I knew for about eight months that I was leaving my life as a death investigator so that I could come to California to be with the man of my dreams. In a desperate attempt to move out to California I applied for work everywhere. And I mean EVERYWHERE! Pet stores, office supply stores, retail stores. Positions that included working as a cashier, a secretary, a librarian. I went looking for teaching positions and tutoring opportunities. The first week that I began looking for work I bet I filled out about thirty applications online and sent out twenty letters of interest with resumes.
Sadly, I learned that because I had a midwest address, the west coast was not interested in hiring me --- or so I thought.
Near the end of August, I came out to Sunny, Southern California (HA! Sunny my ass! It's done nothing but rain the last three weeks!) to visit my boyfriend. While I was out here I used the opportunity to go door-to-door for work. The first place I went to was one of the major pet supply retailers. It was simple, I saw that they were advertising for full time cashiers and groomers (training provided). I walked in with a resume, asked for the manager and left with an interview scheduled the next day. Of course, the manager I spoke with did not like me for either of those two positions. He did, however, take an interest in interviewing me for a store manager position. Rock on!
Before the interview could take place, I had to fill out an online application. No problem. Part of the application process consisted of filling out a personality test. The test consisted of questions like "Do you think theft is bad? Would you embezzle if you had the chance? Answers: Yes and No. Then there were questions like; "Do you like balloons?" Which color scares you, Red or Navy?" Basically, the test was a giant crock of shit and not one question asked actually pertained to an individual's ability to perform the required duties. But, I took my time filling it out and submitted the application.
The next day, as I was getting dressed for my interview the store manager called.
Manager: Um.....Allison.
Me: Yes.
Manager: When you filled out that online application....was there some kind of test for you to
take....like a personality test.
Me: I think so.
Manager: But there were a bunch of questions at the end of the application.
Me: Yeah. Close to a hundred I think.
Silence.
More silence.
I really don't like silence.
Manager: Well....the thing is.....you didn't pass the personality test.
Huh?
Me: Huh?
Manager: Yeah.....you have to pass the personality test in order to be interviewed and I can't override the system.
Me (very confused): So....what does that mean?
Manager: I can't interview you because you didn't pass the personality test.
WHAT!
Me: Okay.
Manager: I'm sorry. I don't know what to tell you.
OH MY GOD! I suck! I completely suck!
Me: Well. Thank you for your time and the opportunity.
I can't believe I didn't pass a personality test. Serial killers can pass....why can't I pass? Stupid personality test.
Needless to say.....I will not be working for that pet supply store anytime....EVER!
Back to the want ads!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Monday, December 7, 2009
Surprise!
My friend called me this evening with exciting news that she needed some advice on.
Friend: I was offered this job out of state that pays quite a bit less than what I'm currently making. It's an incredible opportunity and the same day I was offered the job, someone made an offer on my house. I've had a lot of input from friends and family but I know you and know that you are a rational and logical person so I want to know your opinion on what I should do. Should I take the job with the pay cut or stay here and work a job that I hate?
Should I tell her? It's been a while since we've talked. I really think I should tell her.
Me: Wow! That's awesome! I think you should take it if the opportunity is that good. But before you go calling me nice things like logical and rational, there's something I think you should know.
Friend: What?
Me: Last week I quit my job and moved to California to live with my boyfriend, unemployed. I have no job, no income and in about three weeks, no health insurance.
Silence
More Silence
Checking my cell phone to make sure there's still a connection.
Still silence.
Me: Hello?
At last I heard her response. Her lovable and unmistakable outburst of hysterical laughter.
Friend: You are insane!
I work in a morgue. Duh.
Me: I think you should take the job. That way if I end up with out the job that I applied for and my boyfriend dumps me, I'll have a place to live.
**********************************************************************************
Yes my friends. That's right. What you have just read is completely the truth. I resigned my position as a death investigator to live with my boyfriend out in California. While I am currently unemployed, I'm also going through a background investigation for a position with a Sheriff's office out here in sunny, southern California. No....it's not a sworn position. No one sane would ever give me a gun.
If you're thinking to yourself "She's out of her frickin mind. She gave up her job to move to California for a guy!" That's a good and fair thought. If you're not thinking that....you really should.
Needless to say, the story behind my relationship is, to date, my favorite fairy tale romance and someday soon, I'll share it. Assuming I still have any readers left. I think it's been almost two months since my last posting. Sorry. I've been a little distracted.
Anyway, I fully intend to keep blogging but the theme will probably change from My Life in a Morgue to something really cheesy like My Life After Death. If you hate it, don't worry....I'm still trying to figure it out. Oh..and just in case you're wondering, my boyfriend isn't any of the guys I've blogged about. He's special. He bathes.
Friend: I was offered this job out of state that pays quite a bit less than what I'm currently making. It's an incredible opportunity and the same day I was offered the job, someone made an offer on my house. I've had a lot of input from friends and family but I know you and know that you are a rational and logical person so I want to know your opinion on what I should do. Should I take the job with the pay cut or stay here and work a job that I hate?
Should I tell her? It's been a while since we've talked. I really think I should tell her.
Me: Wow! That's awesome! I think you should take it if the opportunity is that good. But before you go calling me nice things like logical and rational, there's something I think you should know.
Friend: What?
Me: Last week I quit my job and moved to California to live with my boyfriend, unemployed. I have no job, no income and in about three weeks, no health insurance.
Silence
More Silence
Checking my cell phone to make sure there's still a connection.
Still silence.
Me: Hello?
At last I heard her response. Her lovable and unmistakable outburst of hysterical laughter.
Friend: You are insane!
I work in a morgue. Duh.
Me: I think you should take the job. That way if I end up with out the job that I applied for and my boyfriend dumps me, I'll have a place to live.
**********************************************************************************
Yes my friends. That's right. What you have just read is completely the truth. I resigned my position as a death investigator to live with my boyfriend out in California. While I am currently unemployed, I'm also going through a background investigation for a position with a Sheriff's office out here in sunny, southern California. No....it's not a sworn position. No one sane would ever give me a gun.
If you're thinking to yourself "She's out of her frickin mind. She gave up her job to move to California for a guy!" That's a good and fair thought. If you're not thinking that....you really should.
Needless to say, the story behind my relationship is, to date, my favorite fairy tale romance and someday soon, I'll share it. Assuming I still have any readers left. I think it's been almost two months since my last posting. Sorry. I've been a little distracted.
Anyway, I fully intend to keep blogging but the theme will probably change from My Life in a Morgue to something really cheesy like My Life After Death. If you hate it, don't worry....I'm still trying to figure it out. Oh..and just in case you're wondering, my boyfriend isn't any of the guys I've blogged about. He's special. He bathes.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Vampires in the Morgue-Part Three
Narrative/Dialogue I wish I had read in Breaking Dawn.
Bella: "Oh Edward! Sex is so much fun! I had no idea!"
Edward: "Yeah baby! Yeah!"
Bella: "Edward, I've decided something. I'd like to postpone becoming a vampire because...well...because I like sex and I'm worried that I won't enjoy it as much when I'm a vampire."
Edward: "Bitch please! You've been riding my ass for two years now! Edward. Kill me Edward! Please turn me into a vampire! Suck me Edward! Suck me!"
Edward: Now brace yourself woman! This is gonna hurt like hell!"
Bella: Oh Edward! You're so bad!
Oh Edward!
Bella: "Oh Edward! Sex is so much fun! I had no idea!"
Edward: "Yeah baby! Yeah!"
Bella: "Edward, I've decided something. I'd like to postpone becoming a vampire because...well...because I like sex and I'm worried that I won't enjoy it as much when I'm a vampire."
Edward: "Bitch please! You've been riding my ass for two years now! Edward. Kill me Edward! Please turn me into a vampire! Suck me Edward! Suck me!"
Edward: Now brace yourself woman! This is gonna hurt like hell!"
Bella: Oh Edward! You're so bad!
Oh Edward!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Smelly Guy-The Finale - I Promise! This is it!
The day before my date with Smelly Guy, I began by following through with my usual routine....I went to work. Exciting! Nothing spectacular happened that day, or at least, nothing that I can remember.
Just before 1900 hours, when I'm officially off duty, he called.
Smelly Guy: "Are we still on for tonight?"
Me: "Yeah. I have to run home and change real quick but I'm still planning on being there."
Smelly Guy: "Cool. Well I just ordered Chinese Food for dinner so I might be a little late."
Me: "Okay."
How late could he be? Chinese food usually shows up right after you hang up the phone.
I grabbed my stuff and as I was walking out the door, turned to one of my coworkers who is a retired Homicide Detective and said:
Me: "Okay, I'm off to meet my blind date. So if I don't show up to work tomorrow..."
Coworker: "You don't show up tomorrow and I'm coming to find you."
Me: "Okay. Start behind the Barnes and Noble. There's a nice wooded area out back."
Coworker: "Ah FUCK! Don't talk like that! What the hell is the matter with you! That shit's not funny!"
He slammed a case file that he had in hands down on his desk and then reached for a pen and paper.
Coworker: "Gimme he's fucking name and anything else you know about him!"
After my interrogation I left.
I got to the bookstore just after 8 pm and sat down at the coffee shop. Maybe it's just me, but I figured that this was the most logical place to meet someone. I pulled a book out of my purse (yes, I'm that nerdy) and began reading. The bad thing about me and reading is that I tend to lose all track of time. So when my phone rang I was shocked to see that it was now 9:30 pm.
Smelly Guy: "Are we still on for tonight?"
Amazing. It's dejavu. I swear I've had this conversation at least once today.
Me: "Yeah. I'm here waiting for you."
Smelly Guy: "Oh. Okay. I just got done eating. It took forever for them to deliver the Chinese food."
On what planet?
Smelly Guy: "I'll be over in a few minutes."
Me: "Okay."
About 15 minutes later he called again.
Smelly Guy: "I'm here. Where are you?"
Me: "Inside."
Smelly Guy: "No kidding! Where specifically?"
Me: "The coffee shop."
Smelly Guy: "I'm headed in."
It's about damn time.
Oh. If I had only paid attention to all of those clues that I mentioned in the last post then I could have been spared this. Now granted, it was a date at a book store. I wasn't glammed up. I was wearing a sweater, a pair of blue jeans and some boots. I looked bookstore-date appropriate. HE, on the other hand, is the purpose of this blog.
In he walked. And oh what a sight he was. He had on an old baseball cap which he never took off the entire time (trust me...I'm okay with that). He had shoulder length dark hair that was greasy and uncombed and matched the greasy stubble that was all over his face that covered the overall greasy nature of his skin. His glasses were so dirty that I couldn't see his eyes. He was also wearing a denim jacket with white cotton sleeves. The sleeves were dirty and the cuffs looked like something had been knawing on them. The denim portion of the jacket had some kind of a yellow stain on it. The entire jacket REAKED to high hell of stale, skanky, cigarette smoke and urine. Underneath the jacket was an old tee-shirt, which to show me why he wouldn't take the jacket off he unzipped just the top portion. The tee-shirt was also dirty and torn around the collar. And above the collar was a greasy tuff of chest hair protruding out of the tee-shirt. As for body type. His profile indicated that he was average in weight. Average my ass. He's obese. I probably wouldn't have notice the obesity so much if my date had bothered to bathe before arriving.
I lasted about 45 minutes and that after that told him it was time for me to go home. He walked me out to my care (something I was very uncomfortable with but didn't know how to get out of). As we approached my car he pointed to it and said:
Smelly Guy: "Is that your car?"
Me: "Yeah"
Smelly Guy: "It's really dirty. You need to wash it."
Really? So's your jacket!
Needless to say that was the only encounter with Smelly Guy I've had.
Just before 1900 hours, when I'm officially off duty, he called.
Smelly Guy: "Are we still on for tonight?"
Me: "Yeah. I have to run home and change real quick but I'm still planning on being there."
Smelly Guy: "Cool. Well I just ordered Chinese Food for dinner so I might be a little late."
Me: "Okay."
How late could he be? Chinese food usually shows up right after you hang up the phone.
I grabbed my stuff and as I was walking out the door, turned to one of my coworkers who is a retired Homicide Detective and said:
Me: "Okay, I'm off to meet my blind date. So if I don't show up to work tomorrow..."
Coworker: "You don't show up tomorrow and I'm coming to find you."
Me: "Okay. Start behind the Barnes and Noble. There's a nice wooded area out back."
Coworker: "Ah FUCK! Don't talk like that! What the hell is the matter with you! That shit's not funny!"
He slammed a case file that he had in hands down on his desk and then reached for a pen and paper.
Coworker: "Gimme he's fucking name and anything else you know about him!"
After my interrogation I left.
I got to the bookstore just after 8 pm and sat down at the coffee shop. Maybe it's just me, but I figured that this was the most logical place to meet someone. I pulled a book out of my purse (yes, I'm that nerdy) and began reading. The bad thing about me and reading is that I tend to lose all track of time. So when my phone rang I was shocked to see that it was now 9:30 pm.
Smelly Guy: "Are we still on for tonight?"
Amazing. It's dejavu. I swear I've had this conversation at least once today.
Me: "Yeah. I'm here waiting for you."
Smelly Guy: "Oh. Okay. I just got done eating. It took forever for them to deliver the Chinese food."
On what planet?
Smelly Guy: "I'll be over in a few minutes."
Me: "Okay."
About 15 minutes later he called again.
Smelly Guy: "I'm here. Where are you?"
Me: "Inside."
Smelly Guy: "No kidding! Where specifically?"
Me: "The coffee shop."
Smelly Guy: "I'm headed in."
It's about damn time.
Oh. If I had only paid attention to all of those clues that I mentioned in the last post then I could have been spared this. Now granted, it was a date at a book store. I wasn't glammed up. I was wearing a sweater, a pair of blue jeans and some boots. I looked bookstore-date appropriate. HE, on the other hand, is the purpose of this blog.
In he walked. And oh what a sight he was. He had on an old baseball cap which he never took off the entire time (trust me...I'm okay with that). He had shoulder length dark hair that was greasy and uncombed and matched the greasy stubble that was all over his face that covered the overall greasy nature of his skin. His glasses were so dirty that I couldn't see his eyes. He was also wearing a denim jacket with white cotton sleeves. The sleeves were dirty and the cuffs looked like something had been knawing on them. The denim portion of the jacket had some kind of a yellow stain on it. The entire jacket REAKED to high hell of stale, skanky, cigarette smoke and urine. Underneath the jacket was an old tee-shirt, which to show me why he wouldn't take the jacket off he unzipped just the top portion. The tee-shirt was also dirty and torn around the collar. And above the collar was a greasy tuff of chest hair protruding out of the tee-shirt. As for body type. His profile indicated that he was average in weight. Average my ass. He's obese. I probably wouldn't have notice the obesity so much if my date had bothered to bathe before arriving.
I lasted about 45 minutes and that after that told him it was time for me to go home. He walked me out to my care (something I was very uncomfortable with but didn't know how to get out of). As we approached my car he pointed to it and said:
Smelly Guy: "Is that your car?"
Me: "Yeah"
Smelly Guy: "It's really dirty. You need to wash it."
Really? So's your jacket!
Needless to say that was the only encounter with Smelly Guy I've had.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Smelly Guy-Party Four A
First and foremost I would like to apologize for the delay in my postings. I've been out of town recently.
This final bit in my series of "How not to date a Death Investigator" definitely falls under the category of "I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
Smelly Guy (yes there is a very good reason for this nickname-unfortunately) and I met online. That fact alone should have been my first clue. He also never posted his picture and when I asked him to send me one, would conveniently forget. That should have been my second clue-although I pride myself on not being the kind of girl who would reject someone based on their looks.
As most patterns to online dating follow we started off with emails and then phone calls. Wow! The phone calls--Yeah that really should have been the third clue. Apparently I'm clueless. Oh well! Live and learn-and then blog about it for everyone to see-and live and learn.
The first phone call was a basic phone call where we got to know each other. I learned that Smelly Guy had a Bachelor's Degree in Computer Science and that he worked for some company located down town in the business district. Nothing suspicious there.
The second phone call, he apparently decided to step things up a few notches.
Smelly Guy: "Did you get that YouTube Clip I sent you earlier?"
Me: "Yeah. I haven't had time to look at it yet."
Smelly Guy: "Are we still on for tomorrow night?"
Me: "Yep. Barnes and Noble at 8 pm."
Smelly Guy: "Well, if you have any problems downloading that video just let me know and when I come over tomorrow night I'll pull it up for you. It's hilarious."
Wait. What? What did he say? He's what?
Me: "Huh?"
Smelly Guy: "What?"
Me: "What about tomorrow night?"
Smelly Guy: "Well you know...after the date...."
Me: "There is no after the date. After the date, you go to your home and I got to my home."
Smelly Guy: "Why can't I come over?"
Me: "I can't let you into my apartment on the first date."
Smelly Guy: "Why not?"
Me: "Because you're a stranger."
Duh.
Smelly Guy: "Oh come on. I'm not going to do anything."
Me: "I appreciate that but there's really no point in letting you into my apartment on the first date."
Smelly Guy: "Why not?"
Me: "Because I'm not going to have sex with you."
Smelly Guy: "Says who?"
Me: "Me."
Smelly Guy: "Listen."
Seriously? He's not actually trying to reason with me is he?"
Smelly Guy: "I'm going to come over after we meet up at Barnes and Noble and you're gonna trust that I'm a nice guy who's not going to hurt you."
Spoken like a true serial rapist/killer. Ted Bundy couldn't have done better.
Me: "Hmm. Let me think about that for a minute...Um NO"
Smelly Guy: "Well then, if you're that concerned then just have one of your cop friends do a background check on me."
One of my cop friends? Is that like a challenge or something?
Me: "Sure. I could do that. But ya know...I guarantee that the shit you've been caught doing isn't nearly as frightening as the shit that you haven't been caught doing."
Smelly Guy: "Well then, I guess you'll have to invite me over so I can prove to you that I'm harmless."
Me: "Or...I could tell my cop friends that I'm planning on inviting a guy over to my apartment whom I don't know and whom I met on the internet. I'm sure they would be more than happy to spare you a felony and murder me for you."
Ooh. Or a fate worse than death, they could taser me into unconsciousness and when I awake, I'm locked inside of my mother's house in Ohio with an ankle-monitoring bracelet that emits electric shocks whenever I get within a certain range of the doors or windows.
Me: "Listen, I'm sure you're harmless but I have rules that I follow religiously whenever I date any guy and I'm not going to break them for you or for anyone else."
Smelly Guy: "And what are those rules?"
Fuck! He called my bluff. Think fast. Think fast. Rules. What rules? What's a good rule? Ah ha! Got it!
Me: "Well, for starters, the 30 day rule."
Smelly Guy: "The 30 day rule?"
Me: "Yeah, I never let any guys into my apartment until we've dated for at least 30 days."
Smelly Guy: "So after 30 days I can come inside your apartment?"
Me: "No. I said a minimum of 30 days. There's no guarantee that after 30 days I'll let you in either."
Smelly Guy: "Well how are we supposed to get to know each other?"
Me: "The old-fashioned way. We meet at very public places like movie theaters, restaurants, bookstores, bowling alleys etc. And get to know each other that way."
Smelly Guy: (Clearly frustrated and gasping for air) "But.....I.....I didn't....I didn't budget for this!"
Wait. WTF did he say? Pause for instant replay.
Smelly Guy: "But.....I.....I didn't....I didn't budget for this!"
No he did NOT just say that. One more time for the record.
Smelly Guy: "But.....I.....I didn't....I didn't budget for this!"
Me: "Huh?"
Smelly Guy: "Movies, restaurants, bowling alleys...these things cost money! I didn't budget for this! I'm trying to rebuild my 401K!"
Wow! Way to make a girl feel special! I didn't budget for my lunch today but I still bought it.
Me: "Well I didn't expect you to pay for me."
Smelly Guy: "Now you make me sound cheap."
Didn't take much did it?
Me: Well, hey, these are my conditions and if you're not game, that's fine. No skin off of my nose. We can call it quits right here and now. Sooner or later I'll find someone else willing to follow my rules."
Smelly Guy: " (sigh) No. I'll figure something out."
Me: "Are you sure?"
After all, you have your 401K to rebuild.
Smelly Guy: "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow night."
Me: "I'll be there."
This is going to be interesting.
*****To Be Continued****
This final bit in my series of "How not to date a Death Investigator" definitely falls under the category of "I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
Smelly Guy (yes there is a very good reason for this nickname-unfortunately) and I met online. That fact alone should have been my first clue. He also never posted his picture and when I asked him to send me one, would conveniently forget. That should have been my second clue-although I pride myself on not being the kind of girl who would reject someone based on their looks.
As most patterns to online dating follow we started off with emails and then phone calls. Wow! The phone calls--Yeah that really should have been the third clue. Apparently I'm clueless. Oh well! Live and learn-and then blog about it for everyone to see-and live and learn.
The first phone call was a basic phone call where we got to know each other. I learned that Smelly Guy had a Bachelor's Degree in Computer Science and that he worked for some company located down town in the business district. Nothing suspicious there.
The second phone call, he apparently decided to step things up a few notches.
Smelly Guy: "Did you get that YouTube Clip I sent you earlier?"
Me: "Yeah. I haven't had time to look at it yet."
Smelly Guy: "Are we still on for tomorrow night?"
Me: "Yep. Barnes and Noble at 8 pm."
Smelly Guy: "Well, if you have any problems downloading that video just let me know and when I come over tomorrow night I'll pull it up for you. It's hilarious."
Wait. What? What did he say? He's what?
Me: "Huh?"
Smelly Guy: "What?"
Me: "What about tomorrow night?"
Smelly Guy: "Well you know...after the date...."
Me: "There is no after the date. After the date, you go to your home and I got to my home."
Smelly Guy: "Why can't I come over?"
Me: "I can't let you into my apartment on the first date."
Smelly Guy: "Why not?"
Me: "Because you're a stranger."
Duh.
Smelly Guy: "Oh come on. I'm not going to do anything."
Me: "I appreciate that but there's really no point in letting you into my apartment on the first date."
Smelly Guy: "Why not?"
Me: "Because I'm not going to have sex with you."
Smelly Guy: "Says who?"
Me: "Me."
Smelly Guy: "Listen."
Seriously? He's not actually trying to reason with me is he?"
Smelly Guy: "I'm going to come over after we meet up at Barnes and Noble and you're gonna trust that I'm a nice guy who's not going to hurt you."
Spoken like a true serial rapist/killer. Ted Bundy couldn't have done better.
Me: "Hmm. Let me think about that for a minute...Um NO"
Smelly Guy: "Well then, if you're that concerned then just have one of your cop friends do a background check on me."
One of my cop friends? Is that like a challenge or something?
Me: "Sure. I could do that. But ya know...I guarantee that the shit you've been caught doing isn't nearly as frightening as the shit that you haven't been caught doing."
Smelly Guy: "Well then, I guess you'll have to invite me over so I can prove to you that I'm harmless."
Me: "Or...I could tell my cop friends that I'm planning on inviting a guy over to my apartment whom I don't know and whom I met on the internet. I'm sure they would be more than happy to spare you a felony and murder me for you."
Ooh. Or a fate worse than death, they could taser me into unconsciousness and when I awake, I'm locked inside of my mother's house in Ohio with an ankle-monitoring bracelet that emits electric shocks whenever I get within a certain range of the doors or windows.
Me: "Listen, I'm sure you're harmless but I have rules that I follow religiously whenever I date any guy and I'm not going to break them for you or for anyone else."
Smelly Guy: "And what are those rules?"
Fuck! He called my bluff. Think fast. Think fast. Rules. What rules? What's a good rule? Ah ha! Got it!
Me: "Well, for starters, the 30 day rule."
Smelly Guy: "The 30 day rule?"
Me: "Yeah, I never let any guys into my apartment until we've dated for at least 30 days."
Smelly Guy: "So after 30 days I can come inside your apartment?"
Me: "No. I said a minimum of 30 days. There's no guarantee that after 30 days I'll let you in either."
Smelly Guy: "Well how are we supposed to get to know each other?"
Me: "The old-fashioned way. We meet at very public places like movie theaters, restaurants, bookstores, bowling alleys etc. And get to know each other that way."
Smelly Guy: (Clearly frustrated and gasping for air) "But.....I.....I didn't....I didn't budget for this!"
Wait. WTF did he say? Pause for instant replay.
Smelly Guy: "But.....I.....I didn't....I didn't budget for this!"
No he did NOT just say that. One more time for the record.
Smelly Guy: "But.....I.....I didn't....I didn't budget for this!"
Me: "Huh?"
Smelly Guy: "Movies, restaurants, bowling alleys...these things cost money! I didn't budget for this! I'm trying to rebuild my 401K!"
Wow! Way to make a girl feel special! I didn't budget for my lunch today but I still bought it.
Me: "Well I didn't expect you to pay for me."
Smelly Guy: "Now you make me sound cheap."
Didn't take much did it?
Me: Well, hey, these are my conditions and if you're not game, that's fine. No skin off of my nose. We can call it quits right here and now. Sooner or later I'll find someone else willing to follow my rules."
Smelly Guy: " (sigh) No. I'll figure something out."
Me: "Are you sure?"
After all, you have your 401K to rebuild.
Smelly Guy: "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow night."
Me: "I'll be there."
This is going to be interesting.
*****To Be Continued****
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Religious Guy-Part Three
Where to begin with this one. This guy is, overall, a nice guy. Clean cut and practices good hygiene (I'll explain that one later), a father of two, recently divorced. He's about ten years older than me. He is also very, very religious. Religion isn't a bad thing but it's not something I'm exposed to often. Well, Religious Guy and I went out a couple of times and the dates were fun but there were occasions where he talked down to me like I was a child. That's never a good idea.
Let me be the first to admit that I have a potty mouth! I work with people who have a potty mouth! Having a potty mouth is just the way that I am. Rest assured, I know when to mute the potty mouth and talk like a lady, but I typically save that vocabulary for more formal settings.
I can't remember exactly when but during one of our conversations I either said "shit" or "fuck". That did not go over well with him.
Religious Guy: "Use your nice words, missy!"
Seriously! Did he just tell me to use my nice words? WTF?
Me: "I'm sorry."
Religious Guy: "It's nothing to be sorry about. But you shouldn't talk that way."
If he thinks I'm bad he should hear my grandmother talk, and she goes to church every Sunday.
Pause for a momentary silence......
Me: "Does that rule apply to sex? 'Cause if so, you and I are gonna have some problems."
Let me be the first to admit that I have a potty mouth! I work with people who have a potty mouth! Having a potty mouth is just the way that I am. Rest assured, I know when to mute the potty mouth and talk like a lady, but I typically save that vocabulary for more formal settings.
I can't remember exactly when but during one of our conversations I either said "shit" or "fuck". That did not go over well with him.
Religious Guy: "Use your nice words, missy!"
Seriously! Did he just tell me to use my nice words? WTF?
Me: "I'm sorry."
Religious Guy: "It's nothing to be sorry about. But you shouldn't talk that way."
If he thinks I'm bad he should hear my grandmother talk, and she goes to church every Sunday.
Pause for a momentary silence......
Me: "Does that rule apply to sex? 'Cause if so, you and I are gonna have some problems."
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Dear Hospital Staff
Dear Hospital Staff,
Recently we came to your hospital and presented to you on the topic of Correct Death Reporting Procedures. However, since that time, it has become abundantly clear that you were not paying attention at all. I've taking the liberty of jotting down some things that are of concern to my office, in hopes of rectifying this situation in a professional manner.
#1. Contrary to your beliefs, my office is not a dumping ground for the recently departed. Not every death that lands in your emergency room automatically becomes a Coroner's case. There are steps that YOU are required to take in determining if the death of YOUR patient meets the criteria to be reported to my office. In addition to that individual's name, date of birth, admission, time, pronounce time and next-of-kin contact information, YOU will also need to gather medical history information, determine if the patient was treated by a primary care physician, contact that physician and find out if that physician will sign the death certificate. THIS IS YOUR JOB!
For example, a 95 year old with a history of hypertension, stroke, heart attack, liver cancer, prostate cancer, and kidney cancer, who is under the care of a primary care doctor (or in this case, a primary care doctor, cardiologist and oncologist) does not meet the criteria for being reported to the Coroner's office, just because he dies in your emergency room. This is why you have to collect all of the previously discussed information-so that you can determine what needs to be reported.
You might be asking yourself: "What does the Coroner do?"
Well, once you determine if the death meets the criteria to be reported to my office, my office will then make the determination as to whether or not we need to investigate this death further. There's a whole lot more involved than that but since you're having problems understanding the most basic instructions, I thought I'd provide you with the Cliff's Note's version. All spelled out real nice with small words.
In addition to the fabulous powerpoint presentation we gave to your hospital, that included gruesome and graphic visual effects, we also gave you a copy of the death reporting form that our investigator's use to collect information from you when you call. The purpose of providing you with this form was so that you would know what information we would be asking of you when you called us.
This next complaint is probably our fault for not explaining the obvious to you. The purpose of the death reporting form was not so that you and your staff could fax it over to us in lieu of calling us.
#2 Approximately three weeks ago a member of your staff filled out the form, providing next-of-kin information, medical history and a doctor who was willing to sign the death certificate. YAY! To that employee who collected that information. PROBLEM: That employee did not include on the form, the name of the individual who had died and also neglected to mention that the person who died, succumbed to a gun shot wound to the chest. Other problem: a hospital doctor cannot sign a death certificate under those circumstances. I thought that had been made clear when we went over the section that covered Traumatic Deaths, but then, maybe not.
In a final note: Pissing contests are generally unacceptable and my office would like to avoid them all together. Therefore, it would be best for all involved parties if, rather than throw a temper tantrum and refuse to collect this information, you would be a good sport and collect it like you're supposed too.
Sincerely,
The Investigator who's wondering "Where the hell were you when I went over this?"
P.S.
For those of your hospital staff who detest contacting my office to report deaths, I would like to state that there is a way to avoid any future unpleasant conversations. Of course, it would require you and your staff to discontinue killing your patients. Challenging! I know.
Recently we came to your hospital and presented to you on the topic of Correct Death Reporting Procedures. However, since that time, it has become abundantly clear that you were not paying attention at all. I've taking the liberty of jotting down some things that are of concern to my office, in hopes of rectifying this situation in a professional manner.
#1. Contrary to your beliefs, my office is not a dumping ground for the recently departed. Not every death that lands in your emergency room automatically becomes a Coroner's case. There are steps that YOU are required to take in determining if the death of YOUR patient meets the criteria to be reported to my office. In addition to that individual's name, date of birth, admission, time, pronounce time and next-of-kin contact information, YOU will also need to gather medical history information, determine if the patient was treated by a primary care physician, contact that physician and find out if that physician will sign the death certificate. THIS IS YOUR JOB!
For example, a 95 year old with a history of hypertension, stroke, heart attack, liver cancer, prostate cancer, and kidney cancer, who is under the care of a primary care doctor (or in this case, a primary care doctor, cardiologist and oncologist) does not meet the criteria for being reported to the Coroner's office, just because he dies in your emergency room. This is why you have to collect all of the previously discussed information-so that you can determine what needs to be reported.
You might be asking yourself: "What does the Coroner do?"
Well, once you determine if the death meets the criteria to be reported to my office, my office will then make the determination as to whether or not we need to investigate this death further. There's a whole lot more involved than that but since you're having problems understanding the most basic instructions, I thought I'd provide you with the Cliff's Note's version. All spelled out real nice with small words.
In addition to the fabulous powerpoint presentation we gave to your hospital, that included gruesome and graphic visual effects, we also gave you a copy of the death reporting form that our investigator's use to collect information from you when you call. The purpose of providing you with this form was so that you would know what information we would be asking of you when you called us.
This next complaint is probably our fault for not explaining the obvious to you. The purpose of the death reporting form was not so that you and your staff could fax it over to us in lieu of calling us.
#2 Approximately three weeks ago a member of your staff filled out the form, providing next-of-kin information, medical history and a doctor who was willing to sign the death certificate. YAY! To that employee who collected that information. PROBLEM: That employee did not include on the form, the name of the individual who had died and also neglected to mention that the person who died, succumbed to a gun shot wound to the chest. Other problem: a hospital doctor cannot sign a death certificate under those circumstances. I thought that had been made clear when we went over the section that covered Traumatic Deaths, but then, maybe not.
In a final note: Pissing contests are generally unacceptable and my office would like to avoid them all together. Therefore, it would be best for all involved parties if, rather than throw a temper tantrum and refuse to collect this information, you would be a good sport and collect it like you're supposed too.
Sincerely,
The Investigator who's wondering "Where the hell were you when I went over this?"
P.S.
For those of your hospital staff who detest contacting my office to report deaths, I would like to state that there is a way to avoid any future unpleasant conversations. Of course, it would require you and your staff to discontinue killing your patients. Challenging! I know.
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