Friday, July 30, 2010

The Shot, The Fall and The Overflow.

"The best thing you have going for you is your willingness to humiliate yourself."- Simon Bishop, As Good As It Gets

This has been a week of drama for me. Not like "Oh, Lordy. He's sleeping with my dead momma drama", but drama as only I can create it. For those of you who don't know me personally, I would like to give you a few fun facts about the Mouthy Mommy before I get on with my story. A) The Mouthy Mommy has a long list of things that petrify her. On the top of this list are doctors and shots (because I always think I'm dieing and I don't want confirmation) B) The Mouthy Mommy is about as graceful as a drunk water buffalo loose in a china shop, and C) The Mouthy Mommy sometimes like to refer to herself in third person because it sounds better when read aloud. Now on to my humiliation.

I started this week strong by bringing in 3 patients in two days. I was riding high on my accomplishment and thanking my lucky stars- that for at least this week- I had given myself job security. Nothing could get me down, except for what was waiting for me in my boss's office Tuesday afternoon.

At around 1pm I casually pirouetted into her office. She quickly acknowledged me and asked if I would take a seat because my general gitteryness- especially when standing- makes her nervous. Still twitching with pride, I followed her command and waited to be showered with atta-boy's. The praise was great and the cherry on top was that she asked me to sign up for a program that would allow me entry into the many glorious hospitals of Broward county. I would be like a Home Health Rep VIP. I was beyond stoked about this opportunity (because I am a huge dork), and quickly agreed to front the $150 annual fee and sign up for the program ASAP. It was only seconds after I submitted my credit card info that things got crazy...

Boss Lady- It says you need a physical and a tuberculosis test. Did you have chicken pox? Because you'll need proof or a vaccine too.

Me- What!?! I was told I didn't need those things to work here. I explained to HR that if I did I would not take the job.

Boss Lady- You don't need them here. You need them to go into the hospital. I'll have one of the nurses do the TB test in the office and you can get the physical next week.

Me- I'm not kidding. I wouldn't have taken this job.

Boss Lady- Stop being a baby. It's a tiny needle. It will take all of two seconds. Stop crying and I'll give you some candy.

Me- Awe come on!.. You know what? Fuck it, I Quit!

Now, my little Mouthinites don't be alarmed. I didn't really quit. I may have tried to run once, while crying and whining for my mommy, but I kept my employment and got the damn TB test. Though that part may seem like it was what caused my humiliation it wasn't the worst of it. The worst was listening to my boss give the highlights of our meeting to my regional manager and co-workers at a dinner later that night. Now everyone knows what a giant baby I am. Do you know how hard it's going to be to rebuild my hardassness when a 1/4 inch needle sends me hiding under a desk like I'm having a Nam flash back? It's pitiful, I know. I guess I'll have to get creative. Though I would really hate to have to shiv a Gomer to get my street cred back.

Moving on...

Wednesday was a better day. I got up. Checked my injection site-which was not raised or red- and thanked God for not torturing me further with Tuberculosis. After I marked TB off the list of things that may be killing me I went about my day harassing Doctors and their staff. It was at my last stop of the day when things -yet again- got ugly.

I had just finished speaking with a doc and was saying goodbye to the front desk gals through the little glass window in the lobby. I gave my closing line of "See you next week!" and turned to walk away like I'd done many times before. Then I pivoted quickly and began my walk to the door. I think I was maybe three steps in when my heel got caught in the weave of the carpet. At that point I had not fully made the connection that I was beginning a decent to the ground below, but unfortunately for me, one of the Gomers waiting in the lobby did. In an act of kindness, he tried to catch me before the fall got out of hand, but because I am apparently made of lead- failed miserably. Turns out that instead of helping me, said Gomer catapulted me into a small row of chairs and -since I have always felt it is best not to go down alone- I took three of them with me to the floor.

Miraculously the only thing injured in the tumble was my ego, but I was feeling a little down after all this drama and decided that the best thing to do was call my dad a whine like the clumsy baby I am. I was sure he would show me a little sympathy. He is my father for Christ sake! But instead of the "Hallmark" father-daughter moment, I got this:

Dad speaking to me while laughing uncontrollably-
"Awe, that's not so bad! Remember that time you worked in that doctors office and you took a shit a clogged the toilet so bad it overflowed and soaked the entire office, ruining the guys brand new carpeting? Every time I think of how angry that asshole got I die laughing. Didn't you quit after that?..(10 seconds of more uncontrollable laughter) Now don't you feel better?

Me- UGH! No, I had almost forgotten that one.

Dad- "You fell Jennie! Trust me, it's not half as bad as shitting on someones rug."

And you know what folks...As much as I hate to say this, he's right. I know from experience.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


"Technology... is a queer thing. It brings you great gifts with one hand, and it stabs you in the back with the other." ~C.P. Snow, New York Times, 15 March 1971

Ok, so taking a job that requires me to drive around all day to set locations is turning out to be a nightmare. Though it in part has to do with my terrible sense of direction, it has more to do with the car navigation system I hijacked from my more oriented husband.

In the last 2 weeks since I've started using- what I refer to as- the "Mug-gellan" car navigation system, I have had more near death experiences and trips through seedy neighborhoods than most crack heads do when they have 40 bucks in their pocket and a bicycle at their disposal. There is no doubt that one day this thing will lead to me being mugged or at this rate dead. As the days go on I am becoming increasingly suspicious of this -seemingly- benign piece of equipment. And though I feel crazy asking this- is it possible for an electronic to try to kill you?

If I haven't made it clear, my Mug-gellan is a real asshole! Today, instead of directing me to make a quick u-turn in order to arrive on time and safely to my destination, it advised me to turn onto a small side street and continue 3 blocks to a crack house. This is not a joke or a lie. Muggy -as I will refer to it from here on- insisted (in its high soprano girl voice) that I must turn left onto 36th street. The problem was that 36th Street had been replaced by one of the most dilapidated shacks I have ever seen and in front of said shack, sat two skinny toothless men on 5 gallon paint buckets. (Sadly dad, no shower caps) It looked like something straight out of the TV show "Cops" and as I sat in my car- quickly adjusting my door locks- I couldn't help but wonder how long it would take real cops to get here if I needed assistance. I also contemplated whether or not a crack den would moon light as a Xanax distribution center, but I didn't want a reason to thank Muggy for sending me into the hood.

Thankfully, I was able to backtrack my way out of there alive and sober. I also managed to find my way- completely unassisted- to the smart untainted u-turn. I felt a real sense of accomplishment when I got to my destination with just seconds to spare-all by my own doing, might I add- and silently wondered why I didn't just go old school and use a fucking paper map. After all it's not like this was the first time Muggy pulled a stunt like this. Last week she insisted that every location I programed in did not exist, tried to make me turn on a one way the wrong way and once she even called me a cunt... Ok, that last parts a lie, but I'm sure she was thinking it.

Friday, July 2, 2010

The First Days Of New

"Though the candle flickers, the flame is never gone."- Colin Hay

Miss me?I know it's long overdue, but here's a quick run down of what I've been up to for the last three weeks...

When I woke up 3 weeks ago to the first day of my new job- I felt as though it was the first day of school. I had a fancy new outfit, a belly full of butterflies and absolutely no idea if my new peers were going to like me. Now while I'm sure everyone has jitters on their first day, I found that mine were intensified by the fact- that for the last four years- I've been nothing more than a domestically challenged housewitch with a babysitting gig. And during those years, the hardest decision I ever had to make was whether to go with Pampers or Huggies. Besides keeping my kid alive, ignoring house work and writing this shitty blog-I've had nowhere to be and no one to impress. I guess that's why I'm finding it so super exciting to put on a pair of pants that contain not only a working zipper, but also a full set of belt loops too. Though I am a little disappointed that I will be required to brush my hair AND wear a bra everyday, it seem- to me at least- a small price to pay for my new found freedom.

So far my new peers are treating me well. They all seem to be off balanced enough to get me and nice enough to fake it if they don't. Because I am the "new kid" it's very easy to be overlooked and ignored. I have decided to combat this by asserting myself into their conversations at inappropriate times with random comments about my IBT's (itty bitty titties) and willingness to sell my son on ebay to increase our yearly sales budget.

Moving on to office matters, I have decided to keep a safe distance from my new office whenever possible. This because I am a serial copier and fax murderer. I have single handedly broken 1 fax and 2 copiers since I've started and have been ban from ever using one or the other without assistance because of it. My thoughts on all of this are simple- I'm paid to talk to Doctors and Gomers. Anything above and beyond that will require more money and training. I didn't attend college for roughly three years to make copies (or earn a degree, apparently).

Now to my son. The little bastard is doing amazing without me. If any of you follow my misadventures on Facebook, you may have already read that two days after I left him to fend for himself, he decided to start doing his pees and poops on the potty like a big boy. I know I should be proud, but really I just feel like my three year old has given me the middle finger. I'm honestly not surprised though. He has managed to come to all of his big milestones without me. That's right, this stay at home mom was not there for the first time her baby crawled, walked or cut a tooth. It's seems unbelievable that I would miss all of these things, but what can I say- my kids kind of a dick like that. Oh well, he'll have other first I'm sure I'll be a part of someday. Like maybe I'll be the one to bail him out the first time he's carted off to prison. You never now, but I am hopeful.

I guess I should apologise for how long it has taken me to get back here. It's difficult when there is very little that I can talk about when it comes to my job. It's not like I'm working for the CIA, but there are HIPPA rules to abide by and I would hate to say anything about someone I work with and get fired for it. Wait, let me rephrase that... I would hate to say something behind the back of someone I work with and get fired for it. Also, because I'm no longer spending quality time with my kiddo, I'm limited on my motherly shenanigans too. It's tough being out in real world, but I promise to make the best of it and share all that I can with you. See you soon...-MM