Confessions of a One-Track Mind

Meanwhile, back at the medical billing office, they'd taken me out of my happy little cubical and put me back on the phones. (Insert rant here.) I was stressed, but I was still writing. And I tried for every other job in the office that came up, and believe me, I was NOT pleased when I got passed over in favor of someone who'd barely been there six months.

And then---! One afternoon, during lunch---did I mention the daily lunch run? There was a rotation, where we took turns going out to pick up lunch---"I'm going to Woody's barbecue, get your orders to me in fifteen minutes."---and that day, as I well recall, the lunch run was to Tropical Smoothies, where I'd ordered my usual, an Asian chicken wrap and a chocolate smoothie.

While I was awaiting lunch, I got called into the manager's office and told I was being let go (for various spurious reasons), pack up my stuff and hit the road. Fortunately, my lunch arrived before I was through, although by the time I got home, the smoothie was kinda soupy.

Well...piss on 'em. The problem being, they'd pissed on me on the way out---their spurious reasons were enough to deny my unemployment benefits. I'd had a retirement account that I cashed in, which gave me enough money to live on for a while, but I still feel stabbed in the back and hope they get what's coming to them, kharmically speaking.

I was out of work for exactly six months to the day. That was the summer I discovered House MD, and got really active on LJ. I got a couple really close friends out of fandom---karaokegal and pwcorgigirl, and another---foreverhermit---by way of...? grammar_whores? little_details? Something like that.

Because I kept seeing references to it on my f'list, I tuned in the season opener of Supernatural, and boom! I had a new fandom. I'd lusted after Jeffrey Dean Morgan back in his Burning Zone days, and he'd only improved with age. The younger two weren't exactly gargoyles, either. I did one ficlet, then let it all hang out with a 10K word, three-way crossover for karaokegal's first annual "Come As You're Not" fiction party. (That would be "Bad Fairy", which was preseries for SPN, House MD and The Burning Zone.) I've spent the last four seasons writing SPN, and I'm finally getting to the point where I'm over it. (Let me tell you about Justified!)

In September, the money was running out, and I went to a job fair in Melbourne, which was traumatic---I was still freaked out in traffic---where I gave my resume to everyone with a pulse. (Anyway, that's how it felt.) I got ONE callback, from the call center that ended up being my next job.

I didn't want to drive to Melbourne every day, it scared me stiff---literally. I had a white-knuckled deathgrip on the steering wheel both ways for a very long time. One thing that made it a little nicer, though, was the presence of a Goodwill store in the same plaza. My first trip down, when I was turning in an application and doing the obligatory "at least 20 WPM" typing test, I wandered in there and got a great denim jumper, a patchwork shirt and a Wild Woman jacket. Score-o-rama!

I was hired as "seasonal", and I desperately wanted to be permenant, despite the daily trauma of the commute. There was an incentive running during the holiday season that year, where they had a pot, I think it was something like $2500, and if you missed any time between Thanksgiving and New Year's, you were knocked out of the running. I don't remember exactly how much I got, it was something like $150, but after New Year's, I noticed fewer and fewer people sitting in our section. I kept my head down and worked hard while they thinned the herd, and got hired.

And once I got over my asphalt anxiety, I liked it a lot. For one thing, very seldom was I called "you people".


.

My first action on staggering out of bed this morning was to grab my bank card and the phone and call the cable company...six days without an internet of my own was a week in Hell. (You know, Hell---where Time is dilated, so that six days is really sixty, which in Internet Time encompasses entire glacial epochs. Thank God that's over!)

The job situation: They've extended my probation by another week, and set a new goal that's even more absurd than the original ridiculous goal. I haven't a prayer, but at least it gets me paid for another week. They can fire me, but I'll be damned if I'll quit (can't get benefits if I quit, and I'd NEED them). So stay tuned....

The good thing about the extension is my schedule for next week; I'll have a 3-day weekend, because there's Posh Brits training on Wednesday (Yes, they of the $1300 bag!), which is an all-day thing, and I'd be out early enough to get home for Leverage. Unless, of course, I arrive for training and get hauled into HR and canned, which I wouldn't put past them.

Oh, and to add stress to more stress, Current Boss told me yesterday that I'm "overdrawn" on my vacation time and must relinquish three of the days I've selected. So either I miss my birthday week vacation, Dr Bizarre's wedding, or Halloween/The Full Moon Ball at church. Since it's probably going to be a moot point in a week, I'm resisting. (And plan to call in and go anyway. It's not my fault their fancy-schmancy new time-keeping software sucks ass. I was already planning to call out the Thursday before the wedding. Asshats.)

Was annoyed last night that I hadn't set a timer for SPN---I walked into the breakroom at 9:45 to find it was my favorite ep of last season. (Yeah, I know Mischa is made of awesome, but I totally cougar Brock---what can I say?!)

Thanks to combining Leverage and IMDb, I have rescued Secondhand Lions from my vid shelf and have rewatched it twice---Christian Kane's character is Robert Duvall's younger self in flashbacks*, and he gets to do swordfighting! In tight pants! With a big walrus moustache! Woohoo! That, and my renewed internet access are the high point of my week!
____________________________________________________

* And yet, there is NO fanfic that I can find for it---how can this BE?!

Today has been quite a day. Visted three food pantries with BC. The first was a 20-minute wait and yielded sausages, canned goods, baked goods and 2 2-liter bottles of diet cola (Best by 5/16/09). The second involved a 45-minute wait in a dark, crowded stifling hallway and yielded more baked goods. The third was already closed for the day, out of stock.

After a brief intermission, BC arrived at my place with the box spring and mattress. We got the old ones to the curb and the new ones in place. The old mattress, because it's a platform bed, was about crotch height on me. This one is crotch plus 3", which is going to take some getting used to, as is the fact that if I bump the mattress with my ass, it slides away---NOT something I could do with the old one! It also displaced a lot of stuff that was sitting peacefully in corners, not bothering anyone until BC came through. Oh well, I probably ought to move it anyway.

Then came the a/c installation. Getting the old one out took more doing than expected---I had completely forgotten that HWSNBN had silicone-caulked the side pieces---we had a devil of a time getting them out! The new a/c doesn't have the flange that held the other one in place, so I was forced to weather-strip it with duct tape.

I ended up compensating BC with $20 and a bottle of root beer. (Root beer to BC as a goodwill gesture is a long-standing tradition.) Because I didn't quite have that on hand in cash, we both detoured over to WinnDixie. I got enough extra cash to compensate the lawn service, aka ang5fam's offspring---thankfully he didn't show up until AFTER I'd had a chance to shower.

With all this financial stuff going on, I checked my bank balance, and was horrified to discover that my good deed had come back and bitten me on the ass---the discount code that was supposed to take $25 off the cost of that $25.41 order, didn't freaking work. I got to call in as an incoming What Trash Queen call to try to straighten it out---they're STILL working on it! All because WTQ is a pack of tightwads who give out codes instead of real gift cards. And it's not like I don't know what I'm doing! That was a perfectly valid code on a perfectly good order---guh, the things I'm driven to do for sales numbers---but at least dealing with it counts against someone else's handle time!

I WILL get it back, one way or another, and I figure by then another $25 will come in handy. Meanwhile, my room is reaching a suitably arctic temp, I have baked goods galore, life is good.

Okey-dokie. FPL is paid. First thing I did this morning after reaching for the caffeine and Excedrin. BIG sigh of relief!

Making plans with missybrat for Sunday afternoon---shopping after church, yay!

Found out at work yesterday that we're all facing mandatory overtime next week. Mine is a week from tomorrow. I'm not overly thrilled, but wtf, it's money.

Also going on there: I'm being reassigned. Same department, I hasten to add, but answering fashion calls instead of casual. The way it works is, apparel is divided into three categories, casual, fashion and footwear. Everyone has a primary category of calls they get---mine has been casual ever since this system went into effect---and a backup, mine being fashion---and the third category we only get calls for when there are no primaries or backups available. So in fashion, I'm going to be backing up footwear, and I'm fucking pissed.

Yes, I can imagine your shock. Fluffy, unhappy about shoes? Not shoes, FOOTWEAR. We have FitNazi---athletic shoes, the callers are insane sports fanatics and I could not fucking care less. There's Bunions R Us; I have never had a call from anyone under 60 for these people. They're stubborn and/or senile and make the Geezer Britches callers look downright reasonable. Butch Boots...them I don't mind so much, because most of the time, they love the product. Major problem here is people whose their kids swiped their credit cards and ordered custom boots. And then there's another company that just launched last month, I don't even have a name for them yet! But NONE of them have cute shoes, shoes *I* can wear, and I am really dreading the whole damn thing.

I'm GOOD at casual, damn it! I don't mind fashion, I back up for them now, and the ONLY good thing about this mess is that it means I'll be included in the LeSnobbi training later this month. (They stopped including the backups in training in spring, and it really hurt. They give such juicy loot!) Other than that? Ugh! I hate footwear! *scowl*

Oh, and that also means I have a new supervisor. I'll really miss Sweetie Boss! The gal I'll be under...I know her from when she was a rep, and I like her as a person, but I'm concerned as to what kind of supervisor she'll be. I'm worried that this is a machination of Uber-Boss to get rid of me.

Meanwhile, yesterday was White Trash Queen training, very disappointing: No gifts, no snacks, and the broad sitting next to me just plain didn't give a fuck.

Damn, I'm ready for another long weekend!

Yesterday's cortisone shot helped quite a bit. My range of motion has improved, and this was the first morning in weeks that I didn't get up and immediately pop three Excedrin---I'm sure my liver is grateful, too.

I called out of work again today, because both the commute and the job are stressful and I didn't want to get those muscles all tensed up again. This way, I've got a couple days more to recuperate in, so that hopefully by Tuesday I'll be something close to normal. At least physiologically.

Speaking of the finer points of medicine (insert segue here), I spent this morning/early afternoon commiting an act of fiction, and I've lobbied the Pit of Voles for a new category: Royal Pains. Next Wednesday will be the 5th anniversary of my first posting over there, and commemorating it by inaugurating a new category pleases me.

I then sent it to be betaed, went to Walgreens to drop off my scrip for muscle relaxers, headed over to the library where I returned 5 of last week's 6 (I'm still working my way through the convoluted web of Cyteen machinations that is "Regenesis"). Back when I last had a library card, things were far less states of the art: last night, I went online at 3 AM and reserved stuff. (They have JDM's Dead and Breakfast in the system!!! Yippee! I've been wanting to see that. Ditto Tales of the Black Freighter. *does Snoopy dance*) Oh, and as I was leaving for all this, I had it confirmed that the Asshats next door have moved. So long and thanks for absolutely nothing!

Now I have retrieved my scrip, and am waiting to see if said muscle relaxers do render me drowsy as everyone warns. I have an odd metabolism; OTC sleep meds make me twitchy and restless, more than half a Xanax has me cross-eyed trying to stay awake, and I once totally confounded a dentist when I told him that 1000mg of hydrocodone just took the edge off the pain of an extraction gone bad. He said he would've been unconscious; I was miserable but still functioning.

That was when I was working at the Dysfunctional Family Business. DFB was owned by the parents of two sons who also worked for them, and NONE of these people could speak three sentences to another before it disintegrated into a screaming row. I've never been happier to be fired from a job...anyway, I had a dry socket, which is a euphemism for "Oh fuck me, my head is going to IMPLODE!" -- this was a week or so after I'd started there, and they decided for reasons known only to them and God, to piss test me. For the record, I was sitting in an office answering phones and typing up forms (on an actual IBM Selectric typewriter).

Drug test came back positive, yeah, so what? I had a prescription for the stuff, which I produced. It helped that they knew the dentist in question, but afterward, Mrs DFB took me aside and told me how Mr DFB had gone through cancer surgery and recuperated and never took any painkillers along the way. To which, my unspoken reaction was, Then he's an idiot, because pain causes harmful stress to the body and who the fuck do you think you are, telling me to suck it up? Where do you get off, imposing your judgements on other people's health?

*yawn* Maybe a little drowsy....

I'm hoping today will be reasonable. Lots of good sales, a minimum of dumbasses, help desk the whole time---one of the Saturday night stressors was no help desk after 4 PM and one insanely bitchy broad who wanted to dispute an auth hold on her prepaid Visa card. Prepaid credit cards are a massive pain in the ass when they don't go through, because they may go up to a whole month before releasing the charges. They have the money on hold, they're collecting interest on it, why should they care if it's tied up for weeks? They tell the caller that "all" we have to do it fax the info to them and they'll release it---what they don't say is, by the rules of the Payment Card Industry Secure Standards Council we CAN'T fax the whole card number. So the consumer thinks we're the ones being uncooperative, when we're abiding my the law and NOT potentially incurring penalties of $5000 to $25,000. That's real money, and most of the time, the charges are little nickel-and-dime amounts under $100. But try telling THEM that.

Yes, I'm up awfully early for me, but I had to deal with what work dealt me Saturday. I just happened to check my schedule around 10 PM---I was actually looking up vacation time I have scheduled, because unless we have training, my schedule doesn't change except for things like break times, and that's on a day-by-day basis---and some genius had me scheduled for 5-day weeks starting TODAY.

I *did* recently discuss the possibility of going up to 40 hours (from my current 32), but I specifically said 4 10-hour days, NOT a 5-day week with a like number of commutes. And I certainly didn't expect them to change my schedule with no warning! I freaked, fired off an email to Sweetie Boss, who is my direct supervisor, left a message on her desk to reinforce it, and then this morning I called bright and early and hyperventilated in her ear.

She called it a "miscommunication" with someone who does the scheduling, and says it will be fixed today. (She is made of awesome---she was a rep when I first started, and she and I have always gotten along well---she appreciates my sense of humor.)

I've had that hanging over me for the last 36 hours---thank heavens that's taken care of!

Now all I have to do is summon the energy to go over to Kat's with a bagzilla or two and clean out my car. She has a nice, flat driveway with a shaded carport, whereas I have a steeply sloping driveway with very little shade. She wins....

It's been a while since I've cleaned up after a major holiday weekend, and I had forgotten just how much stupidity ensues. That said, if profanity makes you go blind, I strongly suggest you shield your eyes, because Tuesday was fairly hideous, enough that I came home and went straight to the Captain Morgan's, and I am a cheap drunk. 2 drink maximum and I am LOOSE.

Come on, how often do I hit the bottle? 2, maybe 3 times a year? If that? But today, nothing else was going to unknot that tension, at least nothing *I* have access to. There's no convenient SigOther to rub my back and call for pizza and cater to my every whim (in a loincloth plaid flannel shirt and jeans). I can't afford a weekend getaway or a day at the spa. This is it, me and the rum and diet Coke with Lime trying to release the homicidal fantasies I'm having about certain callers I encountered today.

Like the dunderhead from Nevada who called in on Brand X jeans, very indignant because we had the temerity to send them by way of the US Postal Service, who doesn't usually deliver to his residence; he has a PO Box. Most of the time when that happens, the USPS sends the package back to our warehouse as undeliverable. In this case, they forwarded it to his PO Box, and he was pissed that he'd had to shell out $6.05 out of his own pocket for postage due. There was more---a LOT more that I won't inflict upon you, my friends---but if I ever get my hands on that prick, I'm going to rip his tongue out and use it to wipe my ass. Screw you, asshole---I hope you get eaten by bears. Next time, if you want to get it at the house, get expedited shipping. Cheap fucker.

He was the piece de resistance, but there were more, too many to count, and I'm not going to try...breathe in, breathe out...had one cancelled order for White Trash Queen, ESL broad called in 4 minutes before my lunch about a 100+ item order that was cancelled because it was placed from outside the country. I explained this to her, repeatedly, and ended up 8 minutes late for lunch, which they monitor incessantly.

And the day started out so well! I had a shortish fic* that I sat down and pounded out in good time, would probably have posted it if I'd had another hour, but that's okay, tomorrow is soon enough, because I'm a wee bit too tipsy right now. I've been on a roll this month, writing-wise, and that's shiny, because I haven't felt that way in a while. But then I had to go to work. And was late getting out the door, because I had a reminder that my adventures in banking still needed to be dealt with. (Thank you, gracias, merci beaucoup, danke schoen and all that jazz, you know who you are!)

Zoomed down the road, running about 20 minutes late by my standards, was highly irritated by the fuckmook in the Ford Fucus** who was weaving in and out of traffic. (Car du jour was a Ford Fairlane circa 1963, not in prime condition, but neither am I at a similar age.) Then! As if I wasn't already grumbling, I got stuck behind a school bus! That stopped traffic behind it THREE times! ON US1, for fuck's sake!

It turned onto Post Rd, then, entering Melbourne, a miracle occurred: I had sequential green lights at Aurora Rd, Eau Gallie Blvd and Ixora. Holy wow. This has NEVER happened in the whole time I've been commuting. Not ever. Otherwise, it would've been cutting it way too close and being late when holiday pay is up for grabs is a Very Bad Thing.

If I'm not careful, I will go into a rabid rant about other Very Bad Things, like in-store only gift cards, syrupy hold-muzak versions of Every Breath You Take, Uber-Boss, some of the idjits who put our websites together, that sappy damned Pediasure commercial, the Gosselins---and all the rest of those fruitcakes on TLC with enough kids to populate a Third World country. Apparently it no longer takes a village---it takes a network! Enough already!

Good night!

===================================

* Because I was going through stuff I TiVo'ed the other night. And rewatched Torchwood --- Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, which was the first ep I ever saw, and could appreciate it so much better now, and Captain John said something about he was laughing at Jack, and I just had this moment of epiphany: What if the Comedian was a Time Lord? It kind of morphed a bit in execution, but I've definitely got a yummy little crossover in the oven! (Working title: Putting the 'Fun' Back in Funeral.)

** W00t! Best drunken Freudian slip EVAR!

So tonight? I'm critter-sitting for the C's. Got the request yesterday, sure, fine, no problemo. Hey, they're the reason I still have a roof over my head---whatever they want from me, they've got it. Up to and including a kidney....

I got woke up at 7:45 AM this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. And now I have to go to work, no joy. Brand X has a friends and family sale going, the promo wasn't working yesterday, and I swear, EVERYBODY I talked to had an IQ lower than their body temperature.

However, I've got 2200-ish words of crack!fic, aka The Aplotcalypse, so far. I'd say it's about 80% done, and I'm enjoying the hell out of it, no pun intended.

Just as a teaser, my casting for Lucifer:



Later, dahlings!

I thought we were finally settled into a permanant seating arrangement, but today several of us---including me---got shifted around. I had a minor hissy fit and managed to get a place I like at the end of a row, although tomorrow, I'm going to wear pants so I can crawl under my previous desk and swap out keyboards. The space key on this one sticks. Note to self, take in a few more Q-tips to go with the little jar of rubbing alcohol I took in to clean the mouse with. The last one was bad, this one was outright filthy and nobody else does it. I sometimes wonder wtf it is that tech support actually DOES all the time....

Came home, watched Harper's Island, which is gonna be interesting. I was a little surprised by who got killed at the end of the ep---I didn't see THAT coming---and there are an awful lot of pretty 20-somethings left. Yawn. They hinted at an angsty relationship between the sheriff (Jim Beaver, hooray!) and his daughter, so hopefully he'll be around for most, if not all, of it.

And tomorrow, I need to leave the house early and see if I can pick up a cheap tire OR get someone to put the donut on for me, because the right front was almost flat when I got out of work again tonight. And there was a car parked right in front of the air pump at the nearest gas station; I had to go another two blocks and neither one of them is lit worth a damn.

Guh, I'm tired, and my week has two days left....

There were Executroids, and they were boring. I don't think I have EVER been to a class that started on time, in this case about 40 minutes late. That particular training room used to be chilly, but when they "fixed" the A/C, it went up to room temp---not cold, not overly warm, just sort of neutral "I'm going to fall asleep now" kind of temp. They were showing us vids, and I damn near nodded off.

They passed around clothes and stuff, boring stuff, most of them totally not worth their prices, IMO. There was the usual Q&A, boring. There was no food, no drinks, no candy, no loot---we didn't even get our own style booklets because they didn't bring enough. In short, I don't like them any better than I did before the training, as in, I don't like them. Period.

In even more uninspiring news, our CEO has posted that there's a wage freeze because of the economy. I would've been up for a raise next month; nice timing, tightwad. We had yet another potential partner come in to tour today...they're on a par with Trendicrap. In fact, Trendicrap has cited them as direct competition. If they come to us, this should be interesting!

Seven more days! When I get home from work next Thursday night, I'll have six consecutive days off in a row to look forward to, four of them with GK in town. (And on my first day back, I have LeSnobbi training. They're generous, I'm looking forward to that!) I hope the weather is nice---she's been freezing her ass of in Massachusetts all winter.

Last night's Big Issue was some bitch who called in on Posh Brits and screamed at me because her package hadn't arrived, and she'd spent the whole day sitting at home waiting for it. And they rescheduled it. News flash: That's the carrier's fault, not ours. And then she went off because she'd placed the order on the 23rd, and went with FREE ground shipping (Delivery in 3-5 business days AFTER it leaves the warehouse). And for whatever reason, it didn't leave the warehouse until the 28th. She wanted An Explaination.

I tried to be nice. "I feel your pain", all that empathy shit. Nope, she wasn't having it. I called Help Desk, who told me that that close to Christmas, the warehouse was concentrating on shipping the Overnite/Priority stuff, and ground could wait.

Which set Posh Bitch off no end. Oh, but we should have CALLED her and let her know! (Which almost set me off laughing because CLEARLY, this stupid cow has NO IDEA of the volume of packages we ship, especially two days before Christmas!) OMG, that was so unprofessional of us, and it was discrimination (?!?!?) because she didn't have the money to pay for expedited shipping---excuse me? She had FREE SHIPPING. If she can afford to order from Posh Brits, I know damn well she could've sprung for faster shipping. I don't want to hear any "poor me" crap, because she's a tightwad bitch.

But I stayed nice. I offered her free 2nd day shipping on a future order, since we can't credit back shipping when shipping is free to begin with. I offered her a return label so she could send the order back when it arrived (since she was making "I don't know if I still want it after all this" noises), and Posh Bitch kept bellyaching about how she wanted an explaination for why her package took so long to ship.

(How the fuck do I know? I'm not at the warehouse. Tis the season. Shit happens. The world won't come to a screeching halt because you didn't get your over-priced piece of frippery. Adjust your meds. Get a life. The Earth does NOT revolve around you.)

Anyway, she finally demanded to speak to a manager. (Which I'm NOT supposed to suggest. Hint: If you ever have a problem that involves customer service, DON'T open with "I want to speak to a manager". Give the CSR a chance to fix the problem. Most of the time, we can.) Thank god, since by then, I was starting to think seriously about saying some of those parenthetical things.

I checked the notes on the order later; apparently she screamed at the Help Desk gal loudly enough to be heard by the rep in next cube over.

Posh Bitch aside, yesterday wasn't too bad. They've winnowed out a bunch of the n00bs...there are a couple people I'll miss, but two of my favorites are staying, so that's something to look forward to. And our first training of the year is scheduled next Friday---the Executroids are coming to town....

Today was far less arduous than I anticipated. There were a few flurries of calls. I thoroughly hate, loathe and despise the Executroid Twins (two yuppie menswear companies we gained over the last couple of months). Can hardly tell 'em apart, they're both overpriced "prestige" brands and a major pain in the ass. (Especially since the Executroid Product Boss emailed me to fill out a pre-training form that I did last fucking week. Been there, done that, really was not in the mood to do it again but did anyway.) Usually, I don't get calls for them; I'm going to have to have a few words with the In-Charge desk, because I haven't had a Trendicrap call since last weekend, and I swear, I MISS them. They can be dumber than dirt sometimes, but compared to the pretentious, whiny, demanding yuppie scum that frequents the Executroids, they are the salt of the earth.

Despite that bullshit, there were a number of mellow little lulls. I actually scribbled quite a bit on the continuation of my Yuletide treat. Eight steno pages---I'm rather amazed! And with resounding irony, that one is getting more reviews than my "big" story. I've never written in the treat fandom before, although I've been familiar with the source material since 1982. *beatific smile* Thankfully, I have a normal schedule tomorrow then two days off to write! This is the most excited I've been about a project in ages.

After sleeping on it, I've decided to use the cash S & T gave me to repair the laptop that they gave me. It needs a new keyboard, which RHappy says he can take care of. The prospect of a sweet little portable computer that I can take into my warm cozy bedroom during the coming winter is lovely. (Trust me, I know Florida: January thru March are the winter months. December *can* work up a chill, although this year, not so much. And invariably, there will be one last cold snap in April after one's packed away the heavy blankets.) It'll also be useful in helping me inventory my DVDs---I can take it out to the living room, rather than dragging armloads back here just to type in the title.

Anyway, that was the day after Christmas.

Work today? Was EVIL. Got a buttload of calls for partners I seldom get and ZERO for Trendicrap, which is an extreme rarity. Got hung up on by numerous people I didn't want to talk to anyway, a bunch of nasty, snotty, demanding asshats who wanted to rail at length about reship policy, lies FedEx told them, why can't they find this thing that was on the website yesterday---"Because it sold out?!"---and so on. The ONLY thing that kept me from saying fuck this noise and walking out about 8 PM was the thought of not getting paid for Xmas. Other than that? Fuck 'em all. But! It's over. Granted, we're going to be doing mop-up for the next month, but it has PEAKED.

Red and I met and exchanged gifts before I went in---we're still on for next month, but she also presented me with a dichroic glass pendant she made. VERY shiny. I gave her a LeSnobbi wallet (in violet, her favorite color) and a USB drive. (She doesn't have internet access at home, so this way she can transport data to the library, or wherever.)

I DID get an hour of undertime, and hustled home to find my Body Shop package waiting for me. OMG, that pink grapefruit body butter smells awesome! Tomorrow? I am totally having a spa day. I'm going to wash my hair, exfoliate thoroughly, give myself a mani-pedi and once the polish has dried, butter myself...hmm, that sounds like there may be a personal battery-operated device involved. Either way, it's all good.

I'm about to start counting the number of non-Trendicrap calls I get, and compare it to my total daily calls, because today? I swear to fuck, I took 100 Trendicrap calls, including one that lasted a full 45 minutes. And, God as my witness, if I EVER get my hands on the imbecile of a noob who told that caller that it was okay to ship GROUND to her residential address despite the fact that she doesn't receive mail there---I'm going to strangle that fool with her own entrails. Slowly and gleefully. Because what happens is, the local post office labels it undeliverable, sends it back to us, and I get the pissed off caller in my ear demanding a reship, a price match and free expedited shipping because it's our error. And then, said bitching caller looks for new products to replace what's sold out in the last two weeks, has conference with daughter-recipient, has daughter measure self because neither of them are sure if the sizes ordered the first time are correct, consults about color, style, size, takes away tape measure and remeasures because daughter is an idiot and can't tell her waist from her hips, consults some more---you get the idea. I was ready to bang both of their heads together, but *deep breathing* they're the customers, and while I may not think they're any too bright, it was the stupid freaking rep who precipitated the problem to begin with.

Then, there's the issue of dumbshits who don't understand RIGHT. As in, "If the column to the right of the pictured item is blank, and the information is all squished down at the bottom of the page, the item is sold out and is being removed from the site.". I tell them this, and they say, "It's a plaid jacket." "What's the item number?" "I don't know. It's blue and white. Wait, is this it? 6666?" "Look to the right of the picture. There's nothing there. If the information isn't to the right of the item, it's SOLD OUT." "Oh." And it wasn't just one or two of these, it was every third or fourth call ALL DAY LONG. In addition, of course, to the ones I had to explain "clearance section" to, as in, "The 30% off promo ONLY applies to items in the clearance section"---there is a difference between clearance and markdown.

Two days off, thank God. I'll try not to rant any more for the duration, bozos permitting....

I took 16 orders today, which isn't a record (Close, though!), but about half of them I had to "clean up" after--- mostly requesting credits because one code wouldn't work with another, or just plain wouldn't work---or price adjustment, or commenting on when the 14th business day was. None of the callers were unbearably bitchy, though, so it's all good.

Also managed to avert a potential crisis without bloodshed---scheduling had me down to work mandatory overtime on two of my days off next week, and NO FUCKING WAY was I going to schlep back and forth to Melbourne for half-shifts of overtime on my days off. But I had a few words with Boss C, who got scheduling to swap things around so I'll have the same basic schedule as this week, IE, going in two hours early. Which works, because there's a holiday feast at church on Sunday, so I didn't want to volunteer that either.

Still no word on whether there will be mandatory overtime Christmas week. If not, I'll only have a 3-day week, Tuesday, Friday and Saturday. That would be nice....

Have to go in earlier tomorrow, so I can snag my check and get it deposited. *yawn*

I was threatened by a Pelts Leathermore customer. Yes, me, the paragon of customer service! You see, because of the ongoing problems we've had with the credit card verification software, a bunch of orders got cancelled. To make up for that, we created a code for those customers which would match the discount on the promo we had last weekend, plus free shipping. It was supposed to be good through the 14th---except somebody leaked it to third-party websites, and things got messy. So we killed the code, and Ms. Thing got VERY belligerent with me. Told her there was nothing we could do unless she had had an order cancelled. (Greedy, opportunistic, money-grubbing cow.) She demanded my name---which I gave her; I'm in the right AND I had Help Desk tell me so---and she swore she was going to call back and talk to *gasp!* A Manager. Whatever, bitch. You're still not getting the discount!

Yesterday at work was typical December; the calls were completely back to back, most of them inquiring about the status of already placed orders...but the good thing was, the day went quickly. I volunteered to go in early tomorrow (so I can get off at 9 PM, yay!).

In grimmer news, because the geniuses who turned scheduling on its ear had changed my schedule for Friday and I didn't bloody know about it, I won't get holiday pay for Thanksgiving. I know, it's not fair, I'm pissed, and if I EVER get my hands on the techno-tard who railroaded us into that shitty software, I'm going to strangle him with his own entrails. And if that means coming back as a cockroach until Nuclear Winter turns to spring, then so be it.

Speaking of scheduling, instead of letting me work next Sunday and leaving the rest of my schedule alone, as I would have preferred, next week they have me going in two hours early every day. In years past, mandatory overtime has only lasted for two weeks, but they've never pulled that "reschedule you during the same week it's posted for" shit either.

*deep breathing*

Today, I finally got over to WalMart for groceries. In the spirit of the season, I picked up a $3 poinsettia and small wooden Nutcracker* and some peppermint sticks. Got the essentials. Ran into HHappy during checkout.

On the way home, I stopped in and paid my FPL bill. At the moment, the only thing that isn't up-to-date is cable, and I've spoken with them. The status is quo.

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* One of my best Christmas memories ever was of the year I was seven, when my brother took me to see the Nutcracker ballet. Doing the math, he would've been 22 at the time, quite the man of the world---or at least New York City. We took the Staten Island ferry to The City, and subways from there to where it was being performed---Lincoln Center---and for the next several hours were transported to a world of grace and magic. I kept the program for years; it was lost when we moved down here.