Breakin' Up Is Hard To Do...Well, Not Really

After the last class I taught for GCUO, I decided I wouldn't teach for them anymore. The experience is best summarized by a phrase The Man uses in describing why he doesn't like to eat Cornish hens: "Too much work for not enough meat." The GCUO students seemed to be functioning in the borderline intellectual range and hadn't clue one about the rules of grammar, spelling, scholarly discourse, et cetera, and were deeply offended when I had the gall to point out their errors. Such flaws would have been more acceptable if the class was a freshman level course, but I was teaching seniors who were theoretically ready to graduate. When I received the email to teach for them again, this is what I replied to the class scheduler:

Hi Faceless Corporate Drone,

I tried to access the GCUO website to decline this invitation to teach, but was unable to do so because once again the server is not functioning properly. This email serves to notify you that I will not be accepting any further contracts from GCUO. I teach 3 sections of undergraduate psychology at the local community college (2 live and 1 online). Those 3 classes combined don't require as much effort on my part as 1 GCUO course. The compensation is also better and I have fewer students, far fewer restrictions and no micromanagement regarding the way I run my classes.

I did the math for the last GCUO class of 20 students. With each student paying $1685 per course, that generated $33,700 for the university. It seems a little unfair that the hardest working person in the loop - the faculty member - received only $1,150, including the $100 bonus for having more than 18 students in the class. That's less than one student's tuition for the class, and what I make in one day in my private practice - which incidentally also requires less effort than one days' work at UOP. I didn't work myself nearly to death to earn a doctorate for the privilege of working for less than minimum wage and while being micromanaged in the process. It's no wonder the university is constantly searching for faculty. Once instructors figure out the hoax, the logical choice can only be to cut one's losses and move on.

Have a great life,
Dr. Brainiac

All the faceless drone at corporate had to say was this:

Hi Nerdwina,

Thank you for your email. I manually declined the class for you and forwarded your email to payroll to inactivate your faculty status.

Please let me know if you have any questions.

Have a great day,
Faceless Drone


Her response just affirms my decision to work for myself and serves as a reminder that I don't have to settle for anything less than what I deserve in any area of my life. I worked too hard for far too long to accept anything less than every good thing the universe has in store for me.

Narnia - Worst Band Trip Ever

I'm just not a cold-weather person. However, I agreed to chaperone The Girl's spring band trip to Winter Park Colorado. Everyone told me how much fun I'd have skiing and when I mentioned my complete distaste for the cold unless it involves a frozen cocktail they all said, "Oh, but it's a DRY cold. You won't even feel it!" What a load of overcooked horse shit! This poor tree was standing upright and looked like it belonged on a Christmas card when we arrived. By the time we left, it had snowed so much, the poor thing looked like it belonged in a Tim Burton movie.

We aren't even going to talk about the 18-hour charter bus ride with the old lady passing the most noxious gas across the aisle from me the whole way, and the failure for the driver to remember to stop for meals. It snowed the whole time we were there, but let me mention that Winter Park is 12,060 feet above sea level. That's more than 2 miles up, folks. Guess what! There's no fucking AIR up there! The first day I couldn't walk more than 10 feet without stopping to gasp for breath. I felt like I was hungover from a 3-day bender and ready to pass out any minute. I knew I wasn't going to be able to even attempt to ski that day because I couldn't get my breath and felt cognitively impaired from the lack of oxygen. Nevertheless, I was fitted for the hundred pounds of ski accoutrements (60-pound boots, 40-pound skis and the ski poles that kept flying everywhere in part because they were astonishingly light in comparison to the other equipment and in part because I don't know how to handle them), and lugged them back to the condo - stopping to hyperventilate every 5 feet because now I was loaded down like a pack mule. We went to the ski village, but I just ate lunch and went right back to the condo so I could make some attempt at adjusting to the altitude, although I never really did all 5 days we were there - and yes, I drank water constantly and it didn't help. I can't tell you how many times I thanked myself for quitting smoking 12 years ago.

While I was vainly attempting some semblance of recovery by wheezing on the condo sofa, and watching the snow fall, which left me even more out of breath, The Girl took the ski class and attempted the first bunny slope. It took her an hour to get down and she hated every minute of it. Immediately upon reaching the bottom, she went straight to the ski rental place and returned her equipment, telling the folks there, "Thanks, but this was NOT fun. I'm more of a margaritas on the beach kind of girl." That night, she got sick - as in riding the double-decker porcelain bus sick (<--concurrent diarrhea & vomiting which requires one to sit on the toilet and vomit in the trash can). The next morning was the competition, but she was still sick, so we called her band director to let him know. He sent up Pepto, which she took and promptly shat back out. Needless to say, she wasn't able to perform at the competition that morning. We spent the day in the condo. She slept and I read a couple of novels and watched the snow come down while practicing my new hobby of asphyxiation.

The next day we both felt a little better so we rode the shuttle bus into town for some shopping and Indian food. It was interesting to notice that the other passengers on the bus who were geared up to ski did not look like they were having fun. In fact, they all looked pissed off. I kept thinking, "Isn't skiing supposed to be fun? These folks don't look like they're having fun at all."

In town, I found a place that sold a tiny bottle of "rescue oxygen" but it was $40 and we were going home the next morning so I didn't buy it when I saw it, thinking that maybe another shop had it cheaper and if they didn't, I'd just come back later. I couldn't find another store that had it, and by the time I got back to the original store, they had closed for the day. By that time I was willing to pay triple that just to get a few moments' relief.

We went back to the condo so I could return my ski equipment, which had sat unused in the condo since I dropped it off (<--read: threw it in the floor) the first day. I thanked the rental guy for the room decorations and he seemed surprised that I never made it to the slopes for all that big fun everyone else was having. Nevermind that in addition to anoxia I was also freezing my ass off the whole time, despite wearing no less than 3 layers of clothing plus a jacket and a coat at any given moment. Later in the day, we attended the awards ceremony, which was fun, even though it was still snowing. There were kids from all over the country. One of our choir girls was selected to sing the national anthem for the opening of the ceremony. Both our band and choir received superior ratings and best in class awards. The event coordinators held a big street dance for the kids and I went to dinner at a little BBQ joint while the kids danced, mingled and made new friends. I drank a DrPepper, ate about 5 pieces of okra and half a rib and started to feel nauseous. I thought I was going to hurl on the walk back to the bus but managed not to. By the time we got back to the condo half an hour later, you guessed it - it was my turn to take a spin on the double-decker porcelain bus. Let me state that I just don't get sick other than a cold once every 18-months or so. On the even rarer occasions when I throw up, usually it's a very quick, small and quiet affair. Not this gig. No, I was throwing up with a volume and profusion I didn't even see during morning sickness. All. Night. Long. I was so weak and breathless that I didn't think I was going to be able to get my luggage downstairs to the bus but somehow I made it. So, trash bag in hand, I snagged the seat closest to the toilet on the bus just in case I needed to continue with the previous night's festivities. Oddly enough, no one wanted to sit by me once I explained my malady, so I had the luxury of having 2 seats to myself for the ride home, which lasted another 20 hours. The highlight of the trip was seeing one of my favorite actors, Billy Bob Thornton, at The Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo on the way home. That's him in the ballcap kneeling on the front row. Although there was much discussion of mustard, please be proud of me for not saying, "Fuck me Santa" in front of the kids, because I reeeealllly wanted to.


We didn't make it back to Fundietonfieldvilleview until 4am and didn't make it home until nearly 5 after unloading the bus and driving home. I had to be at work to teach at 8am & The Girl had to be at school at 8:30 - "or else." Fuuuuck. At least we could breathe and were through gagging, shitting, barfing and gasping. It took another 3 days for my lungs to not be sore anymore. I'm just glad to be back home, well, and able to breathe again.

I Heard the News Today, Oh Boy...

Well, I heard last week anyway. The letter read something like, "Dear APPLICANT, The Great State of Texas is pleased to inform you that you have received a passing score on the oral examination for independent practice in psychology." After the ordeal I've been through, I made quite the ruckus screaming and crying and swearing and dancing and swearing down the driveway from the mailbox toward the house - until I read further:

"Now, if you will kindly fill out another 36-page pile of paperwork and send us yet another ridiculous pile of money we'll be happy to get that final piece of paper you need to work independently to you in - oh, say another six weeks or so."

*sigh* Talk about bittersweet. It's a neverending fuck-with situation, isn't it? Seriously the story of my life since 1997 has been "Hurry up and wait." Fuckers.

So that's what I've been doing - tracking down signatures and getting all my proverbial shit in one sock so I can send said piles to Austin - so I can wait some more.

oh joy.

So Long Suck Ass Year

2008 Sucked great big fat green donkey dicks. So much went wrong (hence the lack of blogging - I didn't want to bore you with the whining), yet somehow we managed to keep our home and family together. I'm so happy it's over and am looking forward to a brighter 2009. I'll re-take the oral licensing exam Saturday in Austin. Hopefully by Valentine's Day I'll be able to remove my training wheels, fly solo, and not worry about having to work under someone else's license - particularly those someones who forget to pay me for months on end.

Don't get me wrong. 2008 wasn't all bad. There are a number of things for which I am grateful. We have been blessed with good health and it's pretty clear by looking at us that we aren't missing any meals. I can finally tell the Grandtwins apart by looking at them. The Girl kicked ass as drum major, made All-Area band again and will try out Saturday to get into the All-State gig (yes the same day I do my orals - just 1 hour south of home instead of 3). The Man has decided that since he can't get a job anywhere he and our son in law (super-awesome guy, BTW) are going to start their own business repairing Ford vehicles in our barn. I have my own office in the next town over and have already seen 2 patients there in the 2 months since we took possession. My business partner is about to finish her PhD but already has her LSSP so we'll be able to do whatever we want pretty soon.

Things are happening and I can see wonderful opportunities on the horizon. This time next year I'll be in a whole different place financially and emotionally and maybe by then our business will be doing so well that we can afford at least a part-time clerical person.

Remind me to post pictures of the new place...

Anticlimactic Acceptance

Okay, so yesterday I received an email from Giant Corporate University Online that I've finally passed muster and have been accepted into the loving arms of the faculty body. The process, beginning with the request for my resume May 16, has been ridiculously long. I have participated in nearly six months of "training," including several ever-smaller classes and finally teaching my first undergraduate class with someone watching over my shoulder. The last part was a good thing because I had an experienced faculty member to mentor me through the process.

Don't get me wrong. In this economy I'm happy to have another dribble of income. Every little bit helps and I'd really like to keep my car and keep The Girl's tuition current. The Man still isn't working, hay season is over, and we're living off of savings and 401K. We're not starving but that pool of money isn't unlimited. I'm working the community college gig again - 2 Psych 101 classes early MWF, leaving me the rest of the day to see patients or whatever. It's a fun job and I've done it enough now that the class basically runs itself. I have full autonomy to run my classes and my policies as I see fit and can be as hard ass as I please. Interestingly enough, the students meet every challenge I set for them and all of them say I'm their favorite instructor. The GCUO job pays a little more and I can do it in my jammies, but I have to do things in such a politically correct manner and have to worry about the faculty development team snooping around looking for things to hold against me. It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you...

The thing is, I'm just not excited about GCUO. The students didn't seem to have a clue about academic rigor, the importance of using APA format when writing papers (in pursuit of a psychology degree!? -SERIOUSLY??), or even what constitutes a scholarly reference. A couple of the students were adequate but most of them needed to go back to junior high to learn how to write - and use spell check - and follow instructions. They got mad when I insisted that they learn to use the library system, maintain a high level of academic integrity, and do their own work without the expectation that I hold their hands or do the work for them. Then they whined about what a big fat meany I was when they were surveyed. --Yes, GCUO sends out customer satisfaction surveys to the students - and oddly enough their survey responses held a very strong positive correlation to their grades - go figure. The experience reminded me of a phrase I heard once, "Never try to teach a pig to dance. It wastes your time and annoys the pig."

The next few months are going to find me launching my private practice and I may be scraping for patients at first. So I think what I may do is just teach a GCUO class here and there when I need extra cash and wean myself off the corporate teat as my business picks up. At least I'll know up front the challenges that I'll face in dealing with students in a university with an open enrollment policy and no placement tests to sort them by academic level. Send positive energy my way. I'll need it.

And They Wonder Why We're Pissed

more music charts

More and more often as I go about my day I hear words like "taxation without representation," "mutiny," "Boston Tea Party," and similar language that is usually associated with the general populace growing increasingly weary of getting screwed over by big government. Isn't a break from a bloated and greedy ruling class the impetus for the beginning of what used to be the greatest country in the world - the country formerly known as the United States of America?

Graph shamelessly hijacked from GraphJam.com

Is The Effort Worth the Reward?

The final task for this week's training at Giant Corporate University is to summarize the learnings for the week. I couldn't write there what my real take is on the situation, but I can share this "real" interpretation of what I wrote there with you because I know you understand.

Dear Diary,

Although there are some exciting and significant developments in the works for my real job, this has been a shitty week at Giant Corporate University. One of my colleagues has no command of the English language and tries to use words that she clearly doesn't understand in her communications, making her writing unintelligible. I can't even respond to most of her posts because I don't know what she's saying, and am not sure she does either. This was the self-appointed leader of our team. Sigh. As the type who will usually go along to get along, I just let her do her thing, even after she used her caps lock key on me and another guy when we weren't going by her schedule (a schedule that we didn't agree to in the contracting process, I might add) but what I really want to do is hunt her down and kill her with my bare hands for butchering my native tongue. I have plenty of IQ points to spare, but I fear giving them to her would be a waste because she already thinks she's intelligent and knows everything. Tragic she's unaware of her deficit.

The facilitator is barely present, and leaves very short, almost cryptic messages when she is in forum. After several days of wondering whether my posts met criteria and no responses to communications for clarification from at least one of my colleagues, out of the blue my indicators of success mysteriously appeared. This reinforces some of my recently learned professional lessons that sometimes learning what "not" to do is just as important as learning what to do.

Even though technically we're supposed to have 2 days off per week, I'm finding myself working every stinking day. Since the first day of the course is a wash because there's no way to earn the necessary participation credits because there's nothing to respond to but introductions, which don't count, and there was something due every other day of the week, that means that GCU is turning into a 7-day-a-week job for which I'm still not getting paid and I'm starting to build more than a little resentment about the situation. I worked too hard for too long to get where I am today to be anyone's slave, especially when there's no guarantee of employment at the end of all this prattling on about nothing of real substance. I keep trying to remind myself that it's not the end of the world if I don't get the job and it may be a blessing in disguise if I don't since the pay isn't much more than minimum wage because Giant Corporation keeps most of the money. If I don't get voted off the island, I'll get about what one student out of the 20 pays to take each class I teach. There are 80-zillion programs out there and the more I get to know this one, the less I'm liking it.

Speaking of work, I'm finding most of the assignments to be asinine busy work. Every night I troll through what everyone else has said looking for some nugget upon which to expound my personal and professional wisdom (providing I have any, of course). There doesn't seem to be a clear criterion about what is considered acceptable so some folks prattle on and on and don't say anything. I've probably been guilty of that, too just because sometimes there's just nothing to say.

Also unrelated and twice removed but not really, I thought this component was supposed to be specialist training. I don't understand why I'm the only psychologist in a class full of nurses, IT guys and teachers. I'm not stupid - it's clear that this is still more generalist training. Any posts relating to my specialty area have come from me. Or maybe they're thinking of the other kind of specialist training.

Only one more week. Let's consider it an exercise in frustration management. Thanks for the vent.

Breathe...

4 Months From Now

Sigh. Here I sit trying to cobble together enough business every month to pay my bills. Altogether they aren't much really, but I thought seriously that I'd at least be making a living wage by this point and could contribute more to our family expenses. As it stands, I have what amounts to a handful of part time jobs, none of which pay worth a crap because they're kind of on an on-call basis, and the people I work for have pretty crappy reputations, so the referrals aren't coming in like they used to, so I'm not getting called as often. Granted part of the problem is that some of the referring agencies are at the end of their budget year, so they should pick up a little after September 1.

The good news though is that four months from today, my postdoc year (read: indentured servitude) will be over and I can start my independent professional life on my own terms. Sure I'll be slogging through the Medicare and insurance provider paperwork and trying to get established in my own practice with all the headaches and bills that entails, but at least I will be working under my own reputation and license, not someone else's. The better news is that I am already beginning to establish my own reputation and relationships with the major referrers in the region. They like my work, they like me personally and they have made it very clear that they want to know when and where I hang my shingle. It just can't be done until after the licensing paperwork is completed. I'll mail it December 4. Last year when I filed my provisional paperwork on the same date, it was approved December 31. Of course I didn't get the confirmation for a couple more weeks, but at least I got it.

The training for the giant corporate online university feels oddly like American Idol. There ended up being 378 trainees in my entry level class, then I was assigned to a group of 1o. Within the first week 4 of them dropped. Of the remaining 6 only 3 of us were in the same entry class so there was at least one other huge ass entry class somewhere. The training itself seems like a lot of busy work, but they have selected me to continue on to the next stage so that's good, I guess, except so far I'm not seeing a lot of attention being paid to academic rigor. After the next 2 weeks in developing syllabi et cetera (mind you I've already been through the first 2 weeks so in total this will be a full month of "training" i.e. working for free), the next stage will see me actually teaching a class with an instructor's instructor who can give me feedback on how I'm doing. I appreciate that. I will get paid the full rate for a doctoral level instructor for teaching that class, but that won't happen until the end of September. At least it's something to look forward to, but there's no guarantee that I'll even be offered a position until after the class wraps up in mid-to-late October.

Still no word on whether or not I'll be teaching at the community college again, and class starts in 3 weeks. The Psyc/Soci instructor/coordinator guy left in May, which is why the division chair asked me to apply for that job, which I did immediately - in May. Now the division chair is leaving so the two top leadership positions in that area are vacant, and nobody's saying a word. I'm debating whether to shoot a friendly email to the human resources coordinator to check on the status of my application.

The good news of the whole thing is that at least I'm 2/3 of the way through the postdoctoral purgatory year and that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Take one look around and you can see that nobody's starving around here. We still have a roof over our heads, the lights are still on, and I still have stuff I can sell on eBay. I can do anything for 4 months. However, if you know the money fairy, could you send it my way? Kthxbai.

No Kidding...

see more politics and fun!

They Can't Be Serious

There are 13 days left in the school year. The Girl had to be at school 30 minutes early today to attend a mandatory assembly regarding the proper debarkation of school buses in the event of an emergency. The Girl only rides the bus ten to fifteen times a year - mostly to and from band events since she transfers into Fundietonfieldvilleview ISD and their buses no longer run past our house (they stopped 2 weeks after The Girl transferred in, despite over 30 years of prior daily drive-bys, but that's another story). However, there are plenty of other kids who ride the bus to and from school every day plus to and from band or other extracurricular activities and have been doing so since school started back in August. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't this morning's festivities have been presented at the beginning of the school year - or am I the stupid one here?

Dear Receptionist Person

The fact that you only make $6 an hour is no excuse for your glaring lack of professionalism. The office in which we work is staffed with no less than three people who hold doctoral degrees, not just the one whose name is on the door. When you speak to one of us directly, please feel free to call us by our first names - we all have to work together and we prefer to keep things collegial. However, when speaking to patients or agencies about us, please refer to us by our correct professional title: DOCTOR Insertlastnamehere. We all worked very hard to earn those degrees while you were off smoking hashish in the woods somewhere frying your brain cells to the point where they no longer function adequately. To refer to us by our first names undermines our professional credibility with both the patients and the agencies that refer business to us. Between the paper thin walls, shabby worn-out 1980's furniture and the appearance that it is a public health clinic rather than a private psychology practice, this office has enough professional credibility problems as it is without you adding to them.

When I make a request in a polite fashion (speaking slowly because your brain is fried like your overbleached hair that's far too long for a woman of your years), don't take it as a personal affront and go whining to the boss, "Do we really have to do that?" Yes, you do because that is what a professional office worker does. If it's necessary to tell you again, I can't promise to be so nice. Then again, you probably won't understand a word I have to say because of your limited vocabulary and insistence upon behaving like some cutesy little 7-year-old girl - even though you're 52.

Oh yeah, and it's a PSYCHOLOGIST'S office. Why the hell do you and the office manager wear nurse's scrubs? It's not like you ever even touch the patients.

Every day I come up with a new rule about what my practice is going to be like. It's shaping up to be the opposite of whatever you are.

Overheard In a Restaurant

I was lunching solo in a restaurant the other day and overheard a conversation between two fine, upstanding Texas Ladies that went something like this:

"Natter natter natter bitch McCain. Natter natter natter. Bush natter but Obama bitch natter natter and that Hillary? Well just prattle natter bitch, bless her heart."

"Really? Well, bitch prattle natter rattle Obama, but then again bitch bitch prattle Hillary natter rattle prattle. But then again, I don't vote."

Sorry dumbass. If you don't vote, you effectively forfeit your right to natter, prattle or rattle - much less bitch about the political process. It's people like you who have done your level best to fuck up the country. Why don't you help unfuck it up for a change? Get your ass to the polls and vote.

Meh.

I really don't have anything to say. That said, I leave you with this cryptic hint:

Hobbled

I apologize for not posting much of late. A lot's been going on. I've been waiting patiently for my provisional license paperwork to go through since early December. It finally came in last week. The state board will even allow me to sit for my final oral examination for full licensure while I'm finishing my postdoc year. Since they're only conducted in January and July, I've sent in the money (while I still have some) to sit in July . That way come December 4, I'm ready to practice on my own. I even got to pick my specialty area - neuropsychology. That's the good part.

The bad part is that I can't do a damn thing with a provisional psychology license, even though it's supposed to be a step up from the Associate's license I've held since 2004. Despite the fact that I've been doing neuropsychological and psychological assessment for the last six years and have somewhere in the area of six thousand hours in practicum, specialized clinical training, research practicum, internship and doctoral research, without that last piece of paper apparently I still don't have enough experience to do anything without having my hand held. Part of what my postdoc is supposed to entail is testing geriatric patients (my area of expertise, by the way). These people inevitably have Medicare. After wading through the national Medicare website and the state Medicare website for what feels like months and not finding information relevant to the questions I had, I was randomly picked to participate in a survey. Several of the survey questions dealt with the type and relevance of information that came up in the search results (1 search term = 10,000 irrelevant hits, 2 search terms = 20,000 irrelevant hits), the availability of customer support (nonexistent) and how satisfied I was with the service overall (yeah right). I posted my unvarnished opinions - in polite language, no less, gave them my contact information, and hit "submit."

The next morning a customer care representative named Jennifer called me from the state Medicare servicer. She was very sweet and polite and not at all the typical government drone. She actually wanted to help. I explained to her that the information I was finding was inconsistent and confusing and that I was frustrated with the process. She apologized and said that unfortunately, my complaints were not at all uncommon, in fact they were the norm and she knew what a joke it all is. She didn't know the answers to my questions, and didn't know where to find them, but wrote them down to go ask her supervisor and called me back within ten minutes.

Turns out that of the 3 separate sets of Medicare Part B paperwork, that I have to fill out all 3 and my boss/business partners also have to fill out all 3. That's 9 iterations of the same information. Yes, they'll be submitted in triplicate to the Department of the Office of the Division of Redundancy Department. That's irrelevant right now anyway, because with my license I can't bill Medicare. I have to be fully licensed to bill Medicare, or anyone else, despite the fact that had I pursued an MD which is a lower degree, and easier and faster to obtain, I would be able to bill Medicare with my provisional license. Stupidheads.

Why did the great bloated and lumbering government bureaucracy cross the road? Who knows? Why the hell do they do anything?

Now I can still do the testing, as long as my boss is actually in the next room (nevermind that I've done it for six years already - mostly in a public hospital, so I've Seen. It. All.), but I can't bill for my time. He can bill for me at half the rate, noting that the testing was done by a "technician," then turn around and pay me an as yet to be determined flat hourly rate as an employee. Granted, this frees up some of his time to test other patients, but we were planning for me to go out and do rural geriatric outreach. He can't be two places at once so that's out and now I have to come up with a Plan B so that I can get some money coming in. I can't wait until December to start getting paid. I like my car and want to keep it. That old Merle Haggard song, "If We Make It Through December," keeps running through my head. Most of the work I've done in the last six years has been unpaid but now that I've gotten the PhD, the student loan fairy doesn't come here anymore.

The Man, who is officially retired now and also has no foreseeable income, was great about it though. When I told him, I was really expecting much grumbling, bitching and blaming along the lines of, "Spent all that money and worked your ass off for ten years working for free and now you have the doctorate and you can't get paid? Why couldn't you just stop with a bachelor's degree like normal people?" et cetera. Instead, he shocked the hell out of me by putting his arms around me and saying, "Sorry about that, Babe. We'll make it. We always do." This is true. I've soldiered on through far worse than this - and for longer than 10 months. I'm trying to be pissed off about not this latest wave of bullshit to slog through, but after blasting through four degrees and nearly a quarter million dollars in ten years, more than anything I just feel empty and frustrated and hobbled. I've already let the student loan companies know that when my payments start coming due in late May, that I'll be needing those deferment papers immediately because I can't pay what I don't have. Sigh.

So this is where I explain my blogging silence of late, dear readers. I've been busy looking for a job that I can get paid for doing. I've put in applications to teach psychology at every possible online university I can think of, and some more that I'd never heard of. I even put in an application at the university where I earned my BS degree to teach there, which I wasn't planning to do for several more years - like after I'd gotten my student loans paid off and was getting ready to retire from clinical work. It was the only one that really looked promising. University policy is to throw away incomplete applications. There were 17 applicants and of the 17, only one other person besides me submitted all of the requisite application materials. The other person only has a Master's and is ABD in a PsyD program. That position doesn't begin until August. I've also called one of the docs I worked under during my internship. My friends who still work for her say she's begging for people to do testing for the neverending parade of people applying for social security disability and Texas Rehabilitation Commission benefits. She has 14 therapists sharing 4 offices Monday through Thursday, but I'm going to see about going in on Fridays and Saturdays when the office is officially closed to do the evals. We'll see. Cross your fingers that the "get paid for working" fairy pays me a visit.

The First Week of the Rest of My Life, or Funny, You Don't LOOK Like a Doctor

Man, have I been busy! While I was waiting for permissions guy, I remembered that I never did complete "Neuropsychology 101," and thereby complete the neuropsychology concentration certificate program I was taking concurrent with the PhD. The visions in my head showed me, a few years down the road, applying to take the neuropsychology board exams so I can put ABPN behind the PhD and officially be able to call myself a neuropsychologist. The rejection letter read something like this: "Dear Schmuck, We've noticed that you have extensive advanced coursework in neuropsychology in addition to impressive clinical work in practicum, internship, postdoctoral fellowship and specialized clinical training, but you never took Neuro 101. Sorry, but you can't be in our club. Thanks but no thanks, Neurodudes." Considering that boards like that are always looking for reasons to not let people in, I didn't want to take that risk. Besides, I was instrumental in getting the neuropsychology concentration off the ground and was the first president of the neuropsychology student association, so what kind of model was I presenting to those who came after me? Soooo, I asked the much-beloved professor about what to do and he was still willing to allow me to phone in my work. I didn't realize it would take 2 hours, but it's finished. I even got an A.

I got tired of waiting for "permissions guy" (since I was only asking for permission as a professional courtesy as the work is in the public domain), and sent my dissertation to the printer for the final copies. I've done business with these people since The Girl was a baby, back before I had my personal shopping business. When Arlene called to tell me the copies were ready to pick up, I asked her how much I owed, and she told me that she only charged me 7 cents per sheet, as if she had run them on the copier, not on the printing press, using the heavy 25% cotton bond archival quality paper. When I got there, she added the official original signature pages and lovingly shrink-wrapped each copy. She even had a shipping label ready for me. When we taped up the box, she said she had something else she wanted to go over with me so we went inside and she pointed out the shredder - then promptly stuck my invoice into it and refused to allow me to pay because she and her husband are so proud of how far I've come.

(A proud Arlene with the final copies and the UMI forms.)

I went straight to the post office to mail that bad boy off and get it out of my hair fo'evah and couldn't stop smiling while I was in line. Surely I looked like some kind of lunatic, but I didn't care. The clerk asked me how much I wanted to insure it for and I asked her how one places a value on 7 years of your life. It cost $40 to ship via express mail, but it was worth it to know that it would be delivered no later than noon PST Monday December 3, thus marking the officially official final and terminal no shit, for real, honest to GAWD end to my status as a student. I don't know about y'all, but I felt the gravitational pull of the earth shift as the weight of that thing slipped from my shoulders.

Meanwhile, The Man was celebrating his last day in the workforce. His coworkers were having a happy hour for him after work so The Girl and I went to a new restaurant in the town where Suz & I grew up. As soon as I got a taste of that first margarita swirl, I knew she & hubby needed to join us. Then, they made some seriously awesome guacamole at the table and I was hooked. Now that The Girl is fully licensed to drive, I could have two margaritas because I didn't have to worry about driving home.

So Saturday, we traversed to a town about 100 miles away for All-Region Band tryouts - she on the bus, me in my car so I could escape & get lunch. I was recruited to be room monitor for the clarinet room and was thrilled beyond belief that I didn't have to judge flutes this year. I wasn't prepared for the ensuing boredom though. To keep myself entertained, I was making faces, chair dancing, checking email & playing Bejeweled on my iPhone - anything to stay awake. No, the kids couldn't see me - I was sitting behind them. Over in the flute room, it may come as no surprise that The Girl was kicking ass and taking names. She made 5th chair Symphonic band, which means that she gets to advance to All-Area auditions next month. All four girls ahead of her are seniors so look out next year. I am so proud of my Girl. She never ceases to amaze me.

Sunday found me beginning the purging process in my office. I began with the closet from hell, which really looks like an annex of Staples more than anything else. I took everything out

and put it in the middle of the room, which was already pretty crowded.
I've sifted through every piece of paper from 7 years in gradual school, the soap business and every other aspect of my life. In addition to the 3 bins I've already done and the 1 left for me to go, The Man is finally going through all of his mother's papers now that he has time. She was a professional patient so we have boxes of her "sensitive medical information" dating back to 1976 that need to be shredded. It's beginning to sound a lot like Enron around here with all the shredding.

Monday I met with a colleague of mine from school to discuss a business venture that ties her internship, my postdoc and our future private practice all up into one tidy package - with lovely ribbons and bows. More as things develop, but let's just say the prospect is very exciting and that I'll be living one of those, "I made ridiculous amounts money working part time from home doing what I love," infomercials. Later in the day, I found out that the final copies of my dissertation landed at the school about the time we began our meeting. The university officially can't ask me to do Another. Fucking. Thing. Ever.

Tuesday morning found me finishing up the paperwork for the provisional license. I was also doing more sifting and shredding of paper. Tuesday evening we went to The Grandtwins' Xmas pageant at school. The contemporary praise music feel of the thing really didn't do it for me. At. All. The kids were cute though and they were proud of their performance, which was, thankfully, short.

Wednesday Mom & I went furniture shopping - finally. We've only been trying to go since I painted the living room. We When I got home and told The Man what & where I'd found what I want and when we have an appointment to go see the salesperson, he asked, "Do I have to go? Just go get what you want." Which led to a rather heated conversation (on my end) about how it was my understanding that my job was just to go narrow it down to a couple of options then we would decide together and that if I had known he was just going to tell me to get whatever, I could have handled it right then and there instead of having to make 2 trips to a store that's 80 miles away. Needless to say, he will be joining me at 10am tomorrow to select from the finalists.

Yesterday, The Man & I went to the new office of the practice where I served my internship to pick up a little cabinet and the neatest little fold-out table that I used for testing. When it's folded up, it looks like a little cabinet, but it has a secret. It was the perfect table for the micro-space we had in that office. I don't think anyone has dusted either of them since I left, even though it looked as if everyone and their dog were using them. When I tried to slide out the little table though, one of the hinges was bent and the support wouldn't slide out. Pissed me off, but The Man helped me bend it back so that I can slide it out. I'm going to leave it out for awhile & maybe it will stick. If it doesn't I'll just replace the hinge later. Still, what the fuck is wrong with people that they tear stuff up then don't offer to fix or replace what they've damaged?

Today I'll finalize the shredding and sifting in my office, list that Treo on eBay and make some soap. It's nice to have less clutter in my space.

After all that, I have to start preparations for a midwinter party we're having next Saturday. There's plenty of cooking and baking and cleaning and shining of stuff to be done, but I've still not gotten over the feeling that there's no more academic writing to be done. How long does it take for that go to away?

That's all I know right now. Gotta scoot - there's more shredding yet to do.

Love,
Me, Ph.D.

Another Snag

Just when I thought I was done... The proofreader's corrections have been handled and my dissertation is ready to publish except for one huge detail. I needed permissions from 3 people to use graphics and a modified table from their research in order for UMI to publish my dissertation. I sent emails asking for those 2 & 1/2 weeks ago when I found out I needed to get permissions for these (why someone -anyone- didn't clue me in to that little nugget months ago, I have no idea). Two of the people responded within an hour of my initial request and gave me permission not only to use their work now but in the future in the event I go completely insane and decide to do more research based on my results. Nice huh - even though monkeys are more likely to fly out of my ass than I will voluntarily engage in more research. The third guy is seriously pissing me off. After 3 emails and a voicemail from me, plus a voicemail from him Monday morning apologizing for the delay and promising said permission by the end of business Monday, I still don't have it. It's not like it's a difficult process. Because of today's reliance on electronic communication, all he has to do is reply to one of my emails and say, "Yes, you have my permission to use this table in your published dissertation." That's it. It took him longer to dial my phone number and leave me a message than it took to type that sentence. I can't start my postdoc and get on with the rest of my non-academic life until I have that permission, get the thing printed and the final copies land on the dissertation coordinator's desk at the school.

What the hell is it with people? You know, this is America - everyone is so busy they can't find their own asses with both hands - EVERYONE! Sadly, such the nature of our society. Some people adapt and overcome and get things done anyway - especially no-brainer stuff. Others, use their particular level of "busy" as an excuse, when in reality they're no busier than the next person.

All is not lost though. The work is in the public domain. I was just asking permission as a professional courtesy. I'm giving him until tomorrow. If I don't hear from him by then, I'm citing it as such, getting the damn thing printed and moving on.

Night of the Living Stupid People (aka Popcorn Diaries Part Deux)

Okay so yesterday there was this big email discussion going on - without everyone in the loop - that we were going to table the fryer discussion yet again. This was after we had already voted on it unanimously with one abstention, which counts as an "Aye" according to parliamentary procedure. There was a statement made that we were like kids in a candy store and were spending too much money - none of this of course was said to either the concession chair or me, who is just a helper and shows up to do what I'm told which is usually take care of the popcorn and snowcones and be sure to put an article about the band in the newspaper every week. Once I was forwarded this long and asinine email string which I won't include here, and had some time to think, I chimed into the discussion (probably to the dismay of everyone else once they get to work this morning and start checking email) and I told them exactly what I think. I tried to remain calm and just state the facts but here is my reply (let me know if you think I've been too harsh, wouldja?):

M, thank you for including me in the loop. This appears to be a
discussion that should have included everyone from the beginning. Here
are some general observations I've made in the course of all this
nonsense. To preface my statements, I want to make very clear that
secrets, lies and not talking about what everybody knows but is afraid
to say is not helpful to anyone. Please be advised that I am not
writing anything here that I would not be willing to discuss with any
of you face-to-face and welcome your input if I have misperceived
something.

First, let me remind everyone that our purpose in having a band
booster organization is supposed to be about helping our kids. Please
ask yourselves: how is all of this bickering and infighting helping
our kids? Are you so accustomed to fighting that you don't know how
not to bicker and fight, even over things that should be a non-issue?
--Or are you so accustomed to scarcity and lack that you fear every
nickel we bring in is going to be the last one we ever see? Investing
in equipment is just that - an investment that will help us do our job
as a booster club better by allowing us to make more money because
we'll be able to serve our customers better. If we're not feeding the
people, we're not making money. If we don't have adequate and
functioning equipment, we can't feed the people, therefore we can't
make money. It's that simple. It's not rocket science and shouldn't
need my Mensa card or my PhD to understand.

We are making more money in the concession this year than has been
reported in the last 4 years. This is curious to me, considering that
food costs have only gone up, and we're feeding the same old crowd,
but with no appreciable changes in menu pricing. Is all of the
controversy supposed to serve as a smokescreen for something else? I'm
just wondering because everything isn't adding up.

Considering the money we are bringing in, and that we allocated $2000
for a new fryer last year, it would seem that we can afford to spend
more on quality - as we voted and approved - instead of the usual
"WalMart Fall Aparts" that have been purchased - and repurchased - and
repurchased ad nauseum in the past. If you buy quality to begin with,
it costs less in the long run because it isn't necessary to constantly
replace or repair it. Again, it shouldn't take a PhD to understand
that. As much fried food as we sell at every game - well in excess of
the $600 purchase price of the big fryer we voted for and approved
Monday - it will pay for itself in less than one game and be around
for a very long time because it was designed to handle that kind of
volume. When Santa (or the Easter Bunny or whatever imaginary friend
you choose) doesn't come, we'll still have adequate equipment so that
we can feed the people and therefore continue to be able to make money
-uninterrupted and without controversy or additional expense for
several years. If by some miracle the school does come through, we can
sell a nearly new commercial fryer for nearly all of what we have in
it. We'll get nothing back from a nearly new home fryer. I'm not
holding my breath though, considering that they've been promising the
choir similar improvements since that building was constructed and
clearly those improvements haven't happened. The 10, 14 and 15 pound
fryers were presented at the meeting two weeks ago when D and I
initially presented fryer information - the 20 pound just gives us the
most bang for the buck so that's what we voted on - unanimously, with
one abstention, which counts as a Yes, according to parliamentary
procedure. I think the bylaws say that once we've approved something,
we're supposed to follow through. It doesn't make sense to continue to
throw good money after bad, because that doesn't help our kids.

There is no "kid in a candy store" situation here unless you count the
ventahood that was purchased on an "executive decision," without a
vote, sight unseen and without having done any research into what it
was going to take to install it. Boy are we all getting an education
in electrical engineering! The reality of the situation is that things
break down and wear out, and they never wear out alone - they always
take something else down with them. Bad things happen in 3's, right?
Eventually all the bubblegum, baling wire and redneck engineering in
the world isn't going to help and it ends up being more costly - and
dangerous - not to proceed with new equipment and unfortunately it
doesn't come free. My husband had to buy a new tractor, rake, round
and square balers a couple of years ago when they all wore out and had
to be replaced all at once - during the middle of hay season - to the
tune of well over 100K, so I understand that. This appears to be the
year for that to happen for us, although thankfully not on the scale
of our haying equipment. Not to throw gas on the fire, but I forgot to
mention the big metal spring that fell out of the snowcone machine
into some kid's snowcone Friday night (lawsuit, anyone?). I'm not
saying we need a new one. It may have come from one of the bags of
ice, but it's a heads-up so that we are ALL in the loop that it may be
our next casualty. Sorry - stuff breaks - that's life - get over it
and let's move on and get back to the business of feeding the people
and making money so we can help our kids.

My dad and I purchased and delivered the new refrigerator this morning
so Coke should be happy with us now. Thanks for letting us into the concession stand,
C! It even has the wire shelves about which K1 was so
insistent. When I told dad about how much money we are trying to raise
for the uniforms, he offered to approach the VFW membership about
doing some other fundraising activities like a special bingo, a
motorcycle "fun run" and several other activities that typically bring
in at least a couple of grand a pop and wouldn't have to be approved
through the school. However, I am seriously reluctant to accept their
generosity, given the behavior of Mr. B, K1 and K2 over the grant
for the refrigerator. The last thing we want to do is come off as a
bunch of ingrates, and that was the direction Mr. B, K1 and K2
were heading. How sad that they don't possess the social skills to how
to graciously accept a gift. I didn't tell my dad about the asinine
controversy because I would like to be able to approach them for more
help in the future, despite my misgivings. After all, it is supposed
to be about helping our kids and if the adults can't conduct
themselves any better than that, it's not worth the embarrassment.

In the interest of honesty and while I'm airing my views, according to
the bylaws, the band director can ask the boosters for things, but he
has no say in how we spend the funds we generate. Don't get me wrong,
I support Mr. B and I want him to have whatever his little heart
desires, but he is not allowed to dictate how we spend the funds. End
of story. Maybe having K1 as vice president leans toward a conflict
of interest in that area. Mr. B can be a good band director -I've seen
it- but he has a bad temper and takes his personal and professional
frustrations out on the kids - sadly, I've seen that, too - too much
of it. They get tired of being yelled and cussed at over minutiae
while his perfect boys get away with murder and handed the best
solos, et cetera. This is a big part of the reason why we can't keep
kids in band or keep parents involved. Without the kids we have no
band/Without involved parents we can't help our kids.

Our top leadership doesn't appear to know how to lead, only how to
boss and bicker. People don't like to work with K2 because she
doesn't know when to stop talking, doesn't appear to have an inside
voice or room in her world view for an opinion other than her own. Not
to be mean but in fact, when people are called to volunteer in the
concession stand, often the first thing they ask is if K1 and/or
K2 are going to be there and they won't come if they know either of
them are going to be there because they don't like being yelled at or
having their cases climbed over something minor. That's not how you
treat volunteers, but they've made it pretty clear that they don't
think officers should work it anyway - personally, I don't think any
of us are too good.

K1 is another story entirely. People don't like to work with her
because of her hot temper and negative attitude. You never know when
she's going to verbally attack someone - or worse, show up at your
house raising cain and further traumatizing your daughter who was
already sexually harassed by at least one of her sons. In my personal
and professional experience, if a person has problems with everyone
with whom they come in contact, chances are really good that the
problem does not lie with everyone else. It is sad that it had to come
down to K1 getting chewed on the other night. Perhaps she should
have spoken up during the meeting instead of sitting there red-faced
and stewing then waiting until the people she was talking about behind
their backs were gone. Considering that K1 has no absolutely no
qualms about jumping in the middle of anyone she perceives as crossing
her path, perhaps it's time she learns to take a dose of what she
dishes out, because that type of behavior does not help our kids.

Frankly, I am disgusted and embarrassed that grown people are acting
this way when we're supposed to be about helping the kids. I've
considered leaving the organization because of the stupid circular
arguments, walking on eggshells and the groupthink tendency to want to
do things half-assed, but someone has to be the voice of reason and
keep our mission of helping our kids in mind. This ridiculousness has
gone on long enough. Let's move on and get back down to the business
of helping our kids.

Concession Stand Confessional (aka the Popcorn Diaries)

The level of people's stupidity never ceases to amaze me. I am the publicity officer for the Band Boosters for The Girl's high school band, so every Monday night through football season I have to attend these asinine meetings with four sensible people and two gap-toothed, baboon-assed, booger-eating morons. Unfortunately the Two are the president and vice president of the group and they appear more interested in bickering, bitching, fighting and hindering the work of the group than anything else. The president is just a twit and the vice president is the band director's wife - which is a conflict of interest since the band director is not allowed a vote - although the Two do try to push his agenda. The Two are disliked by the greater membership and there have been a number of people who have stated outright that they will not work with them because a) they are bossers, not leaders and 2) all they want to do is bitch and fight. I think it's because they're so used to bitching and fighting over every little thing that they don't know how to not, but what do I know?

At any rate, our most important fundraiser for our band kids is the home-side concession stand at football games. This year, we switched sides when the stadium renovation was complete and the home side was moved to the South side of the stadium. The new concession is newer and a little bigger but I can't honestly say it's any better. The electrical system wasn't exactly installed "to code" or by "licensed electricians," but it is what it is and after some fiddling about with what equipment can be plugged in where, and what combinations of things can't be plugged in together without tripping breakers, things finally ran smoothly at Friday night's game (of which I was in charge because our concession chair was out of town).

We've had issues for a few years now with equipment. The band director seems to think that with enough bubblegum, baling wire and "redneck engineering," that things should last forever. The Man and I are usually in charge of running the popcorn and snowcone machines. People in Fundietonfieldvilleview absofuckinglutely love popcorn and snowcones and since they're such high profit items, we take in loads of money that's almost pure profit. So much so that realistically we can't afford not to sell these two items. The popcorn machine started giving us problems from the first game this season. The screw that held the kettle dump handle in place stripped out so we couldn't dump corn into the cabinet and although the kettle got hot, it took forever to heat up and pop a batch of corn. The Man was trying to dump the corn by using pot holders but was burning himself. Before the following game, the band director "fixed" it but he fixed it incorrectly and it finally gave out during the first quarter of our homecoming game. My husband informed the concession chair that if that machine was still sitting there the next time he came to help, he would turn around and go back home.



Interestingly, as I was searching for a new machine for the concession stand, I ran across one of those really cool antique looking ones on a cart for $500 on Craigslist. It was only about a 2 & 1/2 hour drive away so The Man had me go down and get it the same day I was to go to ACE Mart for the new one for the concession stand (an hour the other direction). I need to find a better place to put it than the game room but I guess it's okay right there as long as no one's trying to play pool.
So anyway, with the band director insisting that the old machine was fine (which it's not, but then again he doesn't use it so he really doesn't know - he just likes to bitch and fight because apparently that's all they know how to do), I put together a presentation for the next meeting about popcorn, the popcorn machine, how much we sell, and how much we lose when we don't sell it. I left them wiggle room and when it was put to a vote, everyone voted yes except one abstention - you got it, one of the Two. So I trotted down to ACE Mart restaurant supply to buy a shiny new popcorn maker. As The Girl and I were carrying it in from my truck, I backed into some weight equipment in the field house and fell, with the popcorn machine falling on top of me. Fortunately it wasn't damaged, which is good because I ended up having to take it back because we didn't have the correct electrical outlet for plugging in the machine. Soooo I went back to ACE Mart and got a smaller one that used a regular grounded plug. The cool part though is that it heated up in no time and was popping corn immediately and so far we have not had any problems keeping up with demand. -Oh and it hasn't tripped any breakers. Can't forget that.

This is what my arm looks like when a popcorn machine falls on it.
This is what my ass looks like when I fall over weight machines in the field house with a popcorn machine on top of me. There were other bruises too but these were the worst.

The next equipment issue is the refrigerator. We don't have one. Instead, we have removed the bottom couple of racks from the 7-foot tall coolers provided to us by Coca Cola via the contract with the school. One of the stipulations of that contract is that non Coca Cola product is not to be kept in them -ever. That doesn't just mean no competitor's products, that also extends to non-competitor products such as ranch dressing, lettuce, cheese, or anything else not specifically produced and marketed by the Coca Cola company. However for at least the last 11 years, that's exactly where they've kept the ranch dressing, lettuce, cheese and everything else that would normally be kept in a refrigerator. Last week our Coke rep came by to meet with the concession chair to check on things, not only how well she was servicing us but how well we were complying with the contract. The band director and the Two were incensed about this visit, "What was she doing down there!?" Well, it's her fucking job and she also visited every other installation of these coolers, including the choir concession and the regular vending machines throughout the school district. She informed us that we should be thankful that her boss didn't see all that stuff in the bottom of both of our coolers because he'd yank those coolers out of there in a heartbeat. Where would we be then?

So I called a few people to ask them to keep their ears to the ground for a good refrigerator that we could pick up cheap. The next day, my dad called me back and said that he was unable to get us a refrigerator. Of course I thanked him for trying and told him I appreciated his effort et cetera. Then he informed me that instead he got us a $350 grant from the local VFW post for a new refrigerator. You'd think these thundercunts (thanks, Jess!) would be excited about such a generous windfall, but NOOOOOO! The band director informed us that we didn't need a refrigerator but we do need a freezer and that's where he wanted to spend the money. (Nevermind that we just bought a brand new freezer last year that works great, it's just a little small in that it can only hold enough product for one game at a time, not for the entire season.) Besides, there's a behemoth of a cabinet-looking thing that used to be a refrigerator in the storage room (where there's no electrical outlet) that belongs to the sports boosters that he wants to pay to try to get fixed and use the grant money to buy a freezer. So the discussion was tabled at last week's meeting. O_o

Uh - reality check, please? First of all, the nature of grants is that grant money must be used for the purpose for which it has been earmarked. Period. Second, in our local VFW (of which I'm a 3rd generation life member of the Ladies Auxiliary, so I know how they operate), an initial grant to anyone is never more than about $150-200, but since The Girl is my dad's only granddaughter and it was benefitting her band, dad got it approved.

What I couldn't seem to help them understand was that if we handle this well, then we are guaranteed more -and bigger- grants in the future. If we handle it really really well, they may host a benefit for us like a casino night or auction or something that couldn't be done through the school (When my high school band wanted to go to Disney, they raised over $10,000 for us - and that was over 20 years ago). On the other hand, if we handle this badly, as the band director and the Two are trying to do, we not only lose this grant but any potential future grants - not only from the VFW, but any other charitable organization. Most of these guys are members of more than one similar group. My dad is a member of the VFW, American Legion, Moose, Elks, and Masons - and he's just one guy. Not only that but these old guys are bigger gossips than the wimmin, so handling the grant badly will definitely get us blacklisted and possibly even sued for misappropriation. Yet the Two want to argue over something that isn't costing us anything because that's what they like to do - bitch and fight. I pointed these issues out to them last night despite numerous attempted interruptions by the Two and after a vote (can you believe it? A vote over a freebie??) I'll be going to pick up the new refrigerator this week and I'll be sure to give dad and the guys at the VFW some extra love in the newspaper. After all, it's to help the kids - isn't it?

Hopefully the last equipment issue is the fryer. We've been using these stupid home countertop fryers for french fries, cheese sticks, corny dogs and now fried pickles as long as anyone can remember and have spent anywhere from $150 to $300 every year of the four since I've been active in band boosters and probably every year for eons before that replacing them, because they just weren't designed to handle the load we put on them. We are down from four fryers to one fryer owned by band boosters, and one owned by one of the Two. My personal fryer is also at the concession as a backup but we're not going to be able to continue to work with these much longer. If we're not feeding people, we're not making money and our job in the concession stand is to make money. Isn't it? Sometimes I get confused.

Last year we discussed purchasing a heavy duty restaurant style tabletop fryer, but the school can no longer serve fried foods so they donated a big ol' commercial fryer to us. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it's been more trouble than it's worth. First, when it was deposited in the concession, it was filthygrossnassssty. We've done all we can to clean it up, but it's still dripping grease on the floor and the bottom reservoir has been soaking in industrial degreaser for 2 months and still won't come clean. Then we found out that we need a commercial vent a hood to run it. Somehow an "executive decision" was made (probably by the Two and the band director in his office without consulting any of the other officers) to purchase a used one for $800. It is still sitting on the ground outside the concession. My stepdad is a federally licensed electrician and he agreed to come give us an estimate to install it. He couldn't touch it for under $4700 because of the labor and parts involved. We'd still need to hire a plumber licensed with the Railroad Commission to come in and install the fryer itself, incurring yet more expense in parts and labor. On top of that, there would be no guarantee that the vent a hood would even work because it was purchased used and sight unseen and has been sitting outside in the weather for six weeks. With the exception of the Two, the officers wanted to list it on Craigslist, ebay or whatever and sell the behemoth for which we never voted (and the bigass fryer we cant' use if the superintendent will allow us to since it was given to us) and purchase an industrial tabletop fryer for $600. The Two still wanted to try to get the school district to pay that 5 grand or more, thus further delaying our ability to feed the masses. The vote was taken and we'll be buying a new fryer this week too. If we're not feeding people we're not making money. If we're going to feed people to make money it is essential that we have equipment that is functioning properly - or am I missing something?

Here's the thing though. This is my 5th year working in the concession stand and my second year to work every home game. Ever since I started, the reported take for a home game was always around $400 - $700 for a big game like homecoming. Madame president was concession chair for all but last year but the reported take was the same. This year we have a different concession chair and a different treasurer. Food costs have gone up, Fundietonfieldvilleview hasn't grown appreciably and concession traffic seems about the same. So why is it that we're bringing in anywhere from $1200 on a very slow night and $3500 for homecoming? Friday night's game we cleared $2598 and we sold nothing during the 4th quarter when our team started losing. I think the Two and possibly the band director are so protective of the money we earn because they think it's theirs - because maybe they have been putting it in their own pockets? Or maybe they act like every dime that comes in will be the last one because their worldview is one of scarcity. Maybe I'm confused again, and I hate to accuse people of wrongdoing without proof, but something doesn't look right.

Then, just when I thought everything was in the clear, some kind of big metal spring fell out of the snowcone machine into some little kid's snowcone. The guy running the machine fished it out but I guess that will be our next purchase. I wonder how hard we'll have to fight over that one. At least those are only about $700. It's only money - we'll make more, right?

Gittin' 'er done...

Okay y'all...a couple of days ago while I was experiencing an exercise in frustration management centering around of all fucking things in the world - popcorn, I realized that I defended my dissertation exactly 2 months prior, and participated in the commencement ceremony 2 months ago today and still haven't had time for those edits, which are simple really. It's just a matter of sitting my fat, bruised (goes along with the goddamnfucking popcorn story) ass down and doing them. Soooo, today, while The Girl is at school, then at a football game nearly 100 miles away and The Man is at work until sevenish this evening, TODAY is the absofuckinglutely bestest motherfucking day ever to hole up and just work on those goddamnfucking edits. So far I've added about 6 pages of the 10 HMMDC wants. If it's not one thing it's another and dammitalltofuckinghell one of these days I am going to learn to put my own shit on the top of the list of priorities instead of everyone else's so I can get out before I'm 80 and can't remember what the hell my research is about anyway. Gawd I'm sick of this crap. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

So to keep y'all entertained today as I toil away, I want to share this video of me in drag...

Just When I Thought It Was Safe

Okay, so (Queso? I love queso!) yesterday I needed to go the cleaners, 20 miles away, and while The Girl & I were out I took her out to eat lunch at Logan's since it will be the last time she has an opportunity to go out to lunch for quite awhile, as school starts Monday. We dropped by a craft store to pick up some gold leaf flakes for a soap I'm making this morning to draw abundance & prosperity when I got an email from my dissertation chair. She wanted to know where my final revisions are, since it's been over a month & all. Gaaaah! I told her that even though the rain has stopped and realistically I'm no longer celebrating, we've had a steady parade of people through here but I'll get it to her with lipstick next week. Gaah...

On a more interesting note, check out the new ebay widget that shows off my soapy lovelies!