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Frustration Series: PTO, Neighbors, Departed, Ultraviolet
Now, for another in my exciting Frustration Series. I hate turning my journal into a bitchfest, because negativity never got anyone anywhere, but I think this should be the last of it.
England: Only after returning and receiving my paycheck did I realize that I only got paid for half the days I took off. Yeeeeeouuuuuuuch. Damn that hurt. Though granted I'd rather not have known while on my trip, it would have made it much more difficult to enjoy myself. But still. I've been with this company for 5, probably damn near 6 years, "full time" (if you consider 40 hours a week full time -- they have a clever job classification that defines "full time" only as producing an impossibly high line count -- well, impossibly high if you work two jobs like I do), and the best I get is 5 fucking paid days off a year? Actually I shouldn't complain, before last year PTO was but an unattainable fantasy. "So go work for someone else" you're probably saying. Well, contrary to what the ads say, medical transcriptionists aren't in high demand, we're a dime a dozen.
I tried to argue my PTO. I could've sworn I read in an interoffice memo somewhere that we would be allowed to borrow PTO before earning it, which made great sense to me -- did they want everyone saving their time until December, then taking vacation en masse, leaving a month's worth of reports falling behind? Evidently, because the schedule supervisor had no idea what I was talking about. I'm reasonably sure I didn't pull it out of my ass. It's not like I dream about the fine print in PTO policies. Stupid. Stupid and nonsensical. However, careful review of the policy revealed that time could be carried over to the next year, while I distinctly remember being told last year to "use it or lose it" (of course, I also distinctly remembered the borrowing clause). We'll see. I consider this matter FAR from over.
Neighbors: I work from home, which is bliss. But unfortunately, some people take the opportunity thinking no one else is home to engage in very noisy activities. One of my neighbors ran a circular saw every day for about a week. Then yesterday I heard what sounded like a different saw, which I suspect was being used by Tracey's boyfriend (I traced the first one to the ground floor unit across the way). It could be worse I guess: A circular saw is a hell of a lot more annoying at, say, 9:00 at night than 1:00 in the afternoon. They could run them simultaneously, which would probably make me a leettle homicidal. But it's almost uncanny how I'll put up with it, and put up with it, and put up with it, and finally close my window. Then they'll stop. After a few hours I'll figure it's safe, open the window, and almost IMMEDIATELY they'll start in again. Oh, COME ON.
There's a new noise that I find almost as intolerable as the angry whine of the saw(s). Someone (impossible to determine who) has a squeak toy which they are unhealthily fond of. Whether it's a dog, or a baby, or an emotionally disturbed adult, I have no idea. But they will squeak this thing for a ridiculously long time. Picture it.
SqueakySqueakySqueaky....SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky....Squeaky....Squeaky.... SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky.... SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky... SqueakySqueakySqueaky. SQUEAKY! SQUEAKY! SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky...SqueakySqueakySqueaky...SqueakySqueaky...SQUEAKY!! SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky...SqueakySqueaky....Squeaky....Squeaky...SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky...SQUEAKYSQUEAKYSQUEAKYSQUEAKY!!! SqueakySqueaky...
After about 15 minutes, I snapped. "ENOUGH WITH THE GODDAMN SQUEAK TOY!!!!!" I screamed out the window (to be heard over it, you understand). Instant, complete silence, which was enormously satisfying to finally be obeyed.
Ogre. Destroyer of Fun. Sucker of Joy. These names and many others were used by Tery in reference to me. All true. But godDAMN. A circular saw is one thing. You're fixing up your place, building something, you need to use a saw. Fine. Squeak toy? Totally optional. Do you not have ANY other toys? Or, I don't know, CLOSE YOUR DAMN DOOR AND MAKE ALL THE NOISE YOU WANT INSIDE YOUR OWN HOME???
Tery also theorized that it was a squeaky circular saw.
~*~
After having it in our possession for an extremely long period of time (borrowed from Tery's friend), we finally broke down and watched The Departed.
You'd think this movie would be a natural choice for Tery. Her favorite film of all time is far and away Goodfellas, with an estimated 150 viewings as of this date. I don't care as much for the mob movies, but hey, this was award-winning, and I feel especially generous given Tery's watching of Firefly for my sake.
Let's see, plot synopsis: Leo DiCaprio is a good cop sent to be an informer in Jack Nicholson's Boston Irish mafia outfit. Matt Damon is a crooked cop working for Nicholson. Each is working desperately to find and out the other. Leo and the police are working desperately to bring down Nicholson, while Damon is working just as hard to protect him. That's as simple as I can make it.
This picture had a lot going for it. Tery and Scorcese both share a love of stomach-turning ultraviolence set to rockin' hits of the 60's and 70's, though I'd say there's a lot more of it in GF. We enjoyed the heavy name-dropping of Beantown locations, and by the end we had both slipped unconsciously back into our New England accents. I thought Leo gave a gripping performance as a man pushed to his absolute limit by the stress of being deep undercover in a deadly gang, with only two contacts on the force (one of which is killed and the other quits). (He was snubbed by the Academy™ because of his nomination for Blood Diamond, which is bollocks if you ask me -- awards should be given based on merit, not in the spirit of fairness to make sure everyone gets one.)
It's a terrific movie, riveting (if a bit confusing) with an ending you probably won't see coming (you'll be too busy trying to work out what's happened up to that point). Where the movie fails is in the comical overuse of cell phones. No, really -- there's one in practically every scene. Some people carry more than one, and Damon is shown once elaborately changing his SIM card between phones. It was funny, but crossed the line into the absurd in one tension-filled scene where the gang is making a drop and all cell phones are supposed to be turned off. Leo, however, text messages the location with the phone in his coat pocket. Text messaging takes me a frustrating amount of time when I'm holding the phone up to my face and can see all the keys. Doing it by touch this way, my message would look like this: "G amd jdwgmgtnm." Sure.
It was enjoyable enough, if you like your movies bloody (Tery's favorite scene was Nicholson coming out of a bar backroom up to the elbows in gore, delivering his lines, then issuing the order as he disappears again, "Jimmy, bring a mop.....and a pail!"), twisty and turny. I can't count how many times I had to pause it to make sure I wasn't left hopelessly behind. Tery will not be buying it, proclaiming Goodfellas' title to be safe. Still, if you're sober and feeling up to the challenge, it's worth your while. 4 out of 5
In other movie news, after watching 20 minutes of Ultraviolet before leaving for work, I can't decide which is more incredibly bad, the dialogue or Milla Jovovich's delivery of the dialogue. I mean really, REALLY bad. I enjoyed her performance more when she didn't speak any English in Fifth Element.
Finally, I forgot how very, very funny the Upright Citizens Brigade is (Halloween costume potential: High). Dance for me boy, like your mama used to.
England: Only after returning and receiving my paycheck did I realize that I only got paid for half the days I took off. Yeeeeeouuuuuuuch. Damn that hurt. Though granted I'd rather not have known while on my trip, it would have made it much more difficult to enjoy myself. But still. I've been with this company for 5, probably damn near 6 years, "full time" (if you consider 40 hours a week full time -- they have a clever job classification that defines "full time" only as producing an impossibly high line count -- well, impossibly high if you work two jobs like I do), and the best I get is 5 fucking paid days off a year? Actually I shouldn't complain, before last year PTO was but an unattainable fantasy. "So go work for someone else" you're probably saying. Well, contrary to what the ads say, medical transcriptionists aren't in high demand, we're a dime a dozen.
I tried to argue my PTO. I could've sworn I read in an interoffice memo somewhere that we would be allowed to borrow PTO before earning it, which made great sense to me -- did they want everyone saving their time until December, then taking vacation en masse, leaving a month's worth of reports falling behind? Evidently, because the schedule supervisor had no idea what I was talking about. I'm reasonably sure I didn't pull it out of my ass. It's not like I dream about the fine print in PTO policies. Stupid. Stupid and nonsensical. However, careful review of the policy revealed that time could be carried over to the next year, while I distinctly remember being told last year to "use it or lose it" (of course, I also distinctly remembered the borrowing clause). We'll see. I consider this matter FAR from over.
Neighbors: I work from home, which is bliss. But unfortunately, some people take the opportunity thinking no one else is home to engage in very noisy activities. One of my neighbors ran a circular saw every day for about a week. Then yesterday I heard what sounded like a different saw, which I suspect was being used by Tracey's boyfriend (I traced the first one to the ground floor unit across the way). It could be worse I guess: A circular saw is a hell of a lot more annoying at, say, 9:00 at night than 1:00 in the afternoon. They could run them simultaneously, which would probably make me a leettle homicidal. But it's almost uncanny how I'll put up with it, and put up with it, and put up with it, and finally close my window. Then they'll stop. After a few hours I'll figure it's safe, open the window, and almost IMMEDIATELY they'll start in again. Oh, COME ON.
There's a new noise that I find almost as intolerable as the angry whine of the saw(s). Someone (impossible to determine who) has a squeak toy which they are unhealthily fond of. Whether it's a dog, or a baby, or an emotionally disturbed adult, I have no idea. But they will squeak this thing for a ridiculously long time. Picture it.
SqueakySqueakySqueaky....SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky....Squeaky....Squeaky.... SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky.... SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky... SqueakySqueakySqueaky. SQUEAKY! SQUEAKY! SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky...SqueakySqueakySqueaky...SqueakySqueaky...SQUEAKY!! SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky...SqueakySqueaky....Squeaky....Squeaky...SqueakySqueakySqueakySqueaky...SQUEAKYSQUEAKYSQUEAKYSQUEAKY!!! SqueakySqueaky...
After about 15 minutes, I snapped. "ENOUGH WITH THE GODDAMN SQUEAK TOY!!!!!" I screamed out the window (to be heard over it, you understand). Instant, complete silence, which was enormously satisfying to finally be obeyed.
Ogre. Destroyer of Fun. Sucker of Joy. These names and many others were used by Tery in reference to me. All true. But godDAMN. A circular saw is one thing. You're fixing up your place, building something, you need to use a saw. Fine. Squeak toy? Totally optional. Do you not have ANY other toys? Or, I don't know, CLOSE YOUR DAMN DOOR AND MAKE ALL THE NOISE YOU WANT INSIDE YOUR OWN HOME???
Tery also theorized that it was a squeaky circular saw.
~*~
After having it in our possession for an extremely long period of time (borrowed from Tery's friend), we finally broke down and watched The Departed.
You'd think this movie would be a natural choice for Tery. Her favorite film of all time is far and away Goodfellas, with an estimated 150 viewings as of this date. I don't care as much for the mob movies, but hey, this was award-winning, and I feel especially generous given Tery's watching of Firefly for my sake.
Let's see, plot synopsis: Leo DiCaprio is a good cop sent to be an informer in Jack Nicholson's Boston Irish mafia outfit. Matt Damon is a crooked cop working for Nicholson. Each is working desperately to find and out the other. Leo and the police are working desperately to bring down Nicholson, while Damon is working just as hard to protect him. That's as simple as I can make it.
This picture had a lot going for it. Tery and Scorcese both share a love of stomach-turning ultraviolence set to rockin' hits of the 60's and 70's, though I'd say there's a lot more of it in GF. We enjoyed the heavy name-dropping of Beantown locations, and by the end we had both slipped unconsciously back into our New England accents. I thought Leo gave a gripping performance as a man pushed to his absolute limit by the stress of being deep undercover in a deadly gang, with only two contacts on the force (one of which is killed and the other quits). (He was snubbed by the Academy™ because of his nomination for Blood Diamond, which is bollocks if you ask me -- awards should be given based on merit, not in the spirit of fairness to make sure everyone gets one.)
It's a terrific movie, riveting (if a bit confusing) with an ending you probably won't see coming (you'll be too busy trying to work out what's happened up to that point). Where the movie fails is in the comical overuse of cell phones. No, really -- there's one in practically every scene. Some people carry more than one, and Damon is shown once elaborately changing his SIM card between phones. It was funny, but crossed the line into the absurd in one tension-filled scene where the gang is making a drop and all cell phones are supposed to be turned off. Leo, however, text messages the location with the phone in his coat pocket. Text messaging takes me a frustrating amount of time when I'm holding the phone up to my face and can see all the keys. Doing it by touch this way, my message would look like this: "G amd jdwgmgtnm." Sure.
It was enjoyable enough, if you like your movies bloody (Tery's favorite scene was Nicholson coming out of a bar backroom up to the elbows in gore, delivering his lines, then issuing the order as he disappears again, "Jimmy, bring a mop.....and a pail!"), twisty and turny. I can't count how many times I had to pause it to make sure I wasn't left hopelessly behind. Tery will not be buying it, proclaiming Goodfellas' title to be safe. Still, if you're sober and feeling up to the challenge, it's worth your while. 4 out of 5
In other movie news, after watching 20 minutes of Ultraviolet before leaving for work, I can't decide which is more incredibly bad, the dialogue or Milla Jovovich's delivery of the dialogue. I mean really, REALLY bad. I enjoyed her performance more when she didn't speak any English in Fifth Element.
Finally, I forgot how very, very funny the Upright Citizens Brigade is (Halloween costume potential: High). Dance for me boy, like your mama used to.