The Ballad of JC Penney

The following is a copy of the e-mail I just sent to JC Penney "customer care" following a series of ridiculous service failures.  It's long, so I'm going to put it behind the jump, but if you're interested in call center or supply chain logistics, then this is the post for you!

Finding My Voice...in Bangladesh??

I was taken aback by my own passion earlier today.  Though I can rant about non-issues like door slamming neighbors and unfairness at work with aplomb (please tell me I'm using that right...), it's rare that I find myself really caring about something important. 

Global warming?  Bad...but not going to be solved by me.
Dogfighting? Bad...but what would I do?  It's not like I know anyone who participates...

Generally, I hear things that make me sad for a few minutes and then I move on to rainbows and puppies and unicorns.  But this thing keeps nipping at the back of my mind, and I think maybe this time I'm going to act.

My "History of Work in America" class requires a weekly discussion forum, where we read a series of required "primary source" articles (and occasionally watch video clips), choose one question from a list of about 10, form an opinion, cite two of the sources, and blather for a minimum of 150 words.  We then choose a classmate's post and comment on their use of the source materials and whether they proved their point, in a minimum of 100 words.  That's it - nothing to it - easy points.  So this week, the question I selected was the following:

Could you conclude that sweatshops exist in developing nations because a developing nation--like the United States was in the nineteenth century--must go through the historical phase of harsh economic development in order for that developing nation to develop a modern economy?

My Opinion:
Nope...Sweatshops are NOT OK

My answer to this question can be summed up in two words: absolutely not.  Arguing that slave wages and unsafe working conditions are in any way “necessary” promotes consumerism at the expense of basic human rights.

We meet John Keady in the video, “Nike Sweatshops and the Sydney Olympics.” Keady researched working conditions in Indonesia and decided to see for himself whether the jobs were livable.  Not only did Keady lose 25 pounds in the month he worked in a Nike factory, but his wages were barely enough to pay for a rat-infested room and enough food to subsist on.  His decision to put an American face and voice to a first-hand worker account brought the plight of the workers to middle-class consumers around the world.

Meanwhile, the Stossel video “Are Sweatshops factories good?” is nothing more than a condescension against human rights protestors.  He managed to find a few people from developing countries to extol the virtues of factories.  His report is not very in-depth, and sounds like a commercial for these factories.

Another first-person account came from the article “Working Overtime to Vanquish Sweatshops.”   One immigrant, the daughter of factory workers, recalls her childhood: ''My mother was working 15 hours days,'' Betty Yu said. ''I didn't know my mother. I didn't know my father. They were at work when I woke up and when I went to bed at night.”  While this account probably mirrors that of children of nineteenth century US factory workers, one important differentiation can be made: though conditions then were deplorable, with long hours and dangerous working conditions, people around the world were immigrating to the US in massive numbers.  The bad conditions here were still better than the terrible conditions they left behind.  Who is immigrating to Bangladesh today?

Sources:

John Stossel ABC News: Are Sweatshops Factories Good?Sky TV: Nike Sweatshops and the Sydney Olympics
NY Times: Working overtime to banish sweatshops

Generally speaking, my commentaries hit right around 175 words.  So the fact that I managed to ramble on so extensively on this topic surprised me.  But hey - it's good to enjoy an assignment every now and then!  Today, I read an opposing viewpoint from one of my classmates.  I'd also like to share her commentary, followed by my response...

Sweatshops Boost the Economy * I would absolutely agree that developing nations must endure the same phase of harsh economic development that the U.S. did in order to develop a thriving economy; and utilizing labor to produce products sold in America is a great way to develop that economy. It’s called globalization “the development of an increasingly integrated global economy marked especially by free trade, free flow of capital, and the tapping of cheaper foreign labor markets,” as defined by Webster. Newer generations in India, Africa, China and Korea live better than the older generations before them because of production for U.S. goods (Are Sweatshop Factories Good?).   

The video (Nike Sweatshops and the Sydney Olympics) proved that globalization does work. That video was made in 2000? According to the Jakarta Globe, by early 2013, Nike planned to make the manufacturing plant in Jakarta “the largest manufacturing base for Nike apart from China and Vietnam.” Minimum wage was raised by 44%. That’s more than a 3 ½ percent increase in the cost of living per year. That’s a bigger cost of living wage than some American workers earn in  a year. 

Response:
As much as I love the idea of globalization and a global economy, I believe that a truly global economy should have standardized minimum wages (based on the nation's economy, of course) and a certain minimum of guaranteed worker safety.  I acknowledge that factories are not all sweatshops, and that for some workers in developing countries (as well as workers in this country) factories are perfectly safe and pay a decent wage.

I am very confused by your perspective that the Sydney Olympics video shows globalization in a positive light.  And while I find your statistics on the rising minimum wage a positive sign, I'd also like to point out that money doesn't do these workers any good if they die in an industrial accident due to their deplorable working conditions.  Just in the past six months in Bangladesh:

* November 2012: 117 killed in clothing factory fire
* April 2013: 1,000+ killed in factory collapse
* May 2013: 8 people killed in factory fire
* ...and just this week: finally, Bangladesh gives factory workers the right to unionize.  However, I wanted to highlight the following quote, pulled from the last article (emphasis mine):

"The government is in talks with labour groups and factory owners on a new minimum wage for the garment sector. Its current $38-per-month minimum pay is half what Cambodian garment workers earn.

 

Bangladesh last increased its minimum garment-worker pay in late 2010, almost doubling the lowest pay. This time, wages are unlikely to go much higher as factory owners, who oppose the raise, say they cannot afford higher salaries as Western retailers are used to buying cheap clothing."

"Harsh economic development" is one thing.  However, ignoring the horrible treatment of human beings for the sake of a $3 t-shirt from Wal Mart isn't globalization - it's exploitation.

 

So...it looks like, of all things, I am passionate about global workers' rights.  Who'd have thought?!?  I remember trying to find clothes made in the US a few years ago, and determined that my options would literally be to look Amish or to sew my own.  And I justified my inaction by telling myself that not all clothing factories are sweatshops.  Maybe my $5 t-shirt was made by happy well-fed women putting children through college on their wages.  I can't possibly solve this problem on my own.  And what I do probably won't make a bit of difference.  But that's not going to stop me from acting.  With one exception, I've boycotted Wal Mart for over a year over the poor treatment of workers in their stores in this country!  

I pledge that I will no longer buy clothes made in Bangladesh until real substantive change is brought to the clothing factories.  A living wage and safe working conditions should be guaranteed to every worker on the planet, and I am willing to pay more to do my small part. 

Though I can't find an article to explain this point more clearly, I learned in my labor economics class that labor costs are a small piece of a very large cost-benefit equation, and increasing the labor rate does NOT cause the product on the shelf to go up by the same amount.  That means a labor raise of $1/hour might translate to $.10 per piece of clothing. However, of that $.10, only 2-3 cents would actually be passed along to the consumer.

...but even if the cost of every article of clothing you buy went up by $1 - from a $5 t-shirt to a $6 t-shirt - wouldn't that be worth it to know there aren't starving workers living in filth?  And before you say you can't afford that extra $1 per shirt, consider all the ways to pay less - sales, coupons, clearance racks, stores like Ross and TJ Maxx, consignment/second hand/thrift stores...

OK...so that was an awful lot for one post.  Sorry about that.  Like I said, apparently I found my voice. And I can't seem to stop singing!

The Elusive "It"

"It" doesn't happen overnight.  You don't see it or feel it right away.  I knew that.

But somehow by week 3 I thought it would be more apparent.

Note: beyond the break is an extended whine.  It's ok if you stop reading now.

Before the Afterbirth

At last count, I have about a half-dozen friends and acquaintances on Facebook who are pregnant (or the male equivalent). In the past few months I've seen ultrasound pictures and videos, status updates from cribs to cravings, and everything inbetween.

And for the most part, I've been uncharacteristically quiet.  These little social media baby booms are always sort of tough on me emotionally.  Scott and I decided many moons ago to take the "if it happens, it happens" approach to parenthood, knowing that more than likely it wouldn't just happen.  And more and more the idea of having a kid alternately terrifies and annoys me (have you SEEN the cost of a family healthcare plan? clothes? furniture? daycare?). But every time it comes up I'm hit with pangs of jealousy, bitterness and a little bit of "what if?"  Don't get me wrong - I've done enough soul searching to know that I am already a complete person who doesn't need a baby to feel whole. (not that I'm saying any of you "need" a baby - I'm just rather clumsily saying don't worry about me)

But this post is only partly about me.  It's a cautionary heads-up to those of you who fall into the "expecting" category.  I love you all.  And I already love your babies. Even when I can't say it out loud, know that I'm overwhelmingly happy for you.  I can't wait to see the 8,000 pictures of every milestone of your precious angel's early years.  But I'm going to let you in on a secret that your other friends might not tell you:

The miracle of childbirth?  It's gross.  It's awe-inspiring to the people involved (even just as a spectator), but to the people outside that room, it's bloody and there's a lot of ick involved.  And most of your co-workers, your college drinking buddies, and maybe even your own family members just don't want to see what you might be tempted to share on Facebook.

So here's my sincere request:  if you are at all tempted to post pictures of the following:

• the placenta (or any mention that you're planning on doing anything with it besides letting the hospital dispose of it)
• anything on mommy that would usually be covered by a bikini
• naked baby pictures that include genitalia
• poop

please go ahead and un-friend me from Facebook now.  I'd rather have you just dislike me for my snark and bitterness than totally hate me for submitting of one of the above items to the STFU Parents Blog. (WARNING: the previous link goes straight to their "gross out" category. click at your own risk...though I personally find myself laughing through the gagging!)  It's just better for all of us this way.

Things That Make Me Go Stabby, Part Two

Wow. Just wow...

A Longwood mom who refused to return four Gossip Girl-inspired library books because she objected to their content brought them back to the public library Thursday.

Tina Harden, who had withheld the books since the fall of 2008 to keep young readers from seeing them, said she returned them not because of criticism she received but because she had made people aware of the issue through media attention...

Harden owes $85 in fines but hasn't paid them. She said she's hoping the library will waive the fines.

"It's not that I lost the books or I didn't feel like turning them in," she said. "I want us to work together. Hopefully they have the same goals as I do."

Where on God's green Earth did these people get the impression that they have the right to decide what books go on PUBLIC library shelves? Or that it's ok to just steal books that they don't want their children to read? Was there some sort of break-out meeting at the latest Tea Party convention on how to get around the first amendment? (umm...it's early, please don't tell me if free speech really applies here)

The silver lining to this story?

"After an article about Harden appeared in Thursday's Orlando Sentinel, a man donated replacement books to the library and several others told the library they planned to send checks or books to replace the ones Harden was keeping."

...and the library system is refusing to waive the fines. Yay librarians!

Things That Make Me Go Stabby

Attention Parents: please stop screwing with libraries. Please don't ask the librarians to wade into the murky gray area of "inappropriate." (I love the smell of mixed metaphors in the morning!)

LEESBURG – A Leesburg mother who successfully challenged the young-adult book policy at the Leesburg Public Library is expanding her campaign, hoping to get warning labels placed on some books in libraries across the county.

Dixie Fechtel recently got the backing of Liberty Counsel, a conservative legal-advocacy group in Maitland. She's asking Lake County commissioners and library officials to label objectionable books aimed at middle- and high-school students.

Fechtel and another Leesburg mother, Diane Venetta, are targeting books that Fechtel says are "glorifying illegal behavior."

"What we're talking about here [are books] depicting a lifestyle that just doesn't work if they're going to be the leaders of our nation," she said. "It's a shame that we as a community are feeding [teens] this kind of garbage."

One of the books that started the mom on her quest was a "Gossip Girl" novel. Umm...hello? You didn't know that was going to be inappropriate (and crap) just by the title? Apparently she's already managed to somehow convince the Leesburg library to label some Young Adult books "high school" and put them on a special shelf in the YA section. The kicker? Kids aren't restricted from checking out any book in the section. So now you've just made it easier for the kids to find books about drugs and sex. Just go to the "high school" section!

Look, I was a precocious kid and a voracious reader when I was little. I was reading Sweet Valley High books when I was in the 4th grade. That's inappropriate subject material! You know what? It didn't turn me into anything bad.

Deborah Caldwell-Stone, deputy director of the American Library Association's Office for Intellectual Freedom in Chicago, said labeling books would put a burden on libraries and force librarians to act as parents.

"The whole issue of rating content gets into the rat's nest of who decides what's too much, what's too little, what is banned and what is not," she said. "What it comes down to is: It's the parent's decision."

So why not simply ask the parents to be parents? Why not expect them to talk to their children and know what they are reading and watching on TV? Why not use the books with questionable themes as a learning opportunity? Oh yeah, because it's easy to ask the librarians (whose funds and staffing have been cut all over the country, but that's another story) to parent your children for you.

Maybe these moms got their ideas from a book that should be marked for its questionable content!

From the Mouths of Babes

(or the chalk-covered hands of little yellow boys...either way...)

Don't ask. Because I might be tempted to tell you. In an elevated voice. With many expletives.

Stressssssssssss

We want to avoid old houses because they might not be the most hurricane resistant or might have old pieces stuck together with bubble gum and duct tape that'll give out as soon as we sign the papers.

We want to avoid short sales because we need to close before December 1 in order to get the Federal $8,000 tax credit for first-time home buyers.

We want to avoid bank-owned properties because you never know what horrible spiteful thing the owners did before they left. At the very least, you can assume you'll need to replace the carpet and supply your own appliances.

What's that leave? Not much in our price range. Especially when we had every intention of buying a house just big enough for our hypothetical family and never moving. Now we're looking at places that make me think, "good enough for now."

Am I going to make it through this process without having a complete breakdown? I give myself 4:1 odds.

"Good Job" (I'll just tell myself)

I spent my down-time yesterday writing up a training manual for one of the new computer systems we have coming online at work. When I was done, I sent an e-mail to the other reservations people and to the managers:

Ladies and Gentlemen,

As of this morning, we have the ability to [do technical stuff in new program]! To commemorate this occasion, I have created a six-page guide to the system. Topics covered include a system overview...

The Boss replied some time last night after I left:

Jamie

Would you please coordinate with [the secretary] the reservation that we have from [guy who didn't hire me]. Let me know when all is done

Thanks

Scott says maybe the "thanks" at the end was all-encompassing. I sincerely doubt it. The reservation in question is for at least 3 months from now. And since our booking window is 90 days and as far as the rest of the world is concerned we can't book anything further out than that, I can't understand why he's got his panties in a twist. Oh that's right - he's giving me extra work in order to justify his job when the lay-offs come down the road. I might as well take the next 2 weeks off. He's just going to get even more difficult to work with.

This has been a test of the emergency Jamie-Needs-to-Vent system. It has also been yet another example of Why Jamie Should Not Check Her Work E-Mail From Home.

Catch Me!

It's possible I threw a temper tantrum at work. It's actually possible that I threw multiple tantrums, but the first one was a doozy. I may have yelled a bad word or two and slammed my hands on my desk. I may have accused a co-worker (who wasn't there) of drinking on the job, being unconscious, or having a stroke... after all, what other rational explanation could there be for the complete lack of anything done correctly over my days off?

I may have scared my boss. I assume so, since a few minutes later he came back into the office with a cup of chamomile tea.

And then, after the tea, I might have had a meltdown in the kitchen. That time there was no yelling, just despair and frustration, and me being near tears. It was determined (by someone other than me) that creme brulee might help.

To be honest, I absolutely needed to be handled today. It was bad. And yet it wasn't so much a wake-up call as the last snooze alarm.

Since there's a hiring freeze in place, I can't leave this job. But I've had a few days recently where I come home miserable or I dread going in the next day. I've been contemplating going back to my psychiatrist so that I can pay him to listen to me whine, he can kick me in the @$$ and tell me to get over it, and maybe teach me some deep breathing or something, and then I can get on with my life.

Today, when I found myself yelling for the third time (this time about another coworker, in the direction of the other manager, that went something along the lines of, "WHY AM I THE ONLY PERSON IN THIS OFFICE WHO DOES THEIR DAMN JOB CORRECTLY???"), I actually stopped and told him I thought perhaps I needed some type of anger management intervention.

So that was the snooze alarm. I'm going to make a call on Monday and see if I can get in to see the shrink some day next week. I know that I'll be ok for the next three days - tomorrow I'm by myself (and I know that I won't have to clean up anyone else's mess because I was the only one there today), and Monday and Tuesday I share the office with my favorite morning worker. Wednesday could be a challenge, since I have to deal with the girl who was the subject of that last rant, but knowing that she's in big trouble with the managers (you know, because she's not doing her job correctly) is going to keep me tongue-in-teeth.

For now, I'll be breathing in good air, and breathing out bad air, and hoping that keeps me going.

Current Events

I heard about "Out with Bush Day" on the radio on my way home from work last night:

Why? January 20, 2008 marks the day that George W. Bush will finally be out of the White House. So, while that Bush is on his way out why not get your bush out too.

The great people from Matthew Michaels Salon & Spa Experience will be the pro's handling the waxing duties. There will be a screen so the guys don't see your private areas...what do you take them for anyway?

You must be 18 years of age or older and have at least 1/4 inch of hair to be removed.

I think the 20-something guys who run this show are under the impression that girls yelling in pain is going to make good radio. I think they're wrong. Waxing is something that makes people make funny faces, not scream in agony. Still, I think it's a funny idea - not as funny as making their interns roll across a floor covered in mouse traps singing "Happy Birthday" to whomever is celebrating one, but still funny.

And now, for something completely different:

Can anyone suggest a polite way to ask someone to chew with his mouth closed and stop moaning when he eats? If I have to listen to apple sex one more time, my head may explode. I shouldn't say that, because I'm quite certain I'll hear it tonight. Seriously, close your eyes and picture the sound of a crisp apple being chewed with an open mouth. Now add some moaning. Do YOU ever want to eat an apple again? Perhaps I should offer him a cigarette when he's done...

Blood Pressure Control Tip of the Day

To maintain a steady low blood pressure on the days where you don't have to work, don't check your work e-mail from home. Nothing will set your facial capillaries to the "burst" setting quite like getting an e-mail from your boss, copied to his boss, attempting to throw you under the bus for something that is 100% not your fault.

Never mind that your boss is apparently afraid of his own shadow and has obviously never heard (or possibly just not understood) the phrase, "the buck stops here."

Never mind that you have e-mail documentation that there is no need for anyone to be under a bus, but if someone simply must be thrown under it, that it sure as hell isn't you.

Never mind that the analogy of people of low rank being like mushrooms (kept in the dark and fed shit) is feeling a little too close for comfort right now.

Of course, if you don't check your e-mail from home, you won't know you're angry until you're sitting at your desk on the clock, significantly increasing the odds that you're going to go all Iraqi journalist and throw a damn shoe at his head!

The Number You Have Dialed...

Yesterday I woke up feeling better, but still with considerable bright green excretions, so I decided to cancel my chiropractor appointment and stay home in a glorious "day-o-quarantine." I called the CHIRO phone number in my phone, and the girl who answered the phone said, "wah wah Chiropractic wah wah." (it's possible I was distracted by the TV) I gave her my name, explained that I had the flu and would like to cancel my 2:00 appointment. She asked for my name again, asked for my appointment time, and then asked if I would like to reschedule. I tried to reschedule for next Monday at 2, and she said they close for lunch until 3. So I rescheduled for next Monday at 3.

At 2:30, I got a voicemail from my chiropractor's office reminding me that I had a 2:00 appointment and asking if I was planning on coming in. And so, I called them right back and as soon as the woman answered the phone I launched into a monologue: "This is Jamie, and this is going to sound crazy but apparently I still have my old chiropractor's phone number programmed into my phone and I called them and cancelled my appointment because I have the flu and I rescheduled with them for next Monday at 3!" Thank God she laughed! And she asked if I wanted to go ahead and reschedule for next Monday at 3, and I told her I wanted to come in at 2 but the other people were closed until 3 for lunch. And I promised her I'd change the phone number in my phone as soon as I hung up.

...but before I did that, I called the other office and explained that I "re"scheduled an appointment for next Monday but I don't go to their practice anymore and wouldn't be coming in. "Ok." "Don't you need my name?" "No, I talked to you before. This is Jamie, right?" "Yeah." "It's cancelled."

I am still pretty angry that that girl couldn't even be bothered to say "you don't have an appointment today." Had she given me any indication that I was calling the wrong place, I would have realized what was going on and not no-showed at the good office. I don't think I mentioned when I went to that other office that they are extremely religious. "God bless you" when you walk out the door religious. That's not the only reason that I stopped going there, but I won't lie and say it didn't factor in my decision. I respect their right to free speech, but I certainly wasn't comfortable there. At any rate, I really had to stop myself from calling back again and asking that girl if there was a reason she treated me the way she did. Lazy? Mean spirited? Her behavior certainly didn't seem like what Jesus would do!

I have changed the listing in my cell phone. At least I know that won't happen again!

Happy Horse S--t

If Scott ever calls you up at work and the first thing out of his mouth is, "listen to this happy horse shit," just hang up and don't answer the phone for the rest of your shift. Trust me, it'll make your life simpler!



He did this to me Monday when he got home from work. Why? The apartment people left us a memo on our door that said:

Your home is scheduled for a pest clean out treatment. This service involves intensified application of all cabinets in both the kitchen and bathroom areas...



For best results, you must remove all products, dishes, pots, glasses, paper goods, etc. from these areas. When removing these items, please place them in the living room or bedrooms away from treatment areas so our technicians can work more effectively...


Scheduled cleanout date: 10/22/08

Someone was happy to hear the news - this is Milo in a box, inside a box, on top of another box! The cardboard trifecta!

So they gave us one full day to basically empty out the kitchen and the bathroom. That's five years worth of accumulated stuff in a day. I managed to score two empty boxes from work, and we found 2 other empty boxes and 2 laundry baskets in the house. First we cleaned the living room (which was our original plan for the day). Then we cleaned the kitchen. Then we pulled everything out of the cabinets and pantry.

It's possible the fumes from the "poison cabinet" under the kitchen sink may have gotten to Scott.

The end result? A temporary disaster area. Of course, once we are allowed to reload the cabinets and the closets, the result will be a much cleaner home. We'll still need to clean out the random crap accumulated in the dining room and the bedroom, but at least the living room will be clean and clear for a while!

Not pictured: The rolling "pantry," which has been relocated just outside the kitchen; the Christmas tree, which is stored in garbage bags because we couldn't get it apart to put it back in its box, and is now in the bedroom blocking me from getting to my pajamas or socks, or the kitchen counters, which are all cluttered with items for which there were no boxes.

We did learn some stuff in this endeavor:

1. Calling the office and yelling about the obscenely short notice won't do you any good.

2. Milo still doesn't like change. He spent most of yesterday exploring previously blocked-off areas and then growling and hissing at anyone who came near him.

3. Kraft boxed macaroni and cheese has an expiration date.

4. Elphie wants to go to the Good Will. I assume this because she has been in/on the box of unwanted dishes and kitchen wares since it came out of the pantry. By the way, if anyone needs a skillet or three with the non-stick mostly scraped off, a set of six sundae glasses, a plastic plate with Pocahontas on it, or 2 white coffee mugs with the Gevalia logo on them (and gold around the rim) please let me know. I don't even think Good Will wants that stuff!

5. A freshly mopped floor is a magnet for spills. Last night we lost some purple beer (good recommendation, Janette. Scott really liked it) and a cup of Papa John's garlic butter. Watch your step!

Seven garbage bags and 12 hours after we started, we were done. And I mean DONE. We were both passed out before 11:30 last night.

And now all we can do is wait. We can't cook because the stove top is covered by appliances that came out of the cabinets and the oven is full of pots and pans. We can't do the dishes because the dishwasher is full of clean dishes that needed a home. We have dinner plans tonight, but I'm hesitant to leave the house if they haven't come by then because I don't want the cats and the guinea pig to become desegregated in our absence.

I guess Scott was right. Horse shit. Total horse shit.

Cross My Heart...

I promise this will be my last gas price rant for at least a week... probably 2 weeks. But really, it simply MUST be said:

I paid $39.04 to fill my tank today.

I drive a compact car that holds a maximum of 11 gallons of gas in the tank. And I didn't buy 11 gallons of gas today.

$39.04.

It took me by surprise. I may have blacked out behind the wheel as a result.

All day today I was wondering how long ago it was that I was paying less than $30. I remember that it was recent, and I remember being glad I'd put it off as long as I had, because Scott (with the bigger tank) had been paying $30+ for a while. So I just took a look through my bank statement and found out that on March 28 I paid $29.78 to fill my tank, and then on April 14 I paid $31.89.

April 14 was 33 days ago. And that's like a 20% increase! (it's late, so please forgive me if my math is way off there) What the heck is going on out there?!?

And now, as is my custom when I am angry about gas prices, I shall offer this charming tidbit from our Commander in Chief (courtesy of CNN.com):

"We've got to do more at home," the president said on the lush lawn of a resort overlooking the Red Sea in Sharm El-Sheik, Egypt.

Speaking after a private meeting with Afghanistan President Hamid Karzai, he mentioned moves that have long been part of his agenda but stymied in Congress, such as developing alternate fuels, improving conservation and expanding domestic exploration.

So let me get this straight: our own "oil man" President is blaming CONGRESS for not pushing alternate fuels? Yes, I admit to hearing something along the lines of, "no...you may not drill for oil in a wildlife refuge." But other than that, I call bullshit. grrrr

Untitled because all I want to say is a string of profanity

I am incredibly disappointed - maybe angry - maybe even furious right now. I'm mad at my state government. I'm mad at the US government. I'm mad at foreign governments. I'm mad at the politicians, the media, the gas companies, and even some people I know personally (but this isn't the proper forum for the latter).

Why am I mad? Let's take a little journey through various current events. That should shed some light.

Let's start with John McCain. I figure since I'm an Obama supporter, no one will really take my opinions on his likely November opponent very seriously and it's best to just get it over with. This is why I'm mad at John McCain:

“Barack Obama's foreign policy plans have even won him praise from Hamas leaders,” writes McCain deputy campaign manager Christian Ferry. “Ahmed Yousef, chief political adviser to the Hamas Prime Minister said, ‘We like Mr. Obama and we hope he will win the election. He has a vision to change America.’”

Apparently McCain's campaign is already in crisis mode, and needed to start slinging the mud early. So much for a clean campaign!

Since we're talking about our enemies, let's jump over to Iran, where President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad says oil priced at $115 a barrel is too low. Wow. So yeah, I'm mad at him, but it's really amazing how short-sighted the leaders of this country have been for the past 30 or so years. One would think that after the gas crisis in the 1970's, we would have made finding an alternative energy source (or an alternative engine) a major priority. Here we are again 30 years later, consuming more gas than ever, dependent on our sworn enemies for our livelihood.

Who let that happen?

So in addition to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, I'm also angry at every president from Carter to Bush II. I'm also angry at every Senator (except John Glenn - because he was an astronaut and that buys him immunity) who has served in the past 30 years. Why not the House of Representatives? Well I'm mad at them for something else entirely:

NOTE: The next section comes from an Orlando Sentinel Editorial (which I disagree with). I couldn't find an actual news article to go along with it. Even entering the phrase "Haiti debt relief" into the cnn.com search bar does not bring up the story. And for that reason, I'm angry at the media.

The U.S. House made a compassionate and smart move last week in voting to speed up desperately needed debt relief to Haiti.

A sharp rise in food prices worldwide has deepened hunger, provoked riots and shaken the government in Haiti, the hemisphere's poorest country.

The relief for Haiti, added to a broader measure by South Florida Democrat Alcee Hastings, would let the country divert more of its meager revenues from loan repayments to feeding its people.Without help, Haiti could fall back into chaos and create a humanitarian and security burden on the U.S. doorstep.

The entire relief measure, aiding two dozen countries, would cost each American about $2. Now the Senate and the president need to follow the House's lead.

I'd rather have the $2. Quite frankly, if Haiti isn't willing to take care of itself, and is going to continue to need us to bail it out again and again, then maybe they should find another country to mooch off of. Give them the fish and they'll eat for a day. Teach them to fish, and maybe some day we'll get our money back!

As if I needed another reason to be counting the days until GWB gets booted back to Crawford, he's just decided to give $200 million to hungry people in other countries. You know what? We're not the biggest, richest country on the block any more. Why are we still bailing out everyone else while our economy implodes? The dollar is so weak against foreign currencies that our $200 million really doesn't mean that much in the grand scheme of things. The UN says they need about $500 million. So why not get $50 million from 10 countries? C'mon... that's how much Barack Obama has in his war chest right now. SURELY there's someone else out there who can shoulder the bulk of this burden. I'm pretty sure I could find plenty of hungry people right here in this country who could use that $200 million as well.

Here in Florida, it seems all of the state-run and state-funded agencies are going to have less money in their budgets next year. Why? Because the selfish A-hole home owners in the state all followed Charlie Crist's example and voted "yes on one" in January. (yep...I voted no... and I said at the time that this was going to happen...and Janette even agreed with me - in retrospect, a sure sign of the apocalypse!) So I'm angry at the majority of Floridian voters.

I'm also angry at our state legislature, who has recently decided that rather that attempt to come up with a state budget that makes sense, they are going to debate whether it's obscene to hang metal bull's balls on the back of your pick-up truck. Take heart, children of Florida. Perhaps the $60 fine for dangling fake testes will cover your education expenses, or the repairs of the roads you use to get to school, or the police, fire, and other emergency services that keep you safe. It's certainly not going to be property tax paying for those things. Home owners just don't care about you.

I am bitterly disappointed in everyone I have ever voted for who has a part in this ridiculous charade of government "for the people." I wish I didn't have to search for un-linked-to stories about where our tax money is going. Those things should be up front on every newspaper and news web site. Hold our law makers accountable for how they spend our tax money. Scott and I paid $6,444 in taxes for 2007. We live responsibly, within our means, and we expect our government to do the same. I want to know how MY tax money is being spent. I want someone to look me in the eye and tell me that $2 went to Haiti, and $x went to support our troops who are in the middle of a civil war caused by our invasion of a sovereign nation, and $y went to subsidies for farmers growing corn for ethanol instead of food. And damnit, I want someone to apologize for being so damned irresponsible. And then I want someone to step up and fix it.

I'm not smart enough, educated enough, or informed enough to do it myself. But I care, which I think is probably more than we can say for most of the people running our country.

Let's All Embellish, Shall We?

This morning, I encountered sniper fire when I got out of bed. I had to cancel my morning pee and run with my head down straight to the living room.

Yeah that's right. I'm pissed at Hillary Clinton. What the hell is she doing out there?

Speech last Monday:

"I remember landing under sniper fire. There was supposed to be some kind of a greeting ceremony at the airport, but instead we just ran with our heads down to get into the vehicles to get to our base."

The account in her book:

"Due to reports of snipers in the hills around the airstrip, we were forced to cut short an event on the tarmac with local children, though we did have time to meet them and their teachers and to learn how hard they had worked during the war to continue classes in any safe spot they could find,"

The CBS News video (ok, I admit, it was released by the Obama campaign):

shows Clinton and her daughter, Chelsea, walking across the tarmac from a large cargo plane, smiling and waving, and stopping to shake hands with Bosnia's acting president and greet an 8-year-old girl.

So yes, she got caught with her pants on fire. And I read that article twice and didn't see anything along the lines of, "yeah, sorry about that. I guess I just got carried away." But here's my favorite quote from the article:

Former Army Secretary Togo West, who accompanied Clinton to Bosnia, said he was
not surprised "that there could be confusion" when someone who has taken a number of trips tries to recall details of a particular trip 12 years earlier.

Does that mean there was another trip where there was sniper fire? I'll be frank: of all of the trips I've ever taken, I'm quite certain that there was never any risk of sniper fire. So unless she can produce video of them ducking and covering at another airport, I'm not interested in anything else she has to say.

...oh yeah, I just remembered: my morning pee happened as scheduled. There was no sniper after all.

Unsolicited Parenting Advice

...from someone without children

I really don't have much business dispensing advice... to most people. However, I can not imagine a situation where the following story could be considered good parenting!

I awoke at 3 am to the sound of a screaming child. These weren't the screams of a baby, but of a child probably 3-4 years old having an absolute melt down. I had the bedroom windows open, and could tell that the noise was coming from outside and not in another apartment. And I listened to this screaming for at least 5 minutes.

I also heard two other voices, one male and one female (I'll assume they were the parents of the little night screamer). They tried reasoning with the child. They tried threatening the child. They pleaded with the child. From what I gather, the child didn't want to put his/her shoes on. So they wouldn't let him/her get out of the car. Later, I heard one of them say "fine, go without your shoes. just don't step in any dog shit." Then Mom started the "count to three" crap. And when she got to three, she said she was taking away a specific toy.

And during all of this, the child didn't stop screaming.

Finally, from the sounds of it, they grabbed the kid and dragged him/her into their apartment, screaming all the way.

So really. Does anyone else think that the fact that the child was up at 3 am might have contributed to the situation? Get your child home at a decent hour! And if your child starts screaming in the car, get him inside and into bed. And for goodness' sake, on the street at 3 am is NOT the time to experiment with various parenting techniques. The rest of us don't care how you get the child to stop crying, only that you do it quickly.

Next time, I'm just going to fire my air horn out the window.

Drama Drama Drama

I swear, it's not me.

I hope it's not me.

Is it me?

Does everyone step in steaming piles of metaphorical dog shit as much as I do? Yesterday I stepped in it, had it thrown at me, and had no recourse whatsoever.

The super-short version is that one of the servers at The Restaurant (which, by the way, is creating its own drama at the moment... but that's been fun!) accused me yesterday of helping one of the other servers get good tables by making up call parties for him. (Call parties are guests who request a specific server) She said that I let him see the seating charts in advance and pick the people he thought would be big tippers. She also implied that there was an illicit reason for my doing so. She spewed all of this at Number Two (The Boss is off Sundays) while I was sitting at my desk 10 feet away.

Aside: No matter how upset or pissed off I get about my job, I don't cry there. I cry at home. Or at least during my lunch when I'm alone in the office.

So after she left the office, while I was sitting at my desk trying to convince myself to keep doing my job and not run out to find Scott, Number Two asked if I was ok. I said yes. He came over and sat next to me and asked if I was really ok. And, blinking back tears, I asked him if he or The Boss had any doubts about my conduct in or out of the office, or about whether I had been fudging anything at all. He told me that the only thing they think about the way I do my job is that I'm freakishly good at it. He tried his best to convince me that no one else thinks the things that she said were true, but I'm not so sure.

The worst thing about this is that I really think I left myself open to this sort of attack. Last fall, there were only two people at work who knew about the Crap going on in my life, and this male server was one of them. He was always there with a hug and a kind word when I needed it. And I chose to ignore the raised eyebrows and smirks from some of the girls because I needed the support more than I needed the good reputation. Now I realize what a mistake that was.

What's really ironic about the situation is that this guy and I had an argument over a month ago and haven't really said more than "hello" or "good bye" or "Merry Christmas" to each other ever since.

Scott and Number Two have both advised me that the best thing I can do is to keep my mouth shut and wait for this to blow over. And I really don't have any choice but to do just that. I certainly can't bust into pre-meal and proclaim my purity. At the most, I don't think there are more than 4 people who share this suspicion. And there are probably twice that number who don't know any part of the story. There's no sense stirring up the pot.

And that's a good example of why I keep this blog. I get to tell my side of the story... vent about it... and let it go in time to go back to work on Thursday.

600th Post - How Appropriate That It's A Rant

Blogger tells me this is my 600th post. Seems a great milestone to be all retrospective and proud of my little blog. But it's after 3 am. My legs hurt. My heart hurts. And I'm still not 100% sure I'm not going to cry. (don't worry - it's just adrenaline - sounds much worse than it is)

------------------------------------------------------

An Open Letter to the @$$HOLE Downstairs:

I wasn't kidding. Next time, I will call the sheriff's office. And in case you didn't hear the words I was screaming when my husband clapped his hand over my mouth, I called you a son of a bitch. Do you know why? That's what I call people who wake me up at 1:30 in the morning with their floor-shaking thump-thump music.

Yes, I jumped up and down in the middle of my dining room. And when that didn't stop your music, I jumped up and down even harder and longer in the middle of my living room. And then the music stopped. But I still can't believe you had the audacity to knock on MY door and tell ME that I was inconsiderate for stomping on your ceiling (I'll just assume that's what you meant when you said "you don't gotta be stompin on my ceilin.").

I'm not going to stomp any more. The fury-filled-adrenaline-rush-jumping-and-stomping-spree left me with sore feet, and I have random muscle cramps in both legs. But I have used this sleepless time constructively. I found the non-emergency phone number for the local Sheriff's Office and posted it for easy reference under my computer monitor. Your floor-shaking loud music hardly seems like a reason to call 911, but it is against the law, and I'm sick of playing nice.

We have called the apartment managers on five separate occasions to complain about your loud music. You haven't listened to them. Maybe you'll listen to the cops.

-------------------------------------------------------

Why is it so hard for people to understand that apartment buildings aren't sound-proof booths? I am so sorry I ever thought unkind thoughts about Mia and her boyfriend having loud sex on weekend mornings. I would give anything to have the door-slamming aerobics instructor back. And I am incredibly disappointed that we didn't upgrade to a two bedroom (in another building) when we renewed our lease for another year.

Here it is, now after 3:30 in the morning. I have to be up at 8:00 to go into work and train for six hours. Yeah, definitely not going to make it through the next 18 hours without crying. I'm so damn exhausted and I still can't sleep. And it's definitely too late to take anything. Oh well, at least the Tylenol seems to have helped a little with the leg cramps. Maybe I'll get two or three hours of sleep before the alarm goes off.