Wife's Exit Interview Questionnaire

Length of Service:     13 months      

Reason for leaving:   There are so many, it’s hard to narrow down to just a couple. Here are a few. 1. Jean Kreutter, the disabilities services director, disclosed my disability to people without my permission, which after consulting with LDA Minnesota I was advised that that “I would suggest you find out who you can speak to in HR regarding a complaint in which your supervisor is violating your confidentiality and, in a back-handed manner, discriminating based on your disability.” But considering that my concerns were never given credence when I raised them (which I will get to shortly), I figured continuing to raise concerns would be another dead end, so it is better to leave Hennepin Technical College than continue to be discriminated against. I made this clear in a recent letter to my newest supervisor. I’d bet nothing changed. 2. Despite having been promised the opportunity to teach and advance my career while at HTC, it became clear that Lisa Larson would never allow that to happen, she actively discouraged me from pursuing advancement and wrote a ridiculous review of me not meeting expectations in work ethic or teamwork when in fact I have been working overtime for free, I have increased the Writing Center’s visit rate by more than 800 percent and have a 96 percent return visit rate from students – despite this success I was often berated and treated like dirt. Lisa Larson even said “well anyone can do your job.” When I was able to win a free ticket to a $450 educational event in my field, Lisa said I would have to take vacation time to go to it and did not support it. I ended up working longer hours and going to the event on my own time, then bringing that knowledge back to HTC as a free benefit to students. Lisa actually said I should look for conferences that focus on paragraph development and sentence structure, which is not something that exists, and would be like asking a math instructor to go to a workshop on how to add and subtract, it’s counterproductive. 3. On another note, when I raised safety concerns after specific threats from a specific student, Lisa Larson did nothing to help the issue. I filed a report through the code of student conduct in early July, and the matter was still unresolved by the time I left in October. In mid-September, my husband bought me mace to carry with me, and tweeted about it, and this was the FIRST time that campus security had been notified about my safety issue. So to put it in as few words as possible, I am leaving HTC because of discrimination, safety concerns, and I was discouraged from advancing my career in any way.

1.                  What did you like most about working for Hennepin Technical College?     I love working with students. I have been teaching in higher ed for about 10 years and thought I would make a career of it, but HTC has convinced me that I should put my three bachelors and two masters degrees to better use outside of academia. Students were my life, and when the opportunity to teach a class along with running the writing center were taken away from me, I knew it was time to end my career in academia. So in a way, HTC killed any remaining enjoyment I got from being an educator and forced me to start fresh in a new career.  Thanks!

2.                  What did you like least about working for Hennepin Technical College?     Lisa Larson, Jean Kreutter, being told I don’t matter, being told I am worthless                                              

3.                  Did your supervisor explain your job duties and responsibilities? Yes          No x   

Comments       This is a tricky one. When I started, I asked countless times in person and in email to have a list of job responsibilities and duties, but was never provided with one. So I went with what I was told, but that would change depending on the mood of my supervisor. In addition, my supervisor changed three times during the year I was at HTC, so the new supervisor would often contradict the old supervisor’s instructions and promises, and get mad at me for continuing to work under the existing guidelines. Lisa Larson’s catch phrase is “This is the first I heard of it.” She used that no matter what issue was presented to her. This sort of thing happened on a near weekly basis.                                                                     

4.         Did you understand what was expected of you on the job?  Yes            No x                     

Comments       For some reason, I figured it was my job to make the writing center successful. I did that by raising student visits by more than 800 percent the first year. This September, we were up 300 percent over last September. I also had a 96 percent return visit rate from students, so I believe that indicates they found my services helpful. Many even drove down from the Brooklyn Park campus to get help at my center rather than any other service providers. I worked with other service providers on campus, and reached out to teachers. I even sent hand written thank you letters to each teacher who had a student visit the center. Despite all this success, I still got a negative review from Lisa Larson and was constantly told I wasn’t doing anything right. I think that’s just nuts.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

5.            How would you describe your work load and duty assignments?

Fairly assigned  x  Unfairly assigned             

Comments       Another tricky one. I felt the work load was sufficient for the center. I think that changed in the past couple months as the writing center operations were given over to the LRC (a less successful service) so I think the workload as it was shifting was ridiculously easy. As someone with more degrees and experience than many instructors at HTC, I felt unchallenged. I doubt Lisa Larson understood what a wealth of experience and education she had in me, as she often seemed to think I just had a high school education, at least that’s how she talked to me. When they removed all autonomy from me, and it became clear that my success over the past year would be absorbed and attributed to Jean to make her failing LRC look better, I knew it was time to go.                                                                                              

6.         Did you ever suggest changes to your supervisor regarding your work?  Yes x        No      

Comments       Invariably, when I offered my opinion or input on a work issue, I was shot down and told I was wrong. I learned if I wanted anything done, I just had to do it, watch it succeed, and then accept the punishment for being successful.  In fact, the whole decision and organization to move the writing center under the LRC umbrella was made without once consulting a single CLA in the writing or math centers (outside of the brief consultation with the facilitator, but I think my feedback to her held up the forward movement of the consolidation, and led to further shutting the CLAs out of the process)                          

7.            Did your supervisor explain to you why the change could or could not be considered?

Yes      No x   

Comments       I don’t think knee jerk reactions of the sort offered by Lisa Larson come with sufficient explanation. For instance, she said I could no longer lock my door to insure my safety from a specific student threat when I was alone in the center. Her reasoning was that other people on campus work with students in offices by themselves, but this didn’t take into account the specific threat to me. I also work with students every day, and in 10 years had never raised such a concern. Lisa Larson said I needed to work through the Code of Student Conduct on this issue, but again, doing that led to months of no action or movement to keep me safe. Lisa never even notified security about the issue.                                                      

8.            How would you rate the evaluation process at Hennepin Technical College?

Good               Poor     x                      Fair                  Unfair  x         

Comments       My review last month from Lisa was completely ridiculous. I have invited her to come and actually watch me do what I do with students, but she has never once taken me or the previous math CLA up on that offer. Her review was based entirely on her personal interactions with me, which are skewed as she does not listen to any input and assumes the worst of me.  My numbers speak for the success of my methods, yet even 800 percent growth doesn’t merit more than “meets expectations.” I wonder what would exceed them.              

9.            What could we (Human Resources) have done differently to better serve you?

Comments       More leadership training for administration on how to listen and not automatically shoot down ideas, how to treat people with dignity. That’d be a good start.        

10.        What can Hennepin Technical College change to better serve its employees (overall)?

Comments       Listen to them. Treat them like human beings with dignity                          

11.       Would you recommend the college as place to work?  Yes               No      x         

12.       What other comments or suggestions do you have about your work experience here?        

I write all this fully knowing that none of it will mean anything. After a year, I’ve seen all but one other CLA leave under similar circumstances, but nothing was ever done to correct the issues those people raised. Instead, the narrative is created that those people were bad workers and difficult to work with, thereby negating any need to reflect on HTCs role in the process.

I got a job!!!!!!!

It’s hard to know where to begin. How about the numbers?

9 months

500 applications (at least)

50 interviews

1 job.

A JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Plus a side job editing stuff that I can continue to do to bring in some extra money each week.

Plus some freelancing.

And I sold the house.

On top of that, this new job pays nearly 30 percent more than the old one in Fargo (which is about right for the difference between here and there according to some sites). After 9 months of trying to pay for a wedding, going DEEP into credit debt, trying to figure out how to make $50 last the week when one gas fill up takes most of that, trying to remain sane, I have a new job that starts on Monday. Yesterday, we were wondering how the hell we were going to pay rent in June. Today, we are planning a budget that more than doubles what we were “living” on.

I can soon get an oil change for my car that has muscled through 5000 miles since the last mechanic set eyes on her.

I can soon own more than one pair of kacki pants.

I can get new shoes after 2.5 years on the last pair, daily.

I can have more than a carl budding lunch meat sandwich and ramen for lunch every day.

24 hours ago, we were trying to figure out how to come up with 1500 for a bankruptcy lawyer. Today, we can decide to go through a credit counseling service instead. They couldn’t help me before without a steady income.

Tomorrow, I have a therapy appointment. I’m still going, cause you’re probably wondering why I haven’t been already for criminy sake.

Job hunting has never been this hard in my life. It has been brutal. Painful. Confusing. Madening. Frustrating. Full of moments that seem like, "This is it, this is the one!" and then having that job pulled from your open hands, and then crushed in front of you. And every time you see Romney saying he's jobless, or see some politician on tv talking about how jobless people need to just get back to work you want to punch their grandchildren while they watch. Better yet, make them apply to jobs they are more than qualified for for 9 months without landing anything.

Every job advice column grates on you. You follow the advice, you blame yourself, you want to scream at HR computers who disqualify you without explanation.

Its experiences like this that people with jobs just don’t understand. It’s so easy to get comfortable, to think that you are a highly qualified, great worker with impecable references and qualifications. But the moment you take that leap into the unknown and find out how none of that means squat in a new hiring computer system that rejects you without a chance after you spent 2 hours filling out their stupid forms that repeat every goddamn thing that is already on your resume. Yet, don't accept that where you are is where you will have to be forever. Fear of leaving a job you hate can be just as soul-killing as trying to land a job you'll love.

Yeah, today is a day full of relief, fear, confusion, a new ability to breathe. I’m still trying to process it. It’s going to take a long time to recover.

Cee Lo, I need to go enjoy this breathing thing, please take it from here:

(addition): Long talk with the wife last night on how to be smart about this. How not to do the dumb thing and go money crazy the first month. We can live with our laptop that's missing a P button and has a cord held together by duct tape. We can live with the couch that got messed up in the move so now it feels like sitting on the floor. Slowly, carefully, we will crawl our way back to normalcy. 

De-evolution of compsure

Tonight I picked up Fiance from her job and we headed up 169 to Anoka for her second dress fitting. Less than a month to go to the wedding. She was unusually fidgety during the drive. We had to stop for traffic a few times, but got there in 40 minutes. As we got closer, I knew that the car would need gas before we took off for home. 

“Should we fill up now since we’re early, or should I go while you are being fitted?”

“Let’s just get there and fill up after.”

“Sure.”

So I sit and read in the small shop while fiance puts on the dress behind a fancy pants curtain. The owner’s small dog plays with me and sits in my lap, batting at my hand every time I try to stop petting her. I am content. A bit sleepy.

Fiance comes out (no breach in protocol here, we picked out the dress together). She looks beautiful. Breathtaking. She’s wearing an amber necklace we bought two months ago. It’s our “old” item, millions of years old.

The dress is wonderful, although some adjustments to the boob area will be made to keep it from looking bunchy. The seamstress says she can take out one of the rib things in the bust area to take care of it. She will do it and come back.

“Why don’t you go fill the car,” fiance says.

It’s 5:30 at this point.

“Sure” I say.

I jump in the car and get to the end of the parking lot that’s near a 4-way stop. Can’t see any gas stations, but there’s some sort of light off to the left that might be a gas station. If only I could turn left. Lots of cars, and it’s getting dark. Good lord will I ever get out of this parking lot? Screw it, here we go.

OK, driving. Driving. Not even sure what that light was I saw before. But I’m back at a main road waiting for the light to change. Dear jesus how long will this light take?

Turning. OK, this is recognizable. There’s the Walgreens we turned near on the way here. Main street. That should be promising. Might as well turn left.

OK, this red light thing is getting annoying.

What is this, like five minutes now sitting here?

Shit.

All right, now I’m on main street in Anoka. Pretty much just drove in a big circle, but now we'll just go straight. There’s got to be a gas station along here somewhere. Perhaps beyond these four red lights in a fucking row.

There’s a Hardee’s. Still no gas station. Will I find one soon? Gas is getting near the red lines of death, but I haven’t heard the beep yet, so that’s good. Wish it wasn’t so dark out. God dammit, still no gas station. Seriously, another light? What the hell is this shit?

How the fuck did I get to fucking Coon Rapids?! Seriously this is all sorts of fucked up. I’m definitely on some kind of main road, since there’s all sorts of places to shop here, Home Depot, fucking Target and shit. Holy motherfucking shitball sandwich There’s a gas station on the wrong damn side of the fucking road, I can’t switch lanes with this stupid dick truck riding right next to me. Holy christ on the cross with a stick up his ass twisted intestines this is so ridiculous. I just want some fucking gas. Is this some sort of gas desert? Do the people of Coon Rapids and Anoka just install fucking pumps in their driveways since there is no son of a bitch gas station shit balls. 

Awesome, more red lights.

This is where dead babies go. This is where dead babies go.

Let’s just turn around. Abort mission. Abort fucking mission.

This Costco parkinglot fucking sucks balls. I want to have costco’s children just so I can beat them.

So Costco has a gas station, but I’m not a member. Can I just drive into these people and siphon their fucking gas? Where the hell is the road back to the street to get back to Anoka. I want to die. Why are you so horrible Coon Rapids?

More red lights. I get back to fiance, who is standing outside the shop since they closed I took so fucking long. It's 5:55. I've been driving for 25 minutes (half of which were at red lights) without getting to a gas station.

“Where were you?”

“ShitballssonofabitchfuckingmotherfuckingroadsredlightsARGHIhatethistownandwanttoblowupagasstationbuttherearenonetobefound.”

“You didn’t even fill up?”

*stare of death*

“Well, let’s just start going home.”

1 mile later, we see a Sinclair station, which when we pull in is not really a gas station but a decoy where cars go to die. Across the highway is a real gas station, which takes about 5 minutes to get to through red lights. I fill up, pee, and we get back to the light to get back onto 169 just as it turns red.

Fucking shit stick slap a bitch this sucks I hate life everyone sucks and there goes the brain aneurism I’ve been waiting for for sweet sweet release from this fucking mortal coil so long fuckers I’ll see you in hell, no? not an aneurism? I have to keep doing this bullshit? Fucking fuck fuck.

Shit.

The Minnesota Unemployment Insurance kick in the balls

It took fiance about 3 months to go through all the steps necessary for her to get unemployment. She went through North Dakota, then Minnesota. It was a bitch of a system, and I wasn't looking forward to it. Two months after leaving my job because my fiance got a job in the cities, I finally heard from MN unemployment.

Minnesota determined me ineligible for unemployment last night because I didn’t move with my spouse. I called today to talk to them.

Me: Hi, I’m calling about my ineligibility determination.

Her: How can I help you?

Me: First off, I just wanted to check on the part that says pending issues for my second job.

Her: (looking) Well, it appears that that is no longer a pending issue. It has been resolved. It appears you are still working there.

Me: I’m not.

Her: Oh.

Me: That department no longer offers classes, so there’s nothing to teach.

Her: …

Me: So.

Her: …

Me: Did it affect anything?

Her: No.

Me: So despite the fact that that department made cutbacks and is no longer running doesn’t affect things?

Her: No.

Me: OK, let’s talk about the rest of it. I was denied because I’m not married to my fiance?

Her: Yes.

Me: Does it matter that we will be married in 5 weeks?

Her: No. Unfortunately not. The legislature was quite clear on that point.

Me: Or that we’ve been living together for almost 3 years?

Her: Sorry. 

Me: But if we were married, it'd be a different story. 

Her: In most cases. Yes.

Me: Is this how gay people feel?

Her: …

Me: OK, so your saying that because I’m not married yet to the person I’ve been living with and will be marrying in five weeks, and that my second job was cut, which in large part necessitated our move to make enough to sustain ourselves on, I am ineligible.

Her: Well, are you working since then?

Me: I’ve judged some high school debates, but nothing full time or permanent.

Her:  You would have to have another job.

Me: (wishing I said, why would I need unemployment then?) OK, so there’s nothing I can do?

Her: You can appeal to find out for sure.

Me: …

Her: …

Me: …

Her: Is there anything else I can help you with?

Me: I guess not.

Houses are horseshit

So it’s 2007, my new job is going well. My sister recently bought a house. My brother is house shopping. I’m living in a studio apartment in Fargo for $375 a month. I decide to take the plunge as well into home ownership. 

I have few reasons.

The market has crashed already. Rates are low.

Not sure I want a house, but it seems like the grown up thing to do. I have a solid job. And I go through the First-time Homebuyers program that helps people like me get a house. You take a class and learn all the ins and outs of buying a home. I can see myself settling in for five years in Fargo. They say you have to do five years in a home to make it worth it. (which is horseshit, by the way)

After looking at more than a dozen homes, I find one in the upper end of my price range ay 103,900. It’ll be tight moneywise, but it’s a nice character home, big trees, perfect size for a single guy and a roommate.

Home ownership is part of what we are told to do when we grow up. You get a home. You fix it up. You have your own private place. You build a bit of equity as the housing market rises. I didn’t see how it was worth it at the time. I figured I would be better off staying in an apartment and stashing the money away into savings or into stocks. But the pressure to buy, to be something I’m not, to live up to the parent’s expectations, was too much. 

I’ve been reasonably happy with the house. But not enough to warrant the purchase.

So 4 years later, I’ve been paying 875 a month average. About 100 of that goes to principal, the rest to interest and insurance and taxes.  That’s $42,000 for four years. Only 26 more to go and I own it!

And that isn’t counting 300 a year for flood insurance, 500 for a new dishwasher, 170 a year for rotor rooter, 500 to get the tree trimmed, 500 a year for other fixit type things, and looming costs of painting and shingles. Add in the 50 a month for the city garbage, extra 60 a month in electricity and heating compared to an apartment, and you’ve got another 10,000 for a total of $52,000 in four years. That’s now more than half the cost of the home in four years.

For comparison, a similar two bedroom apartment in Fargo currently goes for 625 a month. No extra costs for garbage, sewer, fixing things, or homeowners insurance or property taxes. $30,000 assuming I overpaid for the last four years. Let’s add renter’s insurance at $200 for fun, and it’s still not up to $40,000. That’s assuming I moved out of the studio into nicer digs, which may not have happened.

So in four years, I spent an extra 12,000 to have a place I get to fix, mow, shovel, and deal with a racist neighbor from hell (neighbors from hell can be found in apartments and in neighborhoods. Fact!) If I stayed there until paid off on the 30 year plan, I’ll have spent over 300,000.

Well, how about getting that principal back upon selling, you ask? I’m now asking 106,500 with no takers after 3 months. That’s barely over 0.5 percent a year. How much will I gain at that price? Nothing. Not a dime. Although I’ve paid into principal, even an extra 100 bucks a month for the first two years, I don’t see anything. The real estate agents and banks take that. I’ll be lucky if I can pay off the 1000 I spent to spiff up the place with new paint and watersealant and landscaping.

So now I have the joy of paying for a place I can’t sell and don’t live in, while unemployed. I’m still trapped in Fargo.

I asked the loan manager at the bank if I could just pay the interest and insurance and taxes because of all this, just cut off the 120 or so in principal. No dice.

This whole home ownership just has no upside to me. Anyone I ever hear talk about their home is always complaining about how much work it is and what broke last week. A coworker had to spend 5000 out of pocket to fix his fence last summer.

I honestly don’t see it. The only way it would make sense to me is if you planned to stay in the same place for 15 years, and who can foresee that when jobs don’t often last that long?  I guess without people to buy into this whole system, banks wouldn't make money, so hey, we can all feel better about helping banks out, right? 

I guess I like the honesty of apartments as well. Yes you are helping someone else get rich, but they are providing a place to live that they fix if it breaks. It's a lot easier to leave an apartment than a house. And the owner isn't promising that you will one day make money off it it when you won't. ever. 

Rant over.

Anyone interested in buying a house? I've got the perfect one for you!

Today I shit myself

So in the scheme of the engagement, registering for gifts should be one of the best parts, right? You get to pick out a bunch of stuff you wouldn’t buy otherwise, and people give that stuff to you. I’ve heard that this process can cause a lot of arguments between engaged couples, and while that might have been true with us, the real argument was between my body and Target. Let’s start at the beginning. 

I got to sleep in today, a wonderful long sleep that lasted until 10, which is pretty good for me these days. I woke up and felt that kind of sleep drunk you get when you sleep late and walking becomes tricky.

Today we were set to complete a bunch of errands. First we had to return a book to the library, return an overdue movie, mail some late bills, make a deposit at the bank, pick up more paint at lowes and make a credit card payment there and at Home Depot (also late).

We had a wonderful lunch at Samurai Asian Fusion. I had a Philly roll and a Tuna roll. I recommend the philly roll, which is salmon, cream chese and cucumber. I highly recommend the sweet potato roll, which is nicely sweet and a bit crunchy in the middle. It’s a great “dessert” roll if you are having three.

Then we went to Target. I’ve written about my aversion to shopping before in this blog, but this was a special kind of hell, since today every newly minted freshman and his or her parents were shopping for college supplies. Shelves were empty, particularly pillows. The place was crawling with emotion – kids ready to start their new independence while contrarily relying on their parents to set them up.

Fiance and I got the scanner from the service counter after a lot of hoopla with the registry machine since she had already done a few things online. We armed ourselves with large frappachinos and a sense of dread. She’s great at lists, and had already procured a list of items from Herberger’s at one of the wedding shows we went to back in February (she’s organized like that. I would have lost it long before March).

We started in the bedding. And after much debate, had decided on a few sheets, a comforter, quilts, and all that jazz.

Sidebar: guys, you must be very delicate in this whole process. There will be many things on your registry that don’t make the slightest bit of sense. Like waffle irons. I like a good waffle as much as the next person, but cleaning them, mixing batter, and the hassle of storage space for them makes me cringe at the idea of having one. Nevertheless, there will be a waffle iron on your registry. The best you can do is resign yourself to the fact that you are going to get a lot of stuff that you don’t want to deal with, but hey, relationships!

Luckily, we both do agree on a lot of things that we don’t need, particularly duvets. Neither of us knew what the hell it was or why we would want one, yet there was a whole aisle of them to choose from. We guessed it was like a summer comforter. I tried to imagine finding space for it in the house/apartment. We agreed to skip it. (Turns out a duvet is like a sleeping bag for your comforter. Yes, your blanket needs a blanket. And its this kind of thing that makes me hate people who invent things.)

We got through the rest of the bedding stuff after much discussion and moving out of the way for others to get through on their way to higher education. Gangs of college kids roamed the store and were too hip for all this.

We started looking at the bathroom stuff, trying to figure out what color scheme to go with, and finding the selection lacking. Any color we liked would inevitably have only a few items left for scanning, and not a full set of towels, hand towels, rugs, washcloths, and so on was to be found. In a store filled with a glut of choice, there was none to be found in the bath section.

Perhaps it was poetry that my body rejected Target in the bathroom section, because it was then that I shit my pants.

Literally. 

And thus, without warning, ended our first foray into registering. I was secretly happy to have a legitimate reason to leave. Fiance was secretly happy this happened, because she hates shopping about as much as I do, and this meant we didn’t have to go get groceries after. We could go home, I could shower, finish painting the basement, and she could nap. We’d work on the registry online and go back another day.

Sidenote: Naps are the best way to escape Fargo, even just for a little bit.

I don’t have much of an ending for this, but I have known about my aversion to department stores for a long time and will just end this with a prose poem I wrote once about Walmart after reading Ginsberg’s “A Supermarket in California”

Out of food, I make my way along the streets of Megaville with the defrost melting the grayish haze on the windshield.

Once at Wal-Mart, I manhandle my cart along the piles of boxes on the ground, almost hitting the pickled herring. I stop to decide what flavor of spaghetti sauce I want tonight, Garden Chunky or Garlic Overload. Florescent lights accentuate the bulbous hips of a sweatsuit-clad woman stockpiling Ramen Noodles.

               

My Viking ancestors had the well-stocked fields of England to shop through; I have tiled aisles with twenty kinds of popcorn.  I have stores that are paved over for bigger stores to give me more options.  Like twenty-one varieties of popcorn.  Low fat, buttered, natural, salted, desalted, light butter, imitation butter extract, movie theater butter, single packs, 6-packs, 12-packs, family size, salted with butter…

I try to decide between the butter and movie theater butter – under the intercom system thanking me for choosing Wal-Mart and the monotone drone of the freezers beyond the Arizona style barbecue chips – before leaving the butter on the shelf and leaving my mule-like cart. I place the movie theater butter next to the TV dinners and walk away, past the lone cashier among the row of registers, back to the frosted car and my empty stomach.

Shopping trips make me hate America

Before embarking on this anecdote about a night in my life, I want to reference a graduation speech by David Foster Wallace. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122178211966454607.html  The daily grind/shopping section is particularly relevant and hits on the nose the absolute soul-sucking activity of having to go and get shit and not caring that you have turned everyone around you into an obstacle to your perfect life.

My night began by finding out our maid of honor will not be able to make it to the wedding due to what some call “ongoing operations” in Afghanistan. Fiance was devastated by the thought of losing her best and perhaps only friend besides me. After properly being there for her through the tears, we decided that I wouldn’t finish the basement last night, but would just go get some supplies. Two stops would suffice – Home Depot and the grocery store.

I pulled a piece of loose paint off the stoop and headed to Home Depot to get some outdoor paint and enough sealer to finish the basement. And since the sealer wasn’t quite matching the rest of the basement walls in whiteness even though it’s the same shit the previous owner used, I thought I would look into getting some paint to cover the sealer. The shopping trip from hell begins:

First I had to convince the paint mixer that a quart would be more than enough paint for three stoops and two other tiny spots on the house. Probably about 10 square feet all together. He wanted to sell me a gallon.

Then as the paint mixed I went off to find basement wall paint. A guy who looked sort of stonerish asked if I could use some help. He was clearly bored with his job of putting paint cans in stacks. I said I’m looking for basement wall paint. He directed me to the water sealant.

“I’ve got some of this, but is there paint to put over it?”

He looked at me confused. I continued.

“I have put two coats of this on the walls, and you can still sort of see through it. The can says you can put some paint on over the top to finish it.”

He pointed to the basement floor paint, which isn’t what I wanted. I now wanted him to stop helping me, but remained polite.

“OK. I think I’ll just look around a bit. Thank you for your help!”

He sort of ambled away. I looked at paint scrapers, trying to find a cheap plastic one that wasn’t too big.

“What you looking for?”

He was back! I explained I wanted a plastic paint scraper, but all I could see were packs of three, which was more than I needed. He pointed to the metal ones, which were 3 times the cost. I balked. He pointed to a plastic paint scraper that was the size of a Bob Ross paint pallet, but there were no happy trees swaying in the breeze in my head.

“I think I need something a bit more versatile.” I said. Fiance found this statement highly amusing when I later recounted the story.

So I got a metal scraper, picked up my mixed paint and said fuck it to looking for a latex wall paint because I simply did not want to have the dude try to help me again. I went searching at the far end of the store to figure out how much gutters would be to put up, and looked at drain spouts for 10 minutes wishing now that someone would ask to help me.

No one did.

So on to the check out.

Home Depot has a bank of four self check out counters, but I have yet to have them work right. This time I thought might be the first, since everything in the cart had a barcode. How wrong I was.

The girl that is the actual check out person said she would be over to help me as soon as the second thing I scanned didn’t work. “The mixed cans don’t work as well in these,” she said. She used her hand scanner, but it wouldn’t enter the price. She started to say things like “are you sure it isn’t up there?” until she finally figured out that she was using the wrong hand scanner.

So then I pay and am walking out to the car. I see an older woman and her cane-using mother walking the same direction and guess that they are parked next to me. I scoot to the car and practically throw the stuff in the trunk, but it’s too late and the cane woman is slowly getting into the car, which is fine. What isn’t fine is the part where the car was running, and she spent the next five minutes sitting there with her car door open so I couldn’t get into my car. Five fucking minutes of me leaning against my trunk and trying not to think horrible things about how easy it would be to grab her cane and beat her car door shut with it. I wanted to go and shut her door, but I’m an intimidating guy and didn’t want to get rape whistled or something, which is a real fear of mine from watching too many hilarious misunderstandings in sitcoms.

So I get out of there and finally get to Cashwise, where the adventure continues. I had five items to get, including some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream as requested by the Fiance to help with the Afghanistan emotions. I get to the frozen aisle and there is no one there except a woman with a shopping cart full of her groceries and young son and her husband. They are debating what ice cream to get, and her cart is sitting right in front of the Ben and Jerry’s door. Dammit! I go and get some garlic bread thinking they would be done. But I ended up standing there another five minutes as this woman looked through every fucking coupon in her fist full of coupons to find the right one. Politely waiting on the outside, but wanting to take her cart and shove it away inside.

Got the Ben and Jerrys and headed to the checkout, which was crazy busy. The self checkout counters were less so, and I got in the line with a couple who was nearly done scanning their items.

Pause here to insert how much I hate people who use the self check out when they have a cart overflowing with groceries. For some reason, I believe that self check out should be reserved for those without 100 items to scan.

I watched the next line over as three people pulled up, scanned their items, paid and left as the couple in front of me struggled to get Pert shampoo to scan, then gather up change between them to pay for the groceries – CHANGE!!!

I spent entirely too much time in lines, and even though it was nice to see a TSA agent waiting in a line at the grocery store, it wasn’t worth it. And it’s hard not to think about Fiance’s best friend going off to fight for our right to hate the miserable existence of daily life and waiting in shopping lines and dealing with overly helpful or non-existent employees while watching other people struggle to pay for food with change and have to spend 5 minutes finding a coupon to make ice cream affordable and perhaps help bring a bit of sunshine to this ridiculous world where jobs are still scarce despite recovered profits and growth in the corporate sector and you just want to take a dump on the grocery scanner as a statement but don’t want to spend a night in jail, although that’s becoming more tempting every day you don’t hear from the 30 resumes you sent out last week. And that sort of run on sentence is what goes through my head every minute I spend shopping which is why I wear headphones to keep the podcasts going and keep out the demons.