Not Dead

I'm not dead. Really. It's just that I've actually had to WORK while I'm at work. I know, I couldn't believe it either. But now I have sent Dr. K off to her weekly BNI meeting and I finally have a few hours to get some real work done.

First, let me say that I have started a diet and I am hungry. If my writing sucks today, chalk it up to hunger and give me a couple of weeks to get my head on straight.

I am doing Diet To Go. They cook the food for you and you pick it up twice a week at a pickup location of your choice. I made my first pickup last night so today is my first day on the diet. The food is actually really good but the portions are, um, a little more modest than I am used to. I know, I know. That's a good thing, right? Except for those first few uncomfortable days when, as with any addiction, you have to break through the crazy, "Eat. Eat! EAT!!!!!" voice and can once again view animals and small children without calculating their calorie content in your head.

I had a fantastic dinner at Mama Eus's this weekend. I love Mama Eus. And she has the coolest friends. We had all kinds of marvelous eats and Mama and her friend Regnig Htims had me cracking up all night.

Luap and Yellek offered to give me a ride, which I accepted. There was a tiny inkling of a chance that they might come up after dinner, which actually prodded me to clean our apartment. See, the whole time that we have been considering moving, neither of us has done any of the "big cleaning" stuff. T-Bone takes care of the regular day-to-day things like dishes and laundry. He's also in charge of the bathroom. I mostly dust and vacuum and put things away. But we had both been kinda shrugging and saying, "Oh, we're moving soon anyway so we don't really have to clean." On top of that, the maintenance people had done their semi-annual changing of the HVAC filters, which meant that I'd had to unload and move one of our bookcases so they could get to the HVAC unit. Books, magazines, and newspapers were strewn everywhere. So I rolled up my shirtsleeves and dug in.

It's amazing how fast cleaning goes once you get started. It's just getting off your tuchus to go and do it. I got everything fairly clean and tidy, which made T-Bone very happy because a messy house makes him Crazy with a capital C. It felt really great to walk around the clean apartment. I really like having a tidy place to dwell in.

I'm still patrolling Petfinder. I wish we had enough space for a Lab. Oh, well. This dog is our starter dog and as soon as we have a little more space, we can give it a brother or sister. I know with my head that I will be gaga over any dog that is mine. It's just that Labs are so pretty and goofy-happy. And you can wallop on them, which makes them great dogs to have with kids.

Once we are on the lease at our apartment, we can get a dog. But first, the guy whose name is on the lease has to write a letter saying he no longer lives there. That letter is what is holding the whole process up. I keep urging T-Bone to get this guy to send the letter. Unfortunately this guy thinks we tried to trick him by saying we were moving and then deciding to stay. He thinks we plotted to tell the management that he is subletting so that we could get on the lease. HAHA - way more organized than we could ever dream to be. So he might decide not to write the letter out of spite. I rather think not - if he refuses to write the letter, he'll be paying three months worth of rent on the place. But at this point, we are just waiting for him to make the next move.

Ooh ooh ooh! I have a Crazy Dr. K story!

So she comes in today and says, "I want your opinion on something. My husband thinks I pushed something too far. Oh ho ho, honey, he ain't seen nothing!" She tells me that they had had a very scheduled evening planned, which included going to the gym, grabbing something to eat and catching a late movie. Apparently they showed up at a cafe at 8:50 and the cafe closed at 9:00. The manager was closing out the register and told her that they weren't taking any new orders.

"So I said, [insert really whiny neener-neener tone here] 'Well, your sign says you're open until 9. I guess you're deciding to close earlier than you're supposed to.'

"So he sighs and says, 'What can I get you, ma'am?'

"And I'm like, 'Oh no! Don't tell me you're closed and then offer to get me something! Far be it from me to disturb your closing down procedure!'"

Dr. K broke off as a patient entered the office. "Oh, hi! Good to see you!" Turning back to me, she said, "Anyway, so that's what happened." I thought she was trying to be discreet. Except after considering her patient for a moment, she tossed the idea of discetion out the window and rehashed the whole scenario for the patient. The patient's head reared back a little and she stared with a deer-in-the-headlights look as Dr. K assaulted her with her gripefest.

"So we didn't eat there." she continued. "But after we got outside, my husband was like, 'Why did you have to act that way?! Why couldn't you have been nicer?' Well, I just don't think that you should let people treat you that way. If they're doing something wrong, I'm gonna call them on it!" And then, using one of her seemingly endless supply of obnoxious cutesy phrases, she chirped, "Know what I mean, jelly bean?"

Now if the patient hadn't been there, she would have asked me what I thought. I could have told her that if someone I loved had behaved that way in public, I would be mortified beyond belief. I would question why I ever chose to be with that person. I would have explained - again - that retail workers are people with their own humanity and their own capacity either to serve you well or to dismiss you as a righteous bitch unworthy of their time. That if you treat people like underlings, they will treat you with resentment, indifference, and spite. And that frankly, I am shocked that she is not shocked at herself and I wonder how she can continue to excuse her scathing disrespect for her fellow man and still call herself a Christian.

However, the patient was there and was nodding in timid agreement. She looked terrified. I shrugged my shoulders and decided that Dr. K would almost certainly provide me with another "teachable moment" in the future. I could offer some, er, guidance then. "Ah," I told her. I handed her the patient's treatment card and sat down at my computer, effectively closing the exchange.

She led the patient back to the treatment room and adjusted her.

She has not brought it up again, so I suppose she'll go home and tell the poor man that everyone agrees with her. I've been squelching the urge to say something. I can't exactly offer my reflections unsolicited - at least not if I wish to remain gainfully employed. But I think that if she does ask again and if I preface it with, "I'm going to be totally honest," then she will hear what I have to say.

But this holding my tongue is killing me! I want to say something so bad! How do people get like that? How do their lives become so completely stripped of moments when they have to serve others that they lose any shred of compassion for people or even basic understanding of the psychology of management - i.e. don't piss off the help!

All right, I'm going to go eat my sandwich now.