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Well Hey There, Sexy Bitches

25 Oct

Whenever I’ve gone on a long hiatus from blogging, I usually come back with “I know it’s been a while…” or “I know I suck for not blogging but I’ll do better….”. After saying it so many times, it doesn’t come across as sincere. You all know by now that:

  1. I have three kids (four if you count the hubby) that I’m constantly cleaning up after, nursing through another pukefest, chauffeuring to yet another birthday party or trying to get fed, bathed and in bed.
  2. I have ADD and anxiety so keeping me focused on anything beyond what I absolutely have to do is a feat of monumental proportions.
  3. My job was getting real shitty there for a while and just plain sucked all the funny out of me.

Let’s all just agree that I’m a sporadic blogger at best and be thankful when the occasional blog actually comes to fruition. K? Alrighty then. Moving forward!

Here’s a few items of note that have happened in my absence.

The Girl is Growing Up

Little Miss started kindergarten in August. She has lost not one but two teeth in the last couple of months. We celebrated her 6th birthday this week. She is growing up WAY too fast. It’s cliché but it’s true. I caught myself staring at her the other day just in awe at how much she has changed this past year. She has gotten taller, her facial features have changed a bit, the olive skin she inherited from her father is still beautifully bronzed from spending the summer at our aunt’s pool. *Let it be noted that I, too, spent the summer at the pool and did not come away beautifully bronzed. Does “ruddy” qualify as tan?  I know we all think our kids are beautiful but I gotta say, my girl is downright stunning at times, when she’s not covered in dirt or something sticky. When I meet other parents for the first time at birthday parties she is invited to, they always comment on how beautiful she is. Strangers stop us in the grocery store to tell her how pretty she is. It amazes me that made that. So sometimes I just sit and stare at her. Occasionally she’ll catch me staring, look at me with a smile, then fart. Giggling, she’ll say, “I farted, Poopy Mommy.” Yep, I made that.

My Job No Longer Sucks

For the better part of two years, my work life sucked. A job I once LOVED had become a source of stress and anxiety that took every ounce of willpower I had just to get out of bed and show up for. I was chronically late due to procrastinating every morning by sitting in my car. I had to talk myself into walking into the building. And those that know me, know I loathe being late. Why did it suck so bad? Lemme tell you.

I essentially had been doing two full-time jobs for two years. For two different bosses. On two different floors. Both bosses were demanding, in different ways.

“A”, who was my “original” boss, is the quintessential “Tiger Mom”. She is a perfectionist to a fault, unable to congratulate a job well done, and always has unrealistic expectations. I started working for her as a reporting specialist. Basically, I would create various accounting reports for the firm showing budget variances, productivity numbers, client averages, etc. I also edited SQL queries, created Crystal reports, automated manual reports, learned how to write macros in Excel, etc. Mind you, this is not anything I did before working at this firm. I learned all this on my own by absorbing any training material I could find, researching online and just by trial and error. I got really fucking good at it. And I loved it. While she irritated me to no end most days, I learned a lot working under her in that role and she pushed me to get a better understanding of everything I worked on. Then they fired the administrative assistant.

Since it was near year-end and some partners felt we (the accounting department) were already overstaffed, I was asked if I could step in and help with the administrative tasks until they could hire a new admin after the new year. I say I was asked, but we all know I didn’t have a choice – I couldn’t say no. Plus, I naively assumed they were being honest with me about hiring a new admin eventually. Once that happened, I would go back to being a reporting specialist and continue on my path to becoming the financial analyst for the firm. Then they hired the new Executive Director.

I was told a week before the new director, “D”, started that I would need to help him administratively as well. I was already struggling my workload from reporting and assisting “A” with her menial administrative tasks. Now I have to add this dude’s menial tasks to my ever-growing to-do list? My anxiety level rose to 11. From day one, “D” acted as if I was his – and only his – admin assistant. I was befuddled. I was just a fill-in until they hired the REAL admin. Right? Wrong.

In less than two months, I was relocated to his floor, typing meeting minutes and memos from pages and pages of handwritten notes (seriously, this dude has never used Dragon and cannot type using more than his index fingers), setting up endless meetings and lunches, slowly dying on the inside. Even worse, we did not gel at first. In fact, only a week after moving to his floor, he told me I pissed him off because I didn’t immediately respond to an email he sent me. Never mind the fact I was uploading time for every attorney in the firm that morning so we could bill clients millions of dollars, but no, I should have totally stopped what I was doing to respond to your email asking me for something you could have totally looked up yourself. After a brief meeting with HR, a meeting was set up between me, “D”, “A” and HR. I was told it was to smooth out the edges, lay out all my current responsibilities and define my responsibilities going forward. I was going to use the meeting as a chance to inquire as to when they planned to hire the REAL assistant so I could go back to my job and continue on the career path I was told I would be on when I was hired. Then they ambushed me.

There would not be a new admin assistant – I was and would always be the admin assistant. Since accounting was overstaffed my former position could no longer be justified. However, just because I’m so awesome, I still get to keep all my reporting responsibilities on top of supporting two executives at the same time. Yay! Did I say two full-time jobs? I meant three.

Can anyone blame me for hiding out in my car every morning? Juggling three different roles (without any extra pay by the way), being as ADD as I am, just drained me. I disappeared from here, from Facebook, from my friends. The thought of doing ANYTHING after I go off work was too overwhelming. I jumped into the hermit hole with both feet. Then someone in accounting got demoted and moved out of the department.

I was told repeatedly accounting was overstaffed so there wasn’t a position for me in that department even though I still had accounting responsibilities. So when I found out a position in billing was opening up because someone was being demoted, I immediately threw my name in the hat. It also helped that I am close with the billing supervisor and I was already her back-up for several tasks when she’s out. Of course, both of my bosses didn’t like the idea that they’d have to find a new admin, but they conceded and I got the job. All I had to do was wait until they hired my replacement and then train them. I wound up waiting two months. TWO FUCKING MONTHS. “D” took that long processing applicants to fill my job. I could take that as a compliment – that it was that hard to fill my shoes. I know that’s not why it took that long, but it’s better for me to pretend he wasn’t being an immense, nit-picking douche. Luckily, his nit-picking paid off. The new admin catches on quick, is a self-starter and a pretty cool chick.

My anxiety level has already decreased exponentially. I have only been in my new role for a few weeks now, but my work life no longer sucks. I don’t hide out in my car anymore and I haven’t been late. Life at work is good, definitely on the way to being bitchin’.

Pukefest 2015

All three of my kids have been puking on and off since the beginning of September. You don’t truly realize just how many stuffed animals your kids have until they’ve puked all over their rooms and you have to wash and dry every single last one of those bastards – twice. If any of you ever buy my kids a stuffed toy, I will hate you for a hot minute.

It started with the Oldest who puked every day for two weeks. He went to the doctor a few times, though nothing they gave him kept him from puking. He only puked at night and it didn’t seem to be caused by any foods he had eaten. The doctor put him on reflux meds to help control stomach acids but the puke continues. Over the past year, the Girl has sporadically puked and then been fine the next day. Again, only at night and not associated with any foods. The doctor also put her on reflux meds some time ago. Lil’ Man didn’t want to be left out, so he has joined in on the upchuck games occasionally, too. There’s no fever, no other viral symptoms – just puke. Lots and lots of puke. The only other symptom is headaches. The Oldest had to go to the doctor for the headaches and they suspect he is developing migraines.

At a loss as to what is wrong with my kids, and unwilling to accept that all three of them have spontaneously developed reflux, I started asking around to see if anyone had heard of this. Our aunt (the one whose pool gave the Girl her glorious tan) searched until she came across something that seemed like a fit. CVS – Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome. It only happens in 1 out of 100,000 children, but they think it may be caused by an inherited gene which could explain why all three of my kids would have it – if that’s what they have. Kids eventually tend to grow out of it, but tend to develop migraines later on. I have emailed an association set up for this syndrome in hopes they can give me contact info for someone close to here that can evaluate the kids to see if this is what they have. Until then, wish me luck and a strong stomach for the next time I have to clean up yet another puddle of puke. Also, don’t buy any stuffed toys for my kids – EVER.

That’s more than enough for now. Thanks for sticking around and asking for more blogs. It fills me with more happiness than you can ever know that someone out there wants to read about what’s going on in my life or my opinion on this, that or the other. I love you all.

Later Bitches!

 

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Welfare Recipients Want My Money (all $4.74 of it)

2 Aug

Bitch of the Moment:

By posting this, you're telling everyone, "I am an amazing douche nozzle!"

I prefer my tasteless ecards to contain typos and punctuation errors. It adds to the credibility.

Does this look familiar? Have these insulting, derogatory pieces of garbage been cluttering up your Facebook news feeds? When I don’t have anything of substance to say and I’m not busy wiping snot, cooking dinner that no one eats or wondering what I’ve stepped in, I too post ecards on my news feed. The difference is: mine are funny, this one is not. It’s mean. It’s belittling. It’s kicking those that are down. Even if its intent is to criticize only a select demographic on government assistance, it is hurtful to ALL those unfortunate enough to require help.

I am starting to avoid Facebook. The constant stream of hateful, nonfactual and racist sentiments that constantly invade my attempt to escape reality are honestly depressing me.  I am struggling to find good in those around me. I was clueless as to the number of my “friends” that are incapable of critical thinking. The sheer amount that will believe anything they come across because it feeds what they think they “know” is astonishing. Get your facts from credible sources, folks. Someecards.com, Fox News, CNN and the I_wanna_blow_a_teabagger.com ain’t it. And so help me, if you take any cues from Rush Limbaugh, make yourself an appointment ASAP because you’ve been eating lead paint or have suffered a brain injury.

I think it’s safe to say you all know which way my political dick sways. I’m as liberal as they come. I’m so far left, it’s amazing I don’t have sex with trees. I look within myself to determine what is right and just and that’s the path I take. My path is just a little more green than most, maybe even rainbow. Having said that, I do not berate those who do not share my views and opinions. You’ll never hear me say, “I hate Conservatives,” or “I hope all Republicans die.” (BTW, I’ve had several of my “friends” post statements such as those about Democrats and Liberals.) We all have the right to our opinions and to voice them. That’s what makes America great. What I have a problem with is when opinions are passed off as truth when they have absolutely no basis in fact. Political strategists selectively edit and twist information (or just plain make shit up) and feed it to the masses like mother’s milk because they know people will latch on to the tit and suck it dry. No one bothers to check where the mother’s milk comes from, however. Turns out, mother is “the man” and they’ve been sucking his dick for years. So THIS mother is going to lay down some facts for you. They’ll be hard to swallow at first, but it’s good for you. Better than the “milk” you’ve been getting from the man at any rate.

I will cite all my sources for those of you who doubt what I’m going to say here. I will not be getting my information from blogs, party-specific websites or someecards. http://www.IwannahaveObamasbabies.com will not be referenced either so have no fear. Here goes:

What is “Welfare”?

Do any of you know the definition of Welfare and what it entails? You do? Well, just for shits and giggles, I’m going to lay it out for you anyway:

Welfare: Statutory procedure or social effort designed to promote the basic physical and material well-being of people in need. (http://oxforddictionaries.com)

What it entails:

*Unemployment (Unemployment Trust Fund, Unemployment Recovery efforts, Railroad & Federal Unemployment – this is mainly Federal unemployment extension benefits – not regular benefits provided at state level and covers all federal civilian and MILITARY unemployment benefits [http://www.policyalmanac.org/social_welfare/archive/unemployment_compensation.shtml])
*Food and Nutrition Assistance (SNAP, WIC, Commodity Assistance [food banks,] Child Nutrition Programs [school lunches,] Funds for Strengthening Markets, Income & Supply [something to do with the purchase of fresh fruits & vegetables for distribution to schools and service institutions by the Secretary of Agriculture]) If your kid gets free or reduced lunch at school, you are on “The Welfare.”
*Housing Assistance (1st Time Home Buyer’s tax credit, tenant-based and project-based rental assistance, grants for states that opt for housing projects in lieu of low-income housing credits [that’s fucked,] home investment partnership program, housing for the elderly) I now know I was on “The Welfare” when I received the 1st Time Home Buyer’s credit when I bought my first home.
*Earned Income, Making Work Pay, and Child Tax Credits (various tax credits for people who WORK or have EARNED INCOME, and/or have children)  Most everyone I know is on “The Welfare” since they receive one or more of these tax credits.
*Supplemental Security Income (support for low-income elderly, blind or disabled people which includes expenditures for administrative costs and RECOVERY efforts. Also covers survivor benefits http://www.ssa.govIf your spouse has died and you receive SSI benefits because you are raising their child, you are on “The Welfare.”
*Civilian Employee Retirement and Disability (part of Worker’s Comp) (just what it says – government employee retirement funds – but you don’t hear of folks bitching about this) 
*Child Care, Foster Care, and Adoption Support (Adoption tax credits, foster care payments, Federal share of child support payments, child care assistance programs, early education and afterschool programs) If your child attends Head Start, you are on “The Welfare.”
*Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (time limited assistance for needy families) I do not know anyone currently receiving TANF benefits, none that have told me anyway.
*Railroad Retirement and Additional Income Security (part of Worker’s Comp) (retirement pensions, social security equivalent and unemployment for rail workers, District of Columbia Federal Pensions, Black Lung Disability & disabled coal miners benefits – seriously WTF?) If you have Black Lung and receive benefits, you are on “The Welfare.” Again, WTF? Who the fuck has Black Lung these days?

(Breakout of how Income Tax is distributed from http://www.whitehouse.gov )

How many of you thought it was just free checks, food stamps and WIC? But guess what, it goes beyond that. Each one of those categories consists of MANY sub-categories, some of which I listed. How many you ask? Total, there are around 117. Don’t believe me? I’ll even throw the conservatives a bone. You can see all the sub-categories that make-up Welfare at http://www.usgovernmentspending.com. This is a pro-teabagger, conservative site but they have government budget and spending information that dates back to 1902. I do not take into account any numbers they list as estimates or guesstimates, and you shouldn’t either. If it’s not an actual statistic, it’s ignored.

So, of those numerous sub-categories, which one makes up what most people define as Welfare that robs hard-working Americans of their money to give to those that “refuse” to work? Here you go:

TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families): Cash assistance program providing assistance to needy families. (Department of Health & Human Services) This is what a lot of people commonly think solely makes up Welfare. This does not include food stamps. (Food stamps will be covered in the next blog.)

  • How long can recipients draw assistance? Some people think you can sit back and collect cash as long as you want, living the high life on all that free money. FALSE. There are time restrictions. An adult can only draw funds for a total of five years in their lifetime, and that’s only if they meet requirements. (DHHS.gov)
  • What are the requirements? A family of four can only make up to $1,178 in gross monthly income (remember folks, that’s before Uncle Sam takes taxes and you pay premiums for whatever insurance benefits you may or probably don’t have.) There are also countable resource amount restrictions. CARS ARE NOT CONSIDERED COUNTABLE RESOURCES! More on that later in the food stamp blog. (DHHS.gov) Oh, just an FYI: If our needy family is a single parent household and is fortunate enough to collect child support, states can count that as unearned income and does factor into eligibility requirements. (TANF Ninth Annual Report to Congress)
  • How much will recipients get? The benefit standard for a family of four is $500 a month. (DHHS.gov) Math time. Yay! If your gross income is $1,178 a month, after a standard deduction rate of 25% is taken for insurance premiums (if they have benefits) and taxes, your take home amount will be around $884. Add in the possible $500 benefit and your needy family has a monthly income of $1,384. That’s $16,608 a year to support four people. I’m sure they’ll use that exorbitant amount of money to furnish their mansions.
  • Who are the recipients? There seems to be a running consensus among my “friends” that only African-Americans are on “The Welfare.” Why would I say that? Maybe it’s the thinly-veiled, racist sentiment shown in all those oh-so-funny ecards. I guess they could be implying the rims, Kools and 40’s were bought by Sissy Lynn from the mountains of West Virginia using our tax dollars…but I doubt it. Regardless, the consensus is FALSE. The Ninth TANF Annual Report to Congress (http://www.acf.hhs.gov/programs/ofa/data-reports/index.htm) was released in May of this year for FY 2009. As of 2009, 33% of 1,726,560 families receiving TANF were African-American. 31% of those families were white. The number of African-American families utilizing TANF assistance has decreased every year since 2004, while the number of white families has increased. Here’s another fun fact: The African-American numbers include African-American and white bi-racial persons. The white numbers? Nothin’ but crackers. We wouldn’t want to sully our demographic by including half-breeds would we? Even with that information taken into account, I’m willing to bet that whitey has bypassed the African-American/bi-racial demographic since 2009 (we already have in SNAP recipients – info on that later.) We’ll find out next year when the Annual Report is released for FYE 2010.

Also, when you hear people wailing about all the good-for-nothings living it up on the taxpayer’s dime, it’s always referencing   someone at the grocery store dressed to the nines, with a Coach bag and the latest electronic gadget buying soda and doughnuts with food stamps or TANF money. You know who they don’t mention? The largest demographic receiving assistance from the government: children. The 1,726,560 families that made up TANF recipients in 2009 consisted of 4,041,344 people. 973,580 were adults and 3,067,764 were children. For the math-challenged, that’s 76%. What a bunch of lazy, little shits we have in America. Why don’t they pick themselves up by their bootstraps and become honest, tax-paying members of society like the rest of us? Isn’t there a sweatshop somewhere they can work at in order to support their families instead of wasting more of our tax dollars attending public school? We all know Welfare kids aren’t going to graduate high school anyway, right? If someone is going to post snide, demeaning commentary on Welfare recipients for the world to see, I want to see them ball up and post something in that vein. Let’s see how many “likes” they can get on that ecard – which I’m positive they would get many. At least you’d know who you can clean out of your friends list that week.  At the end of the day, you can infer all you want about the adults utilizing the TANF program even if you are completely full of shit. Whether you think it’s laziness, irresponsibility and/or greed that got the adults there – kids didn’t fucking ask to be born into a poor family. They didn’t make any financial or personal decisions that resulted in them requiring government assistance in order to have the bare essentials most of us take for granted. Toothpaste, diapers, clothes and shoes are luxuries to most of these kids. As a former child recipient of government assistance, I can state that as fact.

  • What are WE paying for TANF? “We” don’t care about those needy families, do we? What do “we” care about? ME! That’s who. So how much does it cost ME to “support” these lazy freeloaders? Spending for FYE 2012 is budgeted at $3.729 trillion (usgovernmentspending.com.) Of that astronomical figure, $17.2 billion is budgeted to be spent on TANF. That’s .46% of the total spending budget. Less than half of 1% of MY tax dollars helps ensure someone less fortunate than ME can keep their lights on or put gas in their cars so they can get to (or look for) the jobs everyone says they don’t have (or don’t want.) If you do nothing else with the information I’ve spent hours collecting for this blog, do this:
    • Go to http://www.whitehouse.gov/2011-taxreceipt.  You can enter information from your last tax filing on this site and it will tell you where your tax dollars went. Or, you can do as I did and take your last pay stub and input your YTD tax withholding to see where your money would be allotted  this year. Wanna know what MY contribution to TANF is so far this year? I’ve got nothing to hide. So far, the big, bad, Socialist, Obama government has allotted $4.74 of my tax dollars to help those less fortunate than me. Well, fuck! I guess that means I’ll have to skip that grande, half-fat, no foam, caramel mochaccino this month so the 2 million+ needy families on TANF don’t freeze to death this winter. I’m so fucking oppressed. *side note: $53 of my money has gone to Research, Development, Weapons and Construction. Nice. Can’t wait for you all to see how much of your tax dollars are going to Defense and Pensions. It’s AWESOME.

We all know how bad it is out there these days. Things are getting better, not by leaps and bounds like we’d like but the mass layoffs have died down. The jobs, however, haven’t been raining down from heaven. People can’t find work. Most of the people affected by the Recession of 2008 where people like you and me. People with good jobs, a mortgage, 2 cars and kids. We weren’t rich but we were stable and happy. In the blink of an eye, people lost everything. First their paychecks, then their homes, then hope.  They didn’t give up and decide to live on government assistance. They looked for work, some are STILL looking for work. What about Taco Bell? Why can’t they go work at fucking Taco Bell? Because Taco Bell won’t fucking hire them. FedEx won’t hire them to drive a truck. Why? They’re overqualified. No one likes hiring folks they know aren’t going to stick around if they find a job in their field of expertise. Also, the 20 year-old manager at Taco Bell doesn’t like it when the help is smarter than he is. Might show him up and take his job. Also, if they were lucky enough to get hired on at Taco Bell, they’d still need (and would still qualify for) TANF benefits. You can’t support four people on $8.50 an hour. Ask me, I should know. I can regale you with childhood stories of sleeping in a car for more nights than I care to remember because we couldn’t afford a place to stay, not even a hotel.

My husband was laid off on February 20th in 2009. He had worked for the world’s largest retailer in IT for seven years, had a degree and was young. He should have had no problem finding a job right? It took four months. We are still recovering from the hole we fell in during that time. We were lucky. He did get a severance package, all of which was used to get us out from under our house we had to sell so we didn’t go into default. A lot of people laid off didn’t get severance packages. Still playing catch up, we decided last fall that I had to go back to work provided I could find a job that would cover the cost of daycare and still help pay the bills that were starting to overwhelm us again. I, too, worked for the world’s largest retailer as a contracts administrator and as a VP assistant. I should have easily found a secretarial job, data entry position, something. I applied everyday for three months. I only had three interviews that entire time. I was applying for receptionist jobs towards the end. When I did find work, it was a temporary position. No benefits, no long-term guarantees and not a whole lot of money. I was fortunate enough to get offered a permanent position and I’m thankful everyday for it. Others out there have not been as fortunate. One of my friends was laid off in California in February of 2009 as well. She worked in sales. Again, nothing too technical or specialized, so it should have been easy for her to find work. She was out of work for ten months. She didn’t find another job until she moved back to our home state.

Don’t make assumptions. You don’t know these people receiving assistance. You don’t know how they got to where they are or what they had BEFORE they required help from the government. The fact that someone drives something other than a piece of shit does not mean they are scamming the system. It could mean it’s a family member’s car or that they had a nice car before they lost their job, or their spouse died or they got divorced. Just because the girl buying groceries with an EBT card has an iPhone doesn’t mean she used her Welfare check to buy it. She could have been given that phone as a gift or got it as a hand-me-down. Every time I upgrade my phone, I give my old one away to someone who could use it and most times it’s a really nice phone. Don’t assume anything. Take the time to get to know some of these “freeloaders” and see if you really ‘know” anything at all.

Some people abuse the system. I won’t ever deny that. There’s always going to be people out there that take advantage of any situation. This isn’t happening with Welfare as often as some like to spew it is, but it does happen. If you know someone who is taking assistance under false pretenses, REPORT THEM. You wanna do something about your $4.74 being squandered? Do your part as a citizen and make a fucking phone call instead of bitching from your porch. I’ll do you a solid, here’s the number:  1-800-447-8477. That’s the Inspector General for the Department of Health and Human Services. Be part of the solution by doing something. Posting snarky ecards and Rush Limbaugh soundbites doesn’t make you part of the solution … I’m too nice to say what it really makes you.

That’s all for now. I really hope that some of you have learned at least one thing from all this information I have gathered. I know I learned a lot more than I expected to. Have questions or want more information on something specific? Leave ’em in the ol’ comments section. I’ve already started the food stamp blog. I should have it out next week. Hopefully, there will still be some of you around to read it.

Later Bitches!

If This is Southern Hospitality, I’ll Take Yankees, Carpetbaggers, Etc. Any Day

18 Aug

Bitch of the Moment:

As I obviously don’t blog everyday – so sorry for the long spans of time between posts – so I’m changing the format a bit. We’ll now have the “Bitch of the Moment” instead. I always seem to finally post my blogs days after the irksome events have taken place anyway, so this is more appropriate. On to the bitch.

Most times I am in a store/business here, I actually have to bite my tongue to prevent from asking, “Do you want my damn money or not?!?” Customer service here is practically nonexistent.  With the economy being in the crapper and no one being able to even get a job at Mickey D’s, you’d think businesses around here would be doing every thing they could to hold onto customers. I may not have a lot of money, but what I spend in their stores would at least ensure that some of these “associates” keep their much-hated jobs.

I’ve told you all before, I have worked in retail and other service industry jobs for the better part of my working days. I know those jobs suck. I know customers suck. Managers suck. But as a retail worker you accept the suckdom and go about your day. Your attitude vastly changes the way the suckass customers are going to treat you. It’s not rocket science, folks.

How hard is it to smile at a customer? Or when you’re through taking care of them, to say, “Thank you.” 9.9 times out of 10, I, the customer, say, “Thank you,” to them and it’s hardly ever reciprocated. What the hell am I thanking them for? They are supposed to be serving me. I am ensuring there is a need for them to be there. I have been pleasant, even trying to engage them in polite small talk. I get nothing in return. I mostly get scowls or complete disinterest if I get acknowledged at all. Then there’s the whole fraternization between “associates” that I get to sit and listen to instead of them paying attention to me or what I’m purchasing. I honestly don’t need to know how pissed off Dominique made you by pulling you off the floor and making you check when she knows you have 2 pallets to unload before midnight. And HELL NO you ain’t working 2 seconds past your break time no matter how many of these customers are waiting in line. Screw her. *Actual conversation I sat through while trying to check out.  Tact is apparently lost in the dirty south.

And God help you if you need help finding something or something rings up incorrectly. They will not lift a finger to research the item or find what you are looking for. I have been in a store here where exactly 7 “associates” walked past my obviously lost ass and not one offered to help me find what I needed. I counted because I’m that type of bitch. 10 Foot Rule? Right. They wouldn’t know or care what that meant if you slapped them up side the head with a tape measure. *Maybe I’ll do that next time.  I always have to walk through the store and pull someone aside to ask for help and I’m usually told that it’s not their area so they have no idea if they have what I need.  This is where you’d expect them to call someone from that area, right? Wrong. They just walk off. Dubya Tee Eff. No customer service at all.

The cashiers are the worst. They don’t say “Hi,” “How are you?” “Screw you and the horse you rode in on.” Nothing. If I have a coupon, I get loud sighs and it literally takes forever for them to verify if my coupon is exactly what I purchased, if it’s been copied, if it’s expired, yadda yadda yadda. You all know how I am about my coupons. I am precise in which ones I use. However, I really don’t think a $0.35 coupon is worth five minutes of their, my or the 15 customers behind me’s time (who are all now ready to kill ME when it’s not ME being the douche canoe.) I’m not part of some mad coupon-counterfeiting ring. I’m not here to steal from Ralph, Leblanc, Albertson or Mr. Walton. I’m just trying to save as much money as I can here and there so I can spend MORE MONEY in YOUR fucking store later on. Imbeciles.

The one that really makes my blood boil is when something rings incorrectly and how I get treated.

Here’s the proper way to handle the situation if you are a cashier:

“Ma’am. The item rang up wrong. It’s ringing $5.99 and the sign/ad said $3.99,” says the customer. “Oh, really. I’m sorry about that. Let me check on that for you real quick.”  This is where the lovely cashier either calls someone from that department OR if they know the department well enough, they run and go check on it. Not drag their feet or piss and moan, but briskly walk to the area in question to verify the price. Once verified, they briskly walk back and inform the customer that either the sign they read was for something else OR they override the price. NOW. In MY retail store, if the customer says something is ringing up wrong and it’s a difference off two measly dollars, we just override it automatically. We WANT our customers and aren’t willing to lose them over $2.00. If they come to me to check out and something rings up at a price exceptionally higher than what the customer says it is and it’s from my department, I will run – RUN – my ass to where the item is and check it out. I’ll even bring back the sign if they read it wrong. That’s the kind of cashier I am. If the customer was right about the price difference, I apologize for the inconvenience, override the price and thank them. I then call someone in pricing to correct the sku so other cashiers and customers don’t have to do what I just did. Again, that is the kind of cashier I am. These other mofakkas around here aren’t as bitchin’ as I am and it sucks.

Here’s the improper way to handle the situation if you are a cashier (this is another of my recent experiences and completely true):

“I’m sorry. Those are ringing up wrong. They were on the clearance aisle. They were supposed to be $1.50 each. They are ringing $2.50 each,” I say. “No, they ain’t. The wash cloths are $1.50, the hand towels are $2.50,” says the bitch of a cashier. “No, the wash cloths were $1.00 each. I checked the UPC on the shelf and it matched these for the $1.50 price,” I say, still being courteous. *Loud huff* “Pam, how much these towels ‘sposed to be?” bitch cashier asks the cashier across from us that works in that department. “You just gonna hafta walk down there and check yo’self. They got me here checking so I can’t do nothin’,” says 2nd bitchy cashier. (My cashier makes no movement whatsoever to even pretend like she may go check it out even though the aisle is literally 3 aisles away.) “Well they ain’t ringing at that price,” says my bitchy cashier. (She starts ringing the other hand towels. When she gets to one of another color but the same style, it rings the $1.50 price.) “See. Those are ringing correctly. That’s the price they are all supposed to be,” I say a little exasperated. “Well. That must be for that color only,” says the c*nt cashier. “Listen, there is an entire row of these hand towels in all different colors but the same style. They are all marked $1.50. There is absolutely no sticker on ANY of the shelves that say $2.50. The wash cloths that coordinate with these in the same style but all different colors say $1.00. I’m not trying to get over on you. If you could just check I’d appreciate it. I’m buying a lot here so $1.00 extra on each of these towels is going to add up,” I say as politely as I can manage. *Glare* “Pam, do you know if they all ‘spose to be $1.50 or just these here brown ones?” worst cashier in the world says. “I can’t help nobody, they got me checkin’!” says the 2nd worst cashier in the world. (My cashier just stands and looks at me. No intention of checking herself or even picking up her little phone to call for assistance.) …… “Fuck you,” I say as I leave my cart and its entirety there for her to deal with. Do I feel bad about my reaction? No. I was polite even when I was treated with disdain, I did not raise my voice and made it clear that I was sorry to inconvenience her even though it is her job to check on things of this nature. She did nothing but disrespect me and the other customers waiting behind me by refusing to provide service to me, the customer. If you hate working with people, DON’T WORK WITH PEOPLE! Plain and simple. I actually boycotted this store for a while refusing to give them one cent of my money. Unfortunately, my options for groceries are limited unless I want to sell my car to finance them. I have started shopping there again but if I can buy something anywhere else affordably, I do.

It really doesn’t take a lot to make a customer happy, even when you have to tell them they can’t have what they want. It’s how you finesse them. “Hey. How are you today? Thank you for waiting. Did you find everything, ok? This is such a cute shirt. I’d buy it but I can’t wear white. I have three kids with dirty hands. Is that all for you today? Any coupons? Your total is ….. We thank you very much. Please take our survey if you get a chance – you get a coupon for it! You have an awesome weekend!” Ask anyone I work with. They’ll tell you that’s how I am with EVERY customer verbatim. I don’t care if they’re old, fat, ugly, poor, stinky, whatever. I treat every customer with respect and 9.9 times out of 10, they leave with a smile on their face and that’s why I get good customer service awards at work all the time. And you know what, it took almost no effort at all. Smile. Be polite. Pretend to care. Say thank you. Or get the fuck out. Mmmkay?

Bitchin’ Moments of Late:

Even though I really would love to throttle him most days, I have one of the sweetest little boys on the planet. He started his first week of Kindergarten on Monday. He also rode the bus all by himself for the first time. As we were waiting for the bus to arrive, he asked why I had my camera. I told him I planned to take a picture of him getting on the big boy bus. Once the bus arrived, I took a picture of him stepping onto the bus. Once he got on, he turned to face me. The driver was telling him where to sit and he just stood there. I told him to go take his seat but he just stood there. I asked what he was waiting for. He said, “I’m waiting on you to take the picture, Mommy.” He then stood next to the driver, smiled and waved. It was precious. He then said, “Bye Mommy, I love you.” It’s the first time I’ve ever been teary-eyed sending him off to school.

Yesterday, when he got home from school, he told me about a little girl he had met. He said that she had been bullied and had been crying. I, of course, interrupted and told him to make sure that if he or anyone else around him was being bullied that he needed to inform the closest adult so they could take care of it. He told me that someone had stepped in but that the little girl was still upset. He tells me, “So I gave her a big hug and told her it was going to be ok. Then, when I got back to class, I drew her a great big heart to make her feel better. I’m gonna give it to her next time I see her.” Isn’t that the sweetest thing? He may be a wild child most days, but I’m so glad he has a kind heart and is empathetic to those around him. I’m a very proud mommy indeed.

In other news, the girl is potty-trained! Holla! It is such a relief not to be buying diapers for two kids at the same time. She’s still in pull-ups at night but we’re slowly weaning her off those as well. Her reward for going poop is a sucker. I swear, she makes herself poop just to get a sucker. She LIVES for suckers. It’s hysterical. I can’t even clean her up before she squeals,  “I want sucker. I want a pank sucker!” No, my child doesn’t have a southern accent at all. I hope I don’t pay for this reward system with a mouth full of cavities.

She also went to her very first movie yesterday and sat all the way through it like a big girl. She saw the “Snerps” as she calls it (re:Smurfs for those of you without children.) Then she got to spend the day at the mall shopping and playing, and getting spoiled rotten by the best Aunt on the planet. We love you, Aunt G. I don’t know what we’d do without you.

So, yeah. I think that’ll do. Thank you once again for tuning into my profanity-laden ramblings.

Later Bitches!

I Don’t Want No Scrubs

19 Apr

Bitch of Every Day:

I abhor laziness. If you want to get on my really bitchy side, be a shiftless layabout. You can call me a lot of things, but lazy isn’t one of them.

Here’s a little background on me for those that aren’t in the know. My Mom is the hardest working person I know. Currently, she is 59 years-old and she works in a junkyard. Yep, you read that right. My Mom sorts scrap metal Monday through Saturday and she is almost a senior citizen.

Growing up, I had a scrub for a stepfather. He only worked during the spring and summer doing lawn work which he was able to do on a huge riding mower (that my Mom paid for) so he was lazy even then. Not to mention the fact that my Mom would go with him most weekends to help and she was the one weed eating the properties he took care of. During the winter, he did dick. He sat around the trailer, smoking cigarettes and pot when he wasn’t verbally or physically abusing one of us. He has about 20 spots reserved in Hell right now, if he isn’t already there. After years of trying to escape from him (he’d always find us,) we finally were rid of him when I turned 15. Since then, we’ve only seen him a handful of times and last we heard, he was living under a bridge somewhere supposedly wasting away from cancer. I’ll be nice and say I hope he met his end quickly if he is, in fact, already dead. That’s all I can offer in the way of compassion for the douchebag.

Watching my Mother work at a plant to make enough money to support all of us while putting up with his deranged ass instilled a very strong work ethic in me. It also taught me what to look for in potential life partners so I, and any children I might have, wouldn’t have to put up with that nonsense. I’m not going to take shit from any man, ever. I’m not what you would call a feminist per se, but in that area, you can call me a Femi-Nazi. You can’t work, tend to your home or even LOVE your children? You have no place in my life.

My loathing of laziness isn’t only directed toward life mates. It is applicable to family, friends and co-workers.

Most family members that I don’t associate with are the ones who have nothing to offer society in any way. They can’t hold a job, can’t man (or woman) up and take care of their kids, won’t kick their drug habits or if they have duped some poor, unsuspecting soul into being with them, can’t seem to stop abusing them in some way or another. To me, blood is NOT thicker than water. I will cut a family member completely from my life with no guilt at all. I’ll give them a few chances to straighten up and see their error of their ways; I’m not a total bitch. But too many chances, and I become an enabler. If you’re a shitty person, I’m not going to condone your unforgivable behavior just so you can feel warm and squishy. Blood or not, if you’re a scrub, you’re out.

I’ve disassociated myself from lifelong friends for the same things. Some have been so close that I would refer to them as family instead of friends.  It killed me to do it but I can’t let people like that affect me or my family. They will drag you into that mess and it will either break you financially, emotionally or even physically. I know many who succumbed to pressure and began using drugs, stealing, etc. from the influence of scrubs. I don’t want my kids emulating those types of behaviors in the future. And they will. How do you think most of my family and friends wound up going down that road? They saw it in their homes every day growing up. Luckily for me, I’m was pig-headed enough to fight those urges because I wanted to do something with my life – to have a better life than I had. They weren’t as driven, I guess.

Where my disdain for laziness has affected me negatively, perhaps, has been at work and home. I have definitely alienated a few co-workers (and boyfriends/spouse) when it was apparent I didn’t approve of their work ethic. If you don’t do YOUR part and I have to take up the slack, I’m going to be pissed about it. I do enough. I don’t like work or chores either but I know it has to be done so I do it. If you do your part, everything gets done faster and you don’t have to endure me being a bitch. Deal? Screw around on your own time, not mine.

Where I currently work, we are usually so busy no one has the time to even consider being lazy. There are a few exceptions. When the flow of customers finally ceases or is sporadic, I don’t sit back and relax or chat. I start hanging clothes, cleaning the desk area that is now trashed due to the frenzy of customers or straightening racks. I know if I do it NOW, then I won’t be staying late after work doing it when I’d rather be at home with my family. Lazy co-workers prevent that from happening some nights and it chaps my ass. Messing with my family time is like messing with my emotions. You will incur my wrath.

One of the biggest and longest running sources of contention with my hubby has been his initiative to do things around the house (or school when he was still in college.) He is a habitual procrastinator. I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard, “I was gonna do it tomorrow/later/when…..” If I wanted it done a week from when I asked him to do it, I would have waited a week to ask him. I don’t expect my husband to jump when I say so like some über control freak. I have gotten more forgiving lenient in my old age and will let my requests slide until the next day without being a bitch to him. But, I don’t think expecting something to be done on the SAME DAY I ask is that big of a request. I sometimes think he procrastinates just to demonstrate his control in those situations.  Trying to show he’s the Man and not bowing to the Little Woman’s demands when she reminds him to take out the damn trash. Which brings up the other (bigger) issue.

Why is it, after thirteen years together total, I still have to remind him to take out the trash? That’s HIS job. Shouldn’t he know when it goes out? Now, this past Sunday I didn’t have to tell him. But usually, it gets to be around 11:00 p.m. on Sunday night and I’ll notice the trash is still full throughout the house. When I ask when he’s going to take it out, he’ll usually mutter something about forgetting it was trash night. It’s the same day every week, even on holidays. Why is it that hard to remember? His other job is to empty the dishwasher. I’ve told him a million times, if the sink is full of dirty dishes, it’s because the dishes in the dishwasher need to be emptied. But does he notice? When I tell him it needs emptied, it will be the next day if not the day after that before he gets to it. And I refuse to empty it. Again, I do enough shit around here. There will be maggots in the sink before I empty the dishwasher. I’ll hand wash a dish here and there that I absolutely have to have before I empty the damn thing. I told you before I was pig-headed.

I can’t fully blame him for his lack of initiative around the house. See, growing up, he had chores he had to do, well, a few anyway. After he would complete his chores, his mother would go behind him and redo it. When he got to be a teenager, he’d finally had enough. If she was just going to redo it anyway, she could do it in the first place. If you are so anal-retentive (as I am and she really is) about your house that you will go behind someone and “fix” what they’ve cleaned, then you haven’t properly trained them. Also, beggars can’t be choosers. If you want the help, you can’t expect the helper to be as neurotic as you are – unless you’re paying them, of course. Your kids need guidance from you on how you want things done, but only to an extent. So his mom had to do everything because she wouldn’t let him do anything. So, he honestly was accustomed to not helping around the house when we got together. He didn’t know how to work a washing machine for Christ’s sake. I took the time to show him how to do certain things I could use his help on and thought that’d be that. Not so much.

I still have to ask for help all the time. He doesn’t notice the filth, nor does he really care about it. If I left for a month to go on a trip and came back, my house would probably look similar to some of those on TLC’s Hoarding. Instead of copious amounts of ceramic cats and old newspapers, my house would be filled to the brim with Dr. Pepper cans and shitty diapers. There’d be paper plates littering the counters, floors, the stove, everywhere. Everywhere except the garbage can. Seriously, you’re 10 feet from the garbage can. Why the eff are you laying it on the counter for ME to throw away? It bothers me because it shows a lack of respect for my time, the hard work I put into our home  and my feelings. He knows how important it is for me to have a clean house and that things be organized. Yet, he makes no effort to help keep it that way. I pick up after him as much as I do my kids. Maybe more than my kids. So, we butt heads about it every few months (really, I just talk at him and he mutters and nods. Things get better for a few weeks then revert back to the same old shit.) He is the bread-winner in the home; I only work weekends in a department store. I, however, take care of at least two, if not all three kids all day by myself the entire week-long. It’s more draining than any “real” job I’ve ever had. I still manage to clean, pay bills, fix things and cook while caring for them. I’ll trade his “real” job for my “playing house” any day. He wouldn’t last a week and he knows it. So why he doesn’t step up to help is beyond me.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s an awesome dad to my kids. He has a great job that he actually likes for once and seems to be well-respected there. He and I still find new things to talk about everyday so we’re never bored together. And it doesn’t hurt that I still find him to be very, very cute. 🙂  He is definitely not a SCRUB. He just needs to SCRUB around the house a little more often.

Bitchin’ Moment of the Day:

My kids are funny as hell. I wish I could remember all the things they say on a daily basis but anyone that knows me, knows my memory is shit. I blame it on brain rot from all the Diet Coke I’ve been drinking over the years. I need a little recorder I can carry around so I can save it verbatim when the funnies happen. Here’s just a couple from the last few days:

Via the oldest:

“My name is Penguin Man. I can freeze people, launch fireballs out of my butt, and make mountains crumble!” Someone thinks he is a superhero whose superpower involves farts. Awesome. I truly do have a boy.

Conversation today with the girl:

Me: “Who is that on your shirt?”

The girl: “Da Princesssssss.”

M: “But what’s her name?”

G: ” I dunno.”

M: “That’s Cinderella.”

G: “Cinner Grella.”

M: “No, Cinderella. Cin-der….”

G: “Cinderrrrrr.”

M: “Rel-la.”

G: ” Gorwillaaaaaa. Cinderrrrr Gorillaaaaaaa.” Runs off laughing maniacally.

Another shining example of how well my children listen to me.

Later Bitches!

We Need a Clean-Up on Aisle U

28 Feb

Bitch of the Day:

Attention shoppers: Some of you are nasty asses.

I have worked in retail off and on since I was sixteen years-old. My first job was in softlines at the big, blue box.  I worked in women’s and accessories. It sucked. A lot. This was before the 24-hour supercenter of today – which shows my age a bit. The store would close at 10:00 p.m. and we’d be lucky to get out of there by 11:30 p.m. due to “zoning” the store. Women’s always took the longest to straighten. We bitches can tear up a clothing rack. Would it kill us to put the sweater back where we got it, instead of tossing it on top of that pile of nicely folded shirts? Or hey girls, that’s a table of folded jeans, not a place to plant our ass. Nor a jungle gym for our monkey kids, for that matter.

At my current retail job, we had a very busy weekend. We had a bagillion coupons out that were about to expire, so every penny-pinching cheapskate – I include myself in that group – came out in droves to get them some savings. There’s nothing worse than a cheap bitch in a clothing store. She is going to tear up everything in her path to find the one shirt, in her size, that will bring her total up to the spending minimum to use that coupon. Now, I understand the need to get the most for your money. I love the high you get when you walk out of a store with four bags of groceries for $14.00 because you took the time to match coupons with weekly sales. Yes, sadly, my life has become so dreadfully dull that couponing can be the highlight of my week. What I don’t understand is the total disregard for items that don’t belong to you and that you know someone else has to clean up after you. I think it’s only fair that, if I catch you tossing an entire table’s worth of folded shirts in the floor with no intention of picking them up, you should have to serve a “retail sentence” of sorts. The perfect sentence would be that you have to work the sales floor in a popular, women’s clothing store on Black Friday, the week before and the week after Christmas. You would never make a mess in a store again. I promise.

I’ll also let you in on another truth that we womenfolk like to pretend doesn’t happen: We DESTROY restrooms 100 times worse than men. It’s true. Even if your husband/boyfriend/son has the aim of Helen Keller in your bathroom, they are more sanitary than we are in public restrooms.

Men generally don’t give a shit (pun intended) who knows they are taking a shit. My husband loved to regale me with stories of the home office men’s rooms at lunchtime. God help you if you were foolish enough to try to talk on a cell phone in that restroom. There was no buffering the, um, noise. Most women DO care if others know they are taking a shit. We will go to painstaking lengths to hide the fact we are engaging in a completely natural act. In doing so, we cause toilets to overflow due to too many “courtesy” flushes. We stop up toilets with toilet paper, somehow thinking that will mute the sounds coming from the bowl. Worse, we wait too long before going, praying we can finish shopping/working/whatever and make it home so we don’t have to go within earshot of other females. When it becomes futile to postpone the inevitable any longer, we rush to the restroom. Sometimes ladies, we don’t quite make it in time. I’ll let your imaginations work on that one a minute. And yes, it’s as bad as you imagine. Unless you have the pelvic floor and kegel muscles of a Yoga goddess, you shouldn’t try to prevent things from moving along. Go to the damn restroom. You’re never going to see those other bitches ever again anyway (unless it’s at work. Then you have to weigh if you would rather Tina in Accounting talk shit about you for taking a shit on the toilet OR taking a shit on the floor or yourself.) If you can’t bring yourself to shit in a public restroom, for Christ’s sake, don’t eat an entire Big Box meal from Taco Bell before going out knowing you have IBS.

If you thought the above paragraph was gross, don’t read this.

Why would I mention the sales floor and waste elimination in the same post?  Wait for it………wait for it………Bam! Got it?

That’s right, girls. Some of our fellow bitches are so stubborn about not shitting in public restrooms, when they’ve waited too long and now CAN’T make it to the facilities in time, they go to first available private place. Yeah…..the fitting rooms. I’ll say it again. Instead of going to the restroom, like normal humans, some women defecate in the fitting rooms. And as an added bonus, usually on a pile of clothes. Double fun for those of us that have to clean it up. It’s not bad enough we have to pick up after you like we’re your mother on the sales floor. Now we have to literally clean up after your ass, too. Women have pee’d in the fitting rooms, as well. To that I’ll say, if you have an overactive bladder to the point you’ve taken to pissing in fitting rooms, you shouldn’t leave the house. At least not without a catheter. This isn’t a problem at my store alone. This happens at EVERY store. A word from this mutha: Don’t take off your shoes in a fitting room. Ever. EVER.

The moral of today’s story? Don’t drop clothes, or anything else, on the sales floor. Thank you for shopping. Have a nice day.  🙂

Bitchin’ Moment of the Day:

I am so flattered that you all have taken the time to read my blog. Really. I had doubts if anyone would actually bother to read my meandering rants when I started this just over a week ago. Very much to my surprise and frankly, delight, I have had nothing but positive feedback and traffic has steadily increased.  I received 60 hits this morning alone. Not too bad for someone with only four subscribers. Thank you all from the bottom of this bitch’s heart.

Later Bitches!

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