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 worst writing job posting I've seen

I’ve been scouring the web for job postings for two months now. Had a bunch of interviews and promising responses. Sometimes, I’ll cruise Craislist just for kicks, but the number of scams and crap on there usually make it counterproductive. There are so many hours in a day after all.

Until now, my favorite ridiculous requirement for a posting was “Evidence of sensitivity to and acceptance of people from diverse cultures.” That commentary is here

I’m cruising through today’s indeed.com posting, and come across the below ad, which goes above and beyond any previous ridiculousness.

Cosmetic Surgery Article and Content Writing
oDesk - Minnetonka, MN
See original job posting at oDesk »

Hello,

I will offer you a project based job, with a lot of articles to write and I want you to write them for me for $2/article.

I am looking for someone to write approximately 16 descriptions of different cosmetic surgery procedures (~300-500 words each).

The descriptions of the different procedures should include (bus is not limited to):

• Good candidates for the procedure
• Ideal outcome
• How the procedure is performed
• Recovery
• Risks

Furthermore, I will want an additional ~8 articles (~400-600 words each) on certain cosmetic surgery related topics.

Candidates must be fluent in english and have previous writing experience.

If you are interested, I would like to hire you first for a trial write up of one of the procedures, and if I am happy with your work, then hire you for the rest of the project.

I would like to pay you $3.00 for the first/trial article. And then if I am satisfied with your work, pay you $2.00/article for the remaining ~25 articles.

Please respond at your earliest convenience with a cover letter and a short explanation of why I should trust you for this job.

Thanks,

Nate

Where to start with this one? How about the rate of pay expected for a professional writer. For those who don’t write, let me give you an idea. If I’m burning through an article of 300-500 words, I can expect the first draft to take between 20-30 minutes. The research involved before that takes about an hour. This isn’t including revisions and so forth. And working this fast leads to bad writing. So 25 articles would take about a solid week of work. For $51. That's $1.35 an hour. You could move to Indonesia and work for Nike for more money than that.

As a comparison, I recently got paid $100 for a 500 word article for a business. A quick search of common rates for freelance writing is $77 an hour . The low end on another site for writing is $45 an hour. 

Any writer willing to do the above work would be losing money in time and cost of production. Not only that, you get the privilege of writing a trial article for this person just for the pleasure of losing money writing the rest of the articles.

The perception of professional writing as an easy task that doesn’t take years of practice is pretty common. Craigslist often includes ads for business that want people to write for them “for the experience.” This ad is even worse, because I get the impression that since you are being “paid” for the work, the poster will be much more critical and hard to work with than someone just looking for free copy. But more than that, you are saying something about your business by how little you want to pay for the very thing that will help you drive in new customers. What you are saying is not good.

Back to applying for jobs that could reasonably support a life.

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.

Pickledick part II

I’ve posted previously on the topic of resumes, and how they are like ass holes, everyone has an opinion:

This short post is a continuation of that conversation. To recap, the conversation between fiance and hairdresser three weeks ago. 

Hairdresser: I showed your fiancee’s resume to that rich client I talked about. He said it disgusted him. The resume has a lot of problems, and he can see why your fiancee doesn’t have a job.

Fiance:  That’s pretty harsh. I’ve looked at it, and I don’t see anything “disgusting.”

Hairdresser: But this guy is rich, so he knows what he’s talking about. Obviously you should rewrite the resume.

(Since then, I have had two professional recruiters look at the resume, and both have said it looks very professional, and had one or two changes in a simple word choice, which I appreciated)

(cut to yesterday)

Hairdresser: I was in English class yesterday, and for some reason I had your fiancee’s resume on my computer. My English teacher said it was the worst resume he’d ever seen.

Fiance: That’s funny, since he’s been using that resume and has had 12 job interviews in the last couple weeks. It’s working like gangbusters.

Hairdresser: Oh really? I never said it was bad.

This is how bat-shit insane academic culture is

Dean: I’d like to thank you for coming to this meeting to try to clear up some issues we’ve been having. We have determined that your counterpart in math had schitzophrenia, which is why she quit, relieving us of all responsibility to look at our own system and make adjustments to help make this learning center a great tool for students. The other Math person that quit two weeks prior, also after less than a month on the job, does in no way make this a pattern that we should look at to find workable solutions. 

Again, thank you both for coming. I understand that the vague job responsibilities for both of you has been vague and overlapping, which would certainly lead to issues if it weren't for our wonderful open culture. I want you both to feel open and free to discuss anything in this meeting.

Staff member: Well, that being the case, I would like to suggest that there are several ways to improve the learning center.

Dean: What? I’m sorry, It appears you just don’t understand our culture here. There are underpinings to this learning center that you just don’t know.

Staff member: OK. Well. I’d like to suggest that I’ve been teaching students for 8 years now, and while I appreciate input, I feel that every time I discuss what’s going on at the center, I am told I’m doing it wrong.

Faculty member: That’s my job. I’m here to advise you. There are things you just don’t understand. We’ve been working on this center for a whole year, and without that vision, you shouldn’t really speak up.

Staff member: Understood.

(continue for an hour, end meeting, get email to meet with dean two days later)

Dean: You have an edge to you. You really have to tone down that edge and go back to the milk and cookies person you are. I knew you had an edge. I knew it.

Staff member: I was under the understanding that we were to speak openly and make suggestions.

Dean: There’s that edge again. I’d like you to stop talking to anyone else, including your coworkers, about anything work related.

Staff member: I am really learning to live with the condescension. I love this job and enjoy working with the students to make them better writers.

Dean: But are you working with the students too much? They should not be coming to you so often for help.

Staff member: Isn’t that the purpose of the center, to help students become better writers?

Dean: You just don’t understand our culture.

The tipping for take out conundrum

After a six and a half hour drive, we made it to Omaha. Bellevue to be specific. The drive was rather uneventful other than the semi we passed that was crumpled like a can.

We got to the hotel, and were happy to see a Famous Daves just across the street. I called to order take out, at 9:30, and they were closed. They close at 9 here for the winter.

Then Fiance realized she left a bag at home, which contained her glasses and contact stuff as well as other things.

"That's OK, hon, I'll go find a Walmart or drug store or something." I like being a hero.

So I got back into the car, drove down the little side street we are on next to Cornhusker Road. I took a left, thinking there must be stuff on this road since it's a highway exit. After five miles of nothing but streetlights and nothing but a Casey's gas station, I turned around and headed the other way. Wouldn't you know it, but pretty much a few blocks from where I began in the other direction, I found a Walmart.

I parked in the lot nearest the pharmacy door, only to find they were painting that side of the building and I had to walk to the other door by the grocery. I picked up the needed items and got to the cashier. I then made the mistake of trying to get some smokes. She asked for my ID, and all I had was my snipped ND license and the paperwork for the MN license that still hasn't arrived two weeks later. She didn't know if she could accept these forms of ID. I said to forget it then. Then she called the manager over, and he approved it.

The night wasn't done yet. Across from the Walmart was a Buffalo Wild Wings. I figured I could get some take out from there. I went in and the place was pretty empty. The manager welcomed me and asked what I wanted. Then he wandered off. Then a waitress asked me, said she had to get a card, then she wandered off. Then the manager came back, I ordered, and here comes the part where I have the conversation in my head every time I get take out and have to use a card.

"There's a tip line. Do I write in a tip? Isn't the point of take out so you don't pay for delivery? Why is there a tip line? Tipping is usually for good service, but our transaction hasn't finished, so how do I know if the food or service will be good? If I don't tip, will they spit in my food? I wonder how much snot or mucus I've eaten over the years from angry servers. If I do tip, and the food is horrible, or the service sucks, I'll feel ripped off. Aargh!"

I usually end up tipping 2 bucks or 10 percent. I don't know why, or what the expectations are.

I sit down and wait for the food, which he said would be 10 minutes. It took about 25. There weren't many people there, and I saw a lot of people come in, perhaps to work or pick up checks, I don't know. After a while, I went up to the empty counter and stood there, impotently, for a few minutes, as no one was there and no one was minding the store.

Then some guy who obviously was a kitchen worker came in, saw me, and a minute later, he buzzed the coaster thing I was holding and gave me my bag of food. I had been completely forgotten about.

I took it back to the hotel, where the fiancé ate her sandwich, and I felt horrible about how long it took. I feel even worse as she throws up in the bathroom. Not sure if it's from the chicken sandwich that she said was cooked, but cold, or from her emotions about why we are here - to see off her best friend and maid of honor who will miss our wedding due to the war in Afghanistan - we don't know. But it sure doesn't help matters.

I can't wait to log on to the buffalo wild wings site to fill out the survey, though.

Wrath of the allergies

A few years ago, fiance was getting sinus infections every 6 weeks. Has been for  a long time, as she didn’t develop sinuses like the rest of us. She’s been having them so long that normal antibiotics are useless for her. It’s a sucky situation. 

Then, a specialist had her tested for allergies. She turned out to be allergic to most everything, and gets double hit with the sub-zero Fargo air in the winter. We started allergy shots two+ years ago. After the first few months, they trained me how to do it so we could take care of it from the comfort of home with her favorite television show to distract her.

She still curses me every week. Gives me dirty looks when I say it’s time for her shot.

The whole process is simple. Take a Benadryl pill. Wipe the two vials, fill half the syringe with one, top it off with the other. Wipe her arm. Shoot her with the medicine. Slather anti-itch cream on it and slap a cold pack on her arm. For two days, she has a red welt. 

She now gets sinus infections once every six months, if that. It’s been working well.

Then we moved. And once the syringes ran out, it was time to get more. I never had issues with getting them in Fargo. The medicine comes in the mail. I just pick up a new 10 pack when we need them at the drug store. I went into Target on Tuesday to pick some up, and met all sorts of glares and sass.

“We don’t carry allergy syringes. People do that at the clinic. You need a prescription.”

Same thing at the nearby Walgreens. 

I wanted to yell, but criminy, they were bitchy about it. Let’s just say, for shit’s sake, that I wanted syringes for illegal drugs. What sense does it make to have them be prescription-only devices? The only thing this policy does is force drug users to re-use and share needles. Way to go, Minnesota.This whole shot thing is simple, and I've been doing it for more than a year now. I'm more than capable of doing this and saving 30 bucks a week rather than Fiance having to go in to a clinic and lose time at her new job.

OK, so I had Fiance transfer whatever info they needed, and we were cool, but today I tried to pick them up and it turned out the transfer went to a Target in Minnetonka, not Plymouth. So after getting lost trying to find the place during rush hour, I finally had the syringes. After picking out the flowers for the wedding, we got home and it was time for the shot.

These new Target syringes were different than the ones I got in Fargo. The Fargo ones had a cap on the top and on the plunger. Just pull them off and you are ready to go. These syringes just had a cap on the needle. I pulled off the cap, and there was no needle.

“Huh”

So it appears the needle is still in the cap. I try pulling it apart. Nothing. Try again. Nothing. Keep applying force and the needle pops out to my surprise and IM STICKING MY FINGER WITH IT AND OH MY GOD THE BLOOD get me to the sink “Why are you so horrible?!” I yell at the needle that I am sure broke off in my finger because it feels hard and swollen (that’s what she said) but a closer look at this demonic thing from medicinal hell confirms that it didn’t break off and I am a wuss and now Fiance decided to go to bed because “why would I seriously want you to give me a shot now?” but she really will use any excuse to get out of getting a shot dear lord I hate these new syringes.