Q&A (and brownies) with J.J. Murray discussion
The Venting Soapbox
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Aww Jo, that's great. I am so happy for your mom. It is scary when our momitas get sick and it's great you are there for her. What I had sent was a picture to make you laugh. I have a weird sense of humor LOL but you said in a previous post that if I would put my pic online, make sure I don't put up a pic with me in a bikini with cowboy boots...so I sent one LOL. I put a banner that said "Christian girl in a bikini and cowboy boots--it can be done." Strange, I know. But when I came across that picture (yes I had one already from early summer, which is why I reacted to your statement), I said, "I'm sending this to Jo!" So if you didn't see it, awww it was stupid anyway. Plus I sent two other to get your opinion on the pics I chose...your objective opinion since we don't know each other. That's all, Carib Sis.
As for job: thanks Jo for your kind words... I did resign. After praying about it for so long, and seeing myself develop bitterness, I had to. It is a risk and I am sorta nervous, cause I have been there six years, and fought for two promotions--one just received in March, but I do have some options to hold me down. Because of momita's health issues, I wouldn't do it all half-cocked, willy-nilly. So how it went: Monday I planned to talk to her but of course she took off another day and did not return as scheduled. Boss called me at 6 am and said she needed another day to rest from her vacation. I said "okay sure I will finish your presentation for Wednesday's meeting, run today's team meeting, turn in your unfinished report, and see six clients." She asked if I was being sarcastic. I said, "Nawwww, all this brings me joy." So Tuesday, I met with her. The boss wouldn't accept my letter officially either. Said she would not put it with HR until next Monday; she wants me to "think this through." She told me that she didn't want to mention it but she is going to retire next year and was grooming me to take her position by next year December. I said, "thanks but no thanks." She actually cried a little. I said, "I appreciate your tears, but you remind me of a bad husband--only loves you when you're leaving." She sniffled and said "Vee, you know that's not true." Yeah right. I want a divorce.
I am going to do real estate more often than weekends but I am taking another license test this month that will allow me to join a private practice for a few hours of private work weekly, hopefully with my mentor if she agrees.
Now I have to tell you about my Mental Health Mentor. I spoke to her about my job. She said, "Good, I was waiting for you to come to your senses about that factory you worked for." She is a 69-year-old PhD psychotherapist I used to work with, who has been in her own practice for a while now. The "Old Jewish Brooklyn Battle Ax" (my nickname for her) said she maaaayy supervise me and let me join in her private practice if I "get off [my] rump and take that test like [I've} been saying." I am going to just take that as a "yes" from her LOL.
"Battleax" is also an atheist, (like by my current boss) and mean, and could not stand the sight of me after she hired me. Still, she is my mental health mentor because I always try to find a mentor in someone I really admire to learn from because mentors are priceless to me. And I don't ask just anyone either. I've even prayed for a mentor when I really wanted one. I don't believe one can make it in anything, without someone more seasoned to teach you what they know in a specific field, business, or area they specialize in. Not so you can become them, but so they can teach you enough to help you develop into you. However, some folks get weird when you ask them to mentor you so I am learning the hard way not to push (as hard) anymore. Having said that, I am glad I begged Doc to mentor me. She is why I made it this long in this field. She knew that being a therapist with own practice is my goal to make a living my way while helping folks, but she also knows that it is my dream to make a living as a writer...more than anything. Still, she mentors me doing what I do now, but not without complaints. When I called her yesterday, she picked up the phone and said, "What now, Sunshine, another crisis?" LOL
Funny thing is, when I decided to ask her to mentor me, she told me no, that she didn't like me and that she didn't "have time to be everything to someone like me who wants everything from someone like her." She then told me that she was using that line against me because she heard me saying it to someone on the phone once LOL. But I explained to her that I could have asked anyone in our agency, that I wasn't afraid to, but I asked her because of the admiration I had for her work with young, formerly incarcerated women. She was mad at me for asking. She used to say, "You're like gangrene! You get into someone's blood and infect them with your Vacirca-ness. The only way to get rid of ya is to cut off both my legs! Oh and thanks for pressuring me into caring about you and your budding career more than I should at my age!" I would say, "Please?" She would kick me out of her office but I would return with a plate of food for lunch and pick her brain about different treatment modalities and styles, sitting at her feet like an eager puppy :-). I would get her to read a lot of my research papers while I was in my first graduate program. I was sure I was gonna save the world as Super Therapist and she would be there to yank on my cape and pull me out of the clouds. And sometimes, even though I was young and foolish in her eyes, she let me pull her off the ground to join me in the clouds. "I'm not a know-it-all. I can still take a good piece of advice from an idiot like you." I would just hug her every time she snapped at me and finally she hugged me back one day. After two years of one-sided hugs. When our agency lost funding for her program, and wanted to lay us off, I heard she paid out of pocket, with her late husband's money, to keep it going so we wouldn't lose our jobs. She kept us for three more months to give us time to find work. Once the last person found a job, she closed down two weeks after. Now THAT's a boss. And she looked mean, and hated God, and hated everyone, but I could sense something about her, which is why I harassed her to take me under her flabby wings :-) and mentor me.
And she has mentored me ever since, even though she maintains she can't stand to be around me without Valium for more than five seconds. "You're just...too...too energetic Vacirca. Come down off your cloud and live on earth with the rest of us, whydoncha? And for the love of God, stop smiling so much! Even when your mad you're happy and making jokes! You are so annoying! It must be that fake God you keep praying to." And she would say stuff like that on a regular basis. But I would force her into another hug. And if I really wanted to annoy her, I would give her a smooch on the top of her head, since she's like 4 foot 11. I guess I did find another momita. LOL. Yup, Doc is my mentor. She is the true tough NY chick. No sunshine, just subways, sarcasm, cement, and cigarettes.
I've kept in contact with her for years and years. She would pretend I was a nuisance but would call me immediately if I backed off, when I suddenly remembered my pride and dignity. "Humph, I get it, you don't want me to bother you, fine! I ain't sweating your funky behind anymore!" But she would find me when she would suddenly realize she missed me. :-) Sometimes, I would go for "therapy" with her when i was losing it since my friends and family always come to me.
So I called her up and we spoke about my so-called career options. Good news is that she would consider my joining her practice. She also said she is afraid I will turn her place of business upside down with my antics, that she never forgot from when she was my boss back in the day, that I was a practical joker who always tried to fight against the machine with my big mouth. LOL I was like, "Nooooo. Who, meeee?"
But she also said it may bring new life to her spot and that she remembers I was a workaholic who would work overnight if necessary 'til work was done. I'm like, "Noooo. Who, meeeee?" (Little does she know I ain't 22 anymore and I'm getting older and tired just like her). But she said she is considering it because she is turning patients away from lack of time and is losing money. She is getting old, she said, and would rather sit back and collect the money off our brains and our backs LOL. I appreciated her honesty. I am also applying to clinics to do what's called fee for service treatment, instead of working with a low-income program--I'll receive referrals from agencies that work only with child welfare (foster children, their parents etc). This way I get to choose which clients I think I can help instead of having them rammed down my throat. I want to develop my own practice one day when I can get the required billable hours of practice work to allow me to work for myself and supervise younger clinicians one day. If I want to write I have to work for myself in this business. Be able to make my own schedule the way I used to in my current job. That's what it boils down to. So for now, after the test, I'll try to join mentor or someone's practice, and register to work with youth and families in the foster care system. I want to get ahold of these kids before they become the clients I have now. I cannot work with another suicidal bipolar patient with addictions to crystal meth who tortures animals, or my rapist client who sets fires. I cannot work with my boss either. If I get burnt out at 33, what will 34 look like? When someone calls and says they feel like killing themselves and you sigh and roll your eyes and rush off the phone that is a problem. But that is what happens in the mental health system to clinical social workers or psychologists, or certified mental health counselors who are working in programs like mine where they care so much about the monies that they make you work with 16-20 clients and force paperwork down your esophagus. You get burnt out. So "onward Christian soldier!" for me.
So that's it. Can't do it anymore. Anyway, this has been a crazy week and I have been writing it all down as you and JJ suggested. I am waiting for my blog site to be completed but waiting on my bro and his friend is like waiting on a check in the mail when rent is due. Still writing new work and revising old work. I have some funny things to vent but I don't want to keep embarrassing myself before I even get to have our winin' competition in person, JO. Thanks for all y'all "listening" though. And Jo, will still pray for your mom. And if she likes music let me know, I will email you some for her:-), to keep her island hips winin' and gyratin'. She'll be in true West Indian form in no time LOL...soca? calypso?
I totally understand what you were going through with your job. Honestly I am struggling with some issues myself. I mean when clients/employers/directors devalue a person and you start to question your own self-worth. It took the back-burner once my mom's surgery became evident. But it is raising its' ugle head again. I have many many things to think about seriously. I also have a teenage daughter, that is causing me to loose my mind. She isn't wild or anything, I think I could've handle that. She argues and then when I confront her, she shuts up and doesn't talk. My daughter is an almost carbon copy of me, I know that tactic. I do it. Therefore she is thinking a mile a minute. I ask her to express herself and she won't do it. I am FRUSTRATED!!!!.
So this is my life in a teacup. My sucking day-job, my mom, my daughter and soon but not quite yet my place of residence.
No, Jo-hermana, when "clients/employers/directors" act shady, never question your self-worth. Question the job's worth.Not for nothing, Jo, the good news is that, in spite of your challenges, you have many things to write about.
Some teenagers are complete joy and others are rough. I don't have one but when I did have one on loan a coupla weeks ago, I just about lost it. And that was just for a few days. I commend parents of teens everywhere, I really do. And I love the teen that came over too, helped my cousin raised him, but he was rough. At least your daughter doesn't curse at you. Couple of weeks later, I still feel bad that I went postal and physical with my teenage cousin (I consider him like a nephew) when he cussed me out (under his breath but still, I heard). I was heartbroken at what he said, then enraged. Anyway, we made up this past weekend when he asked to come back over. And he behaved this time. He apologized for calling me the "B" word (B**ch) and I apologized for swinging the B word (Belt). But it's difficult. You want kids to respect you as their parent/aunt/elder of some kind without fearing you, but some kids don't seem to want to respect you unless you cause them to fear you. Catch-22. I am glad your daughter isn't "wild" but I can see how her closing up shop could be frustrating if you are trying to communicate with her. But kisa ou'p fait? Translation: Whatayagonnado? Answer: Just as you've always done--the best you can.
But I wonder, at which point in the communication does your daughter shut down? Is it when she feels like you are right? Or is it when she has to admit/agree to something she is against? Or does she do it just to push your buttons? And when she does, are you standing there screaming, "Answer me! Answer me!" Just askin'...not trying to analyze you LOL.
Suggestion to you Jo: next time you ask your daughter to express herself and she refuses to talk, do something silly like tickle her or have a food fight. Nothing breaks mother-daughter tension like silliness. Then when she lets her guard down and is relaxed, she'll open up. I don't have a teenaged daughter but I have a mother who acts like my teenaged daughter and when she crosses her arms and begins her silent treatment phase (after hysteria and fussing) I tickle her foot or bop her with a pillow then she busts out laughing and then all is good in mother-daughter twilight zone again. While she's laughing and relaxed I get her to talk. Some folks just stubborn you know? Some folks you can't budge with a mack truck, but you can knock 'em clean over with a feather.
I know I know it's too easy. Who do I think I am making such suggestions anyway? *grin* After going off on my lil cousin the way I did? Forgive me, I was FRUSTRATED!!!
Don't worry Jo, I got your back.
On a nice note, I was up all night. Returned from job at 3 am this morning (boss left at 4:30 pm yesterday :-) ) So I figured I'd stay up cause if I went to sleep I wouldn't get up for work. I had nothing to read so I read all of these comments from the beginning of this topic. I was hollering. Some of the comments are funny. Really funny. When you have time, check it out. Some of you people's vents are funny. Like the time JJ talked about someone took out his son's laundry and left a post it calling him an "AHAT" ROTF
And when you, JO, and I, were talking about getting beat as kids
And my vent about trannies fighting me for shoes would have been funny too if I wasn't still wanting to bust a cap in their behinds.
I wish these were the types of cool conversations I would have in real life instead of "my boyfriend got another girl pregnant what do I do?" or "I am sick of my husband not picking up his socks. I am getting a divorce." Or in my case, "I am sick of my job" which is how I try to start venting until my off-line friends cut me off to discuss their boyfriends and husbands LOL.
Seriously, take a look when there is time. Real funny stuff. But where is the rest of the group, Jo-chica?
There is a thin line between loving being single and hating it. Whenever I get caught in the "I hate ... or can you believe he ... (and my favorite)is a-hole tattooed on my forehead?" discussions. I say a silent thank you prayer in my head. Other times can be lonely.
Also even though it may seem tedious, real life is strange fiction after we tweak it.
Your advice about jobs and self worth is very true and I agree.
Mod
A man two spots up from me in line at a grocery store is complaining about something. Naturally, I have to listen:
Man: The online ad said these sodas were three six-packs for nine dollars.
I love this country. Comedy wherever you go, even to the grocery store.
Cashier: But now they're on sale for four for ten dollars.
Man: That's not what it said online.
Cashier: Sir, we're actually saving you money. You can now get them three for seven-fifty.
Man: Then why does it say three for nine dollars online?
Cashier: I'm only a cashier, sir. I have no idea what's online.
Man: Well, you should.
Cashier: This is a grocery store, sir. We have hundreds of sales going all the time. I can't keep up with them all.
Man: Let me speak to your manager.
After the man explains his "predicament" and the line stretches back into the aisles:
Manager: Well, we can honor what you saw and charge you more for the sodas or we can give you the better deal.
Man: What's online is dishonest. You need to change that.
Manager: We have no control of what's online, sir. Should we go with the three for nine or three for seven-fifty?
Man: (hesitates) It's the principle of the thing. Your customers come in expecting to pay one thing and then they're told another thing. It's dishonest.
Manager: (scans the sodas) I've scanned them at two-fifty a six-pack. Here's your total. (starts to walk away)
Man: I will never come back to this store again.
Manager: I'm sorry to hear that, sir.
Man: (to cashier) You should know your sales, Missy.
Folks in line: "Fool ... idiot ... I could never work here ... I got to get me some of them sodas--that's a good deal."
I bet there was a lot of laughing and cursing in that break room. Some people take standing up for their morals too far.
I also agree, I can't work in a place like that if that guy was my customer. My face would be calling him and idiot and he would be demand I be written up or something.
Hi people.Hope all is well. Jo, hope your momita is recuping nicely.
I tried, I really tried not to vent so much but alas, I am back again.
Ever just want to have peace and quiet...silence?
You know, silence. That magical thing that happens when you just don't have to listen to people speaking, background noise zinging against your ears. Just dark, pulsating silence.
I know, I know. Who am I to expect silence anywhere in the NYC-metro area?
Silence is the main reason I have chosen to double my cost of transportation by boycotting the subway system and choosing to ride on the NYC Express Bus system.
I just came back from the circus--Cirque du Soleil at Radio City Music Hall. Once a month, I volunteer my time to take out clients who have various issues with getting out in public (agoraphobia, social anxiety, etc) to various places to help them get out of their homes and into the world again.
It was cool, I guess. But loud, with lots of swirling colors, pulsating music, and cheering adults. Some of my clients freaked out but somehow I managed to get it all under control with $20 boxes of popcorn. Of course we had to have a "group process" during intermission to help them identify the root causes of their anxiety.
After the show, after making sure everyone got into their ambulettes, cabs, or Access-a-Ride (NYC Medicaid-run transportation for the disabled), I enjoy a leisurely stroll in Manhattan. It is a beautiful breezy night. A little humid from the mid-evening rain, and everyone was out and about. Probably out to enjoy one of the last warm nights before the weather realizes it's Autumn.
I look forward to quiet on my overpriced express bus. Usually the last crowded bus is the 10:30 run--people usually getting off their 2pm - 10pm work shifts, happy hour letting out all over, etc. Even though I made it in time for that bus, I let it pass me by. I am sure I am going to have a quiet ride on the 11:08 bus. I look forward to relaxing as we zip up Madison Avenue before heading to the Bronx to pick up my car. I look forward to my little half-hour of quiet time before I head home and have to speak to my family (God bless 'em).
I enjoy standing there on E. 51st and Madison for half an hour, just breathing in the air, watching couples and groups stroll by, enjoying NY. I make up stories for each of them in my head.
The bus arrives. I get on. I sit. Already savoring the silence that usually comes on my late-night bus rides.
But no.
Behind me sat a couple of young Latina girls. The girls clearly do not recognize the power of a voice that carries. I know because I have a booming voice that could carry from here to Canada if I let it. Maybe it's from my days doing spoken word and theater. This is why I try to watch my volume in public. I know that people just don't want to hear my conversation. Even if they do, why should I force them to? Some things are just private. But these girls sat there, talking loudly about having sex with their boyfriends. "Yeah, so when he was eating my blah blah blah and when I went down on blah blah and so I was on top, right? And he was so quick to blah blah." and of course both girls were graphic and cursing and giggling and taking calls in between their sharing of notes.
The guy next to me was blasting Lil Wayne and Drake from his IPOD. Even though he was across the aisle and we were both at window seats, I could hear every pulse of the base, every word the rappers spit. Of course he was rapping loudly right along with them.
And some woman had her baby out at 11 pm, who was more than a little annoyed at not being home in its crib...it screamed holy murder.
And please, don't forget the lady in front of me who was on the phone with some guy, having a loud-behind argument. "But you told me you was gonna give me the money for our son's trip! I don't care if you have a newborn, your son been your son for fifteen years before you decided to get some young tramp pregnant. Yeah, you ain't s***, a dirty mutha*****, and you can kiss my entire a** you's a straight-up bi***."
And then the bus fills up at E. 72nd and Madison so I end up sitting next to another teenager who is also blasting music from her IPOD. Lady Gaga tortures me as she continually presses repeat on her song, also humming along, trying to match her tone for tone. Not!
Then at E. 86th St and Third, the gangbangers get on. All dressed in red--red doorags, red baseball caps, red tee shirts, and red footwear. Red bandannas hanging out of red pockets. Of course they are high, and they just got through sharing their blunt because the scent of marijuana fills the air as soon as they pass us in the aisle. Sure, sure, sit two rows behind me. Why not? You all might as well.
What happens when a bunch of teen bloods get high?
They get stupid.
One of them starts harassing a young girl. "Yo, mama, you lookin' delicious! (Delicious?) What's your name?"
She doesn't answer. But homeboy isn't going to be embarrassed. "Yo! You right there. I'm talking to you. Don't be ackin' like you ain't hear my a**. What's your name?"
"Listen, thanks but no thanks. I ain't interested. I gotta man at home."
"Yo, I ain't ax you all dat. Why you gotta be a b****? I just asked your name. What's your name?"
"I just told you to leave me alone. And why you gotta call me a b****, ni**a? You don't know me, you greasy-a** mutha*****."
"Greasy? B****, you wish you had a man at home. You better hope I don't catch you on the street you stank hoe."
"Yo man, forget it. Leave her alone," says a good Samaritan from the back of the bus.
Now the homies have to get involved. "What? Ni***, ain't nobody talkin' to your broke a**. I'll slice your throat right on this bus, Ni***, tryin' to show off for the crowd and s***. You wanna die, dude?"
Chuckles. "Yeah, man. Try it. I'm an army ranger, man. I'll break your neck before you even turn your head to look at me twice. Try me, you piece of s***."
Other gangbanger. "So what up though? You trying to pop off, Ni***? Your white a** makin' threats? Dis ain't da movies, Ni***! Ioncare if you a army range (range?) You will get hurt in this muthaf****! But if you feelin' froggy, Ni***, leap, Ni***, leap!"
And theeen the bus driver decides to pull over. "Look, I am trying to drive this bus to get y'all where y'all need to go. Everybody just shut the hell up and let me drive. One more outburst and the bus goes out of service. I swear to my moms."
"Whatever, Ni***!" says one of the bangers. "You ain't about to do a muthafu****' thang!"
The bus driver, an obvious 'hood boy himself, points to the banger. "All of you can get off this bus right now or I'll call the cops."
"Call them! We paid our fare. We ain't about to get off this bus!"
And soooo the bus driver pulls the bus over at E. 122nd Street and declares it out of service. He radios his station to call the cops. They arrive. And instead of simply getting the bangers off the bus, everybody has to get out to wait for the next bus. The cops haul off the boys.
I simply decide to take a cab. I run to the bodega at the corner and pull out cash from the ATM. Hail a livery cab. Haggle my fare from $35 to $20 to get me to Coop City Bronx to get my car.
Finally peace and quiet?
Nope.
I was forced to listen to Egyptian music the whole way as he screamed into his bluetooth in Arabic at someone.
I get home. Silence. Peace and quiet.
Nope. My cousins are all here with my brother, chilling and screaming and watching old comedy tapes of Eddie Murphy--"we having an Eddie Murphy marathon," my bro tells me as I walk into the house.
"Why didn't you take them to your girl's house? It ain't like you don't be there most of the time anyway, Marv."
"She wanted a quiet night. So we left and came here."
And here they are at 1:56 am. Surround sound blasting, they are shrieking and of course, they keep knocking on my door. "Yo, Vadie, come out. Why you bein' antisocial? Come chill."
And I get this every five minutes. Even though I explained I am tired and want to relax. But my brother and cousins are like bedbugs. You keep trying to get rid of 'em and they keep coming back.
What do I have to do to get silence? LOL Please. Anywhere in NY, can a sistah get a little bit of silence?
Mod
I am enjoying silence right now...at 9:13 pm because bro is not blasting music or surround sound on flat screen monster-tv, mother is on her floor and I am on mine and foster brothers are in bed.I am overjoyed. No TV, no music. No sounds. Nothing but my breath.
Fantastic.
Hi Vee and J.J., During the week, I have made taking the X-bus (my term for the express bus) my new luxury. It was that or eventually go deaf. I don't have an Ipod, but to keep my head clear of everyone on the subway, I do blast my sandisk in my own ears. Usually it is a audiobook, I like being read to, teehee.
My mom is doing very well. She is a phenomena for her doctors. Usually they wouldn't have operated on her at all due to her illness, it is seriously effecting her lungs. However if they didn't operate, her heart would have definitely killed her within six months.
Fortunately all went well.
I will probably gush about this again at a later date.
Joooooo!Fantabulous news about your momita! Praise God!
Hello all! It looks like we all have gotten caught up in the real world again. That is great.
While I stand on the soapbox about to vent. I wonder how I can do this and remain confidential. I don't like talking about for two reasons: 1. It is not my dream job. 2. It is has an intimate aspect that I would feel ethically wrong if I divulged. However, I still want to vent. I have thought about this for a long time and all I can say is that my client's personal life is getting on my nerves. I usually have no problem with it. I mean consenting adults should and can do whatever they want as long as it is not illegal or just plan wrong. But since my client's personal life is making my job more difficult. I am irritated. Everyday, I feel like I am turning into Kif a minor character from the tv show Futurama.
Whaddup Carib-sis Jo,Nice to see ya. I haven't gotten caught up in the real world personally, I just didn't want to keep dumping on this group discussion. Been through mad crazy times lately but I have been writing them down for future use, since my bro still hasn't finished setting up my website a month later. I am working on a chapter to post soon on Critique Street but have been busy preparing for D-DAY-- OCT 28th, my last day at my job I spent the summer venting about You know she has me working like a caught-up runaway slave.
About your vent. Sorry, but gyal what are you saying?
I'm like staring at the screen trying to figure out what in blazes you are venting about. And who is Kif again? *taking off granny glasses, blinking, rubbing eyes* I am reading it through again...okay...
"Dude, what is going on? Ethics, smethics! If you gonna tell it, tell it. Don't leave me hanging. Just go 'head on and spill the entire pot of beans, yo. I mean who is going to tell your client you were talking about their business. Use initials, code names, Guyanese or Trini Patois, something."
Just sayin'. I mean if you want to. LOL
okay I will start with the easiest first. Kif is a minor character in Futurama. He is a green alien, mistreated by his Captain-Kirk-gone-wrong Captain. Speaking as plainly as I can, my client is an elderly person. I assist her with walking. She has a boyfriend and on several occasions, my innocent eyes have been assaulted. Her bf is clingy; he shows up when she doesn't expect him and sleeps over.
EWWWWWWW....you mean you caught your old client getting her swerve on? EWWWW.Ewwww.
Now I wish I didn't ask. LOL.
Well...three more days until Freedom from slave trade...Oct 28th is my last day. Boss has been smiling in my face but getting back at me either subconsciously or covertly. For instance, she took off another week last week, was off from Tuesday until today. Yesterday she emailed me a list of a ton of work that was due yesterday by five to her boss. Funny thing is, she knew the staff was throwing me a surprise lunch/party between 12-4 pm and was shutting down office activity to have it. Yet she sends me work on the same day that was due at 5pm, which would have caused me to miss the party, she sends me the email which reminds me that I must complete all required tasks or my final paycheck could be held until it is.
So I missed an hour of this party because people kept trying to lead me into the conference room or to "go with [them] for lunch. I should have noticed that six different people were trying to get my attention, but I was livid and furiously trying to go through charts. I kept saying, "Sorry I can't have lunch with you (or go with you) because I have this report due and I am working through lunch." Finally my Trini friend George had to ruin the surprise and tell me that folks were waiting on me almost an hour and to drop the work and "come nuh, gyal."
Boss calls me today into her office before I leave to do field work and says, "I know you had scores to do, but did you enjoy some of your surprise party, at least?" She is smirking while she says it in this satisfied tone.
I laugh and say, "Oh, I enjoyed 90% of it, because I went in and tried to leave in order to do the work you gave me, but your boss told me that it was my day ,and that she would give you an extension for your work, and that I don't have to worry about it. As a matter of fact, Jackie said, and I quote, 'Oh come on, Toby knows better than this. She had you do this stuff to train you for a Team Coordinator position in the future. But you are leaving so it's pointless. Just spend the week terminating effectively with your clients, turn in your final notes by Friday morning, and you're done here. We'll do your exit interview and separation agreement Friday afternoon after you clean out your space. I'll let her know. I know you bust your behind for Toby, especially when she's out. I have not been blind to how much you cover for her. But take it easy for your last week and let Toby handle her own paperwork. Now sit down and hang out with us.'"
"Jackie said that?" Toby blinks.
"Yeah, she said that. So I did just that, Toby. I sat down and hung out with them until 4, then saw a client at home at 4:30 then went on home at five. I emailed you the part of your report that I did, but Jackie said that you can give the completed report to her tomorrow."
She goes into her email and reads my email, and Jackie's email, which I read over her shoulder. It told her that her report is due tomorrow at five and that Vacirca is to spend the week terminating with clients and finalizing the details of her transition ONLY. She also chastised Toby for not completing her work prior to taking off for vacation when she knows her senior worker is on her last week has to manage other tasks. Toby turned practically purple. See God don't like ugly. But still, can you believe that heffa?
"POWWWW! Take that heffa!"
Dang-g She is a SOUR HEFFA! Dealing with those kind of ppl is the reason I always wanted to work alone. I have no idea how I ended up with the day job I have. Actually I do know but refuse to think about it. Teehee! I needed some mental health days. I Literally had to demand them. I felt so much better you would not believe. Yes! I have caught my boss getting her swerve and yes Eww and Dammit are some of the words that came to mind. I fixed that by taking away the call box she had on the bed.
I used to be PC about all of it until they scarred me mentally.
Well on the 28th of October, I will try to raise a glass or say a prayer for you.
P.S. Vee I want to run a story idea by you. I have no plans on working on it now. I just want your thoughts on the concept.
Anytime sistah gyal...two days mi haffa wait and me free..lawd me cyaan take it no more...bloodfiya!Yeah, chile, run it...send the concept. I am gonna post my chapter as soon as I have a day when I actually come home from my 9-5pm job before midnight.
OCtober 28th raise three glasses for me...one for you, one for me, and one for God for getting me on out of there.
But Jo? Um, what's in the glass? LOL Uh, better say the prayer for me LOL. Lawd knows I used to drink like a hard up sailor. But that was B.C.--Before Christ.
Since I ended up at work, it was apple juice. Luckily for you are free from A-holes. I must endure until my soo-soo hand is paid up.
HI. So I am free. Finally free. Just spent my first Monday as a freed former slave and it felt...strange. But i am taking a few weeks off to study for second license to take the exam, before starting my new gig...joining a private practice. Working on narrowing down some options. Thank God I still have a few in this economy. On the flip side, in this economy, more and more people are in need of mental health services and psych meds so this industry unfortunately/fortunately is still booming. The more poor people get, the more they need services. :-( It's sad really.
BTW Jo, did you send the concept you wanted me to read?
I am going to start writing this week...haven't touched my stuff for more than 20 minutes in weeks...hard to settle down and work on a scene when you worked from 9 am to midnight. Incidentally, on my second-to-last day, we finally had that surprise inspection I was working to prepare for throughout this entire past summer. *snap* My boss still came out on top! I was hoping she would have to go through charts at least three weeks just to have the opportunity to actually do her job before they showed up. But alas, she skeeted by another year scot free.
She wanted me to answer some questions for the Office of Mental Health Auditor Thursday morning. Why? Because she did not know a thing about what has been happening with our caseloads and charts because why? Because she took a total of 12 weeks off between May and last week. But when she asked me, I simply pulled off my infamous shenanigans. I went to my desk and printed out CCed email from her boss that stated I am only to spend the week terminating with clients and doing last bunch of progress notes for insurance billing. I smiled and said, "I don't want to go against Jackie's wishes. Besides, you don't need my help. I am sure you have all the answers needed because of your hard work." At first I figured what the heck? I already made sure to get three letters of recommendation from the big wigs at the program--didn't feel I would have to ask Toby for anything. I told myself this as I tried to wave her off and hang her out to dry as she had done to me all summer, shucks, since I was promoted the second time. But of course I immediately felt remorseful. At the end of the day, I am a Christian and have to conduct myself as such. So after repenting, I went in and helped anyway. Had to pray through that.
Why? Because we have four teams in the program I used to work for. The other three teams got cited on certain errors on their chart work. Our team passed with flying colors. (Which is why "Perfectionist-Workoholic Vee" did Toby's job and went through each team members charts between 9am-midnight, about 153 thick charts each week, on top of my clinical work). Anyway, Auditor tells her that our charts were stellar and everything was in place. Boss smiles and says, "Thanks I worked very hard to ensure we had our paperwork in order."
So like I said, I had to pray through that. B.C. Vee would have said in front of Auditor, "Oooooh you worked hard? From where? Your summer home on the Vineyard, tramp?" But A.C. (After Christ) Vee smiled and whispered, "Dear Lord, please help me conduct myself Your way because I have had enough."
Then a thought popped in my head. Only one more day, Vacirca, only one more day.
And on my last day, she tried to hug me and I was like Cassius Clay with all my fancy footwork, ducking and dodging her hugs. Three times Ms. Phony Bony Baloney came at me but I was floating like a butterfly: Fake to the left, fake to the right, duck!, Half turn, duck again, run!. But I escaped. And now I am free.
Again I say lucky you. Also good luck on your options. Again mine are limited so Woe, woe is I. Teehee. I told myself a couple of years ago, I didn't want to take care of kids b/c I would have to deal with the parents. I have issues with dealing with my clients' children. They are grown ppl, older than me and still so dense and AAAAAHHHHH! On a good note I will me MIA sometime during the month of December. I will be connecting with family I don't remember in Guyana, South America. I am preparing to be eaten alive by insects. I am usually baked chicken for mosquitoes in the US. I believe I will be a rare delicacy in Guyana. My mom is worried but kind of hopeful. She is doing really well and the doctors say she can travel in a month.
So the rest of this month will be me bitching about the post office (my passport has expired a long long time ago.) Renewal might be a headache or more. However I am still looking at my trip as a super good thing.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Take me! Take me to Georgetown with you! LOLThat's cool. I want to go there one day. It's kinda unfair to my dearly departed Pops how I ended up so Haitian when there is a whole Indian Guyanese side. But Momita is overbearing LOL.
I wish you a safe trip and peace traveling with your momita.
New Amsterdam actually. I know how you feel, when I think about my Dad's family. Thank you for your wishes/
p.s. I have sent you the concept via goodreads. I keep getting hacked. I have no idea which email account is safe anymore.
Hi All!!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!
I was out of the country for a while, when I came back I was all in the holidays.
My mini vacation was a blast. I met relatives I have only known by name and vice versa. They were glad to meet me as well. The weather was lovely. I miss it very much today.
So this is a happy vent. I hope everyone's holiday season was great!!!
My mom was sent home five days after surgery! God was very good to us.
I never had anything against prayer. I just didn't do it as much as I should. I am revising that practice. Teehee.
I am praying the all will go well for you Vee. You have a lot going for you. More than I had. I resigned from my last job and didn't have a steady job for over 4 years. It happened while I was in ATL. Where most of about Georgia began with "On the Way To the Walmart".