Post #152 – CLUTTER ME CRAZY!

I previously mentioned my irritation in regard to the amount of housework I do and/or about the nasty grime my son creates in this post…

http://tenaciousbitch.com/2015/03/04/post-148-the-toilet-promise-from-the-kitchen-bitch/

Well, there’s another issue that makes me wanna start throwing shit out the windows. What is that, pray tell, you ask?

The. FUCKING. CLUTTER. First of all, I know that I have a good bit of clutter too.

MY CLOSET JULY 2015

My dilapidated excuse for a closet, LOL.

But it’s not by the front door or in the living room…it’s in my office or my closet, which is a total disaster because I’ve run out of room. However, I gave six, 30-gallon trash bags full of clothes to the Volunteers of America last month. And now, I know I still have a lot of dress clothes and such to sort through, etc.

However, NO ONE ever sees my disheveled untidiness because it’s all tucked away upstairs.  You can’t even get to my office without walking through mine and Charlie’s bedroom, so…yeah, it gets pretty much 0 traffic beyond me, Charlie and Max.

MY OFFICE JULY 2015

The wall adjacent my desk in my office. Pretty, ain’t it? :)

And, yes, much of the mounds of God knows what in manila folders throughout my little hovel where I toil away on my writing and such – could be tossed…if I had time to clean it after vacuuming, dusting, putting away laundry and doing an ungodly amount of dishes and/or and cleaning 3 of the 4 bathrooms cuz I’ll never touch Max’s bathroom again after THIS incident –

http://tenaciousbitch.com/2014/07/08/post-138-wish-i-could-boil-my-fingers-an-adventure-in-sink-surgery/

While my closet and office are contained areas of chaos, the difference is the messiness of my office is from not having time to file/sort and get rid of old bills or bank statements of my Grandmother’s, receipts that I may or may not need to keep for our taxes, etc.

And the disorder of my closet is from an abundance of clothes that are too small, worn out, out of season (winter clothes), or I just decided I didn’t like them after wearing them a time or two (particularly thrift store clothes).

But Max and Charlie’s clutter is comprised of objects they use every day that they’ve just neglected to put away. And Charlie constantly buys electronics and car parts, and he’ll leave the packaging on the kitchen table for 2 weeks/a month. I hesitate to throw it out the box or whatever in case it’s under warranty, and he might want to save the packaging in case he needs to send it back for some reason. Usually, when I finally remember to ask him, he says he doesn’t need it. Then, WHY THE HELL didn’t you chuck it 3 weeks ago?

So…shall we take a walk down Max and Charlie’s CLUTTER LANE?

The photo below is from my living room, right by the front door. The rectangular item in the chair is a fan from an old server that Charlie brought home from work. They were moving their offices, and he saw it in the trash. He snapped it up, thinking it would make an interesting knick knack for the basement, but he left it sitting there in the wing chair for almost 2 weeks.

FAN FROM SERVER IN LIVING ROOM

To the right of the chair is Charlie’s bass amp, which sat there for 3 weeks after he came home from their “Word of Mouth” tour in June.

Next to the wing chair is his bass amp, which was sitting up against a marble topped linen chest for more than two weeks. I couldn’t open the linen chest that whole time to put placemats away and such and/or retrieve a clean tablecloth, and the cats LOVED trying to scratch it up, the bass amp, I mean.

I don’t know why they so love raking their nails across that hard vinyl-ish plastic, but they did.  And the sound was so pleasant late at night while doing dishes or making my lunch (to take to work) not 10 feet away in the kitchen when they suddenly began ratcheting their claws against that thing, a sound akin to fingernails on a chalkboard. I would jump and cringe every time,

OH, AND THEN, there’s the shoe farm right by the front door…yeah. I bought this really nice coat rack with a bench underneath for shoes, but they obviously don’t use it, n’est-ce pas?

SHOE FARM - BENCH

I suspect you’re starting to GET why I get so pissed off about this kind of slovenliness, and maybe some people wouldn’t be bothered by this issue. But it makes me wanna start breaking shit (namely the shit they leave all over the fucking house).

TOWEL ON THE TOILET

And this view of the toilet downstairs is another prime example. Max frequently takes a shower and just leaves his towel piled up on the Kleenex on the back of the toilet – instead of on the shower door, forgetting that I’m allergic to perfume. His towel is saturated with the pungent odor of the body wash he uses (Old Spice Matterhorn, or something like that), or it might be fumigating the tissues with the fragrance of Pantene shampoo. Any kind of perfume, good or bad, makes my sinuses swell, and I get a horrible headache, and/or I can’t breathe. So, I had to throw out that box of Kleenex. Then….there’s his clothing…MAX'S SHORTS IN THE BATHROOM

He’ll leave a filthy shirt on the kitchen table or his dirty shorts with his sweat-soaked, stanky underwear attached on the floor of the bathroom almost every time he takes a shower. Awesome…because he can’t use his own shower upstairs, but don’t even get me started on that. 

Okay, I’m DONE. Just know that if you hear about a woman in Ohio shooting her son’s backside full of buckshot…it just might be ME if they don’t heed my warnings to put their CRAP WHERE IT BELONGS…

Over and out…:)

~TB

Post # 151 -HALLELUJAH! The Supreme Court FINALLY legalized same sex marriage in America!!!

In a world where women can be astronauts, a traditionally male role, and men can be nurses ( a traditionally female role of course) without anyone batting an eye, I have to wonder why it took 40+ years for the Supreme Court to finally proclaim that it’s the Constitutional Right of EVERY citizen to marry whomever you want, regardless of gender. However, for those whose heart’s desire is to marry your toaster, the Supreme Court won’t hear your argument until a toaster or maybe a generator get elected to the highest court in the land. So, you’ll still have to continue hooking up with your bread browner on the down low for now.

Why do I make such a statement about cavorting with and/or being in love with an inanimate object in the same breath as discussing gay marriage? Because the idea of banning someone from marrying their toaster is as ludicrous to me as banning gay marriage.  Additionally, love has no boundaries, and it shouldn’t have unless such love included sexual conduct with a child.

Whether the evangelical churches agree with it or not, from a legal perspective, you cannot say it’s legal for a man to marry a woman but make it illegal for that same man to marry a man or that woman a woman, n’est-ce pas?

Such is and always has been unequivocally DISCRIMINATION, is it not? Which was, key word WAS, totally within the purview of the law until yesterday. If we had a law that men over 50 couldn’t marry women under 30, how would that be any different than banning same sex marriage? Banning older men/younger women (or older women/younger men) from saying “I do” would be discrimination based on the age of both parties.

Outlawing gay marriage is just as much sexual decriminalization as it would be to NOT hire someone because of their sexual orientation. And I don’t think even the worst of lawyers could find a legal argument that definitively says such is not the case – especially now, given the Supreme Court’s decision yesterday.

There’s a lot of people who would be disgusted if an 80-year-old man married a 21-year-old woman, and many might find it morally repugnant, but no one’s ever tried to ban such unions. But, unfortunately, same sex couples couldn’t get hitched in the state of Ohio (where I live) and many other states a mere 48 hours ago, a ban that I did NOT vote for, btw. And now, those lawmakers are all sportin’ egg on their faces. To-wit I say – HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, GUFFAW, AND LOL.

Sorry, but I assume you noticed my name is TENACIOUS BITCH, not Tenacious Princess, did you not? So, pardon my snicker, but I’m just so delighted that the ban on gay and lesbian marriage is now finally MOOT in the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA…:)

And the thing is, I don’t like broccoli, but I’m not bothered by those who love it. I just avoid encountering the sulfur-rich stank weed of the vegetable world (a.k.a. broccoli). I just move to the opposite end of the table from them broccoli lovers. And I guess I don’t understand why those who oppose gay marriage can’t do the same.

I realize same sex marriage is against the religious beliefs of a huge population of folks, but this law doesn’t extend to churches. In that, its verbiage doesn’t declare that same sex couples must be allowed to attend churches that oppose same sex unions. That said, you’re free to avoid contact with gay married folks and be as affronted and religiously outraged as you’d like.

I realize this tirade will probably garner all kinds of hate mail and such to my inbox, but I don’t care. Feel free to BRING IT ON because, in my opinion, IT’S ABOUT FRICKIN’ TIME that America truly joined the human race in every, single gay, lesbian, straight and/or transgender way without prejudice!

Besides, regardless of what the bible says and/or a million Christian ministers/a million rabbis or a million prejudiced neighbors, that little same-sex marriage bill/idea, etc., has now grown up into a full-fledged American LAW. And there’s no higher court to appeal to. It could be overturned. However, that’ll require enough red tape and petitions/briefs/documents/precedents/and forms out the yingyang from a couple dozen attorneys or so – enough paper to choke a small planet. And I don’t see that happening anytime soon. So, gay haters, you’re just gonna have to WALK IT OFF.

Alternatively, everyone will just have to learn LIVE and let LIVE – gay or otherwise. But as mentioned previously, you toaster-lustin’ folks will just have to wait your turn.

Over and out from Tenacious B and her band of truth-spouting hippies…:)

And Merry Christmas to All and to All a GOOD NIGHT!

~TB

/KS

Post #150 – About the Life and Death of James Thompson

For those who didn’t read my previous post last August –

http://tenaciousbitch.com/2014/08/04/about-james-thompson-author-of-snow-angels-my-ex-husband-who-died-last-weekend/

My ex-husband, James Thompson (author of Snow Angels) died in an accident in Helsinki, Finland where he had lived for the last 16 years. Initially, the details of his passing were sketchy.  However, I’ve since learned more about the circumstances on that dark night when Jim departed this world.

Unfortunately, Jim had suffered with severe migraines for years, and the medication he was taking made him drowsy, and it can also cause dizziness. The night he died, he took a walk after dinner by a lake near his house, which he’d done many times before. From what I understand, he lost his balance on the pier bordering the lake, and he drown.

He also had a head injury, so he either struck his head on the pier as he fell or he might’ve hit a rock or something in the water. They’re not really sure. However, he had always been a strong swimmer, so he had to have been unconscious, or he’d still be with us today.

Annika, his widow was just here in the states a few weeks ago. They had a memorial for him in Kentucky. Our son and his fiance were able to attend, but, unfortunately, I just started a new job in March, so I wasn’t able to get time off work. I also didn’t want to make Annika, uncomfortable – especially since I’ve never met her.

They buried his ashes in the family cemetery on his father’s farm. As I mentioned in a previous post, he and his third wife, Many, lived on the farm in a mobile home for a couple of years before they moved to Helsinki in ’98. It’s really beautiful there with acres and acres of lovely green grass and lush foliage, a very fitting place for his remains. He spent a lot of time there as a kid when his Uncle lived on the property before his father built a house there in ’98 or ’99. Some day, when I’m driving down to West Virginia to see friends or something, I’ll take a detour to Kentucky to visit his grave. I’d like to see the headstone that my son and his father’s family chose to honor him.

It’s odd being the ex-wife in these situations. I sent sympathy cards to his father and stepmother and his mother and stepfather. I emailed Annika and several of Jim’s friends a few words of condolence, but it still doesn’t seem real to me because I haven’t experienced any of the usual ceremonies of closure since I wasn’t able to go to the memorial or anything.

The last time I saw him was in 1998 when I picked up our son from the farm a few days before Jim and Many (pronounced money) set out for Helsinki. And our last conversation a few years later was fraught with anger and animosity – and our last email in 2003 was just as ugly.

I was 20 years old when we got married, and it took me a couple of years to realize that we were very different people with opposing priorities. I knew that neither of us was going to change, so I left him, and he was devastated.

He moved to Boston the week after our divorce was final, but things didn’t end there. He used to call me all the time and tell me how lonely he was. By that I don’t mean, he was alone all the time. He was knockin’ boots with a different girl every night, which he felt the need to share (like I wanted to hear that, but we were still friends at the time). What he missed was the connection and camaraderie we shared, a connection that was brutally severed after we attempted to reconcile in ’89, but we shall not knock upon that dreadful door at present – or ever.

I had wanted to move to Boston for graduate school after finishing my B.A. in English so that our son could spend time with his father. However, I just couldn’t afford to do so. The cheapest daycare I could find was $800/month, and quite honestly, I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving my dog there. And it would’ve been impossible to squeeze $200/week into a budget based on the pittance I was offered as a TA (teaching assistant), which was around $9,000/year (plus free tuition).

I also didn’t know anyone in Bean Town that I could share an apartment with, and you can’t just move in with a stranger you met through an ad on a bulletin board at UMass (University of Massachusetts at Boston) when you have a child. Jim was very upset that I moved to New York instead because I had a friend there who was in need of a roommate, and that also happened to be where I found a job first.

Of course, when I ended up moving to Ohio in 1995…well, let’s just say – we won’t go there. His fury and frustration were understandable. And guilt was my constant companion, but I truly felt that Ohio was a better place for me and my children (i.e. my son, Max, was 5 when we settled in the Buckeye state).

Anywho…it is what it is.

Oddly, Jim used to joke around about his demise, quoting the infamous James Dean all the time:

“Live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse.”  Sadly, that’s just what he did. A tad bit eerie when you think about it.

Adieu, Mr. Thompson, may you rest in peace.

Over and out from the island of chaos that never seems to close… :)

~TB

Post #149 – The Good And Bad About The Ugliest Birthday Yet

Much to my unhappiness, I turned the big 5-0 last month.  On my 40th, though there were black balloons on the wall of my cubicle at Yabinski and Kramer law firm where I worked at the time as well as a gigantic HAPPY 40TH banner behind my desk, that particular birthday didn’t bother me at all. But that half century mark is another story. However, I decided to make a list to measure the gloom and doom vs the positives…

GOOD: My boys are in their 20s now, so I no longer have to worry about child care/missing work because of sick children and all that.

BAD: I woke up yesterday with a silver hair nestled among the dark brown in my eyebrows. I plucked it out straight away, but I’m sure there’s another one just worming its way to the surface as we speak. And I hate coloring my hair, so forget dyeing the brows!

GOOD: I’m much more comfortable being alone these days. Until the age of 30-something, the idea of spending a Friday night at home, curled up with a good book or binge-watching Downton Abbey or Supernatural, would’ve driven me to madness and/or pacing about/ calling everyone I knew trying to scare up something else to do.

But these days, when my husband’s band is playing out of town, and I don’t feel like drudging through the snow or whatever to attend his gig, I welcome those nights on the couch sans company because PRECIOUS is all mine!!! :) And by my Precious, I mean the television remote, not a gold ring that summons demons from the darkness.

Additionally, I lived alone from the time I was 18 until I got married at 22, and I was often terrified to spend the night alone for fear someone would break in my apartment and attack me, etc. In fact, I used to put a row of juice glasses on a chair under my bedroom window and another set on the floor by the front door so that the sound of shattering glass would wake me should an intruder breach either entrance.

But these days, I sleep like the dead when Charlie’s not home. I have faith in God/the ghost of Max’s Dad/Saint Superman, whatever, that no harm will come to me. Either way, my worrying about a home invasion isn’t going to prevent some psycho from barging into my house in the wee hours. I just lock the doors and make sure my phone is plugged in. Plus, Max (my 22-year-old) is always home way before Charlie returns, and he’s a pretty scary-looking/well-muscled fellow, who is capable of causing major damage to anyone who might try to mess with his Mama…:)

That said…

MORE BAD:  I can’t exercise the way I used to because my knees swell up after 40 minutes or so, and I have to ice them all the time. And I’ve developed issues with the balls of my feet. Sometimes a couple of hours after a good workout, I’ll get up from my desk/couch/whatever, and that tender padded part of my foot will turn to to a lumpy stone of pain.

And the last time we went to Vegas, I couldn’t walk the usual 10 or so miles/day without agonizing foot pain…which totally SUCKS because one of the reasons I love Vegas is being able to walk/ride the monorail wherever we want without a car, unlike here in Ohio where a night on the town w/no vehicle would mean dinner at Taco Bell and bowling at best because our public transit is almost nonexistent.

My foot issues limited our treks to 4 or 5 miles/day at most. I remember limping in absolute misery from the nearest monorail stop on the strip back to our timeshare, which was about a mile. I was barefoot across the asphalt, sandals in hand, because the hard sole of my favorite dressy flip flops were killing me.

GOOD: On the other hand, the last time I took a spinning class about six months ago, the two overweight 20-somethings sweating profusely in front of me left 20 minutes in while I actually spent 10 minutes or so on the treadmill afterward to make sure I’d obliterated the doughnut I’d had earlier…:)). And I’m no waif these days at 160+ pounds.

BAD: Though I can obviously best kids half my age at the gym, I have to do a lot more cardio to work off the occasional pastry or that gallon of Merlot I consumed last weekend (okay, so maybe, t’was only 1/2 a liter) due to the slowing down of one’s metabolism after the age of 40/45…sigh. And it’s just not worth having rotten teeth if opting for crystal meth instead of Splenda in my tea…:)

GOOD: Charlie is almost six years younger than me, but there have been times in the last 4-5 years that I’ve gotten carded at a bar or a restaurant, and he wasn’t, LOL. Perhaps, the waiter was merely flirting, hoping for a big tip, but the last time, the waiter honestly seemed surprised when he looked at my i.d and figured out I was pushing 50.

BAD: I’ve been getting solicitations from AARP (the American Association of Retired Persons) for at least five years now, which I find irritating and insulting. I realize they will gladly take your money and indoctrinate you into their discount fold at the age of 50. But to me, I feel like screaming, I AM NOWHERE NEAR RETIREMENT AGE, so FUCK OFF.

GOOD: I like what I like, and I don’t give a shit if anyone disapproves. Some might say I’m too old to listen to Eminem or Kid Rock or Iggy Azalea, but I have CDs of each in my car. And on that note, as my family knows all too well, I’m a major fan of Slim Shady. I own all of his music, but, I’m not overtly in love with his last 2 musical endeavors. And I was surprised the MM LP 2 won a Grammy for Album of the Year. I think the Eminem Show and Recovery are much better.

I will also wear skinny jeans, short skirts and tennis shoes until I’m physically unable to dress myself. In which case, I’m not gonna ask anyone to help me slide into a pair of Old Navy Rock Star Super Skinny denims.

Oh, and last but not least, I shall put Spaghettios on bread (funny story about that in  http://tenaciousbitch.com/2013/04/29/lovehonor-and-will-buy-ford/ ) and lick the bowl after finishing my vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup until the day I die, so all you haters and uptight sons ‘o bitches, just keep your yap shut should you happen to see me doing either one! :)

GOOD: I don’t have to go back to high school again no matter how many times I have that nightmare that I’m late for class/a final exam, and no one believes me that I’ve traveled this treacherous road already and DON’T need to be there, LOL. I know, right?  WTF is that about???

Therefore, I guess the ugliest b’day to date came out on top – can’t think of any other negatives.

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

TB\ks

 

Post #148 – The Toilet Promise from the Kitchen Bitch…

Like many women, I got tired of constantly being put upon to do shit tons of housework that I shouldn’t be doing because, well, the men in my house don’t always clean up after themselves, so I posted this note above the sink in the kitchen a few days ago…which I did TYPE, btw.

GUYS –

 The dishwasher is dirty! PLEASE LOAD your dishes. Please do me the courtesy of not ignoring this request. And I mean EVERY single dish that you use whether it’s only a bowl or a cup. It all adds up. And when I do the dishes in the morning, and the sink is EMPTY, and I go downstairs at dinnertime, and the sink is bulging with dirty dishes – like so…

DAMNED DISHES FEB 18 11It really pisses me off! And that’s exactly how it happens—a bowl here, a skillet there, a couple of plastic containers, and POOF – 20 or 30 minutes have been added to my daily chores.

I realize you both help out a lot with the dishes and such. However, I spend anywhere from 15-30 hours/week cleaning, which I’m sure you didn’t realize because I do most of it while you’re asleep, or you’re not here. Last Friday, for example, I spent 2 hours doing laundry and doing dishes, vacuuming, sweeping the floor and dusting. And I would greatly appreciate it if the two able-bodied men in this household would not add to the HOURS I spend cleaning by loading your own dishes! :) It doesn’t take that long!!!!!

Therefore, from now on, if you leave your dishes in the sink for me to load, it will be with the understanding that you’ll clean both the downstairs bathrooms in exchange. And I realize that often there are dishes that need to soak, and that’s fine, but PLEASE load them before DINNER, so, again, I won’t have such a monstrous mess after dinner because it frequently takes me an hour to get the kitchen cleaned up, and if you both loaded your own dishes—that wouldn’t be the case. And if you spill your drink, or get a dab of mayo, or ketchup or something on the counter, PLEASE CLEAN IT UP as well. I’m not your maid, so please stop treating me like one.

THANKS for all your help as always! :) :) 

 Love,

The Kitchen Bitch

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

*And isn’t that just the loveliest, most condescending smile?

And my son Max’s reaction? He was “tired of doing everyone else’s work”.

?? Excuse me, but I don’t think bringing you into this world means I’m required to wash your dishes and do your laundry once you reach the age of say 13/14, and he’s now 22 – YES, TWENTY TWO!  WTF? And this was after my husband, Charlie, had spent FOUR days helping Max, clean his room. Then, Charlie spent four more days washing Max’s clothes while Max finished cleaning his room, which I opposed, btw. I thought Max should launder his own frickin’ togs. And this is the mess that’s been in the hallway since Max’s room was cleaned 3 weeks ago. However, the mattress was thrown away, thankfully, and the computer monitor disappeared. Otherwise, I don’t know if the rest of it is to be given away, or what.

JAN - FEB 2015 088JAN - FEB 2015 089JAN - FEB 2015 090

So since Charlie helped clean his room and did his laundry, how is it he’s doing everyone else’s work?

Perhaps, because Max unloads the dishwasher more than I do? But he doesn’t vacuum, scour his bathroom or either of the bathrooms downstairs, which he also uses. He’s never dusted or mopped the kitchen or the tile by the front door. He doesn’t sweep the kitchen floor with a broom if he spills 1/3 a package of Ramen noodles or macaroni or something, nor does he put his shoes or coat away unless I harass him. And when Charlie does the laundry, Max’s clothes might sit on the back of the couch for weeks before he finally takes them upstairs – except for times when he decides he’ll wear a shirt or two from the pile.

Therefore…once again, dude, explain how you’re doing everyone else’s work cuz I guess I’m just not smart enough to see the correlation here. On the flip side, he did unload the dishwasher without my asking a couple days later. So, perhaps, he was merely grandstanding/spouting off out of guilt?

However, regardless of what he thinks, I am SOOOOOO going to keep to my promise about him and Charlie both cleaning toilets if they dare leave dirty dishes in the sink when the dishwasher is empty or DIRTY…Just so we’re clear.

Over and out,

A rather FED UP, PISSED OFF, ready to stomp her little feet and kick some ass –

~KITCHEN BITCH~

TenaciousB’s cousin, doncha know…:)

TB/ks/kb

P.S. MUCH OF THE HALLWAY DEBRIS HAS BEEN REMOVED! Apparently, the clothing in the hamper under the balls (as in a basketball and a football) was slotted to be given away. So, they’ve now found a new home at our local Volunteers of America donation center! YIPPEE!!

Post #147 – Update on the job debacle…

Soooooo – after getting fingerprinted again on the 19th for this job at Mega Bank, mentioned previously @     http://tenaciousbitch.com/2015/02/19/post-146-perhaps-i-shall-execute-it-in-blood/

I heard back from Lisa, the recruiter, last Wednesday, February 25, my birthday no less, that my background check had come back “clear”. Of course, it did. I don’t even jaywalk or chew gum in public (or behind closed doors for that matter). And the only thing that might’ve come up on my drug screen would’ve been an excess of Splenda.

HOWEVER, no start date had yet to be proffered as promised. So, should I just show up when I feel like it? The unwanted house guest to corporate hell, or consult a psychic who might could glean the date from my crazy Aunt Doreen whose known to lurk about the vale just hoping a clairvoyant might holler her way?

“But they sent information on your Teleo login for their timekeeping program, so we should have a start date here in a day or two.”

OR TWO? Really? You gotta stop snacking on crack, Lisa, cuz it’s not good for your health, much less what might happen if you got tapped for a random drug test.

That said, let’s review the math, again, shall we? I was offered this job on FEBRUARY FOURTH, 21 days prior to the date that the results of my 2nd BCI check were finally emailed to Lisa. But Mega Bank still hasn’t provided the date I’ll begin training for this job that I didn’t interview for? This job with its very vague job description, having something to do with reviewing mortgage application paperwork.

HOW FUCKING FANTASTIC.

That said, ask me how many days transpire before I’m finally given a new hire date? Not one or two days. Not four or five days. Six LONG days after my nonexistent rap sheet went zinging through cyberspace and landed upon Lisa’s computer.

As of Day Four, I had pretty much given up and had started furiously applying for alternative employment like mad for fear that once my background finally came back, the job quota would be filled or something.

However, I did receive an email from Lisa last Friday that the hiring manager at Mega had been out of the office for the last two days, and she assumed she’d hear from Mega on Monday. NOT. So. Much. Monday came and went, marked by radio silence.

Then, I decided to take a little break from my manic job search yesterday by walking to a nearby convenience store to get a Diet Pepsi because I was completely out. We were experiencing a record high of 36 degrees (WOO HOO), and the Weather Channel said it wasn’t going to rain until around 1-1:30, but like all the intel I’ve been privy to lately, t’was not the case. It started drizzling the moment I stepped off my front porch around 12:05 PM and turned into full-blown rain five minutes later. But I had an umbrella, so it was okay.

I was 10 feet from my front door when my phone rang.

“I have start date for you,” Lisa said tentatively.

“And?”

“March 23rd.”

Once again, this mental phrase bounced about my brain – ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? I shook my head and sighed.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear,” Lisa said apologetically.

“No, not really,” I said, pausing to gather my thoughts. Now that my husband is working, and he just got his first check…”That’ll be okay, especially since I think everything is finally straightened out with unemployment, and I should get a check this week.”

“Okay. Good. I’m really sorry it’s taken so long. And I really appreciate your patience and understanding-”

The hell with my patience. I need a fucking paycheck, and so far Mega is the only offer on the table. However, as of March 23, it will have been 47 days since I was offered this job, which is absolutely ludicrous especially since I’m really not crazy about commuting the 20+ miles to Mega – right through downtown, which is always a nightmare during rush hour, and the pay rate isn’t as high as the other jobs that I’ve pursued.

Deep down, I’m glad to have the time to blog and to work on the memoir I’ve been chipping away at for two years, but I dread telling my husband that I might be short on my Visa next month. I’d rather chop off my right hand than ask Charlie to make that payment, but I may not have a choice.

On the plus side, hopefully, Mother Nature will have ceased dumping snow across the Midwest by 3/23.

And funny thing, 29 years ago on March 23, I married Rory’s Dad, a decision that changed my life forever, and also a union that ended horribly. Not that I have any regrets since I got an AWESOME kid out of the deal, but still…weird coincidence, n’est-ce pas?

And, of course, now that my new employment digs have been wrapped up with an officious start date, I’ve been offered 2 other jobs, one of which is only 10 minutes from my house…sigh.

But…it is what it is. I need this stupid paycheck. Here’s hoping that this new endeavor I’ll be embarking upon in 19 days will be a life-altering event of the opposite persuasion from 29 years ago, i.e. a GOOD THING.

Over and out from INSANITY CENTRAL…

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

TB/ks

Post #146 – Perhaps, I shall execute it in blood…

LUCKY ME, a recruiter named Lisa with Ohio Consulting, Inc., spied my resume on Monster.com and called me about a job at the corporate office of a well-known bank in their mortgage department. Doing what exactly, I don’t know. The job description is very vague, but I assumed I could find out more in an interview.

For the sake of simplicity, this financial institution will be called Mega Bank. After a brief Q & A with Lisa, my resume was shuffled through cyberspace to Mega’s HR department.

Three days later, Mega Bank offered me the job simply based on my resume! WTF? Ya know, I get I’m totally awesome, LOL, but I wouldn’t hire me without at least a 10-minute chat on the phone. I could be a complete moron who paid a lot of money for a really sharp resume. However, since I REALLY didn’t like the temp job I was on at the time (don’t even get me started on that), I accepted the position.

Then, of course, comes the real fun. I spent 2.5 HOURS completing the online application for Ohio Consulting listing every single employer for the last 10 years along with their address, phone number and email. AGAIN – WTF?

When I reached the bitter, bleary-eyed end of their cyber forms, I had a little panic attack because I didn’t have the email addresses or phone number for 2 of my previous supervisors from a decade ago because I’d lost touch with them. I emailed Lisa explaining I had to put incorrect information – because I couldn’t complete this pre-employment malarkey without putting SOMETHING in the field for phone number and email address.

Lisa got very confused and emailed me that neither of the supervisors I mentioned were ones I’d given for references. Though I explained via email and voicemail that I was talking about managers from a decade ago, I never got to discuss this issue with her. And I’ve been concerned for 2 weeks that I’ll be accused of providing FALSE info. No red flags yet, but I still don’t have a start date for this new job, so who knows.

Then, the next day, I received an email from Lisa with a .pdf attached of YET ANOTHER APPLICATION!!! No, I’m not making this shit up. Apparently, all the online documentation was ONLY for the background check. For the actual application for Ohio Consulting, I had to PRINT OUT a paper app in 6 POINT FONT  with tiny little boxes about 1/8″ tall where I had to HAND WRITE my entire job history AGAIN and answer 22 questions in regard to my favorite work environment (large or small company)/preferred hours, etc.  And, no, t’was not the kind of .pdf you can type upon. The recruiter requested that I write legibly and to scan/email it upon completion.

This is unbelievable! I should write the damned thing in crayon!! YES – NEON BLUE fucking CRAYON! Or better yet…I’ll bet I could get enough blood out of my thumb to write it in my rare vintage of human vino, and it’s such a lovely shade of RED!!!

I could use a toothpick, dip it in a little puddle of blood, and use the toothpick like a QUILL. Is that not brilliant? And that’d be a lot easier than using a pen, given the space restrictions.

Why the hell can’t they just email that list of questions and allow their applicants to email the answers back? That’s how I gave them my references. They could print out/scan the answers if they want this info to be on their database or whatever, which they’ll have to do with the paper app – instead of trying to explain why I left each job in a box that was barely 1 1/2 inches long.

And though this job pays considerably more than the job at the Publishing Company, which didn’t work out (long story), I have to wonder why they need SO MUCH INFO? Do they really think that being so thorough in their selection process is going to stop me from quitting, or weed out the undesirable employees? I think not.

And I’ll bet astronauts don’t fill out as much paperwork when they apply to NASA!!! Or maybe they do, but they’re going into space, people, SPACE!

I’m going to be a paper pusher, living in a cubicle. When I worked for Household Finance in ’99 as an account executive, we did everything. Outbound sales, taking loan apps for mortgage and personal loans, processing all the paperwork required prior to loan approval, and we churned out all the closing docs as well. The application for that job was ONE PAGE, accompanied by a personality quiz that took about 20 minutes. And that was it.

Household was a revolving door of employees and probably still would be if they added a couple reams of paperwork.  One girl went to lunch during our 2nd week and never returned. And not to worry, she didn’t meet with foul play. I saw her wedding announcement in the newspaper 3 months later. I guess Household Finance’s get ’em to sign on the dotted line or die tryin’ attitude was just too much for her. Couldn’t blame her there. I hated that job, and, t’was not unhappy when I got laid off 6 months later.

ANYWHO, at this point, you’re probably thinking that’s the end of this pre-employment nonsense. Um…NOT. So. Much.

When I went to OH Consulting’s office downtown to complete my tax forms, I couldn’t find their office, and NO ONE answered the phone. And I let it ring 20 times! When I finally found it, the receptionist said they’d been having issues with the phone system, and he had no record of my appointment. AWESOME. Ten minutes later, he talked to someone in their Chicago office, and I was given the I-9 and the W4.

In order to work at Mega, you have to get fingerprinted/have a BCI check done because of all the confidential info you’re privy too. So, I left my temp job and drove as fast as my silver bullet could manage in 4:30 traffic to Mega’s branch near OSU where I’ll be working, and the security guard who runs the scanner had just left 2 minutes prior.  Sigh. The next day, I snuck out of my temp job early and made it to Mega by 4:44 this time, and lo, and behold…I was told…

“Sorry contractors have to go to our Gateswood location.”

Are you FUCKING kidding me? GROAN and insert angry EXPLETIVES here! :) Especially since the both the northside location and the one at Gateswood mall are 20, yes TWENTY, miles from my house. Compensation for gas anyone? Um. No.

I quit my temp job so I could finish all this pre-employment crap, and I drove to Mega’s Gateswood location the next day. The security guard, Ms. Weatherby, had trouble getting my prints to scan. I don’t know why, but I always have this problem. When I applied for a teaching job at Hilliard Schools, their scanner couldn’t read my prints either. And I had to drive all the way out to London, Ohio – 30 miles away. And the fingerprint scanner at the tanning salon I frequent acts like I’m invisible. But anywho…

“You may have to go to the northside,” said Ms. Weatherby with a sigh.

“I was told that all contractors have to get fingerprinted here.”

So, she called a supervisor for assistance who could see the scanner remotely. She kept scanning and kept clicking OVERRIDE, and 10 minutes later, my prints were in the system.

“It’ll take 24 to 48 hours to get the results,” Ms. Weatheryby said, i.e. verifying I don’t have a criminal record.

THANK GOD cuz I’m running out of cash, and I still haven’t gotten my first unemployment check from getting laid off from Jeans, Inc. (another long, tedious story).

Four days without a word. I called Lisa who said they were still waiting on the BCI check.

On day six, I emailed Lisa that if I didn’t hear something soon, I’d have to seek employment elsewhere. Five minutes later, she called me.

“There are questions about your background check.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in a panic. For chrissakes, the only time I’ve ever gotten arrested was when I was 17…yeah, funny story…feel free to check it out at…

http://tenaciousbitch.com/2011/08/29/blog-30-%E2%80%93-an-ode-to-barboursville-and-the-days-of-yore/

She gave me the phone number for Andrew somebody at Mega in New York.

“We got a reprint request on the 13th and the 18th. The scans weren’t good enough to run your prints,” Andrew explained.

Then, why the fuck couldn’t they have told someone at OH Consulting before now?

Holy fuckballs. It was snowing like a bitch, and it was 4 degrees. But I hauled my ass back out to Gateswood yesterday, and a younger blonde named Emily took my fingerprints this time. Again, my prints were persona non grata. I explained my problem and requested that she not override the scans. After 20 minutes, we were still struggling to get my prints to “pass”. I called Andrew again, and I said,”We’ve got the images for my fingerprints up to 90% and some as high as 96%. Is that good enough?”

“What’s the problem?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe, because I have really small fingers, and my pinkie fingers are crooked, which makes it difficult to get them to lay flat.”

“I see. Well, you can’t get blood from a turnip,” Andrew replied in a jovial tone. “That should be fine at 90%.”

So, here I am WAITING again. Hopefully, in a couple of days I’ll have a start date for the job I was offered 15 days ago!

To top it off, get this, Ms. Weatherby, who sent the crappy prints off to be processed, was Emily’s SUPERVISOR.

And after all this pre-employment FOREPLAY, these faceless corporate units aren’t even going to buy me lunch, much less dinner!

Last night, I decided if this job doesn’t work out, maybe, I’ll just go work at McDonald’s or UDF (United Dairy Farmers, a convenient store/gas station chain). I hear they’re hiring, or maybe, I’ll just walk down to the exit ramp from I-270 and panhandle like this one guy who was “hungry” and needed “help” – according to his homemade sign. Although one night, I saw him walk over to the parking lot beside Denny’s and climb into a very nice Nissan Rogue that looked brand new. So, that’s always a career path to fall back on as well…

~Ciao!-

TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting HIPPIES

TB/ks