Saturday, September 20, 2014

Doctah Chillay's Demise

I don't even know where to start. Let's just stick with the past week, kay?

On Monday, Doctah Chillay mouthed off at a rep, who then talked to Peppermint Twatwaffle, resulting in DC getting called to the principle's office. He was later seen carrying his dehumidifier and his man purse to the car, offering lame excuses to any witnesses. I kept my fingers crossed. Twatwaffle and I have both been praying for him to quit. Why, you ask?
  • The man did nothing but whine. Literally nothing. He took no calls (maybe three in the six weeks he was there.) Refused to do quotes, reports, etc. His reason? "I have an assistant for that." He was referring to me. He was mistaken.
  • He called the Chilean High Karate master thingie "Our little Mexican."
  • He told Twatwaffle, daily, that I was useless.
  • He didn't know how to use a computer. He could barely send an email. He admitted that he'd just learned what texting was two weeks ago. 
  • He didn't know the difference between our inventory control program and a spreadsheet. 
Inventory Control System

Spreadsheet



THEY ARE DIFFERENT COLORS FOR GAWDSAKE.

Anywho, Doctah Chillay came in at 6 the next morning, typed his resignation and sent it to corporate. He said lots of ugly things about Twatwaffle, which, in all honesty, were probably mostly true, but he also lied profusely and ended the email with "I am going to end this misery and go back to Ohio."

Twatwaffle is debating whether to even bother hiring a new sales manager. She gets on my nerves, but I kinda feel sorry for her. 

Anyhoodles...

Tuesday I had to leave for my company mandated yearly "wellness exam." If we don't have it done by October 31st, we have to pay a fine to the insurance company. Heil Hitler!

I had to see the FNP because the doctor they have me assigned to wasn't going to be in that day.. probably having her braces off or something. She doesn't look old enough to have her learner's permit, much less a medical license. The FNP was so concerned about my depression and anxiety that she had me in a crying mess half way through the exam. All she wanted to talk about was increasing my depression meds, while I kept telling her (and the nurse and the med student) that if I could just get something for my back/shoulder pain I'd be much happier. I wan't trying to get narcotics, just a prescription for uber strength Aleve. My anxiety/crying fit did get me out of a coochie inspection.. temporarily anyway. I have to go back in six months. Every six months, because, in the words of the FNP, I am a mess.

After waiting an hour... AN HOUR.. at Wally World for my prescriptions, I find out that they never called in the pain meds. 

Seriously?

I grabbed the biggest bottle of Aleve I could find and figured, if they can prescribe 500mg twice a day, I can just take the equivalent in OTC. 

On Wednesday, I got a call from the nurse telling me my blood sugar was all to hell and to double those meds. I went online and looked at my lab results and apparently my whole body's gone kittywampus. No wonder I feel like crap on a cracker. If it's supposed to be low, it's high and vice versa. 

Sometime in the middle of all this, the brakes went out on TA's car so I had to write a rubber check to put extra gas in Jolene so she could take the truck to work. I had to buy the gas in the holler, which is over $4 a gallon. It was painful. This also meant I've had to wait until she got home from work each morning before I could go in at The Asylum, making me an hour late one morning and two the next. She got her brakes fixed on Thursday, so I was all excited to go in early on Friday and hit the ground running. Get some chit done! 

Woke up at 8:15. Supposed to be there at 8:00. 

Well hell.

So today, I've put a great deal of effort in to doing very little. I'm tard ya'll. My brain needs an off button.. it's all swirly up in there. I've got a bottle of bootleg strawberry wine in the fridge, of which I may partake before bedtime. 

Tomorrow is another day. We'll try it all again.

Later Taters!


Sunday, August 03, 2014

Round 2

Sooo Doctah Chillay started at The Cubicle Asylum on Friday. He spoke to me once. When I joked that he'd come back from lunch and that it was a good sign, he rattled on about how he'd been in this business 35 years and how "people" had been quoting the wrong things and there were going to be a lot of changes. He went on to say that "people" were going to start being more efficient.

The man doesn't know me. I am his one employee and he never asked me the first thing about our sales department, our process or anything. I am the only "people" that does quotes.

So, I sat back down at my desk, cut my remaining Clonazepam pills in half, called for a refill and washed my hands of him.

Also on Friday, Twatwaffle came in half an hour late in her heels and barfly get up, stomped down to Kat's office and loudly demanded that she could at least make her a cup of coffee. It is not Kat's job to make coffee. It is understood that everyone makes their own damned coffee. Twatwaffle continued to show her ass up and down the hall all day.

I found out from the folks at the little corner store that DC has already stopped there two days in a row to buy two bottles of wine and a 40. He's rented a cabin up by where Aunt Moses used to live, right down the road from Bubbles. So before he'd even started at The Asylum, he was already sitting up in the woods, alone with his two Pomeranians, getting boozed up.

Friday, when Tiny sat down to instruct DC how to use our inventory management system to look up part numbers, etc., DC told him he was wasting his time.

This guy is a total dick.

I'd like to know what psyche ward our corporate office trolls looking for sales managers.

He has also been all over town, telling all the little businesses that he is the new "National Sales and Marketing Manager" at the plant. They've all said he was buying booze and strutting around like he thought he was hot shit, in his white socks and sandals. I can not wait for him to tell me to fetch him some coffee. He is in for a rude awakening.

Anywho... I gotta make a run to the dolla store. I'm out of deodorant, toothpaste and shampoo. Also, Grimm sliced his foot open on a piece of glass yesterday, so we spent close to 10 hours at the pet ER. He's going to be fine, at first we thought it was just a bad cut, but they ended up having to repair a tendon. Between that, the power being cut off for a couple of days last week, leading to a minor meltdown and Doctah Chillay's grand display of assholedness, I'm emotionally and physically pewped.

A sane person would be going a little batshit at this point.

So we'll talk again soon. Ya'll have a great week.

Later Taters!

Monday, July 28, 2014

Monday. Not My Fun Day.

I am really not in to this whole Monday thing.

Moving the washing machine kicked my big ol' butt. I had taken it apart when I tried to fix it, then couldn't get it back together, so I loaded it on the hand truck with the whole back end flopping up and down. At one point I had it stuck in the hallway, then I got it hung on the phone line. When I finally got it to the front door, I got frustrated after wrangling all the critters and sticking them in bathrooms and bedrooms so I could prop the front door open. I ended up ripping the whole cabinet off of it and carrying it out by itself. The washer and all it's parts eventually ended up making it's way down down the ramp and to the yard.

I'm sure I was a sight, barefoot and sweaty, wrangling big pieces of appliance all over the front porch.

I also got rid of Ma's monstrous electric chair this weekend. Aunt Moses knew some people who could use it. I was so thankful. I had already planned to shove it out in to the yard this weekend until I could find someone to haul it off.

So much crap that needs to go.

We have a chair that's worn out and the cheapo Wally World entertainment center going to the dump when I get my next burst of energy.

I'm too old for this mess.

The Amazon just texted me that we had a cut off notice from the electric company when she got home this morning. I'm not even going to worry about it. We get them all the time, but they have yet to actually cut it off. I get paid Friday. Let go and let God.

Such is Monday.

Later Taters!