The griping is not from me - it is from Doris.
She is unhappy with the thank you note that I wrote to her.
She does have a point: her complaint is that I didn't actually mention the pear.
What I very carefully did - because I do not want to encourage more presents in the class of Green Glass Pears - was not mention the pear.
Instead, I thanked her for her thoughtfulness in remembering my birthday and I thanked her for sending a gift. Then I segued rather cleverly into talking about Primo, her favorite subject, thinking she wouldn't notice.
But she did.
And she asked Primo why I didn't mention the pear. Primo knew why, of course, but also knew if he told her that I didn't like it that there would be Drama, so he just shrugged and said he didn't know.
What do you do in a situation like that? If I had raved about the pear, she would have thought, "Finally! I found something she likes!" And then my house would fill with glass fruits of various colors.
I had to stop the madness.
I remember an episode of Car Talk where the caller said that when his friend had bought a Saab, he had raved about it because he didn't know what to say and he thought it was the ugliest car he had ever seen.
But it's kind of like praising someone's baby - what possible repercussions could there be? Nobody is ever harmed by saying, "What a beautiful baby!" even though most new babies look a lot like monkeys and are beautiful only to their parents. The parents beam when they hear the words because to them, it is a beautiful baby. You don't need to worry that the mother will thrust the baby into your arms and say, "You take her! You love her more than I do!" You can praise a baby and all your little white lie and following of a social convention do is make someone happy.
This guy had raved about his friend's car. I don't know what possessed him to do it - maybe the friend was so proud and asked the caller what he thought about his amazing new gorgeous car and the caller shrugged and thought, "Eh. What harm can come of this? I'll tell my friend his car is gorgeous." Which he did.
And so when the friend wanted to sell the car a few years later, the caller's wife bought it for him. Because she thought he loved it so much.
That's the reason you never lie about liking cars or green glass pears. It is safe to lie about babies, but it is not safe to lie about gifts or cars. It will come back to haunt you. Which is why I did not lie. But Doris isn't strong enough for the truth.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Thursday, January 2, 2014
In which the green glass pear drama just doesn't quit
I told you about the birthday present that Doris sent me - a green glass pear.
First, full disclosure: Primo is partly responsible. He was at Sly and Doris' when Doris was looking at presents and he just got tired of saying "no" to everything. Doris found the pear and pointed out that Primo and I have a pear tree in our back yard and wouldn't a green glass pear be cute and he surrendered and said yes.
I have advised him that he should never ever again agree to any present that is purely decorative. I went so far as to say if Doris likes it, I probably will not, partly because I don't want to like anything she would like but mostly because we truly do not share the same taste.
Not to say that I am Miss Fancy to whom everyone turns for taste advice - I have been known to go out in public in gym clothes without bathing when I am not going to the gym - but nobody who looks at any part of my house (except Primo's office, which is its own thing) would ever think, "I can tell this is someone who would love trinkets, curios, and tchotchkes."
Anyhow. I took the pear to the post office, told my tale of woe to the postal clerk, who told me to be nice to my mother in law but when I explained that she and my husband's dad had threatened to boycott the wedding two weeks before the wedding, he became more sympathetic. He was wearing a cross around his neck - when I noticed that, I explained further that one of the reasons she and Sly had not wanted me to marry Primo was because I was one of those stupid people who believe in God.
A word on atheists - I have several atheist friends. Belief or lack of belief has never been an issue in our friendship. I do not tell my atheist friends that I am worried for their eternal souls and they do not tell me that I am stupid for believing in God. I don't know if they think that - if they do, they are polite enough not to say it out loud.
And I am polite enough not to say that I don't want them to burn in hell (which of course I do not want to happen - I wouldn't even want that for Sly and Doris), mostly because that would be tacky but also because I do not know what happens when we die and I have enough to worry about with my own soul, much less the souls of others. However, let it be said that if there is a God and an afterlife, I do hope that my friends and I are all together in the Good Place and nobody goes to hell unless they are really, really bad and I am talking about Hitler level bad. (If Sly and Doris are there, perhaps they could stay on one side of heaven and I could be on the other.)
But I don't know. It's not something we talk about. Except I do sometimes talk about it with Jessica, my high school biology lab partner who is an atheist UU minister, just because I am so fascinated that an atheist would choose a career path in religion.
So for Sly and Doris to be that contemptuous of believers is a bit off putting. As soon as I explained that part to the postal worker, he was completely on my side.
Where was I?
Oh. I returned the glass pear. I had to call the store to find out if they had gotten it because they didn't mail me anything to inform me.
Yay. They had gotten it, unshattered - a shame, actually, as I would have gotten a payment from the PO - and now I had a credit at the shop.
Primo and I looked at the website, desperate to find a way to use the credit. Did we want a $59 towel? No we did not. We did not want anything else on the site - wait. Back up. Is that a pillow? A pillow made in the USA? On sale for $59?
Primo needed a new pillow.
We are not ones to spend $59 on a pillow, but we needed a way to launder this cash and turn it into something useful.
And it was made in the USA. Always nice to support our friends and neighbors.
I ordered the pillow.
It arrived.
We opened it.
The tag said, "Made in Sri Lanka."
Sri Lanka <> USA.
To complicate matters, Primo didn't like it.
Back to the store, along with the repeated plea not to notify the purchaser of the original order, ie, Doris.
Again, no mail or email notification that the store had gotten the return. Instead, I got a phone call.
A phone call.
Who notifies customers of a return by phone?
I had to explain to the customer service agent that no, I could not write down the return number because I was in the chair at the dentist* and it was not exactly convenient.
Now I have another credit at a store I do not like. I have suggested to Primo that he choose a Christmas present for Doris from the store, as she seems to like this sort of thing.
* Where the dental assistant had told me she was going to "higher" my chair. Which she did.
First, full disclosure: Primo is partly responsible. He was at Sly and Doris' when Doris was looking at presents and he just got tired of saying "no" to everything. Doris found the pear and pointed out that Primo and I have a pear tree in our back yard and wouldn't a green glass pear be cute and he surrendered and said yes.
I have advised him that he should never ever again agree to any present that is purely decorative. I went so far as to say if Doris likes it, I probably will not, partly because I don't want to like anything she would like but mostly because we truly do not share the same taste.
Not to say that I am Miss Fancy to whom everyone turns for taste advice - I have been known to go out in public in gym clothes without bathing when I am not going to the gym - but nobody who looks at any part of my house (except Primo's office, which is its own thing) would ever think, "I can tell this is someone who would love trinkets, curios, and tchotchkes."
Anyhow. I took the pear to the post office, told my tale of woe to the postal clerk, who told me to be nice to my mother in law but when I explained that she and my husband's dad had threatened to boycott the wedding two weeks before the wedding, he became more sympathetic. He was wearing a cross around his neck - when I noticed that, I explained further that one of the reasons she and Sly had not wanted me to marry Primo was because I was one of those stupid people who believe in God.
A word on atheists - I have several atheist friends. Belief or lack of belief has never been an issue in our friendship. I do not tell my atheist friends that I am worried for their eternal souls and they do not tell me that I am stupid for believing in God. I don't know if they think that - if they do, they are polite enough not to say it out loud.
And I am polite enough not to say that I don't want them to burn in hell (which of course I do not want to happen - I wouldn't even want that for Sly and Doris), mostly because that would be tacky but also because I do not know what happens when we die and I have enough to worry about with my own soul, much less the souls of others. However, let it be said that if there is a God and an afterlife, I do hope that my friends and I are all together in the Good Place and nobody goes to hell unless they are really, really bad and I am talking about Hitler level bad. (If Sly and Doris are there, perhaps they could stay on one side of heaven and I could be on the other.)
But I don't know. It's not something we talk about. Except I do sometimes talk about it with Jessica, my high school biology lab partner who is an atheist UU minister, just because I am so fascinated that an atheist would choose a career path in religion.
So for Sly and Doris to be that contemptuous of believers is a bit off putting. As soon as I explained that part to the postal worker, he was completely on my side.
Where was I?
Oh. I returned the glass pear. I had to call the store to find out if they had gotten it because they didn't mail me anything to inform me.
Yay. They had gotten it, unshattered - a shame, actually, as I would have gotten a payment from the PO - and now I had a credit at the shop.
Primo and I looked at the website, desperate to find a way to use the credit. Did we want a $59 towel? No we did not. We did not want anything else on the site - wait. Back up. Is that a pillow? A pillow made in the USA? On sale for $59?
Primo needed a new pillow.
We are not ones to spend $59 on a pillow, but we needed a way to launder this cash and turn it into something useful.
And it was made in the USA. Always nice to support our friends and neighbors.
I ordered the pillow.
It arrived.
We opened it.
The tag said, "Made in Sri Lanka."
Sri Lanka <> USA.
To complicate matters, Primo didn't like it.
Back to the store, along with the repeated plea not to notify the purchaser of the original order, ie, Doris.
Again, no mail or email notification that the store had gotten the return. Instead, I got a phone call.
A phone call.
Who notifies customers of a return by phone?
I had to explain to the customer service agent that no, I could not write down the return number because I was in the chair at the dentist* and it was not exactly convenient.
Now I have another credit at a store I do not like. I have suggested to Primo that he choose a Christmas present for Doris from the store, as she seems to like this sort of thing.
* Where the dental assistant had told me she was going to "higher" my chair. Which she did.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
In which a Thanksgiving passes without too much drama
Have you been wondering how Thanksgiving chez Doris and Sly was this year? I have. So I asked Primo, who had spent his Thanksgiving with me, grilling a steak and watching "Brokeback Mountain," and then putting the snow tires on the car and vacuuming and all the fun things that adults get to do with their time and money.
But he was home and not with Sly and Doris so it was a good weekend.
He spoke on the phone with Sly and Doris on Thanksgiving and then again on that Sunday because of course they expect a call on a holiday and then there is the regular Sunday call.
Am I the abnormal one for not calling my mother every week and talking to her for an hour about whatever? For not listening to her complain about how awful the entire world is and how I am her Only Joy (only she would never say that because I am not - my mom has many hobbies that keep her too busy to chat)? Am I a Bad Daughter for not calling my mom every week?
Or do Sly and Doris expect too much and should Primo put his foot down and tell them to leave him alone? (How I wish he would. I have tried to convince him but thus far have not been successful.)
Anyhow. He spoke to them about their Thanksgiving, which they spent with Stephanie, who is my ex sister in law - she was married to Primo's half brother Jack until a few years ago. Sly and Doris almost never have anything nice to say to her or about her yet she is a saint, going over to help them with household repairs and inviting them over for holidays.
Primo spoke to Sly and Doris on Sunday. Doris was telling him that Thanksgiving was nice. As she was speaking, Sly was in the background telling Doris "not to tell Primo about that thing because I don't want it to get back to Stephanie."
So of course Primo reported that odd conversation to me.
"Did they not say anything negative about Stephanie?" I asked.
"My dad said the turkey was dry. He said he could tell the second he walked into the house."
Which I didn't understand - how can you tell if the turkey is dry before you even see it or taste it? But Sly is a man of many talents and his power is legion.
"Is that what's not supposed to get back to Stephanie?"
"I don't think so," Primo said.
We mused. What could it be? Now we wanted to know.
I texted Stephanie.
But he was home and not with Sly and Doris so it was a good weekend.
He spoke on the phone with Sly and Doris on Thanksgiving and then again on that Sunday because of course they expect a call on a holiday and then there is the regular Sunday call.
Am I the abnormal one for not calling my mother every week and talking to her for an hour about whatever? For not listening to her complain about how awful the entire world is and how I am her Only Joy (only she would never say that because I am not - my mom has many hobbies that keep her too busy to chat)? Am I a Bad Daughter for not calling my mom every week?
Or do Sly and Doris expect too much and should Primo put his foot down and tell them to leave him alone? (How I wish he would. I have tried to convince him but thus far have not been successful.)
Anyhow. He spoke to them about their Thanksgiving, which they spent with Stephanie, who is my ex sister in law - she was married to Primo's half brother Jack until a few years ago. Sly and Doris almost never have anything nice to say to her or about her yet she is a saint, going over to help them with household repairs and inviting them over for holidays.
Primo spoke to Sly and Doris on Sunday. Doris was telling him that Thanksgiving was nice. As she was speaking, Sly was in the background telling Doris "not to tell Primo about that thing because I don't want it to get back to Stephanie."
So of course Primo reported that odd conversation to me.
"Did they not say anything negative about Stephanie?" I asked.
"My dad said the turkey was dry. He said he could tell the second he walked into the house."
Which I didn't understand - how can you tell if the turkey is dry before you even see it or taste it? But Sly is a man of many talents and his power is legion.
"Is that what's not supposed to get back to Stephanie?"
"I don't think so," Primo said.
We mused. What could it be? Now we wanted to know.
I texted Stephanie.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
In which there is a very sincere potluck and I am a bad, bad person for thinking it is funny
But come on - don't you think this is kind of funny, too?
Please bring something to share. We do have friends who are vegan, vegetarian, lactose intolerant, and gluten intolerant so please consider making something they could enjoy as well.
No matter what you bring please label it with ingredients for those with allergies (meat, milk, eggs, nuts, etc)
I think the only food that would work would be water.
Please bring something to share. We do have friends who are vegan, vegetarian, lactose intolerant, and gluten intolerant so please consider making something they could enjoy as well.
No matter what you bring please label it with ingredients for those with allergies (meat, milk, eggs, nuts, etc)
I think the only food that would work would be water.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
In which I learn more about Sly and Doris' sex life again, even though this is not a subject that interests me at all
Me: Oh man! Listen to this title: "The sex toys in the attic. For the sake of your executors, throw them out. Now."
Primo: What?
Me: What if we find something in your mom and dad's basement?
Primo: I know we will.
Me: What?
Primo: I already know they have sex toys.
Me: How on earth do you know that?
Primo: Because--
Me: Wait. Stop talking. I do not want to hear another word about this.
Primo: But--
Me: No! Nothing! Nothing else about your parents' sex life!
Primo: OK.
Me: Seriously. Why do they tell you this stuff?
Primo: They have nobody else to talk to.
Me: Doesn't matter. They need to make friends. This is not appropriate conversation between a parent and a child.
Primo: My mom has nobody.
Me: Not your fault.
Primo: I feel bad for her.
Me: OK. How do you know about this?
Primo: Because the last time I was there, my dad asked me to go to Target and get C batteries.
Me: So?
Primo: I asked him what the batteries were for and he wouldn't tell me.
Me: Why did you ask him? Why would you care?
Primo: Because almost nothing uses C batteries any more. Wouldn't you want to know?
Me: No. I wouldn't care at all. So how did you find out?
Primo: I asked him again. Finally, after the third time, he told me they were for a vibrator.
Me: Oh gross.
Primo: Yeah, I know. But he is very proud that at his age, his sexuality is still a major part of his identity.
Me: That's not the issue. The issue is he tells you about it.
Primo: I know.
Me: So you don't want to know this stuff either.
Primo: I think it's gross.
Primo: What?
Me: What if we find something in your mom and dad's basement?
Primo: I know we will.
Me: What?
Primo: I already know they have sex toys.
Me: How on earth do you know that?
Primo: Because--
Me: Wait. Stop talking. I do not want to hear another word about this.
Primo: But--
Me: No! Nothing! Nothing else about your parents' sex life!
Primo: OK.
Me: Seriously. Why do they tell you this stuff?
Primo: They have nobody else to talk to.
Me: Doesn't matter. They need to make friends. This is not appropriate conversation between a parent and a child.
Primo: My mom has nobody.
Me: Not your fault.
Primo: I feel bad for her.
Me: OK. How do you know about this?
Primo: Because the last time I was there, my dad asked me to go to Target and get C batteries.
Me: So?
Primo: I asked him what the batteries were for and he wouldn't tell me.
Me: Why did you ask him? Why would you care?
Primo: Because almost nothing uses C batteries any more. Wouldn't you want to know?
Me: No. I wouldn't care at all. So how did you find out?
Primo: I asked him again. Finally, after the third time, he told me they were for a vibrator.
Me: Oh gross.
Primo: Yeah, I know. But he is very proud that at his age, his sexuality is still a major part of his identity.
Me: That's not the issue. The issue is he tells you about it.
Primo: I know.
Me: So you don't want to know this stuff either.
Primo: I think it's gross.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
In which there is another birthday and another present from Doris blessherheart
Stop reading right now if you get bothered by someone complaining about a gift. I am going to complain about something that someone gave me, freely and without expectation of reciprocity - wait - there is totally expectation of reciprocity. Doris totally expects something expensive in return.
But given freely, despite Primo's gentle warnings that Mom, she probably won't like that. Mom, don't get that for her.
I am a bitch. I complain about gifts when they come from Doris. I complain because
1. Except for the Envirosax bags that roll up and fit into my purse and the Lands End flannel sheets that Primo begged them to get if they were going to get us anything, even though they harrumphed and asked why should they get us sheets and Primo had to explain that we had been coveting those sheets for three years but could not bring ourselves to spend that much on sheets but they were on sale and Lands End was offering free shipping so now, now was the time to get them, Doris has never sent me anything I have liked or kept. Except Primo kept the cast-iron cat.
2. Every time Doris sends me a present, after I have confirmed with the store that they will not tell Doris that I have returned the item, I have to pay to send it back and then I end up with a store credit to a store that sells stuff I do not want.
3. Which means I have to cast about desperately for a way to use the credit.
4. And I don't always do that, because the stores are usually very expensive and sell things I don't like.
In this case, I will have to drive to the post office on Saturday to mail the box, because it is a huge box and too big to bring to work on the bus and send from the mailroom.
I already went through a live chat with the store, only I had to wait and wait because despite their assurances that they are open until 9 p.m. every day, they are not and live chat was offline yesterday afternoon and this morning.
I had to chat with customer service to ask if Doris would know if I returned the item and she would not tell me until I had given her the order number. Then she wanted my name and address and I asked why, if she had the order number, did she need that info? Shouldn't all that pull up when you key in the order number? Honestly.
The customer service person told me that not only did I have to pay for the return shipping, I would only get a store credit.
Did I show you the item?
It is a green glass pear.
I know. I am completely screwed if Doris ever finds this site.
But again, I ask myself, "What in Doris' time with me and her nine days in my house would ever lead her to believe that a green glass pear would be something I would want?"
That is the same basic question I asked when Doris sent us the cheap Chinese pressed wood nesting tables painted with hibiscus and hummingbirds. The cast-iron cat. The vase handpainted with purple flowers.
If you ever came to my house, you would understand why I ask these questions because truly, there is nothing in my house to indicate a liking of frou frou things and especially not of frou frou things that have no practical use and have to be dusted.
Again, I repeat - I know I am a bitch for complaining about this. I know there are people who have horrible things going on in their lives, far worse than getting a green glass pear as a birthday present.
If you want to think badly of me, go ahead. But if you have ever been the recipient of repeated unwanted gifts that have nothing to do with what you would ever want and are given to you despite someone's gentle advice that really, that is not something you would want, you might have a little bit of sympathy for my whining.
Stephanie, my sister in law, suggested I re-gift it back to Doris. I am willing to give that a shot. Stephanie also noted that Doris hadn't even given me the set. Not that I want three glass pears, but at least then I could afford some of the other items on the site.
In the mean time, I have looked through the site. There are some linen sheets that I thought might be nice. I would have to pay extra, but you know. Green glass pear $59, linen sheets $109. That's a $50 difference.
I looked more closely.
That was $109 for a sheet. One sheet. One flat sheet. An entire set would have been almost $300.
However - Doris did address my birthday card to "Gold Digger D." instead of "Gold Drunk." So there is some progress.
But given freely, despite Primo's gentle warnings that Mom, she probably won't like that. Mom, don't get that for her.
I am a bitch. I complain about gifts when they come from Doris. I complain because
1. Except for the Envirosax bags that roll up and fit into my purse and the Lands End flannel sheets that Primo begged them to get if they were going to get us anything, even though they harrumphed and asked why should they get us sheets and Primo had to explain that we had been coveting those sheets for three years but could not bring ourselves to spend that much on sheets but they were on sale and Lands End was offering free shipping so now, now was the time to get them, Doris has never sent me anything I have liked or kept. Except Primo kept the cast-iron cat.
2. Every time Doris sends me a present, after I have confirmed with the store that they will not tell Doris that I have returned the item, I have to pay to send it back and then I end up with a store credit to a store that sells stuff I do not want.
3. Which means I have to cast about desperately for a way to use the credit.
4. And I don't always do that, because the stores are usually very expensive and sell things I don't like.
In this case, I will have to drive to the post office on Saturday to mail the box, because it is a huge box and too big to bring to work on the bus and send from the mailroom.
I already went through a live chat with the store, only I had to wait and wait because despite their assurances that they are open until 9 p.m. every day, they are not and live chat was offline yesterday afternoon and this morning.
I had to chat with customer service to ask if Doris would know if I returned the item and she would not tell me until I had given her the order number. Then she wanted my name and address and I asked why, if she had the order number, did she need that info? Shouldn't all that pull up when you key in the order number? Honestly.
The customer service person told me that not only did I have to pay for the return shipping, I would only get a store credit.
Did I show you the item?
It is a green glass pear.
I know. I am completely screwed if Doris ever finds this site.
But again, I ask myself, "What in Doris' time with me and her nine days in my house would ever lead her to believe that a green glass pear would be something I would want?"
That is the same basic question I asked when Doris sent us the cheap Chinese pressed wood nesting tables painted with hibiscus and hummingbirds. The cast-iron cat. The vase handpainted with purple flowers.
If you ever came to my house, you would understand why I ask these questions because truly, there is nothing in my house to indicate a liking of frou frou things and especially not of frou frou things that have no practical use and have to be dusted.
Again, I repeat - I know I am a bitch for complaining about this. I know there are people who have horrible things going on in their lives, far worse than getting a green glass pear as a birthday present.
If you want to think badly of me, go ahead. But if you have ever been the recipient of repeated unwanted gifts that have nothing to do with what you would ever want and are given to you despite someone's gentle advice that really, that is not something you would want, you might have a little bit of sympathy for my whining.
Stephanie, my sister in law, suggested I re-gift it back to Doris. I am willing to give that a shot. Stephanie also noted that Doris hadn't even given me the set. Not that I want three glass pears, but at least then I could afford some of the other items on the site.
In the mean time, I have looked through the site. There are some linen sheets that I thought might be nice. I would have to pay extra, but you know. Green glass pear $59, linen sheets $109. That's a $50 difference.
I looked more closely.
That was $109 for a sheet. One sheet. One flat sheet. An entire set would have been almost $300.
However - Doris did address my birthday card to "Gold Digger D." instead of "Gold Drunk." So there is some progress.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
In which there is another fundraiser
Primo: I need to talk to you about something.
Me: No.
Primo: You don't even know what it is!
Me: When you start with, "I need to talk to you about something," it always ends with something I don't like.
Primo: This isn't bad. I'll do everything.
Me: Definitely no now.
Primo: You won't have to do a single thing.
Me: No. Way.
Primo: I spoke to Cassandra McCauly today.
Me: She wants to run for governor.
Primo: Yes. I want to have a fundraiser for her here.
Me: No. I am not doing another fundraiser.
Primo: You won't have to do anything.
Me: I'm not doing anything.
Primo: Nothing. I will do everything.
Me: I am not cooking.
Primo: I will get volunteers to bring the food.
Me: The house has to be cleaned.
Primo: I know. I will vacuum.
Me: It's not just that.
Primo: I will vacuum the living room and the dining room.
Me: The bathroom has to be cleaned.
Primo: I will vacuum the living room, the dining room, and the bathroom.
Me: No. The bathroom has to be cleaned. The toilet and the sink and the tub.
Primo: I will clean the toilet and the sink.
Me: And the tub.
Primo: That's what a shower curtain is for.
Me: Do you know how many times I have pulled the shower curtain back to check the tub at other peoples' houses?
Primo: I don't care about the tub. Nobody will be taking a shower. I don't care.
Me: But other people will. And they will blame me if it's not clean.
Me: No.
Primo: You don't even know what it is!
Me: When you start with, "I need to talk to you about something," it always ends with something I don't like.
Primo: This isn't bad. I'll do everything.
Me: Definitely no now.
Primo: You won't have to do a single thing.
Me: No. Way.
Primo: I spoke to Cassandra McCauly today.
Me: She wants to run for governor.
Primo: Yes. I want to have a fundraiser for her here.
Me: No. I am not doing another fundraiser.
Primo: You won't have to do anything.
Me: I'm not doing anything.
Primo: Nothing. I will do everything.
Me: I am not cooking.
Primo: I will get volunteers to bring the food.
Me: The house has to be cleaned.
Primo: I know. I will vacuum.
Me: It's not just that.
Primo: I will vacuum the living room and the dining room.
Me: The bathroom has to be cleaned.
Primo: I will vacuum the living room, the dining room, and the bathroom.
Me: No. The bathroom has to be cleaned. The toilet and the sink and the tub.
Primo: I will clean the toilet and the sink.
Me: And the tub.
Primo: That's what a shower curtain is for.
Me: Do you know how many times I have pulled the shower curtain back to check the tub at other peoples' houses?
Primo: I don't care about the tub. Nobody will be taking a shower. I don't care.
Me: But other people will. And they will blame me if it's not clean.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
In which Primo is praised for his protest t-shirt by someone who asked breathlessly if he had been arrested
Primo spent Friday and most of Saturday in the state capital with his party peeps, protesting. There were speakers from around the country and there was singing and drum beating and of course, there was a t-shirt.
The t-shirt was about the main protest event - a protest that has been going on for a couple of years now. I don't know what they are protesting against or for. The main thing these days seems to be that the protesters not being allowed to protest in the capitol building without a permit.
There is a case to be made that protests against the government should not require a permit, but there is also the case to be made that people who are trying to conduct business on behalf of The People should be able to go on about their business without having to listen to protesters in the capitol rotunda. I am all for people doing what they want, but once they start to annoy me, they need to knock that crap off.
I am not particularly tolerant of noise when I am trying to work. Now that I am no longer in an office and am stuck in cubicle land, I am subject to the endless sounds of eating of dry granola and carrot sticks by the woman who works behind me. She is also always on the phone, which is what happens at work sometimes, but then she makes personal calls that have been quite loud. And she brings in re-heated French fries, the smell of which makes me gag.
She never shuts up and she never stops eating, so last week, when we had our ANNUAL meetings with the three managers from France, Spain, and England, when she sent an email to everyone in our usually not phone-talking group because the people we deal with are in different time zones asking us to "keep it down to a dull roar," I wanted to march over to her desk and ask, "Really? REALLY? YOU are asking US to be quiet?"
But I didn't because I am a big fat chicken. Instead, I just slap on headphones when she starts eating and I listen to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
Where was I?
Oh. The right to protest without a permit. It's a legitimate issue, but don't protest around me when I am trying to get something done or trying to get somewhere. You have a right to protest. You don't have a right to keep me from doing what I want to do.
So Primo went to the protest. He promised me he would not get arrested. There have been numerous arrests over the past few weeks. We agreed that he would not get arrested, even if he thinks it's a good cause.
He returned with a t-shirt about the protest. Let's call it the "Protesting for No Apparent Reason" protest, or "PNARP." He was wearing the shirt. We walked into town to watch a band perform at a town festival. A woman came up to Primo and gushed, "Were you there?"
Primo: Yes. I went today.
Woman: Oh my! Did you get arrested?
Primo: No.
Woman [look of disappointment]
Me [dryly]: It is not in our financial interest for him to be arrested.
Woman [confused look]
Me: If someone wants to make a point for The People by being arrested, that's fine. But we are not interested in spending $1,000 to make that point.
Woman draws back, smiles uncertainly. I am pretty sure she thought I was a weird bitch who wasn't properly supportive of The Cause.
She is correct.
The t-shirt was about the main protest event - a protest that has been going on for a couple of years now. I don't know what they are protesting against or for. The main thing these days seems to be that the protesters not being allowed to protest in the capitol building without a permit.
There is a case to be made that protests against the government should not require a permit, but there is also the case to be made that people who are trying to conduct business on behalf of The People should be able to go on about their business without having to listen to protesters in the capitol rotunda. I am all for people doing what they want, but once they start to annoy me, they need to knock that crap off.
I am not particularly tolerant of noise when I am trying to work. Now that I am no longer in an office and am stuck in cubicle land, I am subject to the endless sounds of eating of dry granola and carrot sticks by the woman who works behind me. She is also always on the phone, which is what happens at work sometimes, but then she makes personal calls that have been quite loud. And she brings in re-heated French fries, the smell of which makes me gag.
She never shuts up and she never stops eating, so last week, when we had our ANNUAL meetings with the three managers from France, Spain, and England, when she sent an email to everyone in our usually not phone-talking group because the people we deal with are in different time zones asking us to "keep it down to a dull roar," I wanted to march over to her desk and ask, "Really? REALLY? YOU are asking US to be quiet?"
But I didn't because I am a big fat chicken. Instead, I just slap on headphones when she starts eating and I listen to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
Where was I?
Oh. The right to protest without a permit. It's a legitimate issue, but don't protest around me when I am trying to get something done or trying to get somewhere. You have a right to protest. You don't have a right to keep me from doing what I want to do.
So Primo went to the protest. He promised me he would not get arrested. There have been numerous arrests over the past few weeks. We agreed that he would not get arrested, even if he thinks it's a good cause.
He returned with a t-shirt about the protest. Let's call it the "Protesting for No Apparent Reason" protest, or "PNARP." He was wearing the shirt. We walked into town to watch a band perform at a town festival. A woman came up to Primo and gushed, "Were you there?"
Primo: Yes. I went today.
Woman: Oh my! Did you get arrested?
Primo: No.
Woman [look of disappointment]
Me [dryly]: It is not in our financial interest for him to be arrested.
Woman [confused look]
Me: If someone wants to make a point for The People by being arrested, that's fine. But we are not interested in spending $1,000 to make that point.
Woman draws back, smiles uncertainly. I am pretty sure she thought I was a weird bitch who wasn't properly supportive of The Cause.
She is correct.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
In which we highlight the differences between my mom and Sly and Doris
What my mom does that bugs me (note that none of these things are bad at all)
1. Asks me to go to church to pray for my brother, who has been having some health problems
2. Uses a lot of italics and bold and ALL CAPS!!!! in her emails.
3. Sends me very detailed emails about what's going on in her life
What Sly and Doris do that bug me
1. Tell Primo he is a bad son
2. Make vicious comments about everyone they know, probably including Primo
3. Complain about everyone
4. Criticize everyone. Primo sent me this message from chez Sly and Doris:
1. Asks me to go to church to pray for my brother, who has been having some health problems
2. Uses a lot of italics and bold and ALL CAPS!!!! in her emails.
3. Sends me very detailed emails about what's going on in her life
What Sly and Doris do that bug me
1. Tell Primo he is a bad son
2. Make vicious comments about everyone they know, probably including Primo
3. Complain about everyone
4. Criticize everyone. Primo sent me this message from chez Sly and Doris:
We were watching tennis today. There was some young girl who won a contest singing the national anthem at the U.S. Open. He didn't just say that she wasn't good (although she was at least OK); he said that it was an insult to any person with a sense of patriotism to pick anything less than a great singer for the anthem.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
In which Primo makes the semi-annual haj to Sly and Doris' house
Primo is visiting Sly and Doris so there will be lots of good stories. Unfortunately, they do come at a price. Primo has to live through this.
1. Sly had a list of chores for Primo. Primo is supposed to replace the shower head and supposed to power wash the porch screens. He wrote to me:
Primo: I'm cranky. They bought a pressure washer and want me to clean the "screenarium." They claim that they tried hiring someone but he didn't do it right. Jack should be doing that kind of work.
My dad is eager to make excuses for Jack. He doesn't seem to think Jack owes them as much as I think he does.
2. I wrote to Doris about how Primo and I had investigated hiring a cleaning lady but it would be too expensive. I told her the story of being on a business trip to the Middle East and talking to one of the women in the office there, who was horrified when she realized that I did not have daily help. "But who cleans your house?" she asked.
"I do," I said. I explained to her that in the US, it is only rich people who have maids.
I mentioned that story to Doris and she got all upset, telling Primo on the phone that she and Sly have a cleaning lady but they're not rich.
I pointed out to Primo that actually, his parents are quite well off, and that usually, "maid" refers to someone who comes every day whereas (I think) a cleaning lady is more of an occasional things.
Doris then had to write to me to tell me that they were not rich. Not rich!
I wanted to write back and ask, "And yet you spend hundreds of dollars on booze, you have a cleaning lady, a gardener, a big-screen TV. You eat out all the time. You are not poor."
In the letter, I also mentioned that my boss had been acting erratic and irritable and my co-workers and I were speculating that he might have early-onset dementia or might have a drinking problem. I commented that we all walk on eggshells around him because we don't know what might set him off.
She had nothing to say about that.
1. Sly had a list of chores for Primo. Primo is supposed to replace the shower head and supposed to power wash the porch screens. He wrote to me:
Primo: I'm cranky. They bought a pressure washer and want me to clean the "screenarium." They claim that they tried hiring someone but he didn't do it right. Jack should be doing that kind of work.
Me: What? WHy did they BUY a pressure washer?
And how does someone not do it right for pressure washing?
and why won't they ask Jack to do this stuff?
Primo: They
say that the guy who didn't do it right did a half-assed job. You
hired Amish Bruce, so you know how things work sometimes.
Maybe I should ask Jack to do this stuff. I've been mad at him for years because of his effect on their long-term financial picture. He's never going to come up with money to pay them back, so in my opinion helping them is the least he could do.
Maybe I should ask Jack to do this stuff. I've been mad at him for years because of his effect on their long-term financial picture. He's never going to come up with money to pay them back, so in my opinion helping them is the least he could do.
My dad is eager to make excuses for Jack. He doesn't seem to think Jack owes them as much as I think he does.
2. I wrote to Doris about how Primo and I had investigated hiring a cleaning lady but it would be too expensive. I told her the story of being on a business trip to the Middle East and talking to one of the women in the office there, who was horrified when she realized that I did not have daily help. "But who cleans your house?" she asked.
"I do," I said. I explained to her that in the US, it is only rich people who have maids.
I mentioned that story to Doris and she got all upset, telling Primo on the phone that she and Sly have a cleaning lady but they're not rich.
I pointed out to Primo that actually, his parents are quite well off, and that usually, "maid" refers to someone who comes every day whereas (I think) a cleaning lady is more of an occasional things.
Doris then had to write to me to tell me that they were not rich. Not rich!
I wanted to write back and ask, "And yet you spend hundreds of dollars on booze, you have a cleaning lady, a gardener, a big-screen TV. You eat out all the time. You are not poor."
In the letter, I also mentioned that my boss had been acting erratic and irritable and my co-workers and I were speculating that he might have early-onset dementia or might have a drinking problem. I commented that we all walk on eggshells around him because we don't know what might set him off.
She had nothing to say about that.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
In which we discover that Sly and Doris are indeed not steak worthy
Primo and I had a big argument before he left to visit Sly and Doris because he wanted to take one of our Good Steaks with him and I maintained that Sly and Doris are not steak worthy.
This is a variation of an argument we have had before - not everyone is bratwurst worthy.
My uncle and cousins own a deer-processing and sausage-making business up north. It is illegal to sell a product with venison in it, so they give us venison bratwurst and breakfast sausages and summer sausage when we visit. I always take something to give in return, but what do you take? They are not big drinkers, so don't care about wine. They don't care about the fancy olive oil. You can get good cheese around here, so fancy cheese is not an option. I have taken some sausages from other countries, but it's hard to bring those into the US.
So even though they throw open the doors to the freezer and say, "Take as much as you want," the fact that it's an uneven exchange holds us back. I don't want to be greedy. I mean, I do want to be greedy, but I don't want to look greedy. I want all the benefits of greed - lots of venison sausages - with none of the disadvantages - people will think I'm a pig.
I faced the same dilemma when my dad's cousin gave my mom and me a tour of the bakeries he and his wife own. He unlocked the door to the main bakery after it had closed, opened his arms, and said, "Take what you want!"
It was like a dream come true, right?
Only if you ever want to be invited back...
Anyhow, Primo and I have argued about which of our guests will get bratwursts and which will not. Almost all of our friends make the cut, but when a friend of his from high school came to visit, along with his wife and three kids, I argued successfully that the children should not get the Good Brats.
"Kids think that Kraft Mac and Cheese is fine cuisine," I said. "I am not wasting good meat on them."
Primo agreed, but I couldn't convince him not to share the brats with his friend, either.
Then there are the Good Steaks.
Several years ago, when we were in that part of the country, Primo and I stopped in the butcher shop in my mom and dad's hometown, which is near where my uncle has his sausage business. This shop is two blocks from where my grandparents used to live. The shop is in an old garage. This garage is the building my grandfather and great-uncle built for their auto-repair business during WWII.
We looked at the freezer case and saw all kinds of cool things, like ground llama and ground bison and smokehouse bacon and thick porterhouse steaks and none of it expensive.
But it's not the price that makes this stuff special - it's that it's all grass-fed, free-range meat, even though it's not promoted that way. This is a small town without a stoplight in the middle of farm country. Everyone knows everyone else and everyone knows how it's done, so it's not necessary to promote it.
We bought one of the 2" steaks as a test.
Oh my.
It was so good. And Primo is an amazing griller of meat. He does it just right. Anybody who has ever eaten at our house has raved about his steaks.
Those steaks have become our go-to meal for company, but we only get a dozen or so a year. They are not as expensive as at a fancy store, but they are not cheap and a three-pound steak at ten dollars a pound adds up. Not to mention we pick them up in person when we are going north for vacation and we have limited cooler space.
Not a single person has not had some of Primo's steak and not complimented the steak and Primo's preparation thereof. Not one.
When Primo told me he wanted to take a steak with him to Sly and Doris' house, I protested.
"They are not worthy," I said. "If your dad would meet the butcher (a fourth-generation butcher whose grandfather was friends with my grandfathers), he would extrude disdain immediately. JP didn't go to college. You know what your dad thinks about people who didn't go to college. They are sub human."
Primo argued back. "They'll really like it."
I sniffed. "No they won't. Their taste buds are shot from drinking."
He insisted and won by saying, "What if I want to have a decent steak while I'm stuck there?"
Then I felt sorry for him because he was going for an entire week and would be miserable the entire time.
But I was still resentful. They did not deserve that steak.
Primo carefully packed the steak and an ice pack in his suitcase along with a bottle of wine. "I'll have to check this bag," he said.
He never checks a bag.
He carried the steak with him for 1,000 miles. He drove it the 60 miles to Sly and Doris' house in his rental car because they won't pick him up.
He thawed it and he grilled it.
And then he sent me this message:
You were right. They weren't steak-worthy.
This is a variation of an argument we have had before - not everyone is bratwurst worthy.
My uncle and cousins own a deer-processing and sausage-making business up north. It is illegal to sell a product with venison in it, so they give us venison bratwurst and breakfast sausages and summer sausage when we visit. I always take something to give in return, but what do you take? They are not big drinkers, so don't care about wine. They don't care about the fancy olive oil. You can get good cheese around here, so fancy cheese is not an option. I have taken some sausages from other countries, but it's hard to bring those into the US.
So even though they throw open the doors to the freezer and say, "Take as much as you want," the fact that it's an uneven exchange holds us back. I don't want to be greedy. I mean, I do want to be greedy, but I don't want to look greedy. I want all the benefits of greed - lots of venison sausages - with none of the disadvantages - people will think I'm a pig.
I faced the same dilemma when my dad's cousin gave my mom and me a tour of the bakeries he and his wife own. He unlocked the door to the main bakery after it had closed, opened his arms, and said, "Take what you want!"
It was like a dream come true, right?
Only if you ever want to be invited back...
Anyhow, Primo and I have argued about which of our guests will get bratwursts and which will not. Almost all of our friends make the cut, but when a friend of his from high school came to visit, along with his wife and three kids, I argued successfully that the children should not get the Good Brats.
"Kids think that Kraft Mac and Cheese is fine cuisine," I said. "I am not wasting good meat on them."
Primo agreed, but I couldn't convince him not to share the brats with his friend, either.
Then there are the Good Steaks.
Several years ago, when we were in that part of the country, Primo and I stopped in the butcher shop in my mom and dad's hometown, which is near where my uncle has his sausage business. This shop is two blocks from where my grandparents used to live. The shop is in an old garage. This garage is the building my grandfather and great-uncle built for their auto-repair business during WWII.
We looked at the freezer case and saw all kinds of cool things, like ground llama and ground bison and smokehouse bacon and thick porterhouse steaks and none of it expensive.
But it's not the price that makes this stuff special - it's that it's all grass-fed, free-range meat, even though it's not promoted that way. This is a small town without a stoplight in the middle of farm country. Everyone knows everyone else and everyone knows how it's done, so it's not necessary to promote it.
We bought one of the 2" steaks as a test.
Oh my.
It was so good. And Primo is an amazing griller of meat. He does it just right. Anybody who has ever eaten at our house has raved about his steaks.
Those steaks have become our go-to meal for company, but we only get a dozen or so a year. They are not as expensive as at a fancy store, but they are not cheap and a three-pound steak at ten dollars a pound adds up. Not to mention we pick them up in person when we are going north for vacation and we have limited cooler space.
Not a single person has not had some of Primo's steak and not complimented the steak and Primo's preparation thereof. Not one.
When Primo told me he wanted to take a steak with him to Sly and Doris' house, I protested.
"They are not worthy," I said. "If your dad would meet the butcher (a fourth-generation butcher whose grandfather was friends with my grandfathers), he would extrude disdain immediately. JP didn't go to college. You know what your dad thinks about people who didn't go to college. They are sub human."
Primo argued back. "They'll really like it."
I sniffed. "No they won't. Their taste buds are shot from drinking."
He insisted and won by saying, "What if I want to have a decent steak while I'm stuck there?"
Then I felt sorry for him because he was going for an entire week and would be miserable the entire time.
But I was still resentful. They did not deserve that steak.
Primo carefully packed the steak and an ice pack in his suitcase along with a bottle of wine. "I'll have to check this bag," he said.
He never checks a bag.
He carried the steak with him for 1,000 miles. He drove it the 60 miles to Sly and Doris' house in his rental car because they won't pick him up.
He thawed it and he grilled it.
And then he sent me this message:
You were right. They weren't steak-worthy.
I
cooked the steak tonight, and it was as excellent as I expected. My
mom didn't like it very much (probably because her portion was
overcooked), and my dad thought it was only "good" and not wonderful.
Which made me so sad because they didn't even try to appreciate the effort Primo had made on their behalf. But it did not surprise me.Once a jerk, always a jerk.
Which made me so sad because they didn't even try to appreciate the effort Primo had made on their behalf. But it did not surprise me.Once a jerk, always a jerk.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
In which my boss inspires me to look for a new job
As if being in a cubicle wasn't bad enough.
As if earning less than half of what I used to make wasn't bad enough.
As if having to sign a time card, even though I am salaried and am not paid extra for the Thanksgiving weekend that I spent in a plane to the Middle East wasn't enough.
My boss thinks that all I do is talk on the phone. Sometimes in Spanish.
Those were his words of high praise for me.
We were in a meeting and for some reason, he decided to praise every single person in our group.
He started with Vanessa, who just returned from a trip to Brazil and Chile. He complimented her on her all-around business acumen and her work in Latin America. Where she had spent two weeks. Not to diminish what she did, but I have been working with Latin America for the past year and I lived and worked there for two years. Vanessa took a two-week business trip there.
Then he praised Elisabetta, who is from Italy and says our boss is from The School That Is Old. "Great international background. MBA. Diving in and learning everything, even though she's new."
My boss has not wanted to give her any big projects because "she's only been with us for four months."
The guy who hired me quit a month after I had started and I had to take over his responsibilities, including preparing the presentations for the board of directors and doing the annual budget and strategic plan.
He praised Randall, who has been with the company for 20 years and is indeed great. Randall knows everything and everyone and is always very helpful.
He praised Bets, the admin, who is amazingly organized and has never punched anyone in the nose even though it would be warranted.
None of the praise he gave to any of my co-workers was undeserved.
But when he got to me, all he could think to say was, "Gold Digger. Gold Digger. Every time I walk by her desk, she's on the phone. Sometimes she's speaking in Spanish!"
And that was it.
It would be bad enough if it were true, but it's not.
I have maybe three phone/skype conversations a month at work. Almost everything I do is via email because of the time differences. When I do have conversations, I am usually calling from my house at 6:30 or 7:00 a.m. so the people I am talking to do not have to stay at work until after suppertime.
My boss thinks I am a Spanish-speaking phone gabber who never accomplishes anything.
As if earning less than half of what I used to make wasn't bad enough.
As if having to sign a time card, even though I am salaried and am not paid extra for the Thanksgiving weekend that I spent in a plane to the Middle East wasn't enough.
My boss thinks that all I do is talk on the phone. Sometimes in Spanish.
Those were his words of high praise for me.
We were in a meeting and for some reason, he decided to praise every single person in our group.
He started with Vanessa, who just returned from a trip to Brazil and Chile. He complimented her on her all-around business acumen and her work in Latin America. Where she had spent two weeks. Not to diminish what she did, but I have been working with Latin America for the past year and I lived and worked there for two years. Vanessa took a two-week business trip there.
Then he praised Elisabetta, who is from Italy and says our boss is from The School That Is Old. "Great international background. MBA. Diving in and learning everything, even though she's new."
My boss has not wanted to give her any big projects because "she's only been with us for four months."
The guy who hired me quit a month after I had started and I had to take over his responsibilities, including preparing the presentations for the board of directors and doing the annual budget and strategic plan.
He praised Randall, who has been with the company for 20 years and is indeed great. Randall knows everything and everyone and is always very helpful.
He praised Bets, the admin, who is amazingly organized and has never punched anyone in the nose even though it would be warranted.
None of the praise he gave to any of my co-workers was undeserved.
But when he got to me, all he could think to say was, "Gold Digger. Gold Digger. Every time I walk by her desk, she's on the phone. Sometimes she's speaking in Spanish!"
And that was it.
It would be bad enough if it were true, but it's not.
I have maybe three phone/skype conversations a month at work. Almost everything I do is via email because of the time differences. When I do have conversations, I am usually calling from my house at 6:30 or 7:00 a.m. so the people I am talking to do not have to stay at work until after suppertime.
My boss thinks I am a Spanish-speaking phone gabber who never accomplishes anything.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
In which Primo realizes that a lot of the people in politics are not noble
Here's the scoop:
1. Primo has become really disillusioned with the internal politics of his party. The internal politics fascinates me. I love watching the backbiting and the facebook sniping and the ins and the outs. I have watched all of House of Cards, the American version, and chunks one and two of the British version. I have watched all of season one of Veep. I don't want to argue about the issues with anyone, but I love watching the machinations of power.
I am just surprised that it has taken Primo so long. It's been pretty clear to me for a long time that most people, in the end, work toward their own interests. (Exhibit A: I joined the Peace Corps not to save the world but to have some great adventures. It's a good thing, because I discovered that the world did not want to be saved.) There is nothing wrong with working toward your own interests. What is desirable is for it to be in your interests to have a fair, just, and equitable society. Primo thinks he can get people to contribute and work selflessly on the behalf of others by appealing to their altruistic sense. I say show them how it benefits them and then we all win. Same outcome, different path to get there.
So now he is thinking maybe he doesn't want to run for office again which would mean maybe he doesn't want to quit his job just yet (doesn't help we need a new roof - goodbye $10,000). Which is fine with me.
2. But still, I am seeking new employment. I have had two phone interviews and one in-person interview. (I credit my interview-getting cover letters to Alison at Ask a Manager and my improved resume to Kimberlee Stiens at Business for Good Not Evil.
My in-person interview was at the headquarters of a company known for its quasi-outlaw brand. Nothing illegal, but people who live on the edge, who don't follow all the rules, who are tough individuals.
Everyone at headquarters whom I saw was wearing jeans and t-shirts. To work.
Which is fine if that's the culture.
I was wearing an orange pencil skirt, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket that ties at the waist.
If I get this job, I wonder if I will have to 1. conform to the jeans culture or 2. be the rebel who doesn't wear jeans to work at a place that celebrates rebels. (Update: I didn't get the job.)
3. This guy messaged Primo on facebook while we were on vacation that he wanted to run for the State House next year in the district next to ours and would Primo help him? Would he would he would he?
Primo is too nice and told the guy he would talk to him when we got back from vacation.
It ended up being several meetings that took hours and then this guy wanted Primo to help on his campaign and blah blah blah. I was against it because why should Primo spend all his time on someone else's campaign. Primo was against it because this guy doesn't even live in the city, much less the district. He lives in the state capital and thought he could come in as an outsider and win an election in a district where his party does not hold the majority. He is also almost 70 years old and has health problems and no money.
Then this guy went to some protests at the capital and had chest pains and had to go to the hospital in an ambulance and then his doctor told him he shouldn't run, so after Primo has already spent several hours listening to this guy, this guy decides oops, maybe he shouldn't run after all.
So. The good news: Primo thinks he is not going to run for office again and I hope will not be helping anyone else run. The end.
1. Primo has become really disillusioned with the internal politics of his party. The internal politics fascinates me. I love watching the backbiting and the facebook sniping and the ins and the outs. I have watched all of House of Cards, the American version, and chunks one and two of the British version. I have watched all of season one of Veep. I don't want to argue about the issues with anyone, but I love watching the machinations of power.
I am just surprised that it has taken Primo so long. It's been pretty clear to me for a long time that most people, in the end, work toward their own interests. (Exhibit A: I joined the Peace Corps not to save the world but to have some great adventures. It's a good thing, because I discovered that the world did not want to be saved.) There is nothing wrong with working toward your own interests. What is desirable is for it to be in your interests to have a fair, just, and equitable society. Primo thinks he can get people to contribute and work selflessly on the behalf of others by appealing to their altruistic sense. I say show them how it benefits them and then we all win. Same outcome, different path to get there.
So now he is thinking maybe he doesn't want to run for office again which would mean maybe he doesn't want to quit his job just yet (doesn't help we need a new roof - goodbye $10,000). Which is fine with me.
2. But still, I am seeking new employment. I have had two phone interviews and one in-person interview. (I credit my interview-getting cover letters to Alison at Ask a Manager and my improved resume to Kimberlee Stiens at Business for Good Not Evil.
My in-person interview was at the headquarters of a company known for its quasi-outlaw brand. Nothing illegal, but people who live on the edge, who don't follow all the rules, who are tough individuals.
Everyone at headquarters whom I saw was wearing jeans and t-shirts. To work.
Which is fine if that's the culture.
I was wearing an orange pencil skirt, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket that ties at the waist.
If I get this job, I wonder if I will have to 1. conform to the jeans culture or 2. be the rebel who doesn't wear jeans to work at a place that celebrates rebels. (Update: I didn't get the job.)
3. This guy messaged Primo on facebook while we were on vacation that he wanted to run for the State House next year in the district next to ours and would Primo help him? Would he would he would he?
Primo is too nice and told the guy he would talk to him when we got back from vacation.
It ended up being several meetings that took hours and then this guy wanted Primo to help on his campaign and blah blah blah. I was against it because why should Primo spend all his time on someone else's campaign. Primo was against it because this guy doesn't even live in the city, much less the district. He lives in the state capital and thought he could come in as an outsider and win an election in a district where his party does not hold the majority. He is also almost 70 years old and has health problems and no money.
Then this guy went to some protests at the capital and had chest pains and had to go to the hospital in an ambulance and then his doctor told him he shouldn't run, so after Primo has already spent several hours listening to this guy, this guy decides oops, maybe he shouldn't run after all.
So. The good news: Primo thinks he is not going to run for office again and I hope will not be helping anyone else run. The end.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
In which He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
My job, she is not going well. My co-workers and I think our boss might be losing his mind. He has been erratic and unpredictable and we are all walking on eggshells.
(PS I am writing this on July 5, the day after July 4th. I was at work. I was at work because I work for an organization that does not give July 5 as a holiday. We are not retail. We are not entertainment. We are boring corporate headquarters. My boss was happy we had today to work on the strategic plan. "We'll really be able to concentrate!" he said. "It will be really quiet!")
We think maybe he is drinking. Or is taking medication that is affecting him. Or that he had a small stroke. We don't know but he is acting weird.
1. We had a meeting in which he decided to praise everyone on our team. That in itself was bizarre - "Like a eulogy!" one co-worker said. For everyone else, he said things like, "Good strategic thinker. Broad business background. Developing new markets/products. Speaks Spanish and has traveled to Brazil."
For me, he said, "Gold Digger is on the phone all the time!"
1a. I am not on the phone all the time. Maybe twice a week.
1b. That is not exactly high praise.
1c. My co-worker who speaks Spanish? I, too, speak Spanish AND I worked in South America for two years, which, no disrespect to my co-worker, trumps a two-week business trip.
2. He had the financial report for the board of directors three weeks ago. The BoD meeting was this week. He waited until the day before the meeting to review the report and query me about all the numbers.
2a. I had too many footnotes.
2b. Why was I showing a variance of 26% when the 2013 number was 221K and the 2012 number was 176K? I finally had to explain that 221 divided by 176 is about 26%.
3. He announced a team lunch for today.
3a. We are not a lunch-going group.
3b. We all have other things we do at lunch, like going to the gym or for a walk.
3c. Now we can't do what we want to do but have to go to lunch instead.
3d. He picked a horrible chain restaurant, even though there are lots of good local restaurants as close as the chain.
4. He has paid 150% of my salary to headhunters for two positions. The organization has an HR department and a recruiter. Yet he doesn't go through HR to find new people. He is ready to spend three times my salary for a consultant to do what I have spent the past several months doing even though it is not clear that the consultant would add any value.
I am cranky cranky cranky.
(PS I am writing this on July 5, the day after July 4th. I was at work. I was at work because I work for an organization that does not give July 5 as a holiday. We are not retail. We are not entertainment. We are boring corporate headquarters. My boss was happy we had today to work on the strategic plan. "We'll really be able to concentrate!" he said. "It will be really quiet!")
We think maybe he is drinking. Or is taking medication that is affecting him. Or that he had a small stroke. We don't know but he is acting weird.
1. We had a meeting in which he decided to praise everyone on our team. That in itself was bizarre - "Like a eulogy!" one co-worker said. For everyone else, he said things like, "Good strategic thinker. Broad business background. Developing new markets/products. Speaks Spanish and has traveled to Brazil."
For me, he said, "Gold Digger is on the phone all the time!"
1a. I am not on the phone all the time. Maybe twice a week.
1b. That is not exactly high praise.
1c. My co-worker who speaks Spanish? I, too, speak Spanish AND I worked in South America for two years, which, no disrespect to my co-worker, trumps a two-week business trip.
2. He had the financial report for the board of directors three weeks ago. The BoD meeting was this week. He waited until the day before the meeting to review the report and query me about all the numbers.
2a. I had too many footnotes.
2b. Why was I showing a variance of 26% when the 2013 number was 221K and the 2012 number was 176K? I finally had to explain that 221 divided by 176 is about 26%.
3. He announced a team lunch for today.
3a. We are not a lunch-going group.
3b. We all have other things we do at lunch, like going to the gym or for a walk.
3c. Now we can't do what we want to do but have to go to lunch instead.
3d. He picked a horrible chain restaurant, even though there are lots of good local restaurants as close as the chain.
4. He has paid 150% of my salary to headhunters for two positions. The organization has an HR department and a recruiter. Yet he doesn't go through HR to find new people. He is ready to spend three times my salary for a consultant to do what I have spent the past several months doing even though it is not clear that the consultant would add any value.
I am cranky cranky cranky.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
In which Primo is Not Doing It Right with facebook
Doris somehow found Primo's facebook page. They are not facebook friends, but she somehow saw something he posted, showed it and his page to Sly, and then they together wrote an email to Primo telling him he was doing it all wrong, "it" being his facebook profile.
1. Why is Primo not facebook friends with his own mother?
Do I really need to answer that question?
2. What could someone possibly find to criticize about someone's facebook profile?
Oh LOTS!
While I wait for Primo to forward the actual email to me (if I had been in with S&D, they would have BCC'd me on their note to Primo. There is no criticism that is not good enough to share), I will summarize for you what they said.
1. His anniversary date is wrong.
Indeed it is. I put in a fake anniversary date because really, the internet does not need to know my anniversary date.
2. His hometown is wrong. That is, he put the place he lived his entire childhood until he went to college instead of the place he was born. He was born in Cambridge but grew up in - let's say Cincinnati, which is not where he grew up, but as you know, I try to change identifying details as much as possible on this blog. If Sly and Doris ever stumbled across it, I am sure they would think to themselves, "Wow. And we thought we were the only ones with a gold-digging daughter in law who eats bacon wrong! I guess we are on the right side of history because this bad bacon eating, bad cabbage using, bad envelope addressing DIL problem seems to be ubiquitous!"
So Primo put Cincinnati as his hometown instead of Cambridge. He's not doing it right!
3. He doesn't have Ted listed as his brother. He doesn't have Jack listed as his brother. He doesn't have Sly and Doris listed as his parents. How can he deny his family like that? Does he hate them? Is he ashamed of them? He is a Bad Son!
The actual email:
Deconstruction:
1. What is the difference between "do" "facebook" and do facebook?
2. His wife is listed, but his wife has blocked Doris, so his wife's name will never show to Doris.
3. Always always always the "half" brother distinction. Now, I wouldn't want to claim Ted either, but is it necessary to qualify?
1. Why is Primo not facebook friends with his own mother?
Do I really need to answer that question?
2. What could someone possibly find to criticize about someone's facebook profile?
Oh LOTS!
While I wait for Primo to forward the actual email to me (if I had been in with S&D, they would have BCC'd me on their note to Primo. There is no criticism that is not good enough to share), I will summarize for you what they said.
1. His anniversary date is wrong.
Indeed it is. I put in a fake anniversary date because really, the internet does not need to know my anniversary date.
2. His hometown is wrong. That is, he put the place he lived his entire childhood until he went to college instead of the place he was born. He was born in Cambridge but grew up in - let's say Cincinnati, which is not where he grew up, but as you know, I try to change identifying details as much as possible on this blog. If Sly and Doris ever stumbled across it, I am sure they would think to themselves, "Wow. And we thought we were the only ones with a gold-digging daughter in law who eats bacon wrong! I guess we are on the right side of history because this bad bacon eating, bad cabbage using, bad envelope addressing DIL problem seems to be ubiquitous!"
So Primo put Cincinnati as his hometown instead of Cambridge. He's not doing it right!
3. He doesn't have Ted listed as his brother. He doesn't have Jack listed as his brother. He doesn't have Sly and Doris listed as his parents. How can he deny his family like that? Does he hate them? Is he ashamed of them? He is a Bad Son!
The actual email:
We
got to your FACEBOOK page because of your email on [political figure]. We
assume you are in [city] for Sam's birthday because of your post
about [place]. Your dad doesn't "do" anything "facebook" but he did
read through some of your information. Strange that you don't list
your wife, parents or half-brothers as family members.
Your bio should also mention that you were born in [birthplace]. You also have January 1 listed as your
anniversary (?).
Deconstruction:
1. What is the difference between "do" "facebook" and do facebook?
2. His wife is listed, but his wife has blocked Doris, so his wife's name will never show to Doris.
3. Always always always the "half" brother distinction. Now, I wouldn't want to claim Ted either, but is it necessary to qualify?
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