Bought a new fridge two weeks ago, had it delivered and now it’s FUBAR to the point where I spent all day cooking whatever I could… every chicken breast, the sausage, made barbecue from the pot roast.
The icecream, spinach, canned biscuits and some leftovers have been pitched. Put other things like butter and chocolate in the new chest freezer Mom bought in April on special promotion where she works and I have more to throw out later after i’ve rested.
I’m glad to have a freezer but what a fucking pain in the ass. Can’t get a repair call Until Thursday afternoon unless I am so lucky as to get a cancellation. Fuck.
I love everything about summer, except for my commute. A crowded train is bad enough in the winter, but in the summer… well, that’s a lot of skin to skin contact with sweaty strangers. Bleaurgh.
In related news, a bit of advice to the young ladies of Boston; take a moment to look around your workplace. If there isn’t someone walking around with a tray of jello shots, then you probably shouldn’t be wearing a tube top.
I have no idea. I’m going to call the office to ask. Unfortunately, this is my son’s first year in a new school system and his first year of kindergarten, so I really feel like I or my husband should attend all of them (there are 3 the week before school starts).
Still, it’s aggravating as all hell that they’re smack dab in the middle of the day. I could do 4 o’clock and not be resentful. But noon and 2 o’clock meetings really fuck with everybody’s schedule. Oh, well. I guess I have to suck it up. Doesn’t mean I have to like it or won’t complain about it.
Speaking of complaining, I am in a ridiculously combative mood this morning. After getting just 1.5 hours of sleep last night thanks to a congested, clingy, whiny toddler who refused any and all of her daddy’s attempts to comfort her, I’m really not in the mood to take any shit. It’s probably going to get me in trouble since I’m scrapping our sales process and replacing it, but I really don’t give a rat’s ass.
Busybody and her minion can complain all they like, but a) their sales are way, way down. They insist that they’re “doing all they can,” yet somehow their figures never improve, with one exception: implementation of an internal marketing plan I and my counterpart created (which busybody and minion insisted would never work) that resulted in a 50% boost in internal sales. Take that, biatches. b) They unilaterally decided to stop selling one product. Gee, you’re really doing all you can? If you were, you wouldn’t stop fucking selling a product. Just sayin’. c) I can. Our SVP gave me the authority to change their sales process as I see fit. All I have to do is run it by my boss and his, get it approved and it has to be implemented. Again, take that biatches. And don’t fuck with me today.
Three hours of fucking sleep. I almost fell asleep in the car driving to work today (feel free to bitch me out about it, but I had to get to work or lose my job–not a difficult decision). If I don’t get some therapy soon, I’m liable to go down in metaphorical flames. awesome.
Actually, the lesson learned (PLEASE let it be learned) is that the cleaning crew at the racquet club that rents us the space for our services can’t necessarily be counted on to find and turn in everything that gets left behind in a conference room. It wouldn’t be any more accurate to characterize us as Christian than, say, Thomas Jefferson, Paramahansa Yogananda, the Dalai Lama, or Wayne Dyer.
As to any irreplaceability issues, her iTunes inventory is securely backed up, and can be readily transferred to a micro card that she puts into her cell phone. Getting her another Nano any time soon is just not going to happen, for various reasons.
Heat-related rant: the chipmunk that got trapped in my garage and ate the rat poison has now, officially, expired and started to stink up the place.
It’s a horrible dead + chemical stench. STINK STINK STINK stupid chipmunk. I know I will never find the body. It is likely to be wedged up inside some dark hole in the back/underside of the boat and/or trailer and will lie there and rot, or desiccate, for the remainder of the summer.
Stink. Stank. STUNK!
Rant #2. People who throw chewing gum on hot sidewalks, where I step in it and have it pollute the heel of my pump, have earned my deep and everlasting ire. IRE. :mad:
Killjoy. Why don’t you make it PSA to the HR professionals of Boston: If the young ladies in the workplace are wearing tube tops, it’s time to hire someone to walk around with a tray of jello shots…
If your bosses ever find out that you having to deal with a cranky home life makes you more effective at whipping your co-workers into shape, you might find yourself regretting it…
Good news? Job interview! Bad news? Choosing an interview outfit for 3 pm in July in sunny SE Georgia. I’m gonna roast! And there’s no way my makeup will stay put!
Texas has similar issues in the summer. Back when I was last looking for work during that time of the year, I sometimes put my outfit on a hanger, slipped into a bathroom in the building where my interview was, and changed there, within the bubble of protective AC. Presumably makeup could be applied the same way.
Found a cute outfit (lord, I hate moving - can’t find anything!) Nice little black dress, white blazer that I could don upon arrival, adorable black peep toe wedge with white polka dots.) Didn’t sweat to death on the way. Interviewed with the manager, then the owner. Start working tomorrow! (Sales plus customer service. About a 30/70 split, but I honestly enjoy both aspects of the job, so yay!) Happy happy happy!
The funny bit is that, the first time I wore a similar outfit in my previous sales job, the big boss noted that female clients would notice my cute shoes, and men would appreciate nice legs. Today, both women commented favorably on my cute shoes, but the outfit was definitely not overtly sexy. Perfect interview wear! And I start my job tomorrow. Woot!
Want to guarantee that I will never call you back?
Call me six times in three minutes.
Hang up after the first ring the first five times.
Leave a message on the sixth call
(because I’m not answering it after you hung up the first five times before I could answer).
Hey pal, go fuck yourself. I’m not calling you back after that stunt.
You might want to rethink that, Chimera (depending on what the message actually was). The first five calls could conceivably have been equipment problems for the caller.
