Tag Archive | Advice

She died of a wonky heart

mended_heart-10668Today is May 23, 2016.  Three weeks ago I went to the emergency room because I thought I had a bad ulcer.  I had a sharp pain in the middle of my chest that went all the way through to my back.  After an ultrasound and an EKG I was moved up to the ICU.  When I finally saw the doctor he told me that I had a minor heart attack and I have a left bundle branch block.  The technical definition is a condition in which there’s a delay or obstruction along the pathway that electrical impulses travel to make your heart beat. Basically that means that my heart is wonky and doesn’t beat right.  So, I survived my first heart attack. Now what?  Well, I have to go see a cardiologist next week to find out if I will have to have a pacemaker installed.  “Installed” probably isn’t the correct word to use.  It makes me sound like a cyborg.

Anyway, all this has, not surprisingly, opened my eyes to my mortality.  I’m only 41, but I guess all my years of drinking, smoking, stressing, eating good southern fried foods, and generally living like there’s no tomorrow, has finally caught up with me.  To put things into perspective, I actually went online last week and created my last will and testament.  Not that I have that much to leave anyone when I die, but what I do have I want to go to the right people.  Even after being in the hospital for a couple of days and having all kinds of tests run, I still wasn’t too worried about all this.  I even went right back to work. Gotta make that money y’all.

However, a week ago I had just went to bed and as I was just about to drift off to sleep I had this horrible feeling of falling into complete and utter darkness.  It was terrifying and not like anything I had ever felt before.  It took a few seconds but I knew I had to wake up and when I did it was with a gasp that scared me even more.  Maybe my heart stopped beating for a few seconds or maybe it was just a bad dream, but either way it scared the hell out of me.  It was so vivid and real that I wasn’t sure what to think of it.

Of course I have to think that if that is what dying feels like then it’s terrifying and I don’t really want it to happen. Or at least if it happens I hope I’m already asleep and don’t realize it’s happening.  I know I don’t really have much choice in the matter so I’m doing my best to not think about it.

I know I haven’t posted to this blog since January and that’s probably because when I’m happy I don’t have as much to bitch about. 😉  And I have been very happy here in Tennessee with Buck.  I found a great job that I’ve had for almost a year now, and even though it’s probably one of the most stressful jobs I’ve ever had, I still enjoy it.  Buck makes me laugh daily and I know he loves me very much.  We’re even planning on getting married in about a month. That’s something I never thought I’d do again, but I think he’s worth it.

So that’s all for now.  I hope I’ll be able to write again soon and to keep writing.  Writing on this blog has been my therapy and a joy for me for the past five years.  I appreciate all the wonderful and supportive and funny comments my readers have left me.  I hope I have many more years of writing left in me because my story is far from finished.

Love always,

Ginger

Going in Circles

Twenty years and nine states later, I’m right back where I started.  My 41st birthday was last week.  Twenty years ago I was living here in Tennessee working as a church secretary.  Now, I’m living back in Tennessee, working in a minimum wage retail job.  Not much difference.  I deal with assholes and grumpy people all day, and the occasional nice person.  I’m ignored, belittled, and treated like a minion much of the time.  I just keep on smiling and saying hello, because that is part of what I’m being paid to do.  It’s only when one of my favorite customers comes in that I am able to drop the act and genuinely smile and be happy to greet someone.

The funny thing is, that even when I’m grumpy and don’t want to be there, I still smile and act friendly.  Even when I don’t want to.  Sometimes I just want to snap at people because they are just so damn clueless.  Because of this I’ve come up with a list of my pet peeves.  These are things that people do when they are in the store that absolutely drive me insane and make me want to a) scream, b) cry, c) throw my badge on the counter and walk out, or d) all the above.

Do:

  • Acknowledge the cashier or store employee when they welcome you to the store.  This could mean saying hello or even just smiling back.
  • Be prepared.  Have your discount card, coupons, money, and/or ID ready before you get to the register.  I’m trying to check you out in the friendliest yet most efficient way.  Please help me help you.
  • Get off your damn phone!  Do be courteous, as I will do the same.cellphonerude
  • Empty your basket.  Again, help me help you as quickly as possible.
  • Put your basket/cart back where you got it.  I sometimes give the elderly a pass on this one.shopping cart
  • Control your children.  Germs are real folks, and your children are not welcome to drool and climb all over the counters grabbing the scanner and everything else within reach.

Don’t:

  • Be rude to the cashier.  That includes being on your cellphone, not saying a word to the person helping you, throwing items or money on the counter (like throwing spare change at a beggar), and thinking the cashier is a mind reader.rude
  • Be a snob.  Just because the cashier is doing a job that you think is beneath you, just imagine what you would be willing to do to take care of your family and be able to feed them.
  • Be “holier than thou.”  One lady actually said to me, “Honey if you were perfect you wouldn’t be working here.”  I hate the Sunday crowd the most.  The so-called God-fearing Christians are usually some of the rudest, meanest, most judgmental people I have to deal with.
  • Think we’re lazy and/or not intelligent just because we are working a minimum wage job.  (At least I’m working.  It might not be my dream job, but I bring home a paycheck and pay my own bills.)
  • Give the cashier gospel tracts.  I know that you think that they might be the one in a hundred who actually reads it and finds the Lord, but no.  Save the sermons for the parking lot.  They have a job to do and taking them with a smile, then throwing away your little cutesy tracts after you walk out the door is not in the job description.
  • Tell us your latest racist or sexist or off-color joke.  You will receive the death stare.1i-chzbgr

I guess that’s all for now.  I’m sure I’ll have to add to this list later on.  Just remember to be nice to cashiers.  We have to do a lot of math and deal with assholes all day long.  On top of that we have to go around a clean up after you.  (I’m talking to you.  The ones who like to walk half way around the store before deciding they don’t want something, and then just set it down anywhere before heading to the checkout.)e4f9348b43ufq

I’ll take a beer now please.

Peace, love, & happiness.

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Gud morning (read post for explanation)

Mr. 7am is history.  Today I saw the following on his Facebook.

There were FIVE women involved in this conversation. I was not one of them. I was just an observer.

1 copy

2 copy

3 copy4 copy

“Gud”  That’s what he always says.  Drove me fucking crazy.  How hard is it to spell out “good”?  IQ not found.

He doesn’t look at his Facebook often, obviously.  He’s absolutely as stupid as I had thought.  Why else would he friend all these women who he’s fucking and then let them freely post to his Facebook page?

I know I have good pussy.  I can find someone worthy of it.

Adios Mr. 7am and your disgusting lying cheating despicable self.

And yes, I know there are names still in there, and I DON’T CARE.

Ladies, beware.  If it seems too good to be true, it is.  If he’s pretty & dumb, stay away.  If he’s always working, but broke off his ass, beware.  BEWARE.  Don’t be a dumb pussy.  Be a smart pussy.  Kick those jackasses to the curb & move on!

Sorry.  No fucking happy humping on this post.  Hump at your own risk.

The case of the missing condom

Late Easter Sunday night my phone rang.  It was my sister.  “Hello sis.  So…Bitchboy came over tonight,” she said.  Bitchboy is her new plaything.  He’s a 28-year-old self-absorbed redneck who is quite possibly bisexual.  He’s cute though, and therefore fun to play with.  So he went over to her house last night and they had a little play time.  Evidently half way through the condom came off.  Of course my first question was if the condom was too big for him.  She swears that wasn’t the problem.  Since they were half way in through they didn’t bother looking for the condom right then.  He put another one on and kept right on going.

surprisedwomanAfter they finished they started looking for the missing condom.  It was nowhere to be found.  They checked the bed, under the bed, under the pillows, and still couldn’t find it.  Then it dawned on my sister, and Bitchboy, that the condom might still be inside her.  Not knowing what to do, Bitchboy pulled out his phone and started Googling it.  He found out that if the condom is not removed rather quickly, it can cause an infection.  So she went to the bathroom to go on a condom hunt.

She couldn’t feel it or find it.  The condom must have been deep inside, and she assumed it was because he was hitting the “back wall” if you get my meaning.  He must have pushed it so far in that she couldn’t reach it on her own.  The only other thing to do was either to wait and see if it came out on its own, or go to a doctor to have it removed.

Funny-condomWell, once Bitchboy left my sister called me and told me what had happened.  At first I tried to be supportive and helpful, even doing my own Google search.  I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was a little worried and even more embarrassed, but we were still able to laugh about it.  Especially when I asked, “How in the hell do these kinds of things happen to us?”

I really didn’t know what to tell her or what advice to give her.  The only thing I could suggest was for her to do jumping jacks to try to jog it loose.  Unfortunately, she said Bitchboy had already suggested that.  After some more research I found a page that suggested propping one leg up high on a counter or something so that the condom can more easily be retrieved.  So it seemed that yoga may be the answer…or not.

Fuck-Yoga

Since neither of us had any good ideas about how to retrieve the missing condom, we decided it would probably be best if she just had a drink and then went to the doctor the next day, if it hadn’t made an appearance before then.  I said goodnight and good luck.

Seven minutes later she sent me a text that said, “Got it!!!”  I guess the jumping jacks worked.

Happy humping! (Never stop searching.)

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Customers of the week

Pissed-OFf-Girl[1]A chubby little girl about 8 or 9 years old came into the store with her dad.  As I was standing at the register I heard someone saying, “Hello?”, and then a few seconds later, again I heard, “Hello?”  This continued for a good minute and a half.  I looked over and the little girl was standing in front of the wall of house phones, picking up each handset one at a time and saying, “Hello?”  After picking up about six of the phones, she said, “Hello?  Oh, hi.”  Umm…who the hell was she talking to?  LOL

The other customer of the week was a nightmare customer.  He came in the door wobbling around, barely able to stand.  He then carefully placed a large black trash bag by the door.  As he walked toward the counter he was trying to tell me what he needed, but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.  Once he got to the counter I understood why.  He was drunker than a teenage girl on spring break.  I could smell the alcohol from five feet away.

K-95PKI asked him again what he needed, which for me means me saying, “I’m sorry…what???”  What I really wanted to say was, “What the fuck do you want you drunk old man?”  However, my customer service training forbids it.  Instead I patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts and words, and to dig something out of his pocket.  As he fumbled around I began to get nervous and backed up a bit.  He must have noticed because he said, “Don’t be scared.”  That right there…made me scared.

He kept saying something about needing a charger.  I thought he meant he needed a charger for his phone, especially when he pulled out what appeared to be a hot pink old-school type cell phone.  I was wrong, very, very wrong.

He set it on the counter and I picked it up to see what kind of charger it needed.  It didn’t look like any phone charger I had ever seen, so I told him that we would probably have to order a charger for that phone.  Then he said, “Oh, that ain’t no phone.  That there’s a taser.”  Oh, my, God.  I immediately pushed it away from me (on second thought that probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do).  He picked it up and said, “Yeah, this thing has one million volts.  I’ll show you.”  I quickly said, “No, you don’t have to do that! I believe you!”

My pleas did nothing to stop him from demonstrating the awesome power of the pink taser.  He discharged the damn thing within three feet of me.  I jumped back reaching toward the aluminum baseball bat that sits behind the counter.  Fortunately I didn’t have to use it.  I kind of blacked out after he set it off, and I only remember trying to not piss my pants while simultaneously trying to get him the hell out of the store.  I felt like I was having a heart attack and a panic attack all at the same time.

girls-with-guns-27Once I had managed to order his charger and collect his money and get him the hell out, then I was able to breathe again, but barely.

The next day I told Bossman about the incident and he said that he was going to update the security system and put in a panic button for me.  Well, it’s about damn time, I thought.  Too bad it took me nearly getting tased for him to do it though.  It’s times like that when I really miss my Saturday night special.  Oh well.

And one last thing.  Unfortunately Hamster, my co-worker of nearly a year now has moved on to another better paying, more convenient job.  God bless him.  Now I have no one to accuse me of looking at porn on the company laptop, or ask me who I’m dating this week, or to talk to about customers once they leave the store.  So needless to say, he will be greatly missed.  In honor of Hamster, I’m dedicating this post to him, even though he’ll never know it.

Happy humping & stay safe!

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