Dollarstore bureacracy

I love the dollar store. Unfortunately, every time I visit the dollar store, I walk out with the one item I want, and 99 other items I don't need. The dollar store should really be called the 'hundred dollars plus tax store'.

A couple of weeks ago I went in with my two daughters because they wanted little radios with headphones. Well, they really want Mp3 players because they covet mine, but I figure why spend that much money on something they're going to break the next day? So we buy the little radios, buy the batteries, go outside the store, and they're bound and determined to listen to them RIGHT AWAY. And good thing, too. Neither one of the little radios work.

Back inside the dollar store, I confront the high school punk working behind the cash and politely request a refund. He pointed at a sign that says, "No Refunds". Like an idiot, I said, "But we just bought these 3 minutes ago." All of a sudden this surly woman appears out of nowhere and booms, " OUR POLICY IS NO REFUNDS, YOU SEE?" I can very plainly read the sign, but since we just did make the purchase, I figured what's the big deal, just give me back my four bucks. I boomed back, "BUT WE JUST BOUGHT THEM A COUPLE OF MINUTES AGO, AND THE DAMN THINGS DON'T WORK."

I looked behind me, and the owner of the store is hurrying down the aisle past a couple of nonplussed shoppers. He beams at me, and says, "What seems to be the problem?" Surly lady barked that I wanted a refund and they don't give refunds, and so on and so on. The store owner said to me, "Well, that is our policy, but can we do an exchange or a store credit?" I don't know, can we? I ponder what exactly I can exchange for four dollars in merchandise. Another radio that doesn't work? The butterfly nets in the corner? Perhaps that fabulous painting of the sad clown behind the counter? Except that was fifteen dollars and I would have to pay 11 extraneous dollars and now I was pissed anyway. I smirked at the store owner and said, "No, I can't think of anything I'd want to exchange for four dollars. Maybe you can give me a store credit." And then I beam at Surly Lady, who by this time is huffing and puffing like a rhino in heat. "Oh good!" the owner said, and hand wrote a store credit on a scrap of paper. For four bucks.

I lost the scrap of paper in my big purse the next day. And I still had to fork out for working radios at another store for the kiddies, who still wanted their tunes.

They broke the stupid things a couple of days later.

Faux pas

A couple of years ago, I gave up my illustrious bartending career to go back to school and go into audio. I got a job almost immediately after school with a company that installs home theatre. Much of involved heavy labor, being on construction sites, or doing retrofits in older homes. Alas, the job was not for me, as my supervisor did not see the potential brimming inside me (read: cause I was a girl) and suggested that maybe I didn't have the strength for this particular job. Actually, I am pretty strong, for a 'girl'. I hauled beer kegs around before, what was so hard about this?

As it happened, my boyfriend had just offered me a spot as his apprentice in his company. He is in heating and cooling, but specializes in sheet metal. So I cheerfully said goodbye to the other company, tagged along with him and it turned out that not only did I enjoy this work, but we were also able to work together without wanting to rip eachother's heads off. (You don't find that very often with the 'husband and wife teams') Two years later, I am still working with him (and still love him).

I like to joke that I am 'glamourizing' the trade, because while I wear a hard hat and boots instead of a sexy top and heels, I still make an effort to look nice and retain my femininity. After all, I'm competing in a field that's mostly populated by men and I'm proud of myself to be able to work among them, gain respect for what I do.

One day last week, we're on site, and one of the carpenters working there is having a spat on the roof with one of his mates. I heard them going back and forth for a little while, when suddenly one of them yells, "Well, then tell me that then. You don't have to nag me like a fuckin' broad." The other guy realizes I'm below them and looks at me with a sheepish grin on his face, while I smile sweetly back.

I love days like that.

Holy Hell, I'm back.

Yeah, I know. It took a while, but funny how life and a helluva writers block can put a serious dent in your creativity.
Firstly, I'd like to direct your attention to the right of the page, where I've posted links to a couple of blogs that bear reading. 15 Minute Lunch, who boasts one of the funniest writers whose stuff I've had the pleasure of reading in a long time. Secondly, but not least, My Mad, Mad World, the author of which actually turned me onto the 15 minute Lunch. She's pretty funny too. She's got stories about her life and her kids that will make you pee yourself.

MY life? It can be pretty funny too. I'm a single mom. Three kids, aged 30, I mean 8, another 7, and 1 who's 3. I'm madly in love with a man who also has three kids, twins age 11, and another who's also 8. My mother also lives with me, and has the ultimate pleasure of looking after my kids while I'm at work. Someday, we all hope to live together in one home, just as soon as we find a house big enough and the money to pay for it. So, altogether, that's one mom, one dad, one grandmother, six kids and two dogs and I think a partridge in a fucking pear tree.

We just got back from our weekend getaway spot, our trailer. It sleeps 8, if you're willing to sleep practically on top of eachother, but we manage to do it. This particular weekend was Hallowe'en at the trailer park. They do that sort of thing for the kids, that and Christmas in July, pancake breakfasts in the park for the kiddies, that sort of thing. The Christmas thing is priceless because the dude dressed as Santa is actually some fat drunk redneck dressed in a Santa suit, socks and sandals and he rides up on a pickup truck, but our kids don't care because they get presents.

Anyway, the Hallowe'en thing. The kids got into the spirit of the whole thing and decorated the trailer for the whole ordeal. Here's one of the spots they chose to decorate:



Gerry was way thrilled.