Not a holiday post

I am OVER the holiday hoopla. I spent all of my money & the last of my vacation time for this year to take my father to NC and I am done. The whole mess was traumatic and I'm not saying anything else about it other than NEVER AGAIN.

SO, ON TO SOMETHING ELSE.....

I have a zillion jackets & coats, so I needed another one like a hole in the head. But back in September, one of the catalogs that I get had this trench style fleece coat that I just fell in love with. I wanted it in black, but of course THAT wasn't available in my size, so I settled for gray. It was on sale, plus I had an additional discount code AND a frequent shopper reward from the company as well as a free shipping code, so I paid about $28 for a $80 coat.

Then, once it came, I decided that I didn't like the buttons on it. No biggie, a quick trip to the craft store should solve that. Right? Riiiiiiight.

A: count the number of buttons you're going to need AND measure them before you go to the craft store. I did neither. More on that in a minute.

B: when the hell did buttons get so ridiculously expensive?!? The ones I really liked started at $4-6 PER BUTTON. Since I thought I was replacing 7 of them, it seemed wrong to spend as much on buttons as I did on the he coat itself. Even with coupons, I was going to be paying a lot. So I bought 1 large button in a style that appealed to me & took it home to see how it would look.

Looked great, but it was too big. Ok, let's suit down and search the store's website. Maybe something I like & can afford will jump out at me. I found a set of 4 pretty purple & black swirled jewel tone buttons. The site said they were in stock at the store, but somehow I'd overlooked them. No problem. I took a quick look at the coat & came up with a total of 7 buttons.

I went back the next day and found them. Too small, & wrong style. I needed flat buttons & these had the peg back. So I looked for smaller versions of the big one I bought the day before. Eureka! Sold in sets of 2, a slightly different shape, but I liked them enough to go for it. Also, less expensive than the first couple of designs I looked at.

After all that, you'd think I would have gone home & started the great button replacement project. Those who know me, know what came next. The button bag got hung on the hanger with the coat and sat untouched for a couple of weeks...

...Until the day I looked at the forecast and saw the weather was finally going to get cold enough to need a coat rather than the fleece jackets I was wandering around in. (We've had an oddly warm winter) So I made myself sit down, snipped the first button off the jacket, and stitched the new one in place. Yay! Two more followed suit, easy peasy. That's when I discovered that I had miscounted and the body of the coat only had 3 buttons. No problem, I'll replace the 2 on the belt loops & have 3 left of the 8 I bought.

You guessed it. The belt loop buttons were SMALLER than the body ones. Arrrgh! Back to the stupid store. The brand I bought did make a smaller button in the same style/color, but in a different shape. I grabbed a pack of two, paid for them (after sharing my tale of woe & frustration with the amused cashier- I spend so much time there that this girl knows me on sight) and went home to finish this damned project.

Stitched the two new buttons on and started to congratulate myself when something hit me. I'd hung the coat up to take a picture, but only one belt loop button appeared to be replaced. WTF?!? I yanked the coat down & started examining it, because I *KNOW* I replaced two buttons. I was kind of right. That's when I realized that there was a THIRD belt loop button on the BACK of the coat, and that was the one I'd stitched on.

I am not embarrassed to admit I threw a shrieking tantrum. I should be, but I'm not. It was my own fault for not paying attention, counting correctly, etc. So I drove back to the craft store ONE MORE TIME for the final button. My friendly cashier started laughing when I stomped through the door with a face like thunder. "Oh dear," she said. "How off was it this time?"

Now, a smart person would have brought all of the wrong/excess buttons back for an exchange. As I've already proven, this project had turned me into the village idiot. Not only had I shredded my receipts, I'd torn all the buttons off their cardboard backing when I thought they'd get used, so I was stuck with them.

I paid for the (hopefully) final pair of buttons and went home, determined to finish this thing once & for all. I replaced the LAST button, went over the coat with a fine tooth comb (and a lint roller because the little black cat finally came to see what her mama was losing her damn fool mind over and rolled on it) and realized I was really truly finished. Tears were shed, and the coat was hung up for a picture:

And then the weather warmed up again, so it was another month before I got to wear the damned thing!

I couldn't resist Crimson Peak

It opened yesterday. The first showing nearest me was at 11:20. Depsite the fact that I have been suffering from a migraine all week and was dead tired; AND I'm supposed to go on Monday with some friends, I stayed up to go see it. Why?

And from the scene that has fangirls around the world screaming "She's in MY SPOT!!!"

Any Questions?!?

Because it was so early, I had a nearly private screening. It was me & two slightly weird guys, both of whom had to be discouraged from sitting next to me. Seriously. In a huge empty theater, the only place you can find to sit is next to the Amazon in the center of the top back row?!? One caught my headshake as he saw me and started up the stairs and had enough sense to stop and find a seat where he was. The other had to the threatened with being tossed back down to the bottom after saying "don't worry baby, you can cling to me if it gets too scary." He wisely decided to move a few rows down after that. AND I heard HIM screech in fright when the first bloody ghost showed up. Heh.

I won't say anything about the story other than I walked out of the theater wondering what the hell I'd just watched. Tom, is beautiful, even when his character's Loki is showing. (yeah, I went there) Jessica Chastain is wonderful as his possessive sister, and I even liked Mia as Edith despite the fact that she gets to snog Tom & I don't. Charlie Hunnam was wasted- they managed to make him look plain, and his character was boring.

The guy who had enough sense not to come near me at the beginning did linger after the credits to talk to me and ask what I thought of the movie. He turned out to be a rather nice comic book geek and we had an interesting chat. He also asked me if I wanted to go have lunch with him. I actually would have gone if I hadn't been so tired that I couldn't see straight. It was 2:45 before we left the theater- the previews were nearly 45 minutes and the movie itself was 2 hours! I did suggest meeting at the bookstore on Sunday instead and he agreed to that. It's not going to be a date, but I figured it might not hurt to make a new friend.

Three last things:

1. Guillermo del Toro lied. We DO NOT get to see "Loki's pokey stick."

2. Don't bother sitting through the credits. There's no bonus content.

3. the 2 best previews were for Victor Frankenstein (James McAvoy & Daniel Radcliffe- looked quite promising!) and the Last Witch Hunter. (Vin Diesel) Will probably wait until they both are on DVD, but they looked good!

The Best Workout DVD Ever

So, thanks to my addiction to British TV, I discovered the lunacy that is Miranda Hart. I love this woman- she is a British me...well, sort of. Unlike her semi-autobiograpghical character on Miranda, I manage to keep my clothes on in most occasions.

Anyway, as I was searching for more to watch, I discovered that Ms. Hart had made a workout video. Not just a workout video, but one even a hopeless klutz like ME can do. So of course I had to order it...and the one bit of equipment that it calls for:

Yep! I'm going to maracasize (shut up, it's a thing) my way to fitness! Dr. B will be proud...if he doesn't laugh himself to death first.

The New Kids At Work Aren't Getting Any Smarter

The following conversation took place a few days ago:

Conversation with me and Officer Dimwit

Me: What do you have?

OD: *deer in the headlights look*

M: *slowly* What. Do. You. Have?

OD: (clutching citation & duffle bag) Um, a bag?

M: (resisting urge to slap him) Is it evidence or personal property?

OD: Ummmmm

M: You have to pick one.

OD: *hesitantly* Well, they wouldn’t take it at the jail…

M: So, it’s personal property then?

OD: Ummm, no it’s for safekeeping.

M: *barely resisting the urge to facepalm in front of him* Yes, that’s what personal property means.

OD: *blank look*

M: Does it contain any food, money, or medication?

OD: *blank look*

M: *repeats question*

OD: Ummm, no there’s no food or money.

M: What about medication?

OD: *Another blank look*

M: *wearily* Dude, work with me. Is there any medication in the bag?

OD: *suddenly brightly* Oh, you mean drugs?!?

M: *weeping silently inside my head* Yes. Got any?!?

OD: Um, gee, I don’t think so…

We repeated this process when I asked about electronics like cell phones or e-readers. It took 20 minutes just to get that much out of him. Then I had to all but beg for the citation. He had a death grip on the bag and the paperwork and it was like he wasn’t actually going to give me either of them.

Where are they getting these people?!?

Dummies of the Week

My job never fails to provide moments of hilarity, however unintentional. Here are the winners of the Blooming Idiot award for the last week:


The winner-Idiot 1: Officers are involved in a pursuit of subject on a stolen moped. Subject leaps off moped, causing it to crash in someone's yard and takes off on foot, with several officers in hot pursuit. Believe it or not, THIS isn't our winner. No, our winner jumps off the porch of the house next door to the crash and tries to take off on the already stolen moped, not realizing that 2 officers had abandoned the pursuit in order to secure the recovered stolen property. The dumbfounded officers watched him pick up the moped, sit down & start it up, and let him get about 6 feet before unceremoniously yanking him off it and arresting him. Oh, and he had a pocketful of dope on him, to boot.


Honorable Mention- Idiot 2: Officer responds to call of person in distress in fast food restaurant bathroom. Subject has come out of bathroom and is wobbling around in parking lot when officer arrives. Subject is quite clearly under the influence of something. When asked if he'd taken anything, he produced a bottle of bath salts from his pocket and asked the officer to taste them and tell him if they seemed off because he doesn't think they sold him the right thing. Officer declined and transported the idiot to the hospital, and then to jail.

Damn Fools.

I swear, one of these days I'm going to learn not to work double shifts! Anyway, here's the highlight of my night so far:

Division beat officers had to serve mental inquest warrant on an elderly Bosnian lady who barely speaks English. When they got her to the hospital, the staff discovered a grocery bag in her purse that was stuffed with money…which they refused to be responsible for. Instead of taking back to her home or giving it to her social worker, they brought it here for safekeeping.

Mentally ill or not, that woman needed a whack upside the head. So did her damn social worker. I counted 86,740 frikking dollars in that bag! The officer who brought it down kept apologizing- her beat partner was too chickenshit to come down with it and pawned it off on her. She had NO idea it was that much.

That was 7:30-8:00. Around midnight, the jackass who sent it down called and wanted to know if he could come get it out and take it back to the social worker & husband who were worried about where it was. I called that fool every damned thing I could think of and may have invented a few new words.

I don't love my job anymore, but I *DO* need the flipping insurance...

The Surgery Story (may be long & rambling- my brain is not totally functional right now)

So Daddy's heart surgery was on Friday. The planned procedures were: replacing 2 heart valves, doing one bypass, and scarring on a chamber to alleviate his A-fib.

My sisters arrived on Thursday. All four of them. This was a surprise to us, because we were told only one would be able to come after it had been re-scheduled. Only 2 of my BILs were brave enough to come along for this adventure. To be fair, Sandra's husband Eddie was in the hospital with congestive respiratory failure himself, but he insisted she come be with Dad.

We met at the hospital at 5 a.m. Friday. They took Dad back almost immediately, and we were allowed to come back for hugs/kisses/prayers before they took him off to surgery. The nurse took one look at us and asked "Is this ALL of them?" The look on her face when we said no was priceless.

Waiting is the worst. Around 7-8, we went to the cafeteria for breakfast. I'm a nervous eater and apparently so are my sisters. That place made a lot of money on us that morning! I took coffee & a danish back to Mom and we all sat around playing the waiting game. Sandra called the hospital back home to get an update on Eddie and scared us all to death when she burst into tears. It turned out to be a good cry though- they told her that he was off the breathing tubes and doing just fine. In fact he was fussing about wanting something to eat.

Sometime around 11-12, the surgeon came out to talk to us. He said Daddy had made it through the surgery like a champ! They wound up being able to replace the leaky heart valves instead of having to replace them, so the operation was less invasive/involved than they expected. (YAY) He also said that Daddy should be good for at least 10 more years now. (oh boy) It was going to be at least 2 hours before we could go back and see him, so we opted to go get lunch.

On the way to the parking garage, everything just hit me at once. I started bawling, much to the horror of my brothers. JR is normally a smart ass, but he was the first one to hug me and THEN he started picking on me to get me to stop crying. Roy started crying when I did, much to Audrey's disgust. Anyway, we all dried up after a minute or two and headed out.

We went to a Mexican restaurant near their hotel for lunch. They'd stopped in for Margaritas the night before and the host remembered them. (not entirely a surprise, given our family) Apparently he was so taken with the pack of us that he started pulling the staff out of the kitchen to gawk at us. The food was really good, though.

Saturday is kind of a blur. Daddy was still heavily drugged, so we took turns going in to sit with him. He did blink at us and squeeze our hands, so we knew it was really him in there. The ICU would only let us in 2 at a time for 10 minutes per pair. At the end of afternoon visiting hours, Sandra & I went shopping while the others went back to the hotel to pack up and move to a new one. Because the PGA championship was in town, hotel rooms were hard to come by and the 6 of them wound up having to share one room for Saturday night. I won't go into details about the dance off that took place before I left them for the night other than to say that Sandra & Audrey are wild women and should know better than to twerk.

Audrey, Roy, & Sandra had to leave Sunday morning. Daddy was still pretty out of it, but was fussing about his breathing tubes. The rest of us spent the day in and out.

Brenda, Angie, & JR left early Monday morning. Shortly after that, Dad managed to pull out his breathing tubes. Mom & I flew down to the hospital and were told that he'd thrown up while they were examining him to see how much damage he'd done to himself and aspirated some of it into his lungs. They were afraid they'd have to cut him open again to clean out his lungs, but were eventually able to flush everything out. He kept fighting the oxygen and other masks they tried to put on him in place of the breathing tubes, so they had to drug him senseless again and put him in restraints. And put the breathing tube back in. Needless to say, I didn't make it to work yesterday.

Today, after a night under sedation and lots of oxygen forced into him, Dad is MUCH improved. The doctors are optimistic that he'll be off the vents by Thursday, and if so, he can be moved into regular recovery. He waved at me when I stopped in to visit before work, and winked at me when I told him that I'd bought his lottery tickets for the weekend.

Then I made the mistake of coming to work. Psycho is giving me the silent treatment because I had the nerve to put my Dad before this hell hole, and if she rolls her eyes one more time when one of my friends drops in to hug me and ask about Dad, I am going to roll her head across the floor.

Yeah, life is getting back to normal.

The Girl Scout Cookie Story

So, last Sunday I was out at the grocery store. It's Girl Scout Cookie season here in Kentucky and there was a table of little girls and their moms selling them in the foyer. I usually order mine from one of my coworkers, but I more often than not pick up an extra box or two when I come across those tables. ESPECIALLY if the girls are actively selling (instead of letting the adults do it) and are polite. Well, this table was staffed by three of the cutest little Brownies ever. I was approached by a tiny, snaggle-toothed little sweetheart who lisped "Excuthe me, mith, would you like to buy our cookies?" I told her not right then, but I'd stop on my way back out.

I collected the handful of things I needed and made my way back out of the store. I couldn't resist, so I'd gotten enough cash back on my debit card to buy ONE box. One of the other girls saw me coming and ran over to ask, again, VERY politely, if i'd like a box. I said yes, went to the table, and told the adults that their Brownies were two of the politest cookie sellers I'd ever met and it would be an honor to buy a box from them. They were quite pleased to hear that and then this happened:

The third little girl walked toward a man on his way out and (still politely) asked him if he'd like to buy some cookies. He could have simply said NO, or No, Thank you, but this cretin instead chose to swear at a little girl who couldn't have been more than 7 years old. "No, I don't want no damn cookies. That fucking shit is too high."

Ok, y'all know me. I may not be that crazy about kids, but even I don't swear at them without a damn good reason, and even then, I usually swear at the adult responsible for them instead of the child. And seeing the way that poor little girl's face fell, I wasn't going to let that go. She ran back to her mom, close to tears, and buried her face in Mom's sweater. I signaled to both mothers that the boom was about to be lowered.

I walked over to the jackhole and said, "Was it really necessary to swear at a young girl who was asking you a question, using her best manners? Would you do that if your mother was here?" He began to stammer explanations, but I cut him off. Handing him my freshly purchased box of Samoas, I said "Please take these as my gift and hopefully they'll sweeten your attitude before you encounter anyone else." (I can't believe I gave away a box of Samoas, and to a jerk, no less) He stood there in stunned disbelief as I walked away.

I looked back over my shoulder (in case he decided to come after me or something) and he was on his knees by the table apologizing to the little girl he made cry. So apparently some people CAN learn.

Financial Disaster and the Rest of My Life

I have a love/hate relationship with money. I love having it and spending it, but I hate keeping track of what I've blown. Consequently, I have manged to send myself into overdraft not once, but twice in the last 6 weeks. The only thing worse than the overdrafts? Having to beg my parents for money to cover them. They were every nice about it, but at this point, I am old enough to know better than to go spending money like a drunken sailor on shore leave.

Actually, the second overdraft wasn't entirely due to overspending. It was caused by my dyslexia- I recorded the payment for my monthly meds incorrectly (reversed a couple of digits) and therefore thought I had more money than I did. Oops.

So, as a result of my idiocy & dyslexia, my spending has been extremely curtailed. This is actually a sort of good thing- I own a ton of junk already, so don't really need more. I need to use the stuff in my freezer & pantry instead of letting it go to waste.  So I've been forcing myself to cook and/or eating sandwiches instead of grabbing fast food. At least it's helping me lose weight- down 3 lbs. this week! (I made sure I bought the cats their food & litter before I used what was left of the loan from my parents on food for me)

Why don't I cook more often? Well, part of the problem is that I still tend to cook like I'm feeding a pack of hungry wrestlers or gamers. Since it's just me these days, I get sick of eating leftovers after a day or two. And once stuff makes it into my freezer, it rarely makes it back out. Also, depending on how my back & knees are feeling, standing at the stove is iffy. Maybe I need to get a bar stool?

Anyway, I'm working on the issue. Last year I cancelled all my credit cards and am slowly paying them off. I've been trying to cut down on my utilities and auto expenses. Not much I can do about my rent unless I move in with the parents and that isn't happening. I've got to start cutting back on eating out. And I have to remind myself that I don't need to buy every book/CD/DVD/cross stitch item I want, just because I want it. Also need to start using coupons again- I stopped because I got so annoyed with Bitchzilla at Kroger acting like they were coming out of her pocket, but screw her! If they didn't want people to use them, they wouldn't distribute them.

So, there's this week's confession. Tune in next Monday for more random babble.

Thank Goodness That's Over!

Well, Derby Madness is over for another year. The bad weather actually helped lessen the madness this year, but there was still plenty of stupidity out there.

I was taken over to the track at about 10:30 Saturday morning. The first drunk was carried (literally)into the corrections area at 10:45.  He threw up, barely missing my evidence box, and was so wasted that they kept having to hold him up. It was decided that he was actually too drunk for the jail to take him, so he was cited and sent to the hospital.

The second drunk was hauled in at 10:57. He was in slightly better shape than the first one, but kept screaming that he needed to go to the bathroom. They took him to one, and then threw him in the cell. I looked over after a minute and he was naked, waving his shorts in the air. The corrections Lt was not amused and sent 3 guys into the cell to get his clothes back on him.

It got quiet again, so the corrections nurse and I played Fashion Victim Bingo while watching the crowd. I will never understand why idiot women wear dresses that are too short & too tight with heels that are too high and think that their clothing choices are impervious to rain. Also amusing were the large number of men in white pants that turned see-through in the rain. Next year, I bet they wear underwear!

It was quiet for an unusually long time. Then the belligerant drunks started rolling in. These are the guys who never know why they've been locked up and want to argue about it. Mr. My Daddy Is Rich was the ringleader and had the entire cell carrying on. He informed us repeatedly that "My dad makes more in a week than you poor assholes make in a year!" I couldn't take it, and after 30 minutes of that I informed him that his father may be rich, but he's the asshole in the cell and I was willing to bet dear old Dad was gonig to be less than thrilled to pay the $ to get him out. This sent his cellmates into hysterics and they spent the rest of the time before they were loaded into the booking van for their trip downtown picking on him.

Then the violent drunks started rolling in. We had two that they literally had to hog-tie. The worse offender of the two was an enraged, drunk, redneck woman. (who turned out to be my neighbor's sister- small world) She managed to throw the table we were using as a counter, despite being handcuffed, and kicked everyone within reach. (luckily not me) Corrections quickly closed the garage door so the public wouldn't view this (our area was right by the main gate) and six of them took her down to the floor. It was special.  They had to carry her screaming, face down, hog tied, and still trying to kick everyone, to the booking van.

So, that was my Derby day. Oh, and one of the horses I bet on won! It was a last minute decision to bet on Orb (the horse I wanted to bet was scratched), but it worked out. I only won $25 (small bet), but I won. Now if the horse that was in the lead until close to the end had kept his lead, I would have won $250. Damn it. Happens every time.

My cousins were so amused by my Facebook posts from the track that they want to come to Derby next year. I told them to bring it on!

Once More With Feeling

Here we go again. We have a new crop of rookie officers that have just been turned loose on the street. They actually aren't the problem- it's some of the officers who have been on long enough to know better that inspired this round of the Dear Officer files.

Dear Officer:

1. What part of DO NOT SHOVE LOOSE NEEDLES UNDER THE WINDOW do you not understand?!? THERE IS A FREAKING SIGN IN THE WINDOW IN BOLD CAPS THAT SAYS TO ASK FOR A SAFETY TUBE IF YOU DON'T HAVE ONE. And if I get stuck by a needle that you were too stupid to contain, BOTH of us will be going to the hospital.

2. Our office develops a wind tunnel effect when the temperature shifts drastically. This has not changed in the last 7 years. If you notice that the wind blows every time someone opens the damned door, or we tell you to hold onto your papers/evidence, HOLD ONTO YOUR SHIT. Especially if it's an unwrapped needle as mentioned above.

3. We know it's hot in our office. It's not necessary or clever to point it out to us. 

4. We know the office reeks of marijuana thanks to our lame ventilation system. It's not necessary or clever to point THAT out to us either.

5. We know that everyone has different tastes, different work habits, and we relate to different people in different ways. Some officers prefer one clerk to another. THIS is fine. Telling the clerk who is waiting on your dumb ass that you think her coworker is the best clerk and you wish she was there instead is NOT fine and WILL get your shit handed back to you with a request that you come back when THAT clerk is working. 

6. Yes, you need to fill out a currency seizure form AND a forfeiture form if the money you are turning in is drug related. NO, WE WILL NOT FILL IT OUT FOR YOU.

7. Do not get an attitude with us if we tell you to stop flapping your yap and pay attention. We need information to do our job. If you don't bring in a citation, or don't bring in a legible citation, we need you to be able to answer some questions. This can't happen if you're talking on your cell phone or shooting the shit with whoever is waiting in line after you. 

8. Don't get an attitude with us if you don't follow rule 7 and something isn't entered the way you wanted it. If you'd paid attention, it might have been.

9. While most of the people we come into contact with are less than upstanding citizens, we still have to try to deal with them nicely. If we get the guy YOU pissed off and gave the runaround and he tells us that you claim WE screwed up, we are more than happy to look up the identity of your commanding officer and suggest he call them to correct the issue. If something that should have been personal property got put in as evidence because you were too busy fucking around to follow rule 7, that is YOUR problem, not ours. And we will happily tell the citizen that. You had the chance to tell us that at the beginning of our transaction with you, and in the case of the gun I had to deal with last week, you also should have noticed that when you were handed the envelope to seal and sign. Sometimes we make mistakes and most of us will admit.apologize, but if you try to throw us under the bus, we will drag you along with us.

10. If there is only one clerk working and you come in while they're entering a search warrant for another officer, be prepared to wait. Do not keep asking how much longer this is going to take. You can always leave and come back. If you choose to wait, do not sit out there and complain to other people that we're slow.

There's a great deal more, but that's enough bile for one post.

Stupid Moments in My Employment History, part 4

Although there have been several accountings of stupidity I've encountered at my current job (see anything tagged Dear Officer, for example) here's a story from my first year. Our supervisor at the time was a very nice, but only marginally competent woman (JT) who had been promoted well past the point of her ability simply because there was nobody else who wanted her job. As a result, she would harp on minutiae that she felt was within the range of her competence/control and drive the rest of us crazy. She was notorious for sending out incomprehensible emails and for being cheap & stingy with office supplies. I asked for a pack of post-it notes (she kept all supplies under lock & key in her office) and was asked what I had done with the pad I had been given 6 weeks before. "Um, I used it up and need a new one?" She only had large ones in the stash, so I was told to cut them in half to make them last longer. Seriously.

Another issue with her was the ordering of items we needed to do our jobs. I learned quickly that you had to tell JT we needed to order labels/envelopes/whatever WELL before we ran out or we'd never get them. Of course she'd still drag her feet about ordering whatever you asked for because "There's a whole case of them in the back." One of the worst things was the sharps containers...the plastic safety tubes that we give officers to put needles in so that nobody gets stuck with a possibly (probably) contaminated needle. She would wait until we were completely out and then berate us for not telling her we needed them. *headdesk*

We were in the process of packing & organizing things to be moved into our lovely new space. (sarcasm) One of the jobs I got stuck with was cleaning out a storage closet that only our office had a key to. It was where we kept cases of citations and random other items that we doled out to officers. Usually when she wasn't there to say no- she thought we should keep everything in case someone needed it. The whole point of them asking for stuff was that they DID need it, but that subtlety eluded her. We'd been out of the sharps containers for almost a month and JT kept dragging her feet on ordering more because "we're moving and they might not get here before we go." It's not like having them delivered after we were gone would have been a problem- we'd been in the basement of HQ and someone could easily be sent back there to get them as our new building was only 10 minutes away.

Anyway, as I dragged out boxes of old manuals from the 70's that were covered in dust 6 inches thick, and other crap of that ilk, I made a major discovery. SIX unopened cases of sharps containers! *happydance* I carried them into the office and gleefully cried "Hey, look what I found!!!" My coworkers were thrilled. Our Sgt & new Lt were laughing at our joy. Then JT came in.

"Oh no," she said, horrified. "We can't use those. They might belong to somebody. Go put them back."

She was serious. WHO THE HELL WOULD THEY BELONG TO IF NOT US?!? We were the only ones with a key to that closet. The boxes were covered with dust, had obviously been there a long time, and we needed the damned things. She was adamant that we shouldn't use them because they might belong to another department. Our Lt finally had to type a letter saying he would take responsibility for us using the containers if someone came looking for them and had a fit before she (reluctantly) agreed to let us keep them.

I can't make this stuff up, folks...

Stupid Moments in My Employment History- part 3

This one happened about 18 months into my employment at the current job. I came back from a long weekend and was immediately summoned into the office. I was presented with a write-up form and told to sign it. Um, WTF?

Well, it seems that someone smarted off to an officer that came in to release some property. It was personal property under one name, and he wanted to sign a release for someone else to be able to pick it up. (correct procedure in a case like that) He was told he couldn't do that, the form was thrown away, and the person who was supposed to be able to pick it up was furious when they came down and were told they couldn't have it. They called and complained to the officer's commander, who yelled at him, and he called in the complaint on "me."


I say "me", because I wouldn't have done that. I asked what made them think it was me and was told that the officer gave them my name. I asked when it happened and was told that he came down on Friday (my regular day off at the time) and the complaint was made to his commander and then my supervisor on Monday. (which I had taken off)

I asked if the officer could have been mistaken about who he talked to. "No, he knew your name." Did he actually say it was me? "It had to be you, he knew your name."

I don't work Fridays, so it couldn't have been me. "It HAD to be you. The officer knew your name."

I was in another state on Friday, which is my normal day off, and it couldn't possibly have been me. "Are you saying the officer lied?" No, I'm saying the officer was mistaken about who the clerk involved was becasue I WASN'T HERE. "But he knew your name."

I have SIGNED credit card receipts from the gas stations & restuarants I went to in 4 different states for the 4 days I was off and it couldn't possibly have been me who did this. Give me 24 hours and I can get you video footage of me at the WWE events I was attending and a signed affadavit from Vince Mc Mahon. "But the officer said it was YOU."

Jeebus. Fine. Have the officer come down here and look me in the eye while he tells me that I did that on a day I wasn't in the freaking state. "We can't call officers down here for something like that. They're busy." The hell we can't! I am not going to be railroaded into taking the blame for something it was literally impossible for me to have done and I will not accept being written up for it.

My Sgt at the time overheard the argument and came into the office. SHE called the officer, who it turned out was off that day. She got his home number and called him there. When she finally got him on the phone, she asked him to describe the clerk who had created the problem instead of just giving her name. Lo & behold, the description he gave was NOT of me. It did match a coworker that I had been having problems with. Turns out the officer had our names mixed up. 

I could understand and accept that they would believe it was me on the basis of hearsay. If someone gives you a name, it's logical to think they know who/what they're talking about. But when an employee shows you concrete proof that they were not present for an encounter, WHY would you keep insisting they were at fault instead of trying to find out who actually was?!?  Oh, and the officer even came down later to apologize and told my supervisor that he had the totally wrong clerk.

Why do I stay at jobs where I get treated like this? Because I'm an idiot.

Not a Good Day- follow up to Odds & Ends

Managed to drag my butt out of bed early and met mom at Peking Bistro for lunch. I have been thinking about that Mongolian Bacon & the meat/vegetable buns for months now and was finally going to get them. Wrong. They’ve discontinued the buns (but they’re still on the menu) and they were out of the meat for the other dish. Seriously?!? Settled for Mongolian Beef instead, but it wasn’t what I wanted.




The drive back across town took forever because there are snow flurries and everyone was acting like they’d never seen them before. I got to Starbucks at 2:10 and it was 2:22 before I got my drink. Luckily it was the one close to the office.



Got to work and the lot was full and it took me 5 minutes to get around the building to my usual spot because people parked like idiots again. As I’m pulling in, a police car coming from the other direction at full speed almost hit me. We got out of our cars at the same time and he started yelling at me about how I couldn’t park there because that spot is a loading dock. I said it used to be, but that door is now the back of the elevator shaft & doesn’t get used. The sign is still there, but it’s rusty and hanging by one nail. I park there every day. He said he didn’t care if I usually parked there, he was telling me I couldn’t park there now. I said fine, but kept going to the building as I was almost late. He followed me and said “Are you going to leave your car there?” I told him I needed to go in and let my boss know I was there. (didn’t mention that I was going to have my boss go tell him to leave me alone) He said “fine, but if it’s still there when I come back out, I’m giving you a ticket.” Then he pushes past me to get into the building first, walks into the officer room and tries to pull the door shut on me when I reached for it. I let him shut it and then badged in and walked in behind him. Claudia was in the lobby and said to him “Um, she actually works here, so you didn’t need to do that.”



I walked in past him and went to get my Sgt & Lt. I told them about his threats and they went out to deal with him. Well, he ran out the door after Claudia told him I worked here, leaving his rookie that he’d come down with standing there with his mouth hanging open. They caught up with him in the parking lot, told him that I park there and have parked there 4-6 days a week for the last 6 years and they’re fine with it. He then told them that I got nasty and swore at him and that’s why he threatened to give me a ticket. So then they had to come in and yell at me- they did admit that they think he just said it because he knew he was busted for being an ass, but they had to act on it since he DID say it. I wish I’d thought to point out that HE was parked in front of a sign that clearly said NO PARKING.

Stupid Moments In My Employment History- part 2

Shortly after the heart attack incident, our bookstore moved. The property owners were re-developing the property and we were being moved into a 3 level area across the lot from our existing location. We were literally loading carts with books and pushing them across the broken asphalt of the parking lot to the new building and/or hauling bookcases. Well, some of us were. The in-crowd got to sit on stools and supervise.

Much to my amazement, I managed to get through the entire experience without any injuries more severe than broken nails and numerous bruises. So, of course, I tripped over a box in the warehouse of the new building and severely sprained my ankle AFTER we had re-opened for business.

Did you catch the bit about the new building being 3 levels? We now had a customer service desk on each level as well as the main cash register bank on the middle floor. The lower level was the smallest area, the music/video department and not heavily trafficked during the week. The other two desks were where the bulk of the books were and involved a lot of walking to get to anything. Also, the elevator wasn't working yet, so we had to take the stairs to each level. Since I was under doctor's orders (which my bosses had copies of, since it was a worker's comp issue) to walk as little as possible and keep weight off that ankle, I asked if I could either be assigned to the registers or lower service desk as much as possible until it healed. I could sit on a bar stool at either of those locations without it being obstrusive and still work. I also offered to do the jobs most people hated- stickering/destickering best sellers, pricing gift & accessory items and the like, since they needed to be done and it would be easy for me to work on them at either spot since I couldn't run around the store to help customers. Ideally, I would have stayed home until the ankle was better, but we didn't have paid sick leave and I couldn't afford the time off, so I thought I was offering some reasonable compromises.

The first day, good old Cleve (remember him?) took great delight in scheduling me at Main Service and Upper Service for the whole day. We all knew this was deliberate, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of begging for a different assignment. I *DID* ask if I could have a stool to sit on between customers and this was grudgingly allowed.

Day 2- Scheduled for the two heaviest service desks all day again. Gritted my teeth, got my stool, and tried to tough it out. Customers saw me limping around as I slowly & painfully made my way around the store to fill requests or show them where things were and asked why my bosses didn't give me an easier job. I mumbled something noncommittal and soldiered on. Until I came back from lunch and the stool was gone. Cleve & Bonnie (our GM) were waiting for me and he had a truimphant sneer on his face. Bonnie reminded me that employees were not supposed to have stools on the sales floor because sitting around was against (unwritten) policy. Um, I have a sprained ankle and I'm NOT supposed to be standing on it. "Did you ask if you could have a stool today?" Nooooo, I kind of thought it was obvious that I was going to need one wherever I was assigned until my ankle healed. "Well, you can't just take it upon yourself to bring stools onto the sales floor. You HAVE to ask EVERY day until you're better. Since you didn't ask today, this is going to have to be written up for your personnel file and we're taking the stool away for the rest of your shift." Seriously?

Day 3- same as before, but I asked for permission to have my stool. "How long is this going to be going on?" Um, until my ankle heals, and every day that I spend limping around this damned store, up & down stairs is going to make it that much longer for it to heal. It might help if I could be assigned to the register or lower service as I requested. "You don't decide schedules or how jobs are assigned, that's our job." And then I was written up for insubordination.

Day 4- same schedule, but amazingly none of the stools could be found when I went to get one. Right. I've had enough of this. So, unbeknownst to me, had one of the other assistant managers. HE called the owners and raised hell. A very panicked Rahm (one of the other owners) raced into the store and saw me limping back across the sales floor to the desk from a trip up to level 3. Cleve & Bonnie were summoned to the offices upstairs. 20 minutes later I was sent to lower service with a stool and told that I would be assigned down there until the doctor cleared me to be running around. Rahm not only read the managers the riot act about violating my doctor's orders, he removed both notes from my file and made them come apologize to me on the main floor in front of everyone. I graciously accepted that (okay, there was some smirking) and reiterated my offers to work at the registers if needed (as long as I could have a stool there) and the stickering projects. Rahm was pleased that I was willing to try to do things to make myself useful while on restricted duty and commented to Bonnie & Cleve that THEY should have thought of things like that themselves. (yeah, still not endearing me to the bosses)

Of course I knew that the ONLY reason Rahm was taking my side is that he was afraid I would file a lawsuit against the store. I found out later that D (the manager who called him on my behalf and who was in law school at the time) pointed out that there could be legal ramifications  for them violating doctor orders, especially on a workman's comp case. Heh.

You want your crap? Come Get It!

We send out fairly detailed letters when we have someone's personal property or an item is slated to be released. Despite this, we keep getting the same stupid phone calls asking what the item is. So I've created a simplified version that I think will work, but I can't get authorization to implement it. Don't know why...what do y'all think?

Prospective Property Letter

Dear Suspected Criminal/Possibly Innocent Victim:


Come get your shit.

(description of shit the person may have)



You have 3 months to come get it or we throw it in the trash and you are shit out of luck.



LMPD Property Room



P.S. We don’t care how it got here, why it got here, or about your life story. Don’t call us and flap your yap, just COME GET YOUR SHIT.

Bad Dates- Story 1

Part of the "Why I Am Still Single" series, here is a look at some of the worst dates I have ever been on:


One outstanding memory is from my time working at Books-A-Million, back in NC. We had several  semi-creepy regulars, some of whom kept trying to get dates with the female staff. (And on one memorable occasion, one of the male staff members) Two of them were good matches for me IN THEORY as we had several interests in common. However, they had zero social skills and as superficial as it sounds, were both kind of odd looking. (Like I'm a real prize, but still they just didn't do it for me)

Anyway, one of them, who I shall call Wolfie (as he was on a werewolf kick when we met), came into the store a lot. One of my coworkers, A, warned me about him. She'd given in and gone on a date with him shortly before I started working there and said it was the longest night of her life. So I made a point of keeping our conversations brief, yet friendly, and heading him off at the pass whenever he started veering into "will you go out with me territory?"

We were doing a scanning inventory of the store, which meant going shelf by shelf, scanning barcodes, and pulling out any titles the chain wanted to discontinue. It was my turn to scan and I was on my knees working on a low shelf of art books. (and cursing a blue streak under my breath) Wolfie came in, asked a coworker where I was, and proceeded to come stand over me as I worked, yapping away. I wasn't entirely paying attention to the conversation as I WAS WORKING, so my end mostly consisted of the occasional "uh-huh" and "Sure." Until I heard him say "Great! When should I pick you up?"

WHAAAAAAA? I looked over at the service desk and 3 of my coworkers were doubled over laughing. Apparently one of my absent minded "sures" was in answer to the date question. DAMN.

Since there was no graceful way to get out of it without being an utter cow (I am sometimes a nice-ish person), I decided to bite the bullet and go ahead with it. Also, I knew I was moving to Kentucky in a few weeks weeks, so it's not like there was a chance of any further dates. I flatly refused to give him my address- I told him I'd meet him at the store- but relcutantly gave him my phone number.

When he called later, we discussed ideas and went with the classic first date combo of dinner & a movie. We both liked Chinese, so I said any restaurant but the one where I'd gotten my first (and worst) case of food poisoning would be fine. We were both Godzilla fans, and he wanted to go see that, but I told him I'd already seen it with my brother (true) and didn't like it enough to go again, so we agreed on something else.

Date night came, and I reluctantly went to BAM to meet him. I got there at 6 on the dot. Wolfie was on the payphone as I walked up to the building. He saw me, hung up in mid sentence and snapped "You're late!" Um, we'd agreed on 6. (I found out later that he'd started calling my house at 5:45 and was arguing with my dad about my whereabouts until I got there & he hung up) Not a good sign.

We went to his car, and the first issue came up. We had driven past 2 very good Chinese places and I realized we were heading toward the ONE restaurant I had said I would not eat in. I tried to tactfully make that point, and he said "But it's my favorite place and it's cheap!" Um, oooookay. Sure enough, that's where we went. I had a glass of terrible iced tea and watched him eat. No conversation, just him shoving food into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in a month. Our server came over during one of his 6 trips to the buffet and whispered "Good luck honey, he's a cheap bastard that doesn't tip."

He didn't tip either, despite the fact that he kept our server busy refilling his drink and demanding she go tell the kitchen they needed to add various dishes to the buffet. I surreptitiously left a couple of dollars on the table and he actually picked them up and pocketed them.

Issue number 2 came up in the parking lot. He said "We're going to see Godzilla!" I said no, I'd seen it and would prefer to see almost anything else. "But I had my heart set on that movie!" I suggested that he drop me off back at the bookstore and go see it himself. I mentioned that I'd rather see King Kong Vs Godzilla than the movie in theaters at the moment. He accused me of making the movie up. I told him it was a real movie, and he should look for it at the movie section of Wal-Mart the next time he was there. So he insisted on going to WallyWorld right then to see if I was right. Bought himself a copy, and then he wanted to go back to his place and watch it. "And my roommate's gone, so we'll be alone!" Oh no. Not me, not tonight.

Issue 3- Since I wouldn't go to the movie he wanted to see, and I wouldn't go back to his place, we needed to find something to do. (I was mentally pleading with him to take me back to my car) So off to the local indie record store we went. Just my luck, a former coworker was working there and was on duty when we dropped by. J grabbed my arm and hissed "What are you doing with that freak?" I hissed back that I was on the date from hell and would appreciate any assistance he could offer to get me out of it. We were in that damned store for 4 hours. Wolfie had to look at EVERYTHING. And criticize the music I was looking at. The only reason we left is becasue they were closing.

At that point, I thanked him for an interesting evening and insisted he take me back to my car. He said we should go clubbing since it was too late to go to the movies. I told him I needed to be at work early the next day, so I really needed to go home. (not a lie, actually)

He tried to follow me home- I shook him off in a residential area that was maze-like and hard to get out of unless you knew where you were going. I walked into the house and my dad informed me that if that fool ever called and argued with him again SOMEBODY was going to get their feelings hurt. I told him that I wasn't going out with the fool again and he could feel free to make things up if he was insane enough to call.

Don't you know he called 3 more times that night? 2 in the morning and he calls. (Dad had a great deal of fun with that) Then he showed up at the store when we opened to ask when we were going to go out again. Never, that's when.

Where Do They Come From & Why Do They ALL Find Me?

Just had the world's dumbest woman come into the office. She called 4 times from the parking lot, trying to find out how to get into the building. Then she stood there at the door and called 3 more times. I couldn't answer the phone because I was tied up on another idiot call, so she called dispatch. They called to tell me that she was outside and I needed to go let her in. I told them to tell her to put her hand on the door handle and fucking well pull it and if she was too stupid to open a door she didn't need her frigging laptop back. Then she calls FROM THE LOBBY and says she doesn't know where to go. I told her to look for the door DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HER WITH THE BIG RED SIGN THAT SAYS "PUBLIC ENTRANCE"




Seriously, how do some of these people manage to make it from day to day?!?