Friday, April 28, 2006
conclusion
An update to the valet bullshit...I got a check in the mail today from the ProPark home office in Hartford for the full $168. I should go fill my gas tank.
Valet parking sucks
This was originally written on Wednesday, but due to AOL and my slower than shit computer not getting along, I had to wait until I posted it. Therefore, the "yesterday" stuff really doesn't apply. Oh well.
Warning: Major rant ahead...
Normally I have no problem with valet parking. Most of the area hospitals provide it as a free courtesy service and I tend to use it at certain hospitals. Others are no big deal and parking is easy, but for some, it simply saves time.
Now to the rant...I went to a hospital yesterday, one of my regulars, and parked my car in the valet area as usual. I left my keys in the ignition, took the tag from the guy, and went in to do my job. When I came out about a half hour later, my keys were nowhere to be found. All 3 valet guys and myself scoured the kiosk that they work out of, my car and the other cars under their "care". 45 minutes of looking for these fucking keys. The manager finally told me they were lost, probably left in someone else's car by mistake, no guarantee they would be returned and they would reimburse me what it cost to replace them. WHAT.THE.FUCK. Not only was my car key on it, but Debbie's car key, the house keys, the remote for my car, and a dozen or so store discount tags. Now this whole time, the asshole who lost my keys never apologized. He kept insisting that he wrote something on the ticket and hung them up. Well, motherfucker, obviously they weren't MY keys that got hung up.
When I called Debbie at work to let her know I'd be coming to get her keys, she nearly panicked...love that fucking PTSD from the robbery...asking if they had the house keys as well and we'd have to change the locks because they can figure out where we live from the store tags. Her co-workers weren't helping the issue, either, suggesting that they weren't lost by accident, that it was rather suspicious. Thanks guys. Assholes.
I had paged my friend Bridget about the situation, partly to rant, but also knowing the only chance I had to get new keys was to go to Debbie's work, take her keys and make copies. Problem was, I was AN HOUR from her work. I called the office to let them know what was going on...gasps and laughter in the background...and it was strongly suggested that I don't accept the ride from the valet manager. After all, I don't know the guy, not to mention spending 2 hours in a car with someone I want to strangle probably isn't a good idea. Nobody I know can afford the bail.
Bridget came and we drove the hour to Debbie's work, got the keys made and bought 2 new remotes, for a total of $168. We went back down to the hospital and when we arrived, were told that the person who mistakenly drove off with my keys called. They will pick them up tonight (last night). I simply handed the manager the $168 bill. He called the main office in Hartford, I filled out an incident report, and finally left that fucking hospital. Needless to say, the valet guys are not getting my keys again.
Warning: Major rant ahead...
Normally I have no problem with valet parking. Most of the area hospitals provide it as a free courtesy service and I tend to use it at certain hospitals. Others are no big deal and parking is easy, but for some, it simply saves time.
Now to the rant...I went to a hospital yesterday, one of my regulars, and parked my car in the valet area as usual. I left my keys in the ignition, took the tag from the guy, and went in to do my job. When I came out about a half hour later, my keys were nowhere to be found. All 3 valet guys and myself scoured the kiosk that they work out of, my car and the other cars under their "care". 45 minutes of looking for these fucking keys. The manager finally told me they were lost, probably left in someone else's car by mistake, no guarantee they would be returned and they would reimburse me what it cost to replace them. WHAT.THE.FUCK. Not only was my car key on it, but Debbie's car key, the house keys, the remote for my car, and a dozen or so store discount tags. Now this whole time, the asshole who lost my keys never apologized. He kept insisting that he wrote something on the ticket and hung them up. Well, motherfucker, obviously they weren't MY keys that got hung up.
When I called Debbie at work to let her know I'd be coming to get her keys, she nearly panicked...love that fucking PTSD from the robbery...asking if they had the house keys as well and we'd have to change the locks because they can figure out where we live from the store tags. Her co-workers weren't helping the issue, either, suggesting that they weren't lost by accident, that it was rather suspicious. Thanks guys. Assholes.
I had paged my friend Bridget about the situation, partly to rant, but also knowing the only chance I had to get new keys was to go to Debbie's work, take her keys and make copies. Problem was, I was AN HOUR from her work. I called the office to let them know what was going on...gasps and laughter in the background...and it was strongly suggested that I don't accept the ride from the valet manager. After all, I don't know the guy, not to mention spending 2 hours in a car with someone I want to strangle probably isn't a good idea. Nobody I know can afford the bail.
Bridget came and we drove the hour to Debbie's work, got the keys made and bought 2 new remotes, for a total of $168. We went back down to the hospital and when we arrived, were told that the person who mistakenly drove off with my keys called. They will pick them up tonight (last night). I simply handed the manager the $168 bill. He called the main office in Hartford, I filled out an incident report, and finally left that fucking hospital. Needless to say, the valet guys are not getting my keys again.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Jane Goodall
Wow, can it really be a month since I last posted? Bad blogger, bad blogger. I shall have to mend my delinquent ways.
I've spent the weekend, well, much of it anyway, with a group of university and high school students at the annual Roots and Shoots University Summit. These kids are awesome! If you're ever jaded by the youth of this country and wonder what can become of the future, attend some of the Roots and Shoots events. They will most certainly brighten your day. The energy and enthusiasm these kids have when it comes to the environment, cultures, communities and how they all intertwine is really incredible. They get it. I mean they really get it.
I also love that, thanks to my dear friend (he's the one with the mic) Rick Asselta, I'm involved with the program. I'm going to be writing a piece for their handbook on how to include people with disabilities in their meetings and events and I have already been approached by 3 people at the conference about traveling to their school to do some training and advisory work. I'm hoping this can be a launching pad for a second career doing access work, something I've been toying with for quite a while. I've been doing it on a volunteer basis for years, it's about time I earned some money.
Jane Goodall, as usual, came as well. She is an amazing woman and has such a peaceful, gentle spirit. Despite being hounded for autographs and pictures with her wherever she goes, she maintains her grace and dignity. I never understood people's need for autographs. Frankly, if it's not on a blank check, I don't have much use for someone's autograph. I'm more impressed with how a person lives their life, not how famous or rich they are. But I digress.
So, bottom line is that I had a wonderful time learning from and with the kids, meeting new people and seeing old friends. I only wish I could spend more time with Jane while she's here. Perhaps another time.
I've spent the weekend, well, much of it anyway, with a group of university and high school students at the annual Roots and Shoots University Summit. These kids are awesome! If you're ever jaded by the youth of this country and wonder what can become of the future, attend some of the Roots and Shoots events. They will most certainly brighten your day. The energy and enthusiasm these kids have when it comes to the environment, cultures, communities and how they all intertwine is really incredible. They get it. I mean they really get it.
I also love that, thanks to my dear friend (he's the one with the mic) Rick Asselta, I'm involved with the program. I'm going to be writing a piece for their handbook on how to include people with disabilities in their meetings and events and I have already been approached by 3 people at the conference about traveling to their school to do some training and advisory work. I'm hoping this can be a launching pad for a second career doing access work, something I've been toying with for quite a while. I've been doing it on a volunteer basis for years, it's about time I earned some money.
Jane Goodall, as usual, came as well. She is an amazing woman and has such a peaceful, gentle spirit. Despite being hounded for autographs and pictures with her wherever she goes, she maintains her grace and dignity. I never understood people's need for autographs. Frankly, if it's not on a blank check, I don't have much use for someone's autograph. I'm more impressed with how a person lives their life, not how famous or rich they are. But I digress.
So, bottom line is that I had a wonderful time learning from and with the kids, meeting new people and seeing old friends. I only wish I could spend more time with Jane while she's here. Perhaps another time.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Bubblicious
I love blowing bubbles, not the bubble gum kind, those are fun but sticky, but the soap and water, bottle-of-bubbles-with-the-magic-wand type. I especially love blowing them out the car window when I'm stuck in traffic. It helps alleviate my stress about the traffic, it probably helps the folks behind me do the same, it's environmentally safe and it's damn fun to boot. And hey, the worst that happens, if you spill it, you get clean all over you (thanks to my sister's sister-in-law for that quote). I've also decided that it's impossible to be angry when you're blowing bubbles.
I've been enjoying this little habit since I was in high school. I have to thank my friend Carolyn for the addiction. We were best buds as seniors, including the few years afterwards, and drove everywhere my little Chevette could handle, even places it couldn't. On one of our jaunts, it was warm and the windows were down...of course we were blowing bubbles. At one traffic light, a woman rolled down her window and told us it was the best birthday present she'd gotten all day. I was hooked. If a little thing like blowing bubbles can brighten someone's day, hell, sign me up.
I travel with my bubbles, putting them in a Ziploc for plane trips lest they explode or leak with the change of air pressure, and one of the best times I ever had was about 5 years ago at Disney. I was at a professional conference and joined a friend, his partner, mother-in-law and sister-in-law for a day at the Magic Kingdom. I'm not a huge Disney fan by nature or politics, but it was his mother-in-law's first trip IN HER LIFE and she was damned well gonna see Disney. So as the family was doing the tourist thing, I was sitting in my wheelchair in the middle of "Main Street USA" patiently waiting for them to finish. I pulled out my bottle of bubbles and in less than 3 minutes, had a gaggle of children running, jumping, playing, chasing bubbles and laughing. It was the best time I ever had at Disney.
Today I'm driving between assignments, long ass drive, I might add, and did my usual drive through lunch. Don't know why I did drive through, I had plenty of time to sit down to a real meal somewhere, guess habits are hard to break. Anyway, lunch over, and I'm at a stop light...yup, you guessed it...the bubbles come out. It's in the mid-40's, not too bad, but not going to drive with the window down for long. I recently found a great new bottle of bubbles, one that you can attach the wand directly to the cap, and it makes tons of bubbles. I stick the wand out the window and there's just enough breeze to blow them naturally. All of a sudden, there's this booming voice over a loudspeaker behind me, "nice bubbles". It took me a second, but when I looked in the rear view mirror, there was an ambulance 2 cars behind me. I simply waved, laughed, and reloaded my wand to blow bubbles as the light turned green.
For the record and general information, depending on the bubbles, wand and breeze, the top speed you can have your car before the bubbles simply don't work is about 12-18 mph. I've done studies, albeit not scientific, and this is what I've found to be true.
So, go spend a dollar or two, roll down your car windows, and brighten someone's day. It's a cheap, clean thrill.
I've been enjoying this little habit since I was in high school. I have to thank my friend Carolyn for the addiction. We were best buds as seniors, including the few years afterwards, and drove everywhere my little Chevette could handle, even places it couldn't. On one of our jaunts, it was warm and the windows were down...of course we were blowing bubbles. At one traffic light, a woman rolled down her window and told us it was the best birthday present she'd gotten all day. I was hooked. If a little thing like blowing bubbles can brighten someone's day, hell, sign me up.
I travel with my bubbles, putting them in a Ziploc for plane trips lest they explode or leak with the change of air pressure, and one of the best times I ever had was about 5 years ago at Disney. I was at a professional conference and joined a friend, his partner, mother-in-law and sister-in-law for a day at the Magic Kingdom. I'm not a huge Disney fan by nature or politics, but it was his mother-in-law's first trip IN HER LIFE and she was damned well gonna see Disney. So as the family was doing the tourist thing, I was sitting in my wheelchair in the middle of "Main Street USA" patiently waiting for them to finish. I pulled out my bottle of bubbles and in less than 3 minutes, had a gaggle of children running, jumping, playing, chasing bubbles and laughing. It was the best time I ever had at Disney.
Today I'm driving between assignments, long ass drive, I might add, and did my usual drive through lunch. Don't know why I did drive through, I had plenty of time to sit down to a real meal somewhere, guess habits are hard to break. Anyway, lunch over, and I'm at a stop light...yup, you guessed it...the bubbles come out. It's in the mid-40's, not too bad, but not going to drive with the window down for long. I recently found a great new bottle of bubbles, one that you can attach the wand directly to the cap, and it makes tons of bubbles. I stick the wand out the window and there's just enough breeze to blow them naturally. All of a sudden, there's this booming voice over a loudspeaker behind me, "nice bubbles". It took me a second, but when I looked in the rear view mirror, there was an ambulance 2 cars behind me. I simply waved, laughed, and reloaded my wand to blow bubbles as the light turned green.
For the record and general information, depending on the bubbles, wand and breeze, the top speed you can have your car before the bubbles simply don't work is about 12-18 mph. I've done studies, albeit not scientific, and this is what I've found to be true.
So, go spend a dollar or two, roll down your car windows, and brighten someone's day. It's a cheap, clean thrill.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Chemical assault
I'm not a big one for medications. Ok, if I need them, I take them, but if they can be avoided by using herbal remedies, alternative medicine or any other means, then I avoid them like the plague. If you saw my lifestyle, and pharmacy bills, in the past year or so, you would never know this is my philosophy. I was on fertility drugs for 7 months. That alone is enough to do major chemical assault on one's body. Then add the Nexium, 3 asthma meds and an anti-depressant...and you'd think I was supporting the pharmaceutical execs.
My nervous system has been taken over by a chemical assault from this medication I'm on, Lyrica, and I fucking hate it. On Monday the dosage was upped to the maximum, despite pretty much knowing this isn't working and I'm going to have to try yet another medication. My left palm has been itching like a motherfucker for a month. Everyone keeps telling me the old folk tale that an itchy left hand means I've got money coming in. Ok, great. Show me the fucking money, but in the meantime, it's driving me fucking NUTS. My left leg and foot have gotten weak, at least feeling that way if not actually weak. Today I was buzzing like I was stoned, feeling like my head was detached from my body and hyper as hell. My body was shaking, buzzing, hyper. I was having ocular migraines, not harmful or painful, but definitely bizarre and it makes driving a bit of a challenge. Needless to say, I want off this chemical roller coaster, but I'm sticking it out if it means I can get off my herbal medication and get my settlement from worker's comp.
Speaking of The Evil Empire, I finally emailed my attorney today, asking if my little plan has any hope of success. I await her reply. Not sure what I'm going to do if she says no, it won't help. On the one hand, I've never actually had the chance to sit in front of a judge and tell my complete story. In the almost 18 years of this shit, NEVER had the chance, and dammit, I want to do it. I want them to know what they've put me through. On the other hand, it would feel good (I think) to be able to let it all go and move on with my life. Then there's my fantasy of blowing the fucking place to smithereens. I would never do it of course, I'm not into the destruction of life, including my own, but just seeing the building explode would give me such satisfaction. I'd sit there with a bag of marshmallows, maybe a hot dog or two, and roast them over the burning rubble, awash in the knowledge that at least one link in the bureaucratic chain was cut. Ah, but I digress.
So yeah, I want to get off this chemical rollercoaster and stop the assault on my body. Give me back my medication of choice. It works, it doesn't destroy my body, and IT WORKS.
My nervous system has been taken over by a chemical assault from this medication I'm on, Lyrica, and I fucking hate it. On Monday the dosage was upped to the maximum, despite pretty much knowing this isn't working and I'm going to have to try yet another medication. My left palm has been itching like a motherfucker for a month. Everyone keeps telling me the old folk tale that an itchy left hand means I've got money coming in. Ok, great. Show me the fucking money, but in the meantime, it's driving me fucking NUTS. My left leg and foot have gotten weak, at least feeling that way if not actually weak. Today I was buzzing like I was stoned, feeling like my head was detached from my body and hyper as hell. My body was shaking, buzzing, hyper. I was having ocular migraines, not harmful or painful, but definitely bizarre and it makes driving a bit of a challenge. Needless to say, I want off this chemical roller coaster, but I'm sticking it out if it means I can get off my herbal medication and get my settlement from worker's comp.
Speaking of The Evil Empire, I finally emailed my attorney today, asking if my little plan has any hope of success. I await her reply. Not sure what I'm going to do if she says no, it won't help. On the one hand, I've never actually had the chance to sit in front of a judge and tell my complete story. In the almost 18 years of this shit, NEVER had the chance, and dammit, I want to do it. I want them to know what they've put me through. On the other hand, it would feel good (I think) to be able to let it all go and move on with my life. Then there's my fantasy of blowing the fucking place to smithereens. I would never do it of course, I'm not into the destruction of life, including my own, but just seeing the building explode would give me such satisfaction. I'd sit there with a bag of marshmallows, maybe a hot dog or two, and roast them over the burning rubble, awash in the knowledge that at least one link in the bureaucratic chain was cut. Ah, but I digress.
So yeah, I want to get off this chemical rollercoaster and stop the assault on my body. Give me back my medication of choice. It works, it doesn't destroy my body, and IT WORKS.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Tagging myself
I decided to tag myself and complete this meme. Ok, so it took me longer than I expected...this is hard!
Four non-interpreter jobs I've had:
1. EMT
2. Roofer/contract worker
3. short order cook
4. deli clerk
Four Authors, Books, or Series I read over and over:
1. Chronicles of Narnia/CS Lewis, but for his philosophies, not the religious undertones. I hated to learn about that aspect of his writing.
2. Barbara Kingsolver
3. Oprah books - ok, I'm a sucker for a happy ending
4. Cartoon collections of Dykes to Watch Out For and Bloom County
Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Shawshank Redemption
2. A League of Their Own
3. Like Water for Chocolate
4. The Wizard of Oz
Four TV shows I love(d):
1. ER - the earlier seasons were better, but I'm still addicted.
2. 24
3. Nova
4. CBS Sunday Morning
Four places I've lived:
1. Croton-on-Hudson, NY
2. Southampton, NY - I lived there, but didn't live the life
3. Big Pine Key, FL - ok, it was for summer camp, but it was 3 whole summers
4. Danbury, CT
Four places to vacation:
1. Florida Keys
2. Cape Cod - Provincetown
3. Any National Park in the western US
4. Any place where I can visit friends or family
Four sites I visit/use daily:
1. Faggots on the Third Floor
2. The local newspaper here
3. New Mobility Magazine
4. Google
Four people I'd like to meet in person, based on their blogs:
1. Estelle
2. Julie
3. any other blogger...I love meeting online people
4. ??
Four foods I yearn for:
1. Chocolate. In pretty much any form, except dark.
2. COFFEE (can you tell yet I'm a caffeine addict?)
3. a damn good steak, cooked medium rare
4. My cooking. Ok, so it's boasting, but I (and Debbie and all our friends) love my cooking.
Four inventions I'm grateful for:
1. The Internet
2. Radio
3. plastic, although I hate the ecological implications, it's incredibly useful
4. Velcro
Four musical choices for my personal soundtrack:
1. Indigo Girls - especially "Closer to Fine"
2. Laura Nyro
3. Woody Guthrie
4. WFUV
Four nouns that describe me:
1. Organizer - but not organized...ADD has seen to that
2. Crip - yeah, that word...has more of a political/pride impact
3. lesbian
4. Activist
Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:
Why should I tag anyone, I tagged myself.
Four non-interpreter jobs I've had:
1. EMT
2. Roofer/contract worker
3. short order cook
4. deli clerk
Four Authors, Books, or Series I read over and over:
1. Chronicles of Narnia/CS Lewis, but for his philosophies, not the religious undertones. I hated to learn about that aspect of his writing.
2. Barbara Kingsolver
3. Oprah books - ok, I'm a sucker for a happy ending
4. Cartoon collections of Dykes to Watch Out For and Bloom County
Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Shawshank Redemption
2. A League of Their Own
3. Like Water for Chocolate
4. The Wizard of Oz
Four TV shows I love(d):
1. ER - the earlier seasons were better, but I'm still addicted.
2. 24
3. Nova
4. CBS Sunday Morning
Four places I've lived:
1. Croton-on-Hudson, NY
2. Southampton, NY - I lived there, but didn't live the life
3. Big Pine Key, FL - ok, it was for summer camp, but it was 3 whole summers
4. Danbury, CT
Four places to vacation:
1. Florida Keys
2. Cape Cod - Provincetown
3. Any National Park in the western US
4. Any place where I can visit friends or family
Four sites I visit/use daily:
1. Faggots on the Third Floor
2. The local newspaper here
3. New Mobility Magazine
4. Google
Four people I'd like to meet in person, based on their blogs:
1. Estelle
2. Julie
3. any other blogger...I love meeting online people
4. ??
Four foods I yearn for:
1. Chocolate. In pretty much any form, except dark.
2. COFFEE (can you tell yet I'm a caffeine addict?)
3. a damn good steak, cooked medium rare
4. My cooking. Ok, so it's boasting, but I (and Debbie and all our friends) love my cooking.
Four inventions I'm grateful for:
1. The Internet
2. Radio
3. plastic, although I hate the ecological implications, it's incredibly useful
4. Velcro
Four musical choices for my personal soundtrack:
1. Indigo Girls - especially "Closer to Fine"
2. Laura Nyro
3. Woody Guthrie
4. WFUV
Four nouns that describe me:
1. Organizer - but not organized...ADD has seen to that
2. Crip - yeah, that word...has more of a political/pride impact
3. lesbian
4. Activist
Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:
Why should I tag anyone, I tagged myself.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Vicarious Trauma
I hate hearing people. There are days where I simply hate hearing people. Not for being hearing per se, but for the attitudes, ignorance, arrogance and pure stupidity around Deaf people and deafness.
I had an assignment this morning, the kind that tears at your heart, makes you enraged, and makes you hate yourself for delivering the message. It's a relatively common message, hundreds of American families say it every day.."it's time to leave your home and make the move to an assisted living facility or nursing home." It fucking sucks, but for most hearing people, it's a discussion, an acceptance, and making the decision for yourself. Then if you're Deaf, you often have hearing familiy members making the decisions for you. It's a patronizing, demeaning thing and I want to stomp on all the hearing people who do it. Vicarious trauma is a bitch.
I get to my assignment this morning with the information that it's about discharge and planning meeting. Seems benign enough. The first person I meet in the lobby for the meeting is a lawyer. This is not going to be good. After the family and my client's husband come, we all go upstairs for the meeting. During the meeting, the social worker, physical therapists, lawyer, and family are all talking over each other and their heads, having multiple conversations at once, making these decisions, and getting annoyed that the patient is non-compliant with physical therapy. I'm stuck in the middle, trying to interpret what's going on and trying to follow 3 or 4 conversations at the same time. Several times I stopped the conversations and asked them to speak one at a time, letting me catch up. That lasted for about a minute and then the mayhem began again. When the therapists complained about her being non-compliant, I couldn't remain silent and "impartial". I simply asked if they had ever had an interpreter with them during her sessions. The room pretty much got silent. Fucking DUH. She may very well be a stubborn pain in the ass, but at least make the fucking effort to communicate fully with her before you label her. The final decisions were made by the family members and social worker. The husband basically had no say in the matter, his only option was to agree to their terms. How fucking oppressive!
I.wanted.to.scream. I wanted to join Estelle's quest for boiling orange juice. I hated them for doing it and I hated myself for passing along the message. I also hated myself for not stopping the conversations more and emphasizing that he needed time to process what they were saying. They were changing his life without his consent. I left there feeling dirty. I felt like I committed a crime against this man and basically ended his life as he knew it. God sometimes this work totally sucks.
I had an assignment this morning, the kind that tears at your heart, makes you enraged, and makes you hate yourself for delivering the message. It's a relatively common message, hundreds of American families say it every day.."it's time to leave your home and make the move to an assisted living facility or nursing home." It fucking sucks, but for most hearing people, it's a discussion, an acceptance, and making the decision for yourself. Then if you're Deaf, you often have hearing familiy members making the decisions for you. It's a patronizing, demeaning thing and I want to stomp on all the hearing people who do it. Vicarious trauma is a bitch.
I get to my assignment this morning with the information that it's about discharge and planning meeting. Seems benign enough. The first person I meet in the lobby for the meeting is a lawyer. This is not going to be good. After the family and my client's husband come, we all go upstairs for the meeting. During the meeting, the social worker, physical therapists, lawyer, and family are all talking over each other and their heads, having multiple conversations at once, making these decisions, and getting annoyed that the patient is non-compliant with physical therapy. I'm stuck in the middle, trying to interpret what's going on and trying to follow 3 or 4 conversations at the same time. Several times I stopped the conversations and asked them to speak one at a time, letting me catch up. That lasted for about a minute and then the mayhem began again. When the therapists complained about her being non-compliant, I couldn't remain silent and "impartial". I simply asked if they had ever had an interpreter with them during her sessions. The room pretty much got silent. Fucking DUH. She may very well be a stubborn pain in the ass, but at least make the fucking effort to communicate fully with her before you label her. The final decisions were made by the family members and social worker. The husband basically had no say in the matter, his only option was to agree to their terms. How fucking oppressive!
I.wanted.to.scream. I wanted to join Estelle's quest for boiling orange juice. I hated them for doing it and I hated myself for passing along the message. I also hated myself for not stopping the conversations more and emphasizing that he needed time to process what they were saying. They were changing his life without his consent. I left there feeling dirty. I felt like I committed a crime against this man and basically ended his life as he knew it. God sometimes this work totally sucks.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
It's official
I admit it, I do stupid things. Usually way too often for my own good and way too many times for me to list or admit, but I do stoopit things. Yesterday was one of my more classic attempts at getting a Darwin Award. I may win one yet, I'm at least a nominee for this one.
I was getting gas and had to wash my rear window. Now, my legs don't work, this is not news, but my left leg, for some reason, has lately been much worse than usual. I started a new medication for my pain about 3 weeks ago and I'm thinking it's simply a symptom of chemical assault on my nervous system, but the result is that my left leg that I normally depend on, is on the fritz. I'm not used to this new development. So ...back to the story...I'm getting gas and need to wash my rear window. I already have the nozzle in my car, hose dangling, tempting me. I have a dripping wet squeegee in hand, all eager to have a clean view of the cars behind me, and instead of doing the logical thing and walking around my car, I step over the gas hose. Hey, it's a shorter trip...trip being the key word. Yup, my left foot gets caught on the hose and I take a flying header onto the pavement, landing on my right knee. FUCKING OUCH. I'm sure this is all on security film somewhere, news at 11, but nobody from the gas station even opened the door and yelled, nada. One guy from 2 pumps away came over and offerd to help me up. By that time, I had already managed to get up, but in lots of pain...something that instantly has me concerned because my right leg doesn't normally feel pain, or at least doesn't feel it in a normal way. I have two nice abrasions on my very swollen, stiff, sore and bruised knee. The last time something like this happened, I had actually fractured my patella and didn't know it for 2 weeks, too late to do anything about it.
I'm debating about dealing with the emergency room tonight. I can pretty much guarantee that I won't get an appointment with an orthopedist for at least a week or more, too late if it's the fracture that I suspect. Shit. Well, my first assignment tomorrow isn't until 11am, so if it drags on, it won't be too bad. Let's see...what's my deductible for the emergency room?
I was getting gas and had to wash my rear window. Now, my legs don't work, this is not news, but my left leg, for some reason, has lately been much worse than usual. I started a new medication for my pain about 3 weeks ago and I'm thinking it's simply a symptom of chemical assault on my nervous system, but the result is that my left leg that I normally depend on, is on the fritz. I'm not used to this new development. So ...back to the story...I'm getting gas and need to wash my rear window. I already have the nozzle in my car, hose dangling, tempting me. I have a dripping wet squeegee in hand, all eager to have a clean view of the cars behind me, and instead of doing the logical thing and walking around my car, I step over the gas hose. Hey, it's a shorter trip...trip being the key word. Yup, my left foot gets caught on the hose and I take a flying header onto the pavement, landing on my right knee. FUCKING OUCH. I'm sure this is all on security film somewhere, news at 11, but nobody from the gas station even opened the door and yelled, nada. One guy from 2 pumps away came over and offerd to help me up. By that time, I had already managed to get up, but in lots of pain...something that instantly has me concerned because my right leg doesn't normally feel pain, or at least doesn't feel it in a normal way. I have two nice abrasions on my very swollen, stiff, sore and bruised knee. The last time something like this happened, I had actually fractured my patella and didn't know it for 2 weeks, too late to do anything about it.
I'm debating about dealing with the emergency room tonight. I can pretty much guarantee that I won't get an appointment with an orthopedist for at least a week or more, too late if it's the fracture that I suspect. Shit. Well, my first assignment tomorrow isn't until 11am, so if it drags on, it won't be too bad. Let's see...what's my deductible for the emergency room?
Saturday, February 18, 2006
WTF
Ok, so what the fuck has happened to my blog? It seems as though it's been taken over and redesigned, placing the left column, that is, my profile, all the links, all the fun stuff, all the way at the bottom of the page. Methinks it's got something to do with the last post, that it somehow reformatted the page. Perhaps if I just keep posting more, regardless of how silly it might be, it will resolve itself. If not, then I'll just have to ask Estelle how the hell to change it back.
Speaking of Estelle...I'm thrilled that Charlie is healing and appears to be a normal, healthy, happy baby boy. He's always been happy, well, for the most part, but now it really shows. Way to go Charlie!!! Oh, and thanks to the docs who finally figured it out.
Estelle and Jean are really struggling with the bills. Charlie's medical expenses are astronomical and in the meantime, Charlie is growing and needing new diapers and whatnot, not to mention they have the regular household bills. It's definitely not easy, but I'm so glad so many people have stepped forward and offered assistance. I feel guilty as shit that I've done basically nothing for them so far. I have to call and see what else is needed. Maybe a Target gift certificate, I don't know. I have to do something. I've been a lousy friend. I hope Estelle can forgive me.
Speaking of Estelle...I'm thrilled that Charlie is healing and appears to be a normal, healthy, happy baby boy. He's always been happy, well, for the most part, but now it really shows. Way to go Charlie!!! Oh, and thanks to the docs who finally figured it out.
Estelle and Jean are really struggling with the bills. Charlie's medical expenses are astronomical and in the meantime, Charlie is growing and needing new diapers and whatnot, not to mention they have the regular household bills. It's definitely not easy, but I'm so glad so many people have stepped forward and offered assistance. I feel guilty as shit that I've done basically nothing for them so far. I have to call and see what else is needed. Maybe a Target gift certificate, I don't know. I have to do something. I've been a lousy friend. I hope Estelle can forgive me.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Jumping on the bandwagon
Why not, I'll join the craze
| Roberta -- [noun]: A person with a taste for acorns 'How" will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
| Debbie -- [noun]: A person who likes to steal tins of tuna 'How" will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
More pictures?
Oh, and if you want to see more pictures of the snow, if you haven't had enough from the news, let me know and I'll send them to you.
The great blizzard of '06
One word...snow. Over 2.5 feet of the white fluffy stuff, not counting the drifts. It's well past my knees. Ok, I'm short, but it's still deep. Debbie woke up wanting to watch the news and check the weather. Basically, every channel has 2, 3 or more reporters at various locations around the region all saying the same thing - it's snowing, don't drive if you don't have to, and shoveling sucks. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out, but, Debbie insisted on watching the news for the information. She wanted to know how much to expect. I made breakfast and we basically hung out all day. A little puttering here, a little munching there. Oh, and fulfilling our only purpose in life - to feed and let the dogs out (and in).
There's one channel in CT, Channel 3, that always has to name every storm that's more than flurries. This one is Carson. I don't know why they do it, maybe it carries a more dire message than the word blizzard. I don't know, but trudging through two feet of snow and falling on my ass does it for me. The big dogs, Maggie and Jack, had fun anyway, but neither would venture out into uncharted territory, not even for a prized game of fetch. The little poodle mix, Pepe, it was a struggle just to get him outside and farther than the deck to lift his leg. He went out (how dare we), peed, and beelined for the door. No pictures of him, but I have a couple of Maggie and Jack.
Maggie running back after realizing she's in too deep
There's one channel in CT, Channel 3, that always has to name every storm that's more than flurries. This one is Carson. I don't know why they do it, maybe it carries a more dire message than the word blizzard. I don't know, but trudging through two feet of snow and falling on my ass does it for me. The big dogs, Maggie and Jack, had fun anyway, but neither would venture out into uncharted territory, not even for a prized game of fetch. The little poodle mix, Pepe, it was a struggle just to get him outside and farther than the deck to lift his leg. He went out (how dare we), peed, and beelined for the door. No pictures of him, but I have a couple of Maggie and Jack.
Maggie running back after realizing she's in too deep
Jack, also in too deep
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Remind me again why we have dogs?
After a long day and hoping to get to sleep early, I went to make the bed. Debbie had stripped it for laundry and couldn't get back downstairs to get clean sheets...her back has been sore. So I head into the bedroom with clean sheets in hand, reach down to move the blankets and pillows, and there's WET spots on both the blankets and pillows. Look up...no leak in the ceiling (thank God). With dread, I sniff the offending wet spot, hoping it's not what I fear.
FUCK! It's not the result of Pepe's neurotic licking, but DOG PISS! Debbie thinks it might be from the cat, but trust me, it's not cat piss. There's no mistaking that. I don't know who did it, but I have my suspicions. Jack is notorious for pissing on things to make a point, especially OUR things. When I catch the bastard, I swear I'm gonna tie a knot in his dick. Call it animal cruelty if you wish, but you try living with a dog who pees on things. The rugs I can deal with...annoying and a waste of money to replace them, but manageable. Peeing on OUR BED, the door, all over the sun room and the furniture there, the table legs in the bird room...this is going too far.
So tonight we sleep without pillows and tomorrow I head to the chiropractor and Bed Bath and Beyond, in that order.
FUCK! It's not the result of Pepe's neurotic licking, but DOG PISS! Debbie thinks it might be from the cat, but trust me, it's not cat piss. There's no mistaking that. I don't know who did it, but I have my suspicions. Jack is notorious for pissing on things to make a point, especially OUR things. When I catch the bastard, I swear I'm gonna tie a knot in his dick. Call it animal cruelty if you wish, but you try living with a dog who pees on things. The rugs I can deal with...annoying and a waste of money to replace them, but manageable. Peeing on OUR BED, the door, all over the sun room and the furniture there, the table legs in the bird room...this is going too far.
So tonight we sleep without pillows and tomorrow I head to the chiropractor and Bed Bath and Beyond, in that order.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Crafting with a friend
Debbie has been so jealous of my friend Bridget it's driving me nuts. It's more like jealousy of the friendship and connection we have, than of Bridget herself. She has even accused me of having an emotional affair.
Bridget and I have a close connection for many reasons. We both deal with depression and we both had pretty fucked up childhoods. Debbie did too, but she doesn't admit to it easily. Bridget and I outright say our mothers were/are a big reason for many of our problems. Bridget and I also have our work in common and work with many of the same clients, and therefore can totally commiserate when we have one of those days. We have also been roommates twice for national conferences. We're just really great friends and Debbie has a hard time with it.
Yesterday, Bridget and I met at her apartment and did crafting. I'm not a huge crafting person. I feel like I don't have the creative streak needed for the hobby and get frustrated easily when something doesn't look exactly the way I want it. I can go into a craft store, get ideas, and then do nothing with them. I'd much rather go into Home Depot. That said, we do have a dozen or so stamps that we have used maybe a dozen times in 15 years. They're usually only dug out for Christmas to make to/from tags and not much else. When I told Bridget that we have stamps, there was a gleeful spark in her eye, that maybe, perhaps, she could make a convert out of me. Bridget is HUGELY into crafting, invading craft stores on a regular basis, learning new techniques, and meeting other friends across the state to craft together. So off I go yesterday to her apartment with stamps, a few ink pads, no idea what to expect and the promise of awesome munchies.
We sat at the table and made cards and I had fun. I allowed myself to get creative, play with the designs and colors, and actually create a couple of cards that I'm proud of. I honestly never thought I could do it. I know my frustration level and my history of ripping, crushing, otherwise destroying something I made that wasn't exactly to my precise liking. I was not looking forward to having a hissy over a smeared stamp, and especially not in front of a friend. I was pleasantly surprised at both my artistic ability and my emotional stability. One of the cards was a sweet, mushy "I love you" type card for Debbie, the other, for a friend going through some hard times.
Now Debbie is insane about the animals...they routinely get fed dinner at or around 5pm. They are convinced they will die of starvation if dinner is served even a few minutes later. I have many fears for these animals, but starvation isn't one of them. I didn't get home from Bridget's until around 8:30, and Debbie called me just as I was getting off the highway. When she found out I wasn't home yet and the poor dogs were eating dinner so late, she had a hissy and hung up on me. Fast forward to about 11pm when she got home. She walked in still pissed and looking for a fight. I had put the mushy card where she could find it, and when she did, she got all sheepish and asked if she was being a schmuck. I just told her to open it, and when she did, acknowledged that yes, she was being a schmuck and apologized for being so rude. She didn't forgive me for being late to feed the dogs, but she did realize that her jealousy is unfounded.
I just hope it continues cuz frankly, it's getting tiring having to defend myself for no good reason.
Bridget and I have a close connection for many reasons. We both deal with depression and we both had pretty fucked up childhoods. Debbie did too, but she doesn't admit to it easily. Bridget and I outright say our mothers were/are a big reason for many of our problems. Bridget and I also have our work in common and work with many of the same clients, and therefore can totally commiserate when we have one of those days. We have also been roommates twice for national conferences. We're just really great friends and Debbie has a hard time with it.
Yesterday, Bridget and I met at her apartment and did crafting. I'm not a huge crafting person. I feel like I don't have the creative streak needed for the hobby and get frustrated easily when something doesn't look exactly the way I want it. I can go into a craft store, get ideas, and then do nothing with them. I'd much rather go into Home Depot. That said, we do have a dozen or so stamps that we have used maybe a dozen times in 15 years. They're usually only dug out for Christmas to make to/from tags and not much else. When I told Bridget that we have stamps, there was a gleeful spark in her eye, that maybe, perhaps, she could make a convert out of me. Bridget is HUGELY into crafting, invading craft stores on a regular basis, learning new techniques, and meeting other friends across the state to craft together. So off I go yesterday to her apartment with stamps, a few ink pads, no idea what to expect and the promise of awesome munchies.
We sat at the table and made cards and I had fun. I allowed myself to get creative, play with the designs and colors, and actually create a couple of cards that I'm proud of. I honestly never thought I could do it. I know my frustration level and my history of ripping, crushing, otherwise destroying something I made that wasn't exactly to my precise liking. I was not looking forward to having a hissy over a smeared stamp, and especially not in front of a friend. I was pleasantly surprised at both my artistic ability and my emotional stability. One of the cards was a sweet, mushy "I love you" type card for Debbie, the other, for a friend going through some hard times.
Now Debbie is insane about the animals...they routinely get fed dinner at or around 5pm. They are convinced they will die of starvation if dinner is served even a few minutes later. I have many fears for these animals, but starvation isn't one of them. I didn't get home from Bridget's until around 8:30, and Debbie called me just as I was getting off the highway. When she found out I wasn't home yet and the poor dogs were eating dinner so late, she had a hissy and hung up on me. Fast forward to about 11pm when she got home. She walked in still pissed and looking for a fight. I had put the mushy card where she could find it, and when she did, she got all sheepish and asked if she was being a schmuck. I just told her to open it, and when she did, acknowledged that yes, she was being a schmuck and apologized for being so rude. She didn't forgive me for being late to feed the dogs, but she did realize that her jealousy is unfounded.
I just hope it continues cuz frankly, it's getting tiring having to defend myself for no good reason.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Glowing in the dark
I am simply flabbergasted, not to mention boiling mad, at an x-ray tech from tonight's emergency. I went to a hospital emergency room to interpret, nothing major, sore back from a fall. The doc orders x-rays to rule out fractured ribs. Pretty basic. The tech comes in to take her patient/my client, and is arguing with me about my right to go with them, saying I'm not allowed. This is a regular issue with this woman. Every time I've dealt with her, she's said the same thing. I always go with my client, it's a basic communication issue and the law. Despite this, she's still being confrontational, finally saying she's tired of arguing with me and storming out with the patient and I behind her.
Ok fine, we get down to the room, she positions him for the pictures, really not saying much, and then quietly walks behind me. I'm still signing to him, making sure he's ok, understands, has no metal on him, etc, and she fucking takes the x-ray! I'm not 2 feet from the machine, no lead on, never asked if I was pregnant (ok, I'm not, but she should still ask), and she shoots the fucking film! I was too much in shock to say anything. The next time she positioned him and started to walk towards the control area, I pointedly said I'd be joining her behind the safety glass this time. She never suggested I join her, *I* had to say something and take it upon myself to ensure my safety. After the x-rays were done, as we were leaving the room, she made a point of saying, "See, I didn't need you. We did fine." BITCH
When we got back to the exam area, I told the doctor that I wanted that tech's name and the name of the chief of radiology. I told her what happened in the room and was going to file a formal complaint. She and a colleague there totally agreed with me and were just as shocked by her behavior and attitude from before. When she was discharging the patient, she gave me the names and apparently had also written down everything in the patient's chart. I hadn't asked her, suggested or anything, but she and the other doc there felt it was very important to have everything that occurred documented and she wrote a detailed account of what happened. I LOVE that she did this. It's totally documented and not just my word.
I've been interpreting in medical settings for 6 years and have NEVER had someone so callously disregard my safety. They are usually falling over themselves to make sure I'm ok and not in danger. I expect attitudes. Many people are not used to working with interpreters and they get territorial and defensive. I can deal with the attitude, don't put my ass in danger because you've got a problem. That's beyond over the line and don't fuck with me and my safety. I will burn your ass.
So tomorrow I plan to meet with my boss and/or the department head in my agency and tell them what happened and that I want to file a formal complaint. If it was just me, I'd do it on my own, but since it happened through work, I feel like I should go through them to figure out the best way to handle it. I so want this tech to be suspended, get a formal reprimand, go through recertification, even lose her license. Something to massively kick her ass. Maybe now they will figure out how to get the radiation tags that measure exposure that I've been asking for for 5 years.
Ok fine, we get down to the room, she positions him for the pictures, really not saying much, and then quietly walks behind me. I'm still signing to him, making sure he's ok, understands, has no metal on him, etc, and she fucking takes the x-ray! I'm not 2 feet from the machine, no lead on, never asked if I was pregnant (ok, I'm not, but she should still ask), and she shoots the fucking film! I was too much in shock to say anything. The next time she positioned him and started to walk towards the control area, I pointedly said I'd be joining her behind the safety glass this time. She never suggested I join her, *I* had to say something and take it upon myself to ensure my safety. After the x-rays were done, as we were leaving the room, she made a point of saying, "See, I didn't need you. We did fine." BITCH
When we got back to the exam area, I told the doctor that I wanted that tech's name and the name of the chief of radiology. I told her what happened in the room and was going to file a formal complaint. She and a colleague there totally agreed with me and were just as shocked by her behavior and attitude from before. When she was discharging the patient, she gave me the names and apparently had also written down everything in the patient's chart. I hadn't asked her, suggested or anything, but she and the other doc there felt it was very important to have everything that occurred documented and she wrote a detailed account of what happened. I LOVE that she did this. It's totally documented and not just my word.
I've been interpreting in medical settings for 6 years and have NEVER had someone so callously disregard my safety. They are usually falling over themselves to make sure I'm ok and not in danger. I expect attitudes. Many people are not used to working with interpreters and they get territorial and defensive. I can deal with the attitude, don't put my ass in danger because you've got a problem. That's beyond over the line and don't fuck with me and my safety. I will burn your ass.
So tomorrow I plan to meet with my boss and/or the department head in my agency and tell them what happened and that I want to file a formal complaint. If it was just me, I'd do it on my own, but since it happened through work, I feel like I should go through them to figure out the best way to handle it. I so want this tech to be suspended, get a formal reprimand, go through recertification, even lose her license. Something to massively kick her ass. Maybe now they will figure out how to get the radiation tags that measure exposure that I've been asking for for 5 years.
Monday, January 30, 2006
I am not a crook
Will wonders never cease...I was able to walk through Home Depot again today and place items in my jacket without being followed by a security twit. I figure it's one of 3 reasons.
1) They actually learned a lesson and knew I wasn't stealing - HA! Not a fucking chance
2) They figured I wouldn't be stupid enough to walk out the door with a large item sticking out of my pocket - seriously doubt this, too
3) Nobody actually saw me put anything in my pocket - most probable
Whatever. I was able to shop in peace and that's what matters.
1) They actually learned a lesson and knew I wasn't stealing - HA! Not a fucking chance
2) They figured I wouldn't be stupid enough to walk out the door with a large item sticking out of my pocket - seriously doubt this, too
3) Nobody actually saw me put anything in my pocket - most probable
Whatever. I was able to shop in peace and that's what matters.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
FUCK YOU Fairfax
Since Estelle is the only person to read this blog so far, it's more like preaching to the choir, but I just have to say that I am beyond outraged at Fairfax Cryobank for being such slimy, greedy, unethical, immoral pricks. Charlie's donor was known to have produced at least one child with skin and other health problems, yet the problems were undisclosed by Fairfax. Fairfax knew of these problems WEEKS before Charlie was even conceived, yet they showed a blatant disregard for a child's health and released the donor's sperm anyway. The donor either didn't know or chose to hide the fact that this was a problem, but Fairfax is ethically, morally and I hope legally responsible for notifying recipients, disclosing the issues, or removing the donor from the registry. I hope Estelle and Jean sue the living shit out of Fairfax and get tons of money for Charlie's medical bills, research into his condition, hell, even have his college paid for.
In the meantime, Charlie remains bright-eyed, smiling, cute as hell and loving his life with his mommies despite living with a painful skin condition and infections. He is an amazing human being, even at his tender age. Then again, so are his parents.
In the meantime, Charlie remains bright-eyed, smiling, cute as hell and loving his life with his mommies despite living with a painful skin condition and infections. He is an amazing human being, even at his tender age. Then again, so are his parents.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Joining the club
Ten Top Trivia Tips about Roberta!
- There is no lead in a lead pencil - it is simply a stick of graphite mixed with Roberta and water!
- Roberta will become gaseous if her temperature rises above -42°C.
- Pound for pound, hamburgers cost more than Roberta!
- In 1982 Time Magazine named Roberta its 'Man of the Year'!
- Roberta is only six percent water.
- The Asteroid Belt between Mars and Jupiter is made entirely of Roberta.
- Roberta will often glow under UV light.
- Roberta is physically incapable of sticking her tongue out.
- Three seagulls flying overhead are a warning that Roberta is near.
- It takes a lobster approximately 7 years to grow to be Roberta.
Number 2, well, Debbie can attest to that; Number 8...bad news for Debbie
Ten Top Trivia Tips about Debbie!
- It takes a lobster approximately 7 years to grow to be Debbie.
- If every star in the Milky Way was a grain of salt they would fill Debbie.
- Debbie can remain conscious for fifteen to twenty seconds after being decapitated.
- Debbie can use only about ten percent of her brain.
- A female ferret will die if it goes into heat and cannot find Debbie.
- You should always store Debbie in an airtight container in the fridge.
- Pacman was originally called Debbieman.
- The porpoise is second to Debbie as the most intelligent animal on the planet.
- If you toss Debbie 10000 times, she will not land heads 5000 times, but more like 4950, because her head weighs more and thus ends up on the bottom!
- About 100 people choke to death on Debbie each year.
Stupid cat
It's official, we have a stupid cat. It hasn't yet been determined by a vet or other professional, but trust me, she's stupid.
We have a thing in the sun room that we found at a craft fair many years ago. It's a hanging piece, made of woven vine with dried flowers and a fake nest with an equally fake bird in it. Nothing too fancy or wonderful, but cute enough to hang in the sun room.
Now for the stupid part...for the almost 4 years of this cat's life here, she's perched herself on the sun room table, stalking the fake bird. This thing obviously doesn't move and I'm sure there's no alluring scent, so why the cat feels the need to stalk and hunt this plastic thing is beyond me. I mean shit, if she wanted to stalk a bird, we have 3 in cages in another room and they move and smell like birds. Don't get me wrong, she does go into their room, but after perching herself near the window, occasionally looking at our captive birds but mostly at the wild ones, she goes and curls up on a pillow in the same room and naps.
This cat also prefers dry dog food to her own food. I know, stolen food always tastes better.
This is also the same cat who caught and played with a mouse, only to let it go when she got bored.
The cat is not normal.
We have a thing in the sun room that we found at a craft fair many years ago. It's a hanging piece, made of woven vine with dried flowers and a fake nest with an equally fake bird in it. Nothing too fancy or wonderful, but cute enough to hang in the sun room.
Now for the stupid part...for the almost 4 years of this cat's life here, she's perched herself on the sun room table, stalking the fake bird. This thing obviously doesn't move and I'm sure there's no alluring scent, so why the cat feels the need to stalk and hunt this plastic thing is beyond me. I mean shit, if she wanted to stalk a bird, we have 3 in cages in another room and they move and smell like birds. Don't get me wrong, she does go into their room, but after perching herself near the window, occasionally looking at our captive birds but mostly at the wild ones, she goes and curls up on a pillow in the same room and naps.
This cat also prefers dry dog food to her own food. I know, stolen food always tastes better.
This is also the same cat who caught and played with a mouse, only to let it go when she got bored.
The cat is not normal.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Store security geeks suck
People can be so fucking stupid. I go to our local Home Depot pretty regularly, at least 3 or 4 times a month, and when I'm picking up little things, I generally don't use a hand basket because, well, they're difficult for me with my crutches and simply a pain in the ass. I don't see the need to push around a big cart when I'm just picking up a few little items, either. Seems too much like overkill.
So here I am, walking through Home Depot and picking up a few things along the way, putting them into my jacket pockets and a bag I have on my crutch, and lo and behold, a store undercover security geek is following me around. He spent 20 minutes watching me, trying to be coy and pretend not to follow, but after I picked up my last item, I made eye contact, and called him an asshole. I checked out and went directly over to customer service where I placed a complaint with a manager and promptly got an appology. I also told him the jerk needs better training because he was easy to figure out.
I mean really, I know I'm putting things in my pocket, but do the fucking math....I'm on crutches and can't carry things like everyone else. It pissed me off but was also quite demeaning and frankly, not very disability positive. I'm going to write a formal letter to Home Depot corporate and tell them to do some training regarding disability and plain logic.
So here I am, walking through Home Depot and picking up a few things along the way, putting them into my jacket pockets and a bag I have on my crutch, and lo and behold, a store undercover security geek is following me around. He spent 20 minutes watching me, trying to be coy and pretend not to follow, but after I picked up my last item, I made eye contact, and called him an asshole. I checked out and went directly over to customer service where I placed a complaint with a manager and promptly got an appology. I also told him the jerk needs better training because he was easy to figure out.
I mean really, I know I'm putting things in my pocket, but do the fucking math....I'm on crutches and can't carry things like everyone else. It pissed me off but was also quite demeaning and frankly, not very disability positive. I'm going to write a formal letter to Home Depot corporate and tell them to do some training regarding disability and plain logic.
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