Well, sometimes you have to learn the hard way - even if you were close to being good.
I have wonderful instincts. The day my virus subscription ran out, they went off. I should have talked to Jeff sooner, or even my dad, but no, I just tried to figure out how to get the money for a virus subscription in my budget. I thought I could make it a month.
I started looking at backup storage. Again, it had to wait about a month for the budget to have an opening... but I was looking.
Well, the viruses don't wait a month. I got one that ate my hard drive. It's now on it's way to a forensic data recovery guy, but from our discussion up til today, it doesn't look like he's going to get anything off it. He's going to look though, just so I can know, and not have to live with not knowing if one last thing could have been done.
In the meantime, friends are starting to come through with links to pictures I lost and some they took at events I was at. Friends at work are bringing my CD's so my iTunes can be interesting again. And I now have another hard drive, so backup will be done good and proper.
It's been liberating in some ways too, though. My book list got eaten, and the one here is very old. So, I'm free from tracking that, at least for this year. My garden designs got lost, which is fine, because I get to look at it with fresh eyes. And so on. The computer processes tons faster too.
I've got a ton to get done today. I came down with a headache I never recovered from yesterday. I missed a party I really wanted to go to, and only had about 2 hours of productive time in the day. It was like I had a hangover from celebrating school being done, except I didn't go out and celebrate. Blech.
Today, I'm in pain, but I have to get everything done as I have to work Monday, evenings are for Fiona, and I leave for DC on Thursday. I apologize to everyone who is waiting on me for something. I'm going to take some painkiller and hopefully the caffine I've been drinking will push me through, and tonight I'll get to do some of the fun stuff I want to do. We'll see, considering the clothes I need aren't washed, or anything. (Heavy sigh.)
Is it bad to have popcorn and nutella for dinner (that was yesterday)?
Is it bad to pour salt on your salt bagel?
Is it bad to call in sick so you can sleep 3 more hours?
Is it bad to go to the gym and only sit in the hot tub and sauna?
Is it bad to keep changing the radio stations until a song that reminds you of one of your characters comes on?
Is it bad to threaten your husband about what will happen if he eats all the potato chips?
Is it bad to eat three rolos in a row while your having a short conversation with your boss because they're on his desk and you just can't stop eating them?
Is it bad to take all the candy bars out of your kid's halloween candy and keep them for yourself?
Is it bad to consider trying the nicorette gum just to see what it's like?
Is it bad to blow off homework and everything to sit and chat on IM?
Is it bad to wonder how long it will take your friend Jenn to shake her head at this entry?
Jury Summons.
For what day?
November 2nd.
WTF? Thank you very much but I rather had plans of voting that morning and avoiding the HUGE after-work lines.
This sucks.
Also found on return:
Note that says, "Please do a new load of laundry and dishes."
Not found:
Food I want.
To Sum Up: Week from Hell
Panic Attack - very bad - lived.
Grand Affair - ended - lived.
Brother got pneumonia - worried, but lived.
Spent night in hospital - strained back, but lived.
Behind on schoolwork - will catch up later.
Other than that, everything is fine (or, I am lying to myself.)
Oh, my garden,
you are full of weeds,
on my list of priorities,
you are number 33.
Your roses have aphids,
raspberry shoots abound,
the new iris will be lucky,
not to be mowed down.
Oh, my garden,
in the eye of my dreams,
blooming with fall flowers,
not these weedy reams.
All over my roses. I'm going to spray them off now, but can anyone recommend a way to keep them off so they're not coming back - that keeps in mind I hate chemicals, have a nine year old with asthma, and a overly-friendly dog next door?
I'm in a mood. No idea why.
Wait. Could be the 10 day out PMS.
Could be the post-con depression.
Could be the lack of sleep.
Could be the oppressive homework for this evil class.
I got my laptop back. It works. Amen.
TBR was great. I loved and felt loved. Jeff has basically given me permission to travel by car just about anywhere, as long as I have someone with me. This is an important permission, as it saves us fights later.
Of course, if I can't find someone to drive with me, I need to buy a plane ticket. I talked about M coming over from the UK, and he said, "who could you drive with?" Sigh. No one. I wonder if I can save the money.
I'm feeling... a little dejected. Looking forward to seeing my friends again and reassuring myself that we're cool.
Going to see F9/11 with new friends from work tomorrow night. So nice to work with people who want to see this movie, instead of being surrounded completely by folk who find Moore to be the antichrist.
I must keep telling myself, If I lived in a con all the time, it wouldn't be special! I think the postcon is harder than usual because I met so many people I'd wanted to meet for so long, and because I feel like I really clicked with some of them. I hate not just being able to get over things.
So it looks like the hard drive on my new laptop is dead. It's got to go into a service center. I knew this was a possibility (a greater one, I mean) with a refurbished laptop, which is why I paid extra for the extended coverage. But I didn't even need to for this - I've had it a bloody week.
My sainted husband who so sweetly has been watching me for signs of emotional collapse (a real possibility, at this point) has made me food, and is now downstairs trying to hook one of the PCs up to the high speed connection, an experiment we had not felt up to trying before now.
Now we're just desperate. I'm back on dialup, and yes, it so SUCKS after the high speed.
I don't even know if I'll be able to do my (discussion group) schoolwork from here. If I can't, I'll have to do it at Jeff's parent's house tomorrow. Not what I want to do.
I wanted to come home and do homework. Instead I ended up on tech support for over an hour before they confirmed what I already knew.
Anyway, it looks like they call us and tell us where to take it on Monday. Their database was down when we called. It seems unlikely we'll be able to get it to a service center on Monday, because Jeff works til 5, not home til 6, and they'll probably be closed after that.
So, assuming it gets in on Tuesday, unless some miricle occurs, I won't have it for TBR. I'll have clunky old laptop, which I'll hope Deb can hook up to her router (I've got a network card with a toggle thing now), or failing that, that she'll yet again generously let me use her laptop when she's not.
See, I have to do homework and post to discussion every day while I'm at TBR. Sigh.
sighsighsighsighsigh.
Well, so - I got sent for another xray.
Will know Wednesday.
In the meantime he gives me the name of a hand surgeon in Novi. Some french sounding guy. Jean-Paul Greiboux. I hope he has a french accent. (Yes, I have far too much inappropriate fun with my docs.)
Maybe a bloodclot. Maybe something else.
And he made me promise to go do my fasting lipids blooddraw on Sat. Sigh.
Ack.
But not too busy to say congratulations to John and Erica - to welcome baby Jack.
Congrats also to P&J!!!!!
Actually, I don't know if I should be very upset, or if I should laugh.
Yesterday was basically horrible.
Went to the dentist for my cleaning, to find out I have 2 more cavities. One is small - no big deal. One is 'rather big' and I'm not feeling any pain from it at all. It is underneath a huge filling that got done 1.5 years ago. At any rate, this means back to the dentist in Feb, in March, and for another cleaning in April. Oh, and they decided (with my blessing) to keep me on 3 month cleanings, because even with my 2x/day brushing/flossing, I still get a ton of plague buildup. My hygenist is convinced I am 'one of those people who are just make that way.' So even though it costs slightly more for me to go the extra 2 times a year, I'm going to, because then I can get through the cleaning. It's be a lot longer, every six months.
Then when Jeff got home from work we had a big fight. It was coming. I had PMS and midwinter is now officially hitting me hard. Sadly, it's hitting him hard too. And all the stress. It was ugly, like most of our fights are. But we got through it.
I cancelled C coming over. She had a headache too, so it worked out.
After that, Jeff and I were play-fighting. In this case he was smoking with his body in my house and his arm out the front door. This is not allowed so I shoved him outside. He resisted. He tried to hold me off with his leg, but my slight amount of warfare kicked in, and I grabbed it and lifted. He stumbled outside. Then I grabbed the door to slam in shut on him.
Well... the way my house is set up there is an opening between the livingroom and dining room that is just big enough for the door to open through too. The door, and not the door and my hand on the door.
So basically I caught my hand between the door and the wall. Luckily, it was the left hand. Unluckily, I think I may have a hairline fracture, or two. The hand is swollen. Very bruised and ugly. I'm waiting for the swelling to go down, and then I'll call the doc if I still have pain. But I can type. And only wince a little. Can't quite grip, though.
The immediate 'post pain' reminded me of the kind of pain I had with my two previous hairline fractures. All on the left side. My ring finger when I was 11 (kickball with a soccer ball). My forearm when I was 13 (roller skating on a 'date'). It was almost immediate nausea, followed by the realization that there should be more pain than there was. Followed by the, I have to sit down right now or I'll faint. Then the slow pain.
So now it's a wait see. I'm just glad I can type.
Unhappy at work today. Can't blow it off here, but even after blowing steam about it in LJ, I'm still bothered. Ugh.
It could be a lot worse.
Looking forward to school tonight, even though it's a final night.
I've just been so incredibly busy, and it's not any easier with Jeff in school now. I wasn't going to do anything this weekend, but I got offered a good deal on going to see the auto show, and had to take it. I've become a car person.
Next weekend Jeff and I have a Christmas present to spend the night at a hotel. We're gonna use our Olive Garden Gift Certificate for dinner, and hit the hot tub, and read and watch tv. (Well, and other stuff, wink wink.)
Hugs and love to all my friends out there stressing in midwinter.
I think my cranky level can be measured in direct relation to Christmas. I catch myself just gritting my teeth - when nothing is going on.
I had an A going in Business Law until last night, when my not reading and not trying very hard caught up with me. I think I got 8 answers out of 10 wrong on the Quiz. Of course, the quiz if 4 points out of 100, and I have A's on every other assignment so far - so I could still leave the class with an A-.
Need to relax. I don't have class again until Jan 8th. I only have four chapters to read and two papers to write. If I get all that done before Christmas, I'll be sitting pretty. If I don't get it done before Christmas, it'll still be okay.
Hey - is someone making our ACUS room reservation? I thought someone was taking care of that, but I've forgotten all about the plan now. J? (oh, wait, 4 J's in the rooms...)
So looking forward to ACUS in a way I haven't in years. Well, it helps not to be buried under earlybird registrations and game count worries. And a number of people I have not gotten to meet in person seem to be coming this year, and this makes me so very happy. Don't be surprised if I'm floating around the con.
Why do our children have to be good little monkeys, never question anything, and never ever, even in their worst moments, tell an adult what to do (even if that *telling* involves pleading for help, really.)?????
I had to ground my child for the first time last night.
Sigh.
Not because she deserves to be grounded, or because she did something wrong, but to make her understand that the world is not a fair place, and you really need to think about everything you say and how the person across from you is going to take it, and basically, you may have to hide who you are, what you think, what you need, and don't question persons in authority (even if you aren't questioning their authority), in school.
This is hard. She's fine. I'm miserable. I'm terrified she's going to internalize (because what else can she do?) and lose her self confidence, and her ability to fight for what she wants and needs, which I've worked so hard to give her.
Must tell myself - she must learn to live in the world. The goal is to get through childhood, and let her be someone who understands more than the surface of society, but yet can still function in it.
She'll be a successful adult. Childhood is going to be hard, I think.
What a drive in today. The first 30 minutes were fine, clear, no problem.
What should have been the last 15 minutes turned into 45. Mound Road. Ice. No salt trucks anywhere. Christ. I came off of 696 and if it wasn't for the slowdown on the ramp (ice free) and my excellent Saturn, I would have slid right into traffic - like everyone else was. Had I been in Jeff's car this morning, there would have been an accident.
So this is your first clue, people. After you almost skid, or do skid, across the road, it's time to slow your ass down and leave space between cars.
Nope. Morons. Accidents everywhere. Big Ass Truck right on my bumper. Er.
Snow is really falling up here at work now (not at the RenCen today). Which is great - if they'll get the road salted.
To bed at 1am.
Alarm at 5:45am.
Somehow, more awake than I was all day yesterday. Must be the caffine. 2pm will suck rocks, though.
My reading - 7 chapters... yeah, 1.25 done. Ugh.
My paper - haven't even outlined. Ugh.
My house - a trainwreck.
My kid - still sick.
My mother - still in denial she has Altzhiemers.
My husband - about a drug down by December as me.
My quote of the weekend -
"Well, that's 4 holiday parties out of the way. My mom's on eve, your mom's on eve, and your Aunts on Christmas day, and we're done. We're more than halfway done."
Jeff's quote of the weekend (in re: his dad's family party) -
"Next year, just remind me to tear my own eyes from my head with my fingers. It'd be less painful."
Fi's quote of the weekend -
"I don't believe you people. When am I going to get my own internet connection?"
Didn't get enough sleep. My fault. Husband made worse. But it was worth it.
The professor is on my nerves. It must just be what it's like to be a student, to be annoyed with professors. This one says: Do what the syllabus says.
The syllabus says to use this form for your article review, and this form for your brief.
Prof then says: Oh, but you have to take these forms and turn them into APA format, and have a reference page, even though the reference is listed at the top of the form. The syllabus simply states: use the form.
So he says to us perfectionists who are rather pissed off as we leave class, "if you can show me where you got your advice on this from, I'm reasonable."
So next week, if I get my paper back marked down for lack of APAing a FORM, I'll be having a little discussion with him about where I got my advice from.
Grrr.
Fi is sick. This makes me very unhappy. Jenn was going to come over tonight and start teaching the kid to cook - that's off until Fi is better (and Jenn too.) If she doesn't improve by tomorrow night, we may have to miss J&L's Party, which would really upset me.
[hey, they have the same initials as us! I never noticed that before!]
Sigh. Other stressors best not discussed. In the meantime, if you don't count having to read 7 chapters, it's a light week for me on the schoolwork. I've only got one paper to do.
In some ways I'm really good at taking care of myself. I make sure I do things I enjoy.
In some ways I'm not so good at it. Like doing too much of what I enjoy.
Part of what I have to cut down on is the amount of time I spend online. So much of my online time is spent doing a lot of nothing. I don't mean the chatting - I love the chatting.
But I'm trying to go to school here, and be a mom. I just had a four day weekend and the extent of my housework over those four days? I loaded the dishwasher twice. I cooked no meals that weren't nukable. I did make Chex Mix, which the three of us mowed through already.
What did I do with my four days?
I slept a lot. I wasn't feeling hot, and I probably needed the sleep.
I did make a Christmas tree and Christmas shopping happen.
But overall, I lazed around. Nothing much was done.
Still don't really care. The idea of running out of the way home to get milk, and thread, and whatever else I need just seems too hard. (Early winter depression - easy, no problem tasks seem hard.)
I set up traps for myself and fall into them. Like saying something bad about my mother-in-law to my child, and having said child repeat bad thing to mother-in-law in the form of a question. I've never gotten along with the woman, but up until now we have at least been able to pretend to get along. It will be interesting to see what happens because of this snaffu. (Early winter depression - setting self up for failure and pain.)
Even the things I really NEED to do - like getting the bulbs KG went out of her way to get me to my dad so he can make me a lightbox so perhaps I can stop this moaning and complaining and feel better - slip me. For a month, it's been slipping.
So I'm down to having to make lists, and make myself do everything on the list before:
a) I'm allowed online
or
b) I'm allowed to sleep.
So if you're one of my online buddies and you see a little less of me at night, I'm not avoiding you. I'm just beating my sorry ass into line.
When I got to about the 8th grade, I decided I'd grow up and write a book about what it was like for me to live with Alex in my life.
Of course, I thought I'd be able to do it by now.
NaNo is poking at me. Something in my psyche is pissed I'm doing work and school and gaming instead. It whispers 'you can fit it in.'
So I sat down tonight and just started writing. Got home about an hour ago, and I have over 4,000 words. Dear god. And they are in no coherent order, and don't say much.
So I got to this:
The memories come and come. I could write a year, maybe too, and it would be incomprehensible. A chain a short tales that add up to what? Who am I? What have I become? What did I learn?
Which after 4,000 words, isn't a bad place to start.
Well, my livejournal has become a rather nasty place where all I do is bitch about things. Those things, for the most part, are work and school.
Be glad you're here and not there.
I hope I actually still have the personal day on the books I think I have.
I'm not sick. I just confused myself over the answering machine message my doc's office left on Friday about my appointment today. Turns out I could have gone to work. Ah, well.
I always feel guilty when I call in, but am not sick. Thank you mother.
I decided to leave the heat on it's set cycle - which is to say it's off during the day. I'm on the couch wrapped in two blankets. But I can't justify raising our electric bill like that. Not now, anyway.
I'm very bad at relaxing when I call in. But I'm going to try. I'm going to bundle up after brunch and go for a long walk. I'm going to walk until my legs hurt. Maybe that will help me fight off the strange depression that's trying to creep up on me this morning. The sun is in and out - but being out in it for a walk is bound to help. Just exercising is bound to help. There are lots of birds singing. I can hear them through the thin walls.
Lots of meetings at work tomorrow which I'm now going to be completely unprepared for. Still clueless on the homework. I think I may write up the REAL table, knowing it must be wrong, and email it to the prof for help. I'm just at a loss.
There is a pumpkin that didn't get gutted yesterday, lots of laundry, and a table that needs cleaning/sorting badly. My husband went MIA this morning - I was going to call him home and make him breakfast. But the classifieds are missing, so I have a guess where he went to. Just no where I can reach him.
Sigh. Sigh sigh sigh. Blah.
Maybe making myself a nice breakfast will change my perceptions on the day.
I know I dread what the urologist is going to tell me. None of the options are good.
Ugh, I hate my new professor.
She came in and did this big speech about how she's going to teach us, blah, blah, blah.
Man, she takes the University's workload in the unimod - which is always too heavy - and adds to it!
and then...
She didn't teach me anything!!!! I listened hard and tried to understand, and learned nothing. Look, I'm no slouch. I'm not the only one who wasn't getting it. I don't think anyone got it.
So as of Wednesday night, I basically have three papers and a summary due. One of the papers I have done. One of the papers is a group thing we haven't even started on splitting up. The last paper - an individual short paper, is about the REAL business model and applying it to a business process where I work.
This would be easy - if I understood the model. I googled. I searched the UoP library. Can't find an example or a good explanation. The book sucks, per the usual.
So does anyone know enough about a REAL business model to help me out?
I have a paper due on Thursday. A big paper I have not a clue how to write. I haven't started it yet.
I haven't called the referral girl who never calls me back. I think I might skip her, and go straight for the office manager. I'm sick of that crap already. They have obviously forgotten I am David's favorite patient.
What did I get done. Well, after Jenn left last night, I slept for 14 hours. Then I did feel human again.
Slogged my way through the morning. Decided to get outside this afternoon. Winterized the garden, completely. Planted the rest of the irises. Hayed everything under. Got the flower box that is completed in place and ready for next spring. Put everything else away, which was a task in itself.
So that's done, anyway. But the paper isn't. Sigh.
Life has been nuts again this week.
So now I'm about to post away.
This study makes me a bit ill.
It's a dirty little secret that you'll want to hide from your daughters: Boys hold their parents' marriages together, while girls break them up.That's the word from two leading economists at the University of Rochester and the University of California, Los Angeles who maintain that in the United States the parents of a girl are nearly 5 percent more likely to divorce than the parents of a boy, reports Slate magazine. The more daughters a couple has, the greater the chance of a marital split. For example, the parents of three girls are almost 10 percent more likely to divorce than the parents of three boys.
Dahl and Moretti insist that American parents have a strong preference for sons over daughters. This is the evidence they offer:
Mothers of daughters who are divorced are far less likely to remarry than divorced mothers of sons, suggesting that daughters are a liability.
Man, hello, it couldn't have anything to do with trying to protect our daughters, could it? We obviously have messed up with the first guy - perhaps we question our judgement now. I've always said if Jeff and I divorced I wouldn't remarry until Fi was out of my house, because you don't put my flirt of a beautiful soon to be teenaged daughter in the house with a middle aged man. Just don't eve want to deal.
Parents who have only girls are more likely than parents who have only boys to try yet again for a child of the opposite gender.
Which is an old gender bias that has nothing to do with girls' influence in our lives. And we didn't, and my husband is thrilled to have a daughter, so there!
When an unmarried couple is expecting a baby, they are more likely to get married if the ultrasound shows that the child is a boy.
I don't get this one either. Really? Is it because some women might think they can take care of a girl without help, but wouldn't know what to do with a boy. Girls are not harder to raise - society is harder for girls to live in. Well, that's a blanket statement - maybe not to such an extremity, but I do feel like I will worry more about Fi than I would have about a boy, but that's because I hear about girls being victimized more.
Sigh. When do females get to stop being blamed for everything, again?
Gah, my ass got beat. I fall into forth place.
Rank * Team Name * Week 6 * Total * Pts Back
1 * Melvins Monsters* 163.00 * 979.00 * 0.00 My husband
2 * War Wizzards * 95.00 * 827.00 * 152.00 My father-in-law
3 * Ballzdeep * 165.00 * 822.00 * 157.00 B, I think
4 * Lintras Army * 96.00 * 772.00 * 207.00
5 * HIGHROLLERS * 126.00 * 760.50 * 218.50
6 * MUSKRATS * 107.00 * 699.50 * 279.50
7 * Camerons Den * 95.00 * 697.50 * 281.50
8 * Stoners * 72.00 * 574.00 * 405.00 If this isn't Jay, I'd be shocked.
So, I'm seriously behind now. What happened?
Well, I shoulda played Brad Johnson instead of Tom Brady, to begin with. Then I would have been in good shape.
My WR Booker sucked.
One of my TE's sucked, and the other one never got put in the game!
I don't even want to go look at defense. Okay, I did. I shouldn't have?
Anyone want to take over my FF team? I'll happily give you my passwords.
I may have been a little too hopeful about this week being better stress-wize than last week.
Meeting with one of the bosses today. More on that locked up in the livejournal later.
Went home last night and napped. Woke up disjointed from reality and zombie-like to find Jeff ready to leave for his game. He wasn't feeling good either.
Woke up slowly and screwed around online. Answered gaming email. Tried to knock a few things off my list, but didn't manage half of what I wanted to.
Sigh. Heavy sigh.
Worried about friends. Couldn't get MK to answer his phone or call me back. Will try him today at work, and hopefully won't get busted.
I hate it when plans are hanging in the air and I don't know what is going on.
No, this is not about Friday.
Man, I feel like I've been hit by a truck, and I don't even have the kick ass partying that went on after we left the party last night to blame for it.
I'm not good at... messing up and hurting people. I take every little mistake I make to heart, and then to my gut, where it festers until, like last night and today, I can barely eat. Friends can distract me for awhile, but eventually, it catches up with me, and I find myself nauseous and sore and staring off into space wondering what I could have done different, if it was really that bad, why I'm punishing myself...
and on the verge of tears all the time.
No, I don't have PMS. This is just me handling life badly.
I thought I was better after I talked to Carla about it, but I realized this morning I won't be better until I get it resolved with the person it needs to be resolved with - and that person might be better off just letting it go away and not dealing with it. Eventually I'll get over myself, if that's the case. It may be awhile though.
Well, I've asked for what I need (although there is something weirdly selfish about that - I've fucked up but could you please tell me it's okay and you don't hate me? Or tell me you hate me and let me fumble in vain for some other fix? Or tell me to fuck off and go away?) and now all I can do is wait. And try to eat. And pretend I'm okay.
The phychologist who told me at 13 I was the most well-adjusted person she'd ever met, considering my circumstances, obviously did not spend enough time exploring my psyche.
And so does my Primary Care Physician's office staff.
I have Blue Care Network.
Unless I want to pay more than the 12% I already pay out of my salary (pretax) for health insurance, they are my only option.
I pay $20 every time I go to a doc, every script. Er.
So, I'm supposed to go in for a urine check to make sure I'm clean after this UTI. I'm clean. I can feel I'm clean. Still, I like to let the doctor have the proper follow-up he needs to feel like he's doing his job right.
So when I called to make the appointment, the girl at the urologist's office I scheduled with said I didn't need a referral for a simple UC. I wouldn't even see the doc - just pee in the cup and give it to the nurses.
Well, they called Tuesday. Turns out she thought I had regular blue cross. I do need a referral.
Referrals take 7 to 10 days to get, supposedly.
I call and leave a message for the referral girl at the PCP's office to please call me so I can figure out what I need to do. I left my cell phone number. I was very nice. She didn't call. I left another message. Still no call.
I'd left another message a few weeks ago for a referral for my other appnt later in the month, and asked her to call me back on that too. Nothing.
She doesn't actually answer her phone. Her name is Liz. She sounds nice. I wonder if she exists.
So I'm sick of fighting with the system. I'm calling today to cancel the check. I'm clean. I'm going to see him on the 24th anyway,
-- PRESUMING I CAN GET A REFERRAL FOR THAT --
And then tonight, I'm going to call my PCP's answering service and leave my name and number for the office manager. IF/When the office manager calls me back I'm going to give them an earful about their referral person.
If the office manager doesn't call me back, I'm going into the office on my way to class next week and will be very confrontational with the front office staff.
If this doctor, (and the lovely young Dr. Steinberger), weren't so excellent, and weren't biker buddies with the wonderful Dr. Lutz and the very thorough Dr. Cantor - bringing all my top-notch docs into a friendship circle, which I can only think is better for me, should something ever go wrong - I'd switch offices. The staff at Rosen's office sucks, and he knows it, but he's working for Providence and they do the hiring and firing and all he can do is bitch (and he's not the bitching type.)
So... I love my doctors, I hate my health plan. HMO's suck.
Well, today we got an email that announced
the client
has had numerous complaints about our contract employees rabid abuse of the internet and email.
"THERE WILL NOW BE A ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY ON INTERNET USE."
Well, like there wasn't all along. Just in April we were all made to sign about twenty very detailed pages of what was work appropriate and what wasn't, and, gasp:
Anything that you don't have to do for work isn't work appropriate.
Everyone signed and promptly ignored, because they never enforce anything. So now they might. Not a big deal at my off-site office. They'd have to go to a lot of trouble to get my web usage stats from there. And they won't bother.
But at the RenCen, well, they'll have to fire half the staff. And perhaps, just perhaps, that is exactly the point.
My problem with this?
My team leader and boss have all my passwords so the new people can use my RenCen desk when I'm not there, because it takes EDS three weeks to get anything done. So people have been online under my password - and still could be. The team leader and boss are getting big emails in the morning after I go in there and change all those passwords, about how I'm no longer willing to let the new employees use my internet passwords, considering the "new" zero tolerance policy.
So, you won't see me online so much - but I'll still have email access because the contractor offsite email has a very low attachment size limit, so I've got team leader permission to use it. Amen to that.
Cross-posting:
The people at Star Southfield know NOTHING about the triple header.
Again, NOTHING.
I'm going to try to call them every few days and check in. If anyone else would like to call, the phone number for a living/breathing person is 248-368-1802 and their website is www.star-theaters.com.
Well, one boss continues to be a moron, one boss continues to be great.
Then there are the
POLITICS...
The guy whose building I work in came in to lecture me today about the political fallout of my doing what my non-moronic boss told me to do.
My boss said, "I want the numbers."
I sent him the numbers.
The numbers, while still high because over 300 units have not been 'investigated' yet, are still correct as they stand. The numbers got sent to the boss's boss's boss - a VP.
Some freakout happened among underlings of the VP over the numbers.
One of the buddies of the underlings caught wind of all this. He works for the same company I do but he called the guy whose building I work in, our competetor, to warn him I'd sent the numbers, since they make him look less than great.
Not me. Called the other guy. They're buddies.
Lecture ensues.
Takes me about 45 seconds to figure out what is happening.
I LOSE MY TEMPER.
I call my boss (not the moron or the non-moron but the contract boss) and leave a through the teeth message in her VME about how I'm being cut out of the loop of communication, and basically rat out the guy who just skipped over me. She knows he's a problem. I know she can't do anything - he's a retiree they were forced to hire. Yup, this goes on.
I THEN CALL THE GUY WHO IS A PROBLEM.
This guy is 60+ and has a temper and swears a lot. People are afraid of him. I said, "Hi, it's Liz," when he answered the phone, and then growled at him,
WANT TO KEEP ME IN THE LOOP?
He thinks I should have called to warn him before I sent the numbers.
I don't say, "Who the fuck do you think you are?", but it's a close thing.
I tell him non-moronic boss wanted the numbers, so the numbers were sent.
"The numbers are wrong," he tells me. Not only am I insulted, but he's incorrect. The numbers are not wrong.
I say, "Well, since you seem to know they're wrong, why don't you fix them, and I'll sit over here while monkeys fly out of my ass."
This makes him laugh. He has decided, suddenly, that I'm one of his people.
He fills me in on why people are freaking out.
Because they're MORONS.
He gives me names and numbers for almost all the places I need to call to 'investigate' the remaining units. I'm shocked. I'm amazed. I tell him, "Look, I know you and **** are buddies, but I need to be in the loop ahead of **** via you, or you're going to get more pissed off phone calls, and I don't like to make pissed off phone calls. I'm much better at being sweet."
He agrees to do this.
Whew.
But in better news: Non-moronic boss and contract boss both sent me high praise in writing for the week of hell work. Moronic boss, who ordered the week of hell work, doesn't seem to understand how much work was done in that tiny span of time.