Writing this blog will make me feel like a "crone". An old woman clucking her tongue at the younger generation and their nonsense. In my day Ethel we wouldn't even think of such foolishness! Well, we wouldn't have. At least I wouldn't have, and I have tossed the idea around with a few friends who agree. They work in vastly different fields and have had the same experiences.
I really believe that the way kids were raised in the later 80's to just about the end of the 90's gives them a sense of entitlement. They come into the work force expecting everything, and are willing to do nothing to earn it. Life should be handed to them on a silver platter. They want what those of us who have worked hard for twenty years have, and they want it yesterday. Again, they certainly aren't going to do any work for it, or at least as little as possible.
In the last month we have had four employees quit without notice. Two called right before a shift and said adios. One sent ME a facebook message and I passed the info along to our boss. The last one? She just up and quit, no call no nothing. Three of the four women are 30 or close to it. The last one is just 20, but has a habit of doing this according to her friends. Who does this? A better question might be, who raises people who do this? Where is the sense of responsibility? Even if I won the lottery I would at least make the kiss my butt phone call. I'm so responsible I would probably at least give them a week to get a plan together. I would have enough thought for the other employees anyway, and what I would be putting them through if I just walked out.
I do realize that I was raised to be "uber" responsible. Things that are mine to handle are taken care of, and properly. I have always given a two week notice, and when I work I give it 100 percent. Even on a bad day I'm still giving at least 90. I have paid my dues and now can reap a few benefits because of it, as it should be. I worked my butt off to get where I am, and it was a journey of 20 years. Every job these people whine at me about I have done myself, without the commentary. Well, knowing me there might have been some commentary, but some wit or sarcasm is more likely than whining. I certainly never refused to do it.
So the point of this rant? Just to get it out of my system! My mama didn't raise no slacker, and it's time for y'all to grow the "f" up!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Best Days
As a child I had a little spot in my memory bank for "best days." I would tuck a fun time with family and/or friends in this place to replay later. Fodder for escape on maybe a not so "best day." Which sad to say became more frequent as I got older. I had a pretty carefree early childhood, and I am grateful for that. The rest of it helped shape me into who I am now, and I suppose I am grateful for that too.
I was sitting with the girls on the patio at Happy Hour, and I said to them. This is the best day ever! First of all I didn't have to work, and that (baring a funeral or hospital visit) qualifies as a best day right off the bat. I was able to spend a good portion of the day with my family. My brothers even took the day off and we all went to the zoo, with a picnic in tow. Watching the kids enjoy the animals and each other was priceless. I came home, enjoyed the pictures from the adventure, and promptly zonked out for an hour on the couch. Woke up, changed, and headed out to spend time with the girls. After happy hour the brown eyed man brought over some huge delicious pork chops to cook up for dinner.
I consider it a good day when I get to spend time with my family, or my friends, or the brown eyed man. Yesterday was definitely a "best day."
I was sitting with the girls on the patio at Happy Hour, and I said to them. This is the best day ever! First of all I didn't have to work, and that (baring a funeral or hospital visit) qualifies as a best day right off the bat. I was able to spend a good portion of the day with my family. My brothers even took the day off and we all went to the zoo, with a picnic in tow. Watching the kids enjoy the animals and each other was priceless. I came home, enjoyed the pictures from the adventure, and promptly zonked out for an hour on the couch. Woke up, changed, and headed out to spend time with the girls. After happy hour the brown eyed man brought over some huge delicious pork chops to cook up for dinner.
I consider it a good day when I get to spend time with my family, or my friends, or the brown eyed man. Yesterday was definitely a "best day."
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Doors and Windows
I re-watched "Under the Tuscan Sun" the other night. I should really read the book. Well, maybe I shouldn't. The way she puts her life for sale and buys a Villa in Tuscany really appeals to me right now. Although a clapboard house on a river in northern Wisconsin would be about what I could hope for. The point of it is adventure, and personal freedom. My cousin Ray is in his 60's and hiking the entire AT for fun. I think he's nuts, but we all have our own idea of fun. Heck, maybe I just need a vacation! If I stay stateside there's no danger of buying a cottage on the Irish coast and never coming back. :)
Sometimes I wonder how far I could get in a new life if I just cash in the old retirement account and head out. This is probably making most of you shudder. "How will you take care of yourself when you're older?" "Social Security will be gone." "You need that money." To which I answer, "The same way I do now. I'll be working into my seventies to get it." "I know it, those bastards are going to steal all the money I've put in there." Then my personal favorite. "Will I need it? What if I'm like my Dad, work my whole life for my retirement years, and die a few years prior to it?" No one has had an answer for that one yet. Don't worry though, as long as the cats are alive I probably (underlined twice) wont do it. They will be seventeen on the 25th.
I am hoping that if I plan a vacation, and get away for a few days the restlessness will ease up a bit. It never fully goes away, especially now with the holding pattern I seem to be in. I'm right on the edge of something, but I just can't quite see what it is, and it is maddening! An old saying just came to mind for some reason, and I had to laugh. "Whenever God closes a door he opens a window." It's true, but for me God has never closed a door. He slams it shut firmly. He also never just opens a window, he tosses me right out of it. Sink or swim baby. Thankfully He taught me how to swim!
Sometimes I wonder how far I could get in a new life if I just cash in the old retirement account and head out. This is probably making most of you shudder. "How will you take care of yourself when you're older?" "Social Security will be gone." "You need that money." To which I answer, "The same way I do now. I'll be working into my seventies to get it." "I know it, those bastards are going to steal all the money I've put in there." Then my personal favorite. "Will I need it? What if I'm like my Dad, work my whole life for my retirement years, and die a few years prior to it?" No one has had an answer for that one yet. Don't worry though, as long as the cats are alive I probably (underlined twice) wont do it. They will be seventeen on the 25th.
I am hoping that if I plan a vacation, and get away for a few days the restlessness will ease up a bit. It never fully goes away, especially now with the holding pattern I seem to be in. I'm right on the edge of something, but I just can't quite see what it is, and it is maddening! An old saying just came to mind for some reason, and I had to laugh. "Whenever God closes a door he opens a window." It's true, but for me God has never closed a door. He slams it shut firmly. He also never just opens a window, he tosses me right out of it. Sink or swim baby. Thankfully He taught me how to swim!
Cookies for Breakfast
When I went to make the coffee this morning I noticed the package of chocolate chip peanut butter cookies that I had to buy from the bakery section of the grocery store the other day. Good morning! The joy I find in eating a cookie before breakfast, just because I can, is amazing.
I love being a grown-up. I also really do like being on my own, most of the time. My sister asked me once what it was like to have no one to answer to? The answer is, fabulous darling! Most of the time. There are times when another input would help, but I have friends a plenty who will offer advice, or help if needed. There are times when it gets too quiet, but working with four year olds all day has taught me to appreciate the quiet! I can do what I like, when I like, and it suits me just fine.
I have always been fiercely independent. I know my folks wondered where the heck I came from. Neither of them were like that, and my siblings certainly aren't either. My Aunt Mary on my Mom's side comes to mind, and I see it in my youngest niece. My parents let me start kindergarten when I was four, because you could back then, and because all of the other neighborhood girls were five and going. The four mother's walked us there on the first day of school, although we left them a block or so behind. The freedom I can remember feeling was wonderful! My Mom always said that if I had shed one tear she would have brought me right back home. I don't even remember hugging her, just a backwards wave yelling "Bye Mom" as I ran with my friends toward the building! I'm sure the mother's must have come in and seen us settled, I have a picture of the four of us in front of the building, but that isn't what sticks in my memory.
I suffered and drove my mother crazy as a child/pre-teen/teen because I can not stand anyone being in control over me. Although I was not a rebel in the sense of drinking and or drugs, I didn't even smoke. This character trait was and is an advantage sometimes, because peer pressure means nothing to me. I just want to do what I want, when I want, and that's that. If I want to wake up and have a cookie, so be it. I spent my childhood years dreaming of being an adult, someone who could control her own destiny! My parents would always tell me that I would be sorry, life is hard, and someday I would wish to be a child again. They were wrong, dead wrong.
Yes, sometimes the world can be overwhelming, but I never wish for anyone else to take care of it for me, or make the decisions. I do know how and when to ask for help, but there aren't many things I can't do myself. I know how to enjoy life. I have the advantage of working with children, so I can play all I want, with the bonus of being in charge. I eat my cookies for breakfast, or at midnight. Which honestly, I did then too. I just don't have to cram them down my throat as fast as I can, brush my teeth, and blame my siblings. ;)
I love being a grown-up. I also really do like being on my own, most of the time. My sister asked me once what it was like to have no one to answer to? The answer is, fabulous darling! Most of the time. There are times when another input would help, but I have friends a plenty who will offer advice, or help if needed. There are times when it gets too quiet, but working with four year olds all day has taught me to appreciate the quiet! I can do what I like, when I like, and it suits me just fine.
I have always been fiercely independent. I know my folks wondered where the heck I came from. Neither of them were like that, and my siblings certainly aren't either. My Aunt Mary on my Mom's side comes to mind, and I see it in my youngest niece. My parents let me start kindergarten when I was four, because you could back then, and because all of the other neighborhood girls were five and going. The four mother's walked us there on the first day of school, although we left them a block or so behind. The freedom I can remember feeling was wonderful! My Mom always said that if I had shed one tear she would have brought me right back home. I don't even remember hugging her, just a backwards wave yelling "Bye Mom" as I ran with my friends toward the building! I'm sure the mother's must have come in and seen us settled, I have a picture of the four of us in front of the building, but that isn't what sticks in my memory.
I suffered and drove my mother crazy as a child/pre-teen/teen because I can not stand anyone being in control over me. Although I was not a rebel in the sense of drinking and or drugs, I didn't even smoke. This character trait was and is an advantage sometimes, because peer pressure means nothing to me. I just want to do what I want, when I want, and that's that. If I want to wake up and have a cookie, so be it. I spent my childhood years dreaming of being an adult, someone who could control her own destiny! My parents would always tell me that I would be sorry, life is hard, and someday I would wish to be a child again. They were wrong, dead wrong.
Yes, sometimes the world can be overwhelming, but I never wish for anyone else to take care of it for me, or make the decisions. I do know how and when to ask for help, but there aren't many things I can't do myself. I know how to enjoy life. I have the advantage of working with children, so I can play all I want, with the bonus of being in charge. I eat my cookies for breakfast, or at midnight. Which honestly, I did then too. I just don't have to cram them down my throat as fast as I can, brush my teeth, and blame my siblings. ;)
Friday, June 11, 2010
What's in a Name?
"A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet."
That may very well be true, but have you noticed that roses today actually do not smell nearly as sweet? They are mass produced, and the glorious smell is either faint or non existent. My brother explained this all to me once, but at the moment I can't recall the exact reason why the smell is gone. This may be due to the rum and coke, and a few samples at Happy Hour with the girls this evening! It also, isn't the point. Off on a ramble and I haven't even begun.
Once upon a time the young bartender/waiter at the establishment the girls and I frequent on a semi regular Friday night basis irritated me. I can't recall why, but in my frustration I said something along the lines of "If Skippy doesn't hurry it up he can forget the tip." It stuck, immediately, and the name fits him to a T. So for at least the last six months we refer to him, privately, as Skippy. "Where is Skippy?" "Skippy gave you my drink." "Do you think Skippy will let us use the coupon?" "Is Skippy ever coming back with the check?"
This evening we notice that Skippy once again will be waiting on us in the bar. The Skippy comments start to fly, and I wondered aloud what his real name is? We see him almost every week, perhaps it's something we should know and use. After all, Skippy is a person too. So of course we asked. He looked a little confused, trying to figure out why we would want to know I suppose. No, the old ladies aren't hitting on you sonny. Kerri (of course) fills in the silence with, "Well, we like to call you Skippy. So if you wont tell us, that's what we'll call you." He actually seemed to kind of like it. We should have left it at that. It turns out that his name...... is Phil.
I can not tell you how disappointing that is. Phil???? Ugh. Skippy he will remain, if only in my head. It's much snappier. This is almost as bad as when I found out that Mr. Big's real first name is John. Seriously? After all those years that is the BEST they could do? I raise my glass to you Skippy. Even if you did give me Kerri's DIET rum and coke, *gag* and yes we finally have gotten the concept of a "rail" drink. It's the cheap crap. :)
That may very well be true, but have you noticed that roses today actually do not smell nearly as sweet? They are mass produced, and the glorious smell is either faint or non existent. My brother explained this all to me once, but at the moment I can't recall the exact reason why the smell is gone. This may be due to the rum and coke, and a few samples at Happy Hour with the girls this evening! It also, isn't the point. Off on a ramble and I haven't even begun.
Once upon a time the young bartender/waiter at the establishment the girls and I frequent on a semi regular Friday night basis irritated me. I can't recall why, but in my frustration I said something along the lines of "If Skippy doesn't hurry it up he can forget the tip." It stuck, immediately, and the name fits him to a T. So for at least the last six months we refer to him, privately, as Skippy. "Where is Skippy?" "Skippy gave you my drink." "Do you think Skippy will let us use the coupon?" "Is Skippy ever coming back with the check?"
This evening we notice that Skippy once again will be waiting on us in the bar. The Skippy comments start to fly, and I wondered aloud what his real name is? We see him almost every week, perhaps it's something we should know and use. After all, Skippy is a person too. So of course we asked. He looked a little confused, trying to figure out why we would want to know I suppose. No, the old ladies aren't hitting on you sonny. Kerri (of course) fills in the silence with, "Well, we like to call you Skippy. So if you wont tell us, that's what we'll call you." He actually seemed to kind of like it. We should have left it at that. It turns out that his name...... is Phil.
I can not tell you how disappointing that is. Phil???? Ugh. Skippy he will remain, if only in my head. It's much snappier. This is almost as bad as when I found out that Mr. Big's real first name is John. Seriously? After all those years that is the BEST they could do? I raise my glass to you Skippy. Even if you did give me Kerri's DIET rum and coke, *gag* and yes we finally have gotten the concept of a "rail" drink. It's the cheap crap. :)
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Changes
It has been some time since my last blog. I've been busy living my life instead of writing about it, which is a good thing. It's nice to feel the need to write again, as for so many years it was missing. I have a lot to share, probably a case of too much to say rather than writers block.
I feel like I'm going through some kind of metamorphosis. The focus of my life is truly resettling on ME. People who think they know me are wondering at that statement. On the surface I can appear to be all about me, hence the moniker "queenie" that I picked up at an early age. While I am all about self preservation, my focus tends to be on men, or whatever relationship I am in at the given time. Well, that's done.
So I've renamed the blog to give myself a bigger world to comment on! As many of you know, I love to comment on anything and everything that's going on. Rarely do I not have an opinion, and it's even rarer that I keep it to myself. This does get me in trouble on occasion, and then Ruthie's voice rings loud and clear in my head. "That mouth of yours is going to get you in big trouble some day young lady." Heh, she was right..... but it is always OH so worth it!
While I will still continue the saga of my internet dating history, I want to talk about so much more! So this is now "The Queen's Corner", my own little stage on which to pontificate. Ok, it always was, but now it has a better title! I so wanted to call it "Random Sarcasm", but that already belongs ( and rightly so) to Darrin. I'm many things, but no thief. Although sarcasm is my specialty!
I feel like I'm going through some kind of metamorphosis. The focus of my life is truly resettling on ME. People who think they know me are wondering at that statement. On the surface I can appear to be all about me, hence the moniker "queenie" that I picked up at an early age. While I am all about self preservation, my focus tends to be on men, or whatever relationship I am in at the given time. Well, that's done.
So I've renamed the blog to give myself a bigger world to comment on! As many of you know, I love to comment on anything and everything that's going on. Rarely do I not have an opinion, and it's even rarer that I keep it to myself. This does get me in trouble on occasion, and then Ruthie's voice rings loud and clear in my head. "That mouth of yours is going to get you in big trouble some day young lady." Heh, she was right..... but it is always OH so worth it!
While I will still continue the saga of my internet dating history, I want to talk about so much more! So this is now "The Queen's Corner", my own little stage on which to pontificate. Ok, it always was, but now it has a better title! I so wanted to call it "Random Sarcasm", but that already belongs ( and rightly so) to Darrin. I'm many things, but no thief. Although sarcasm is my specialty!
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