Oops! He Did it Again

Back in June, the treadmill in the Pain Cave moved from the back of the main room to the front of the main room, closer to the entryway door — which, Trainer assured me, was not a subtle way of trying to get rid of me.

That was the 4th or 5th move in the almost two years I’ve been training with him.

Now he’s done it again, bringing the total moves to the 5th or 6th time.

The treadmill is still close to entryway door, but switched from right side of the door to left side.

Before

After

Actually, in the language of Feng Shui, it’s a good move, because the wall in front of me is the Wealth/Prosperity position, the wall to the left is the Family and Physical Health side.

I can do without the flow of energy improving family relationships — I’m better off without them, but I can always use improvement in the Prosperity and Physical Health areas.

Trainer says I’m the only client using the treadmill and, but for me, he’d get rid of it.

I figured.

Because of my age, high-energy warm ups — like running, high knees, jumping would do more damage than good, but I do enjoy jumping rope, though the last time I did so was in the gym of the company I retired from some nine years ago, so I'm willing to try, but Trainer says no. He’s afraid I’ll injure myself, so treadmill it is.

In fact, when I mentioned to him that I was trying to learn some of the TikTok dances, he asked me to cease and desist because, as he puts it, “You’ll hurt yourself”.

O ye, of little faith.

I told him I would cease/desist, but I lied. Still at it, LOL.

At least, Trainer had a valid reason for this move. He’s moved that roll-up desk I thought might be valuable, left behind when he bought his partner out of the business, to the front and created a reception/desk area.

Hopefully, it’s the last and final move for the treadmill.

I had Trainer laughing today when I told him of my issue with the Security Guard at the market.

The market used to have workers standing at the door, to ward off non mask wearing customers. In this age of people being desperate, I guess the market had something bad happen because, a couple times, I saw armed guards, dressed in what looked like body armor, at the door. That was probably too intimidating for shoppers so, for the last two months, it’s been an unarmed security guard, in a normal uniform.

An older Black gentleman, he’s VERY gregarious VERY friendly. Greeting EVERYONE entering AND exiting.

Maybe it’s just me, because others seem to enjoy him, get into conversations with him, but I find it annoying, especially since something about him COMPELLS one to respond.

I feel like I have to say "hello" when he greets me coming in and I have to say "Thank you" when leaving and he says "Have a nice afternoon".

At first I didn’t. I’d just ignore him and, when I first finally responded, because I felt I had to, I heard him say to himself, "Awright" as though it had been a challenge and he was pleased he'd gotten me to speak.

It’s just so annoying to have to be sociable when all I want to do is make groceries.

Annoyed moved up to Uncomfortable when, on one of the excessive heat days, I was shopping in biker shorts, rather than my usual leggings.

As I exited the market, he gave me his usual "Have a nice day" and then I heard him mumble "Mmmmmmm".

In telling Trainer about this, how uncomfortable it made me feel, and how now I’m thinking of changing my shopping hours to end of Security Guy’s shift, Trainer laughed at the "Mmmmmmm" and said, "Maybe he was eating something, or thinking about ......." — and here you'll have to read between the lines, use your imagination, because I can’t repeat the naughty thing Trainer said which, though naughty, was probably correct.

At any rate, with plans to head across the street for a few items after this morning’s workout, I told Trainer I was dreading having to deal with the Security Guard, but it would be the last convenient trip, that I’d be changing my routine, go out of my way to shop late afternoon, which I figured was end of Security Guard's shift, and that I’d try to send him a picture of the guy.

Today was my lucky day because, as I parked the car, here comes Mr. Security Guard walking across the parking lot, right in front of my line of vision, heading out to break or lunch (I supposed).

I reached for the phone to get that pic for Trainer, but wasn’t fast enough. He was almost out of the line of vision by the time I got the phone.

Once the coast was clear, I hurried into the market, did my shopping quick/fast/in a hurry, and was back in the car when I saw him walking back across the parking lot, heading back to work.

I snapped a photo, sent to Trainer with a note about how I’d lucked up.

Just an average day in the life of this senior citizen. There’s always something.

All’s Well that Ends Well, Part 2

Before I close the book on the old journal and move on to present day, I just have to share a few things, not so funny at the time, but which I now find hilarious, starting with what Jane — the Lead Attorney, did after I turned down a promotion.

Jane’s secretary Elva was retiring. The position was that of a Lead Secretary, a rare position in the agency, sought by many company-wide, with a huge bump in salary. Jane fully expected a feeding frenzy with us girls falling all over ourselves to compete for the position, especially since the company was cutting back, laying off positions.

Jane was embarrassed when Stephanie, from another branch of the organization, was the only person to apply for the position. Even secretaries in the path of being laid off, did not apply. No one wanted to work for her.

Jane was not only embarrassed, but PISSED. Especially at me because she’d made overtures that she wanted me in the position.

I was way ahead of Jane by then, had awakened, knew what games the witches were playing at, why they played them, and how they played them. Jane would have given me the position, but wanted to see me humbled, begging for it and then grateful.

Jane’s mistake was not realizing not everyone, including myself, is motivated by money or prestige.

I certainly could have used the money, but no thanks — I passed on the promotion.

Jane even had her retiring secretary speak with me. Elva came to my desk one day and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want the job?” No question, I wouldn’t have touched working directly with Jane with a 50-foot pole, so Stephanie (the only applicant) got the job and Jane retaliated by going on a campaign to punish me for not playing along — a campaign that included finding fault with everything I did thereafter, fabricating, lying, and coming down hard on my attorneys to also find fault with me ... or else.

A group of us girls had decided to surprise Elva with a retirement party in Las Vegas.

Jane was perpetually angry all the time now, plus we knew Jane would be jealous, so we didn’t say anything about the trip. However, Jane happened to come around the corner when I surprised Elva with our plans in letter form and, when I walked away from Elva, Jane DEMANDED to see what I had given Elva.

Elva said she didn’t want to show Jane, that she told Jane it was personal, but Jane just said, “Yes, but what is it!”

Jane badgered Elva until Elva got scared and let Jane see what I had given her. It was a personal letter notifying Elva we were taking her to Vegas and detailing the departure date, method of travel, hotel, etc.

Jane had no right to do that in the first place, but then Jane added insult to the injury of reading the personal letter by getting pissed off about our plans — just as we knew she would.

Now further pissed off, the campaign of harassment intensified and carried over into March of 1993 when, since nothing she and the others, at her behest, had said or done in the interim had the desired effect they were looking for, I received my performance evaluation.

Jane scheduled a meeting for the following day, but wanted me to read it the afternoon before, to be ready to discuss the evaluation — which specified I was barely adequate, with a zinger that I was “hostile to attorneys”.

In the journal, I wrote “I really had no problem with the evaluation because I know these people and the games they play. I’d expected something and had predetermined not to let it depress me, interfere with my work and/or mess with my head. So I signed it and returned it saying ‘no need to meet. I have no problem with it’.”

I thought the game was over but, the next day, Donna walked past my desk and asked what time is our meeting. I told Donna there wasn’t going to be a meeting, that I had no problem with the appraisal and that ‘I just wasn’t going to play this game.’ Donna started laughing so hard that she almost fell down in the middle of the floor. A few minutes later, Jane comes over to my desk and insists I meet with them to ‘discuss’. Jane refuses to take no for an answer so I go into her office.

"It was Jane, Joyce, Donna, and the conversation started off with Jane saying that the rating, which included the statement that I was ‘hostile to attorneys’ though signed by her was Joyce. I just kind of smiled, turned to Joyce and said, ‘I knew that’.”

In this meeting, "Joyce got a little more self-righteous, imperious and indignant than usual and went straight for the jugular. After Jane said ‘hostile to attorneys’ came from Joyce, Joyce got all huffy puffy and started bouncing around in her seat as she pronounced ‘Yes! And you’re rude and extremely arrogant, and I for one intend to say so from now on! I’m going to tell you you’re being rude!’ "

"If this was intended to draw blood, they were sadly disappointed. My reaction was I started laughing my butt off. It was so predictable, so ludicrous and for Joyce of all people in the world to tell anyone that they are rude and extremely arrogant, you had to laugh."

"After laughing my butt off, I said something to the effect that ‘I can’t take this seriously, that it really is true that we do see others as we are’."

"I broke it down further year-by-year, that the first year Jaymie rated me — that Jaymie was an uncooperative and incompetent individual and that was what Jaymie said about me. The second year Henrietta and Joyce rated me, with Henrietta being the dominant voice. That Henrietta was a very cruel, abusive individual. That the only way I could deal with Henrietta’s abuse was to become quiet and focus on getting through the day. That because this was not the reaction Henrietta wanted, that Henrietta wanted me to be fearful and/or behave just as badly as she, and because I did not, Henrietta rated me as being too detached and not caring about what I did. I said that Joyce went along with that appraisal because Joyce had a tendency to not be able to see beyond Joyce’s own nose. I didn’t just say it in words, I put my hands up besides my ears to show the limit of Joyce’s hearing and then just in front of my nose to indicate her limited seeing."

Reading that now, it appears I had no fear by then. I’d outgrown them.

"I went on to say that now here it was year 4, and I’m being told I’m hostile, rude and extremely arrogant. I said that what was funny about this was that Joyce was saying about me what is being said about her. I said I never took offense to Joyce and that when people would tell me Joyce was rude and arrogant, I would say, ‘Oh she’s okay — that’s just her way’."

Of course, Joyce and Jane had already made up their minds I was the one who was hostile, rude and arrogant, so no one in the meeting was really listening to me.

I went on to write something that, looking back at what I’d written, tells me how far I’d come — that being "It is probably inconceivable to Joyce, Jane (and Henrietta) that they might be wrong; and God forbid they entertain the thought they might not be perfect. I have noticed that people who are vain and arrogant believe the way they see things is the way things must, are and have to be. This kind of personality is always looking out negatively at others, never positively, always negatively; and this type of personality never look inwardly at itself".

I also wrote, "I think what is really bugging Joyce and Jane is that no matter how bad they treat me or write me up or how many impossible demands they make upon me, I get the job done. I keep a smile on my face and I don’t complain. They want to break me."

As the journal went on, it appears that I as much told them this by saying, "I am getting the impression you want me to be whimpy, whinny and pathetic, and I’m just not going to do that".

ROFLMAO, OMG. This beatdown wasn’t going the way they’d planned.

At any rate, the journal went on … "We ended up coming to no conclusions. I said I wasn’t going to take this evaluation and this conversation about ME being hostile towards attorneys, rude and arrogant seriously or personal. Jane said their perceptions must be true because ‘We all see it that way’. I said, ‘You are all the same person’. That I was sorry they felt the way they felt, but I can’t be bothered by other people’s perceptions. That I wasn’t responsible for other people’s perceptions. That I was going to continue to come in and do my job the best I could and if they were bothered by my personality there was nothing I could do about that."

Insubordinate? I think not. After all, THEY insisted on discussing it. LOL.

"To top it all off, after Joyce, Jane and Donna finished telling me I was three-day-old dog do-do, Jane said, and I quote, ‘But we’re really happy with you. You have a good attitude, we think your work is very professional, and you’ve been a real trooper, a real team player’."

I kid you not.

From reading the journal, it looks like it was three more months of bad behavior — mostly Joyce because, whereas Jane had backed off after the beatdown didn't go as planned, Joyce was incensed by not being able to take me down and by what I'd revealed to her about her. So, having grown and having done all I could do with them, I was done and transferred to another unit. A transfer Jane tried unsuccessfully to block. And when Joe, the Administrator who was in charge of such things, later told me Jane came to him and asked that he block the transfer, in the journal I’d written my response was to say, "Why didn’t Jane just apologize and begin treating me right?" Joe replied, "You know that’s not Jane’s way."

Foolish foolish woman. An apology and doing the right thing could have been far less traumatic than what followed.

What followed was Jane’s new Lead Secretary — Stephanie telling Personnel she’d made a mistake and wanted them to get her out of that unit. It wasn’t long before Michelle — my replacement, would seek me out, cry on my shoulder, tell me how much she’d come to hate Joyce.

Michelle had transferred into the position in a job swap. Joyce had told Michelle, "I’m really looking forward to working with you. It’s a real easy job. We do our own work".

So, Michelle, thinking I was the problem, not the attorneys, eagerly took my desk job, while I took her job in Word Processing where I was warmly greeted, treated well and happy.

When Michelle became miserable, complained to anyone and everyone about the volume of work and the witches, Jane tried unsuccessful threats and intimidation tactics to get me to transfer back, but no. I stayed put, Michelle left the company.

A secretary from another unit transferred into that slot but went back to her old unit within three months.

Donna, Joyce, Jane and Henrietta began fighting amongst themselves, blaming each other as being the cause of all the chaos and turnovers, while the work I’d been tasked with, while in the position, had to ultimately be farmed out to three other people in the agency, plus an associate and, with no one wanting to work for any of the witches, a series of temp workers sat at the desk. One temp was Q, who became a close friend and ultimately my supervisor when I turned down a promotion to head of the Word Processing unit, suggested him instead. Another temp, by the name of Jerry, sat at the desk after that and Jerry stuck it out until the unit was disbanded. Jerry didn’t like Jane, sought me out, kept me informed, LOL.

Jerry remained friends long after a merger/relocation sent my friend Q and I to other areas. Now retired, all these many years later, Jerry is still tight with Q and I, was even present at Q’s Fleet Week party in 2018 where we were still gossiping and laughing about our time with Jane and the other witches. 

2018: My friend Q on the left, Jerry on the right

All's well that ends well.

All’s Well that Ends Well

Finished reading that old journal, 94 pages, single spaced.

It was a great read. Sometimes I was on the edge of my seat to see what happened next, because I’d forgotten so much.

It was like reading someone else’s life. Watching as the person grew strong, rose up, out, and got to a place where she was able to look down, watch as the toxic ones began to self-destruct.

Though the journal ended on a high note, I was sorry to see it end. There was more to come, and though what came after was not always pretty, it was never again as difficult to deal with because of what I'd learned, how I'd grown as the result of working myself through those years with the witches.

I had plans, once I finished reading the journal, to trash it. However, it was such a good read, and details so much of what I had to deal with in Corporate America, in order to raise my daughters — who didn’t always understand how hard life away from home was, and give me a break at home.

I don’t want to say I’ve decided to keep it around to guilt my girls for how they were when younger, but I’ve decided to keep it around so my girls can one day read and feel regret for giving me such a hard time. In other words, guilt them. LOL.

Going beastmode at the Pain Cave last week — not having a day to recover, caused an old right shoulder rotator injury to flareup.

I began thinking that I should probably go see the acupuncturist, in China Town, for a needle touchup.

I haven’t been in about five years, but I remember how terrifying driving in Los Angeles traffic was. There’s too much traffic and everything is fast, so I began looking for a local acupuncturist.

Checking online, I found one that appeared to be in a good location — just down the street from my dentist. I checked Yelp and saw the reviews were good, so I requested an appointment through the online set-up.

The next day, I received an email asking for my telephone number, that the acupuncturist would call me when he’s in the office on Monday.

I replied with my telephone number AND immediately, and every day since, I’ve been getting out-of-state calls on my phone from unknown callers.

I don’t answer, of course, but it just strikes me as odd that I give this guy my number and unknown callers follow.

THEN, I get a voice message on Monday saying the doctor is in his office until 1:00, call him to schedule. ONLY, it sounds like it’s coming from an answering service.

Sorry, if I sound elitist, but I was under the impression from the website, this was a thriving business. But the answering service called up an image of a hole-in-the-wall backstreet setup.

That, plus the unknown callers, gave me a weird feeling.

Not only that but, at one point, an image flashed through my mind.

The image was me lying on a table, just the acupuncturist and I in a small room, me immobile, unable to defend myself because I’m stuck with needles, while he molested me.

Now I don’t know where that image came from, why it popped up in my head, but I’m taking it as a warning.

I called the answering service back and said I would not need services of that acupuncturist, that I was going to schedule with the people I’ve used in the past.

I’m still not down for that long drive to China Town. I’ve not even checked to see if Dr. Chan’s office is still open or taking clients at this time.

I’m going to try sleeping in a shoulder and elbrow brace, to stabilize the areas at night, use pain patches in the day, see how it goes.

Once I get a chance, I might drive by the office of the local acupuncturists, as detailed on his website, to see what's actually going on there.

Purging and Reading

Post pandemic, it’s not so easy to pass on books that I outgrew many moons ago, of a spiritual nature.

There’s always someone somewhere, starting off on the path, that can benefit from what I have, but reaching those persons isn’t as easy as it was pre-pandemic, when I could drop them off at a metaphysical bookstore or pile up on a table at one of my meditation retreats and watch them disappear into eager hands.

Meditation Retreats are a thing of the past, for now, and I don’t believe the books to be the type to donate to the local library, not to mention donating books to the library has now become a complicated process as well, and it appears the used bookstores I used to donate to are no longer in operation.

I reached out to a Meditation Center in Lincoln, Nebraska, run by an individual on the path I used to communicate with. His groups are pretty much closed down, but he’s going to check with a few folks he’s still in contact with to see if there’s any interest there.

It’s criminal to throw books away, especially books no longer in publication but, if some other way of disposal doesn’t present itself, I may end up committing that crime.

Reading back through that old journal, I’m surprised to see the work experience was far worse than I recall and though all the Witches were awful, Henrietta seemed to have been the main antagonist and the most disturbed.

Towards the end of 1990, she went bat $hit crazy. What follows is the excerpt about that.

"There was the time when I was learning to make mop dolls. When Henrietta saw the one I made for Shirlene’s birthday, Henrietta asked me if she could pay me to make one for her. I couldn’t tell Henrietta I was making her one for Christmas, so I stalled by saying I’d consider it after Christmas because I was going to be tied up making dolls as gifts until then".

"Then Connie asked me if she (Connie) could pay me to make a mop doll for her. I wasn’t making Connie a doll for Christmas, because Connie was not one of my bosses, so I let Connie purchase a doll. Henrietta saw Connie’s doll and got all tight lipped and yelled at me right in front of Connie, ‘I THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T GOING TO MAKE ANY FOR SALE!’. Connie and I were stunned and just stood there for a second with our mouths open in disbelief. Connie and I both were embarrassed, so Connie just quickly put her doll away and took it home that same evening, without showing it to anyone else in the office".

"Henrietta was so angry at me for making a doll for Connie that Henrietta punished me for 4 months running, right up until Christmas. Henrietta punished me to the point where I crossed the line and moved from pity, to uncomfortable, to dislike, to hatred for Henrietta. Whatever little bit of respect for Henrietta I had managed to hang onto up until then, just all flew out the window. Henrietta punished me to the point where my New Years Resolution was not to allow Henrietta to yell at me ever again — I actually wrote that down on my goals list — and I followed through with that. Whenever Henrietta started browbeating me after January 1 of 1991, I would simply get up from my desk and quietly walk away. In the interim, Henrietta punished me to where I didn’t even want to give Henrietta the damn doll I had made, but could find no graceful way of giving Joyce her gift without giving Henrietta one, but I made a vow to myself that it would be the last thing Henrietta ever got from me — and by God it was! And I also never again took anything from her, not even a lunch or a cookie, and anything and everything that was in my apartment Henrietta had ever given me was gotten rid of”.

"On that initial day when that particular period of Henrietta’s intense anger over the doll began, Henrietta was so mad at me that Henrietta walked around the entire rest of that day tight mouthed, and giving me those hard, nasty looks and spitting words at me. Henrietta was so angry that Henrietta had done a document earlier for Dan that she told me to attach a particular manila file to — which of course I did. Henrietta was walking around her office enraged and muttering to herself about Connie’s doll when Henrietta spotted a manila folder. Henrietta ran over to my desk and started berating me that ‘DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO blab bla bla !!’"

"I said I did give Dan the file. Henrietta sucked in her breath as though she couldn’t believe what a liar I was, got all puffed up and shouted, ‘I BEG YOUR PARDON!’ and proceeded to infer to my face that I was lying because ‘I HAVE THE FILE RIGHT HERE IN MY HAND!' I was shocked and in that semi dazed state I’m always in when Henrietta has beaten up on me non stop all day, so I just kinda said that I had given Dan the file she’d told me to give him, but that if she wanted me to also give him the file she held in her hands, I would. At that point, Henrietta opened the file, looked inside, and that confused embarrassed ‘why do I always do this’ look washed over her face, and Henrietta said ‘Never mind. This is just some old notes.’ Henrietta ran back into her office, sat in her chair staring off into space looking confused. As Henrietta was running back to her office, I heard her say to no one in particular ‘Why do I do this — what’s wrong with me?’”

What was wrong was she was insane. If that woman is still alive today, it would not surprise me to learn she’s institutionalized.

Did anyone hear her tirade?

You bet.

The Office Manager heard it, Henrietta's boss Jane — the Head Attorney heard it, as did other attorneys and secretaries. Everyone always heard, but it was an embarrassment for them, so no one in power wanted to get involved. The other attorneys would give me a sympathetic look, and the other secretaries did their best to avoid all contact with Henrietta. 

I don’t remember what Henrietta's mop doll looked like, but I usually personalized the dolls to fit the person’s skin tone, manner of dress, personality. For instance — if the person was into cats, everything would be the same insofar as dressing a regular doll, but I’d put a cat face on the doll and a tail. If the person wore glasses, I’d put glasses on the doll. Henrietta was a beoch, so I just can’t remember what I’d designed for her — it should have been a witch, but wasn’t.

If you’re unfamiliar with mop dolls, I have no photos of those I’ve made for others, but I do have a photo of one I made for myself.

The Purge

Woke up this morning to a much needed surprise … RAIN.

We’d been getting flash flood warnings every hour on the hour for days, with nothing to show a reason for the annoying ear-piercing high-pitched sound. That is, until we finally got today’s rain which, hopefully, will continue for a few because this drought area really needs it, thought I.

It didn’t. By the time I returned from this morning’s workout, it was back to being hot as Hades and outside had dried up.

Also, when I returned, Church Lady, Jan and a resident I don’t know, were standing in the parking area, waiting for Brother to show up with fresh veggies.

Evidently, they’d been waiting a while, decided he wasn’t coming today and were about to head back to their units with Church Lady saying, “Too bad he didn’t show. I was looking forward to an onion sandwich”.

Now, I grew up poor. So poor that a meal in the family was often two slices of bread with sugar in the middle, but I never ever heard of an onion sandwich.

With Jan in my ear, trying to tell me something about rearranging the rocks, I didn’t get to ask Church Lady about that, but later researched online.

Evidently Onion Sandwiches are a thing, and not because one is poor, but because one enjoys "rounds of raw onion tucked between slices of crustless white bread spread with mayonnaise".

Interesting, but bread and onions are on my Avoid List, so I won’t be trying that.

Jan said she’d removed the Dance Rocks and, instead, had planted a challenge having to do with the Seven Dwarfs.

I accepted the challenge, solved it, and am now presenting to you readers as a challenge.

Some of the rocks are a little difficult to read in the sunlight, so I inserted names into the photo.

No cheating. No researching names of the Seven Dwarfs. On the honor system, name the missing dwarf.

The weekend’s purge didn’t go as well as expected.

I did manage to turn the chaos that was my makeup area into a semblance of order.

Before

After

And I did get some little work done in the kitchen cabinets.

While doing so, I found a mason jar I’d forgotten I had.

Just in time to be put out for a Halloween display but, in the interim, the brew you see inside is the lime water I’ve been drinking every morning, as suggested by the woman I ran into while leaving the Pain Cave.

At any rate, the purge was going great guns until I decided to tackle a container of spiritual books taking up room in the bedroom closet.

I’ve given up on the idea that anyone in my family would be interested in expanding their minds by reading the books after I’m gone — except maybe granddaughter’s husband. He seems cerebral, but not in the same way as I, so it’s time to let go.

Plan was to research each book for value, keep valuable ones — son-in-law will know what to do with those, donate others.

I’d barely dragged the container from the closet, when I got distracted by an old journal.

The journal chronicled three of the 4 years 1 month I worked with the Witches at the law firm.

Reading back through the hell I lived with those Witches, I had to laugh at some of their antics, for instance this from 10/24/90.

"I caught bloody hell all day from Henrietta following me and watching me and going through stuff on my desk when I stepped away and giving me dirty looks because, although I was getting Henrietta’s work out without any problem whatsoever, I was in Henrietta’s mind doing too much for Joyce. I ignored the nonsense as best I could. I just pushed and got everything done but, in order to do that, I had to ignore both of them hovering and interrupting and Henrietta competing for the lion’s share of attention".

"Henrietta really resents the fact that I have another attorney. Henrietta is so class conscious that I think it’s a status thing with her. Henrietta is acutely conscious of the fact that she is THE senior attorney and believes that entitles her to instant immediate service. Henrietta is not team oriented. It irks Henrietta to no end when I do work for other people, including and most especially Joyce and Jane. That one time when Joyce was keeping me too busy to suit Henrietta, Henrietta suddenly got busy and found a document she wanted me to do. Henrietta RAN it out to my desk and sort of stood there like ‘stop working on Joyce’s document and do this for me now.’ When I didn’t let Henrietta disrupt the work flow, Henrietta moved from standing in front of me and got behind me. Henrietta pretended to be getting something from the file, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that Henrietta’s hands were on the drawer, but she was reading my screen. Henrietta continued to stand behind me for a bit in an attempt to intimidate. When I did not react by appearing unnerved, Henrietta let out a heavy sigh and said in a hurt childlike voice, ‘I think you like Joyce better than me’. Pathetic, isn’t it."

Truth be known, I didn’t like any of them — not Henrietta, not Joyce, not Jane, but the pay was good, and I had my twins to raise. Turns out no one else liked the Witches either because, once I reached the point of being done with them, applied for and got a transfer, the Witches could not hold onto a secretary thereafter. My replacements, who were put through nowhere near the hell I was, lasted a few months, transferred back to the department they came from and/or quit the firm altogether.

Needless to say, I’m not going to make much progress on that container of books until I finish reminiscing through this journal.

I might entertain you with further weird, wacky excerpts about these grown-up women, attorneys no less who, looking back, had to be functionally insane.

Liar Liar Part 2

It took a while, but wanting to know how Walmart Karen and Victoria Secret Karen were to be dealt with, I did a little research this morning and stumbled upon a thread that led me to information that Walmart Karen has been placed on leave by her employer.

Placed on leave NOT because of her atrocious behavior, but placed on leave because she doubled down on HER atrocious behavior by trying to file a police report against the man she racially profiled.

How incredibly stupid is that!

Not only did she profile the guy as having stolen her son’s phone and, when a simple, “I’m so sorry. I made a mistake” would have sufficed, she not only failed to apologize when the son found his phone in the car, but instead opted to hurl a profanity at the guy she’d erroneous profiled as she walked away, she then followed up with trying to get HIM arrested.

Seriously, this woman is ill.

One would never guess that her job is that of a mental health professional, which I thought hilarious, as did a number of folks who commented on her employer’s Instagram page.

Her employer’s Instagram has literally thousands of comments in response to images they’ve posted touting various services offered that, because of her actions, are deemed a joke.

One image on her employer’s page is reminding clients to protect their skin from the sun.

One commenter wrote, “Yep don't want to get too dark. Liz might come after me”.

Another image is about mental health and that “No one should feel ashamed about seeking treatment for mental health challenges.”

Comment to that was, “Your own employee seem to be the one that needs the help”.

So, thus far, Walmart Karen has embarrassed her employer and made matters worse for herself on the whole.

Once she stops looking outside herself, blaming the victim for the mess she’s in, and begins to reflect inwardly, perhaps she’ll learn her lessons — 1) to be careful about profiling others, 2) apologize if you do and are proven wrong and, more importantly, 3) don’t wear a shirt with your employer’s logo while out and about behaving badly.

Nothing new on the other Karen, the one that threw a fit at Victoria Secret, but there is a disturbing story about a Black woman travelling with her 4-year old White adoptive sister who was profiled as a child trafficker.

In the woman’s words, “There were two police officers, and they came up to me and said, ‘Is it okay if we talk to you?’”

“One officer asked Olivia (the 4-year old), if she knows me and what am I to her, and he asked what my mom was to her.” A series of other questions followed, then officers spoke with her mom and a social worker to confirm certain pieces of information. Once information was confirmed, officers followed the pair to baggage claim before speaking with the person who picked them up.

So, though the police were polite, and had to respond to someone reporting what they deemed suspicious — a Black woman travelling with a White Child, the question is …. Would it have been looked upon as suspicious had the child been with a White woman AND, after the officers verified information given them, did they have to continue following, embarrassing, even further questioning the person who picked them up?

I think not.

Now burning up a little inside, in no mood to sit quietly and needlepoint, I'm thinking of burning off my frustration with this kind of crap by tackling a few organizational projects. Tossing stuff out should be therapeutic ... and productive.

No Way to Treat a Lady

Having put off doing laundry, for more weeks than I should have, running low on a daily essential, I had two options.

Option 1 was to just do it — head downstairs to the Laundry Room, and get ‘er done.

Option 2 was to drive to the Mall, purchase more of that essential, so I’d not have to revert to Option 1.

In my unit is a dishwasher I’ve not used, never not once, in the nine years I’ve lived here. I’d much prefer it was an appliance I actually needed, like a washer/dryer, but it is what it is.

So which option did I choose?

That’s right … I drove to the Mall.

I was planning on running by Sprouts anyway, and the Mall is just down the street from Sprouts, so I popped into the boutique, purchased enough of that essential to get me through another week of not doing laundry .

The outside world provided some interesting sights today.

So, is this appendage like when the peacock spreads its tail, like a fan, to attract the female peacock?

If so, I can’t image many females that would be attracted by truck testicles, but you never know.

Next was a truck that had a skeleton dressed like a female in the truck bed — sun hat, hair, dress, jewelry.

The photo isn’t all that clear, but it’s the best I could capture inasmuch as I was driving. Suffice it to say, that's no way to treat a lady.

It being way past lunchtime, I detoured by See’s and, in addition to lunch, I was tempted by their 100th Anniversary cup.

I need another coffee cup like I need a hole in the head, not to mention I don’t have room in the cupboard for more cups, but it was so cute I couldn’t resist adding it to my collection.

Taking the streets home, I spied a truck that appears to be having an identity crisis.

Nearing the end of my foray out into the world, there was a traffic holdup.

Nearest I could determine, it was a car fire, no other car involved.

Poor guy. There’s no coming back on this one. The insides have been incinerated.

Scary.

What could cause a car to ignite like that?

Arriving back at the complex, after I hauled the groceries upstairs, I had a sudden urge to get laundry out-of-the-way.

That’s right, after purchasing more essentials — so I wouldn’t have to do laundry, I did laundry.

My essentials drawer runneth over. I don’t even need to remove the tags off the ones I purchased — but I will, and then add them into the rotation so, if I feel like not doing laundry in the future, I'll have backups a plenty.

So, that was my day. Now I’m all settled in, watching the BBQ Brawl marathon on Food Network, and hope I don't get the urge to do anything tomorrow, except rest and needlepoint.

Guardian of the Rock Garden, Episode 2

Trainer had personal business to take care of today, so this morning’s workout was rescheduled to tomorrow.

That means I’ll be going “Beast Mode” remainder of the week — back to back sessions, with no recovery time in between.

It was a good morning not to be off heading to the Pain Cave, because hearing sounds of the Landscapers, I was able to don my Guardian of the Rock Garden disguise and devote the morning to keeping an eye on the guys.

I got worried when I saw a landscaper being careful to step over rocks to clip the hedges.

Rocks appear to be scarce elsewhere, while my rock garden is still pretty much intact. However, seeing how the painted rocks could be a hazard, interfere with landscapers when they have to step over to get to hedges in the back, possibly even cause one to lose his balance and be injured, that was a big OH OH moment for me.

I started thinking today was the day they’d be taken away, because I didn’t see how the landscapers could clear out the hedge clippings — now spread out, over, in-between the rocks, without removing the rocks.

If that was to be the case, I stayed at the ready so I could run down with a bag, rescue the rocks for relocation.

In the midst of my Guardian duties, the friendly chatty neighbor from the next building over knocked on the door to tell me Brother was here and had some very fresh looking veggies.

Evidently, Brother now has a schedule — Monday, Wednesday, Friday, same as my normal workout days so, depending on his timing, I won't always catch the van.

I’d received no text message or call from Talker, thanked neighbor profusely for going out-of-her-way to alert me and, still in need of tomatoes, headed down.

On the way to the van, where I learned Talker had not called because she was not here — had a doctor’s appointment, I saw the landscapers’ plan for removing the clippings.

OH NO, A RAKE!

I was now even more certain, there’d be no raking the clippings out without removing the rocks.

The tomatoes Brother was offering were just how I like them — firm. The peppers looked nice as well.

Brother educated me that the peppers, which I thought were ghost peppers, but which Brother said were not — I forgot what he called them, were not hot and spicy like the serranoes I’m fond of. He says they’re sweet, and proved it by eating a whole pepper right there in front of me.

I prefer peppers that are hot/spicy when I make salsa, which is what I plan to do with the tomatoes — make salsa, but I also add stevia for salsa that is hot/spicy/sweet, so I’m anxious to see how these peppers work out as a substitute for stevia.

I should have taken more tomatoes, no idea why I did not, except that’s how I do my grocery shopping. I don’t stockpile too much, choosing instead to shop for only a day or two or three ahead.

Word of the van continues to spread, as The Baker walked over from her side of the complex and, just as I was leaving, Greedy Grabby showed up.

She was carrying only one bag to fill up, rather than a cart to raid the van, and her entourage was not with her.

Greedy Grabby looked sad and lonely, even seemed hesitant to greet me as though she wasn’t sure I’d greet her back, but she did — greet me that is, and I returned the greeting.

I haven’t seen members of her entourage in ages. I don’t think they live here any longer.

It is now late in the day, and I can remove my Guardian disguise and get comfortable, because the landscapers managed to rake around and through the rock garden, without complaining, or cursing, or hurting themselves, or removing any of the rocks.

Radio Silence

Seeing the latest count at only 570 people thus far charged in connection with the January 6 riot is disappointing to say the least, but it’s better than nothing AND, insofar as I know, the hunt is ongoing.

Actually, with today’s news of the arrest of an off-duty DEA Agent, that brings the total to 571.

Also disappointing is that it’s been radio silence as to whether Walmart Karen and Victoria Secret Karen will be held accountable for their actions. With no word as to charges or lawsuits, it’s looking like they’ve both gotten very lucky and public humiliation — their names, faces and videos forever in cyberspace is the only consequence of their actions.

Also, no word as to who moved into Sue’s upstairs across the quad corner unit.

It’s been five weeks and I’ve not seen hide nor hair of our new neighbor. The patio chairs moved locations several time, but it must be telekinesis as I’ve never seen a human being moving them.

The bike on the patio is telling me the resident has not been seen because of a disability, so I dunno. Perhaps he or she is self-isolating until the Pandemic is truly actually over OR the new resident is a vampire, only comes out at night.

Talker’s brother was here again yesterday.

From the crowd surrounding Brother’s van, word on the complex has spread. Even Handsome Man, who lives back side of the complex, was there.

The Talker calls or texts me to let me know Brother is on his way, but I can’t imagine she’s calling all the others who showed up. Maybe it’s like that old “telephone” game we used to play as kids, where the person called calls the next person, and that person calls the next and so on down the line.

Then there were people who just happened to have been driving through the gate. They slowed down to see what the crowd was about and were invited, by Talker, to stop and help themselves to vegetables — even the driver of a water delivery truck, which I thought sweet and hilarious.

Having passed on tomatoes from the market, because they were too soft, the only thing I needed were tomatoes. Brother had plenty, but they were the same as those at the market — soft, so I went back upstairs to get ready to head to the Pain Cave; that is, after taking a photo of Assistant Manager’s husband, walking away with a full bags of veggies, and a watermelon, just in case Complex Manager decides to make a fuss about the mobile food bank doing something positive for residents.

If Manager does, I can throw it in his face that a family member of his staff is part of the crowd taking advantage of the free offerings.

The van was still there, when I left for that morning’s workout, and Assistant Manager’s husband was back for more — probably another watermelon. This one for his neighbors, Head Maintenance Guy’s family.

Brother had a ton of watermelons but, of course, I can no longer eat watermelon.

It’s so annoying that the healthy foods I used to eat, that helped me keep my weight down, are on the can-no-longer-eat list. No longer can I have simple things, like an apple, or avocado, broccoli, brussel sprouts, zucchini — without becoming deathly ill, but I can eat greasy potato chips with homemade tomato salsa.

Life just isn’t fair.