Day 10 of the 11 Day Work Week and Ripping out the Throat of My Enemy!

I believe in the magic and authority of words.
René Char

Today was day 10 of the 11 day work week, ergo I only have tomorrow left and then I get to go to bed and not set an alarm. I'm excited about the generous paycheck that's coming but honestly I don't know that I would ever volunteer for this insanity again. On top of being my tenth day, it was also the day I got to talk to my boss's boss's boss (a.k.a. the big boss of all circulation). 

I was called into boss's boss's room for a meeting. The reason for the meeting: a horrid man called and I was lucky enough to take the call. He threatened to blow up the building (nothing new - many Pinch subscriptions flip their shit over the free publication and make similar threats) but then he threatened to choke the carrier and slash said carrier's tires. All because of one missed paper. Get this. The regular carrier on this route is immaculate and never misses anyone. This is the first time this subscriber was missed in over six months. And to make matters even better: we found out later that it was a sub on the route that day. All this because a sub, doing a very good job and making an honest mistake, missed delivery for jack-ass supreme. Anyway, we canceled the jerk's subscription and barred him from ever having a subscription again. We filed a police report and have informed the carrier to be extra vigilant, and today I made a statement to our organization and the powers that be because we may be putting extra rules down concerning this git. An unusual day for sure.

Yesterday I played DnD during lunch. I had to sort of finagle my lunch time in order to be able to play and it didn't make my supervisor very happy so I need to make a concentrated effort from now on to really honor my break and lunch periods. In the future, when we're better staffed, I think they'll put my Tuesday lunches at noon just so I can continue playing (I really enjoy playing) and I am grateful for that.

During play time yesterday our party made camp on a hill top. The weather was a little rainy and windy but not too bad. Our wilderness expert was keeping watch and saw some black figures leering over the sleeping forms of his companions. He fired an arrow at them and then they descended upon us with knives. They were short, muddy creatures that were probably goblins or something and one of them stabbed my Half-Orc Paladin pretty good. So, being prone and not having my armor or weapons at the ready, I grappled the fucker (I rolled a natural 19 for strength check) and then bit the shit out of his leg. When my turn came round again, I pulled him to the ground, (another natural 19), bit his neck, and ripped out his throat. Blood and sinew everywhere! Our DM rather enjoyed it and I think the other players finally got a glimpse of who I am as a player. It was hard to join in the middle of a quest and I don't know them all that well yet so I've been a bit shy, but on day 9... I had no choice but rip out his mother fucking throat. Somehow I was able to make it through the rest of the day.

That was yesterday. And today is over. Tomorrow is a Thursday. I didn't see an online pre-release of the Stitch and Witch article. I'm hoping that I see it first thing tomorrow though (since it was slotted for the Voice section). I hope it's dead slow tomorrow and I hope that all the subs and carriers do a good job tonight and in the early hours of the morning. I implore the goddess to soothe cranky customers and to keep me sharp when dealing with rough cases and to keep me quiet when dealing with bitchy douche nozzles. I actually really enjoy this job and want to continue performing well. Please goddess help me get through tomorrow. 

After work tomorrow Hannah and I are planning on going to fighter practice with the SCA (Society of Creative Anachronisms). So, in the end, regardless of how tomorrow goes, I'll get to end the day by beating people up with sticks. I couldn't ask for a better end to a very long and very odd 11 day work week. 

Log-in List, Hiring Problems, and Stitch and Witch

Today was day five of the eleven day work week that I'm currently struggling to survive. The other day I sat down with a friend and counted how many log ins I use at work. At the time I think I told her I had 8 log-ins. But I greatly underestimated the log-in happy environment that I work in. For fun here are the programs I have to log into:

1. My computer
2. My phone (the physical phone)
3. Voicemails for Circulation/Pinch/Online/and Carrier Lines
4. My phone system that allows me to take calls
5. The phone system that allows me to monitor everyone else who is taking calls
6. The Newscycle Program for subscriber accounts
7. Employee Time Entry
8. Commute Trip Reduction Program
9. Employee Self Serve
10. Online Admin access
11. The DTI system that allows me to create/modify ads
12. The Putty System that I use for publishing run
13. The New York Times site

There may be more. I want to say that this job has helped me with my memory but I reckon that it's only my muscle memory that's improved. My fingers work without my conscious will now. They whiz through the system helping to redeliver papers, process complaints, and even take payments. It is nice to feel so second hand with the system.

Yesterday marked my 8th month working at The Spokesman-Review. I've been a lead a little over a month, or close to two months. Feels a bit like a whirlwind. I enjoy it. I really do. Right now, however, I'm anxious for the call queue to chill out a little so that I can get my head all sorted out and enjoy doing a bit more one on one work with some of our reps. I really enjoy the people I work with and want them to do their best. Speaking of people at work: we are understaffed. We need one full time person and one part time person. Out of the last four people we've hired only one of them has worked out. The sadness is as follows:

1. Hired and quit within a couple months
2. Hired and didn't work out within a week
3. Hired and doing fucking phenomenal! (Also has a beard)
4. Offered employment, accepted, but things just didn't work out

Okay so here it is folks. Beards. Hire the ones with beards. 

Yesterday I hung out at Stitch and Witch. One of our journalists from The Spokesman-Review came to one of these gatherings last month and is writing up an article to be published in the paper in the Voice section. I'll be linking that next week as soon as it comes up on www.spokesman,com.

She was an Old Soul

Her laugh, her voice, her words all spoke of something ephemeral and pure. She was all or nothing, a tome of fictional truths, a writer, a wife, a mother, a rock star, a wild woman, and a sensitive soul. An old soul. She felt like a child who had lived many, many lives and who had decided, "fuck this shit." She was small and lean with an enormous aura that stretched from some obscure Canadian Islands to the Floridian Peninsula. And she wrote grit. She tapped into her old soul, shucked away all layers of nicety, and wrung blood from the page. Big things. Uncomfortable things. Things that still make me a little uncomfortable. She wrote them all. She didn't have time to fuck around. She had a message. She had a moment. And she used her time to the very end, publishing "Pelee Island Stories" within the last nine months.

She was an old soul. She was so beautiful. She had the beauty and grace and fierceness... the sad, happy eyes half hooded with pleasure and mystery... that only comes from the lessons and loves of life after life after life. So many lives. And why did this one have to be so short? 

Tanya. I know you'll be back here someday in a different life, same soul, same beauty and honesty. New body. New name. You'll share your talents all over again. You'll raise some hell. Maybe raising some more kids. Maybe your next life will be longer. But I doubt there will ever be another life with this many people missing you, grieving you, and celebrating your memory. You left us on May 25th (a few days ago, seconds really, in the grand scheme of things). You were diagnosed with stage IV esophageal cancer on June 5th last year. Thank you for each and every moment you gave us after the diagnosis. Thank you for being there at my last residency and for graduating with me. Thank you for being an old soul, a dear friend, and an amazing and inspiring talent in my life. Peace, friend.

All the Pretty Cars are Going to Hell

And the god of transportation did look down upon us and laugh. "Your car troubles," he said with smugness, "shall be a lesson. Heed it well, mortals, lest ye ever take your working vehicle for granted again."

The last 30+ days have been filled with car death. Not even Optimus Prime was free of problems. For Hannah and I: May was bookended with flat tires. The first flat was the day before Beltane. It was raining. We'd just left the IEPG Beltane celebration and were heading to a friend's house to continue celebrating when the threadbare tire in the back let out a tremendous wet fart as it succumbed to the inevitable. I wasn't too worried. It was only lightly raining and I'm actually pretty handy with general car stuff. I got my jack and donut spare ready but didn't have a tire iron. Fuck. But we have good friends and two came to our rescue. Fast forward to the day after May. On June 1st I went to use our last little bit of money to get some chocolate for Hannah and I (as Hannah had made it clear that if I didn't get us some kind comfort snack she might murder me) and as I made my way south on Pines, I thought it would be a goddamn great idea to mate my front tire with the curb. The mating ritual began with a boom and ended with a 'ka-thud, ka-thud, ka-thud.' Again, thankfully we have great friends. Our friends who were married on May 1st (the day after the first flat tire) saved me this time. 

But let me derail a moment and chronicle the car problems between Optimus's flats: our friend's Ford Contour died when its timing belt lost track of time, my twinsy friends lost their boat of a car to a suspected dead alternator, and our Kettle Korn diva had issues with both her vehicles (the Smart Car tried to mate with a curb and was even less successful than Optimus Prime and her mustard yellow Truck has been in and out of the car hospital all month). In the few days since our second flat: the newlyweds who helped me out on June 1st had to be rescued from the Cosco parking lot when their hatchback made the death rattle, and a couple of hours ago (2 AM) we got yet another car call. Hannah and I just returned from picking up our poor stranded friend from the Sullivan Wal-Mart due to a dead battery situation. 

I'm going to be working about 12 hours of overtime in the next two weeks and I think I'm going to use every penny extra that brings me to get Optimus checked out and get him a new belt. If I'm going to be the bad-ass friend who rescues my darlings from parking lots around Spokane and Spokane Valley then I need to make sure my ride is a reliable one. Speaking of work, though, this Monday will be the start of an eleven day work week. Of the three people we recently hired only one of them actually worked out (and he's doing freaking amazing!) but on top of that the other Lead quit with only two days notice. Ergo we are mutha-fuckin shorthanded. I'm going to buckle in for this eleven day long haul and enjoy the overtime. At the end of it all I will start a new schedule working Sunday (5-1) and Monday thru Thursday (7-4). What this means for me is that I'll always have Friday and Saturday off which is kind of neat. Also it splits up the weekends between my supervisor and I so that neither of us have to work both days. The weekends start so freaking early and are such a mixed bag of insanity that it might be nice to only have to deal with it one time a week instead of back to back every other weekend. 

Side note to the above: my bosses are so sweet. The manager and supervisor had me come in on my day off to work on scheduling and make a plan to get us through the summer. When I got to the office they called me into a conference room and started the morning by giving me a present tower. They gave me a coloring book with pencils, My Little Pony stickers, Rainbow Dash knee socks, double stuffed Oreos, and a lovely card in which they both told me how much they appreciate me being there. It made me feel so freaking good. Yeah, there are definitely days when this job stresses me out and there are definitely customers that call in who make me want to scream, but I've said from the very beginning, I've never worked for a place like this before. I've never been able to put a local address for the 'corporate' office of my workplace on my taxed. I've never been so rewarded for work well done and I've never received such positive reinforcement. Also I've never had a job before where I truly believed the higher ups gave a shit about me. Not just about 'employees,' but about 'me' specifically. It's a neat feeling. And on that note, I'm going to get some more sleep.

Fuck me Gently with a Chainsaw and How to tell if an Engineer is an Extrovert

Dear Diary, my teenage angst bullshit has a body count. Or something like that. It has been a very long time since I've updated this blog. In a few words: things have been busy. But it's when things are busiest that we must remind ourselves to slow down and smell the roses. Or the Cupcake Petunia's at Walmart. I smelled those today and wanted to roll around naked in their petals they smelled so damn good. So here I am, taking a moment to breathe and center myself. 

There have been some very large changes in my life. Hannah and I have an apartment. We have a date for the wedding! (Friday the 13th in October 2017, if you must know.) I got a promotion at work. I'm a Lead now and I like it. And I loathe it. Pretty normal for being a Lead I suppose. I've joined in several D&D campaigns. In January I led the Wolf Moon Esbat Ritual and it was one of the most magickal Moons I've ever had. Such energy, such howling! I'm starting to practice Tai Chi and I have a Yoga DVD that helps women with menstrual pain.

David Bowie died. 

This spring Hannah and I planted several pots of flowers and created an herb wall on the back patio. I'm very impatient. Waiting for green is making me crazy.

As for writing, I'm lagging off in a bad way. Matthias is never far from my thoughts. Neither is Brom, the artist, who, as of late, has been my constant inspiration. Beltane happened recently. I celebrated with so many lovely people. There was a Wedding too. And I danced and sweated and drank and ate pizza and cinnamon rolls and honored the gods and gave myself over to the spirit of the season. As a result I'm ready to get. shit. done.

Also I'll be stepping off the Pagan Ministry Council next week. I want to do it in person. Hannah already resigned a few days ago. It was a rather large decision for her and there was some fall out that we had to deal with last night that made for a rough time. At this point in our lives though, the energy we're putting into the logistical side of the IEPG is just too damn much. We need to be working on school, work, writing, keeping our home and hearth happy and welcoming. We need to actually spend time together every once in a while. 

And something really cool happened a few moment ago out back. I went outside to water the herbs and flowers and I found half of a Robin's eggshell nestled under the Cosmos flowers. My Cosmos flowers that I planted on Ostara. It probably ended up there during the random and gorgeous thunderstorm we had last night. The little shell, so fragile, so blue, just sitting there as if to say that fragility is an illusion. Reminding me of new life. Of leaving old shells behind. I took the little shell inside and put it on the altar next to Freyja. But the eggshell wasn't my only gift from the goddess: some of the herbs that I'd figured weren't going to grow at all, have actually sprouted. I'm not sure what is what but I know that about five pouches from the herb wall are actually going to grow to fruition. I'm not holding out much hope for the Lavender but the fact that anything is growing makes me smile. 

At work I talk to some really awful, bitter beasts. But I also talk to sweet and wonderful people. One of these sweethearts called up for a vacation stop and while I was entering the information, he shared a few jokes with me. In turn I shared a few with him. The first one he told though, is my favorite: "How can you tell if an Engineer is extroverted? When you're talking with him, he stares at your shoes instead of his own." Some of you will giggle and some of you will frown and say, 'I don't really get it.' And that is why this joke is my favorite.