it was Friday, all by myself, for 180 people), I got to spend the next 15 minutes dicking around with eggs benedict.
Thank Og our acting Executive Director has my back. I mentioned this shit to her this morning, and she said, “Seriously? I mention this at every employee meeting! They’re supposed to order their meals off the steam table! And if the cook says ‘no’, that means ‘no’!” So now I can at least tell these bitches, with confidence, “No. You can have the delicious special that I spent all morning preparing and still have half a pan left, that is just going to go in the trash* otherwise.”
ETA: I told these caregivers that I was going to go out and encourage the residents to shit themselves. So that the caregivers would have to clean them up. Because that was the closest equivalent I could think of to what they were doing to me.
ETA2: I wouldn’t actually do that.
Dammit, I thought I was posting in the Workplace Griping thread.
We need a deeper-red than this with smoke mushrooms coming out of ears smiley :mad:
Me, I’m thinking they’re too stupid to be making any kind of decisions, and specially to be making other people’s decisions for them. What the fuck?
I’m sorry, I’m so cracking up over here. It doesn’t matter what thread you used, that was just funny.
My rant: front declawed cats still have back claws which need to be trimmed. I have no scars from handling feral cats, I’ve never been scratched deeply by fully clawed cats. I’m just an idiot when it comes to handling our front declawed cat. Those back feets can be deadly. The only critter scars I have on my hands are from Lucky and some stupid little barky dog who bit me when I was dragging her out of traffic. Now I have another battle wound and its going to leave a mark.
Cats don’t like getting water baths, even if they have been in the trash can all day. Idiot cat. Idiot me.
I hate Nabisco and Frito Lay and every other company that comes out with “limited edition” foods IN FREAK’N JUMBO SIZE CONTAINERS! Bastards! I really want to try the limeade Oreos I love tart citrus flavor goodies. But I do not want a lifetime supply. Why can’t they package them in a single row of cookies? What if they taste like crap? Bastards! And that goes for the gigantic bags of fancy flavor potato chips too! Sumbitches!
Whew, I feel better.
Bicyclists: I understand it is fun to ride in groups on the Blue Ridge Parkway. However, I feel I must draw your attention to the fact that it is a windy, curvy road with few straightaways in places. Therefore I kindly request that you ride in a single-fucking-file line and not take up the entire lane so that people in cars may pass you easily without hitting either you or the car that may be coming around the curve in the opposite direction.
Motorcyclists: The 45 mph speed limit applies to you as well. Yes it’s fun to drive fast on the parkway. It’s not so much fun to get a federal speeding ticket. Also, don’t ride my ass. I’m driving a stick shift and I can slow down a lot faster than you anticipate on the hills. Don’t make me take this out of cruise.
Other drivers: the warning about riding my ass applies to you as well.
My cat is declawed because he is a little shit and my Dad was on coumadin and Jack would claw him just because, and Dad was always winding up bleeding profusely. But Jack, who hates to be picked up, loves clawing me when I pick him up (to put him in his carrier, to make him get out of the closet that he’s stuck his head in that I want to close, for whatever other reasons).
Your professor sounds like a peach.
I make a real effort to grade students’ work diligently and fairly the first time around, so if someone comes to me with a grade complaint, they’re probably going to need to make a pretty good case as to why the grade should be changed. And no, “I worked reeeeaaaally hard,” or “I reeeeaaaally need an A in this class,” does not constitute a good case.
But if the complaint is valid, it is my duty to change the grade. And if the incorrect grade resulted from an unfair change in assignment rules or some other error on the professor’s part—as happened in your case—then the only valid response is to say, “Yes, i’m sorry, you are correct. I will change your grade immediately.” The fact that the grade has already been posted doesn’t alleviate the teacher’s responsibility to be fair.
I once gave a student an incorrect course grade because of a data-entry error in my spreadsheet. The student’s grades for each individual piece of work were correct, but because of the spreadsheet error, they did not add up to the correct grade overall. As soon as she brought it to my attention, i took the necessary steps to change the grade.
Everyone makes little mistakes like that from time to time. It’s how you deal with the mistakes that is a measure of your professionalism.
That should be posted in every office, every job site, every workplace ever. Seriously.
My own personal method has evolved through the years. When I was younger and stupider, I listened to the idiots who told me that “we” should never use language that cast the company in bad light. Never admit fault. I got older and smarter, and learned that people want basically two things when I/we screw up: they want an apology, and they want someone to fix things to the best of their ability. I learned that it’s lots easier and less fraught to go ahead and say “I’m sorry. We screwed up. Here are the steps I’m taking to fix this, here’s how we’re trying to ensure that you aren’t inconvenienced or financially burdened by our mistake, etc.”
I’ve had my share of professional triumphs, but the moment I’m most proud of? Our hotel had valet parking as the only option for parking on-site. (The garage was way too small and awkward to just trust the general public in.) One night, the cars were stacking up in the porte cochere and spilling out into the street, so the general manager decided to “help.” I got to the office the next morning, with a note on my desk explaining that Charlie had backed the brand-spanking-new sedan (seriously - it still had the drive-out tag) into a pillar. And the client didn’t yet know. Whee! I had a valet bring the car up and park it right outside my office, and let the front desk know to come get me the very second our guest came to check out. I met the lady at the desk - nice older woman from North Carolina, on vacation with her son and grandchildren in Savannah. I told her what happened, apologized profusely, walked her outside to show her the car, and offered her two options: she could spend another night in town, on our dime (free meals, room, and parking,) and we’d have the car repaired by the morning. (I shamelessly used my connections to get a good, local paint and body shop to agree to the job on a Sunday - I used to date the owner!) Or, “here’s the information for our insurance, your car is perfectly safe to drive, have your own shop send us the bill.” (And, of course, I comped the guest room and parking for her entire stay - IIRC, three nights, so about $450.) Before it was all over with, the nice lady from North Carolina made sure I had her phone number, and a standing invitation to stop in for supper any time I was in her neck of the woods, and we hugged and all that stuff. Because I owned up to the mistake on our part, and did everything within my power to fix that mistake.
The really funny bit was that the car was parked right outside the general manager’s window while this whole conversation was happening. He watched the entire exchange, and saw the whole hug/stop in for supper portion. When I got back into my office? Charlie came knocking, and told me “I don’t know what you did, but clearly, we aren’t paying you enough.”