Parking and Females

Ever had one of those weeks where it just doesn’t end? It just drags ooooon and oooooon? Well, it has been one of those weeks…

I was late to work yesterday, by almost an hour; that’s how long it took me to find a parking space. It’s not like I was looking for a space extremely close to my work, I park my car like 10 – 15 blocks from my work!

Most of the blocks between where I work and where I park are two-hour parking. In residential areas here in San Francisco, the homeowners in the neighborhood can petition to have their block changed into a two-hour parking zone. I firmly believe these people are some of the most selfish sons of bitches in the world.

You have a house, you have a garage. Park you car in there.
You have a house, you have a driveway in front of the garage. Park your car there!
But no.. instead of using the garage as it is intended. They decided to use it as storage, or convert it into an in-law to be rented out. And they on top of that, they have like 6 cars, all with parking stickers, hoarding up space.. what is up with that?

Then there are the city planners. Can someone explain to me why these city planners make Wednesday, a pretty undesirable day to begin with, even more undesirable?
For in their infinity wisdom, they decide to make 60% of the 20 or so blocks I look for space in street cleaning on Wednesdays. There are other blocks that have street cleaning on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays. So it’s not like the street cleaner is not going out to the neighborhood, spread that shit out! Instead, looking for spaces on Wednesday is like winning the lottery.

Finally, we come to the topic of my wife. Recently, I see more and more the difference between male and female. No, I am well versed with the physical differences. I mean how we think, how we interpret the same events. I consider some things to be chores; pulling weed in the yard, washing dishes, sweeping, vacuuming or looking for parking spaces. Chores are not to be enjoyed. It’s a necessary evil. So you just get it over with as fast as possible and move on. My wife on the other hand wants to do a lot of these things together. I understand the need to spend time together. But let me reiterate, these are things, that if given the choice, I would not do willingly. Spending time together doing these things, although will make the chores shorter, does not make it more enjoyable. I want to spend time together doing things that are enjoyable to both of us. Quality not quantity, right?

Now, I know I am going to get a bunch of people telling me that my line of thinking is wrong.. why? Because females and males just think differently.

Personal Security

Sorry to disappoint, but it was uneventful last night at U.P.S.

Social Security is a “hot topic” right now. As with every other issues, the left and the right are fighting teeth and nail on this topic. While it is funny to hear the doom and gloom that the Republicans are projecting, it is equally funny to hear democrats trying to convince the public that there is no problem at all.

Former President Bill Clinton stated, when he submitted his balanced budget plan on February 2, 1998, that ”we have a great opportunity now to take action to avert a crisis in the Social Security system.” What is it a crisis then and not a problem now?

According to the Washington Post’s 1998 article, “Unless steps are taken, by 2029 the Social Security system will be able to take care of only three-quarters of the estimated retirees. The problem will continue to get worse without intervention as the number of retirees continues to grow while the work force contributing through the payroll tax continues to shrink.” Again, why was it stated as a problem then, but not now?

When FDR first introduced the Social Security Plan, he wanted a self-supporting system. He also stated that “clear that for perhaps 30 years to come funds will have to be provided by the States and the Federal Government to meet these pensions,” referring to old-age pensions for those who were then too old to build up their own insurance.

If you follow that line of thinking, the States and the Federal Government pays for the pension of people who were or near retirement age, while people starts contributing to their OWN retirement funds and when they retire, they will have a nest egg to live off of. But somewhere down the line, Social Security became the longest running pyramid scheme, a view that is shared by many. In fact, the name in itself implies a pyramid scheme, SOCIAL security. How about Personal Security? or Private Security?

Fact is the government does not trust us to take care of our own retirement, cause after all, we are the bewildered herd. And sadly, the fact is that a lot people can not be trusted. But for people who have the capability and who are willing to should be able to opt out of it. Against, why are we catering to least common denominators in our society?

Look, let’s stop the bickering and go back to how social security was intended. Let the money I put in, become my retirement money. I really don’t want to live off of my grandkids’ social security deduction. Whether it is in a separate personal investment account or in a huge pool, it does not matter to me. But I do want every dime I put in… plus interest.

And please everyone, if you have 401K at your work, contribute fully into it. And always contribute 100% into your IRA or Roth IRAs.

America's Dumbest? Criminals

I did not get this on tape (what was I thinking not bringing a video camera to work with me to UPS). But if I had, this would definitely make it to the America’s Dumbest Criminal show.

While I was at work on Friday, a torn package came thru the belt. On the package, in huge black letters was “FAKE ROLEX.” When we flipped the box over, “golden” watches with diamonds and sapphire and emeralds all came pouring out, OH MY. I informed my supervisor who decided to call the F.B.I. Apparently, it’s common practice for us to have their number handy, incase of Anthrax, or a bomb, or a blow-up doll accidents (You will be shocked at the number of pornographic crap that runs through our belts, but that’s another story for another time).

Two M.I.B.s came in black sedan an hour later and started questioning us. Took a couple of pictures, confiscated the box and left.

I forgot exactly what one of the dude said when he was “interviewing” (read interrogating) me. But it was somewhere along the line of did you take one. I replied no, thinking to myself, as if I would risk my job, for a fake Rolex…

They were fake Rolexes… Right…?

Now that I think about it… it could have been the cleverest protection against theft… ever…

Free Gmail! - While Supplies Last!

I been meaning to do this for a while.. but if anyone want a gmail account. email me.

Disclaimer: Offer only valid for earthly residents. The World Against Me reserves the right to refuse the extension of invites to anyone for whatever reason, i.e. smelling bad. TWAM is not responsible for any damage Gmail may cause your computer. TWAM is not responsible for any injury caused by the acceptance or extension of this office. By accepting this offer, you understand and agree that 99% of the computer error which occurs originates between the keyboard and the chair. Void where prohibited

Omen III / W.T.F. - UPS Edition II

Ok, this is beginning to sound title of a movie. But Ramblin’ Girl hit it on the head, dead on.

So after having one of those days at work, I went home. Have a little verbal altercation with my wife and went to sleep. Woke up with a raging headache. I had not had a headache like this since I came back from Japan.

It seemed like just another night at UPS. The volume was a bit on the high side, but no big deal. Then we got news that the Oakland hub cannot process 20 of their trailers and those trailers has to be routed to us. Great… another 20,000 boxes…

One of the boxes that came through the belt was soaked. And the liquid had leaked onto all the surrounding boxes. I moved the box as sees a Flammable HAZMAT label. And the liquid has gotten all over my gloves and sleeves. I did what any sane man would do. I turned off the belt, panicked and screamed for my supervisor. I thought I was going to catch on fire. Either that or pass out from the fumes. My supervisor climbs up to where I was (I work about 20 feet above the ground) and was mortified to see what had happened. We had to shut off the belt for 10 minutes so a HAZMAT crew can clean up. During which, I went outside to “air” out.

After I came back, I was informed that a trailer was missorted onto our belt. Adding an additional thousand packages to our 6000 volume. And each one of these packages has to be put into a “missort slide”. Let’s just say a LOT more work.

It was finally break time. As I was walking outside for some fresh air, a co-worker called my name and I spun around. Less than a second later, a case of wine comes crashing down from the belt above. No more than a feet away from me. We are talking about a 12-pack case of wine. Like 50 some-odd pounds… All the bottles were broken and the HAZMAT team was once again called. I shudder to think what would happen if my co-worker didn’t not call for me.

After break was no better,

I banged up my knee bad when I was trying to get on the belt, twice. I can barely bend it now.

I slammed my head on an overhead rail while on the belt, because I forgot to duck. Which did nothing for my headache.

My gloves have three holes at the fingertips, all from last night. And I did not have a chance to buy any spare the last weekend.

When my shift was over, I slipped on one of the slide and banged up my thigh.

I am so glad I got home in one piece.

Like I said, some days I wish I had stayed in bed.

Did I mention, yesterday was garbage day? And we ran out of kitty litter.

Theme Song

If we all have to have one theme song in life, I think Suicidal Tendencies' "How Will I Laugh Tomorrow" captures how it like for me growing up. And days like these:

How Will I Laugh Tomorrow

Here I sit and watch my world come crumbling down
I cry for help but no one's around
Silently screaming I bang my head against the wall
It seems like no one cares at all
Always an emotion, but how can I explain
How can I explain
Kind of like the scent of a rose
With words I can't explain
The same with my pain
Caught up in emotion-Goes over my head
Goes over my head
Sometimes I got to think to myself is this life or death
Am I living or am I dead
The clock keeps ticking but nothing else seems to change
Problems never solved, just rearranged
And when I think about all the times that I've had
So few good-So many bad
I search for personality and I look for things I can not see

Love and peace flash through my mind
Pain and hate are all I find
Find no hope in nothing new
Never had a dream come true
Lies and hate and agony
Thru my eyes that's all I see
If I'm gonna cry
Will you wipe away my tears?
If I'm gonna die
Lord please take away my fear
Before I drown in sorrow
Last thing that I'll say
How will I laugh tommorow
If I can't even smile today
Today today--when I can't even smile today
Today today--when I can't even smile today
How will I laugh tommorow--when I can't even smile today
How will I laugh tommorow--when I can't even smile today

Omen (part 2)

Ramblin' Girl's advised me to watch out for the falling liquid container. I don't think that's what the omen was all about. But it has definitely came and it's here to stay, for a while.

Ever had one of those fuckin' days, where you can't do shit right. Everything you say is wrong, everything you do ends up a mess?

Well it’s been one of those day.. and it’s only 1PM.

I should have just stayed in bed. Somebody shoot me please.

Omen?

I have never given much thought to omens and the stars, superstitions and karma. I always figured that events and our future are all products of our previous actions; we make it and break it with our own decisions. But the strangest thing happened to me last night. Which some may consider as “bad omens”.

Last night, I took a bottle of black cherry soda from the fridge. Shoved it in my big oversized jacket, and went to the computer to check some stuff before I head off to my night job. As I stood up to leave, the bottle fell out of my pocket and crashed to the floor, cracking it. I quickly cleaned it up and left for work. I have one of the oversize jackets. The pocket are the top loading type, and VERY deep. But shit happens right…

I was let off work early last night, and when I opened the garage door, there was a huge mess on the floor. The bucket I use to go fishing with fell from a ledge on the wall, and a bottle of beer that was inside cracked open, much the same way as the soda. The bucket (with all the stuff inside) is fairly heavy, and was sitting on a made-shift ledge on the side of the garage. The ledge is wide enough to hold the bucket. It wasn’t particularly windy last night nor was there any report earthquake.

WTF…?

Growing up is hard to do

Growing up, my idea of being a grown-up was having the freedom to do what I want, when I want. Which as we all know, can’t be further from the truth. In the last few years, I have also struggled with the idea of being a grown-up. What does being a grown-up actually mean? When do you become a grown-up? Surely, age is not a good measure for it. I mean, the 18th birthday just doesn’t automatically usher you through some magical portal and transform you instantly into a responsible adult.

It is funny how you come to certain realization at the strangest time.
     And mine came yesterday…
          On Father’s day… 2005.
               While surfing the Internet.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved cars. No, not the “I love to sleep or eat good food” love. Nor the “I love my wife, my dog, my cats and my future kids” love. A different kind of love, a passion if you will. It could have (may in the future) become an obsession, but I refuse to let it get that far.

When I was in high school, I desperately wanted a ’91 Honda CRX SiR (Japanese Domestic Market). Why? It was a small and light (1977 lbs) w/ 157 hp (B16A) engine. But due to financial reasons, I could not afford one. (importing the S.O.B. would have cost around $30K).

I had also always wanted a motorcycle. Not a dingy 600cc or even a 750cc, I wanted something big, and fast. I wanted a Hiyabusha. But due to part impracticality and part laziness on my end prevented me from ever getting one.

Then one day, much like the revelation I had this Sunday, I was introduced to Detroit muscle, Chargers, Cheville, Cuda, Stingrays and Cameros. (*grunts like Tim the tool man Taylor). No longer did little rice-rockets with mufflers that sounded like can of angry bees do anything for me. I wanted the purr of a finely tuned V-8, the roar of full throttled engine. I was hooked. But I wanted nothing more than a 1969 Shelby GT-500. THAT was a thing of beauty. I could never afford this car either ($100K), but it hasn’t deterred me from wanting it.. kinda like the haunting dream that will never be realized.

I know, by now you are wondering... what in the world am I rambling about. Bear with me…

This Sunday, I found out that Ford Motor Co will once again collaborate with Carol Shelby and release a new GT500:



This time around, I can probably afford it (40K? maybe?), my wife and I would probably have to streeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetch the shit out of our budget. But I can finally get a piece of American history. But as quickly as the happiness and excitement came. A realization came to me. I am grown up now; I just cannot set aside everything and pursue wild dreams anymore. Especially a materialistic dream, of a car. I mean… really hit me. This is what being grown up is all about. Setting your priorities, knowing the consequences of your actions. Willing to give up everything and work your ass to the bone for the things that I am grateful that I already have: My wife, My dog, my two cats, my two goldfish and a house.

But if I ever get a divorce or win the lottery… I am coming for you… Shelby

What I learned in Journalism

During my two year tenure in the journalism program, I learned a lot about the mentality of students, tenured professors and journalism expectation and standards as a whole.

While the left and the right will forever be fighting about how the media leans either each way. The truth is that people who inspire to be journalist wants to make a difference. They all secretly want to be the next Pulitzer winner. The next Bob Woodward, Carl Bernsteins, Matt Drudge or Michael Isikoff if you will. But as in the case of Isikoff, you learn quickly that stories are not printed based on truth. The institutional, financial and political pressure that surrounds a newspaper keeps it from EVER being impartial.

One of the stories that I worked on for weeks was the inconsistency in which parking tickets were being issued. I admit, I had a bone to pick, I was given a ticket parking in a 30 minute visitor parking slot. No, I did not pass the 30 minute limit. Rather, I was given the ticket because I was not a visitor. I was angry that that they would go as far as that to give me a ticket. So over the next week, I studied and memorized all the parking rules and regulation in the campus handbook. And set out to find out the truth. I went around the various parking lots to see how many tickets the rent-a-cop gives one a day. And how many actual violations there were. The number of tickets given was like a low 5%. The five on-duty rent-a-cops were usually sitting in their office, taking, drinking coffee. One of them was even playing free cell, EVERY single time I go up to the office. My angle on the story would be 1) why we were paying for so many rent-a-cops who doesn’t do anything. 2) How during a time when California is facing a budget deficit, how much revenue would be pulled in if additional parking tickets were issued. 3) The issuance of these tickets will alleviate traffic constrictions and parking issues. (The campus claims that they did not have enough money to build a new parking structure, part of the budget gap can be fixed if they were to collect parking fee from all students who parked in the lots). This story was written, copy edited, and then at the final minutes, pulled by our professor/advisor, because it would create too much “tension” between the paper and the security office.

Another story was the student body fee that was collected. Every student is required to pay an one dollar “Student Representation” fee and a eight dollars “Student Body” fee. Yes, you can opt to no pay this fee, but 1) it is not a well known fact to the students and 2) you have to apply to have these fees waived. I wanted to know where this money was going. So I contacted the former treasurer, the current treasurer, the president and finally, the advisor. I wanted to see a balance sheet. With over 25,000 dollars taken in a semester and nearly NO activity ever planned for the students, what is this money being used for. This sentiment was echoed nearly two years later by a senator in the student body, in her letter to the editor dated 05/02/2005, she states, “As far as the students' budget goes, I motioned that we post the budget for the students viewing, yet as the minutes show, it was voted against. No one has advised us to recruit a commissioner of finance, nor have we been encouraged to "pursue other outreach methods to students" (Amory Cariadus). Amory Cariadus, our adviser, has told us after we inquired that we had a beginning budget of approximately $100,000. But we have never been given any exact numbers. Again, interviews were conducted, article written, plug was pulled. Our advisor “advised” against it. Because we need to maintain a good “relationship” with the them.

This is coming from a NEWSpaper which contained hardly any news, the jokers in the class would always wait until to last minute, whips out an “opinion” piece or a review to a movie/album/restaurant. I left the program in disgust and forever changed my view on journalism.

I learned something very valuable in those incidents. I learned that the freedom of speech and freedom of press is a very powerful right, but only if it is actually given. We have so many political, institutional and social aspects to consider that saying what we want is just inapt.

I learned that as it is not the job of a journalist to attempt to make changes. It is the job of a journalist to document an event that occurred, in a given time. A snapshot if you will.

I also forgot something that I’ve learned. In my last post, I included information that was not acquired, in a journalistic sense, admissible. Hearsay if you will. Although the information was correct and factual, the method itself was less than honorable. I misused the confidential trust of that particular person, and for that I apologize.

Self Rightous Beooootch!

Edited for content

It's been said that excuses are like assholes, everyone's got one and
they are all full of shit. Some excuses are "suitable" and somewhat
believable. Others are just stupid and illogical.

As some of you know, we went on strike the last three days. Last
Friday before the strike, we were asking people if they were honoring
the strike, kinda as an informal poll. So we asked this self-absorb,
self-righteous bitch who worked with one of the doctors. When asked, she replied with, "I cannot go on strike, my patient needs me here. If I don't go to work, my patients will die."

At first I thought she was kidding, but she was stone-faced serious.
I confronted her with why her patients would die if she didn't show up
to work and blobs of bullshit just came out of her mouth.

Look, you dumb ass bitch, you are an administrator. You get
referral notes and lab results together. You make sure insurance
companies will be paying for the surgery. You are a fuckin' loser who
doesn't want to stand up for anything, that's why you run to our
office to complain about your co-workers and your boss.

Look Erin, you stupid ass bitch. How many patients died when you went
on your vacation? How many patients died when you were out sick?

Get off your high horse and next time you want to come up with an
excuse, don't. Just say, "No, I am not."

A new "feel-good" movie? Ryan

Most of us have seen movies like Rudy or Radio. Those heart-warming, up-lifting movies based on real life stories.

I wonder if Ryan will be made into a movie one day.

I'm IT!

Ok.. I wasn't going to post anything until I return to work on Thursday, but I was tagged by Aarwenn and I have tons of things on my mind I need to blog about.. so I want to get this out of the way. (And because she said I was "awesome", I've always been a sucker for sweet talk.)

Pick 5 of the following questions and then complete the sentences. Then pass it on to 3 more of your blog friends! (No tag backs allowed.)

If I could be a scientist?
If I could be a farmer?
If I could be a musician?
If I could be a doctor?
If I could be a painter?
If I could be a gardener?
If I could be a missionary?
If I could be a chef?
If I could be an architect?
If I could be a linguist?
If I could be a psychologist?
If I could be a librarian?
If I could be an athlete?
If I could be a lawyer?
If I could be an inn-keeper?
If I could be a professor?
If I could be a writer?
If I could be a llama-rider?
If I could be a bonnie pirate?
If I could be an astronaut?
If I could be a world famous blogger?
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world?
If I could be married to any current famous political figure?

1) If I could be a writer / world famous blogger?

Those two questions are like synonymous, at least in my eyes.. so I will answer both of them and only count it as one.

If I could be a writer, and I am assume a good one, one that people voluntary wants to read, which would be the same as a world famous blogger. I would share with the world my raw emotions, my self righteous ideals, my idiotic opinions and my illogical thoughts. I would share with everyone my experiences, my triumphs, but more importantly, my failures. I would write a graduation speech to educate the youth, like Mary Schmich did. I would write my own obituary. And no, not one that I hope I would have fulfilled when I die, but one that is true and factually correct. Hopefully it will be interesting enough to be listened to and perhaps learned from. And I am sincerely hoping, it doesn’t end as “He work his ass off, died a day after he retired. His wife and kids barely knew him. But he did pay off his final mortgage payment. (Alanis Morisette sings, “Isn’t it ironic?”)”

2) If I could be an athlete?

I would do what Bo don't know! I would be a Football / Basketball / Baseball and Golfer. But not just some run of the mill athletic. I would be Emmitt Smith, Michael Jordan, Alex Rodriguez and Tiger Woods all rolled into one. I would be a SUPER athletic. And there will be one year, say 2020 (nice round number) where I will break every record known to men. Then and only then, do I want to be waken up.. ^_^

3) If I could be a farmer?

I would say F U to government surplus control on my corps; I would make food so cheap that no one in this world will go hungry, ever.

4) If I could be a lawyer?

I would work pro bono cases for people who needs legal help but can’t afford it. People who have been bullied by the system, because they are less fortunate. And No, I will not find loopholes for you, Mr. Orange Juice and Mr. One Glove.

5) If I could be an chef?

If I could be a chef, I would gather every single “comfort food” recipes all the grandmas, aunts and mothers have ever cooked. I will open a restaurant and offer these foods for everyone to enjoy. Who doesn’t have a memory of so-and-so cooking this-and-that?

And now, for my Tag.

Leah
Beans
Angel

On Strike

We are on strike, see y'alls when I get back.

W.T.F.?! U.P.S. edition

According to the Farmers Almanac, the moon last night was only 29.7% of full. But what happened last night at U.P.S. would have you believe it was 100% full.

First off, one of the FNGs on the belt got fired. FIRED. He got fired for misloads. A misload is when you load a box into a trailer that doesn’t belong to that particular trailer, causing the package to not meet service date. Kinda like loading a package from Texas going to San Jose, that passes our belt, onto a New York trailer.. Customer get pissed off, UPS loses money… you get the point.

Why is this surprising? This is U.P.S. Night Shift. A shift that they have trouble getting people to work. They’ve literally bent over backwards and give people a ton of perks to work that shift.

In the time I have been here, they have only fire people when they got into a physical fight, or if they stole, repeatedly. We used to have an employee that misloaded 3 – 5 packages a NIGHT. He was still with us... You just cannot get fired for that reason... that is like jumping off a boat in the middle of the ocean and missing water. It just doesn’t happen. But it happened to him… WTF… Oh well, he was slow anyways.

Then my former supervisor, Norm, who became a delivery driver, came back to supervise one of the belts. Being a driver is like the pinnacle of non-management U.P.S. work. The pay is good, overtime made it even better. The union benefits and health insurance are great, and the pension is superb. I was very happy when he became a driver. Imagine my surprise when I saw him. Turns out, like everything else in UPS, to become “permanent”, you have to have 30 working days in that position. 30 working days is like the magic number, upon which, the magical union barrier protects you from any harm the evil UPS may inflict on you. Well, Norm was told yesterday after his shift, that they didn’t need so many drivers after all, and he can reapply when another position opens up.
Yesterday was exact 29 working days since he started driving. This apparently was a common practice for UPS. One of the permanent drivers went through this ritual eight times before he was permanent…

Our current supervisor will be replaced by a different supervisor come Monday. Ever had a boss that you did not like? But as time passes, you just get used to them? He said to me last night that it was all for the better, cause no one in the belt liked him. It wasn’t until he said that which made me realized how lonely he felt on that belt. He isn’t really that bad of a guy, a bit uptight and emotionless. Maybe the people in the new belt will treat him better…

Last but not least, a couple of my co-worker almost got killed last night, or at least very badly maimed. Two of them was loading in a trailer, and has gotten it about 40% filled. When a feeder driver (these are drivers that pull and put trailers in docks as we need them) pulls the trailer out. The trailer jerks causing both workers to fall onto the floor. It wasn’t until 50 yards of so later, the driver realized what had happened. Lucky, the wall of boxes they were building did not collapse. These walls are about 8 feet tall, each wall contains around 120 boxes, if each box is approximately 30 lbs, if it were to collapse on them… not pretty. Funny thing was the driver did a “hit and run”. After he found out he had pulled a trailer with workers in it… he unhooked and sped away. I mean… where are you going to go? Last we heard, he was sent home and will be let go.

Strange things are happening, accidents everywhere. Everyone please be careful.

Worst Invention Ever – Fax Machines

OK.. I admit, nuclear weapons, fire-proof matches, solar-powered flashlight and the microwave bacon maker probably tops the list.. but Fax Machines are amongst one of the WORST invention.. EVER!

Don’t get me wrong, fax machines can be very useful. Too lazy to go get a form from someone? Have it fax over! And there was a time when you can’t just log on to get any information you needed, you would had it fax to you. Bank rate sheets, Insurance quotes… the possibility was limitless. Hell, the fax machine was the first step in the “beaming” technology we saw on Star Trek. Beam me up, Scotty!

But with great power, comes great responsibilities. Mix that with the number of idiotic people we have in our society, and yes, we have the recipe for drama.

So when a patient wants to see a doctor here, they fax their information to us. Some time this “information” can be 50+ pages, which will hog up 30 minutes of the fax machine. We get about 50 or so requests a day. On top of that, we have prescription request, note from other doctors’ offices or labs on existing patients, personal faxes for our 30 some odd doctors and their assistants, outgoing faxes, penny stock alerts and 99 dollars Cancun trips! We use up around 3 reams of paper a day, just on faxes.

No to mention, everyone and their mother uses the fax machine and grabs paper as they please. Thing usually get to where it is suppose to go...in due time... but in rare occasions, things gets misplaced. But we will get back to this in a bit.

Every day, we have patients calling us, asking if we have received their records. Some we have. .some we haven’t. They acted as if we are lying.. Look, lady, just because YOUR doctor said they faxed it… doesn’t mean they did.
And even if they did.. do they have a confirmation..
and even if they have a confirmation, if I don’t have it in my hand.. I don’t have it
I really don’t care you faxed it 800 times.. if I don’t have it.. I don’t have it.

Why do people assume that just because it was fax, and that they have confirmation, automatically we have received it? I could be your fault (wrong number, perhaps), our fault (misplacement), the fax machines fault or just an act of god… does it really take THAT much effort to re-fax it. Stop thinking that just because you feed it thru the fax machine, it’s a done deal. Idiots!

P.S. I admit.. My job here is to take all faxes that comes in, and automatically feed it to the shredder …

Alicia's Story

"What would you do if you were 23 and your doctor told you that you had cancer? Alicia Parlette, a Chronicle copy editor, tells her story in a seven-part series. . "

I will update it as they are posted.

Alicia's Story
1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Photos
1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Double *Clunk*

(coming to a Seinfeld episode near you)

On my way to work today, my wife and I detoured to dropped off some netflix movie. And something occurred to me.. She didn’t Double *Clunk*.

*in Jerry’s voice* What do you mean she didn’t Double Clunk!!

When I was young, many many moons ago. I was taught to send a letter, you:

1) open the lid
2) drop the mail in
3) close the lid
4) re-open the lid to make sure that it dropped down
5) close the lid

and it would sound something like this *Squeeeeeeak* *Clunk* *Squeeeeeeak* *Clunk*

So she dropped my movies in the box, she didn’t Double Clunk. How am I suppose to know the mail actually dropped.. What if it’s stuck cause the mail box is overfilled.. What if the glue from the envelope somehow interacted with the moisture inside the lid and instantaneously, dried from the advance Moist-Away™ glue, and is waiting for the next person to come and steal my movie.

Wait a second.. When did I become such a worry wart? But we will worry about that later, we have a mailbox dilemma.

So I told her about the Double Clunk and she looked at me as if I was crazy. But to satisfy my newly acquired minuscule Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, she went back to check the box, which of course shows the movies had gone down.

Then the conversation has gone to how many people actually Double Clunk. I am willing to bet a whole damn lot.

So let’s start a survey, a very informal one.. Ask your friends, you family, your pets, you co-workers.. ask them if they Double Clunk.. I am willing to bet it is a LOT!

Random Shit

It’s Friday!! Maybe I am weird, but I actually hate FriDAYs. I mean the day itself is fine and lovely, because after Fridays, you get the weekend. But daytime Friday is just awful. After 4 days of working 2 jobs.. Friday is when my body gives up. I do not want to get up in the morning. I do not want to even open my eyes. People say TGIF and I think to myself, I still have to deal with UPS tonight. Friday is usually pretty busy, people trying to get their packages out of the way before the weekend comes.

So here is my new dilemma, this is MY blog. My space to say what I want, MY place to vent out frustration. Problem is that my better half also reads this blog. So there are things I really can’t say. Because we all know that I will end up writing something that will just come across wrong. And I will can never be take it back.

I have always said, when people are angry, they often say things that they REALLY feel. Because all tact and rational goes out the window and you have nothing but your emotions and your urge to scream and say whatever the hell you feel. You know what they say.. Truth hurts.

(This was suppose to be posted last week, was a looong day at work)