Conflict

conflict, writer chick talks

I never liked conflict. Some people thrive on it. And, some even like to cause it so they can feed from it. I’ve never understood the appeal. Personally, I find conflict nerve wracking, nauseating and really counter productive.

I grew up in a large family, with two brothers and sisters and a set of parents who rarely saw eye to eye. Though in defense of my dad, he didn’t like conflict either. My mother on the other hand seemed to need it. I don’t know why—perhaps it made her feel alive. Perhaps the rush of adrenaline and the intense emotions made her blood course, her heart pound and imparted a sense of euphoria. It could be. Or maybe she was unhappy because the course of her life didn’t follow the path she expected. I learned in my adult years that my mother was a talented artist and I was shocked because there was never a hint of artistic desire displayed when we all lived under one roof. It saddens me that my mother didn’t pursue her art in some way. Although it does explain her almost manic encouragement of my writing.

Anyway, conflct…the family history certainly contributed to my abhorrence of it. Also if all that crap about being a middle child is correct, then by nature I’m a mediator, a peace keeper—someone seeking mutual agreement and happiness of those around her. Sounds nice in theory but the downside is that you turn into a pleaser, which is good for others but often works against you.

There is a difference between a pleaser and a doormat, although many miss the finer nuances. A pleaser attempts to accomplish peace, a doormat wants to be stepped on. A pleaser will sacrifice for the greater good, while a doormat sacrifices to acheive victimhood. You can’t piss off a doormat but you sure as hell can piss off a pleaser. And if you do, watch out. It takes an awful lot to anger a pleaser, to surpass their patience and willingness to understand and defer. But it can be done. And once you piss off a pleaser there is no more stubborn creature on earth.

Pleasers don’t like to fight but if forced into a corner no one goes toe to toe better than a pleaser. Patience and understanding does not equal weakness. Truth be told if you try to force a pleaser, they can make shock and awe look like child’s play. And then you’re going to see some serious conflict. So yeah…conflict…hate it but I don’t run from it either.

copyright 2010

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Stricter Security in Airports? Eh?

There is nothing like stupidity to get your interest, eh? I happen to catch this article this morning while perusing Yahoo headlines. I read the whole thing and I still can’t see how the guy got on the plane with a bomb strapped to him. How does this happen, inquiring minds want to know.

For pity’s sake, I can’t get through security with my shoes on (even flip flops) or even a bottle of sunscreen, yet this fellow got through with a body bomb on an international flight??? Somebody explain this one to me. Don’t they have metal detectors in Amsterdam? Surely the triggering device had to have some sort of metal parts? Am I up the wrong tree on this? I must be.

Seriously, how pathetic is this? I am so paranoid of the liquid police who go out of their way to test shampoo and body wash that I stock up on sample sizes – cuz God forbid I should bring some secret liquid soap onto a plane, yet this guy waltzes on an international flight with explosives. Jeez, I must be shopping in the wrong pharmacy.

Though maybe they were just being sensitive and politically correct and didn’t want to pick on someone who might actually fit the profile of a terrorist. God forbid you should offend somebody – better to ignore the guy sweating bullets, and toting a prayer rug than to offend them. Better to go after some obnoxious American and check their iPod for lethal music and waste the other 99% of the law abiding passengers’ time, who are  simply trying to get home. Oh yeah, I have to say my hat’s off to security.

Kudo’s to the fellow who jumped the inept terrorist and saved some lives. Quick thinking my friend and thank you. No props security – sorry but when I can’t even bring a standard sized tube of toothpaste on a plane and you let this guy skate – you’re just not on the ball, my friends.

The downside to all of this, is that we, who simply try to fly anywhere and behave and do as we’re told, will probably have to submit to strip searches. Screw it – maybe the next time I fly I’ll just come naked. It will sure save on luggage fees.

WC

I Want to Pay More Taxes? Seriously?

powell

Looks like our illustrious former Secretary of State is up to it again. In a speech made the other day he said:

“The Republican Party is in deep trouble,” Powell told corporate security executives at a conference in Washington sponsored by Fortify Software Inc. The party must realize that the country has changed, he said. “Americans do want to pay taxes for services,” he said. “Americans are looking for more government in their life, not less.”

So, not only do I want to pay taxes but I also want more government in my life? Like the fact that the government is but a hair from owning the auto industry, the banking industry, the mortgage industry and the healthcare industry isn’t enough for me – I want more? Are you kidding?

Mr Powell, I do in fact, have great admiration for your service to this country. You have given many years of your life in honorable service and I truly respect that. But somewhere down the line you fell off the proverbial turnip truck and that thunk on your head caused a serious personality disorder. You call yourself a Republican, which is supposed to mean you are a conservative of one sort or another. But I have to tell you my friend, you make John McCain look like a far right maniac in comparison. You endorsed Obamalama for president, dude. Obama, the guy who wants to completely socialize this country, wipe out capitalism and make us part of the European coalition. Are you getting this?

I have to say that I’m disappointed. That you would not only throw your party under the bus but the rest of the country as well, while you’re at it. I dare you to go up to any 20 people on the street at random and ask them if they want to pay more taxes. Ask them if they want more government in their lives. I dare you. You won’t get much agreement, believe me. Unless of course you do the survey at a liberal D.C. cocktail party, what the average American is going to tell you is that we are sick to death of government and politicians. That we are sick to death of bailing out the big dudes (read: large campaign contributors) instead of throwing their asses in jail. Sick to death of the special treatment for some and the shoddy treatment of most.

For cripes sake I can’t even go to my local DMV without it ruining my day. You think I want more of that crap on a larger scale and that I want to pay for it? Dude, what are you smoking?

Face it, Mr. Powell, you are no Republican and no conservative. You are an egotist who can’t stand being ignored – a man who has no clear view on anything, as changeable as the sea and willing to jump ship whenever the other ship looks better. What you stand for, I couldn’t say – clearly, you have mastered the ability to talk out of both sides of your mouth as you keep a straight face and there is no way to decypher what you are truly thinking and/or believing.

You want to know what Americans want? They want to be left the hell alone. They want their right to the pursuit of happiness without having to answer to some government bureaucrat and pay for some damn permit to barbecue on Saturday night. They want to go to the mall without being spied on. They want to go through the airport without having to take off their shoes or explain the amount of shampoo they are bringing with them, they want to be able to say hello and good bye at the gate. They want terrorists to be treated as such, not given amnesty and food stamps. They want companies who screw up to pay the piper, fix their mess or go the hell out of business. They want their doctors to decide on their course of treatment not Betsy in the government wellness department. They want to be able to create businesses and wealth without having to give 75% of it to you jokers. They want public servants to be public servants, not kings, queens and princes.

Personally, and I say this with all due respect, I really want you to shut the hell up.

Welcome to the People's Republic of America

Okay, America if this is what you want, then I hope you’re happy. I for one, will be stuffing my mattress with money and stocking up on those MRE’s and survival gear. If you think the last eight years was bad news I don’t think you’re prepared with what will be coming our way over the next four (my prediction). Apparently, all it takes to become president of this once great country, is to put on a helluva campaign. I wonder if I could become CEO of GM after 13 months of selling cars in their backlot. (Heck maybe I could even run for Prez, once the implosion happens.)

I know a lot of you out there, love this man and I have never really been able to figure out why – but I hope the love affair continues – but I have my doubts. Serious ones.

Oh well, at the very least it should be good for some blog fodder, providing political descension is still Constitutional come January – there’s always Grit’s farm I suppose.

Congrats to those who wanted change – I just hope it’s the kind of change we all want. Somehow I doubt it and I’m certainly not holding my breath. Anybody got change for 10 Euronote? I need a drink.

What Gives You The Right?

You know, in the last couple of weeks I’ve had something remarkable happen. And I don’t mean that in a good way.

A couple of weeks ago, a person showed up and made some comments on a post I’d written about Hillary Clinton. No problem, I’m all about comments and interaction. But her whole purpose in visiting, apparently was to berate and chastise me and spew insults. She seemed to have no other point.

Then this morning, some person (a man?) commented on the current post. Well, it wasn’t exactly a comment – it was about 20 paras of profanity. I actually tried to edit it, but it was impossible because every other word it seemed was bleepable. So, I simply wrote him a letter in the comment box.

The thing that really gets me is this, what gives people the right to do this sort of thing? I mean, look as a blogger I know that if I write something with a strong opinion, others will have strong opinions about it too. They often may disagree with me. I have no problem with that. In fact, I usually welcome a good debate. How else do we learn or get to see things from another perspective. However, when it’s just venom or garbage instead of any particular view, what exactly do these guys think I’m going to do with that?

Is it some psychological thing? They are so screwed up that they simply can’t communicate in any logical or rational manner? Are their meds in so need of adjustment that they simply can’t be civil?

Or do they think that since the Internet offers anonymity that they can just zip over to your site, dump all over you and steal away like a theif in the night? Are they not aware that their IP address is there for me to follow? Do they not know that I can track them? Do they really think they are anonymous? They aren’t.

So, Cassy in Minnesota and Jimmy in Virginia – I suggest you rethink your marauding blog strategy. Or better yet, get your own damn blog and spew your hatred for all to see. Show the world your utter lack of intelligence and vocabulary to anyone lost enough to visit you. Let the world know who you are by posting your crap day after day. And make sure you put your name on it. Find a way to get your own readers – I’m sure they’re out there. There are tons of pathetic, inept, nasty jerks of like minds out there who will happily come to your places and commiserate about how the whole world (save you) are total idiots – and that you and you alone have your finger on the pulse of the truth. Find a forum that wants you. I sure as hell don’t and neither would most intelligent people.

See how that works for you.

WC

Mad As Hell

I’ve had it. I’m done. I’m done with petty people and their petty games. I am done with nasty sniping remarks that cut you to the quick. With small minded, insipid, incompetent boobs who think they can run the world when they can’t even run a vcr. I’m done with know it alls who think they have the answer to it all. With people who take credit for the hard work of others and then stab them in the back for being kind to them. I’m done with idiots who don’t have two IQs to put together and if they did would start a forest fire that they would blame on their next door neighbor.

I’m done with jobs that kick you in the teeth whilst embracing all your hard work as their own. With morons who question everyone but themselves. With accusers who never look at or own up to their misdeeds. With slackers and shits. Bitter bitches and lazy asses. Pigs who wouldn’t see their own dirt if they were sleeping in it. Control freaks. Big babies. Natter baskets. Gossip whores. And small minded fucks who should be shot for wasting space on the planet.

Sick of being the nice guy. Of being considerate. Of doing unto others. Of caring when no one else gives a flying fuck. Of trying to do the right thing. Of busting my butt for people who would throw water on me if my hair was on fire. Of saying please and thank you and would you mind? Of thinking that the nice guy can ever win. Of being ignored, disrespected, mistreated, maligned, lied about, analysed, cut up into little pieces and thrown about the room for fun. Of being a pasty and an idiot. Of believing in the basic goodness of others. And telling myself they don’t mean it when they say and do things that make your head explode. Being the doormat, the problem solver, the shit handler, the dumpee of all the dumpable crap that can be found. Of being the giant brain for people too stupid to find their asses with both hands. Of it all. Sick. To. Death. I. Am. Done!!

So…how was your day?

WC

Bossy Got Greenbacks

(Apologies to Sir Mix Alot)

I hate my job and I can not lie
You other workas can’t deny
That when the boss walks in with an itty bitty list
And a ruler in your face
You get sprung
Wanna pull up tough
Cuz you notice that list was stuffed
Deep in the wants she’s bearing
I’m trapped and I can’t stop staring
Oh, lady I wanna spit at ya
And call ya a bitcha
My voices tried to warn me
But the pay I get
It’s really torn me
Ooh, jump for the money
You say I gotta work for it honey
Well use abuse me cuz you’re making me woozy

I’ve seen you dancin’
Your razor tongue glancin’
My Sweat, you get, cuz I can’t leave yet

I’m tired and don’t feel keen
I can’t quit that’s the thing
Take the average worker and ask her that
She gotta have the greenbacks
and that’s that

So Workas (yeah) Workas(yeah)
Has your boss she got the whip (hell yeah)
Well fake it, fake it, fake it, fake it, no if ands or butts
Bossy got greenbacks

I Want a Do-Over!

This past week at work has been unbelievable. Besides the usual sniping, blind-siding employees  that seek to ruin my life – it seems the whole fricking universe wants to get into the act too.

Okay, Monday was okay and Tuesday started out okay but then – somebody asked me something which I needed to check on the Internet. Ooops. No internet. Crap. Have everybody check their computers to see if they are having the same problem. Yep. We’re all screwed for that. Oh well, life goes on.

A little while later, somebody said the fax wasn’t working. I noticed a message saying the cartridge was low, so I sent someone to go get a new one. Nope, that didn’t fix it. Hmmm.

I called the IT guy we use and told him the problems we were having. Naturally, he insisted in doing one of those ‘let me walk you through it’ things that never work. So, he said he’d come over. He arrived later and checked this and that and nope, we simply did not have an internet connection.Crap.

So then I spend an hour trying to figure out who the provider is because nobody knows. Since we have an Earthlink account which we pay every month, I assumed it was them. After an hour on the phone with them I realize that it probably isn’t them. Is the bookeeper any help? You know, the one who is in charge of such things as vendors – uh..duh…nope. I grab the phone bill and discover yes, my dear friends at AT&T provide the service. Okay, we go through the whole bullshit routine with them. You know the one, where the Tech guy on the other end of the line just knows it’s a user problem? Sweet. And he’s asking me which line it is – we have 15 lines mind you. And I’m thinking ‘how the hell should I know? they installed it, why can’t they just look it up on the computer?’

Finally the guy figures it out after forcing me to read a 20 page phone bill. Ah yes, it’s the fax line. So, let me get this straight – my dsl is on my fax line and so that then means they are both out, right? Crap! At least I have my backup fax line. Ah…no…that one is out too.

When can they come to fix it? Tonight at 7 p.m. What? We’ll all be gone by then you dope – this is a business, not my house, which should be pretty obvious since I have 15 phone lines, doncha think?

Okay, tomorrow between 9 & 1. It sucks but I can live with it. We just need to hang on until then. Oh by the way, the receptionist just told me the credit card machine doesn’t work either. Okay, call the company. Shit, you need an internet connection for that too? And guess what? Most of our transactions are on credit cards. So now the receptionist is writing down numbers and other pertinent info so she can run the charges the next day.

So, Wednesday I call up the company to get an update and make sure they are really coming. Guess what? The tech guy tells me that it’s actually a bigger problem and my repair ticket has been canceled because it’s actually a whole grid that is out and it will take days. Days! Probably not til Monday.

So, long story short – we spent the rest of the week without internet, faxes or a credit card machine. And I don’t even know if it’s going to be working when I get in this morning.

Oh yeah, and the doc told me she’s going on vacation in two weeks and we’ll just have to reschedule all the patients and make the associates take care of things.

Oh yeah, and the bookeeper actually twigged that if we don’t get things fixed we may not be able to do payroll on Tuesday.

Oh yeah, then there was this crazy patient who had filed some stupid ass complaint and so we had to run around trying to find stuff that we could fax…ah…er…send over to the board, so they would know she is just a nut job who threatened to off herself at the office a couple of months ago.

Oh yeah and the attorney who is (bumbling) handling a legal case of grand larceny for us – is calling me every two minutes from the police station to help him with stuff I gave him months ago.

Yep, a do-over. I deserve one and need one. Or at least have things back to normal. Wish me luck – I just know I’ll need it. Crap!

WC

The Pets That Peeve

 

Everybody has funny, little things that bug them. Not things that they hate or really change their lives in any significant way – just stuff that drives them quietly up the wall. Usually too, it’s things that you’d be too embarrassed to say out loud. So you put up with them. Oh, but sometimes, sometimes you feel like you’re going to come out of your own skin they bug you so much. Here are mine:

  1. People who wiggle their toes or waggle their feet, or pick at their feet, especially while you’re eating or watching t.v. It just plain grosses me out. In my opinion, most people do not have attractive feet, especially men. They often have weird toenails that are scary colors. And yes, after you’ve had those puppies in sneakers and socks all day they do stink when you decide to air them out.
  2. People who pick at their food as though they are looking for a secret weapon under there. It’s food, damn it. Eat it or toss it, but for God sakes please stopping treating it like a frog in science class.
  3. People who eat with their mouths open. Now how do they expect that food to stay in there? And why do they think I want to see what it looks like after it’s been mashed around inside their mouth? If you’re not trying to catch flies, shut your trap.
  4. Men who ask you out on a date and then want to know where you want to go or what you want to do. For crying out loud, be a man. Be decisive. Show me you’re a take-charge kind of guy. If you can’t decide where we’re going on a date, what would make you think I’d have the slightest belief that you know where you’re going?
  5. People who talk during the movie. Now why would anyone go to the trouble of driving to the theater, paying $10 plus to see a movie and then proceed to talk about their mother-in-law once the movie starts? That also goes for people who answer their cell phones, kick the seats and eat their popcorn loud enough for people down the block to hear it.
  6. Belly shirts. I’ve been waiting for them to go out of style, yet they still seem to persist. First of all, outside of a 12 year old who has successfully mastered anorexia, who looks good in them? That would be nobody. Not to mention the fact that it’s always women who are way too old, compelled to show off what they think are their bad-ass abs or chicks who have several rolls of fat to expose. Cover up for cripes sake.
  7. Dreadlocks. Sorry, I know it’s like an ethnic thing and we must never attack anything like that – but come on – it looks like somebody took wallpaper paste, mixed a mess of cat hair in there and attached it to their head. It ain’t pretty – please learn how to use a comb, a brush, a pic or to braid your hair.
  8. Ugly shoes. There are too many designs to zero in on one particular type, but man the last decade has produced some bad ones. Who ever convinced anyone that shit kickers looked good with sundresses? Or stilletto heels that can take your eye out is sexy? And don’t get me started on sandals with sox and bermuda shorts. Like I said, most people don’t have pretty feet to begin with, you should at least give them a fighting chance by dressing them nicely.
  9. Hoodies under suit coats. It’s like oh, I have my gym clothes on but if I put on this snazzy jacket no one will notice. Think again. A suit coat goes with a suit. If you can’t afford one, stick with the sweats.
  10. Fat children. I don’t mean chubby or even plump I mean, tipping the scales at 200 plus. Now of course I know there are some kids out there who have a physical situation that causes them to have weight problems but it seems like every other kid out there is fat, fat, fat. And mom and dad keep taking them through the drive-thru, parking them in front of big screen tv’s, chauffering them everywhere and stick Ipods in their ears. Kids need to get out and do something besides parking their butts in a chair and playing video games.
  11. Bad tippers. It’s just low class. Some people seem to think that somebody who can feed and see to the needs of 20-40 people at a time only deserve disrespect, humiliation and then the final insult of little or no tip. I’ve got news for  you, somebody who can wait tables and do it well, is one helluva an organized multi-tasker. I used to eat out with a friend who would pay for the tab with her credit card and we’d all give her the cash we were going to kick in for our part of the check – then I discovered she was pocketing most of the money that was intended for the waitress as a tip. After that, I asked for a separate check. If somebody waits on you, is pleasant, brings you what you want and  you are a happy camper afterward, then tip them for cripes sake.
  12. Stupid people. They are everywhere. They stand at the fast food counter, reading the menu just not able to decide what piece of processed food they want that day. At the bank, they will knock you on  your butt to get in line ahead of you and then start filling out their deposit slip while standing on line. At the grocery store, they don’t have enough money to cover their groceries and dig through their purse looking for loose change and looking at the cashier as though they should be offering them a five spot. They hold everybody up in traffic by double parking, stopping, turning, cutting you off, whatever, then flip you off for being in their way.

Okay, time to get my blood pressure checked now. 😉 What are your peeves?

WC

Let’s All Do The Rant

 

When I was a kid and for much of my adult life, I was shy. I know, nobody ever believes me when I tell them this but it’s still true. In fact, when I was a kid I was just shy of being afraid of my shadow. I hardly ever spoke, certainly not to people outside of my family and my few little friends.

I don’t know why, my family wasn’t particularly quiet or reserved, we didn’t have butlers and grand aunts commanding particular modes of behavior. Perhaps I just preferred to sit back and listen. Make myself invisible and watch, like a spy on a secret mission.

I’m certain it is one of the things that sent me in the direction of writing. Because despite my lack of verbosity (is that a word?), I had thoughts…millions of them, ideas, images, dreams. Yes, they were all there and not being spoken. The blank page became my best confidant and may be still.

As I have lived life, had some experiences good and bad, grown more confident in who I am, all that good stuff, I’ve become much more verbal. Not much of a surprise, eh? And thanks to blogging, I have learned the fine art of ranting. Now, this is not to say that I didn’t rant before I became a blogger, sure I did. But I really didn’t have the technique and discipline down. I was all over the place. I was here and there and every fricking where. Also, my voice would rise higher and higher as I reached the all important point. To be honest, not too impressive.

But…in my little dive of a blog I’ve learned to keep my voice level, make my points, use humor and even anger (sometimes) and even edit to drive my rant home.

But I see other friends/bloggers who are in the place I used to be. Not wanting to say the wrong thing. Somehow tarnishing their image as the nice person or considerate person or the one everyone likes because they are just so very kind. The ones who are just dying to rant. Dying to scream at the top of their lungs. Let out all the complaints, real and imagined. Bitch, moan, harp, cry, whine and drama-queen, without fear of rejection or reprisal.

So, here’s your chance. Want to rant? Yeah? Go for it. Right here. Right now. Whatever is on your mind. I don’t care. I give this space to you, my friends and fellow bloggers. Let her rip. Have a ball. I promise you’ll feel much better afterwards.

WC