It’s clear your ex didn’t treat you as well as I treated my ex. However, please do not bring your baggage into this relationship. Please save your drama for times I can do something about it. Like when we are at the dealership for regular service.
I’m not happy that you refused to start the other day. It seemed like it was your battery or starter. In case it was the former, I haunted the nearest intersection until I found someone with jumper cables.
While I was searching for a person with jumper cables, an asshat parked next to me. Why would you do this?This looks like some strange R2-D2 proboscis.
When that didn’t work, I was forced to tow you to the dealership. Jeff, the service guy, is getting used to that kind of call from me.
You are an impressive young woman. I was shocked and tickled when you called me this morning to clarify my address before heading over. No, I don’t live in a condemned house on Coleman Street, so it’s a good thing you double-checked.
I like that you are Type A like I am.
And I like that you are a woman who is a chimney sweep.
That’s rare. And very cool.
Then this conversation blew my mind:
Me: “You probably get this all the time, but you are giving me a Scarlett Johansson vibe.” You: “I do get that all the time. And I also model.”
Whaaaat?
A female chimney sweep and part-time model? You are FANTASTIC!
THEN we had a very girly conversation about spa services, and you gave me the name of your aesthetician.
I’m sure it was just another day for you, but it was a GREAT day for me.
I’m going to have to ask you to stay in your lane.
Spiders, please stay out of my basement.
Squirrels, please stop looking in my bedroom window.
Birds, please don’t come into my house.
I got home last night and opened my front door to get the mail. One of you flew in uninvited. Then had the nerve to fly upstairs.
My dustmop and I followed.
Luckily, your fowl emissary was smart. He (she?) settled on the floor. I gently placed the dustmop on top of him (her?) until I could grab a hand towel. I wrapped the scout in the hand towel, and we both went outside.
My niece said she thinks it’s a House Sparrow (which would be appropriate) or that I’m a Disney princess.
I had to make your rep skedaddle by flapping the towel.
But why? There’s nothing for any of you inside. No supply of worms. No room to fly high. No comfy nest.
Stay outside!
This is not the first time you outside critters have been lured by the great indoors, though. In my first apartment in Savannah, a rat came up from the dumpster outside. (I lived above a famous Southern restaurant. Loads of food waste.)
Luckily, my friend Brenon was on patrol with an ax handle. He went ham. Sorry, Remy.
That was the same night my immediate downstairs neighbor dealt with a bat from the chimney. And the neighbor below her had a random cat in heat show up.
Rat. Bat. Cat.
What’s up with that?
Anyway, you stay in your habitat, and I’ll stay in mine.
In my last post, I noted some, um, issues with my move — issues beyond those caused by the seller, my neighbor. Your moving company caused additional agita.
Let’s start with the fact that you were supposed to send three guys between 10:30 and 11:30 a.m.
I was there waiting at the storage unit by 10. I left just before noon to go sign the closing papers. My saintly realtor took my place while I was closing.
We had no way of knowing that you meant 10:30-11:30 Hawaii Time.
Your guys showed up just after 3. And there were only two of them. And these two had been on two other jobs previously. So they were tired. Moving SO SLOWLY. Great for you as you charge by the hour.
🙄
Footage of your movers “in action.”
For THREE HOURS, you promised me that two more guys were coming. When they finally showed up, one left immediately. Again, third job of the day. The other stayed, but complained the whole time, talked to his baby mama on the phone, and barely did anything. And he was wearing slides. SLIDES!
Night fell.
I was DYING.
I couldn’t stand it. I started helping.
Yes, you read that right: I was paying your company to move my stuff, but I put myself to work.
My bruises are proof.
You sent two more sloths workers. Around 8 (8!), the storage unit was finally empty.
Let me remind you that one man, one woman and four teenage boys loaded the same size truck in less time than your “professionals.” And for the price of Zaxby’s.
Then it was time to unload at my house. Angry man left. The others stayed. Actually stepped up the pace. They wanted to be done as much as I wanted them to be done.
Everything was in a bit after midnight. MIDNIGHT, MIKE!
But then I overheard the two original guys talking about how they were going to get home. They don’t have cars. Their buses weren’t running. You — their boss who had scheduled them for three jobs in one day — told them to figure it out themselves. An Uber would be very expensive.
Sigh.
I drove your employees home, Mike.
Josh was going to walk back to just outside the Central West End. He apparently walked to work — a three-hour journey.
I don’t know how Jeff was going to get back to Washington Park, ILLINOIS.
I got back home around 3 a.m.
I think you should have given me a massive discount, but you didn’t.
I think the money I spent should go to your employees, but it won’t.
You thrive because you pay them $14 an hour, no benefits.
I told Josh and Jeff that Target pays $15 an hour with benefits.
I hope they take my advice.
More advice to anyone who will listen: Don’t use your company.
Gideon and I look happy. Of course, I took this just as we arrived. Ignorance is bliss.
Dear Six Flags Management:
My son and I visited Six Flags Over Georgia yesterday. A Saturday in June. We must have been high to think that was a good idea.
You can’t do anything about the sun or the heat, but you CAN do loads about the rest of the experience.
My complaints fall into three categories: customer service, your app and basic human needs.
1. Customer service
You have none. Not a single person working there wanted to work there. That was clear. And some who were “working” were not.
Case in point: Macho Nacho.
We went into the restaurant at 1:14 p.m. — prime lunch time. Though there are two sides, only one side was open — despite the fact that there was food out and ready to go on the unmanned side AND you clearly had the staff on hand.
A few minutes later, four employees came in with Icees and stood around watching the others work.
It was at this point that I went partial Karen and emailed guest relations.
Meanwhile, my son faded into oblivion.
One other thing: If you are going to advertise that you have guacamole, please have guacamole.
2. The Six Flags app
As I am a diamond member, you send me surveys all the time. You always ask about the app. I always tell you it sucks.
Why? It’s useless. It doesn’t provide any information you can’t get inside the park all over the place.
You know what makes a theme park app useful? Ride wait times. Every other theme park app has them.
Not yours.
Plus, you have to have cell service to use the app. Service in your park is nonexistent. And your WiFi?
Right.
One of the incentives to use the app is the chance to earn points with checkins. (What these points go toward is a mystery, but whatever.)
Great, right? Haha! No.
“Too far away?!” I’m IN THE LINE.
3. Basic human needs
People need food, clothing and shelter.
I would argue that you deprived us of the first for longer than necessary (see Complaint No. 1).
No. 2 is not applicable here. I live in the South. I know how to dress for a day at the theme park.
No. 3, though, is applicable when it comes to the rides. There is no reason you can’t have canopies over the lines for the rides.
We wanted to go on the Goliath, but the wait time appeared to be an hour in the broiling sun.
I would argue that hand sanitizer is now a basic human need. Why have sanitizing stations when you don’t fill them regularly? We tried five before we found one with fluid.
Also bathrooms need to be stocked with toilet paper. I can’t believe I have to tell you that.
After one ride and lunch, we were ready to leave.
Gideon: I’ve had enough for today. Let’s go and come back on a weekday or some night. Me: Good plan.
Please don’t send me an after-visit survey unless you really are planning to implement changes.
I need you to calm the F down right now. I’m not sure why you feel the need to clamor for my attention, but perioral dermatitis is not a good look for me.
I guess I should be happy I can hide it behind a mask right now.
But I’ve been dealing with you on and off for three years.
These are all the options I’ve had over the past three years to fix you.
The latest dermatologist said that this flare up was NOT due to my nickel allergy, but to the ointment the prior dermatologist told me to use.
She was horrified when I told her I was using it twice a day every time the rash popped up again. As instructed.
Fantastic.
I’m on a new antibiotic and have a new cream to get you to settle. But she said you would get much worse before you got better.
She was right.
I can’t even wear makeup right now. #nofilter Clearly.
When did women sign up to be house managers? Hint: We didn’t.
Maybe in the Cleaver-style 1950s, things were more equitable. Men worked. Women stayed at home, raised the kids, and kept house. But now most women have full-time jobs and STILL have all the things to do at home.
Yes, there are exceptions. Yes, I’m oversimplifying. Yes, yes, yes.
But still my point remains.
I know you want to @ me with sentences that start with:
“But not all men … “
“But what about … “
“But I do … “
Please don’t.
Look. Listen. I’m sure you are lovely and think you are an equal partner.
But I bet you are not.
Ask the lady in your life. Listen to what she says.
Now that I’m conscious of mental load, I notice things I never noticed before. Gender roles are so ingrained.
A couple of weeks ago, we were visiting the house where my sister in law is staying until she gets her own place. It’s the home of a lovely professional couple. We were all outside chatting: three male adults, two male teenagers, three female adults. The lady of the house was being a good Southern hostess — getting drinks, bug spray, snacks, etc. My SIL disappeared. I found her in the kitchen alone making dinner. I rolled up my sleeves and started helping. We were in there working on dinner for about two hours while the guys had a nice chat outside.
To recap: Women inside making dinner or serving snacks/drinks. Men outside relaxing.
To be fair, when my SIL asked a couple of the men to help with one part of the dinner, they did.
But they had to be asked.
Now reread the article I linked.
That’s right.
Now do you see?
I thought you might.
Thanks in advance for taking on more of the mental load. Your partner will appreciate it.
Observe and report 