This Work Is MINE!!!

I will admit that I'm not completely sorry I did what I did at work yesterday.  But did I make a fool of myself?  Definitely.

This story starts back on Friday.  I was supposed to be in The Fourth Department, but my bosses told me that I should do data entry instead.  So once I keyed as long as I was expected to key, I went back to The Fourth Department.  However, I didn't finish the work.  I stayed till 6:30, but I wanted to see college basketball on the TV, and I thought ten hours was more than enough.  In particular, there were forms that came in on Friday that I didn't get to.  I was told during the workday that that stuff could wait till the next day (Saturday).  So I thought I could come in the next day, yesterday, and finish up that work and, hopefully, get started on the work that came in that day for The Fourth Department.  I was anticipating a lot of stuff was coming in, and I didn't want all that stuff to sit till tomorrow, especially if I was assigned to that position tomorrow.  Besides, the department needed help catching up on work, and while I liked having surprise days off, it was eating into the time off I had built up; working yesterday means I get to take some of that paid time off back.

I thought the mid-South was up and running, seeing as we got monster shipments Thursday and Friday.  However, when I woke up yesterday morning, I was told that morning's shipment was late, so we should come in an hour later than scheduled.  (Also, I have a Facebook friend who said that, beyond, like, half a day, her neighborhood in East Nashville has been without power for eight days.  Maybe they don't have everything back up and running like I thought.)  Two of my co-workers, however, appeared to have either not gotten that text or ignored it, because they were at their desks by the time I got in.  Moreover, one of them was doing the work I left over.

This is not an excuse, but how I felt was: Why are you taking my work from me?!  I know that I have done this in the past, and I know that I'm not strong enough not to feel that way in the future.  This red mist of control descended on me, like it has so many times before, and so I asked her, "What are you doing?"

"I am just finding work.  Do you want this back?" she said.

"Yes, please," I answered.  (These might not be the exact words she and I said, and any tone you might take from these two quotes may not be as sinister, or as courteous, as it actually was.)

I regretted my words as soon as I sat down on my desk.  And any doubt as to how she reacted to my "taking back what's mine" temper tantrum probably was dispelled when she said, "Here's the cart," and shoved the cart into which we put the work in my direction with a force I have never, never seen her give.  She is a steady rock.  And frankly, since my supervisor left for a work-from-home position in the summer, she is the one I have relied on whenever I'm fuzzy about what to do next.  In other words, I don't want to get on her bad side.  And I think I did with that move, and it's probably going to cause a rift in our relationship that will never be repaired.

And the upshot of the hissy fit I threw is that it really didn't matter.  I got Friday's work done, but then my boss and my boss' boss told me to go scan documents all day instead.  We got done before eight hours, so I was able to do (or availed myself with) some Fourth Department stuff to make up the rest of the time.  But yesterday was clearly an all-hands-on-deck day, and while I knew that, honestly, I really didn't want to do that.

I shouldn't have reacted how I did.  But it felt like she was taking my work from me.  Moreover, she was ruining my plans.  "I got this under control, don't mess this up for me," -- that's what I was thinking.  And no, like I said, that's not an excuse.  But shit, what's done is done.  I should get off my butt and start updating my resume.  Because I acted like an ass!

My Quick Trip Over The Border Was Both Fun And Unnecessary

So I told you all about my plans on going to Wisconsin yesterday/Saturday.  Yeah, a lot of it didn't go as planned.

My phone woke me up at 11.  I was prepared then to across the border to begin my afternoon around that area.  But I checked my texts and saw that *****y, who on Friday wanted to push our session back two hours now wanted to see if I could come today/Sunday.  I have plans to work on donating my car and then going to the United FC Match.  Also, and more importantly, *****y has flaked on me like this in the past, and I was in no mood to accommodate her.  So, we cancelled.  Well, actually, we postponed, but I don't know when the hell I can see her again.  I just know that we agreed on yesterday/Saturday, and she initially sounded really excited about it.  But I didn't like her attitude.  First, she said wanted to delay because she was working like a dog and she wants to look good for me.  She's gorgeous, but frankly, I'm not going to see her because of her looks.  And then, when we decided to delay, she said, "That's too bad."  Huh?  She first begged me to change the appointment of our HJ (a second time, mind you), but to me, she now sounded like she was calling the shots when she definitely is not.  Finally, when she told me she is working out of town on weekends, and I asked her as what, she shut me down.  Excuse me?  Not a fan of small talk now that you blew me off?  Are you an assassin -- is that why you can't say what you do?

Again, she's done this before, but I've come back to her with my erection in my hands, so this will be no different.  But fuck her, I don't want to see her right now.  I'll stick to my women who can keep an appointed time, thank you very much.

---

*****y's blow-off was one of a few signs that convinced me to change my schedule.  It was raining outside, and while I don't think crossing a bridge over the St. Croix River is dangerous in that weather, I would rather not do so, especially in an area of the country I've never been to.  Finally, my boss texted asking if I could come in to work.  I was initially going to stick to my (altered) plans of going to Wisconsin in the afternoon, but I couldn't pass up making a bit more money, and besides, I could drive in the evening when it's drier.

So, I worked in the afternoon.  And even though I didn't at first want to go out in the evening, I did my beer-shopping/lottery ticket-getting then, setting Sun blasting glare everywhere notwithstanding.  So glad that I could buy individual bottles of Spotted Cow.  However, when I tried cashing in Father's winning Mega Millions ticket, the cashier at the Circle K said I couldn't because it was too old.  Father bought this ticket in October, and I thought you had a year before it expires.  But I just looked up the Wisconsin Lottery FAQ, and it says you have only 180 days.  In Minnesota it's a year, and I guess I assumed that year time period was universal when it's not.

Oh, well.  I still promised Father I would get Powerball tickets for him, and I promised the same for my sister, who wanted one once I told her I was going across the border.  Nonetheless, I have to face this fact: If I knew that I couldn't cash in this ticket, I wouldn't have gone across the river into Wisconsin, and I wouldn't have bought any beer.  This would have, and maybe should have, blown up all my big plans of making a daytrip out of Stillwater, Minn., and Houlton, Wisc.

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Oh, and to top it all off, Mother wanted me to go to Target to buy some miniature apples.  Well, at first, when I told my parents after dinner I was going, she asked me to where.  And I find that so fucking intrusive that I told her, "I'm going out, OK?" because I didn't want them to know my business ... even though I realized that they would know I crossed the border once I gave Father the Powerball tickets I bought for him.  Anyway, she asked because she wanted to know if I was going to Target because she heard these mini-apples were sweet and delicious.  I actually hit up a Target on my way back because I wanted to pick up some POM.  I tried them last night; they're ... OK.

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No, it wasn't necessary to drive to Wisconsin and back, because of both my plans with *****y falling through and because of the expired lottery ticket.  But I want to note that me driving to the liquor store, and then to the gas station, and then to Target on the Minnesota side, took less than two hours.  I know that the Twin Cities lies relatively close to Wisconsin, but that trip is a tad longer than going out to see my brother and sister-in-law and niece at their home in Carver County.  The border is still fairly far away, and it's not a trip I think I should be doing regularly.  But still, two hours only?  And my car seems to be in good shape?  I have to admit that I had fun last/Saturday night driving by myself to these far-flung places, I really did.

Passive-Aggressive Confrontation At The Ice Cream Place

OK, so a few weeks ago I was enjoying a final Sunday before my folks came home, and I decided to go to this ice cream parlor kind of close to me -- not for ice cream (I think I've gotten more lactose intolerant, if that's possible), but for their burger, which is consistently lauded around town.  I think they're good, but I have had a few in the area that have blown me away.

Anyway, I was going to sit down to eat my burger and fries.  There is an outside deck and it was fairly crowded, but there were a couple seats available.  So I promptly lay on the counter my food right above a seat that was next to this couple.  And the male of the couple says, "Aup -- my son's sitting here," and he quickly jerked the stool right next to him.

I did the polite Minnesota thing.  No, I only did a blend of the polite Minnesota thing.  See, my old age has given me repeated instances of honing my passive-aggressiveness -- come to think of it, that's a Minnesota thing too -- to the point where I am getting better at shooting off comebacks that are nice on the surface but is delivered with a side of bile and bite.  Maybe it's not good in a polite society to be so on-edge that you have such a witticism at the ready, but we are no longer in a polite society.  So, as I picked up my food to move down to another open seat, I said, "Ope, sorry about that," and I know I had an unmistakable tone I said that with.  Heh-heh.

It's not as if the old guy was lying; his son came out from the bathroom and starting eating with his parents.  I could've just left it there ... but that's not me.  From that point onward, I was thinking of one more shot, one more dig whereby I could taunt or bait him, maybe even pick a fight with him if he is as prone to anger as I am.  Hell, my parents were coming home -- why not fight?

(Aside: This place is great if car-cruising was a thing.  The place is fronted by a three-lane road, with one lane in the middle for cars taking lefts.  It's speed-controlled, too, which is a good thing for pedestrians.  It's also good for drive-bys.  All guys who are strapped need to do is roll by at 15 miles per hours and light up the place, and me.  Glad I didn't have any enemies out to get me then -- well, besides this dude.  Anyway, back to my story:)

I finally decided I would look at him, and I mean stare at him until I got his attention, then say goodbye to him.  Not say anything, but acknowledge his leaving in a way that would make him notice.  That would assume a few things.  For one, he would have to leave before I do.  For another, he would have to walk my way in order for me to flag his attention.  And, for finally, he would have to see me.  But if all those conditions were met, bam!  I got his ass!

So he and his family got done before me.  Then, they walked on the sidewalk in front of me.  See, this is my chance.  They were walking slow, so I just stopped eating and looked at him, intently.  He glanced at me -- and I just gave him a wink, a "See ya around, pal!" type of thing.  And he ... gave me a smile.

Uh, what was that?  He didn't seem triggered or put off.  In fact, he didn't seem, uh, mad at all.  Now, he could've been cursing me up and down by the time those three got into their car -- "What the hell was that?" type of thing.  Or -- um, he just honestly said that stool was for his son, and that's all he meant by it.  Which means I overreacted to something that just happens.  And there's nothing more to it than that.

Shit, was that all that it was?

Yeah, You Told My Ass This The Day Before Too, I'm Sorry

I struck a defiant tone when I apparently screwed up at work on Thursday.  But I did not tell you that I made another mistake around the same time.  That one I definitely did fuck up, and with that I had no issues of being told I've done this four or five times before.  It was my mistake ...

... which I apparently repeated, to my utter disgrace, at work yesterday/Friday.  I did something I should not have done, to be slightly more specific.  And because my supervisor told me not to do this on Thursday and I did it again the very next fucking day, my boss had to step in and ... well, I hope it's not a verbal reprimand that's going on my permanent record, but he had to put in writing via e-mail that I did this mistake again and that this is what I'm supposed to do instead.  I have to admit that getting a warning that way is a good way for me not to make that mistake again.

But there are questions that abound from this.  The defensive side of me wonders how this mistake got back to my boss.  Did someone tell, and is that someone pissed that I did this two days in a row?  If so, who is this person, and does that person not respect me anymore?  I hate that, but I have to admit that if the roles were reversed, I totally would think that person is stupid and untrustworthy.  But the other side of me is wondering (after apologizing, which I did to both my boss and supervisor in replying to that e-mail) after years of doing it correctly (or at least I think), what is going on with me that I would fuck up something this basic on back-to-back days?

And to think I get to do this all again today/Saturday because I get to go back to work!  Yippee!!

Why I Prefer Self-Checkout

OK, calm down, cashier.  What I meant to say was that are you OK if I take my shopping cart, go back to get the packs of water that is on sale and just walk through and past the checkout line.  You obviously didn't let me finish because after I said, "Leave the waters here, take the cart back to get the correct ones ..." you had to jump in and say, "Yeah, that's why I told you to leave the waters there."  You really think I was just going to leave the cart and drag the bottles of water on sale from the back of the store to my car?

Maybe I'm wrong about his tone.  Maybe I shouldn't take things so defensively.  But maybe I need to reconsider where I do my grocery shopping because, once again, I had a bit of a run-in with someone there.  Shit, man, please don't make me go back to Target just because I can go check out myself.

On Procrastinating Drinking And Potentially Overthinking

I might be a manic person, because after a couple hours of surfing the Internet, looking at porn and touching myself, I'm finally getting around to making and drinking the Long Island iced tea that I should have drank at least around 10 p.m., not just before I am supposed to go to bed.  In the meantime, I'm thinking about my ATF, ******a, who texted me, "Busy tonight?" when 1) yes, I was busy tonight volunteering and 2) I thought I told her that I could see her at My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Edition) next week, not this week, and now I'm scared that I gave her tone when I told her no, I can't see her last/Wednesday night because she didn't text back with hearts or a kissing emoji like she used to.  Dammit, did I piss her off?  See, this is why I can't have relationships: I'll stick my foot in my mouth, she'll get angry, I'll rack my brain figuring out what I did wrong, and I'll conclude that the relationship is ruined beyond repair.  And this is why I go to stripclubs.

In the meantime, I have chores to do for tomorrow.  I need to pay the city the water and sewer bill.  I have to label the gas station-brand coffee creamer I bought after the post-volunteer dinner.  I need to make a sandwich for myself for work, opening up this special non-preserved loaf of bread that needs to be eaten in five days or else.  And finally, I need to make sure I pack an MNUFC jersey in my bag because I'm going to a Loons-themed concert at First Avenue tonight/Thursday night.

And I'm doing all this to while listening to Tommy Richman's "Million Dollar Baby" on a loop.  Not gonna lie, I love this song, and I've loved it ever since I heard it on that Wingstop commercial.  Since it clocks in at less than three minutes it's barely a song, but goddamn is it catchy!  Do you know there are YouTube videos of this song being played on a loop?  I'm listening to one where it's been recorded on repeat for up to an hour.  I wish the ending and beginning was more seamless, but no matter -- I am pushing through these tasks while listening to this earworm.

Work Sucks Right Now, In So Many Ways

Before I rant and feel sorry for myself, I want to say that I am grateful for the overtime I'm getting.  The money is worth the grief.

Well, at least I say that now.  While I was working yesterday/Friday, it sure as fuck didn't feel that way.  The Third Department is utter fucking chaos now.  It didn't help that all the work that got stuck down South Wednesday finally reached us.  The work that came for me ... I don't know if I have ever left so much work for my co-worker, who is doing The Third Department today/Saturday.  I apologized to her before I left work.  I stayed an extra two hours, like I usually do.  I could've stayed till nine o'clock and not gotten everything done.  Seriously.

There are so many things to keep apprised up in that particular position that I am constantly bombarded with things that crop up which I need to immediately address.  Toward the end of my day (which, because it ran so long, became my night), I saw something that essentially became a "STAT" thing that I had to drop everything to do, and I know I let out a "Fuck!" that I meant as a whisper but was probably loud enough for everybody in the room to hear.  It was that frustrating a day.

It didn't help that I screwed up, which I did right before I saw this "STAT" thing I just had to do.  I basically signed off on, like, a dozen reports that I should not have signed off on.  And so I had to go through each report and fix my mistake.  I had a shit ton to do already, and I didn't need to make it harder on myself by fucking up like I did.  But I realized that I made this mistake because I was not doing these reports every day, and that makes me susceptible to forgetting a process of, say, doing a report.  I see now how hard it is to step into work someone else started.  I can't just apply my training at any point in a particular process.  If I didn't start it, I am likely to screw it up.  And in a job where I hop from position to position, that will mess me up, man.

Aside, and I need to make this vague because, frankly, this may blow up into a shitshow: I may have made a mistake, but I sure as fuck don't like her tone.  There were so many other ways to tell me via e-mail to stop.  And by the way, the mistake started with the person not writing down the date.  What condescending bullshit.  And if she decides to take it up with my supervisor or boss, man, I could be in deep trouble.

With all my venting here, I'm going back to work today/Saturday to help out.  They're still behind, so much so that they might bring in people for Monday.  But goddammit, I'd rather this have happened last weekend, or next weekend.  'Cause this weekend was the only Saturday over at least the next month where I could watch EPL downtown, something I haven't done yet this season.  The combination of Matches kicking off at 9 this/Saturday morning doesn't involve any team that would take over the pub I want to go to, and I can't say that for any day until at least April.  But then this opportunity of working ten hours again has to come up this fucking Saturday.  I could decide to work a full day, but I have decided not to.  One, I really was looking forward to watching soccer, and work like this won't change my mind.  Also, I have pulled ten hours several days over the past few weeks, and I was so stressed after leaving work last/Friday night that I am trying to take time for myself.  I'll watch soccer, then go into work for an abbreviated day.  And if that means passing up some money, so be it.  I'm making plenty this time period.

With all that said, this incident from this e-mail may blow up.  There is a non-zero change that I won't have a job by the time today/Saturday ends.  Just a head's-up.

Work And Job

This week has been kind of weird, to be honest.  I initially took all this week off in anticipation of working somewhere else all week, even though I didn't work this Game last Year and wanted to.  When it wasn't looking as though I was working the Game all week, I had the option of taking back my paid time off to work at my day job instead.  I was severely lacking in paid time off later in the year.  But ... I really, really don't want to work in My Main Department right now.  Why?  Because I might hit somebody in the lab.

Guess I should talk about this now.  Once a week, all of us in The Main Department have to go in and open up packages to start getting urine samples ready to be tested.  It's a menial job, so everybody has to do it.  I think I've complained about this before, but sometimes these samples leak, and so you're reaching in to an open package and touching piss.  Sometimes it's really gross.  I don't know how people are unfazed by this, but I think I'm a very different person now that I have a job whereby I touch piss on occasion.  It's ... debasing.

Moreover, I had a run-in with one of the lab people a couple weeks ago.  This isn't the asshole who was riding me like a high schooler over accidentally cutting myself.  This was some older lady who has her own way of getting through all the hundreds of packages that we need to cut open and whose contents we need to get out for her, in that position, to scan into our system.  She was, let's just say, impatient, and I got that hostile vibe and so I kept away from her as much as possible.  I, of course, don't want to be there at all, but that does not motivate me to work faster.  Anyway, we were getting down to large packages, which the lab has as protocol the thing we do last because it takes time to open boxes that large packages usually come in.  I'm throwing the last of the packages onto the counter, and apparently one of them just happened to slide too close to her, so she throws it back to the other side of the counter -- missing me, but not by a lot -- and says, "No!  Not that!"  And that just made me vent at her: "Hey, sorry I threw that package your way!"  And it was loud enough for her and the other people at the workstation to hear, and probably to sense my defensive tone.

That was a couple weeks ago.  I am sure that if I added back dates this week, I would be sent into the lab.  And not as if I would run into her again -- like us, they are on a rotation as to who opens up packages at this station every day and every week -- but after that blow-up, I think it was a good idea to ensure that I don't go into that lab for another week.  I didn't go in there last week either (that was a decision made by my boss), and I think it's good I go at least two weeks without being seen in there.  Maybe cooler heads will prevail.

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Where was I?  I didn't think I would talk about that incident because I want to talk about the gig I have today.  Anyway, I compromised; I went in to my main job on Monday because I wanted to take back one day of work.  Turns out, by the way, that the day I am taking off next week I am getting back; my boss asked me to come in on Saturday, and that would replace Tuesday, when I am coming back on my flight.  After these two weeks, I will have two more days off of paid time off I can take this fall and winter, which is two more than I thought I would have.

But I am only working this other gig today/Thursday.  The other days ... well, I went and am going to the State Fair.  It's weird to wake up whenever you want to instead of when you have to wake up.  I mean, it's great, but I remember that for three of these four days I could have gone in to work instead.  Instead, I'm waking up largely when my body wants to wake up, which was, I think, 10:45 Tuesday and around 9:15, maybe, yesterday/Wednesday.  And I have been lazing around thinking, "OK, what should I do?"  I am, hate to say it, kind of bored.

And this gig, by the way, starts at 1.  It's a lot better than having, say, a 7 a.m. call time.  But I woke up on my own at a quarter to 10 when I set my alarm for 11:30.  I think I'm ready to go to work now.  But I have 90 minutes to go before it's showtime.  And by the way, I think I am setting my alarm for 11 (to go to the Fair) tomorrow, but my body might be awake well before then.  I was looking forward to my body having time overnight to sleep and wake on its own, and yet it seems like I'm waking up too early.  I might be scaring myself more than I need to.

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This blog post became different than what I initially thought it would be.

Politics Ruins Everything

I just finished publishing a comment on a comment section of a local online media site responding to people who are bitching about Biden being too old and looking like shit at the debate.  I doubt it was witty and it probably will be taken as bitchy.  I thought about not commenting also, but I had commented on this topic once before, and frankly, I am tired of everybody focusing on Biden when we have an existential threat coming from Republicans.

And I comment well knowing that comment sections on the Internet are sewers, the fucking swill of modern existence.  I can excuse it by saying to myself that I have something substantive to say, but the combative and insulting tone of my comment is symptomatic of the toxicity on any online forum, Twitter being the foremost example (which is still standing and probably will continue to stand, probably to humanity's detriment).  And you know what?  I don't care.  I feel deeply enough that I have to hit back at all these people I thought were cool but have turned out to be perfectionist, ageist ninnies.

I also comment knowing that another local news website, MinnPost, decided to eliminate their comment feature because it was getting too yelly.  It doesn't let anyone have their say, but it makes for a more civil environment.  And I still stand by my comment knowing I am making the environment on this other website less civil.  I could be part of the problem, too.

Aunt Is Doing ... OK? (I, However, May Be A Prick)

I will confess: Once I heard that my uncle had died, I harkened back to the time about six weeks ago, when my aunt dropped by the house and told me not to talk to him because he hadn't been feeling well, and if I asked him how he was doing, he was not going to tell me the truth.

I regret not talking to him to this day, and it will haunt me forever, just like I regret not ever visiting my friend who was convalescing out in Edina for months and who died after having surgery.  In the aftermath of knowing he had passed, I wondered about the conversation we had.  She's a little daft, and I didn't quite understand why she told me not to speak with him.  In fact, I had wondered if she had been hiding the full extent of the deterioration of his health.  If, for example, he had been in the hospital for a couple weeks and didn't tell me or the rest of the family, I would be very, very upset.  I had asked that if things went south with my father to let me know ASAP.  And a part of me, to be honest, didn't think she did.

But then I scrolled through my Google Voice messages Wednesday night and saw that my aunt did in fact leave a VM for me.  There were two reasons I didn't get it till now: 1) she called me overnight Saturday/Sunday, which was when I got back from the Big Ten Women's Basketball Tournament around 9, crawled into bed around 9:30, woke up around 5 or so, then immediately drove back to work at Target Center; and 2) how I set up Google Voice means I don't get voicemail through the phone.  Any messages left for me I need to go through my Mail app to get, and that's if I remember to hear them, and seeing as how I come across half a dozen messages from time to time, I don't remember a whole lot.

Anyway, she said that she needed to get ahold of Father ASAP because my uncle ... well, you know.  Eventually Father heard about his little brother -- not by me, of course -- so she was able to reach him like she wanted to.  But beyond not seeing him before he died, I really, really hate myself for not answering my aunt's VM when I should have.  And now that what's done is done, I didn't think reaching out to her now is the best idea.

Eventually, however, I had to -- not only to let my aunt know I did get her voicemail, and not only because contacting her is the right thing to do, but because my sister asked me to.  The shoe is now on the other foot; instead of me being mad at her, she now had every right to be mad at me.  I really didn't want to get yelled at, but it isn't grown-up of me to complete avoid her upon one of the worst moments in her life.

I really should visit her at their house.  I think a call would be in order.  But I had to buy pizza and get home last/Thursday night in time for dinner with Father.  I need to take some time talking with my aunt, and I couldn't do it if I was racing home.  But, I split the difference and texted her while I was at Target Center in the afternoon.  I didn't hear from her.  I thought it was either she was still in mourning and/or she was still pissed at me.  However, after I got home, I got a text from her saying she was fine.  And I noticed that she was liberally using the exclamation point.  Maybe it's nothing, but from the tone of her messages back to me, she didn't quite sound like she was depressed over losing her husband of over 40 years on Sunday.

I said I wanted to talk to her.  She gave a time of tomorrow at 2.  That doesn't work, for I am back at Target Center for the Big Ten Men's Basketball Tournament this weekend, and then I work in The Fourth Department all next week, and then Mother comes home Thursday night and I have to pick her up, and then there's that huge alumni thing Saturday afternoon ... and yet I said I will try for next week.  And that seems to be a "promise" I will have to push back to the following week.

You know, the more I write up how I'm dealing with my uncle's death, the more disappointed in myself I become.

I'm Chafing (In The Figurative Sense, But I'm Chafing)

So I got cut early from work Wednesday through Friday this week.  This is a concerted effort by my boss to keep me at 40 hours every week so I don't cost my company overtime.  It has happened last week.  He has also told me, a few times, that he is under orders to keep me under 40.

I think I have blog posted about this, but it was this week, and in particular yesterday/Friday, when I finally felt being cut to 40 hours.  On Wednesday my boss took note of the extra hours I spent Monday and Tuesday in The Fourth Department and said via e-mail to make up for that by leaving early the rest of the week so that I add up to only 40.

I don't like that, so I tried to carve out an exception whereby, if the work coming into The Main Department is running late to the point where everybody in that department will have to stay late (and extra) in order to do the job, I thought it best to stick around and help out, even if it is just five minutes.

Well, yesterday/Friday was touch-and-go.  For a while there it seemed as if the work coming our way was coming out late and, late in the afternoon, it was coming fast and furious.  We are able to check how many forms are still needed to be keyed, and from looking at that I thought there was enough compelling evidence to at least ask my boss if I could stay late -- you know, to "help finish up."

So I went down to his office and asked if I should stay.  And, while not turning around, he immediately said, "No, you can leave as soon as you reach 40 hours."  Well, OK, then.  I turned around and started walking away ... but not before stammering out, "You know, I just wanted to make sure you didn't need me just in case there was work, you know."  And in typing that sentence I definitely know I didn't really say that, or any sentence that made any sense.  I was, frankly, kind of floored at his tone, how dismissive of any flexibility to get the job done, and how insistent he was of finally pinning me down to just 40 hours after weeks, if not months, of racking up OT.

I'm still thinking about that little exchange we had, and the more I ruminate on it, honestly, the more pissed off I get.  I said this earlier, but I believe it even more so now: I was thrown into a situation where I had to stay late in order to get the job done or else I would get yelled at.  But in staying late I accrued overtime pay, and the more I had to stay to finish the work, the more OT money I got.  Yes, I got used to having a slightly fatter paycheck than I would have if I stuck to 40 hours.  So now that things have settled down, my boss -- again, under orders from his higher-ups -- has taken vengeance upon my OT banking and cracked down on me.

I think I said this in an earlier blog post too: Being told to cut back to 40 hours after routinely getting overtime pay feels like I'm getting money taken away from me.  Add that feeling to the feeling I was being ... oh, dismissed and minimized by my boss yesterday/Friday, and you know what?  I'm starting to think that looking for another job isn't a bad thing to do.  Because this is fucking bullshit.

Addendum To: Like Herding Cats (Alternate Title: Wow, Haven't Been Undermined In A Long Time)

OK, so I didn't get an answer from anybody as of Thursday morning as to where everybody else wanted to go, so I stuck to my guns and said we're going to St. Paul.  Thought that everyone's silence meant complicity, and while that isn't total buy-in, I'll take it.

But then today, one of the group ... well, frankly, started bitching about it.  This was the place whose kitchen closes way early, much too early for her liking.  So she kept coming back to her complaint today over texts.  I thought that we understood that but we're OK with it, but she didn't drop it; she texted that she called and they said the kitchen closed at an obscene hour.  I didn't think that was true, so I went there after work today to make sure of the time the kitchen closed ... and, well, it closed a little earlier than even I remembered it closing the last time we were there, but it was later than what she said.  I texted her that, and even though she seemed disappointed (you can never tell tone through texts, dammit), she said she come.  She'll just come and order early.

But then, coming off the top rope, is our friend who said she's just watching from a place close by her house.  She was the one who kind of threw a spanner in the works after I said we had to look for a different place.  I was kind of waiting for her to tell us which of several spots she said she has gone to she would be going to Saturday.  I didn't hear from her all week, and I have a duty to tell everyone where to go, so I made my decision that we're headed to St. Paul.  Well, fuckin' A, she texted everyone this evening that she decided on a place, and the one who was bitching about the time the kitchen at this place in St. Paul closes just says, "OK, I'm going with you!"  And I'm all, "Have fun!"

I have never seen a group of people in this alumni group ... well, undermine me like this.  We have never had this much ... well, arguing over where to go.  See, our main bar is in Minneapolis, and even though it's downtown and many people don't like to go downtown (supposedly because of the crime even though that's totally overblown), any inveighing over that choice has pretty much stopped.  Anyone who doesn't want to come downtown doesn't bitch about it anymore; they just don't come.  Now, we frequently have to go somewhere else.  Sometimes it's because the network our football team is on that week isn't carried by this Minneapolis bar.  We have had to find different places for years to find this network, and for the past couple we settled on this place in St. Paul.  This is our back-up bar, and we have been there, I now think, five times this season (if you include tomorrow/Saturday).  This time our team's on a network every bar has, but our main bar is hosting its monthly UFC pay-per-view event at the same damn time as our game.  It's a pain-in-the-ass to go to a back-up bar, but I feel as though people in our group have accepted this, too.

I thought that was going to be the case this week.  I mean, our football team isn't going to do anything special this year (even though we thought they would), and there are only two games left.  In short, I didn't think it'd be a big deal that we would go to St. Paul for a fifth time, even when I wasn't able to foresee until it was a bit late that our main bar was hosting a UFC PPV.  But suddenly it is a big deal.  What hurts even more is that the people I'm talking to are people who come to these events the most often.  I ask for their input because their opinions mean a lot to me.  What blindsided me is that they came up with all these new places I hadn't even heard of.  It's almost the end of the season; why can't we just go to a place we've been to before?  If they're so damn worried about finding a new place, we'll talk about it in the summer, or even the spring.  But you want to go to a new place now?

And I still don't know if any of them are committed to my decision to go to St. Paul.  It looks like two of them aren't coming: The one who gave me the silent treatment went to events last year but not this year, and the other who has been a mainstay the past few years, so her bailing like this also kind of hurts.  The other two?  I don't know.  The address of the place these two women are going to are closer to the residences of the other two than they are to St. Paul.  So if they go with them ... goddammit, I might be watching by myself in St. Paul.  And that would be fucking embarrassing.

Again, I don't mind going to a new place -- well, not as a main bar; this place in downtown Minneapolis has been a mainstay for us for a decade now, and I don't want to give that up.  But let's not go to a new place now.  It feels, however, as though all the regulars of the club -- of my club -- have decided that my decision sucks.  I feel disrespected, tbh.  Undermined, too.

If they won't understand my decision, what do I do now?

Well, Guess That Explains It

So the plan was to call the mechanic where I had my parents' minivan towed very early yesterday/Monday morning to reaffirm what I wrote on the envelope in which I put my key: I was driving Saturday when all of a sudden the battery light on my dashboard came on; I got to a safe space to park and turn off the car; I tried turning it on again but it wouldn't start; the tow truck driver gave me a jump-start and everything looked good.  I was going to strongly intimate that I think the only problem is that the cables aren't tight enough around the battery posts (and by the way, the battery is only a month old), and I shouldn't be charged for more than the winterizing the cables and battery ... although if they find something else with the van, let me know and I might approve that repair too.

These guys open at 7:30.  I actually woke up before then, even though I had set my alarm for 8.  (It's good to be able to wake up before you are woken up because that way you know your body is ready to be awake.)  I called at 7:45, but I didn't get an answer.  OK, they probably are running a little late.  I go get coffee on my way to work and I call again.  I get voicemail again, and this time I leave a message.  I then wait until around 12:30 to call, and no one is picking up.  I leave another VM, but this time I speak in a passive-aggressive tone because, at this point, I'm freaking the fuck out.

You must have the perception of car repairmen as greasy, skeevy, creepy losers who are always out to rip you off by bullying you into paying for repairs you don't need.  I never got the idea that these guys are that type of people, but why in the hell aren't they picking up their phone on a Monday when they say that they are open on Mondays?  Could there have been an emergency of some sort?  Had the phone system they have somehow broken down?  Did they lock themselves out of the shop?

If, in the worst-case scenario, they suddenly closed permanently, I would be so fucked.  The key I use I slipped into the building.  I can't find the spare key, and I sure as fuck don't want to ask my parents where it is because I don't want them knowing I am paying for repairs to their van.  If I somehow need to pay for a second tow, I would need a key to get into the van so I can help steer the van onto the tow bed.  And, oh yeah, I need a key to drive it, assuming it ever gets fixed.

With my day ruined because my mind was filled only with anxiety over this silent treatment, I had to drop by the shop (for the third day in a row) to see just what the hell is going on.  The van was still there, exactly right where the tow truck driver and I placed it.  I wanted to peer through the windows to make sure all the equipment was still there.  But then I saw a sign on the front door.  They were closed yesterday/Monday as well as Friday because they were on a family vacation.  They return to work today/Tuesday.

Well -- yeah, that makes total sense.  Of course no one would return my calls.  And why's a little family time the matter?  I was in such an angry and yet strung out state when the van got towed on Saturday (I had my alma mater's football Game to watch in the evening) that I completely missed the sign that said the mechanics are taking Friday and Monday off.  Whoops!  Well, at least there's an explanation.

Addendum To: And This Is Why I Hate Calling People At Work

So I got back to the woman I talked to about those mysterious pills that came in with the pee.  Frankly, this woman is psychotic.  She was incredibly passive-aggressive when I just wanted to know what she wanted me to do with those pills, became very accusatory because she believed our lab broke some urine bottles she shipped to us several weeks ago, and came off as so narcissistic that I don't think she listened to a word I said and instead just was waiting for a moment she could begin spewing out what was stewing in her head.  And she was incredibly, absurdly thin-skinned, too.  Get this -- I was just listening to her talk and talk and talk when my co-workers, who were behind me, started chuckling.  And this bitch goes, "Are you laughing?"

"That is my co-worker," I said, incredulously and sternly.  I have never accused someone of laughing at me while I was on a business call.  I wouldn't say it even if I thought the person I was speaking to was.  How borderline fucking paranoid do you have to be to think someone at work is laughing at you??  And I thought I was crazy, holy shit. ...

She wanted a photo of these tablets ("Those aren't really tablets, but capsules, but anyway ..." she actually said that -- my God, she is insufferable and out of her mind) and I was only too happy to e-mail it to her because I was praying to Buddha that would be the last goddamn time I would ever, ever have to speak to her.  And that was my last phone call with her ... but she was going back and forth with me through e-mail.  Luckily, her tone got less combative once she realized that the testing was underway for the pee she presumably intended to send.  That doesn't excuse her tone, of course; she didn't have to fly off the handle over some cold tablets.  Turns out they were thrown in to the bag by mistake by someone who thought the bag those tablets were in was empty.

Unfortunately, I have spoken to human beings a lot.  I was verbally abused too many fucking times by assholes when I was an usher, and that was because those assholes thought I was beneath them.  As I have gotten older, however, I have realized that fuckers who scream at customer service people do so because they feel like they're not in control, and they feel demeaning people is their only way in which to get that control.  That, shall we say, power imbalance is in my favor at my job.  These people who call need test results, and my company provides them.  That means those people are waiting on us, and on me.  I will always try to help.  But if they refuse to be cooperative, I remind myself that we got the answers, and I will lord those test results over the pricks who call in and want to be nasty with me.

So, I will say that those interactions I described above are way worse than this bullshit she pulled.  In fact, believe it or not, I have to admit that in dealing with her nuttiness, I saw a little bit of ... myself.  Hey, I'm no angel.  In order to get what I want, I will become passive-aggressive and defensive and yelly as she was.  I'm not proud of that behavior (necessarily), it's just that I have had temper tantrums like that many times before, and I know that I won't change because that's how I act when I am pissed -- just like she was.

---

Her last e-mail to me was that explanation of how those liquid gel caps got in that bag.  It was a mistake, and there was no intention of testing them or anything like that.  The thing is, I never asked her how those tablets got in there.  I don't care.  And so I wonder what her point was in fleshing out the story.  Did she think I wanted to know?  Or is this another demonstration of her narcissism, that she just assumed I had to know how Nancy Drew solved The Case Of The Stowaway Capsules.

Should I have responded to that e-mail?  There may be, unfortunately, a time where I'll have to contact her again, so maybe, just to keep the peace, I should acknowledge what she discovered.  But ... well, it was another ten-hour day at work (the problem of her took up almost an hour of my time) and I needed to pick up lottery tickets for my parents and sister and I wanted to go home ... and, frankly, I needed to send her a message that if I ever fucking heard her psycho voice again, it would be too soon.  So I left without replying to her.  And, yeah, I think I won't reply to her.  I got what I wanted from her.

I Really Fuckin' Hate My Boss Right Now

So The Fourth Department has actually been shit this week.  I knew it was going to be rough Monday because there is stuff piled up from the weekend that I wouldn't completely get to because I had to leave to take my parents to the airport.  That stuff I left over would make Tuesday bad.  But I was hoping things would thin out yesterday/Wednesday.  It didn't.  There was as much shit I had to do as the previous two days, and I had no idea I would be pulling a ten-hour day.

It didn't help, however, that my boss yelled at me yesterday morning, and I think it was over nothing.  So in this position I have to e-mail the lab from time to time to talk about forms.  I asked a question about this particular form because there was ... oh, fuck, I don't know what was wrong with it.  Then I e-mailed my boss, because my supervisor wasn't there to help me.  Literally ten seconds after I e-mail my boss, he comes striding up to my workstation.  He got wind of the first e-mail I sent to the lab.  He told me I cannot, under no circumstances, ask any more questions to the people working in the lab.  That wasn't great, but what irked, and irks, me is I shortly thereafter saw that he e-mailed me back regarding my first e-mail to the lab, and I fucking hate his tone.  I expressly remember only one sentence: "Please don't ask any more questions to the lab."

The one big pain-in-the-ass about The Fourth Department is that I serve as a trash receptacle for every weird goddamn problem that crops up.  I don't know how to handle them, even years after I've been trained in this job.  I was told early on that I'll get hit with weird shit from time to time, to which I and even they won't quite know what to do.  So, they keep reminding me, ask questions.  So I did ... to the lab.  I will admit that my boss had said before, and maybe on more than one occasion, that the lab can't answer the particular question I had at the time for a particular form.  But goddammit, he never fucking gave me any order to never ask those people questions period until yesterday.  He came in acting as if he told me so, and as if he was upset that I didn't follow what he had already said, and that simply is not fucking true.

This problem was cleared up eventually.  I should talk to my supervisor about what I should do in such a case ... that is if I have time.  I no longer believe that there will be any downtime in this position the rest of the week.  Instead, I'll be pulling ten-hour days today/Thursday and tomorrow/Friday, definitely because of the shit ton of work that'll come in and possibly because of the weird bullshit that'll drain my energy before I even sit down in the morning.  I'm anticipating someone being mad at me the moment I walk through the door.  Anyway, I'm trying my damnedest to avoid a repeat of this, uh, "issue."

In the meantime, fine, whatever, no questions to the lab.  What I asked seemed innocent to me, but whatever.  I'm thinking that if the lab were so goddamn bent out of shape with me asking why and what to do, they'd tell me directly.  Either they didn't have the courage to do that or, and I'm thinking this is the likelier reason, my boss was upset with me because all these innocent questions I asked the lab continually found their way back to him and he felt as though he needed to do clean-up.  (I'm not absolutely sure it's not the lab, however, so I'll keep my distance from them.)  I'm not ... well, I don't think I'll go in to work yelling at my boss.  Overall he's been a good boss, and besides, I need this job.  But no, I kind of fucking hate him right now.  Haven't felt jobbed by him this intensely ever.

Refuse To Engage

All I can, and should, say is that asshole whom I had to contact for work flew off his fucking handle again.  Forgot about this guy -- I swear I blog posted about him before, but I can't find it -- and I think he was actually decent and professional when he needed something from me several months ago.  But yesterday I needed information from him, and he responded like a whiny diaper baby.

I got all up in my dander with his condescending e-mail to me.  But I took a breath and I thought.  And then I e-mailed a different department to assist with this prick.  And I then I asked my co-worker for help.  This guy had the balls to e-mail me again, and this time his complaining exposed him for who he truly was: A drama queen.  Seeing that second e-mail made me less afraid of him and more ... I'd say done with him.  And that's when I remembered that I don't have to engage with this person.  In fact, I shouldn't take his bait.  It won't solve the problem, and it might get me in trouble.  I hate walking away because it always feels to me like I've "lost."  But there is so much else I can lose if I trusted my instincts and told this little bitch how I really felt.  So I didn't.  I pass it along to people who are paid to deal with these people.

Refuse to engage.  If that's an option, I should take it more often.  Now, what do I have to do if this little bitch comes at me again?

How In The Fuck Does This Happen?!?!?!

I just sent a dispute letter on behalf of my fucking parents regarding a rental car they may or may not have reserved.  It was from September.  They say they didn't do anything.  I think they fucked up somehow.  But once again, the middle child has to clean up his parents' goddamn mess.

I sent a sternly worded e-mail.  Second time.  I tried to be polite the first time, but they have kept sending invoices once a month.  I am no longer being polite, not after I saw My Fucking Mother's credit card statement stating that that charge is considered resolved.  So why in the hell is this rental car company still bothering them?

I poured out my displaced anger in that e-mail.  (It's mostly about my mom, for whom I writing this e-mail, but hey, irony!)  I attach the image of the credit card bill, which I scanned at the library.  I send it.  Just in case, I go back to the sent e-mail and click on the attachment.  The credit card statement is there ... and so is the eyeglasses bill I scanned in order to send it online to the company that handles my vision insurance.  Now, this goddamn rental car company has both.

How in the fuck does that happen?  Yes, I scanned both the statement and my receipt at the same time.  But I made sure that they didn't get saved together.  I'm sure of it, goddammit!!!  And now I sent my receipt for fucking eyeglasses along with the credit card bill???

I'm worked up about it because of the tone of voice I injected into the e-mail.  I wasn't just not being polite.  I accuse them of harassment, and threatening legal action if they don't stop with these (truly) bogus bills.  And so the person handling this will be threatened (like I intended), and then they'll see this superfluous receipt which contains all my contact information.  If they can fuck me up, they now have the means to do it.

HOW IN THE FUCK DOES THIS HAPPEN?!?!?!

Safe Space No More

So I went to this basement bar for the second Thursday in a row last night.  I planned on doing it after having a wonderful time there last Thursday; the drinks were great, the customer service excellent, and it was a great way to unwind after working The Fourth Department -- even though, as far as I can recall, last Thursday wasn't so bad and yesterday was quite possibly the easiest day ever back in that position because there was not an avalanche of work that was stressing me out late in the afternoon.  I started going to these secret bars because I needed to unplug for a bad day at work.  I didn't have that bad day yesterday, but I wanted to go back to this bar that I was set on going as soon as I left there last week.  Hell, when I came in and saw the same bartender who served me my drinks last week, I told him that I wanted to be back in my safe space.  Also, I wanted to go back because this will be the last Thursday I'll be back in The Fourth Department for a while now.  Because my co-worker left, chances are I will be filling in that position Mondays through Wednesdays (though sometimes just through Tuesdays), and this place is open only Thursdays through Saturdays.

I also had a great time last night.  Got a different bartender, but she made fantastic drinks.  They now serve food, and after getting one of the three plates last week, I actually got the other two this time around.  Add all that up and, frankly, I may have been a little punchy.  But hey, I was in my safe space.

They have great music there.  So much so that, when my ears perk up on a really interesting song, I Shazam it.  Well, there was this one that I had to know about, so I got up off my chair and stuck the butt of my phone at the nearest speaker.  This song was so damn obscure, Shazam couldn't identify it.  This speaker was close to a couple sitting at a table.  The man of the couple tried to peg the song through Shazam, but he too was unsuccessful.

The cool part about this bar is that these songs are played on turntables.  And right next to this speaker I sidled up against are the two turntables the bartenders play the music from.  They put the album covers right behind both turntables.  I swear -- I swear -- on a previous visit I was told by a bartender that I could pick up an album cover and look at it.  So that's what my drunk ass did.  I looked at it and put it back -- and by the way, I ate finger food before all this and I didn't wipe my hands, I confess -- and I turn around and almost run into one of the bartenders.  Now, I say that the customer service here has been excellent.  It has.  But I have to say that this bartender, the first time I met her, she fucked up my order.  She gave me a spirit different from the one I asked for, and so she made me two drinks that were similar to each other, and she charged me for both.  That's OK.  But ever since, whenever I've seen or spoken to her, she's given off nonplussed vibes.  So I apologize for grabbing the album sleeve and she said it was OK ... "just ask first."  And you know that means she didn't want me touching their records.

It could be me, but I kind of felt a chill from the bartenders after that.  I was going to leave soon after anyway, but at that point it felt like I overstayed my welcome, so I skedaddled -- well, after drinking a couple cups of water to cool down my tongue after eating the serrano peppers that came with that finger food.  It's going to be a while before I have an occasion to go back there, and maybe it's best that I cool it for a while.  But I don't know if I can be as 100% happy as I had been after that, uh, encounter.  And all because I got a little handsy with an album cover and she didn't like it?  Maybe I push things too far ... but I swear I was told I could pick 'em up and look at 'em!

I kind of snapped at someone.  Not a co-worker, but some guy I have to deal with through e-mail.  Oh, and it was this fucker.

He was being a whiny bitch again, and with all the bullshit I had to go through this afternoon, I took exception to his words in his stupid goddamn e-mail and I had it.  Now, I didn't tell him to fuck off, but I'm pretty sure my tone of voice with him could not be mistaken.  And good.  Because I'm done with dealing with this asshole.  Seriously, I'm done.

I Know They're Pissed Now

I was supposed to have a follow-up call in this research study connected with the U. that I'm currently enrolled in back on Thursday.  I was all ready to receive the call ... but it didn't come.  Well, it did -- it just was sent automatically to voicemail.  I saw the record of it when I checked my phone (er, checked the phone app on my phone).  She called.  Up to five times over the course of the evening and night.  By the third missed call, I opened up my data to e-mail her that I am still around and that I apologize that my goddamn cell isn't letting me answer her call.

Eventually, I think a little after the fifth and final attempt of the night, which was around 9 p.m., I got an e-mail back from who I think was the person who tried to call me.  "We weren't the ones who blocked your call," she started, and in my reply I told her, once again, "No, it was my phone that blocked your call, and I'm sorry."

I may have blog posted about this before, but if I have, I'll repeat myself: I was supposed to have a phone call with these people earlier in the study which was also abandoned/postponed because my fucking phone for some reason blocked her call.  I still don't quite know why in the fuck this is happening, especially since I think I have called the number from which these people are calling me.  Regardless, from the tone of the e-mail I got back, they're getting real pissed at me.  I don't blame them, but I am at a fucking loss as to why this shit keeps happening, and how in the fuck I can stop it.

The person who e-mailed me Thursday night asked if we could try a call again tomorrow/Tuesday.  I told her that can't happen because I'm working The Fourth Department, and I might be tied up with work.  I asked if we could do a Zoom the following Tuesday (the day after Labor Day, and also after my parents leave so I can do a Zoom without them knowing), and I haven't heard back yet.  It feels as though they're frustrated.  Again, I can't blame them, but I don't know how defensive I'll be if they start giving me attitude as a result.

In the meantime, I may -- may -- have found a solution.  After looking in the Internet, I might have needed to turn off the Silence Unknown Callers feature on my phone.  That doesn't give me confidence I can field a call from them, however; I mean, if that feature is shut off, wouldn't I be getting dozens of spam calls from people I don't know?  I haven't, and I'm glad for that, but there is no proof that the feature is working.  If I knew it would, I would try to reschedule for tomorrow.  But now ... well, I've kind of put these people in a shitty situation, which means I am sort of fucked, too.

Technology goddamn sucks.