CSI Bellevue

When I was about 22, I was engaged to the man known today as bachelor #1.

Bachelor #1 had made some really bad decisions in his life; which lead him to, among other embarrassing consequences, living with his brother and family.  This really put a cramp in our plans for getting busy.  (Unfortunately, I hadn’t caught on to the loser status just yet….we were together just a little bit longer)

I picked him up for a conjugal visit; and he suggested we find a nice dark parking lot to get our grove on.  I was young…what the hell.

Just behind a community fruit stand the ol Sundance started rockin.  3 minutes later (Ha Ha Ha Ha) we tie off the glove, tossed it out the window and headed off to our favorite dive on Rainier Avenue.

When I told the story of my adventure with my friend Blaire, her eyes almost fell out of her skull.  You see, Blaire was the most inconsistently paranoid person on the planet.  She wondered if I was concerned about them testing it for DNA.  Surely they are going to find out it was me…wasn’t I worried about the penalty?!?  This coming from the person who was caught having sex in the men’s bathroom and got us kicked out of Azteca!

But it worked!  I was freaked out.  At 2 am, I swooped her up and he headed to the fruit stand with flashlights. We needed to find it before they do and send it to the crime lab.

God I miss her…..and my 20’s.

Little Friskers

Back in the day….and I know that times have changed…the Blue Birds went door-to-door spreading the joy of mints and Almond Roca all over town.  We tracked which streets and houses we have already covered and managed to ask everyone who owned a home in our zip code.  One year I even earned the stuffed seal that I had had my sights set on.  It was a huge fucking deal!

When the neighbor girl and I set out with our red wagon full of boxes, her mother wondered if my mom was worried about strangers kidnapping us.  Mom explained to her that she was confident if I was taken…I would be returned shortly.  Yeah…. I was THAT child 😉

I believe it is because of stranger danger, that parents now days have chosen a more captive audience approach.   Not only does it give them maximum exposure, all moms and dads have to do is deliver the angels to every entry point of any grocery and drug store in a 5-mile radius of their home and do surveillance from the car.  They also tape an order form to the breakroom table and hope they sell themselves.

It is so frustrating!   They ask you both on your way in and on your way out if you wanna pick up a box of diabetes.  They climb on the carts, gather in a gaggle you have to navigate to get out of the store and hang out in a group because they get to see each other on a weekend and not in school.  They are not learning math, how to give change or able to tell you what the money that is raised will be used for.  They don’t offer you the opportunity to send the treats to our service men and women as an option to your “No thank you”.  They really aren’t doing anything.

If my sister is reading this…I am not talking about mini.  We all know she is perfect and that you are right beside her teaching her to be outgoing, respectful and engaged.  She dresses up as a cookie, she dances on the side of the road to get attention and she takes orders from her family and friends on her own.

I just wish she oversaw teaching the rest of them how to do it correctly.

Ms. Manners

When my mom used to man the office at our elementary school, she ran a tight ship.  Anytime a student would come to her and make ANY request; if it didn’t have “please” at the end, the answer would be NO.  Band aid, ice packs, a phone call to their parents or 911…didn’t matter.  You would bleed to death if you forgot your manners.

In high school, she answered the phone at home with a “Hi! How are you?”  if you even thought of not answering that questions, before stating the reason for your call…she wrapped right back around to the “Hi! How are you?”.    Our friends learned quickly.

Today, when the HMFIC’s appointment arrived; I greeted him like my mom would have.

Me: “Hi! How are you?”

Him: “I have an appointment with Bill.”

Me: “Hi! How are you?”

Him: “I am fine.”

Me: “glad to hear; and your name is?”

The days of waltzing through the front door like you are doing me a favor is over. There is a new Sheriff in town; and she learned from the best 😉

Under the Gun

We made some new friends at restaurant a couple of months back.  They were so nice and we had such a great time; we were looking forward to hanging out with them again.

We penciled a get together on the calendar and then like that dam in California plans flooded the month.  It began to look like there wouldn’t be any reason to pay rent; because we were never going to be home.  I don’t like it when things get that busy so with as much warning and honesty as possible, I cancelled a few things.  This freed up time for things like grocery shopping, laundry and sleep.

What is so great about my friends is they know me.  They flip me shit…but they understand.  As I shared earlier, we just met this couple; and apparently they are not quite as flexible.  I mean, in the reply to the cancellation, they did share that they appreciated the heads up, it was all good and they wondered about a re-schedule.  I committed to taking a look at the calendar and getting back to them.

CLICK!  And just like that the timer started.  Where this timer is, how much time it has on it or what will happen to you if time runs out…..I have no fucking clue.  But it exists because I got a follow up email yesterday.  It read:

Still hoping to get together with two of you.

No apologies. It’s all good.  We all get busy.

Just wanted to pencil something on the calendar 🙂

First, I hate that ugly emoji.  And second, APOLOGIES?  What the fuck do I have to apologize for?  Did I do something wrong?  Did I hurt you?  Did I call you fat? Steel your man or take away your birthday?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Nope….I missed SERD (Standard Email Response Deadline)  You bet your sweet ass the reply I sent 3 days later started out “I am not sure what the apologies would be for.”  Followed by the rest of the blow-off.

My seemingly endless second job

For the past several months I have been battling the property management company over the inferior services we have been receiving in our unit.  Sticky floors, non-emptied trash cans, dusting and most disgusting…the bathroom.

When situations like these arise, I ALWAYS follow the approved course of action.  I call in, leave the details and a service dude comes out and takes care of it.  Well…. most of the time.  The rest of the time they run out to their trucks and grab one of the biggest fucking band aides I have ever seen, and slap it on whatever they are unable to resolve.  Yep…that’s it.  No follow up. No permanent resolution.  Just their best try.  One per problem.

If the situation continues, despite the approved course of action being followed to the letter….well, this is when things get entertaining.

I start adding verbiage to my discussions with the customer service department like:

“Well!  Here we are again…..” re-state the issue

“ONCE AGAIN”….re-state the issue

I then add follow up questions, such as:

“Does anyone care over there?”

“are you sure they are getting the messages?”

and lastly “Is there anyone else I can speak to about this?”

That is usually where the fun part starts.  Fun for me…. never them.  I get the managers name and email, which I immediately blind side the original recipient with the addition of their supervisor in my follow-up.  I include the long chain of conversation history, to speed up the end the story and start firing off a list of demands.

It rarely takes more than that.  But there are those special times, when they think I am kidding or that I don’t recall word for word what the commitment was.  They quickly REPLY ALL (which is usually an act of treason in my world but for this….it just makes for a bigger stage) about all they are going to do to get to the bottom and address it once and for all.

Which is where I usually write back, include a quote from their boss as to their competency or back story; and ask that they connect with him or her, before taking further action.

I am expecting nothing less from the team when they get my messages today about the stains on the bathroom floor.

Watergate 2017

I fired Chrystal Springs 4 months ago.  They were not able to service our office; which included the actual delivery of water.  It took forever for them to come and get their bottles; and we cut ties about three weeks later.

So imagine my surprise when they dropped off 25 bottles while I wasn’t manning the command center.  That took another round of phone calls to get them to pick their shit up again!!

Oh it gets better….

Then they tried to deliver again; so I broke down the laws of trespassing and littering to the driver.  Under no circumstances were they welcome in our office; and definitely don’t leave any of their crap water behind.

This morning I walked into the kitchen to find 4 new bottles of Crystal Springs on the floor.

Allow me to recap….  We don’t have an account.  We asked several times for their shit to be picked up and no more left.  We have spoken to every punk they hire and reminded them they are not welcome here.  But water keeps coming.

This morning, after 37 minutes on hold, I let the representative know that the bottles will be on the curb and marked FREE.  It’s not my fault they keep leaving their shit around town.

Update:  two are already gone 🙂

Slow News Day?

How is that possible?  We have a homeless crisis! The mayor is requesting more frisking to mismanage yet another attempt to resolve it, Hate crimes in the form of burning churches and shootings and the Nora virus spreading through at least one school district.  If that isn’t enough to fill up an hour…The Orange Lord is making a mockery of the US government while simultaneously whining CONSTANTLY that everyone is picking on him.

So imagine my surprise when the 5 o’clock news had such vital stories like:

Transgender, whose sister swears the transition killed their father 2 years ago, has started singing again.

Autistic child who has developed a relationship with the Ben Bridge sign at the Capital Mall.

What the hell…..

Now, I am all for a feel good story.  It is a bit much for our post-election emotions to watch the horror of the outcome unfolding for a full 60 minutes. Here is how I propose we meet somewhere in the middle, with regard to the utilization of my time.

You cram all the highlights of the past 12 hours or anything you need to update from the last broadcast, into 30 minutes and then on to a show that I care about like Inside Edition or Last Man Standing.  Hell I’d even tolerate watching the QVC Hot Deal of the Day; to not have to sit through what they asked me to stay tuned for next.  It was the answer to the daily trivia quiz and 90 seconds of banter about the ends of bread loaves.  Shoot me now!