To pretty underwear.
There's this saying that if you get a girl home and things get hot and heavy and you get her clothes off... if her bra and her panties match, you weren't the one to decide that you were going to have sex that night.
At this point in my quest to be the owner of all the pretty underwear and bras, I look like I decided to have sex every night of the week. Like, if a guy got me down to my skivvies I would hope that he wouldn't think that was an automatic indication that I'm cool with going all the way. You know like we are making out and the shirt come off cool and then he somehow gets in my pants (I really have no clue how this comes about because the last time I was at that point my brain was jumping up and down shouting "Yippie!" that absolutely NO thought was happening. No observing of the course of events just feeling.) and he sees that the rug matches the curtains (Yes, I KNOW that is not the actual meaning for that) and figures "Oh hey well it's been decided. We're getting laid!"
It started innocently enough. I was transitioning out of sports bras and trying to find something girly. I wear a uniform at work that makes me look like everyone else (at least that's the point they tell me cause I damn sure don't look like anyone else) so I wanted to look pretty under it. And OMG! Thanks the the lovely sales at Lane Bryant and the Avenue and those very evil people giving me an ever increasing line of credit, my collection has quickly become an obsession. Counting the bra I am currently wearing... I have 25. (Not nearly enough in my opinion.) and so many pairs of undies that the collection has officially rolled over into TWO dresser drawers.
And I don't want help with this obsession. My mom took over my \Avenue card which honestly is okay by me because I don't much like their bras. I really only use the Avenue for pretty underwear and my jeans when I decide I need a new pair once a year. But oh boy! My Lane Bryant!! Love love LOVE!!!
I guess the most awesome thing about this is, I don't do it for anyone but myself. I don't actually care if a boy sees me in my matching skivvies. They're to make me feel pretty. Not for him to notice.
Sigh. Have the big girls awards ceremony tonight. Hope she wins! Toodles. May or may not see you later. Either way, my blog for the day is official!
Thursday, January 07, 2016
Wednesday, January 06, 2016
Hairspray... as desecrated by the students of my daughter's middle school.
So I asked for tonight off because Olivia was in a school play... err. musical.. uhm... yeah
I didn't have high hopes because it's a middle schoo production and Charlotte middle schools pretend on a regular basis that they're broke as a joke.
But man, I didn't expect it to be THAT bad.
The girl who played Tracy Turnblad. She was an okay singer. BUt I have the STRONG STRONG feeling that she got the part because she was well... a big girl.
Most of the cast didn't come close to knowing their lines. Mind you Tracy was 90% more on point than anyone else who had more than five lines. For that she gets mad props.
They seemed to mix the old movie, with the new movie, with the broadway play and the result was something that made a DIEHARD Hairspray fanatic like me want to cry.
Of course my baby was awesome. Yes. Yes I did just become that mom for a second.
It was bad y'all.
When Olivia came home early in the year saying that they were doing Hairspray, I was like well there are only like four roles she can play, Motormouth Mama Maybelle, LIttle Inez, or one of the dreamettes or whatever those girls were called. There was the off but likely chance that she could also be random black dancer #2. Olivia asked me why were those the only roles she could play and I looked at my child like I didn't give birth to and raise her. Liek she was high and lost her mind.
Uhm, I replied... Because you're black...
To which she asked what that had to do with anything.
To those of you that have not for some reason unknown to anyone but God not seen any version of Hairspray, let me break it down to you. It's a play/musical about race relations in the 60's in Baltimore. As in Black and whites and segregation. So being that my child is black and she most definitely is black... there were only four or so roles she could play.
Now imagine my shock when she came home and said she'd gotten the part of Prudy Pingleton.
Let's recap shall we??
<---- 1988="" in="" p="" prudy="">
Prudy in 2007--->
What about this says "Let's give this role to a little black girl"??
I will tell you exactly what says that. My child goes to a school where whites are the minority. Blacks had primarily ALL of the roles both black and white. Those that weren't black were Latino or in the case of Penny Pingleton (technically my daughter's daughter) Asian.
The only white child in the ENTIRE musical was in the chorus.
The Chorus. As in couldn't get a role in a musical that was about blacks and whites in the 60's.
But I went. And I clapped. I grimaced, I talked smack about it, but I supported the babies. With all my heart. They did their best but next year see if I don't try to volunteer to help out and see if next years play isn't way better if I can. No more of this practicing one day a week BS. Nah sweetie we will practice from september to June twice a week and when we go on the stage will be more than a riser and people will talk about how decent it was if not even good.
I guess what I'm saying is no matter how bad it might be always go out and support the babies. They mean well. They really do and at the end of the day when they stand up to take their bow and see you clapping because unlike their damn daddy who couldn't even request tonight off work or their Stepmother who'd rather take your brother and go to a function at Elevation freaking wanna be a church but it's really a tv viewing every Sunday instead of supporting the "Stepdaughter that they love so much" you were there and they will love you just a little more for it.
Support the babies man. Just support them.
Goodnight bloggers! Love you!
I didn't have high hopes because it's a middle schoo production and Charlotte middle schools pretend on a regular basis that they're broke as a joke.
But man, I didn't expect it to be THAT bad.
The girl who played Tracy Turnblad. She was an okay singer. BUt I have the STRONG STRONG feeling that she got the part because she was well... a big girl.
Most of the cast didn't come close to knowing their lines. Mind you Tracy was 90% more on point than anyone else who had more than five lines. For that she gets mad props.
They seemed to mix the old movie, with the new movie, with the broadway play and the result was something that made a DIEHARD Hairspray fanatic like me want to cry.
Of course my baby was awesome. Yes. Yes I did just become that mom for a second.
It was bad y'all.
When Olivia came home early in the year saying that they were doing Hairspray, I was like well there are only like four roles she can play, Motormouth Mama Maybelle, LIttle Inez, or one of the dreamettes or whatever those girls were called. There was the off but likely chance that she could also be random black dancer #2. Olivia asked me why were those the only roles she could play and I looked at my child like I didn't give birth to and raise her. Liek she was high and lost her mind.
Uhm, I replied... Because you're black...
To which she asked what that had to do with anything.
To those of you that have not for some reason unknown to anyone but God not seen any version of Hairspray, let me break it down to you. It's a play/musical about race relations in the 60's in Baltimore. As in Black and whites and segregation. So being that my child is black and she most definitely is black... there were only four or so roles she could play.
Now imagine my shock when she came home and said she'd gotten the part of Prudy Pingleton.
Let's recap shall we??
<---- 1988="" in="" p="" prudy="">
Prudy in 2007--->
What about this says "Let's give this role to a little black girl"??
I will tell you exactly what says that. My child goes to a school where whites are the minority. Blacks had primarily ALL of the roles both black and white. Those that weren't black were Latino or in the case of Penny Pingleton (technically my daughter's daughter) Asian.
The only white child in the ENTIRE musical was in the chorus.
The Chorus. As in couldn't get a role in a musical that was about blacks and whites in the 60's.
But I went. And I clapped. I grimaced, I talked smack about it, but I supported the babies. With all my heart. They did their best but next year see if I don't try to volunteer to help out and see if next years play isn't way better if I can. No more of this practicing one day a week BS. Nah sweetie we will practice from september to June twice a week and when we go on the stage will be more than a riser and people will talk about how decent it was if not even good.
I guess what I'm saying is no matter how bad it might be always go out and support the babies. They mean well. They really do and at the end of the day when they stand up to take their bow and see you clapping because unlike their damn daddy who couldn't even request tonight off work or their Stepmother who'd rather take your brother and go to a function at Elevation freaking wanna be a church but it's really a tv viewing every Sunday instead of supporting the "Stepdaughter that they love so much" you were there and they will love you just a little more for it.
Support the babies man. Just support them.
Goodnight bloggers! Love you!
Tuesday, January 05, 2016
Blog January 5, 2016
So yeah, remember when I said the would be some ridiculously short blogs? This is one of them. I'm so tired that my hair hurts and it has nothing to do with the fact that I tried to hot comb my hair tonight and might have singed a little off.
So blog blog blog blog.
Goodnight.
Yawn....
Monday, January 04, 2016
So... uhm...
Four days into the new year and I've already fallen down on my resolution.... That is actually a new high for me. I usually stick with something for at least a week before I default back to my normal.
But to be fair, Mystery Case Files came out with a new game.
A NEW GAME!!!
I can tell by the crickets that you aren't as excited about that as I am.
Or was last night.
The shit is hard.
So the girls got back home last night. I asked R to have them back to my house by seven so that they could do their chores and shower and go to bed on time. Wanna know what time he bought them back? A quarter to nine. Bedtime is at nine. They didn't get to bed until after ten. Guess who had cranky kids this morning?
So I asked R to take Kay to her dentist appointment. She was getting the last three or four of her twelve cavity horrorfest drilled. He said to get her there and he would be there no later than 8:10 to sit in the waiting room for her and take her on to school since I needed to be at work by like 830 across town. At 8:35 he called and asked if I could leave his number with the people at the desk because he was stuck in traffic. Smile Starters doesn't work that way. A parent must be in the lobby at all times in case they need you. So no I couldn't leave his number and go. Plus all her stuff was there. He finally shows up at ten minutes to nine. By now, I'm cold (the waiting room at smile starters is ALWAYS cold. Even in the summer, it's friggin winter in there. In the winter I swear I'm going to be frozen to my seat.) So he gets there and I figure I'm already late so why try to face what is going to be a very long day without coffee? Coffee is essential for making Dette calm enough not to cuss out the stupid customer, slap the rude ones and strangle chatty coworkers. So yeah added the extra five minutes on because hell in for a penny in for a pound, you know? I was already going to spend the day playing catch up. I always do when I get there late (Which is why I get there as early as possible... meaning anytime after five am because DD doesn't open till 5) Get to work. Have 40 minutes to sheet out and open the store. I got this. I'm super Dette. No really I am because dammit I did it.
But then I looked over at the oven area and saw the mountain of Deep dish pans. It is a general rule that if there are more than 12 pans you make deep dish dough. Fill the pans and put the rest on trays to be sheeted later.
By the time I finished making all the balls (Shut up) I needed for the pans I had enough dough left for Lauren to make a junior pizza.
32 pans. 32 doggone pans. Had to do that first and not concentrate on anything else because if you take your attention from Deep dish procedures for even a minute, that minute turns into ten and those ten turn into an hour and before you know it, you have lost an entire batch of deep dish dough because that crap rises so stupidly fast that you have about enough time to oil the pans before you have to start sheeting. So that took me until like one thirty and then stupid me started on her regular dough not looking at the time. Because at 2 pm, I'm supposed to drop everything and do evening sheet outs. (I don't get to see the front of the store much when I open...) Didn't finish that batc of dough until almost three so got started on the sheet outs while helping J do the Planet fitness order.
Aside: Planet fitness orders over 130 dollars worth of pizza from us on the first monday of each month. I have no problem with this. Well I kinda do. My moral compas kinda points due north most of the time so I don't see why a GYM orders PIZZA. I actually asked a lady that works there once. She was honest, I will give her that, but her explanation was that people eat the pizza and feel so guilty that they hop on the machines and work out.
Fucking brilliant. Devious as hell, but fucking brilliant.
Shorter segway, I didn't get back to the rest of my dough until after five when the closing shift leader got there. This is not an uncommon occurrence in Howies these days. In fact I wasn't in trouble for it but it annoyed the piss out of me because I generally have my dough done before the evening sheet outs. I get this single mindedness thing going and dough just gets done. Today however, my brain was like, "Nope, don't talk to me, you didn't finish your cup of coffee, I'm not playing fair today, go fuck yourself."
I promised I would get A through rush. Rush seemed to rush right on past Howie's tonight because by a quarter to seven it was so slow I think the clock was moving backwards. I ran. Ran far and fast.
So right now Charlotte is in the brink of a cold snap. And by snap I mean a beefy jock wound up a towel and snapp our naked asses in the locker room. It's so damn cold it hurts!!! I usually love winter. It's the one time I really don't have to take my allergy meds and two inhalers because everything is dying. There's no damn dust. This week, I have had to use my rescue inhaler because the air is so cold that when I get it into my lungs it's so cold it burns.
No shit... today the snot froze in my nose. I am not kidding. I stood outside to talk to my mom for about ten minutes. The snot froze in my nose. And when I went to blow it, not realizing that it was frozen and not just crusty (I have a snotty nose it's winter, if that's all I get I;m okay with this) it broke and tore skin from the inside of my nose. Causing a nosebleed. Once again my brain said, "You didn't finish your coffee, this is what you deserve."
So I am going to bed. Early for me but there you have it. My nose is still bleeding. My feet hurt and this morning I discovered that if I take off my shoes while sheeting out the morning pizzas, I can't see the top of the sheeter because I'm just that short. Yeah...
Goodnight. I'm going to cuddle under my blankies!
But to be fair, Mystery Case Files came out with a new game.
A NEW GAME!!!
I can tell by the crickets that you aren't as excited about that as I am.
Or was last night.
The shit is hard.
So the girls got back home last night. I asked R to have them back to my house by seven so that they could do their chores and shower and go to bed on time. Wanna know what time he bought them back? A quarter to nine. Bedtime is at nine. They didn't get to bed until after ten. Guess who had cranky kids this morning?
So I asked R to take Kay to her dentist appointment. She was getting the last three or four of her twelve cavity horrorfest drilled. He said to get her there and he would be there no later than 8:10 to sit in the waiting room for her and take her on to school since I needed to be at work by like 830 across town. At 8:35 he called and asked if I could leave his number with the people at the desk because he was stuck in traffic. Smile Starters doesn't work that way. A parent must be in the lobby at all times in case they need you. So no I couldn't leave his number and go. Plus all her stuff was there. He finally shows up at ten minutes to nine. By now, I'm cold (the waiting room at smile starters is ALWAYS cold. Even in the summer, it's friggin winter in there. In the winter I swear I'm going to be frozen to my seat.) So he gets there and I figure I'm already late so why try to face what is going to be a very long day without coffee? Coffee is essential for making Dette calm enough not to cuss out the stupid customer, slap the rude ones and strangle chatty coworkers. So yeah added the extra five minutes on because hell in for a penny in for a pound, you know? I was already going to spend the day playing catch up. I always do when I get there late (Which is why I get there as early as possible... meaning anytime after five am because DD doesn't open till 5) Get to work. Have 40 minutes to sheet out and open the store. I got this. I'm super Dette. No really I am because dammit I did it.
But then I looked over at the oven area and saw the mountain of Deep dish pans. It is a general rule that if there are more than 12 pans you make deep dish dough. Fill the pans and put the rest on trays to be sheeted later.
By the time I finished making all the balls (Shut up) I needed for the pans I had enough dough left for Lauren to make a junior pizza.
32 pans. 32 doggone pans. Had to do that first and not concentrate on anything else because if you take your attention from Deep dish procedures for even a minute, that minute turns into ten and those ten turn into an hour and before you know it, you have lost an entire batch of deep dish dough because that crap rises so stupidly fast that you have about enough time to oil the pans before you have to start sheeting. So that took me until like one thirty and then stupid me started on her regular dough not looking at the time. Because at 2 pm, I'm supposed to drop everything and do evening sheet outs. (I don't get to see the front of the store much when I open...) Didn't finish that batc of dough until almost three so got started on the sheet outs while helping J do the Planet fitness order.
Aside: Planet fitness orders over 130 dollars worth of pizza from us on the first monday of each month. I have no problem with this. Well I kinda do. My moral compas kinda points due north most of the time so I don't see why a GYM orders PIZZA. I actually asked a lady that works there once. She was honest, I will give her that, but her explanation was that people eat the pizza and feel so guilty that they hop on the machines and work out.
Fucking brilliant. Devious as hell, but fucking brilliant.
Shorter segway, I didn't get back to the rest of my dough until after five when the closing shift leader got there. This is not an uncommon occurrence in Howies these days. In fact I wasn't in trouble for it but it annoyed the piss out of me because I generally have my dough done before the evening sheet outs. I get this single mindedness thing going and dough just gets done. Today however, my brain was like, "Nope, don't talk to me, you didn't finish your cup of coffee, I'm not playing fair today, go fuck yourself."
I promised I would get A through rush. Rush seemed to rush right on past Howie's tonight because by a quarter to seven it was so slow I think the clock was moving backwards. I ran. Ran far and fast.
So right now Charlotte is in the brink of a cold snap. And by snap I mean a beefy jock wound up a towel and snapp our naked asses in the locker room. It's so damn cold it hurts!!! I usually love winter. It's the one time I really don't have to take my allergy meds and two inhalers because everything is dying. There's no damn dust. This week, I have had to use my rescue inhaler because the air is so cold that when I get it into my lungs it's so cold it burns.
No shit... today the snot froze in my nose. I am not kidding. I stood outside to talk to my mom for about ten minutes. The snot froze in my nose. And when I went to blow it, not realizing that it was frozen and not just crusty (I have a snotty nose it's winter, if that's all I get I;m okay with this) it broke and tore skin from the inside of my nose. Causing a nosebleed. Once again my brain said, "You didn't finish your coffee, this is what you deserve."
So I am going to bed. Early for me but there you have it. My nose is still bleeding. My feet hurt and this morning I discovered that if I take off my shoes while sheeting out the morning pizzas, I can't see the top of the sheeter because I'm just that short. Yeah...
Goodnight. I'm going to cuddle under my blankies!
Saturday, January 02, 2016
Why did I resolute to do this every night again??
Oh yeah, new year new me... wait. Nope that's not it. There was a reason. I know I had one. It might have been with my butthurt feelings thinking that one day I'll look back and say that I was wise or something...
Knowing me, I'll look back and think.. "Was I drunk?"
Tonight, the answer would be yes. I'm not even going to lie.
My intention tonight was to come home and tear into the bucket of hot wings I got from Wal-Mart and have a milkshake so that my mouth wouldn't be burning. But I put a little too much Kahlua in my shake (Is there really such a thing as too much) and four wings in and I was full. Throw them bad boys back in the fridge. I wish I could say that I'll try again another night but my girls come back tomorrow so all leftovers are fair game. We live on a "Eat it or lose it" kinda vibe.
Sorta like the Hunger Games, except I'm usually the first tribute to starve to death....
I had a direction I was going in tonight.
No I didn't. I thought I did but I don't.
So yeah. Jan, 2nd blog.
Weight: Not even looking
Money: If I could spend the money I draw, I'd be rich
Sanity: Uhm... what?
Chicken Wings this year: 8
Hours worked this year: 16/7 of 44
Hours slept this year: 8
Dates this year: Zilch
Knowing me, I'll look back and think.. "Was I drunk?"
Tonight, the answer would be yes. I'm not even going to lie.
My intention tonight was to come home and tear into the bucket of hot wings I got from Wal-Mart and have a milkshake so that my mouth wouldn't be burning. But I put a little too much Kahlua in my shake (Is there really such a thing as too much) and four wings in and I was full. Throw them bad boys back in the fridge. I wish I could say that I'll try again another night but my girls come back tomorrow so all leftovers are fair game. We live on a "Eat it or lose it" kinda vibe.
Sorta like the Hunger Games, except I'm usually the first tribute to starve to death....
I had a direction I was going in tonight.
No I didn't. I thought I did but I don't.
So yeah. Jan, 2nd blog.
Weight: Not even looking
Money: If I could spend the money I draw, I'd be rich
Sanity: Uhm... what?
Chicken Wings this year: 8
Hours worked this year: 16/7 of 44
Hours slept this year: 8
Dates this year: Zilch
Friday, January 01, 2016
New year.... new me
...bullshit.
I'm going to be the same opinionated, bossy bitch I was at 12:01 that I was at 11:59.
The only difference is, now you will know it.
It's not so much a resolution as a basic saying is going to happen.
I'm tired of being the one that everyone gripes to but no one listens to. I'm tired of people taking my good days and bringing me down because if they can't be happy then no one will. I'm tired of my bad days not being all mine. If I'm having a bad day, freaking listen to me and console me don't tell me about your day which had to be ten times worse.
I'm thinking about getting my wrists tattooed this year. One side will say, "always remember who you are." Not sure yet what the other wrist will say but I want them on the insides if my wrists so that every time I look down at my hands, I see it and remember it.
It's time I stopped trying to make everyone else's world a shiny happy place and start making my own world less gray.
It's time I start thinking about me. My kids are going to be grown and out of the house soon and what will I do with myself then? Go party? Go hang out all night at friends houses drinking? Work myself to death every night until all I can do is drop my body on the mattress and hope I wake up on time to do it all again tomorrow?
I always said that when my mom passed away, I was going to pull up stakes in North Carolina and go where I want to go, which up until last year was California. Now honestly, that's England. I don't have to live in London. I had always kept to the saying that the only things that can make me stay here were a job that I couldn't leave our a marriage. I can make pizza and count cash and do customer service anywhere. Well maybe not count cash anywhere because the cash registers in Europe confused the hell out of me. And it's not like I'm getting married anytime soon. The guy that I have been in love with FOR YEARS wouldn't know that I'm on the same planet as him if you showed him a live video of me dancing. No other guys seem interested in more than the occasional screw. So exactly what an I holding my breath for?
And I'm going to stop asking myself what is wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with me. Except that not one of my friends know who I am. They think I'm an easy going push over. They think that I'm not mature enough. They think that I'm going to freak out over the smallest little thing and let things blow way out of proportion. They think that they can just idly pass me over for things that I deserve and that I'm going to smile and say it's okay. Because that's what I've done in the past. I bucked up and smiled, said it was ok, then went home and cried and never let them see how much they hurt me.
You hurt me, I will let you know. And then I will be through with you. I spent 2015 looking back and making sure no one was left in the dust like I was the spearhead for no child left behind. This year, if you fall behind I hope you don't choke on my dust too much.
I think that if I make a new years resolution, it will be this: I will blog every night before I go to bed. Some blogs will be obscenely short while some may be obscenely long. I will stick to one point, I will not name names, I will not defame anyone nor will I get overly personal. This blog is for me and if you don't like it, I'm not standing over you making you read. Be a goddam adult and so coming to me whining about how I hurt your feelings when you obviously didn't give a damn about mine which is probably the reason you ended up in my blog in the first damn place.
Ring a ding ding. Let 2016 sing with me saying to the world that this is who I am and if you don't like it, kindly exit through the door on the left. I have a daily cap on how much bullshit I can take and I'm sorry for you but if that limit is reached, you will be sol.
Let the year of Claudette begin.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Crazy Customers...
So we have this woman that comes into work that privately we call "Crazy Kim". We call her this for a couple of reasons:
1. She dresses like she's Ghetto Beyonce on the run from the paparazzi. Everytime. Over sized shirt and ripped jeans with big sunglasses and a big coat.
2. She gets the same thing EVERY TIME but she claims that it's for her boss. Well sort of. The first time it was for her boss. Then it was for her pregnant boss. Now it's for her boss's kids. This Boss went from not pregnant to pregnant to having kids that are able to eat an 8 inch turkey club calzone ON THEIR OWN in the space of like a year.
3. She claims her boss is a germaphobe who will come in and throw the food at us if we don't use gloves anytime we come near her food.
I totally understand germaphobic people but our ovens are 455 degrees. As far as prep is concerned, we wash our hands and anything that might have been on our hands is burned off during the 7 minutes it's in the oven and we ALWAYS put on gloves to put lettuce and tomato on the sandwiches, but it's not enough for her. We have to wear gloves to get it out of the oven, we have to wear gloves to carry it to the make line to get the lettuce and tomato and we have to wear gloves while boxing it, putting it in a bag and handing it to her.
Normally she is pretty chill and we crack jokes about her and keep trucking but today she was a little off her game. I don't know, maybe she went somewhere where they refused to cater to her scrub your skin until it squeaks and then put on a fresh pair of gloves every time you come near my food requests but she was in rare form today...
First off I might need to add the disclaimer that I opened the store this morning so I was there at 8 and that I decided to skip my usual Starbucks and do today without my serious caffeine. (Seriously, I think I'm getting an ulcer and not just in my wallet) So I was approaching tired, I had already written up two employees this morning and fielded two angry customers and the ever tiring L before she came in...
I personally decided to stay away from her since I wasn't really feeling the whole quirky thing today. I knew right off that it was going to annoy me more than amuse me today so I didn't even throw my hat in the ring. Ivan handled her. I went to take the pizzas for the three orders before hers out of the oven. She sees me at the cut table and starts banging on the counter screaming at me to wear gloves.
AGAIN, I was uncaffeinated. I looked at her and said "I'm not even near your food yet." and walked away. Understandably, she didn't like that. So when F was going to put the lettuce and tomato on them (I put them on the paper and wrapped them... screw the gloves. We have shrinky dink gloves and that oven is 455 degrees have you ever tried to remove quick melt plastic from skin?? It's not fun...) F had just washed her hands because she'd come from the lavatory. But Crazy Kim didn't see that so when F went to put on the gloves, she started screaming at her. F however was on a phone call on her bluetooth so she didn't realize that Crazy was screaming. She saw me motion her back to the sink and because she respects me as a supervisor, she didn't say anything as she went back to rewash her hands. Sometimes I love F. BUt the fact was that she was screaming at us over gloves.
Like I said, I don't know if she went somewhere and the refused to cater to her whims and she was taking it out on us but she's just about read the end of the patience of the staff of Hungry Howie's Sugar Creek. We take a lot but there's only so much we take. I think I might talk up the university store and suggest she go there...
Insert evil laughter here...
1. She dresses like she's Ghetto Beyonce on the run from the paparazzi. Everytime. Over sized shirt and ripped jeans with big sunglasses and a big coat.
2. She gets the same thing EVERY TIME but she claims that it's for her boss. Well sort of. The first time it was for her boss. Then it was for her pregnant boss. Now it's for her boss's kids. This Boss went from not pregnant to pregnant to having kids that are able to eat an 8 inch turkey club calzone ON THEIR OWN in the space of like a year.
3. She claims her boss is a germaphobe who will come in and throw the food at us if we don't use gloves anytime we come near her food.
I totally understand germaphobic people but our ovens are 455 degrees. As far as prep is concerned, we wash our hands and anything that might have been on our hands is burned off during the 7 minutes it's in the oven and we ALWAYS put on gloves to put lettuce and tomato on the sandwiches, but it's not enough for her. We have to wear gloves to get it out of the oven, we have to wear gloves to carry it to the make line to get the lettuce and tomato and we have to wear gloves while boxing it, putting it in a bag and handing it to her.
Normally she is pretty chill and we crack jokes about her and keep trucking but today she was a little off her game. I don't know, maybe she went somewhere where they refused to cater to her scrub your skin until it squeaks and then put on a fresh pair of gloves every time you come near my food requests but she was in rare form today...
First off I might need to add the disclaimer that I opened the store this morning so I was there at 8 and that I decided to skip my usual Starbucks and do today without my serious caffeine. (Seriously, I think I'm getting an ulcer and not just in my wallet) So I was approaching tired, I had already written up two employees this morning and fielded two angry customers and the ever tiring L before she came in...
I personally decided to stay away from her since I wasn't really feeling the whole quirky thing today. I knew right off that it was going to annoy me more than amuse me today so I didn't even throw my hat in the ring. Ivan handled her. I went to take the pizzas for the three orders before hers out of the oven. She sees me at the cut table and starts banging on the counter screaming at me to wear gloves.
AGAIN, I was uncaffeinated. I looked at her and said "I'm not even near your food yet." and walked away. Understandably, she didn't like that. So when F was going to put the lettuce and tomato on them (I put them on the paper and wrapped them... screw the gloves. We have shrinky dink gloves and that oven is 455 degrees have you ever tried to remove quick melt plastic from skin?? It's not fun...) F had just washed her hands because she'd come from the lavatory. But Crazy Kim didn't see that so when F went to put on the gloves, she started screaming at her. F however was on a phone call on her bluetooth so she didn't realize that Crazy was screaming. She saw me motion her back to the sink and because she respects me as a supervisor, she didn't say anything as she went back to rewash her hands. Sometimes I love F. BUt the fact was that she was screaming at us over gloves.
Like I said, I don't know if she went somewhere and the refused to cater to her whims and she was taking it out on us but she's just about read the end of the patience of the staff of Hungry Howie's Sugar Creek. We take a lot but there's only so much we take. I think I might talk up the university store and suggest she go there...
Insert evil laughter here...
Thursday, August 20, 2015
I'm tired... so tired...
Seriously... Can I stop being an adult now?? Please? I just want to crawl in my bed with my pretty pajamas on and just stay there. Color in bed, have my mommy bring me lunch and dinner in bed and not have to move all day.
And the sad thing is that I don't mean that in my funny haha always sunny in Claudetteland kind of way. I am totally serious. I'm tired.
I'm tired of being the one that everyone comes to when they need something. Like seriously everyone. If you need it, ask Dette, she most likely has it and even if she doesn't have it, she'll find a way to get it even if it puts her account negative, her gas tank in the red and her sanity in the trashcan. She'll do it. She'll drop everything and do what you need.
I'm tired of listening. Tell Dette. Dette will listen. She may say uh huh and yeah and Mmm a few times making you think that she's half ignoring you and therefore letting you vent on and on and on but trust me, she hears you. And her brain is working overtime trying to figure out a way to fix it for you. Or help you fix it. Or find someone that can help you fix it. She hears you and she's wracking her brain trying to help you. She has a million other things that actually concern her to think about but there's not time for that because she has to fix it for you. Because you're her mother/friend/brother/cousin/dog's babysitter's groomer. You matter. You matter more to her than you know so she has to help you. Because you matter.
I'm tired of taking fifteen steps forward and getting knocked back twelve. NOt quite behind where I started but still so close I can see where I started from. I got a raise at work. Awesome right? No. Not awesome because along with my most fantabulous raise, I got less help that I've been getting.
I admit it, I'm on Food stamps and section 8. But because I got a job that is paying me decent money, they have cut my food stamps. Again. First I was at six hundred eighty. Then they cut it by $80. Then I got the job and they cut it to $387. Then $363. Today... today I found out that they've cut me to $266. My section 8 has raised my rent. I' not saying how much online but it's not a pretty number and it was an unexpected jump. I came home yesterday and found out that my Gas had been shut off so we're taking cold showers.
But my kids need school supplies. My kids need food. I have pared my bills down to the bare minimum and still I can't get ahead. My paycheck has been going to fill in the blanks for the Gas (Which apparently I failed at since they shut the crap off) Electric, and rent because the child support caseworker that was assigned to my case can't seem to actually do her job and get my child support reviewed. I have been getting three hundred for five years. A lady came into the store the other night and she had the same child support card I have and we got into a brief conversation about it. I told her what I get and she told me that she makes $1500 plus on her kids. First off she annoyed me because no lady, you don't make that money. The man or men that you laid down with is supporting his kids. But still... Mine is based on temp jobs that my ex was doing years ago. He now has a $32/hour a job and she swears she can't find his jobs company in the database. It's the FAA. The Federal Air Administration. Out of Washington D.C. But she can't find it.
I'm tired. I'm tired of being unexplainably head over heels for a guy that doesn't see me as a human being much less a woman. I'm tired of listening to everyone tell me about their sex lives while I'm over here trying to get some and coming up woefully short. And I do mean short because I took a chance and put myself out there and the guy... he was smaller than my pinky and couldn't get it up. He used his fingers like a jackhammer and by the time he was done, I was in so much pain that moving for the following week took extreme concentration.
I know I've said this before, but people out there who are in relationships and have single friends... WE DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR SEX LIVES!!!! AT ALL!!! Chances are we are so wildly jealous of you that we would knock you into unconsciousness and mount your guy to fix our problem in a heartbeat. I personally don't have any friends that I would knock out to steal their men. But still.
I'm tired.
I'm so tired.
I just want to sit down and not adult for awhile.
And the sad thing is that I don't mean that in my funny haha always sunny in Claudetteland kind of way. I am totally serious. I'm tired.
I'm tired of being the one that everyone comes to when they need something. Like seriously everyone. If you need it, ask Dette, she most likely has it and even if she doesn't have it, she'll find a way to get it even if it puts her account negative, her gas tank in the red and her sanity in the trashcan. She'll do it. She'll drop everything and do what you need.
I'm tired of listening. Tell Dette. Dette will listen. She may say uh huh and yeah and Mmm a few times making you think that she's half ignoring you and therefore letting you vent on and on and on but trust me, she hears you. And her brain is working overtime trying to figure out a way to fix it for you. Or help you fix it. Or find someone that can help you fix it. She hears you and she's wracking her brain trying to help you. She has a million other things that actually concern her to think about but there's not time for that because she has to fix it for you. Because you're her mother/friend/brother/cousin/dog's babysitter's groomer. You matter. You matter more to her than you know so she has to help you. Because you matter.
I'm tired of taking fifteen steps forward and getting knocked back twelve. NOt quite behind where I started but still so close I can see where I started from. I got a raise at work. Awesome right? No. Not awesome because along with my most fantabulous raise, I got less help that I've been getting.
I admit it, I'm on Food stamps and section 8. But because I got a job that is paying me decent money, they have cut my food stamps. Again. First I was at six hundred eighty. Then they cut it by $80. Then I got the job and they cut it to $387. Then $363. Today... today I found out that they've cut me to $266. My section 8 has raised my rent. I' not saying how much online but it's not a pretty number and it was an unexpected jump. I came home yesterday and found out that my Gas had been shut off so we're taking cold showers.
But my kids need school supplies. My kids need food. I have pared my bills down to the bare minimum and still I can't get ahead. My paycheck has been going to fill in the blanks for the Gas (Which apparently I failed at since they shut the crap off) Electric, and rent because the child support caseworker that was assigned to my case can't seem to actually do her job and get my child support reviewed. I have been getting three hundred for five years. A lady came into the store the other night and she had the same child support card I have and we got into a brief conversation about it. I told her what I get and she told me that she makes $1500 plus on her kids. First off she annoyed me because no lady, you don't make that money. The man or men that you laid down with is supporting his kids. But still... Mine is based on temp jobs that my ex was doing years ago. He now has a $32/hour a job and she swears she can't find his jobs company in the database. It's the FAA. The Federal Air Administration. Out of Washington D.C. But she can't find it.
I'm tired. I'm tired of being unexplainably head over heels for a guy that doesn't see me as a human being much less a woman. I'm tired of listening to everyone tell me about their sex lives while I'm over here trying to get some and coming up woefully short. And I do mean short because I took a chance and put myself out there and the guy... he was smaller than my pinky and couldn't get it up. He used his fingers like a jackhammer and by the time he was done, I was in so much pain that moving for the following week took extreme concentration.
I know I've said this before, but people out there who are in relationships and have single friends... WE DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR SEX LIVES!!!! AT ALL!!! Chances are we are so wildly jealous of you that we would knock you into unconsciousness and mount your guy to fix our problem in a heartbeat. I personally don't have any friends that I would knock out to steal their men. But still.
I'm tired.
I'm so tired.
I just want to sit down and not adult for awhile.
Monday, July 27, 2015
Dear him...
I am happy to report that I no longer think about you from day to day. You might cross my mind about every other week and even then only in passing. I can actually drive past your house and don't glance over at your windows and wonder if you are sitting there.
I watched Robin Hood Prince of Thieves the other day. I haven't been able to do that since last September. Everytime I tried, I remembered you kissing me up my wrist and the events that happened afterward. That doesn't happen anymore. I got to watch and enjoy the movie for the first time in almost a year since you left me.
I went to the mall the other day and you know what? I parked in the same parking lot where you first kissed me. It has been a solid year this week since I have been able to even walk in that parking lot without remembering or tearing up because I remember that first kiss. The first kiss that had me walking on cloud nine for weeks. It might seem like a small accomplishment and really nothing at all to anyone else, but I parked there. And I went into the mall and didn't think about you once.
I enjoy baking again. I don't think about how you liked my brownies or how your roommate liked them and my cookies. I don't have thoughts that maybe I should swing by your house and leave some wrapped in in your mailbox just to let you know that someone is still thinking about you.
Because I don't. I don't think about you very often and for that I am glad.
The huge gigantic hole that you left in my already bruised heart isn't quite so big anymore. I might be able to give it to someone some day and give it to them only slightly bruised but with no hole.
I don't have to look at the floor the few times I think of you because thinking about you makes me cry.
Since you left, I have cried more than I have in years.
I never knew why I cried. Even after you left. I still don't know why, but I don't cry.
I can work Friday and Saturday nights until closing and enjoy myself while I'm there because I'm not waiting to get out of there and go hang out in the parking lot talking with you or kissing you. I'm doing my job and enjoying almost every minute of it with the knowledge that there's nothing in the parking lot that I'm running for.
Parking lots at night are no longer my silent cold enemy. A parking lot is simply that. A parking lot.
I don't want you to think I am being cruel because that is not my intention. I actually want to say thank you.
You kissed me. You held me. You actually lifted me off the ground. You talked to me about things you didn't talk to anyone else about.
For those brief few months. I didn't feel awkward at kissing or scared to death that I wasn't doing it right. I didn't feel fat because you could lift me in the air without groaning. You made me feel every bit like a tiny teenager. When you wrapped your arms around me, I felt wanted. You taught me how to make out in the backseat of a car. You made me feel special.
For those brief few months, you made me feel like I meant something. So I thank you for the time. I thank you for the experience. I thank you.
But that's where it ends.
Maybe one day we might be friends again and who knows maybe one day you might be the one to evoke that special feeling in me again. I doubt it but who knows what fates plan is? If we end up as friends I am happy to call you such. If not, I'll be okay.
Thank you.
And goodbye.
I watched Robin Hood Prince of Thieves the other day. I haven't been able to do that since last September. Everytime I tried, I remembered you kissing me up my wrist and the events that happened afterward. That doesn't happen anymore. I got to watch and enjoy the movie for the first time in almost a year since you left me.
I went to the mall the other day and you know what? I parked in the same parking lot where you first kissed me. It has been a solid year this week since I have been able to even walk in that parking lot without remembering or tearing up because I remember that first kiss. The first kiss that had me walking on cloud nine for weeks. It might seem like a small accomplishment and really nothing at all to anyone else, but I parked there. And I went into the mall and didn't think about you once.
I enjoy baking again. I don't think about how you liked my brownies or how your roommate liked them and my cookies. I don't have thoughts that maybe I should swing by your house and leave some wrapped in in your mailbox just to let you know that someone is still thinking about you.
Because I don't. I don't think about you very often and for that I am glad.
The huge gigantic hole that you left in my already bruised heart isn't quite so big anymore. I might be able to give it to someone some day and give it to them only slightly bruised but with no hole.
I don't have to look at the floor the few times I think of you because thinking about you makes me cry.
Since you left, I have cried more than I have in years.
I never knew why I cried. Even after you left. I still don't know why, but I don't cry.
I can work Friday and Saturday nights until closing and enjoy myself while I'm there because I'm not waiting to get out of there and go hang out in the parking lot talking with you or kissing you. I'm doing my job and enjoying almost every minute of it with the knowledge that there's nothing in the parking lot that I'm running for.
Parking lots at night are no longer my silent cold enemy. A parking lot is simply that. A parking lot.
I don't want you to think I am being cruel because that is not my intention. I actually want to say thank you.
You kissed me. You held me. You actually lifted me off the ground. You talked to me about things you didn't talk to anyone else about.
For those brief few months. I didn't feel awkward at kissing or scared to death that I wasn't doing it right. I didn't feel fat because you could lift me in the air without groaning. You made me feel every bit like a tiny teenager. When you wrapped your arms around me, I felt wanted. You taught me how to make out in the backseat of a car. You made me feel special.
For those brief few months, you made me feel like I meant something. So I thank you for the time. I thank you for the experience. I thank you.
But that's where it ends.
Maybe one day we might be friends again and who knows maybe one day you might be the one to evoke that special feeling in me again. I doubt it but who knows what fates plan is? If we end up as friends I am happy to call you such. If not, I'll be okay.
Thank you.
And goodbye.
I've been away for a long time
I'm going to be honest. I have been a very good girl social media wise because at first I was trying to show someone that not everything in my life has to go online for people who know me to know. I was in a way, trying to show him that I'm really not one of those people that shares everything. Then it turned into me thinking that my facebook friends really don't need to know every detail of my life and even that evolved into, Fuck it, I don't have time to be on Facebook typing out whats wrong or what I feel or what's happening.
Like seriously, I haven't had the time to spend online in awhile now. And when I have the time I would much rather prefer to be with actual friends or in my bed. I love my online friends but I'm sorry sometimes, you come way below my other priorities. And I don't mean that to sound cruel because I'm sure that when your lives get hectic, I might be the last thing you think about. So yeah...
I haven't posted my thoughts on the recent cop on black killings. I haven't posted my thoughts on the church burnings nor the South Carolina church shooting. I may have posted one thought on Sandra dying in Texas. Partly because honestly, it's not worth any rant I might have. Who's listening anyway?
But the last few 48 hours of my life. They are something I need to blog about so that hopefully in a year when Timehop reminds me of this I will see it and remember that I need for it not to happen ever again.
I've blogged about the girl from work that annoys the shit out of me on random basises. She had actually not annoyed me for a good while now. Not so much that it stayed on my mind. Saturday she did. I was talking with my new boss about how they should open a chain of Howie's over where I live and how it would bring in the other side of the map where we don't deliver to. In fact it would connect to the Sugar creek store. I did however say to him that if they ever do open a Howies out here while I am still with the company, Sugar creek or wherever will lose me because yes, I will want to work five minutes away from my house. F looked at me (mind you she was not in the conversation AT ALL) and said, "So what I hear is that you want to be selfish and inconvenience everyone else so that you will be getting what you want." I actually didn't understand where she was coming from so I asked how did she figure I would be inconveniencing anyone. She says because she likes her 20 minute drive and I was talking about adding at least 20 more minutes to her commute. She thought I was talking about them moving the Sugar creek store to be closer to my house.
It has long been a pet peeve of mine people who jump in a conversation before they are one, invited to do so or two, know what the conversation is about. She jumped in with both feet and didn't know anything about what I was saying. And she got defensive. And stayed defensive throughout the day sniping at me in anyway she could. I'm sorry but I had daydreams of docking her, throwing her in a pan and running her through the oven. I would never do it because that would be... well.. uh... that would be murder... borderline torturous murder but still murder... and I don't wanna go to jail. Jail is bad. I look horrible in orange. Jail is NOT like Orange is the New Black. Jail is bad. No murder. Just daydreams.
Then today, my car finally decided that since I won't listen to it's random chokes and small deaths it was going to stage a quite dramatic death today. It died three or four times before I got to work today on the way to work. One of those time I pulled off on the side of 485. That time was probably where I ran over something that sliced my already balding tire. By the time it sat in the parking lot at work for an hour... it was flat. And dead. Very dead.
But I wasn't actually upset about it because I know whats wrong and it's a cheap fix really. While I was dealing with it, I had a customer come into the store that I dread seeing everytime he comes in. Every food service person has this customer. They all hate this customer. He says he wants his usual. Then he changes it. He says yes when you repeat his order back to him to confirm it because you KNOW he's going to find fault in the final product which he does and he manages to make you feel two feet tall in the process.
Today was the first time he tried that shit on me. It did not go well for him.
He ordered a medium Philly cheese steak pizza with no mushrooms, 2x the steak, and 2x the provolone. He wanted the green pepper and the onion. I repeated this back to him three times. I did so in front of my manager, J. He confirmed it. I made it, I knew he was going to find fault with it and I was prepared. (Every time he comes in he does this and he always gets the messed up pizza as well as the free remake to take with him when he leaves. I know this is his endgame.) He said I messed it up. I told him point blank that I confirmed his order three times and he said yes. He told me I was wrong. Even though I had the power in my numbers to say, "Yes sir, I will remake that for free" I refused. I called J who CONFIRMED that he heard the man confirm the order as I read it back to him. The customer then told both of us that we were wrong and he did not say that he wanted green peppers. Then he said he didn't like my attitude and wanted a refund because at this point it was clear by my non movement towards the makeline to remake his pizza that he wasn't getting a remake without serious fight from me. J refunded his money but he wasn't done yet. He somewhat politely (and I hate when angry customers suddenly get polite because it means they are about to rip you a new one) asked if he could tell me something and I said yes. He said he overheard that I was having problems with my car and he didn't appreciate that I was taking my frustration out on him. In my profession the image I present to the customer was everything and tonight my image was almost enough for him to take his business elsewhere (pretty sure that my blue contacted eyes were screaming "fine please do so you pompous asshat! Don't let the door hit you on the way out!)
When he was finished I asked him if I could respond. He should have said no. But he said yes. I told him that I have been here at lease three times that he has done this to other members of the staff, changing his order and making them feel like they messed up when he does this just to get a free pizza out of it and he was not going to do it to me because I know what he said, I had a witness to what he said and that my attitude had nothing to do with my car and had everything to do with how I was being treated by him. I was calm, I didn't yell, I didn't cuss, I just said it and I also let him know that everytime he walks out of here with two pizzas and tonight he was not going to do it. he was not going to make me feel two feet tall to achieve his endgame. He actually tried to come back with a response but I cut him off that tie and said "No, you had your say and I responded, it was over and there would be no more said on the subject and I hoped that he had a good night from then on there. Goodbye."
And I walked away.
I'm part of the management team now. I can't lose my cool but I also can't let people walk all over me. I have been doing it way too much lately. People are systematically taking pieces of me from me that I can't afford to lose anymore. It's time for me to stop always being the one that says yes and I'm sorry. It's time for me to say no. Not No and I'm sorry, just no. Enough is too much and I just can't and won't do it anymore.
I get up every morning and tell myself that today is a new day and I am me and no one is going to change who I am and now, now it's time for me to believe and enforce that so that's what I'm doing. If I lose a few friends or acquaintances in the process, I'm sorry but part of knowing someone is to accept them as they are and the changes that comes with the world they live in shaping them. This is one of my changes. If you cannot handle it, I'm pretty sure that you know where the door is.
I need to go to bed. IT's been a long weekend and I really want it to end now. I never thought I would say this, but I am so glad it's Monday!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)