Back to work on Thursday for a few hours, and I'm wondering if there's a job available de-beaking baby chickens that I could apply for instead. You know, something less soul-killing and tedious. Seriously, the entire property crapped its pants in honor of my return, and I get to clean it all up. Goody goody gumdrops.I'm going to work for a couple hours Friday. [whimper mode] Please let there be no 911 calls from the property this time?
Talking with another property manager the week before I fell ill, we said we should start a property management support group. He told me if you work in the industry any length of time, you will have to do one of three things to cope: smoke excessively, drink excessively or curse like a sailor. I don't smoke, but if I did, it would be excessively. I'm thinking of starting with the patch. I don't drink very often, but I'd love to have the kind of constitution that would help me function and still have a modest daily tipple on par with that of say, oh, Ernest Hemingway. As for the cussing like a sailor? Relax. I'm all over that shit like white on rice.* I can turn it off and act ladylike and all, but sometimes, the only real therapy in the world is setting afoot implacable strings of well-modified expletives, along with copious amounts of cussin', topped with a dollop of potty mouth for good measure.
I know Friday will be better if I just believe...
There's no place like Tahiti. *click*click*click*
*I'm only on semi-good behaviour here because me Da reads my blog. At least there's SOME thing that governs my urge to vent spleen, eh?
12 comments:
You're a property manager?
Sweet.
You should consider drinking more in any event.
Am I?
Wouldn't it be pretty to think otherwise?
Yes, drinking more. It's always a goal, but I never quite get around to it.
Now that I'm over pneumonia, I'm looking forward to the flavor of a nice red wine, but I'm still feeling puny enough that I'm afraid the havoc even a teeny bit of boozing would play with my system.
For now, it's just me, Pellegrino and my favorite drink, alka seltzer, breakfast of the goddesses.
At first, I thought the photo was of a novelty bottle-opener. I gotta go find a new pair of Reddi-Readers, I guess.
Don't you go having a relapse! I was going to suggest that you come stay up the creek for convalescence but lately I'm thinking that the creek cure just might finish you off. Do NOT let yourself get stressed and fatigued! Right.
Is that a chicken de-beaking machine?
Please tell me it's not, because the only job more tedious and hellish than chicken de-beaking would be selling or servicing chicken de-beaking machines.
"What do you do for a living?"
"Sell chicken de-beakers. Commission's good. We just came out with a new model line last year..."
"You the service tech from D-BEEK?"
"Yeah, I understand your nipper blade adjustment gear was out of whack. I brought a spare."
Take it easy, girl. You need to stay healthy. I suggest cussin' over not going to Tahiti, under your breath of course.
I smoked, drank and cussed when I was a sailor. The smoking leaves a shitty taste in your mouth and makes your breath foul. Not to mention the tar deposits in your lungs. The drinking, when done in moderation don't do a damn thing. When done right, you wake up feeling like hammered shit with a mouth that should be under a horses tail. And your liver may or may not survive.
Now the cussin', that's a healthy way to vent and a great way to make folks sit up and take notice.
lin - clearly, I shouldn't have gone back to work yet. I should have waited until next week. Shit. I was going to wake up about 10:00 am today and get to work by noon, but no - someone who is having a dispute with my boss called me at 8:20 and asked me to mediate, and I was on the phone with him for an hour. I'm billing the company for that hour, and I'm only doing 2 hours in the office today. That's it. From now on, it's all about the boundaries.
tam - No - I was starting off by saying that de-beaking chickens would be less hellish and tedious than property management. Yes, that's a de-beaker. That one costs around $450. It has a special blade that cauterizes the beak as it trims it. De-beaking keeps the unfortunate beasties from pecking each other to death.
You know, actually, I'd rather service the machine than de-beak chickens. I think. I'm guessing about that. Poor little devils.
lainy - Oh, I'll be doing plenty of cussing out loud, rest assured.
myron - my lungs can't take taking up smoking right now. The drinking - I suppose I will continue to settle for the occasional wine with dinner. I agree: cussin' IS healthy, and I intend to continue to do so, liberally. Thanks for encouragin' my bad behavior.
Damn, you're not going to recuperate quickly if that kind of unannounced stress keeps popping up. I was in a similar situation and my former employer kept calling me on disasters and calling me in to the office. I finally said that I would charge them double time as a disaster consultant. They bitched loudly but they also paid up. Do it. It's not like your employer will run some great and lauding addenda to your obit one way or the other.
I say let's all head to Tahiti, sans chicken de-beakers.
You'll not feel the urge to smoke, the drinks will (hopefully) be served by hot young men (do you sense a theme on my part here? ;)), and it's LAW that no hangover occurs if the alcohol is served by hot young men. See, it's a win-win situation.
At least, this is all the case in MY universe.
All joking aside, please take care of yourself. I have the feeling you're far from 100%, and we need you for our daily dose of snark, classy (expensive) shoes, and chicken de-beakers!
Aaaaw, poor chickie. I'd LOVE to hear you curse like a sailor. I'm with you on that. There's nothing like letting loose with a string of good ones at the right moment. Venting.
OMG!!
Can't look at the terrified baby chick pic!
LOVE those shoesies!!
MJs are a fave of mine too...
Steady...pace yourself too much cussin too early on can WEAR YOU OUT!! easy now..........
::BLINK::
::BLINK::
Debeaking baby chickens?
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