I really believe that employees do their best work when they are free to be creative and not have supervisors constantly looking over their shoulder. Micro managing be damned. Do your job and I don't care if you surf the Internet and tweet ten times per day. I mean not that I would ever use the office computer for anything besides issues directly concerning the company but my dedication is to the extreme. I do not expect the lay person to emulate moi.
Unfortunately, every few months I have to rein in the folks that begin abusing my "do your job and leave me the hell alone" policy of staff control. I have to post a list of rules. Personally, I think these issues are common sense but I kid you not, each ones of these have been broken in the past six weeks or they wouldn't be on the list.
1. Do not put urine in the break room refrigerator. There are no exceptions to this policy.
2. Do not bring your children to work with you when they are sick and they can't attend school. There isn't enough hand sanitizer in the office to make people feel secure as they watch your 7 years old's snot roll out of her nose and pool on your desk.
3. It is very important that you phone in when you are unable to work. Claiming your co workers saw you sneeze twice yesterday doesn't count as letting us know you are sick.
4. You are responsible for keeping your work place clean. Please do not leave half eaten, opened boxes of donuts under your desk. (And then act horrified when your chair is covered in ants the next morning)
5. Having your friends stop by and hang out in your office for two or three hours isn't permitted. Having them surf a work computer while you shout out the address of your favorite You tube video, also not permitted.
6. You must clock out if you leave the building for lunch. It is highly unlikely when you come back with shopping and fast food bags that you ate at your desk while working as you claim.
7. Personal phone calls are to be kept to a minimum or on your break times. When I am trying to reach your extension for an hour, walk in and you are discussing the tacky shoes Maria wore at the rehearsal dinner, you aren't going to be able to spin that into a work related issue.
8. Keep your cell phone on silent. You may love your ring tone of the Star Wars theme song but when it is combined with your office mate's Ludaris' How Low and Keshas TikTok I tend to get a bit testy.
9. We have a dress code. You have signed off on it. You can even buy the appropriate clothing and have it payroll deducted. Please tell me where you read that pink converse with neon green laces and a white tee shirt that says Did You Eat A Bowl of Stupid for Breakfast are appropriate for a medical facility?
10.If you are scheduled to work at 8 am you should clock in at 8 am. Having your friend clock you in at 7 am so you can get some overtime to pay your past due cell phone bill won't endear you to my heart. As a matter of fact, that one will get you fired.
Are patients customers? Sure, technically I would have to say they are. Whiny, complaining, cranky customers but customers nonetheless.
It does seem to me, however, that an adult would know the difference between slapping down ten bucks for a double cheeseburger meal at Wendy's versus paying that same ten bucks as a copay on medical services.
But alas, often they do not.
As I sat in my office earlier, minding my own business and playing Mafia Wars on Facebook deligently working, I heard a commotion from down the hall. I knew I would get dragged into it sooner or later so I opted for the later.
The later was a matter of seconds. My accounting supervisor came in saying that a patient is demanding a refund of his copay and is super pissed that she is refusing to give it to him.
"Did he have the services?"
Yup, he did. He just wasn't happy with the results.
"Would you go speak to him?" she implored.
I squared my shoulders and prepared to enter the war zone. Now the way Skippy explained it, he came to our office specifically to get a prescription for the drug oxycontin and the physician he just saw refused to give him one. Therefore, he does not want his insurance charged and he demands a full refund of his ten dollar copay.
When I informed him that would not be possible as he was examined and did receive treatment he shouted:
"I AM THE CUSTOMER AND THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT!!"
No, he didn't get his refund and yes, he left with the typical backwards shouts stating he is going to sue me, my children's children and my goldfish Killer.
I can just picture the reason for the malpractice lawsuit...
It seems I am a very bad boss to her little 22 year old princess and she is outraged.
It all started rather innocently. My receptionist announced that Mrs. Fuckedupbitch was on line 2.
"Who?" I asked.
"Mrs. Fuckedupbitch", she repeated. "Tiffany's Mother."
Since I had just passed Tiffany in the hallway I was curious what this could be about. So I made a huge mistake. I took the call.
"Hello Mrs Fuckedupbitch. What can I do for you?"
"I WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU ARE MAKING MY DAUGHTER COME INTO WORK WHEN SHE IS SICK." This was yelled so loud I had to literally hold the phone away from my ear.
"Ma'am, I really have no idea what you're talking about. Do you want to speak to your daughter?" I asked, not wanting any part of some crazy dysfunctional family drama.
"I HAVE ALREADY SPOKEN TO MY DAUGHTER. SHE SAID YOU WOULD FIRE HER IF SHE CALLED IN SICK TODAY."
While I didn't say that today, Tiffany has taken far too many days off and I am aware that her direct supervisor has her on probation due to that fact. It is quite possible that she would get fired if she called in but I certainly wasn't sharing that fact with this crazy bitch.
"Listen, your daughter is an adult and I am not discussing her employment status with you or anyone else." I responded.
"WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO, MISSY (yes, she called me Missy) IS MARCH RIGHT UP TO HER AND SEND HER HOME. SHE IS FAR TO SICK TO BE AT WORK."
"Mrs. Fuckedupbitch, I have been more than polite and patient with you. If your daughter is sick, she should be mature enough to make the decision as to whether or not she should be at work."
"So, you wouldn't fire her if she had phoned in?" the shrew replied almost nice.
"I certainly did not say that. What I said was as a grown person out in the working world, your daughter has to set her priorities and determine if there will be consequences to actions either past or present and deal with them."
That was as close as I got to saying what I really wanted to say which was this:
If your dumb ass bitch daughter didn't phone in almost every Friday to go to the mall and spend the paycheck she got on Thursday on ugly belts, tacky hoop earrings and jeans that show off her tramp stamp she wouldn't be in this position.
"FINE!" (I guess the exchange of niceties was over). "TRANSFER ME TO MY DAUGHTER RIGHT NOW. SHE IS QUITING AND NEVER COMING BACK."
I didn't even say goodbye as I transferred the call back to the operator so she could find precious Tiffany.
Five minutes later, Tiffany barged in, without knocking, not the least bit embarrassed but with an attitude of her own.
"I Do NOT appreciate you talking to my mother that way."
Oh God, did I go to sleep and wake up in opposite land?
"Is there something I can do for you Tiffany?" I asked exasperated.
"No, I quit." and with that she flung her parking card at me and stormed out.
Good riddance to you and your crazy ass mother.
Why do I suddenly wish that Tiffany didn't know what I drive?
Comment of the day:
Evil Twins Wife: I never read such a clear-cut case to actually show that assholism does indeed run in families.
Not that there is anything wrong with being a nerd, I mean someone needs to invent the next big computer operating system, but my kid doesn't seem to fit into what I always assumed a nerd was. To me a nerd was a super smart misfit who dressed like their parents and were socially retarded. So I was shocked when she informed me this past weekend that she is in the nerd group at school. This is a kid who spends hours on the phone with half the girls in her class and went over her text messaging limit by 1000 this month. She is style conscious, outgoing, thin and active. Okay, she wears glasses but a third of her class does as well and some of them are "in" with the popular group.
So, I asked her...
"What makes a person a Nerd?"
She looked at me like I was socially retarded and said...
When you're not one of the popular kids.
Now I had a dilemma. I can't ask why she isn't one of the popular kids, that makes it sound like she should be or I am disappointed that she isn't and yet, why wasn't she one of the popular kids?
I think she is pretty kewl myself.
Not to mention I wish she were more nerd like. She would be getting much better grades and I could start planning to be supported by her in the future.
The problem is, I don't know if there really is a problem. She didn't give the nerd title as if it were a particularly bad thing so maybe the hang up with the title is mine.
I am picturing the kid that sits alone, covered in cat hair and smelling like mothballs. Maybe the nerds of the 21st century are a different breed.
Comment of the day:
Jay: I really kind of hate the way the popular and good looking kids took the "title" nerd away from the real nerds. It's typical of them really. Once it became trendy to be a nerd, they wanted to be called one too.
But, until someone threatens to kick your ass if you make a perfect score on another physics test, or you get shoved into a locker by some other jock, you're not really a nerd. haha ;-)
Those of you that have gotten a feel for my personality in the past few years know that I am the first one to help anyone in need. Present a worthy cause and I am on it. I've donated funds to everything from Save the Frogs to covering a fellow blogger's electric bill.
However, I always make sure my help is needed and that I am not simply doing it to give myself a warm fuzzy feeling.
It gets me wondering. Who exactly are these organizers of donations doing this for? Yes they have good intentions on the surface and maybe deeper than that but I think getting involved in more than a send a check and be done with it kind of way makes them feel good about themselves.
Really folks, that isn't the point. If the point is to help, do some research, pick your favorite disaster team that is there setting up and send them the funds to do their job. That is what they need. Meaning well is one thing, actually doing what needs to be done is the right thing. If all you have to donate is time, set up a car wash or a yard sale and send the cash so they can help these people with services not bandaids.
And keep last year's bikini and your dusty canned peaches with heavy syrup.
Yesterday evening at the supermarket I witnessed one of the most horrifying things I have ever seen.
Two brothers fighting over who gets to push the cart.
As Mom perused the canned green beans, Lucifer and Beelzebub were going at it like two Rottweilers fighting over a poodle bitch in heat. When the pushing turned into punching I glanced over at Mom to see what she plans to do to end the conflict before massive bloodshed. She looked over at me gave me a boys will be boys shrug and turned back to the buy one get one free Green Giant succotash.
I quickly left the aisle before I was struck with a badly aimed punch and could still hear the shouts from the beasts half way across the market.
The situation got me wondering, why do so few parents actually control their hellions anymore? I can’t even count the amount of times I have seen a toddler throw his or her body on the floor having a tantrum as Mommy stood by trying to rationalize with the monster. Or worse, offer them treats to bribe her way out of the situation. One woman went so far as to tell me it is a stage and he will grow out of it but for now, she is trying to teach him to “self comfort”. Have the brat “self comfort” in your overprices SUV so the rest of the world doesn’t have to hear it, you bitch.
These are the same parents that think it is perfectly reasonable to allow their spawn to run around a restaurant so the “adults” at the table can finish their own meals and talk. They are also the same parents that will sue the breadsticks out of Olive Garden when a waitress dumps a tray full of hot coffee on Damian because he ran straight into her.
I am far from a perfect parent but that shit didn’t fly with me. Due to my lack of ambition and culinary stills, my kids both learned to eat out politely from an early age. On the rare occasion they did experience a melt down and I left my gag and duct tape at home that day, I took them outside and reminded them just how much trouble they will be in if my entrée got cold.
Am I getting crankier in my old age or are these little shits more out of control than ever?
My New Year's Resolution was to stop giving people my
What are you some kind of idiot?
Well, I made it two weeks. Of course the first week I was on vacation and I took off this past Wednesday so technically I made it four days.
I really try not to be condescending, I really do but when I am asked the same questions over and over I get a tad cranky. I don't think I would even mind if it were reasonable questions that require some thought. But I get questions like
The sky is purple...right?
You can eat dirt as long as it is covered in Bosco...correct?
I told him that he can make an appointment as long as he jumps off the building with an umbrella fifteen minutes prior. Is that okay?
Notice how these decisions have already been made and I am expected to confirm that they were made correctly. So instead of being asked...
Are we supposed to take the change from the parking meter and shove it up our ass?
By the way, I shoved three quarters up my ass and now need to be reimbursed. Is that okay?
If none of these things make any sense to you...welcome to my world.
I am changing my New Years Resolution to something a bit easier to keep. Like promoting World Peace.
As most of you know, a major earthquake struck southern Haiti on Tuesday. Haiti is one of the poorest countries on earth and will need the world's help in saving the injured and rebuilding. At the very least, go to your local blood bank and give a pint of blood. If you have the means to do so, please donate to the Red Cross or Doctors without Borders by clicking the below link. Even five dollars will help send medical teams where they are most needed.
I am very proud that Americans always come to the aid of people during tragedy despite our problems at home. Please do what you can.
I actually found myself writing an email to a friend last night explaining that I was going to be friendly and call but decided that I didn't really feel like it.
Yeah..I was thinking about you enough to consider saying hi but not enough to actually walk all the way to the phone, pick it up, search for your number, dial and then spend time hearing about your boring little life. Maybe some other time.
No wonder my Facebook friend list is so pitiful.
The bottom line is I hate talking on the phone. It doesn't matter how much I like you or how long it has been since I've seen you. Juicy gossip doesn't do it. Well, maybe if the mayor got caught fucking his bassett hound in the park.....again. But even that can be said in a text message or email.
I was calling my son out on the fact that he never calls unless he wants something.
"If I called to say hi, you'd ask what I want and why I am bothering you for no reason!"
I have friends that will stay on the phone for hours. I had friends that kept me on the phone for hours. Notice I said had. I can't stand that "I know you have to go but let me tell you this one thing..."bullshit. Unless it is goodbye, I don't want to hear it.
Even though I have probably ruined at least one serious relationship and a dozen potential friendships due to my avoidance of Alexander Graham Bell's instrument of torture, I wouldn't have done it any other way.
Is it written somewhere that married people actually have to be seen in public together? I could have sworn I read all the fine print in the marriage contract and the prenup and that isn't mentioned anywhere. Nonetheless, I found myself out to dinner with SCM last night. When I offered to buy him dinner for his birthday, I didn't think he would actually expect me to go with him! WTF??!
I think the paying gesture was more than enough. He even could have invited a date, I didn't give a shit.
But alas, I found myself at Outback last night with SCM, the princess and my son..who no longer resides with me but never passes off a steak and a beer if Mom's footing the bill.
Now everything was going smashingly until SCM got sick of the silence and decide to talk. Actually, it was number one son's fault because he told a story about some traffic that kept him from being on time. I then had to listen to 15 minutes about how driving the speed limit is illegal if everyone else is speeding because it messes up traffic flow.
Isn't that sort of like Mother's ..if all your friends jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge....?
My problem is I can't just shut my fucking mouth, nod and smile. No, I need to give him my beloved you're a freakin idiot look and point out the holes in his theory.
When will I ever learn???
If that isn't bad enough, he insists on cracking one liners to the waitress. Unfortunately, SCM isn't funny. As some of you know, he likes to think he is, but....not so much.
I cringe when he gets the inevitable what the fuck are you talking about look and nervous chuckle and wish I could claim he was a homeless man that I picked up in the parking lot and decided to feed out of the goodness of my heart.
My first husband had no sense of humor either but the difference is, he never claimed he did. My son was reminded of that recently when his gift from his Dad was some kind of hand tool. His dad asked if he knew what it was and the kid quipped... "An automatic gerbil retriever?"
His dad didn't get it.
It appears SCM and I are the happiest couple in the world. As long as we don't vacation, travel in a car or go to a public place together.
I need to find a good lawyer to draw up a post nup to add those provisions.
I added a new kewl kid. Doc has some peeps in New York and thinks I am funny. One can't get much cooler than that. Check him out.
Winter has come to Florida. We get an actual winter once every three or four years with temperatures highs in the 40s and 50s and temperatures below freezing overnight. Personally, I am loving it.
First of all, I look damn cute in sweaters and jeans and second, my hair looks great without all the humidity frizzing it out in every direction.
Oh and my rings aren't tight around my fingers due to the hot weather swelling up my fingers like Ms. Piggy's.
I love getting home and throwing on a pair of sweatpants a big baggy sweat shirt and my santa clause sleepers that I received as a Christmas gift.
And cuddling under two blankets and a quilt with the pillow being cool is simply heavenly.
Sure there are bad parts...
I don't like getting out of the shower and having to put on bathrobe on right away. I prefer to do hair and makeup in a towel.
The electric heat dries out my skin and I have applied more lotion to my body than two whores oil wrestling.
I could only find two gloves and they don't match so I do look a little strange to the toll collector.
And there was actual FROST on my windshield this morning. FROST! As in I couldn't leave because the wipers wouldn't work and I couldn't see. Of course scraping it was totally out of the question so I had to wait for the car to heat up enough to melt the shit.
All in all, I think I'd like another month or two of winter weather. Next week's forecast has it warming up to the mid 60s so it appears 10 days is all we get this year.
Today is SCM's birthday. I know you all have to get back to your party plans so I will be brief.
I arrived home yesterday evening to the princess doing homework and no SCM in site.
"Where's your father?" I inquired.
"In the bathtub."
Now to most people, this would be a perfectly natural statement. Putting aside the joke of SCM not actually bathing at all, when he is in the tub it is an indication that he is depressed or upset in same way.
Since the world revolves around me, I was aggitated that after working 11 hours I now had to deal with that shit.
Apparently I was wrong. He toweled off, put on three sweaters and thermal underwear (It is 40 degrees in the sunshine lately) and climbed into bed.
Lest you think I am totally heartless, I did ask if there was something I could do for him.
"Yeah..shut the door on your way out."
Yup, I could do that.
I ate the dinner he saved for me in the microwave, put the Princess to bed and logged on facebook.
SCM had made an entry 1 hour before. It simply read "FUCK!!!"
Even odder, two hours before that he had been playing Mafia Wars and offered his friends a bonus for killing Tony Soprano or whatever. So something occurred within that time frame. Hmmmm.
Not to be the type of person to leave my curiosity unsatisfied, I went back in the room with the door now closed and inquired as to what that FUCK!!! was about.
"Where were you after work? You signed off over an hour before you got home?"
I explained if he really must know, I was picking up a birthday gift for him.
"I hope it wasn't anything music related."
Again I was instructed to not let the door hit me on the ass on my way out.
So here I sit, in my office, still clueless about what crawled up his anal sphincter and died.
Was the comment about music a hint? Did the band break up?
SCM will talk when he is ready. And talk and talk and talk. I guess I should appreciate the silence while it lasts.
Now I would like my internet kewl kids to give me an opinion on something. Here is the situation...
I am currently hiring a part time file clerk/operator. I put an ad on Craigslist and received over 100 replies so far. I screened some and gave the best six to my lead person so she can decide who she wants to meet. She decided to meet them all and leave the final decision to me. No problem.
Applicant two comes in for her interview. She meets with the lead person who comes into my office to see if I have a free parking voucher. (Free to the person I am giving to, not free to me). I told her I was out of them and she stated that her present interviewee parked in the garage and has no money to get out. Please be aware that there is a huge sign outside the garage that states "$4.00 parking. No exceptions."
I instructed her application be filed under "no freakin' way" sight unseen. My lead person said she was impressed with her and thought I was being hasty. I feel if doesn't have the common sense to follow simple directions she doesn't need to work for me.
Pam was the self appointed greeter representing the bar I hung out in on New Year's Eve. When you think of a bar full of classy people all dressed up in their glitter and bows to ring in the New Year you do not think of the Parrot Room, Nonetheless, the Parrot Room was where I found myself and where I met Pam and her cast of outrageous characters.
I had friends visiting from New York and right before I was to meet them I had a frantic call freaking out that they brought nothing dressy to wear for a night out. Having been to the Parrot myself a few too many times, I dutifully informed them that shirts were required, shoes were optional and if their jeans have been washed within the last month, they are already attired better than the average patron.
Why, you may ask, was this the place that I choose to bring my treasured guests? Three very important reasons...in no particular order...
The bands are good and happened to be great that night. (My son was featured on guitar)
The drinks are cheap and the bartender pours liberally.
The characters are even more entertaining than the bands.
I started the night by buying a round of Tequila for the group to get the party started. The waitress brought a cup with some lemons in it but no salt. "Oh, the salt shakers are on all the tables" she waved her hand around in no particular direction.
There were none on any tables we could see. Fortunately, my new best friend, Billy made it his mission to find some salt for our shots. He came through like a trooper. I purchased five shots and had only four friends willing to partake so Billy had himself a little treat for his hunting ability. We toasted the New Year, Pam the big fat ho and Billy the salt searcher.
When the band began to play, one couple had made it to drunk enough to dance. (It was early yet.) Now I am not such a great dancer so I seldom critique those with the balls to get up in front of others and make a fool out of themselves. But this guy was too much. His dancing consisted of three moves. My favorite was him being hunched over and dragging his knuckles on the ground like a monkey in time to the beat. We gave him a hoot, holler and round of applause when the song ended and he came to join us. He introduced himself as Roger and his wife Penny.
Another round of Tequila and another toast to Pam the big fat ho, Billy the salt searcher and our new friend Roger the monkey dancer.
The Parrot has a deck outback where the people go to smoke weed get some fresh air. Since smoking any legal substance is permitted in the bar, outside is pretty much reserved for the fresh air gang. I came out to find my friends hanging with our new buds (no pun intended) in a circle. Of course I knew this was a bonding moment so a put my arms around Billy and Pam's waste and started singing kum ba yah.
One guy thought this was hysterical and laughed so hard beer was ejected out of his nose in a sudsy stream. Anyone that gets amused by something so stupid is certainly worth knowing so I made myself known to Tim.
Back inside another round of tequila and a toast to the New Year, Pam the big fat ho, Billy the salt searcher, Roger the monkey dancer and Tim the beer snot man.
The entire night continued in this way and a great time was had by all. I am taking my friends word for this fact since after Tim the beer snot man I forgot my name, where I was and what year we were in the process of celebrating.
Happy New Year to all my kewl kid friends. My sincere wish for love, health and success in the New Year but most importantly, a lot of laughter.