tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59838962829505927712024-03-13T10:33:20.764-07:00Speechless Workin StiffWorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-73976645781021409622017-03-04T08:11:00.001-08:002017-03-04T08:56:36.586-08:00Funny Training Story #2There's a girl at work who is a bit OCD, or neurotic, or lets say what I call a "worry wart"<br />
Some people are quick to act when the situation arises. Others ask questions first, and by the time they act, the event is over. She is the 2nd one.<br />
<br />
I'll call her WW here. So, the other day, we found out a company is comming through to visit. We already have several jobs we do for them, but they are considering more, so every work station must be clean and orderly. This is something I have been trying to do since forever, and I am often going to this person's area, asking her to keep items related to her job [like paperwork, scrap bins, ect] at her work cell and not on [or under] the table of the work cell next to her.<br />
<br />
I am kicking stuff out that doesn't belong, and putting it away, hauling garbage out ect, when I walk past her. WW is doing a job that doesn't take a full amount of time, and is booked as a 1/2 OP [Operator] job. I tell her [knowing she is one of our worst offenders when it comes to work cell organization] "Company is comming through, so anything you see that is out of place, feel free to take care of it"<br />
<br />
WW: Who is comming?<br />
I'm still walking<br />
Me: XYZ company<br />
Her: Why are they comming?<br />
I stop, hands full of stuff<br />
Me: I don't know<br />
I do know but it will take too long to explain. If I say to think about giving us more jobs, she will say "which ones?" or "what kind?"<br />
I continue walking the stuff to the dumpster, and when I return she says: <br />
WW: what about this?<br />
Me: Yep, that would be great, thanks!<br />
later<br />
WW: How about this?<br />
Me: Awesome, please take care of that<br />
This contintues for each thing she puts away.<br />
<br />
Later I am removing old [non compliant] lables from returnable totes next to her work station that I had pointed out to her first thing in the morning needed to be done. [she didn't do it obviously] She is watching me [not helping], and asks again<br />
<br />
WW: Why is XYZ comming?<br />
Me: To look at us for more jobs<br />
WW: What kind of jobs? [BINGO!]<br />
Me: I don't know<br />
WW: Why not? I thought you knew everything<br />
Me: Think of it like we both sat down at the same time, in front of a TV where a movie is playing, and you asked me what it's about<br />
WW: You know we don't watch the same things<br />
<br />
HUH?<br />
Yeah, and we don't live in the same world either! LOLWorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-49042948059894432082017-03-04T08:06:00.000-08:002017-03-04T08:06:39.359-08:00Funny Training story #1Remember #4?<br />Quote:<br />Company Rule #4 Nothing here is square, even if it looks like it is. If something you are packing into a box doesn't seem to fit, turn it 90 degrees.<br />
<br />Well, we have a new job without a job book [scratch that - Mimi made a job book for it which 3rd shift QC tech removed because it was wrong on almost every facet of the job], and when I came in, 3rd Sup tells me they are out of boxes, so he was using a giant material shipping box called a gaylord to put the parts in.<br />
<br />The OP I put there couldn't reach into it, so I made 2 cuts halfway down one side, climbed on top, and kicked the makeshift door down. Now that she is good for a bit, I ran to shipping to get the correct boxes, which I did find, and brought to the job.<br />
<br />Another OP who's press wasn't running yet, was trying to help her re-pack the parts into the appropriate box, but having a hard time. [I love this guy. He ain't the best OP in the world, but by golly he is a team player!] He'd pick up a row, place it in the new box, only to discover it wasn't right, then pick it up again, reverse hands, place it back in, and find the parts were still aiming the wrong way.<br />I saw the problem, and told him to "pick them up again and don't move."<br />While he was holding the stack of parts, I turned the box 90 degrees, and then told him to drop them in. MAGICLY they fell into place, and I think I heard Angles sing!<br />
<br />3rd shift QC tech [who was watching and directing the re-pack], and me had to leave because we were laughing too hard.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-13138578275633925522017-03-04T08:02:00.001-08:002017-03-04T08:02:43.590-08:00Is Inventory bad For Your Health? Probably, but it's wose for your relatives.<br />
<br />
I told our new -now new-ish boss, that inventory is bad for the health of family and friends. He had been our Sup for about 5 monthly inventories by now, but still didn't get it. Now it's time for the yearly one, which lasts a week. It takes place between Christmas and New Years, and all employes either get laid off for this week or are required to come in.<br />
<br />Sure as bears poop in the woods, 2 of the 8 workers who showed up, had to leave because of "sick" family members. Both of them were mandated to work. 4 of the 8 volunteered to work, and one of the volunteers left in the middle of the day without saying so much as a "see ya"<br />At the beginning of the 3rd day, only 4 came in, and by noon on New Years Eve, only 2 of us were left standing.<br />Me, and the office lady who had to enter in the numbers. A 10 freakin hour day for us, cuz everyone else bailed.<br />Well, the maintainence guy did stay till we were almost done. He left about 30 minutes ahead of us, so he's excused from my rant.<br />There's a 2 person rule there for safety. Now one would think that one of those persons should be a man. Funny though, the lady said she felt safe with me there. LOL<br />* she's probably right, though. I don't take crap from nobody, and I think and move pretty quickly.<br />[again nothing against the maintainence guy - who's no slouch - but knows me enough to know I can handle myself]<br /><br />So what should have been 2 days work for 8 people, and plus a half days work for me [for recounts] and the office lady [to input numbers] on New Years eve, turned into 3 - 10 hour days for me and office lady.<br />
<br />Why? Because in addition to counting stuff, I had to help run 2 presses that a boss had insisted on running, plus had to count stuff that other people bailed on, and recount stuff that they counted incorrectly. If that wasn't enough, I kept finding mixed pallets and boxes of stuff that was suposed to contain only one thing, and thusly was counted as one thing, so after seperating the items, I had to recount the 2 things. While I was still counting, the shipping guy was burying stuff that hadn't been counted yet.<br />Yep, there I was at 1pm New Years Eve, climbing racks, and throwing incorrectly stacked boxes off shelves, putting them where they belong, and tossing pallets and their contents that had been stacked 3 high in spaces too tight to get a hylo in, moving crap so I could count what was underneath. I left the pallets, shrink wrap, and other garbage on the floor where it landed, and it was still cleaner than when I started.<br /><br />I had an obligatory party to go to, and decided to ditch topping off my tank so I could get home sooner. Then I remembered something I had to pick up [storage boxes to organise stuff while I was off], and thought I'd make a quick run into grocery store on way home.<br />
That turned into a shocking experience for me, as I heard my name called. It was [are ya ready] MIMI! Had I saw her before I heard her call my name twice, Ida ducked quickly, but alas, I was caught. Got to hear a story about her new puppy, which I politely listened to for 20 minutes while thinking about my coffee getting cold in the car. After that I had to re-collect my thoughts to pick up what I came for.<br />
<br />When I got home @ 6:30 Hubby seemed a bit despondant in advance of me announcing that I wouldn't go to his friends party @7, so I told him I'd gulp coffee and change. He asked if I wanted a shower, and I said, do I stink? He said no, so I said I will change COD [clothes over dirt] and we'll go.<br />It was bitter cold out. We stayed until 12:30, and boy does he love me. At least he better! LOL<br />WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-85119625506317310912017-03-04T07:51:00.000-08:002017-03-05T08:30:19.681-08:00New Quality - use term loosely - Supervisorlet me tell ya about our company's latest QC supervisor. We've gone through 4 of these since last Jan. They all started out ok, and then went stark raving mad before being fired or walking out, and this one is 3/4 of the way to being comitted to the looney bin already so . . . .<br />
<br />
Here we have M, who looks like Mimi without the makeup, so I'll just call her that here. Another employee discovered she delivers newpapers to homes before work [car is stuffed to gills with papers and junk, making her look like a hoarder], and I noticed she does not do weekends, which will not sit well with the head of QC.<br />
<br />
As well as working closely with management, I also work closely with QC because as trainer, I have to make sure I train myself on all the latest procedures, rejects, alerts, ect. so I will know what to train the OPs to do to reduce rejections. I read every job book every day, and if I see something that needs fixing, I ask QC to make those changes to the books. While other trainers or OPs either complain about the procedure, or do it their way, dispite what the books says, I've found if I simply state my case, and show QC what OPs should be doing to produce good parts, the procedural change usually gets put in the book that day. So I do know what the head of QC wants, and I think we'll be singing "Another one bites the dust" soon.<br />
but until then, here's Mimi:<br />
<br />
I saw a job set up that, upon reading the book, I noticed that one vital procedure had been left out of the instructions. If we do not do this prcedure, the parts will be bad and we will get a rejection. It won't run on my shift where I can instruct the OP to do it, so we must change the book to include this so if it starts on another shift, they will know to do it. So I tell Mimi. She says "Oh honey, I'm busy right now maybe later" I tell her if that job starts on 2nd or 3rd shift we will have bad parts, and I tell her what we need to do to insure that doesn't happen. I also tell her that the last time this ran, I told the last QC manager, and he didn't do it fast enough [it started up on another shift], and all the parts were rejected by the customer, so this should be a priority. She insists that she will do it tomorrow.<br />
Luck was on our side, as the other shifts didn't have enough OPs to run it.<br />
So finaly I get her to look at the sample parts the next day, and show her what we do to keep them in spec. She wants to make the Sup process that out. I have to tell her it's not a processable defect. As the material cools, it shrinks on one direction - laws of physics and all that. We're using the material the customer wants, and the fact is, it shrinks a bit. All we have to do is slightly bend the part flat before placing it on a cooling rack. She wants to think about it.<br />
I got a QC tech to do it later while she was preoccupied with something else.<br />
Thank goodness I am reasonable enough for others to see this was a priority.<br />
<br />
<br />
------------------<br />
<br />
Among running an assembly machine myself, and sometimes an automatic press, and training people, and fixing things, I also make boxes, set up or fix job cells to S5 requirements, and give breaks. [yes, I am a bit hyper at work] That means I run their press while they go on break. One at a time. The breaks are 30 minutes each, so 5 of them means I will be tied up for 2 1/2 hours. If the cycle time affords, I often make boxes and do other jobs while running their press. Some jobs, I can't do anything but run the parts at hand, however.<br />
So here I am, giving a break on press 4, and Mimi holds up a 2" tape gun and asks me for some tape. I tell her there is a tape gun on press 3 [next to me].<br />
She holds up both tape guns and as if I didn't understand her, and she says<br />
M: I want tape for this [empty] tape gun.<br />
X [me]: Theres tape in that [other] gun, use it<br />
M: where is the tape?<br />
X: in the shipping dept<br />
M: way over there?<br />
X: Yep. just use the tape gun with tape in it [not that it matters, but the one with tape in it is a 3" tape gun]<br />
M: but I want tape in this gun<br />
X: then go to the shipping dept<br />
M: but I don't want to walk way over there<br />
X: then just use the gun with tape in it.<br />
Even though I could get it for her, and then catch up any parts that are made while I am gone, I am already doing parts from another job inbetween parts from this one, and I do not want to indulge her folly.<br />
She sulks off, comes back with 5 freakin rolls of tape, and places them on the OPs working table.<br />
X: "Well you've now made this work cell non-compliant for S5" I say as I look at the pile of tape.<br />
M: Can you put this with your stash?<br />
X: I don't have a stash. I have one roll [it's the 3" and it's on a tiny table behind my assembly machine - people who need tape quickly, know it's there, and I check or replace that roll almost every morning]<br />
M: Come on, you know you have a stash<br />
X: I have ONE ROLL<br />
M: Well, can't you find a place for it?<br />
X: no<br />
Later, when packing up my tools, to put them in my tool box, I see 4 FREAKIN rolls of 2" tape IN THE BACK OF MY TOOL box! Horrified, I removed them to place my tool bag in and lock up my tool box. I then take the freakin tape back to the shipping dept where it belongs. I am so mad that my personal space has been violated, I have to wait until I calm down before I say anything. Otherwise I may say something not nice.<br />
She beat me. She came up to me, and elbowed me, and said "I found a place to stash that tape"<br />
X: I saw that, and you can't keep it in my tool box.<br />
M: Why not?<br />
X: because it's my tool box. I lock it each night and there is no company property in it. Everything in it, on it, and including it, is mine, paid for by me.<br />
M: Well can't I just keep some tape there?<br />
X: No. No one is to go in my tool box.<br />
M: mm, where else can I stash it? [looks around] what about there?<br />
X: That's the stand that holds the computer that displays my test results, and everything under it is specific to this assembley machine. I can't have people comming here poking around and taking things I need to fix this machine.<br />
M: It would just be me<br />
X: people would see you, and then they'd come here and start taking stuff I need to run this assembly.<br />
M: It wouldn't be that often <br />
X: then just keep the tape where it belongs - in the shipping dept.<br />
M: Where did you put that tape? [she wants to stash it there anyway]<br />
X: in the shipping dept<br />
M: Oh man . . .<br />
Fortunately she is to lazy to go back there and get it. I sure as heck better not find that freakin tape stashed anywhere around my assembly!!!<br />
<br />
What a time suck that woman is!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
-----------------------<br />
and speaking of time, lets just see where her priorites are, shall we?<br />
<br />
We had a rejection on a part that was sent out incomplete. In the biz, it's called a "short" So to make sure OPs pack complete parts, The Head of QC adds instructions for the OP to use a silver sharpie and make a "Witness mark" on the part in the area of the part that is sometimes short. This forces the OP to look there while making that mark, and it validates to the customer that we did indeed look there.<br />
We have a lot of jobs utilising such witness marks, and some are for parts that require assembly, to insure that components have been installed the part.<br />
Well, all these marks take time, and because we're a creative bunch, many things were made to keep the sharpie marker accessable, without having to waste time taking the cap off, and putting it back on each time. Some have made holders out of an empty roll of tape. Often the pen cap comes with it, and so many OPs end up holding the pen in their hand the whole time, which dries it out prematurely. I simply tape the pen cap to the edge of the table, or the pole that holds up the light, making it a one handed operation to grab pen, and put it back, keeping it from drying out. This works well, and all is good.<br />
Here comes Mimi:<br />
Hey x [me] I wonder if you could try something out for me?<br />
I am doing something, but I'll bite, so I say "Sure"<br />
M: I made this pen holder and . . .<br />
X: Oh the one on press 12?<br />
she thinks . . [cuz she obviously doesn't know all the press's numbers yet]<br />
so I say "the press up front, right?"<br />
M: Yeah I made this . . .<br />
I say "holder, right? it seems to work just fine." [its a chunk of syrofoam with a hole in it for the pen, and she taped it to the table top kinda like the empty roll of tape thingy that already doesn't work after awhile because the hole becomes bigger with use, and soon the pen cap comes with it]<br />
M: Great, Im going to make them for all the presses<br />
X; Ok, but whats wrong with this one? I say as I pull a pen out of the cap I have taped to the pole on the table at the press I am running.<br />
M: Every table doesn't have a pole<br />
X: If it has a light, it has a pole<br />
M: yeah but every table doesn't have a light<br />
X: well it should. We have to see the parts, right?<br />
M: Well does it keep the pen from drying out?<br />
X: The job this is for, hasn't run in 3 days, so lets just see<br />
I pull the pen out again, and write on the desk with it, and it writes just fine, proving that taping the pen cap to the pole or edge of the desk top is an excellent idea.<br />
Umimpressed, she leaves, and later I find out from a QC tech that she is BUYING the damn things cuz she thinks we are going through too many pens.<br />
<br />
Never mind that we just ran a job that has to be marked in 3 places, and another that has to be marked in 16 places, besides the 2 jobs we always run that only get marked in one, so yeah we went through a few pens in previous weeks. How does she know how many?<br />
Well she has made herself the keeper of these pens. Yep with all she has to do, she has added "keeper of the pens" to her job description.<br />
Now what she is buying I don't exactly know, but I do know one can dumpster dive for a chunk of foam, and get what she made for FREE. Or we can all just tape the freakin pen top to the edge of the table or light pole, and call life as we know it, good.<br />
When the job changes and that stupid chunk of foam is there in the way of the next job [unlike the one I had on a pole while running a job that didn't need it] what do you think is going to happen to that "device"? I know. It's gonna get tossed in the garbage! LOL<br />
<br />
So when press 12 [ground zero for her experiment] got changed over to another job, I run to see where that stupid chunk of foam is, and fell out laughing well I saw it TAPED TO THE EDGE OF THE TABLE. I picked up the pen, and the cap CAME WITH IT.<br />
That stupid thing will be in the garbage before the ones she ordered come in.<br />
<br />
Oh, and all this after Mimi made the push with the head of QC to have us use china markers instead. I can't even imagine that conversation, but the head of QC is much less patient than I am, so . . . .<br />
----------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
Another Mimi encounter:<br />
Our heat quit at work when it was 20 degrees outside, and many people were wearing coats. I was giving breaks [running peoples machines while they go to lunch], and she caught me doing my 5th 30 minute break of the day. I was busy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, trying to squeeze in other stuff while doing this, so I could finish my own stuff and go home at a reasonable hour.<br />
M: Aren't you cold?<br />
X [me]: I ditched my coat back at press 8&9. [those parts are hot, and I had been running the 20 feet or so between the two to do both and break 2 OPs at once]<br />
M: Oh, you're one of those people that like to show your skin<br />
X: Huh?<br />
M: Do you use a tanning booth?<br />
X: [holding arms out in disbelief] why would I use a tanning booth?<br />
M: Aren't you an exhibitionist?<br />
X: uh, yeah. That's me.<br />
[the only skin showing is my face and arms, not dark skinned, don't wear make up, wear jeans from salvation army, and leather work boots, but ok]<br />
------------------------<br />
<br />
So how about another Mimi story?<br />
I think there oughta be a law that if we have to work on Sat, someone needs to bring doughnuts. After declaring it to be a law, nothing happened. So I began buying doughnuts on the way home from work, no matter how tired I am, and bringing them in Sat morning for everyone. I've probably been doing this for 6 months or more. Sometimes I take left overs home, and sometimes a person or two will ask if they can take some home. Sometimes, I save some for 2nd shift. As always, I am generous, and no one has ever seemed to be greedy about it.<br />
<br />
Some lady on a message board posted a recipe for apple cider doughnuts, and I thought it would be cool to make them for work, but I did it on a weekday.<br />
It took me 2 days to make them because I only have about an hour to do stuff each night.<br />
So, predicting they'd be a hit, I made a quadruple batch of them. Made the dough one night, and fried them up the next night. Of course I rolled them in sugar and cinnamon till they were good and covered. In a minute you realise why I am telling you this.<br />
I put them in the lunchroom, and warned everyone this was my first attempt at frying doughnuts. Everyone liked them.<br />
Somewhere around noon, I was in the QC office, and Mimi [who had only been here a coupla weeks at that point] tells me they were too sweet, and that "once she scrapped off as much of the powdered sugar" that she could, she liked them.<br />
Then she added that if there was any left at the end of the day, she could take them home with her, and give them to the deer that hang out her house.<br />
I was shocked that, first of all, there was no powdered sugar. Then the audacity to selfishly take them all home with her, along with my tupperware containers probably, and finally feed her pet deer with them. I think I just said, oh, I'll keep it mind.<br />
and boy did I. As soon as the last person finished their lunch, I ran into the lunchroom, and took the remaining doughnuts out to my car. I park in the back, and when I passed through the maintainance area, the QC tech was there, who had over heard Mimi tell me she wanted to take them. She was as flabbergasted as I was. I told her I was taking them home myself, and that just maybe I wanted to eat them, or feed my own deer. She told me that she couldn't believe that Mimi said that, and I said I was hoping she meant it nicer than it sounded. I mean does she have any idea how much work it is to make what 6 dozen doughnuts?<br />
I got an idea.<br />
Why don't I give her the recipe, and tell her she can make them for her deer!<br />
-----------------<br />
<br />
Mimi botched up another job book yesterday. It's a part that is pass/fail. There is nothing to do to it, but inspect it, and pack it if it's good, or scrap it if it has any defects including 'flash'. She wrote instructions that the operator is to flick off bits of flash with their fingernail. It also says not to use a knife. Knives are exactly what we use to trim parts.<br />
I didn't find out she changed the book until this morning when I come in and there is a brand new OP on 3rd shift using a knife to trim. I potlitely told 3rd shift QC tech, and we both looked for the book, and found it had been put away before the job was finished. Another "no, no"<br />
After reading it and questioning a few people, we found out the OP was using a knife because he has no fingernails.<br />
Everything he did is scrap now, actually if it needed trimming, it was scrap before, plus wasted 8 hours of manpower that could have been doing something productive.<br />
<br />
I could put up with her being odd, but she is pretty much a failure at QC Sup, so far. It seems she just makes stuff up, without any investigation or research on what the customer wants.<br />
------------------<br />
<br />
Now for a quick note on Mimi:<br />
She botched another job book, broke 2 digital gages, and mouthed off to a big wig yesterday, and I fear the stories will come to an end before this year does.<br />
------------------<br />
<br />
Mimi has upped her game. I am sorry to say, she hasn't said anything stupid to me all last week, and has been correcting job books fairly quickly. That's a good thing, actually, and all I really wanted. When she does her job, it makes my job easier. Doesn't make for a good story, however. I'm sure there will be more stories. That kind of stupid doesn't just go away. There's plenty of silliness left in her, just waiting to come out. That perscription ain't gonna last forever ya know.<br />
--------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
Monday morning, I found out Mimi got fired last Fri. Bummer. No more Mimi stories.<br />
There has gotta be one last Mimi story, but no ones talkin.<br />
A whole lotta folks were dern happy about it. Was it a coincidence that I made doughnuts with my new Fry Daddy on Sunday, and brought them in? I dunno . . .<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-15239917454971354682017-03-04T07:24:00.001-08:002017-03-05T08:36:24.277-08:00Company RulesNow that I no longer work there, I thought I'd reflect back on some of the better times. Well if by 'better' you accept that I wasn't killed . . .<br />
<br />
When my daughter graduated and moved out, I started on a new path as a press operator, where my husband worked. We were in different departments, and the only help I got from him was in getting the job. Bombarded with new tasks, and not wanting to fail, I tackled each one, finding little tricks, to help me "Beat the press" as I came to call it. I would create a pattern or series of steps to complete each part, and repeat it, until I memorised it, and went faster. Sometimes I made up little rhymes, to help me remember each spot to trim, assemble or look at. I got so good at it, without even realising it, that unbeknownst to me, I had drawn the attention of the very person I was trying not to be noticed by - the boss. <br />
My life's mantra had always been "Don't be noticed". As every bully's favorite target, I can't ever say that it worked. I really just like to do my job well, not be bothered by anyone, and go home. . . . and I really thought that was the formula for my personal peace. Turns out many people like to see others fail, and will take measures to promote it, so that they can look good without having to actually be good at anything. My brain does not accept that, and I am quite sure that I upset a few people by succeding dispite their efforts.<br />
<br />
Early on I discovered our companies unwritten, but strictly adhered to rules:<br />
<br />
Rule #1 If theres a hole, somethings going in it. [If you don't want someone stuffing crap in your space, fill it yourself]<br />
<br />
Rule #2 Nothing gets moved [or put away] until we need that space for something else<br />
<br />
Rule #3 This place is one giant game of "Where's Waldo" Try finding an extension cord to run a material feed or conveyor belt so you can start up a press, and you'll see what I mean, even if the extension cord was there yesterday. [or an hour ago]<br />
<br />
Rule #4 Nothing here is square, even if it looks like it is. If something you are packing into a box doesn't seem to fit, turn it 90 degrees.<br />
<br />
<br />
Once I became trainer, I came up with some of my own:<br />
<br />
Rule #5 Start every day with a new blade and a good attitude. <br />
<br />
Rule #6 Don't copy other people. READ the job book!<br />
<br />
Rule #7 Once the previous shift has left the building, you OWN whatever condition that work cell is in. Don't stand in a pile of mess all day, and then clean it for the next shift, or point to it saying you didn't do it. Clean it NOW!<br />
<br />WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-4917923312779483032017-01-24T14:57:00.000-08:002017-03-05T08:47:50.105-08:00What happens . . . What happens when someone you work with is killed on the job?<br />
<br />
We had been working 6 days a week, but this time, we had worked all 7 days without a day off.<br />
<br />
Monday morning, I went in to work an hour early as usual to set up the work cell I am responsable for, and my supervisor tells me to stop for a minute. I walk over, and he says "last night, [my favorite 3rd shifter whom I will not name here] got stuck in a mold and was killed" In just a few seconds, I realised who he was talking about and that he is gone. Before I could ask, Sup says "No one knows what happened yet, but I need you to catch everyone comming in, and tell them there is a meeting in the lunch room. Don't let anyone go to that building"<br />
<br />
I was thinking "Are you kidding me? I want to run outa here screaming, and I have to talk to people?" I went outside where I could indulge in my habit, and inform people as they approached of the meeting. I could see a pink sign on the offending building's door from where I stood, and I wondered what it said. Part of me was glad I didn't work on those parts anymore, because I sure didn't want to now. Upon being told of a meeting, most thought it would be a disaplinary meeting due to the poor attendance on the mandatory Sunday the day before. I only told one person, the material handler who also has to come in early, what it was about. He stayed outside with me, and we smoked like chimneys.<br />
<br />
Just the morning before, I had talked to [MF3S] as I always do. I had brought breakfast in for everyone - scrambled eggs with sausage and cheese in a giant crock pot, and told him to have some. He said "Hey why didn't you say happy birthday [MF3S] on [Month & Date]?" and I responded "Happy birthday [MF3S] on Month & Date!" and we both laughed. Oh my goodness what a laugh he had! Excedingly energetic, and upbeat, always smiling, moving, and laughing. Who didn't love this guy?<br />
The material handler told me he last saw [MF3S] skipping towards the door smiling, and holding a bowl full of my scrambled eggs, on his way out that morning, and I didn't know whether to feel happy that I had provided his last hot meal or not.<br />
<br />
The meeting was quick and we were told to take a few minutes if we needed it. One of my crew wanted to go out for a smoke, and I said "go" Not sure if he'd get in trouble or not, he wanted me to go with him, so I did, and some non smoking members of our crew tagged along.<br />
People that didn't even smoke were out there asking for cigarettes, and I must have given away a whole pack, telling them I had more if they needed it.<br />
<br />
Few said what everyone knew: "I could have been me"<br />
<br />
By 6am, the news was on many radio stations. I never heard it, but I did hear they got his age wrong. What else will they get wrong?<br />
<br />
Back to work, my crew was broken up, both literally and figuritively, as we had to fill in for people who left in despair. Later, two more people left, and I was the only only one that remained in my work cell. <br />
My knees were weak all day, and I wasn't sure if they would hold me up.<br />
<br />
Storys were pieced together as we were told bits of what happened by friends of other 2nd and 3rd shifters [the accident happened at 2nd and 3rd shift overlap], but nothing was complete, and some didn't even make sense.<br />
<br />
As if anything could make sense right now.<br />
<br />
I found out that his car was still there [who would come get it?] and that my car was parked next to his. ugh!<br />
<br />
The building remained closed to all but the investigators, and later a cleaning crew.<br />
<br />
Customers of the parts I make, prone to hanging around watching us work, asking why we did or didn't do certain things, getting in the way, and in general, being annoying, kept their distance for once. They are lucky, as I am known to be polite for a limited amount of time, and that time was up before I even started this day.<br />
<br />
At the end of my shift, some 2nd shifters arrived, but I saw them leaving again before I could pull my car out of the lot. I found out through FB that our sister company sent over their crew to work in that very building, at that very machine that killed my friend, just a few hours later. Less than 24 hours after my friend was Unceremoniously devoured, that predator was brought back to life!<br />
<br />
That was our second shock!<br />
Surely that machine that I'd heard was faulty can't be trusted to run again!<br />
I mean I know we needed these parts, and that's why we were on mandatory weekends, but come on! Have some decency! <br />
<br />
Back when I was only a trainer, I had always said "It takes more than one mistake to close a mold on a part" as I point out all the safety's, floor, door, and rules to my co-workers. My rule is "The one who goes in the press pushes the button [to start it again]" One of my current crew members knows this, and remembers how I told him to unplug the grinders before cleaning them and hang that cord over the top in view so we'd know it was still unplugged while we worked on it. <br />
<br />
but this wasn't a part left in the mold. It was a person. It was an awesome person who deserved better. Not some debris to be cleaned off the mold so the monster can be restarted.<br />
<br />
When I got home, I skipped dinner, and any chores I had planned, and instead googled stuff about accidents and plant safety until I couldn't see any more, and went to bed.<br />
<br />
Tuesday, my crew and I came in early to make up for not running the day before, but were instantly broken up again to staff other areas of the shop, leaving little left to produce the parts I am responsable for.<br />
<br />
I was asked to go to our customers facilty, and sort or fix inferior parts that had been shipped to their wherehouse - the very part I swore I never wanted to see again! These of course were shoddy because of all the untrained people being thrown at it - due to all the trained people being too traumatised to make them. Luckily, after about an hour they asked us to leave, saying they'd take them "as is"<br />
<br />
When I got home, I googled more plant safety, skipped chores again, and dinner again, and went to bed.<br />
<br />
Wednesday my crew and I came in early again, and again were sent elsewhere. Finaly the company realised they needed help, and got a 3rd party in to run that machine, as all of 3rd shift had quit and most of 2nd was still traumatised. Some of 2nd shift quit, and a few will be out for awhile, if they even come back. They had a group counselor in at the end of 3rd shift, and shut down for that.<br />
<br />
Some co-workers [not management] passed around some sympathy cards to sign.<br />
<br />
When I got home, I gave myself a break on plant safety, still skipped chores, and dinner, and went to bed.<br />
<br />
Thursday, they announced a group counseling for our shift, but it seemed they really didn't want us to go, because they needed us to work. My crew was still needed elsewhere as the investigators finally got around to interviewing the people that worked in that building. They had my crew working on that monster machine, so that the ones who normally work it, can be interviewed by the fine folks looking for the truth. [will we ever know it?]<br />
<br />
An hour before the meeting, I was told to certify parts that had to ship that day, and that I could stay late if I wanted. I went to the meeting, and normally, I'd stay late, dig in and help, but I wasn't feeling it, so I left imediately after. <br />
<br />
The meeting was held in the offending building, which I am sure was planned to force us into that lair. I was insulted that they appeared to treat this as a "get back on the horse" moment. I gave the monster a wide birth as I passed it.<br />
The tables were made into a U configuration, topped with kleenex, and the couselor handed out printed brochures titled "Critical Incident Resources" and once again I was insulted that my friends death was reduced to a critical incident.<br />
<br />
Really? I've had horribly critical incidents in my life, and I lived!!!!!<br />
<br />
I don't know if it helped, but I had thought I was one of few who knew [MF3S] and I found out everybody had worked with him. He always stayed late into our shift, right up to the company's 12 hour cut off, and there was nobody that didn't know and love working with him!<br />
<br />
An office worker complained that the customer of the part made by the offending machine, had the audacity to ask if the machine was damaged, and when we'd be back up running again.<br />
<br />
One of the things the couselor said was to "imagine the worst day in your life, and remember you survived that, and know that you will survive this" I thought "lady, you don't know me, what I've been through, and I sure don't want to think back on those times to determine which was the worst one. Yes, I did survive, but I was forever changed, and each time I reassesed my life plan, and made changes because of it" <br />
So, yes, I am, once again, reassessing my goals, and my plans toward that goal, but first, I need to vegetate for awhile.<br />
and I need answers. Not gory details, but answers. I need to be assured that this can't happen again. I need to feel safe, and that the company is doing all it can to insure the safety of it's employees. Right now, I don't feel any of that. I just feel pressure to perform my regular duties, because they need the finished goods. Was that pressure one of the causes of the accident? Will we ever know?<br />
<br />
Of course management probably knew him, but not like we did. and they certainly never realised, and probably still don't, that we are broken! One of our loved ones has been killed by your careless supervisor controling this big monster and we are devastated!<br />
<br />
There were rumours of another mandatory weekend, and I'd had enough. I went right to my Sup, and asked if we would have to work this weekend. My next question was already prepared "Would we be punished if we didn't?" but he answered my first with "It's voluntary" and I quickly said "ok" and walked out of his office.<br />
<br />
On the way home, and feeling sorry for my neglected husband, I picked up a $5 pizza, still skipped any chores I had, ate a couple of the smaller pieces, and went to bed.<br />
<br />
Fri, our crew was back together again halfway through the day, and like thoroughbreds that had been held back, they eagerly churned out an impressive number of parts.<br />
<br />
I was coasting toward the first real weekend I'd had off in awhile, knowing most of it would be spent catching up on stuff I hadn't done for weeks. but that would be ok this time. I just need to do normal things. I know I will never feel normal, but will instead adopt a new normal. One without my friend. One I hope will include justice for him, and a safer work environment for the rest of us. Will it?<br />
<br />
First day back after the weekend, 1 person from 3rd that we thought had quit, returned - on our shift.<br />
<br />
An obituary was posted on the entrance and lunchroom doors.<br />
<br />
We found out that our customer came in over the weekend, and ran that machine. That's all they did, as we noted they didn't trim, or lable or even pack the parts correctly.<br />
Later, a 3rd party came in to fix them.<br />
<br />
I noticed a new sign on the machine that runs my parts [same size as the monster in the other building], and suspect it is on the others as well. It said in a nutshell that the person who enters and exits the machine is the one who should push the button to start it. Of course this is contrary to what the supervisors had been telling us: "Op1: You get the parts out, and Op2: you push the button" was the mantra to shave 8 seconds off the cycle time. I had previously refused, and instead moved a table by the machines door, so I could put the parts down quickly, spin to face the panel, and push the button myself. Problem solved.<br />
So simple.<br />
I am a production junky, and if I refuse to do something, it's for a reason. I will find a safe way to make quality parts in a reasonable amount of time. So why oh why didn't everyone do it that way?<br />
<br />
As I write this, I remember once when my machine was running 'those" parts. It had went down, and the Sup was inside the mold, working on it. I had gone there to put the OP's on another job until this was running again. While I was there, not 3 feet from the panel that controls the machine, another employee walked up from the end where you can't see inside the mold, and started to turn it back on. I screamed "No, don't touch it!" and he hesistated, but continued, and I screamed "Stop - it's down!" and threw myself between him and the panel. He told me to relax, and asked how long it had been down. and I said I don't know, but they are working on it right freaking now! He said ok, relax. I said "NO, you don't just just walk up and start pushing buttons when you don't even know what's going on!" I wonder if my boss knew I probably saved his life that day?<br />
<br />
So simple. The one who enters/exits the machine pushes the button.<br />
<br />
Later, a 2nd shifter whom we thought had quit, returned.<br />
<br />
2 days after returning from the weekend, and a couple of people had T-shirts made memorialising our friend.<br />
I noticed the new sign on the machine had misspelled "Obstruction" probably because they were under the gun from OSHA. People are obstructions now?<br />
<br />
3 days after returning from the weekend, the obit notice was taken down from the lunchroom door, and replaced with one from an unknown person, who turned out to be the relative of one of the management, who was fortunate to pass on from natural causes.<br />
<br />
4 days after returning from the weekend, it was annouced we would be working this weekend.<br />
<br />
and so it goes.<br />
<br />
The dust has settled.<br />
<br />
No questions have been answered.<br />
<br />
Nothing has really changed.<br />
<br />
Oh wait, my friend was wearing headphones when his supervisor pushed the button to cycle the machine, so they decided we couldn't wear headphones anymore. Yeah if only he wasn't wearing head phones, . . . the Sup wouldn't have pushed the button without checking inside the mold [6 seconds], the door wouldn't have closed [8 seconds], and the mold wouldn't have closed [18" per second, then slows down as it engages the horn pins for a total of about 9 seconds] and crushed him. Yeah, that's it. My friend is gone in 17 seconds because the Sup didn't want to spend 6 more to check the mold, but lets blame headphones.<br />
<br />
I think I know what happened, but I can't say, because of the possible lawsuit. I have done some die setting, and I know what has to happen to cause a tragety like this one. Again, more than one thing. Several rules were broken, and if anyone one of those people, or things worked as they should, this would never have happened.<br />
<br />
I have changed.<br />
I look at every open mold to see if there is an escape route, and train my eyes to detect the door closing, as well as my brain to react appropriately, should that door begin to close. The offending mold was as wide as the entire press that housed it, and taller than me, but it began at my knees. If I had to, I could lay down, and . . . probably make it.<br />
<br />
I began writing my resume. I put down that we moved too far away to continue as the reason for leaving. <br />
Would my prospective employers know that I work at a company responsable for killing someone, and hold it against me?<br />
2 months after they killed my friend, a sup I have known for 3 years and worked with for 2 of them quit.<br />
4 months later, the company failed their yearly ISO and TS audits, and the head of quality threw up her hands and quit. The company no longer holds certification for anything.<br />
6 months later, one customer pulled all their molds, and truck after truck lined up to be loaded so they could deliver them to other plants. <br />
<br />
Even though I am overqualified, I want a simple operators job once again. I still need time to decompress, but I can't say that. <br />
I keep getting calls for supervisor positions, but I am not entirely confident in that roll. I can do it, but I no longer want to come in early and stay late solving problems I did not create. I do not want to be in a position where I have to lie to people, or do things that aren't safe. <br />
I want to raise chickens. <br />
and make quilts. <br />
and grow stuff. <br />
and invent things. <br />
You know, have fun again.<br />
I finally convinced one prospective employer that I just want to work, and it seems like I may have a shot.<br />
<br />
Finally, I got a call for employment starting the first of the year, which I had off at my plant, so I went there for orientation. The plant tour emphasized plant safety and OSHA requirements. They wanted me to start the next day, but I felt I owed my crew, now called the "A team" by the customers, a chance to say goodbye. Plus I wanted to make sure that what happend to my friend wouldn't happen again without me there to provide optional directions when the head supervisor tells them that one goes in and the other one closes the door.<br />
<br />
6 1/2 months after they killed my friend, I took the new job, giving my company 4 days notice. During those 4 days, I grilled my crew on plant safety. I still think if I was working with my favorite 3rd shifter that day, he'd be alive now.<br />
I don't even care if the new job doesn't work out. They killed my friend , and they don't deserve to have me work for them.<br />
and at least it moves them down one spot on my resume.<br />
<br />
The Supervisor who killed my friend is still there.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-30109280417661865492015-05-10T17:19:00.000-07:002015-05-10T17:23:27.687-07:00Installing T-Post Clips on Garden FenceI decided to fence in the humble beginnings of a garden, before it got too far. Fat chance of that happening with the bunnies and other critters taking care of things for me. Bless their little furry hearts. To rephrase: "before I sunk any more money into feeding the wild life." There, that's better. So I measured, and came up with a number divisible by 6, because that is the post spacing I would be using.<br />
Then I drew a picture, and added up the perimeter footage 24'x2+36'x2= 120ft, got my post count of 20, and looked up supplies. I found that T posts are sold in total length, so if putting up a 5ft fence, I need 6 1/2 ft posts. Which they do not make, btw, so I will be fine with a little bit of fence over the top. I decided to go with 7 footers for the corners, and sink them an extra foot. Added everything to an online shopping cart, got my total, and then went to another site to price compare. The other site wasn't as friendly. It made me pick a store, then wanted to know if I would be picking items up or having them shipped, which makes sense, except when I chose pick-up, it would not let me put them in a shopping cart. This was at 8am, and I wanted to get going, so I just went to the store that let me put stuff in a virtual shopping cart. I copied the cart contents, and printed it, and now I have my list.<br />
I got what they call T-Posts, and what they call T-Post Clips, plus 3 - 50' rolls of 5' fence, and 150' chicken wire to re-enforce [detour smaller critters from] the bottom 2' of the 2"x4" fencing.<br />
I think I am good to go, and after measuring and marking the spacing, I pound the posts in, and partially unroll one roll of fence. Now I am looking at these things called T-Posts and these things labled T-Post Clips, and my fence, and thinking something isn't quite right.<br />
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I must be what they call challenged because I do not see how these things go together. If I place them how they are shaped, they don't hook to the fence. If I hook them to the fence, they are of opposing shapes. There must be a trick to this I am not seeing. Of course there are no instructions for this. They must go together, because 1) they are given away in packs of 10 for free with each post, and 2) it's the only fence clip they, or anyone else for that matter sells. <br />
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So I went online and googled how to install garden fence. I got all kinds of stuff involving 2" fencing for bunnies, then guys with big tractors, using 2x4's to stretch the fence with, and a guy who uses fishing line for deer, and finally a guy who made a thing called a T-Post Clip bender. It looked so easy, I wanted one. I used plastic tie wraps to hold things in place, wrestled with a few of those clips, and decided to get one in the morning. After all, they are carried everywhere! So they said. I looked up a couple stores online, TSC, Home Depot, are the closest. TSC's wesite said one store was out, and the other stores listed, including the one by me said to call. They open at 9, so I just went at 8:30, having run out of coffee creamer.<br />
No one had these stinkin things!<br />
So, after trial and error, here is what I did:<br />
Using 2 different pairs of pliers, and plastic tie wraps to help hold fence in place,<br />
1 Straighten the T-Post Clip in the middle like the one shown on the left<br />
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2 Hook the 'one bend end' of the clip on the back side [in fact do one whole post at a time]<br />
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3 Wrap the one bend end around the piece of fence<br />
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4 Take pliers and grab the 2 bend end and hook it through the fence<br />
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5 Walk around to front of the fence,<br />
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6 Grab the clip at the point closest to the fence with the big mouth pliers to get the twist going.<br />
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7 Hold that position with your left hand using the smaller pliers<br />
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8 with other hand grab the wire and twist it with the big pliers. You can't see me using 2 pliers at once, because I was holding camera, but it will start to look like this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Y7gq3IR7dQ/VU_0WQe-WMI/AAAAAAAAAF8/e1RsdAfDCUw/s1600/T_Post_Solution08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Y7gq3IR7dQ/VU_0WQe-WMI/AAAAAAAAAF8/e1RsdAfDCUw/s320/T_Post_Solution08.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
9 After coupla turns it will end up like this<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ka0YUFfy-ZI/VU_0eUoWcyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/S5FMECWoaBY/s1600/T_Post_Solution09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ka0YUFfy-ZI/VU_0eUoWcyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/S5FMECWoaBY/s320/T_Post_Solution09.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
and that is how to make these illogicaly shaped T-Post Clips fit on to a T-Post!<br />
If after all that, if anything makes in my garden and has dinner on me, I will have dinner on him!WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-40296210633524275022012-08-12T17:03:00.002-07:002012-08-12T17:51:03.212-07:00Aug 9th was my one month anniversary at my 'new' job. So I reflected for a moment . . .<br /><br />My first day of work I pulled out of the drive on to the road, beat physically and mentally, and saw something blinking across the street. Straining to open my eyes wider and focus on something, anything to reassure myself they still worked, revealed it was one of those lights that sits on a traffic saw-horse thingy, laying down flat in the weeds. I looked at it, and said "I know how you feel"<br /><br />Everyday, that mortally injured light blinked at me to say "Im still here" and I agreed with it. After 4 weeks it's still hanging on, wispering for help, but I feel much stronger. So now I look at it and say "Get up you. It ain't over until you stop blinking" It slowly blinks away, more faintly, while the weeds conspire to choke it out and it answers "I'm done. Go on without me" and I will. It will be a sad day when I don't see that flash of yellow that was my commiserating friend after a long day.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-32919087914408846172012-07-29T11:43:00.001-07:002012-07-29T12:09:01.777-07:00What Graduation Means to MeGraduation.<br />
- A receipt of an academic degree or diploma marking completion of studies.<br />
and or<br />
- A line (as on a vessel or ruler) that marks a measurement.<br />
<br />
My daughter is all grown up now. She turned 18 in the spring, graduated High School in June, and moved in with her friend shortly thereafter. I'm not worried about her, because she knows it all. If I have any doubts, all I have to do is ask her, or think back to the many times she has interupted my advice with "I know".<br />
<br />
Most of my adult life, I have worked jobs [many times 2 at a time] around the care of my 2 children and this is the last one. <br />
My daughter graduated, and so did we.<br />
Many our previous worrys have been changed with ones which aren't new at all. <br />
<br />
When I was 18 and starting out on my own, I needed a full time job. <br />
Child care wasn't an issue, so I could work as much, and whenever I wanted. Groceries, toiletries, housekeeping, laundry, parties, beer, and transportation for one!<br />
<br />
Then there were two.<br />
Child care still wasn't an issue, so I could work as much as I wanted. Groceries, toiletries, housekeeping, laundry, really hadn't doubled, since there were two of us to handle it . . . [turns out only one of us was in fact handling it] yet the parties and beer had more than doubled. hmmmm . . .<br />
<br />
Then there were three. The beer parties were replaced by Tupperware, and Home Interior parties, and I could only work when daycare was available. Number #2 got replaced, and eventually there were 4.<br />
Day care was an issue, scheduals got juggled, teachers called and wrote notes, and eventually, I quit one of my jobs because daycare and taxes ate up more than half of what I made.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to now, and we are back where I started, except<br />
There are two, much smarter adults who know what to do with our time.<br />
Child care isn't an issue, so I got a full time job, and weekends are mine once again. Groceries, toiletries, housekeeping, laundry, and transportation for us two is quite managable.<br />
I never did like parties much, and hubby is an AA member. <br />
I quilt, read, buy cheap stuff at garage sales, and I finaly got my motorcycle license, so I can ride the bike I got 2 years ago - a 400 Maxum.<br />
Hubby also works full time, and plays with his wood. He is a very good carpender, and in fact his carpendry work is what has paid for his new [to us] Gold Wing.<br />
and<br />
I can have a spray can of whipped cream in my fridge, and it will be there until one of us gets it out and serves it to both of us! Oh yeah, and I can have ice cream, and expensive shampoos, and body washes that smell like a slice of heaven, and make up, and a drawer full of clean paired up socks, and clothes that were made this year! A roll of toilet paper lasts a week, and when I reach down into the cupboard under the sink - there's more!<br />I even recently bought what Mike calls a "Party Case" of his Hard Lemonade, and I found it to go down smooth - not hard at all, although I still have 9 left. Hey, I can drink them or not! They ain't going nowhere! Maybe I'll keep em till Christmas.<br />The gem I most recently learned:<br />Apple pie and ice cream in the bath tub is pretty awesome after a long day!WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-10226853151182377872012-07-09T06:04:00.001-07:002012-07-09T06:04:20.664-07:00Time To Go - Used Gas Mask For SaleOnce again, another job change was in order. Just like many seemingly perfect jobs in the past, this too had evolved to a point where no improvements will be made until I'm gone, and they see what I actaully had to deal with. <br /><br />I worked every morning in a horse barn, only they aren't horses I'm tending to. It's 10 [10'x10'] stalls long with a 10' wide isle in the middle and 10 more stalls on the other side, but 5 of those are being used as feed/equipment rooms. So there's basically 15 stalls. I won't say what the animals are, but they are 200lbs and about the size of a small pony, so lets call em ponies. These ponies are herd animals, and must be in groups of at least 3. A few like people, but most don't.<br />I'd been there every day for 3 years, and they only had 17 critters when I started. <br />This lady expected to breed and sell them. She hadn't sold one, and in fact purchased more, plus all the breeding, they now have 45 - 17 of which are full grown males.<br /><br />The previous summer [with 10 less ponies], the lady was bothered by the pools of urine standing in the stalls, so she called in some excavation people, and I over heard her talking. <br />First though, I must say that the isles are cement, and the stalls are layered with gravel, then clay, then rubber mats. Horse people would put down wood shavings, or other absorbant material, and then shovel up the dirty material, and replace as needed. Plus horses are let out during the day, and a lot of their potty occurs outside. <br />This lady lets her critters roam in and out freely, only closing them in at night. Because they only potty where they feel safe, guess where that is? Yes, they come in from the fields to drink and go potty, and then they go back outside. Anyway, she had pulled up the rubber mats and dumped sand in. We rake the poop out of the sand twice a day. I am the morning person, and there is an afternoon person. Since it's impossible to remove the potty without removing any sand [a constant source of contention by her hubby who thinks we're scooping up too much sand], the sand eventually gets lower, and lower, and more packed down, and then they dump in more sand. It was obvious to me when the sand at the outside walls was a foot higher than the sand in the middle, that, ya know, that whole apple falling downhill theory musta passed her by. Hence the pools of urine staring at her.<br /><br />OK, so she was talking to the excavation guys: "We have a drainage problem. This used to be a horse barn, and they had these rubber matts down, so when the horses pee, it just drains in the cracks. [yeah, that's really what she thought - can you imagine?] It must have been fine for the horses, but we have many more per stall, and we need better drainage."<br /><br />Now, like some of you, I am wondering just where she thinks the pee is supposed to drain to?<br /><br />Well these guys came later and dug out all the old sand and clay, and put down new gravel, and new sand. The lady and her hubby were very pleased at the result, especially since they thought of it all by themselves. Remember that's the same brain that thinks horse pee can/will/did adequitely drain through cracks between rubber matts.<br /><br />So it smelled better, but by the following spring, all those baby boys became 1 year olds, and had to be moved out of the mom's and baby's section, and into the boys section.<br /><br />The weather got kinda cold up here, and they closed all the windows. So when I walked in [I'm always the first to arrive] I'm hit by a wall of amonia. I can't even describe it, but lemme try. How about 8 cats in a 10'x10' room closed in with their litter box? Now go into that room and work out for 2 hours.<br /><br />I can't open the doors until it gets light outside, because there are coyotes in them there woods, that would love to make a nice breakfast of these critters. I tried to come later, but if I come any later than a certain hour, I won't get done in time to go to my next job.<br /><br />Noticing the fumes when she came in [about an hour after I get there] she suggested that I should use one of those dust masks from home depot for 'the smell' I told her those masks aren't for amonia.<br />After a couple of hours of research, I printed out some solutions for amonia in horse barns, and gave them to her, but she continued to defy the laws of logic and chemistry.<br />
<br />I got this sinus infection, that started the first day they closed those windows, and she must heard me coughing, so she suggested I turn the fans on when I come in, and I did. Her hubby came in and turned them off [He's a cheap ass - but more about him later] saying it was using too much electricty.<br />She suggested the dust mask again.<br />I wanna say "Lady, it ain't about smell, its fumes, ya know like the chemical amonia in the air?"<br />and if it ain't good for me, it probably ain't good for the critters either. 45 animals in 15 stalls is too dam many and there's no drainage happening through sand. That pee ain't goin to china, ya know. Even if the liquid did some how drain away, there is still the little matter of the amonia left behind!<br /><br />Knowing I couldn't fix her, I gotta save me, so I googled a mask rated for amonia. Found one at Tractor Supply Co. It cost me $50. The lady didn't want me wearing it in her barn. I quit. <br /><br />Anyone want a slightly used gas mask?<br />WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-66769957679053126512012-03-12T18:39:00.002-07:002012-07-29T11:31:48.741-07:00Saving Money With Grocery Lists<span style="font-family: verdana;">I am cheap, but to apease my husband I will use the word "Thrifty"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm not stupid. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">I know if I buy an item really cheap that won't last as long as I need it to, I did not save any money.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">and I know time is money, so if I have to research an item for hours to find where to get it for less [like the NorthFace jacket my daughter wanted], sometimes, it's just better to go to the source, pay the price, and go to bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">I also don't do lists in the way that the media will tell you in those cut and paste 'saving money on groceries' articles that get passed around, and passed around until many think they are true. You know, the ones that say to eat before you go, and make a list and stick to it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">I like to go hungry, so I can fill up on samples, and won't have to cook dinner that night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">and lists?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">My friend makes a list, collects all the grocery ads and then writes on that list where to go for each item. She also cuts coupons, and uses them at stores that double them. Then she calls me to tell me she paid 19 cents for a $3 item. I have never been a witness to this, however. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">In fact, whatever I pay for something, she will tell me she paid less, again, something I have never witnessed, and in fact once, when I was going to buy 2 lbs of pecans for which I usually pay $15, and found the price had increased to $19, I passed on them. Later when I told her, she said one of the stores she frequents has them for $14. I was going out her way for something, and we met up, went to her store where it turned out they were $21. She insisted they had been $14 a mere couple of days before . . .</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">Ok, so here is what I do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">I have a list, but we [hubby and I] write stuff we are out of, or about to run out of, starting at the bottom of the pad that hangs on the fridge. See, if you start your list at the top like most people, when you go shopping, you will tear off that whole piece of paper right? Not I.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">When neccessity requires that I leave the house for supplies, I simply tear off just above where we wrote stuff, leaving more paper for next time. Blame or praise my daughter for that trick. She is notorious for writing frivolous/unhealthy/expensive foods that I will never buy, [at the top] as soon as I tore off the old list. So not only do I not take her 'suggestions' with me, but her desires remain on the top of the list, saving me a lot of paper. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">Now note that I said this list contains "what we are out of" It is not a wish list like my teenage daughter thinks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">When I am shopping, I ONLY buy things that are on sale. The probablility of getting something on the list is 100% if it is on sale. If something on the list isn't on sale, whether or not it comes home with me depends soley on how important I think it is, and if I think we can go without before I either 1] venture out again, or 2] it goes on sale later. Or 3] if I just luva ya. [Hubby gets everything he writes] </span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">Now if I am not shopping off a list, and none of the stores near me offer double coupons, and even if I used coupons, they are always for the brands that are so expensive, then even with a coupon they are still more, or else they are for items I would never, ever eat, or in quantities that I would never in my lifetime use, then how the heck do I save money contrary to to what all the media says?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">It very simple. I buy what's on sale. Not eveything that's on sale, mind you, but ONLY what's on sale.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">We eat meals made 'creatively' out of what I bought. There's a few times, I didn't even know what it was, bought it anyway, and asked my husband when I got home. He didn't know either, so we googled it. Hey it was a good price and Jet's Ranch is good on everything!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">So as a result, I get the best price on pretty much everything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">Secondly, I shop at odd hours. Early in the morning ensures that the sale items will be in stock, but if you go too early, you will miss out on the 'marked down for quick sale' items that typically appear after 9am to make room for the new fresh stuff, but will be gone by 4 pm, when all the Moms go after their kids get out of school.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">So between the hours of 9 and 4 you get your selection, AND a good shot at those discount racks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">Know your store. Know where those discount racks are, and when they stock them. Sometimes even where. I was once shopping and saw the bakery lady pulling stuff off the sheves, and I asked if she was going to discount them. She said yes, and asked me what I wanted, and I told her, so she stamped it, and off I went, freshly discounted item in cart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">Is a day old bakery item 'fresh' if it is freshly discounted? I think so.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">So that's how I came home with 4 - 3.5lb lamb roasts, and 10 lbs corned beef [for my next meat grind], 6 lbs of strawberries, 4 bags of cat litter [I was cleaning garage and needed it to absorb oil], several boxes of grape nuts and various other things, for $60 after having gone with a list containing 2 items.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">At the very least, I am saving paper!</span>WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-84278671579529285922012-03-07T16:21:00.005-08:002012-04-05T07:06:58.823-07:00Pink Slime? Not in MY Hamburger!I just heard about this pink slime stuff.<br /><a href="http://recipes.howstuffworks.com/pinkslime-ammonia-ground-beef.htm"> howstuffworks.com/pinkslime </a><br />It almost made me sick to think about <strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">Fat, sinew, bloody effluvia [I don't even want to know what that is!], and bits of meat treated with a puff of ammonia to make it somehow "good"</span><br style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Yuk!<br /></span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">No wonder my own ground beef tastes so much better than store bought!</span></strong><br style="font-weight: normal;"><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">I am so glad I have been grinding my own meat for, probably a year now. If I hadn't been, I think I would have heaved upon hearing this.<br />I was just getting ready to grind up about 20 pounds to cook, and package up for tacos, spaghetti, ect., when the nightly news came on, and had a story about this. Apparently it's been going on for awhile now.<br />My advice is to get a meat grinder before the price goes up. 10 lbs can easily be done in about 20 minutes by a $5 hand grinder found at many thrift stores, or get an electric one [about $100] for more than 10 lbs at a time. Quite frankly if I didn't already have 2 hand grinders and an eletric one, I would gladly pay $20 for one now.<br /></span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">It's not that I am that picky, but I have a right to know what's in foods labeled for sale, and make choices based on that knowledge. If I feel a company has betrayed me by being deceptive in disclosing the ingredients or processes used to make it, I simply chose to discontinue being used/ripped off by them.<br />In other words, if your stuff is crap, just say so. There is still an unbelievable market for crap nowadays! Albeit a reduced one, but at least the company won't have to switch gears and/or downsize when folks discover it's crap anyways. - and they will!<br />I think it's almost funny the number of companies that have come forward to say that they won't use it anymore.<br />Yuk! That means that did!<br />Now the company that makes it is complaining that they have shut down for 2 months to sugar coat this mess, and if no one will buy their crap after that, they may have to shut down completely and people will lose jobs. Oh sure, blame us for losing jobs because we don't want to eat your crap!<br />Wasn't it originaly suposed to be for dog food anyway? What are they putting in dog food if not this? Something worse possibly? Speaking of dogfood, how 'bout we tell china to keep their crap, cuz we have enough of our own, right here! That ought to bring back a couple jobs at least.<br /><br /></span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">Here is what I wrote when I started doing it last year.<br /><a href="http://speechlessworkinstiff.blogspot.com/2011/06/meat-beating-system-part-1_09.html">http://speechlessworkinstiff.blogspot.com/2011/06/meat-beating-system-part-1_09.html</a><br />and here is why I wouldn't buy store ground beef again, but now it's for another reason.<br /><a href="http://speechlessworkinstiff.blogspot.com/2011/06/meat-beating-system-part-2.html">http://speechlessworkinstiff.blogspot.com/2011/06/meat-beating-system-part-2.html</a><br /><br />The thing I hear from people is that they don't have time to do this. Yes you do! It saves you time. I spend about 4 to 6 hours every 3 months grinding, preparing, and packaging meat. I alernate between meatloves, ground beef patties, and precooked ground beef packages, so that nothing is older than 9 months, and meals take minutes to prepare.<br />I've been making my own bread for about 2 years now, and just started making yogurt.<br />I don't even want to know what the yogurt places are putting in that stuff, and I hope I never find out.<br /></span></strong>WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-71546057555368762692012-02-22T10:02:00.001-08:002012-02-22T10:06:05.935-08:00Two stories of forgivenessI started writing something else, but veered off the path, and I can only believe that someone somewhere needs to read this, so here you go . . .<br /><br />My Dear Ol Dad passed away about a year and a half ago now.<br />He used to live in my state. My Sis and I were born and raised here, and after gradutating from college, my sister moved to MN. My parents devorced, and Dad was on his own for about 10 years, staying here for about 8 of them, and then moving to TX. When it became appearent that Dad wasn't taking care of himself very well, my Sis went and got him, and made arrangements for his health and living needs. God Bless her for doing that. He passed away just as his freedom was to taken away. He was about to be confined to a wheelchair, with oxygen tank, and I am positive his last 8 or so years were much better because of her.<br />It happened that I hadn't seen my dad since he moved to TX, and had never seen my Sis in MN either. I always thought I would go and see them both one day, but we never had the time or money.<br />One day out of the blue I told my hubby that I needed to go see him. After pricing airline tickets, I decided to drive, and told hubby to come with me. I called Sis and told her we were comming. She was suprised, but made arrangements to leave her camp outing and come home to meet us.<br />Just like a bad country song, he passed away an hour before we arrived.<br />Rather than dwell on that pain, I'd like you'll to know that several years back, while on the phone, my Dad told me he was always sorry he didn't stick up for me more. I always thought we both knew - that he did as much as he dared. If he did more, it would cost me. [My Mom was abusive - there, I said it! but this isn't about that] I told him that if he ever thought for one second that he failed me in some way, he should know that I forgive him. I further made it clear "For anything you think you might have done, or might have failed to do, or any tiny detail that might enter your head on a sleepless night, just know that I love you, and I know you did your best, and incase that isn't good enough, I forgive you. I'm ok now. I harbor no resentment of any kind, toward you or Mom, and God is good!"<br />So even though, I never did get to see him, I thought back to that conversation, and felt some relief.<br />How many people don't get to say those things to people that need to hear it?<br />So readers, please do yourself a favor. Call that family member, [don't mention the offense], and at least tell them that you love them.<br /><br />For the curious, I did forgive my Mom too. It didn't work out so well . . the first time. I was 23, maybe, newly devorced from an abusive man, and had a fairy tale belief that when I told her I forgave her, she would aplogise, and we'd hug and be like a normal Mother & Daughter ever after. She didn't. The first words out of her mouth were "Who did you tell?" and all I could think about was "I am trying to heal, and you are making this about you now" I think I stammered something like "no one, I just wanted to . ." and then she broke in with "You were a crazy maker! You drove me crazy. You have no idea what it was like!" and I left.<br /><br />For years, my Mom and Sis would ignore me except for Thanksgiving, when I would get a non-optional invite to Mom's and at Christmas time, when they wanted to know what I wanted. I never knew what to say. All I could think of was if they knew me, they wouldn't have to ask.<br />The calls were always short, and if I tried to talk about my life or ask about theirs for the past year, they were in a hurry and had to go. One year, my Mother actually moved to FL just before Thanksgiving without even telling me. I only found out, a few days before, when I called her.<br />Year after year they would send me stuff, rarely anything I liked or could use, and it always made me feel inadequite, I guess for not appriciating it more. In retrospect, I am not sure how I would feel if they actually sent me anything that I did like.<br />One night while driving, I was out of my usual radio range and scanned the dial. I came upon a contemperary Christian station playing a song that really spoke to me.<br />I had gotten married again, and was a bit embarrased to tell my family, plus didn't want to hear all possible negative comments. So I hadn't invited them.<br />That song made me realise that I hadn't really forgiven my Mother.<br />I pulled over and declared to the Lord that I forgave her. I told Him that "I am letting go of the debt that she owes me, and giving it to you, Lord. She owes me nothing, and I am counting on You forgiving her too"<br />Now I could tell you something magical happend that day, but I just don't know. I felt better, but it pretty much seemed like an ordinary day to me.<br />I will say that when Christmas rolled around that year, and that call came in, I was ready to tell her to please not send me any more things. That I love her, but I just don't want to ride this ride anymore. but something happened. She asked me how I had been. I answered and asker her how she'd been. We laughed and told stories for 45 mintues - a lifetime record for us at that point.<br />I was crying when I got off the phone. I had finally gotten what I wanted for Christmas!<br /><br />There you have it. Two stories of forgiveness. Both with happy endings, but very different beginnings.<br />I want you to know, because I didn't at first, that you do not have to tell the person you are forgiving. If they are still in a bad place that you don't want to revisit, you can forgive them right where you are. Just let go.<br />but if they ever hint that the are seeking your forgiveness, give it to them and more.<br /><br />I really think that when someone causes us pain, we think they owe us something. We hang on to that pain like an IOU, refusing to tear it up until they apoligise. After awhile those IOU's add up, it's a great weight to carry around, never mind the fact that probably 95% of of the folks whose IOU's you're carrying, don't even know they have an IOU in your bag. The more we feel we're hurt, the more importance we place on it, and the heavier that IOU is. The trouble, if that isn't enough, with IOU's is that they grow. They seem to feed on pain and selfishness. and Yes, I do think it's selfish not to forgive. If no one else tells you that, it's because either they haven't thought about it, or want to keep taking your money while you pour out your "poor me's" on their couch for $150 an hour.<br />The pain, we can't help feeling for a minute, but the selfishess . . . you take away that, and all the power goes out of the offense, taking with it the pain. Yes, I am saying "Get over yourself" The only one making you carry that burden is you.<br /><br />Fogiveness is freedom. By forgiving someone, you are freeing yourself of the pain that you were never meant to carry around in the first place.<br /><br />This reminds of that game Hot Potato.<br />Although I am young enough to remember it was actually a plastic one, the premise is the same: The one holding it at the end, loses.<br />What if pain was an actual hot potato, and you have it in your hands because someone tossed it to you and you caught it. It's burning your hands, so you have to get rid of it. Now, you can toss it to someone else, knowing it will hurt them or you can drop it. Either way, once it is out of your hands, it will still hurt for some time. You may even need some salve to help it heal.<br />Well, I am here to tell you, the pain will be less if you drop that potato instead of handing it to someone else. and the quicker you drop it, the less pain you will feel.<br />Learn to drop the potato!<br />You have much better things to do!WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-20572357164342892832012-02-18T12:52:00.002-08:002012-02-18T12:55:49.837-08:00A Time To KillSpring is in the air folks!<br />Mainly because it felt like spring all winter, but that's besides the point.<br />Here's a story that happened last summer. You probably don't want it to happen to you, so take heed of the few lessons buried within.<br /><br />A Time To Kill<br />I work taking care of animals for a man who likes everything in it's place. I've been there 5 years, so I must be doin it right. A new girl whom I trained and will call "N" and I became friends. She is a hard worker, and is honest, and I appriciate those things in people. She is also candid and funny, which makes our interactions anything but boring.<br />2 weeks ago, N told me she answered an ad looking for a gardener, and said she must be crazy because with her other jobs, she wasn't sure when she could do this one. She said the property needed everything done. I told her I could help her out, if she wanted, so that she could get done twice as fast. I am one of the fastest workers where we work now, so N happily agreed. I further told her, that while I may boss her a bit at our job, this landscaping job was hers, and she would be my boss - just to establish things upfront.<br /><br />Suposedly, these people had money, and like I told L one thing I have learned about folks with an abundance of money [I never use the word 'rich' because I find them to often be 'poor' in pretty much everything else, including mannors] is that they waste it on a lot of things, but don't want to pay a proper wage to take care of those things.<br /><br />N had met with "L" the owner of this "weekend lake house", and followed her around while she pointed, and barked out items she wanted taken care of. One of those things was a giant wheelbarrow of debris which included her precious seedum plants that a previous employee "Nick" had detatched from it's lodgings in the rock wall that separated the lawn from the beach. L was very upset, and said she wanted "every last bit of them" saved. The yard was lined on every side with greenery, along with some unkept ornimental trees. The boxwoods lining the drive were leaning like they were trying to escape, and weeds thrived everywhere. She also wanted everything weeded, and lamented that summer was half over and nothing on the property was done yet. L painted a picture of one who was taken advantage of in such a way, that N and myself felt sorry for her. Poor woman couldn't enjoy her lake house cuz everyone that worked for her, had done her wrong.<br /><br />Ya'll might wanna make a mental note here folks, when a potential boss starts pointin and barkin, TAKE NOTES!<br />and anytime a potenial employer starts complaining that everyone has done them wrong, remember - there are two sides to every story, and the one with the most money thinks theirs is the right one.<br /><br />We began on Tues, and N tells me she suggested to L [and L agreed] that we would make a "Hospital bed" where we will carefully place the seedum after rescuing it from the smoldering wheelbarrow of death, and attempt to get it to root so it can be transplanted later, when it is healthy. She places me on that task, and begins to weed on the other side of the house.<br /><br />I remember thinkin "what an idiot for pulling out that seedum, could he not see it was a plant?", as I began preparing the bed by the fence. I pulled a pile of festering seedum [among other things] from the wheel barrow, spread it out on the grass to breathe, and begin picking pieces of it that looked like they had some potential. I would place a handful of this in the row, and then water it with some mixed miracle growth stuff for stressed plants. The key word there was Miracle, but I didn't know it at the time. I also didn't know who the real idiot was. I just thought I did.<br />After a couple of hours, I stood up, to check my progress. It looked good, but the time! Oh the time it took to painstakingly pick 4" to 6" pieces of seedum outa that seething compost pile! I just can't believe they'd wanna pay us $12.50 an hour do do this! So I stop and go tell N how long it's taking. N assures me that L wanted it ALL saved. Now I knew that couldn't happen because if you went 8" down in the wheelbarrow, it everything was moldy, and litterally smokin. We each put in 3 1/2 hours that day.<br />The next day she wanted me to work on that seedum again, but when it got to where it was taking me too long to pick tiny 2" inch pieces that looked like it wanted to grow, I had to stop. So I began weeding out the path from her back door [so it would be purdy when they arrived for the weekend], and then the beds next to the new seedum, that had dead things in it. These dead things wanted to be a tomato, and 2 black berry plants. It was L who wanted us to make them grow, but being they were already in a location well suited to their growth, there was nothing to do but water them with miracle growth stuff.<br />I also attempted to spray part of the upper beach area with some weed killer that ended with the word "Clear" [like round-up only worse - it says right on the bottle not to spray it near anything you want to grow, or anywhere you want to grow something before a year is up]. This stuff wasn't a premix, and we were not supplied with anything to mix it with. I searched our supplies to find a 16 ounce glass bottled drink to make a measuring device, and another plastic bottle which I cut the bottom off to make a funel. The spray was commin out in such a thin stream, after many attempts at adjusting it, I determined it was easier to just pull the dang weeds out myself, so I did.<br /><br />We took the next day off for other jobs, and came back on Fri, the last day before the weekend, in anticipation of L and her husband comming to their beach house for the weekend, N wanted me to finish spraying the beach and driveway, so it would be nice for them, but told me to be careful of the water. I love our planet, don't you? So I pulled up weeds along the water line for the first 4 feet up. I was just finishing when MrL arrived on the scene and asked me why I wasn't spraying the whole beach. I told him about our concern for contamination of the ground water, and said I was going to spray from 4' away from the waters edge forward. He replied that he wanted the weeds gone in the water, too.<br />He then pointed at the sand, and said "See where there's no weed? If you don't spray here, a weed will pop up. I want the whole beach sprayed, weed or no weed"<br />Ok, so then I told him there might not be enough "clear" stuff. He tells me there's a whole extra gallon of it, and I reply that there's only a partial one. He looks at me accusingly and asks "Are you mixing it?" I said, yes, and the 16 ounce bottle, which I used 2 of, plus funnel I used to measure are right there. He picked up the empty container of black death, and said it was full last week. I told him it was empty and I was using it to measure the gallon of water. He shook his head, and acknowledged that the Nick, the seedum puller, must have also used this full strength. Although based on all the weeds I saw pokin up out the junipers, all over the beach, driveway, and everywhere else, it did make me wonder where he used it.<br /><br />Once happy that I am poisoning the planet to his specifications, N tells him that L had asked if we wanted to get paid on the 15th or the 30th, and N had said the 30th would be fine, but then the day before told her to call her with our hours to get paid on the 15th. I heard him telling L that she shoulda had her hours in by the 10th or the 25th to get paid on those dates. I quit listening as they settled on something. Hey, I was there to work, so I did.<br /><br />Aledgedly there would be a check on the way.<br />That Sat, they called N, said they needed to talk, and when N got there L ran around pointing and barking again, only this time insisting we didn't do anything she wanted. She pitched and moaned. Why we were there on Thursday, but had no hours written down? [cuz we weren't] When shown our hours written on a calendar, they insisted the cameras had shown us to be there on Thurs [when we were both miles away], and what were we doing there if not working? [I'd like to know that too, actually] Went on to say she never pays $12.50 an hour, that she takes bids and only accepts the lowest one. [Then why didn't she tell N to submit a bid before?] The bed that ran the length of the driveway didn't need weeding [even though it was one of the first things she pointed at the week before], they asked why I hadn't sprayed the whole beach and driveway, which I did [dontcha hate when you get accused of not properly destroying our eco system when you know you did?]. They wanted to know why it took 4 hours to rescue all the tiny pieces of that freakin seedum. Why are the tomatos and berries still dying? Why wasn't black fabric placed and covered with mulch [which they had not provided] and why did we say we weeded all those beds over there anyway since they were all sprayed?<br />Huh?<br />Oh, Oh.<br />I told N if that woman had told us all those beds were poisoned, I wouldn't have placed the seedum there. It's all gonna die, and I don't wanna be there when it does. She agreed, but we got a sinking feeling that 1. they were only gonna pay us a small portion of what they had originally agreed on, and that any future work would be for free, and that 2. If we told them we quit, we wouldn't get paid anything for the work we had already done. So we did what any self respecting underpaid gardener would do - ignored them. They called and called and called for 4 days [if we were that bad, why did they want us back?], and when the check [which amounted to 7 $hr] came, we drove the 20 miles to their bank, cashed it, and right next door was a Salvation Army Thrift store, where I got a great deal on some fabric and 2 giant quilting hoops! but I digress. I let N call them back and tell them we were not suited to their needs, Or some fancy crap that means we are taking the $7 an hour the cheap hustlers sent us and runnin for the hills!<br /><br />I don't know what they paid Nick, but I'm no longer thinkin he's the only idiot. Clearly he got paid to kill seedum, tomatoes, berries, and a few weeds.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-20892747615236274492011-07-06T19:17:00.000-07:002011-07-06T19:53:39.237-07:00Self Service At WalmartI just came back from Walmart, and now I know why I don't go there. I got some extra money this week, cuz we're short man power at the assylum, and I got that quilting fabric itch. I heard Walmart is starting to stock and sell fabric again, and I want to check it out. There's a Walmart about a mile away from the Joanns I conveiniently plannned on going to, so I decided to go there first to see if they had fabric.<br />The short answer is yes.<br />The long answer is good luck getting it. I needed browns and greens for a butterfly quilt that is still in the dreaming & fabric gathering stages, so when I saw a nice brown for $1.50yd, I got all excited. I grabbed the brown, 2 greens [4.94yd], a nice turquoise floral print with a bit of brown in it that I know will cost me a bunch more money when I go to use it, and need that special color to make it happen [$2.50yd] and some other pieces of possibility [also $1.50yd], ect. 8 fabrics in all.<br />Then I waited. and waited. and rang the bell. and waited. and waited. and rang the bell. and waited. and rang the bell. and waited. Finally I went to find the nearest employee, which turned out to be the cell phone guys. I asked one of them to please call someone to come and cut fabric for me. I heard him call as I was leaving. Then I waited. and waited some more. and then my body began doing things, that I just could not stop. I reached into my bag, and got out pen and paper, and began cutting the fabric and writing down the yardage, and the color. I stacked up the bolts in one pile and the cut pieces in another.<br />When I was all done, I pushed my cart to the cell phone guys and asked if they would ring it up for me because I had things to do. I was in Walmart over an hour - most of that time was waiting.<br />They very nicely rang it up for me, because they knew how long I was waiting, and couldn't believe no one had arrived. They figured out how to scan the bolts and enter the yardage using my notes.<br /><br />After I paid for it, I put my fabric in the cart, with the bolts on top, and returned them to their places. A lady came up and asked if she could help me. I said "No thank you, I'm all set" She said something about the Pellon, and I said, yes, I had it, put I put it back. She asked if I needed anything cut. I said I already cut it. She replied that we weren't suposed to do that, then asked to see the tags, which the cell phone guys had placed on the fabric, and I showed her. She said something about being at lunch. I told her she was perfectly entitled to her lunch, and that Walmart should have covered her area. She told me the assistant manager said he was watching, and there was no one there the whole time. I leaned in and said "Someone's been fibbing to you" I was not the only one who came in and looked at the fabric, so between me and others, there was easy 2 customers there at any given time. They just didn't have the balls I did. I drove 20 miles one way [that's $8 in gas for the trip] and I want my $1.50yd fabric darn it!<br /><br />Now, I had 5 more items in my cart, I went to the checkout and began ringing up the packages of quilt batting, which didn't even fit in the bag. I asked the U-Scan monitor if they had any bigger bags, and she disappeared. She returned with one bag, that only one of the battings fit into, so I just tossed those in the cart, and bagged up the fabric that was already paid for. Pushed the cart out with all 5 items plunked into the cart unbagged, and 2 receipts totaling over $100 in my pocket. I felt like I was at one of those Clubs.<br />Self serve to the max.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-54753744955374075462011-06-20T10:51:00.000-07:002011-06-20T14:09:33.716-07:00Little Yippy DogOne of my past jobs was delivering newspapers in a repressed area, that was being converted to a "motor route" meaning we'd put up tubes on a pole that I could shove the paper in from my car. This was considered by more than a few to be a "bad neighborhood" but I didn't see it that way. I think things are generally as bad as you want them to be. I did put up the tubes myself, so I could be seen pounding them into the ground, to reinforce to the young troublemakers that I was not a push-over. I also got to meet a lot of the other residents that no one talks about. Many of the residents were black folks from the south, who moved up here to work in at General Motors, and were now retired. They were very nice, self respecting folks who mowed their lawns weekly and even though, they said things like "ya'll" and "ain't" they also said "Please" and Thank you" where white folks generally didn't. I never could figure out why some white folks thought they were better than blacks, when they weren't nearly as polite, and didn't even keep up their yards nearly as nice.<br /><br />Now because some of my customers were handicapped, or couldn't get all the way down their driveway with ease, I would walk the papers up to their door. I had about a half dozen of these.<br />One of them was home to one of those annoying little yippy dogs. You know the kind. They resound like nails on a chalk board, and their owners must have been deafened by them, because they seem to not be able to hear them.<br />Every day, without fail, I would walk up this lady's drive to be met by such a dog. This dog clearly was saying "Hey you! Get Out of here! This is my house, and you don't belong here! I'm tellin my mommy on you!" Look, it's 4am, I have 2 jobs, and no patience for this, which was clearly not part of the job description. Most animals like me right off, but this one sure didn't. I don't really like yippy dogs either, so we're even.<br />Almost.<br />To make it really even, I decide to talk back, but I can't be heard cussing out folks dogs, or word would get around that I'm a big fat meany, so I began talking to it in a voice that anyone who could hear my voice but not the words, would think I was being nice. I told that little yippy dog [in a voice that a toddler would love] "Why, aren't you just the ugliest little thing? Yes, you are! Yer just the uglyiest little thing. Look at you! My cat is bigger than you are. Yes, she is. You little ugly bugger you!" Every day I insulted that little dog while it chased me down and then back up the driveway, nipping and yipping it's threats at me.<br />After some months of this, there came a day I didn't see it out, so I put the paper by the side door like I always do, and high tailed it outa there, happy that my ear drums were gonna get a break that day.<br />About halfway down the street, I catch something in my rear veiw mirror. It's that stupid little dog. I stopped the car and got out. I couldn't believe it! That annoying little dog missed yipping at me, and had to chase me down to make it's day complete! Knowing little dogs don't like to be grabbed around the middle, I carefully scooped him up in my forearms, and got in the car with him in my lap. I backed the car up all the way to his house, stopped, got out, and carried the dog to his door. The lady hadn't heard the dog bark, so she came out to see whay he wasn't yipping, and see's me there holding her dog. I told her that I found him running down the street, thinking, surely she would scold him for this, if not the yipping, and she gasped and said "I can't believe you're holding him, and he's not biting you! He hates everybody!"<br />Turns out the lady could hear him. He was her "newspaper" alarm. She purposely put him out every morning before I came by, knowing he'd yipp annoyingly at me, because he hated everybody!<br />Except me - now.<br />Great. Just what I need - a yippy dog for a friend.<br />Darn dog fooled us both didn't he?WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-25172122506617293632011-06-17T07:56:00.000-07:002011-06-30T18:09:13.183-07:00Ember & The Exploding Lamp Oil BottleEvery week, my friend and I go out Saling. We buy stuff we need/want for our homes including groceries. Now I hear-tell that used groceries can be rather unsavory, so we buy used stuff instead, saving our money for new, sale priced groceries. We headed north this week, and I guess I shouldn't have been surprised at the number of "Free Kittens" signs I saw.<br />It's a shame they don't just fix their cats, when clearly they are broken.<br />I've been wanting another cat, since I had to let go of Oz last fall. Well, not just a cat, really - truth be known, I'd really just like Oz back, but he's waitin for me on the bridge. There was just something about him. We needed each other. He was an older cat in a shelter with a limited shelf life. He never talked, he just indicated his needs with a pleading stare, or wave of his paw, and I guess focussing on his needs kept my mind off of my own fading dreams at the time. The 13 years he was with me was way too short, but we are both in better places now.<br />Which is why I did not come home with a kitten.<br />I do have a short haired-teenaged-back-talkin-cat, that my daughter begged for 2 years ago, and hasn't fed once. I would like a fluffy cat to cuddle with, cuz Ember [think smoldering fire] isn't very cuddley. I have been teachin her, though. I pick her up, give her a big fat kiss, and then put her down before she has time to complain, and I think it's beginning to work. Now when shes sees me comming, and flops on her back to tease me, she doesn't chew on my hand as much when I fall for it - and I always do. At least once a day, she comes to me wanting to sit on my lap, and tuck her nose under my arm. Sometimes, she follows me downstairs, aka "lair of the evil snake" which means she trusts me to protect her from the air compressor. So while she's not squishy cuddly, we do seem to have an understanding: She's all I've got, and I'm all she's got.<br /><br />After a long day of saling, I got home, and slowly began to unload and unpack stuff. One of my purchases was a bottle of lamp oil for 10 cents. I was tired - gonna putting this last thing away, saving the rest of the stuff for later. Sometimes, I'm just a bit meticulous, and noticing a dent in the bottle, I had to fix it. I loosened the the cap, and it appeared to be going successfully, and then the darn thing exploded all over me. I think I stood there dripping in oil, shocked that plastic would break apart like that. I was almost completely covered, ruining my favorite tank top [actually purchased new!], so there was to be no damage control - except for how to get myself to the bathroom without dripping oil on the way. I lathered up with Body&Bath's Black Amethyst [bought on sale - but normally reserved for special osscasions] shower gel to lift my spirits as well as the oil off of my skin. I got out, dried off, went back downstairs to put a piece of cardboard over the spot, so no one else would walk in it until I could clean it and started to go to bed.<br />Hmm, I seem to be missing a critter.<br />Where is Ember?<br />Found her in a corner lookin confused. She musta been right behind me when the oil exploded, cuz there she was, furr all slick & spikey lookin, and she didn't look happy. Darn it! The longer I think about it, the worse it will be. I turned on the bath water once again, quickly grabbed her, squirted the Black Amethyst down her back [why not?] and held her under the faucet with one hand, while rubbing her down with the other. She seemed a bit shocked at first, but that may have been left over shock from the oil explosion. She did seem to like the warm water cascading down her back, and the massage didn't hurt either. After, I hugged her up in a giant fluffy towel, which she completely soaked, no easy feat for a short haired cat.<br />She still didn't come to bed with me, probably sulking and licking herself dry most of the night, but this mornin, she doesn't seem to be mad at me, even though she is still a bit greasy.<br />Maybe she is sucking up to me so I won't give her another bath?<br /><br />Update: I really feel bad, but what more could I do? I didn't know she got hit with the oil or I woulda stuffed her in the shower with me. It wouldn't be the first time I took a shower with a cat. [but that's a story for another time]<br />She was sick for a few days. Sick, laying around not eating much, and weirdly affectionate. After a coupla days, she began eating and following me around, climbing in my lap, and all clingy and stuff. A silly person would think her to be greatful cuz I saved her life, but remember this is a teen-aged-back-talkin cat, and ya'll know that teanagers only talk to their parents when they want something . . .<br />While I was petting her, I noticed some tuffs of hair stickin up funny. I put on my reading glasses and poked around to discover some flaky skin. I got a fine tooth comb and began combing her head, and she began to purr. Yep, her hair is commin out, and her head itches.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hcDSIa4_ceQ/Tg0dxMNyKLI/AAAAAAAAABM/Ke7tE3X3C_c/s1600/Cat_Baldy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hcDSIa4_ceQ/Tg0dxMNyKLI/AAAAAAAAABM/Ke7tE3X3C_c/s320/Cat_Baldy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624184240585451698" border="0" /></a><br />Her new nickname is, . . you guessed it - Baldy.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-58017968892811820392011-06-09T12:48:00.001-07:002011-06-10T03:39:07.215-07:00Meat - Beating the system Part 1I don't know about yall, but the price of meat was begining to irk me. I don't eat a lot of steak, so $10 for a nice T bone isn't a problem. but almost $4 lb for hamburger is. I have this whole system going on where I have at any given time, a supply of pattied hamburgers, packaged cooked hamburger, and shaped meat loaves ready to cook. Unlike the rest of the world, I am not willing to pay someone to operate a machine to make hamburger patties for me, plus I think hand shaped ones taste better.<br />So my system allows me to make a meal in less time, that tastes better, and I know what's in it. - I think.<br />I got up one morning and was relieved to see that summer wasn't just a rumour after all. mmmmmmm a grilled burger would be great! I'm going to buy some hamburger and patty them up today!<br />I found myself at one of those "Clubs" looking at hamburger that was $2.89 a pound, but I know I have purchased it for less, so I passed it by. While picking up the rest of the items on my "Club" list, I spied at a box of angus bacon and cheese burgers - $12 for a box of 12 1/4lb burgers, and thought to myself that's about $4 a lb, which isn't too bad, but then I realised that I was paying for the bacon and cheese, plus they were those machine pressed ones, and decided I could do better.<br />My quest begins at finding/making hamburger for as close to $2 lb as possible. A sudden desire to buy a grinder and grind up thoser cheaper cuts of meat popped into the forefront of my always busy brain. Oh, I have one of those antique grinders, but it has no blades. Yeah, I'd like to kick myself for it, but instead I think I'm gonna go out there and find me a grinder with the blades, and then I'm gonna grind me up my own burgers!<br />I went home with only my short list of purchases, and the dream of an awesome burger in my future.<br />The next day, I went out "Saling" as my husband calls it, and at the second garage sale, I found it. An old meat grinder with 4 plates for $3. Great, now all I need is the meat. The next morning my daughter announced to me she had a track meet that day, so I dutifully went and after about 4 hours, I was board out of my skull. Had I known it was an all day affair, destined to reek havoc on my back, I would have planned better. Packed a lunch, brought my back brace, ect. After her last race, when she assured me there was only an hour left, I ran to the local grocery store that I remember having good prices on meat. I was disappointed to discover they didn't have any "Hamburger" only ground sirloin for about $5 lb! but I did find some Angus Denver steaks marked down to $1.99lb, and grabbed both of those. That was only about 4 lbs, so I looked for more and found a package of boneless porkchops, also for $1.99lb and got it too. So now I have about 6 lbs of meat for $12. OK, so now we have matched that Club price. All I have to do is make it work.<br /><br />The next day, I got all my stuff ready to go, when I noticed that these old grinders that clamp to a countertop didn't quite make the trip on my newer counter top. If I used my kitchen table, it would leave a mark, but the biggest obsticle seemed to be that once clamped on to the edge, it faced the wrong way, and only stood about 4" from the surface of the table, making it impossible to get a bowl under it. Now here's one of the many things I love about my huband. He's a wood worker, and can make anything. Yes, ANYthing! He was currently making a set of bow front cabinets, which takes a lot of time calculating, making jigs, and bending wood, and here I run into the shop with my grinder and a bowl and tell him I need a stand for the grinder to clamp on that will hold it above the bowl, with a platform for the bowl to sit on that's big eoungh to clamp to the table so the whole thing won't tip over when I crank down on the grinder. He's got wood and shavings all over, and I need this in about an hour so that he can grill us burgers for dinner. If that didn't wreck his train of thought, poor guy . . . but he loves me so<br />He did it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9TT9_ngmaAY/TfEgykwyaPI/AAAAAAAAABE/ddl5_4b4Ufc/s1600/Wood_GrinderStand.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 296px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9TT9_ngmaAY/TfEgykwyaPI/AAAAAAAAABE/ddl5_4b4Ufc/s320/Wood_GrinderStand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616306263541573874" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I was fortunate to have found an old Hall mixing bowl that was 14" wide and about 8" tall and held 2 gallons [for a mere $10] on one of my Saling trips. I just knew I would need a giant bowl like this one day!<br />So I got my frozen peppers, fresh onions, bacon, cheese and meat all cut up and ready to go, and procede to layer it all in by feeding it into the grinder in an alternating fashion. It was amazingly easy! I say amazing, because I was wondering to myself the whole 15 minutes of time it took, why no one else does this? When it was all done, I gently tossed it like a salad, so's not to compress the meat. I pattied those up into 6 ounces, and set aside 3 for us. When I was finished, I got 17 - 6 ounce burgers, as opposed to the measily 4 once ones that Club was trying to pass off on me. and for about the same price! If I add in the $2 for the cheese and bacon, I paid only $2 more, but got 5 more burgers, plus mine are 2 ounces bigger, so I think I done good!<br /><br />How did they taste? I will have you know we were just a bit skeptical, and didn't add any lettuce, tomato pickles or the like, figuring if they turn out bad we didn't want to waste those things, and if they are really good, they don't need em anyway. Turns out they were really good, and we raced to split that 3rd burger. I won and got the bigger half. My wonderful husband then turned to me and says what he always says when I make something great, "You can make that again!"<br />and I will.<br /><br />Now if you want to make them exactly like I did: I used 4 lbs Angus Denver steaks, with a lil bit of fat trimmed off, 2 lbs of boneless pork chops, 2 handfuls of frozen green peppers, and 2 handfulls of frozen sweet peppers, one whole onion, a 2 ounces of cooked crumbled bacon, and an 8 ounce bag of cheese. The peppers must be frozen so they don't turn to mush when they run through the grinder. You can buy frozen peppers, but I buy fresh in season and wash, cut, and freeze them myself for way less. Our grocery store sells them for $2 each, but I can buy enough at a farmers market to fill a gallon Zip lock bag for the same $2. I only cut the meat into 2" wide by 3" or 4" long pieces. The screw thingy in the grinder pulls them in pretty well, and I used the 2nd to the largest grinding plate. There are 4 plates if you buy one of these things. For the record, peroxide is what you want to clean your cutting board, and untinsels with - before and after. Bleach is just ok, but peroxide is better.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-14013696892561427442011-06-09T12:44:00.001-07:002011-06-09T12:44:47.132-07:00Meat - Beating the system Part 2Failure.<br />I was out shopping, and saw ground chuck was on sale for $1.99 a pound. Well now that our burgers needs had been met for a little while, I was still running low on pre-cooked ground beef in my freezer, so I grabbed 8 lbs of it, thinking of possibly getting more after I cook this up.<br />Well I am glad I only wasted money of 8 lbs of this mess! I usually get a 12 ounce package of meat for every pound I cook. Because my daughter is in track and eating a lot of spaghetti, I decide to make up some 8 ounce packages. For my $16 and trouble, I got exactly EIGHT 8 ounce packages of cooked ground chuck!<br />I was puzzled for awhile, because I have, in the past ended up with more meat with even lesser grades of hamburger than ground chuck, and ground chuck is known to be kind of lean . . . and there wasn't that much fat in the pan, . . and in fact I didn't even have to drain the pan in between portions of meat.<br />That could only mean one thing: Water.<br />I bet they don't know I weigh my stuff. Yes, I have a postal scale, and am NOT afraid to use it!<br />I also do not pay for water. I get mine FREE from the ground, filtered the way God intended. I do pay for the electric pump to get it in the house so I can live all civilized and stuff. Big deal. My point is I don't pay for water, and will never buy meat from that store again! Yep, the same store that sells the peppers for $2 EACH.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-61000447583806958382011-06-09T12:35:00.000-07:002011-06-09T12:49:46.890-07:00Meat - Beating the system Part 3After the dismal failure with the watered down ground chuck, and still needing to have enough cooked ground beef in my freezer to feed us after my teenager eats her fill, or maybe just being a gluton for punishment, I will try this again.<br />Armed with my grinder, and determined to search for any meat that was around $2 lb, I found some Angus Beef Chuck roast that was buy one get one free. It was $4.49 lb, so if I do it right, I can get it for $2.24lb. which is close enough as long as, after I grind it and cook it, I end up with more than half what I started with. 12 ounces per lb after cooking would be grand!<br /><br />I won't even get started on why I hate Buy-One-Get-One-Free for items with differing prices, but lets just say I ain't stupid. The 2nd one ain't free unless it's the same price as the first.<br /><br />Now the match game begins. I look at a price, and dig to see if I can find a matching price. Start with a $14 one. Flip through, and nope, but I think I saw 2 that were $11, so I dig through the pile again, grab one that's $11.54, and after about 8 tries, I find a 2nd one for $11.49 BINGO!<br />Those are about 2 1/2 lbs, so I've got about 5 lbs for $11.54<br />I want to get close to 10 lbs, so lets try again.<br />Seems like I saw quite a few $9 ones, so here we go again. After digging and sorting them by price, I found a $9.74 and a $9.38. Couldn't get any closer, so for $9.74, I will get another 4 lbs.<br />We are at $21.28 for 9 lbs now. [$2.36lb]<br />Of course what fun would Price Match Bingo be if all is lost at the checkout, where the computer, oblivious to may hard work, rings up both the $11 ones, and gives me the $9 ones for free?<br />Can you say "Self Check Out?<br />Those are fun aren't they?<br />This from a person who can build a computer from scratch, but once at a self serve checkout lane, I am at the mercy of a computer that tells me where to put stuff, and when, after I pass it over the bar code reader, turing it this way and that to get it to ring up. How humiliating to be told to put stuff in a bag, while I am trying my darndest to open the freakin cheap plastic film that is all stuck together in one flimsy mass, that I can only assume is intended to be a "bag" once I can free it.<br />Finally got 2 chunks of meat in a "Bag" dig out my STOOPID store shopper card that they think it's cute to make you use [but I fooled them by filling it out with fake information because Disney will never care about the few things Mickey buys at this store], get my discount, and then comes the Debit Card Rummy.<br />I push "Finish" on one screen while a smaller one tells me to scan my card.<br />Earlier in the day I played Gas Station Treasure hunt, only to find that the cheapest one was 10 cents higher at the pump then the sign said. When I went in to complain, they told me it was the cash price, so I paid cash, and now I have to use my debit card at this manical machine in the grocery store.<br />Yeah, they say computers aren't personal, but I am sure this one is.<br />After scanning my card, it asks me if the total is ok, and I press yes, and it asks if it's debit or credit, and knowing I get a bonus for using credit, I push that one, then it asks me to sign, which I do, and then it does nothing. I wait for a minute, but still nothing. Finally I notice the other screen telling me to select payment method. I select credit [again because appearently these two screens don't communicate with each other?] and wham bam, it all went through. I don't know where the reciept spit out, or even if it did, but I got my stuff, and now . .<br />Ya know I gotta do this again, right?<br />Feeling smarter this time, I prepared the flimsy plastic into bag-like objects before scanning my 2nd set of meat. Same repeat performance other wise, though.<br />and that is why I rarely shop at this store.<br /><br />Alright, this meat took a little more gusto, and I did indeed have to clamp the platform to the table. It cooked up much nicer with less fat in the pan and I ended up with just about 12 - 8ounce packages or 6 pounds after cooking it.<br />So the first 8lb batch @$1.99lb turned into bascially $4lb after cooking,<br />and this one, which by the way, tasted better as I nibbled at it, turned out to be $3.55 per cooked pound. Not fantastic, butcha know, it could be worse. I saw some hamburger with someones name on it, like Loraine or something and she was about $7lb raw.<br />Just who does she think she is?WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-55344593051990931732010-03-03T14:32:00.000-08:002010-03-03T14:40:20.950-08:00How Stupid Am I?<span style="font-family: verdana;">We are keeping an eye out for a cheap second car, but for now we have to make one car work. DH has to be at work at 2pm weekdays, and I get off at 1pm 3 of those weekdays, so it's working . . . until an unexpected event occurs. Since I get paid on Wednesdays, I drive him to work in the city, visit to the Chiropractor, do all my other errunds, and pick him back up at 10pm, unless he can get a ride home from a co-worker who lives near us.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">So last Wed. went without a hitch . . . until later that night when my brat tells me I have to go to her BasketBall game tomorrow. I haven't been to any this year, because of my back. I had promised her I'd go to the one on her B day, and then dinner after, but the game was called off because of a whole lotta snow, then she tells me she may have Strep Throat again. Ok, so I owe her one. </span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I tell her she should have told me 2 days ago, so I could plan on having the car on Thursday instead of Wednesday. She insists I have to go to this game.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Not being one to break a promise, or waste a trip, I decide if I have to take DH to work in the city again, I should check out a pet store to see if I can find a companion for my Chocolate Crested Society Finch, who lost his 2 [Lady Gouldian] buddies of 5+ years in recent months. He had been alternating singing with hanging on the front his of cage calling for his buds and I was worried he'd die soon without at least one new buddy. Even Charlie the love bird was starting to become irritated with his constant calling.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Plan set, I drop off DH to work, and went to the closest pet store. As luck would have it, they had one finch left, and it was a Society Finch, a funny looking white one, but it ought to get along with another Society Finch. They even gave me 20% off cuz he/she/it was the last one. They made me sign a paper saying I wouldn't eat it, or get mad if it expired on me after 15 days, and put it in a box the size of a desk stapler.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">OF COURSE once the bird was in the car, my brat called and tells me I HAVE to bring rice crispy treats to the game. It's 30 degrees out, but I did bring a blanket, so I figured I could loosley wrap blanket around small box containing the new companion, and run into Sam's club real quick on my way home. I quickly found the treats, tucked them under my arm, and ran to the checkout. The chekout guy is staring at me funny, and I ask him if he has never seen anyone come through the check out with one item before, and he says no. I tell him this is all I need and I have a bird in my car, so I am in hurry. [yeah, THAT will make him quit staring at me] So I give him a $20 for a $8 & change item, and he hands me back $41 and change. I look at the bills and tell him he gave me too much change. He tells me I gave him a $50, and I insist it was a $20 [I know because all I had was a couple $20's] and tell him to check his drawer. He insists again, but I insist again, and it becomes obvious I'm not leaving. So to get the drawer open without calling the manager, he rings up the next lady, opens the register, and there is my $20 on top of the $50's. Now he's not sure how much change I am due, and the lady behind me rudely tells him to give her, her change because she is in a hurry. OK he gives her the change she is due, and then figures out after I gave him back the 2 $20's he owes me $10. Proper change in hand, I am back on my way, thinking why was that so hard? If God wants me to have an extra $30, I truly believe He will find a way to do it that won't cause someone to lose their job. and wouldncha think that guy ought to be just a teensy weensy bit greatful?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Home safe and sound, I place new Society Finch in a cage next to my Chocolate Crested Society Finch so they can look at each other for awhile. I managed to take a short nap. DH called me at 6:30 to remind me to go to game. I assure him I am going. Brat calls me at 6:45 to remind me, and I tell her I won't make it unless I get off the phone. I then ask where the game is, and she says in the main gym. </span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have never seen anything like this school. I went to a practice once and I must counted 4 gyms, not including the pool room, weight room, wresting room [oh yeah, a seperate wresting room!], having to peek in each gym, and stare at the kids playing BasketBall, and see if one of them was mine. That was so much fun, I was really looking forward to it again!</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I get to the game after parking miles away [ok, maybe only one] and carry the stupid rice crispy treats under my arm [this is starting to become my signature - won't Dooney & Bourke be jealous!!] while holding my hood on my head against the wind with my other arm. I get inside, and walk forever turning down endless hallway after endless hallway until I see a table with a cash box on top and a teenager behind it. I pay the girl $5, find a seat and sit down to watch them practice.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I made it and I think I am golden! It's 7:15, I'm here, I have treats, and um, hey, I'm here!</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I sat there the whole game watching my brat run up and down the court, while waiting for someone to tell me what to do with these treats. I got nothin. Game ends, everyone leaves, and I guess I better too. Signature treats under arm once again, I leave, walk to car [wind was with me this time] start it and pull it round so brat can get in an almost warm car.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Brat calls me, and asks where am I? I tell her I am outside waiting for her. She begins a tirade of why didn't you wait, and didn't you see all the other parents, ect. I told her she should have told me where to go, and I didn't see any other parents, and then I hung up. She gets in the car, and is still mad at me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Appearently I am very stupid. I can't buy rice crispy treats right, or even go to a BasketBall game right.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Chocolate Crested Society Finch probably thinks I am stupid too. Where are his green and purple friends, and what is this strange mostly white bird doing here?</span>WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983896282950592771.post-89429663012710319392009-06-10T12:14:00.000-07:002009-06-10T16:05:06.331-07:00Crazy HorseLadyI worked on a horse farm, many years ago. [and I used to say the best job I ever had was cleaning horse poo, cuz "horse poo doesn't pretend to be anything else." ] So long ago, I had forgotten how odd horse people are. Probably because for the first 20 years of my life, I was a horse person, and I seemed perfectly normal, to me anyway . . .<br />So a couple of years ago while looking for a part time job, I take this job that I shoulda known from the interview wouldn't go well.<br />The ad says morning work, and I'm good for that.<br />On the phone, the lady tells me to come out at 10am, I'm thinking that's kinda late, but ok . . . I get there and she has told her hubby that she'll be back at 1pm. So I leave, and come back at 1pm. She's not back yet, and has told her hubby to tell me to come back the next day. Why, or why didn't I take that CLUE?<br />Next day at 10am, she's not there, again, and tells her hubby to tell me to come out the next day.<br />Next day, guess what? She's not there, AGAIN! Finally arrives at noon, telling me she had to go to the chiropractor a lot, ect. She drops in without an appointment and has to wait. She decides I should just come at 10 every day, and start without her. Considering I've managed a barn with 50 horses everyday all by myself when I was 15, not to mention training my own horses that I sold for a profit, I guess I can manage her 6.<br />She shows me the barn and on the way, her pet Ox. The Ox, she said loves her, and misses her if she doesn't talk to him at least once a day. She knows this because a pet <span class="headwordDef"></span><span id="query" class="headwordDefquery">psychic</span><span class="headwordDefcount"></span> told her so. Why didn't I take THIS clue???<br />So we get down to biz, and finish going out to the barn where she shows me the horses, and what she wants done. Fine, I can do that. First she says we'll do this horse, and begins to take him out, "No, wait. Lets do this [other one] first." Puts him back and she walks and I follow her to another stall, where she begins to get him out, and then changes her mind again. It musta been the FOURTH one that she settled on, before completing the task of putting the hourse out into the adjoining pasture. By golly, there's another clue!<br />She changed her mind about everything so much, that I was worried she'd forget the last thing she told me, and then get mad when she found me doing it, instead of the 3rd thing she told me.<br />Now it happens [whooda thunk] that she is a cheapskate, and wants the stall cleaned sparingly, Oh I dunno, but I just never thought about "degrees of dirt" Silly me always just knew what was dirty and what wasn't, so appearently I needed her to tell me how dirty was the dirt SHE wanted removed. I found out why later. She wanted to replace about 2 shovels full of clean sawdust. In OUR barn we bought sawdust by the truckload, and I mean delivered by a dump truck. This lady buys it by the Pick-up truck load - in plastic bags the size folks buy for their pet hamsters, and the pet store delivers it to her like that. Now, I ain't a math major, but I'd hafta guess those bags of sawdust were more expensive than an ugly dump-truck pile would be.<br />I worked there almost a week and only saw her twice.<br />She was never there at 10am, and for the record, 10am is NOT morning work. Most cleaning and feeding on farms is finished well before 10am.<br />The next time I saw her, she had a horse chiropractor out.<br />I had to watch this. The HC had the lady put her hand on the horses back, while the HC held the lady's other arm out just like the "Tea Pot" song, you know, "I'm a little teapot, short and stout . . . tip me over and pour me out" and that's just what she did. The HC cranked down on the crazy lady's arm, and a l l e g e d l y the energy was transfered from the crazy lady to the horses spine, therefore adjusting it. The bill was about $300 [yeah, so how do I get in on this action?]<br />After a whole week of my time [if you include waiting time, and when I had to leave and come back], adding up to a whole $65, the crazy lady told me she couldn't afford me, and she'd have to let me go, and would pay me the following week.<br />She never did.<br />but I saw her once at the post office. I was about to say "Hi!" but she quickly turned and went the other way. Now, I am a forgiving person, lifes too short to hold a gruge, ya know? Besides, if I am deserving of restitution, I believe that God will give it to me. So wasn't going to mention it. I found it highly amusing that she was embarassed to be owing me a mere $65. Not embarassed enough to give it to me, of course. LOL<br /><br />Months later, I was chatting with a girl I knew who had a couple of horse, and she was mentioning what roads she rode on. I told her it sounded like the area where this crazy lady that I once worked for lived. When she asked the name, and I told her, she said "Oh yeah. That's Crazy Pat, and that's just what everyone calls her" and as it turns out she owes a lot of barn cleaning folks money. Seems to pay the pet <span id="query" class="headwordDefquery">psychic</span><span class="headwordDefcount">'s and pet chiropractor's, though.</span><br />Makes me think there's some sorta Crazy code, ya know where crazies don't stiff each others bills?<br />No kiddin.WorkinStiffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04173371606585834422noreply@blogger.com3