Two Sirius

Money, Money, Money

I had to go to the school district offices today to take care of some summer activities for S.  I hate going to that place.  Partly because it's just inconvenient, but mostly, I'm really, really uncomfortable with it.

Our district is one of the wealthiest in the state we live in, and it does show in just about every aspect of what they offer the students.  I'm really not complaining about the quality of education or facilities that S is getting, and I do feel very lucky that all of it is available to him.  His school is wonderful, his teachers are wonderful, yadda yadda.

The district office is new.  They relocated several months ago to a much nicer building, and I was happy for them, because I know they needed the space.  But I was kind of taken aback the first time I walked in.  Do they REALLY need a waterfall on the entry wall?  Is it entirely necessary that every glass surface be etched with the school district's logo?  And what the hell is up with the leather sofas custom-embroidered with the logo, too?  The place is nicer than most office buildings I've been into.

I'm sorry, maybe there are things about school district budgets that I don't understand.  But if they have that kind of money to burn, shouldn't they maybe start using it to build a new 6th grade center since the Intermediate High is on the verge of overcrowding?  Or - you know, just a thought - PAYING THE TEACHERS MORE MONEY.  Seriously.  It's not that our district's teachers aren't paid as much as other districts pay theirs.  They're actually paid (VERY slightly) better, I believe.  But teachers in general ARE underpaid, and if our district can afford those ridiculous sofas, surely they can find it within themselves to go with something a little less extravagant and fatten the paychecks of their school staff a bit.

Although...apparently not.  Because the teachers are still getting paid the same, and those sofas and etchings and that fucking waterfall are right there to annoy the crap out of me every time I walk through the doors of the district offices.

And another thing...

Someone please tell Blonde Bitch that walking around a well-lit office with sunglasses on top of her head doesn't make her look like whatever vapid celebrity A-lister she's apparently trying to emulate.  It does, however, make her look like an over-accessorized, colossally pretentious tool.

Ring My Bell

Fucking FedEx.

I came home yesterday evening to find a notice that they tried to deliver a package to me.  It's something I've been wanting and expecting, so I was pretty damned thrilled that I had already planned on working from home today so I'd be here when they came by again with it.  Also, FedEx will try 3 times to deliver a package before you have to haul your ass over to them and pick it up yourself.  Which, if I had time to do that, I wouldn't be having it shipped in the first place.

So I waited.

And I waited.

And I fucking WAITED.  I didn't go to lunch.  I didn't leave the house at all.

At 10 minutes until 6 they still hadn't come by, so I called FedEx to find out how late they delivered.  Apparently, it can be as late as 7pm.  Which was fine, except that the CSR checked on my package and told me that the FedEx guy on our route had made a notation at 5:30pm of another failed attempt.

Excuse me?! 

No.  I was WATCHING for his ass.  I have a doorbell that works and two dogs that bark their heads off if someone gets out of a car 3 houses down.  There was NO DELIVERY ATTEMPT. 

So yeah.  The goddamned FedEx driver LIED about trying to deliver my package so that he could get home 2 minutes earlier than he would have been able to had he been, say, doing his fucking job.

So now I'm going to wind up having to go pick it up myself, because there's a pretty good chance that I won't be here tomorrow if he actually does find time in between picking lint out of his belly button and braiding his back hair to bring me my package.

I might not be quite so irate if my work life hadn't become exponentially harder since we switched from using UPS, who generally tends to get things where they're supposed to when they say they're going to, to FedEx, who thinks that "Priority Overnight" (which can cost obscene amounts) translates to "we hope you can be bothered to bring it by sometime in the next week or so when you're not doing REALLY important stuff.  Like toenail clipping and/or hookers."

I hate FedEx.  HAAAATE.

Just Some Suggestions

To My Co-Workers:

If you send me over a ticket telling (not asking, TELLING) me to confirm delivery on an item, and the tracking number is RIGHT THE FUCK THERE on the self-same ticket that you sent to me, chances are extremely high that the most I'm going to do with it right at that moment is to shake my head over how much more of your time and energy it took for you to shunt it off to me instead of copying and pasting the tracking number your own damned self, at which point I'll probably put the ticket away until I finish dealing with more pressing matters.

If you are in such a damned hurry to get something from point A to point B that you have to actually put it on a flight to get there THAT DAY, you're going to want to know a couple of things.  Most notably, you're going to want to know WHAT it is you're sending, and whether or not it actually exists. 

Should you just so happen to be Queen Blonde Bitch, and should an item in question be something that has nothing whatsoever to do with the ONE account that you have been entrusted with, and should you butt your nose into the situation and command me to do a particular thing with it, at which point I go with what the person whose hands actually ARE on it says to do...don't be surprised.  Couple that with the fact that if, in fact, you are Queen Blonde Bitch, you can pretty much take it to the bank that I'll be disregarding you altogether at every possible opportunity, seeing as I pretty much hate your ass and derive immense satisfaction from ignoring your self-important demands.  No point getting pissed off about it, although you're welcome to do so.  That just makes it more fun for me when I get to remind you anew that you are JUST NOT THAT FUCKING IMPORTANT.   

Carry on.

Park Your Ass

To the colossally lazy woman in the Wal-Mart parking lot:

Let's recap, shall we?

The parking lot: half-full, with tons of spaces available.

You: driving in front of me down one of the lanes when you felt compelled to stop.  And sit.  Why?  Because someone was getting into their car in a spot an ENTIRE TWO SPACES closer to the door than the next nearest parking space, which you were right in front of and could have immediately parked in.  For whatever reason, however, you apparently felt compelled to sit there in your big wide SUV, blocking the entire lane so that I had to wait right there along with you while the person in this spot you absolutely just HAD to have took their sweet time pulling out.

So I sat.  And I sat.  And I sat.  And you finally got your space, didn't you?  Well, good for you, because I was then able to park in the spot that you didn't want, since it would have required you to detach your ass from the comfort and convenience of your vehicle a whole very daunting 10 feet further away from the door than you really wanted to, and that would have been disastrous, right?  Because the difference between the two spots was so massively huge that it would have taken just absolutely an eternity longer to walk into the store from the first spot that you could have taken.  And god forbid you be without climate control for an extra - gasp! - 5 seconds in this mid-sixties sunshine that we're having right now.

Furthermore, I have news for you: when you get inside the store, YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO WALK.  All by yourself, on your own two legs, just like you would have had to take that extra ten or so steps from the already-available parking space.  Last time I checked, Wal-Mart does not hire people who are designated to scoop us up and carry our asses around the store on a little satin pillow as soon as we walk through the door.  So either way, your worst phobia - that of actually being upright and moving around on your feet - was bound to become reality no matter how many decades and aeons you're willing to wait on a parking space that's infinitesimally closer to the entrance.  But really, there's no reason to hold the rest of us up while you're coping with that.

Truth be told, I'm not sure what you were thinking.  My theories on the subject went out the window when I parked in the spot that you would have taken had you been an actual rational human being with opposable thumbs, intelligent thought capabilities and the whole enchilada, and I STILL walked through the entrance ahead of you.  And if you hadn't made me sit there behind your pampered, shiftless self for half of forever, we could have BOTH been in and out of there sooner.

You are a thundering fucking moron.

That is all.

NOTE:  This was not an elderly person who had trouble walking, or anything like that.  She seemed to be perfectly able to get where she needed to go once she finally did get around to exiting her damned car.  So it's not like that little bit of distance made a real difference.

Dear Microsoft:

I hate IE7.  HAAAAAAAATE.  And I hate you fuckers for having the nerve to put out something so supremely shitty.

You are the handmaidens of Satan.

That is all.

Regarding My Eternal Soul

Would it be morally reprehensible if I were to claw out the eyes of a know-it-all bitch who takes it upon herself to tell everyone else how to do their job, in the most offensive and condescending way possible?

How about if it's widely understood that said know-it-all bitch gets away with it because she's a size zero blonde and the good ol' management boys like looking at her?

Discuss amongst yourselves.  Hypothetically, of course.

Chihuahuas: The New Cabbage Patch Kid.

When I was a kid, Cabbage Patch Kids were ALL the rage (and I just completely dated myself, didn't I?).  Those of us who were lucky enough to have one were the envy of all the other girls in our classes, and in my school, most of us took to bringing them along every day.  It got to the point where we'd lay out little blankets for them by our desks, and pose them with baby toys...it was really very stupid, since frankly we were all way too old for that kind of thing, and of course it didn't take long before the damned things were banned from school altogether. 

I'm starting to notice this same phenomenon all over again with dogs. 

A week or so ago, I saw a couple with a chihuahua in their shopping cart at the grocery store.  It even had a little contraption like you'd put a baby in to pad the seat of the shopping cart.  And then Saturday, some woman sitting beside me had a dachsund in her lap in the observation room of S's swim school. 

Ok.  Wannabes of the world?  I'm going to lay it out for you right here: Just because Paris and Brittney do it does not make it ok. 

In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb here for you and say that IF Paris and Brittney are doing it, whatever it is will almost certainly make you look like a thundering fucking idiot if you do it too.  There's a reason these celebrity A-list bimbettes get ridiculed so much.  Generally, it's because they're thundering fucking idiots.

The other thing?  Dogs are not fashion statements.  They are living creatures deserving of respect.  When I see someone out walking their dog in the park or around the neighborhood, I think "dog lover."  When I see someone toting their dog around in a little bag, I think "poser."  I also wonder how long it's going to take before that person gets tired of caring for and maintaining their designer-fad dog and it ends up abandoned at some shelter.  It's not cute to take your teacup poodle to the mall in a purse.  Oh, it's a Louis Vuitton purse?  Yeah, don't care (nor do I see the appeal of Louis Vuitton bags, while we're on the subject - they're actually rather hideous).  A grown-ass woman should be able to part with her precious furball long enough to attend her grandchild's half-hour swimming lesson.  And a dog at the grocery store?  That's just plain nasty, and if there aren't laws against it, there should be.

It's not just that it's tacky and pretentious, either.  There are people with allergies who should be able to go to the bank, or the furniture store, or the gym, without having to worry about whether some vapid twit has a CUUUUUUUUUUTE little Bichon Frise stuffed into that sparkly pink tote she's carrying.  And what about the poor dog?  Honestly, I'd like to shove some of these people into a dark, uncomfortable little purse and drag them around in it all day, and see how they like it.  Leave the dog at home where it can sprawl out on its doggie pillow, chew on its toys, and have unlimited access to a fresh water supply (one of the bare minimum necessities of a dog's well-being, by the way, and I'll bet money you don't have a water dish in that Fendi bag with your little yapper).  If you want to give your dog some fresh air and a change of scenery, take it for a walk and give it some exercise.  Don't coop it up in your fucking purse just because you can't stand to be without all the attention you get when other vapid twits see your ADOOOOOORABLE little dogg-eeee.  It's selfish, it's cruel, and it shows a lack of regard both for the dog and for everyone around you.

In the meantime, if I EVER catch a dog poking its head out of someone's bag at a restaurant, I absolutely will be taking it up with the manager and making sure it doesn't stay there one second longer.  There had damned well better be a limit somewhere.

To My Coworkers: Addendum

STOP coming to me at 4:54 in the afternoon with shit that all of a sudden HAS TO GET SOMEWHERE by tomorrow morning!  You've had ALL FUCKING DAY to get overnight shipments ordered, and some of us would like to go home!

That is all.  Actually it probably isn't, but it's all for now.

To My Co-Workers

Things that There Is No Point Bitching Me Out For:

The fact that you're trying to put a repair part on a flight to some obscure resort island at 2:15 in the afternoon.  No, I cannot help it that the last flight went out 5 minutes ago.  No, I can't personally charter a large commercial airline to fly out again today JUST FOR YOU, and even if I could, they wouldn't get it until 2 or 3 am anyway, when it would have long ceased to make any difference.  No, it really doesn't help to know that the site needing the part is a MAJOR LUXURY HOTEL and CAN'T be without that part overnight.  Watch them do exactly that, because there's not a damned thing I can do.  Come to me at 9am with a flight, and we'll talk. 

The fact that your shipment got delayed because you couldn't be bothered to tell me what color your customer needed, even after I e-mailed you about it.  Give me all the info I need, every damned time, and it'll never happen again.  Otherwise, expect to get the order kicked back to you after you don't answer my e-mail for 24 hours or so.  It really doesn't take up much of your precious time to type the word "black" and hit the send button.

Also, on a related note: Don't treat me like I'm stupid because I can't somehow divine what the hell you need if you aren't telling me.  I don't magically KNOW that your customers need black.

If something's backordered, it's backordered.  I can't make it arrive any faster.  Telling me I'm wrong about it being backordered won't make it arrive any faster, either.  Especially if I'm actually right about it being backordered.  And if I could magically build it from scratch with my own two hands and present it to you within the next five minutes, trust me when I tell you that I'd be making a hell of a lot more money than I am right now, doing something far more interesting.

I REALLY need to go back to school.