Epic Fail

Awhile back, I cleaned up my resume and went on a job search. Mostly for financial reasons. I needed to work full time, and it would be great to get benefits. Anyone who has had to buy their own health insurance will understand that; there is a definite discrimination against the self employed.

I wasn't specifically aiming for staying in the animal care industry as good pay and benefits are rarely part of the job, but I managed to hit pay dirt: I landed a job at another small animal practice, full time, benefits, with an offer of much better pay to do way less than what I was doing as an Office Manager for Boss Man. A much more technologically modern practice with upscale clientele. It appeared that the staff made a great team. Sounds perfect, right? NOT.

I've learned that getting what I wish for means I've shit in my own mess kit.

It's not hard to check clients and patients in and out. To put them in rooms, and weigh and temp the pets. However, I came from an old school pen and paper type of practice, and this one was run by computers with software that was temperamental and virus infested. I went from one doctor to having several doctors working at the same time. Doctors who kiss the clients butt and treat the staff like dirt. Like Multiple Personality Disorder. One who is such a nasty bastard I expected his head to start spinning and pea soup to start spewing out. I made sure to stand at enough of a distance not to get splattered.

Then there were the receptionists, my lovely coworkers. I was supposed to be in training but nobody wanted to train me. One of them said "If I have to train her, I'd have to talk to her, and I don't want to talk to her." Of course where I could hear it. Derogatory remarks were made about me in earshot. I was berated for not doing my job right. I was ubraided and berated in front of clients. Before my first paycheck (which I still don't have) the woman who hired me had sudden amnesia about the wage she had offered me.
By the end of the first week I had tremors in one of my hands. By the end of the third week, I was shaking at the thought of going to work. On my last day, I had a panic attack at work and had to go to Urgent Care to get sedation. The work supervisor called me later and told me "the only complaint I've heard about you is that they have to tell you things more than once" Ya think?! Then why didn't they fucking train me? and "If you're that unhappy, then it's best that you don't come back." Well, no shit.

I have worked some shitty jobs, but this has been the worst. I'm appalled at the behavior of these women. Who the hell raised them to be these kind of people? A pack of shit throwing monkeys raise their kids with better manners than that. If my own kids had ever treated another person like I was treated, I'd pick them up by their hair, even though they're grown and I'd have to stand on a ladder to do it. And since I didn't get the opportunity say what I wanted in person, I'll do so here:

I'm editing this out today. Time to let go and be grateful I'm gone from there, away from those toxic people and that hostile workplace. They belong together, and I've learned some good lessons from my thankfully short time there.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I got a call from a woman today who had been referred by the charity (who shall remain anonymous) that we work with.  She has a giant breed dog (140 lbs) that needs to be neutered. Since this would be a charity surgery, I had to give her the prices separately, with the cost of the surgery, antibiotics, etc. Not all hospitals have a policy of giving antibiotics after surgery, but ours does, no exceptions. She started arguing with me, stating that she could get antibiotics free from her vet, he just couldn't do the surgery. Rather than having a battle of wits with an unarmed person, I told her she may be happier finding a vet that didn't require antibiotics, and hung up.
Newsflash is that many vets won't alter a full grown giant breed dog, especially not at the price I quoted her. Surgery on full grown giant breeds is arduous backbreaking work.
Speaking of charities, I had a chat with one of the women who works at the one we work with. This charity has been around for more than 30 years, and they've helped many financially strapped people get medical help for their pets. Like most charities in a recession, they are short on donations and long on people with their hand out, so they are forced to only help people that are truly needy. Which means a more arduous screening of the people who call them. Sometimes they only donate $5, and they no longer are able to cover the full cost of surgeries.
She told me that at least once a day the phone call ends with the caller screaming "fuck you!" and slamming the phone down. The staff actually keeps count of the number of "fuck you"s they get. They've had their lives threatened, and bomb threats. They've had to take their sign down, only work daylight hours, and be escorted to the parking lot every day after work.
They are not fugitives, they are people who work tirelessly to help animals and this is charity, for crap's sake! Your pet needs help, friends and family won't, and a perfect stranger helps find a place that is low cost, and even pitches in some money (and even if it is only $5, it's $5 that you don't have to come up with) and your only response is "fuck you"?! Who died and left you so entitled?

Random Rant

In an earlier post I mentioned the dangers of housework when I broke the stoneware to my crock pot. So I do a search online and find a company who carries replacements. I place the order, which is to be shipped by UPS. It hits the doorstep on late Friday of Memorial Day weekend. The package rattles suspiciously. It is packaged poorly in a huge box with a bit of bubble wrap. It's in way more pieces than the one I broke. I fire off a less than pleasant email to the company, who agrees to send me a new one. Same thing with the second one. I demanded a refund. It'll be much less trouble just to go buy a new crock pot.
I won't name the company here, unless I don't get my card credited. But seriously, who in the hell is ignorant enough to package something that is breakable in a bit of bubble wrap in a too large box?! And not even mark it fragile, when it's surely going to be punted by the UPS people?  I've had nail polish delivered that was wrapped better than this was. This is the first time I've ordered something that started out in a box that I could mail back in an envelope.
And what is it with the UPS drivers being so snarky and rude? I miss Ron, who was the regular UPS driver for years. He could be a nosy pain in the ass, but at least he'd ring the bell, and if a box was dented, he'd let me know about it. Seriously, for what they're charging for shipping, the UPS guys could be a little more pleasant. Quit punting the stuff I paid for onto my porch. If you hate your job that much, trade in that shit brown uniform for something that works for you. Like a gorilla suit.

Dancing Is Supposed To Be Fun!

I had a rare Saturday off and got to play with my horses in the morning for a change. They were  finishing breakfast (listening to horses munching hay is a peaceful escape for me.) My reverie was interrupted by a BOOM BOOM BOOM, there was an electrical charge in the air, and it felt like the ground was shaking. Not a thunderstorm, just the A hole who lives behind me "training" a horse to "dance".
I've spent the last more-years-than-I-like-to-admit sporadically learning to ride dressage. I've worked hard at it. Being a realist, I'll never be a famous name, will never win a USDF medal, will probably never do more than enter a local backyard show. I'm content to be an adequate rider. To not embarass the talent I'm riding. To dance with my horse. Working as a team with my dance partner, the flow of energy as such as it's hard to discern where one ends and the other begins is like crack. When it's achieved for a whole ride or just a few strides, it's better than sex, as awesome as chocolate.
Just a disclaimer that I am not targeting a particular race or culture. I've seen people of all races do good and bad things with horses. The "dancing  horse" fad seems to be predominant in the Hispanic culture. Why anyone who thinks this looks good is beyond me, the horses are moving like they are crippled and in pain. Most have soundness issues at very young ages, and instead of being rehabbed, they are dumped at an auction and a new horse started.
If the "training" methods weren't cruel and controversial, why is it necessary to do it under cover? There used to be a chain link fence separating our properties, this neighbor attached aluminum panels to the chain link so nobody can see in. I've seen several horse properties "secluded" in this fashion, so I know exactly what is going on. So not only does my backyard look like Little Tijuana with that tacky ass aluminum on the fence, it sounds like it too, when the "trainer" is there. It does, however, make a satisfying loud sound when I throw something against it, scaring the shit out of the people and causing them to vacate the place in seconds. 
For those who think I'm talking out of my butt, I have owned two horses who were victims of this kind of training. Rehab is tough, as they are shell shocked and lack confidence. One, long gone to the Rainbow Bridge, would still tremble whenever she heard anyone speak Spanish. The one I'm working with now is young, so hopefully the physical and mental damage that's been done to him can become a distant bad memory, but it won't happen in a hurry.
I'm no Kool Ade drinking carrot stick waver. I expect my horses to behave when I'm around. They get to do whatever they want for 23 hours a day, they can do what I ask for an hour. I'm not a great trainer, and there's a lot my horses have to forgive about my riding skills. But they greet me at the gate and eagerly put their head in the halter, happy to go out. They enjoy their workouts and are sound into ripe old age. I have yet to see one "dancing horse" that is.
Here's the video, in case you missed it last time:

Why Is It...

That most of the companies who implore us to go green, save a tree by having our bills sent to us and paid electronically, are the worst offenders when it comes to wasting paper? AT&T, Verizon, DISH Network, and Charter cable companies are responsible for the majority of my junk mail, with crap from one (or all 4) of them in my snail mail box daily. Yet printed on the paper bills from these yeahoos is "save a tree, save the environment, save a stamp, go paperless!" Et tu Ceasar?
The absolute worst offender is Cabela's. Now for those of you who don't know who they are, they are suppliers of gear for hunters. I'm the only non-hunter in the house.
Hubster has been a customer for so long that he gets what we call the Cabela's "buyble", which is a hardback version of their master catalog they send to club members a few times a year. They also send out a few master catalogs, along with several smaller catalogs (think the size of the old Sear's Wishbooks) that cater to specialty items. Almost daily my snail mail box has one or two of these catalogs.
Not even the males in my house can spend enough time in the bathroom read all of the material Cabela's sends, so all but the masters go straight from the mailbox to the recycling bin.
 Cabela's sponsors several hunting shows. Hunters are wanting to preserve the forests and wildlife lands, which is a Good Thing. Too bad they don't start by having Cabela's print a few less catalogs.