More Strainer Frustrations

So I blog posted about forgetting about putting in a strainer in the master shower for, like, a month or so.  Now, for the second time this year, as I was letting the washing machine wash my dirty clothes tonight/Monday night, I went downstairs once the machine was done to see the strainer dislodged from the drain.

Maybe I should remind you (I'm thinking I've blog posted about this before) that the drain coming from the washing machine isn't connecting to some drain pipe that automatically feeds down the main line and out of the house.  It's pointed right into the laundry room basin.  It's just pointed in there.  But, as I get occasionally reminded (especially these past two times this year), the force of the water coming out of the washing machine is enough to push the strainer, which is just sitting on top of the drain, off of the drain.

These two times I see the strainer popped out and just laying on the basin.  I also see wetness around the main drain on the floor.  If there is not anything holding back the water in the basin, there's so much water flowing through the pipe leading out of the house that it backs up, and to relieve pressure, it rises up through the cover on the floor's drain.  Hate when that happens.

And the thing is, when I was getting the clothes washed last/Monday night, I thought about checking in the middle of the wash to make sure the drain didn't dislodge like that.  But I was too busy zoning out on my laptop and TV.  If I had gone down there, I might have been able to put the strainer back in its place -- not in time, but possibly with enough time (if that makes any sense) that all the clumps of lint and fuzz wouldn't have gone into the drain and through the pipe.  I now have these unrelenting thoughts that the septic tank is backed up with all the crap that would've been trapped by the strainer, and I hate that I wouldn't pry my eyes from the two screens I had on and go downstairs to prevent that from happening.  Dammit, I hate myself right now.

I Shouldn't Have To Pay This Way

This might be a misleading title, but at my most dramatic, I feel this way.

It was another ten-hour day at work where I left so much work that I felt like I accomplished nothing.  The big thing I was looking forward to was picking up Popeye's before heading home.  As I left the drive-thru and got back on the road that would lead me to my house, a car was picking up steam behind me.  I was going to head into the left turn lane and drive slowly but directly home.  But that damn car was also taking a left, so I abruptly moved back on to the main road.

And then ... well, when you're tired and distracted, your mind kind of wanders, you know?  My next plan was to take this cloverleaf exit, but by the time I was aware of my surroundings, I was driving past it.  Instead of recklessly jerking my car to the right, I would go to my tertiary plan and take the next side street home.  Unfortunately, me being in Minnesota, this left turn took me right over a vicious goddamn pothole I did not see coming.  And then on the street just before the street that gets me to my house, I ran over another one.

I think my car's OK.  After eating my Popeye's (and spacing out, natch), I planned on checking out the underside of my car before getting gas for it, but I just drove to the gas station and back.  I forgot to look and make sure there is nothing underneath my car because, again, I spaced out.  But I hate, completely hate driving over potholes.  I always feel as though my small car will break apart, or more realistically (I guess) my shocks will get worn and/or broken.

And all of that could have been avoided if I had just taken that first left, or paid attention to the cloverleaf right.  But is driving over two potholes "punishment" for spacing out?  I feel that way, but I don't think that's right, know what I mean?  I shouldn't have to pay for my inattention by damaging my car.  But it feels as though that, if there are gods above, they're making me pay for not being more aware of my surroundings.  No grace for a spacing-out scoundrel like me, huh?

Sorry I Didn't Say Goodbye To You!

So after work last/Thursday night I thought I would treat myself to a visit to the speakeasy I like to go to.  I want to remain familiar with the people who serve me cocktails, and it was great.  There's this one bartender who's great.  Just like before, we talked about stuff while she whipped me up some killer drinks.  She's a cool chick.

But as I was winding down my visit, which was about 105 minutes long, I guess I started to space out from having a couple drinks.  I was soaking the atmosphere in, people watching, seeing the now two bartenders sling cocktails.  Didn't even look at my phone once while I was there, which is almost an impossibility.  But I guess I was too busy soaking it all in, because I heard a faint, "Bye!" and I continued to space out, not knowing that the server I was talking to was cut and left at 8.

Now I feel bad.  We have a rapport, and we chatted it up.  I just didn't know that she was leaving, else I would have totally said goodbye back.  Instead I was just ... I don't know, looking around and stuff.  Not saying goodbye back isn't very mannerly of me.  Does she think I'm a dick?  I hope not.  I just wasn't, you know, paying attention.

She must think I'm a dick.

Didn't Know Foil Was A Deadly Weapon

So back on Thanksgiving I was trying to open a bottle of wine.  Covering the cork was this really tight and strong foil that probably had some metal in it.  Now I usually have some trouble cutting this part of a bottle open, and this appeared to be the same pain in the ass.  So I used a small knife attached to the corkscrew to try and cut enough of it to pull and tear off the rest.

But this was a bigger struggle than I thought.  I had only managed to pull up on side of the bottom of the foil to the point where it sort of balled up.  And as I was holding it to figure out an easier way to open the bottle, I inadvertently dragged the tip of my right index finger across this nub of foil -- and it made a cut, a fairly deep cut, on my finger.  I said to myself, "Wow, that kind of hurts!" and then I looked at the cut on my finger that was starting to seep blood.  It wasn't gushing or anything, but I don't remember ever seeing or feeling a cut that deep, nor seeing a cut on my finger like that before.  So I ran my finger under cold water before applying a Band-Aid.

That Band-Aid fell off when I took a shower on Friday, and while it no longer was bleeding, the cut hadn't fully sealed up yet.  There was dead skin surrounding the cut, and I pulled off some of the skin before thinking better of it and putting on another Band-Aid.  This second Band-Aid is still on my finger, and I really don't want to take it off until that cut is fully healed, no dead skin or anything like that.  So I'll wait.

But I couldn't think that foil, even tough foil like that, would be strong enough to cut you.  What the hell?!  I haven't been able to help myself from spacing out to, say, using a cut-open piece of foil like how I eventually was able to open up the bottle (with the help of pliers and, by the way, it is a screw cap and not a cork) as a self-defense weapon in case someone out on the street wants to try something.  I could just take out what seems like a piece of trash and slash the bastard across the arm or the torso, or worse.  Yeah, I've got to stop letting this red mist descend upon me and make me think violent thoughts.

I made a point of getting on my laptop before 2 a.m. so I could do my daily spin on Zynga Poker and stay on Day 7/400% bonus.  I am fairly sure I was on there by 10:30 p.m., 11:30 at the latest.

I didn't get on to Facebook until just now, around 2:15 a.m., and of course I'm too damn late and have reset myself all the way back down to Day 1/10%.  I kept it up at Day 7/400% for weeks.

Stupid me.  Stupid fucking lazy me.  There were a couple things I needed to do on my computer, sure, but as soon as I turned my lap on, I completely forgot about the one thing I turned it on for.

I feel as though whenever I have time to burn, like the hours before I feel like going to bed, I will not do anything I need to do.  Now, when I have a deadline, or I have this many minutes before I, say, go to work (like I did with the blog post just before this, which I did before work yesterday/Tuesday morning), I'll make sure I do what I set out to do.  If I have all the time in the world, though, boy, any to-do list is neuralized out of my mind.

What the fuck have I been doing the past three fucking hours?

OK, I'm Over And Done With Her

******a, the stripper who now massages me ... well, if I do ever invite her to rub me down again, it'll be a while, let's just say.

It continues to be a pain in the ass to reach her.  I have to call her and leave her a voicemail because she's paranoid about, like, people knowing where she's at and what she's doing, but she gets to text me.  Usually her texts are, "Call me."  And I do, and I get her voicemail again.  Whenever she finally gets around to calling me, I usually let it go to VM because she doesn't show up as her, even though I call her phone all the time, but "No Caller ID."  Would you pick up if you saw that?  But I do, because I have learned that it might be her.

We finally connect last/Friday evening while I'm sitting at another secret bar after she texts me this cryptic message: "So are you ready for me come over and do what you said?."  I see "No Caller ID" is calling.  She says something I couldn't understand because of the noise in the bar.  I go, "So, are you able to come tonight at 9:3-" and immediately she said, "I said don't say the time I'm coming over!  Someone might hear you!"  And I'm shaking my head.  This bitch is paranoid, and I don't think she's coming back.  But it's too late for me to back out because we committed to this time.  Plus, I'm hoping she brushes up against my dick again.

Everybody!  She was supposed to come over at 9:30!  But she got here at 10:15.  First thing she does after she bursts in is complain about getting lost on the way here.  Again.  And then I let her smoke weed inside the house, a very first, because I'm hoping that her calming down will lead to a better massage and, yes, maybe some pee-pee touching.

The massage was fine.  Not like a legitimate one, where a trained professional really is able to unwind knots and get the toxins out of my fascia.  But it was OK enough because she stripped down to her tank top and granny underwear.  The underwear had polka dots.  Inbetween hits from her pipe, she was complaining that she couldn't lean on something sturdy to really did into my muscles.  Near the end, when I asked her to run her fingers around my groin (because she doesn't do happy endings), she asked to work my arms.  ******a has never done my arms before, and they can be sore because I sit in front of a computer all day.  But my arms aren't my legs, or my ass, or my groin, or my dick.  (sigh) she really didn't want to please me last night.

Worse yet, she accused me of ... something while she was cleaning up after we got done.  That might be why she scooted out really quickly.  Not even a hug?  And then she was hovering just outside her car, which she parked at the end of the driveway with the front toward the street, for a couple minutes.  I don't think she dropped her keys.  I think she just stopped and spaced out.

Like I said, the massage was alright.  Coconut oil on the skin feels good during a dry winter.  But everything else -- the whining, the out-of-nowhere allegations, the fear of a cameraphone being pointed at her, the inability to be present and just, you know, calm for the massage?  Add all that to her paranoia and refusal to just be frickin' contacted easily, and you know what?  ******a isn't worth it anymore.  I'm over and done with this.  And her.

She Quit/Little Shit At Chick-Fil-A

So what I thought could happen did happen: On Wednesday, the day after I took a day off, I come back and see, through an e-mail, that the only other person in the same position as I has put in her two-week notice.

I'm torn.  Well, maybe "torn" isn't how I feel right now.  "Pissed" ain't it, either.  But I'm stuck in the lurch right now.  The Fourth Department is now me and my supervisor, and that's a very, very precarious position to be in because my supervisor really has more things she could and should do in her position.  (There should be two other people in the same job as I anyway, not just one other person, and I think I've alluded to that before.)  My supe now needs to work at this job at least a couple days every week.  That doesn't necessarily change the work schedule I'm in; I have been working back there at least part of the week and that will still happen, it's just the person who takes the other part of the week will change.  Moreover, and this still kind of sucks, which half of the week now changes.  The person who quit doesn't work Thursdays or Fridays, so I have worked The Fourth Department the back half of the week.  My supervisor doesn't work Mondays, so, and I've looked at the calendar my boss has now had to change on the fly, I'm now back there the first half of the week for the forseeable future.

There is a person who's taking a position that's the same as mine, but that is the one that has not been filled for months now, the one that is five days a week and ends Saturday.  But this person has to get trained in all sorts of responsibilities, so doing this particular job will be months, if not at least a year, down the road.  And, like I said, I'll be back to where I am now until next week, namely two people and a supervisor being capable of doing that job, not three and a supe, which is the ideal number of people.  That feels so far away right now, dammit.

But trying to see past the immediate changes as a result of this quitting, I find myself re-evaluating whether I should keep working here.  I wonder why she's leaving.  I have a sense that it could be because she doesn't like this job.  I've been back there with her working alongside The Fourth Department on occasion.  That position remains a pain in the ass even in its best hours, and she has muttered under her breath from time to time how much she hates that particular job.  Was that the reason she found a new job?  If so, as much as I hate what that now means for me, I understand.

And still I wonder if this new job is indeed better -- not just that it's better than calling people and getting inundated with BS, but is it an easier job that pays better?  There have been many, many people who have quit this company, and I wonder if they, including my soon-to-be-ex-co-worker, sought and found something that truly is better -- not just for them, but better in general, you know?  Where is she going?  How is it better for her?  Could that "better" be "better" for me, too?  And if that is the case, why in the heck am I not going out for that job, too?  I've heard of one study saying that people who have taken part in The Great Resignation, those that have quit for other jobs since the pandemic began to lift, have on the whole gotten better jobs at better pay.  With her quitting, I wonder if she's been successful in finding that as well ... and I then wonder why I'm not doing the same.

---

No other place to put this.  Want to vent my spleen about this little shit, but I don't think I'll remember to blog post about this if I don't do it now.

So I talked about how I wanted to not spend money either Wednesday or yesterday/Thursday, but because of Able Seedhouse closing and National Coffee Day I have gone in the opposite direction and spent all sorts of money.  Well, I got a couple rewards from the local Chick-Fil-A, one of which was for a free autumn spice milkshake or something which expires either tomorrow/Saturday or today/Friday, and I thought I might as well use it before going home to see the Law & Orders.  (The other Chick-Fil-A reward, by the way, is for a breakfast biscuit I thought I used Tuesday but still pops up in my app.  I have till Monday to use it [again, I guess], but Saturday morning will be the only time I can use it, and I'm still torn as to whether or not I want to wake up early to use it, especially since I might want to watch soccer.)

So I go in and I'm thumbing through my app.  I notice there wasn't really a line (one guy was waiting), but I just hung out near the entrance.  I then hear a woman's voice behind me: "Are you in line?"  And there was what I presume to be a mother and a son.  For the time I was on the road yesterday/Thursday there were drivers who were aggressive and so I was aggressive in turn, so I was not about to give up my position in line, even though there was no line, so I said, "Ope!  Yeah, I'm in line," and I moved up.  And when I moved up in line, this little shit harrumphed.  He was harrumphing me?  For not moving up in line?  And you should have seen this little shit because frankly, he wasn't so little.  He was definitely younger than 18.  He could have been in junior high.  And yet he almost as tall as me, he may have been heavier than me, and he was rounder than me.  Yeah, this little shit, harrumphing me because I spaced out just a tad.  There's a good chance I outlive his fat ass.

I Can't Go Any Faster

I am now getting the feeling that the slow pace at which I grade papers has finally been noticed.  And by "getting the feeling," I mean my supervisor on Wednesday asked me online why I've been so slow.  I told him it was a combination of me wanting to go over training papers again to get my mind straight (even though I had two days to do that) and long and early hours at work (which is true).  Man, if they ever find out I'm whole hog just listening and/or watching sports, I'd be one screwed shrew.

I don't know if I am the only one who brought about this move, but the leaders of this test scoring project did something uncharacteristic (at least as far as I know them) on Friday.  We have a chatroom, what I think Slack looks like (I have never used Slack), and our supervisor dropped a message at the beginning of our shift, something he has done maybe three times in the past three months of the project.  He gave us a goal to meet.  "Let's do 100 papers tonight!" he said.

On Thursday, I did something I had done when I did test scoring projects in-person, and it's something I should have done at the outset of this project.  I took a Post-It note and ticked every paper I scored for that shift.  I started doing it many years ago when, well, we scorers on the project were warned by that project's boss to pick up the pace, and that tracking your output for that day would be the smart thing to do.  It is smart.  And after my boss "noticed my work" on Wednesday, I remembered that, so on Thursday, I started tracking myself.

And do you know how much faster I went?  By, uh, ten essays.  That's it.  And on Friday, once my supervisor's edict came down, I tried to go even faster, and I squeezed out five essays more than the night before.  It was well short of 100.

Yeah, I'm slow.  But I will defend myself.  We are reminded by the company (well, companies -- I should try and get in touch with the other one to see what they're up to) that behind every paper we grade is a student.  Regardless of how we score, we need to recognize the humanity behind the writing.  And so I imagine a kid, looking down at a paper, being presented then and there with a question that he or she needs to answer in the time allotted -- and, by the way, this project involves grading responses from children for whom English is a second language.  And you should see these papers.  Not all, but many of these papers are at the least well-thought-out.  You can tell that because, of course, those answers are long.  But a kid had to spend some time, and thus some thought, on writing out such a long answer.

No, sometimes those answers don't fulfill the requirements of a good score no matter what she or he writes.  And, there is a sameness to the papers that make me space out, and space out frequently.  But I have a lot of difficulty thinking of the time and thought and care a student puts into writing an essay, only to then take five seconds to speed-read it just to see if he or she used phrases that were complex enough or a sufficient number of words in order to receive a good-enough score.  If the child put some thought in writing it, I have the obligation to take at least some time in reading it -- in full.  And what I say next might get me in more trouble, but so be it: For ever essay I read -- not just in this scoring project but in past ones as well -- I read it again.  We have specific, objective things we need to look for, thus I look it over a second time to make sure I'm not missing something.  But I am regarding the paper a level of respect it deserves for being right in front of me, and by extension, I owe the kid who created that paper some consideration and deliberation.

Again, I try to be as commensurate as possible.  There are students who either can't or don't write long answers.  Those are easy and quick to grade, and so I don't waste my time on those.  But as boilerplate as these answers tend to be, there are ideas in them, and there is a structure to those ideas, and so I think they (the children and their responses) are entitled to some time evaluating those creations before I score it and move on to the next one.

Maybe this will cost me involvement in future projects.  But, I've been told I've been slow before, and I still keep getting jobs.  Now, it might be different this time because this in an online project as opposed to an in-person one.  But, bottom line is, I can't go any faster.  I gotta be me, man.  I gotta be me.

Right Now, My World Is Ruled By Soccer ... And That's Alright With Me

During work the past couple weeks or so, both day and night, and sometimes when I'm just spacing out in bed, I'm thinking about the weekend, and making specific plans.  Specifically about one plan: How am I going to catch the international soccer tournaments going on right now.

For the sake of myself when if and when I look back at this blog post, I will note that right now there are two going on right now: The European Championships (also known as EURO 2020, even though it is 2021 [delayed, obvi, because of the pandemic]), a tournament amongst countries in Europe; and the Copa America, a tournament amongst countries in South America.  Both quadrennial tournaments, starting in 2016, aligned their schedules so that they would be played in the same Year, so this is the second summer I have had this specific, uh, conundrum I don't mind having about crafting many of my weekends around either watching or listening to soccer Matches.

I should, however, start with the workweek, where being able to listen to the sport has been a godsend.  The Euros happen during the daytime because Games are, I think, six hours ahead (ETA at 1:37 a.m. on June 27 that because of Daylight Saving here [I think] it's actually seven -- my mistake), so I've been catching their Games while at work, which is great.  (I have developed a frustrating knack for missing Goals getting scored because I had to, like, talk to someone or get up and use the bathroom, but I might talk about that some other time.)  The Copa America Matches are closer to the Central Time Zone, so I get to hear them (and, if any are on Univision, see them) after work ... but this Year is a little more complicated because for the past few months I've had this test scoring job that meets at night.  I'm not supposed to have the radio or TV on, but sports rules my life, so I have made a point of either listening to CA Games on Sirius XM or turning my television set on ... and having it on mute -- or not.

And while both tourneys are going on, sports is ruling my weekends, too.  I can go watch a Game on TV, and so I'm thinking of going to as many different pubs and sports bars as possible.  But it's hard to just hang out at one place for more than two hours, so either I am doing some serious bar-hopping on my own or, more likely, watching one Game while going out and then going home to catch the second.  That is what I'm going to do tomorrow; the Netherlands-Bohemia Match I'll catch somewhere, and then I think I'll come home early and watch Belgium-Portugal on TV because it's on free TV/ABC/Channel 5.  Then there are the last group Matches in one group.  Brazil-Ecuador will be on Univision, but I care more about the Venezuela-Peru Match because of those countries might be eliminated from Knockout play, and that isn't on Univision and it doesn't appear it's going to be on satellite radio, either.  Shoot.

I can make more complete, concrete plans with the tournaments reaching the knockout/tournament stage.  While I love going to watch the last Matches in the group stage, where, by convention, they're played at the same time and so I get to watch (or try to watch) multiple Matches at once, having fewer Games to plan for, while it makes me sad 'cause it means the tournaments are going to be over soon, means I know that on this date I have this Game, and so I can go maybe to this place, and if there is anything I need to do In Real Life, I can do it when there isn't soccer going on.

I'm rambling here.  I'll just tell you what my mindset is after this weekend:

• Monday there's a quasi-tripleheader of Games.  Round of 16/Eighthfinal Matches at 11 and 2, and then the final group stage Matches in the Copa America at 7.
• Tuesday EURO finishes up the Round of 16.  I wish I had time to break away from work to see England-Germany, but I guess I'll just listen to it on the radio.
• No soccer Wednesday nor Thursday.  Easier to plan, but now that I see that, I am really, really sad.

OK, I've changed my mind again because apparently it'll get really busy on Friday.  And that brings up a complication which was one of the reasons I wanted to blog post about this.  I work my main job second shift Filing, which means I'll be at work for both CA Quarterfinals ... but I'll be free during the day, and so I could, theoretically, watch the early, 11 a.m. Quarterfinal.  Might be better than if I didn't have to sub at work second shift; I would then be working my day job during the day, then have the test scoring job (which was extended, although I am excused from this for a few days) at night.  But then again, under that scenario, I could listen and/or watch all four Games somehow.

And then there's the other complication: My good friend is here from Texas, and while she is busy doing some estate stuff for her late mother, she has at least a couple hours to break away and see me.  But she chose the time (and I'm guessing it's the only time) this afternoon ... right in the middle of the Italy-Austria Match.  Not ideal, but my friend has to take priority.  Just wish we could meet this evening instead.  There are no Copa America Games then, and my plan on seeing *****a for a handjob fell through.

Yeah, I rambled a lot in this blog post.  Bottom line, it's a problem that makes me smile, and I'll be sad once this problem is over because that means the tournaments are over.

So How Am I Doing A Week-Plus Into My Test Scoring Job?

So far, so good.  Haven't fallen asleep yet, in either place.  But the lack of an evening rest has gotten to me.  I am severely groggy much of the morning at my main job, and so that lunchtime nap is absolutely essential for me to stay upright the rest of the day, and probably night.  Still, I need to sneak in some sleep -- well, more like close my eyes and space out -- right before I'm supposed to turn my laptop on, logon and read essays.  Actually I don't feel fatigued at my night job, but I'm plenty bored, and I cannot help but think about other things as I'm staring at the umpteenth paper that shift.

I am worried about the sleep debt I'm accruing.  But I am surprised that once my night job is over, I feel pretty energized, and I can go several hours before feeling as though I need to conk off for the night.  That does not set me up well for the morning and my real job, of course, and I keep missing out on rest my body needs and will probably make me catch up on come Friday night.  But overall, my worst time is mid-morning, but after that, I'm fine.

At Some Point She Has To Notice

For the longest time I've been pushing my breaks, especially the morning one, when I get my coffee and use the bathroom, sometimes to poop.  No one is really looking at me, so I come and go as I please, and I usually get back to my seat a Minute after my 15.  Maybe two.  Sometimes three.

Yesterday, during my afternoon break, it was a bit more.  Lately I have been eating the food Father gives me for afternoon break.  I had been going out to my car to take a nap, but I had to be real with myself -- it has been a long time since I've taken a nap in the afternoon, and if I am able to pass out for lunch, I don't feel the need to go back into my car to take another nap.  Besides, I need to eat this food, and I'm busy getting coffee and pooping in the morning, so afternoon break it is.

The food I get is usually a banana.  Yesterday I tried to pace myself a bit, for I knew that I had to go into the lab after break was over.  (Not a whole lot of forms, we usually get done around 2, and break is the perfect time to prepare to go in there.)  It behooved me to finish everything within 15 Minutes because, even though I usually can come and go as I please, I think people would notice if I don't get into the lab in time.  One further complication: My supervisor was working yesterday.  She wasn't supposed to, but my boss who was supposed to come in on this Monday left early.  (COVID-19?)  And it is her desk I pass by on my way back from the bathroom for morning break.  She's a supervisor.  She also may be tracking how long I take to get back from break.  So if she is, I might be on the slacker list already.

So I get done with the banana.  But then I have to wipe down the table.  Then I have to use the bathroom, and I usually go to the one closest to the lab coats I need to wear inside the lab.  And then I ... shoot, I just spaced out.  I wash my hands, grab my coat then realize, oh crap, I'm seven Minutes late!

Did my supe see me?  She's not at her desk, so maybe she didn't notice.  But once I got into the lab, I saw her, training the new person on how to do lab work.  Great.  If she had her eagle eyes on me -- or, come to think of it, if she looked at the paper log and see that I was totally honest and put in the time I entered the lab at seven Minutes after I should have (why didn't I just lie?) -- this would, logically, be the breaking point whereby I cannot extend my breaks any further than I already have.  So, I fear that a warning, or at least a note from my boss, is coming in very short order.

I feel the need to be a good employee and come back from breaks super early, starting today.  But I don't think I can.  I mean, I might have to poop, and you can't rush pooping.

I'm so in trouble.

Bad Day At Work

We were down a person, which is not the worst thing in the world given that it's a Monday and so there isn't a whole lot of work.  But it's the vet, and she knew what she was doing.  Of the two of us working today, I was the more tenured employee, and that should send shudders throughout the entire company.

It was not a good day at work, mostly because we missed deadline.  It is pretty damn hard to miss deadline on a Monday, but we did it.  Yes, a third person would have helped.  But frankly, the most important folders were given to us plenty of time before deadline.  We just ... well, I just kind of lost track of time and decided to do other things besides meeting deadline.  Missed it by five Minutes when I knew that if I had just focused on those important folders and forgot the rest (the ones I took time on before deadline), we would have been fine.  The vet would have set me straight, or even took care of all those important folders without either of us knowing.  But no excuses today; I was the vet, and I should have kept my eye on the ball.

I am also not happy with myself for losing my temper on my co-worker.  She is still relatively new, and as I learned working beside her for the first time, she can be a bit of a flibbertigibbet.  I spaced out around deadline, yet I was still cognizant of deadline when she began talking to herself in the afternoon and asked me one too many questions to my id's liking.  So, when I later asked her to do something and she was concentrating on other things, prompting her (of course) to say, "What's that?" I shout-repeated myself.  Man, it's not her fault I fucked up.  She's just as confused as I am, probably moreso, and people (including the vet) are being patient with me when I ask questions ... which I still do almost two years into this job.

Maybe because it was a Monday and it was just the two of us, we'll be cut some slack.  But the record and truth are there because I had to tell the truth, else my boss would know and know that I lied.

Uh ... must do better, I guess.

We Have A Hard Rock Cafe Rag Now

So I was going outside to the back deck, either to help close the door or just step out for some fresh air.  I was looking down, either to change shoes or because I was spacing out.  There was a rag down there, a white one, folded in on itself.  My parents rarely throw things away, especially when it comes to, uh, fabric that is there just to pick up dust and food particles or to be stepped on.  I thus wasn't going to think anything of it ... until I noticed that there were words on this rag.

And the words were ... "LAS VEGAS."  In a font that I recognize instantly: It's my Hard Rock Cafe shirt.  I unfolded it to see holes in much of the front, and a slightly ripped and frayed collar.

I didn't flip out.  In fact, I'm not mad.  I hope that I don't have a reason to be mad.  I collect Hard Rock shirts.  I have dozens, many of them going back decades, and I continually wear them, and so they naturally start to get beat up, if not torn up.  Therefore I can imagine a t-shirt getting so bad that, as My Father is washing my clothes (he's retired and has nothing else to do), he could make the executive decision to turn that t-shirt into a rag.

The only problem I have is that I cannot recall ever noticing holes or wear on my HRC LV tee.  I never thought to myself, "Shoot, you're so old I might need to get a new one."  I could be wrong; maybe I didn't notice.  But I wouldn't like it if Father decided to render a t-shirt useless that had little to nothing wrong with it.

I'll let it slide.  Hey, he could have just thrown it away.  In that case, there would be a good chance I would not have noticed that I lost my HRC LV t-shirt.  Now, I just have to go to the Hard Rock in Las Vegas and buy me a new one.  I'm a grown man, I have some money -- I can afford to do that.

Addendum To: Still Fucking Up At Work

Monday I was just as shitty at work as I was on Friday.  Forgot to reset the setting on the scanner before my co-worker used it.  Forgot to print off a page that I needed to attach with a folder I worked through.  And because of the virus I now use a napkin whenever I write with a common-use pen that the department uses, and I left that napkin, filled with my germs, right on that common-use pen for another co-worker to use.

I will offer an excuse: All day I was distracted by the prospect of My Fucking Father coming down on me for not cleaning my room.  I was woken up at 6 this morning by his heavy stomping feet and his incessant, allergy-triggered (at least I hope) coughing.  Fucker's about to throw a tantrum, that's what that means.  (He didn't at dinner, at least not yet.)  Somehow I was able to fall back asleep for another two hours, but all day at work I was worried about what he would threaten.  And then I spiraled down into self-pitying thoughts, situations where I was either helpless or led astray, and through their (Father's and Mother's) decisions or actions or inactions, I was, well, ran over, had my food spill onto the ground, hit by a part of a tree while I was in the middle of rapids, etc.  (I have very weird dreams when I'm feeling sorry for myself.)  All the while I was missing things I needed to do at work.

Hmmm.  Maybe I can now create a list of what I need to remember to do from now on:

• Make sure "those folders" go to the person who does them that day.
• Scan those "special applications" to the sixth and bottom directory.
• Reset the setting on the scanner once I'm done scanning said "special applications."
• Print off those pages you need to send with the folders, get them from the printer, and put them in the folder.  (This is a big one; I've forgotten to do that a lot in, like, the past six months.)
• Finally, take my napkin with me once I use it to write with something.

Hey, asshole at Caffetto, I had no interest in what you were typing up on your computer.  I was spacing out, OK?  Just thinking about what I wanted to do next, but not before not thinking at all.  Your reflexive move to turn your screen away from my distant eyes was fucking pathetic.  But you do you, you over reflexive, privileged prick -- as so indicated by me smh.  Sheesh.

A Deceptively Bad Day

It started off at work, where I was shifted to fill in at the second department both yesterday and today.  I think I had blogged in the past that I found it the easiest, if not the most enjoyable.  Well, if I had said it was the easiest, I am fucking stupid, because I felt fucking stupid at the job yesterday.

I have had a problem with this specific department of remembering what to do.  I flit around jobs, but do so so infrequently that I forget.  In particular, for this department I had written things down on a series of Post-It Notes (the teeny-tiny ones), and before yesterday I was determined to find them, but I can't find them.

So I came in blind yesterday, and I immediately got into a question that seems so basic to me that I did not have the courage to reach out and ask.  Basically it's about whether I should stamp a form.  I did not do that because, when I first had the thought, I thought, "Nah!  Why do that?  It doesn't seem necessary!"  But I felt so guilty that late in the morning I decided to start stamping forms ... never mind that there were forms I did not stamp earlier in the day.  My "switch" was confirmed correct when my direct supervisor (and the guy who trained me in this department) indeed stamped the forms that fell under this narrow "set" of guidelines.

Nevertheless, the damage is done.  I have forms that are not stamped.  Thing is, I don't know if anyone is going to catch me, and if I do get caught, I'm not sure how much hot water I would be in.  Nevertheless, I know that I had been taught to stamp a form if that form falls under this category and that category and blah-blah-blah.  There is a possibility that I will have hell to pay -- not just for screwing up, but also for seemingly changing my mind mid-stream (by starting to stamp these forms midway through the day) and not going back and changing the rest and, beyond that, not telling anyone what I had done.  I really wish I had been trained more (and better) at this particular department, but if I get caught, this will fall right on me.

The only thing I can do is to go back and stamp them.  I can do that -- later this month, when I have the second shift all to myself.  I just have to remember that all I need to check all the folders I did from June 8 to June 11.  But as you can see, remembering shit is not my strong suit.

---

Oh, later in the day I banged my coffee thermos against a wall while I was turning a corner.  It got knocked out of my hand and hit the rug below.  No big deal, although I recently got a new ding for that thermos when I banged it against the coffee dispenser.

But when I began drinking coffee from it, I heard a rattling inside it.  I shook it; it rattled some more.  Goddammit, I broke my thermos.  I don't know what that jingling part is, but I'm scared that it either 1) will effect the thermos' capacity to keep in heat and thus keep my coffee warm, or 2) I will somehow swallow that loose part.  And come to think of it, there's no reason it can't be both.

I need to buy a new thermos, don't I?

---

Oh, finally: I royally fucked up swiping in and out for the day.  I needed to stay after work to eat the banana My Father insists I eat at work.  But after staying after for a half-hour I realized I didn't goddamn clock out.  It was a whole half-hour after I should have left.  How stupid of me!

What makes this worse is that I consciously told myself to remember to clock in once I was ready.  I was ready, but I immediately spaced out once I went to the break room and just made a beeline for the refrigerator and retrieved my banana.  I then ate it while looking through my phone.

And yet, worst of all, once I realized that I would probably have to ask my boss to fix my swipe out, I had to check my swipes to see how many minutes I would get paid for.  That's when I knew I really, really fucked up, since it looks like I did not swipe out for lunch.  In fact, I had actually swiped in to work twice.  In other words, it looks as though I just worked through lunch.  So I just left a note for my boss to ask him to fix my timesheet in two different ways, neither of which I have ever done before.

---

Looking back on it I have no fucking clue how I could make two massive mistakes when it comes to swiping in and out of work.  But that simply was the capper of a shitty day that no one yet knows I have endured.

Violent Ideations Getting To Me Again

My violent thoughts, where I relive past grievances and imagining taking revenge on them by yelling and/or hitting them ... they've come back, stronger and more vivid than ever, to the point where it's affecting my health.  It manifests itself by making my blood boil, and then it hurts my heart to the point where I start to feel dizzy.  I have been so worked up with bad memories that I feel as though I will pass out before.  But the past week or so it has been extremely intense, as if continually dredging up these violent thoughts has finally caught up with my heart, and that I really could be having high blood pressure, or a heart attack.

Rest and thinking good thoughts help with this.  But I feel my left arm is kind of weak, at most parts of the day.  And without fail, my spacing out comes back to a time where I got unfairly screwed over, and my pressure would rise again and my chest feels heavy again and I feel light-headed again.  Maybe it's the test scoring job, but I think cutting my work hours back down to eight should do the trick.

Nevertheless, I should speak to my doctor about this, right?

Oh, and if I die soon, remember this.

One My Greatest Fears Realized

I'm glad I waiting until now to blog for the day.


One of my greatest fears is either pulling into or pulling out of work and having a road incident with a co-worker.  It happened just now.


So our campus has an outlet that is part of a four-way intersection with stoplights.  Looking at the width of this outlet, there seems to be, uh, three lanes for drivers to drive through at the same time.  Unfortunately, they are not marked.


Therefore, it is up to me to figure out which lane to use, usually when I'm at a stop.  I usually take a left, and therefore I take up the middle lane; I figure that the flow of traffic is going out, so I get to take the middle lane.  This time, however, I'm going south, and therefore I have to go straight.  Nevertheless, I decide to use the middle lane again because there are a lot of cars that I have noticed that want to take a right.  If I'm going straight and I use the right lane, they can't take a right if the coast is clear.  I think that's logical.


There was another car that drove up behind me.  I'll be honest; I'm kind of out of it right now because I didn't turn the heat on (still worried about leaks) and the cold has given me a lot of phlegm.  Anyway, I forgot about the car behind me.  And when we got the green, both of us went straight.  Shit.


I had to relent.  And as I slowed I looked inside the cabin of the SUV next to me.  Yep, I work with her.


Look, I don't know who's right.  (I should bring this up to my bosses, this is an important matter.)  But it's going to be so awkward to see her at work tomorrow morning.  Well, awkward at least for me.  But I think I'm right, right?  And if so, that means ... she's a bad driver, no?

I Have High Blood Pressure

Should note this: For the past couple years, whenever they take my vitals at the start of every doctor's visit, I have noticed when I got my measurements back at the end of every visit that my pressure readings, the diastolic/systolic ratio, has crept into borderline territory.  The 120/80 numbers I had enjoyed all my life are now higher than that.

I don't know what to make of it.  It's probably old age.  But I feel the stress whenever I obsess over something really bad.  Sometimes I get so lost in those violent thoughts that I catch my heart beating hard, or my chest hurting real bad.  And I think that might be contributing to the rise of my blood pressure.

Just something to note.

Think I Pissed Off My Supervisor Yesterday

I don't know if it was because he thought I put a file in the wrong place, or maybe he was just having a shit day at home.  But when I was listening to the radio while he asked me for something, after which I heard him say something intelligible and so I went, "What?" to which he screamed, "Which batch?!" I kind of thought he was pissed at me.  Honestly, I was partly stressed out over what my "frenemy" was going to reply to my post about football on Facebook and partly oblivious because I'm back to waking up at 5:30 in the goddamn morning again.

It got so bad that I reverted to a habit I had to do: Avoiding people.  There was a question I wanted to ask about a missing number, but instead of asking him what I should do about it, I let it slide.  In retrospect, I have a feeling that that was a mistake and that will get back to me.  But while I was deciding whether or not to get up and talk to my supervisor, I subconsciously feared that he'd scream at me.  So I decided to pass up the question and just hope for the best.  I hate that about myself.  I should have just done my damn job, even if he would act all pissed at me while answering my question, just for being all nonchalant towards him in the morning, or something.  Man, I still don't exactly know why he was upset, or even if he was upset.

These situations and thoughts are what I have to face, and what I have feared, as someone with a full-time job: The ups and downs and bad moods of a place where you see the same people again and again.  The one great thing about being a temp is that you are not stuck with the people you work for and with, so if they suck, it doesn't matter, you're leaving.  You don't get to do that with a job with full-time benefits.  You are going to see these people at their best and their worst.  And they're going to see you as a man in full, too.  So the question I have to answer is whether, or how much, I am willing to tolerate the moments where I don't like some person's tone or he or she is giving me some passive-aggressive body language.

Maybe this will be all in the rearview mirrorwhen I go into work today.  But maybe it's not.  Maybe this is a pebble in the ledger, and at some point an avalanche of rocks will convince me I should leave this place.  I just don't think yesterday can be wiped away, I'm afraid.