The lesson I take away from this is not that Miss Take is a wuss and should quit whining about the cold; rather, it’s that Winnipeg sucks fucking balls.
Frozen balls.
On a stick, like an ice pop?
All you Southerners are kind of wussy about the cold. 
(How far do I need to run to stay safe? 
)
That’s when I would have said to him, “Look at what’s in your hand. What do you think?” in as nice a way as I could manage.
I’ve lived there; I’m not going to argue.
Man, fuck teaching wintersession courses. There’s never enough time to generate all the content you need to.
Ooh, that reminds me…
Fuck you, ER doc at (major university-affiliated hospital), for once again giving my Father-In-Law hydrocodone at the hospital and prescribing hydrocodone to my him on discharge. Even though:
(1) It’s documented in his records at (major university-affiliated hospital) that he cannot take hydrocodone because it makes him delirious (as in, fucking nuts and totally disoriented as to place and time);
(2) His caregiver, who accompanied him to the ER, told you he can’t take hydrocodone and typically needs oxycodone to control major pain;
(3) The hospital pharmacist who, while processing the prescription, noted the warning in his chart and contacted you about using oxycodone instead.
By the way, in the case of item (3), the appropriate response is *not *to tell the pharmacist, “Oh, go ahead and fill it as written, those medications are the same.”
My FIL is over 90 years old. Medication-induced delirium is never a trivial side effect, and it’s worse in someone that old. It’s hell on his caregivers and it almost guarantees that he will do something stupid and injure himself again (he’s not frail, but when a skinny old man interacts with a tile floor, someone’s gonna get hurt, and it’s not the floor). He’s not holding out for 2 days’ worth of Oxy so he can get high or so he go downtown and sell it. He’s trying not to add to the misery of whatever brought him to your facility in the first place.
Doc, we don’t want to sue you and (major university-affiliated hospital). We want to keep FIL comfortable and safe, and that depends, in part, on you and your colleagues paying attention to what’s documented in the record *and *making corrections when an oversight is brought to your attention. However, if we have to sue someone in order to make that happen (or to recover the costs we incurred as a result of your fuckup), we might have to.
That was my first thought, too; then I ran a simulation of the remainder of that encounter through my head, and it’s real hard for me to imagine how it could have gotten any better for purplehorseshoe from that point on.
To purplehorseshoe: I’m sorry that you had to hold yourself together through that, but glad you managed to find the strength to do so with grace. Now that you’re safely home, you might consider sending a note to the man’s supervisor with feedback about Good and [del]Bad[/del] Inauspicious Times to initiate small talk.
I ran out at lunch to get a quick haircut. Someone at the barber shop grabbed my jacket on the way out. With my car keys in the pocket. By the time the barber figured out who it was and called him to come back my “quick” haircut took 2 hours. At least the barber knew who it was.
In an ideal world where one thinks of such things, I probably have just wordlessly leaned in staring at him with a dirty look on my face, then looking at the form in his hands, then him again. Pause to see if it sinks in, repeat once. Step back and shake my head in annoyance if he still hasn’t grokked it.
I am at my absolute breaking point when it comes to public transportation. There are the usual gripes like delays, areas that don’t receive service, being knocked into by people’s backpacks, and trying so hard to never EVER make eye contact with the schizophrenics. But really I cannot handle the abuse. Why can’t I seem to get along with my fellow bus rider?
A few months ago I went out of my way to actually help a sweet little old lady board with her bags. How sweet of me, right? Well she immediately starts loudly complaining about the black receptionist at her doctor’s office dropping N-bombs right and left until finally the bus driver pulls the bus over and she is chased off by a mob of people screaming “GO FUCK YOURSELF” while I’m crouching in the middle section. No good deed goes unpunished with an all out race war.
Let’s see, what else? I’ve been called a “bitch ass”, a “dumb ass bitch” and I’ve been BOOED. Who boos people? I once tried to commiserate with two young girls who had been mugged (I had been mugged months earlier) and they told me to shut the fuck up!
I once had to sit next to a man eating a massive bag of popcorn. When I say massive, I mean industrial trash bag size. Except the trash bag was clear and not black. My god, the smell. We ended up having a chat but I treated the bag like it was a goiter, and I’m trying to be polite thinking to myself “don’t mention the massive bag of popcorn…don’t mention the massive bag of popcorn.” We talked about our favorite lunch spots.
Do not even get me started on the teenagers riding home after school. I know who Madison is having butt sex with, and I also know that Braelyynn is “not really that pretty, no offense”. I also heard some teenagers actually plot to stalk a third teenager down at a bus stop, to learn his routine and then when he least expects it, beat the shit out of him. Somewhere out there little Jayden is about to have a REALLY SHITTY week.
So I now average 25+ miles per week walking on foot to avoid muni. And all this walking in the fresh air is just too fucking healthy, you know? I’m so jazzed and happy to be alive that I can’t even fall asleep at night! This transit situation must resolve itself so I can be depressed, drunk and sluggish so I can get some rest.
I read through the whole thing thinking “You must live in San Francisco.” Then I looked at your location. Can I call it or what?
(I have a friend who used to live there. He had some interesting stories about public transit. He also said it’s probably the only bus system in the world where you can read the collected works of Marquis de Sade and not get any strange looks.)
Don’t get me going about Sacramento’s system. The schedule really belongs in fiction, probably in Fantasy. It certainly doesn’t match any reality I’ve ever encountered. Add to that all the jerks who think the rest of the train car or bus needs to hear their music (and they’re wearing earphones!), the cleanliness problems, and the “let’s cut service while raising fares, then pat ourselves on the back for doing SUCH a good job” bit, and about the only good that can be said is it exists, and makes it at least somewhat possible for two people to share one car while going about work/school lives.
I’m still seriously considering adding Lysol to my tote bag for traveling to/from work, though. At one station I have to use, the elevators always smell like they’ve been used for toilets (they probably have), and I’m told the stairs are just as bad (hip problems make climbing stairs an issue for me), and I really don’t want to think about what I’m tracking around on my shoes after using them.
Wow. I read these things and am so happy about our system.
My bus is clean, and usually close to on-time. The average age of the people on my particular route is probably late 40’s. No one listens to blaring music. People who talk loud on their phones get stared at by lots of people until they get a clue or the ride is over. When we stop at the transit station at the end of the ride on the way home, people sit and wait their turn to get off. I only see someone jump up and run to the front about once every 2 months, and people generally tell them (me for one) that they’re being rude.
I may complain about various aspects of public transit, but wow, lobstermobster, the people on your buses take the cake. (I mean that in a bad way, not a good way.) (Great username, btw. I like it.)
I am genuinely glad to be back at work. However, over the vacation, I forgot entirely about something that I don’t like at work: that mentally disturbed woman who isn’t a worker at my workplace but who hangs out in the lunchroom (it’s a community centre, so I suppose anyone who wants to can hang out there.) She was staring at our worker group while we were eating lunch (and is the reason I started this thread, in case I decide not to eat lunch in the lunchroom anymore and have to explain why to my boss.)
Well, one good thing: at least she wasn’t talking and laughing to herself today. Maybe we workers held her attention so well that she didn’t need to talk to herself?
Maybe I’m way too easily annoyed. Or a hypocrite, because I’m a little screwed up too.
(Also, I use too many brackets.)
Putting this here since it’s not really work-related - UPS apparently can’t find my work building, or more specifically, one or two of their drivers can’t. I have most personal packages sent to work.
USPS gives them to our mail room. The mail room’s e-mailed notifications don’t include directions on how to get there. No problem. I know where the unmarked elevator to the sub-basement is and what turns to take to get to the mail room from there. (I am so not kidding about this.)
FedEx Express is no problem. They have one assigned carrier that has our whole hospital as her route, and she knows it backwards and forwards.
UPS? Apparently at least one of the drivers doesn’t think my building exists, so it’s a tossup as to whether you get your package in a timely fashion or not.
Someone tried to deliver yesterday, returned it to the depot with an “incorrect address, please correct” notification yesterday. I called in this morning - and the box had been loaded on a truck again.
…Why? If you think the address is wrong, do you like loading stuff you’ll never deliver? And if you’re the clueful carrier who thinks you know where I work, why did you not deliver during business hours today? It’s past the crazy holiday season. The customer service person said they’d try to contact the driver, but who knows if they did.
I wish I could specify via Amazon Prime to never use UPS to deliver to me at work. But what I will do is notify Amazon that I did not receive it in time, and they will (last I heard), extend my subscription by a month for free. So that’s something.
Huh. I’m on a Prime trial. They shipped me a package 2 day. It’s been 4 and still not here. No tracking info on the package. Wonder if they’ll extend the trial for me.
Just checked tracking; they got there almost an hour after we closed so it’s at “first attempt.” :smack: Hey, I told the CS agent what time we close, plus I wasn’t having it delivered to the ER or one of the hospital units. We keep regular hours.
And claiming they attempted means it counts as within the delivery window for Amazon Prime standards. But you’re probably in luck, Chimera.
So I log onto the mail order pharmacy last night to renew my wife’s meds. I get a page that says Your benefits terminated on December 31, 2039 :eek:
That’s almost 26 years in the future. But website won’t let me do anything.
Call employee benefits hot line today. While on hold it suggests going on line.
So while waiting I go on line and it asks for user name and password.
Shit I don’t remember, so I take the forgot user name link. It asks for email address.
I put it in and get told it does not exist.
Try again. Nada.
So maybe I didn’t register for this website, go to first time users click here. It says use SS# and DOB to register.
I enter this and it won’t take that either.
WTF? over
Guy answers phone, I get answer about Rx (changed companies, new website)
So I ask about logging in, I get told that they migrated to a new server in September and it bilged out all the old email address, so you can’t recover your log in that way.
OK I ask Why won’t my SS and DOB work?
Ah because you used them in 2010 to set up the website
:smack:
I swear to you this is exactly how the conversation went from there
Me: Congratulations you have built a box I can’t get out of. You threw away my email, so I can’t get my user ID that way, and you won’t let me use my SS# to get in, how do I get access back to the benefits website?
Idiot: You have to do it by telephone. <-Note the period he stopped talking
Pause
Pause
Pause
(nothing, he is saying nothing, I am listening to dead air)
Me: (trying to jump start him) umm, OK
Pause
Pause
Pause
(nothing, he is still saying nothing)
Me: I don’t know about you but I am on the telephone, so how about we fix this, OK?
Idiot (waking up out of a fog) Oh, OK.
Me: What do you need from me to get this done?
Idiot: Mail
Me: What, you need my email?
Idiot: No mail
Me: What do you mean mail, my email?
Idiot: No the other one
Me: US Postal service
Idiot: Yes I can send you the instructions
Thud
Thud
Thud
Thud <-The sound of Rick beating his head against his desk.
And why not give some old fart in a nursing home something that may addict him to it - the dude is what, 90? He isn’t out driving a bus or working in a factory, so he is pretty much harmless and I really doubt that hooking a 90 year old on oxy is going to do anything except improve his quality of life …
Just the doc for my uncle said - they pretty much removed all his internal organs, he is holding on to life with his toenails trying to make it til Christmas, give him the freaking heroin [or whatever it is you give terminal cancer patients] - addicting him is not as bad as what his body was doing to him.