In Survivor Mode

Hey ya'll. It's official. I survived my first week of unemployment.

It's been weird. The only times I've been without a job were for a couple of years after TA was born and the first couple of months after we moved to the holler. I literally do not know what to do with myself.

Anxiety was a big issue last week, but that seems to have subsided. However, knowing myself as I do, I've spent a considerable amount of time on the phone with various mental health professionals, trying to get an appointment. The only provider in Hee Haw County doesn't take my insurance and would charge me $90 for an evaluation and $60 for a 30 minute session. If I wait until my insurance ends on March 31st, I can go and pay a $3 copay.

What kind of effin sense does that make?

I did speak with a lady at length yesterday in Big City who said she could get me in a program at the hospital for intensive outpatient therapy, who does take my insurance, but I'd have to be there by 9am  and stay 'til noon five days a week. Hell, by the time I drive to Big City everyday for two weeks, I'll have used up all my funds.

The lesson? Don't go crazy in Hee Haw county.

I did manage to get an appointment with the Hee Haw Clinic on the 30th. At least I can get my prescriptions filled while I still have coverage. I'm going to look in to BC/BS of NC, once I find out if/what my unemployment will be. They offer a discount based on your adjusted income from your tax return.

This also means I'll need to do my taxes.

Over the weekend, TA decided that I needed a day trip so she got discount tickets to the aquarium in Gatlinburg and we spent Sunday looking at the sea critters. I took lots of pictures, but not many good ones. Sharks will NOT sit still for their photo op, no matter how much you beg.

Last week I also looked in to getting disability. I have four of the ailments listed on their approval list, plus a plethora of others. I really don't want to work anywhere else after dealing with Gorilla Head.

I haven't shared all the crap he's pulled since he's been at The Asylum. I think the worst day was when he failed to show up one day and emailed me to send a customer an order acknowledgement. Unbeknownst to him, I was up to my ass in alligators, putting out fires in his absence. The next morning, he came in and the customer called. GH yelled from his office (he didn't care if I was on the phone or in the middle of something, he would just holler from his troll hole and expect me to hop to it) and I rolled my chair over to his door. He asked me if I'd sent the acknowledgment like he'd told me and I said, "Not yet."

He proceeded to ream me a new one, while he had the customer on the phone, not on hold, not covering the mouth piece, yelling, "WHEN I TELL YOU TO DO SOMETHING I EXPECT YOU TO DO IT RIGHT THEN! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IF YOU'RE BUSY, JUST DO WHAT I SAY!."

It didn't go over well.

After he hung up the phone, I appeared, like a demonic vision in his doorway. There were lots of "Don't you EVER.." and "Unprofessional behavior" type accusations being tossed his way. I was livid.

It's really no wonder I got the ax.

Dr. B, our German daddy, is supposed to be in on 4/4. I wonder if he knows I'm gone. I always made sure he had fresh, hot, very strong coffee and he always asked me if I was happy. I know he and GH have been in to it a few times. I half expect to hear from him.

I've had a hard time distancing myself from The Asylum. I still worry about orders that I know were supposed to go out. I miss Lulu and Thelma. Neither of them will talk to me. I've been shunned.

Oddly, I did get a call from Twatwaffle. She'd heard about the Long Lost Daughter drama and wanted to reach out to me. I'd always said we'd get along outside the office, but she was a huge pain in the ass to work for.

I've been going 'round and 'round trying to figure out what to do in the future. I really can't stand the thought of going back in to an office with an asshole boss. I'd like to get disability, but I'm not going to apply until I talk to the doc on the 30th. I like to make things, but I don't want the hassle of running a website. I do have one of those shelter tent thingies you see at craft shows. I saw it at Big Lots on clearance for $40 and grabbed it. I've not even had it out of the box. I could probably make enough side money selling crafts from the front yard in the summer to make ends meet. Maybe do a few Tarot readings. The house is paid for. Jolene is paid for. I could grow a few veggies in the back yard and get a few more chickens for eggs. I'd be happy.

Of course, there is also that book I never had time to write.

I guess I'd best get to doing something. Don't ya'll worry, I'll be writing ever step of the way. Thank you for all your kind comments, I read them over and over when I'm down.

For now, there are dishes and laundry and critters to tend to. Ya'll take care, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

I've got time for a quick update, details coming soon!

The German invasion of The Cubicle Asylum was successful. There was one German, the CEO of the new company. A tall, somewhat attractive older man, with a kind smile who likes his coffee strong and his people to work hard and be happy.

The new crew also brought Gorilla Head in sales. He was here for two days and will return on Monday. During his brief visit, he hacked phlegm, churned snot and gagged all over my office. The saving grace of disinfectant spray delivered me from getting the full fledged crud.

The GM's office is now occupied by a little gnome of a feller, a pudgy, happy little man who is, bless his heart, doing his best to figure out how in the hell we did business for so long with so little to work with.

They have all made lots of promises. Time will tell if they follow through.

No more does Twatwaffle screech down the hall, constantly clicking her pen in frustration or breathe down my neck. She was not part of the deal. She was offered a position with the new company, but opted to stay with the tyrannical bastids that ruled over us for the past 20 years.

Our 401K accounts were frozen as of August 16th, so the current stock market craziness hasn't effected our stash and... I'm cashing in. It looks like by this time next week, my house will be paid off, the back taxes will be taken care of and.. maybe.. I'll have enough left to get a riding lawn mower.

This means, I'll be able to afford heating oil for the winter and I'll be able to like.. actually pay my bills. I'll be able to live on what I make. By "live," I mean, buying groceries and not constantly worrying about the electricity or the water being cut off.

I feel like there is hope and at the same time, I'm afraid to be happy.

I'll work on that.

I PROMISE there will be more details soon. I have to tell you about TW's latest family drama, stuff I heard from Gorilla Head's former assistant and back at the trailer, new critters!

We'll talk soon ya'll.

Later Taters!

More Than One Mama Bear Can Take

Here at The Asylum, it's been a bad week to be a Mom.

On Tuesday, I was answering emails when I received a call from Lulu on an outside line. I didn't even know she'd left. She was calling from the DG in town, looking for Benadryl. Her mom had called to tell her that her son, Mitch, had been stung by a bee while working outside and was swelling up like a balloon. Lulu grabbed the drugs and dropped them off with her mom and rushed back to work. A little later, when I went to ask how he was doing, she was gone again. I called Thelma to ask if Lulu'd left again, looked up and there she was, standing in my doorway. She'd been to the clinic and back.

Lulu's got mad ninja skizzles.

Mitch ended up at the Hee Haw clinic with Dr. Methuselah, 2 shots in his belly, one in his hip and 2 more.. I don't even want to know where. They said if he'd waited any longer he'd be dead.

The docs down at the Hee Haw clinic don't embrace the practice of "bedside manner."

Today, Mitch is doing fine, but Lulu is in sticker shock after finding out they wanted to charge $400 for epipens for him to carry. Mitch's income is so low, he doesn't even have to have Obamacare, so no insurance. Lulu called around and found someone with a sample pack so her youngun doesn't up and die, seeing how he cuts trees for a living and is bound to run across a bee or two again. In the mean time, I found a manufacturer that offers free pens to low income people, so she's got that for next time.

On Tuesday afternoon, after being holed up in her office all day with the door closed, leading to all sorts of speculation around the office of plant shut downs, mass firings... all kinda stuff.. Twatwaffle came to my office and shut the door.

"This is it.. I'm fired," I thought.

She leaned back against the door, muttering something about informing her top notch team, began shaking all over and hyperventilating.

With her 96 year old father-in-law in hospice and her mother facing surgery for the lifelong effects of rheumatoid arthritis, I assumed something really bad had happened to one of them. I walked over and put my arms around her.. anything to stop her from shaking. Between panting breaths, struggling to speak, she squeezed out the words, "Monday night.. my son... OD'd... on heroin."

I was flabbergasted. Her son, barely 21, had the world handed to him his whole life. TW has a daughter and three beautiful grand babies, but this boy, this was her baby.

"His... skin was gray... I.. I.. had to do.. CPR... on my baby boy."

That night, he'd come in late and asked her to make him something to eat. She told him no, she was tired, what with running to the assisted living place, taking her mom on doctor visits and running this place. She told him she was going to bed. He is grown after all, surely to gawd he can go make himself a friggen sandwich.

But then she felt guilty, as we all do and went back upstairs to toss some chicken in the fryer. She told herself it wouldn't take ten minutes, then she could sleep, guilt free. As she puttered around the kitchen, she heard him go in to the bathroom, but, after a reasonable amount of time, didn't hear him come out. She banged on the door, but he never answered. When she pushed her way through, she saw him there in the floor, not breathing, with the needle hanging out of his arm.

It would be traumatic enough if you knew your child was doing the hard stuff, but TW had no clue. I can not even begin to fathom what must have gone through her mind.

She yelled for the Bubbahubby to call 911 and began CPR, or at least, the best she could from what she'd seen them do on T.V. When the paramedics arrived, they popped him with a syringe of Narcan and hauled him to the E.R.

Today, TW's baby boy is doing ok, other than facing a court date for possession charges and ya know.. being a heroin addict. TW and her Bubbahubby on the other hand, are all to pieces. I think both their worlds have pretty much been blown to smithereens in the past week.

In the middle of all this feckin' Mama Drama, Thelma put her baby boy on a plane to Argen-fudgin-tina. He met a nice South American girl while working at a ski lodge in Colorado this past winter and decided to pack up his stuff and head way south of the border.

Thelma is nervous, but okay with it. Her Bubbahubby and her mother-in-law are not and are blaming Thelma for "letting" him do it.

The boy is 19. What's she supposed to do? Lock him in the basement?

Lulu said Thelma's brother-in-law even stood up in church last Sunday and asked for prayers for Thelma's baby boy to see the error in his ways, shaking his head and putting on a good floor show.. and embarrassing the beejeebus out of Thelma.

So while I feel lucky that back at my trailer, the worst thing I'm dealing with is The Amazon's swollen ankle and her lack of enthusiasm for helping with the dishes, I've still had my share of anxiety fueled chest pain this week.

As much as TW gets on my last nerve, I honestly do not think I could survive the week she's had. My heart aches for all three of them,

It's hard to be a Mama, yo. The struggle is real.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

The Cubicle Asylum: The Plot Thickens Like a Pot of Hasenpfeffer

Wednesday morning began with the announcement of a meeting by Twatwaffle.

Speculation ran like wildfire through the office. There were already rumors being passed around (by me mostly) of an unscheduled inventory on May 1st. Thelma had let it slip when we were discussing who would do what to keep her job covered while she was on vacation in Colorado. We normally do inventory every October. 

Something was up.

We all filed in to the break room and took our seats while TW made her announcements in her exagerated executive hickified accent.

"I am 98% sure that The Germans are ready to make a substantial financial investment in us. Therefore, tomorrow morning we will be having company here to inspect the property and tomorrow afternoon there will be people from the state here. As you all know, if you were ready to invest a substantial amount of money in a business, you want to know that they have what they say they do."

She also said she'd been "up to her knees and elbows in due dilligence for months."

I'm still trying to translate that last bit.

On Tuesday, after everyone else had left, she went around the office counting phone jacks and making a list. 

One of the welders flat out asked if we were being bought. She raised her voice and changed the subject, talking over him.

Another asked if a "substantial financial investment means we'll get a raise.. finally?" To which she again, raised her voice, changing the subject.

Personally, I don't care what they do. I'm good either way. If they come in and fire us all, I'll cash in that 401K, pay off the house and ride my unemployment for a while. If they keep us, I imagine I'll tow the line a little bit longer. 

We'll just have to see what happens.

Now I gotta go sell those Robot Monkeys. No rest for the Sales Ninja!

Ya'll have a good one, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

DOOMED

My new boss started yesterday and was fired today, but I'll get to that later.

Twatwaffle kept insisting that she needed to contact the reps to reassure them that "we" had everything under control. I told her I'd already talked to all of them, but she just had to stick her nose in it. After referring to Sparkles as the "formal" sales manager and going on and on about her accomplishments, she had this to say:

" I ask that each of you continue to Push and Sale our product.  You bring us the orders and we will make a Quality Product in a Timely Manner with Service Support. 

 

 I am a true believer in TEAM WORK!   My contact information is below. Please feel free to contact me at anytime if you have concerns. "

Now I know I'm the queen of typos, especially on my phone, but this was sent in a professional capacity and frankly, embarrassing.

I doubt her email made anyone want to run out and represent our company. We are doomed.

Later Taters.

posted from Bloggeroid

Dearest Peppermint Twatwaffle

As your humble employee, I realize there are things that you feel I am too feeble to comprehend, but when there is one person covering both production and shipping, one person covering sales and those are the only two people who can answer the phone (because apparently you are exempt from learning the switchboard if you have a weenis, go figure,) AND the P.A. system has been broken for a week, just how the hell do you expect us to handle incoming calls? I can't leave my desk because I have the switchboard, yet I'm expected to run out in the plant and hunt people down every time their wife/girlfriend has a bread and milk emergency.

If you could explain this to me, that would be great.

I understand that the elderly gentleman who was supposed to retire six months ago, who handles all repairs, is on vacation, but when both lasers quit and one of the balancers is all kittywampus, I really think maybe you should call someone to come fix that shit. Your stomping up and down the hall with your explosive camel toe, mumbling to yourself because nothing is going to ship this month, isn't very productive and it's not getting you any sympathy from me.

Let's look at this rationally.

You want enough $$ to ship by tomorrow to make budget and we can't build anything because all the machines are broken. Clyde comes back from vacation on the 6th of next month.

You can see how this isn't going to work, right?

I know I'm stupid and all, but you can probably go on the internet yellow pages (I can show you how to use the internet, I know you're still mastering email,) and look under "maintenance" or "repairs" to find someone to come fix.. oh I dunno... SOMETHING.

Maybe if I had one of those fancy degrees like you have I'd see how you're going to pull this one out of your Spanx.

Your happy little worker bee,

Mahala