Post 153 – Teach me how to be that BRAINLESS and still have a job…

Posted in corporations, life, memoir, nonfiction, people, relationships, true stories, work with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 7, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

As mentioned previously, I started working at a large bank in March (2015), which I referred to as Mega Bank. I was recently downsized from this position a couple of weeks ago. But while I was there, one of my jobs was to obtain credit supplements. This involved ordering more detailed credit reports on a particular account or accounts held by one of our borrowers as part of the bank’s assessment of their credit worthiness when they applied for a business loan or something like that.

All too frequently, though they were advised NOT to do so, our customers would take out new credit during the loan process. At which point when the sales people made us aware of this new debt, the underwriter would request a supplement to get the particulars of a new tradeline. Such was done because people often lie about how much they might owe on a new vehicle or the current balance of a credit card, or they just don’t realize how much they owe.

Alternatively, they thought they owed $26,000 on their shiny new Prius, but they forgot about the $3000 they had to tack on to the new loan because they wrecked the Subaru a couple of years ago before trading it in for the Prius, which meant the Subaru’s trade-in value was about as much as, you know, a nice dinner at Outback Steakhouse.

Okay, so I’m exaggerating, but you get the idea…

ANYWHO…On more than one occasion, when requesting verification of a new tradeline, invariably the same hilarious situation would happen with Intrinsic Information. They’re one of the third-party vendors who provided credit reports and credit supplements for Mega.

I’d frequently get an email from Intrinsic that stated:

DOCUMENTATION IS NEEDED TO COMPLETE YOUR REQUEST for a CREDIT SUPPLEMENT

I would usually call them, and EVERY single time, the conversation went like this:

“Thank you for calling Intrinsic Information. This is Gretchen, how can I help you today?”

“Hi, Gretchen, this is Kennedy from Mega Bank, and I just received an email that you all need some sort of documentation in order to complete the credit supplement I requested. However, the email doesn’t list the borrower’s name, the name of the creditor we were trying to verify or the loan number in question.”

“Do you have the report number?”

“I do. It’s 754xxxxxxxx.”

And their report # was of NO HELP to us in identifying which loan or which request they’re referring to because they don’t provide THEIR REPORT # when you asked for a supplement on their system. There’s just a message onscreen stating they’ll email you when the report is ready to download.

“Okay, I see. That’s for Jane and John Miller, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s correct, and we just need a verification of the tradeline for their new car.”

“Oh, I see, well, we need a bill from BMW or the account number,” Gretchen said in such a serious tone, it was all I could do to hold my breath for the 5 seconds it took me to reach across my desk and hit the MUTE button before I busted out laughing.

And, then, I’d hear her say, “Are you still there? Can you fax a bill to us?”

I’d collect myself and say, “Um, if we had a bill, we wouldn’t need the supplement.”

Dead silence from Gretchen. “Oh, well, uh…”

“All we know is that Mr. Miller bought a new BMW. He hasn’t gotten a bill yet. He doesn’t know the balance, but he said the payment was supposed to be around $400 a month. We need to obtain all that information before the underwriter will approve his loan.”

“I see,” Gretchen said, followed by, “Then, we need…”

I could hear the synapses firing as she struggled to MANUFACTURE A CLUE.

“Can you call BMW and ask them to fax an invoice or something to you, or maybe a copy of the contract?”

“We’ll need to talk to the borrower,” Gretchen replied. “And then we’ll set up a conference call with BMW.”

“All righty, then. I’ll have Mr. Miller call you. Thank you.”

It often made me wonder how in God’s name this company stayed in business. First of all, it’s bad customer service NOT to provide your customer with some sort of reference number. Those blind emails drove me crazy because I’d have to note on the borrower’s account that Intrinsic had emailed, so I had to call or email them in order to find out which freakin’ loan they were talking about.

I also pondered how Gretchen arrived at work every day with her shoes on. Since she seemed to be lacking in logical thought processes (and I spoke to her frequently), and logical thinking dictates shoes are required in the workplace. Thus, walking about the office in her socks waiting for her shoes to arrive just wouldn’t suffice…:)

And Gretchen wasn’t the only one who would send emails like that and then ask for documentation to basically verify the very information we had requested from THEM. There were several CSR’s that were that brilliant.

After spending way too much time on the phone with them answering stupid questions, I just decided in order to preserve my insanity, I’d just email them that we had no documentation. There’s only so many conversations one can conduct with those who have the I.Q. of a cactus before you begin wishing you could run them over with a tractor or that new Beemer that Mr. Miller just procured.

Yet, I’m the one who got the sack/downsized? E- F-ING GAD…

JUST HAD TO SHARE THE JOY!

Over and out______________________

~TenaciousB and her band of truth-spouting hippies

Post #152 – CLUTTER ME CRAZY!

Posted in Family, family battles, relationships with tags , , , , , , , on July 26, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

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…

https://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 –

https://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!!!

Posted in relationships on June 27, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

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

Posted in BOOKS, Family, family drama, marriage, Motherhood, nonfiction, relationships, true stories with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 25, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

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

https://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 wasn’t alone all the time. He was knockin’ boots with a different girl every night, which he felt the need to share (awesome). 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.

If anyone’s interested, I’ve got some photos of Jim for sale on Ebay – which I’m selling to either add to the monetary wedding gift for our son who is getting married in 6 weeks or to help with travel expenses for the wedding, which is taking place in Florida (1,000 miles away).

To see a photo of Jim with long hair when he was 26 or 27, go here:

http://www.ebay.com/itm/252079424659?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

To see a photo of Jim in a hard hat when he was working construction, go here:

http://www.ebay.com/itm/252079483379?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

And for one of me and Jim when we were dating when we were both 20 years old, go here:

http://www.ebay.com/itm/252079435979?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

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

Posted in Family, humor, marriage, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on March 9, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

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  https://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…

Posted in Family, family drama, Food and beverages, humor, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 4, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

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…

Posted in humor, memoir, narrative memoir, nonfiction, true stories with tags , , , , , , , , on March 4, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

Soooooo – after getting fingerprinted again on the 19th for this job at Mega Bank, mentioned previously @     https://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