Tag Archives: jobs

Rent Paychecks & Food Orphans

8 Jul


Am watching this show that makes me want to cook all the time…an artform I am rubbish at, but like to pretend I can do anyway.

… My amended versions of fake recipes are entirely based on what seems like a good idea at the time, spun on its ear, with the hodge-podge of nonsensical foods and condiments I have to work with directly in my cupboard and fridge. This is because it was rent paycheck week, so I am poor again, but just as determined to invent something of culinary awesomeness with nothing at all but what I’ll refer to as the leftover Food Orphans in my kitchen.

… There is no lettuce, but I have zucchini and cucumbers. Lots of beans and rice…but no bread. Eggs without milk. Hot sauce in three varieties…and chicken broth…spaghetti with no sauce, and one can of albacore tuna.

… Every condiment in tiny takeout packet form, and every salad dressing…but no butter or sugar. I have a $12 Moroccan spice and a $3 Italien seasoning mix, but also a tiny packet of zillion-dollar-an-ounce Saffron, as well as a box of cornflakes, a thing of Shake-n-Bake, and cupcake decorations without ingredients to mix and make the cupcakes.

I dunno how half these things got in my house. Mostly, other people have bought them and left them, over time. Because everyone cooks there…not because the kitchen is posh and high-functioning…it is a galley with zero steel surfaces and a human dishwasher (me)…but mostly because I will ply free booze to anyone who will cook for me…so I can grate and cut things and pretend I know what I’m doing when I don’t.

Because I love food.

… And I love the process of making it.

… And so, when I go through friend-cooking-withdrawal… I click a food show on Netflix, get a burr up my ass, and go pretend I know how to go it alone with inventiveness.


(The struggle is real.)

(… And not just for my palate.)

Next: Am starting to get frustrated with the ever evolving world of job hunting. You want this one who never calls, constant calls from all the ones you don’t want…the best jobs are too far away, the close ones are shitty, requiring your every night and weekend probable take-over. It has become a vicious cycle of the phone ringing and binging all day long, but always ending with anticlimactic fizzle.

My phone is quickly becoming sexually frustrated as hell, as I re-sweep the same damn ads over and over and over again, and Insurance companies haunt me like a mouth-breather on a crowded bus.

… Also, every accounting department known to man.

Trust me. You don’t want me in Finance. Or to sell things to people. You want to bury me in the back office where I can chew massive amounts of paperwork while speaking to no one…for hours and hours.

… Maybe I’ll start looking into the mortuary arts. It’s people-related, but only barely. It’s quiet, low stress, and there are no constant calls bitching about returns and repairs.

(No, but seriously. I should consider this.)

Meanwhile, why isn’t it 4:30 yet?

… Mrs. Johnson has arrived and gives zero fucks about the remainder of the work day. She just wants her forced 15k walk out of the damn way and a Pamprin cocktail with a whiskey chaser. And then: some pajama friend hang time.

… Which she’s damn-well gonna get. (I’ll have you know.)

The end.


Gnome-Idiot, Takes The Lead

8 Oct


Now that Boss has been relegated to a mere “Feature Guest” role in the blogosphere (soon to be killed off, General Hospital style)…a new idiot has taken his place at the office, in pursuing the “ridiculous” and “mind-blowingly” stupid things for which he has become so beloved, by the yous.

…Not “beloved” in a “Happy Christmas morning” kind of way.  More like “that stupid thing you did while drunk that one time, which turned into your best party story.” 

Entertainment.  That’s what we’re talking about.  And there is a new kid in the “stupid” game.

…We will continue to call her the Gnome-Idiot. Because of both her pint-size and sheer innocent stupidity. 

After two weeks, I’ve come to the conclusion that she REALLY can’t help it.  It is not due to bad choices.  Watching her for sixteen days…128 hours…I have used all of the (frankly considerable) study time, wisely.  Mostly because I simply can not believe that a human being can make it to age 24 and be as seriously backwards and innocent in not only human interaction and communication (but, especially in THIS day and age) all tech and computer forms imaginable.

She has a High School Diploma, and got into College, without ever once using any form of Office Suite software, having to alphabetize, talk to adult human beings (or in complete sentences), nor realize the common sense kind of things that keep you out of being that 1% that every accident of all time happens to, because there is no warning label yet to TELL you NOT to stick a butter knife in a toaster, blow dry your hair in the shower, or cross a highway, on foot, and without looking both ways.

…Honestly.  After the first week, I seriously doubted the validity of her stupidity.  So I started sorta, allowing it to be put to the test.  Here and there.  Now and again.  And without fail, she upheld her end, each and every time.

I mean, this girl is seriously.  Seriously. SERIOUSLY, legitimately deficient in just plain common sense. Not even a little bit.

…This girl is the kind of idiot that you have to teach how to pour coffee grounds into a filter.  Not “make coffee.” Just “pour in the grounds.”

…This girl is the kind of idiot, who continually forgets how to put a call on hold.  Or take it off.  She’s the kind of idiot that has screwed up one of the five separate file systems, at least once per day, since she has walked in the door.  The kind of idiot who, no matter how much you train her, has YET to answer a single phone call, without passing them back to someone else for help…who forgets our phone number printed ON A SHEET IN FRONT OF HER, which I placed there, for that purpose, two weeks ago. She asks things like, “How do you heat this water for tea?” and “What do I do after scanning these?” When there is a post-it note on the stack of paper telling her point-by-point directions on what exactly to do.

…In fact…there have been A LOT of post-it notes.  Three cubes worth so far.  Everything in her inbox has to be labeled with step-by-step instructions, AND still are brought forward for interpretation when she finally gets to them.  Common communication between us has included conversations like:

G-I: “So, when I’m done faxing these sheets, I do what with them?”

Me: “File them. Like it says.”

G-I: “Okay. Well cuz, um…I just wanted to make sure cuz, um…well…I just did this yesterday.”

Me: “With other papers. Yes.”

G-I: “Cuz like…I mean…it just seems like I do this a whole lot.”

Me: “Right. Because it’s your job.  It’s what we do here.  A lot of faxing. A lot of filing.”


Me: “Okay.  So, you’ve filed these batches incorrectly again.”

G-I: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Remember?  THIS stack is for ‘archives,’ and THIS stack is for ‘pending.’ ”

G-I: “It just gets really confusing…”

Me: “It’s okay.  You just have to look at the dates, remember?  You know because THIS stack has dates that are passed, they are for archiving. And THIS stack with dates that haven’t happened yet, are ‘pending.’  Also: the bins are labeled.  See?”

G-I: “Ohhhhhh.  Wow.  I’m really glad you explained that.”

Me: “We had this same conversation yesterday.”

G-I: “Right but, I mean…there are really a lot of stacks of paper around here.”


Me: “…So then, I need you to just label these hang files with these titles please.  On tabs.”

G-I: “Riiiiiight.”

Me: “Is there…what’s wrong.”

G-I: “Yeah.  By hand or…?”

Me: “No, the computer deal didn’t work out so well the last time.  Just by hand.”

G-I: “…And these marks?”

Me: “What marks?”

G-I: “These thingies.  You want these thingies on the tabs too?”

Me: “The quote marks?”

G-I: “Yeah.”

Me: “No.  No…you don’t need to put the quote marks in.  That’s just what I want you to call them.  Remember? You got a little confused the last time I just wrote titles down.”

G-I: “Riiiight….”

…This is REAL-talk, people.  Actual conversations.  With an idiot.  And she’s not joking. She’s not pulling a leg.  She’s actually, ACTUALLY just an innocent, actually, actually asking these questions.  For real.

It’s real.


I’ve tested the waters, and NO ONE is that good of an actor.  She’s the GENUINE article. Either that, or she is in Witness Protection from the Mob, and her LIFE is at stake, here.  Those are the ONLY two options.

…So, as I wait until the 15th, (the date when we are told Boss is to be canned and I can go and find a legitimate QUALIFIED office assistant), I bite my lip repeatedly, and attempt to keep from obliterating her to tears.  Because every time we need to have these little conversations, it’s like I shot her dog or something.  She is so very eager to make good.  But so very incapable of achieving it. 

…Which puts us at a dead lock for another week.

Dear lord.  How will I even make it?

…If I have to hear one more sentence like, “Um…yeah, I think black is the darkest color we offer…”…I think I’m gonna explode.

…Yet every day, she seems to top the last, somehow.

It’s like: she’s a fucking magical Leprechaun of fairy-dom.

Totally unbelievable…despite all our wildest imaginings: yet, there she sits.



2 May


(Or: The Importance of Being a Shop Dog)

We have had several Shop Dogs in our past, builder-owned buddies who wander about the yard from time to time as their peoples turn in paperwork, build yard models, and load up for new jobs the following day. 

…The Shop Dog responsibilities are varied, depending on their particular personality, including help with painting, yard-mousing, quality-control checking all the load-ups, general supervising of builds, tail-chasing, announcing new arrivals and container loads, eating free biscuits from the mailman, and taking breaks (Boss style) by falling asleep mid-day.

I think you will agree, these are all terribly important jobs that need to be tended to, and we’ve been without a Shop Dog for some time now, since one of our main Builder Bunnies moved on to greener pastures.

…But now, we have Izzy.

(Aka: Isabella von Vandersnoot.)

The WHS Pimp’s spotted new buddy.

She is joining us now as a full-time installation, because of anxiety issues stemming with being alone at home.

…A terribly quiet and polite species of animalia, she has added “Doorman” to her new job title listing…as she likes to open them, frequently…for any and all in need, and we don’t even know how she manages to do it. 

…Also, she has replaced the vacuum cleaner for “bits and pieces of foodage” clean-up, and (I’m told) will wildly announce any visitors we have, though I’ve yet to hear even so much as a whimper from her since she first arrived yesterday…including the announcing of myself and the mailman…so the jury is still out on that.

…Meanwhile, as she makes her rounds, familiarizing herself with the new job-digs, and monitoring her person to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing…I very occasionally will only remember her existence from time to time, as she calmly opens the office door, and jingles (her collar tags) from one office to the other…eventually, coming back through again. 

I am usually adverse to working with other women in an office environment, but I think Iz n’ I are gonna get along just fine.

…Though I AM a little jealous of her.

…As she is currently taking siesta in the back office, and I am about to turn back to more ongoing paperwork hell.


…Such is life.


Dear SWAL 2.0

26 Dec


It’s time for our monthly dose of Dear SWAL letters, with special thanks to Marty for passing the questions on from her working establishment. For our last installment, visit here.  For the rest of us, lets launch right in to the problems and solutions of the masses NOT in matters of sex, tech, and relationship circumstances, as per usual…but with special emphasis (this time of year) on customer service.

…These are the kind of things we retail workers of the world would LIKE to answer you, if only we wouldn’t get fired for it:


Question: “jesus h christ…this mole goes on for ages and says absolutley nuffinn…just the the blokes on here……how can someone waffle on for sooooo long and not say one thing that is worth even 2 cents?”

Answer: “lord love a duck…Welcome to the world of dating, friend. Better get used to it.”


Question: “I do not understand the instructions on downloading. I do NOT have kindle. I do NOT have facebook. Only Windows XP on Microsoft. Could you please email me EASY to install instructions for reading this ebook.”

Answer: “You mean easier than the ones in the highlighted box next to the order screen that says: ‘You don’t need a Kindle to read the book. You can download the Kindle reader for your cell phone, tablet or computer or you can read the book in the “cloud reader” on Amazon, so there’s really nothing holding you back.’?”


Question: “How the fuck u.got my email address nd got into my.inbox ya sneaky fucj.”

Answer: “It’s this whole magical thing where, when you order something, we get your info so we know where to send it. Ya mindless idiot.”



Answer: “IF YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE STUFF, BUY OUR SHIT. (Consider the nail, “hit.”)”


Comment: “Don’t waste your time sending me further crap regarding the devil species known as women. I have a dog that is better then any woman could be. I was curious about what you had to say but why bother when women are at best a distraction. I still love them but only on the porn sites as they are not much good for anything else.”

Answer: “This devil species member has duly noted your comments and cancelled your order. I feel compelled to tell you, however, that bestiality is still illegal in most countries, and frankly: your resolved abstinence elsewhere only saves the world at large from a hugely horrific task of having to copulate or accidentally breed your specimen of humanity any further. Have a nice day.”



Answer: “Sorry you got dumped. Here’s a coupon for free chocolate.”



Comment: “my name is Prince Williams I have worked with three different spell casters on internet and i got no result…when i asked them for refund, they never replied to my mails again and it got worst when threaten to reveal all i asked for and let the one i wanted to cast the spell on knows about it too…While i was working with him, i was as well working with another and the other did not lie to me…only God has saved me from that.if you want to save yourself from all this contact Dr B he helped me with my spell.: and he will give you the help you ever wished for.”

Answer: “Dear Prince Wills: Though it may feel like it, we are not at this time casting spells to aid in relationship advice. We thought we’d try the old fashioned way of reasoning and communication, first. We are also unable to accept solicitations, specifically centering around the dark arts. We will gladly tackle a hydrogen bomb break-up, but not with the use of crippling voodoo, free-will eradication, and/or smelly potions. Sincerely, SWAL.”


Comment: “Get a rael suger mummy ,suger daddy,lesbiance sexys.in all conutry that are ready to pay any amount to an indevidual in 30 mins that can also last fore bed or sexualy vibrant. that can help you in all aspect of life,they can as well take you to travel art or to work in any company of your choice in the world.they are avalible now in…abuja…in lagose … in portac…in uk…in nigeria…try as much as posaible to grab one them to mark your history.”

Answer: “We are not currently in the market for sex trafficking, organized slave-trade, or peeing on people to mark our territory. Even for our ‘art.’ So kindly fuck off. Thank you.”


…More Dear SWAL next month, and until then: back to our regular programming…including tomorrow’s (prob’ly slightly hysterical) review on tonight’s “Les Mis” attendance…for which I am so exited, I could just pee!


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