I wish my grandmother had been less senile and healthier in her later years. I have a few things I would like to talk to her about because I think she'd understand because she had the life experience of living through the Great Depression as a child. There were stories she told that I still adore even though they speak of untold hardship, being very poor, and self reliance.
1. My grandmother was a very, very skinny child. Then her mother wormed all the kids with tobacco (just like they did the horses!) there on out, my grandmother became pudgy. So apparently she did have worms.
2. My grandmother's family also had the whole head lice thing happen while in elementary school (most of them never actually graduated...went until 8th grade and quit). Instead of the nice shampoos and ect we have now, her mother soaked all their heads in kerosene lamp oil and boiled all the laundry in lye soap. I for one can not even fathom having kerosene in my hair, the way it must have smelled or felt...and how on earth would it ever wash out? It probably didn't wash out for a long, long time.
3. She lived on a family farm, so they were fairly lucky and rarely went hungry; however, they did eat all manner of things including ground hog, rabbit, duck, deer, you name it, if it was free, someone was eating it.
4. After she married; my grandmother, along with my grandfather, were migrant workers locally at times to make ends meet. If someone was making hay, picking corn, or something that needed done; they were there; sometimes bartering time for things they needed, sometimes being paid since they were too poor to afford their own land and rented houses for years and years.
5. My dad lived in a small closet on the third floor of a rental house with no heat, quite large cracks in the walls, layers beyond layers of blankets and no indoor toilet for a good portion of his childhood. This was in the 50's and 60's...the heat was provided by the cook stove in the kitchen...most of the rooms were unheated.
6. She was rarely idle. She was always cooking and canning, washing laundry in her old fashioned ringer washer, and hanging laundry outside on the line. (Yes, she did have a dryer, but she liked to smell the sunshine!) She was always telling stories, teaching her grandkids (me!) something and singing in her off key too high pitched singing voice. She crocheted, sewed, quilted and made all manner of crafts, including reupholstering furniture. She donated many many things she had made to local nursing homes. (In her later years when someone who had hoards of yarn or caches of fabric died, it was generally given to my grandmother...she then made blankets and afghans and donated it to someone who would find some comfort in it.)
Whenever I think of complaining I think of her. She never did complain. Not once. Not about something that couldn't be helped. If it could be helped, she'd do something about it.
I miss you Grandma. I always get to missing you this time of year. Even though you left us just 6 years ago I feel I've lived a lifetime since then. School of hard knocks or something, having always been kind of spoiled because my parents made enough and worked enough that we never worried where food or clothes came from...and now I sometimes have wondered where food or clothes would come from. You died nearer Thanksgiving, but I always think of you in mid October when I moved into your little yellow mobile home and it seemed so empty there without you. You wanted me there, I wanted to be there, but turns out it was pretty lonely with no other people, no animals, and no one relentlessly baking pies and bread. In some ways I wish I'd stayed. But hindsight's 20/20 and there's no telling if I would have been better or worse off.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Have Lacked Motivation to Post
I've totally lacked motivation to post things lately.
Loads of tension in my household lately have been focused on a geriatric cat who may or may not be suffering from senility. I think senility is quite likely since she has decided our sun room made a fancy litter box in which to pee. I also suspect accidents in the living room; however I as yet have not had time to deal with the stripping of that immense amount of carpeting. Cat pee is such a pervasive smell that it seems no amount of anything is getting it out and Jon has been constantly complaining and up my butt about the smell.
I finally obtained his permission to rip out carpeting. I have done so in the sun room and have since been spending my time removing carpet adhesive from the pretty tiles I found underneath the carpet. The tiles are damaged on the edges due to the tack strips being nailed through them so I am also repairing that damage with concrete patch and am going to work on disguising the damage with a border of paper floor DIY that I found online...pretty cool. Will take some time. (Senile cat has since stopped peeing on the floor in there. I hope she doesn't find a new spot.)
Once I manage to finish that project, I will rip out the other carpet. Don't know when that will be or how long it will take me, but I do believe there is nice hardwood under that carpet. Could be the finish is damaged and I will have more projects than I care to, but I'm okay with it having character.
I am going to have to invest/make rugs. And possibly invest in lots of nice wool socks as it will feel much much colder without the carpeting.
Jon and I had our three year wedding anniversary last Friday. We celebrated with copious amounts of alcohol, a James Bond Marathon (only Sean Connery, he's the only 'real' Bond) and some much needed together time. Jon bought me an orchid which I am not supposed to water or anything due to my black thumb and he will have the care of it because I seem to easily kill all things plant.
It seems to rain every weekend. I can never seem to hang out my bedding and, it being a month since I've been able to hang it out it was gross so I washed it anyway, now I despair that only the sheets will be dry and the blankets are still wet. If the dryer worked this wouldn't be such an issue, but as it is I've only so much space to hang wet clothing/bedding in the house.
Vincent seems to have the runs again. Mystery, considering he's had no greens and I haven't altered his diet in any way. Since he wasn't feeling well, he lucked into only having his nails trimmed instead of a haircut. I didn't want to stress him too much. He doesn't mind nail trimming as much as hair trimming, oddly.
My car, which I have taken good care of since I bought it has decided to burn oil for no good reason. Engine seems to run fine, is getting good mileage, but now wants to smell hot and burn oil. There's not a speck of rust on the car. I suppose I will be looking for a wrecked Cobalt with a decent engine at some point. Hopefully at least a year from now. "New" engine still cheaper than used car.
Not sure I will make it home for Christmas after all, sadly. Need dependable/running car...and right now, we only have the one and since we have yet to win the lotto, this one needs to be conserved until we get another one going.
Loads of tension in my household lately have been focused on a geriatric cat who may or may not be suffering from senility. I think senility is quite likely since she has decided our sun room made a fancy litter box in which to pee. I also suspect accidents in the living room; however I as yet have not had time to deal with the stripping of that immense amount of carpeting. Cat pee is such a pervasive smell that it seems no amount of anything is getting it out and Jon has been constantly complaining and up my butt about the smell.
I finally obtained his permission to rip out carpeting. I have done so in the sun room and have since been spending my time removing carpet adhesive from the pretty tiles I found underneath the carpet. The tiles are damaged on the edges due to the tack strips being nailed through them so I am also repairing that damage with concrete patch and am going to work on disguising the damage with a border of paper floor DIY that I found online...pretty cool. Will take some time. (Senile cat has since stopped peeing on the floor in there. I hope she doesn't find a new spot.)
Once I manage to finish that project, I will rip out the other carpet. Don't know when that will be or how long it will take me, but I do believe there is nice hardwood under that carpet. Could be the finish is damaged and I will have more projects than I care to, but I'm okay with it having character.
I am going to have to invest/make rugs. And possibly invest in lots of nice wool socks as it will feel much much colder without the carpeting.
Jon and I had our three year wedding anniversary last Friday. We celebrated with copious amounts of alcohol, a James Bond Marathon (only Sean Connery, he's the only 'real' Bond) and some much needed together time. Jon bought me an orchid which I am not supposed to water or anything due to my black thumb and he will have the care of it because I seem to easily kill all things plant.
It seems to rain every weekend. I can never seem to hang out my bedding and, it being a month since I've been able to hang it out it was gross so I washed it anyway, now I despair that only the sheets will be dry and the blankets are still wet. If the dryer worked this wouldn't be such an issue, but as it is I've only so much space to hang wet clothing/bedding in the house.
Vincent seems to have the runs again. Mystery, considering he's had no greens and I haven't altered his diet in any way. Since he wasn't feeling well, he lucked into only having his nails trimmed instead of a haircut. I didn't want to stress him too much. He doesn't mind nail trimming as much as hair trimming, oddly.
My car, which I have taken good care of since I bought it has decided to burn oil for no good reason. Engine seems to run fine, is getting good mileage, but now wants to smell hot and burn oil. There's not a speck of rust on the car. I suppose I will be looking for a wrecked Cobalt with a decent engine at some point. Hopefully at least a year from now. "New" engine still cheaper than used car.
Not sure I will make it home for Christmas after all, sadly. Need dependable/running car...and right now, we only have the one and since we have yet to win the lotto, this one needs to be conserved until we get another one going.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Flannel is Soft and Amazingly Durable
After recent arguments in my house; I have determined that my 12 year old self was accurate at determining what I would become. Some things have changed for the better, here, but I'm talking essentials.
I am sitting, half drunk listening to the old Alice In Chains album, Dirt (which my brother and I dutifully wore out on cassette tape and had to replace it with a CD) and explain to Jon why I believe the actual track "Dirt" was underrated back in the day...meaning very early 90s. (Yes, I am old.) I was 12 back in 1991.
Yep, Time Warp...1992...I still yen for flannel.
He simply looks at me and asks me why I would think that because Dirt is one of the "classic" albums....ummm.....generational gap, here? (I was talking about the track not the album...and...I'm not sure if the album IS considered "Classic" and could care less if it is.) It was new to EVERYONE back in 1992 with the exception of those lucky people who got to see Alice in Chains starting out, perhaps.
This somehow looks wrong; as in the colors.
I let the conversation drop and continue happily singing along, badly, probably, but Jon doesn't complain. He SAYS I can sing...but I've heard my voice on the voice mail for Jon's phone and I think I sound like a crazed chipmunk; which is bizarre considering the blunt, straightforward way I put things, I think I should sound like a 3 pack a day for 20 years cigarette smoker. Also, I've been around ACTUAL singers...and the normal volume of their conversation is soooo loud your eardrums will pop...their lungs/diaphragm are that much stronger, they don't even think about it...at least the really quality singers.
Then Jon asks me if I want to rent a movie. (I don't remember its name now.) I said that I didn't know because I'd never heard of it and asked him some questions about it.
And he kind of went all mental about me not having social networks to fall back on or people I regularly hang out with. I assume he means on a weekly/bi weekly basis or whatever he equates with normalcy. Whatever "normalcy" others are talking about has never really applied to me and I really could care less what works for everyone else.
I have a friend, her name is Ruth and she has a James...and, frankly, that's perfect enough for me. I don't see her often enough, but schedules don't always permit and everyone is always busily trying to play catch up between work and home.
He asked me how I would hear of a movie since I'm immune to most or all advertising (true, I really am...I have this weird tune-out, it's a commercial and therefore doesn't apply thing that snaps into automatic gear) plus we don't have television in the conventional sense, meaning we have Netflix. And, while the cd player in my car unmercifully died, and I do listen to the radio I am often annoyed enough to turn it off because of the rubbish Sammy Hagar/whatever annoying other bands they play and even if there is a good song, as soon as the station goes to commercial or some DJ ventures forth some boring and mundane opinion my mind wonders and I am in my own little world, quite immune to outside input.
I said I don't know, but why would me asking questions about it bother him so much.
I don't think he answered me.
He just went to the, "you have no friends, you are the epitome of the Grunge Age."
Maybe. I'm not sure what the "epitome of the Grunge Age" was. I thought it was more of an "anything goes" sort of mentality than an epitome. Such as if the hippies, instead of being optimists who yearned to change the world had already realized they'd failed, but it was cool if someone still wanted to try to change the world....
I didn't try to be.
I just always was what I am.
I do what I like.
I am rarely, if ever, entirely or even largely influenced by others. I like to think for myself and am easily assimilated into The Borg.
I think corporations are evil and Borg-like...
I think the Plastic Man has long been assimilated.
(District Manager for those not in the know.)
I don't believe in any certain religion. (Unless the religion of the Almighty Dollar is a religion...I believe in that...its pretty damn real..no dollar, well, you'll be really hungry....America could give a fuck less, so whatever must be done to feed yourself, well, better damn well do that, then.)
I don't have overt hope for the future and find hope to be a rather pointless emotion. (As in: wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first.)
I think, things are born into the world, live a while, maybe learn a little something, then die for no apparent reason.
I am awkward and unhappy in most, if not all, really social activities and either need to leave quickly or drink heavily...in either case, I will remain silent and in my own little world if uninterested by the company or the conversation. It matters not if I am shit faced drunk...if I'm bored and have nothing to contribute to the conversation, I won't contribute. I find this to be acceptable. I'm not an argumentative drunk. According to Jon, many of the people I've met at parties with his friends have decided, somehow, wrongly, that I just don't like THEM. Maybe. I don't know. I didn't get to know them well enough to decide one way or the other. I just was bored by their topic of conversation. It seemed to consist of : 1. doing drugs back in the day 2. video games, or 3. let's play beer pong... I consider all those things to be boring. Also, I don't like beer. I also don't respond well to small talk. It's stupid, vapid, pointless, and for those with a terminal fear of silence.
All in all, I think I am a realist...and wonder what exactly is wrong with that? Nothing.
I am sitting, half drunk listening to the old Alice In Chains album, Dirt (which my brother and I dutifully wore out on cassette tape and had to replace it with a CD) and explain to Jon why I believe the actual track "Dirt" was underrated back in the day...meaning very early 90s. (Yes, I am old.) I was 12 back in 1991.
He simply looks at me and asks me why I would think that because Dirt is one of the "classic" albums....ummm.....generational gap, here? (I was talking about the track not the album...and...I'm not sure if the album IS considered "Classic" and could care less if it is.) It was new to EVERYONE back in 1992 with the exception of those lucky people who got to see Alice in Chains starting out, perhaps.
I let the conversation drop and continue happily singing along, badly, probably, but Jon doesn't complain. He SAYS I can sing...but I've heard my voice on the voice mail for Jon's phone and I think I sound like a crazed chipmunk; which is bizarre considering the blunt, straightforward way I put things, I think I should sound like a 3 pack a day for 20 years cigarette smoker. Also, I've been around ACTUAL singers...and the normal volume of their conversation is soooo loud your eardrums will pop...their lungs/diaphragm are that much stronger, they don't even think about it...at least the really quality singers.
Then Jon asks me if I want to rent a movie. (I don't remember its name now.) I said that I didn't know because I'd never heard of it and asked him some questions about it.
And he kind of went all mental about me not having social networks to fall back on or people I regularly hang out with. I assume he means on a weekly/bi weekly basis or whatever he equates with normalcy. Whatever "normalcy" others are talking about has never really applied to me and I really could care less what works for everyone else.
I have a friend, her name is Ruth and she has a James...and, frankly, that's perfect enough for me. I don't see her often enough, but schedules don't always permit and everyone is always busily trying to play catch up between work and home.
He asked me how I would hear of a movie since I'm immune to most or all advertising (true, I really am...I have this weird tune-out, it's a commercial and therefore doesn't apply thing that snaps into automatic gear) plus we don't have television in the conventional sense, meaning we have Netflix. And, while the cd player in my car unmercifully died, and I do listen to the radio I am often annoyed enough to turn it off because of the rubbish Sammy Hagar/whatever annoying other bands they play and even if there is a good song, as soon as the station goes to commercial or some DJ ventures forth some boring and mundane opinion my mind wonders and I am in my own little world, quite immune to outside input.
I said I don't know, but why would me asking questions about it bother him so much.
I don't think he answered me.
He just went to the, "you have no friends, you are the epitome of the Grunge Age."
Maybe. I'm not sure what the "epitome of the Grunge Age" was. I thought it was more of an "anything goes" sort of mentality than an epitome. Such as if the hippies, instead of being optimists who yearned to change the world had already realized they'd failed, but it was cool if someone still wanted to try to change the world....
I didn't try to be.
I just always was what I am.
I do what I like.
I am rarely, if ever, entirely or even largely influenced by others. I like to think for myself and am easily assimilated into The Borg.
I think corporations are evil and Borg-like...
I think the Plastic Man has long been assimilated.
I don't believe in any certain religion. (Unless the religion of the Almighty Dollar is a religion...I believe in that...its pretty damn real..no dollar, well, you'll be really hungry....America could give a fuck less, so whatever must be done to feed yourself, well, better damn well do that, then.)
I don't have overt hope for the future and find hope to be a rather pointless emotion. (As in: wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first.)
I think, things are born into the world, live a while, maybe learn a little something, then die for no apparent reason.
I am awkward and unhappy in most, if not all, really social activities and either need to leave quickly or drink heavily...in either case, I will remain silent and in my own little world if uninterested by the company or the conversation. It matters not if I am shit faced drunk...if I'm bored and have nothing to contribute to the conversation, I won't contribute. I find this to be acceptable. I'm not an argumentative drunk. According to Jon, many of the people I've met at parties with his friends have decided, somehow, wrongly, that I just don't like THEM. Maybe. I don't know. I didn't get to know them well enough to decide one way or the other. I just was bored by their topic of conversation. It seemed to consist of : 1. doing drugs back in the day 2. video games, or 3. let's play beer pong... I consider all those things to be boring. Also, I don't like beer. I also don't respond well to small talk. It's stupid, vapid, pointless, and for those with a terminal fear of silence.
All in all, I think I am a realist...and wonder what exactly is wrong with that? Nothing.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
It's Almost Friday...but Almost Friday Doesn't Cut the Mustard
I have much hate for fourteen foot heavyweight gates. Much hate. Ever try to balance and lean one up against the side of a business? No? It's a particular kind of hell. The only thing worse would be a 16 foot heavyweight gate.
After stowing nearly 30 gates--with help--I might add; my left shoulder is no longer on speaking terms with me...its on shouting terms. Last night it shouted at me all night long. Today it is less shouty but stiff and ouchy. I know I did it no good by continuing my relentless two day assault on the backroom and sidelot. I am always amazed at the amount of lazy that goes on. Also, I usually get three days for assaulting the backroom but because of the holiday, I have to work extremely hard to catch back up.
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I cleaned the sidelot to discover my four hour marathon last week of rearranging to clear a path for 44 pallets of wood pellet fuel...has resulted in idiots rearranging things that DO NOT NEED to be REARRANGED due to the fact that I arranged them for convenience and so that there would be NO DIGGING and therefore fucking shit up. I also discover that all three salt pallets out front are empty because no one could be bothered to fill them over the weekend despite them being on sale. Amber K helped with that one because she actually tries to NOT make my job more difficult. She needs a clone.
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ASM leaves very shortly and I will be glad. She has no qualms about making shit more difficult for me. Let's just leave shelves lying about the backroom...or feeds...or whatever she's working on...let's just leave it half assed for someone (me) to put away to make room for the truck. Hopefully someone already at our store gets promoted (He'd be a good ASM) or we get an actual ASM that just works ALLLLL the time.
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Also, more people need to be proficient on the forklift. I'm sick of excuses. "I can't go do this because..." Basically because...of fear. I've put it in Amber K's ear to put Shitty Amber on shaving refill duty...yet another thing I have to do if no one else deigns to. Amber K asked me if I'm sure..because Shitty Amber keeps dumping the shavings. I just laughed and said..."well, if she dumps them often enough she'll learn to be more careful and to NOT dump them...just quit helping her pick them up." I think I shall next put her on salt pallet refills. Shouldn't be able to dump those, but I could be surprised.
I'm trying to teach Jen to be more proficient but it is slow going as her reaction time is slower than most and I think she may have depth perception issues. I make her take the empty pallets out...and stack them in the stacks...I have recently helped her put things in the racking and take things down from the racking....that's a risky proposition...and she needs lots of coaching...if I had more time, she'd do it ten times a day until she didn't need my help.
Crystal is trying, and, on her own...which I'd rather. I'm not the boss. Sometimes I feel like I am...only because I am more take charge than the boss...or so I think. Fear, yet again...just need to get her loading/unloading semis...tried to get her to do the pallet truck since there is absolutely NOTHING she could break...but she was scared and Jason was available because I was uber busy...so I didn't force the issue.
I was thrown to the wolves and made to do a feed truck (very easy) and my first truck on my own was a DC (quite difficult) and soon followed Tartar Gate (challenging) and Carry On Trailer (extremely difficult and I am still not very comfortable with that one).
Most everyone in that store has a forklift certification....now, why are they "certified" and yet somehow incapable of doing the simplest tasks? Just make them. That's how I learned. By doing. Granted, I've had tons more practice...but practice is awesome. Fork some bags, tap some things, knock some shit down...pretty soon to get out of doing more work, the carefulness creeps in.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I think we are going to be starting some more new hires. I'm kind of scared because ASM interviewed them and she tends to really like older and female...which is fine...but these older females need to be able to toss some 50 pound bags repeatedly and hopefully have some mad life skills like knowing what a trailer coupler is and that there is a difference between a category 1 hitch and a category 3...things we are sadly lacking at the moment and I am tired of helping out on the floor because no one wants to learn or is afraid to stretch themselves by trying.
I learned a hell of a lot about tires by stocking hundreds of them...tires and tire chains...and stupid customers with stupid questions...I don't think any female should be immune...and we have tons of females at the store who are quite capable but don't want to go out of their comfort zones of clothing, dog, cat, and horse.
I still think a couple youngish...30s 40s males would be excellent for bag tossing, life skills and dealing with all those assholes who still don't believe that women may possibly know what a solenoid is or does. I hate dealing with those idiots.
Also, all the people that are currently register jockeys want off the register (always) and almost all of them have physical limitations...and we need a feed tosser/forklift operator present ALL SHIFTS. I just don't think they understand what they are asking for. Nothing against any of them. It's a brutal job. BRUTAL. I have huge purple bruises just from today that I have no idea how I got.
Shifts are as follows:
AM: Manager (does price changes, customer service, phones, load outs)
Receiver (does phones, load outs, inventory, trucks, side lot, backroom, feeds, mostly not dealing with the public)
Cashier (money, phones, customer service, ect.)
Mid: (We don't always get a mid...covers lunches, backs up the cashier, does customer service,
load outs, helps fill feeds, do special orders, ect...hopefully a jack of all trades)
PM: Manager (special orders, customer service, phones, load outs)
Cashier ( money, phones, customer service, ect)
Feed Thrower (fills feeds and rotates feeds, can take an entire 6 hour shift, load outs)
And that is it. It's a tight crew. Someone doesn't pull their weight or its exceptionally busy...someone else gets hosed. I know I could use a 50 hour work week instead of a 40...JUST TO STAY CAUGHT UP COMFORTABLY...however; there is no caught up comfortably...and its just a rolling bit of madness from one day to the next.
After stowing nearly 30 gates--with help--I might add; my left shoulder is no longer on speaking terms with me...its on shouting terms. Last night it shouted at me all night long. Today it is less shouty but stiff and ouchy. I know I did it no good by continuing my relentless two day assault on the backroom and sidelot. I am always amazed at the amount of lazy that goes on. Also, I usually get three days for assaulting the backroom but because of the holiday, I have to work extremely hard to catch back up.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I cleaned the sidelot to discover my four hour marathon last week of rearranging to clear a path for 44 pallets of wood pellet fuel...has resulted in idiots rearranging things that DO NOT NEED to be REARRANGED due to the fact that I arranged them for convenience and so that there would be NO DIGGING and therefore fucking shit up. I also discover that all three salt pallets out front are empty because no one could be bothered to fill them over the weekend despite them being on sale. Amber K helped with that one because she actually tries to NOT make my job more difficult. She needs a clone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ASM leaves very shortly and I will be glad. She has no qualms about making shit more difficult for me. Let's just leave shelves lying about the backroom...or feeds...or whatever she's working on...let's just leave it half assed for someone (me) to put away to make room for the truck. Hopefully someone already at our store gets promoted (He'd be a good ASM) or we get an actual ASM that just works ALLLLL the time.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Also, more people need to be proficient on the forklift. I'm sick of excuses. "I can't go do this because..." Basically because...of fear. I've put it in Amber K's ear to put Shitty Amber on shaving refill duty...yet another thing I have to do if no one else deigns to. Amber K asked me if I'm sure..because Shitty Amber keeps dumping the shavings. I just laughed and said..."well, if she dumps them often enough she'll learn to be more careful and to NOT dump them...just quit helping her pick them up." I think I shall next put her on salt pallet refills. Shouldn't be able to dump those, but I could be surprised.
I'm trying to teach Jen to be more proficient but it is slow going as her reaction time is slower than most and I think she may have depth perception issues. I make her take the empty pallets out...and stack them in the stacks...I have recently helped her put things in the racking and take things down from the racking....that's a risky proposition...and she needs lots of coaching...if I had more time, she'd do it ten times a day until she didn't need my help.
Crystal is trying, and, on her own...which I'd rather. I'm not the boss. Sometimes I feel like I am...only because I am more take charge than the boss...or so I think. Fear, yet again...just need to get her loading/unloading semis...tried to get her to do the pallet truck since there is absolutely NOTHING she could break...but she was scared and Jason was available because I was uber busy...so I didn't force the issue.
I was thrown to the wolves and made to do a feed truck (very easy) and my first truck on my own was a DC (quite difficult) and soon followed Tartar Gate (challenging) and Carry On Trailer (extremely difficult and I am still not very comfortable with that one).
Most everyone in that store has a forklift certification....now, why are they "certified" and yet somehow incapable of doing the simplest tasks? Just make them. That's how I learned. By doing. Granted, I've had tons more practice...but practice is awesome. Fork some bags, tap some things, knock some shit down...pretty soon to get out of doing more work, the carefulness creeps in.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I think we are going to be starting some more new hires. I'm kind of scared because ASM interviewed them and she tends to really like older and female...which is fine...but these older females need to be able to toss some 50 pound bags repeatedly and hopefully have some mad life skills like knowing what a trailer coupler is and that there is a difference between a category 1 hitch and a category 3...things we are sadly lacking at the moment and I am tired of helping out on the floor because no one wants to learn or is afraid to stretch themselves by trying.
I learned a hell of a lot about tires by stocking hundreds of them...tires and tire chains...and stupid customers with stupid questions...I don't think any female should be immune...and we have tons of females at the store who are quite capable but don't want to go out of their comfort zones of clothing, dog, cat, and horse.
I still think a couple youngish...30s 40s males would be excellent for bag tossing, life skills and dealing with all those assholes who still don't believe that women may possibly know what a solenoid is or does. I hate dealing with those idiots.
Also, all the people that are currently register jockeys want off the register (always) and almost all of them have physical limitations...and we need a feed tosser/forklift operator present ALL SHIFTS. I just don't think they understand what they are asking for. Nothing against any of them. It's a brutal job. BRUTAL. I have huge purple bruises just from today that I have no idea how I got.
Shifts are as follows:
AM: Manager (does price changes, customer service, phones, load outs)
Receiver (does phones, load outs, inventory, trucks, side lot, backroom, feeds, mostly not dealing with the public)
Cashier (money, phones, customer service, ect.)
Mid: (We don't always get a mid...covers lunches, backs up the cashier, does customer service,
load outs, helps fill feeds, do special orders, ect...hopefully a jack of all trades)
PM: Manager (special orders, customer service, phones, load outs)
Cashier ( money, phones, customer service, ect)
Feed Thrower (fills feeds and rotates feeds, can take an entire 6 hour shift, load outs)
And that is it. It's a tight crew. Someone doesn't pull their weight or its exceptionally busy...someone else gets hosed. I know I could use a 50 hour work week instead of a 40...JUST TO STAY CAUGHT UP COMFORTABLY...however; there is no caught up comfortably...and its just a rolling bit of madness from one day to the next.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Another Unwanted Adventure
This morning I got up and wandered about lazily just like I do every Saturday until I feel like starting my chores. It's nice not to have to just jolt out of bed, run around the house like some crazy thing and immediately go to work.
Then I smelled a burning plastic smell. This is pretty unusual...as in I've never smelled that inside the house before. So I lurk around our bedroom where the smell is stronger, touch the walls, feel the outlet where the air conditioner is running...mildly warm...air conditioner cords are usually mildly warm, just like vacuum cleaner cords. I go into the rabbit room...and...there/s smoke...and the smell is atrocious.
Jon and I think its the ceiling fan, so we immediately cut the power to it. I go outside to get the bunny box so he can be evacuated into not noxious fumes...and there is still oodles of smoke. Jon notices an outlet is glowing red...the outlets in that room are not used because bunnies like to eat cords and pulls the main switch.
Neither of us really know what to do, we just sit in the house, windows open, with the power off and kind of stare at each other. What if we'd gone somewhere? What if we'd been at work? We'd have come home to no house and crispy or missing critters.
Jon finally called his dad who got him his Uncle Wally's phone number. Wally, blessedly, is a semi-retired electrician. We had let the outlet cool, took it apart, and phoned him to tell him what we found. He didn't like the sound of it so he drove an hour to our house to take a peek.
Wally inspected things, trimmed some wired, and wired it all back up, thinking that because we have old style metal boxes in the wall (original in 1949) one of the wires on the outlet was arcing and just got really hot against the box and started the fire.
Of course we don't have a breaker box; we have an old style fuse box with 15 amp fuses in it...which is actually the correct size fuse. The mystery here is why didn't the fuse pop? We asked Wally and he said he hates old school fuses for this reason, most of the time the do pop...and then, there's times like this where they just don't. So of course we asked him how much it would cost to install a breaker box...he said around $400...but that it would be awhile. He works for people part time because of the government being all worried about him working full time and being retired....our government is just dumb..so he said probably October he could swing it.
He suggested we tear apart ALL the outlets, make sure the connections were secure, and that there was electrical tape insulating the outside of the outlet OVER the connections just so it couldn't possibly arc to the metal wall boxes. I didn't think we had 20 outlets in the house, but guess what, we do. Went over every single one...two people...four hours...but we had quite a scare.
Then I smelled a burning plastic smell. This is pretty unusual...as in I've never smelled that inside the house before. So I lurk around our bedroom where the smell is stronger, touch the walls, feel the outlet where the air conditioner is running...mildly warm...air conditioner cords are usually mildly warm, just like vacuum cleaner cords. I go into the rabbit room...and...there/s smoke...and the smell is atrocious.
Jon and I think its the ceiling fan, so we immediately cut the power to it. I go outside to get the bunny box so he can be evacuated into not noxious fumes...and there is still oodles of smoke. Jon notices an outlet is glowing red...the outlets in that room are not used because bunnies like to eat cords and pulls the main switch.
Neither of us really know what to do, we just sit in the house, windows open, with the power off and kind of stare at each other. What if we'd gone somewhere? What if we'd been at work? We'd have come home to no house and crispy or missing critters.
Jon finally called his dad who got him his Uncle Wally's phone number. Wally, blessedly, is a semi-retired electrician. We had let the outlet cool, took it apart, and phoned him to tell him what we found. He didn't like the sound of it so he drove an hour to our house to take a peek.
Wally inspected things, trimmed some wired, and wired it all back up, thinking that because we have old style metal boxes in the wall (original in 1949) one of the wires on the outlet was arcing and just got really hot against the box and started the fire.
Of course we don't have a breaker box; we have an old style fuse box with 15 amp fuses in it...which is actually the correct size fuse. The mystery here is why didn't the fuse pop? We asked Wally and he said he hates old school fuses for this reason, most of the time the do pop...and then, there's times like this where they just don't. So of course we asked him how much it would cost to install a breaker box...he said around $400...but that it would be awhile. He works for people part time because of the government being all worried about him working full time and being retired....our government is just dumb..so he said probably October he could swing it.
He suggested we tear apart ALL the outlets, make sure the connections were secure, and that there was electrical tape insulating the outside of the outlet OVER the connections just so it couldn't possibly arc to the metal wall boxes. I didn't think we had 20 outlets in the house, but guess what, we do. Went over every single one...two people...four hours...but we had quite a scare.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Why Can't a Girl Catch a Break?
I came home yesterday and let my dogs out. Then answer the knock at my door and its my neighbors telling me they caught my dog--he'd escaped due to the power company cutting limbs and--they'd pushed in my gate, which is always locked to prevent-- anyone who just walks by-- from letting my dogs loose on a whim. He then helped me push the gate back to its proper position. I thanked him and was pretty upset. I mean, really, I left the gate locked, its NEVER unlocked...even the meter reader knocks at a locked gate and won't enter your yard if you aren't home to admit him. If the power company had bothered; either by phone call or letter, to inform me that they were going to trim power lines in my yard and an estimated time, I would have left the gate unlocked for them. However; I got no such warning.
Apparently city power company workers are less concerned about getting shot than their country counterparts. My countrified power company in Ohio warned folks so they wouldn't be caught unawares...and, I would assume, for the safety of their workers they wouldn't want folks to be caught unawares.
Also, if a gate is shut, shut the damn gate! Ever want to piss off a farmer, a horse owner, ect, leave a gate open. Common courtesy, open the gate, shut the gate so animals won't escape and cause a larger problem either for the property owner or for someone such as passing motorists. Cows and horses are not big respecters of cars.
I'm just glad both my dogs are safe and didn't get hit by cars as I am super close to a busy freeway.
Lesson learned. Gate will now be chained as well as locked. Fuck you, DTE. Notify me. I will comply. I'm a fan of electricity and tree trimming is often necessary. Want to enter my yard without notification? Go ahead, jump the fence with a chainsaw, see if I care. Cut through the fence, I press charges.
I noticed my other neighbors who always, always, ALWAYS left their gate unlocked...now are sporting a gate chain. I wonder if their dogs also escaped.
______________________________________________________________________________
Super busy at work yesterday. Not even funny.
Here is the listing of deliveries:
9 softener salt pallets...unload time, 30 minutes, paper work time, 10.
"Partial" DC...meaning a full truck minus 4 pallets that were dropped off at some other store. Unload time one hour...paperwork...45 minutes...and I had help from Crystal or it would have been much longer for just the paperwork.
Tarter Gate. They merrily left me about 30 gates and other things that have yet to be socked away correctly as I haven't had the time and it is labor intensive, hot work, in the sun, and its way too hot to be doing this lately. 90 plus all week. Unload time: 45 minutes because its all wonky and complex. Paperwork, about the same since they pack the gates with bar codes facing wrong directions for the RF guns sometimes just to be obnoxious.
Bird seed...9 pallets. Unload time, one hour due to rotation of old bird seed to the front and new to the back. Paperwork, ten minutes.
UPS.
Fed Ex.
Recycled Pallet truck guy: I was able to pawn this off on Jason as I was too damn busy and he didn't mind doing it. Was trying to get Crystal to do it since, its empty, stacked pallets and what the hell can she break? Nothing. But she was too scared.
Checking in of UPS, Fed Ex, POs from the truck....at least an hour.
Helping Crystal finish sorting totes (she was totally off her game because her room mate was threatening to "do things" to her cat or some shit., she moved back in with her mom after work yesterday.) 30 minutes.
Sorting pallets with Crystal....an hour and a half, possibly?
Lunch; half an hour. It was socked in there somewhere, don't remember where...everything was so frantic all damn day.
Finding most of the rain checks, calling those people, (I feel like this is always endless and it eats up time like nothing else.) No one ever answers their phones so it rings and rings and rings and goes to voice mail. Those same people later come in to bitch that "No one called." I've decided they just don't know how to listen to their voice mail. Answering their phones would prevent that. I'm not calling more than once.
End of day paperwork and I ran out the door ready to just hibernate.
In reality I came home, let the dogs out for a potty break, was notified Doggles was loose, dealt with that, and then went to pick Jon up from his job...and came back home, showered, and farted around on the web, then eventually went to sleep...to wake up at 4 am to go back to the old hell hole.
There is still freight in the backroom. All the computers went down and we had to write down everything, do the math and tax...and it takes forever. Freight stopped for about two hours. We were chugging along until the store had to open. It broke our momentum and we never recovered, and we were two people down for two hours and then one person down for the other 6.
I'm glad its a three day weekend...except, on Tuesday, I'll have double the work as I will have to do Monday's work as well....
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Mystery Rash
Last Sunday we had a store meeting. It was lamer than lame and mostly served to remind me that I'd had much more fun at other store meetings. Namely, at Howell with the Dread Pirate Roberts, Jason, Ruth, Ashley, Ray...there was lots of sniggering...poking, inappropriate comments and laughing. I'd had better boring store meetings even at New Hudson, in particular the one where Pam used a counting device to discover that the Spurminator said MMMMkay...over 200 times during the meeting...there was lots of snickering and laughter then, too. All in all, it was a dreadful waste of time and I'm not sure why we even had a meeting.
My biggest adventure this week has been Mystery Rash. Stupid, itchy bumps that appear, disappear and reappear and spread...and when scratched with much bliss...(there is actually nothing as pleasant as scratching an itch) become larger and more itchy (of course). There is rash on my scalp, under my arms, on my sides, my back, in between my fingers, the only actual place where I haven't discovered a rash this week is on the stinky bits. Even the palms of my hands!
I haven't used any different detergent, soap, lotion, nothing.
I, as far as I know, haven't been exposed to anything containing penicillin (which when I had strep throat was given as the antidote and made me have horrible itchy spreading hives...and so I learned I am allergic to penicillin). But this does act like the penicillin itch.
The last antibiotic the cat was on was tetracycline, so its not that. She was on a form of penicillin two months or so ago but I exhibited no symptoms while administering that to her, but I was very careful to not touch it or if I couldn't avoid it due to beastly cat, I was very careful to immediately wash my hand or whatever had gotten exposed.
The only thing I did different was eat hot dogs. I usually don't eat them, but as we had been given a vast amount of hot dogs and had had a BBQ last weekend, I ate them. With GOBS of mustard to help hide the flavor.
I suppose I could have a hot dog allergy...or more, realistically, a preservative allergy.
My cousin also suggests I could have somehow come in contact with penicillin mold. Possible. Weird, but possible. Who knows what I come into contact with on a daily basis at work, really. I am always dirty, sweaty and in contact with numerous dirty things like lawn mower batteries, tires, feed sacks (including sometimes ones that have mold, though I wouldn't think it would be penicillin mold), lime, and various unidentifiable yucks on the insides of semi trailers.
Mystery Rash sucks.
That is unchallengable.
Mystery Rash is also miserable while sweating heavily and it is hot out.
It is miserable when not sweating.
GO AWAY, Mystery Rash!
My biggest adventure this week has been Mystery Rash. Stupid, itchy bumps that appear, disappear and reappear and spread...and when scratched with much bliss...(there is actually nothing as pleasant as scratching an itch) become larger and more itchy (of course). There is rash on my scalp, under my arms, on my sides, my back, in between my fingers, the only actual place where I haven't discovered a rash this week is on the stinky bits. Even the palms of my hands!
I haven't used any different detergent, soap, lotion, nothing.
I, as far as I know, haven't been exposed to anything containing penicillin (which when I had strep throat was given as the antidote and made me have horrible itchy spreading hives...and so I learned I am allergic to penicillin). But this does act like the penicillin itch.
The last antibiotic the cat was on was tetracycline, so its not that. She was on a form of penicillin two months or so ago but I exhibited no symptoms while administering that to her, but I was very careful to not touch it or if I couldn't avoid it due to beastly cat, I was very careful to immediately wash my hand or whatever had gotten exposed.
The only thing I did different was eat hot dogs. I usually don't eat them, but as we had been given a vast amount of hot dogs and had had a BBQ last weekend, I ate them. With GOBS of mustard to help hide the flavor.
I suppose I could have a hot dog allergy...or more, realistically, a preservative allergy.
My cousin also suggests I could have somehow come in contact with penicillin mold. Possible. Weird, but possible. Who knows what I come into contact with on a daily basis at work, really. I am always dirty, sweaty and in contact with numerous dirty things like lawn mower batteries, tires, feed sacks (including sometimes ones that have mold, though I wouldn't think it would be penicillin mold), lime, and various unidentifiable yucks on the insides of semi trailers.
Mystery Rash sucks.
That is unchallengable.
Mystery Rash is also miserable while sweating heavily and it is hot out.
It is miserable when not sweating.
GO AWAY, Mystery Rash!
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