it's not like i've never been fired before...

I got fired recently.  I’ve been fired before.  Several times, actually.  All of them, well with the exception of the time before this last firing where I actually fired myself and this most recent firing, I might have deserved it.  I feel like the admission of me firing myself, 2 firings ago, might warrant some quick clarification… for comedic relief purposes before I go on an ape-shit livid pissed rant about my most recent firing.

So, there I was at my job, hating my life and every day I had to go to work.  The company I had been working for had decided to focus on the Accounting / Finance-side of recruiting and not the IT-side – which is the side I worked on, naturally.  They eventually eliminated the entire division, but in December of 2008, there I was in an upside economy begging for any job in sales.  Companies had taken their sales teams to a skeleton crew and the companies who were hiring were sparse.  In January 2009, I received an offer from a company I had said on more than one occasion – I would never work for that POS company, I don’t care what they paid me!  Welp… desperate times, I suppose.  Apparently, I had some stark raving mad idea that I needed to have a job, salary and heath care or I’d have to go into the old savings account.  Which anyone who knows me well enough, knows that once money goes into the savings account, it’s damn near apoplexy-status for me to take the money out… for any reason, justifiable or not.

To be clear about how much I hated my life at this company – let me give you the list of things that ran through my head every day that I had to go in to work for these people…

·         There were 3 people total on my team; 2 were my bosses.  Too many chiefs?

·         Eventually, they hired on another girl who had previously been fired from this particular company because of her attitude and all around personality… which let me tell you, I understood exactly why she got fire.  This newly hired previously fired broad THOUGHT she was my boss and my other 2 bosses really didn’t do anything to stop her from acting as such so the team breakdown changed.

·         4 people total on the team; 3 were my bosses.  A little top heavy, don’t you think?

·         I had to drive to Downtown Dallas, pay $6 in tolls 1 way, park 3-city blocks away from my building because it was the most reasonable garage parking for the “low” $60 a month, and have ass-in-chair by 8:00am sharp.  I live in FAR Northwest Plano… AKA Oklahoma.  If I wasn’t on the road by 6:50am and God-willing there was no traffic, I might make my ass meet the chair at 8:00am.  A feat I slowly stopped giving a shit if I actually accomplished successfully.

·         I was required to wear a suit every day.  No, no.  You heard me.  A SUIT.  Dude, I barely owned a suit any more… REALLY.  So that was a rule I quickly just didn’t follow.  Screw that.

·         The women weren’t allowed to wear open-toed shoes.  Uh, I didn’t own 1 pair of close-toed shoes… or if I did, I literally owned 1-pair and wearing them every day for that 3-city block walk on cobblestone sidewalks seemed pretty damn unreasonable.  So I began wearing flops and “saying” I had a change of shoes in my bag – but had anyone asked, I wouldn’t have been able to produce them. 

·         If you wore a skirt, you were required to wear hose.  WTF?  No seriously, screw hose.  I want to punch the person who invented hose.  Horrific.  No, not happening.

·         Hours of “preferred” operations, AKA mandatory work hours, 8:00am to 6:30pm.  Uh. Yeeeah, no.  Another rule I slowly stopped giving a shit about. 

Now after all my above admitted disregard for the company and their rules, you’da thought they woulda fired me.  Which, I was pretty sure they were well on their way to doing, but it was a big company and I think they had a process of firing people that took time and documentation.  Shit, I don’t know – I wouldn’t have disputed it.  I’da said… sweet… pay me unemployment and eat shit – but that’s not exactly how it went down. 

So, I was on a ramp of how much commissions I was supposed to be bringing in per month until I got to month like 6 or some such nonsense.  I didn’t care and/or pay attention because I continued to look for a job before my 1^st day of work with this company.  Basically it was like, I had to bring in $3K in revenue the 1^st month, $6K the next 2-months, $8K the 4^th month, $10K for the 5^th and l think the end goal was $12K a month at a minimum from 6-months on out.  I don’t really remember actually.  I specifically remember not caring about remembering the ramp at the time I was employed there, thinking it’d be a miracle if I was even still there in 6-months.

Let’s talk next about the kinds of meetings I was in with all my bosses. 

·         Angela, you’re not making your numbers.  Now, how is that physically possible when I was the only person on the team making placements?  But ok.

·         Angela, you’re acting a little anti-social in regards to the team.  Now, I’m sorry guys, but I was in a meeting with you like a couple of weeks ago, where you somehow fabricated the fact that I wasn’t making my numbers and so I decided to be a heads-down worker and now I am in a meeting about not being social enough?  So, am I supposed to make my numbers (which I needed a refresh course on what was actually expected of me, but I knew I was clearly over where I was supposed to be at the time – numbers-wise) OR shoot the shit about who got voted off American Idol last night, because I’m a bit confused.  This meeting ended with all of us staring at one another and me saying, well… I think we covered everything and then me leaving the office with them still staring at me.

·         Angela, because you seemingly can’t make your numbers, we believe that you sold you skill sets as a Senior Recruiter under false pretenses and in order to keep you, we will have to dock your salary by $10K and reclassify you as a Junior Recruiter.  WTF?  Are you kidding me?  I thought this meeting was to fire me.  As a matter of fact, I had hoped it was to fire me and was slightly disappointed by the fact that they just wanted to patronizingly condescendingly insult me.  Dude, you guys are really telling me I have to go back to my desk?!  PS – I asked them how much I was off from my projected quota for YTD and this, I swear on my life is what they said – You’re off by $40K.  Now, I had been there all of 3-months… and by my best math, there is no PHYSICAL way I could be in the hole $40K when I had made placements AND could only be in the whole a total of $18K if I hadn’t made 1 single placement.  $40K happened to  be over 2x my projected ramp. 

·         Seriously, at this point, I was like my salary now $10K less, the $60 it costs me to park a day and the $12 in toll fees each day – it started to feel like having a salary and health care really wasn’t all that friggin important.

Anyhow… 1 of my real bosses was going to be out of the office for several weeks.  That meant that the previously fired chick who was a RAVING bitch… I mean the kind that would plan something for the whole IT team and just not invite me for no real reason other than she decided on day 1 she didn’t like me, though I said and did nothing to her.  Which look, I hate that place and all the people in it, so it’s not like I would have gone had they invited me, but being treated like that in a place you hate eventually wears on even the strongest of personalities.  One time, one of the other members of the other side of the IT division asked me in front of that raving bitch if I was coming to an IT happy hour.  I said – Oh, I wasn’t invited.  And this broad has the audacity to say – Oh, yeah… you can come if you want to, but I don’t think I asked for enough space to accommodate an extra person.  To which I responded with – , I would love to attend this happy hour, to see that 1 you didn’t reserve a space in the exact number excluding me, 2 to prove that you just have a stick up your ass and to make you generally uncomfortable… because you don’t really know this about me, but I thrive in confrontational situations and really relish the times when I get to be a part of them, but really – I’ve had to listen to you run your mouth all day and frankly, the point I would be making just doesn’t sound worth it to me… so while I want to thank you for the kind bullshit of a forced offer, I’d rather stick my face in acid then go with you on a company happy hour.

Woulda thought that woulda gotten me fired too, right?  Nope.

Anyhow, to end this little story – on a Wednesday I go in to work and 1 of my 3 bosses is now out for several weeks and I am left with Big’en (because she really just was a big’en) telling me that she was going to be taking over some of my accounts because she was Senior and I was Junior.  Yeah, well I had decided that I could give a shit-less about salary and health care – I’d figure something else out on those notes – but I was definitely going to be fired and on that day, because I full intentions of collecting unemployment from them. 

I walked into my bosses boss’s office and sat down… closed the door and was like – look… I don’t want to be here, you clearly don’t want me here, so let’s cut the pleasantries and how about you just fire me?  She was like – oh no, I don’t know what you’re talking about… we want you he…  I cut her off.  I was like – No, no you don’t.  You thought docking my salary by $10K would get me to leave, and it didn’t.  Somehow I am probably up to being negative by $50K according to your records, which let’s get real honest in here, isn’t even physically possible after 4-months.  Seriously now?  Let’s cut the crap.  There are 2 options here… 1) you fire me and I leave happy OR 2) I can go back to my desk, kick off my shoes and read the book I have been trying to finish, until you get sick of looking at that and fire me.  I’m game for this situation going either way, but I am not quitting.  So if you want to go draft up those termination papers that you and I can sign and I can take with me, because I will be applying for unemployment about 5-minutes after I leave here, I’ll just be on my way.

With termination papers signed and in hand, I was escorted out about 5-minutes later.     

Now, on to my most recent firing… which will be FAR less entertaining.  I was just fired by my PCP (Primary Care Physician).  I’m sorry, what you ask?  How is this possible?  Well let me just tell you.

I’ve written before about me being on ADD meds – they are a CII narcotic and are fairly stringently regulated but the state and the doctors alike.  I’m not complaining about each different doctor’s preference and will accommodate their comfort-levels to have a working relationship where everyone wins.  Now, the doctor I used to see for years, retired.  Some younger doctors took over his practice and I was handed off to a doctor that I ended up really getting along with and loved!  He eventually moved to another practice and I was left being shuffled to the last doctor, the one I never wanted to see – Doctor Shashi Mittal – she’s in the Addison Family Medicine Associates Practice in Addison, TX.

This girl… I have NO idea how she has a license to practice medicine, to be perfectly honest.  She screwed up writing prescriptions for my meds multiple time, among a slew of other junk.  WORST DOCTOR EVER, I caution against using her… ever.  When I was transferred to her after my other doctor left the practice, she went through my previous meds background.  Which, fine – you need to get to know me, and there’s a lot to know about me.  Got it.  I was only in there asking for my ADD meds, which were due for a fill at the time.  She went through all my meds telling me that 99% of them I didn’t need to be on and there were better treatments for whatever those meds were treating that we far less addictive.  Well shit lady – I am in here asking for the street equivalent of speed and you are concerned about the addictive level of adding Promethazine (brand name Phenergan, an antinausea medication that can be used in combination with migraine meds to help the flow of blood when in the middle of a sever migraine) to my migraine medication regimen.  To which I said – well I’m sure you can see how many different cocktails my previous doctor and I went through before we landed on this method of treatment as being a successful one, right?  Not to mention he gave me 25 pills of Promethazine like 6-months ago, and I am not out of those, nor am I asking for a refill on those… so I am not real clear on how a medication regimen I am taking could be less at a risk for an addictive outcome?  She went down every pill I had registered on file in this manner.  I knew she and I were not going to be getting along.

Once she hit the fact that I have received Norco for endometriosis pain management, she came to a full stop.  I said – let me guess, there’s something far less addictive I could be taking?  She didn’t find that entertaining in the least.  She said – well that seems like an awful lot of Norco for you to be taking?  I said – I’m sorry, I just had surgery for my endometriosis in November 2010 and I had those files and x-rays sent to this office.  I’m sure you have a record of that, correct?  Furthermore, my doctor gives me a very limited amount for the year – which generally equates to 2-3 pills per month, should I need them and I have never called in a refill for them – meaning I take them as needed, wouldn’t you agree?  I made you aware about the other doctor, what she prescribes me, why she gives it to me and how much I get.  I actually didn’t have to do that, now did I?  I’m trying to be 100% completely honest about my medical record so that you can best treat me.  Not to judge me in any way, which is kind of how I was feeling during this little walk through my jacked up medical record.

So blah, blah – it wasn’t a good start.  Now on to her firing me for her gross incompetence.  After writing my ADD meds RX wrong about 15x, we’d come up with a plan that she would write me the RX for a 2-month supply and for the 3^rd month, I could come into the office and pick up a RX for the last month (with no co-pay fee) and then on the 4^th month, I needed to come in and meet with her, because of the type of medication this was.  Fine, sounds good.  I was just trying to avoid paying a $30 co-pay every month to see her, if she could give me an RX for 3-mths and then I will make an appointment.  Which PS – the only reason she wouldn’t write me the RX for 3-months was because she said I was getting too much of a (you guessed it) highly addictive drug.  Which yes, I take 3 pills in the morning so for a 3-month supply, it would be 270 pills.  Yes, a lot.  But here’s where I took issue… I have been on this for years.  I have never asked for the meds early and often times go longer than 3-months because I don’t necessarily take my ADD meds on the weekends, etc.  To which when I told her that 3-months would usually last longer than 3-months she told me that that meant I was getting too many pills.  Uh?  Oook.  I can ask for a refill exactly on the 3-month mark, but for someone who is concerned with me having too many of an addictive pill in my possession, this little process she had me moving on seemed counterproductive to her goal.

Whatever.  I can follow the rules and make very little waves.  It’s like my theory on Customs Lines at the airport.  You don’t joke.  You don’t screw around.  They tell you to take off your pants because they want a closer look; you take off your pants.  They are in charge.  With this kind of med, the doctor’s comfort-level runs the show. I’m good with that, but don’t be a dumb broad.  I think what I am asking is a fair trade / relationship with my doctor.

Ok.  April 2011 Dr. Mittal writes me an RX for my ADD meds for a 2-month supply (a total 180 pills).  She says in 60-days call in and I will write a RX that you can pick up for a 30-day supply (a total of 90 pills).  Got it; consider it done and done.  My 60-day RX would run out on June 26, 2011 – which was a Sunday.  In an effort to give my ignorant doctor enough time to write the RX before the weekend, I called for a refill on the morning of Thursday June 23, 2011 like at 10:00am.  I didn’t hear anything back from them on Thursday, so Friday morning around 11:00am, I call my doctors office to check on the status of getting the RX written.  Naturally, I get their voicemail.  I left a message.  I missed their return call, but I am guessing Dr. Mittal’s nurse, Amber called me and left me a message with her office line on it and told me to call her back.  I promptly did.  Now, Amber…. she might actually be more of an idiot than Dr. Mittal, if that’s physically possible.  Anyhow, she tells me (again, after I called in to check on the status of my RX), that oh yes, it was approved by the doctor, but that I won’t be able to get the RX until Monday.  Well, what the eff for?  Though I believe I actually said – well, if it’s been approved, I’m not sure why I would have to wait until Monday?  And the brilliant Amber says – well she didn’t write it before she left.

Well, AWESOME Amber.  Thanks.  So I say – well, I am out of my meds on Sunday, so I am not sure what I am supposed to do about that.  And this is where Amber thought she could enlighten me as to how I can help her better do her job in the future. 

She says – We always ask that patients give us a 24-hour notice on sensitive critical medications like this, so that we have time to process them, write the RX and get the meds to you on time.  In the future…

So, yeah you guessed it… I cut her right the eff off and said – Oh thanks Amber for that clarification.  But, that leaves me a bit confused, though.

Amber – How so?

Me – I called in my request yesterday morning (Thursday) around 10:00am, and here I am calling to check on the status of my RX being written… what’s this?  Oh, I would appear to be 24-hours later, right?  I mean unless you have a different definition of 24-hours notice – is that like 2-business days or like a literal 24-hours notice?

Amber – Oh, you called in and requested this be refilled yesterday morning?

Me – Yeah, I did.  And I didn’t get a call yesterday with a status update and I didn’t get a call today telling me the RX had been approved and I could come and pick it up on Monday.  So really, I’m a little confused as to how I can better facilitate this process in the future as I am following all your requirements and protocols on getting a sensitive critical medication refilled – am I not?

Amber – Either way, the doctor is not in to write your RX, so it’ll be Monday before you can get it.

Now, I know it sounds like I was being bitchy and I probably was, but I was being nice / polite bitchy at this point.  Not raising my voice and generally sounding like I was confused as to how I screwed up the process.  Amber didn’t really catch on to any of it as her tone never really changed.  That’s cool.  At this point, I was only annoyed.  Come Monday however, I damn near had a meltdown in the lobby of my ignorant doctors waiting area.

Monday June 27, 2011 – Noon rolls around and while at lunch, it dawned on me that I had not heard back from my doctor’s office about my RX being written.  So I called to make sure it was taken care of so that I could stop in on my way back to the office after lunch.  It was a rare occasion that someone actually answered the phone.  It was their front-lady who answered.  Now, let me just say that I am pretty sure that on a normal day, this lady hates her life, hates the fact that she woke up that morning and then headed on in to work for the day.  She is a peach to have to interact with, basically.

So I give her the short run down of Thursday and Friday of last week and that I just wanted to check to see if the RX was written so I could come get it.  She then informs me of this little gem… she says – Oh, well actually the doctor has declined writing the RX and says you need to make an appointment to see her before she will write you any more meds. 

Ok.  It’s official.  I’m encroaching on pissed-off status.  I’m had not completely arrived, but I was definitely being goaded into Belligerentville.  So I enquire as to why exactly it is that I was told on Friday that it had been approved and I could get it on Monday?  She said – I’m not sure about that, you’ll need to talk to Amber.

Friggin Amber?  Again?  Yeah, I really didn’t think so.

Me – Well ma’am, nothing personal against Amber, but she’s the one who told me it was approved on Friday, so I am not sure she’s the most informed person that I should be connecting with.

Her – She’s the one who will be writing your RX, so she will be the one you need to speak with.

Me – Actually, no.  Amber cannot write a CII RX, only the doctor can, so she’s as valuable to me as you are at this point (which I had hoped and was pretty sure that it did come across as not at all valuable).

Her – You are going to have to talk to Amber, I’m sorry. 

Me – Ok, well please tell Amber that Dr. Mittal and I had spoken 2-months ago and she said she would approve the 3^rd month of this medication without having to be seen by her.

Her – Ma’am again, you are going to have to talk to Amber.

Ok, THAT pissed me off.

Me – Ok, listen.  I heard you about Amber.  But you are going to have to walk a note in to her to call me back now aren’t you?  So I would like for you to take down my note and give it to her.  The likelihood is that I won’t need to talk with Amber after you give her my note.  Or were you going to hand her a note with my name and phone number on it and say – call this random patient and give no details on why I called and/or why she would be calling me back?  I just want to know what the process is, so I can properly follow it to make your jobs that much easier.

Her – Ok, but you will need to talk to Amber.  Would you like to go ahead and make an appointment to see Dr. Mittal in case she does need you to come in and be seen?

Me – That shouldn’t happen, but just for kicks, when is her next opening?

Her – Friday July 1, 2011 at 2:00pm.

Me – Ok, now wait 1 minute.  You mean to tell me… and I really just want to make sure my timeline is correct before I get a little out of hand here, but… you mean to tell me that I called in requesting this med to be refilled on Thursday June 23, 2011, and I received no call on Thursday with a status update. I called back on Friday and got the wonderful Amber who tells me my RX, which I ran out of my meds on Sunday, that the RX was approved and I could come in and get it on Monday.  I call in on Monday June 27, 2011 around noon only to be told – OH, no that RX has been declined and you need to be seen before she will give you a refill.  So, how is it that I was not called on Monday with this small but fairly critical update?  Furthermore, how come I was told it was approved on Friday?  How come I was not told then that it would be declined?  How come I had to call today and find out it was declined?  How come when the RX was declined, I didn’t get a call from anyone from your office?  How come now, on Monday, when I made it clear that I would be out of my meds as of yesterday from the very first call I made requesting a refill, do I find out that the next available appointment is Friday – making that a full 5 days of being completely out of my medication.  Is this correct?

Her – I wouldn’t know what and/or why Amber would have told you that and there are no notes saying that she did tell you that.

Me – So, I guess that because there is no documentation, it didn’t happen?  I’m just making up my frustration and the events of the last 3 days, I guess? 

Her – Well, like I said, you’re going to have to speak with Amber.

I was OVER the conversation, this idiot and the whole damn process. 

I waited a few hours and I hadn’t so much as heard a peep back from them on the status, if it was going to be written, if I needed to secure in that Friday appointment… nothing.  So I call up to the office.  No one answers.  I call the number Amber left for me on Friday.  No one answers.  I wait a few and try both numbers a couple of times and no one answers any of the lines / numbers I have for them.

I was stewing at my desk, by the 12^th unanswered call.  So I said to hell with it, they are all of 2-minutes from my office, I’ll just go up there personally and see what the status is on my RX being written.

I walk in and I know the lady behind the glass is the lady I spoke with around noon, only 2.5 hours earlier – literally.  Now, I while I was pissed, I kept my cool because again, it was like I was in line at Customs trying to get back into the USA from Mexico.  I was calm and to the point.  I walked in and politely said – Hey, you and I spoke around noon today about getting a refill on my RX, do you remember speaking with me? 

Her – No, actually.  I don’t.  Can you refresh my memory, please?

ARE YOU EFFIN SERIOUS WITH ME RIGHT NOW?!

Me – Oh sure, no problem.  I called asking about the 30-day ADD RX that was declined saying I needed to be seen before I could get that RX again.

Her – No, still not ringing a bell… which medication was it?

Me – It’s a CII med for ADD.

Her – Oh yeah, that kind of rings a bell.  Let me check on that.

REALLY?!  OMG… I HATE YOU.

She comes back and says that the doctor approved it and was writing the RX.  Which, at that point, I was encroaching on livid-pissed status.  I mean, so no call saying it was approved… nothing?!  REALLY?!  And I was questioning if it was even approved because you would think if it had been, it would have already been written.  Eh… at that point, I didn’t care.  I was getting the RX and that was all that mattered.  After this little go around, I wasn’t planning on returning to such a shitty doctor’s office with incompetent staff and more incompetent doctors. 

The front desk girl comes back and hands me the RX after she charges me $10 as the cost to the doctor to write the RX.  THEN she takes the most condescending tone with me and begins to explain that the doctor only wrote it for 30-days and I would need to be seen before she’d write another RX.

Me – Oh, you mean like exactly what was supposed to happen?  I seem to be the only one understanding that she was going to write the script for 30-days and I would come in next month for a visit?  I don’t know why you are giving me these directions and in that tone, to be honest?

I didn’t wait for an answer, I turned on my heels and walked out.

I got 2-steps out of the door and turned right around and went back into my doctor’s office.  I say to the lady at the front desk – this RX should be written for a supply of 90 pills, not 30 pills. 

This lady throws her hands on her hips and YELLS at me – NOW I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WOULD ONLY BE GETTING A 30-DAY SUPPLY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU DIDN’T UNDERSTAND ABOUT THAT?!

So, I calmly start out my next statement like this – Oh, yes!  I completely understand that, but I take 3-pills a day, so a total of 30-pills will only get me through 10-days.  A supply of 90-pills IS a 1-month supply.  You might want to just double check on that and let me know.

She snatched the RX out of my hand and stormed off.  When she resurfaced, she had nothing in her hands.  I thought, well shit… now I’ve done it!  They aren’t going to write the script at all – shit.  If ONLY that had been the issue… but nah, it was something far better.  I was standing about 10-feet away from the front counter and facing away from them.  I was trying to keep my composure and not get belligerent until I had the RX in hand.  The front-desk lady says the most unforgettable sentence to me, which damn near resulted in my hitting – postal rage – level. 

Her – According to our records for you, you have always only been on 1 pill a day.

Now, somehow I floated from where I was standing to right up on the front-desk window.  I remember being so pissed that I was afraid to speak.  Instead, I looked like a crazy person about to break.  I had both hands raised up to my temples.  My middle fingers were tapping my temples and my eyes were forcefully and tightly squeezed shut and I might have been rocking a little… I’m not 100% sure.  What I did manage to get out between teeth that were tightly shut against one another was – I can’t even begin to tell you how angry and frustrated I just became.  I mean I said it as calm as day, which kind of freaked me out to be honest.  I can only imagine what I looked like to her – but screw her.

I stopped talking for what felt like an eternity but was probably only 20-seconds so I could gain composure.  When I began again, I said – well, that would be news to me seeing how in the entire time I have been on this medication I have never, not even for 1 day been on 1 pill a day.  I think that the pharmacy might find it interesting that they gave me 180-pills 2 months ago and the directions should have read 1-pill a day instead of 3.  Also, according to your “records” (which yes, I literally air quoted in her face), and based on the fact that she wrote me an RX for 180-pill 2-mths ago, I’m about 4-months early on requesting a refill, now aren’t I?  Furthermore, whose records are any of you looking at?  It literally can’t be mine, or you would know how ridiculous you sound right now.  I mean, I would be happy to have the pharmacy scan and email you a copy of the RX that Dr. Mittal can’t seem to remember writing less than 60-days ago and really, why should she have to remember?  I mean she makes notes in patient records… oh, yeah… that… hmm… I’m not sure what to do from here?  I mean, can you give me your fax number?  I’ll be glad to have my pharmacy fax you records for the last 3 years I have been here and been getting this medication from this practice?  What is it that I can provide to you, so that you can do your job better?  Huh?

Her – Well, I am only going by what your records say.

Me – You aren’t looking at my records, because if you were, you would be handing me an RX written for 90-pills / a 30-day supply rather than telling me I am wrong about what meds and how much of those meds I have been on for the last several years.  Right?  

She walked off and when she returned, she handed me an RX written for a supply of 90-pills for a 30-day supply.  And this bitch had the audacity to REPEAT her original condescending tone with me and begun to explain AGAIN that the doctor would only be writing it for 30-days and I would need to be seen before she’d write another RX. 

OMG!  REALLY?!

I stared at her with that blank dead-fish glazed over stare.  Dumbfounded.  Rendered speechless for like the 2^nd time in my life.  When I did gather my thoughts, I said to her – I am just so disappointed with how this office has handled this and treated me.

Her – Well, if you had called the right phone number originally, none of this would have happened.

Me – (Now, I had NO EFFIN idea what number she was referring to, but I was so far past understanding what that even meant) I’m sorry.  I find it deplorably reprehensible and erroneous on your part for you to even infer or attempt to hint at the inference that I am in the wrong here?  Please tell me that’s not what you’re doing here?  I mean, did you just blame me for this situation?  How am I to blame for the doctor writing an RX improperly – I mean among a slew of a variety of ill-missteps taken by pretty much every single staff member in this office that I could reference from the last 3-days?

Her – No, ma’am.  You misunderstood.  I wasn’t blaming you. I merely said that had you left a message on the proper line, this could have been resolved.

Me – Now, I really hate to break this down to the semantics of it all but you are still blaming me.  I mean, last time I checked… that by you saying I didn’t call the right line and I screwed up the process to now saying that you said I didn’t leave a voicemail – which you never mentioned the word voicemail in your first accusation – that my actions and/or lack thereof are the direct result of the situation I am currently in.  That’s absolutely ludicrous.  1- I called in my request 24-hours in advance. 2- I was told when I checked back in 24-hours later that the RX had been approved and I could get it on Monday, which here we are.  3- Monday, I call and follow-up again to be told that my RX is declined.  And I ask that a message of clarity be provide so that I could get the RX as promised 2-months ago and again last Friday.  TO 4- You telling me that ALL of this could have been resolved if I had left a message on the proper phone line?  REALLY?  Is that REALLY what you are telling me right now?  How unprofessional can 1 doctors office actually be? I didn’t wait for the answer.

Angela: Exits Stage Left.

As soon as I walked out of that office and decided that I would promptly begin looking for a new doctor.  PS – from the time I arrived at their office to the time I was walking out with the correct RX, it had been 45-minutes.  THAT little realization further pissed me off.

So that was on Monday June 27, 2011.  On Wednesday June 30, 2011 – I get the letter below… FIRING ME.  As of blah, blah I am terminating our patient-physician relationship, blah, blah…

Are you EFFIN kidding me?!  Well… really, this is exactly something that I would expect to happen to me.  But I have to say, that I wanted to tell them to EFF off, not the other way around.  Well played you incompetent excuse for a doctor.  Consider our relationship terminated, bitch.

Except as soon as I said that, they then decided that they would take every bit of the legal 15-days they have to give me, in-hand, a copy of my medical records.  When I called and asked for them, I damn near came unglued.  I ask the girl, who I now think was Amber, if it would be possible for me to run by the same day at the end of the day and get a copy of those records.  She LAUGHED and said and I quote…

Uh, no.  I have far more important things to do, like see and treat patients.  So, mid-weekish when I can maybe get around to it, I will get you taken care of – but not before then.  By law, we have 15 days to give you your medical records, so there is plenty of time.

OMG… if ever I wanted to threaten someone… it would have been RIGHT then.  But then I thought, you really are going to piss off the wrong person one day and I don’t want to be on record or in the middle of a criminal case defending why I said I would burn the place down in a fit of rage whilst being told I was not important to be worth 5-minutes of her time. 

Seriously… I got fired by my PCP.  It wouldn't be the first time I was fired for being right... but lo and behold, it's yet another ridiculous event to add to the list...

i've decided...

The last time I was leaving my yearly “womanly” doctor’s appointment and I thanked my doctor, I decided that by thanking her for her services, that kind act was, for all intents and purposes, the same thing as thanking a prostitute right before I paid her.  I mean, if you strip away all the doctor titles, what’s left is uncomfortably similar.

For some unknown reason, somewhere along the road I started using the phrase – I have the immune system of that of an AIDS patient.  Now, bypass the grossly inconsiderate and crude reference, I decided that using that phrase while you are in your doctor’s office because you are sick, is beyond inappropriate.  It seems to have resulted in an awkward moment of silence right after my doctor uncomfortably laughed, then asked – well have you ever been tested for AIDS?  Dude, yes… and no, I don’t have AIDS.  FINE.  I get it – inappropriate.

Recently, when I was switching my internet / TV services from Dish Network to AT&T Uverse, I was writing down all the shows I record regularly so I could transfer what I record over to my new service.  I decided when I got to #102, I watch FAR too much TV. 

When spotting a police officer on horseback, I’ve decided that NO COP has a sense of humor and slapping the arse of the horse saying giddy-up is not appropriate.  As I later found out, it’s actually never appropriate.  Something about hearing that proclamation while cuffed made this make a WHOLE lot more sense.  Hindsight. 

After doing about 6-months of 3+mile cardio work outs on an elliptical and then believing that because I could do 3+ miles on an elliptical, I should be able to easily run a mile, I decided that it is nothing like actually running a mile.  I also decided that the elliptical is a damn liar.

When you see a grown man dressed up as a pony with a sign hanging around his neck saying – pony ride $1 – and you think it’s a good idea to test that little sign out, I’ve decided one broken ring finger later, it was not worth the $1 it cost.  I also decided that it’s not healthy to feed into EVERY fetish that exists.  I also decided that you should probably be aware that such a thing falls into the fetish category.

When I was planning on going to Mexico and my parents disagreed with my destination choice, they wanted to pray over me and my anticipated travels, I decided that it’s not appropriate to tell your VERY Catholic father not to forget to pray that you are not traded into the Mexican sex-slave trade.  I also decided that no matter how old you get, you’re never too old to catch an unsuspecting back hand.  I also decided I am not as clear of the rules of the Christian ways, because it felt inappropriate to pray over someone that you just smacked the shit out of...

When eating at a restaurant that has a known track record of giving you stomach issues, I’ve decided that no matter how many times you believe you can beat the system, your system will always beats you.  I’ve also decided that you shouldn’t get restaurant choice bold while on a date.  I also decided that there’s a time and a place to play roulette and anywhere outside of a casino, is not the place.

If you have the pleasure of knowing someone that lives on an emotional rollercoaster (which I also lovingly refer to as a Prozac Rollercoaster), I’ve decided that the word rational doesn’t really exist.  I’ve decided that they are going to act a fool and it’s in your best interest to back up and let them take center stage.  I’ve also decided that if you try and share that space with them, you tend to look like the fool, making apologies for things they did like you did them yourself. 

When running a 5K and you are finding your own running pace, I’ve decided that saying the pace of the person in front of you matches your pace well, only to get along side her to realize she’s “about to have a baby right there” pregnant, you might need to actually attend those morning running classes you’ve been skipping out on. 

When taking your car into the shop because the automated speedometer isn’t reading properly, I’ve decided that before you go acting like you need some kind of car maintenance, you might want to check to see if you are looking at MPH v. KPH.  I also decided that if such an instance occurs and you are female, you deserve the “little lady” comment that you will likely get, much like I acceptingly experienced.

When in Mexico and you stupidly decide to go snorkeling, I’ve decided that it’s not in your best interest to sign a contract in regards to your safety that is written in another language.  I decided that the one I signed probably said, and I paraphrase – we’ll TRY and get you back to where we picked you up from / you SHOULD wear a life jacket, but we won’t force you to wear one / if you get tired and need to swim back to the boat, you’ll likely do it alone and we have high hopes that you don’t drown from fatigue.

When going to see a Cirque du Soleil show in Vegas, I’ve decided a few things should and shouldn’t happen.  I’ve decided there’s a reason they don’t serve alcohol during the show.  I’ve also decided that it’s really not a smart idea to tell that rule to eff off and drink to excess before you go into the show.  I’ve also decided that when they say no photography, they mean – no photography.  I also decided that when they confiscate your camera because you WERE taking pictures during the show, when you go to retrieve said camera at the end of the show, if you are still intoxicated, you should act as if you aren’t.  I’ve decided that accusing the Cirque people of breaking your camera and causing a huge scene lands you in cuffs.  Subsequently, I also decided if you are a cute enough girl, you can bribe the arresting officer with a date… a date on a day that you will not be in Vegas any longer.  I’ve decided that really, you should just go right ahead and do all of the above, because there is no real repercussion.  I’ve decided that I learned nothing from my Vegas experience.

You should make up and use words inappropriately.  I’ve decided that it’s humorous.  I also decided that it may not be funny to anyone but you.  Subsequently, I decided that that was more than enough of a valid justification to continue said behavior.  


While going through airport security leaving Las Vegas, I've decided that if you are randomly selected to be patted down by a female security officer, it's not appropriate for you to ask her if that experience is turning her on as much as it's turning you on.  I've also decided that asking that question at the exact moment they are between you and the holy land, might be the wrong time to crack this particular joke.  I've also decided that airport security workers have no sense of humor and can throw around their fake badges to land you in an all out strip search.  I then decided that it was no longer a turn on.  

sobering DUI...?

There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.  Last week, I was questioned by a police officer about my sobriety when I was perfectly sober.  I mean, it’s not my first encounter with the cops, but it was certainly new for me not be intoxicated trying to (what I consider in those moments) cleverly convince them that I am perfectly sober.  Of all the things that will appear on my record, a DUI and/or PI is not one of them.  So, I tend to believe I am pretty damn convincing.  That or I’m an irresistibly cute drunk.  For those of you who know me and/or have drank with me previously – I would like to kindly ask you to stop laughing at my admission of the possibility that I am cute whilst partaking in a beverage or 10. 

ANYHOW… this little extravaganza goes a little something like this.  I was leaving work late and heading over to Amy’s for some delicious dinner.  I mean, let’s face it… short of going home, this is the only way I get home cooked meals.  Traffic wasn’t as bad as I had originally expected and I made it from work to my neighborhood in like 12-minutes.  So I figured I had some time to stop by the corner store in the square and grab muh-self a Diet Dew (Mountain Dew for all of you who are not intoxicated by its fantastically tantalizing green goodness). 

On my way into the store, I notice that there are a lot of people outside just kind of hanging around – more-so than usual.  It wasn’t an alarming situation, really.  Just a bit out of the ordinary, which is why I think I even noticed it in the first place.  There were 2 guys standing next to a red (and I hesitate to use this hyphenated word followed by the 2 that directly follow it for fear of the oxymoronic undertone, but here goes…) supped-up Mini Coop.  Maybe since my alert was heightened due to the atmosphere at the time, but I didn’t think the car belonged to them, I more categorized it as they were admiring it.  Hold on, I mean “admiring” it.  Whatever.  I walk right past, grab my drank (spelled as such intentionally – there are certain Dew rules that must be adhered to – you don’t drink Dew, yah drank it), pay and head towards my car in 30-seconds flat.

As I am walking out, I notice a cop on foot walking in my general direction.  It doesn’t register as anything important, because there is a small Plano Police sub-station in the square, about 100 feet from the corner store.  He’s walking with a purpose and I assume it’s in regards to why all these people are standing around outside.  I get in my car and while I am putting on my seatbelt, there it was.  That “police tap” on my window.  Ohhh, how I am familiar with said tap.  You don’t generally forget the sound that has you run thru this little number in your head before turning to talk to him – oh shit, oh shit, be cool, you’re totally sober, you can do this, oh shit, I should put in a piece of gum, shit I have no gum, shit, well here goes…

I look up and color me less than shocked, the cop is motioning for me to roll down my window.  So I do.  And he says and I’m not kidding – Ma’am, I just received a report that you are severely intoxicated and planning on driving.

Me – Me?

Him – Yes, you.  A woman just pointed you out to me and said you were the one that was drunk in the convenient store.

Me – Me?  

Him – Yes, you.  Have you been drinking today?

Me – No sir, I literally just got off work and this has been my first stop.  I wish I could drink at work!  *giggle* (Yeah, turns out he lost his sense of humor on his 100 foot journey to the side of my car)

Him – This isn’t funny. 

Me – No sir, of course not.

Him – Let me see your driver’s license.

Me – Alright. *dig around, find it, then handed it to him* So someone just pointed me out and said – hey that’s her the drunk girl or what?

Him – That’s exactly what happened.

Me – That’s really perplexing (for some reason I felt like by using the work perplexing and not drunkenly mixing up the letters, would somehow prove my sobriety – it was a strategic move, which I later questioned why I had felt the need to prove I hadn’t been drinking when I actually hadn’t been drinking).  I haven’t had a single thing to drink today.

Him – What business has brought you over here?

Me – Business?  I was only stopping at the corner store to grab a drink and then head home.

Him – Did you purchase beer while you were in there?

Me – Beer?  No.  I just got a soda *I held it up to show him* and I would show you the receipt, except I didn’t get one from the guy.  I never do, tho I am starting to think I should in the future.

Him – So you’re saying you didn’t purchase any beer?

Me – No, I would be more than happy to walk right back in there and you can ask the guy behind the counter.  He knows me.  I come in here all the time.

Him – No, that won’t be necessary.  Did you have an altercation with anyone while you were inside?

Me – Altercation? (Seriously I was in dumbfounded repeat-mode) Uh, no.  I was the only person in there beside the guy who sold me my drink.  I was in there for all of 30-seconds. 

At this point, he’s studying my license intently and has moved around to the back of my car, looking at my license place.  He is bending my license as he walked to the front of my car to check to see that all my stickers were current.  Which BAM they were, but like barely.  He moved back to my driver’s-side window and I just couldn’t help myself, I offered…

Me – I would be more than happy to take a sobriety test.  (Which as SOON as that left my mouth, I thought what if this is the one time I actually fail it, when I am completely sober.  Or maybe he will ask me to do that stupid alphabet bit where you have to do it from C to W.  Which believe me is VERY difficult while drinking… but add in that I am a dyslexic and really my chances drop substantially even when I am perfectly sober.  I actually started to get noticeably nervous.)

Him – That won’t be necessary.  You are not exhibiting any signs of being intoxicated.

Me – That’s because I’m not.

He’s seriously eye-balling me at this point.  This was all new for me.  I was nervous as all get out that I would get my first DUI while completely sober.  Funny, when I was having similar conversations with a cop after I had actually been drinking, I never remember feeling nervous.  Alcohol gives you courage – makes your fearless, is what I decided in that moment.  Too bad I gave all that drinking to excess up a few years ago.  I really think that a beer right then might have calmed me down a bit. 

Like 10-minutes into this conversation some guy comes walking up – one of the guys who had been standing outside oddly.  He tells the cop – Oh no, that’s not the girl… had I known you were talking to her about that, I would have stopped you immediately.  I’m semi-hanging out of my car window and saying things (uncomfortably) like – I really thought I was starting to lose my mind… I was actually getting a little worried.  To which the cop turned around and told me to sit facing forward, don’t talk and don’t move until I tell you to.  WTF?  I’M SOBER. 

At the back of my car, people begin to collect to tell the cop about the real girl who had been drunk.  The one who was driving that Mini Coop.  The one who when I was being interrogated had drunkenly hopped in her car and drove off.  Turns out that the guys were standing near that car because she’d parked it horrifically and had actually had it turned in so far that she’d hit the car in the parking spot next to it.  It was thousands of dollars of damage, but there was some damage nonetheless. 

So I am sitting there and sitting there and sitting there.  Faced forward and not talking.  After about 5 minutes of that, I was like screw this… I’m not gonna stare in front of me when my only crime is my love of a Diet Dew.  So I turned and looked out my window and it was like all-out mayhem.  People are pointing in the direction she drove off and the cop is on his radio trying to locate her.  All the while, this is all happening directly behind my car and I was trapped.  It didn’t even occur to me to call Amy and tell her I was going to be late.  I hadn’t even registered how much time had passed.  I mostly sat there.  Really, really confused.  I wasn’t even mad.  Just totally confused.

A car pulled up behind mine and scattered the people a little.  I saw my window, until I realized that she had stopped to tell the cop that she had been following the Mini Coop and knew where it was.  They were talking for what seemed like an eternity, he radioed something in, they talked more and then he hopped in this chicks car and took off.  The people began to clear and I was able to back out and leave at that point. 

First thing that crossed my mind was – uh, officer… you never told me if I could move.  (Which made me hesitate to leave).  The 2^nd thing was if ever was going to nail another car that was parallel parked behind the corner mart’s parking spots, it would be today.  When the cop sees me, yanks me out of my car and says something like – AH HA!  I KNEW YOU WERE DRUNK. 

10 and 2, check rearview.

I headed home still trying to assess what the hell just happened.  It wasn’t until I got home, changed into some jammies and was walking down to Amy’s place, that I realized I was about 30-45-minutes later than I said I would be.  I walked into her apartment and said my pretty famous phrase of – you’ll never in a million years guess what happened to me just now.  She starts to guess a few things but then I cut her futile attempt off at the quick saying  – Stop guessing… you couldn’t guess this if I gave 20 hints and a premise.

Such is my life.  The one time I thought I was going to jail and I say “one” time I “thought” I was going to jail because any other time, I never “thought” I was going to jail, though it may have ultimately ended there – it was going to be for DUI or a PI when I was completely sober.  Why not?  It would have been just 1 more thing to add to the bottom of the unfortunate list that I have labeled – My Life. 

catching me on the wrong day = humor for me, annoyance for you...

You know, I should take more time to write on here about my ridiculous job and all the ridiculous people I run into on a daily basis.  Maybe I will commit more time to doing just that… but for now, I just thought I would share an email transaction that I had with a candidate last night.  I generally don’t reply like I did to this particular candidate, but catch me on the wrong day and I will be more candid than others!

Take a look into the window of yet another day in the IT Recruiting world…

MY INITIAL EMAIL TO THE POTENTIAL CANDIDATE…

** PLEASE ATTACH AN UPDATED COPY OF YOUR RESUME FOR MY REVIEW **

 

Hey there Mike!

  I came across your resume and I wanted to touch base with you to find out if you were currently on the market.  If you are, I have an open opportunity that might be of interest to you.  I would love the opportunity to speak with you in more detail about your background and the position. 

 

When are you available to speak with me? 

 

Below I have included a job description for your review.  Take a look at the details and let me know what your interest level is in moving forward in their selection process.

 

I look forward to hearing from you and I hope you are having a great day!

 

SQL Architect / SSAS

DETAILS

Location: Plano, TX

Position Type: 2-month Contract

Start Date: May 23, 2011

Hourly/Conversion: BOE!!

 

ABOUT THE PROJECT

GTN Technical Staffing has been retained by one of our most trusted clients to help align them with a Senior SSAS Architect / Cube Design for a 2 month contract in Plano, TX.  Our client is feeling a deep sense of urgency and will begin conducting technical phone screens ASAP.  The project is slated to start by May 23, 2011.  The ideal candidate would have worked on a SQL database at least 1000 GB and has hundreds of tables and up to 2 billion rows of SQL tables.  Ideal cube design experience would have at least 25 cube dimensions, and thousands of lines of MDX.

• Expert level experience in cube design.
• Cube performance tuning and production support experience required.
• Must have strong experience with MDX coding / tuning.
• SQL 2008 development and production support experience.
• Strong ETL Design experience.
• SQL query coding experience.
• Solid skills with ETL production support and SQL performance tuning.

HIS RESPONSE…

My minimum hourly rate requirement is $75 per hour on W2 only, non-negotiable.

Thanks,
Mike

SIDE NOTE: It should be known that any time this is the way a person chooses to send a first email response back like this, this guy is going to be an issue from the very get-go.  Now, the particular skill set that I was looking for is a bit hard to come by, so I was fully prepared to deal with a couple of dbags along the way.  This guy performed as expected.

MY RESPONSE…

Would you be open to a 2-month contract?

-Angela

HIS RESPONSE…

Sure I can do a 2 month contract... but it would depend on the project definition, scope and expectations.  For example, if they are trying to "shrink" a 6 month development project into 2 months... they are setting themselves up for disaster....

Which REALLY?  With all the …?  Could this guy be any more annoying?  The answer is yes.

For example an area of concern so far is the requirement of someone that has written over 1000's of lines of MDX query lines in a cube project. I can assure you, if they are seeking to finish any number of cubes that consist of 1000's of lines of MDX code, the 2 months already sound like an under-estimation.

SSAS Cubes are becoming more and more prominent and not all clients understand their complexity.

So with that said... who is this client so that I begin my research to see if I'd like to get involved with this project. I have my own set of criteria whereby I'm able to discern the benefits of becoming involved with a client's project.

I look forward to your quick reply.

Thanks,

Mike

MY RESPONSE…

I would like to speak with you 1st before sharing the client. I'm also checking on if they can meet your required rate. If they say no, then it's a nonissue anyhow. I should know by tomorrow sometime. 

-Angela

HIS RESPONSE…

Oh I'm sorry but this is one of my requirements as well when deciding on whether or not to deal with certain "recruiters".  When I ask for the client name and a recruiter does not wish to share, I immediately discontinue discussions as this shows inexperience on the part of the recruiter.

Incidentally, there is nothing I can do with their name. I have absolutely no desire to attempt to contact them directly.  Developers like myself simply do not have the time.

I am not interested in pursuing this.

Good luck in your search.
M

ANNNNND Enter his need to end every email with some form of the phrase GOOD LUCK.  Also, he’s now become so informal to no longer use the Thanks, Mike at the end of his email.  We’ve moved to concluding it with 1 single letter – M – like we’re friends.  Ohhhh buddy, we definitely aren’t friends.  And there are a few things in here that were his own personal way of telling me to eff off.  Putting the word recruiter in quotes?  Really?  Could you respect this profession and me any less?  And I am sure my not just emailing him back who the client is without so much as even talking with him via phone, is a clear indication that I am inexperienced, right?  This guy has successfully worked my nerve.

MY RESPONSE…

Well when I'm dealing with "professionals" I expect respect.  My not releasing the client name has nothing to do with a fear that you'll present yourself to the client directly. I have done nothing but share an email transaction with you and that's not good enough to release anything to you. It's like taking a girl on a date and expecting something in return because you paid for dinner. Your response to my request to speak via phone first, is not acceptable in any instance.

-Angela

Now everything about this guy’s reaction to me not behaving in a way he believed fit, said he wasn’t going to respond to this email.  Well color me surprised when he DID in fact reply.  It was clearly well-thought out, and even included a roadmap to my success.

HIS RESPONSE…

Angela,

You'll have better success when you understand that we Business Intelligence Professionals are the ones that drive the show. We are the ones that the client's are seeking, we are the ones that have the skill sets and talents that they need in order to make their business operation run. I receive no less than 20 recruiters contacting me on a daily basis via email and telephone. Depending on the time of year that number can be higher. That is per day. I get calls and emails all day and cannot stop and speak to each and every recruiting company that has what they believe to be a "great lead".

Trust me when I say, I have many high-quality, top-notch, professional recruiting companies at my disposal. I'm not at a loss for prospective projects / positions.  Actually, I have more success on my own finding projects by simply doing a quick search on dice.com or monster.com.  It’s not rocket science what recruiters do.

And so, with that said... please remove my contact information from your files as I do not wish any further contact from your "recruiting" company.

Good luck!

Thanks,
Mike

Ok… first, there’s the GOOD LUCK again.  This was the last time I was letting that nonsense slid without a retort.  But all that aside, this happens to be my personal favorite response.  He’s going to open up this email to me with an insight as to how I can be more successful?  Nice form on the attempted slight against my success.   As for the rest 1^st paragraph, it’s clearly his personal mantra that he recites nightly in the mirror to remind himself just how special he really is.  This guy likes to stroke something and since his ego is well defined, I’ll leave the WHAT is stroked to the imagination. 

Now it should be said, there was a great deal of things that could be said back to this guy.  But any snap reaction would have been exactly what he was looking for.  Meaning if I took it to a personal level and tried to prove how successful I really am or berate him for belittling my industry, that would have been like saying the equivalent of – yeah, well you stink.  That just wasn’t going to happen.  Instead, I found myself calling him a hypocrite right out of the gate and doing so by using his own words.   

MY RESPONSE…

The complete hypocritical nature of your response, is humorous.  First you say you are the one who runs the show because you have all the skill sets while inferring the uselessness of recruiters and then in the next few sentences, you suggest that you have and need recruiters to help you find jobs.  And I wanted to thank you for your advice as to how I can be more successful in my business.  It’s about as relevant to me as my opinion of how you could be a better BI Professional would be to you.  But thanks again for taking the time to write me back with all of your insights.  I certainly needed the chuckle. 

I wouldn’t worry yourself over anyone from our company contacting you in the future.  Your response 2 emails ago resulted in my marking you as unprofessional in our system. 

Good luck stepping around your inflated ego when you’re out there interviewing.

-Angela

It should also be said that I LOVE working for a company who doesn’t care when I reply to dbags like this!  And while I am on funny email transactions, I just remembered another from not that long ago!

Ok, so the back story on this guy is that I had a scheduled call with him and I got locked up in some work that was more mission critical, so I emailed him asking if I could reschedule the call for the next day at the same time ANNNNND enter humor.

MY INITIAL EMAIL TO RESCHEDULE THE CALL…

Hey Farshid!  Can we reschedule for tomorrow same time?

-Angela

And I am not changing any grammar, sentence structure and/or punctuation here.  This is REALLY what I got back.

HIS RESPONSE…

no we can not !!!

if you don't respect your appointment, that means you are not

professional, and i don't want waist my time.

Thanks

Farshid

MY RESPONSE…

Ok Farshid, not a problem. 

 Side note – it’s spelled waste, not waist.

-Angela

HIS RESPONSE…

I'm french, English is not my language,  could you speck french ????!!!!

and I'm a Professional IT engineer, how about you???!!!

Anyway continue as you work!!! I'll send a email to your supervisor!!!

Which, LOL.  Go ahead buddy – knock yourself out!

MY RESPONSE…

I’m not all that worried about you emailing my supervisor.  You’re response and attitude is the opposite of professional.

-Angela

So about 2 seconds after I sent that email back to him, he did the most HI-larious thing.  He didn’t know who my supervisor was, so instead he sent a blanket email to OUR ENTIRE office through one of the job boards (which every person in the office is copied on) and he sent the following email…

Hi there,

I need to talk with a manage or supervisor,

because he (or she) should know with which kind of people works !!!

I don't give up till i have a good response.

Thanks.

Farshid

Know what we did?  Oh and this is just brilliant really – we blocked his email at our sever, preventing any emails to come into our inboxes from that email address.  Now THAT, that made me laugh.  Mostly because he said he wouldn’t give up until he had a good response.  Knock yourself out buddy!  Knock yourself out.  Good times.  Sometimes I imagine him still trying to get in touch with my supervisor so he can tell them about which kind of people works.  LMAO.  

i almost died today and no one was to blame but... me?!

I’m pretty sure I almost died today. Ok, well maybe I wouldn’t have died, but I damn sure would have been really jacked up… like hospital time jacked up. I will preface this little rant by saying that I’m not all that impressed with my ability to handle stressful situations. I mean, in a previous blog when I was in a crisis situation, I decided that BEFORE going to the hospital, I needed to change my clothes. Seriously?! Change my clothes?! Yeah, whatever. I’m going to have to have a chat with my ego – no scratch that… super-ego (apparently I need to go over ego’s head) and get the eff on the same page.

So today, I’m walking in to work from lunch. I’m walking with visitor parking on my left and through traffic can pass on my right. I’m heading towards my office. I first have to pass an area where cars pull in to be able to park in the garage. I didn’t even make it that far. I’m passing a truck on my left that is hanging out of its parking space.

Which quick aside… screw all you guys who INSIST on driving big trucks. They’re gay. They’re even gayer in parking garages. Rant over.

So I’m walking around it, when this red Lexus comes pulling into the garage. Fast. He’s makes a left turn without slowing in the least. He’s approaching me on my left.

3 thoughts went through my head in about 2.3 seconds.
1 – He’s really driving fast for a parking garage.
2 – Surely he’s going to slow down.
3 – Holy shit, he’s going to hit me.

Now, all of this happened very quickly but I know I was trying to make a decision as to what to do. I couldn’t move to my right because there was that effin truck – the bane of my very existence – sitting there. There was no possible way that I would be able to run in front of the fast moving car to the other side so this is what I did…

I bobbled back and forth like a fool doing nothing helpful. The very next thing that happened is the car was so close to me that I hit the hood of his car with my hand and jumped backwards. I’m not sure if it was me hitting his hood with my hand or him looking up from texting to see he was about to hit me, but he stopped... JUST as the front bumper of his car made contact with my knees. Ok, and let me be clear here, where he hit my knees it didn’t hurt. I’m not sure I’ll even have a bruise. The palm of my hand was throbbing, but that was the only thing that was injured in this whole mess.

Ok here’s my first disappointing moment. I’d like to think that if a car was coming at me, I would monkey jump onto the car leaving two big EFF YOU footprints on his hood. Second, I’m really sorry to admit that my reaction to an oncoming car is to lean forward and jump backwards. WTF? Really? So disappointing.

Anyhow as all of this is going on, the building maintenance guy is watching the whole thing happen. He’s a Hispanic guy, which doesn’t really matter but all he was doing was screaming something that was neither Spanish nor English. Upon recollecting the event later, I speculated that he was attempting to translate “Dios Mio” into English but it was coming out in terrified moans. He speaks all of 5 words in English as it is. There were easily 3-4 other people who saw the whole event and were more terrified than I was… which I’m strangely uncomfortable with the fact that I didn’t drop 20lbs of adrenaline and wasn’t mad about him almost killing after the fact.

Anyhow, he stops his car and opens the driver side door to say something… to get out… I’m not sure. I was already walking past his car to continue into the building. He says something like – Oh my God, are you ok? To which I said and without even really looking at him – No, I’m fine, but you really need to slow down in the parking garage. I was already past his car and headed to the maintenance guy who looked absolutely mortified.

After a few more intelligible words, he hugs me and asks me if I am ok. I mean, this guy was noticeably shaken. There I was standing there, not shaken in the least, not upset, not scared… nothing. It was weird. The few other people have gathered around and are all asking me if I am ok – which I was. I mean not a scratch on me. I will say that had that guy waited another 2 seconds to break, I would have been up under the driver side of his car… guaranteed. So I feel like I should have been scared, or upset… or something. But nope. The maintenance guy is asking if he needs to do anything, write a report, anything. To which I just told him that it wasn’t really that big of a deal and I was fine.

NOW… to the douche bag part of this story. So for whatever reason, I didn’t look at the guy who was in the car that almost hit me. I mean, even to this moment and after I had a confrontation with him, I’m doubtful that I could even pick him out of a line up. I could however pick his car out. It looks exactly like my boss’s car except my boss has an Acura. I’ve seen this ass driving recklessly in our garage before.

Anyhow I’m still talking to the maintenance guy when the apparent driver of the car comes down the parking garage stares. I was guessing it was him because he was heading straight for me. I expected something like – Holy Shit! I’m so sorry! Are you ok? – something to that effect. But NO. NO… this guy had started building his defense against my supposed future accusations.

HIM – You shouldn’t have been walking in the middle of the parking garage.
ME – (processing that DUMBASS statement) Excuse me?
HIM – You shouldn’t have been walking in the middle of the parking garage. It’s dark in here and you’re in all black and I didn’t see you. You shouldn’t have done that.

Ok… NOW I’M LIVID PISSED. I wasn’t mad when you almost killed me. I wasn’t mad after I didn’t die. I wasn’t mad at all. I was oddly and eerily calm. But you did NOT just walk up to me and tell me that YOU almost ran ME over because of accusatory 2 false statements.

So in typical Angela-form, I did what I do when I’m making points in a heated email… I bullet it. Except trying to bullet a full-on confrontation wasn’t going to translate. So I numbered this bitch. I had 6 points. I had been disappointed with my reaction to this whole thing starting with my lean forward/jump backwards approach to not getting run over. But #6 on my list… well, it was my proudest moment of the whole damn thing.

ME – Listen here effer (which wasn’t censored in the least when I said it)…
• ONE – I wasn’t in the middle of the parking garage just dicking around not paying attention. If you noticed I was almost pinned between a truck in visitor parking and the front driver side of your car. PLEASE explain to me how that puts me in the middle of the road, because it doesn’t you blind fuck. Not to mention there’s 4 people who SAW YOU ALMOST HIT ME.
• TWO – I’m not in all black. I have a black jacket on, a light grey scarf and JEANS. I’m not in a pitch black jogging suit running in the middle of the night with no reflectors on. Maybe you didn’t see me because you were texting… couldn’t have been that now could it have?
• THREE – I’m pretty sure you were easily going 10-15 mph when you haphazardly pulled into this parking garage. Any idiot with a brain knows to slow down when pulling in here as there are people walking across ALL THE EFFIN TIME to get to the building. YOU HAVE TO CROSS HERE TO GET TO THE BUILDING. How fast were you going… no really, I’ll wait… no screw that, I’m not waiting. You were going WAY too fast and that’s that – I don’t need your confirmation.
• FOUR – Are you seriously trying to say that I am at fault for YOU almost hitting ME with your car? No really… is that what the EFF you are saying to me? Well I suppose you just think that if a train came off the tracks and took out a mother pushing a stroller you’d say, well shit lady, you shouldn’t have been so close to the tracks. (He’s now shaking his head no) No? No, you say? Well that’s about how retarded you sound right now.
• FIVE – (And this was only because I was stuck on our ABOVE GROUND PARKING GARAGE being too dark and me being in all black, I had to circle back to it) AND WTF with it being too dark in here?! Are you effing kidding me with this shit?
• SIX – And just for good measure you retard, I don’t care if I was dancing a jig in the middle of the parking garage if you mowed me over with your car, you dumb dick it would have been your fault. Not mine for doing a ditty in an inappropriate place.

I’m pretty sure I was about to move on to a seventh point, but he cut me off. I was surprised he let me get to six with the tirade that I was on.

HIM – We’ll we’re just lucky it turned out the way it did.

Now, let me just say that this isn’t the first time that someone tried to end a conversation with me in this fashion. The pharmacist at CVS told me one time – Ok, I will do you this favor, this one time. To which I responded to that incompetent prick with – YOU’RE DOING ME A FAVOR?! I think not princess. You improperly filled my prescription, THEN sold me someone else’s prescription, THEN committed insurance fraud, REFUSED to reimburse me what you fraudulently charged me and YOU… YOU’RE doing ME a favor? No, no lady. It is I who is doing YOU a favor by not calling and reporting you to HIPAA. I’m fairly certain that they have some policy about someone fucking something up 12x in one transaction. And I won’t even go into the repercussion of insurance fraud. I think you and I BOTH know what the ramifications of that little doozie are. Eh? Yeah she just stared at me in shock for a moment then I followed that up with – Yeah, you can go ahead and do ME that favor now, princess. I’ll wait… and I’m NOT waiting in line again when you get this shit straightened out. Right? To which all she muttered out was – right. And I didn’t… I went right to the head of the class!

Anyhow, this guy tells me that “WE” were lucky. Yeah, no… that wasn’t going REMOTELY in the least bit fly with me. I mean like not even kinda.

ME – WE aren’t lucky you dick. YOU ARE for not killing me. If I was dead, I wouldn’t care. I’d be dead. And you’d get to live with that for the rest of your life. Even if I didn’t die, I might be jacked up and in the hospital but I would have taken you for every single dollar you were worth. So I’m not the lucky one, partner. You are. Remember that for the future… and try not to blame your future victims for your irresponsible and negligent behavior.

At that point, he muttered something and then walked off and into the building.

So, aside from this guy being a total douche and trying to blame me, I wasn’t mad about the situation at all. I oddly don’t remember being scared at all either. Even after the 4 people who saw it were all clamoring around me with absolute terror and fear painted on their faces. I remember thinking that I should be reacting… or having a “holy shit, I’m merely a mortal” moment. It never happened.

I walked into my office and told a few people that were standing around what had happened and even then the only part that riled me up in the least and caused any kind of emotion was this guy walking all the way over to me to blame me. He didn’t even ask if I was ok again or say he was sorry. That shit just pisses me off… I mean badly.

I’ve been waiting all day for my – oh shit – moment. I don’t think it’s coming. I find that a bit odd… I don’t know. I’m not very pleased with my minds coping mechanisms. And I think what I have successfully proven is a pattern of inappropriate reactions in stressful situations, you don’t want me ANYWHERE near one that someone else could be involved in. I’m useless.

But, I can bitch a person out afterwards in a numbered fashion. It’s one of my finer points, I’d say.

bathroom attendants are the bane of my very existence…

Let’s just start out by stating the damn obvious. What the hell do I need someone in the bathroom for squirting soap into my hands and handing me a paper towel afterwards. This is quite simply a task that I learned at 2 years old when being appropriately potty trained. Furthermore, these attendants expect me to pay them for a task that even a kindergartner knows the appropriate cause of action. I mean, I’m already at a bar paying for over-priced drinks to start, the last stressor that I need right behind a growing bar tab is to have to pay to pee. I would think that since it’s mandatory for said establishments to provide me with a place to excrete, that I shouldn’t feel obligated to then pay for the pleasure of peeing.

And I have yet to come across an attendant that actually does what I would validate paying a person for a job as such. I mean, how many times are the bathroom stalls out of toilet paper? How many times are they just as dirty as they would be had there been no useless body in there pointing at a tip jar for their “services” rendered? Who the hell needs a sprits of some 2nd rate perfume before returning to a smoke-filled bar? Gum…maybe? Put in an effin dispenser already. Problem solved. Anything else that these attendants offer in there is 100% useless. Period.

Let’s talk about the scam that is the bathroom attendant.

ONE – who the hell carries money into the bathroom? Even if I did take my purse in there – I like 99.9% of the rest of the population function paperless, i.e. credit card-centric. Where’s the place to swipe my card should you even make me feel guilty enough to actually give you a damn thing? What cash only? Well sounds to me like you are shit-out-of-luck, sucker.

TWO – They conveniently remove all the soap from their ordinary dispensers making it impossible for me to refuse the soap they are trying to shove into my hand. Let me tell you a little secret… I don’t feel compelled to pay you when you remove my choice to pay you for a service that I don’t friggin need.

THREE – They remove all access to paper towels, except of course for the one roll that the attendant unrolls to hand to you. Shit, I will pat those suckers dry on the back of my jeans and be on my way. When you decline said pre-torn towel it’s accompanied by a scowl. I really just want to ask one of these people who THEY would pay for the exact same service.

FOUR – They ALL remove the tips from the jars as soon as someone puts them in there. This gives the illusion that they have made no money for the evening further initiating your quilt mechanism until you find yourself seeking out a dollar from your table of friends before returning to the bathroom just so you have something to put in there sans the nasty stink eye that is inevitable.

FIFTH – You’re at a bar. You’re drinking. I know me and when I’m at a bar and drinking, I’m in the bathroom 45x. Now, if I were to pay to pee every time I go in there – I’m into my bathroom habit for at a max of $45 and if I decide to pull a pay every other time $23. This could at times far outweigh the actual bar tab. Screw a bunch of that.

Now, I might even concede that if I am at a 5-star restaurant that I might demand a bathroom attendant present. I think the quality of service should directly correlate back to the type of establishment you are in. This is not to say that I expect shitty service at a hole-in-the-wall bar, but let’s face it… that’s exactly what you get. I’m also paying $1 per jello shot, $3 for a pitcher of beer and using a restroom that smells like the septic tank is a month over-due for a changing. I do not however, expect to see a bathroom attendant in a mid-level bar on your average bar strip.

This expectation leads me directly to my personal bathroom attendant experience this past Friday night.

Fine, I was in Uptown. A nicer area to be finding a bar to enjoy for the evening, but certainly not nice enough to have a bathroom attendant making me feel guilty about using the bathroom every 5 minutes.

We were at a bar call Cretias on McKinney Ave in Uptown. This place is nothing special, I will outright admit from the get-go. When I walked in, I needed to use the bathroom before I even got started on my bar tab. I was immediately put off by the fact that they had the bathroom door propped open with a bar chair. Awesome, I get to pee while still feeling like I am on the bar floor with pounding music at maximum capacity while I try to calm bladder down enough to get on the same page with me. Furthermore, the positioning of the bathrooms coupled with the doors being held wide open, really made me feel like anyone in the bar could see through the cracks in the stall door to get an idea, at the very least, of what was going on in there. None of this makes a bashful bladder act appropriately.

After inveigling my bladder to man up, I then have to leave the stall to find a bathroom attendant standing there. Well shit, awesome. She’s this tiny Hispanic woman who clearly had Spanish as a 1st language (and I determined later, her only language) standing there waiting on little old me. Well shit, awesome. Sigh. I need to give the illusion that I am a clean person so I walk over and turn on the water. Before I can even refuse the soap she is holding, she has squirted about 45 dabs of soap in my hand. Good lord… it was like trying to get shampoo out of my hair in a soft water shower… AKA impossible. While I am trying to get it all off, she begins rushing me… in Spanish of course, because there’s a girl at the other sink needing soap and I am cutting into her routine. Well shit… ok, bitch, give me a second here. Then I say to her that I don’t need the towel and begin to wipe if off on my jeans when she shoves… I repeat – SHOVES – the towel in my hand. Well shit. Do I friggin owe you money now? I have none on me… good lord. So I manage something like – I don’t have any cash, maybe next time. Then I bail out of there. Fortunately, on that trip, there was a line and she didn’t have the time to give me her sob story – in a completely different language. Whew… dodged that one.

The next time I had to go to the bathroom, I held it until the point of potential hospitalization. I was dreading having to go back in there and face her. I still didn’t have a single dime of actual cash on me, so this was going to be interesting.

I go in and quickly make it into a stall without her really noticing me as she was dealing with other girls at that point. Maybe I should have waited because I picked the stall with no toilet paper in it. Well shit, awesome. I tap the girls foot in the stall next to me and ask for some TP. She obliges. It was in that moment that I had decided that this bathroom attendant hadn’t done her job. And if you aren’t going to do your job, you don’t get a tip. Which worked out well, because I didn’t bring any cash. I wash my hands and TRY to decline the soap to use the dispenser on the wall. Shoulda known… empty. As I am dejectedly returning my hands under the hottest water I could get, she shoves 45 squirts of soap into my hand. Son of a BITCH… you quick senorita, you friggin got me. At that point, I just accepted the towel she’d torn for me and quickly walked out of the bathroom. She said something to me harshly in Spanish. I really didn’t care, because I had no idea what she’d said in the first place. What I did understand and what she DID say in PERFECT English was – TIP?! As she pointed to the tip jar while she had managed to grab me by the forearm. And I just said – I can’t hear you and I need to go. Then I walked out.

Good lord. Now I’m absolutely dreading having to pee. I mean, it’s becoming an issue of can I hold it the rest of the time I am here and pop-a-squat at that dumpster area I saw when we were walking up to the bar at the beginning of the night. Real lady-like I know… but peeing was starting to stress me out. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And really, let’s face it… I’m not all that lady-like to start.

Enter my need to be #3. This time, to avoid the whole uncomfortable situation, I beg borrow and steal for a 1-dollar bill. Which as I am doing this, I am pissed that I am. Regardless, bathroom trip #3 went smoothly. It’s like she had no idea that she’d blatantly asked me for a tip the last time coupled with her violating my personal space bubble by actually touching me. Which, that whole little scenario seems quite bathroom attendant unprofessional. She had everything available to you in that bathroom, except a comment card box. Real Convenient. REAL EFFIN CONVENIENT. And kinda clever. Don’t mistake that last comment about cleverness with respect for said “oversight”.

It was trip #4 to the bathroom that really put me over the edge. See, by now all the girls in my group were so annoyed with this bathroom attendant not only being there in the 1st place but now demanding a tip VERBALLY from anyone who washed their hands. We all agreed that while our next plan was slightly disgusting, it was hard to argue the validity of it all. We decided, if we don’t wash our hands, we don’t owe her anything.

Now let’s just talk about the logistics of what this little plan meant. I was purposefully and with premeditated foresight actually agreeing to be a dirty effin bastard. Trouble was, I saw this solution as more acceptable than being bullied by a 4’5 Hispanic woman who was becoming increasing more aggressive every time someone wasn’t tipping her – i.e. me.

Well, I couldn’t wait much longer after making the –no hand washing pact – to actually have to cash in on bathroom trip #4. So off I go. I sneak into a stall past the attendants gaze. I didn’t however properly plan. By the time I was done using the bathroom and redressing, I was the only one in the bathroom. Well shit. I’m not trying to be blatantly obvious that I am not washing my hands, so shit. This resulted in me waiting for a couple other girls to come in, use the bathroom and exit the stall – kinda in a pack so I could scoot out, unnoticed.

QUICK ASIDE – The other 2 stalls in the bathroom were now housing anywhere between 2-3 girls in each stall. You know how us girls do… all go to the bathroom at once then cramming all into 1 stall at once. Now let’s just say there were 3 girls in 1 stall and 2 in the other. This meant I would have to hang out, now for an uncomfortable amount of time in my stall (with just me in it) and wait for 5 girls to pee while gabbing incessantly and even taking a phone call or 2 to tell whoever was on the other end of the dbag in the bar that night. At this point, I was sitting on the toilet, pants complete up, with my head resting on my hands of which my arms that were resting on my knees. REALLY? OVER A FRIGGIN PISS TIP. Too far I say… TOO DAMN FAR.

After what felt like 10years, both stall doors open and the gals poor on out. Score. Here’s my chance. So I wait 2-3 seconds after they are all clamoring around the only 2 sinks in the bathroom and I exit thinking I am about to make my great escape. But no, no. The bathroom attendant spots me right off. I say – Oh no that’s fine, I’m not going to wash my hands. 10-eyes of pretentiously judgmental Uptown girls all meet me eyes as I am backing out of the bathroom in total and complete retreat. Dude, fine… I’m nasty. Whatever. I’m pretty sure you all just pee’d into the same toilet as one another without flushing you dirty bastards. So you know what… wash those hands, but I don’t see a bidet in here so who’s going to wash your nasty asses?!

I couldn’t even formulate that really rather ingenious comeback when the Hispanic woman started angrily yelling at me in Spanish. And I mean angrily. She had her finger pointed and had taken 2 (small as her stride was no competition for my own) steps towards me. Now where I come from when you point a finger as you are making a forward progression coupled with hateful angry words… thems is fighting words. I quickly evaluated that not only would I be charging up an older lady but that if I did in fact hurt her, she’d totally use the whole – hate crime – bit on me. Add that to the fact that she’d claim she was elderly, though she wasn’t that I could tell – and I woulda been screwed. So instead I backed out of the bathroom saying I don’t want to wash my hands thanks. I then found myself at a hurried pace making it back to my table of friends. I ½ way thought she was going to follow me out of there and make an announcement to the whole bar in perfect English that I hadn’t washed my hands. Then I would have to take the chance of a hate crime and beat the shit out of her. Didn’t happen, but it could have.

Bathroom experience #5 was going to be different. I was going to walk in stating my objectives. You know, get them in the open right from the get. I walk in and say – I won’t be washing my hands so please don’t yell at me in a foreign language and point to your tip jar and demand I tip you for a bodily function. She pointed to an open stall for me to use and I chose the one she didn’t point to so as to say – hey eff off, I can pick my own damn stall. Then when I came out, this crazy ass met me at the door and squirted soap in my hand before I’d even fully exited the stall. Alright abuela, 2 can play at this. I waited for her to set the soap down and she turned around and with palm up was attempting to guide me to the sink to wash this soap off. Yeah, well that open palm was calling to me. Without thinking I wiped the soap she’d put in my hand back on hers and I said – tip yourself. I didn’t hang around to see the aftermath – I literally ran out. Like a good old ding-dong-ditch back in the day.

By this time it was approaching 1:30am and honestly the stress of having to mastermind several different bathroom escape plans had finally made its mark on me. I couldn’t handle a 6th episode. And while I had the pee leg-shake going (AKA the pee dance)… I conceded that I would be able to make the 30-minute drive home. Well make the effort, anyhow. I made it, but my bladder damn near burst. I sure showed her. Eat shit angry bitter Hispanic bitch.

I just feel like the bottom line here is… that I should not have to be that calculating and/or stressed when doing something that my mere biological make-up dictates I should. And I certainly feel that it’s absolutely absurd to have to pay for such a task. Sure you can mask it by saying that I am paying for the soap and towel. But to you I say – AGAIN THE RESTAURANT LEGALLY HAS TO SUPPLY THOSE THINGS TO THEIR GUESTS AT NO ADDITIONAL CHARGE. You stick a body in there and boom, I owe you to pee.

From now on I’m gonna bring latex gloves and pop those bitches on all surgical-style… but not until I get into the bathroom. I really want her to know I mean business. Then when I walk out, I say – didn’t touch a thing in there. I owe you shit and I’m not a dirty bastard. OR maybe I will go into the stall and put them on quietly. Then when I come out and she goes to aggressively put soap on my latex-ed palm, I’ll have some clever line like – You thought you had me… but I remember who you are and now I bet you won’t forget who I am.

I’ll leave this blog with this… Casey (a guy friend of mine) and on the topic of bathroom attendants said (while I was reliving my traumatic experiences of that night) – You know, if they put a hot young scantily clad dressed chick in the men’s bathroom as the bathroom attendant, the flu would be eradicated within 5-years. HAHAHA! My response was put a hot dude in the women’s bathroom and he’d likely be as angry as the Hispanic woman demanding tips from the chicks. The only way a hot dude as a bathroom attendant in the chick’s bathroom is in cougar central – i.e. Sambuca @ the Shops of Legacy.

I hate with a passion… the mere concept of bathroom attendants… especially the pushy ones. C’mon now. For shits sake, you work in a bathroom… just be happy with the fact you have a job. Unemployment in Texas went up a whole point in 1 week, you fortunate ungrateful bitch.

-Rant over.