Friday, August 31, 2007

The things I do to myself...

Hullo, my writer friends.

As you know, I've been working just a little over full time since May. Six days a week. Every morning I wave to the Beloved and I drive away in my Neon, wishing I could be home with them. It would all be better soon, I told myself. Soon my new employee would be able to handle things on her own for a day at a time, and I could have some days off with my kids before they, you know, grow up.

Except yesterday, I let my employee go.

It just wasn't going to work. She's a very sweet girl, just a little more clueless than I thought. Hint: when you take a job and agree to the offered (fair!) wage, you need to know ahead of time if that is enough money to pay your bills. When you discover that your obligations outstrip your income, don't expect your employer, who has spent thousands of dollars training you for an entire summer, to let you hang around while you look for a better job. Ain't happening, sweetheart. Bye.

So that leaves me where? Working my butt off, for one, with a hiring hangover that looks like it's going to last until, oh, Christmas. I don't even want to advertise, I feel like I just got out of a relationship - I need some time.

The icing on the cake? I just got off the phone with a woman. The conversation went like this:
Her: "Hello, to what time are you open this evening?"
Me: "Six o'clock."
Her: "Six o'clock, on a Friday before you close for a long weekend. That's just wonderful."
Me: Stunned pause, while I reel from the sarcasm.
Her: "Thank you so much."
Me: "Uh, thank you." For not shopping here. Ever.

Amazing. You know, I go out of my way for people. Just this morning I went outside without a coat in the pissing freaking rain to carry a computer to a woman's car. Every second day, I wait an extra few mintues so some poor overworked shmuck can make it here in time to pick up his machine. I follow up. I care. You won't get that kind of service anywhere else.

So thank YOU, lady-who-was-calling-from-home, who is probably watching Oprah right now. You suck.

Thank heavens for my real customers, the people who see and appreciate how long and hard I work.

Friday, August 17, 2007

It's not nice to laugh at people

So here am I, plugging away in my nifty little computer shop, when in comes a customer. No big deal, that happens all the time.

"Hello," says customer, "I need a USB extension cable."

(For those of you following along, a USB cable has both an "A" ending and a "B" ending. Extensions always plug into the "A" ending.)

"Oh yes," I say, just as pert and perky as can be, "those are right here. Six feet?"

"Mmmphm." (People say that around here, you know.) He's looking at the two ends of the cable, and looking mildly distressed. I showed him how his cable would plug right in to the end of the cable in the package. He's still not happy, I can tell.

"What's the matter?"

"Well," he says, "that's not the end of the cable I wanted to extend."


Blink blink.

Friday, August 03, 2007

Cha. Sure.

So, of course I'm run off my feet today. Of course these people are coming out of the woodwork, and taking all my stuff away so I have to order more stuff.

So that's ok, of course.

(stomp, stomp - disappears into stock room with a clipboard.)

Good Things

My little sister is coming for the weekend, and we're closing the shop for three whole days. Yay! We'll be taking the kids to an amusement park, where they have a petting zoo and rides and a waterslide and ice cream. BamBam is tall enough to go on all the rides now! We'll also be going to the Natal Day parade, because BamBam has never been to a parade, and hell, he's going to be six this month. (My bad.)

Today is going to be a stellar writing day, because Employee is away, and I can't imagine people will want to bother much about me when it's thirty degrees and sunny out there. And see, it's only 6:30 and I'm writing already, thanks to Pebbles, who woke Mummy at five o'clock and then went back to sleep.

Also very excited about Bambam's birthday party. When asked what sort of party he wanted, he said "A surprise party."

"Dude, you can't plan your own surprise party."

"No, but YOU can. Just...surprise me!"

All righty then. I think I can pull that off. So I told him it really wasn't quite the thing, and maybe we'd talk about his party later. In the meantime, any idea who he'd like to invite?

So, guess what we're doing?


With a hayride, blown-up bouncy jumper things, all-you-can-eat hotdogs, AND a pony ride. Not at the house, (blessing self) but at a facility that actually does that stuff. Provided you sign the waiver.

Sucker mom, to the rescue. Yes, it's maybe more than we ought to do, but once I saw the website I just couldn't help myself. You only turn six once.



How did this boy get to be six?