“Hey, Mark, I need a small project done by 2PM.  Can you do it?”
     “Sure,” I said assuredly.

     But that was early this morning.

     “Hey, can you help with this other thing?”
     “I have a 2PM deadline on the first one,” I tell them.
     “It’ll only take a minute.”

     Wrong.

     Back on track, an hour later.

     “Hey, Mark?  I need you to hold up while we send you some more specifications.”
     “Okay, but… we’re running out of time here.”
     “It’s nothing major.”

     An hour later, I get the new information and have to sart over.

     “Hey, Mark, can you do something else for us?”
     “Look, I spent two and a half hours off, and I’m running out of time here.  You need your first project at 2PM, right?” I ask.
     “Yeah, but this is more important right now.”
     “Okay…”

     Another hour later, I’m back on track.

     “Hey, Mark.  This other guy over here needs some software installed.”
     “I can’t,” I told him.
     “Why not?”
     “I don’t have time, since you need this done by 2PM,” I explained.  “But I can do it after that.”
     “Yeah, we have to have that.  But if you can’t do this for us, then we better find someone else to do all of it.”
     “Well, you could, but I’ve already done this, that, the other, and spent an hour and a half on the first thing you asked for.  If you be patient, then I can get you taken care of.”
     “Yeah, ok.  Well, we need that by 2PM.”
     “Great… talk to ya then.”

     Back on track.  It’s 1:15PM.  I have forty-five minutes to finish.

     “Oh, but, Mark, we really need…”
     “Okay, do you need your project by 2PM?”
     “Yes, absolutely!”
     “Okay, I’m trying to finish it, in the next 45 minutes, so if you could just make a list of what all needs to be done and e-mail it to me, I’ll be happy to knock that out promptly at 2:01PM.”
     “Yeah, well, we have to have this, too.”
     “I can’t do both right now.  Both are very involved projects, and I need to finish this one by 2PM.  In 45 minutes, I’ll do whatever else you need.”
     “Well, that’s just not acceptable.  Haven’t you ever heard the customer is always right?”
     “Yes, and if you ask me to complete a task by 2PM, I’m going to, if you’ll allow me to.”
     “Oh, yeah, well, I think we’re just gonna scrap the whole project and find someone els to do all of it.”
     “Well, I could certainly do them, but I think perhaps you guys need to prioritize your needs a little better.  Here it is with forty minutes to spare, and I’ve only been able to work on a five hour project for about two hours.  I can get it going, but I can’t do it and talk on the phone and do all of these other things.  If you can bear with me for forty minutes, I’ll get you all taken care of it.”
     “All of it?”
     “Your project at 2PM, and everything else by 4:30.”
     “That’s not acceptable.  You said by 2PM.”
     “Yes, sir, for the original project.  All of these other things are peripheral, and taking the necessary time away from that project.”
     “That’s not acceptable.  We’re going to find someone else!” he yells as he hangs up.

     I call back.  “Ya know, there is the matter of your bill.”
     “You didn’t have the project finished by 2PM.”
     “No, but you contracted my time to do it, and proceded to use that time to finish several other, smaller projects.”
     “Apparently, our time isn’t important, Mark!”
     “Excuse me?” I monotoned in disbelief.

     I do the impossible.  I do a good job.  And above all, I treat my customers with respect and proceed to my duties in a professional manner.

     “So you’re not going to pay me?” I ask.
     “Why?  You didn’t get the job done.”
     “No, but I got three others done for you in the time where I was supposed to be finishing a project.  I explained repeatedly that I couldn’t get the project completed by 2PM if you continued to come to me with other, less important requests.  You said that these were just as important, and I stopped to complete those tasks, as well.  I am not a time traveller, and apparently, that is what you need.”
     “Yes, we do.  So f$*& you, Mr. Steel!  We’re finding someone else.”
     “F$*& ME?  Apparently, sir, you have a problem with my performance, though I fail to see how that could be, considering all of the assistance I’ve offered you today.  Perhaps you should find someone else.”
     “Don’t f$*&ing cuss me you piece of sh….”
     *click!*

     I will not walk away empty handed, and then sit there to be insulted and screamed.

     A little respect is never too much to ask.

     Funny that it’s now 2:06, and neither their projects nor their additional side tasks are completed.  I wonder how long it’s going to take the next guy?

     [ And if you’re said customer — who pretends to be my employer — do you realize that I QUIT?! ]

Dr. Tony Lightens the Mood

I’m sure everybody knows that Tony’s mama got really, really, REALLY sick on the day we got married.  It is amazing, incredible even to see Ms. Pat now and how incredibly far she’s come along since that day. Had I known the day we got married, before I walked down the aisle, that she wasn’t there I’d have postponed the whole damn thing again (yah, yah Spanky, you’d have won the bet again).  But I didn’t know until I actually walked up to Tony and they played the first song in the ceremony that she was even sick.

By 4:30 that afternoon, Tony’s brother called and said that Tony needed to come to make Ms. Pat go to the hospital because she was “out of it” and really, really ill.  We made it to Methodist Medical Center, where they quickly found out she had suffered a life threatening aneurysm and needed to be transferred to Univeristy of Tennessee hospital immediately.  They did surgery and it honestly appeared that things weren’t going so well and the outlook was grim.

That was six weeks ago.  Today she is in EXCELLENT shape!  The first thing she got back was her since of humor.  When asked “Mom, how do you feel?”

She’d shoot back, “With my fingers.”

She is breathing and eating without any assistance from machines, which 6 weeks ago she could not have lived without..  Her right side is getting stronger and stronger by the day.  She has improved so much that she has been moved from UT to Patricia Neal Rehab Center where she’s walking with parallel bars and peddlin’ her ass off on the bikes.  GO MS. PAT!

So, we were there to visit her last night.  Tony keeps her laughin all the time, which is what she needs for sure.  Nobody needs to be sad and worried anymore!! She’s made it through the bad stuff already.

We walked into her room and Leacha is sitting on the end of the bed with her.  I took the real chair and Tony got to sit on the portable shitter.

“Damn, mom.” He says.  “If you’re not careful on this thing, you’ll shit on your shoes.”

It’s always so good to see her smile and laugh.

As it turns out, Ms. Pat had found out what all had happened to her in the last six weeks yesterday.  When we got there, Tony’s sis (Leacha) asked his mom to tell him what had happened. 

She looked at Leacha really sad, then over to him still really sad, like she was afraid she’d scare him if she told him.

“He already knows what happened, Mom.  He just wants to hear you tell him so he knows you know what happened.”  Leacha told her.

Ms. Pat looks over at Tony, still worried, “Well, they told me I had a brain aneurysm and that I was real sick.”

“Yah.  You were pretty serious, Mom.” Tony pets her arm.  “You know how that happened don’t you?”  He asked her all serious like.

“No.”  She tells him as we all sit and wait for his professional diagnosis.

“Well, it happens when people hold in their farts.” He explains.  “If ya don’t let it out, then it travels up and causes real problems.”

“That’s your son.”  Leacha tells her.

Ms. Pat laughed to hard to say anything back.

Thank God for Dr. Tony and his warped since of reality.

I was sitting in my office today when a friend of mine sent me a text message on my phone that had little hearts and said “I love you”.  At the bottom it instructed me to send it on to all of my friends.  So, I did.  I sent that bad boy to everybody, including my teenaged boy, who hates that kind of crap.

About 20 minutes later, my phone rang.

“Hola!”  I answered. I have caller ID so I knew it was my boy, Matt.

“Hey!  Guess what!!!!” He said, all giddy and excited like.

“Uh… what?”  I played along.

“My phone’s workin!!!” He exclaimed.

You see my boy has a really bad habit of tossing, flipping, pitching his phone..(along with other various forms of abuse).  About two weeks ago, the phone, in an act of ultimate retribution, just up and quit working.   He could still send and receive text messages, but not talky talky.

“No shit?!?!”  I get giddy with him.  “You mean the phone you called me from works?!?!?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”  he retorts. “But I wanted to let you know.”

“Well, very cool, baby. I’m glad its workin.”  I tell him.

And I am genuinely glad it’s working because he’s been on an “I want a new phone” kick for about 2 months now.  So right at this second, he’s thrilled to have one he can speak into and hear from.

Then it hits me that he’s calling from school, because I can hear all the chatter of teenaged boys in the background.  So I ask him,  “Why the hell are you in school?”

“Cuz we’re rednecks and apparently we don’t vote up here.”  He says as serious as can be.

“Did you get my text message?”  I ask him all lovey dovey.

“Yah. Yah.” He says trying to put me off like teenage boys do when they are confronted with the “L” word.

“Well?  Do you love me, dammit?”  I push out of sheer enjoyment knowing he was squirming in front of his buddies.

“Come on, Matthew.  You can say it.”  I prod.

“Oh, God.” He said.  “I gotta go.”

“Fine.  Love you.”  I tell him.  He knows I really do love him.

“Ya. Ya.  Bye.”  He said and hung up.  I’m pretty sure his eyes were rolling in back of his head too. 

I really do love the brat and I’m really super proud of him.  That’s ok. He has to come home sometime.

You know, for the past decade, I kept thinking to myself “Damn. Christmas seems to come earlier and earlier every year. I thought it was only in my head because I am simply annoyed by how commercial Christmas has become.

I took note, back in August no less, that as soon as Wal-Mart took out the swimming pools and other summer items… in came the Christmas stuff. IN AUGUST! Before even halloween had time to come and go.

Pisses me off, the money-grubbing devil stores peddle as much as they can for as long as they can. And what really slays me is the fact that, everytime I’d pass through lawn & garden, even back in late summer, there were people buying that shit up. It wasn’t on sale, it was just out on display and for sale at regular prices.

Now I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t want my house decorated with little elves and the like that early in the year. I’m the type that as soon as Christmas is over, I’m ready to jerk the ornaments down and sling the tree in the yard.

What I think should happen is, since the the stores have all the Christmas crap out that early, the Salvation Army should round up sexy bell ringers and have them out there in the heat of summer in a Santa-like underwear  made of red velvet with white trim and an excellent and yummy tan.  Then maybe I could swallow Christmas that early in the damn year.

Bah!  Friggin Humbug!

One week to the day after I was wed to my prince, I was on a plane to Germany for a business trip that would keep me away for 10 days.  I can’t say I’ve ever been happier to be home than I am now.

I realized there are so many  little bitty things I manage to take for granted every single day.  You better believe the following is a tribute to those things.

Ice
I never really realized just how damn much ice  meant to me until I didn’t have it in my drink, for 10 days.  No friggin ice.  Luke warm yacky soda with no ice to chomp on. Damn.

Soda
Well, the German people have soda.  But they don’t have a friggin clue what Diet Coke is, no.  They call that shit Coke Light.  It’s super sweet and it tastes like real Coke.  And without ice it is simply undrinkable to my spoiled American palate.  And Diet Dew?  They don’t have Dew at all, let alone Diet Dew Light.  Damn.

The Dollar Being A Dollar
The US dollar is nothing more than a flipping piece of paper at the time of this writing.  I’m here to tell ya, by the time I paid the currency exchange fees and the exchange rate being as it was… my damn dollar was worth less than 47 cents, my friends.  It was extremely apparent to me just how bad it was when I came home to do my expense report and found that for 10 days, with exchange rate, I had spent more than $400 on food and drinks alone. Damn.  Wait!  Rachael Ray would be totally impressed, that would be $40 a day.  Go me!

Courtesy on the Road
Well, not that we have the most courteous drivers in the US, especially in the states that start with “I”, but even those numbnuts are courteous compared to the asshats on the autobahn.  Hello dickhead, get out of my tail pipe and learn to use a signal other than the bird!

My Man
Now this es muy imporante.  I never in my life thought, with all the traveling Diva does, that I would be homesick for my man.  I thought, I’m gone all the time.  It’ll be no big deal.  WRONG!  After more than a year of seeing his face and hearing his voice every single day… I realized how much I need those things and how much that he means to me.  Oh God, I’m getting all mushy again.
But seriously, doing without Diet Dew with ice on the autobahn was enough to make me want to walk to the coast, buy a boat and start paddlin my ass back home.