It's been one of those sorts of days--so much going on, so many different things to handle, and of all the little blips and blops of the "Oh I need to blog about this" today I can't bring a single one to mind.
*racing through the stacks, trying to haul open all the little card file drawers, finding them stuck tight*
Kay. Launched the train blog, that's going to be interesting. Further dividing my attention, just what I need. Like feeding Pixie Stix to a kid with ADD, then letting him wash it down with red Koolaid. I've already got a few posts in mind, just need time to sit and write them all out.
It's not cold here yet. WHY is it not cold yet?
The pecans are falling like mad. Unfortunately, so are the leaves. I raked a third of my backyard a few days ago, with the intention of making pecan picking easier. Came out the next day and it looked like I hadn't touched the place. It's like brown snow, all crunchy and piled up against things where the wind blows it. I wander out there with my rake and pile it up carefully and the dogs run through the big piles and I move it and pile it and sort it and more falls the next day. At least my brown snow hides pecans.
My office is a wreck. My home office, that is, my sanctum sanctorum, my Fortress of Solitude. No handle on the door, just a decades long tendency to stick, and one of the cats decided to try and open it. He succeeded. Now my office is littered with cats and the results of letting cats free reign in a crowd...er...cozy space. Bits of important papers everywhere, cat toys underfoot, and my lap isn't safe EVER. Ye gods I need to install a lockset.
I got invited to a VIP meeting at work today, that was weird. See, I'm not a VIP. I'm just above the gopher in the office, but I got the word today. We're launching a new electronic document thing for the doctors, a paperless alternative to mailing verbal orders to them for signatures, and it seems that some of the Case Managers and main nurses of these MD's want to meet me. ME. Because of my personality on the phone, I'm told. I have to wonder what sorts of jerks these people have to talk to all day long if a little politeness gets me invited to meet these folks and share an expensive dinner.
Here's a good one: I had a bad go Sunday. I was very tired and my gentleman's demeanor was shot straight to pieces, but I was struggling gamely to keep it nailed in place. Now, keep in mind that I spent many years in retail dealing with arsehole customers of every ilk, so I go out of my way to try to be as civil, polite and friendly as I can when dealing with retail employees who at least make an effort at being competent. This time I had reason to be an arsehole.
Trying to buy less than $35 worth of mixed goods I walked to a cashier (turns out she was a front end manager or head cashier or such. She pointed me to the self-checkout. This pissed me off, not because I don't like the self-checkouts (I do) but because it gave me the impression she was too important to work, and I wasn't allowed to give my money to a real person. But, undaunted, I smiled and went to. Scanned and bagged the lot. I gave the machine a Visa gift card with a little less than $30 on it, expecting to use it then pay the remainder in cash. Easy. The machine swallowed it's face.
I had to pull the manager away from chatting with one of her cashiers to clear the error, then she directed me to the only human cashier there, who already had two in line. This further annoyed me because she was suddenly too important to fix the problem herself, and was happy to foist it off on one of her flunkies. And when the card failed again, everyone went stupid. Sweet Gold Plated Christ, the first thing I was taught when I started working retail was how to talk to people, how to reassure them that nothing is wrong when something goes wrong, and how to move FAST to take care of the issue. Me? I was left standing there, feeling as awkward as a duck in a nudist camp while everyone wandered around with a dazed expression on their faces. And so yes, I was nasty to the cashier. She'll get over it, I always did.
The second time that afternoon I almost lost it was a little more acceptable in the whole. I'd gone thru a local drive-thru chicken place to get my famished wife a chicken sandwich, chips and a drink. The total was $5 and some change, and I was given a dollar coin from her bottomless purse instead of breaking another fiver. I handed this to the girl at the window with a small smile. She looked at the fin and the little golden disc, looked back at me, and as Baby Jeebus With His Tiny Holy Willie is my witness she said, with a disgusted sound in her voice, "What's this?"
Kids, I could have climbed out of the driver's seat, leapt onto that damned swinging window's ledge, taken that little girl by her shoulders and bitten her throat out, then tossed her corpse into the fryer. What I did was put a dash of acid in my voice and said with my perfected Southern Sweetness slathered all over it: "That's a dollar coin, dah'lin." I may have snarled a little afterwards. I know she closed her little flip-window quickly and I watched as she showed it to someone else, I can only assume the Manager.
I wish now I had said "It's candy! You peel the wrapper off and inside is chocolaty goodness!"
Oh kids. I'm so tired of people who don't care enough to try. I was raised to do my best, all the time, no matter what I was doing. If I was a shit-shoveler, I'd give it my all to be the best shit-shoveler in the stable, and that includes knowing about what sort of shit I'd be shoveling, being able to identify all the different shovels I might need, and how to tell a horse's arse from a hole in the wall. So why is this no longer done? Are today's parents just stupid?
Kay. I'm getting cranky again. *s* Gonna leave off before I tear someone's throat out.