I went to the courthouse today as I was summoned to Jury duty. I now know what purgatory must be designed to feel like.
Three hours I sat in a massive room with several hundred other people, listening to faint Muzak playing, watching people getting lost in their own brains. Bad day to be hungover to say the least.
Upon showing up, we had to document as to whether we had a problem charging someone with various crimes, and if a trial (which would end MID NOVEMBER) would result in a hardship for us. The answers for those questions were no and HELL TO THE YES! I can't leave my work for almost 2 months and live off $10.
I thought some people liked jury duty, but not after this experience. Hell, even the people working for the Courthouse were talking about how much jury duty sucks.
Blech. Thank gravy for the hardship clause. Hearing my name called to be excused was like a won a mini-lottery.
I've only been to the DMV several times in my life. I lucked out early on because if you're in the military, they give you your ID for something crazy like 10 years. Had to go in today, thinking that it would be like it has been the few other times I've gone...mostly uneventful.
I was wrong.
It always starts out with that weird "take-a-number" lottery game, when you get to find out whether you've won and get to be helped right a way, or if you'll need to set up like you're stranded in the woods for days.
Happened to me, I pulled 178 and they were currently on 119. Awesome. On top of that, despite they had 5 windows built, there were only 2 windows actually running.
The customers were no easy going either. The worst were the ones who when their number was called, you could see them toting a massive pile of paperwork to the front window. "I had my arms surgically replaced with stalks of celery and wanted to apply for a new DL. This should be all the paperwork I need. Oh, and I'm paying in old, discarded 1915 stock certificats". There were people that were up at the window for easily 20 minutes. Then when my turn rolls around? Get up there, sit, tell the guy my address, I need a new ID, pay him $25, done. Literally 3 minutes. What the fuck is everyone else doing there that it would require so much time? I think they should have time limits. If they can't get their shit fixed in 10 minutes, they need to go to the back of the line.
And furthermore, DMV goers, if the line is an eternity and you want to help us all out, don't give your low numbered ticket away to someone else. You're just fucking the entire room by doing that. If they're at 100, and you have 115, and you decided to bolt because you gotta get back to work, don't give your 115 to a person who has a 190. Why? Because I might have 116. Hell, the majority of the room probably have a 116 or above. So by doing this, instead of eliminating yourself from in front of me and helping out me and everyone behind you...you've basically taken the person from the back of the line and put them in your place. Honestly.
Third...let me get this straight. You're going to whole up a bunch of people in your waiting room for expected hours at a time, even put a pot of coffee in there, and not allow us to use the bathroom? Is this some messed up joke? You don't want to see where my priorities are if you're at 100, and my number is 110 and there's a garbage can close to me. I will seriously bust a leak in your waiting room because there is no way in hell I'm going to go to a bathroom somewhere else, come back and pull 224.
And finally, no...I won't fucking smile for my ID. I haven't smiled in any professionally related pictures in the history of my existance on this Earth, and after waiting 2 hours filled with people that smell like Russian cab drivers and beets, I refuse to smile for you. Take my fucking picture, give me my fucking ID card, and shut off.
The last two weeks at work have just been super unholy. On top of the multitude of complications of going back and forth between Spokane, combined with a shitty audit at work and just general crappy events, I am ready for this weekend.
As I'm baking in my office due to my building (and most of Seattle) lacking HVAC, I'm remembering back to the days of playing Command and Conquer. And old school top down video game in which your army fights other armys.
Anywho, those memories combined with the current plummeting satellite (UARS) makes me have fond memories of wishing for an orbital satelite which could blast giant laser beams on to certain parts of the planet.
If I had that monster at my disposal, you know I'd be hitting some high priority targets (read: Westboro Baptist Church, the set of "Glee", Paris).
I've been going to the gym quite a bit with the intent to bulk up. According to my trainer, the only way I can do this is if I eat like a sumo wrestler with a gland problem.
Look, since pretty much the beginning of College, my breakfast has typically consisted of a big mug of coffee and whatever is in my console of my car on the way to work. The idea of waking up and eating a "hearty breakfast" is more disturbing to me than a oral bowel movement.
I've been trying to muscle down a protein bar, but it's pretty nauseating. Believe me I can eat when other people can't. Typically watching porn is the best time to get down on some pizza and beer.
At any rate, I guess I'll just be a skinny twig for the rest of my life.
In Spokane today...what should have been about a 4 hour trip ended up going actually to about a 9 hour trip. Why you ask? Well funny you should ask.
In classic bullet format:
- 0730 - Leave Seattle en route to Spokane driving my Prius I just got back from the dealer yesterday.
- 0855 - The red ! pops up on my read out, telling me I have something wrong with my engine (I ask car manufacturers why go with a "!" when it might as well be a "you're fucked!")
- 0935 - With the assistance of Google and a Garmin, I find a small old timey auto shop (read backwoods and hillbilly) in Snoqualmie.
-0940 - The mechanic, along with my help, trouble shoot the problem of why my car over heated. Got enough coolent. Hmm.
-0941 - Some teenager (who stood silently and watched the mechanic working on another car), presumably his apprentice, points out that there's a belt missing. The fan belt.
-0945 - Mechanic calls several auto parts store, who apparently have never heard of a 2005 Prius needing a fan belt.
-0946 - Mechanic locates a fan belt at a local Napa dealership. Says he can begin work by noon.
-0947-1005 - I awkwardly putter around in my car, waiting for the mechanic to tell me where I can wait. During this time, he's just working on another car.
-1005-1240 - I bid adieu to the mechanic for a while to go on a walk to get out of the "shop" (two sheds bolted together). End up going to a park, following a trail which leads to an opening near the Snoqualmie river. There I sit on a rock, eat a sad little protein bar, and chill.
-1241-1250 - Move back to a nearby park to once again, sit.
-1251-1257 - Get approached by a 900 year old guy with apparent scoliosis. Only when he's 10 feet in front of me I realize he's carrying a bible and several brochures.
-1258-1300 - "Gus" from the Jehovah's witnesses drops by to give me some reading materials. Gets my name wrong. Both to me (i.e. "Good to meet you *WRONG NAME*) as well as who was driving the car (i.e. "Good guy that *WRONG NAME*). - Authors note...yes, I will be polite, even to a Jehovah's witness. Can't fault a guy for trying to spread what they believe is right...even though Jehovah's witnesses are out of their fucking mind.
- 1301 - 1310 - Much needed deuce from the sad protein bar in a park bathroom I can only describe as being from the set of one of the Hostil movies.
- 1310-1315 - Mosey back to the shop praying my car is fixed.
- 1316 - Get back to the shop, belt is on, with mystery fluid under my car.
- 1317 - 1330 - Let my Prius run to find out both if my car is going to explode as well as if the myster fluid under the car is mine.
1331 - 1335 - My boss calls, having recieved my VM from the morning, laughing about how it sucks to have broken down.
1336-1340 - Wait for someone to move their car who is blocking the bay my car is in.
1341-1345 - Pay the mechanic who has a massive pile of credit card receipts next to his credit card scanner on a tiny plank of wood that can barely be described as a shelf.
1346 - Get the fuck up out of dodge.
1815 - Arrive in Spokane.
Yeah.....let's never do Snoqualmie or my Toyota dealership again.
As we approach the September of 2011, I recall joining the military as a bushy tailed eager beaver 2nd Lieutenant in the Military Police Corps of the United States Army. I joined with the intent to become the best at military law enforcement, and a master of the UCMJ (Uniform Code of Military Justice). With my under graduate in Criminal Justice and my family steeped in military tradition, I was ready to rebuild the military one position at a time.
Fast forward 5 years later. The military is giving all the law enforcement and prison jobs to military civilians (i.e. government fucking lackies) and I'm left being painted into a corner of the fact that the Army wants the Military Police to basically troll traffic routes for landmines and be the infantry-in-humvees. My dream is ended and I'm forced into the civilian world.
Armed with a duel Master's degree in HR Management and HR Development, I'm under the assumption that that combined with my 5 years of leadership abilities, that I'll be a prized item to middle management in any organization.
I was wrong.
With 2 weeks or less until my discharge date, I found myself desperate for a job. I went to a job fair under the guidance of a major headhunter organization with the promises of interviewing with several employers. I interviewed with four employers, and the only HR position I applied for, who said I did the best at defining HR practices, didn't hire me. I was hired as a "Store Manager in Training" under the Kmart program.
This means, that after an intensive 6 month training program at a store, I would be given my own store to be in charge of.
I was wrong....again.
After several months of training at a Seattle store, I was reassigned to a store in Tacoma, WA to assist due to the Christmas season (er...sorry, "Holiday season"). I was placed as an "interim" assistant store manager, to finish off my training so I could take my Store Manager position. At the end of 6 months, I was called by the District Manager to inform me that I would be taking a Department manager position at a store that was 2 hours commute from my current address. Mind you...this was on a Friday, and I was expected to report to work at the new store the following Monday.
Rewind about five months.
I came out of the military as a highly educated, highly motivated, highly trained and literally battle tested individual who was ready to raise up any company that would hire me to the next level. Going from a battle tested Captain in the Army to a store-manager-in-training at Kmart, I should have known what was coming.
Fucking booze.
Anyone who has worked retail knows the evils that possess the average white trash shopper when it comes to getting their 10 cent discount on Twinkies and store shelf wine. I remember my first day of training, being accosted by my "training coach" (Kmart refers to managers as "coaches"....probably to be more pc...well know what fuckers, coaches can't fire people and ruin their lives) because I had parked too close too the store. That was "for the customers".
As time drove on, I learned about people having great "shopping experiences", the importance of "facing product" (i.e. making sure there were no holes in the shelves when it came to whatever was being sold), and how important it was to sell totes (because of the markup) and hosiery (yeah...they didn't call it socks...they called it hosiery...hey, the 1870's called, they want their terminology back). And yes, for the record, I'd been yelled at more then a few times for not making sure the product wasn't "hole-free".
Suffice to say, I realized that people who resign themselves to retail are very shallow in terms of what they want to contribute to society. They have essentially resigned themselves in a career while waiting to die. My "coach trainer" at my first store was a guy named "Bob" who was in his late 40's, balding, and looked like he had died inside years ago. I remember one of his first comments to me ....no, to another co-worker about me (with me in earshot) being about how I didn't know "how to use an iron on a shirt". Okay there baldy, I can iron a fucking set of BDU's and field strip a MK-19 in 10 seconds...what can you do? Face the hosiery section?
I delve severely into drinking. And I mean DRINK-ING. I could crush a 5th of a boozy booze called UV Vodka in a night....and naturally report to work the next morning with a crushing hangover and a severe hatred of life.
I wouldn't be lying if I didn't admit that I tried to spend most of my time away from the customer, either in the backroom doing "inventory", or out in the shelves where most people didn't go restocking the shelves.
Reading all of this, most people would believe that it was simply the shock of going from a veteran Captain to a store manager at a retail store that would make me bitter, but no....Kmart had a hand in this.
Kmart has a policy that requires supervisors work a minimum of 55 hours per week. Which basically means that your days off shift every week, and most times, you don't get two days off.
Additionally, probably when times were bad, Kmart decided in their infinite wisdom that, managers can also assist on the floor. So they reduced the people working the sales floor, often leaving customers to wander about with no assistance.
Also...when I was hired, I was sent my benefits package with no explanation from any HR professional (which I would later take up as an HR Manager to promise one-on-one benefits explanations with each new hire).
And, being hired with the promise of being a Store Manager, then deciding I can up and move in the course of 2.5 days....well, that's just shitsville.
I could go on, but I won't. Why? Because it'll just make me want to pick up another bottle of booze, womanize as much as possible (that's a whole different story), and come to work everyday reeking of booze.
Kmart fucking sucks. Not for the fact that they invented the "Blue Light Special", but for how they treat their staff. The hours suck, the customer involvement policies suck, and the stores alone suck. Had it not been for my job with a .com company doing HR Management work, I would have never had a chance to throw my badge and keys on my bosses desk and walk out with both middle fingers busted up high.
So if you ever go to a retail store and have a positive experience, I highly recommend you make sure you compliment the help.
If you ever go to a retail store and have a shitty experience, I highly recommend you rip that fucker a new one on the most public scale possible.
Fuck you Kmart! (oh yeah, and Fuck You Bob! You're still pushing carts and I'm a motherfuckin' Director! Who's got the iron now bitch??)
(Authors Note: Serving overseas, the Sergeant I worked with always made it a point to exclaim to me how much he loved women...)
In looking back on some of my posts, in addition to my typical cynical viewpoints (which hey...I'm one cynical guy), I have come off as a bit of a misogynist. Given, I truly hate the gender wars, I'm still a huge fan of chicks. (and if you take offense to me referring to women as "chicks", you should probably go read a different blog).
In typical Azurael bullet list form, this is what I love about chicks:
1) The Ying To My Yang - The most basic element as designed by genetics, women are always there to compliment men. Even gay guys always have super close female friends, there is always the perfect woman to compliment any man out there. While opposites can sometime spark problems, there is obviously an upside to this.
2) Eye Candy - Don't get mad at me about this being #2. Women are just awesome to look at. The fact that women put alot into their looks...be it clothing, hair, whatever, women always make it a point to make sure they're rockin the house when they walk out the door. While it does disturb me that many women take hours to get ready, trust me as a guy, it doesn't go unappreciated.
3) The Smell - Chicks smell amazing. Period. I remember dating one girl in college and I didn't know whether it was her perfume, her shampoo, or even her fabric softener, but good gravy I couldn't get over how awesome she smelled. It was positively intoxicating.
4) The Support - At the risk of sounding like a "sense-y", I like the fact that guys can talk to women about feelings. Yes, we (guys...eerrr, straight guys) have feelings that we're not giant fans of talking about. Obviously, we can't talk to our guy friends about this because they'll probably end up throwing beer cans at us and laughing at us. Women are actually very down to listen to what's in your heart and actually offer some sound, deep souled advice (vs. your guy friend who would say "dude...you sound pretty fucking gay right now).
5) The adventurism in the bedroom - Chicks dress up (reference the image) for the bedroom. True, guys are more visual than women, the fact that women are willing to dress up both for the regular day and in the bedroom in unholy comfortable heels, skirts, corsets, etc..... it's just amazing. If you're a guy, when was the last time your girl asked you to dress up? And did you actually do it? Hmmm....
6) Confidence Sourcing - We as guys areallllllwaaaays guilty of practically breaking our necks when a hot chick walks by us. We try to use our peripheral vision to look, but unfortunately the prehistoric gene takes over and cranes our neck so we can take a mental image to store in our spank bank for later. But when chicks comment on how good we look, or if we catch them giving us the up-and-down, yeah...we feel like the king of the Greek Gods. Even fat chicks count on this one.
I'm going to stop here before I go off on a tangent, but yeah....even as cynical and hateful as I may seem...chicks are pretty fucking awesome.
Although this has been a 4 day week, it seems like that 5th day of shit just continually just gets compressed into the remaining 4 days.
I never thought it was possible, but this Friday was the LOOONNNGGEST Friday ever. And not because it's a slow day, but just because this week has been ugly in general.
To top that gem off, I get to go to a work related deal in Spokane next week. Nice. For those not from the Northwest, Spokane is consistantly referred to as "Spocompton" or "Spoke Vegas" because it's a small city with big city problems. The majority of the city is just a shithole and I hve no idea why anyone would want to live there (sorry to my High School friend who lives there).
I'm pretty sure I've talked about this before, but I'm going to cover it again because I recently went through an almost life changing experience.
For those who are just joining us, I am a sufferer of Irritable Bowel Syndrome, or IBS. This wonderful little disease/syndrome/curse from hell causes your bowels to essentially decide for you when you're going to take a deuce. Basically, you'll be sitting there minding your own business when out of know where you get massive lower abdominal cramping (aka the guy code for "Dude, we need to go home RIGHT NOW." - akaka You have to take a massive dook, probably from eating too much PF Changs)
Along with this intolerable urge by your body to take a dump, you get:
- Nervous sweating - Clammy Forehead, Palms - Nausea - Vertigo - Inability to speak - Panic - Intense bouts of Bargaining (3rd step in Grief)
Sounds terrifying? No, this isn't just for us IBS sufferers, this is what anyone goes through then they're about to foam out of their underpants. I may eat the wrong thing and feel this....or a guy could eat a bran muffin, smoke a cigarette, and drink a latte while being stuck in a tunnel in a traffic jam and go through the same thing.
No biggie. The tactic is plan to eat right and to make sure bathrooms are always accessible.
I tell you all that to tell you this.
Typically as a tradition, I like to eat spicy wings on Sunday night, usually while watching True Blood and what not. Normally I spend all day in the office on Mondays, which is convienently located right across the hall from the bathroom. Well, one particular Sunday night a few weeks ago, I was happily mowing down on an unholy amount of chicken wings doused in hot sauce and ranch, when a co-worker reminded me that we had an off site meeting with several clients super early the next Morning. So not only was it early enough that I couldn't "prepare" my guts, but it was also too early for any Imodium to take effect.
Suffice to say the next morning at about 10 am, I had the "bubble guts" which were making noises much like the scene from Dumb and Dumber when Harry has just had the turbo lax, and is driving his Lambo to the Mary's house. Dead in the middle of a meeting with the inability to say "if you'll excuse me a minute, I have to go destroy a bathroom", I suffered through every gut wrenching convulsion of my innards that were now cooking from the previous nights wings.
In can't remember much other than sweating profusely, panicking like I was poisoned, and trying to go to my happiness to block out the pain. The only upbeat part of this epic battle against my innards was the waves of relief that would come when my guts would stop imploding upon themselves. I was fortunate enough to know my coworkers enough to share that we "need to leave right now" as soon as we were done meeting with clients.
So yes, that was a day that will live in infamy, a day that I almost crapped my pants off site, and would have had to drive home approximately 20 miles. Thank crap for small things (i.e. Imodium, Pepto, IBS battle hardened intestinal tract...)
Although I got IBS bad sometimes, I'm probably a mild case compared to other people that have it. I'm not home bound and I don't have "uncontrollable flatulance" which I've actually read about. Things that usually trigger me are spicy foods, dairy, and extreme physical exercise (yeah...I almost dooked on a treadmill another time....).
fig. 1-1 I'm the guy in the glasses (not actually, but for illustration purposes)
There are some days that I just seriously get the shit end of the stick (which is a disturbing saying when you think about it), and today was one of those days.
Regardless, I'm not a fucking Kmart....so all in all, still not a bad day.
I went to the courthouse today as I was summoned to Jury duty. I now know what purgatory must be designed to feel like.
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