Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
It's all about the Benjamins, baby!
I know, I know, you never expect a 38 year old, white-xican middle class mom of 2 to start quoting a rap song but you should know by now to expect the unexpected when it comes to the ol' mert. :P
I am of course referring to the fact that I got to train as a cashier at The T on Thursday. Let me just preface this whole post by saying that when Miss HR said that we would feel overwhelmed with all of the information that we received during orientation? Ummm yeah, just a smidge. Fortunately though, all of the fellow employees that I have worked with have been very nice and VERY patient.
Also,on a side note- we were informed for the 20th time during the 2 days of orientation that using the employee discount for anyone other than the people that are applicable is unacceptable. For me, that would be me and John will get his own discount card since he is considered a dependent. Once the girls are 16, if I am still working at The T, they will get their own cards. For the youngsters I'm orienting with, they can only use the discount for themselves. Using your discount for your family and friends will result in immediate termination. So, you can't purchase anything and let them pay you back, so that they will benefit from the discount basically. Keep this little tidbit stored away until the end of my post.
Anyway, after learning the basics and running drills with fake credit cards with my fellow orientees for about 1 1/2 hours, we were thrown to the wolves. I managed to get my first mistake out of the way on my very first live transaction, and it was a biggie. Yay me. *rolls eyes* HOWEVER, I was consciously anally retentive after that, but in a sweaty and nervous kind of way. ;) After that I made a few small fixable errors like the scanner picking up an item twice.
My newbie cohorts and I all got a few customers then had a lull for a few minutes, then I realized that I was first in line as far as customers coming from the back of the store. I realized that I should just plow ahead and take as many customers as possible to get more comfortable... and before I knew I was chit chatting with them like 7 years ago when I was a nurse. Talking to complete strangers came back with such an ease, and with the exception of 2 people talking with them was pleasant.
After about 40 minutes of checking out customers, I was in the groove and felt pretty comfortable... except when I remembered that the register times your transactions. Yes, you actually get "speed reports". You want to stay green, not yellow or red. I got a few reds, but for the most part green, but still when I heard that cashiers were timed, I was kind of floored. But I guess with more experience it shouldn't be a problem.
Overall though, it was pretty easy once I got the hang of it. The high school kid that was orienting with me jokingly complained that i was getting all of the customers being first in line at the registers, so I asked him if he wanted to switch registers. "NO," he held up his hands.
The night wasn't done after I got off work though, my MIL was nice enough to pick me from work. She needed to get Anna's birthday present yet so after I clocked out, I put on my coat to make sure I wouldn't be approached after hours (they suggest this), and I toodle'd around the curtain aisle while waiting for the MIL to get there. And waited , and waited. Some of the team looked at me questioningly and maybe even a little suspiciously.
Let me just say that I have this weird thing that even if I'm completely innocent, I get a little nervous (sometimes angry and indignant, but mostly nervous) when someone starts looking at me with narrowed or judging eyes. So, even if I'm not doing anything wrong, I probably look as if I'm doing something wrong. I'm a dork, sue me.
Anywho, I finally found the MIL, and we headed over to curtains. She had a cart full of stuff so I put my things on the bottom of the cart (pull ups, milk x2, cereal, and granola bars x2). After we picked out curtains that matched a Hannah Montana pillow case that I had ordered from Amazon.com, we headed up to the front.
As I walked to the front, I noticed the Team Leader that had been on my shift standing up at the register talking to the fella that was working the register... and then I noticed that her face fell from slight amusement to "Oh, NO she DI'INT!" ( and even possibly over to "B*tch, please!").
"Oh God," I thought to myself..."She actually thinks that I am retarded enough to try that- on the first day? Shoot, I know they are serious about firing... but I'm not that stupid. Maybe dumb, but not stupid." Completely innocent me, I practically implicate myself by nervously looking at the cart and trying to bring spit back into my dry mouth by licking my lips.
Then, as I neared thegallows register, I realized, "Hey, you have endured much worse than this... This is just a Pavlovian response to your upbringing, and the oh so familiar look she is giving you. You didn't do anything wrong. So, you were punished as child, despite whether or not you were guilty... get over it. You're not a kid anymore."
So I came to the register and calmly said," This is my stuff," as I put my things on the counter, 'And ALL of that," I made a pushing motion towards the 1/2 full cart," is my MIL's." I smiled reassuringly, and looked the Team Leader square in the eye.
I mean seriously, why would I agree to work so hard for such little pay and go through the agony of learning so much information in such little time... just to mess it up, all for a 10% discount? OK, maybe for a 40% discount, but 10% is hardly worth the effort. ;)
Turns out my discount card still wasn't working, so they owe me $2.20. Sons a biscuits.
Of course, after we were all done being rung up, I started to shake out of nervousness (Old habits die hard. Thanks mother). I realize that she was just doing her job, but man do I hate that feeling. I'm sure every new employee probably gets that "Sucka, PLEASE!" look the first time they approach the register with someone else, but it just makes me feel bad.
Oh well, I'm sure this will make a good story next year at the Christmas party. ;)
I am of course referring to the fact that I got to train as a cashier at The T on Thursday. Let me just preface this whole post by saying that when Miss HR said that we would feel overwhelmed with all of the information that we received during orientation? Ummm yeah, just a smidge. Fortunately though, all of the fellow employees that I have worked with have been very nice and VERY patient.
Also,on a side note- we were informed for the 20th time during the 2 days of orientation that using the employee discount for anyone other than the people that are applicable is unacceptable. For me, that would be me and John will get his own discount card since he is considered a dependent. Once the girls are 16, if I am still working at The T, they will get their own cards. For the youngsters I'm orienting with, they can only use the discount for themselves. Using your discount for your family and friends will result in immediate termination. So, you can't purchase anything and let them pay you back, so that they will benefit from the discount basically. Keep this little tidbit stored away until the end of my post.
Anyway, after learning the basics and running drills with fake credit cards with my fellow orientees for about 1 1/2 hours, we were thrown to the wolves. I managed to get my first mistake out of the way on my very first live transaction, and it was a biggie. Yay me. *rolls eyes* HOWEVER, I was consciously anally retentive after that, but in a sweaty and nervous kind of way. ;) After that I made a few small fixable errors like the scanner picking up an item twice.
My newbie cohorts and I all got a few customers then had a lull for a few minutes, then I realized that I was first in line as far as customers coming from the back of the store. I realized that I should just plow ahead and take as many customers as possible to get more comfortable... and before I knew I was chit chatting with them like 7 years ago when I was a nurse. Talking to complete strangers came back with such an ease, and with the exception of 2 people talking with them was pleasant.
After about 40 minutes of checking out customers, I was in the groove and felt pretty comfortable... except when I remembered that the register times your transactions. Yes, you actually get "speed reports". You want to stay green, not yellow or red. I got a few reds, but for the most part green, but still when I heard that cashiers were timed, I was kind of floored. But I guess with more experience it shouldn't be a problem.
Overall though, it was pretty easy once I got the hang of it. The high school kid that was orienting with me jokingly complained that i was getting all of the customers being first in line at the registers, so I asked him if he wanted to switch registers. "NO," he held up his hands.
The night wasn't done after I got off work though, my MIL was nice enough to pick me from work. She needed to get Anna's birthday present yet so after I clocked out, I put on my coat to make sure I wouldn't be approached after hours (they suggest this), and I toodle'd around the curtain aisle while waiting for the MIL to get there. And waited , and waited. Some of the team looked at me questioningly and maybe even a little suspiciously.
Let me just say that I have this weird thing that even if I'm completely innocent, I get a little nervous (sometimes angry and indignant, but mostly nervous) when someone starts looking at me with narrowed or judging eyes. So, even if I'm not doing anything wrong, I probably look as if I'm doing something wrong. I'm a dork, sue me.
Anywho, I finally found the MIL, and we headed over to curtains. She had a cart full of stuff so I put my things on the bottom of the cart (pull ups, milk x2, cereal, and granola bars x2). After we picked out curtains that matched a Hannah Montana pillow case that I had ordered from Amazon.com, we headed up to the front.
As I walked to the front, I noticed the Team Leader that had been on my shift standing up at the register talking to the fella that was working the register... and then I noticed that her face fell from slight amusement to "Oh, NO she DI'INT!" ( and even possibly over to "B*tch, please!").
"Oh God," I thought to myself..."She actually thinks that I am retarded enough to try that- on the first day? Shoot, I know they are serious about firing... but I'm not that stupid. Maybe dumb, but not stupid." Completely innocent me, I practically implicate myself by nervously looking at the cart and trying to bring spit back into my dry mouth by licking my lips.
Then, as I neared the
So I came to the register and calmly said," This is my stuff," as I put my things on the counter, 'And ALL of that," I made a pushing motion towards the 1/2 full cart," is my MIL's." I smiled reassuringly, and looked the Team Leader square in the eye.
I mean seriously, why would I agree to work so hard for such little pay and go through the agony of learning so much information in such little time... just to mess it up, all for a 10% discount? OK, maybe for a 40% discount, but 10% is hardly worth the effort. ;)
Turns out my discount card still wasn't working, so they owe me $2.20. Sons a biscuits.
Of course, after we were all done being rung up, I started to shake out of nervousness (Old habits die hard. Thanks mother). I realize that she was just doing her job, but man do I hate that feeling. I'm sure every new employee probably gets that "Sucka, PLEASE!" look the first time they approach the register with someone else, but it just makes me feel bad.
Oh well, I'm sure this will make a good story next year at the Christmas party. ;)
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Dis-oriented
Tuesday night I started work at my new place of employment , that I will now only refer to as The T to avoid having my blog googled...
Because we were told that we need to maintain a professional attitude and need to remember that we are representatives of the establishment, whether on the the clock or on Myspace. DOH! Maybe I should just put a disclaimer at the end of each post:
"The opinions stated on this blog are definitely NOT the opinion of this blogger's employer. All almost somewhat positive musings read on this blog should be taken at face value, and at times with a grain ofsarcasm salt. Reading this blog may cause temporary nausea, vomiting, snorting and 'laughing so hard you peed a little'. In rare cases, explosive diarrhea has been known to occur. If you experience any of these side effects, please seek medical attention immediately."
The 4 1/2 hours consisted of learning acronyms, safety regulations, how assist customers including those with disabilities, and being threatened with termination for failing to stow away walkie talkies properly (and for the obvious like theft and fraud).
My fellow orientees were much, MUCH younger than me, which I guess officially makes me the old fart of the group. One was a quiet college student (who was very unfriendly when you get down to it, even though I attempted to strike up conversation) that kept stroking her long purple tinted hair when nervous, and the other was a youngster still in high school. He was kind enough to give me his little stuffed Spot doggie after I asked if I could purchase another one so that I had one for each ankle biter when I got home.
I orient on the cash register tonight, but I am one of the floor workers. I chose this job instead of cashier because I would rather be busy then stand around at the front with nothing to do. So, I'll be the gal who is asking the customers if they need help finding anything, stocking and prettying the shelves, fixing the clothes that y'all mess up after trying them on ;), and working in electronics and jewelry on occasion. Plus I'll be called up to the front to cashier when it's busy. The floor job may sound unglamorous, but I have been told I will have the opportunity to cross train in other sections of the store. Weehoo! On the other hand, I guess I have to stop stuffing all of my unwanted items on the end caps as i make my way to the register. yeah, I'm one of those people. I don't always toss unwanted items on the nearest shelf, just 60% of the time. ;)
I'm not sure if I will stay at The T or not, it depends on how much I am making by the time Emma starts school. My plan is to become a phlebotomist because I have a lot of experience with starting IV's (which is usually a lot harder than drawing blood, but not always).
I have talked about this in the past... but you may be wondering why I would want to work for minimum wage when i was an LPN/LVN in California. The reason is that I received all of my training in the navy, but because of that I am missing theory hours in Labor & Delivery. And because of that most states will not take my license, Iowa being one of them.
I worked as a Hospital Corpsman (medic) for 4 years and because I had over a years experience with actual patient care on a ward, I was able to challenge the LVN boards just before I got out of the Navy- which I passed on the first try. California, Florida and Illinois (I think Maryland was one too at the time) are the only states that will allow hospital corpsmen to do this , mostly because there are teaching facilities in those states. Now Illinois- which is just over the Mississippi River for me- only takes theses licenses on a case by case basis the last time I checked, but was phasing that out.
I was told that I would have to start school for LPN from the beginning in Iowa. The problem is that I have NO COLLEGE under my belt, so I would have to start from square one. At my age (38), it's not something I am sure that I want to do because when I left the profession (though I keep my California license current) I was very burned out.
Nursing is such a hard profession. Working with people is something that i love and actually crave, but the politics I definitely do not miss. I hate to say it, but because nursing is such a high stress job, it also tends to be a very clique-y and bitchy job. There's lots of back stabbing and A Type Personalities , sometimes competing for the same job/promotion. then you have different shifts who tend to be very competitive, which makes the shifts prone to reporting each other for every little mistake because the next shift is the one there to pick up the pieces from the fall out.
You have hard working old timers who pick on the newbies, newbies who think that they are too good to get their hands dirty because they have a degree, and managers who have forgotten what it's like to be a real nurse, and tend to expect their nurses to be Super Women/Men.
Yes, I miss the patient care and contact, but I do not miss all of the millions of papers that a nurse must fill out because of all of the new rules and regulations. there are times that nurses feel like they do more paper work than actual patient care, and despite the continuous increase of paperwork, they are still given the same patient load and sometimes more because of the nursing shortage.... which is a catch 22 because the worse it gets, the more people are looking elsewhere for professions because we all know how tough the health care field is. It's only getting worse. More patients to care for in a shift, more work and stress, more life and death decisions than ever in an 8 hour shift, 12 hours if you are lucky.
Ahhh, now you are beginning to see the dark side of health care and nursing, no? So, these are the things I have to take into consideration before I decide to spend thousands of dollars on schooling, for something I am not sure I want to do any more. What if I spend all of that time away from my family and MONEY, and then I am a burnt out, ulcer ridden mess and hate it?
I tell you though, if Iowa offered to pay for my schooling I would seriously consider it. For now though, phlebotomy is the plan. I can still interact with people and do something I am pretty darned good at, and enjoy doing... well, except for children. i have never drawn blood from a child before so I'm not looking forward to that. I've been on the other end of that whole deal... It's excruciating for the mother and child.
Anyway, working at The T will be OK for now. I need to contribute to the house hold because having a 2nd child and having an older child grow out of jeans and shoes at the speed of sound... well, you know. It's expensive! especially on a MISU's salary. plus at this rate, we'll never be able to celebrate our 20th in style, June 2009. ;)
So there you have it, to make a short story long... the reasons why I am settling for working at The T instead of nursing.
Now I must go do some laundry. A thought just occurred to me... Good lord, I hope my job doesn't involve cleaning The T toilets because I'll quit right now!
Because we were told that we need to maintain a professional attitude and need to remember that we are representatives of the establishment, whether on the the clock or on Myspace. DOH! Maybe I should just put a disclaimer at the end of each post:
"The opinions stated on this blog are definitely NOT the opinion of this blogger's employer. All almost somewhat positive musings read on this blog should be taken at face value, and at times with a grain of
The 4 1/2 hours consisted of learning acronyms, safety regulations, how assist customers including those with disabilities, and being threatened with termination for failing to stow away walkie talkies properly (and for the obvious like theft and fraud).
My fellow orientees were much, MUCH younger than me, which I guess officially makes me the old fart of the group. One was a quiet college student (who was very unfriendly when you get down to it, even though I attempted to strike up conversation) that kept stroking her long purple tinted hair when nervous, and the other was a youngster still in high school. He was kind enough to give me his little stuffed Spot doggie after I asked if I could purchase another one so that I had one for each ankle biter when I got home.
I orient on the cash register tonight, but I am one of the floor workers. I chose this job instead of cashier because I would rather be busy then stand around at the front with nothing to do. So, I'll be the gal who is asking the customers if they need help finding anything, stocking and prettying the shelves, fixing the clothes that y'all mess up after trying them on ;), and working in electronics and jewelry on occasion. Plus I'll be called up to the front to cashier when it's busy. The floor job may sound unglamorous, but I have been told I will have the opportunity to cross train in other sections of the store. Weehoo! On the other hand, I guess I have to stop stuffing all of my unwanted items on the end caps as i make my way to the register. yeah, I'm one of those people. I don't always toss unwanted items on the nearest shelf, just 60% of the time. ;)
I'm not sure if I will stay at The T or not, it depends on how much I am making by the time Emma starts school. My plan is to become a phlebotomist because I have a lot of experience with starting IV's (which is usually a lot harder than drawing blood, but not always).
I have talked about this in the past... but you may be wondering why I would want to work for minimum wage when i was an LPN/LVN in California. The reason is that I received all of my training in the navy, but because of that I am missing theory hours in Labor & Delivery. And because of that most states will not take my license, Iowa being one of them.
I worked as a Hospital Corpsman (medic) for 4 years and because I had over a years experience with actual patient care on a ward, I was able to challenge the LVN boards just before I got out of the Navy- which I passed on the first try. California, Florida and Illinois (I think Maryland was one too at the time) are the only states that will allow hospital corpsmen to do this , mostly because there are teaching facilities in those states. Now Illinois- which is just over the Mississippi River for me- only takes theses licenses on a case by case basis the last time I checked, but was phasing that out.
I was told that I would have to start school for LPN from the beginning in Iowa. The problem is that I have NO COLLEGE under my belt, so I would have to start from square one. At my age (38), it's not something I am sure that I want to do because when I left the profession (though I keep my California license current) I was very burned out.
Nursing is such a hard profession. Working with people is something that i love and actually crave, but the politics I definitely do not miss. I hate to say it, but because nursing is such a high stress job, it also tends to be a very clique-y and bitchy job. There's lots of back stabbing and A Type Personalities , sometimes competing for the same job/promotion. then you have different shifts who tend to be very competitive, which makes the shifts prone to reporting each other for every little mistake because the next shift is the one there to pick up the pieces from the fall out.
You have hard working old timers who pick on the newbies, newbies who think that they are too good to get their hands dirty because they have a degree, and managers who have forgotten what it's like to be a real nurse, and tend to expect their nurses to be Super Women/Men.
Yes, I miss the patient care and contact, but I do not miss all of the millions of papers that a nurse must fill out because of all of the new rules and regulations. there are times that nurses feel like they do more paper work than actual patient care, and despite the continuous increase of paperwork, they are still given the same patient load and sometimes more because of the nursing shortage.... which is a catch 22 because the worse it gets, the more people are looking elsewhere for professions because we all know how tough the health care field is. It's only getting worse. More patients to care for in a shift, more work and stress, more life and death decisions than ever in an 8 hour shift, 12 hours if you are lucky.
Ahhh, now you are beginning to see the dark side of health care and nursing, no? So, these are the things I have to take into consideration before I decide to spend thousands of dollars on schooling, for something I am not sure I want to do any more. What if I spend all of that time away from my family and MONEY, and then I am a burnt out, ulcer ridden mess and hate it?
I tell you though, if Iowa offered to pay for my schooling I would seriously consider it. For now though, phlebotomy is the plan. I can still interact with people and do something I am pretty darned good at, and enjoy doing... well, except for children. i have never drawn blood from a child before so I'm not looking forward to that. I've been on the other end of that whole deal... It's excruciating for the mother and child.
Anyway, working at The T will be OK for now. I need to contribute to the house hold because having a 2nd child and having an older child grow out of jeans and shoes at the speed of sound... well, you know. It's expensive! especially on a MISU's salary. plus at this rate, we'll never be able to celebrate our 20th in style, June 2009. ;)
So there you have it, to make a short story long... the reasons why I am settling for working at The T instead of nursing.
Now I must go do some laundry. A thought just occurred to me... Good lord, I hope my job doesn't involve cleaning The T toilets because I'll quit right now!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Could you BE any louder?
Last week I went to the local clinic to give away a little pee for a drug test, because as you might not know, I applied at The Target.
When I got to the clinic, I took Anna with me while John went to get gas, and Emma stayed with him. While waiting for me to fill out the paper work, John had to use the restroom, and he had to take Emma in with him. Normally when he has to do this, he sits down so that the kids don't see his "bits and pieces" (as Mike Myers says), but that day unfortunately, being in a less than clean men's bathroom (Hmmm, imagine that!), he did his business like guys generally do. Emma was amazed that dads could actually do this, and after about a second she peeked around from behind John, eyes wide with amazement.
"What dat, daddy?"
"Well, honey... boys have a different who-who from girls, and it's called a penis."
"Oh."
Of course I didn't know any of this, and I found John and Emma on the way to the lab. Before I went in, Emma said she had to go potty but didn't want daddy to take her. After I was done donating, we were about to leave and Emma announced again she had to go, so I picked the grumpy butt up and walked half a block to the restroom.
We found the restroom and we had to wait. I quietly told her that someone was in the restroom and we had to wait.
"What about dat one, momma," she asked, pointing to the men's room right next door.
"That one is for boys."
"Ohhhh." She looked up at me, "Mommy! Guess what? DADDY HAS A PEANUT!"
All around me parents sat with their children, waiting patiently for their appointments with their pediatricians. And all around me, parents young and not so young snickered and giggled.
"Yes, honey..." I fought back hysterical laughter, "Daddy does have a penis. And girls have a vagina."
"Bah-gye-nah! Right!"
I think Emma just might eventually have a job in broadcasting.
Later, after she got home Emma told me I was "feet".
"I'm feet," I asked.
"Noooooo, FEET!"
Finally I realized that she meant SWEET. "Oh, you mean I'm sweet?" She smiled and nodded.
Only in the land of toddlers... could body parts be so many other things. ;)
BTW, I start working at Target tonight. In a span of almost 7 years I have managed to go from being "one of the younger ones" in a group of older nurse... to one of the older ones in a sea of youngin's. Should be interesting. Wish me luck!
When I got to the clinic, I took Anna with me while John went to get gas, and Emma stayed with him. While waiting for me to fill out the paper work, John had to use the restroom, and he had to take Emma in with him. Normally when he has to do this, he sits down so that the kids don't see his "bits and pieces" (as Mike Myers says), but that day unfortunately, being in a less than clean men's bathroom (Hmmm, imagine that!), he did his business like guys generally do. Emma was amazed that dads could actually do this, and after about a second she peeked around from behind John, eyes wide with amazement.
"What dat, daddy?"
"Well, honey... boys have a different who-who from girls, and it's called a penis."
"Oh."
Of course I didn't know any of this, and I found John and Emma on the way to the lab. Before I went in, Emma said she had to go potty but didn't want daddy to take her. After I was done donating, we were about to leave and Emma announced again she had to go, so I picked the grumpy butt up and walked half a block to the restroom.
We found the restroom and we had to wait. I quietly told her that someone was in the restroom and we had to wait.
"What about dat one, momma," she asked, pointing to the men's room right next door.
"That one is for boys."
"Ohhhh." She looked up at me, "Mommy! Guess what? DADDY HAS A PEANUT!"
All around me parents sat with their children, waiting patiently for their appointments with their pediatricians. And all around me, parents young and not so young snickered and giggled.
"Yes, honey..." I fought back hysterical laughter, "Daddy does have a penis. And girls have a vagina."
"Bah-gye-nah! Right!"
I think Emma just might eventually have a job in broadcasting.
Later, after she got home Emma told me I was "feet".
"I'm feet," I asked.
"Noooooo, FEET!"
Finally I realized that she meant SWEET. "Oh, you mean I'm sweet?" She smiled and nodded.
Only in the land of toddlers... could body parts be so many other things. ;)
BTW, I start working at Target tonight. In a span of almost 7 years I have managed to go from being "one of the younger ones" in a group of older nurse... to one of the older ones in a sea of youngin's. Should be interesting. Wish me luck!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Sewing is ummmm... hard
In more ways than one, I tell ya!
My bud Ash asked me to make a Hannah Montana tote bag for her sweet daughter Leila.
*On a side note, Shelley of Design By S.L.S. has agreed to do my site for an awesome price. Her rates are very competitive. Thanks Shelley!*
Anywho, starting a business is stressful as you can imagine. Couple that with having a bit of OCD and being a perfectionist when it comes to creating anything (crafts, sewing, painting/drawing, writing), this sewing gig isn't as easy as it sounds. Again, I'm not even officially up and running yet.
As I said before, I have a general anal retentiveness when it comes to what I make, especially when it's for someone I like or love... or even know just a little. I think that when you make something for someone you care for (whether or not they pay you), the pressure is on to make it just right.
Though I would love to say that everything I make is just perfect, it's not. I do try to come as close to perfection as humanly possible... And sometimes, just sometimes the forces of nature work against you, in the form of purple chintz.
Of course the first time you try anything new, you are bound to make a few mistakes. You might even repeat those mistakes until you figure out the cause of all your misfortune, and how to remedy the problems. Such is life, right?
For me, the stiff interfacing was causing the stitching to bunch together, then space back out again. What I mean is that the stitch length would be just as I wanted it for about a centimeter, then they would shorten because the machine didn't like all the layers I was trying to sew through, causing the material to get stuck in spots here and there. I ripped the thread out in frustration 3 times.
If you have ever worked with chintz, you would know that when you rip out a seam, there tends to be more a permanent sort of needle mark than with other materials.
After the second go around and while ripping it all out again, I stopped and didn't touch the bag for a full day. I was so frustrated! I was so frustrated that a solution eluded me, and I knew that if I sewed over the track marks that were stubbornly refusing to fade,I risked damaging the material and actually making real holes.
The next day I realized that the interfacing was doubled over at the top of the bag where I needed to attach the straps. I always fold over the material and press it so that there is a neat edge, so not only is the interfacing doubled, but the material was as well. DOH! How could I have missed such a simple thing?
While I ripped out the thread for the third time, John consoled me. "You know, your work is hand made. It's not going to be perfect. A lot of the things that we buy that are made by machine aren't even perfect. Give yourself a break, I think it looks great."
Well, I finally fixed the problem for the most part. There are at least 2 imperfections, and I hope that they aren't very noticeable and that Ash loves it. Here is the end result, you will see a little bling at the top:
The HM print you see on the front is actually a full sized pocket on the front and there is a pocket on the other side as well in this coordinating material (I forgot to take a pic of the other side before I boxed it up for Ash, I'll be sending it soon!).
I think another problem is that I'm selling my own work, and I want it to represent me in a good way. I need to learn how to balance perfection and striving for perfection. At the rate I'm going, I'll never sell anything because I wont ever feel it's good enough.
In the end, it was a labor of lurve. I just hope they love it.
So, my question is this: If you own a site that sells a service or goods, do you have moments where you struggle with what is considered perfect enough for the money that you are paid? Are any of you anal like me and struggle with this? I'm just curious how you other folks out there are handling this. Don't get me wrong... I'm not selling anything that I don't work really hard on, and if there is a problem I will fix it because I am proud of the work I do. I've already ripped apart 2 purses that needed tweaking because of flaws, then rebuilt them.
Any input would be great, I am just wondering if I am being too hard on myself. I want people to be happy with my product for the money that they paid.
My bud Ash asked me to make a Hannah Montana tote bag for her sweet daughter Leila.
*On a side note, Shelley of Design By S.L.S. has agreed to do my site for an awesome price. Her rates are very competitive. Thanks Shelley!*
Anywho, starting a business is stressful as you can imagine. Couple that with having a bit of OCD and being a perfectionist when it comes to creating anything (crafts, sewing, painting/drawing, writing), this sewing gig isn't as easy as it sounds. Again, I'm not even officially up and running yet.
As I said before, I have a general anal retentiveness when it comes to what I make, especially when it's for someone I like or love... or even know just a little. I think that when you make something for someone you care for (whether or not they pay you), the pressure is on to make it just right.
Though I would love to say that everything I make is just perfect, it's not. I do try to come as close to perfection as humanly possible... And sometimes, just sometimes the forces of nature work against you, in the form of purple chintz.
Of course the first time you try anything new, you are bound to make a few mistakes. You might even repeat those mistakes until you figure out the cause of all your misfortune, and how to remedy the problems. Such is life, right?
For me, the stiff interfacing was causing the stitching to bunch together, then space back out again. What I mean is that the stitch length would be just as I wanted it for about a centimeter, then they would shorten because the machine didn't like all the layers I was trying to sew through, causing the material to get stuck in spots here and there. I ripped the thread out in frustration 3 times.
If you have ever worked with chintz, you would know that when you rip out a seam, there tends to be more a permanent sort of needle mark than with other materials.
After the second go around and while ripping it all out again, I stopped and didn't touch the bag for a full day. I was so frustrated! I was so frustrated that a solution eluded me, and I knew that if I sewed over the track marks that were stubbornly refusing to fade,I risked damaging the material and actually making real holes.
The next day I realized that the interfacing was doubled over at the top of the bag where I needed to attach the straps. I always fold over the material and press it so that there is a neat edge, so not only is the interfacing doubled, but the material was as well. DOH! How could I have missed such a simple thing?
While I ripped out the thread for the third time, John consoled me. "You know, your work is hand made. It's not going to be perfect. A lot of the things that we buy that are made by machine aren't even perfect. Give yourself a break, I think it looks great."
Well, I finally fixed the problem for the most part. There are at least 2 imperfections, and I hope that they aren't very noticeable and that Ash loves it. Here is the end result, you will see a little bling at the top:
The HM print you see on the front is actually a full sized pocket on the front and there is a pocket on the other side as well in this coordinating material (I forgot to take a pic of the other side before I boxed it up for Ash, I'll be sending it soon!).
I think another problem is that I'm selling my own work, and I want it to represent me in a good way. I need to learn how to balance perfection and striving for perfection. At the rate I'm going, I'll never sell anything because I wont ever feel it's good enough.
In the end, it was a labor of lurve. I just hope they love it.
So, my question is this: If you own a site that sells a service or goods, do you have moments where you struggle with what is considered perfect enough for the money that you are paid? Are any of you anal like me and struggle with this? I'm just curious how you other folks out there are handling this. Don't get me wrong... I'm not selling anything that I don't work really hard on, and if there is a problem I will fix it because I am proud of the work I do. I've already ripped apart 2 purses that needed tweaking because of flaws, then rebuilt them.
Any input would be great, I am just wondering if I am being too hard on myself. I want people to be happy with my product for the money that they paid.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I can't stress enough...
***Warning, long with lots of angry complaining... please read the whole thing if you plan on commenting so you know EXACTLY where I am coming from. It's not too late to turn back.... OK, you asked for it!***
We are so back in the land of DRAMA with the MIL. Oh. The. Joys.
So. About a year and a half ago, the MIL starts dating this guy- who, can I just tell you- was just separated from his wife. He was a classmate of the MIL's in high school. He was a bit pushy and mentioned that maybe he could live with the MIL and she told him NO WAY. Good for her.
They continued to see each other for a while and even though she told everyone else on the planet that he was her boyfriend, when I said anything of the sort she snarled at me and said they were just friends. Literally bared her teeth at me, I kid you not.
What- EVER!
A little while after that, when things got a little to heavy for her, she told him she just wanted to be friends and hang out, have fun, nothing too serious. He persisted, she politely declined. He then told her that he got fired from Walmart for "patting a young woman on her butt". WOW. After 3 divorces, still such a good judge of character. That's a heck of a way to (not) break up with some one.
Anywho, that was end of that, she wanted nothing to do with him. A bit after that, we had our falling out with her this summer after she threw a sand pail of water in my 6 year old daughters face, and we didn't talk to her for almost 3 months I think.
I'm not sure when she started dating the very same YAHOO again, but it was around the time that we started to tolerate her presence in public again, and around the time that she decided to ambush me at a family member's birthday party... thinking in her twisted brain that her manipulating the situation and insisting to my face that I have slapped her in the past- ALL WHILE GRIPPING ME BY THE ARM and refusing to let me go until I heard her out- that this would suffice as "the talk " that we told her we needed to have before she could spend time with our kids. Grrrr.
Anyway, I believe that this yahoo that she had sworn she would never see again had possibly filled some void for her while she was refused access to her grand kids. Because of her crazy, unpredictable behavior.
Good for her.
Recently, (about 2-3 weeks ago) Anna was allowed to spend the night at her house. We had forgotten that the yahoo was back in the picture. The next day, the MIL calls and says, "We're going out to dinner to Wendy's, the yahoo and his grandson are coming too. Bah blah blah... Oh. I hope that's OK."
We were not OK with it because the yahoo already has a questionable character, but since they were going to be in public, we said fine. After Anna came home from the MIL's, Anna tells us that yahoo came over to the MIL's apartment. John and I looked at each other and I asked Anna if she had been left alone with yahoo at any time. Yes, she had, while the MIL went to the restroom and went to the kitchen.
Did I happen to mention that I had not even met this yahoo yet, and John had only been introduced in passing? And that the MIL KNOWS about how I was sexually abused by my father, and how I am very protective of my children, and she knows that I have a general mistrust of people when it comes to my girls? I told John early on while we dated that if my father has no problem doing that to me, I know strangers care even less what they do to children, and that was why I planned to be very protective if I ever had kids.
She knows ALL of this.
She knew she was in the wrong, that is why she did what she always does and asked after telling us what she was going to do (or in some cases, already did), by asking if " it's ok". John called her and let her know that this was unacceptable. He told her, "If he is over and Anna is there, and you have to leave the room, Anna is not to be left alone with him, or any stranger."
What does she say? She basically lies by implying that she already thought of that and was compliant by saying, "Oh, of course."
What she doesn't know is that we already knew at that point that she HAD left Anna alone with him.
She then asks, "Well, I'm not saying that this is going to happen but if I get married again, will I ever get to see my grand kids?"
Guilt trip, anyone? OK... so now I'm kind of getting to my point here. First of all, WTH? Married again? Where the heck....
John says, "Yes, but we don't want Anna left in a room with anyone who is a stranger. I'd have to get to know him better before that ever happens."
Two days ago I was talking to John's aunt, who is the MIL's sister. "Did you hear that she said to me that she mentioned to him (yahoo) that they should move in together to make things easier on each other?"
WHAT? Where is this coming from? She has been on meds for months now to "even her out". Honestly, she acts very much like my mother 85% of the time, and could very well be bipolar. Lately, she is short on money, so she cannot afford to compulsively shop like she normally does. She brags to us that she paid off some credit cards, and the next thing we know, she is buying more crap she doesn't need and her cards are maxed out again. Anyway, what she can't afford her usual compulsions so she decides she now NEEDS a man?
Now, here is the kicker... Last night I called her and let her know that I had some cooked chicken breasts that were going to go to waste (since we are eating out tonight and then this weekend I am going to cook the turkey John got from his job at Christmas... cuz we are po' ), and asked if she wanted them. Sure she said, she would swing by and pick them up, and Steve was coming.
I asked, "Right now? My house is a mess." She blew me off by asking me if I was using the turkey... You know the one I had just mentioned, because she listens so well? Because, since John had mentioned that he wanted to get to know yahoo better, she was thinking of having him, his daughter and his grand kids, plus us over for dinner and had thought about using our turkey.
I stood there with my mouth open. John has forgotten to tell me things in the past, but I was pretty sure, positive actually that since I know my husband pretty darned well , and given the fact that we have been dissatisfied with the whole yahoo thing....... That my sweet and loving husband HAD NOT SAID ANYTHING OF THE SORT, and that once again we were being pressured into something we didn't want to do by her twisting our words, or because she is out of her gourd.
So, last night, after putting the kids to bed, and after the MISU got home from being out with some friends, I ask him. Heck no, he never said that he actually wanted to get to know him better, he said"I'd have to get to know him better before that ever happens".
DOH! Then, the icing on the cake? When the yahoos arrived so that the MIL could pick up the chicken, I said, "I would say excuse the mess, but it always looks like this."
He looked me straight in the eye and said in deliberate tones, "I have grand kids that come over to my apartment. They have their own area for toys, but," he leans forward, turning red, sputtering and shaking a bit," I tell them one time. And if they don't pick them up..." He crosses hims arms emphatically, giving me a stern look. A look my MIL didn't see because she was standing in front of the yahoo the whole time they were in my entry way, and never once turned to look at him.
I stood there with my mouth ajar.
Later, after I put the kids to bed I thought to myself- what was that supposed to mean? Was he inferring that I was a bad mother for not making my kids too afraid to leave their toys out? OR, given the fact that all of a sudden, in a span of a week I hear that she mentioned to him about moving in together and MARRIAGE, is he inferring something about how things will go with my kids?
I don't fricking think so. I have been doing so well with not cursing lately... but let me tell you, based on my reaction last night after that little tidbit had time to sink in? I can't even think about cursing for the next 3 weeks. I'm "caught up".
That JACKASS has another thing coming if he and his 2 brain cells think that he will EVER talk to my kids like that. There are no (polite) words to describe how I will handle that situation. Lets just say that I am SURE, with every fiber of my being, that I will be "caught up" for roughly a year.
Let me just say that I believe that the MIL deserves as much happiness as anyone else, but given the fact that she has had a history of picking real losers as husbands.... I see divorce #4 in the horizon?!?
John's dad turned out to be an alcoholic who later before he died, his long time skank of a GF pretty much told us that they were dating before John's parents split up. Hedidn't pay child support at all, and rarely saw his kids.
Her next husband was the one that tried to get John and his brother and sister to hand sickle over an acre of property. John refused to do it and left, ran away right in front of her, and she didn't even try to stop John- who was 15- from leaving. before she married this jerk she asked them what they thought of him, and they all said they didn't like him. She married him anyway. After they got married and 3 days after they moved into a new house ( an old farm house), the house burned to the ground and they lost everything. John believes that he (the jerk) deliberately set the fire for the money. John never moved back home with his mother, and lived with his grandmother. Nice. This is the foundation for their tense relationship.
Idiot #3: 10-12 years younger than her, turned out to be a coke head. Their apartment was broken into without forced entry 3 times and valuables and money that only they knew about was gone. Overtime he supposedly did was unaccounted for on his pay stubs. We all ( including her kids) tried to convince her that since they were ALL unforced entries, and that money that they only knew about was missing from their apartment, that it had to be him... she told us all to but out, including the 2 kids she still had living with her.While John and I were in the Persian Gulf in '90, and the MIL took over our finances while we were gone... 500.00 went missing from my checking account, and she said she knew nothing about it. later, his girl friend showed up and said she was pregnant, that he had indeed been the one breaking into their apartment and stealing valuables and money, and that he had spent it all on coke for the two of them (him and the girl friend). After all of that, she still considered taking him back.
Now, here is the most troubling part: 9 months ago, I had mentioned something about the asshat that hurt me as a kid, and that I would kill if anything like that happened to my girls. She then tells me that her daughter had told her that JERK #3 had sexually assualted her (my MIL didn't go in to specifics, but said that my SIL had said that he "Had tried stuff with her"), but that the MIL refused to believe her own daughter. As if this could possible exonerate her, the MIL said, "I believe her now."
Sooooo, now you know why this is such a big deal to us. When it comes to men, the MIL always seems to put them and her own needs above her children. John and I vow that she isn't going to get the chance to screw our kids up too. They are already destined to be a little messed up, having a neurotic mother.
John said he will talk to her today, since Anna was supposed to sleep over Friday, and tell her that if yahoo is going to be there then Anna isn't coming.
I am worried that given all of the bad choices that she has made in the past with my kids (and her own) that Anna shouldn't be over there at all. I have a sinking suspicion that possibly the MIL will try to make Anna keep secrets about stuff that isn't supposed to happen... just to not hurt the yahoo's feelings. Shoot, I was thinking last night that she may have already told Anna to keep secrets about certain things, because she also has a history of us catching her in lies and trying to cover her ass, after doing something that put our kids in jeopardy.
*When you lay it all out like this, it sounds completely insane to think that we have entrusted our most precious possessions to this woman, ONCE AGAIN. It's insane to think that after 61 years that she can change. I guess despite the fact that John and I are typically hard asses when it comes to protecting our kids, we have just been asses and complete dumb asses to think that she will ever change and that our kids will really truly be safe. She does change how she operates a bit... but I think it's mostly to lull us into a false sense of security, basically so she can get what she wants.
What the hell is wrong with us? I really think it has to do with her being the only grand parent left, since I will have nothing to do with my own mother. Also, like I said before, we just want to hope that people (she) will change, and that our kids can enjoy a NORMAL relationship with their last remaining grand parent. Sadly, it doesn't look like it's going to happen.
I just told John *this a few minutes ago when he dropped Anna off after school. He agrees with me that she really can't watch our kids.
I realize how incredibly stupid I sound right now. Not to worry, bloggin always helps me see things more clearly. I have a feeling someone is still going to call me an idiot, despite explaining myself.
I've been called worse... I can take it.
We are so back in the land of DRAMA with the MIL. Oh. The. Joys.
So. About a year and a half ago, the MIL starts dating this guy- who, can I just tell you- was just separated from his wife. He was a classmate of the MIL's in high school. He was a bit pushy and mentioned that maybe he could live with the MIL and she told him NO WAY. Good for her.
They continued to see each other for a while and even though she told everyone else on the planet that he was her boyfriend, when I said anything of the sort she snarled at me and said they were just friends. Literally bared her teeth at me, I kid you not.
What- EVER!
A little while after that, when things got a little to heavy for her, she told him she just wanted to be friends and hang out, have fun, nothing too serious. He persisted, she politely declined. He then told her that he got fired from Walmart for "patting a young woman on her butt". WOW. After 3 divorces, still such a good judge of character. That's a heck of a way to (not) break up with some one.
Anywho, that was end of that, she wanted nothing to do with him. A bit after that, we had our falling out with her this summer after she threw a sand pail of water in my 6 year old daughters face, and we didn't talk to her for almost 3 months I think.
I'm not sure when she started dating the very same YAHOO again, but it was around the time that we started to tolerate her presence in public again, and around the time that she decided to ambush me at a family member's birthday party... thinking in her twisted brain that her manipulating the situation and insisting to my face that I have slapped her in the past- ALL WHILE GRIPPING ME BY THE ARM and refusing to let me go until I heard her out- that this would suffice as "the talk " that we told her we needed to have before she could spend time with our kids. Grrrr.
Anyway, I believe that this yahoo that she had sworn she would never see again had possibly filled some void for her while she was refused access to her grand kids. Because of her crazy, unpredictable behavior.
Good for her.
Recently, (about 2-3 weeks ago) Anna was allowed to spend the night at her house. We had forgotten that the yahoo was back in the picture. The next day, the MIL calls and says, "We're going out to dinner to Wendy's, the yahoo and his grandson are coming too. Bah blah blah... Oh. I hope that's OK."
We were not OK with it because the yahoo already has a questionable character, but since they were going to be in public, we said fine. After Anna came home from the MIL's, Anna tells us that yahoo came over to the MIL's apartment. John and I looked at each other and I asked Anna if she had been left alone with yahoo at any time. Yes, she had, while the MIL went to the restroom and went to the kitchen.
Did I happen to mention that I had not even met this yahoo yet, and John had only been introduced in passing? And that the MIL KNOWS about how I was sexually abused by my father, and how I am very protective of my children, and she knows that I have a general mistrust of people when it comes to my girls? I told John early on while we dated that if my father has no problem doing that to me, I know strangers care even less what they do to children, and that was why I planned to be very protective if I ever had kids.
She knows ALL of this.
She knew she was in the wrong, that is why she did what she always does and asked after telling us what she was going to do (or in some cases, already did), by asking if " it's ok". John called her and let her know that this was unacceptable. He told her, "If he is over and Anna is there, and you have to leave the room, Anna is not to be left alone with him, or any stranger."
What does she say? She basically lies by implying that she already thought of that and was compliant by saying, "Oh, of course."
What she doesn't know is that we already knew at that point that she HAD left Anna alone with him.
She then asks, "Well, I'm not saying that this is going to happen but if I get married again, will I ever get to see my grand kids?"
Guilt trip, anyone? OK... so now I'm kind of getting to my point here. First of all, WTH? Married again? Where the heck....
John says, "Yes, but we don't want Anna left in a room with anyone who is a stranger. I'd have to get to know him better before that ever happens."
Two days ago I was talking to John's aunt, who is the MIL's sister. "Did you hear that she said to me that she mentioned to him (yahoo) that they should move in together to make things easier on each other?"
WHAT? Where is this coming from? She has been on meds for months now to "even her out". Honestly, she acts very much like my mother 85% of the time, and could very well be bipolar. Lately, she is short on money, so she cannot afford to compulsively shop like she normally does. She brags to us that she paid off some credit cards, and the next thing we know, she is buying more crap she doesn't need and her cards are maxed out again. Anyway, what she can't afford her usual compulsions so she decides she now NEEDS a man?
Now, here is the kicker... Last night I called her and let her know that I had some cooked chicken breasts that were going to go to waste (since we are eating out tonight and then this weekend I am going to cook the turkey John got from his job at Christmas... cuz we are po' ), and asked if she wanted them. Sure she said, she would swing by and pick them up, and Steve was coming.
I asked, "Right now? My house is a mess." She blew me off by asking me if I was using the turkey... You know the one I had just mentioned, because she listens so well? Because, since John had mentioned that he wanted to get to know yahoo better, she was thinking of having him, his daughter and his grand kids, plus us over for dinner and had thought about using our turkey.
I stood there with my mouth open. John has forgotten to tell me things in the past, but I was pretty sure, positive actually that since I know my husband pretty darned well , and given the fact that we have been dissatisfied with the whole yahoo thing....... That my sweet and loving husband HAD NOT SAID ANYTHING OF THE SORT, and that once again we were being pressured into something we didn't want to do by her twisting our words, or because she is out of her gourd.
So, last night, after putting the kids to bed, and after the MISU got home from being out with some friends, I ask him. Heck no, he never said that he actually wanted to get to know him better, he said"I'd have to get to know him better before that ever happens".
DOH! Then, the icing on the cake? When the yahoos arrived so that the MIL could pick up the chicken, I said, "I would say excuse the mess, but it always looks like this."
He looked me straight in the eye and said in deliberate tones, "I have grand kids that come over to my apartment. They have their own area for toys, but," he leans forward, turning red, sputtering and shaking a bit," I tell them one time. And if they don't pick them up..." He crosses hims arms emphatically, giving me a stern look. A look my MIL didn't see because she was standing in front of the yahoo the whole time they were in my entry way, and never once turned to look at him.
I stood there with my mouth ajar.
Later, after I put the kids to bed I thought to myself- what was that supposed to mean? Was he inferring that I was a bad mother for not making my kids too afraid to leave their toys out? OR, given the fact that all of a sudden, in a span of a week I hear that she mentioned to him about moving in together and MARRIAGE, is he inferring something about how things will go with my kids?
I don't fricking think so. I have been doing so well with not cursing lately... but let me tell you, based on my reaction last night after that little tidbit had time to sink in? I can't even think about cursing for the next 3 weeks. I'm "caught up".
That JACKASS has another thing coming if he and his 2 brain cells think that he will EVER talk to my kids like that. There are no (polite) words to describe how I will handle that situation. Lets just say that I am SURE, with every fiber of my being, that I will be "caught up" for roughly a year.
Let me just say that I believe that the MIL deserves as much happiness as anyone else, but given the fact that she has had a history of picking real losers as husbands.... I see divorce #4 in the horizon?!?
John's dad turned out to be an alcoholic who later before he died, his long time skank of a GF pretty much told us that they were dating before John's parents split up. Hedidn't pay child support at all, and rarely saw his kids.
Her next husband was the one that tried to get John and his brother and sister to hand sickle over an acre of property. John refused to do it and left, ran away right in front of her, and she didn't even try to stop John- who was 15- from leaving. before she married this jerk she asked them what they thought of him, and they all said they didn't like him. She married him anyway. After they got married and 3 days after they moved into a new house ( an old farm house), the house burned to the ground and they lost everything. John believes that he (the jerk) deliberately set the fire for the money. John never moved back home with his mother, and lived with his grandmother. Nice. This is the foundation for their tense relationship.
Idiot #3: 10-12 years younger than her, turned out to be a coke head. Their apartment was broken into without forced entry 3 times and valuables and money that only they knew about was gone. Overtime he supposedly did was unaccounted for on his pay stubs. We all ( including her kids) tried to convince her that since they were ALL unforced entries, and that money that they only knew about was missing from their apartment, that it had to be him... she told us all to but out, including the 2 kids she still had living with her.While John and I were in the Persian Gulf in '90, and the MIL took over our finances while we were gone... 500.00 went missing from my checking account, and she said she knew nothing about it. later, his girl friend showed up and said she was pregnant, that he had indeed been the one breaking into their apartment and stealing valuables and money, and that he had spent it all on coke for the two of them (him and the girl friend). After all of that, she still considered taking him back.
Now, here is the most troubling part: 9 months ago, I had mentioned something about the asshat that hurt me as a kid, and that I would kill if anything like that happened to my girls. She then tells me that her daughter had told her that JERK #3 had sexually assualted her (my MIL didn't go in to specifics, but said that my SIL had said that he "Had tried stuff with her"), but that the MIL refused to believe her own daughter. As if this could possible exonerate her, the MIL said, "I believe her now."
Sooooo, now you know why this is such a big deal to us. When it comes to men, the MIL always seems to put them and her own needs above her children. John and I vow that she isn't going to get the chance to screw our kids up too. They are already destined to be a little messed up, having a neurotic mother.
John said he will talk to her today, since Anna was supposed to sleep over Friday, and tell her that if yahoo is going to be there then Anna isn't coming.
I am worried that given all of the bad choices that she has made in the past with my kids (and her own) that Anna shouldn't be over there at all. I have a sinking suspicion that possibly the MIL will try to make Anna keep secrets about stuff that isn't supposed to happen... just to not hurt the yahoo's feelings. Shoot, I was thinking last night that she may have already told Anna to keep secrets about certain things, because she also has a history of us catching her in lies and trying to cover her ass, after doing something that put our kids in jeopardy.
*When you lay it all out like this, it sounds completely insane to think that we have entrusted our most precious possessions to this woman, ONCE AGAIN. It's insane to think that after 61 years that she can change. I guess despite the fact that John and I are typically hard asses when it comes to protecting our kids, we have just been asses and complete dumb asses to think that she will ever change and that our kids will really truly be safe. She does change how she operates a bit... but I think it's mostly to lull us into a false sense of security, basically so she can get what she wants.
What the hell is wrong with us? I really think it has to do with her being the only grand parent left, since I will have nothing to do with my own mother. Also, like I said before, we just want to hope that people (she) will change, and that our kids can enjoy a NORMAL relationship with their last remaining grand parent. Sadly, it doesn't look like it's going to happen.
I just told John *this a few minutes ago when he dropped Anna off after school. He agrees with me that she really can't watch our kids.
I realize how incredibly stupid I sound right now. Not to worry, bloggin always helps me see things more clearly. I have a feeling someone is still going to call me an idiot, despite explaining myself.
I've been called worse... I can take it.
Oh, Happy Valentine's Day. ;)
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
I'm a target
I'm talking about the fact that I just applied there. Well, I applied there 3 weeks ago, and didn't hear back. No call, no letter in the mail... nada.
I was told after my first interview, that they were going to try to get my 2nd interview out of the way while they were at it because I looked like I have a really good chance at getting a job based on the 1st interview and my resume. The lady that she asked to do the 2nd interview refuse flat out and said that "She'll call you for the second interview this week, or you can call her". Being that I am a stickler for being professional and appropriate, I didn't call. I didn't want to hound anyone and not get the job because of being too forward.
So, after a week I wondered if maybe I shouldn't call after all. So I did, and before I could even explain my situation properly, the person on the phone at the service desk announced loudly and briskly that I should wait at least 2 weeks to hear back from them. I sat on the other end of the phone with my mouth open. Several people have told me that I should report her. I wanted to chew her face off for being so rude, but I didn't. I might have to work with her.
OK, I thought, maybe a week isn't such a big deal. I'll wait a bit more. The economy is bad everywhere and the jobs I would much rather have are not available. To me, working at the Target would be better than biggie sizing value meals all day, so I waited.
I called last week and explained what had happened (being at the 2 week mark now) and the person at the front desk said she would have the HR person call me. Did she take my number? No, just my name. Then it occurred to me this last week, after waiting all week for Miss HR to call me ... that maybe they had lost my application and DIDN'T have my phone number handy.
DUH. OK, so I have been a little preoccupied with the shortage of funds here, starting my sewing business, and actually making product to sell to connect the dots. :P Thursday I called, and Miss HR wasn't in, I was told to call back Friday.
*sigh* I called back Friday and it would seem that my 1st interview was lost, after Miss HR looked around for it (for 4 hours). She called me back and informed me that I would have to do the 1st interview all over. Mmmmmmkay. Friday night we had plans so I went in Saturday afternoon. Miss HR is very nice, lovely actually and she shows me to theinterrogation interview room.
"I found your 1st interview, thank goodness, so you will only have to do the 2nd interview today." "Fantastic!" I say, "OK, great."
Good grief, the questions she asked me... I didn't answer questions like that when I was hired as a nurse for Pete's sake! But wait, she only got to the 3rd question before a code something or other was called in the store. "That's a missing child code, I have to go. I'll be back as soon as I can." Those were the longest 5 minutes of my life, seen as John was walking around the store with Anna and Emma. I did what any good mom would do, debated on whether or not I should bolt of the office and find my husband (hopefully with ankle biter's intact), and began to pray. LIKE I HAVE NEVER PRAYED IN MY LIFE. OK, In have prayed like that more than a few times before, but you get my meaning. I prayed for that child, and mine.
After about 5 minutes of fervent whispering to the Almighty, another very lovely gal came in and told me that my interview would have to be rescheduled. They had called the wrong code, but a man had had a seizure in the store. "No problem," I said, but after quietly saying another prayer for the man, I secretly said an internal "DOH!" and envisioned myself clenching my fists in annoyance.
Which if I get the job, I'm sure will NOT be the last time I do so. ;)
Anywho... Today I braved -5 degree temperatures and made my way back to Target. The second part of my second interview went very well, I think. I am to go either pee in a bottle or surrender some other body fluid for drug testing and pending that, I will start orientation on the 19th. My MIL made a funny by saying something like, "I'm sure you'll get the job. Ooooh but wait, drug test... maybe not."
"Hahaha," I snorted, " I haven't smoked anything in years."
It sucks that I'll be making peanuts and only working 15-20 hours a week in 4-5 hour shifts, but it's better than slinging burgers like I said. For me it is, anyway. My brother is getting married in November, we'll never save any money at the rate we are going. John told his brother that as it stands right now, I will be the only one going next November... so this job is much needed.
Also, a 10% discount doesn't sound like much, but Target is our home away from home. It's going to save us a LOT!
I hope, I don't exactly have the job. I will know this week probably. Keep your finger, toes and eyes crossed.
I was told after my first interview, that they were going to try to get my 2nd interview out of the way while they were at it because I looked like I have a really good chance at getting a job based on the 1st interview and my resume. The lady that she asked to do the 2nd interview refuse flat out and said that "She'll call you for the second interview this week, or you can call her". Being that I am a stickler for being professional and appropriate, I didn't call. I didn't want to hound anyone and not get the job because of being too forward.
So, after a week I wondered if maybe I shouldn't call after all. So I did, and before I could even explain my situation properly, the person on the phone at the service desk announced loudly and briskly that I should wait at least 2 weeks to hear back from them. I sat on the other end of the phone with my mouth open. Several people have told me that I should report her. I wanted to chew her face off for being so rude, but I didn't. I might have to work with her.
OK, I thought, maybe a week isn't such a big deal. I'll wait a bit more. The economy is bad everywhere and the jobs I would much rather have are not available. To me, working at the Target would be better than biggie sizing value meals all day, so I waited.
I called last week and explained what had happened (being at the 2 week mark now) and the person at the front desk said she would have the HR person call me. Did she take my number? No, just my name. Then it occurred to me this last week, after waiting all week for Miss HR to call me ... that maybe they had lost my application and DIDN'T have my phone number handy.
DUH. OK, so I have been a little preoccupied with the shortage of funds here, starting my sewing business, and actually making product to sell to connect the dots. :P Thursday I called, and Miss HR wasn't in, I was told to call back Friday.
*sigh* I called back Friday and it would seem that my 1st interview was lost, after Miss HR looked around for it (for 4 hours). She called me back and informed me that I would have to do the 1st interview all over. Mmmmmmkay. Friday night we had plans so I went in Saturday afternoon. Miss HR is very nice, lovely actually and she shows me to the
"I found your 1st interview, thank goodness, so you will only have to do the 2nd interview today." "Fantastic!" I say, "OK, great."
Good grief, the questions she asked me... I didn't answer questions like that when I was hired as a nurse for Pete's sake! But wait, she only got to the 3rd question before a code something or other was called in the store. "That's a missing child code, I have to go. I'll be back as soon as I can." Those were the longest 5 minutes of my life, seen as John was walking around the store with Anna and Emma. I did what any good mom would do, debated on whether or not I should bolt of the office and find my husband (hopefully with ankle biter's intact), and began to pray. LIKE I HAVE NEVER PRAYED IN MY LIFE. OK, In have prayed like that more than a few times before, but you get my meaning. I prayed for that child, and mine.
After about 5 minutes of fervent whispering to the Almighty, another very lovely gal came in and told me that my interview would have to be rescheduled. They had called the wrong code, but a man had had a seizure in the store. "No problem," I said, but after quietly saying another prayer for the man, I secretly said an internal "DOH!" and envisioned myself clenching my fists in annoyance.
Which if I get the job, I'm sure will NOT be the last time I do so. ;)
Anywho... Today I braved -5 degree temperatures and made my way back to Target. The second part of my second interview went very well, I think. I am to go either pee in a bottle or surrender some other body fluid for drug testing and pending that, I will start orientation on the 19th. My MIL made a funny by saying something like, "I'm sure you'll get the job. Ooooh but wait, drug test... maybe not."
"Hahaha," I snorted, " I haven't smoked anything in years."
It sucks that I'll be making peanuts and only working 15-20 hours a week in 4-5 hour shifts, but it's better than slinging burgers like I said. For me it is, anyway. My brother is getting married in November, we'll never save any money at the rate we are going. John told his brother that as it stands right now, I will be the only one going next November... so this job is much needed.
Also, a 10% discount doesn't sound like much, but Target is our home away from home. It's going to save us a LOT!
I hope, I don't exactly have the job. I will know this week probably. Keep your finger, toes and eyes crossed.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Bittersweet
Yesterday I took these pics of the girls for my friend Not So Anonymous Michelle.
My very sweet bud sent me and the girls some GORGEOUS jewelry that she made, just because she lurves us and has an Emma Rose too. Plus I needed to get my aunt some pics of the girls with the stuff they got from her for Christmas. :)
Related to this post... John's boss has had a history of being quite generous in getting me computers and screens in the past as a way of kind of making up for the fact that John hasn't always gotten raises or promotions as planned, or sometimes not at all. Also, he just really likes John, which is nice. The older computers always go back to work for the most part. Recently, before Christmas John was told that he wasn't going to get bumped up like they had thought. I received my new computer, and just like 3 times before I have had to transfer files off the old one and onto the new one.
I know, new computers... poor me, right? The fact of the matter is that without this little bonus plan... I'd still be using an older Mac Power Book that was slowly falling apart (speakers and USB ports died on me), and I would never be able to do most of the things I do now on my computer because it's now about 8-10 years old and very slow compared to today's standards.
About a week ago, John tried to used my back up external hard drive that had our iTunes and backups of previous computer upgrades/ transfers, as well as my resume and other misc. stuff. Wouldn't you know it? It mysteriously died.
So this meant that he had to take my old computer into work to get the files off my old PC for me. When John plugged it in today at work, the computer actually caught fire and started to smoke, and the hard drive is so literally fried that it has scorch marks on it. John just called me to give me the news. All of my stuff... gone. This consisted of: all of the graphics I have ever made for myself and anyone else, blog templates I had hacked, all of my Photoshop plug ins, games, ideas for books... and almost 3 years of pictures and recent videos of the girls. Up in smoke, literally and figuratively.
I couldn't help myself, I started to sob. I care nothing about all of the other files and hard work that I have lost. I grew up an unwanted middle child, an unwanted daughter. My brothers have many, many pictures of themselves as babies and small children, and have professional photos of themselves from when they were infants. Even though we have't even come close to taking as many pictures of Emma as we did our first child, there are days when we announce to each other as a reminder, "We haven't taken pictures of Em lately, we better do that." I never want my kids to wonder why there is no record of their childhoods, and I certainly never want Emma to feel like we loved her big sister more by way of pictures, and we have failed miserably... but we were trying.
How do I explain to my sweet little booger that we have virtually nothing to show of her first 3 years? I so know how that feels, and God, it hurts. I just hope I can explain to her one day , and that it doesn't sound inadequate.
I am so saddened by this. I actually felt such a loss this morning, but as I collected myself I realized that most importantly we haven't lost her. We may have lost some precious memories that we can not ever show her physically in form of photographs, but we still have her here with us. There are people who actually lose their children to tragedy every day, and in comparison this is hardly a tragedy.
I'm still a weepy mess right now, but but looking at the bigger picture sure does help. AND I Just realized that I have THESE ( plus some) pictures of her on Photobucket! OK, now I am really a sobbing mess. ;)
My very sweet bud sent me and the girls some GORGEOUS jewelry that she made, just because she lurves us and has an Emma Rose too. Plus I needed to get my aunt some pics of the girls with the stuff they got from her for Christmas. :)
Related to this post... John's boss has had a history of being quite generous in getting me computers and screens in the past as a way of kind of making up for the fact that John hasn't always gotten raises or promotions as planned, or sometimes not at all. Also, he just really likes John, which is nice. The older computers always go back to work for the most part. Recently, before Christmas John was told that he wasn't going to get bumped up like they had thought. I received my new computer, and just like 3 times before I have had to transfer files off the old one and onto the new one.
I know, new computers... poor me, right? The fact of the matter is that without this little bonus plan... I'd still be using an older Mac Power Book that was slowly falling apart (speakers and USB ports died on me), and I would never be able to do most of the things I do now on my computer because it's now about 8-10 years old and very slow compared to today's standards.
About a week ago, John tried to used my back up external hard drive that had our iTunes and backups of previous computer upgrades/ transfers, as well as my resume and other misc. stuff. Wouldn't you know it? It mysteriously died.
So this meant that he had to take my old computer into work to get the files off my old PC for me. When John plugged it in today at work, the computer actually caught fire and started to smoke, and the hard drive is so literally fried that it has scorch marks on it. John just called me to give me the news. All of my stuff... gone. This consisted of: all of the graphics I have ever made for myself and anyone else, blog templates I had hacked, all of my Photoshop plug ins, games, ideas for books... and almost 3 years of pictures and recent videos of the girls. Up in smoke, literally and figuratively.
I couldn't help myself, I started to sob. I care nothing about all of the other files and hard work that I have lost. I grew up an unwanted middle child, an unwanted daughter. My brothers have many, many pictures of themselves as babies and small children, and have professional photos of themselves from when they were infants. Even though we have't even come close to taking as many pictures of Emma as we did our first child, there are days when we announce to each other as a reminder, "We haven't taken pictures of Em lately, we better do that." I never want my kids to wonder why there is no record of their childhoods, and I certainly never want Emma to feel like we loved her big sister more by way of pictures, and we have failed miserably... but we were trying.
How do I explain to my sweet little booger that we have virtually nothing to show of her first 3 years? I so know how that feels, and God, it hurts. I just hope I can explain to her one day , and that it doesn't sound inadequate.
I am so saddened by this. I actually felt such a loss this morning, but as I collected myself I realized that most importantly we haven't lost her. We may have lost some precious memories that we can not ever show her physically in form of photographs, but we still have her here with us. There are people who actually lose their children to tragedy every day, and in comparison this is hardly a tragedy.
I'm still a weepy mess right now, but but looking at the bigger picture sure does help. AND I Just realized that I have THESE ( plus some) pictures of her on Photobucket! OK, now I am really a sobbing mess. ;)
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Crazy, crazy, crazy!
I wish we could get some consistent weather here! A few days ago the snow was melting, and a few hours later.... BOOM! 5 inches of snow. Yesterday it was a bit warmer and foggy and today we are in the middle of a winter storm once again.
It's a good thing I went grocery shopping last night ;)
On another note- You know what they say about kids socking away tidbits of information and then toss it back at you, kind of like the springy things that come flying out of one of those practical joke jars of nuts.
The other night I was in too much pain- even after 4 days of noyoga yog-ouch, and John was getting Emma ready to go out for errands as I got out of the shower.
She looked right into her daddy's eyes, and with a mischievous twinkle and grin she told him, "You're a sh*t head."
I peeked around the corner into her room, and in a state of quasi amusement- and yet complete horror- I asked, "Uhhhhhh, what did you just say?"
John got up and made his way to the bathroom, "I think she just called me a d*ck head." He paused a moment to glare at me with a raised eyebrow. "Hmmm, I wonder where she got that from," he said in almost a sing song voice.
"Nononono, she said sh*t head," I sputtered as I tried to stem the flow of hysterical laughter that bubbled out of me.
"Oh. Yeah. That's soooo much better."
The next day, John gave the girls a bath since mommy still felt old and achy. John said, "Tonight it's in and out, no playing with toys."
Emma very succinctly voiced her displeasure. "Dammit!"
Yes, you guessed it... I got glared at again. He hen asked me what I was teaching them. I replied that at least she used both curses properly, and after laughing for 3 minutes and composing myself I explained that dammit was a bad word.
I don't know about Emma, but I think John is scarred for life. The moral of the story? It's all fun and games until your (almost) 3 year old remembers something funny mommy called daddy one day, a long time ago.
I know that one day John will use this against me, probably at Emma's wedding. Oh boy, I can't wait.
It's a good thing I went grocery shopping last night ;)
On another note- You know what they say about kids socking away tidbits of information and then toss it back at you, kind of like the springy things that come flying out of one of those practical joke jars of nuts.
The other night I was in too much pain- even after 4 days of no
She looked right into her daddy's eyes, and with a mischievous twinkle and grin she told him, "You're a sh*t head."
I peeked around the corner into her room, and in a state of quasi amusement- and yet complete horror- I asked, "Uhhhhhh, what did you just say?"
John got up and made his way to the bathroom, "I think she just called me a d*ck head." He paused a moment to glare at me with a raised eyebrow. "Hmmm, I wonder where she got that from," he said in almost a sing song voice.
"Nononono, she said sh*t head," I sputtered as I tried to stem the flow of hysterical laughter that bubbled out of me.
"Oh. Yeah. That's soooo much better."
The next day, John gave the girls a bath since mommy still felt old and achy. John said, "Tonight it's in and out, no playing with toys."
Emma very succinctly voiced her displeasure. "Dammit!"
Yes, you guessed it... I got glared at again. He hen asked me what I was teaching them. I replied that at least she used both curses properly, and after laughing for 3 minutes and composing myself I explained that dammit was a bad word.
I don't know about Emma, but I think John is scarred for life. The moral of the story? It's all fun and games until your (almost) 3 year old remembers something funny mommy called daddy one day, a long time ago.
I know that one day John will use this against me, probably at Emma's wedding. Oh boy, I can't wait.
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