Okay, so I'm a tad embarrassed. December 15th was the last time I blogged? Can that be true? I mean, I know it's been a while, but really? Four months, wow!
And now the problem is, I don't even know where to start! Uh, so Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I guess I have been in one of those blogging "funks" that I think most bloggers have from time to time. Life is happening, life is sad, life is funny, life is hard, life is wonderful, and you still just feel like there is not a lot to say, or at least not a lot of time in which to say it.
So nothing has really changed in our lives over the last four months, in which I haven't been blogging, but nothing ever remains the same either.
Our guys are the same. And even though it seems like we repeat the same day over and over and over and over, there's always a little bit of crazy thrown in.
We think one of our guys is depressed right now. Or at least that's the psychiatrist's most recent diagnosis. I think it's like living with a colicky baby. He's crying ALL the time. And he's fed, and he's clean, and his schedule hasn't changed, and everything is in place that should be in place to make him happy. And yet he still cries. And I understand, though would NEVER condone, where shaken baby syndrome originated. Lowell and I have both learned that when we get to that point, we have to pass off responsibilities to the other person and go to the local bar for a stiff drink or two. (Just kidding about that of course, but it's a thought that's crossed my mind.) Here's hoping that the new antidepressant will solve the problem, and we'll have a little less screaming and a lot fewer tears, for all of us, not just for the resident Eeyore.
One of our guys knocked on the door a few weeks ago in the middle of the night, was holding his right side, and said, "Can you take me to the emergency room? I think I need my appendix out." And would you believe, he was right? So Lowell got to spend the whole evening and a good portion of the next day in the hospital with "Mr. I Know How to Diagnose Myself". He was released a lot earlier than they had originally planned. We are pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that he was continually asking for a meal and complaining that there was no Sci-Fi Network on the hospital televisions. When he started asking for video games and Microsoft points, they decided he was ready to come home. That was over three weeks ago. The surgery was laparoscopic, so the healing time was about 2 days. He went back to work this week. Talk about somebody MILKING an injury. Pathetic doesn't begin to describe it.
And then we have "Mr. My Short-Term Memory Gets Worse by the Second". The loops that he gets on could be scripted. We know exactly what he is going to say and when he is going to say it. And then he's going to say it again. He loves to talk about the weather. Any time you drive past one of those digital time and temperature signs, he will tell you the temperature over and over until we pass another one, and then he points out how much the temperature has changed. And the loop goes on. The first few times that he made statements like, "It's 50 degrees. Kind of cold for a Tuesday," we laughed. But we have since decided that hearing, "it's warm for a Friday" or "kind of rainy for a Thursday" just isn't that funny anymore. I've tried to steer him by saying, "yeah, kind of warm for FEBRUARY," but it's been to no avail. I give up. I remind myself that this is the same sports nut, who, the Wednesday after the Super Bowl, told us several times that they were having a huge parade in Green Bay because they like celebrating Wednesdays. Again, no use explaining that the residents of Green Bay aren't just big fans of Wednesday!
Anyway, that's pretty much life as we know it. Hopefully, I can get over the non-blogging funk that's had me down. I'm going to go turn the heat up. It's kind of cold here for a Thursday.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
O Christmas Tree
This time of year makes me miss my daddy. I know a lot of people miss their parents around the holidays, but it's usually because they are deceased. Thankfully, mine's not. But this time of year makes me think of him and wish we lived closer.
Why? Partly because it's the Christmas holidays and being close to family is nice. But the main reason is because, without him, I'm on my own to get Christmas tree.
I have the best memories of being a little girl and going out to hunt for the perfect tree. It would be sacrilegious to have an artificial tree, as everybody knows. And we weren't ones to buy one from the Optimist Club in the Kroger parking lot. Heck, we didn't even go to a Christmas tree farm. We were the kind of family that did it right!
We got all bundled up nice and warm and loaded into my dad's pickup truck. We didn't really have a destination, just a purpose: find the perfect tree. We'd drive around and dad would slow down and look around, then drive on. Then he'd slow down and we'd hear him say, "hmmm" followed shortly after by, "I bet... hmm. Come on kids, let's see what we can find."
We'd then park on the side of the road, grab the saw and go searching for a tree. I learned all about barbed wire and how to judge if it's best to go over or under. We'd find a great tree, saw it down, throw it over the barbed wire, toss it in the truck and be on our merry way. What's funny about all this is that I had NO IDEA we were trespassing on somebody else's property and cutting down their trees. I just thought it was how everybody got a Christmas tree. But as an adult, and seeing how much trees are, I now know it was because we were POOR. (Isn't it funny though how as kids we don't realize the reasons behind the things our parents do?)
As I got older, we did begin to go to the Christmas tree farms and choose our trees legally. To this day, I don't know if that's because we had more financial stability or if my dad grew a conscience. Or maybe he was worried that now that we were older and not quite as little and cute, people would be less likely to be in the "Christmas Spirit" and let it go if we got caught.
One year my mom bought an artificial tree and quickly got the wrath of my brother and me. (And we were grown, not even living at home.) But now that I have to clean up after a real tree, I can certainly see the allure.
So I knew that I wanted my kids to have the real tree experience. I was excited the first year my dad came to pick up Joshua to take him to the Christmas tree farm down the road and let him pick out and saw down a tree. And it became a tradition. So much that last year, after we had moved 450 miles away, Joshua asked when Grandpa Phil was coming to take him to get a tree! (I was kind of wondering myself...)
Anyway, although I miss the tradition, and I miss my dad having a part in it, we have a tree. A real one. And the local Optimist Club members sitting in their trailer in the Kroger parking lot have way too much of my money.
The upside though, no clothes have to be replaced due to being caught and torn on the barbed wire.
Why? Partly because it's the Christmas holidays and being close to family is nice. But the main reason is because, without him, I'm on my own to get Christmas tree.
I have the best memories of being a little girl and going out to hunt for the perfect tree. It would be sacrilegious to have an artificial tree, as everybody knows. And we weren't ones to buy one from the Optimist Club in the Kroger parking lot. Heck, we didn't even go to a Christmas tree farm. We were the kind of family that did it right!
We got all bundled up nice and warm and loaded into my dad's pickup truck. We didn't really have a destination, just a purpose: find the perfect tree. We'd drive around and dad would slow down and look around, then drive on. Then he'd slow down and we'd hear him say, "hmmm" followed shortly after by, "I bet... hmm. Come on kids, let's see what we can find."
We'd then park on the side of the road, grab the saw and go searching for a tree. I learned all about barbed wire and how to judge if it's best to go over or under. We'd find a great tree, saw it down, throw it over the barbed wire, toss it in the truck and be on our merry way. What's funny about all this is that I had NO IDEA we were trespassing on somebody else's property and cutting down their trees. I just thought it was how everybody got a Christmas tree. But as an adult, and seeing how much trees are, I now know it was because we were POOR. (Isn't it funny though how as kids we don't realize the reasons behind the things our parents do?)
As I got older, we did begin to go to the Christmas tree farms and choose our trees legally. To this day, I don't know if that's because we had more financial stability or if my dad grew a conscience. Or maybe he was worried that now that we were older and not quite as little and cute, people would be less likely to be in the "Christmas Spirit" and let it go if we got caught.
One year my mom bought an artificial tree and quickly got the wrath of my brother and me. (And we were grown, not even living at home.) But now that I have to clean up after a real tree, I can certainly see the allure.
So I knew that I wanted my kids to have the real tree experience. I was excited the first year my dad came to pick up Joshua to take him to the Christmas tree farm down the road and let him pick out and saw down a tree. And it became a tradition. So much that last year, after we had moved 450 miles away, Joshua asked when Grandpa Phil was coming to take him to get a tree! (I was kind of wondering myself...)
Anyway, although I miss the tradition, and I miss my dad having a part in it, we have a tree. A real one. And the local Optimist Club members sitting in their trailer in the Kroger parking lot have way too much of my money.
The upside though, no clothes have to be replaced due to being caught and torn on the barbed wire.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Glass Half-Empty or Half-Full
In this house, there is no half-empty or half-full. It's just plain EMPTY. And we aren't just talking about one particular gentleman's outlook on life. We are talking about his VERY odd perception that when something only has a little left, it's gone.
To better explain, he came to me the other day and said, "We are out of laundry detergent." Well that's just plain laughable. We order our laundry detergent through the food bank and I am not even kidding when I say that we probably have close to thirty bottles of detergent in the house. But he was referring to the bottles on the shelf in the laundry area.
So you can see that there are at least six bottles of detergent on the shelf. And they may not all be full, but I can assure you none of them is empty.
And when he makes a bowl of cereal in the morning, he almost always says, "We're out of milk." And he doesn't mean, "we're almost out" because unless I catch him first, he will inevitably throw the jug of milk away.
But I really thought I might scream today when he came to me and said, "We are out of toilet paper. We only have one roll left." I went into his bathroom and this is what I saw.
Can you guess which "one" is the only one left? Of course, in his mind, the only roll we have is the one that hasn't been touched. However, I CANNOT for the life of me figure out why he truly CANNOT see that there are seventeen, count 'em, seventeen other rolls that still have a substantial amount of toilet paper on them. But he can't. He really can't. He is truly convinced that we are out of toilet paper. There is no arguing with him. And it makes me want to cry and yell. But I don't. I just walk away. And tell Lowell that one of the guys next door wants to talk to him.
To better explain, he came to me the other day and said, "We are out of laundry detergent." Well that's just plain laughable. We order our laundry detergent through the food bank and I am not even kidding when I say that we probably have close to thirty bottles of detergent in the house. But he was referring to the bottles on the shelf in the laundry area.
So you can see that there are at least six bottles of detergent on the shelf. And they may not all be full, but I can assure you none of them is empty.
And when he makes a bowl of cereal in the morning, he almost always says, "We're out of milk." And he doesn't mean, "we're almost out" because unless I catch him first, he will inevitably throw the jug of milk away.
But I really thought I might scream today when he came to me and said, "We are out of toilet paper. We only have one roll left." I went into his bathroom and this is what I saw.
Can you guess which "one" is the only one left? Of course, in his mind, the only roll we have is the one that hasn't been touched. However, I CANNOT for the life of me figure out why he truly CANNOT see that there are seventeen, count 'em, seventeen other rolls that still have a substantial amount of toilet paper on them. But he can't. He really can't. He is truly convinced that we are out of toilet paper. There is no arguing with him. And it makes me want to cry and yell. But I don't. I just walk away. And tell Lowell that one of the guys next door wants to talk to him.
Monday, November 29, 2010
How to Make a Donkey Mad
So for the last several weeks, we have been in deep discussions with one of our guys about getting a cat. We honestly think he wants the cat so that he will have a reason to buy pet insurance. (Logic is not one of his stronger attributes). Anyway, Lowell and I have been anti-cat, for various reasons. We aren't really cat people. This guy can't keep his room clean to save his life. And mainly, we are worried that we are going to have a dead cat on our hands in just a few short months.
However, there's a fine line between being against having a cat and letting him know we are against having a cat. We have been having to play both sides of the fence, dealing with him, his guardians, and the company we work for. It's not been easy.
So the other night, to stir up some fun, Lowell says something along the lines of, "Why a cat? Why not get a goat?" To which he seriously responds, "No, I don't have enough room for a goat." (This was also his response concerning smaller pets such as a hamster or turtle.) He wants a cat because he wants a pet that will be waiting for him when he gets home and will "snuggle up" with him at night. When we point out that cats aren't known too much for waiting at the door for their owners to get home so they can "snuggle," he says that he is planning on training his cat to do what he wants. After some time of forcing it to sleep with him, the cat will learn to snuggle and be happy to see him. Are ya' seeing where our concerns are coming in??
Anyway, after the goat comment he goes on to say if he had to get a pet such as a goat, he would get a donkey. He thinks it would be fun to have a donkey, mainly because their "real names" are jackass. He proceeds to tell us that "people don't call them jackasses though because it would look funny. Imagine hearing your neighbors outside calling their donkey in - 'here jackass, here jackass, come on jackass.' And not only that, imagine how mad and confused the donkeys would be hearing their owners call them jackasses. They would be upset knowing that they hadn't done anything wrong and would wonder why they were being called a jackass. It'd probably make them so mad that they would wait until their owners were standing behind them and then they'd buck up and kick them. Because, you know, donkeys don't know their real names are jackass."
And there really isn't even a response from Lowell or me. I mean, honestly, how does one respond to that conversation?
Anybody wanna join a pool on how long the cat survives???
However, there's a fine line between being against having a cat and letting him know we are against having a cat. We have been having to play both sides of the fence, dealing with him, his guardians, and the company we work for. It's not been easy.
So the other night, to stir up some fun, Lowell says something along the lines of, "Why a cat? Why not get a goat?" To which he seriously responds, "No, I don't have enough room for a goat." (This was also his response concerning smaller pets such as a hamster or turtle.) He wants a cat because he wants a pet that will be waiting for him when he gets home and will "snuggle up" with him at night. When we point out that cats aren't known too much for waiting at the door for their owners to get home so they can "snuggle," he says that he is planning on training his cat to do what he wants. After some time of forcing it to sleep with him, the cat will learn to snuggle and be happy to see him. Are ya' seeing where our concerns are coming in??
Anyway, after the goat comment he goes on to say if he had to get a pet such as a goat, he would get a donkey. He thinks it would be fun to have a donkey, mainly because their "real names" are jackass. He proceeds to tell us that "people don't call them jackasses though because it would look funny. Imagine hearing your neighbors outside calling their donkey in - 'here jackass, here jackass, come on jackass.' And not only that, imagine how mad and confused the donkeys would be hearing their owners call them jackasses. They would be upset knowing that they hadn't done anything wrong and would wonder why they were being called a jackass. It'd probably make them so mad that they would wait until their owners were standing behind them and then they'd buck up and kick them. Because, you know, donkeys don't know their real names are jackass."
And there really isn't even a response from Lowell or me. I mean, honestly, how does one respond to that conversation?
Anybody wanna join a pool on how long the cat survives???
Saturday, November 27, 2010
A Penny for your Thoughts
One of our guys loves money. All money. Dollars, quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies. All money. When working with him, we have to be very aware of our surroundings, because he will literally walk in the middle of the road if he sees something resembling change. He doesn't have a good understanding of the values, but he does know that the silver ones are more valuable than the copper, but that's never kept him from jumping out of the van to get the copper.
We recently had to call our maintenance department because our garbage disposal wasn't working properly. The guy came to fix it and pulled this out of the disposal:
And it just blew our minds. We thought we had figured out who the culprit was though. Certainly not the money hungry one. Surely not the one who definitely knows better. It had to be the one who knew better but would think it was funny. So we talked to him and talked to him about how if it happened again, he would be responsible for the maintenance charges to get the garbage disposal fixed. And he swore over and over again that this was stupid and asked why on earth we would think he would do that.
Two days later, the garbage disposal is once again just barely humming. We reach in there ourselves this time, and again pull out a handful of pennies. This time, there were even more than the first time. And we notice that some of the pennies are more beaten-looking because they were the same pennies that were in there the first time that Mr. I Love Money swiped off the counter as soon as Maintenance put them there. He was the culprit!
So that's been our latest behavior issue. And although better than some of the other behaviors we've had to deal with, it still feels odd every time I say, "Now where do we put the pennies we don't want? Do we put them in the sink? Noooo. We put them in the jar right??" This has been mildly successful. And we have caught him recently just throwing them in the trash. And although I am not a fan of throwing any money away, at least we don't have to call maintenance!
We recently had to call our maintenance department because our garbage disposal wasn't working properly. The guy came to fix it and pulled this out of the disposal:
And it just blew our minds. We thought we had figured out who the culprit was though. Certainly not the money hungry one. Surely not the one who definitely knows better. It had to be the one who knew better but would think it was funny. So we talked to him and talked to him about how if it happened again, he would be responsible for the maintenance charges to get the garbage disposal fixed. And he swore over and over again that this was stupid and asked why on earth we would think he would do that.
Two days later, the garbage disposal is once again just barely humming. We reach in there ourselves this time, and again pull out a handful of pennies. This time, there were even more than the first time. And we notice that some of the pennies are more beaten-looking because they were the same pennies that were in there the first time that Mr. I Love Money swiped off the counter as soon as Maintenance put them there. He was the culprit!
So that's been our latest behavior issue. And although better than some of the other behaviors we've had to deal with, it still feels odd every time I say, "Now where do we put the pennies we don't want? Do we put them in the sink? Noooo. We put them in the jar right??" This has been mildly successful. And we have caught him recently just throwing them in the trash. And although I am not a fan of throwing any money away, at least we don't have to call maintenance!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
How My Cup Runneth Over
I've never been big on Thanksgiving. Not so much the giving thanks part, but the getting together to give thanks part. It's never bothered me to have to work on Thanksgiving Day. Honestly, I usually enjoy it. In the line of work that we do, a big holiday normally means we have fewer people to work with. And that makes for a nice break.
But this year was different. My brother and sister-in-law and their kids are in Arkansas for the week. And I'm in Kansas. Joshua took on the duty of being our family representative so he is hanging with my people while I am here taking a psychotic guy to get an EKG, arguing the pros and cons of getting a cat with another, and listening over and over again to whatever happens to be the conversation of the day for our guy with no short-term memory. And so, while I am thankful I have a job, I've also thought a lot about the other things I am thankful for.
I am so thankful for my family (including the wonderful family I was fortunate to marry into). We certainly have had our share of dysfunction (no more or less probably than most families - we've had the divorces, the addictions, the remarriages, the griefs, the crazies, the relocations, the arguments, the FBI investigations - kidding, kind of - etc.) but we get through it. I know the saying about not being able to pick your family, but I'd choose these people over and over again if given the chance. All of them - even the really crazy one, because she's made us who we are. And I really like who we are.
I am so thankful for a husband who loves me no matter what stupid thing I say or do. He loves me when our house is a mess because I just don't feel like doing anything about it. He loves me when I get up in the morning, and even after being with me ALL DAY LONG, he still loves me when we go to bed at night. What more could a girl want?
I am thankful that I have the most amazing kid in the world. I'm not saying he doesn't drive me up the wall, because nobody does that any better. He makes me CRAZY. But he also makes me laugh like nobody else can make me laugh. He is truly so stinkin' funny! And besides having a great sense of humor, he is sensitive and compassionate and loves people well. He's gonna do great things one day. Mark my words on that one.
I am thankful that I have great friends. When we moved away from home (Arkansas) two years ago, I thought to myself, "I'll never have friends like I do now." And guess what? I was right. But what I didn't realize then was that I didn't need proximity friendships. I have friends that I know I will have FOREVER who live all over the country. And I know that if I even need those people in a way that requires their physical presence, they will drop whatever they are doing and be at more door. And I would do the same for them. How blessed I am!
I am thankful for my job. I have a job that allows me to stay home with my husband and son. I have the opportunity to make a difference every day in somebody's life. I may have to deal with crazy. A LOT of crazy. But honestly, we are pretty good at crazy. Why we had to be the people gifted at dealing with crazy, I don't know. I just know we are. So I will try to embrace that. But I will probably always wonder why us.
I am thankful for Jesus. He loves me more than I could ever deserve to be loved. The other day when I might have been yelling at Joshua when I was trying to teach him math, he looked up at me and calmly says, "Do you need some Jesus?" (Told ya' he's funny!) Lowell walked through and said, "No, she has Jesus, she's just hiding Him under a bushel!" I think I do that too much. I don't want to hide Him. Even with my wonderful family, friends, husband, child, and job, I have nothing without Jesus.
So those are the big things. I'm also thankful for LOTS of little things, many of them materialistic things, but hey, I'm being honest. I am thankful for my iphone, books, and almost all reality television. I am thankful for vacations, convenience stores, Amazon.com, and eBay. I am thankful to live in a country where I can choose where to live, where and how to worship, and where and how to educate my child. I am thankful that I have to miss Thanksgiving with the family I dined with last year, and I am thankful that I will be missed at the table in Arkansas.
I could go on, but I will stop, say "Happy Thanksgiving" and return to trying to get caught up on all the blogs about my life, in a group home.
But this year was different. My brother and sister-in-law and their kids are in Arkansas for the week. And I'm in Kansas. Joshua took on the duty of being our family representative so he is hanging with my people while I am here taking a psychotic guy to get an EKG, arguing the pros and cons of getting a cat with another, and listening over and over again to whatever happens to be the conversation of the day for our guy with no short-term memory. And so, while I am thankful I have a job, I've also thought a lot about the other things I am thankful for.
I am so thankful for my family (including the wonderful family I was fortunate to marry into). We certainly have had our share of dysfunction (no more or less probably than most families - we've had the divorces, the addictions, the remarriages, the griefs, the crazies, the relocations, the arguments, the FBI investigations - kidding, kind of - etc.) but we get through it. I know the saying about not being able to pick your family, but I'd choose these people over and over again if given the chance. All of them - even the really crazy one, because she's made us who we are. And I really like who we are.
I am so thankful for a husband who loves me no matter what stupid thing I say or do. He loves me when our house is a mess because I just don't feel like doing anything about it. He loves me when I get up in the morning, and even after being with me ALL DAY LONG, he still loves me when we go to bed at night. What more could a girl want?
I am thankful that I have the most amazing kid in the world. I'm not saying he doesn't drive me up the wall, because nobody does that any better. He makes me CRAZY. But he also makes me laugh like nobody else can make me laugh. He is truly so stinkin' funny! And besides having a great sense of humor, he is sensitive and compassionate and loves people well. He's gonna do great things one day. Mark my words on that one.
I am thankful that I have great friends. When we moved away from home (Arkansas) two years ago, I thought to myself, "I'll never have friends like I do now." And guess what? I was right. But what I didn't realize then was that I didn't need proximity friendships. I have friends that I know I will have FOREVER who live all over the country. And I know that if I even need those people in a way that requires their physical presence, they will drop whatever they are doing and be at more door. And I would do the same for them. How blessed I am!
I am thankful for my job. I have a job that allows me to stay home with my husband and son. I have the opportunity to make a difference every day in somebody's life. I may have to deal with crazy. A LOT of crazy. But honestly, we are pretty good at crazy. Why we had to be the people gifted at dealing with crazy, I don't know. I just know we are. So I will try to embrace that. But I will probably always wonder why us.
I am thankful for Jesus. He loves me more than I could ever deserve to be loved. The other day when I might have been yelling at Joshua when I was trying to teach him math, he looked up at me and calmly says, "Do you need some Jesus?" (Told ya' he's funny!) Lowell walked through and said, "No, she has Jesus, she's just hiding Him under a bushel!" I think I do that too much. I don't want to hide Him. Even with my wonderful family, friends, husband, child, and job, I have nothing without Jesus.
So those are the big things. I'm also thankful for LOTS of little things, many of them materialistic things, but hey, I'm being honest. I am thankful for my iphone, books, and almost all reality television. I am thankful for vacations, convenience stores, Amazon.com, and eBay. I am thankful to live in a country where I can choose where to live, where and how to worship, and where and how to educate my child. I am thankful that I have to miss Thanksgiving with the family I dined with last year, and I am thankful that I will be missed at the table in Arkansas.
I could go on, but I will stop, say "Happy Thanksgiving" and return to trying to get caught up on all the blogs about my life, in a group home.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Beware the Snarl
So, about a month ago, I said I was back from my summer blogging break and would get all caught up. And that was the last you've heard from me.
Life's been crazy. And the problem was not the guys, it was our staff. We try really hard to be good supervisors. And we understand that we all have families and lives outside of our jobs, so we've been understanding. We've never written her up for being tardy. We've never told her no when she's needed time off (even when she had ZERO vacation hours.) We've let her run home and check on her kids periodically throughout the day, etc. I think we've been more than fair.
Since the job isn't sitting behind a desk, she works for eight hours and doesn't get a lunch hour. Mind you, a good portion of the day, our guys are in their rooms or at work so she would watch Judge Mathis, or Law and Order, or one of those true crime stories. There wasn't a lot for her to do, so we never really called her out on any of these things.
But recently, she started taking advantage of the inches we were giving. And boy did she take miles. It started with a "I'm going to drive through somewhere to pick up lunch." (Which was fine.) But then it became a "I'm running home to grab a bite." (Which was also fine, until it was more than just a bite.) For instance, she would drop off one of the guys at work at noon. She'd show back up at the house around 1:45, take another to work at 2:30, and we wouldn't see her again until she picked the first guy up a little after 4:00. So we were calculating a good 2.5 to 3 hours of her eight hour workday that she was hanging out at home.
We tried subtlety several times. It didn't work. So we finally hit a breaking point, where I very nicely told her that she needed to come straight back and couldn't have the company van at her house at all. I think most reasonable people would think, "Well, I got away with that for a long time, too bad the good times are over." But if you read this post about the cornstarch addiction, "reasonable" might not be the first word to come to mind when you think of her.
And indeed, she did not have a reasonable response. She yelled and got mad and blamed us. She even complained to Human Resources, who quickly informed her that she ought not be advertising the fact that she'd been away from her job upwards of three hours a day.
Things were extremely uncomfortable for about a month, but slowly getting better. And then the administration changed her hours. Oh, she was certain it was our doing. She claimed we were "retaliating" against her for taking her lunch. HR reminded her that we would have no reason to retaliate as we didn't lose anything, but she didn't seem to get that.
She quit talking to us completely. To us. Certainly not about us. We heard from several of our neighbors that we were "sneaky" people and they'd been warned to stay away from us. Thankfully, they knew the source and didn't heed the warning.
But all that's just the background to the war that broke out in the house earlier this week. Since she wasn't talking to us, it really made it uncomfortable to be on the guys side of the house. If we can't be over there, we can't really do our job. So it hit a point that we had to discuss it all. And we all got mad. And we all yelled. But when it was all said and done I had to laugh. I mean, it's not funny when someone attacks your character (and boy did she!), but some of the things she said were just so ridiculous.
She said we were "dark-hearted people with a sneaky side" who "wore nice clothes on the outside but were wolves on the inside." (Pretty sure she was calling us wolves in sheep's clothing, not commenting on our brand-name Goodwill/TJMaxx wardrobes, but maybe.) She said we were viciously angry people and that the day I told her she no longer got a lunch hour, I was so angry at her that my lip snarled up. (I've never known myself to have a lip snarl, but I've been practicing all week!)
All these things were, of course, hard to hear. But you know the old sticks and stones adage, so we were just rolling along with the argument, uh, conversation. Until this happened: I mentioned the fact that she hasn't spoken to us at all and how awkward that is for us and must also be for her. She responded that she will do her job, but nowhere in her job description does it say she has to "make small talk or be polite to her supervisors" so she had no intention of doing so. Well knock me over with a feather. Doesn't she know that I'm from the South and have never ever ever ever ever ever heard of such craziness?? Doesn't she know that I was raised such that if the spawn of Satan shows up at my door, I'm gonna just invite him on in, offer him a glass of sweet tea and ask him how his momma and them's doing?? Doesn't she know?? Call me what you want. Say I have a dark heart and a lip snarl. But don't say you don't have to be polite or make small talk. Because that's just not true! Small talk and politeness make the world go 'round! At least in my corner of the world.
It's just too bad we can't all live in my little corner of the world.
(And just FYI, I no longer have to worry about the lack of politeness in my home, because she is no longer a part of it.)
Life's been crazy. And the problem was not the guys, it was our staff. We try really hard to be good supervisors. And we understand that we all have families and lives outside of our jobs, so we've been understanding. We've never written her up for being tardy. We've never told her no when she's needed time off (even when she had ZERO vacation hours.) We've let her run home and check on her kids periodically throughout the day, etc. I think we've been more than fair.
Since the job isn't sitting behind a desk, she works for eight hours and doesn't get a lunch hour. Mind you, a good portion of the day, our guys are in their rooms or at work so she would watch Judge Mathis, or Law and Order, or one of those true crime stories. There wasn't a lot for her to do, so we never really called her out on any of these things.
But recently, she started taking advantage of the inches we were giving. And boy did she take miles. It started with a "I'm going to drive through somewhere to pick up lunch." (Which was fine.) But then it became a "I'm running home to grab a bite." (Which was also fine, until it was more than just a bite.) For instance, she would drop off one of the guys at work at noon. She'd show back up at the house around 1:45, take another to work at 2:30, and we wouldn't see her again until she picked the first guy up a little after 4:00. So we were calculating a good 2.5 to 3 hours of her eight hour workday that she was hanging out at home.
We tried subtlety several times. It didn't work. So we finally hit a breaking point, where I very nicely told her that she needed to come straight back and couldn't have the company van at her house at all. I think most reasonable people would think, "Well, I got away with that for a long time, too bad the good times are over." But if you read this post about the cornstarch addiction, "reasonable" might not be the first word to come to mind when you think of her.
And indeed, she did not have a reasonable response. She yelled and got mad and blamed us. She even complained to Human Resources, who quickly informed her that she ought not be advertising the fact that she'd been away from her job upwards of three hours a day.
Things were extremely uncomfortable for about a month, but slowly getting better. And then the administration changed her hours. Oh, she was certain it was our doing. She claimed we were "retaliating" against her for taking her lunch. HR reminded her that we would have no reason to retaliate as we didn't lose anything, but she didn't seem to get that.
She quit talking to us completely. To us. Certainly not about us. We heard from several of our neighbors that we were "sneaky" people and they'd been warned to stay away from us. Thankfully, they knew the source and didn't heed the warning.
But all that's just the background to the war that broke out in the house earlier this week. Since she wasn't talking to us, it really made it uncomfortable to be on the guys side of the house. If we can't be over there, we can't really do our job. So it hit a point that we had to discuss it all. And we all got mad. And we all yelled. But when it was all said and done I had to laugh. I mean, it's not funny when someone attacks your character (and boy did she!), but some of the things she said were just so ridiculous.
She said we were "dark-hearted people with a sneaky side" who "wore nice clothes on the outside but were wolves on the inside." (Pretty sure she was calling us wolves in sheep's clothing, not commenting on our brand-name Goodwill/TJMaxx wardrobes, but maybe.) She said we were viciously angry people and that the day I told her she no longer got a lunch hour, I was so angry at her that my lip snarled up. (I've never known myself to have a lip snarl, but I've been practicing all week!)
All these things were, of course, hard to hear. But you know the old sticks and stones adage, so we were just rolling along with the argument, uh, conversation. Until this happened: I mentioned the fact that she hasn't spoken to us at all and how awkward that is for us and must also be for her. She responded that she will do her job, but nowhere in her job description does it say she has to "make small talk or be polite to her supervisors" so she had no intention of doing so. Well knock me over with a feather. Doesn't she know that I'm from the South and have never ever ever ever ever ever heard of such craziness?? Doesn't she know that I was raised such that if the spawn of Satan shows up at my door, I'm gonna just invite him on in, offer him a glass of sweet tea and ask him how his momma and them's doing?? Doesn't she know?? Call me what you want. Say I have a dark heart and a lip snarl. But don't say you don't have to be polite or make small talk. Because that's just not true! Small talk and politeness make the world go 'round! At least in my corner of the world.
It's just too bad we can't all live in my little corner of the world.
(And just FYI, I no longer have to worry about the lack of politeness in my home, because she is no longer a part of it.)
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