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Post #155 – Revenge is best served via Taye Diggs or something like that…

Posted in blogging, comedy, dating, life, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, uncategoried, work with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 24, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

“Is your phone all set?” I asked when Jackson waltzed in the breakroom all giddy and smiling at 5:15 as promised earlier that day after he’d unveiled Gordon’s despicable motive (see my last post).

“Yes, ma’am, armed and ready,” he replied as I slipped my arm through his.

“Take one,” Jackson said laughing, encircling my waist with his other arm.

“One’s all we’ve got,” I said giggling as we sauntered into the hallway, gazing at each other as if en route to the nearest boudoir. Quite a performance since he’s gay, and I’m happily married with no intention of cheating. But Griffin and Gordon didn’t know that.

“After this, the whole office will think we’re having a thing,” I said grinning.

“Except, pardon me, but I’m pretending you’re Taye Diggs right now,” Jackson mumbled.

“Whatever works for you, baby,” I said with a giggle. “And when you’re done with him, I’ll take a turn,” I said jokingly,

Jackson busted out laughing but managed to stifle himself by buttoning his lip so as not to over-dramatize our scene.

Out on the sales floor, I could feel a dozen eyes on us. But I couldn’t tell how close we were to Griffin’s desk.

“Are they looking?” I asked.

“Yep, 2 blond idiots at 6:00,” Jackson murmured.  “And about 1/3 the sales force is gawking our way as well,” Jackson said as his dark eyes swept back to mine.

“Can’t wait for the video.”

“Oscar-worthy I’m sure,” I replied.

Jackson nodded with a giggle.

To make this moment all the sweeter, I had instructed Jackson to turn on the video camera on his phone before we embarked upon our scandalous stroll down the hallway. While only part of it is on camera (momentarily), the dialogue that ensued is hysterical.

I stole a sidelong glance at the 2 Douche Bags (Griffin and Gordon). They were slumped over their desks, their eyes plucked wide open with shock and, perhaps, exasperation by mine and Jackson’s display of manufactured enrapture.

For the coup d’etat, I batted my eyes at Jackson seconds before passing Griffin’s desk and in a sultry voice, I said, “See you round 7:00, then.”

“You bet,” Jackson said softly as I sashayed toward the elevator, shaking my ass as if it were on fire… 🙂

Seconds later, I heard Griffin say, “Hold up, Jackson, what’s goin’ on?”

I snuck a glance over my shoulder just as Griffin stood up and wedged himself between his desk and Gordon’s, so Jackson couldn’t pass by to his own cubicle cage, not 3 feet away.

A broad, devilish smile broke out on Jackson’s face, which I’m sure the miscreants believed was from basking in the glow of our lust.

“So, what’s the story with you and Mrs. Smith?” Gordon snapped.

Jackson leaned down and quietly replied, “Well, she won’t be Mrs. Smith much longer.”

“Yeah?” Griffin asked.

“She left her husband a month ago.”

“Really?” Griffin asked. “Then, why was she such a bitch when I tried to talk to her?”

“Maybe, because you’re an asshole,” Jackson quipped, still grinning.

Gordon laughed. Griffin scowled.

At which point, I was standing at the elevator sending Jackson a text.

When Jackson’s phone made that obnoxious DING notifying him of my communique, he took his phone out and held it up so that while reading my text, he was also simultaneously recording Griffin and Gordon on video. And Jackson was so kind as to enlighten me later that evening on the phone – with the details that weren’t captured on film.

Griffin’s angry eyes cut to Gordon – when suddenly, Jackson erupted into laughter. I hadn’t mentioned the particular verbiage for my text.

“She is a naughty girl,” Jackson said.

“Who, Mrs. Smith, aka Kennedy?” Griffin demanded sarcastically. “What’d she say?”

“Not much, just how much…uh, she can’t wait to cover me in peanut butter and lap me up and down,” Jackson said, laughing.

“Seriously? The uptight woman with dark hair who just left?” Griffin sputtered. “Said THAT to you?”

“The one and only,” Jackson answered, wearing a bemused grin elicited by the two confused dimwits, whose eyes were all aglow with ideas of sexual weirdness between me and the gay man.

“Bullshit,” Gordon barked.

Jackson smiled. “Whatever. See you two dickheads later,” he said pushing past Griffin.

A couple cords of laughter rippled in the background, but Griffin and Gordon were auspiciously silent.

“Prove it,” Griffin said contemptuously.

“You didn’t hear her say she was looking forward to seeing me?”

“So what?  You could be going to Bible study for all I know.”

“Oh, it’ll be biblical all right,” Jackson said with a chuckle.

Gordon laughed, but Griffin just glared at my imaginary beau.

“Okay. Let me see your phone,” Griffin insisted.

“No, that’s private. Besides, I’ve got work to do.” Jackson said, barging toward his desk.

Griffin moved closer to Jackson, growling in a low voice, “Oh, right, because there’s nothing on your phone but photos of you whackin’ off.”

Jackson and Gordon both cracked up at such a ridiculous statement. “Why the fuck would I have photos of THAT on my phone when I’ve got photos of…” Jackson began. “Never mind,” Jackson said, sitting down at his desk, while clicking over to the photo gallery on his phone. Meanwhile, the video camera was still recording every morsel of conversation.

“I don’t think so. You’re not getting off that easy,” Griffin said, grabbing Jackson’s arm.

Jackson spun around, beaming, “Well, apparently, I do, according to you…”

Gordon collapsed into nearly convulsive laughter.

“Shut up, Gordy, And yet, I’m the asshole,” Griffin said sourly…his first intelligent comment… 🙂

“Fine,” Jackson said with a sigh as if exhausted by their taunts, “Check this out,” he continued, thrusting his  phone in Griffin’s face. Whereupon, they saw a photo of me from when I was still modeling 5 years ago. I’m lying on a pink satin bedspread in a black negligee, my double D’s tumbling forward, almost completely exposed. And, funny thing, Gordie and Griffie didn’t notice I’m 20 pounds heavier now. Their brains only registered my “boobage”.

“Oh, my God, she’s…”

“I think the word you’re looking for is beautiful, dumb ass,” Jackson said. Awwwww, Jackson, bet you say that to all the girls.

“Okay, dude,” Gordon said. “How the hell did you score a woman like that?”

“I was nice to her,” Jackson said.

At that point, Jackson said the look on Dumb and Dumber’s faces was priceless. Unfortunately, all we have on film is a shot of everyone’s shoes. However, t’was a joint epiphany for my 2 blond adversaries, revealing that, perhaps, chicanery and stupid attempts at humor are not the best way to win a woman. And apparently, Griffin’s asinine question about my blouse was his convoluted attempt at humor.

For fuck’s sake, really?

The next day Gordon or Griffin’s team went on a company retreat, and I never saw them again because my assignment at Mega ended (due to lack of work) while they were gone. So, I didn’t even get to say goodbye to those who brought me so many BELLY laughs at their expense.

But I dare say, I’ll survive.

Over and out from CASA DE CRAZY…

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

TB/ks

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Post #154 – Conversation With A Mega Douche Bag!

Posted in blogging, comedy, corporations, humor, life, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, work with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 17, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

For years, I’ve heard certain men being referred to as Mega Douche Bags, my husband chief among them. But let me clarify. Mega Douche Bags work for Mega Bank where I was employed until a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t really understand why the Mega Douche Bag differed from an ordinary, run-of-the-mill Douche Bag until recently.

During my last week at Mega, I was walking out of the ladies restroom one night before heading out, when I noticed this guy smiling at me – from his desk about 10 feet away. As I pondered the nature of his grin, he winked at me.

He was 26 at best. I thought maybe, his flirtation was meant for someone else walking behind me. But the hallway was empty. He smiled again, so I decided to see WTF was going on with this impudent child.

He had dark, curly hair spackled together with more mousse and gel than I could ever amass within my long quaff. His shirt was a pale lavender, and he was wearing a purple tie with tiny, dark blue polka dots with a navy blue suit. So suave…so bold…guess I should’ve just taken him right there just for his grooming props alone if I were that sort of woman. Instead, I found his get-up, his hair and demeanor rather contemptuous.

“Were you winking at me?” I asked approaching Mr. Hair-Do.

He smiled even brighter, his insanely straight teeth seemed to be glaring at me.

“Um, yeah,” he said awkwardly. “We’ve all been wondering who the new hottie is. I’m Todd.”

“Mrs. Smith,” I said flatly, and those who know me well…know just HOW significant that moniker is. I NEVER call myself Mrs. – ever – nor did I do so when married previously. I couldn’t tell if this moronic Ken Doll was actually hitting on me, or if he was feigning his attentions as some kinda sick joke. And using the word “hottie” was highly inappropriate. Had he NOT taken the required sexual harassment training, or was his face buried in his Blackberry the whole time?

“Seriously?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes,” I said adamantly, holding up my badge for emphasis.

He glanced at it and nodded. “Sorry, you know, people, use that name when -”

“Yeah, I get it. Now, if you’ll excuse me-” I began.

“Just one more question if you don’t mind,” he said, sweetly.

“Yes?” I asked, rather agitated.

“Is that a men’s shirt you’re wearing?”

WTF? YOU PEA-BRAINED ASSHOLE. “No, it’s not,” I said in a very surly manner. “Great line there, Casanova, I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.” I snarled.  I turned away mumbling, “Fucking dickhead,” …which I guess his buddies heard, evidenced by the howls of laughter behind me.

RALPH LAUREN SHIRT

The Ralph Lauren shirt in question, which I wore with a white skirt.

However, I caught a sidelong glimpse of his lovely cornflower blue eyes clouding over, and I looked away thinking MAYBE…he was the “fat” kid in school with really large glasses and crooked teeth. He wore whatever his mother told him to – yellow Izod shirt that was too small creating ugly bulges around his middle…with black pants that were too short and last but not least, white socks and black dress shoes.

He joined a gym, started drinking GREEN vegie shakes/ eating anything gluten free or made with TOFU, etc., reinvented himself – a la GQ.

Oh, but I was so WRONG. While in the elevator facing them, waiting for the doors to shut, my guilt vanished.  Instead of a mortified, late-blooming butterfly cowering in the corner, I saw him snickering with a couple of his co-worker clones. After a sneaky glance at me, his expression morphed into the unmistakable….

OOPS…she caught me, followed by giggling behind his well-manicured hand. No, no, no…this guy was the Homecoming King and very proud to be so. He played football, but wasn’t a star, or he wouldn’t be working here, right?

He had a couple girlfriends and was always trolling for another. He drives a BMW, but doesn’t own a sofa, opting for watching TV sprawled out on his bean bag chair because his image is much more important than the “comfy” couch he plans to buy with his next BIG commission check. There was no doubt about it. I had just met the infamous…MEGA DOUCHE BAG.

I hope to hell his question about my blouse was just an idle comment meant in jest, and, God forbid, not part of some stupid bet. His intentions remained a mystery until talking to Jackson, another salesman two days later. Jackson was a tall, handsome black man in his mid 30s. We met at Minelli’s, a local fast food restaurant near the office, when I inadvertently cut ahead of him in line at lunch one day. I noticed his bank badge, and we struck up a conversation. Turned out, we’re both sci-fi geeks.

I ran into Jackson in the breakroom. He was heating up his lunch in the microwave, and I walked in to buy a pop.

“Hey, Jackson, how’s it goin’?” I asked.

“Good.  Jackson smiled. “By the way, my apologies for the Neanderthals.”

Confused, I asked with a chuckle, “I’m sorry. Which Neanderthals?”

“Griffin and Gordon,” he replied.

I shrugged. These names meant nothing to me.

“Um, the guy with the dark hair, superglued with Redken’s finest gel, made some snide comment about your shirt the other day?”

“Oh….THAT GUY,” I said pursing my lips in annoyance. “He said his name was Todd.”

“Makes it much easier to cheat on his fiance.”

“That figures.”

I had shoved that retarded conversation into my mental trashcan reserved for images of outfits I should never have bought, songs I despise (like Cold as Ice by Foreigner…don’t ever play it / hum it around me if you’d like to continue BREATHING)…as well as – you guessed it…conversations with douche bags!

“First off, I’m gay.”

“Okay,” I said, hesitantly, wondering where Jackson was going with this.

“So what I’m about to tell you ain’t another lame-assed pick-up line, or nothin’,” he said with a big grin.

“Noted,” I said smiling.

“Mr. Hair who winked at you, that’s Griffin, Griffin Goetz, and the blond guy next to him, that’s Gordon.”

“I see,” I said, nodding.

“Griffin’s the worst kind of player, constantly talking about women, especially um..if they’re busty, ya know what I mean?”

“All too well,” I replied.

“Since the first time Griffin saw you walkin’ down the hallway, they all been speculating whether they’s real or not,” he said with a half nod toward my breasts. “And Griffin decided he was gonna chat you up to get a better look. But you didn’t hear any of this from me?”

“What? That your co-workers are asshole douche bags?”

Jackson busted out laughing. “Got that right.”

I just smiled. “Do they know you’re gay?”

“Hell no. I don’t want them knowing nothin’ about me, and they kinda hate me cuz my sales are usually higher than theirs.”

I smiled. “Awesome.”

“Why?”

“Meet me back here around 5:15,” I said.

“Why?” Jackson asked. At which point, I revealed my plan.

STAY TUNED BOYS AND GIRLS…

For the unveiling of MY REVENGE upon the Mega Douche Bags in a few days…

Over and out…

~TB

And her band of truth-spouting hippies

Post 153 – Teach me how to be that BRAINLESS and still have a job…

Posted in corporations, life, memoir, nonfiction, people, relationships, true stories, work with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 7, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

As mentioned previously, I started working at a large bank in March (2015), which I referred to as Mega Bank. I was recently downsized from this position a couple of weeks ago. But while I was there, one of my jobs was to obtain credit supplements. This involved ordering more detailed credit reports on a particular account or accounts held by one of our borrowers as part of the bank’s assessment of their credit worthiness when they applied for a business loan or something like that.

All too frequently, though they were advised NOT to do so, our customers would take out new credit during the loan process. At which point when the sales people made us aware of this new debt, the underwriter would request a supplement to get the particulars of a new tradeline. Such was done because people often lie about how much they might owe on a new vehicle or the current balance of a credit card, or they just don’t realize how much they owe.

Alternatively, they thought they owed $26,000 on their shiny new Prius, but they forgot about the $3000 they had to tack on to the new loan because they wrecked the Subaru a couple of years ago before trading it in for the Prius, which meant the Subaru’s trade-in value was about as much as, you know, a nice dinner at Outback Steakhouse.

Okay, so I’m exaggerating, but you get the idea…

ANYWHO…On more than one occasion, when requesting verification of a new tradeline, invariably the same hilarious situation would happen with Intrinsic Information. They’re one of the third-party vendors who provided credit reports and credit supplements for Mega.

I’d frequently get an email from Intrinsic that stated:

DOCUMENTATION IS NEEDED TO COMPLETE YOUR REQUEST for a CREDIT SUPPLEMENT

I would usually call them, and EVERY single time, the conversation went like this:

“Thank you for calling Intrinsic Information. This is Gretchen, how can I help you today?”

“Hi, Gretchen, this is Kennedy from Mega Bank, and I just received an email that you all need some sort of documentation in order to complete the credit supplement I requested. However, the email doesn’t list the borrower’s name, the name of the creditor we were trying to verify or the loan number in question.”

“Do you have the report number?”

“I do. It’s 754xxxxxxxx.”

And their report # was of NO HELP to us in identifying which loan or which request they’re referring to because they don’t provide THEIR REPORT # when you asked for a supplement on their system. There’s just a message onscreen stating they’ll email you when the report is ready to download.

“Okay, I see. That’s for Jane and John Miller, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s correct, and we just need a verification of the tradeline for their new car.”

“Oh, I see, well, we need a bill from BMW or the account number,” Gretchen said in such a serious tone, it was all I could do to hold my breath for the 5 seconds it took me to reach across my desk and hit the MUTE button before I busted out laughing.

And, then, I’d hear her say, “Are you still there? Can you fax a bill to us?”

I’d collect myself and say, “Um, if we had a bill, we wouldn’t need the supplement.”

Dead silence from Gretchen. “Oh, well, uh…”

“All we know is that Mr. Miller bought a new BMW. He hasn’t gotten a bill yet. He doesn’t know the balance, but he said the payment was supposed to be around $400 a month. We need to obtain all that information before the underwriter will approve his loan.”

“I see,” Gretchen said, followed by, “Then, we need…”

I could hear the synapses firing as she struggled to MANUFACTURE A CLUE.

“Can you call BMW and ask them to fax an invoice or something to you, or maybe a copy of the contract?”

“We’ll need to talk to the borrower,” Gretchen replied. “And then we’ll set up a conference call with BMW.”

“All righty, then. I’ll have Mr. Miller call you. Thank you.”

It often made me wonder how in God’s name this company stayed in business. First of all, it’s bad customer service NOT to provide your customer with some sort of reference number. Those blind emails drove me crazy because I’d have to note on the borrower’s account that Intrinsic had emailed, so I had to call or email them in order to find out which freakin’ loan they were talking about.

I also pondered how Gretchen arrived at work every day with her shoes on. Since she seemed to be lacking in logical thought processes (and I spoke to her frequently), and logical thinking dictates shoes are required in the workplace. Thus, walking about the office in her socks waiting for her shoes to arrive just wouldn’t suffice…:)

And Gretchen wasn’t the only one who would send emails like that and then ask for documentation to basically verify the very information we had requested from THEM. There were several CSR’s that were that brilliant.

After spending way too much time on the phone with them answering stupid questions, I just decided in order to preserve my insanity, I’d just email them that we had no documentation. There’s only so many conversations one can conduct with those who have the I.Q. of a cactus before you begin wishing you could run them over with a tractor or that new Beemer that Mr. Miller just procured.

Yet, I’m the one who got the sack/downsized? E- F-ING GAD…

JUST HAD TO SHARE THE JOY!

Over and out______________________

~TenaciousB and her band of truth-spouting hippies

Post #147 – Update on the job debacle…

Posted in humor, memoir, narrative memoir, nonfiction, true stories with tags , , , , , , , , on March 4, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

Soooooo – after getting fingerprinted again on the 19th for this job at Mega Bank, mentioned previously @     http://tenaciousbitch.com/2015/02/19/post-146-perhaps-i-shall-execute-it-in-blood/

I heard back from Lisa, the recruiter, last Wednesday, February 25, my birthday no less, that my background check had come back “clear”. Of course, it did. I don’t even jaywalk or chew gum in public (or behind closed doors for that matter). And the only thing that might’ve come up on my drug screen would’ve been an excess of Splenda.

HOWEVER, no start date had yet to be proffered as promised. So, should I just show up when I feel like it? The unwanted house guest to corporate hell, or consult a psychic who might could glean the date from my crazy Aunt Doreen whose known to lurk about the vale just hoping a clairvoyant might holler her way?

“But they sent information on your Teleo login for their timekeeping program, so we should have a start date here in a day or two.”

OR TWO? Really? You gotta stop snacking on crack, Lisa, cuz it’s not good for your health, much less what might happen if you got tapped for a random drug test.

That said, let’s review the math, again, shall we? I was offered this job on FEBRUARY FOURTH, 21 days prior to the date that the results of my 2nd BCI check were finally emailed to Lisa. But Mega Bank still hasn’t provided the date I’ll begin training for this job that I didn’t interview for? This job with its very vague job description, having something to do with reviewing mortgage application paperwork.

HOW FUCKING FANTASTIC.

That said, ask me how many days transpire before I’m finally given a new hire date? Not one or two days. Not four or five days. Six LONG days after my nonexistent rap sheet went zinging through cyberspace and landed upon Lisa’s computer.

As of Day Four, I had pretty much given up and had started furiously applying for alternative employment like mad for fear that once my background finally came back, the job quota would be filled or something.

However, I did receive an email from Lisa last Friday that the hiring manager at Mega had been out of the office for the last two days, and she assumed she’d hear from Mega on Monday. NOT. So. Much. Monday came and went, marked by radio silence.

Then, I decided to take a little break from my manic job search yesterday by walking to a nearby convenience store to get a Diet Pepsi because I was completely out. We were experiencing a record high of 36 degrees (WOO HOO), and the Weather Channel said it wasn’t going to rain until around 1-1:30, but like all the intel I’ve been privy to lately, t’was not the case. It started drizzling the moment I stepped off my front porch around 12:05 PM and turned into full-blown rain five minutes later. But I had an umbrella, so it was okay.

I was 10 feet from my front door when my phone rang.

“I have start date for you,” Lisa said tentatively.

“And?”

“March 23rd.”

Once again, this mental phrase bounced about my brain – ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? I shook my head and sighed.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear,” Lisa said apologetically.

“No, not really,” I said, pausing to gather my thoughts. Now that my husband is working, and he just got his first check…”That’ll be okay, especially since I think everything is finally straightened out with unemployment, and I should get a check this week.”

“Okay. Good. I’m really sorry it’s taken so long. And I really appreciate your patience and understanding-”

The hell with my patience. I need a fucking paycheck, and so far Mega is the only offer on the table. However, as of March 23, it will have been 47 days since I was offered this job, which is absolutely ludicrous especially since I’m really not crazy about commuting the 20+ miles to Mega – right through downtown, which is always a nightmare during rush hour, and the pay rate isn’t as high as the other jobs that I’ve pursued.

Deep down, I’m glad to have the time to blog and to work on the memoir I’ve been chipping away at for two years, but I dread telling my husband that I might be short on my Visa next month. I’d rather chop off my right hand than ask Charlie to make that payment, but I may not have a choice.

On the plus side, hopefully, Mother Nature will have ceased dumping snow across the Midwest by 3/23.

And funny thing, 29 years ago on March 23, I married Rory’s Dad, a decision that changed my life forever, and also a union that ended horribly. Not that I have any regrets since I got an AWESOME kid out of the deal, but still…weird coincidence, n’est-ce pas?

And, of course, now that my new employment digs have been wrapped up with an officious start date, I’ve been offered 2 other jobs, one of which is only 10 minutes from my house…sigh.

But…it is what it is. I need this stupid paycheck. Here’s hoping that this new endeavor I’ll be embarking upon in 19 days will be a life-altering event of the opposite persuasion from 29 years ago, i.e. a GOOD THING.

Over and out from INSANITY CENTRAL…

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

TB/ks

Post #146 – Perhaps, I shall execute it in blood…

Posted in nonfiction, relationships, true stories, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 19, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

LUCKY ME, a recruiter named Lisa with Ohio Consulting, Inc., spied my resume on Monster.com and called me about a job at the corporate office of a well-known bank in their mortgage department. Doing what exactly, I don’t know. The job description is very vague, but I assumed I could find out more in an interview.

For the sake of simplicity, this financial institution will be called Mega Bank. After a brief Q & A with Lisa, my resume was shuffled through cyberspace to Mega’s HR department.

Three days later, Mega Bank offered me the job simply based on my resume! WTF? Ya know, I get I’m totally awesome, LOL, but I wouldn’t hire me without at least a 10-minute chat on the phone. I could be a complete moron who paid a lot of money for a really sharp resume. However, since I REALLY didn’t like the temp job I was on at the time (don’t even get me started on that), I accepted the position.

Then, of course, comes the real fun. I spent 2.5 HOURS completing the online application for Ohio Consulting listing every single employer for the last 10 years along with their address, phone number and email. AGAIN – WTF?

When I reached the bitter, bleary-eyed end of their cyber forms, I had a little panic attack because I didn’t have the email addresses or phone number for 2 of my previous supervisors from a decade ago because I’d lost touch with them. I emailed Lisa explaining I had to put incorrect information – because I couldn’t complete this pre-employment malarkey without putting SOMETHING in the field for phone number and email address.

Lisa got very confused and emailed me that neither of the supervisors I mentioned were ones I’d given for references. Though I explained via email and voicemail that I was talking about managers from a decade ago, I never got to discuss this issue with her. And I’ve been concerned for 2 weeks that I’ll be accused of providing FALSE info. No red flags yet, but I still don’t have a start date for this new job, so who knows.

Then, the next day, I received an email from Lisa with a .pdf attached of YET ANOTHER APPLICATION!!! No, I’m not making this shit up. Apparently, all the online documentation was ONLY for the background check. For the actual application for Ohio Consulting, I had to PRINT OUT a paper app in 6 POINT FONT  with tiny little boxes about 1/8″ tall where I had to HAND WRITE my entire job history AGAIN and answer 22 questions in regard to my favorite work environment (large or small company)/preferred hours, etc.  And, no, t’was not the kind of .pdf you can type upon. The recruiter requested that I write legibly and to scan/email it upon completion.

This is unbelievable! I should write the damned thing in crayon!! YES – NEON BLUE fucking CRAYON! Or better yet…I’ll bet I could get enough blood out of my thumb to write it in my rare vintage of human vino, and it’s such a lovely shade of RED!!!

I could use a toothpick, dip it in a little puddle of blood, and use the toothpick like a QUILL. Is that not brilliant? And that’d be a lot easier than using a pen, given the space restrictions.

Why the hell can’t they just email that list of questions and allow their applicants to email the answers back? That’s how I gave them my references. They could print out/scan the answers if they want this info to be on their database or whatever, which they’ll have to do with the paper app – instead of trying to explain why I left each job in a box that was barely 1 1/2 inches long.

And though this job pays considerably more than the job at the Publishing Company, which didn’t work out (long story), I have to wonder why they need SO MUCH INFO? Do they really think that being so thorough in their selection process is going to stop me from quitting, or weed out the undesirable employees? I think not.

And I’ll bet astronauts don’t fill out as much paperwork when they apply to NASA!!! Or maybe they do, but they’re going into space, people, SPACE!

I’m going to be a paper pusher, living in a cubicle. When I worked for Household Finance in ’99 as an account executive, we did everything. Outbound sales, taking loan apps for mortgage and personal loans, processing all the paperwork required prior to loan approval, and we churned out all the closing docs as well. The application for that job was ONE PAGE, accompanied by a personality quiz that took about 20 minutes. And that was it.

Household was a revolving door of employees and probably still would be if they added a couple reams of paperwork.  One girl went to lunch during our 2nd week and never returned. And not to worry, she didn’t meet with foul play. I saw her wedding announcement in the newspaper 3 months later. I guess Household Finance’s get ’em to sign on the dotted line or die tryin’ attitude was just too much for her. Couldn’t blame her there. I hated that job, and, t’was not unhappy when I got laid off 6 months later.

ANYWHO, at this point, you’re probably thinking that’s the end of this pre-employment nonsense. Um…NOT. So. Much.

When I went to OH Consulting’s office downtown to complete my tax forms, I couldn’t find their office, and NO ONE answered the phone. And I let it ring 20 times! When I finally found it, the receptionist said they’d been having issues with the phone system, and he had no record of my appointment. AWESOME. Ten minutes later, he talked to someone in their Chicago office, and I was given the I-9 and the W4.

In order to work at Mega, you have to get fingerprinted/have a BCI check done because of all the confidential info you’re privy too. So, I left my temp job and drove as fast as my silver bullet could manage in 4:30 traffic to Mega’s branch near OSU where I’ll be working, and the security guard who runs the scanner had just left 2 minutes prior.  Sigh. The next day, I snuck out of my temp job early and made it to Mega by 4:44 this time, and lo, and behold…I was told…

“Sorry contractors have to go to our Gateswood location.”

Are you FUCKING kidding me? GROAN and insert angry EXPLETIVES here! 🙂 Especially since the both the northside location and the one at Gateswood mall are 20, yes TWENTY, miles from my house. Compensation for gas anyone? Um. No.

I quit my temp job so I could finish all this pre-employment crap, and I drove to Mega’s Gateswood location the next day. The security guard, Ms. Weatherby, had trouble getting my prints to scan. I don’t know why, but I always have this problem. When I applied for a teaching job at Hilliard Schools, their scanner couldn’t read my prints either. And I had to drive all the way out to London, Ohio – 30 miles away. And the fingerprint scanner at the tanning salon I frequent acts like I’m invisible. But anywho…

“You may have to go to the northside,” said Ms. Weatherby with a sigh.

“I was told that all contractors have to get fingerprinted here.”

So, she called a supervisor for assistance who could see the scanner remotely. She kept scanning and kept clicking OVERRIDE, and 10 minutes later, my prints were in the system.

“It’ll take 24 to 48 hours to get the results,” Ms. Weatheryby said, i.e. verifying I don’t have a criminal record.

THANK GOD cuz I’m running out of cash, and I still haven’t gotten my first unemployment check from getting laid off from Jeans, Inc. (another long, tedious story).

Four days without a word. I called Lisa who said they were still waiting on the BCI check.

On day six, I emailed Lisa that if I didn’t hear something soon, I’d have to seek employment elsewhere. Five minutes later, she called me.

“There are questions about your background check.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in a panic. For chrissakes, the only time I’ve ever gotten arrested was when I was 17…yeah, funny story…feel free to check it out at…

http://tenaciousbitch.com/2011/08/29/blog-30-%E2%80%93-an-ode-to-barboursville-and-the-days-of-yore/

She gave me the phone number for Andrew somebody at Mega in New York.

“We got a reprint request on the 13th and the 18th. The scans weren’t good enough to run your prints,” Andrew explained.

Then, why the fuck couldn’t they have told someone at OH Consulting before now?

Holy fuckballs. It was snowing like a bitch, and it was 4 degrees. But I hauled my ass back out to Gateswood yesterday, and a younger blonde named Emily took my fingerprints this time. Again, my prints were persona non grata. I explained my problem and requested that she not override the scans. After 20 minutes, we were still struggling to get my prints to “pass”. I called Andrew again, and I said,”We’ve got the images for my fingerprints up to 90% and some as high as 96%. Is that good enough?”

“What’s the problem?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe, because I have really small fingers, and my pinkie fingers are crooked, which makes it difficult to get them to lay flat.”

“I see. Well, you can’t get blood from a turnip,” Andrew replied in a jovial tone. “That should be fine at 90%.”

So, here I am WAITING again. Hopefully, in a couple of days I’ll have a start date for the job I was offered 15 days ago!

To top it off, get this, Ms. Weatherby, who sent the crappy prints off to be processed, was Emily’s SUPERVISOR.

And after all this pre-employment FOREPLAY, these faceless corporate units aren’t even going to buy me lunch, much less dinner!

Last night, I decided if this job doesn’t work out, maybe, I’ll just go work at McDonald’s or UDF (United Dairy Farmers, a convenient store/gas station chain). I hear they’re hiring, or maybe, I’ll just walk down to the exit ramp from I-270 and panhandle like this one guy who was “hungry” and needed “help” – according to his homemade sign. Although one night, I saw him walk over to the parking lot beside Denny’s and climb into a very nice Nissan Rogue that looked brand new. So, that’s always a career path to fall back on as well…

~Ciao!-

TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting HIPPIES

TB/ks

Post # 145 – Good news…bad news…and you can’t be f’ing serious?

Posted in fashion, humor, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on January 14, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

So, I’d forgotten how exhausting job hunting can be! And I cannot believe the fuck-ton of cyber paperwork that is required for a job paying $10 fucking dollars/hour. Yes, folks, I said $10 – a scant dollar and some change more than minimum wage.

It’s hard to get used to coming down from the $25/hour (sometimes $30) I get for freelance work anyway, so $10 is a bitter figure to accept, much less the insane volume of forms and the like.

And why would moi/proud owner of a college degree and 20+ years’ experience in the cesspool known as the workplace accept a job for such a paltry pittance? Well, boys and girls, I can answer that in 4 words –

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

It’s a PUBLISHING COMPANY!  While I’d be working in the call center doing customer service, it is my foot in the door at my MECCA, after all. I’ve wanted a job at a publishing company since grade school. And though I’ve done freelance work for 2 different publishers, ’tis not the same as being in-house, and everyone has to start somewhere.

First of all, this job is through Pinnacle Temps. Fine. No problem. I am a dyed in the wool veteran of the temp to perm contract gig… however, the first OMG – you’re shitting me moment was when the recruiter named Brenda informed me I had to make a fucking 35-second video to introduce myself to perspective employers! Ya know…hi, my name is, and I have a background in BLA, BLA, BLA, and you should hire me cuz I’m broke, and….

Seriously, put down the crack pipe, people! What the hell is this, SPEED DATING? If I’d known I was going to be videoed, I would’ve rethought my wardrobe choices. I was wearing a very bright cobalt blue cowl-necked sweater and matching blazer with black pants cuz I don’t care if it’s Queen Elizabeth, this chick ain’t wearing a dress on a 4 degree day (okay, maybe for HER, I would – but anywho).

And though my fashion entourage was fine for the temp agency, and though a fellow applicant complimented my Anne Klein bag that matched the shoes, sweater and jacket perfectly, t’was a horrible ensemble for video creation.

I probably looked like a talking head atop a gigantic undiscovered neon blue, 5′ 8″ PLANETOID-ish blob! Or the clients may not get past how enormous my boobs looked since the camera was no less than .05 inches from my person, and Brenda assured me t’was only my face and shoulders, but it seemed to be aimed at the middle of my ta-ta’s. . Despite the recruiter’s overt reassurances that the video was “fine”. It was great. I beg to differ!!

And if that weren’t bad enough, when taking my drug test, I not only peed all over my hand, but I soaked the damned cup, which dripped all over the beautiful ceramic tile in the bathroom (en route to the shelf behind the toilet).

The time I spent trying to clean up the spatters of urine on the floor and trying to wipe off the cup, probably seemed suspicious. I wouldn’t be surprised if Brenda thought I’d spilled some fake urine I’d smuggled in (or I was trying to heat it up with my lighter – since manufactured piss will not be a balmy 100 degrees or whatever) cuz only crack heads take that long to “go” in a plastic thingy!

Then, I was mortified when I realized the cup was still quasi saturated when I deposited my specimen on the shelf where I assumed she would retrieve my sparkling hot pee! SHIT AND DOUBLE SHIT (or pee as the case may be).

However, before I even washed my hands, she knocked on the door saying I could throw away my ala carte au natural TINKLE because, apparently, the container not only had a temperature sensitive strip embedded in it, but it does all the work of 3 lab techs instantly with a readout on the pee-covered paper on the outside of the tiny beaker indicating I was not gobbling down buckets full of heroin, etc.

HOW JOLLY AWESOME…tell me something I don’t know.

But as to the phenomenal volume of documentation required to work at this publishing company, I have to take an assessment that will take 45 minutes, which luckily, I can do at home.

I had to answer 32 inquiries about my customer service skills and/or job preferences (i.e. best work environment)…additionally, I also have to spend 30 minutes registering online for the temp agency itself answering the same damned questions I’d already supplied via the actual paper app at Pinnacle’s office, i.e.repeating my address, telephone numbers, etc., and God Knows What Else!

And that doesn’t even include the 11 pages of application material I had to complete, sign, date, scan and email back to another consulting firm for another job that is 20, yes, TWENTY miles from my house/ a 30-40 minute commute but does sound like an interesting job, the one mentioned in my last post/starting on 1/19/15.

Holy fuck balls. Maybe, I’ll just work at MCDONALD’s. Surely, their interviewing process is not so laborious…and if it is – no wonder those fast food gurus flipping our burgers are often so surly and/or screw up our orders! If they had to go through the rigorous documentation regime I had to deal with today on their salary of $8/hour, I’d be surly too.

All of which makes me tired just thinking about it. So TA for now, boys and girls!

~TB and her band of truth-spouting hippies

Post #144 – You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet! There is no crying uncle here…

Posted in beer, college, Family, family drama, friends, humor, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 12, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

This year, my sister, Fiona, received the Merry Christmas, “your job has been eliminated” speech as her box of wonder from her employer in mid-December after 17 years of faithful service. Awesome, is it not? The joy of living in America. Absolutely, give us your tired, your hungry, your poor and/or a dedicated workforce, so we can shred their livelihood after they’ve devoted their blood, sweat and blood to helping a f’ing corporation grow ITS business and/or make it a better place.

And, then, another family member, Mitchell, also got the congrats, it’s a shiny new pink slip for Christmas along with 78 other devastated individuals! And such was allegedly due to a downturn in profits. However, the black and white of it indicates according to the Wall Street Journal –  profits were up 32.9% at XYZ, Inc., where Mitch had been working.

And this kick to the curb occurred not 6 weeks after Mitch received a mega promotion, and one of his now disenfranchised co-workers had also gotten a leg up the corporate ladder as well not 2-3 months ago that included a nice increase in salary. Thanks for that, f’ing bastards!

Ya gotta wonder what their mindset is when upper management or whomever decide to chuck their employees when profits are up. Did they suddenly realize that a 38% profit margin isn’t enough to bid on that third world country they’d been lusting over on Ebay? For fuck’s sake, they can’t have that. What would the neighbors say?

But after Enron and the shenanigans of Bernie Madoff, and the like, we shouldn’t be surprised by corporate deception and greed, right? However, that doesn’t mean we have to LIKE it and doesn’t revoke our right to BITCH about it!

But I digress, as Fiona revealed the details of her occupational severance on Christmas Eve, she started crying/then sobbing (understandably so) and apologizing for ruining my Christmas!

Holy Fuck Balls, no one says the holidays have to be all candy canes and mystery Santas bearing Porsches! And if nobody cries on Christmas, it just ain’t a success, doncha know?

Otherwise, Hollyweird wouldn’t churn out so many dramas about turkeys that never get cooked because bizarre typhoons appear from nowhere on dry land on Thanksgiving, or Kim-Kim showing up in the not-to-die-for dress made of bamboo and Guatemalan mud that Jane wanted to wear but couldn’t fit her fat ass into… sigh.

I tried to convey to Fiona that she has every right to blubber her damned eyes out because I know how devastating it is to get downsized because such happened to me twice in 2005, and the first layoff was from a teaching position that I loved at a junior college where I’d been for almost 5 years.

And the immense frustration of watching someone you love having their life decimated for reasons that make no sense – certainly explains why so many folks begin spraying bullets in the general vicinity of those who had wronged them. However, Fiona is not that kind of person AT ALL.

Regardless, losing your job after 17 years of dedicated service and lots of overtime, and occasionally getting to work at 5:00 in the damned morning?! That fucking blows-PERIOD!

And the thing is, little did I know at the time that I was also about to be sans employment. Yep, I too lost my job as a fraud specialist at Jeans, Inc. a couple weeks after Fiona’s employment cessation. And get this, I found out from an announcement on the company webpage. And such was the first time I’d been canned that my manager had not been the one to convey the news, so that was odd.

With me, however, it’s not as earth-shattering to be cast adrift in the ugly waters of unemployment as it was for Fiona because I had only been at Jeans, Inc., for around 6 months, so I wasn’t as invested in the job, really. Plus, business was down so much that on my last day, they sent me home before I even got logged into my computer. And there were times when we had 8 or 9 orders to work with probably 75 people working. So, unless the phone was ringing, there was nothing to do. But when such isn’t the case, ya gotta wonder…

Plus, fortunately, my wonderful hubby makes enough coin that we shall not be worrying about keeping the lights on, but our cashflow will be a might pinched. Additionally, I tucked away some cash that will help fill the void should the scraps of government alms not suffice (i.e. unemployment compensation) until I find something else.

That said, Fiona, Mitchell and I are intelligent, capable, talented individuals, and we will OVERCOME.

That said, why am I so confident about Fiona and I rising from the ashes of cubicle hell? Well, let’s review our track record. Between the two of us, we have –

1) Obtained college degrees, which were financed largely with our OWN cash – though student loans, et. al. did help enormously.

2) Said FU to Cancer and won.

3) Tangled with the biggest bully who ever lived and.. WON big time (i.e. check out  http://tenaciousbitch.com/2011/07/20/blog-24-evicting-the-squatter-part-i/ – about evicting my drug addict brother from my Grandmother’s house )

4)  Survived 4 or 8 or 9 divorces (we lost count – okay, so maybe I’m really just talking about me, but you get the NOTION).

5) Survived being cheated on (by those who may or may not have been spouses).

6) Moved to New York City alone with no job in hand, less than $300 in the bank and a 2-year-old in tow and only one human to call a friend in that wild-assed, incredible and somewhat overwhelming metropolis.

7) Defied the laws of fashion because we just don’t give us shit.

8) Married a rock star or two and/or frequently went home with a guy in the band if frequently means once or twice ..:).

9) Held the title of DIRECTOR or VP…

10) Made more than $75K/year – which isn’t astronomical on a world scale, but ’tis nothing to sneeze at, and in West Virginia where we hail from, that sum makes us royalty/rare birds in the earnings department – especially because we’re women!

11) And ONE OF US met with and pitched a screenplay to members of Warner Brothers/CBS/Disney/Bad Robot Prod Co (who produced the TV show Lost and the Transformers franchise) and countless other execs from Tinseltown. And such was done without a trace of nervousness, which was no EASY TASK!

12) And we did not hesitate walk on cracks, skip school, chew gum in church, rip tags from mattresses, occasionally talk back to parents/teachers/cops and in my case threw up on (yeah – check out

http://tenaciousbitch.com/2011/10/04/blog-35-the-birthday-assaultaka-the-date-from-hell-part-2/

…not to mention we don’t hesitate to ask Santa for the big SHINY TOYS.

And we occasionally imbibed alcohol during school hours, got arrested and lived to tell about it, jay-walked at WILL, sweet-talked the guy from the electric company into not shutting off our electric with a Coke and a smile and, maybe, the fact that we happened to be wearing a bikini at the time didn’t hurt…:) cuz that was back in college), and one of us wore a gaudy fedora to Thanksgiving dinner despite the request not to do so.

In other words, we’re kind of FEARLESS…

However, if we’d known we were going to accomplish so much, Fiona and I might’ve chosen different togs for the photo below…
steph and i - pine tree 73 8

And if that photo doesn’t convince you that, nobody is putting BABY and her sis in a corner…I don’t know what will.

So, go ahead universe, BRING IT the fuck on…cuz we’re on the mound waiting to bat – no matter how big or bad the bullshit you might chuck our way! And this blip of joblessness is no exception in the scheme of our lives.

And I shall sign off by saying, well, guess I buried the lead. I just got confirmation that I have a new a job starting 1/19/15 – provided I pass the background check (hmmm…keep you posted on that).

So, stay tuned, boys and girls cuz in the infamous words of Bachman, Turner, Overdrive –  You ain’t seen nothin’ yet…:)

Love and chocolate chip cookies,

Tenacious B and her band of truth-spouting hippies

~TB/ks