Take Your Dog to Work Day
Friday was Take Your Dog to Work Day. I took Lady to work with me. Didn’t work out so well.
One of the rules of TYDTWD is that you must not create a problem in your workplace. If anyone objects to the dog, the dog can’t come to work. Doesn’t matter what the objection is. The workplace is where the workers have to be, but the dog doesn’t. The dog can stay home. The workers don’t have that option, if they want to get paid. I thought no one would object, as this year was the third year at that company that I will have participated, the boss has never minded as long as I kept the dog under control and there were no “accidents”, plus both of my co-workers have dogs. And love dogs.
So.
Lady and I were there about 30 minutes when one of my two co-workers, the one who previous to this incident has shown common sense, decency and a consideration for other people, e.g. the one who got my boss to take me to FastER care when my chest pains and shortness of breath got very bad one afternoon, showed her ass. She came flying down the hallway, couldn’t wait to tell me this, and these were her exact words (names redacted):
“Just so you know, [other co-worker]’s all wigged out about the dog.”
That was it. That was the message. So the dog is causing a problem. Okay, then the dog goes home. I said as much. It wasn’t a huge problem, I had to go back to the house to pick up Otis to take him to the vet for a blood glucose check and my heretofore trusted co-worker had agreed cheerfully to dog-sit while I did that. But now Lady is coming with me, because someone objects to the dog’s presence.
Turns out that wasn’t exactly what my idiot co-worker’s objection was. I didn’t find that out until much later. Turns out she was concerned that I hadn’t cleared the dog coming to work with the boss.
Not that she confronted me about this directly. Oh, no. She whined about the dog to my formerly trusted co-worker, who couldn’t wait to pass on the garbled and distorted message to me.
It’s like working with 13-year-olds.
I took Lady home, picked up Otis, took him to the vet where his blood glucose read nearly 600. Yikes. So he’s up to 5 units of insulin every morning. He was getting 3. We’ll have to monitor him carefully, as when he was on insulin before his blood chemistry shifted, he didn’t give any sign — until the night he crashed and went into seizures. We do have Karo syrup and NutriCal handy for that event. Which will be fine, as long as we’re home when it happens. That’s what worries me, that he’ll crash and we won’t be there to help him.
My formerly trusted co-worker informed me Friday afternoon that I was being “childish”. The definition of “childish” including being concerned with a co-worker’s objections and trying to keep the workplace on a professional level. I think she was upset because she wasn’t going to get to dog-sit. And that’s unfortunate, but harmony in the workplace — as much as it is possible — is more important than her getting to dog-sit.
Tomorrow morning we all go back to work. That’ll be fun. You may not remember back this far, but in junior high and high school, the girls’ cliques would shift and change, and whenever one of them was on the “outs” with the others, the others would huddle and say nasty things about her. That was going on between those two all day Friday. That’ll continue, until one of them pisses the other off and then they won’t have anybody to dish to. God help the one who tries to dish with me. I don’t play that game.
Good times. How’s your life going?
For When Your Neighbor Is A Jerk
Found by way of Patterico. An Australian dude of great perspicacity deals with a jerkish neighbor. It’s Teh Awesome. Put your drink down first. Also, strong language alert.
No, You Can’t Make People Pay for Political Activity
Found by way of Patterico.
Seems the unions lost their attempt to continue to force non-members to pay for political activities. This interests me because, beyond the obvious, I wonder if this decision will affect the National Association of Realtors® and their increase of dues last year to the tune of $40 to fund political actions taken on behalf of NAR.
NAR says their raison d’être is to serve their members. This is my opinion, mind you, but after several years of personal observation it’s my opinion that that assertion is complete BS. NAR is all about continuing their own existence; they don’t give a rat’s patoot about their members, except where their continued “support” by paying dues is concerned. That they care about.
Anyway, I’m wondering if anyone’s going to press-to-test on this one, to stop NAR from using members’ dues to pay for their political activities. We’ll see, I guess.
While Standing At the Gas Pump
Litigation has forced some really weird warning signs on us. Ever read the signs at the gas pump? The other day, I did. Don’t know why, usually I just look past them, but that day I read the warning signs. No cell phones, beware of static electricity, no open flame (is that one really necessary? Are there really people out there who might fuel up their vehicles while waving lit torches or cigarette lighters around?), no appliances.
Appliances. Appliances?
I guess it would — or should — go without saying that traveling around with your washing machine, clothes dryer, refrigerator, and/or dishwasher is logistically difficult. And even if you had one or more of them with you, would they be operating?
So, what are we talking about here? Blenders? ‘Cause it’s such a shame to waste time at the gas pump when you could be whipping up a batch of margaritas. Or maybe it’s hair dryers. ‘Cause tending to one’s coiffure is best done while standing at the gas station.
You can’t fuel your vehicle while using an appliance. Good to know.
DCI
Drum Corps International. Ever heard of it? Here’s a link.
Last summer a fellow band member had a son in the Madison Scouts. This summer his youngest son is in Carolina Crown. Bonus: He’s blogging about it.
Last night we went to see the first night’s performance in Akron Ohio, which was filmed and shown in a limited release in some movie theaters. Josh’s parents were able to spot him pretty easily — he’s just to the left (from the audience’s viewpoint) of the bass drum to the far right. Anyway, it was stupendous, although not as stupendous as seeing it live.
Really, go to DCI’s website (here’s the link again). There are videos, although as I said there’s nothing like seeing it live. It’ll blow your hair back. Check the schedule and if you can make a show, do. You’ll be amazed. These kids are Awesome.
What a Great Idea
Taking the Velvet Revolution Back
Anything I can do to help. Found by way of Instapundit.
Facebook. Jeez
Pointless grousing commencing now. Move on if that sort of thing annoys you.
Note to everybody on Facebook: I didn’t share your post because I’m for child / spouse / animal abuse, against a cure for cancer, not willing to share my Facebook page with Jesus, and I don’t love my husband / sister / brother / cousin / mother / father / aunt / uncle / whatever. Also, I’ve refused your request to join Lucky Slots, Birthday Calendar, etc. because I’m a jerk, and not because those apps insisting on access to my personal information is unnerving and I’m not fond of the idea of viruses being downloaded onto my computer when I log into Facebook.
Of course.
Jeez.
Rant over. Go back to what you were doing.
In Other News
I went to my appointment with the cardiologist this afternoon. No stress test today, just a chat with the doc, then an EKG, then an ECG, then they saddled me with a heart monitor.
The EKG revealed, the doc said, something odd. Something electrical, left ventricle (I think), reduction in voltage expected but didn’t occur. I have no idea what that means, or if I remember correctly what he said. Also something about reverse T-waves. He said it might have to do with the way the leads were placed, so don’t get concerned.
Well, it’s not his heart, is it? You know what they say — a minor heart attack is one that happens to somebody else.
The ECG indicated things are okay, and he had the sound on a few times, whenever he moved the little device he was using to bombard my cardiac area with sound waves. It sounded kinda cool, sometimes like somebody slogging through some really wet mud in rain boots.
The heart monitor was moderately entertaining for about ten minutes. Now it’s just a pain. And I have to write down every freakin’ thing I do for the next 24 hours. Sitting. Standing. Eating. Going to the bathroom. Oh, crap, I forgot to note that I was blogging.
I keep wondering what else this little device is recording. I talk to myself a lot. Hopefully this isn’t recording the stream-of-consciousness drivel that comes out of my mouth whenever I’m not in earshot of anyone else. Or think I’m not.
What fun. I take it back tomorrow afternoon. Can’t wait to see if anything shows up. Hopefully it’ll be treatable. Stress test is scheduled for the 18th. Whee.
I greatly admire people who can come up with stinging repartee just when it’s required. I can’t. I can come up with stinging repartee 30 minutes after it’s required, but that’s no help.
Go here to see how to handle stupid jerks in the grocery store. Cable Guy With Sleeves is Teh Awesome.
Put your drink down first.
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