Text exchange with Alpha Geek:
Me: Gyroscopes are cool.
He: Best 1920s technology evah!
Jan 272012
Jan 262012
I seem to have gotten a reputation for being the computer geek. For several months now, if someone has a computer-related problem, they come ask me.
I don’t know why; I never claimed to be an expert, and half the time I don’t know the answer, either. But I’m happy to do what I can.
Now my apparent expertise seems to be expanding to include legal matters. This afternoon one of the other ladies came over to me to ask about a problem with one of her clients. A company was making monthly debits from their checking account that they hadn’t authorized—probably one of those barely-legit schemes that calls you up to “verify your information” to sign you up for something, who talked to one of the non-English-speaking employees who didn’t really understand what they were agreeing to.
They tried to call the merchant to cancel it, but couldn’t reach them. They told the bank the charges weren’t authorized, but the bank kept allowing them. It’s been going on for months.
“They shouldn’t be able to do that, should they?” asked my co-worker. “But the bank won’t do anything.”
I told her they should call the state attorney general. That’s what I’d try at this point if it were happening to my bank account; if the AG is the wrong place to call, they could at least tell me the right place. Hell, it’s not like I have any special legal knowledge.
I think I’ve figured out why they’re coming to me with questions. I often don’t know the answer, but I’m usually pretty good at figuring out where to go for the answer. So someone comes and asks me something, I don’t know either, but between the two of us we can find out. So we all get smarter together. Yay!
Stupid Period
General
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Jan 132012
(TMI warning. Squeamish males may want to hit the pageback button now.)
My monthly courses tend to follow a pattern. A day or two of anemic flow, a day when my uterus attempts to eject itself from my body, and another day or two of anemic flow. During that middle one, I carry half a dozen maxipads with me to work. Usually that’s enough.
Yesterday was the main event, periodically speaking. The cramps, the clots, the constant abdominal ache, the period shits. Yeah, guys (if you’re still reading), this is why we get cranky.
Last night I went to bed wearing a tampon and a maxipad. When I woke up the bed still looked like a scene from Hostel. Dammit. I’m not a fan of getting older, but I sure won’t miss this crap.
Just to add to my fun, the vent hose to the dryer has come loose. I don’t know who designs these things, but the screw I need to tighten to clamp it back down is under an overhang with three inches of clearance. My screwdriver is seven or eight inches long. Who the hell designs these things?!
Still Employed
General
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Jan 102012
I started this job in July. Since then, there have been three new hires and five (maybe six) firings. The hiring strategy here seems to be of the “throw shit at the wall and see what sticks” variety.
The latest layoff was this week, when the only other male in the office besides the boss was laid off. Now we have a staff of nine, all female. I wonder how long it will be before we’re all having our periods at the same time. I bet once that syncs up the boss will start calling in sick that week.
Today I got cc’d on an e-mail the boss sent to our payroll department. Seems I’ll be getting a dollar more an hour starting next pay period. Woot! I guess this means I’ve survived the layoff tsunami.
Happy New Year!
General
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Jan 012012
Hope you’re all starting this one off well—especially since it’s apparently going to be our last!
Tossing Junk
General
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Dec 182011
My long-term dejunking project has moved into the kitchen. One cabinet at a time, I’m dragging everything out, scrubbing down the woodwork, and getting rid of the stuff I don’t ever use. Half the shit is going to the local thrift store; I’ve never liked cooking and have no idea how I wound up with some of this shit:
- A turkey baster. Never used it.
- Two (2) candy thermometers. At one point I thought I might like to make homemade lollipops or truffles. Then I found out how much work is involved.
- Two (2) melon ballers. Never used. I don’t know where they came from.
- Rolling pin. I think I may have used it a few times attempting to make biscuits, which always came out like floury hockey pucks.
- Biscuit cutters. The biscuits were hopeless.
- Cookie cutters. Why do I have cookie cutters? If I ever made cookies, they were just the drop-off-a-teaspoon variety.
There’s a bunch of other shit that’s going out. The cabinets are a lot less crowded.
The Artist is following along behind me putting down new shelf paper. He does it much more neatly than I would, carefully trimming it to fit and cutting notches to go snugly around corner supports and protrusions.
I love dumping all this shit I never use. I have room to keep the stuff I have left tidy, so I can actually find it. Later today we’re going to tackle the pantry.
The Stupid, It Burns
General
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Dec 172011
Friday, we got the 2012 DVD from Netflix. I rented it for The Artist, who loves stupid disaster movies. I think his favorite part is the commentary from his parents.
2012 Scientist: Temperatures are rising with incredible velocity across the globe!
Me: Temperature doesn’t have velocity!
Alpha Geek: No, no. You can’t be this outraged already, the stupidity level is only about a five. You have to tone it down so you’ll have room left for the real stupidity.
I’m so glad I didn’t pay ten bucks a head to see that movie.
Nov 272011
One morning last week I came in to work and found a couple of documents on my desk. There was a post-it note from the boss atop them, saying he needed them signed for his attorney or somesuch.
One of them was a standard nondisclosure agreement. Nothing unexpected or concerning there; I work with private financial information and it’s perfectly reasonable to have me sign an agreement not to share that information around.
The other one was a non-compete agreement. I’ve never seen one, so I don’t know if it was standard or not, but it did concern me. For one thing, I’ve been doing some volunteer bookkeeping for a local nonprofit—nothing fancy, just helping them reconcile their bank accounts after they got a few months behind. But technically, under the terms of this agreement, I would not be able to do that any more. For another thing, it contained a clause about how I wasn’t to work in the field for [months/years] after my employment at this job ends. Unless this job offers some kind of severance deal to support me during those months/years, I’m going to need to find another one, and since our boss doesn’t even like us working overtime because of the cost, I’m pretty sure there’s no severance package.
But that part where it said [months/years]: that’s actually what it said. Whoever had printed out the non-compete template had neglected to replace “[months/years]” with a specific time frame. So I took that as an easy way out; I signed the nondisclosure agreement, then returned both to my boss and told him I hadn’t signed the non-compete because of the spot where it hadn’t been completed. I was kind of hoping that it would fall through the cracks and never be mentioned again, because I don’t think I’m willing to sign a document that prohibits me from earning a living.
At the time, I assumed I was the only one who’d gotten the papers to sign, because I’m the newest one there.
Just before we all left for the holiday break, two other co-workers snagged me on the way out to ask me if I’d gotten some papers to sign.
I said, “You mean the nondisclosure and non-compete agreements? Yeah, I signed the nondisclosure, but the non-compete one didn’t specify a time period so I didn’t sign that one.”
“Good,” said the other co-worker. “Good to know. Thanks!”
Apparently I’m not the only one who got them, and not the only one who was concerned. I didn’t mean to be seditious, really I didn’t…
In the Kitchen
General
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Nov 192011
Me: Why do I have a bottle of shampoo under the sink?
He: I don’t know why you do the things you do.
Me: I’m sure I had a reason.
He: I’m not.
Workin for a Livin
Accounting Stuff, General
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Nov 112011
It’s nice to finally be on a career track. This spring I’m going to take a certified bookkeeper course at the local community college; by the time I’ve finished the course and taken the exams, I’ll have the two years’ work experience that is the other requirement. Maybe at some point I’ll go for a CPA—but to me, CPA means “really knows her shit,” and I’d like to feel a lot more confident that I do, in fact, really know my shit before going that route.
And at some point I’ll probably want a different job. I like my job now, and I really like the people I work with, but I’m really only working with one small aspect of the accounts. I’d like to keep the books for just one organization, and work with everything. When I was working for the church, I was doing receivables, payables, payroll, taxes, as well as all the filing, helping with the newsletter, keeping track of who signed up for their weekly supper, and so on. I really enjoyed it, and I’d like to eventually get back to something like that.
I’d especially like to work for a non-profit; between the training seminar and the research I did on my own while working for the church, I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on making the best use of Quickbooks in a nonprofit environment. And as long as I’m daydreaming, I’d like to work in a place that didn’t have a bookkeeper, or had one that wasn’t doing a very good job, so I can come in and straighten everything out and be the hero for once.
Maybe someday.
I Have the Office to Myself Again
General
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Oct 312011
Friday afternoon, my supervisor drew me aside and asked me to take off ten or fifteen minutes early. She said she’d clock me out at five o’clock.
I said, “Sure, no problem.”
I didn’t ask why, but I immediately suspected. Because the only reasons I could think of would be that there was a problem with my performance, or that they were planning to fire my office mate and wanted me gone to make it slightly less awkward for all involved. And I know from experience that if there’s a problem with my performance, my supervisor will let me know about it. So as soon as she asked me to leave a little early, I concluded my office mate would not be there on Monday.
I was right, she wasn’t there this morning. Apparently there have been some problems with her performance, which the boss gave her opportunities to remedy—just like he gave me, with my noobie mistakes. Except hers didn’t improve, and they let her go.
I’m going to miss her, because we got along really well. I’m not sure how to feel about it beyond that. This is the fourth person who’s been fired since I started working there, and three of them were hired after I was. So I don’t know if I should feel reasonably secure that I’ve made the cut, or worried that there seems to be a high churn rate.
My supervisor has said that I’m doing fine, so I lean towards the former. Still, it’s a bit unsettling.
Damn Scammers
Breeder's Corner, General
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Oct 252011
The Artist has been looking for a job. Of course, he’s having little luck—he’s hunting for a first job in a depressingly competitive market.
So you can understand his excitement yesterday when he finally got a response to one of his e-mail applications. When I got home from work, he announced “I have an interview!”
“Awesome!” I high-fived him. “When is it?”
“Dunno yet, I just have to do this screening thing.”
My Mom radar went off. “What screening thing?”
So he showed me the e-mail. Turns out it was one of those scams where you apply for a job, and the scammer then tells you to go to their web site to fill out another form or “application” or some such. The site itself was some random name that included the word “Recruiters,” asked a bunch of vague, non-specific questions, and was registered in Nassau.
So we had to break the news to the kid that he didn’t have a job prospect after all. We passed along the advice that if you send in an application and the “employer” then wants you to fill out something on their web site, most of the time it’s just a scammer trolling for info.
Welcome to the world of job hunting, kid.
Early Voting
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Oct 092011
Elections are coming round in our area. The long-incumbent mayor is stepping down, leaving a number of candidates hopeful that they might actually have a shot at the job now. We’re also voting for members of the city council, and several bond issues.
Friday I went around to one of the early voting locations to put in my two cents.
Usually voting locations forbid campaigning within a certain distance of the site. Apparently that wasn’t the rule here; I had to run a gauntlet of candidates who wanted to introduce themselves, shake my hand, hand me literature. Many of them were running for city council in districts for which I wouldn’t even be voting. I extricated myself as politely as I knew how and finally made it to the voting place. I was asked to turn off my cell phone before entering. On my way out, I tossed all my collected leaflets into the recycling bin set out for that purpose.
I am left wondering two things:
One: Why did they want me to turn my cell phone off? Were they afraid I was going to cheat on the voting test?
Two: Is there a point to campaigning on the very doorstep of the voting site? Hasn’t everyone already decided who they’re voting for by the time they arrive?
Footprints
General
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Oct 052011
Holes in My Husband
General
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Sep 232011
So part of the aftercare from the surgery was for me to change the dressings. One was just a simple gauze-and-tape affair. The other is a hole in his lower belly that came open after the surgery; it’s big enough that I could put a marble into it (if I were so inclined). That one involves something called a wet-to-dry pack, where I moisten some gauze with sterile saline solution, pack it into the hole, then cover the hole with dry gauze and tape over the whole thing. Apparently the dry gauze then slowly draws the moisture out of the wet gauze, then when you pull out the now-dry gauze it helps clean out the wound.
As a person who has always been interested in biology, I found it fascinating. The hole doesn’t bleed, it’s just… a hole. In his abdomen.
As a person who is married to the patient, I want the hole to heal up right the fuck now.
Besides, he won’t let me post pictures.
Sep 052011
So I’m switching Marchesa to Blue Wilderness, a dry cat food that has no grains. My health has noticeably improved since I cut grains out of my diet, and I figured if grains are bad for a primate like myself, they can’t be any good for an obligate carnivore.
The last time I tried to change her cat food, I was stupid and just started putting down the new stuff instead of the old stuff. It was even the same brand of cat food, I’d just gotten the fish flavor instead of the chicken. Phurball used to love fish flavor.
She wouldn’t touch it. She barely touched any food for two days, at which point I bought some of her old chicken-flavored food and gave the entire bag of fish-flavored food to the shelter where we’d gotten her.
This time, I planned to be smart about it. I started mixing in a little of the Blue Wilderness with her regular food, so she would get used to the smell and appearance of it. The plan was to increase the ratio until I ran out of the old food.
Apparently she likes the Blue Wilderness. She’s been carefully picking out the nuggets of the new food and eating it all first. Then she comes and tells me she’s out of food. Then an hour later she goes back and reluctantly finishes off the food that’s still in her dish.
Cats. They’re as bad as toddlers.
Mistaken Identity
General, I Love My Car
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Sep 022011
(Background in case you’re just tuning in: Alpha Geek and I both drive Honda Fits. We purchased them two years apart; other than their color, the cars are virtually identical.)
This morning The Director missed the bus, so I drove him to school. Alpha Geek’s car was parked behind mine in the driveway, so I just took his car.
As we were buckling in, I said, “Now let’s see if I can remember how to drive Daddy’s car.”
My son laughed. “It’s exactly like yours.”
As we were driving to school, he remembered that he needs a note for the days he was absent earlier this week. School policy is that such notes must be turned in within two days of coming back to school—i.e., today. He had paper in his backpack, but no pencil.*
“I have a pen in my glovebox,” I told him, pulling in to the drop-off-the-kid line.
He opened the glove compartment, which to my surprise was filled with stuff: paper, glasses case, who knows what.
“What is all—” I began, then facepalmed. “That’s not my glovebox.”
We wound up parking so I could go to the office and borrow a pen.
*Which I will need to ask him about when he gets home—how does one go to school without a pencil?
Getting used to working full-time again. For the first few weeks I didn’t have much energy to do anything at the end of the day. These days I still have enough gas to do things after I get home. You know, things other than flop on the couch.
This afternoon a co-worker told me a client on line 2 needed to talk to me about an account I’d been working on. I picked up line 2 and someone started talking to me in Spanish. To my “¿Habla Inglés?” she answered “No.” I have no idea why my co-worker sent her to me, as she knows I don’t speak Spanish. (Yet.)
Our area was just far enough west to avoid real damage from Irene. Our neighboring county to the east was washed out; sections of the north-south I95 were flooded for a while. The outer banks are in even worse shape.
This week I weighed in at 139. Finally broke 140; I haven’t been less than that since my first pregnancy.
My new office mate is payroll certified. This makes me jealous and insecure, because I am not. OTOH we get along like gangbusters and she doesn’t mind showing me everything if I ask her about what she’s doing.
That’s all for now. Going to bed, because I get up at the ass crack of dawn these days.
