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|
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.
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.
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.
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.