In the height of a busy period of the day we ran out of a vital coating. I could point fingers. Blame could be put on ‘the corporation’ for their estimation of supplies used guideline being faulty. I’m one of those people who typically goes with the gut and out right notion that I know what we use and what is necessary to have on hand for back up. No matter. We ran out because I didn’t order enough supplies. Today, an order will be placed for monthly supplies. That, however, doesn’t help us YES-TER-DAY!!

So, we had a major failure and I kept apologizing to my co-workers for not having the supplies on hand. It’s a first in my career as manager. With the closest location being about 30 minutes away, there was a waiting period until one associate could get there and return. Great.

Then, I get a phone call from Mancub. He’d gone to Illinois Weslyan University with a group of kids and teachers for a sports experience day. His teacher was bringing him home since I was working. He called me when he arrived home, but he wasn’t quite home. He forgot his key and the hidden key was not in its spot. When we were having our pipes replaced I had given it to the contractor and, SURPRISE! failed to return it to the hiding place. Mancub was locked out of the house which meant I had to leave work to let him in.

Great.

Bonus on that was getting a hug from him after having such a crappy day.

I headed back to work and all seemed to be running smoothly again.

That is until …

One of the retail associates dashed into the lab slightly panicked. “I need your keys! I have to close the gate .. .someone has a gun!”

Wait. What? Where the hell are my keys?

Apparently, there was someone spotted in the mall wielding a handgun. It wasn’t Paul Blart who told us, mind you. A father with his toddler was running out of the mall and gave us warning about the possible gunman. After 20 minutes of hearing nothing from the mall security, and watching people come in and out of the entrance near our store, the Segway cruisers finally locked the doors. One of our customers had returned to pick up her glasses when a loud, verbal exchange was heard between security and the alleged gun carrier. 

The entire time I had positioned myself out of view in the back of the lab. Our retail associates and the customer adjourned to the hallway out of sight from any activity going on. After about 5 minutes, the customer insisted on being let out of the store. Apparently being shot was better than our company.

The whole time I was communicating via Facebook and texts. Still, there was no word from security. Some stores had lowered their gates, while others remained open. A friend with a scanner said nothing was being reported. We never saw police.

When I saw a little girl outside our store window with her mom buying gumballs from the machines, I figured it was OK to close up shop and get the hell out of Dodge.

Here’s what I learned from this terrible day:

• When you know you’ll use more supplies than the ‘company’ says you will, go ahead and order what your experience says you need
• Mall security is about as effective as a posse of toddlers on tri-cycles
• Just when you think your day couldn’t get worse, it can, but at least you weren’t the target of an alleged gunman
• Be grateful when your son forgets his key and you get an unexpected hug after a shitty day hasn’t ended. It might very well be the last one you get.

I joke around that I’ll be working for this company until they put me in the ground, but I never thought I could literally DIE there.

Yesterday presented a serious challenge for me as a lab manager. When promoted, I told them, prior to accepting the position, that I was NOT a mechanic. You see, short of complete rebuilds, we do our own maintenance and repairs on the equipment used in the lab. In our employ was a gentleman who could fix just about anything. He retired leaving me with my own resources.

Ugh.

Since he left the company in late December, nothing terribly challenging has presented itself. Light bulb replacement; calibrations; fluid refills. Nothing major. That is until a vital piece of equipment was displaying signs that a complete breakdown was imminent. Without this machine we are rendered useless and a lot of customers would be tremendously upset that we couldn’t deliver the product in a timely manner.

I admit that the part was ordered two weeks ago and that I had been procrastinating. But the noise given off from the machine was deafening.

Wearing my son’s cargo pants and a shirt I cared little about getting greasy, I reported to work two hours early after seeing the dentist (that’s for another post). Having spoken with a technician at our diagnostics office, I felt less than confident in pulling this repair off. However, nothing ventured; nothing gained!

Ugh.

I knew 3 massive bolts had to be loosened. The first one broke loose easily. Hooray! The second one not so much. WD-40 to the rescue. While that was seeping into the crevices and doing whatever the hell it does, I replaced a rubber collar that had a split in it. Of course, out of 16 hex-screws, the last one would NOT budge. Bloody hell!! With a little ingenuity, I made the part fit. Neener neener, stupid hex-screw!

Twenty minutes later I returned to the bolts I doused with WD-40. The second one budged with a little elbow grease.  The third one was in a spot that didn’t allow me to create enough torque with the hex wrench and pry bar. Double ewww tee EFF!!! The flipping hex wrench kept flying off and dropping to the floor. Already positioned in a tight spot between the ginormous machine and the wall, I bashed my skull into the corner of our safety unit that holds the Health and Safety Manual and MSDS binders. Ironic, don’t ya think? With a window nearby that gives customers access to seeing and hearing what is going on in the lab, I attempted *cough* to be aware and not shout expletives. I may have failed miserably. At one point I saw stars and thought there would be a trickle of blood on my forehead. Yes, I nailed my noggin that hard. I was too angry to cry.

I kept lamenting loudly, “I AM STARTING TO FEEL DEFEATED!” toward my co-lab tech. While she couldn’t help me physically, she did cheer me on with words of encouragement.

Various positions were attempted to break the bolt free from the housing. This included standing ON TOP of the machine, back on the floor but propping my left foot against the swing arm while, with all my strength, yanked on the makeshift lever. FAIL!

I must not go further without pointing out that I am right handed and my right arm has reduced strength due to tendonitis or some other sort of itis that induces pain and the inability to fully unbend the arm.

Finally, with a hammer in hand and the hex wrench in place, I used the claw and an edge of the bracket to pry it as if it was a nail in the wall. It worked.

I swear to you at that moment a choir of angels sang. Just the removal of the bolts took me about an hour and a half. That’s about how long I had hoped the entire process would take. Remaining was dismantling, replacement and reassembling. THEN, calibrating.

It was all downhill once the 27 pound part was pounded out with a rubber mallet and a lot of grunting, primal yelling etc… It was VERY therapeutic.

By 1:20 PM, the deed was done. My body was drained, but my confidence was soaring. While I do NOT ever want to have to do this again, the action of doing it leaves me feeling extremely empowered. It also puts a feather in my cap as a single woman. I’ve been the home carpenter, mover, spider killer, mouse trapper all while putting on make up, getting pedicures and wearing pink glitter lip gloss.

I DID IT! In fact, an email was sent to my regional manager expressing just that. “I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF!!!”

The beast above is what gave me such trouble. It’s a about a foot long and heavy as hell.  Above it is the mallet which allowed me to make that cylinder my bitch.

And now, a musical dedication to my inner Super Woman. I’m standing on my own two feet!  They say behind every great man is a great woman. Well, I stand with myself and my sisters who are doin’ for themselves!!

So, Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. I’m tappity tap tapping this out on Monday the 13th. For anyone who knows me personally or simply via the internet, you are fully aware Cupid hasn’t had the best aim in regards to moi. The last “relationship” I had was doomed from the start. The word relationship is in quotes because it was far from being a full-fledged combination platter of boy meets girl; boy asks girl to be his one and only. It was clear after a couple of dates that he was too immature to realize that devotion doesn’t begin with the parting of the legs. See ya, losah!

I’m not really turned off of the concept of love and all the shmoopy-face stuff that usually comes with being in a relationship. That snarl and turned up nose look you see when someone mentions Valentine’s Day is just part of my middle-aged, bitter hag schtick.

The songs you see on this post today are ones that popped into my head, and for some reason or other, hold significance in my life.  For instance, when the first tune, Old Fashioned Love Song, was popular on the radio I thought it was David Cassidy.  Remember kids, videos were not around. We had to wait for a band to appear on a variety show to see them … or go to a concert. I was all of 10 years old. That wasn’t happening.

This song is just fantastic, isn’t it? I first saw the Defranco Family on American Bandstand. My sister Mary had the 45. If you’re too young to know what that is, Google it. Back to the song. It encompasses all the ooey gooey feelings when infatuation first strikes. It’s fabulous. I mean, that is what I have heard about falling in love.

Let’s bring it to the ‘80s, shall we? This song was popular during a period of time when I attended Kankakee Community College. There was a guy with great biceps and happened to be much taller than I. He had a way of walking that made it appear he was on one of those moving sidewalks in the airport. Literally, his gait was smooth. It fascinated me. Well, being too young for the bar scene and living in a town that offered very little for teens, we would cruise the square in search of thrills. It was rare for us to ever stop. We’d just ‘woot woot’ out our car windows and keep moving. Personally, I was too awkward to form a cohesive sentence around the opposite sex. Not much has changed. I seem ballsy on the internet, but it’s an act. That is a tidbit probably better not shared, eh?

Anywho, back to the song True. Every time it came on the radio, I knew that this smooth walking guy would make an appearance. Once, while going to Arby’s, the song was playing. Sure enough, the guy in question was in Arby’s, too! This sort of phenomenon convinced me that it was fate he and I would date. WRONG! He had the hots for my friend’s friend.… she was bow-legged.

OK, ladies, who didn’t absolutely love Jack Wagner on General Hospital? Did you swoon and turn into a puddle on the floor when he first sang this on the show to Felicia? I think it’s safe to speak for all of us that is a big affirmative.

When the Jack heyday was basically fizzled and we’d moved on, my brother and I had gone to a Chicago Sting (soccer) game with our parents. Jack Wagner was performing after the game. Dad had no interest in seeing him, but little bro and I hung around to witness Mr. Wagner live. What followed during the performance would bring sneers and “shhhhhh” aimed at my brother and me. We were hooting and hollering like stupid fan girls. Squealing “we love you Jack!!!” We giggled until it became apparent it would be best we bid farewell to Frisco.

There are thousands of fantastic love songs that I shamelessly croon along to when I’m in the car. Not in the shower. Believe it or not, shower singing isn’t something I do much. Romance isn’t lost on me. It’s just a waiting game until it finds me. That is all. Until then, and possibly during and after, I will continue to carry out my down with love state of mind for public consumption.

Ooh, speaking of down with love …

And I cannot possibly end this post without sharing one of the world’s most ultimate love medleys… also starring Ewan McGregor.

and then there is this one from the same soundtrack

Which leads to this song. I love it beyond comprehension.

See, I am not such a bitter, frigid cynic after all

For what it’s worth, it makes me weepy every time I attempt to sing along.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

The last couple of weeks and the weeks forthcoming are nuts. Crazy. Stressful. This is a button that should be prominently displayed on my person at all times.

Valentine’s Day. Blech!

A DAY. One unit comprised of 24 hours. That’s enough. But now I see ads for Valentine’s Week. Valentine’s Weekend.  When will it stop? Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not opposed to love or romance. Quite frankly, I’m open to both.  And another thing, please don’t tell me I have the greatest love of all.  My son is a treasure. That I’m fully aware. Cupid’s arrow had absolutely nothing to do with that unquestionable affection, either. Please don’t be condescending by reminding me that I’m loved by so many people. You know exactly what the modern Valentine’s Day represents.  Yes, I’m a tad pissy that I am without. So sue me! I’m not angry at love.  I’m aggravated about Valentine’s Day.

Something else that irks me about this holiday are the people (read women) who seem to gloat that they aren’t spending it snarfing down chocolates they bought for themselves. Great! Hooray. Her foolish hawt man bought her some romantic shit so this demanding gal won’t bitch and moan and cause him a migraine.  Ten to one says she picked it out and insisted if he didn’t buy that pricey gift then he’d get none of which he desires: The poonalalatingtang. Well, at least she thinks he’s that simple.  Maybe he is. Clearly don’t know how to unlock the mystery of the hirsute sex.  For what it’s worth, I’m not suggesting everybody who celebrates this holiday with their significant other, spouse or life partner is faking it for the bling or sexual favors.  Some of you actually pay homage to your relationships every day of the year and don’t do it for show. No, the chick I’d like to smack in the mouth with Cupid’s dirty diaper keeps a running tab in her head about what her boyfriend has bought for her. Chances are the bitch can’t afford to keep a roof over her own head let alone buy this guy a decent gift.

I digress.  I’d blame this blasted cold, but I rather enjoy venting. It’s much like a cleansing sneeze or the comfort of the aloe treated tissue on your nose when it is red and raw. Ahhhhh

So, I ask you, who decided that Valentine’s Day should be one day shy of Hanukkah? Hallmark? The Society of American Florists? Kay Jewelers? Fannie May Candies?  Is this day of loooooooooove now intended to give the economy a post Christmas shove?

I’m babbling. Perhaps my bitterness has taken a toll. I pray not. I’d like to think my book isn’t complete. I just need that special boy to help me put down more chapters.

Everyday I Write the Book

Oopsies! I went off on a tangent. Here is week one of

Speaking Words of Wisdom

Javier Bardem played the character Felipe. Yeah, it makes it all much more sexy now, doesn’t it?

I make no apologies for my opinions and how certain people grate on my nerves. I’m sure the feeling would be mutual given the opportunity. And that makes me happy.

I took that to heart with the first snowfall of 2012. A friend asked me to make a snow angel since he is without snow where he lives. A promise made is a promise kept!

“You are in charge.”

Double ewwwwwww tee EFF!!!

I’m sort of second in command, but it’s just a title thing, I swear! I can do MY job with my eyes closed and hands tied, but fill in someone else’s shoes while they are off in New Orleans for a “work related summit” is not something I can choose want to do. Damn, I have enough on my plate making sure my people do their job with excellence. Now, I have to look after the entire the shop and make sure everybody does his or her job and hits their goals and keep myself open to texts and calls even when I’m home with a glass of wine in one hand and my other on the remote control flipping between a batshit crazy housewives program du jour and prostitots and their lunatic-living-through-their-child moms.

Ah, I hope nothing drastic happens. No one better get the flu or break a limb. I don’t know why,but when I read those words sent to me by my GM via email, I immediately thought of the ‘90s movie, “Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead.” This otherwise happy-go-lucky girl is thrust into reality of being in charge of her brother and sister.. First disaster. Then, TRIUMPH!!! Movies are so great like that.

Wish me luck. Better yet, wish my colleagues luck in not seeing me pull a full-on Scanners.

Guys, don’t you DARE feel left out. You no longer have to use your pillow for … errr … make out practice. Apparently, this company is an equal opportunity loserville enthusiast.

For crying out loud! Who is this dude’s girlfriend? Florence Henderson? Mrs. Partridge? Sheesh. Finally, those ‘70s sitcom Mom fantasies can be fulfilled.

Is this guy really looking lovingly at the foam boobs?