It's been 48 years since the Yankees came to Pittsburgh to play the Pirates. The last time was when the Pirates whooped their butts in the last game of the World Series way back in the sixties before "groovey" was hip to say.
Westinghouse was hosting all the owners of our Reactor Coolant Pumps and little Judy had to go out on the town with them to show them a good time. We got a luxury bus (sounds weird, "bus" and "luxury," but it was limousine-like with a well-stocked wet bar and leather seats that faces the aisle so we all faced each other with mood-lighting, full-stereo and TV) and headed to the city for the game.
It was a GORGEOUS day. Perfect weather. Perfect. The stadium is lauded as the most beautiful in the major leagues. The stadium is situated so you have a clear, full view of the city across the river. The sun was hitting the skyscrapers and its bright yellow suspension bridge creating a scene as if conjured up by the Chamber of Commerce.
Pittsburgh Pirates are a lousy team. They usually fill 14,000 seats for home games ... in a city whacko for sports. This night the Yankees were in town. The leagues most winning team of all time. The highest paid players of all time. The rock stars. They sold out the stadium... over 40,000. And Westinghouse had primo corporate seating in the lounge area... with all-you-can eat and drink passes.
So it was the rock stars versus the "lucky to be out of the minor leagues" boys. First inning, the Yankees seem nervous. The Pirates hold them at bay, and end up scoring 2 against them! The Pirates are winning!!! The extra 30,000 fans were Yankee fans. They were stunned. The Pittsburghers were giddy.
You know what? Those Pirates were the luckiest little buggers I've ever seen. Their pitcher was the most pathetic I've ever seen. Walking dudes every chance he had. Filling the bases... and squeaking the third out before one of those "real" baseball players could make it home.
The Yankees were just as unlucky as the Pirates were lucky. Home runs were just squeaking over the fence. Balls were being dropped and turning into doubles and triples for the Pirates. The Pirates kept scoring and scoring. The crowd was like a kid high on sugar... we were dizzy with disbelief. The Yankees never had a chance to swagger. The Pirates were proving good guys don't always finish last.
The Pirates ended up scoring double digits over the Yankees. Every inning but 2, they scored. When they had scored 7, I started chanting "Double digits! Double digits!" By golly, they did it. The final score was 12-5... and the Pirates gave them the last 2 runs in the last inning with 2 outs. It was a blow-out.
It is one of the highlights since my move to Pittsburgh. Just perfect. And the pirogi races (Mrs. T sponsored)? It put the mid-west flair cherry on top. It was like Orwigsburg... so corny.
(I'm sure glad I didn't go the next night when the Yanks had their revenge with a 10-0 win!).
Friday, June 27, 2008
HON-EY! I'm Home!
At long last, I have a kitchen. A real kitchen. With all new appliances that are plugged in and humming. Counters with counter tops. Light fixtures in all the holes on the ceiling. No more paper plates in the basement or fuses blowing when the microwave and refrigerator down there turn on at the same time. No more washing dishes in the tiny wetbar sink. No more eating at the bar and pretending I'm in a diner.
April, May, June... and now, a kitchen. A fancy-dancy oo-la-la kitchen. I came home from work today and I found that the last few items had been installed and the final invoice was on my shiny new counter top.
No more laborers on my calendar. No more staying home from work to oversee the progress. Oh! And I can FINALLY unpack my moving boxes!!!!!!!!! My kitchen stuff has been in boxes for OVER A YEAR. The items will be like bears coming out of hibernation... all scrawny and squinting at the bright light of day. Welcome home stuff!
With the completion of my kitchen that also means, with the removal of my moving boxes, I will have a family room, living room, and dining room again. Shoot. That's almost a home. Wow. I've almost moved in. Wow.
Now I won't have to be a project manager at home and at work. Oh, damn, I'm going to have to get a life...
April, May, June... and now, a kitchen. A fancy-dancy oo-la-la kitchen. I came home from work today and I found that the last few items had been installed and the final invoice was on my shiny new counter top.
No more laborers on my calendar. No more staying home from work to oversee the progress. Oh! And I can FINALLY unpack my moving boxes!!!!!!!!! My kitchen stuff has been in boxes for OVER A YEAR. The items will be like bears coming out of hibernation... all scrawny and squinting at the bright light of day. Welcome home stuff!
With the completion of my kitchen that also means, with the removal of my moving boxes, I will have a family room, living room, and dining room again. Shoot. That's almost a home. Wow. I've almost moved in. Wow.
Now I won't have to be a project manager at home and at work. Oh, damn, I'm going to have to get a life...
The Big Bucks Have Arrived
Luke is finally paying dividends, baby! I got a year's back-pay from my pension this week. Ooo la-la! It is a huge lump of dough to come along all of a sudden like that. My monthly payment isn't all that exciting, really, but multiply it by 12 and it's a mighty heap! If paid in pennies, I'd need a ladder to leap over it.
DuPont said if I got my paperwork in on time, I could expect my first check in July. I missed the deadline by 3 days. I figured they would be punitive and make me wait another month. I also figured "in July" meant "at the end of July." Instead, they treated me like I DIDN'T miss the deadline, and "in July" means "the last day of June." Woohoo!!! What a delightful surprise!
I also got my first MONTHLY payment check, the same day the other check was delivered. Oh, I THOUGHT they were checks (they look just like checks), and I was mad. I had told them to direct deposit them. I called DuPont to grouch and growl at them. They said it was deposited... surprisingly, they didn't screw that up. I torqued my head and blinked several times in surprise.
Of course, they screwed something ELSE up... Ah, that's the DuPont I have come to know. While I was on the phone with them (they put you on hold for 30 minutes, so it's best to take advantage of having them on the line), I complained about having to pay for my health insurance retro-actively (pay for LAST year's insurance... that I didn't get until THIS year). I said that was absurd. Turns out, they weren't charging me for it... They told me I didn't HAVE health insurance. Heih? Yeah, because I didn't pay my premium, they cancelled my policy in September, last year. I told her (trying not to YELL) that I only was approved as a pensioner in MAY of THIS year. I had to explain it to her, no lie, THREE TIMES before she figured out that they cancelled it before I even had it. Three times. Three. three.
I estimate a year before they fix this. Anyone wanna put a wager on this?
I asked her, once I do get my health insurance, will I be able to retro-actively get coverage for my bills from last year. She said I probably could, but they would only cover as much as they would have paid if I didn't have insurance paying for it... in other words, if Westinghouse paid 90% of the bill and DuPont would have paid 80% (or 90%), they will not pay me anything, because their 80% (or 90%) has already been paid to me. What a load of CRAP! I pay them, but because I ALSO paid someone else, they owe me nothing. What is stopping Westinghouse from coming in and saying, "Oh, you had DuPont coverage? We're taking our money back; let them pay, and we'll pay anything we would have paid if they didn't pay it." Who the hell is DuPont to decide that THEY are the ones that owe nothing on bills that I incurred. Let's just say, they have given me a new crusade. Saddle my steed; I'm off!
While on this crusade I will be enjoying my monthly checks. It's funny. The "incapability supplement" that they added to my normal pension is EXACTLY the amount that they take out in taxes. Oh, and the remainder? It's just a little bit more than my monthly mortgage check. My mortgage is a fixed expense, and my pension is a fixed income. It's a cute arrangement, don't you think?
Oh, this is the best part. I've always wondered why on earth people get married. Most people get sick of each other long before death parts them. What's in it for them? Sure, some men can't cook or clean, or some woman can't fix the house or the car... they leech off the other for their weaknesses. Well, I am more than capable of handling anything that comes my way. The only thing that I saw that was a benefit was they shared living expenses. I would come up short in the food department... a man would eat more than I. That leaves the house payment. They split that. Well, now Uncle Dupie has eliminated that one and only perk... my house payment is now covered. ...It cracks me up.
DuPont said if I got my paperwork in on time, I could expect my first check in July. I missed the deadline by 3 days. I figured they would be punitive and make me wait another month. I also figured "in July" meant "at the end of July." Instead, they treated me like I DIDN'T miss the deadline, and "in July" means "the last day of June." Woohoo!!! What a delightful surprise!
I also got my first MONTHLY payment check, the same day the other check was delivered. Oh, I THOUGHT they were checks (they look just like checks), and I was mad. I had told them to direct deposit them. I called DuPont to grouch and growl at them. They said it was deposited... surprisingly, they didn't screw that up. I torqued my head and blinked several times in surprise.
Of course, they screwed something ELSE up... Ah, that's the DuPont I have come to know. While I was on the phone with them (they put you on hold for 30 minutes, so it's best to take advantage of having them on the line), I complained about having to pay for my health insurance retro-actively (pay for LAST year's insurance... that I didn't get until THIS year). I said that was absurd. Turns out, they weren't charging me for it... They told me I didn't HAVE health insurance. Heih? Yeah, because I didn't pay my premium, they cancelled my policy in September, last year. I told her (trying not to YELL) that I only was approved as a pensioner in MAY of THIS year. I had to explain it to her, no lie, THREE TIMES before she figured out that they cancelled it before I even had it. Three times. Three. three.
I estimate a year before they fix this. Anyone wanna put a wager on this?
I asked her, once I do get my health insurance, will I be able to retro-actively get coverage for my bills from last year. She said I probably could, but they would only cover as much as they would have paid if I didn't have insurance paying for it... in other words, if Westinghouse paid 90% of the bill and DuPont would have paid 80% (or 90%), they will not pay me anything, because their 80% (or 90%) has already been paid to me. What a load of CRAP! I pay them, but because I ALSO paid someone else, they owe me nothing. What is stopping Westinghouse from coming in and saying, "Oh, you had DuPont coverage? We're taking our money back; let them pay, and we'll pay anything we would have paid if they didn't pay it." Who the hell is DuPont to decide that THEY are the ones that owe nothing on bills that I incurred. Let's just say, they have given me a new crusade. Saddle my steed; I'm off!
While on this crusade I will be enjoying my monthly checks. It's funny. The "incapability supplement" that they added to my normal pension is EXACTLY the amount that they take out in taxes. Oh, and the remainder? It's just a little bit more than my monthly mortgage check. My mortgage is a fixed expense, and my pension is a fixed income. It's a cute arrangement, don't you think?
Oh, this is the best part. I've always wondered why on earth people get married. Most people get sick of each other long before death parts them. What's in it for them? Sure, some men can't cook or clean, or some woman can't fix the house or the car... they leech off the other for their weaknesses. Well, I am more than capable of handling anything that comes my way. The only thing that I saw that was a benefit was they shared living expenses. I would come up short in the food department... a man would eat more than I. That leaves the house payment. They split that. Well, now Uncle Dupie has eliminated that one and only perk... my house payment is now covered. ...It cracks me up.
Waaaaaaaaah! My Boss is LEAVING!!!
Oh the horror!! My boss called me last week and told me that they were going to be announcing he was moving to a new assignment. I was dashed. He said he wanted to tell me personally because, "he got me into this mess."
He was the number one reason I took this job. He is STILL my favorite Westinghouse employee. He is the epitome of "Ohio-nice" (even though he is from West Virginia.)
He was my comrade in arms. He did battle with me against evil sub-suppliers and wretched rapists. I'm sadder than a kid stuck in summer school.
He just finished giving me my raise, too. Unlike DuPont, where your performance seems to be in no way related to your raise because your performance review is held 6 months before you get your raise, Westinghouse tells you great things about you (in their own words), then doles out the money right there. It is a great feeling. They really know how to show the love. I wrote my review like I've always done for Uncle Dupie. For every attribute, I put something down for how I addressed it and accomplished its requirements. My boss laughed at me and said no one ever does that. I said, "but it says your supposed to." "Yeah, but they only do what they HAVE to do." Could you imagine a boss laughing in DuPont at the fact his employees disregard "what your supposed to do?!" Ha! My boss thought I was an over-achiever... by simply doing what I was supposed to do. I'm gonna miss him. Oh, am I ever. (wah)
He was the number one reason I took this job. He is STILL my favorite Westinghouse employee. He is the epitome of "Ohio-nice" (even though he is from West Virginia.)
He was my comrade in arms. He did battle with me against evil sub-suppliers and wretched rapists. I'm sadder than a kid stuck in summer school.
He just finished giving me my raise, too. Unlike DuPont, where your performance seems to be in no way related to your raise because your performance review is held 6 months before you get your raise, Westinghouse tells you great things about you (in their own words), then doles out the money right there. It is a great feeling. They really know how to show the love. I wrote my review like I've always done for Uncle Dupie. For every attribute, I put something down for how I addressed it and accomplished its requirements. My boss laughed at me and said no one ever does that. I said, "but it says your supposed to." "Yeah, but they only do what they HAVE to do." Could you imagine a boss laughing in DuPont at the fact his employees disregard "what your supposed to do?!" Ha! My boss thought I was an over-achiever... by simply doing what I was supposed to do. I'm gonna miss him. Oh, am I ever. (wah)
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Favorite Quote
I got an email from my friend Lucy, whose husband Gary used to work with me in DuPont. (Gary quit, too.) In her email she said, "Pity all those poor people hanging in at DuPont, just so they can get the pension. You got your pension, and you got out of there....double win!"
It's the "double win" part that gets me giddy. When I first read it, I thought she was saying "you took the money and ran." But the "double win" part told me she was really saying "1) you got the money now that they were stashing away for you for later, and 2) you got the hell out of that rat hole."
Double win, indeed.
It's the "double win" part that gets me giddy. When I first read it, I thought she was saying "you took the money and ran." But the "double win" part told me she was really saying "1) you got the money now that they were stashing away for you for later, and 2) you got the hell out of that rat hole."
Double win, indeed.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Three Rivers Arts Festival
I loved the arts festival in the Pitt last year so much I went 3 times. This year's festival started last weekend. This weekend was the first weekend in a month that I didn't have to work. So, this girly went to the Arts Festival!
As before, I decided to take the city bus. I had to go on-line to get the bus and the festival schedules. While waiting for the printer to print, I happened to check the weather forecasts. Saturday -- rainy and thunderstorms all day; Sunday -- gorgeous. Guess which day I decided to go BASED on that data? Saturday, baby! No crowds. No sunburn. No baby strollers!
It's been a year since I took the bus. I gave the driver my ride voucher and she told me it was "old." They got new ones in March. I have $40 in bus passes that I think are now worthless. I already paid for the rides. They got their money. Why do they care when I finally take the damn bus? And if it's a big deal, why didn't they just tell me to give them the voucher plus any adder ($0.20)? Thank goodness I had 3 one-dollar bills to feed the bus's money machine. At least in Philly you could be shot for holding up the boarding process (in the Pitt, actually, you are likely to be smiled at, and maybe even given the $3 from a complete stranger).
The festival was wonderful with no lines. I wanted to twirl around with my hands stretched out like Julie Andrews at the beginning of "The Sound of Music" with a big grin on my face.
I was ready for the rain. I wore quick-dry clothes, plus Teva sandals. I didn't care if I got wet. The rain drops were just moist reminders of each person that didn't show up that day because of the rain. Let it pour!! Usually there is a LONG line to get the chocolate-covered strawberries. Not in the rain. I ordered mine without even stopping in front of the stand! As I approached, they took my order (no one else was within 20 feet. Things were going great.
I usually go to art festivals with one thing in mind. WOOD. This weekend, however, the festival was nearly devoid of ANYTHING wooden. What the...?! But a strange thing happened. The photographers were the ones reeling me in. Last year I only remember 2 or 3 booths with photographs (and I bought one). So, when the first one I hit had stacks of photos I loved, I went ahead and bought some. I have a whole house to decorate, you know. Lots of walls to cover. Rather than carry the big matted prints in the rain, I had them hold on to them until Sunday, when I knew it would be dry. Anyway, who wants to lug big poster-sized sheets on a city bus?
About 10 booths down, there was another photographer. I loved everything in her booth too. I already bought 5 photos from the last booth, so I tried to restrain myself. I wanted them all. I bought one. Good girl, Judy. Then 15 booths from that one I find another photographer whose every photo makes me want to fill the bus with them. I have already bought 6 photographs now, and paid big money. Well, this little piggy went wee-wee-wee and bought a FRAMED matted photograph from this dude. All three artists agreed to allow me to come pick them up the next day. I found two more photographers that had the same effect on me... I was like a crackhead. But I resisted. One thing helped me resist... I've taken photos just as good as some of these, and they are personal memories, yet I don't blow them up and frame them. I've been inspired to do so now. (Oh goody, another project to heap on the pile.)
Well, I went back today. This time I drove. It was a good experience, to realize I want to take the bus all the time -- streets are closed and parking is expensive.
The walkways between the booths were PACKED as yesteryear with people who were walking slower than limping zombies. Usually that would be OK, because you want to have time to see what's in each booth, but I was on a mission. An in-and-out mission. Get my stuff and scoot. I wasn't scooting. I was going so slow caterpillars were passing me on the sidewalk.
But I got my goods and stood in line for some food. The shortest lines were 3-people deep. Chocolate-covered strawberries looked to have as many people standing in front as does the sideline of a Steelers game.
I took advantage of being in town (a 25-mile drive) by stopping in Lumber Liquidators to pick-up some off-spec bloodwood flooring I ordered TWO MONTHS ago. They called me last week telling me it was in. Just my luck, I get there 10 minutes before closing and the infamous soup-kitchenesque lines were gone. Just me and the two clerks. Get this, I walk in and say, "I'm here to pick up the bloodwood that I ordered weeks and weeks ago," and they said, "Oh, hey, Judy, we'll bring that right up for you." Dude! They know my name! Wow. It's the fourth time I've been there in a year. Like I said, it's usually PACKED. And they remember me. Cool. I wonder if they know my birthday, too. Ooo, and get this, I bought off-spec stuff (I have the woodworking equipment to bring it back into spec) to make frames and such. The guy delivers it to my car (they don't do that for anyone else) and tells me I lucked out. The warehouse never delivered my shipment, so they just decided to give me first-run (not off-spec) stuff for off-spec price. Yes!!!! This stuff is gorgeous! I went ahead and did the Julie Andrews swirl right there in the parking lot.
As before, I decided to take the city bus. I had to go on-line to get the bus and the festival schedules. While waiting for the printer to print, I happened to check the weather forecasts. Saturday -- rainy and thunderstorms all day; Sunday -- gorgeous. Guess which day I decided to go BASED on that data? Saturday, baby! No crowds. No sunburn. No baby strollers!
It's been a year since I took the bus. I gave the driver my ride voucher and she told me it was "old." They got new ones in March. I have $40 in bus passes that I think are now worthless. I already paid for the rides. They got their money. Why do they care when I finally take the damn bus? And if it's a big deal, why didn't they just tell me to give them the voucher plus any adder ($0.20)? Thank goodness I had 3 one-dollar bills to feed the bus's money machine. At least in Philly you could be shot for holding up the boarding process (in the Pitt, actually, you are likely to be smiled at, and maybe even given the $3 from a complete stranger).
The festival was wonderful with no lines. I wanted to twirl around with my hands stretched out like Julie Andrews at the beginning of "The Sound of Music" with a big grin on my face.
I was ready for the rain. I wore quick-dry clothes, plus Teva sandals. I didn't care if I got wet. The rain drops were just moist reminders of each person that didn't show up that day because of the rain. Let it pour!! Usually there is a LONG line to get the chocolate-covered strawberries. Not in the rain. I ordered mine without even stopping in front of the stand! As I approached, they took my order (no one else was within 20 feet. Things were going great.
I usually go to art festivals with one thing in mind. WOOD. This weekend, however, the festival was nearly devoid of ANYTHING wooden. What the...?! But a strange thing happened. The photographers were the ones reeling me in. Last year I only remember 2 or 3 booths with photographs (and I bought one). So, when the first one I hit had stacks of photos I loved, I went ahead and bought some. I have a whole house to decorate, you know. Lots of walls to cover. Rather than carry the big matted prints in the rain, I had them hold on to them until Sunday, when I knew it would be dry. Anyway, who wants to lug big poster-sized sheets on a city bus?
About 10 booths down, there was another photographer. I loved everything in her booth too. I already bought 5 photos from the last booth, so I tried to restrain myself. I wanted them all. I bought one. Good girl, Judy. Then 15 booths from that one I find another photographer whose every photo makes me want to fill the bus with them. I have already bought 6 photographs now, and paid big money. Well, this little piggy went wee-wee-wee and bought a FRAMED matted photograph from this dude. All three artists agreed to allow me to come pick them up the next day. I found two more photographers that had the same effect on me... I was like a crackhead. But I resisted. One thing helped me resist... I've taken photos just as good as some of these, and they are personal memories, yet I don't blow them up and frame them. I've been inspired to do so now. (Oh goody, another project to heap on the pile.)
Well, I went back today. This time I drove. It was a good experience, to realize I want to take the bus all the time -- streets are closed and parking is expensive.
The walkways between the booths were PACKED as yesteryear with people who were walking slower than limping zombies. Usually that would be OK, because you want to have time to see what's in each booth, but I was on a mission. An in-and-out mission. Get my stuff and scoot. I wasn't scooting. I was going so slow caterpillars were passing me on the sidewalk.
But I got my goods and stood in line for some food. The shortest lines were 3-people deep. Chocolate-covered strawberries looked to have as many people standing in front as does the sideline of a Steelers game.
I took advantage of being in town (a 25-mile drive) by stopping in Lumber Liquidators to pick-up some off-spec bloodwood flooring I ordered TWO MONTHS ago. They called me last week telling me it was in. Just my luck, I get there 10 minutes before closing and the infamous soup-kitchenesque lines were gone. Just me and the two clerks. Get this, I walk in and say, "I'm here to pick up the bloodwood that I ordered weeks and weeks ago," and they said, "Oh, hey, Judy, we'll bring that right up for you." Dude! They know my name! Wow. It's the fourth time I've been there in a year. Like I said, it's usually PACKED. And they remember me. Cool. I wonder if they know my birthday, too. Ooo, and get this, I bought off-spec stuff (I have the woodworking equipment to bring it back into spec) to make frames and such. The guy delivers it to my car (they don't do that for anyone else) and tells me I lucked out. The warehouse never delivered my shipment, so they just decided to give me first-run (not off-spec) stuff for off-spec price. Yes!!!! This stuff is gorgeous! I went ahead and did the Julie Andrews swirl right there in the parking lot.
Boss Keeps Tabs on Employees
My boss is the best. He remembered my birthday and gave me lottery tickets wishing me luck to win big and free myself from needing employment. I've never had a boss give me something for my birthday. The vast majority of them didn't even acknowledge it.
Much later, I stopped by my boss's office and he wasn't in. I went to his desk to write him a note. His desk is always absolutely empty. No piles of paper. No files. No rolls of drawings or sketches. No photos or doodads. He has a cup with writing instruments and a big calendar/blotter pad. That's it. As I was writing him the note I saw this little crib sheet in the corner flap of the calendar/blotter. It was a list of all his employees and their birth dates. Of all the things he wants to have on his desk, that's what is important to him to look down and see everyday.
Who DOES that?! What a sweetie! Oh my god. It may seem small, but chicks really dig that.
Yup, heaven. I died and went to heaven.
Much later, I stopped by my boss's office and he wasn't in. I went to his desk to write him a note. His desk is always absolutely empty. No piles of paper. No files. No rolls of drawings or sketches. No photos or doodads. He has a cup with writing instruments and a big calendar/blotter pad. That's it. As I was writing him the note I saw this little crib sheet in the corner flap of the calendar/blotter. It was a list of all his employees and their birth dates. Of all the things he wants to have on his desk, that's what is important to him to look down and see everyday.
Who DOES that?! What a sweetie! Oh my god. It may seem small, but chicks really dig that.
Yup, heaven. I died and went to heaven.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Moving Damage
Dude! They fixed all the furniture they broke during the move. You can't even tell they were ever damaged. One of my pieces, an antique mahogany pie-crust table, they took it away and completely refinished it. It looks BRAND NEW!! I bought it used, in very good condition, for $100 or $150. The cost to the moving company to refinish it was $350!!! It is GORGEOUS!
My chest of drawers in my bedroom had tiny spots where the finish was worn to the bare wood from the drawers rubbing on the casing during transit. Maybe 5 tiny spots... smaller than an ant each. They refinished the entire front of the dresser. I don't recognize it! Nice!
Remember they bashed my drill press and I didn't notice it until the day after I sent in my damage report? Well, initially, they didn't pay to fix/replace it. Technically, they didn't have to (but the adjuster said they might because my company is a big customer). So, I begrudgingly took the loss. Reds said I should fight it. I told him I didn't have time to fight it -- HE should fight it. So, he did. I had to call them and give the adjusters the details, again, but a week later, without notice, a check for the cost of replacement showed up in my mail. Sweet.
It was a royal pain to move. A lot of work. A lot of hassle. But, the like-new furniture and their paying to replace damage items, that I'm not replacing is quite agreeable. They paid me $90 for a lamp that just needs a threaded coupling. I told them what was wrong with it... but they didn't want to bother fixing it... they only fix furniture. I fixed it myself for nothing. They paid me $15 to glue a little piece of wood back on a little wooden statue. They paid me $50, which is how much they would have charged to fix it, to fix a seam they ripped in my bed-spring... something no one will ever see, and I will never fix.
On top of all this I got to watch the furniture repair guy do all these fancy repairs, right here in my home. I got to see his tools and equipment. I would have had to pay at least $100 for a class to learn all this. And when the guy left, he told me I could call him anytime if I had any questions on refinishing jobs I was doing (he knew I was a woodworker and furniture refinisher). Cool. And he gave me the low-down on where to buy stuff. Ohio-nice.
My chest of drawers in my bedroom had tiny spots where the finish was worn to the bare wood from the drawers rubbing on the casing during transit. Maybe 5 tiny spots... smaller than an ant each. They refinished the entire front of the dresser. I don't recognize it! Nice!
Remember they bashed my drill press and I didn't notice it until the day after I sent in my damage report? Well, initially, they didn't pay to fix/replace it. Technically, they didn't have to (but the adjuster said they might because my company is a big customer). So, I begrudgingly took the loss. Reds said I should fight it. I told him I didn't have time to fight it -- HE should fight it. So, he did. I had to call them and give the adjusters the details, again, but a week later, without notice, a check for the cost of replacement showed up in my mail. Sweet.
It was a royal pain to move. A lot of work. A lot of hassle. But, the like-new furniture and their paying to replace damage items, that I'm not replacing is quite agreeable. They paid me $90 for a lamp that just needs a threaded coupling. I told them what was wrong with it... but they didn't want to bother fixing it... they only fix furniture. I fixed it myself for nothing. They paid me $15 to glue a little piece of wood back on a little wooden statue. They paid me $50, which is how much they would have charged to fix it, to fix a seam they ripped in my bed-spring... something no one will ever see, and I will never fix.
On top of all this I got to watch the furniture repair guy do all these fancy repairs, right here in my home. I got to see his tools and equipment. I would have had to pay at least $100 for a class to learn all this. And when the guy left, he told me I could call him anytime if I had any questions on refinishing jobs I was doing (he knew I was a woodworker and furniture refinisher). Cool. And he gave me the low-down on where to buy stuff. Ohio-nice.
French is Not Their Forte
You've heard of Versailles, right? Who hasn't? Louis XIV's little chateau outside of Paris. The treaty that spawned World War II. You don't have to know how to speak French to know how to pronounce it. Maybe a lot of people haven't really even seen it spelled as much as they have heard it pronounced. It's 'VER-SI'. Long "i" at the end. Here in the Pittsburgh area, just up the road from me is the town of North Versailles. I've never heard it pronounced. I've only seen it on the map and on store receipts and such. I asked a kid cashier at the local K-Mart where the kids of North Versailles go to high-school. (North Verailles is a run-down town and I wanted to make sure they didn't go to my school district.) The kids was definitely in high-school. But he just looked at me confused.
He said, "What?" Like I was screaching and hurt his ears. I asked him again, where do kids from North Versailles go to high school? He said, "Where?"
I said, "Yeah. Where do they go? Where do kids from this town go to school?"
He told me where he went, and I asked him, "And you live in Versailles?"
He said, "No I live in North 'VER-SALS'."
DUDE!!!! They pronounce "sailles" like "sales." DUDE!!! Oh, my god. I heard it later on the radio. They say 'VER-SALS'!!! I weep for them.
Later I was checking out the map and saw a scenic drive that goes to Ligonier, PA. I asked my buddy at work how far away Ligonier was... pronouncing it as the French word it is 'LIG-O-NA' with a long A at the end. He had no idea what I was talking about. Learning from my Versailles experience, I said, I didn't know how they pronounced it, but in French it is pronounced 'LIG-O-NA'.
He said, "Oh! 'LIG-O-NER' with a long E. They pronounce the R. They butcher the French pronounciation so bad I didn't recognize how it could even be pronounced that way. I had to look at the word again just to absorb the complexity of the contortion my brain was being asked to perform.
I still can't call Versailles "Versales," but I've grown accustomed to "Ligoneer." Sadly.
Just in time for my trip to France...
He said, "What?" Like I was screaching and hurt his ears. I asked him again, where do kids from North Versailles go to high school? He said, "Where?"
I said, "Yeah. Where do they go? Where do kids from this town go to school?"
He told me where he went, and I asked him, "And you live in Versailles?"
He said, "No I live in North 'VER-SALS'
DUDE!!!! They pronounce "sailles" like "sales." DUDE!!! Oh, my god. I heard it later on the radio. They say 'VER-SALS'
Later I was checking out the map and saw a scenic drive that goes to Ligonier, PA. I asked my buddy at work how far away Ligonier was... pronouncing it as the French word it is 'LIG-O-NA'
He said, "Oh! 'LIG-O-NER'
I still can't call Versailles "Versales," but I've grown accustomed to "Ligoneer." Sadly.
Just in time for my trip to France...
Summer Theater In a Pittsburgh Palace
Six Broadway musicals in less than 3 months, baby! Pittsburgh summer theater has national tours of major musicals come through all summer long. I got season tickets. There is a stretch of 15 days where I will see 3 musicals! And, oh, the theater! It is GORGEOUS!! I have been to scores and scores of theaters in my day. This is definitely in the top 5! Oh my god! The Benedum Center in Pittsburgh is impressive. It cost $3 million in 1927. That's when a million was worth something. It is jaw-dropping. It is worth the price of admission just to get to walk around the joint. It was called "Pittsburgh's Palace of Amusement." You gotta like that.
Work
Been working the last 3 Saturdays in the lab. Running tests is not work for me. We have to do it on Saturdays because we are testing seals at close to 600 F and 2400 psig. Nobody wants to be around if the seal fails. Shoot, I don't even want to be around.
The tests have just been outstanding. Every time we do a test, we FAR exceed expectations. Pretty much we slap a piece of chewing gum wrapped up with an old shoe string and stuff it in there -- AND IT HOLDS! No matter what we do to the thing, it holds tight. At first we just looked at it rudely. It held. Then we called it bad names. It held. Shoot, we kicked it, shot it, then set it on fire. It still held. We have run out of ideas on how to get it to fail. We're even thinking about taking the shoe string off and seeing if a wad of chewing gum will do the job!
The thermocouple insulation burns, the gaskets melt, the orings lose their compression, but that damn chewing gum and shoelace keep on cruising. It's like we knew what we were doing. Who knew nuclear engineering was so easy?
While not in the lab, I'm in my little office. Rapist dude is back in town and is working with my colleague across the aisle from me... by a sick twist of fate (on paper, he should never have any dealings with my colleague). The company says he can be near me if he has legitimate work to do there. Not surprisingly, the turd goes out of his way to come visit my colleague. My colleague's wife tells me that my colleague has been wondering why this jerk has been visiting him so much... when he doesn't need to. I hadn't told him what the rapist dude had done... it's not like my colleague can get out of working with the creep. My colleague would just feel uncomfortable all the time being forced to work with the deviant. Like my poor boss. He knows the whole story about the guy and has to work with him on a weekly basis. I can see it makes him sick. I decided to do my buddy a favor and not tell. This, did me no good. The creep reveled in coming by my office and my friend didn't know to stop him. I'm sure his wife would be so happy to know he hasn't left this in his past. I'm sure he has convinced her the whole thing was a big mistake and he'd never do such a thing to her again. I'm sure she doesn't suspect a thing. Of course he would never hurt her again... that would make him a monster.
Turns out my company is a little sick of the creature. At first they were saying I had to have a guilty verdict to keep him permanently away from me. (If they gave him a choice I think he would choose to keep the hell away from me than to force me to prosecute him... and if he were smart he would keep the hell away from me to dissuade me from WANTING to prosecute... duh.) Well, his antics had them act without the verdict. Rather than keep him away from me, they are keeping me away from him. They set me up really good in a fancy new office far away from him... far from anywhere he should ever be... matter of fact, if he is seen in my area, he is toast.
Everyone is wondering why I got to move. Heh. THEY want to be in the part of the building I got to move to. Heh. Maybe the creep can attack each of them and we'll all get to move the hell away from him. I really liked being in the center of the action where I was before. All the power-brokers were there. Now, I have the serenity of a library. It's like after-hours where I was before. I always had to wait until after-hours to get any serious work done... and not get home until late. Now I can do serious work during the day and go home after 8 hours. Hooray! It's kind of like when I got cancer. Sure, sure, there was some really yucky stuff to slug through, but some pretty good stuff came out of it -- a pension, for example, 9 months off of work, a new job. Nothing is all bad, I guess... except maybe the rapist dude.
What else is new at work? Well, I might be sent to Philly for a short-term assignment. Wouldn't that be cool? I could visit old buddies, and shop tax-free. I'd like that. Oh, and I wouldn't have to live in my house that seems to be ever-ready to cause me heartburn. A nice vacation. Oh, and working in Philly would entail playing in a lab a lot. Delicious.
So, work is good. I still like my boss, and my boss's boss, a lot. I like my projects. I like everybody I work with. The nuclear business is still booming and they are recruiting like Uncle Sam after Pearl Harbor. Leaving DuPont was really, really good for me. I recommend it for everybody.
The tests have just been outstanding. Every time we do a test, we FAR exceed expectations. Pretty much we slap a piece of chewing gum wrapped up with an old shoe string and stuff it in there -- AND IT HOLDS! No matter what we do to the thing, it holds tight. At first we just looked at it rudely. It held. Then we called it bad names. It held. Shoot, we kicked it, shot it, then set it on fire. It still held. We have run out of ideas on how to get it to fail. We're even thinking about taking the shoe string off and seeing if a wad of chewing gum will do the job!
The thermocouple insulation burns, the gaskets melt, the orings lose their compression, but that damn chewing gum and shoelace keep on cruising. It's like we knew what we were doing. Who knew nuclear engineering was so easy?
While not in the lab, I'm in my little office. Rapist dude is back in town and is working with my colleague across the aisle from me... by a sick twist of fate (on paper, he should never have any dealings with my colleague). The company says he can be near me if he has legitimate work to do there. Not surprisingly, the turd goes out of his way to come visit my colleague. My colleague's wife tells me that my colleague has been wondering why this jerk has been visiting him so much... when he doesn't need to. I hadn't told him what the rapist dude had done... it's not like my colleague can get out of working with the creep. My colleague would just feel uncomfortable all the time being forced to work with the deviant. Like my poor boss. He knows the whole story about the guy and has to work with him on a weekly basis. I can see it makes him sick. I decided to do my buddy a favor and not tell. This, did me no good. The creep reveled in coming by my office and my friend didn't know to stop him. I'm sure his wife would be so happy to know he hasn't left this in his past. I'm sure he has convinced her the whole thing was a big mistake and he'd never do such a thing to her again. I'm sure she doesn't suspect a thing. Of course he would never hurt her again... that would make him a monster.
Turns out my company is a little sick of the creature. At first they were saying I had to have a guilty verdict to keep him permanently away from me. (If they gave him a choice I think he would choose to keep the hell away from me than to force me to prosecute him... and if he were smart he would keep the hell away from me to dissuade me from WANTING to prosecute... duh.) Well, his antics had them act without the verdict. Rather than keep him away from me, they are keeping me away from him. They set me up really good in a fancy new office far away from him... far from anywhere he should ever be... matter of fact, if he is seen in my area, he is toast.
Everyone is wondering why I got to move. Heh. THEY want to be in the part of the building I got to move to. Heh. Maybe the creep can attack each of them and we'll all get to move the hell away from him. I really liked being in the center of the action where I was before. All the power-brokers were there. Now, I have the serenity of a library. It's like after-hours where I was before. I always had to wait until after-hours to get any serious work done... and not get home until late. Now I can do serious work during the day and go home after 8 hours. Hooray! It's kind of like when I got cancer. Sure, sure, there was some really yucky stuff to slug through, but some pretty good stuff came out of it -- a pension, for example, 9 months off of work, a new job. Nothing is all bad, I guess... except maybe the rapist dude.
What else is new at work? Well, I might be sent to Philly for a short-term assignment. Wouldn't that be cool? I could visit old buddies, and shop tax-free. I'd like that. Oh, and I wouldn't have to live in my house that seems to be ever-ready to cause me heartburn. A nice vacation. Oh, and working in Philly would entail playing in a lab a lot. Delicious.
So, work is good. I still like my boss, and my boss's boss, a lot. I like my projects. I like everybody I work with. The nuclear business is still booming and they are recruiting like Uncle Sam after Pearl Harbor. Leaving DuPont was really, really good for me. I recommend it for everybody.
Antarctica -- Check! Where else?
I confirmed with my cousin Sue that she'll join my for an adventure in Antarctica this winter. I can't believe I haven't taken a day of vacation all year, yet! I have 5 weeks yet to take... I can take 6 if I get permission... and not get paid. With a DuPont pension, do you really think I WON'T be taking 6 weeks? Yeah baby! The Antarctica cruise is 11-days, plus we have to get to Argentina, and we'll want to take in that country while we are there. That's at least 3 weeks. Hmmm, what shall I do with the other 3 weeks?
Hopefully they'll send me to Japan and France for work. I was a shoe-in for going to Japan in June, until we had another job go awry in April with the same Japanese customer. Now our customers have all but forgotten their request to have me present my findings. Dratted. Never the less, I am continuing my Japanese classes. I am now taking Japanese II. Of the 13 students from Japanese I, only 4 of us have come back for more. It was brutal the first day back from a month off. Thank God I listened to all my cd's again all those hours I was installing my floor. The professor quizzed us on EVERYTHING. After a while he just saved all the tricky questions for me. My little brain was smokin', I tell you. I couldn't believe I was remembering stuff! By the end of the class, he was just looking at me the whole time explaining the new material. It was uncomfortable for the first few minutes. Then I looked over at the other people and saw that they looked like recent lobotomy patients. Not quite drooling, but close. Their brains were fried. Poor wretches.
I have a meeting with the French in June, but we made it a conference call. It's hard enough to have a meeting with people in the same room who don't speak the same language, but conference call? Hopefully they will find it so distasteful that they will ask us to come over there next time. They came in April... September might be good for me. Paris isn't as hot or as crowded with tourists. Yeah, I'm shooting for September... Gotta brush up on my French. Yeah, that'll mess me up with my Japanese, I'm sure. I'll be bowing to the French and kissing the cheeks of the Japanese. Stupid American.
Hopefully they'll send me to Japan and France for work. I was a shoe-in for going to Japan in June, until we had another job go awry in April with the same Japanese customer. Now our customers have all but forgotten their request to have me present my findings. Dratted. Never the less, I am continuing my Japanese classes. I am now taking Japanese II. Of the 13 students from Japanese I, only 4 of us have come back for more. It was brutal the first day back from a month off. Thank God I listened to all my cd's again all those hours I was installing my floor. The professor quizzed us on EVERYTHING. After a while he just saved all the tricky questions for me. My little brain was smokin', I tell you. I couldn't believe I was remembering stuff! By the end of the class, he was just looking at me the whole time explaining the new material. It was uncomfortable for the first few minutes. Then I looked over at the other people and saw that they looked like recent lobotomy patients. Not quite drooling, but close. Their brains were fried. Poor wretches.
I have a meeting with the French in June, but we made it a conference call. It's hard enough to have a meeting with people in the same room who don't speak the same language, but conference call? Hopefully they will find it so distasteful that they will ask us to come over there next time. They came in April... September might be good for me. Paris isn't as hot or as crowded with tourists. Yeah, I'm shooting for September... Gotta brush up on my French. Yeah, that'll mess me up with my Japanese, I'm sure. I'll be bowing to the French and kissing the cheeks of the Japanese. Stupid American.
House Woes
Good Lord, this house sure can suck the life out of a girl.
I have been living without a kitchen for 3 weeks now. The kitchen installers hauled away everything in my kitchen a month ago and left me to install my new hardwood floor. I asked for three weeks. I'm glad I told them 3 weeks. I couldn't work on it for the first week because work got hot and heavy on me. Then I had to go full throttle to meet my schedule. I was John Henry, I tell you. Slamming that hammer and driving those nails and a steam-driven machine. It killed him, you know, John Henry. It's hard, man. But I'm not a as frail and weak and he... I toughed it out.
Let me say, if you ever consider installing an unfinished hardwood floor, go for 3 1/4 inch quarter-sawn. I can tell you from experience, it is 200 % easier than 2 1/4 inch oak. Not only does it require 50% fewer boards, but quarter-sawn oak is FAR less likely to have warped, cupped, or twisted boards. No finagling to get those puppies to line up. Just slap them down and and tap them flush with the next one. I whispered to them, "Move over, honey," and they'd scoot over all by themselves, it seemed.
Last time I installed 300 square feet of hardwood flooring my hand went numb, but I wasn't finished, so then it ached, still not done, so it hurt for MONTHS. This time I was dreading the return of the pain. My hand never fully recovered from the last time. I believe I have permanent nerve damage. It hurts to play "One potato, two potato." Well, with so little extra banging to get the board to cooperate, my hand only ached, and felt weak. No serious pain. I can't open a jar, but I can snap my fingers and give the the thumbs up... all that's really important in life. So, hooray. Oh, and the floor looks grand. I have yet to slather the finish on... it was such a horror last time, that I'm putting it off until the last moment. Anyway, it's too damn hot to be upstairs.
Yes, June 5th was the first day in Pittsburgh that warranted air-conditioning. That was Thursday. I got home late Thursday. I turned the AC on and let it cool the house before I retired upstairs. I stayed in the cool basement until 1 AM... the house never cooled. DAMN! This is the first summer in my new house; the first time my AC has been tested with serious heat. Who would have guessed, my house wasn't up to the challenge. I slept in the basement... on the couch. No kitchen and now no bed. This is the high-life baby.
I didn't call the repair man, because I didn't have time to trouble-shoot it. Friday was even hotter. When I returned home, the house was the same temperature as it was outside, and even hotter upstairs. I did some trouble-shooting and realized it probably needed freon... I slept in the basement again. Thank God for my basement. It is a good 20 degrees cooler.
The next morning I STILL didn't call the repairman, because I had to go into work at 8 AM. I didn't get home until past 7 AM (don't worry, I'll take a comp day this week... to finish my floor). I didn't call the home warranty/repairman until this morning. They said they will call me FOR AN APPOINTMENT on Monday. This heatwave is supposed to last until Tuesday. My basement is now up to 80 degrees. I have no place to hide. I believe I am melting.
I hope the AC is fixed before the kitchen installation dudes show up. They were supposed to come tomorrow, but their schedule is backed up (they freaked because they thought my floor and I were going to hold them back). They will be here Wednesday. I think they are going to be in a 90+ degree house. And lucky me, I have to be here with them... if I survive until then.
I have been living without a kitchen for 3 weeks now. The kitchen installers hauled away everything in my kitchen a month ago and left me to install my new hardwood floor. I asked for three weeks. I'm glad I told them 3 weeks. I couldn't work on it for the first week because work got hot and heavy on me. Then I had to go full throttle to meet my schedule. I was John Henry, I tell you. Slamming that hammer and driving those nails and a steam-driven machine. It killed him, you know, John Henry. It's hard, man. But I'm not a as frail and weak and he... I toughed it out.
Let me say, if you ever consider installing an unfinished hardwood floor, go for 3 1/4 inch quarter-sawn. I can tell you from experience, it is 200 % easier than 2 1/4 inch oak. Not only does it require 50% fewer boards, but quarter-sawn oak is FAR less likely to have warped, cupped, or twisted boards. No finagling to get those puppies to line up. Just slap them down and and tap them flush with the next one. I whispered to them, "Move over, honey," and they'd scoot over all by themselves, it seemed.
Last time I installed 300 square feet of hardwood flooring my hand went numb, but I wasn't finished, so then it ached, still not done, so it hurt for MONTHS. This time I was dreading the return of the pain. My hand never fully recovered from the last time. I believe I have permanent nerve damage. It hurts to play "One potato, two potato." Well, with so little extra banging to get the board to cooperate, my hand only ached, and felt weak. No serious pain. I can't open a jar, but I can snap my fingers and give the the thumbs up... all that's really important in life. So, hooray. Oh, and the floor looks grand. I have yet to slather the finish on... it was such a horror last time, that I'm putting it off until the last moment. Anyway, it's too damn hot to be upstairs.
Yes, June 5th was the first day in Pittsburgh that warranted air-conditioning. That was Thursday. I got home late Thursday. I turned the AC on and let it cool the house before I retired upstairs. I stayed in the cool basement until 1 AM... the house never cooled. DAMN! This is the first summer in my new house; the first time my AC has been tested with serious heat. Who would have guessed, my house wasn't up to the challenge. I slept in the basement... on the couch. No kitchen and now no bed. This is the high-life baby.
I didn't call the repair man, because I didn't have time to trouble-shoot it. Friday was even hotter. When I returned home, the house was the same temperature as it was outside, and even hotter upstairs. I did some trouble-shooting and realized it probably needed freon... I slept in the basement again. Thank God for my basement. It is a good 20 degrees cooler.
The next morning I STILL didn't call the repairman, because I had to go into work at 8 AM. I didn't get home until past 7 AM (don't worry, I'll take a comp day this week... to finish my floor). I didn't call the home warranty/repairman until this morning. They said they will call me FOR AN APPOINTMENT on Monday. This heatwave is supposed to last until Tuesday. My basement is now up to 80 degrees. I have no place to hide. I believe I am melting.
I hope the AC is fixed before the kitchen installation dudes show up. They were supposed to come tomorrow, but their schedule is backed up (they freaked because they thought my floor and I were going to hold them back). They will be here Wednesday. I think they are going to be in a 90+ degree house. And lucky me, I have to be here with them... if I survive until then.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Oops
Like a dog trainer, I have taught my piano to sit... luckily I did not advance to having it roll over... or crash through the floor.
I had to move the piano closer to the wall to make more room in the Living Room. It was a non-issue when I pushed it AWAY from the wall a few months ago, to make room for painting to room. Well, apparently baby grands are big babies. They just go one way, and lay on the floor kicking a screaming if you try to get them to go in the opposite direction.
See photo.
I have fixed it and all is well now, but the kicking a screaming this brute did when it hit the floor made me think I was going have quick access to my basement below.
I had to move the piano closer to the wall to make more room in the Living Room. It was a non-issue when I pushed it AWAY from the wall a few months ago, to make room for painting to room. Well, apparently baby grands are big babies. They just go one way, and lay on the floor kicking a screaming if you try to get them to go in the opposite direction.
See photo.
I have fixed it and all is well now, but the kicking a screaming this brute did when it hit the floor made me think I was going have quick access to my basement below.
Chaos Receeds Only to Resume
I was really making progress on my house. I had the Family Room, Dining Room, Living Room, and both upstairs and downstairs foyers done. I could go into a room and feel like I was in a home. No boxes, no plastic tarps, no paint buckets, ladders, dust... just a normal room. The rooms were cozy, too. If it weren't for my kitchen, I could have invited friends over... if I had any.
Just last week, my house reverted back to the "just moved in" look. The custom kitchen guys have begun the dismantling of my kitchen. Everything that was in the kitchen had to find a refuge camp willing to accept them. Kitchen stuff only goes in kitchens. It's like a bridal gown; it looks out of place anywhere else.
So, all the boxes I didn't bother unpacking for the kitchen are now piled high in the Family Room. My fancy-dancy leather sofa, chairs, and ottomans are covered with protective tarps. So too are my new velour chairs and big ottoman in the Living Room. There is no place to sit on the whole first floor. The fridge, food, eating/cooking utensils, microwave, and dishwasher are in the basement around the wet-bar (I'm installing the appliances there). All I got rid of was the range. The cabinets and counters, including the sink, are in the garage, mostly, and laundry room and Family room. The kitchen is a hollow shell. And it has only just begun. They don't expect me to have a kitchen for another 2 months.
Reds came up for two weeks for the disassembly of the kitchen, so I could go to work... and not be alone with handymen... which has been problematic in the past. Unfortunately, Reds made his reservation a month in advance, based on the information the installers gave us. They didn't tell me they weren't going to start on the Monday they targeted, until the day before Reds was to arrive. There was no going back. So, they started a 2-week job 4 days late. Reds had to go home to host Soo. Now I am stuck alone with handymen in my house.
As I brought Reds to the airport yesterday, he remarked, "I didn't get to do much sight-seeing this trip." No, he sure didn't. While the installers were here he was stuck at home, without a car. He kept an eye on the fellas, and did odd jobs around the house to occupy himself. Before they arrived, he toiled away either working on the house with me (getting the kitchen ready for the tear-out... I was glad they were coming late... I wasn't ready), or shopping, cooking, and making phone calls.
He did a lot of painting that is ultra annoying to do. First he spent 15 hours cleaning up paint splatters near the top of 18-foot high walls. The splatters closely resembled seagull droppings. I had been putting off that task since February because it was so daunting. Then he attacked both the guest bathroom upstairs and the one in the basement. He meticulously masked off everything, and painstakingly painted even behind the toilets. Primed and painted, walls and ceilings. Only drawback for having a near-80 year-old person paint for you is he can't see. He can't see where he missed and he can't see drips. Just masking off the rooms was plenty of help, so touching up his cataract creations seemed like a good deal. But until I do that, both bathrooms remain lined in blue tape and covered with cardboard and paper.
Soon I shall have piles of hardwood flooring stacked up all around the kitchen (in the rooms that were once completely home-like). I will be installing the floor for a few weeks, then the installers will complete the job installing everything else. But just because the kitchen will be done, that doesn't mean all the crap I pulled out of there and put somewhere else will be settled. I got tons of work to do reinstalling the counters and cabinets in their new homes, plus the dishwasher, and wiring for all the appliances downstairs. Oi vey. When will I find time to protect the world from nuclear meltdowns?
Reds kept telling me, "At least your house will be the way you like it when it is done." Why does he ever think it will be done? Starting one project forces 3 more. It's like I'm working my way down some Amway organization chart when I map out my to-do list.
I couldn't imagine doing something like this with other people living in the house, especially kids. I'm lucky. I'm the only one that has to put up with this, so I don't have to also put up with people putting up with this.
Just last week, my house reverted back to the "just moved in" look. The custom kitchen guys have begun the dismantling of my kitchen. Everything that was in the kitchen had to find a refuge camp willing to accept them. Kitchen stuff only goes in kitchens. It's like a bridal gown; it looks out of place anywhere else.
So, all the boxes I didn't bother unpacking for the kitchen are now piled high in the Family Room. My fancy-dancy leather sofa, chairs, and ottomans are covered with protective tarps. So too are my new velour chairs and big ottoman in the Living Room. There is no place to sit on the whole first floor. The fridge, food, eating/cooking utensils, microwave, and dishwasher are in the basement around the wet-bar (I'm installing the appliances there). All I got rid of was the range. The cabinets and counters, including the sink, are in the garage, mostly, and laundry room and Family room. The kitchen is a hollow shell. And it has only just begun. They don't expect me to have a kitchen for another 2 months.
Reds came up for two weeks for the disassembly of the kitchen, so I could go to work... and not be alone with handymen... which has been problematic in the past. Unfortunately, Reds made his reservation a month in advance, based on the information the installers gave us. They didn't tell me they weren't going to start on the Monday they targeted, until the day before Reds was to arrive. There was no going back. So, they started a 2-week job 4 days late. Reds had to go home to host Soo. Now I am stuck alone with handymen in my house.
As I brought Reds to the airport yesterday, he remarked, "I didn't get to do much sight-seeing this trip." No, he sure didn't. While the installers were here he was stuck at home, without a car. He kept an eye on the fellas, and did odd jobs around the house to occupy himself. Before they arrived, he toiled away either working on the house with me (getting the kitchen ready for the tear-out... I was glad they were coming late... I wasn't ready), or shopping, cooking, and making phone calls.
He did a lot of painting that is ultra annoying to do. First he spent 15 hours cleaning up paint splatters near the top of 18-foot high walls. The splatters closely resembled seagull droppings. I had been putting off that task since February because it was so daunting. Then he attacked both the guest bathroom upstairs and the one in the basement. He meticulously masked off everything, and painstakingly painted even behind the toilets. Primed and painted, walls and ceilings. Only drawback for having a near-80 year-old person paint for you is he can't see. He can't see where he missed and he can't see drips. Just masking off the rooms was plenty of help, so touching up his cataract creations seemed like a good deal. But until I do that, both bathrooms remain lined in blue tape and covered with cardboard and paper.
Soon I shall have piles of hardwood flooring stacked up all around the kitchen (in the rooms that were once completely home-like). I will be installing the floor for a few weeks, then the installers will complete the job installing everything else. But just because the kitchen will be done, that doesn't mean all the crap I pulled out of there and put somewhere else will be settled. I got tons of work to do reinstalling the counters and cabinets in their new homes, plus the dishwasher, and wiring for all the appliances downstairs. Oi vey. When will I find time to protect the world from nuclear meltdowns?
Reds kept telling me, "At least your house will be the way you like it when it is done." Why does he ever think it will be done? Starting one project forces 3 more. It's like I'm working my way down some Amway organization chart when I map out my to-do list.
I couldn't imagine doing something like this with other people living in the house, especially kids. I'm lucky. I'm the only one that has to put up with this, so I don't have to also put up with people putting up with this.
There is Talk about Sending Me to Philly for a While
A few things are aligning that would make sending me to Philly for about a 6-month assignment a likely scenario. That could be cool. It would be better if it were the Swiss Alps, but Philly is nice, too.
The rapist has been sent to the far reaches of the earth for the past 3 months, returning a day or two here or there. Running in to the cretin makes for an unpleasant day. He does not try to avoid me; I believe he revels in finding an opportunity to waft by like a foul putrid scent. He is not stupid enough to attempt to talk to me, which will get him fired. But he waltzes on the brink of being fired by even coming near. I have been working with the District Attorney, State Troopers, Human Resources, and my boss to make things acceptable for me to continue working where I am.
The other thing that is happening is we are really peculating on my development programs, both of which involve our partner in Philly. In passing the guy from the partner company suggested I move down there to help with all the activity. I immediately told my boss of this suggestion. He thought it was a great idea. He talked to one of my mentors, and on his own, that guy suggested we send someone, preferably me, to the partner's site. My boss now has 3 people thinking this is a good idea.
Sending me down there will buy time for the powers that be to resolve the untenable situation in the office when the ogre happens to be in town. I suggested we send him to Chernobyl. I'm sure the Ukrainians could use some help over there... maybe they can lay his body on the hot spots to help absorb the radiation.
This Thursday my boss met with the partner and got the OK to send someone down when we start some of the activities. It will be expensive for him; I don't know how they are going to fund my stay down there. I hope it doesn't involve a tent and a local park.
I do look forward to all the testing I'll be involved with in their labs. I want to play! So, people in Willy and Philly may be seeing me soon! And hopefully Chernobyl will be having a long-term visitor, too...
The rapist has been sent to the far reaches of the earth for the past 3 months, returning a day or two here or there. Running in to the cretin makes for an unpleasant day. He does not try to avoid me; I believe he revels in finding an opportunity to waft by like a foul putrid scent. He is not stupid enough to attempt to talk to me, which will get him fired. But he waltzes on the brink of being fired by even coming near. I have been working with the District Attorney, State Troopers, Human Resources, and my boss to make things acceptable for me to continue working where I am.
The other thing that is happening is we are really peculating on my development programs, both of which involve our partner in Philly. In passing the guy from the partner company suggested I move down there to help with all the activity. I immediately told my boss of this suggestion. He thought it was a great idea. He talked to one of my mentors, and on his own, that guy suggested we send someone, preferably me, to the partner's site. My boss now has 3 people thinking this is a good idea.
Sending me down there will buy time for the powers that be to resolve the untenable situation in the office when the ogre happens to be in town. I suggested we send him to Chernobyl. I'm sure the Ukrainians could use some help over there... maybe they can lay his body on the hot spots to help absorb the radiation.
This Thursday my boss met with the partner and got the OK to send someone down when we start some of the activities. It will be expensive for him; I don't know how they are going to fund my stay down there. I hope it doesn't involve a tent and a local park.
I do look forward to all the testing I'll be involved with in their labs. I want to play! So, people in Willy and Philly may be seeing me soon! And hopefully Chernobyl will be having a long-term visitor, too...
Big Fat Back-Pay Check from DuPont is Coming!
I got word last month. I have been granted my Incapability pension! That means they start paying me NOW what they would have waited to pay me in 20 years... plus an Incapability Supplement (33% more cash!). I get full benefits (medical, dental, life), too. Since I should have been receiving this from day one after departing, I'm getting a hunk-a hunk-a burning love in the form of a check with 10% interest!
If my lawyer was on the ball, I could have received this months ago. He would always wait until the last minute to make his last move. But, he was successful, and in less than a year. I was told to expect 2 years to resolve this. (Some less clear cut cases take 10 years.)
DuPont capitulated without us having to resort to suing them. That, unfortunately, may mean DuPont isn't responsible for paying my lawyer fee's... not sure yet. If I do have to pay the fees, that eats up 1/3 of my hunk-a hunk-a. My lawyer refers to my big check as "found money." I don't consider it that. It is a benefit that DuPont gives all its employees (who are "lucky" enough to become unable to perform their job). I earned it, just as I earned my paycheck each month. I don't think if they stopped paying me for a year and then finally cut me a check for my full salary that I'd call it "found" money.
The lawyer was just trying to lighten the blow of loosing the wade to him. Now, if he would have worked for it, I'd feel better. But, I did all the research and data gathering. I compiled it and highlighted the juicy parts. All he did was put a cover letter on my stack of documents. He printed out the cover letter and my stack 3 times. For that he is getting thousands and thousand and thousands of dollars. In my estimation, he is getting about $1,000/hour. Niiiice.
Hmm, I think I see now why he dragged his feet on getting his letters out each time. He knew I was going to win this case (he said so from the very beginning). The longer I wasn't paid, the larger the check would be from which he skims off the 33%. Blasted! I didn't see that coming. I thought for sure we were going to have to sue those creeps, and they would be responsible for the lawyer fees. Dratted!
I'll try not to think about all that, and just enjoy swimming backstroke in the sea of cash that is coming my way! If I get tired of that, I'll do some origami with it... or spend some... on books on how to do origami, perhaps.
If my lawyer was on the ball, I could have received this months ago. He would always wait until the last minute to make his last move. But, he was successful, and in less than a year. I was told to expect 2 years to resolve this. (Some less clear cut cases take 10 years.)
DuPont capitulated without us having to resort to suing them. That, unfortunately, may mean DuPont isn't responsible for paying my lawyer fee's... not sure yet. If I do have to pay the fees, that eats up 1/3 of my hunk-a hunk-a. My lawyer refers to my big check as "found money." I don't consider it that. It is a benefit that DuPont gives all its employees (who are "lucky" enough to become unable to perform their job). I earned it, just as I earned my paycheck each month. I don't think if they stopped paying me for a year and then finally cut me a check for my full salary that I'd call it "found" money.
The lawyer was just trying to lighten the blow of loosing the wade to him. Now, if he would have worked for it, I'd feel better. But, I did all the research and data gathering. I compiled it and highlighted the juicy parts. All he did was put a cover letter on my stack of documents. He printed out the cover letter and my stack 3 times. For that he is getting thousands and thousand and thousands of dollars. In my estimation, he is getting about $1,000/hour. Niiiice.
Hmm, I think I see now why he dragged his feet on getting his letters out each time. He knew I was going to win this case (he said so from the very beginning). The longer I wasn't paid, the larger the check would be from which he skims off the 33%. Blasted! I didn't see that coming. I thought for sure we were going to have to sue those creeps, and they would be responsible for the lawyer fees. Dratted!
I'll try not to think about all that, and just enjoy swimming backstroke in the sea of cash that is coming my way! If I get tired of that, I'll do some origami with it... or spend some... on books on how to do origami, perhaps.
One Year Anniversary
My last day at DuPont was May 11, 2007. Today is the one year anniversary of my emancipation. So, that's how long a year is, eh? It seems like a long time since I've been gone, yet a short time since I've been here. I've heard this phenomena explained by pointing out that learning a bunch of new stuff seems to make time pass slower (kids think it takes forever to age a year, where as old folks think it takes a mere blink).
Since moving, I have had to learn people's names, directions to places, technical stuff on our equipment, computer systems, policies, laws protecting employees, fixing houses, remodeling houses, Japanese, Computer Aided Design, the Pittsburgh accent, criminal law, tons and tons of stuff. On the other hand, I wasn't doing much fresh new learning at DuPont, and hadn't in a long, long time.
The last time I was learning tons of stuff in Delaware was while I was dealing with Luke. Everyday was an adventure. That year did not pass quickly. Still, I preferred it over having to go to DuPont everyday. On the other hand, I DON'T prefer those days to my days here in the Pitt.
So, looking back, I made an EXCELLENT decision to leave DuPont. I'm happy here. Things have worked out well. These are my kind of people out here, and it doesn't hurt that DuPont is paying my pension plus Incapability supplement.
Since moving, I have had to learn people's names, directions to places, technical stuff on our equipment, computer systems, policies, laws protecting employees, fixing houses, remodeling houses, Japanese, Computer Aided Design, the Pittsburgh accent, criminal law, tons and tons of stuff. On the other hand, I wasn't doing much fresh new learning at DuPont, and hadn't in a long, long time.
The last time I was learning tons of stuff in Delaware was while I was dealing with Luke. Everyday was an adventure. That year did not pass quickly. Still, I preferred it over having to go to DuPont everyday. On the other hand, I DON'T prefer those days to my days here in the Pitt.
So, looking back, I made an EXCELLENT decision to leave DuPont. I'm happy here. Things have worked out well. These are my kind of people out here, and it doesn't hurt that DuPont is paying my pension plus Incapability supplement.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
A Child's Point-of-View
You know how little kids think they are the only ones who get older? They say things like, "When I'm older, I'm going to babysit YOU." (I thought that when I was 3 and my mean sister Mert was 8 babysitting me and doing things I didn't like... I was telling her I was going to get back at her when I was 8... and she was 8).
In a twit's brain they only perceive what is happening to them. Everything else stays the same.
Well, I've had this weird phenomena happening in my noggin, too. When I am working on fixing up my house I'll nostalgically think back to my house in Delaware. If it's interesting enough, I'll want to know how that particular thing is doing since I left... something I planted or something I fixed, whatever.
You know what my brain says to me? It tells me to calls Reds and ask him! In my brain Reds is still living in my house. He is still dealing with my cancer doctors and the hospital. That part of the world never changed, except I left.
Freaky, eh? I talk to Reds a lot. He often tells me stories that clearly indicate he is in his own home in Houston. Yet my brain does not absorb that.
The world of visiting nurses, blood samples, train rides for platelets, and eating home cooked meals lives on in my mind. That is Delaware. That was what I left. I still imagine Reds has all my furniture in that world, too, which ought to kick me back to reality if I'm actually sitting on the furniture I am imagining him sitting on.... but it doesn't... (doesn't it make you feel good knowing I'm designing safety equipement to save the world from nuclear meltdowns???)
In a twit's brain they only perceive what is happening to them. Everything else stays the same.
Well, I've had this weird phenomena happening in my noggin, too. When I am working on fixing up my house I'll nostalgically think back to my house in Delaware. If it's interesting enough, I'll want to know how that particular thing is doing since I left... something I planted or something I fixed, whatever.
You know what my brain says to me? It tells me to calls Reds and ask him! In my brain Reds is still living in my house. He is still dealing with my cancer doctors and the hospital. That part of the world never changed, except I left.
Freaky, eh? I talk to Reds a lot. He often tells me stories that clearly indicate he is in his own home in Houston. Yet my brain does not absorb that.
The world of visiting nurses, blood samples, train rides for platelets, and eating home cooked meals lives on in my mind. That is Delaware. That was what I left. I still imagine Reds has all my furniture in that world, too, which ought to kick me back to reality if I'm actually sitting on the furniture I am imagining him sitting on.... but it doesn't... (doesn't it make you feel good knowing I'm designing safety equipement to save the world from nuclear meltdowns???)
Chemo-brain "Uh" persists
After my first chemo treatment I noticed a sharp decline in my mental capacity. I had to read a sentence over and over to grasp its meaning, and sometimes return to the beginning of a paragraph after reading each sentence many times over the first time through. It was bad. Very bad.
That is when I first noticed my saying, "Uh." The word was a place holder as I went searching in the filing room of my brain looking for the word I was missing. During those months of chemo treatment it was frustrating, but I was never as bad off as the first chemo-treatment.
Mid-treatment I had to give a public talk (presenting to my woodworking guild the project I made). I was horrified to find myself saying, "Uh" EVERY OTHER WORD. And this was on a project that I knew everything about... I made it after all.
I got better, of course. I still recognize I lose a word and it takes me a while to retrieve it. Simple words, too. Not fancy engineering terms. Words like "agreement" or something mundane like that.
The first fancy presentation I had to make at work since almost dying in 2005, was here in my new job. It was on a topic I knew nothing about and I had researched it the night before. It was a dry run a month before the big show, so no big deal. I said "uh" EVERY OTHER WORD. I was back to being brain-poisoned! I told myself that it was a new topic and anyone would say, "uh."
I practiced and practiced. When I would say it out loud in practice I'd say, "uh." I focused on not saying "uh." I figured being silent was better than using "uh" as a placeholder. It worked.
Back at work after the presentation, after having made myself so conscience of my use of "uh," I became painfully aware of just how often "uh" leaps to my lips. I hate it; I hate it; I hate it.
I always tell people who ask how I've been since my leukemia treatment, "It's like it never happened." Except for a few things things it is very true. The one thing that reminds me EVERY SINGLE day is my "uh."
I should embrace my "uh," and tell myself it is my badge of survivorship. Every time I say "uh" it reminds me of all my friends I knew who died, and all their families who live without them. I kind of like that. My "uh" is a "Yo!" to all my fallen friends.
I'll still try not to say it, but at least my "uh" will have a purpose other than annoying me.
That is when I first noticed my saying, "Uh." The word was a place holder as I went searching in the filing room of my brain looking for the word I was missing. During those months of chemo treatment it was frustrating, but I was never as bad off as the first chemo-treatment.
Mid-treatment I had to give a public talk (presenting to my woodworking guild the project I made). I was horrified to find myself saying, "Uh" EVERY OTHER WORD. And this was on a project that I knew everything about... I made it after all.
I got better, of course. I still recognize I lose a word and it takes me a while to retrieve it. Simple words, too. Not fancy engineering terms. Words like "agreement" or something mundane like that.
The first fancy presentation I had to make at work since almost dying in 2005, was here in my new job. It was on a topic I knew nothing about and I had researched it the night before. It was a dry run a month before the big show, so no big deal. I said "uh" EVERY OTHER WORD. I was back to being brain-poisoned! I told myself that it was a new topic and anyone would say, "uh."
I practiced and practiced. When I would say it out loud in practice I'd say, "uh." I focused on not saying "uh." I figured being silent was better than using "uh" as a placeholder. It worked.
Back at work after the presentation, after having made myself so conscience of my use of "uh," I became painfully aware of just how often "uh" leaps to my lips. I hate it; I hate it; I hate it.
I always tell people who ask how I've been since my leukemia treatment, "It's like it never happened." Except for a few things things it is very true. The one thing that reminds me EVERY SINGLE day is my "uh."
I should embrace my "uh," and tell myself it is my badge of survivorship. Every time I say "uh" it reminds me of all my friends I knew who died, and all their families who live without them. I kind of like that. My "uh" is a "Yo!" to all my fallen friends.
I'll still try not to say it, but at least my "uh" will have a purpose other than annoying me.
Tora! Tora! Tora!
This week has been Spring Break for the college classes I am taking. (Good thing, too, with that report due I probably would have missed both classes as I worked into the night.)
I have been listening to those Japanese cd's like crazy. I bit of what seems like a miracle occurred. The long, quickly spoken phrases on those tapes when from
Du*^%$ yo$&*~kuh awny *&%$@ ~^%
to
Dozo yo&%$#*ke one*&^%$mas
to
Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu
The first time you hear a phrase like this, you're like, you have got to be kidding me. I have no idea what you just said, let alone how to make my mouth say it. Then you hear it again, and again. You hear some bits that you just say the bits and mumble until you hit another bit you recognize. After the sixth time (usually it takes 6 times, really) you not only know what they said, how to say it, but what it means. These cds are really incredible!!!
It surprises me every time, too. I'll listen to a cd 6 time and have the whole thing memorized, so I move to the next cd, only to have cold water dumped on me. I can't believe how fast they are talking and that I can't understand a word. I assume the first cd was just the easy stuff. But sure enough, after the sixth listening, I have it all down pat. I can't believe what our brains are capable of doing!!! Jibberish to complete sentences in a week. Whoa. Imagine if you were as smart as some of these geniuses walking the Earth that get it the first time! Wow!
Being on Spring Break, I've taken a break from non-stop listening to my cd's. My brain has been mushy with all the over-time I've been putting in at work and I've been too overloaded to tax my brain any further. However, to keep up with my Japanese exposure I watched the movie "Tora! Tora! Tora!" about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. All the Japanese portions of the film are spoken in Japanese. I couldn't believe it! I understood bits and pieces throughout the show!!! I know a lot of polite sayings, so you can imagine I recognized a lot when sailors were speaking to their commanders.
I had seen this movie before, but with the bit of Japanese knowledge I have, it was SOOOOOOOO much better. It didn't change the ending though...
I have been listening to those Japanese cd's like crazy. I bit of what seems like a miracle occurred. The long, quickly spoken phrases on those tapes when from
Du*^%$ yo$&*~kuh awny *&%$@ ~^%
to
Dozo yo&%$#*ke one*&^%$mas
to
Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu
The first time you hear a phrase like this, you're like, you have got to be kidding me. I have no idea what you just said, let alone how to make my mouth say it. Then you hear it again, and again. You hear some bits that you just say the bits and mumble until you hit another bit you recognize. After the sixth time (usually it takes 6 times, really) you not only know what they said, how to say it, but what it means. These cds are really incredible!!!
It surprises me every time, too. I'll listen to a cd 6 time and have the whole thing memorized, so I move to the next cd, only to have cold water dumped on me. I can't believe how fast they are talking and that I can't understand a word. I assume the first cd was just the easy stuff. But sure enough, after the sixth listening, I have it all down pat. I can't believe what our brains are capable of doing!!! Jibberish to complete sentences in a week. Whoa. Imagine if you were as smart as some of these geniuses walking the Earth that get it the first time! Wow!
Being on Spring Break, I've taken a break from non-stop listening to my cd's. My brain has been mushy with all the over-time I've been putting in at work and I've been too overloaded to tax my brain any further. However, to keep up with my Japanese exposure I watched the movie "Tora! Tora! Tora!" about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. All the Japanese portions of the film are spoken in Japanese. I couldn't believe it! I understood bits and pieces throughout the show!!! I know a lot of polite sayings, so you can imagine I recognized a lot when sailors were speaking to their commanders.
I had seen this movie before, but with the bit of Japanese knowledge I have, it was SOOOOOOOO much better. It didn't change the ending though...
Pity? No! Ohio-nice!
I was wondering why a couple of guys from my group were being so friendly to me lately. I mean really nice. Going out of their way to ask me to lunch. Going out of their way to talk about my favorite topics (woodworking, travel, foreign languages, for example). Staying late to help me. I assumed my boss told them what the rapist tried to do and asked them all to be a little nicer to me.
I assumed that's what was going on. It made perfect sense. The timing of it. The unspoken reason for it. No one talking about the attack at all.
Then last week the rapist was back in the office. (I had the unpleasant experience of running into him on several occasions... my stomach turning and my chest tightening as I did.) While he was gone, one of my engineers had him working on collecting data for my research program. I had no dealings with the monster. I had my engineer do it all (and I thought he knew why... maybe he doesn't, hmm).
Well, I was talking to the other seal guy in the group and we were talking about the data collection procedure. I had heard from another guy how the procedure had gone... not well. The seal guy told me I should talk to the rapist about it. I gave him a look like, don't even joke about that.
Later that day, the seal guy is talking to the engineer that was dealing with the data collection procedure and the rapist comes by. I hear the seal guy says, "Hey, Judy is looking for you."
I froze! If he knows what this guy did to me, Mr. Seal Man is a real jerk. He's one of the guys that has been extra nice to me lately, and whom I've assumed knew the story. If he doesn't know, someone has to tell him that this guy has to keep the hell away from me, and not to give him the impression I am looking to talk to him.
I didn't know what to do. I went to the one friend I told about what happened to me. I asked him if he thought the seal guy knew. He said the guy didn't. I was incredulous. He said nobody knew. What?!
I can't believe the jerk is getting away with this. I'm not telling anyone at work because instinctively I think I shouldn't, but I thought for sure news would have carried. You'd think he set up a smear campaign to sully my reputation. Nope. (He probably figures they'd be on my side... especially when the cops are involved.) Then I figured the people that were in the know would end up leaking the story to a friend, who leaked it to another, who told everyone. Nope. My friend said no one knew.
That just makes all these guys being nice to me even weirder. They have been so nice that it seemed like pity-nice. Nice like you get when you are dying from cancer. Instead, it's, "what, isn't everybody like this?"-nice. Ohio-nice. Gets me every time...
I assumed that's what was going on. It made perfect sense. The timing of it. The unspoken reason for it. No one talking about the attack at all.
Then last week the rapist was back in the office. (I had the unpleasant experience of running into him on several occasions... my stomach turning and my chest tightening as I did.) While he was gone, one of my engineers had him working on collecting data for my research program. I had no dealings with the monster. I had my engineer do it all (and I thought he knew why... maybe he doesn't, hmm).
Well, I was talking to the other seal guy in the group and we were talking about the data collection procedure. I had heard from another guy how the procedure had gone... not well. The seal guy told me I should talk to the rapist about it. I gave him a look like, don't even joke about that.
Later that day, the seal guy is talking to the engineer that was dealing with the data collection procedure and the rapist comes by. I hear the seal guy says, "Hey, Judy is looking for you."
I froze! If he knows what this guy did to me, Mr. Seal Man is a real jerk. He's one of the guys that has been extra nice to me lately, and whom I've assumed knew the story. If he doesn't know, someone has to tell him that this guy has to keep the hell away from me, and not to give him the impression I am looking to talk to him.
I didn't know what to do. I went to the one friend I told about what happened to me. I asked him if he thought the seal guy knew. He said the guy didn't. I was incredulous. He said nobody knew. What?!
I can't believe the jerk is getting away with this. I'm not telling anyone at work because instinctively I think I shouldn't, but I thought for sure news would have carried. You'd think he set up a smear campaign to sully my reputation. Nope. (He probably figures they'd be on my side... especially when the cops are involved.) Then I figured the people that were in the know would end up leaking the story to a friend, who leaked it to another, who told everyone. Nope. My friend said no one knew.
That just makes all these guys being nice to me even weirder. They have been so nice that it seemed like pity-nice. Nice like you get when you are dying from cancer. Instead, it's, "what, isn't everybody like this?"-nice. Ohio-nice. Gets me every time...
Forced to Unpack
A lot of my stuff has been stored in my moving boxes. No need to unpack; no place to put it; no one to use it. The stuff for my guest bedrooms, for example, or decorations for my family room and living room. No one is visiting, no one needs to see pretty stuff on the walls. So, I keep it out of my way as I toil on all my renovations.
Well, the 100 day limit for reporting moving damage was fast approaching. I had a pretty good list already, but there were many a box with the packing tape still uncut. I was forced to dig into every box and see what was inside and see if it still worked.
I only found a handful more things. But doing this exercise helped me get rid of another 15 boxes. I have breathing room in my one guest room that used to be floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall boxes. Now I can walk around to get to all the boxes.
The adjuster is coming this week. I didn't know how to make claims. If they scratched a table, do you ask for the price of replacing the table? If they crush a lamp shade do you ask for the price of a new shade, or a used one? Oh, I don't know. I just know I better not get screwed on this.
After I sent the report in, of course you can only send in one report, I found a HUGE gash on my drill press. I went to use it and the motor doesn't turn on... doesn't make a sound, and nothing moves. Damn! I knew I was going to get bitten on this "make one report" scam.
Even with having gone through all my boxes, there are a few things that I still don't know where they are. Those fancy trays I made with the "infinity" inlays, for example. I haven't seen them.
I didn't unpack the boxes in the kitchen, even though they probably have the most that could be broken in them. Maybe some of my missing stuff is in there, though none of the things I'm missing are from the kitchen. Hmmm. It was cool finding stuff I hadn't seen or thought about in about a year.
Well, the 100 day limit for reporting moving damage was fast approaching. I had a pretty good list already, but there were many a box with the packing tape still uncut. I was forced to dig into every box and see what was inside and see if it still worked.
I only found a handful more things. But doing this exercise helped me get rid of another 15 boxes. I have breathing room in my one guest room that used to be floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall boxes. Now I can walk around to get to all the boxes.
The adjuster is coming this week. I didn't know how to make claims. If they scratched a table, do you ask for the price of replacing the table? If they crush a lamp shade do you ask for the price of a new shade, or a used one? Oh, I don't know. I just know I better not get screwed on this.
After I sent the report in, of course you can only send in one report, I found a HUGE gash on my drill press. I went to use it and the motor doesn't turn on... doesn't make a sound, and nothing moves. Damn! I knew I was going to get bitten on this "make one report" scam.
Even with having gone through all my boxes, there are a few things that I still don't know where they are. Those fancy trays I made with the "infinity" inlays, for example. I haven't seen them.
I didn't unpack the boxes in the kitchen, even though they probably have the most that could be broken in them. Maybe some of my missing stuff is in there, though none of the things I'm missing are from the kitchen. Hmmm. It was cool finding stuff I hadn't seen or thought about in about a year.
DuPont Lawyer Takes Action
Been calling and calling my lawyer. He finally got back to me with the same old excuses about being so busy. Pah!
He tells me that because I live in PA now, the court that my lawsuit will take place in is in PA. I get to choose between Philly, Pittsburgh, or Harrisburg (federal courts). He wants Philly. He's done Philly a lot. Fine.
Being in PA means instead of one year to file a claim, I have THREE. He says that's great. I'm thinking, no, I want you off your but and filing NOW!!! It's bad enough DuPont drags this out, now PA is letting my own lawyer drag it out. Ugh.
Anyway, DuPont had 30 days to respond to our appeal to their denial of my pension. Of course, my lawyer gave them 3 months... even with my calling him 6 times telling him to get off his duff. So, it is now in our hands.
My lawyer has sent out the final letter to DuPont prior to filing the lawsuit. He sent the "we have exhausted all avenues" letter. You have to show the courts you tried, tried again, and finally told the company that your next step was going to court.
In the past my lawyer has said I had an 80% chance of having to go to court to settle this. This last time I asked, with far fewer chances left, he said I had a 50-50 chance of having to sue. I don't think he is very good at math or statistics. I think it is more like a 90% chance of having to drag this through a court.
I re-read all my files on the case. I read where DuPont said I didn't give them enough medical test reports to support my case, even though they never gave me the opportunity to do so (the forms you have to fill out say nothing about medical test reports). So I asked my lawyer if I should have some tests done to prove my case. He said, "Sure, if you have them." I said, no, I didn't have them, but I could have them done, that I was asking him what tests to have done. He didn't think I needed any more evidence (these tests would be money out of my pocket for something I shouldn't have to provide). So, no tests. I would think a few tests results that said, "If this woman comes near chemicals her body shuts down" would hurry things up a bit, but I guess he is used to the slow pace.
It's not that I need the money. I earned the money. It is a benefit I qualify for. My real concern is that this lawyer stays a live and coherent long enough to fight the case... he's old... I think he was a Hagley Mill employee... before it was a museum... making black powder.
He tells me that because I live in PA now, the court that my lawsuit will take place in is in PA. I get to choose between Philly, Pittsburgh, or Harrisburg (federal courts). He wants Philly. He's done Philly a lot. Fine.
Being in PA means instead of one year to file a claim, I have THREE. He says that's great. I'm thinking, no, I want you off your but and filing NOW!!! It's bad enough DuPont drags this out, now PA is letting my own lawyer drag it out. Ugh.
Anyway, DuPont had 30 days to respond to our appeal to their denial of my pension. Of course, my lawyer gave them 3 months... even with my calling him 6 times telling him to get off his duff. So, it is now in our hands.
My lawyer has sent out the final letter to DuPont prior to filing the lawsuit. He sent the "we have exhausted all avenues" letter. You have to show the courts you tried, tried again, and finally told the company that your next step was going to court.
In the past my lawyer has said I had an 80% chance of having to go to court to settle this. This last time I asked, with far fewer chances left, he said I had a 50-50 chance of having to sue. I don't think he is very good at math or statistics. I think it is more like a 90% chance of having to drag this through a court.
I re-read all my files on the case. I read where DuPont said I didn't give them enough medical test reports to support my case, even though they never gave me the opportunity to do so (the forms you have to fill out say nothing about medical test reports). So I asked my lawyer if I should have some tests done to prove my case. He said, "Sure, if you have them." I said, no, I didn't have them, but I could have them done, that I was asking him what tests to have done. He didn't think I needed any more evidence (these tests would be money out of my pocket for something I shouldn't have to provide). So, no tests. I would think a few tests results that said, "If this woman comes near chemicals her body shuts down" would hurry things up a bit, but I guess he is used to the slow pace.
It's not that I need the money. I earned the money. It is a benefit I qualify for. My real concern is that this lawyer stays a live and coherent long enough to fight the case... he's old... I think he was a Hagley Mill employee... before it was a museum... making black powder.
Kitchen in June
I went to my kitchen design for the first time way back in November. Since that time we have had proposals and redesigns and choosing of every item down to the kitchen sink (heh). I was told in January that I'd have my kitchen remodeling begin at the end of April and be done the first week of May.
My designer came at the end of February to take the final measurements. He asked me when I could have the wooden floor done. I told him to tell me when he was going to have the cabinets done and I'd work 3 weeks back from that date and get started.
"Three weeks? It's going to take you three weeks?"
"Dude, I don't want to rush. I'm going to do it after work and on weekends. What's the big deal?"
"That's an awfully long time."
"Dude, we have way more than 3 weeks before your cabinets will even be in production. I could start now, but I'd be without a kitchen for 2 months."
"Geez. Three weeks, huh?"
"Yeah." I'm thinking, YOU take MONTHS to get me a design. Look who's talking!
Two weeks later I get a call and he tells me that my kitchen won't be installed until JUNE.
What?!!! Who the hell waits SEVEN months for a kitchen remodel.
He told me that because I was taking 3 weeks to do the floor it totally messed up the schedule. I told him that I was basing my schedule on when HE'D be ready with the cabinets. How can I be messing up the schedule?
He said that he wants to do all the plumbing and electrical and demolishing work before I do the floors. So he's sending the crew over to do that. If it only took me a day or two to put the floor in then the crew could wait, but not 3 weeks. They have to go onto another job... that will take weeks. So, my start date is pushed back to end of May for the demolition, and three weeks later I get my new kitchen in June.
He asked me if I was made (he is a very sweet man... and clearly doesn't want a chick mad at him). I told him of course I was mad. I told him I hate my house and am not letting anyone come and visit until the kitchen is presentable and he is postponing that. Let alone the fact that I live in chaos until my kitchen is done, when I can finally empty all my moving boxes.
He called me the next day and asked if I was still mad. I asked if I was still getting my kitchen in June. He said yes. I said, then, yes, I'm still made. He did an "Oh jeez" worried sounding comment and said goodbye.
Well, I'll just work on the rest of my house while I wait for the kitchen... which was what I've been saying since November....
My designer came at the end of February to take the final measurements. He asked me when I could have the wooden floor done. I told him to tell me when he was going to have the cabinets done and I'd work 3 weeks back from that date and get started.
"Three weeks? It's going to take you three weeks?"
"Dude, I don't want to rush. I'm going to do it after work and on weekends. What's the big deal?"
"That's an awfully long time."
"Dude, we have way more than 3 weeks before your cabinets will even be in production. I could start now, but I'd be without a kitchen for 2 months."
"Geez. Three weeks, huh?"
"Yeah." I'm thinking, YOU take MONTHS to get me a design. Look who's talking!
Two weeks later I get a call and he tells me that my kitchen won't be installed until JUNE.
What?!!! Who the hell waits SEVEN months for a kitchen remodel.
He told me that because I was taking 3 weeks to do the floor it totally messed up the schedule. I told him that I was basing my schedule on when HE'D be ready with the cabinets. How can I be messing up the schedule?
He said that he wants to do all the plumbing and electrical and demolishing work before I do the floors. So he's sending the crew over to do that. If it only took me a day or two to put the floor in then the crew could wait, but not 3 weeks. They have to go onto another job... that will take weeks. So, my start date is pushed back to end of May for the demolition, and three weeks later I get my new kitchen in June.
He asked me if I was made (he is a very sweet man... and clearly doesn't want a chick mad at him). I told him of course I was mad. I told him I hate my house and am not letting anyone come and visit until the kitchen is presentable and he is postponing that. Let alone the fact that I live in chaos until my kitchen is done, when I can finally empty all my moving boxes.
He called me the next day and asked if I was still mad. I asked if I was still getting my kitchen in June. He said yes. I said, then, yes, I'm still made. He did an "Oh jeez" worried sounding comment and said goodbye.
Well, I'll just work on the rest of my house while I wait for the kitchen... which was what I've been saying since November....
Japanese Report Sucks Me into Its Vortex
Two weeks? Has it been two weeks since my last blog entry? Why is everybody eating jelly beans and chocolate bunnies? Last time I looked it was Valentine's Day. What the heck happened?
Oh, it must have been that analysis and its honking big report that has me missing huge chunks of my life.
I was given this assignment kind of like one of those suckers Tom Sawyer got to whitewash his fence. I was yacking to the guy who was originally assigned it and he was want our boss to find someone who could bird-dog the project. This project had surprisingly many topics similar to those I'm rolling around it for my other jobs, so I asked him about it. He said it was an analysis on one of our components; the analysis would be done by the scientists at our lab and all I had to do was make sure they do it and put then a cover letter on their report and send it out. For that, he was given FIVE weeks of time to charge against.
Wow! What a deal! I'll buy that. I'm going up to that lab anyway for my other job (it is 35 minutes away from our office); I want to know more about that component; and I love easy charge numbers.
I told him to look no further. I'd take the assignment. He told me the Japanese (our customer) wanted the report by "the end of March" (this was February when he told me). Then he left for a week to Japan. I knew nothing else, and there was, of yet, no charge number; I did nothing. Turns out "end of March" meant March 24, by the way.
The charge number came in while he was out, but I still knew nothing. Who the contacts were, where the samples were, who knew what, and why. Time was ticking, but I had other things to do and I'd just be churning water rather than making progress if I tried to figure it all out alone. I waited for the boy to return and get his jet lag under control. By then, the push was on.
Turns out he never contacted the lab to see if they could hit the end-of-March deadline. They couldn't. The lab was going to be CLOSED for much of March. This is a MAJOR study for a MAJOR customer, and we're going to blow it... no wait, let me rephrase that, I'M going to blow it. YIKES!!! I can't believe I fell into this pile of doo-doo. Ugh.
So, the girl who knows nothing about the NORMAL way of getting things done must now figure out a scheme for getting something done ASAP without going through the normal routes.
Yeah, I did it. The schedule did not allow for one hiccup without acceleration tactics being called for. This whole project got a major case of the hiccups. Yet, I got them the report when they needed it. Most through self-destructive behavior, of course.
You see, the customer's fiscal year ends March 31. They said they can only fund this report if we give them the report before the end of the fiscal year. We agreed and sent them our proposal. It said we'd write it in 16 weeks be sure to submit it before the end of the year. Well, they a purchase order didn't arrive until there were only 8 weeks to go in the year! And that P.O. wasn't converted to a charge number until there was 6 weeks to go, and Tom Sawyer was on the other side of the planet. So, little Judy had 4 weeks to do what our company believed should be do-able in 16. And that was if our labs were fully functioning.
So, my company struck a deal and asked if we could give them the ROUGH DRAFT by the end of the year, and a few weeks later give them the final. We knew they had to pay us by March 31, so they'd want something tangible to warrant spending of the big bucks. Our customer went for it.
If it weren't for that rough draft caveat, little Judy would be dead. That caveat bought me 3 weeks, but, oh those damn hiccups!
I contacted OUR COMPETITOR to do the analysis for me (hey, they hired me for the way I thought differently than everyone else, didn't they?). They could meet our deadline and give us a week to edit their report and a week for them to respond to our comments. This, if nothing goes wrong.
First thing to go wrong, the stupid samples are radioactive and it takes 4 days to send them out. My schedule allowed for one.
Then the guy in charge of the lab goes on vacation during the week they are writing the report. Next, during the week he's gone their Scanning Electron Microscope goes on the fritz... but they don't tell me until I ask them if they still plan on hitting my deadline that week. They said they'd be a week late!!!! Ack! They said they give it to me on Friday. I got it at 6 PM on that Friday. Far too late for anyone on my team to even get it on their email let alone read the damn thing.
All the while I am being asked for schedules, weekly updates, and fighting with our partner to get a Request for Quotation that was written 6 weeks prior to be turned into a Purchase order ... the quote was TIME AND MATERIAL... no calculating or estimating, just "what ever we do or buy you pay for." How hard could that be? Would it take YOU six weeks to write that sentence? Oy!
The Friday I get the report, I study it all weekend long, and by the way, write the report that is the "cover letter." Turns out that the cover letter is really the major document. The lab report may not even be sent!!! Now I'm thinking that 5 weeks worth of charging time is not enough. I work into the wee hours from then on until I handed the rough draft in...
During the weekend I get a sick feeling when I realized a week in schedule was secretly being stolen from me. I realized March 24 is the weekend after Easter, and no one will be working on Good Friday. Then I realized that if they wanted it Monday in Japan, the deadline was really on SUNDAY here, Easter Sunday. If I were to hit the deadline I had to get this report to my peeps on WEDNESDAY, MARCH 19, for them to review and comment on Thursday.... and I'd work all Easter weekend on it.
My team rallies around and reads the rough draft immediately when they get in on Monday (my read receipts told me so). However, it was on Monday that I was made aware that the ultimate due date is indeed Monday, but it had to be translated to Japanese. So, I had a deadline closer to Wednesday... no weekend to work on it. Well, at least that is nice; I get to enjoy my Easter holiday.
Tuesday and Wednesday my team gives me their comments on the lab report. The lab guy (who abandoned me for vacation while my report was supposed to be submitted) calls and tells me he didn't realize so many people were going to be seeing this rough draft and that he CANNOT allow our customer to see the rough draft. It is too rough. I tell him that we won't get paid if we don't give it to them. I tell him to take out anything he doesn't want them to see (like their name on the letter head). I tell him that his report isn't even going to be translated. He feels better but knows that the Japanese can read English quite well. He tells me he will take all of our comments and incorporate them into a SECOND rough draft that will be more to their liking... they'll have it to me by Thursday.
No problem. I can give our Japanese translators the original rough draft to get started with, and give them the good one at the last minute to staple to the back of my report.
The lab director calls again and says that this is much more of an effort than they anticipated and they are already 41% over-spent... and they still haven't worked on fixing the rough draft. He's begging me not to send the rough draft. Instead, I tell him I'd pay him more to give me more. He was dumb-struck. I told him the rough draft was quite good and we were satisfied with it, but if he wanted to make it better, then I'd pay for the improvement. Our customers would be happy, and we'd be the one to take the hit on our margin. Heck, I performed a miracle hitting the deadline; my management had to give me some slack when the margin takes a hit (there is so little time that a lot of the allotted dough for my team can't be spent anyway... I gain margin there).
So, I gave my report and the rough draft to the translators early Thursday AM (before my alarm clock usually sounds), then went home and slept for 20 hours (I was working until 1 AM for much of the week). The new rough draft came in on Saturday morning, still in time to be incorporated in the version going to our customer.
It is Easter Sunday and the customer already has the report.
A 16-week schedule was shrunk to a 4-week one. Damn that Tom Sawyer!!!
Of course the horror continues. I still have to get the final draft out... there were lots of holes in my report.
Sleep. Who needs it? Pansies, that's who.
Oh, it must have been that analysis and its honking big report that has me missing huge chunks of my life.
I was given this assignment kind of like one of those suckers Tom Sawyer got to whitewash his fence. I was yacking to the guy who was originally assigned it and he was want our boss to find someone who could bird-dog the project. This project had surprisingly many topics similar to those I'm rolling around it for my other jobs, so I asked him about it. He said it was an analysis on one of our components; the analysis would be done by the scientists at our lab and all I had to do was make sure they do it and put then a cover letter on their report and send it out. For that, he was given FIVE weeks of time to charge against.
Wow! What a deal! I'll buy that. I'm going up to that lab anyway for my other job (it is 35 minutes away from our office); I want to know more about that component; and I love easy charge numbers.
I told him to look no further. I'd take the assignment. He told me the Japanese (our customer) wanted the report by "the end of March" (this was February when he told me). Then he left for a week to Japan. I knew nothing else, and there was, of yet, no charge number; I did nothing. Turns out "end of March" meant March 24, by the way.
The charge number came in while he was out, but I still knew nothing. Who the contacts were, where the samples were, who knew what, and why. Time was ticking, but I had other things to do and I'd just be churning water rather than making progress if I tried to figure it all out alone. I waited for the boy to return and get his jet lag under control. By then, the push was on.
Turns out he never contacted the lab to see if they could hit the end-of-March deadline. They couldn't. The lab was going to be CLOSED for much of March. This is a MAJOR study for a MAJOR customer, and we're going to blow it... no wait, let me rephrase that, I'M going to blow it. YIKES!!! I can't believe I fell into this pile of doo-doo. Ugh.
So, the girl who knows nothing about the NORMAL way of getting things done must now figure out a scheme for getting something done ASAP without going through the normal routes.
Yeah, I did it. The schedule did not allow for one hiccup without acceleration tactics being called for. This whole project got a major case of the hiccups. Yet, I got them the report when they needed it. Most through self-destructive behavior, of course.
You see, the customer's fiscal year ends March 31. They said they can only fund this report if we give them the report before the end of the fiscal year. We agreed and sent them our proposal. It said we'd write it in 16 weeks be sure to submit it before the end of the year. Well, they a purchase order didn't arrive until there were only 8 weeks to go in the year! And that P.O. wasn't converted to a charge number until there was 6 weeks to go, and Tom Sawyer was on the other side of the planet. So, little Judy had 4 weeks to do what our company believed should be do-able in 16. And that was if our labs were fully functioning.
So, my company struck a deal and asked if we could give them the ROUGH DRAFT by the end of the year, and a few weeks later give them the final. We knew they had to pay us by March 31, so they'd want something tangible to warrant spending of the big bucks. Our customer went for it.
If it weren't for that rough draft caveat, little Judy would be dead. That caveat bought me 3 weeks, but, oh those damn hiccups!
I contacted OUR COMPETITOR to do the analysis for me (hey, they hired me for the way I thought differently than everyone else, didn't they?). They could meet our deadline and give us a week to edit their report and a week for them to respond to our comments. This, if nothing goes wrong.
First thing to go wrong, the stupid samples are radioactive and it takes 4 days to send them out. My schedule allowed for one.
Then the guy in charge of the lab goes on vacation during the week they are writing the report. Next, during the week he's gone their Scanning Electron Microscope goes on the fritz... but they don't tell me until I ask them if they still plan on hitting my deadline that week. They said they'd be a week late!!!! Ack! They said they give it to me on Friday. I got it at 6 PM on that Friday. Far too late for anyone on my team to even get it on their email let alone read the damn thing.
All the while I am being asked for schedules, weekly updates, and fighting with our partner to get a Request for Quotation that was written 6 weeks prior to be turned into a Purchase order ... the quote was TIME AND MATERIAL... no calculating or estimating, just "what ever we do or buy you pay for." How hard could that be? Would it take YOU six weeks to write that sentence? Oy!
The Friday I get the report, I study it all weekend long, and by the way, write the report that is the "cover letter." Turns out that the cover letter is really the major document. The lab report may not even be sent!!! Now I'm thinking that 5 weeks worth of charging time is not enough. I work into the wee hours from then on until I handed the rough draft in...
During the weekend I get a sick feeling when I realized a week in schedule was secretly being stolen from me. I realized March 24 is the weekend after Easter, and no one will be working on Good Friday. Then I realized that if they wanted it Monday in Japan, the deadline was really on SUNDAY here, Easter Sunday. If I were to hit the deadline I had to get this report to my peeps on WEDNESDAY, MARCH 19, for them to review and comment on Thursday.... and I'd work all Easter weekend on it.
My team rallies around and reads the rough draft immediately when they get in on Monday (my read receipts told me so). However, it was on Monday that I was made aware that the ultimate due date is indeed Monday, but it had to be translated to Japanese. So, I had a deadline closer to Wednesday... no weekend to work on it. Well, at least that is nice; I get to enjoy my Easter holiday.
Tuesday and Wednesday my team gives me their comments on the lab report. The lab guy (who abandoned me for vacation while my report was supposed to be submitted) calls and tells me he didn't realize so many people were going to be seeing this rough draft and that he CANNOT allow our customer to see the rough draft. It is too rough. I tell him that we won't get paid if we don't give it to them. I tell him to take out anything he doesn't want them to see (like their name on the letter head). I tell him that his report isn't even going to be translated. He feels better but knows that the Japanese can read English quite well. He tells me he will take all of our comments and incorporate them into a SECOND rough draft that will be more to their liking... they'll have it to me by Thursday.
No problem. I can give our Japanese translators the original rough draft to get started with, and give them the good one at the last minute to staple to the back of my report.
The lab director calls again and says that this is much more of an effort than they anticipated and they are already 41% over-spent... and they still haven't worked on fixing the rough draft. He's begging me not to send the rough draft. Instead, I tell him I'd pay him more to give me more. He was dumb-struck. I told him the rough draft was quite good and we were satisfied with it, but if he wanted to make it better, then I'd pay for the improvement. Our customers would be happy, and we'd be the one to take the hit on our margin. Heck, I performed a miracle hitting the deadline; my management had to give me some slack when the margin takes a hit (there is so little time that a lot of the allotted dough for my team can't be spent anyway... I gain margin there).
So, I gave my report and the rough draft to the translators early Thursday AM (before my alarm clock usually sounds), then went home and slept for 20 hours (I was working until 1 AM for much of the week). The new rough draft came in on Saturday morning, still in time to be incorporated in the version going to our customer.
It is Easter Sunday and the customer already has the report.
A 16-week schedule was shrunk to a 4-week one. Damn that Tom Sawyer!!!
Of course the horror continues. I still have to get the final draft out... there were lots of holes in my report.
Sleep. Who needs it? Pansies, that's who.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Ambulance Ride to Emergency Room
Friday at work I was stuffed in an ambulance and sped across town to the local hospital's emergency room. I had suddenly felt very dizzy and nauseous. Within an hour of first feeling noticeably bad, I felt scary bad.
I felt so bad, I needed to go home. I asked my colleague what the procedure was for leaving work sick. He looked up and said I had to go to Medical and if they don't think I could drive, he'd drive me home.
Heih? If I couldn't drive home? I didn't tell him I felt ill; just asked about policy. I was a bit startled by the prospect of someone deeming me unfit to drive home! I didn't want to go to Medical. I thought I'd just tough it out at my desk... Then he said he'd get a wheelchair if I didn't think I could make it to Medical! What? Why is he offering me that? How did he know I doubted I could make it? I would have been mortified if a wheelchair came up to my office to wheel me away. I was REALLY wanting to call the whole thing off and curl up under my desk and ride this illness out.
He got up and offered to walk me to Medical. I accepted his offer. Walking was slow going and I ran into the wall 3 different times when I swayed. We were going snail-speed, and when he would take his eyes off me he'd take a few turtle-speed steps and pull away from me. I'd try to keep up, but that made me more nauseous. I had him slow down.
We encountered another colleague along the route. He said, "Whoa! What's wrong with you?" How did he know anything was wrong with me?! What's going on? My chaperon told him I was dizzy and nauseous "and that's why she is so pale." Mystery solved. I look like a vampire sucked a few quarts of blood out of me. This newcomer joined us on our march to the land of healing. They said they'd catch me if I fell, or at least push me over to the other guy.
We arrive at Medical and my escort tells the nurse what's going on. Nursey sits me on the examining table. I feel like I am spinning. I am looking around for something to empty my stomach in. My escort kindly stands at the door until the nurse says it's going to take a while to evaluate me.
I was having the exact feeling I had when my blood pressure was VERY low and I took a hot shower... when my blood pressure plummeted dangerously low and I barely made it out of the shower without passing out. The spinning feeling was reminiscent of the day I came home from chemo and hadn't eaten or drunk anything in 24 hours. I was on that damn Tea-Cup amusement park ride and I couldn't get off.
Blood pressure was normal. Pulse normal. Temperature normal. She had me lay down. Thank god.
She started asking me if I had someone who could pick me up, any family. No. "Well, you can't go home alone like this." Hmf. I start feeling worse. There was a headache accompanying the dizziness/spinning and nausea now. As the one gets worse another symptom eases up while the other holds steady. If charted, the three would look like a biorhythm chart.
She asks about my personal and family medical history. Leukemia got her attention. She took a grim tone. Then asked about diabetes; yup, that's roaming around in my family. The spinning becomes very intense and I can't talk to her. She lets me lay in peace and turns off the lights as she figures out what to do.
She comes back and says I have to go to the hospital, the ER. She said she can't have someone at work drive me because I was likely to vomit in the car. She said I had to go by ambulance.
Damn it!!!!
I'm not all that upset about going to the hospital, it's the whole mess of how I'm going to get out of there, how I'm going to get my car which will be stranded at work, and how I'll get home. Emergency rooms are not known for the in-and-out service Jiffy Lube is known for. I could be there for hours and hours, long after everyone I know is off to their weekend plans. I complain more about being stranded at the hospital than I do about going or the ambulance. The nurse "there-there's" me like, "you have worse things to worry about, my child." Ugh.
So, the decision is made. They called the ambulance. The "good" hospital is "code red" and not treating new patients. They send me to one that is in a scary town instead (now being stranded at the hospital just got worse... it's a scary hospital).
The paramedics come. They are great. Treat me very sweetly. There are THREE of them! The give me an EKG, and I pass. They check my blood sugar and I'm unusually high. Check my breathing and I'm fine. They slide me over to their stretcher, bundle me up like a baby Eskimo, tightly cinch me in with several seatbelts along the length of my body, feeling much like Hannibal Lecktor.
People, having me lay on my back with my neck in a brace to keep it from seeing where I'm rolling is a good recipe for nausea. Woof. They approached the door to the outside and said they were going to put a towel over my hair.... ? They opened the door and it was pouring rain. Great, my hair stayed dry; I drowned, however.
During the long ride to the hospital, the 3rd wheel paramedic trainee practiced on me. All he did was put the Oxygen tube to my nose and around my ears... that was challenge enough for him... and me. I just wondered how I was to throw up without choking, seeing as my head was constrained to face the roof...
Happily, when I arrived I was still carrying the contents of my stomach. I immediately got a room. Faster than anytime I had a neutropenic fever, or even when I was in critical condition being over-run with leukemia cells. I was impressed. Then a nurse's aid came and stripped me of my clothes and dressed me in a hospital gown. She didn't even ask if I needed help... what does my chart say?!? Must indicate I'm brain-damaged?!
"You Don't Know What You've Got 'Til It's Gone" ran through my head while getti
I felt so bad, I needed to go home. I asked my colleague what the procedure was for leaving work sick. He looked up and said I had to go to Medical and if they don't think I could drive, he'd drive me home.
Heih? If I couldn't drive home? I didn't tell him I felt ill; just asked about policy. I was a bit startled by the prospect of someone deeming me unfit to drive home! I didn't want to go to Medical. I thought I'd just tough it out at my desk... Then he said he'd get a wheelchair if I didn't think I could make it to Medical! What? Why is he offering me that? How did he know I doubted I could make it? I would have been mortified if a wheelchair came up to my office to wheel me away. I was REALLY wanting to call the whole thing off and curl up under my desk and ride this illness out.
He got up and offered to walk me to Medical. I accepted his offer. Walking was slow going and I ran into the wall 3 different times when I swayed. We were going snail-speed, and when he would take his eyes off me he'd take a few turtle-speed steps and pull away from me. I'd try to keep up, but that made me more nauseous. I had him slow down.
We encountered another colleague along the route. He said, "Whoa! What's wrong with you?" How did he know anything was wrong with me?! What's going on? My chaperon told him I was dizzy and nauseous "and that's why she is so pale." Mystery solved. I look like a vampire sucked a few quarts of blood out of me. This newcomer joined us on our march to the land of healing. They said they'd catch me if I fell, or at least push me over to the other guy.
We arrive at Medical and my escort tells the nurse what's going on. Nursey sits me on the examining table. I feel like I am spinning. I am looking around for something to empty my stomach in. My escort kindly stands at the door until the nurse says it's going to take a while to evaluate me.
I was having the exact feeling I had when my blood pressure was VERY low and I took a hot shower... when my blood pressure plummeted dangerously low and I barely made it out of the shower without passing out. The spinning feeling was reminiscent of the day I came home from chemo and hadn't eaten or drunk anything in 24 hours. I was on that damn Tea-Cup amusement park ride and I couldn't get off.
Blood pressure was normal. Pulse normal. Temperature normal. She had me lay down. Thank god.
She started asking me if I had someone who could pick me up, any family. No. "Well, you can't go home alone like this." Hmf. I start feeling worse. There was a headache accompanying the dizziness/spinning and nausea now. As the one gets worse another symptom eases up while the other holds steady. If charted, the three would look like a biorhythm chart.
She asks about my personal and family medical history. Leukemia got her attention. She took a grim tone. Then asked about diabetes; yup, that's roaming around in my family. The spinning becomes very intense and I can't talk to her. She lets me lay in peace and turns off the lights as she figures out what to do.
She comes back and says I have to go to the hospital, the ER. She said she can't have someone at work drive me because I was likely to vomit in the car. She said I had to go by ambulance.
Damn it!!!!
I'm not all that upset about going to the hospital, it's the whole mess of how I'm going to get out of there, how I'm going to get my car which will be stranded at work, and how I'll get home. Emergency rooms are not known for the in-and-out service Jiffy Lube is known for. I could be there for hours and hours, long after everyone I know is off to their weekend plans. I complain more about being stranded at the hospital than I do about going or the ambulance. The nurse "there-there's" me like, "you have worse things to worry about, my child." Ugh.
So, the decision is made. They called the ambulance. The "good" hospital is "code red" and not treating new patients. They send me to one that is in a scary town instead (now being stranded at the hospital just got worse... it's a scary hospital).
The paramedics come. They are great. Treat me very sweetly. There are THREE of them! The give me an EKG, and I pass. They check my blood sugar and I'm unusually high. Check my breathing and I'm fine. They slide me over to their stretcher, bundle me up like a baby Eskimo, tightly cinch me in with several seatbelts along the length of my body, feeling much like Hannibal Lecktor.
People, having me lay on my back with my neck in a brace to keep it from seeing where I'm rolling is a good recipe for nausea. Woof. They approached the door to the outside and said they were going to put a towel over my hair.... ? They opened the door and it was pouring rain. Great, my hair stayed dry; I drowned, however.
During the long ride to the hospital, the 3rd wheel paramedic trainee practiced on me. All he did was put the Oxygen tube to my nose and around my ears... that was challenge enough for him... and me. I just wondered how I was to throw up without choking, seeing as my head was constrained to face the roof...
Happily, when I arrived I was still carrying the contents of my stomach. I immediately got a room. Faster than anytime I had a neutropenic fever, or even when I was in critical condition being over-run with leukemia cells. I was impressed. Then a nurse's aid came and stripped me of my clothes and dressed me in a hospital gown. She didn't even ask if I needed help... what does my chart say?!? Must indicate I'm brain-damaged?!
"You Don't Know What You've Got 'Til It's Gone" ran through my head while getti