Where do I begin?
I honestly don't even know.
This subject is so sensitive...
Not just to me but to most of my family, my colleagues, and my friends.
All for different reasons.
This could take weeks to write.
Hell, it could take weeks to read.
I guess I need to start off with a little disclaimer that some of you may get pissy reading this and some of you may take offense. Upfront: I don't care. This is my blog, my opinion, and my word.
A child has died.
A three year old child has died.
This is the latest news in my hometown and it saddens me so much. I mean it saddens me till I'm sick to my stomach thinking about it.
But there are other things about it that make me just as sick. It's the general public. It is the people that "know" the facts.
It is the people that are so quick to make a judgement call on anyone involved and they just can't wait to get on social media and comment away about how good a person is or how bad a person is.
It is the people that love to point out what the police and the investigators "should" be doing. Those that "know better" than all the rest because they have interacted with the deceased...or the accused.
Those arm-chair quarterbacks that know the law better than anyone else.
Basically, the ones that can't stop talking about it and let the authorities do their jobs, make me the sickest.
I would like to give a huge shout out to the Taylor County Sheriff's Office and the Department of Criminal Investigation. For such a high profile case, they have remained tight-lipped about the details of this case; as they should. But come on, we all know how small towns are! People LOVE to talk about people. It's human nature. It's what we do.
Just for a second, I would like you to put yourself in the following situation (DISCLAIMER: NONE OF THESE SITUATIONS ARE FACTS INVOLVED WITH THE ACTUAL CASE. THIS IS ME THINKING OUT LOUD):
You and your ex have a child together and the ex moves away. They move far enough away that, in order for you to get to your child in any sort of emergency, you have to drive several hours. Now... your child is away for a week, visiting their parent and you are sitting at home, just "chilling" and you open up Facebook or your Twitter, to see that your ex...the parent of your child...has been arrested. Not only have they been arrested...but they have been arrested on charges of endangering a child. And then you find out that it is your child.
Tell me you aren't going to be upset.
Tell me your world didn't just turn upside-down.
Tell me that you aren't going to want to inflict some serious pain on that other parent.
Tell me all one hundred thousand thoughts going through your head at that very moment.
Now...tell me what you are going to do when you find out that your child is dead.
Tell me exactly how you are going to handle that moment; right then; right there.
Tell me how you are going to wait until a police officer gets to your door to give you this awful, awful news. News that has already shaken you to your core.
Tell me how you are going to drive so many hours away to get to your baby. To do whatever it takes to make sure this is all a big mistake.
Tell me how you feel about learning your child is dead through social media.
You can't tell me because you don't know. You might think you know but you don't.
I hope this never happens to you.
Now...I would like to walk you through another situation and again: THIS IS ME THINKING OUT LOUD. NONE OF THESE ARE FACTS INVOLVED WITH THE ACTUAL CASE:
You are a cop and you get called to a medical call in your small town. There is an unresponsive child. Immediately, your heart hurts and your mind drifts to your own children at home. The ones that can't wait for you to come home to them every night. You start to say your prayers for this child. It is just natural. You can't stop it. "Please God, let this child wake up. Let this be a mistake."
Sadly, the child does not survive. And now the investigations begin. Your whole department working on this day and night. State investigations called in to assist. Arrests are made and the more information you learn, the sicker you get to your stomach; the angrier you get at the situation; the more frustrated you get because you want this case resolved. You want it resolved now. Not for you though. For that poor child that has lost their life.
Your shift is over and you go home. Your kids are playing and so happy to see you walk in the door. And all you can do is hug them. And maybe even shed some tears. You never want to let them go. A thousand thoughts going through your head. How? Why? What in the hell!!!???!!! Endless hours laying awake, thinking everything through. Horrifying images flash through your head. Endless hours trying to find even an ounce of sense in this stupid, stupid situation.
To get your mind off of it...hoping for some light-heartedness from society...you log into your Facebook or your Twitter and everyone is talking about this poor child that has lost their life. And you can't just walk away from it. No, you start to read comments and posts to see what people have to say. Honestly, it is human nature for a cop to keep reading because they have that tiny, tiny glimmer of hope that a sliver of evidence will get posted.
You have the people that publicly ask for prayers for this child; for this family; They ask their friends...their prayer warriors...to get down on both knees and beg God for some answers for this child.
And then you have the people that "knew" the family. The ones that "knew" the deceased. They "knew" that this was a good family and there could be no way that this child could have been harmed by this person. They saw this child recently and the child was fine. Kids fall. Kids have accidents. Kids get hurt. It's human nature. These people can't wait to defend what they "know" simply because they "know" it.
And then there are the above people's counterparts. The ones that just knew they were bad people. They are quick to say that things like this "probably" have happened all along. That things like this were "probably" a normalcy for this child. These people can't wait to spew their venom; poisoning the minds of anybody willing to read what they have to post. These are the ones that don't wait for facts. They don't wait for you to do your job as a police officer...as an investigator...as an officer of the law because they live their lives on the "what ifs" and the "probablys."
And then you have that small group of people that are IMMEDIATE to point out what the police are not doing. They are the really venomous ones. The dangerous ones. They are the ones that read one sentence and twist it around to make themselves look like they know more than anyone else. They turn the words around to make it look like they had inside information on something they truly know nothing about. You realize this is really the "deadliest" of the groups.
Or is it?
Because there is one more group of people that just make you shake your head and wonder how the hell these people not only are a part of your social media, but how are they even a part of your life? The group that goes out of their way to stand up for your job. They stand tall, above all the rest, defending you and your colleagues. Their chests puffed out. They can't wait to boast to the world that not only are you doing your job to the best of your ability (and you are), but you are doing it day and night. You aren't taking time to eat. You aren't taking time to sleep. You are missing out on time with your own family because of this case. All false, of course.
While your every waking moment is spent dealing with this case both physically and mentally...and every other case that comes across your desk each and every day, you are human. You have to have nourishment and you have to have sleep and you have to have time with those you love. Because if you didn't...you would have failed at your job a long time ago.
Now...how do you feel about your groups of friends now?
Kinda makes you want to shut them all out completely, doesn't it?
How does it make you feel to know that most everyone you come into contact with on a daily basis, is on the edge of their seat to give the most updated version of the story?
How badly does it make you want to go out to a local restaurant or to a ballgame, with these very people that want to suck information out of you?
How badly do you want to socialize now?
These are your friends.
I have had to go back over this several times already and I am so afraid I am going to lose focus, so I better get to the point.
SHUT UP. SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTHS ABOUT THE WHOLE DEAL. YOU DO NOT NEED TO KNOW HOW THIS CHILD CAME TO IT'S END. YOU DO NOT NEED TO KNOW THE CIRCUMSTANCES OR THE DETAILS THAT ARE TIED TO THIS CASE.
UNLESS YOU ARE THAT POOR BABY'S MOMMA, JUST SHUT UP.
UNLESS YOU ARE DIRECTLY RELATED TO THIS CASE, I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ONE GOOD REASON WHY YOU ARE ENTITLED TO KNOW ONE DAMN THING ABOUT THIS CASE.
Now, I am not saying that this incident and this child should be forgotten. No way, no how. But instead of pointing fingers and twisting the facts, we all need to be pulling together and begging for Mercy for this poor little child. The headlines should read "Town In Mourning." Every one of us should take a step back and let the authorities do their jobs. This is not something that is going to be resolved overnight.
I shared two posts from an area radio station about this case. And I stated my opinion that the charges were definitely not steep enough. I didn't do that because I think the police have time to troll my Facebook page to see what my opinion is. I didn't do it because I think the police give one damn about what I have to say about it.
I did it because I am sad for a little three year old child that has died. I did it because I am sad for her and for her momma, as well as for my hometown.
And I would like to add that most of the comments on the tv station websites, and the radio station websites, are stupid at best. Keep your comments to yourself. If it was your child, you would want the world to butt out. Your opinions about this family and this child mean nothing. If you don't have solid fact to lay down then keep moving. And if you do have solid fact, I suggest you get to the authorities.
Here are just a few comments that I have found while roaming around on the internet and it just goes to show that people are ignorant and callous. People can't wait to hear themselves talk. The world is a scary place but when you have all these people with opinion-turned-fact to back them up, it makes me want to go running and screaming in the other direction. But then I realize that as long as I have those people, I have job security because it really is just a vicious cycle.
"The baby was in the bath."
(WRONG)
"Ok, so they are now telling us here in Bedford that the poor babies cause of death was drowning." (WRONG. I DON'T KNOW WHO "THEY" ARE BUT "THEY" ARE WRONG)
"Lazy parents like this would use a microwave not the stove so I'm sure it was a punishment. Too bad someone didn't see the signs sooner so that she could have been saved." (WOW. JUDGE MUCH? WHERE IN ANY INFORMATION YOU HAVE READ, DID IT SAY THIS PERSON WAS LAZY? I HAVE LAZY DAYS AND STILL USE MY STOVE. UNBELIEVABLE, I KNOW)
"What is wrong with these single mom's who feel the need to put their personal interests ahead of the safety of their children. She needs to be charged with something but in 18 months or so she will be pregnant again." (THE CHILD WAS IN THE CUSTODY OF HER FATHER, NOT HER MOTHER. READ THE FACTS. AGAIN, JUDGE MUCH? I COULD JUDGE YOU JUST FOR YOUR IDIOTIC POST. BUT I WON'T)
"I couldn't agree more. I couldn't imagine hurting my child. I can't say stories like this shock my anymore but I understand what you mean." (IT'S A SAD WORLD WE LIVE IN WHEN WE AREN'T SURPRISED BY CHILD ABUSE. I AM COMPLETELY SHOCKED BECAUSE I TEND TO GIVE EVERYONE THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. WHAT AM I THINKING?)
I read where one person stated that we should just "get rid of the Amber Alert System" (NOT SURE WHEY THIS CAME UP OR HOW IT WAS RELEVANT) "because it's overly abused." (YOU'RE KIDDING ME, RIGHT? IF IT WAS YOUR KID, WOULD YOU WANT THEM TO JUST NOT TELL ANYONE???)
And as I was typing this, an Amber Alert comes through. Maybe that person above, that wants to get rid of the system would like to call up the mommy and daddy of two year old Rheea Lee Ann Day and four year old Reed Landon Day, and tell them that their child doesn't matter. Maybe they would like to explain to these parents how they are overly abusing this system "simply" because their children are missing. (YOU SIR OR MADAM, ARE A FLAMING IDIOT!)
Before I close, I want to give another shout out to the Taylor County Sheriff's Department and the Department of Criminal Investigation. Keep doing what you're doing because you're doing it well! I am so proud to be even a tiny link in your chain. With that being said, if you would like to challenge my opinion of these entities, I would be glad to spar. If you have known me for five minutes, you know that not only is law enforcement my life, and Taylor County a part of my soul, but I would fight to the death in their honor.
Stop and think one more time.
Cops are human.
They don't desensitize when they go to work.
They don't just stop feeling things when tragedy strikes.
They just get better at hiding their pain and their fear.
They just find new ways to cope.
Just like you do when you lose people in your life or when you have to deal with some really crappy situations.
We're all human. We all WANT to know things. But the confusion is that we mix up the words WANT and NEED. We think we need to know details of everything and everyone around us, when it is truly just the want to know. Informational greed is all it is, and it's ugly.
2015/05/26
Kerrie On
So..........because of the nature of this one, I am going to make it quick and painless. I hope.....
By now, we have all heard about the death of Omaha Police Officer Kerrie Orozco. If you haven't heard about her, you must be living in a cave or under a rock. Before the story broke about Officer Orozco, I had never ever heard her name. I did not know anything about her. Not one thing. But her death has shaken me to my core. I find myself thinking about it dozens of times a day.
She was hours away from going on maternity leave. She was hours away from starting a new journey with baby Olivia. She was hours away from starting a new path in life that she had waited a long time for. Mere hours!! And that poor, sweet little baby girl will never have the chance to know her momma. She will only know pictures and stories. Sure, she knew her voice for a little bit but she will never truly get to hear it for herself ever again.
Some bastard took that all away. Some guy that had a history of making poor, poor choices, took that away from her. If this isn't a tale of "unfair," I don't know what is! And I am angry. I am a lot angrier than I ever thought I would be. I cry for this woman that I don't know. I cry for this baby that I will probably never meet in my lifetime. And I'm not the only one. I am watching this whole Midwest mourn the life of a police officer that most didn't even know. Hell, I'm watching a nation mourn the life of a police officer that most of them didn't even know.
I will tell you this; I am glad that this man...this monster...that did this, is dead. I've never been the type of person to say anything like that. I've never had it in my heart to tell the world that it doesn't bother me that this person died. But... I'm glad that the coward that wasn't big enough to "man-up" for his own damn choices, can't take another breath. I do not care that he was someone's child or someone's father; and that may seem harsh but I really don't care about that either! He was an adult and he made some pretty stupid mistakes along the way. And I don't fault him for that. Hell, we all make mistakes!! What I fault him for is for taking another human being's life. Just because he can. Just to prove what a big man he is, I guess.
Well sir, how big do you feel right now? How much of a "big man" are you walking around the hallways of hell? How does the heat feel? And don't get up. Those questions are rhetorical and I don't really care about your answer. Again, if you think I'm harsh and a bad person for stating how I feel about this matter, you can click that x up in the right corner and feel free to not come back.
I do not take joy in anyone else's pain. Not at all. And I don't feel joy in the fact that this monster died. But I am glad. I'm not sad at all and I'm not wasting any breath by saying that he could have been "fixed," or "saved." No. He had his chances. Good riddance.
I hate this man because he took the life of a police officer. Someone out there doing what they do best, with every good intention in the world. It just so happens that her best intentions weren't good enough. Her best got her the worst. Her best got her shot. Her best changed the lives of everyone around her. Her best has shaken this great nation. But not in vain. No way.
The death of this fantastic cop has strengthened a bond between the brothers and sisters in blue. Kerrie Orozco's death is going to change a lot I have a feeling. It is going to change how we all work together. It is going to change how we all think. It is going to change how we all react. At least that's what I think, see, and feel.
We have all been on the side where we lose someone we love but how many of us have lost someone that we work with and think the world of? Luckily, I am not in that club and to be quite honest, would rather just stay out of that one.
I have said this before and it's 100% true, as a dispatcher, I get the honor and the privilege to work with the best of the best. I have made some lifetime friendships and wouldn't trade them for the world. In the same breath, I would be super-human if I said I was compatible with every cop I met. Oh dear no. But let me make this clear right here and now; if something happened to ANY of my guys, I would have a hard time ever looking at another dispatch console ever again.
I'm not saying I couldn't do it, but it would be hard. And then there are the ones that I will compare to Kerrie... they are the ones that you have such a bond with, and if that fateful day ever happened, there would be no turning back. I would need you to stick that fork in me because I would be done. You will find me over in the corner, crumbled into a billion tiny pieces of nothingness. Please just sweep me up, put me in an envelope and mail me to the end of the universe because I will be no good to anyone.
I can not make myself understand how Kerrie's co-workers feel. I can not wrap my head around those that loved working with her (and there were many), never hearing her voice on the radio again. I think I would long to hear it so much I would make myself crazy by replaying anything and everything on the recorders that I could find. Even if it was something as simple as "ten-four."
Her people will never hear her joke around again. They will never share a meal with her again. They will never get to hear her stories about how maternity leave was everything it was supposed to be. They will never hear her grumbles about paperwork...because we all grumble about paperwork. It's all done. It's all over.
And then there's the community itself. Could she have given any more to her community than she already had? She was involved in EVERYTHING. She was beautiful. She was busy. She was caring. She was giving. She was so much more than a role model. She was amazing.
I didn't even know this woman. But I know she was amazing.
Baby Olivia will never remember this woman. But she will always know that she made a mark on this world. As awesome as that is, it makes my stomach churn. And then it makes me angry again.
Until next time...thanks for reading. And remember... #supportblue
It's those people that have your backs when you need it the most.
By now, we have all heard about the death of Omaha Police Officer Kerrie Orozco. If you haven't heard about her, you must be living in a cave or under a rock. Before the story broke about Officer Orozco, I had never ever heard her name. I did not know anything about her. Not one thing. But her death has shaken me to my core. I find myself thinking about it dozens of times a day.
She was hours away from going on maternity leave. She was hours away from starting a new journey with baby Olivia. She was hours away from starting a new path in life that she had waited a long time for. Mere hours!! And that poor, sweet little baby girl will never have the chance to know her momma. She will only know pictures and stories. Sure, she knew her voice for a little bit but she will never truly get to hear it for herself ever again.
Some bastard took that all away. Some guy that had a history of making poor, poor choices, took that away from her. If this isn't a tale of "unfair," I don't know what is! And I am angry. I am a lot angrier than I ever thought I would be. I cry for this woman that I don't know. I cry for this baby that I will probably never meet in my lifetime. And I'm not the only one. I am watching this whole Midwest mourn the life of a police officer that most didn't even know. Hell, I'm watching a nation mourn the life of a police officer that most of them didn't even know.
I will tell you this; I am glad that this man...this monster...that did this, is dead. I've never been the type of person to say anything like that. I've never had it in my heart to tell the world that it doesn't bother me that this person died. But... I'm glad that the coward that wasn't big enough to "man-up" for his own damn choices, can't take another breath. I do not care that he was someone's child or someone's father; and that may seem harsh but I really don't care about that either! He was an adult and he made some pretty stupid mistakes along the way. And I don't fault him for that. Hell, we all make mistakes!! What I fault him for is for taking another human being's life. Just because he can. Just to prove what a big man he is, I guess.
Well sir, how big do you feel right now? How much of a "big man" are you walking around the hallways of hell? How does the heat feel? And don't get up. Those questions are rhetorical and I don't really care about your answer. Again, if you think I'm harsh and a bad person for stating how I feel about this matter, you can click that x up in the right corner and feel free to not come back.
I do not take joy in anyone else's pain. Not at all. And I don't feel joy in the fact that this monster died. But I am glad. I'm not sad at all and I'm not wasting any breath by saying that he could have been "fixed," or "saved." No. He had his chances. Good riddance.
I hate this man because he took the life of a police officer. Someone out there doing what they do best, with every good intention in the world. It just so happens that her best intentions weren't good enough. Her best got her the worst. Her best got her shot. Her best changed the lives of everyone around her. Her best has shaken this great nation. But not in vain. No way.
The death of this fantastic cop has strengthened a bond between the brothers and sisters in blue. Kerrie Orozco's death is going to change a lot I have a feeling. It is going to change how we all work together. It is going to change how we all think. It is going to change how we all react. At least that's what I think, see, and feel.
We have all been on the side where we lose someone we love but how many of us have lost someone that we work with and think the world of? Luckily, I am not in that club and to be quite honest, would rather just stay out of that one.
I have said this before and it's 100% true, as a dispatcher, I get the honor and the privilege to work with the best of the best. I have made some lifetime friendships and wouldn't trade them for the world. In the same breath, I would be super-human if I said I was compatible with every cop I met. Oh dear no. But let me make this clear right here and now; if something happened to ANY of my guys, I would have a hard time ever looking at another dispatch console ever again.
I'm not saying I couldn't do it, but it would be hard. And then there are the ones that I will compare to Kerrie... they are the ones that you have such a bond with, and if that fateful day ever happened, there would be no turning back. I would need you to stick that fork in me because I would be done. You will find me over in the corner, crumbled into a billion tiny pieces of nothingness. Please just sweep me up, put me in an envelope and mail me to the end of the universe because I will be no good to anyone.
I can not make myself understand how Kerrie's co-workers feel. I can not wrap my head around those that loved working with her (and there were many), never hearing her voice on the radio again. I think I would long to hear it so much I would make myself crazy by replaying anything and everything on the recorders that I could find. Even if it was something as simple as "ten-four."
Her people will never hear her joke around again. They will never share a meal with her again. They will never get to hear her stories about how maternity leave was everything it was supposed to be. They will never hear her grumbles about paperwork...because we all grumble about paperwork. It's all done. It's all over.
And then there's the community itself. Could she have given any more to her community than she already had? She was involved in EVERYTHING. She was beautiful. She was busy. She was caring. She was giving. She was so much more than a role model. She was amazing.
I didn't even know this woman. But I know she was amazing.
Baby Olivia will never remember this woman. But she will always know that she made a mark on this world. As awesome as that is, it makes my stomach churn. And then it makes me angry again.
Until next time...thanks for reading. And remember... #supportblue
It's those people that have your backs when you need it the most.
2015/05/15
#weseeyou
Police Week 2015 is soon coming to a close. If you have me on Facebook, you already know that I post and post and maybe even over-post about the police and how I feel about them so I am going to bring it right on over here because I have some frustrations and well.....what better place to work them out, right?
There is so much chaos in the world these days that a good cop couldn't catch a break if it were handed to them on a silver platter. Everywhere you look there is someone putting down a cop for something they've done. They've written someone a ticket. They've driven too fast down the highway. They've been rude to someone. They didn't get here fast enough. Don't they have anything BETTER to do than stop me for speeding?? Seriously, our world has changed so much.
Growing up in the jail house and having the Sheriff as your father, you learn some pretty hard-core stuff early in life. You learn that your birthday dinner that you have been waiting for the whole week, has to wait until your dad gets back from a wreck. A wreck where someone's child died. A wreck where someone decided to drink and drive and took a chance on, not only their life, but the lives of every person in every car they met on that road; until they crossed that line just enough to ruin their life and the life of someone else. And then when your dad finally has a chance to relax and unwind, he has to put on a happy face for you and for all your house guests. Because that's what he does.
He holds in it. He puts on a new, fresh exterior, even though he himself is dying inside for what he has just seen and had to do. He hugs you and kisses you and you are thinking how lucky you are that your dad made it back so now you can get back to your dinner, cake & ice cream, and presents and he is thinking how lucky he is that he is home; he is safe; you are safe; and how much he loves his family.
You learn that even on Christmas day, the opening of presents sometimes has to be put on hold. That's a pretty hard thing for a small child to learn. But that's the lessons of a cops child. While you sit and stare at your presents, wondering what is in each one, your dad is at someone's house arresting someone because they chose to drink too much that night before and almost beat their spouse...and their child...to death. When he gets home, you stare at your dad and smile, because you are so lucky that he is home to watch you open your presents and you get to give him something you made especially for him. He relaxes in his chair, smiling at his family, holding in those thoughts of what he would do if someone dared inflict any kind of pain on those he loves.
At some point in your life, you grow up and realize "There is a chance my dad won't come home tonight." And then you start to really think about how the world keeps changing, how crime keeps changing, how life keeps changing. And it gets scary.
You learn, as you see your dad assisting the fire department at a house fire, how much you are affected by memories of your own house fire. You ask yourself "How was he able to help with a house fire knowing that he felt responsible every day of his life for not getting his own child out of his burning house?" Obviously, he was not to blame whether he believed that or not. You suddenly feel yourself grow up a little bit as you think of what he went through that fateful day and then....how is he facing this fire right now? What must he be thinking? Why would he want to help put this fire out? HOW can he help put this fire out? But you see him hold it in. You see him for the strong soul that he is. You see his courage, his might, and his commitment; not only to the people, but to the profession.
Some of you reading this may have similar experiences and know exactly what I am talking about. The majority don't see the "small" things a family has to go through. Being the child of a cop, you learn that your parent isn't always going to be at your basketball games. They aren't always going to make your volleyball tournaments. Sometimes, they may not even make it to your Christmas concerts. And you understand. Because it's all you know. I was lucky enough to have my mom and many brothers and sisters (all older, I might add) to help cover for my dad. Our family always made sure someone was there.
I'm not sure what age I was when I finally started looking at my mom a whole different way. Knowing how I felt about what my dad did for a living and what kinds of danger the job put him in, how could she possibly withstand it? A houseful of noisy, rambunctious kids and constantly worrying if her husband was going to come home that night. It takes a strong woman to be a wife of a cop. It doesn't surprise me the divorce rates among cops because at some point, it would have to be easier to walk away so you don't have to worry anymore. I'm so thankful that my mom never walked away though. And I'm thankful that my guys have wives that are strong and supportive.
As if growing up in this profession wasn't enough, working in it has given me one of the sickest senses of humor known to man. Sometimes making a stupid joke about something that happened at work is the only way we have to cope with it. It's not about disrespect at all. It's about dealing with what bothers us. And what better way than to laugh.
With that being said, recently I had a conversation with a cop who loves to push my buttons. I expect it and he always delivers. Well this particular conversation we had, I was stressing how the safety and the lives of my guys were my top priority. Of course that brought jokes. But that isn't something I'm comfortable joking about. Not death. Especially not their death. I can't even begin to tell you how the thought of one of my guys getting hurt...or worse...on the job will affect me. My heart and my soul will crumble into a billion pieces. I would never be the same.
These guys are my family, my priority. They aren't my blood but they may as well be. There isn't much I wouldn't do for them. When I go to work, I don't care if someone is mad at me when I talk to them on the phone. I don't care if Joe Public thinks I make too much money for "just answering the phone." And I don't care if you pay taxes that pay my salary (by the way, I pay those same taxes so the next traffic stop will be on me). I care that everyone is safe. I care that at the end of shift, my guys have all made it home safely to their families. The families that are depending on me to do my job to the best of my abilities and get the information that their guy needs to do his job to the best of his abilities.
If you don't want to put yourself in the shoes of a cop, try putting yourself in the shoes of someone who loves that cop. Think about how you would feel knowing the person you love with all your heart and soul...the person that is your best friend...or your parent...is leaving to go to work and there is no promise that those he has to deal with, care if he lives or dies. How does it make you feel to know that there are people out there that wouldn't bat an eye to hold a gun to your loved one's head?
Before I was born, my dad had taken my sister for a car ride late one night because she wouldn't go to sleep. Dad was a deputy at the time so they just jumped into the patrol car and drove around town. She finally fell asleep and dad wanted to make sure she stayed good and asleep before going back home, so he stopped in front of the local bank (very small town) parked the car, sat back and relaxed. Of course, his only concern at that point was Marla, and her getting to sleep. He didn't know that right behind him, there were some armed men that had made their way through the bad door and were robbing that bank (no alarms back then). He didn't know that as he sat there listening to the sounds of his little girl sleeping, one man was sitting on the roof and had his gun sites set right to his head and was ready to shoot him if he made the slightest move to get out of that car. He learned all of that later. When they arrested those men.
So, for those of you that don't support the police, how would you like to do their job? How would you like your spouse to do their job? How would you like your child to do their job? It takes a special person, with a special heart, and a hell of a lot of courage, to do what they do. And to be ridiculed by so many because of some wrong-doings of a few. The good cops and the good things they do, greatly out-weigh the bad cops and the bad things they do. I'm glad that finally, the police are getting some positive recognition, and I am proud to be on this team. I hope all my guys know how proud I am of them, and how much I appreciate them. And I hope, that if their wives ever read this, they already know that this dispatcher's first and foremost priority, is his safety.
#weseeyou #idispatch #supportlawenforcement
There is so much chaos in the world these days that a good cop couldn't catch a break if it were handed to them on a silver platter. Everywhere you look there is someone putting down a cop for something they've done. They've written someone a ticket. They've driven too fast down the highway. They've been rude to someone. They didn't get here fast enough. Don't they have anything BETTER to do than stop me for speeding?? Seriously, our world has changed so much.
Growing up in the jail house and having the Sheriff as your father, you learn some pretty hard-core stuff early in life. You learn that your birthday dinner that you have been waiting for the whole week, has to wait until your dad gets back from a wreck. A wreck where someone's child died. A wreck where someone decided to drink and drive and took a chance on, not only their life, but the lives of every person in every car they met on that road; until they crossed that line just enough to ruin their life and the life of someone else. And then when your dad finally has a chance to relax and unwind, he has to put on a happy face for you and for all your house guests. Because that's what he does.
He holds in it. He puts on a new, fresh exterior, even though he himself is dying inside for what he has just seen and had to do. He hugs you and kisses you and you are thinking how lucky you are that your dad made it back so now you can get back to your dinner, cake & ice cream, and presents and he is thinking how lucky he is that he is home; he is safe; you are safe; and how much he loves his family.
You learn that even on Christmas day, the opening of presents sometimes has to be put on hold. That's a pretty hard thing for a small child to learn. But that's the lessons of a cops child. While you sit and stare at your presents, wondering what is in each one, your dad is at someone's house arresting someone because they chose to drink too much that night before and almost beat their spouse...and their child...to death. When he gets home, you stare at your dad and smile, because you are so lucky that he is home to watch you open your presents and you get to give him something you made especially for him. He relaxes in his chair, smiling at his family, holding in those thoughts of what he would do if someone dared inflict any kind of pain on those he loves.
At some point in your life, you grow up and realize "There is a chance my dad won't come home tonight." And then you start to really think about how the world keeps changing, how crime keeps changing, how life keeps changing. And it gets scary.
You learn, as you see your dad assisting the fire department at a house fire, how much you are affected by memories of your own house fire. You ask yourself "How was he able to help with a house fire knowing that he felt responsible every day of his life for not getting his own child out of his burning house?" Obviously, he was not to blame whether he believed that or not. You suddenly feel yourself grow up a little bit as you think of what he went through that fateful day and then....how is he facing this fire right now? What must he be thinking? Why would he want to help put this fire out? HOW can he help put this fire out? But you see him hold it in. You see him for the strong soul that he is. You see his courage, his might, and his commitment; not only to the people, but to the profession.
Some of you reading this may have similar experiences and know exactly what I am talking about. The majority don't see the "small" things a family has to go through. Being the child of a cop, you learn that your parent isn't always going to be at your basketball games. They aren't always going to make your volleyball tournaments. Sometimes, they may not even make it to your Christmas concerts. And you understand. Because it's all you know. I was lucky enough to have my mom and many brothers and sisters (all older, I might add) to help cover for my dad. Our family always made sure someone was there.
I'm not sure what age I was when I finally started looking at my mom a whole different way. Knowing how I felt about what my dad did for a living and what kinds of danger the job put him in, how could she possibly withstand it? A houseful of noisy, rambunctious kids and constantly worrying if her husband was going to come home that night. It takes a strong woman to be a wife of a cop. It doesn't surprise me the divorce rates among cops because at some point, it would have to be easier to walk away so you don't have to worry anymore. I'm so thankful that my mom never walked away though. And I'm thankful that my guys have wives that are strong and supportive.
As if growing up in this profession wasn't enough, working in it has given me one of the sickest senses of humor known to man. Sometimes making a stupid joke about something that happened at work is the only way we have to cope with it. It's not about disrespect at all. It's about dealing with what bothers us. And what better way than to laugh.
With that being said, recently I had a conversation with a cop who loves to push my buttons. I expect it and he always delivers. Well this particular conversation we had, I was stressing how the safety and the lives of my guys were my top priority. Of course that brought jokes. But that isn't something I'm comfortable joking about. Not death. Especially not their death. I can't even begin to tell you how the thought of one of my guys getting hurt...or worse...on the job will affect me. My heart and my soul will crumble into a billion pieces. I would never be the same.
These guys are my family, my priority. They aren't my blood but they may as well be. There isn't much I wouldn't do for them. When I go to work, I don't care if someone is mad at me when I talk to them on the phone. I don't care if Joe Public thinks I make too much money for "just answering the phone." And I don't care if you pay taxes that pay my salary (by the way, I pay those same taxes so the next traffic stop will be on me). I care that everyone is safe. I care that at the end of shift, my guys have all made it home safely to their families. The families that are depending on me to do my job to the best of my abilities and get the information that their guy needs to do his job to the best of his abilities.
If you don't want to put yourself in the shoes of a cop, try putting yourself in the shoes of someone who loves that cop. Think about how you would feel knowing the person you love with all your heart and soul...the person that is your best friend...or your parent...is leaving to go to work and there is no promise that those he has to deal with, care if he lives or dies. How does it make you feel to know that there are people out there that wouldn't bat an eye to hold a gun to your loved one's head?
Before I was born, my dad had taken my sister for a car ride late one night because she wouldn't go to sleep. Dad was a deputy at the time so they just jumped into the patrol car and drove around town. She finally fell asleep and dad wanted to make sure she stayed good and asleep before going back home, so he stopped in front of the local bank (very small town) parked the car, sat back and relaxed. Of course, his only concern at that point was Marla, and her getting to sleep. He didn't know that right behind him, there were some armed men that had made their way through the bad door and were robbing that bank (no alarms back then). He didn't know that as he sat there listening to the sounds of his little girl sleeping, one man was sitting on the roof and had his gun sites set right to his head and was ready to shoot him if he made the slightest move to get out of that car. He learned all of that later. When they arrested those men.
So, for those of you that don't support the police, how would you like to do their job? How would you like your spouse to do their job? How would you like your child to do their job? It takes a special person, with a special heart, and a hell of a lot of courage, to do what they do. And to be ridiculed by so many because of some wrong-doings of a few. The good cops and the good things they do, greatly out-weigh the bad cops and the bad things they do. I'm glad that finally, the police are getting some positive recognition, and I am proud to be on this team. I hope all my guys know how proud I am of them, and how much I appreciate them. And I hope, that if their wives ever read this, they already know that this dispatcher's first and foremost priority, is his safety.
#weseeyou #idispatch #supportlawenforcement
2015/04/03
Letting it all go
This first sentence may be the easiest one for me to get out. I have thought and thought and thought about what I want to talk about...to vent about...for weeks now. Any time I have ever started to write anything down, my emotions take over and I get angry and I walk away. These emotions are raw and they are new and they have taken over almost every thought process I go through in a day. And I hate them; these emotions.
In one way the process is benefiting me because when I go to the gym now and walk the track, or get on the rowing machine, or tromp on that damn elliptical, I find myself looking up or sometimes even spacing off, and getting lost in what I'm feeling, how I want to verbalize it, or even how I need to "brush it off" and the next thing I know, I am working out like a monster. I push myself to limits that I don't think possible on "normal" days. I find myself exhausted both physically and mentally.
Several people have told me to "talk it out," but I have a few problems with that. Problem number one is the inner fight on WHO I want to talk it out with. It's not like I can just go to anyone and blurt all this out because they are going to look at me and say "Okay, who is that?" or "What does this have to do with this?" or even "Why are you wasting your time on this?" And you might be thinking "I wouldn't say that to her," but in the scope of reality, you wouldn't have a clue how it all tied together if you didn't know the situation around it all.
Oh crap, I think I am even confusing myself here. I think I just over thought that one. Anyway.....
Problem number one sprouts into problem number two. I only have a select one or two that I feel I can tell all to, and get reactive and possibly positive feedback, brainstorming and problem-solving, all in one fell-swoop. The problem isn't that there are only one or two. The problem is that our schedules don't match up enough for us to have the time to talk. And it doesn't look like it's going to get any better for the whole month of April.
The next problem that I have...and don't laugh...is that I can not talk about this without literally breaking down and crying. And I have promised myself that I am not going to utter these words out loud in a blubbering mess. Mainly because I don't understand why this affects me as much as it does. I have even tried getting the crying part out and THEN talk about it but I can't seem to do that either. It just starts all over again. So I just dig another hole and drop it in there, cover it up and move on.
Nobody should do that. If this was one of my sisters acting like this, I would want her to talk it out so why can't I just do it??? Kathy and I will be leaving for a girl's weekend in a couple of weeks. If I haven't figured this out by then, she may just have to listen to me cry. I don't know what else to do. If I have to wait for my "go-to" person to get back to normal scheduling, I may blow up before then.
Well.....I bet you're just as lost now as you were when I started, huh? Good. It will prepare you for what's coming up. I can't promise this won't be a hugely long and possibly insane blog post so at least you were warned. Time to vent.
This post is dedicated solely to YOU: From the day I met you, you were a perfect fit into my world and all that I had learned from my dad. You had my instant respect and loyalty from that day and I didn't think anything would, or even could, change that. You are a very smart person that thinks things through. You don't just jump. You weigh your pros and cons and you take others' advice and think that through as well. You genuinely care about people and about what they say. I have always thought you were a born leader.
Key word back there: thought. I do not think that anymore. I am embarrassed at the kind of leader you have become. You have not only turned your back on those that need your leadership and your presence, but you have made those people feel invaluable and as if they don't matter. You don't have time for those that are your biggest supporters; were your biggest supporters. You took the title and ran as if that was all you ever wanted in the first place. I don't know, maybe it is all you ever wanted. Maybe you have just been "playing the system" from day one. I don't know what to think anymore. And I don't know why I care so much.
There are things going on right under your nose that you should know about. Things that you should be seeing. But you choose to look the other way. You choose to ride it out. Is it because you just don't care anymore? Is that title worth the respect that you are losing every precious day? Are you prepared to be the next "joke" in the place? Are you seriously too busy for your own people? Too busy to listen? Too busy to care? Because that's what I'm seeing. And I'm not the only one. I'm just the only one that is willing to put it out there.
And it will be put out there. I don't know when and I don't know how but it will. Like I said before, I don't know why I care so much; but I do. I am trying not to though. One of these days you are going to need something and it's going to be too late.
I am one of the few people that would jump when you say jump;
I am one of the few people that would bend over backward to make sure you got done what you needed done;
and I am one of the few people that would always have your back;
But I may not always be there.
At least not for you. I don't know how long I can wait for you to get your head out of your ass and realize that we need you. We need you to be present and active. I need you to be present and active. Otherwise, I am going to stop caring and 100% of my loyalty is going to lie somewhere else. It may not sound like much now but it's not a pretty sight to see your own people turn their backs on the one that is supposed to be their "leader."
I am disgusted.
I am embarrassed.
I am angry.
I am sad.
And I don't want to be your friend.
As juvenile as that may sound right now, I don't want to be friends with someone who forgets their own. I don't want to be a part of something that is a false-front. I don't want to be a friend to someone who isn't real; and true; and themselves.
You know that I have been wanting to talk to you and you haven't made one move to make that happen. I have tried working around your schedule but it's almost impossible to do that with my own schedule of nights and the road trips you have had to take. I can't place all the blame on you and I don't. But you do know that something is bothering me because I told you that much. And I also told you that I can't do it over the phone. And here I sit and wait. Because you can't take time out of your day to help me through this. Because I am not important enough.
At least that's how you make me feel.
And this is as far as my mind can go. I have hit a wall. I am too angry to add anymore right now.
Now I'd like to say a few words to a couple of you: You sir, are another shining example of taking a position simply for the title. Not a drop more of pay, just a new title. Big damn deal. You have also turned your back on your people and if that isn't bad enough, you have turned your back on your family. Your marriage is in the toilet and the only reason I know this is because I watch your wife slowly die on a daily basis. I listen to how your family life has turned into nothing and to be honest, I am sick of hearing it. You can't even see what you have done because you are too busy shining your new name plate with brand new title. You are an embarrassment and a waste of authority. You let your people run amok and make up their own rules as they go because it's easier than putting a little thought and effort into doing it yourself. You aren't that old so wake up and do your job. You are the laughing stock of this place and you can't even see it. Get out and do something besides paperwork for a change and see what is going on under your nose. Better yet...take a look at what ISN'T getting done right under your nose. Be a man and step up. Take some responsibility for yourself, your job, and your family falling apart.
You ma'am, are the biggest drama queen I have ever met in my life; and I've met quite a few. I have learned to just avoid spending more than a couple of minutes with you because every single thing we discuss and every single question I ask, gets turned into a talk about how freaking miserable you are and how your husband has ruined your marriage. If you are that damned miserable, do something about it but please stop bringing that crap to work and unloading it on me. It is none of my business and I have my own life to think about.
I am a "fixer" but I do not have the capability of fixing you or your marriage. I don't even want to be that friend that listens because I tend to "take this stuff on" in my heart. I refuse to do it anymore because it's the same thing each day. The problems never go away. Why do you want to live like that??? Time to put your big girl panties on and decipher what problems are work problems and what problems are home problems and then do what you need to do to deal with them. If I come to your house, feel free to unload on me. And then slit my wrists when you're done. Sounds a little harsh, I know but that's how I feel at this exact moment.
And for the record, it took about 24 hours for me to learn about you saying "I'm not supposed to tell you this but....." Yeah...seems nobody can trust nobody around here. Freaking kindergarten! I think the shit-stirrer should have to lick the spoon.
I am so done with you.
And then there's you: You are the one that I thought was my friend. My honest to goodness friend. You are the one that always helped keep me grounded when my mind went twelve different directions all at the same time. You were "my person." You know the one. Like in Grey's Anatomy, Christina and Meredith were each other's "person." I have told you so many things and we have had many laughs. I would look at you and see a friend for many years down the road. We have cried on each other's shoulders many times.
Then my rose colored glasses fell off one day. You are a bully. You love to run people over. You change your story to fit your audience. You talk big but never show results yet you expect them from those around you. You change rules to suit yourself. You don't care who you hurt to get whatever you want. You like to pit people against each other in the name of "making peace" when you know it does nothing but make the problem worse. You love to play the shrink but the problem is that you don't have the skills to do it.
I witnessed a conversation between you and one of your friends the other day that broke my heart. The person that is always posting crap on their Facebook wall about being a good person, loving yourself and loving others; the one that just posted a few days ago about a meme about being careful who you should open up to, this person...you!...repeated information about a co-worker saying it is mere fact when in reality, it was gossip. You may have had one of your facts right but all the rest that followed was what you heard and you passed it off like it was gospel. And you did it with a huge smile on your face. As if you were benefiting from it.
And if that didn't make me sick enough, you and your friend took great pleasure in the failure of a marriage simply because you don't like the man. "She fucked around on him because he's a douche bag." That makes me sick. You have no idea what goes on behind closed doors. I don't care how good your gossip source is. Because you love the fact that your marriage failed, doesn't mean everyone else feels the same.
You are not the person I thought you were. You sold me on an idea that was a lie. You are a fake and I won't trust you with anything important again. And I will mourn this "friendship" that I thought we had. I will mourn it for a long time. But I have learned an important lesson. "If you will talk bad about others with me, you will talk bad about me with others."
I am walking away from this...whatever it is. And because of you, I will be very careful about who I let in and who I confide in. Enough is enough. Thanks for posting this on your Facebook wall. It comes in very handy right now.
And then there's YOU!!! You know who you are! Get your crap taken care of. I need my friend back. I need to talk to you. About anything. About everything. I need your listening ear. I can't promise I won't cry but I will do my best. I don't know if you drew the short straw or not but you are my "go-to" person.
Whether you like it or not. This business of not having you around to bounce this stuff off of is slowly killing me. I blame the boss. Fully.
In one way the process is benefiting me because when I go to the gym now and walk the track, or get on the rowing machine, or tromp on that damn elliptical, I find myself looking up or sometimes even spacing off, and getting lost in what I'm feeling, how I want to verbalize it, or even how I need to "brush it off" and the next thing I know, I am working out like a monster. I push myself to limits that I don't think possible on "normal" days. I find myself exhausted both physically and mentally.
Several people have told me to "talk it out," but I have a few problems with that. Problem number one is the inner fight on WHO I want to talk it out with. It's not like I can just go to anyone and blurt all this out because they are going to look at me and say "Okay, who is that?" or "What does this have to do with this?" or even "Why are you wasting your time on this?" And you might be thinking "I wouldn't say that to her," but in the scope of reality, you wouldn't have a clue how it all tied together if you didn't know the situation around it all.
Oh crap, I think I am even confusing myself here. I think I just over thought that one. Anyway.....
Problem number one sprouts into problem number two. I only have a select one or two that I feel I can tell all to, and get reactive and possibly positive feedback, brainstorming and problem-solving, all in one fell-swoop. The problem isn't that there are only one or two. The problem is that our schedules don't match up enough for us to have the time to talk. And it doesn't look like it's going to get any better for the whole month of April.
The next problem that I have...and don't laugh...is that I can not talk about this without literally breaking down and crying. And I have promised myself that I am not going to utter these words out loud in a blubbering mess. Mainly because I don't understand why this affects me as much as it does. I have even tried getting the crying part out and THEN talk about it but I can't seem to do that either. It just starts all over again. So I just dig another hole and drop it in there, cover it up and move on.
Nobody should do that. If this was one of my sisters acting like this, I would want her to talk it out so why can't I just do it??? Kathy and I will be leaving for a girl's weekend in a couple of weeks. If I haven't figured this out by then, she may just have to listen to me cry. I don't know what else to do. If I have to wait for my "go-to" person to get back to normal scheduling, I may blow up before then.
Well.....I bet you're just as lost now as you were when I started, huh? Good. It will prepare you for what's coming up. I can't promise this won't be a hugely long and possibly insane blog post so at least you were warned. Time to vent.
This post is dedicated solely to YOU: From the day I met you, you were a perfect fit into my world and all that I had learned from my dad. You had my instant respect and loyalty from that day and I didn't think anything would, or even could, change that. You are a very smart person that thinks things through. You don't just jump. You weigh your pros and cons and you take others' advice and think that through as well. You genuinely care about people and about what they say. I have always thought you were a born leader.
Key word back there: thought. I do not think that anymore. I am embarrassed at the kind of leader you have become. You have not only turned your back on those that need your leadership and your presence, but you have made those people feel invaluable and as if they don't matter. You don't have time for those that are your biggest supporters; were your biggest supporters. You took the title and ran as if that was all you ever wanted in the first place. I don't know, maybe it is all you ever wanted. Maybe you have just been "playing the system" from day one. I don't know what to think anymore. And I don't know why I care so much.
There are things going on right under your nose that you should know about. Things that you should be seeing. But you choose to look the other way. You choose to ride it out. Is it because you just don't care anymore? Is that title worth the respect that you are losing every precious day? Are you prepared to be the next "joke" in the place? Are you seriously too busy for your own people? Too busy to listen? Too busy to care? Because that's what I'm seeing. And I'm not the only one. I'm just the only one that is willing to put it out there.
And it will be put out there. I don't know when and I don't know how but it will. Like I said before, I don't know why I care so much; but I do. I am trying not to though. One of these days you are going to need something and it's going to be too late.
I am one of the few people that would jump when you say jump;
I am one of the few people that would bend over backward to make sure you got done what you needed done;
and I am one of the few people that would always have your back;
But I may not always be there.
At least not for you. I don't know how long I can wait for you to get your head out of your ass and realize that we need you. We need you to be present and active. I need you to be present and active. Otherwise, I am going to stop caring and 100% of my loyalty is going to lie somewhere else. It may not sound like much now but it's not a pretty sight to see your own people turn their backs on the one that is supposed to be their "leader."
I am disgusted.
I am embarrassed.
I am angry.
I am sad.
And I don't want to be your friend.
As juvenile as that may sound right now, I don't want to be friends with someone who forgets their own. I don't want to be a part of something that is a false-front. I don't want to be a friend to someone who isn't real; and true; and themselves.
You know that I have been wanting to talk to you and you haven't made one move to make that happen. I have tried working around your schedule but it's almost impossible to do that with my own schedule of nights and the road trips you have had to take. I can't place all the blame on you and I don't. But you do know that something is bothering me because I told you that much. And I also told you that I can't do it over the phone. And here I sit and wait. Because you can't take time out of your day to help me through this. Because I am not important enough.
At least that's how you make me feel.
And this is as far as my mind can go. I have hit a wall. I am too angry to add anymore right now.
Now I'd like to say a few words to a couple of you: You sir, are another shining example of taking a position simply for the title. Not a drop more of pay, just a new title. Big damn deal. You have also turned your back on your people and if that isn't bad enough, you have turned your back on your family. Your marriage is in the toilet and the only reason I know this is because I watch your wife slowly die on a daily basis. I listen to how your family life has turned into nothing and to be honest, I am sick of hearing it. You can't even see what you have done because you are too busy shining your new name plate with brand new title. You are an embarrassment and a waste of authority. You let your people run amok and make up their own rules as they go because it's easier than putting a little thought and effort into doing it yourself. You aren't that old so wake up and do your job. You are the laughing stock of this place and you can't even see it. Get out and do something besides paperwork for a change and see what is going on under your nose. Better yet...take a look at what ISN'T getting done right under your nose. Be a man and step up. Take some responsibility for yourself, your job, and your family falling apart.
You ma'am, are the biggest drama queen I have ever met in my life; and I've met quite a few. I have learned to just avoid spending more than a couple of minutes with you because every single thing we discuss and every single question I ask, gets turned into a talk about how freaking miserable you are and how your husband has ruined your marriage. If you are that damned miserable, do something about it but please stop bringing that crap to work and unloading it on me. It is none of my business and I have my own life to think about.
I am a "fixer" but I do not have the capability of fixing you or your marriage. I don't even want to be that friend that listens because I tend to "take this stuff on" in my heart. I refuse to do it anymore because it's the same thing each day. The problems never go away. Why do you want to live like that??? Time to put your big girl panties on and decipher what problems are work problems and what problems are home problems and then do what you need to do to deal with them. If I come to your house, feel free to unload on me. And then slit my wrists when you're done. Sounds a little harsh, I know but that's how I feel at this exact moment.
And for the record, it took about 24 hours for me to learn about you saying "I'm not supposed to tell you this but....." Yeah...seems nobody can trust nobody around here. Freaking kindergarten! I think the shit-stirrer should have to lick the spoon.
I am so done with you.
And then there's you: You are the one that I thought was my friend. My honest to goodness friend. You are the one that always helped keep me grounded when my mind went twelve different directions all at the same time. You were "my person." You know the one. Like in Grey's Anatomy, Christina and Meredith were each other's "person." I have told you so many things and we have had many laughs. I would look at you and see a friend for many years down the road. We have cried on each other's shoulders many times.
Then my rose colored glasses fell off one day. You are a bully. You love to run people over. You change your story to fit your audience. You talk big but never show results yet you expect them from those around you. You change rules to suit yourself. You don't care who you hurt to get whatever you want. You like to pit people against each other in the name of "making peace" when you know it does nothing but make the problem worse. You love to play the shrink but the problem is that you don't have the skills to do it.
I witnessed a conversation between you and one of your friends the other day that broke my heart. The person that is always posting crap on their Facebook wall about being a good person, loving yourself and loving others; the one that just posted a few days ago about a meme about being careful who you should open up to, this person...you!...repeated information about a co-worker saying it is mere fact when in reality, it was gossip. You may have had one of your facts right but all the rest that followed was what you heard and you passed it off like it was gospel. And you did it with a huge smile on your face. As if you were benefiting from it.
And if that didn't make me sick enough, you and your friend took great pleasure in the failure of a marriage simply because you don't like the man. "She fucked around on him because he's a douche bag." That makes me sick. You have no idea what goes on behind closed doors. I don't care how good your gossip source is. Because you love the fact that your marriage failed, doesn't mean everyone else feels the same.
You are not the person I thought you were. You sold me on an idea that was a lie. You are a fake and I won't trust you with anything important again. And I will mourn this "friendship" that I thought we had. I will mourn it for a long time. But I have learned an important lesson. "If you will talk bad about others with me, you will talk bad about me with others."
I am walking away from this...whatever it is. And because of you, I will be very careful about who I let in and who I confide in. Enough is enough. Thanks for posting this on your Facebook wall. It comes in very handy right now.
And then there's YOU!!! You know who you are! Get your crap taken care of. I need my friend back. I need to talk to you. About anything. About everything. I need your listening ear. I can't promise I won't cry but I will do my best. I don't know if you drew the short straw or not but you are my "go-to" person.
Whether you like it or not. This business of not having you around to bounce this stuff off of is slowly killing me. I blame the boss. Fully.
2015/03/27
When you think your life sucks, just laugh
First off, I just want you to know that I think this blog is against my better judgement but my dear sister Kathy planted a seed and well...here it is.
Right now I feel at odds with several things in my life. My job is my biggest hurdle right now. It has made me yearn for the time when I am alone so I can just think and let my tears fall. The time when nobody can see how others' words and reactions affect me and it is also the time when I pick at myself for taking my emotional stress out on everybody that comes into contact with me.
I have not been myself for a little while now and I don't know how to fix me. If you are reading this and you work with me at all...I am sorry. That's all I can do right now.
So, with that being said...I will let my tears fall as I type and tell you a story that my dear sister loves so much.
Recently, my wonderful husband mismanaged his money. And to make matters worse, he mismanaged it two...yes TWO days after he got paid. Me, being the good wife, told him I would get him some cash to get him through the week.
"I only need $20. I don't have to drive this week so I won't need much."
Cool. I got him some cash and life goes on, right? Uh huh! The very next day, he calls me at work and tells me that the alternator and starter went out of his truck but his uncle was on his way over with a new alternator because he had a warranty on this one he put in just a couple months ago. Awesome.
"How much is the starter?" I asked him, not really wanting to hear the answer because I didn't want to buy the part.
"$51 and it has a lifetime warranty at O'Reilly's"
"Well you're going to have to wait until you get paid because I don't have a lot of extra money this week." And he was fine with that and I should have just left it alone.
Okay maybe I told a little white lie about not having the money but he DID say he didn't need to drive anywhere this week!!! Before the end of the night though, I had called him back and asked him to text me the information for the part and that I would run to Creston in the morning and get it for him.
I know that if I didn't NEED my car for anything and it was disabled, I would really WANT it for something and well, to be honest, I don't want my loving husband driving my car if I can help it. So I went and got the part the next day, feeling like I had been driven over by a fleet of super buses, but with a smile on my face. After all, this man had just gotten me the gun I have wanted for a long time. I kinda felt like l owed him a little bit.
When he got home that day, he put the starter in and life was good. I felt so bad that day that I asked him to order a pizza and I would pay for it. Anything to get out of having to get out of that chair until it was time to get ready for work!!! So he goes to get the pizza, with my debit card in his greedy, dirty hand...and comes back with pizza, chips (not one bag but two!!!), and TWO huge bottles of Mountain Dew. He knows I hate that he drinks so much of that crap anyway but I didn't care. I didn't feel good and I just didn't care. Simple as that.
It was then that he tells me that he took a load of scrap to the junk yard today (or whatever that place is called) and didn't have much. Only made $33. Again, I didn't care.
At this point anyway. (Sorry, I will stop dragging this out so much)
Two nights later, hubby says to me "I am going to order some shrimp from Casey's. You want anything?"
"I will take some chicken strips." I still wasn't feeling well so again, I had no plans to get out of the chair until I was forced.
The order is placed and I hear him counting his money. Knowing he should have most of his $33 burning a hole in his pocket, I said "You can take my debit card if you want." I guess what I should have stated was "You can take my debit card and pay for my chicken strips with that." Lesson learned.
He comes back with two orders of shrimp, chicken strips, a bag of Doritos, and two large Mountain Dews. And he says to me...which doesn't even register until the next day..."I didn't put the pop on your debit card." Imagine the look of shock and stupidity on my face when I realized what he had said. It was like the light cleared the fog!!! Well thanks for not putting the pop on my card, you jackass! I'm so happy pay for a meal that you asked me to join in on! Ugh!!!
And here is where it gets good.
"Hey babe. Since you have been so good at spending my money this week, I am going to need you to bring me dinner tomorrow night at work since you get paid tomorrow." Of course he thought this was great. Any chance he gets to eat Mexican food, he is thrilled.
"Oh, and when you bring my dinner, I will also need you to bring me some pads." Imagine crayons falling out of the bottom of the box. That is exactly what his face looked like. Like someone opened up the bottom and the color just fell out.
"Are you serious?" It was almost like he was planking while standing up. Rigid and straight as an arrow.
"Yes I'm serious and here's where you need to take notes because I don't want period pads. I want bladder control pads. I don't have a period, remember. What I do have is bronchitis and anytime I cough, I pee. It's not something I'm proud of. It's just a fact of life. And I will be going on a girls trip soon and those bitches make me laugh. I can't go around with pissy pants."
"So you want Always pads." He just puts it out there like he's an expert on this subject. And then there's me who doesn't even realize that Always makes a bladder control pad.
"NO! Not Always. I want bladder control panty liners. You are going to have to go to the store and stand there and READ the packages. Anything more than a panty liner feels like a literal mattress between my legs and it's not like I go around and intentionally piss my pants!!" I really wanted this to hurt a little bit and the more I talked, the more it seemed to really punch him in the gut.
This was working out just like I wanted it to. I even explained the whole concept behind "minimum and maximum absorbency," like a good wife. That look of horror on his face was awesome.
So...the next evening, Quintin shows up to my work with food and "extra bags" in hand. He sets the two bags on my desk and goes to sit down with the food. I notice that the bags are huge and wonder what he has done. After we eat dinner and talk, he tells me to check and see if he brought me the right stuff.
I pull one package out of the bag and it's HUGE. I could tell immediately that he got mattress pads. Ugh! "28 maximum absorbency ALWAYS bladder control pads." Yes, I realize he got the right KIND but he got the wrong everything else, so don't you dare side with him!!!
"Quintin what the hell???" He just starts laughing and says "What?"
"I can not wear a mattress pad in my pants! I. Can. Not!"
"Sorry! I wasn't sure. Well look at it this way, you can tinkle even more times with these."
"That isn't funny and you know it."
"Okay, so what's the difference between those and what's in the other bag because even though they are the same brand, they are different apparently. I didn't know so I got them both."
I should have just stopped while I was ahead. Why did I even look?
"19 maximum absorbency bladder protection ALWAYS UNDERWEAR! UNDERWEAR QUINTIN??!!?? ARE YOU SHITTING ME???" I did not even know they made these things!
He laughed. And he laughed. And he couldn't stop laughing. And then I got to laughing, turned to him and said "You have to return these."
*S-I-L-E-N-C-E*
"The hell I am."
I pulled the receipt out of the bag and just then noticed that he had went to ShopKo. The one store I won't shop at unless it's a dying necessity. And then I see that he has paid $26 for two bags of mattress pads and pissy pants.
"Dude, you paid $26 for these??? Are you delirious??? You are taking these back!"
"NO. I am not taking them back."
"Fine. I am taking them back and keeping the money."
And I did. I walked right into ShopKo Greenfield and said to the poor young boy working the register, "I am about to embarrass you just a little bit," to which I get the reply "Oh great."
I drop them on the counter and say "I sent my husband in with specific instructions on what to get and he got exactly the opposite of what I said. Not only does not have a clue about women in general, he knows nothing about his wife." I thought this poor kid was going to die laughing. He wasn't embarrassed at all and ends up the transaction with "Hey, you gotta give him credit for even trying at all."
As I walk away, I glared at him with my meanest look I could muster without laughing and said "No. I do not give him credit for anything that directly affects what we just went through. This man has known me for far too long to mess this up!"
Then I proceeded to go to Dollar General and spend $2.65 on 64 of those beautiful little panty liners and pocketed the rest of that money! Ha!
Suffice it to say, my husband thinks he won this little battle. He hasn't, of course. Oh the game is on and it is just beginning!!!
Until next time, thanks for reading. I know I worked out a few tears. Both from laughter and sadness! Hope you enjoyed Kathy's new favorite story!!!
Right now I feel at odds with several things in my life. My job is my biggest hurdle right now. It has made me yearn for the time when I am alone so I can just think and let my tears fall. The time when nobody can see how others' words and reactions affect me and it is also the time when I pick at myself for taking my emotional stress out on everybody that comes into contact with me.
I have not been myself for a little while now and I don't know how to fix me. If you are reading this and you work with me at all...I am sorry. That's all I can do right now.
So, with that being said...I will let my tears fall as I type and tell you a story that my dear sister loves so much.
Recently, my wonderful husband mismanaged his money. And to make matters worse, he mismanaged it two...yes TWO days after he got paid. Me, being the good wife, told him I would get him some cash to get him through the week.
"I only need $20. I don't have to drive this week so I won't need much."
Cool. I got him some cash and life goes on, right? Uh huh! The very next day, he calls me at work and tells me that the alternator and starter went out of his truck but his uncle was on his way over with a new alternator because he had a warranty on this one he put in just a couple months ago. Awesome.
"How much is the starter?" I asked him, not really wanting to hear the answer because I didn't want to buy the part.
"$51 and it has a lifetime warranty at O'Reilly's"
"Well you're going to have to wait until you get paid because I don't have a lot of extra money this week." And he was fine with that and I should have just left it alone.
Okay maybe I told a little white lie about not having the money but he DID say he didn't need to drive anywhere this week!!! Before the end of the night though, I had called him back and asked him to text me the information for the part and that I would run to Creston in the morning and get it for him.
I know that if I didn't NEED my car for anything and it was disabled, I would really WANT it for something and well, to be honest, I don't want my loving husband driving my car if I can help it. So I went and got the part the next day, feeling like I had been driven over by a fleet of super buses, but with a smile on my face. After all, this man had just gotten me the gun I have wanted for a long time. I kinda felt like l owed him a little bit.
When he got home that day, he put the starter in and life was good. I felt so bad that day that I asked him to order a pizza and I would pay for it. Anything to get out of having to get out of that chair until it was time to get ready for work!!! So he goes to get the pizza, with my debit card in his greedy, dirty hand...and comes back with pizza, chips (not one bag but two!!!), and TWO huge bottles of Mountain Dew. He knows I hate that he drinks so much of that crap anyway but I didn't care. I didn't feel good and I just didn't care. Simple as that.
It was then that he tells me that he took a load of scrap to the junk yard today (or whatever that place is called) and didn't have much. Only made $33. Again, I didn't care.
At this point anyway. (Sorry, I will stop dragging this out so much)
Two nights later, hubby says to me "I am going to order some shrimp from Casey's. You want anything?"
"I will take some chicken strips." I still wasn't feeling well so again, I had no plans to get out of the chair until I was forced.
The order is placed and I hear him counting his money. Knowing he should have most of his $33 burning a hole in his pocket, I said "You can take my debit card if you want." I guess what I should have stated was "You can take my debit card and pay for my chicken strips with that." Lesson learned.
He comes back with two orders of shrimp, chicken strips, a bag of Doritos, and two large Mountain Dews. And he says to me...which doesn't even register until the next day..."I didn't put the pop on your debit card." Imagine the look of shock and stupidity on my face when I realized what he had said. It was like the light cleared the fog!!! Well thanks for not putting the pop on my card, you jackass! I'm so happy pay for a meal that you asked me to join in on! Ugh!!!
And here is where it gets good.
"Hey babe. Since you have been so good at spending my money this week, I am going to need you to bring me dinner tomorrow night at work since you get paid tomorrow." Of course he thought this was great. Any chance he gets to eat Mexican food, he is thrilled.
"Oh, and when you bring my dinner, I will also need you to bring me some pads." Imagine crayons falling out of the bottom of the box. That is exactly what his face looked like. Like someone opened up the bottom and the color just fell out.
"Are you serious?" It was almost like he was planking while standing up. Rigid and straight as an arrow.
"Yes I'm serious and here's where you need to take notes because I don't want period pads. I want bladder control pads. I don't have a period, remember. What I do have is bronchitis and anytime I cough, I pee. It's not something I'm proud of. It's just a fact of life. And I will be going on a girls trip soon and those bitches make me laugh. I can't go around with pissy pants."
"So you want Always pads." He just puts it out there like he's an expert on this subject. And then there's me who doesn't even realize that Always makes a bladder control pad.
"NO! Not Always. I want bladder control panty liners. You are going to have to go to the store and stand there and READ the packages. Anything more than a panty liner feels like a literal mattress between my legs and it's not like I go around and intentionally piss my pants!!" I really wanted this to hurt a little bit and the more I talked, the more it seemed to really punch him in the gut.
This was working out just like I wanted it to. I even explained the whole concept behind "minimum and maximum absorbency," like a good wife. That look of horror on his face was awesome.
So...the next evening, Quintin shows up to my work with food and "extra bags" in hand. He sets the two bags on my desk and goes to sit down with the food. I notice that the bags are huge and wonder what he has done. After we eat dinner and talk, he tells me to check and see if he brought me the right stuff.
I pull one package out of the bag and it's HUGE. I could tell immediately that he got mattress pads. Ugh! "28 maximum absorbency ALWAYS bladder control pads." Yes, I realize he got the right KIND but he got the wrong everything else, so don't you dare side with him!!!
"Quintin what the hell???" He just starts laughing and says "What?"
"I can not wear a mattress pad in my pants! I. Can. Not!"
"Sorry! I wasn't sure. Well look at it this way, you can tinkle even more times with these."
"That isn't funny and you know it."
"Okay, so what's the difference between those and what's in the other bag because even though they are the same brand, they are different apparently. I didn't know so I got them both."
I should have just stopped while I was ahead. Why did I even look?
"19 maximum absorbency bladder protection ALWAYS UNDERWEAR! UNDERWEAR QUINTIN??!!?? ARE YOU SHITTING ME???" I did not even know they made these things!
He laughed. And he laughed. And he couldn't stop laughing. And then I got to laughing, turned to him and said "You have to return these."
*S-I-L-E-N-C-E*
"The hell I am."
I pulled the receipt out of the bag and just then noticed that he had went to ShopKo. The one store I won't shop at unless it's a dying necessity. And then I see that he has paid $26 for two bags of mattress pads and pissy pants.
"Dude, you paid $26 for these??? Are you delirious??? You are taking these back!"
"NO. I am not taking them back."
"Fine. I am taking them back and keeping the money."
And I did. I walked right into ShopKo Greenfield and said to the poor young boy working the register, "I am about to embarrass you just a little bit," to which I get the reply "Oh great."
I drop them on the counter and say "I sent my husband in with specific instructions on what to get and he got exactly the opposite of what I said. Not only does not have a clue about women in general, he knows nothing about his wife." I thought this poor kid was going to die laughing. He wasn't embarrassed at all and ends up the transaction with "Hey, you gotta give him credit for even trying at all."
As I walk away, I glared at him with my meanest look I could muster without laughing and said "No. I do not give him credit for anything that directly affects what we just went through. This man has known me for far too long to mess this up!"
Then I proceeded to go to Dollar General and spend $2.65 on 64 of those beautiful little panty liners and pocketed the rest of that money! Ha!
Suffice it to say, my husband thinks he won this little battle. He hasn't, of course. Oh the game is on and it is just beginning!!!
Until next time, thanks for reading. I know I worked out a few tears. Both from laughter and sadness! Hope you enjoyed Kathy's new favorite story!!!
2015/03/15
I had a dream
Have you ever had a dream that you are scared to think too much about? Like one of those dreams that you feel like you shouldn't even talk about? All the while knowing that this dream meant bad, bad things? Yet you can't explain it? You haven't? Me either!! Ha, I wish. I have debated whether or not to even type this up because for starters, it probably isn't going to make any sense to anyone but me. but here I am because I can't get it out of my head. It's like one of those songs that you can't get out of your head.
Even though I sit here with it all ready to come out in print, I will not "publish" until all my guys are safely back to their homes. As much as I know "visually" that this dream showed immediate family, the guys I work with are just like brothers to me. Hell, I'm closer to them than my own flesh and blood brothers.
So there I was. In dreamland. Or in some kind of catatonic state, I'm not sure which right now. You see, I have been fighting respiratory and sinus issues all week. This crap started out with that tight chest feeling that makes you want to cough until you piss yourself and it worked it's way to my head; giving me nothing but long-lasting sinus headaches that make me want to cut my forehead open and pull whatever that creature is, out of there.
Needless to say, in order to get some good, deep sleep I turned to my best friend Mr. NyQuil. I don't normally like to take any sort of medicine but I know it's getting pretty bad when I'm popping sinus meds to get through my shift and dropping into bed immediately after work holding a bottle of NyQuil. It's not that I have trouble sleeping. The NyQuil is just that promise that no matter how much my little Budha wants to wake me up to play, it won't work. It also promises that no matter how many times my phone vibrates, it will not bother me. I will not be waking up until my body and my mind are ready to wake up.
Today I was so ready to wake up. This dream. Oh, man it was so haunting!! Quintin and I pulled up to this fantastically old and dilapidated house. The roof needed fixed. The front porch was about to fall off; old ripped and torn screens across the front and the sides didn't even have any screens. The siding on this home was dated, to say the least and it looked like nobody cared about this house. I was one of those people.
In my dream, I was standing in front of this house wondering what we were doing here. Quintin was standing by the drivers side of the car with a big smile on his face. I start asking him if this is one of those jobs he took on; to work on the house for someone. I told him he didn't have enough time in the world to work on this house and he just beams at me and says "It's ours." Oh boy.
Suddenly my dream has fast-forwarded a little while or else I can't remember what went on next but I said to Quintin "You know, we have lived here all these weeks and I have ONLY seen the bedroom and the living room." This makes me wonder just exactly where we have been eating and peeing all this time. Or was I being held here against my will?We will never know. Quintin proceeds to tell me that I should go look around because he thinks I am going to be pleasantly surprised.
As I go into all the rooms of this home, I realize that it is magnificent. White in most places, spotless, and bright! I notice that there are a lot of built-in cupboards in the walls. And as I open them, I realize that they are meant to be open, not closed. One by one I open these doors to the most wonderful pictures of me and my family when we were children. Donnie, Lonnie, Cindy, Kathy, Kenny, Marla and myself are in every one of them. The strange thing about these pictures are that I have no recollection of when or where they were taken.
Even now, almost 12 hours later, I can see those pictures so clearly. I can almost tell you what we were wearing in them, it was that vivid for me. I remember being amazed at how each set of pictures went along with the next set. Almost as if it were telling a story. A picture book is the best I can describe it. And then I noticed that the more cupboards I opened, and the more pictures I exposed, the darker the house got.
It wasn't bright anymore. It had a scary presence. And I got scared. I asked Quintin where he got these pictures at and he said they all were here when he purchased the home. Everything that was in the home, was there when he bought it. I tried shutting the cupboards but they wouldn't budge. It seemed that once I opened them, there was no going back.
And that's when I willed myself to wake up. I kept telling myself that this was nothing but a dream and that I needed to wake up. I needed to see daylight. The feeling that had consumed me when I woke up was awful. I was scared. I was sad. I was lost. I felt like I needed to warn someone. But warn them of what??
I have only had one other time where I "dreamed" about being somewhere else and seeing bright, vivid pictures, never before seen, of someone I love. That experience left me happy in my heart and very content. This dream did not leave me that way. Quite the opposite.
My first husband was so good about dreams. He knew what to expect from life by what he dreamed. That was the Mayan way, he would tell me. I wonder if the Mayans drank as much as he did? Ha, that's a whole other story right there!
So here I am, half a day later, still trying to shake this dream, this feeling, and this memory. I don't even want to remember those pictures but can't seem to get away from them. I'm not saying that this dream, or whatever it was, means impending doom but I am glad my people are all home and in bed. At least I hope they are. It's out there now anyway, huh?
For the rest of the day, I think I will just find something productive to do besides sleep. It's safer that way -_- Until next time, I hope your day is perfect and I hope you know that you are loved. Thank you for reading!
Even though I sit here with it all ready to come out in print, I will not "publish" until all my guys are safely back to their homes. As much as I know "visually" that this dream showed immediate family, the guys I work with are just like brothers to me. Hell, I'm closer to them than my own flesh and blood brothers.
So there I was. In dreamland. Or in some kind of catatonic state, I'm not sure which right now. You see, I have been fighting respiratory and sinus issues all week. This crap started out with that tight chest feeling that makes you want to cough until you piss yourself and it worked it's way to my head; giving me nothing but long-lasting sinus headaches that make me want to cut my forehead open and pull whatever that creature is, out of there.
Needless to say, in order to get some good, deep sleep I turned to my best friend Mr. NyQuil. I don't normally like to take any sort of medicine but I know it's getting pretty bad when I'm popping sinus meds to get through my shift and dropping into bed immediately after work holding a bottle of NyQuil. It's not that I have trouble sleeping. The NyQuil is just that promise that no matter how much my little Budha wants to wake me up to play, it won't work. It also promises that no matter how many times my phone vibrates, it will not bother me. I will not be waking up until my body and my mind are ready to wake up.
Today I was so ready to wake up. This dream. Oh, man it was so haunting!! Quintin and I pulled up to this fantastically old and dilapidated house. The roof needed fixed. The front porch was about to fall off; old ripped and torn screens across the front and the sides didn't even have any screens. The siding on this home was dated, to say the least and it looked like nobody cared about this house. I was one of those people.
In my dream, I was standing in front of this house wondering what we were doing here. Quintin was standing by the drivers side of the car with a big smile on his face. I start asking him if this is one of those jobs he took on; to work on the house for someone. I told him he didn't have enough time in the world to work on this house and he just beams at me and says "It's ours." Oh boy.
Suddenly my dream has fast-forwarded a little while or else I can't remember what went on next but I said to Quintin "You know, we have lived here all these weeks and I have ONLY seen the bedroom and the living room." This makes me wonder just exactly where we have been eating and peeing all this time. Or was I being held here against my will?We will never know. Quintin proceeds to tell me that I should go look around because he thinks I am going to be pleasantly surprised.
As I go into all the rooms of this home, I realize that it is magnificent. White in most places, spotless, and bright! I notice that there are a lot of built-in cupboards in the walls. And as I open them, I realize that they are meant to be open, not closed. One by one I open these doors to the most wonderful pictures of me and my family when we were children. Donnie, Lonnie, Cindy, Kathy, Kenny, Marla and myself are in every one of them. The strange thing about these pictures are that I have no recollection of when or where they were taken.
Even now, almost 12 hours later, I can see those pictures so clearly. I can almost tell you what we were wearing in them, it was that vivid for me. I remember being amazed at how each set of pictures went along with the next set. Almost as if it were telling a story. A picture book is the best I can describe it. And then I noticed that the more cupboards I opened, and the more pictures I exposed, the darker the house got.
It wasn't bright anymore. It had a scary presence. And I got scared. I asked Quintin where he got these pictures at and he said they all were here when he purchased the home. Everything that was in the home, was there when he bought it. I tried shutting the cupboards but they wouldn't budge. It seemed that once I opened them, there was no going back.
And that's when I willed myself to wake up. I kept telling myself that this was nothing but a dream and that I needed to wake up. I needed to see daylight. The feeling that had consumed me when I woke up was awful. I was scared. I was sad. I was lost. I felt like I needed to warn someone. But warn them of what??
I have only had one other time where I "dreamed" about being somewhere else and seeing bright, vivid pictures, never before seen, of someone I love. That experience left me happy in my heart and very content. This dream did not leave me that way. Quite the opposite.
My first husband was so good about dreams. He knew what to expect from life by what he dreamed. That was the Mayan way, he would tell me. I wonder if the Mayans drank as much as he did? Ha, that's a whole other story right there!
So here I am, half a day later, still trying to shake this dream, this feeling, and this memory. I don't even want to remember those pictures but can't seem to get away from them. I'm not saying that this dream, or whatever it was, means impending doom but I am glad my people are all home and in bed. At least I hope they are. It's out there now anyway, huh?
For the rest of the day, I think I will just find something productive to do besides sleep. It's safer that way -_- Until next time, I hope your day is perfect and I hope you know that you are loved. Thank you for reading!
2015/03/09
Sometimes being nice smacks you in the face
Sometimes the best of intentions aren't always the best of intentions. The best laid plans...well, not always so. Don't you just hate it when you go to do the right thing and it all seems to fall apart in front of your eyes? Today I was reading some things on Facebook and I said outloud, to nobody in particular, "How many awful things can happen to one person in one day?"
Touche! Lesson learned. Keep your thoughts to yourself Shellie and above all that...keep your big mouth shut!
A former boss of mine lost his father over the weekend. So today, I call up my "partner in crime" Beth, and we decide that we need to do something for the old boss. We plan to meet up in Greenfield and go to the grocery store together, get some food and special goodies, and head down to his house.
Before I go any further, let me just say that this man isn't like most people. Although he is lovable and funny and considerate of others and the best story teller on earth, he goes out of his way to be hard and mean and unfriendly. All the while being friendly, if that makes any sense at all! This man has said from day 1, "Don't try to be my friend." And from that moment on, I loved him like a family member. I mean, you can see the connection I had with him, right? Especially the mean part!! Okay, back to my story.
The plan was going well so far. We had the groceries and were heading to Orient. The closer we got to town, the more anxious I became. And so did Beth. Neither of us had ever stopped at his home before. He was pretty adamant that he didn't want his co-workers there so former co-workers probably wasn't on his list of house guests either.
"What if there are a bunch of people there and he tells us to leave?" Or worse...
"What if there are a bunch of people there and he tells us to stay?" Oh dear...
"What if nobody is home?"
"We have food. Someone has to be there."
Our stomachs in knots, we pull up to the house and it looks like nobody is around. We knew they had a couple of dogs and didn't know what kind of reception we would get if they were holding down the fort. I get nominated to go to the door. Something strangely wrong about this democracy. Ring the doorbell. Nothing. I didn't even hear the doorbell so I don't know if it even worked. Open the screen door and knock loudly. Seven times. I don't know why I remember that but I do. Nobody. A man pulls up to the house and we tell him nobody is here. He promptly leaves.
"What are we going to do with this food?"
"Leave it on the porch?"
"We can't do that! Some animal will come eat it!!!"
"Okay go check and see if the door is unlocked."
Yes...I just got thrown under the bus...in front of the firing squad...however you want to say it. I will be the first person shot and killed. You would think that thought alone would be enough to make me not do it but NOOOOOO! Right to the door I went and it was unlocked!
I. Was. Shocked.
So, I open the door and yell for the old man and get nothing. Beth is behind me yelling too. We want him to know it is us entering so he doesn't kill us. Oh hell, who am I kidding!!! I was taking a pretty good chance with my life just by entering without permission no matter WHO I was. I see the old dog laying in the other room, to old to come greet us even though we called him by name. I take my bags of groceries and set them on the table and Beth literally steps inside the door enough for the screen to shut behind her. She isn't about to step any further. For obvious reasons, ya know! Okay, groceries on the table and cards laid on top. Let's get the hell out of here!
As we exit the home, we see this little chihuahua looking dog walking away from the house, looking at us like "What are you doing there and who are you?" Our first reaction was, "OH MY GOD. DID WE LET A DOG OUT???" We walk toward the dog only to spook it and it takes off on us. So we jump in the car and follow it, freaking out the whole time, knowing we are going to die for this one. It stays on the block but it knows we are wanting to get it so it keeps out of reach.
We cruise the town for a while, giving it time to go back "home." If home is where we thought it was. We came back around about 10 minutes later to find the dog in the yard at the next door neighbors house so we pull in and I get out. The dog takes off. I knock on the neighbors door to ask him if he knows if this is the dog in question. We take off down the back yard and he says he doesn't think it is but he isn't sure. His wife isn't home but the dog will come to her at any time. He told me he would have her check when she got back.
I called our boss because I knew that he knew what the dog looked like. I told him what had happened, because at this point I thought WE had let the dog out, and his response was "YOU WENT INTO HIS HOUSE??? YOU DON'T EVER JUST GO INTO HIS HOUSE!!" Well bossman, it's a little late for that info, don't you think??? He describes the dog and I'm pretty sure I went pale. I hang up and I call my cousin, who lives down the street. She describes the same stupid dog we are seeing! Ugh, seriously!!??!!
Is this really happening? All we wanted to do was take some damn food to these people!!!
We drive some more and start tearing the scenario apart.
#1: We couldn't have let the dog out because I checked as I walked in and there was no dog in sight, except for the one in the other room. And when Beth came in with me, she shut the door behind her. She would have noticed a dog by her feet. Heck, with her grace, she would have tripped on it!
There was a note on the table about the Methodist Church women bringing food. We are throwing them under this bus. If anybody let the dog out, it was them. Not us. We are going to hell, I tell ya.
#2: The neighbor had told us what the dog's name was and when we called it, it looked at us like we were nuts. Don't go there. I had already considered that we were!
#3: They take that dog everywhere with them.
I finally jump out of my thoughts enough to see that we are headed south.
"If we keep going, we are going to end up in Creston."
"So what. We are panicking now and we need to figure something out. We have nothing else to do but think this thing out so we can drive."
I am anxious and my stomach is in knots. Beth is anxious and she wants to throw up.
"We are almost to Creston." And it is amazing how fast we got there because as panicked as were were, she only drove 49 mph! Yep, you read that right. We were getting passed left and right. It was something straight out of a twilight movie!
"Good. We are driving by every funeral home in town until we find him. And then we are driving by to see if that damn dog is in the truck."
Guess what? His truck wasn't at any of them. We checked every restaurant that I had ever heard him talk about, with no luck. Isn't it funny that when you are looking for a certain color and type of vehicle, that's all you see??? Now that I think about it, we did not go through the Walmart parking lot! Seriously, why didn't we do that???
Time to stress eat. Get me to a Taco Johns and fast! I need some comfort food. A tasty "last meal" if you will. As we get our order and pull away, a light comes on in my head.
"DUH!!! His dad's house! Go to his dad's house! I know that is where they would be!!" I turn to uncle Google to find his address and when I spoke his name into my phone, I got everything from where to find turtles to where to take diving lessons. Don't ask. I don't even know. Took me a minute or two because it's hard to type into your gps when you're stuffing your face with comfort food all the while wondering who is going to show up at YOUR funeral when you get killed for all of this.
Found the house and no! No old man there either. A couple of other vehicles which I assume are his dad's and maybe his sisters but not his. At this point, I only care about his vehicle. Now why didn't we just stop and ask his sister to call him and ask?? Why, at 11:30 at night did I just think of that?? I'll tell you why. Because I was stressed to the hilt at this point!!
"Let's just head back and see if they are home yet. It's 8pm and this man doesn't have a life. He has to be home now." Northbound we go.
#4: "I just remembered something key! That dog we were chasing around is a male. I saw him piss on a mailbox post. It was most definitely a male. Not sure why that didn't register with me before."
HUGE sigh of relief! I know why it didn't register before. It was because we were scared for our lives. Okay, we did not lose old man's dog. And then Beth says the one thing I did not need to hear. "What if that dog was his dad's dog? We all know his dad had a dog and don't you think he would bring it home with him?" I'm not sure I've ever wanted to hurt someone so badly in my life as I wanted to hurt her then. How dare she put that thought in my head? The old man loves dogs more than people on ANY given day. Oh. My. God. What have we done?
I would be lying if I said that we didn't do a lot of praying while riding around in that car tonight. With the thought of impending doom closing in on us at every turn, I wasn't even sure praying was going to help us.
We get back to Orient and don't see one sign of the dog. And the old man isn't home yet either. Oh my god!! And of course, by this time, I either need to puke or poop. Not sure which but I am so sick to my stomach that I know something needs to happen.
"Look, we both know this man well enough that he would not leave his dad's dog in his house, knowing people would be coming by with food and stuff, taking a chance that the dog would escape. We just know better. The dog has to be at his dad's and I'm sure his sister is staying there." Yep, that has to be it.
"AND, we both knows dogs well enough that as skiddish as it was outside, it wouldn't have come "at us" to get out the door as we went in. It was clearly terrified of us." So we went home. We do not have a phone number for the man. I am not sure what I am going to do. I may have to make a trip in the morning to find out for myself. There could be a trip to jail and a restraining order in my near future. My boss is going to love this. If you love me, you will have bond money ready.
Wish me luck...however I decide to proceed. And thanks for reading. It could very well be my last post! HA!!!
Touche! Lesson learned. Keep your thoughts to yourself Shellie and above all that...keep your big mouth shut!
A former boss of mine lost his father over the weekend. So today, I call up my "partner in crime" Beth, and we decide that we need to do something for the old boss. We plan to meet up in Greenfield and go to the grocery store together, get some food and special goodies, and head down to his house.
Before I go any further, let me just say that this man isn't like most people. Although he is lovable and funny and considerate of others and the best story teller on earth, he goes out of his way to be hard and mean and unfriendly. All the while being friendly, if that makes any sense at all! This man has said from day 1, "Don't try to be my friend." And from that moment on, I loved him like a family member. I mean, you can see the connection I had with him, right? Especially the mean part!! Okay, back to my story.
The plan was going well so far. We had the groceries and were heading to Orient. The closer we got to town, the more anxious I became. And so did Beth. Neither of us had ever stopped at his home before. He was pretty adamant that he didn't want his co-workers there so former co-workers probably wasn't on his list of house guests either.
"What if there are a bunch of people there and he tells us to leave?" Or worse...
"What if there are a bunch of people there and he tells us to stay?" Oh dear...
"What if nobody is home?"
"We have food. Someone has to be there."
Our stomachs in knots, we pull up to the house and it looks like nobody is around. We knew they had a couple of dogs and didn't know what kind of reception we would get if they were holding down the fort. I get nominated to go to the door. Something strangely wrong about this democracy. Ring the doorbell. Nothing. I didn't even hear the doorbell so I don't know if it even worked. Open the screen door and knock loudly. Seven times. I don't know why I remember that but I do. Nobody. A man pulls up to the house and we tell him nobody is here. He promptly leaves.
"What are we going to do with this food?"
"Leave it on the porch?"
"We can't do that! Some animal will come eat it!!!"
"Okay go check and see if the door is unlocked."
Yes...I just got thrown under the bus...in front of the firing squad...however you want to say it. I will be the first person shot and killed. You would think that thought alone would be enough to make me not do it but NOOOOOO! Right to the door I went and it was unlocked!
I. Was. Shocked.
So, I open the door and yell for the old man and get nothing. Beth is behind me yelling too. We want him to know it is us entering so he doesn't kill us. Oh hell, who am I kidding!!! I was taking a pretty good chance with my life just by entering without permission no matter WHO I was. I see the old dog laying in the other room, to old to come greet us even though we called him by name. I take my bags of groceries and set them on the table and Beth literally steps inside the door enough for the screen to shut behind her. She isn't about to step any further. For obvious reasons, ya know! Okay, groceries on the table and cards laid on top. Let's get the hell out of here!
As we exit the home, we see this little chihuahua looking dog walking away from the house, looking at us like "What are you doing there and who are you?" Our first reaction was, "OH MY GOD. DID WE LET A DOG OUT???" We walk toward the dog only to spook it and it takes off on us. So we jump in the car and follow it, freaking out the whole time, knowing we are going to die for this one. It stays on the block but it knows we are wanting to get it so it keeps out of reach.
We cruise the town for a while, giving it time to go back "home." If home is where we thought it was. We came back around about 10 minutes later to find the dog in the yard at the next door neighbors house so we pull in and I get out. The dog takes off. I knock on the neighbors door to ask him if he knows if this is the dog in question. We take off down the back yard and he says he doesn't think it is but he isn't sure. His wife isn't home but the dog will come to her at any time. He told me he would have her check when she got back.
I called our boss because I knew that he knew what the dog looked like. I told him what had happened, because at this point I thought WE had let the dog out, and his response was "YOU WENT INTO HIS HOUSE??? YOU DON'T EVER JUST GO INTO HIS HOUSE!!" Well bossman, it's a little late for that info, don't you think??? He describes the dog and I'm pretty sure I went pale. I hang up and I call my cousin, who lives down the street. She describes the same stupid dog we are seeing! Ugh, seriously!!??!!
Is this really happening? All we wanted to do was take some damn food to these people!!!
We drive some more and start tearing the scenario apart.
#1: We couldn't have let the dog out because I checked as I walked in and there was no dog in sight, except for the one in the other room. And when Beth came in with me, she shut the door behind her. She would have noticed a dog by her feet. Heck, with her grace, she would have tripped on it!
There was a note on the table about the Methodist Church women bringing food. We are throwing them under this bus. If anybody let the dog out, it was them. Not us. We are going to hell, I tell ya.
#2: The neighbor had told us what the dog's name was and when we called it, it looked at us like we were nuts. Don't go there. I had already considered that we were!
#3: They take that dog everywhere with them.
I finally jump out of my thoughts enough to see that we are headed south.
"If we keep going, we are going to end up in Creston."
"So what. We are panicking now and we need to figure something out. We have nothing else to do but think this thing out so we can drive."
I am anxious and my stomach is in knots. Beth is anxious and she wants to throw up.
"We are almost to Creston." And it is amazing how fast we got there because as panicked as were were, she only drove 49 mph! Yep, you read that right. We were getting passed left and right. It was something straight out of a twilight movie!
"Good. We are driving by every funeral home in town until we find him. And then we are driving by to see if that damn dog is in the truck."
Guess what? His truck wasn't at any of them. We checked every restaurant that I had ever heard him talk about, with no luck. Isn't it funny that when you are looking for a certain color and type of vehicle, that's all you see??? Now that I think about it, we did not go through the Walmart parking lot! Seriously, why didn't we do that???
Time to stress eat. Get me to a Taco Johns and fast! I need some comfort food. A tasty "last meal" if you will. As we get our order and pull away, a light comes on in my head.
"DUH!!! His dad's house! Go to his dad's house! I know that is where they would be!!" I turn to uncle Google to find his address and when I spoke his name into my phone, I got everything from where to find turtles to where to take diving lessons. Don't ask. I don't even know. Took me a minute or two because it's hard to type into your gps when you're stuffing your face with comfort food all the while wondering who is going to show up at YOUR funeral when you get killed for all of this.
Found the house and no! No old man there either. A couple of other vehicles which I assume are his dad's and maybe his sisters but not his. At this point, I only care about his vehicle. Now why didn't we just stop and ask his sister to call him and ask?? Why, at 11:30 at night did I just think of that?? I'll tell you why. Because I was stressed to the hilt at this point!!
"Let's just head back and see if they are home yet. It's 8pm and this man doesn't have a life. He has to be home now." Northbound we go.
#4: "I just remembered something key! That dog we were chasing around is a male. I saw him piss on a mailbox post. It was most definitely a male. Not sure why that didn't register with me before."
HUGE sigh of relief! I know why it didn't register before. It was because we were scared for our lives. Okay, we did not lose old man's dog. And then Beth says the one thing I did not need to hear. "What if that dog was his dad's dog? We all know his dad had a dog and don't you think he would bring it home with him?" I'm not sure I've ever wanted to hurt someone so badly in my life as I wanted to hurt her then. How dare she put that thought in my head? The old man loves dogs more than people on ANY given day. Oh. My. God. What have we done?
I would be lying if I said that we didn't do a lot of praying while riding around in that car tonight. With the thought of impending doom closing in on us at every turn, I wasn't even sure praying was going to help us.
We get back to Orient and don't see one sign of the dog. And the old man isn't home yet either. Oh my god!! And of course, by this time, I either need to puke or poop. Not sure which but I am so sick to my stomach that I know something needs to happen.
"Look, we both know this man well enough that he would not leave his dad's dog in his house, knowing people would be coming by with food and stuff, taking a chance that the dog would escape. We just know better. The dog has to be at his dad's and I'm sure his sister is staying there." Yep, that has to be it.
"AND, we both knows dogs well enough that as skiddish as it was outside, it wouldn't have come "at us" to get out the door as we went in. It was clearly terrified of us." So we went home. We do not have a phone number for the man. I am not sure what I am going to do. I may have to make a trip in the morning to find out for myself. There could be a trip to jail and a restraining order in my near future. My boss is going to love this. If you love me, you will have bond money ready.
Wish me luck...however I decide to proceed. And thanks for reading. It could very well be my last post! HA!!!
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