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What finally drove me over the edge was not JDK's panicked phone call from the Rocky Mountain wilds of Colorado – "We're dying out here. We had 84 people total for two shows yesterday. Do something!"
Or the fact that the Little Store's revenues have sunk so drastically this past week.
Or Mrs. Shepard's endless stream of passive aggressive emails: I continue to be concerned about Robin paying attention in my class. He often has a book or something else out to pay attention to while I am doing whole class teaching. He had to fill out another Think Sheet today. If he gets one more Think Sheet (or its equivalent) I will be meeting with you, Dr. Volante and teachers to put an IAP plan in place to support Robin in behaviors that help support his success at ISM. (Well duh, bitch. He didn't find it necessary to read last year in Mr. Spedding's class. If anything you were teaching was halfway interesting, I guess he wouldn't need George R. R. Martin.)
Or even the not one but two problematic EBay transactions I suffered through in the past week.
Case File 1: The old Homer died; long live the new Homer. The only problem is that no one is actually manufacturing new Homers, so the only place to find them is on EBay and even there, the pickings are slim. I finally found one, it was described as "used" but functional. But when I opened the box – the Homer did not have a head! What am I supposed to do with a headless Homer? He's not fucking Ichabod Crane!
So I track down this jerk seller's phone number, leave him messages, write him emails, file a complaint with Paypal – Paypal is absolutely useless. Talk about a ridiculous business model floated entirely on hype. I suppose what I will have to do is take it up with my own credit card company, dispute the payment. That will make Paypal notice.
But in the short term, I'm out $300 – a significant chunk of change to me since we live so close to the margin. And I feel violated and victimized -- I mean, I've been using EBay since 1998, it was always kind of fun, and I've never had a problem with it before.
Case File 2: I bought a laptop on EBay for Robin as an early birthday present. He types faster than he writes, and amuses himself frequently by touch-typing blind so I figure in addition to being a repository for endless games and MP3's, the laptop may actually have a salutary effect on his schoolwork. Then I get an email from the seller -- yes, he's collected the payment but because I'm not "verified" through Paypal he's going to hold the laptop until I get "verified" through Paypal –
WTF?
Dear Dumbshit, I email. All "verification" through Paypal means is that you give Paypal your bank account information – which I am not going to do because they don't fucking have to have it if they have a credit card number. Send me my laptop now!
Fortunately this gentleman is more susceptible to veiled threats about my Uncle Vito. The laptop is on its way.
But, man – two bad EBay transactions in a week!
I guess I won't be using EBay anymore.
Still, even that didn't drive me over the edge.
No, what drove me over the edge was that I bought a box of black, plastic trash bags, and I threw out the garbage, and I opened the box to put a new liner in the can, and I tore along the perforated line and then I spent 15 minutes trying to figure out how the fucking bag opened. And it wouldn't open, and I couldn't figure out how to make it open, and I started to cry – great! you're supposed to have a high IQ though no one would guess that from the way you live – and then I thought of my first husband Bill, Max's father. Bill's a very nice man, deservedly happy now that he's not married to me anymore, and he had an excellent definition of intelligence. Intelligence had nothing to do with books or high scores on standardized tests; intelligence was all about solving every day problems.
Be intelligent, I hissed to myself. This is a fucking garbage bag. People use them every day. Open it.
And then I did.
Or the fact that the Little Store's revenues have sunk so drastically this past week.
Or Mrs. Shepard's endless stream of passive aggressive emails: I continue to be concerned about Robin paying attention in my class. He often has a book or something else out to pay attention to while I am doing whole class teaching. He had to fill out another Think Sheet today. If he gets one more Think Sheet (or its equivalent) I will be meeting with you, Dr. Volante and teachers to put an IAP plan in place to support Robin in behaviors that help support his success at ISM. (Well duh, bitch. He didn't find it necessary to read last year in Mr. Spedding's class. If anything you were teaching was halfway interesting, I guess he wouldn't need George R. R. Martin.)
Or even the not one but two problematic EBay transactions I suffered through in the past week.
Case File 1: The old Homer died; long live the new Homer. The only problem is that no one is actually manufacturing new Homers, so the only place to find them is on EBay and even there, the pickings are slim. I finally found one, it was described as "used" but functional. But when I opened the box – the Homer did not have a head! What am I supposed to do with a headless Homer? He's not fucking Ichabod Crane!
So I track down this jerk seller's phone number, leave him messages, write him emails, file a complaint with Paypal – Paypal is absolutely useless. Talk about a ridiculous business model floated entirely on hype. I suppose what I will have to do is take it up with my own credit card company, dispute the payment. That will make Paypal notice.
But in the short term, I'm out $300 – a significant chunk of change to me since we live so close to the margin. And I feel violated and victimized -- I mean, I've been using EBay since 1998, it was always kind of fun, and I've never had a problem with it before.
Case File 2: I bought a laptop on EBay for Robin as an early birthday present. He types faster than he writes, and amuses himself frequently by touch-typing blind so I figure in addition to being a repository for endless games and MP3's, the laptop may actually have a salutary effect on his schoolwork. Then I get an email from the seller -- yes, he's collected the payment but because I'm not "verified" through Paypal he's going to hold the laptop until I get "verified" through Paypal –
WTF?
Dear Dumbshit, I email. All "verification" through Paypal means is that you give Paypal your bank account information – which I am not going to do because they don't fucking have to have it if they have a credit card number. Send me my laptop now!
Fortunately this gentleman is more susceptible to veiled threats about my Uncle Vito. The laptop is on its way.
But, man – two bad EBay transactions in a week!
I guess I won't be using EBay anymore.
Still, even that didn't drive me over the edge.
No, what drove me over the edge was that I bought a box of black, plastic trash bags, and I threw out the garbage, and I opened the box to put a new liner in the can, and I tore along the perforated line and then I spent 15 minutes trying to figure out how the fucking bag opened. And it wouldn't open, and I couldn't figure out how to make it open, and I started to cry – great! you're supposed to have a high IQ though no one would guess that from the way you live – and then I thought of my first husband Bill, Max's father. Bill's a very nice man, deservedly happy now that he's not married to me anymore, and he had an excellent definition of intelligence. Intelligence had nothing to do with books or high scores on standardized tests; intelligence was all about solving every day problems.
Be intelligent, I hissed to myself. This is a fucking garbage bag. People use them every day. Open it.
And then I did.
