... now.

There's a new database clerk at work who won't leave me alone.

She's stuck to me like Super Glue.

Oh. Joy.

When she was hired a few weeks back, I was asked to meet briefly with her to do my usual schitck.... you know, introduce myself and let her know that I am the computer geek support person for the Program. Like I do every time someone starts here.

That was the beginning of the end of my treasured solitary office lifestyle.

Because since then:

She emails me multiple times a day.

She leaves voicemails constantly.

She pops by unannounced.

She doesn't make a decision or move without consulting me first.

She even saves a seat for me beside her at meetings. And when I sit across the table, she MOVES to sit next to me.

Last week she pleaded for another one of her "emergency" meetings. After many emails and voicemail requests for help, I dragged myself over to her office in another building. Just to supervise her pushing one frickin' button.

Now, I AM a team player. I am also willing to help out a newbie. But this is getting ridiculous...

Gahhh!

I need an Advanced Warning System with my very own tracking radar.

Until I can requisition that, I'll have to depend on call display and my locked door without a window.

Because I am officially in hiding.

... at breakneck speed.

Take the other night, for example.




NOT the prime equation for my hyperactive imagination.

It had been a hot day, so I needed to cool down and clean up. Since I was home alone, I went through The Pre-Shower Drill:

Lock and bolt the front door.

Ditto the back door.

Close the windows.

Lock the glass dining room patio sliders.

Lock the bathroom door.

I then proceeded to:

Jump into the tub. Shampoo.

Distinctly hear the front door opening and closing.

Freeze.

Freak out a bit when the dog barks.

Was that the door?

Nah.

On second thought, I'm SURE it was... maybe someone came home early.

I turn off the shower and listen.

Dog whines and barks again.

Freak out a little bit more. (Okay, okay. A LOT more).

Gory scenes from Psycho and every other slasher movie I have been stupid enough to watch fast-forward through my mind.

Aaaahh! Getoutta my head!!!!

And just like the doomed idiots in those movies, I climb out of the shower, wrap a towel around my dripping, soapy self and exit the bathroom with shampoo lather dribbling down my back.

Leaving a trail of water as I tiptoe down the dark hallway to investigate, I check every door and every window ... whilst unsuccessfully attempting to push the image of a hockey-masked serial killer wielding a butcher knife from my mind.

No one is there.

The doors are still locked.

The windows still closed.

Stupid dog.

I return to the bathroom to finish rinsing off, only to pause at the door.

Hold on...

What if someone is hiding behind the shower curtain?

Stupid slasher movies.



Stupid imagination.

"So today's the day, eh?"

"For what?" Daughter mumbled, in-between bites of raspberry & cherry pancakes.

"Today. The day Rock Band comes out for Wii." I informed her, as matter-a-factly as I can, gulping down another swig of peach juice.

"No. Not on a Sunday." Munch. Munch. "I think it comes out Tuesday."

It's 11:40 am and we continue noshing lazily on our traditional Sunday brunch.

"No, today is the 22nd. It comes out today." I insisted. "I saw a TV ad for it yesterday." Mmmm... these oranges are really good...

Daughter grabbed my laptop and checked. Her eyes widened and the color drained from her face as Panic sets in. "Aaaahhh! We need to get to Walmart in 15 minutes!!!!"

In a flurry of action, we dropped our forks, changed Superman-speed into something non-pyjama-ish, hopped into the Batmobile er, Caravan and sped off for the mall... abandoning hubby in our wake as he continued to sit dumbfounded, sipping on his morning coffee while the dust and paper napkins settled down around him.

Ten minutes later we arrived to find no less than 50 people milling around outside Walmart's doors. And more were sardined in-between the doors.

Not. Good.

I parked the car after daughter performed her best Action-Film-Like Leap From a Moving Vehicle and joined the crowd. By the time I got there, the doors had just opened, and what do I see but Daughter, the FIRST inside sprinting to Electronics.

I caught up with her after she performed quick sweep of the unmanned department (with a lady and two nerdy guys hard on her heels), finally finding a little typed note taped to the empty Wii games cabinet:



"Noooooo!!!" *

(*NOT what she REALLY said).

Her hands slid down the glass in despair.

In an instant, she was gone again and I fell far behind, as she raced to the only videogame store in the mall... the same place that informed her weeks ago that all the Rock Band pre-orders were sold out.

Their doors hadn't opened yet, but there was Daughter, second inside once they did.

There they were. Stacked up beside the registers.

The Holy Grail she had been hunting for months. I do believe they were glowing with an ethereal radiance.

Then again, it just could have been the sunbeams streaming through the mall skylights.

Rock Band for Wii. Three boxes. That's all.

But were they holding them for the Pre-Orders only?

When she got to the till, Daughter nervously asked for one. The geeky clerk adjusted his thick glasses and asked if she had a pre-order slip.

Time stopped.

Her heart sank.

No!!!! They were so close! She could touch them!

She admitted, no, she didn't.

He looked her in the eye.

She held her breath.

And he simply said "Okay" and rang her through.

With shaking hands, she now possessed her prize. Giggling, she lumbered out of the mall with the huge box.

I think I even saw a tear in her eye.

And in less than an hour after first realizing today was The Day (and after numerous appreciative hugs) there she was, pounding on the drums at 99% Expert as she showed us what the heck all the hoopla was about.

Yes, I said "Hoopla".

I have to admit it IS pretty cool. And she is really good at it.



But I was the Rock Star that day.

I Rock.

I really do.

Now that we are just weeks away from our last mortgage payment, I am amazed at the telephone calls we’ve been inundated with lately.

It seems that we are prime targets for greedy banks “generously” offering us all kinds of special deals. In recent months, I've received calls from various institutions asking what THEY can do for US.

Home equity loans?
Home improvement loans?
How can we improve our service to your banking plan?
What about investments?

Um. Yeah. Right.

Yesterday was the kicker though. It’s not enough they call at THE MOST inconvenient time, now I am getting follow-up calls on their solicitation calls.

Un-be-freaking-lievable.

Automated phone messages asking me to evaluate my coerced conversation with their sales person.

What the?

Not only do I NOT have time at dinner to take the first unprompted call, but they must be daft to think I am going to waste even more time answering some idiotic survey on how perfectly their personnel interrupted my quickly-cooling meal.

Not unless it goes something like this:


How would you describe our last invasion of your privacy?

Somewhat unpleasant
Very unpleasant
Neither pleasant nor unpleasant; more like torture
Somewhat torturous
Very torturous akin to poking my eyes out with a blunt stick

How would you describe the tenacity of our personnel?

Somewhat pushy
Very pushy
Neither pushy nor ambivalent; similar to a bulldog
Somewhat similar to a large bulldog
Very similar to a large, rabid, slobbering bulldog

How would you rate our “special” offers?

Somewhat lame
Very lame
Neither lame nor interesting; ironically too little, too late
Somewhat sadly ironic
Very ironic, now that I HAVE money, I don’t need you!

How would you rate the length of the previous call?

Somewhat long
Very long
Neither long nor short; almost infinity-ish
Somewhat like infinity
Very like infinity to the power of infinity

Would you recommend our services to others?

Somewhat unlikely
Very unlikely
Neither unlikely nor likely; inconceivable actually
Somewhat inconceivable
Very inconceivable, unless they are my evil arch enemy or they work for a bank

Thank you for your ti--

*Click.*

I Has It.

With the week I've been having, it seemed almost poetic that Friday the 13th would be no better.

It was worse. Much worse.

Oh, it started off alright. I drove in early, snagging a prime parking space inside as the weather office predicted a stormy day. In my office (Room 3013 believe it or not), as I counted down the hours to the weekend, I received a notification to inform my co-workers that three funnel clouds had been spotted and we were under a Tornado Watch for the city.

Great. We don't get those very often, but we take them seriously since last year when a deadly F5 hit north of here.

But what was more unnerving was that it's rare to get one inside the City.

So I kept the radio tuned, reviewed emergency procedures with staff, informed my family by cellphone and tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on work again.

After five hours, the Watch was lifted and we breathed easier, joking about the irony of the date.

That would be all the Gods of Fate would throw at me, right?

Wrong.

When I drove daughter to Starbucks for her evening shift, I heard a familiar "ding!" from the van's dash on the way home.

"Weird", I thought. "I HAVE half a tank of gas."

Obviously preturbed I was ignoring it, the warning quickly developed into something along the lines of:

'DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING!"

I began to worry. No, scratch that.

I. Began. To. Freak.

The temperature gauge needle strained in an attempt to propel itself beyond the highest setting.

I envisioned the red hot engine rocketing free of my hood.

Luckily I was close to home, pulled into the driveway and immediately turned it off.

Fluids and steam were spewing out, a trail of coolant flowing down our drive into the street....

Not. Good.

So today my baby was admitted to the car hospital and I am nervously awaiting the prognosis. I am also hoping today's thunderstorms wash away the antifreeze I so obviously polluted the road with.

Will I still have a car?

Will we be out auto shopping today?

Will I have anything left in my bank account?

Will we get out to buy some Father's Day gifts?

I am crossing my fingers for good news.

After all, it's not the 13th anymore, is it?

This morning while walking from the parkade into work, I noticed a shiny penny on the ground.

Of course, being the superstitious person that I am, I picked it up and noticed it was dated 2008.

"Cool!" I thought. "My Lucky Day!"

Then a few feet further on, I spotted ANOTHER shiny penny.

"Wow, I'm going to have a REALLY Lucky Day!"

But as soon as I sat down at my desk, the phone calls poured in. Our EKG server was down and I couldn't fix it. The Server Team downtown ignore my numerous pleas for a restore from backup.

So I sat at my desk awaiting their response, emailing users as to the server status.

And I miss a secretary's birthday celebration next door in the Conference Room.

I continued to sit by the phone as a restore from backup is finally completed hours later. I informed all the users that we were back in business.

The restore failed. I emailed everyone that we were down again and awaited by the phone once more for IT to try a second attempt from an older backup.


Which caused me to miss a staff member's going away party again in the Conference Room next door.



I continued to place calls arranging support from the vendor and IT, and informing staff at three hospitals of the trouble.

Upset physicians pound on my door demanding I get this fixed.

Now.

While the vendor and IT play telephone tag with me while rebuilding the system, I missed the Annual Staff Appreciation Picnic.

When I went home the server was still down, with a promise from the vendor that it will be rebuilt by the morning. I was ecstatic to finally get out of there.

Lucky Day my ass.

Stupid pennies.

It all started Thursday afternoon; my cellphone would only display The White Screen Of Death. Crap. I encountered this exact same affliction last year, but on a different phone.

So on Saturday I once again returned to the mall to send it in on warranty repair, which ironically, expires on Tuesday. But with a smug smile, the associate informed me that as of last month, they are a Sales Only store. As is their SECOND outlet in the same mall. I was directed to take my phone to their Service Centre to be sent away for repair.


Their Service Center.
Way on the other side of town.


Crap. Just my luck.

OR... They could give me $150 (less the $ 25 activation fee) off the no-contract price (ie. top cost) of a new phone. IF I signed another three year contract, that is. Great. So I have two options:

1) Drive to the other side of the city twice, to bring in and pick up a year old phone to be sent away for about a month.

2) Get a new phone. Which with taxes, the crappiest model with far less features than I have now would COST me $100, plus I would have to sign another three year contract.

Um, pardon? Sure, take the cheapo phone, that with just my luck, would never last another three years.

I decide to go the repair route. I looked up the Service Center location on the web, and thankfully they were open Sundays. But on the way there, I thought it would be just my luck that they were closed, so I wanted to double-check. But I couldn't.

Because....oh, yeah. I had NO PHONE!

So I drove across town, found them in the industrial park and produced my paper weight phone for repair.

It was then that I was informed my afternoon jaunt had been in vain.

For they couldn't take repairs OR activate loaner phones because their computers were offline and she had no idea when they would be back up. She wouldn't even let me leave the cell to be sent in later.

She just stood there. And smiled. And shrugged.

Crap. Just my luck.

Holding back a few choice four-letter-words, I demanded to speak to the Head Office. They got them on the phone and I let them know in no uncertain terms how unhappy I was with their so-called Customer Service.

Miraculously they instructed the staff that yes, they COULD take my phone, and activate a new one without using the computer. I actually had to show them how to take an "old-fashioned" imprint of my credit card and the Head Office activated a loaner for me over the phone.

But why the heck did I have to get mad to get this done?

And why the heck did I apologise 3 times to the two young female staffers, who were rolling thier eyes at each other about me?



And why the heck did their computers boot back up just as I was leaving?

Because that's Just My Luck.

Sargent Pepper taught the band to play...

Uh, no. Sorry. Wrong line there, but I couldn't help it. Whenever I say something like that, those Beatles lyrics just naturally follow.

No, 28 years ago it was 1980.

• Ronald Regan became President of the U.S.
• John Lennon was shot
• Mount St. Helen's erupted
• The U.S. boycotted the Summer Olympics in Moscow
• Steve McQueen and Peter Sellers died
• Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Gosling were born
• Post-It Notes are invented
• We watched Who Shot JR? on Dallas
• Canadian Ken Taylor organized the escape of Americans from Iran
• CNN started broadcasting
• Gas cost $ 1.25 a US gallon

And 28 years ago today, I was doing this:




Gad. We look young!

(Well, you should silly; you were still a TEENAGER).


Gad. I look thin!

(Ditto on the TEENAGER comment).


Gad. We look happy!

(And yes, we still are).


How the heck can it be 28 years already?

Today was the day I had been dreading for months.

The day I had been losing weight for.

The day I chose the lightest clothes for.

The day I lost three vials of blood for.

The day of my "quadrannual" physical checkup.

As it happens, it went well.

Um, fairly well.

No, it wasn't too bad...

Okay, it was crap.

I needed an EKG. Palpatations.

I need to lose more weight. No duh!

I need to get more sleep. What? No more naps at work?

I need to drink more water. Kidney stones.

I need to exercise. Every frickin' day, apparently.

I need to go for another mammogram. Oh joy.

More pain, prodding, poking, squeezing and overall humiliation.

But then I saw that today's paper was pink. Pink for Breast Cancer Awareness.

And I realized it could be worse. Much worse.


So I'll go get prodded, poked and squeezed.

And I'll try to stop whining about it too.

I only hope I'm more successful at THAT than I will be at any of those other changes I need to make.

Don't give me those big sad eyes, pleading for attention. It won't do you any good tonight.

It's late and I'm tired.

And giving me a massage isn't going to change my mind.... so stop kneading my arm.

I want to sleep. I NEED to sleep!

Get back to the other side of the bed and lay still.

Go on... leave me alone.

Pleeeeze!

Yes, I AM hiding from you under the covers, so that soft neck nuzzling is not going to work either.

I don't want to play. I have to get up in a few hours!

So StopItStopItStopIt!!!!!

Okay, I've had enough. You're just not listening.

You obviously are only concerned with your own pleasure, not mine.

I gave you plenty of warning. So out you go... out of the bedroom!











Damn cat.