Friday, April 24, 2015

I love Friday


Savannah

The actual stones from the bottom of the ships sent from England for ballast. I know some of us may have seen this before-but it is cool to see for those who have not had the privilege. Made the ride quite bumpy.

My boss has a new idea, I leave when I have reached 40 hours. I am fine with this and I am getting Friday afternoons off. This guy is a hoot as he is cheap and mean and no one likes him. There will come a day when this will not work out so well and he will be in a fit. Until then, I get Friday afternoons off. And I adore it.

Big Daddy took the Ford Escape in this afternoon as the SYNC thing was not working, sixth time and I am not happy not having traffic reports in the morning drive time.

More tomorrow from the weekend, Pedi in the AM and I hope new photos.

Monday, April 20, 2015

Shady sailors


The waving girl. It seems some shady ass sailor stole her heart and told her he was coming back to marry her. So all day and all night this woman and her dog waved at the incoming ships to welcome this asshat back. After 42 years she died. Waving that damn towel. Yikes.

So the boss showed up and what should have been a knock down drag out was nothing. They ran out of time again. And I have to go in tomorrow and report out and I have no damn answers. This is just great, cause I am gonna make up my own damn answers. I will put this out there at 4 AM and wait for the calls to start. I bet my phone won't work tomorrow morning.


Sunday, April 19, 2015

Creepy bosses


The Griffon guards the Cotton Exchange. In Savannah.

Well, this was a fun day, last Friday.

My boss told me to leave after working my 6 hours so I could keep with the 40 hour rule.

That would be leaving at 1:30 PM.

And then the crashing began with the call for a "Problem" that must be reported out at zero thirty on Monday morning. All the sudden emails started flying and texts to me started arriving. Do this and do that, and then when I said it was starting to sound like work, all communications ceased.

Well, you don't wanna play---we ain't gonna play.

This guy also is asking the off shift person to drive to his house at 4 AM and leave shit on his porch and he won't pay her for the thirty minutes he adds on to her commute. What a shit.

Can't wait to see what is gonna happen Monday.







Thursday, April 16, 2015

Still whining after all these years


This is the street in front of Mrs. Wilkes, there was a newlywed couple moving in across the street. The wonderful old homes are mostly broken up into apartments.

My bulbs are coming up like crazy. Some are small, but Costco and not enough fertilizer will do that.

I learned that I am not the Purple Squirrel, that is apparently the prize employee. The one everyone seeks that is so fucking perfect, it is amazing . Well, I am the employee you got and can't get rid of because no one so far is willing to take on this job. I am the Pink Rat, I do your bidding, unspoken of course, and we all pretend I do not exist. VP's want the squirrel. Realistic people want the rat and can't say so.

Last email of the day was to tell my "Report To" that I have 6 hours left for the week. That is his new nut, tell me when you are getting close. You know, I have never over-charged these people and probably shorted myself. FU, I have 6 hours left and if he thinks I will go home and be on call, no I will go home take a nap. Or get a massage. More to come on this one.




Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Debbie Downer


Soaking tub at the Andaz in Savannah

I am done with the job. Just done. But I will not quit, I am not a quitter and I have not found something else to do. I don't need the money so bad that I must put up with this shit, it is now a matter of --fuck you and terminiate my contract. But I will not quit.

Just a sample of my day:

Just call me stupid Plant #1, we refuse to sort our fucked up parts cause there is no way in hell we ever ship any fucked parts and by all that is holy no I do not have to prove that to anybody. And by the way, you personally are the worst piece of shit rep ever because we pay your salary to make sure that no one ever says we ship crappy parts. Because by all that is holy we expect you to tell this huge global conglomerate that we and our shitty little parts are perfect. You hear me bitch.

I do believe there is a special place in hell for these people and their relatives that wear torn underwear as an outfit to weddings. With their dirty flip flops.

We don't speak English Plant#2, si si your are our eyes and our ears and everything you tell us we love and believe and you are our Madonna. Until 10 minutes from now when you are the Puta of Michigan why do you keep saying all our sucky ass parts are bad. You bitch.

I just sing Latin songs while I walk away. I try not to sway my hips.

We are old fucks making a lot of money corporate plant visitors (think VP level), this customer is an idiot and none of this shit is our problem and this stupid blonde woman is not capable to help us--she does not have a penis.

I try not to notice how incompetent their penises have made them.

Funny of the day:

Holy shite our foofaws are broken, No, they are really broken. Do the math, to find out if it is our problem it will take a population of 10,000 pieces to figure this out. Tell the bitch to save all the broken, cracked and raggedy ass foofaws.

Trying to compete with the King FooFaw maker is like me actually expecting that dough boy to dance across my counter when I make the biscuits. WTF.

There will be new parts daily until this nightmare ends.


Sunday, April 12, 2015

Randomness


A boat from Holland Michigan in the Savannah River. That is where my niece lives.

Saturday was pedicure day and after that I hobbled around Trader Joe's making groceries. Buy of the day were the dry daffodils you put them in water and they bloom. Beautiful yellow in the kitchen. Second was the pot of herbs for the kitchen sill. Makes it seems more like Spring.

Grosse Pointe is famous for the Estate Sales. There are companies that take care of this and this is the season. The best are the sales where someone died because the house is usually older and the stuff is much more interesting. This weekend was just a moving sale and quite overpriced. The stuff left behind was not at all interesting and I was looking around upstairs before trying to get down without a hand rail-aesthetics versus safety me thinks, when the sale lady tells me the owner of the house is an artist and I was seeing one of her paintings for sale. Yee Gads, selling your own paintings in a garage sale with your broken caned chairs?

Got a text on Saturday of a problem at work. This is a bad problem and there is a nasty meeting on Monday morning that I have to attend and explain this shit. And there is no answer other than we are a terrible supplier and why do you keep sourcing us business. And for the first time no one is emailing me because they do not want to go to the meeting-- so I guess I have carte blanche until Monday afternoon. This is when they will tell me I handled this badly. I am hopeful this is when the customer tells them to haul their happy asses in their and explain.

Big Daddy and I are not speaking. We had a big fight. I went to the pantry to get out the dog's leash and a pack of cigs fell on my head. I do not care if you smoke, but dammit it all do not lie to me about it. I am not amused. Enough said.






Saturday, April 11, 2015

The hiss heard round the world

Dammit there is no picture to add.

Well, since we have been home, and obviously not taking enough photographs, the animals are re-taking their territory.

The cat likes to hiss at the dog, she is staking out whatever ground she seems to think she has claimed.

The dog knows nothing of this claiming of territory shit and is simply wandering about sniffing for a clue of what's up.

The other day Zoey was in the corner of the door walls looking out over her domain of yard and Sammy was circling the area.

Every circle had a hiss, Zoey acknowledged Sammy.

Then, once around the circle I heard 2 hisses. Oh My. . . . . Sammy learned to hiss back.

I thought I would pee my pants. And I think, so did Zoey.

Who Knew, the old dog could learn new tricks.