I've completed another item on the 101 in 1001 list. Last Friday night, before the Snowsera show at Fiesta Cantina, I went to another Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives location - Glenn's Diner.
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Only one thought crossed my mind when I heard the news of Michael Jackson's death - memories of the year that he performed at the SuperBowl halftime and everyone at our party placed bets on how many times he would grab himself. DuMom won. It is, to date, the only football bet she's ever won.
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My plans for this weekend aren't solidified yet. Perhaps some racing, perhaps some culture, perhaps some sitting on my ass and doing nothing.
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On Wednesday night, I was standing in the driveway with Duke when he suddenly shouted "HOLY SHIT THERE'S A BIRD IN MY CAR". Indeed there was. Grainy Louise video time!
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This week has been pretty sucktacular, as anybody who has seen the weather in northern Illinois probably guessed already. It was very good in a very big way - I sell air conditioners for a living and it's hot and humid as hell and I've been praying for this, doing heatwave dances, and performing sacrificial thermostat rituals, because we needed the work so badly. However, every year I'm never quite prepared for what it actually means for me and my mental health.
People who are cold are polite. In the winter, when people have no heat and the phone is ringing 24 lines at a time, people are like "Oh, I understand, I'll put on a sweater, get here when you can, thanks so much." In the summer, when the people who have 35 year-old air conditioners that they refuse to replace, have never spent a dime maintaining, and are not loyal customers of ours, they still somehow think that abusing the hell out of me on the phone is going to speed up the service technician. "Oh, thanks honey, I'll put on a sweater" turns into "This is bleeping ridiculous you stupid bleeping bleep."
Also, the minute that people find out that they will have to pay afterhours rates because we are booked or they didn't call until 5 pm, every single person has cancer, an elderly parent, a newborn baby, a sick dog, or some combination of the above, and really, how dare I? How dare I charge somebody who is dying more, because they are dying and they deserve a discount! Why am I so cruel and heartless? What kind of person am I? How dare I? Every year, I find myself hanging up the phone after every single call, thinking that the entire world is a bunch of rude, self-centered, foul-mouthed liars. I try my best to leave work at work, but nine solid hours of verbal abuse can get to a person.
I am awesome at my job and I am so glad to be busy again, but damn. Give me a blizzard over a heat wave any day. Say it again with me: "It's not the heat, it's the stupidity."
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This week, years past:
2008: We went to NoDak for Amanda's wedding, I visited Dacotah Speedway and had some flashbacks of dangerous childhood activities, and Pipes learned about one of the Three Times I Almost Died in Bismarck.
2007: The Mad Cow took its only ride on a tow truck to date, and I had such an awful day at work I drank my lunch, and I missed Grandma fiercely.
2006: A guest blogger shared her amazing story, and I flipped my lid on June 26th, yet again. Huh. I'm noticing a pattern here. Perhaps I should take this week off next year.
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