Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Can anyone spare $24.83 and provide a receipt?

So the husband and I sat down at another restaurant for dinner. I work full time now, I avoid cooking. This was the topic of our dinner conversation, the not cooking thing. Then the conversation took on a life of its own and we started discussing my receptionist career. "You know what I'm doing now?" I asked him. "They dumped the petty cash box in my lap."
The husband looked amused.
"It hasn't been reconciled since September."
His face lit up like a Christmas tree.
"It kind of got lost in the shuffle during the layoffs at the beginning of the year."
Then there was an honest to God, genuine look of interest in his demeanor.
And then we laughed a good 45 to 56 seconds. There would have been more laughing but our waiter came by to tell us the evenings specials. The baked ziti sounded good so I ordered it. When our waiter left the husband asked me, "What kind of bull crap have you been slinging around that office? I can straighten them out right now by showing them about six or seven old checkbooks you've screwed up over the years."
"I never put proficient in Math on my resume, I avoid all Math conversations around the water cooler. I even mentioned once that I hated Math and I know people heard me, I'm kind of loud."
"Really, I never noticed."

Now that the laughing stage is over and done with, I'm fast approaching the hair pulling stage, next will be the crying. I can't seem to find $24.83.
And I'm totally clueless on where to look for it.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

I'm not one of those bloggers that just posts a video so they can say they posted, really

But I was on YouTube, because my Christmas shopping is going to get its self done, and I watched my one and only video I posted there again. I decided to share it in case anyone missed it. The two in the video say they are my kids, but I don't know who they are.

Fourth of July Picnic at Tattoo Tim's House 2009:

Sunday, December 13, 2009

I think she's trying to communicate with me.

Never being an overly ambitious person throughout my 40 something years, I decided long ago that one language was enough for me. It's a decision I still stand by, it's a decision that has plagued me at the Scary Asian Dry Cleaners.
I learned last year that The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes co-worker, family member, whoever she is, that takes my seven ah twenty every week likes to be paid in singles, she loves them. She made it perfectly clear to me when I gave her a twenty and she saw the singles in my wallet, "You pay with dollah, you pay with dollah."
"But...........I...."
Smelling the fear she continued, "You pay with dollah."
"I need this for my son's lunch money." Everyone knows you can't give a kid a twenty and expect change back. I held my ground and she backed off.
My weekly language barrier continued Friday. Armed with singles, like I always have and forever will be, after the dollah incident, I dropped off my four shirt and picked up my four shirt. The only thing next was for her to tell me "Have nice day." We have a routine, little or no talking and we stick to the basics. But she started to talk to me. "Huh?" I had no idea what she was saying but she was pointing to my money and the cash register. "What?" If she's raising their prices she needs to learn a new sentence. "I don't understand." We both became frustrated, she ended the "conversation" by waving me off. I was dismissed.
As I walked to my car, with my head hung low (she didn't tell me to "Have nice day.") I tried to piece together the what had just happened. I'm still at a loss, well not a total loss. I'm pretty sure I might have stiffed her a buck.
Read my last post and tell me there ain't some weird karma going on.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files part 27

Ahh crap. I stopped at the Dry Cleaners during lunch yesterday and the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude tried to stiff me out of a buck. With the economy in the tank and Christmas fast approaching like a run away semi-truck on an icy road, I had to point out the error. I helped him count back from $16.50 and the light came on in his eyes. Whether it was the light that meant,
"Oh I see now where I was wrong, thank you for being so understanding."
Or,
"I'm going to beat you over the head with my numb-chucks when you least suspect it, and it will be soon."
I'm not sure.
Someone remind me to send one of the children for the dry cleaning next week.
Aren't the Asian people a people of superior math skills anyway?
I left the dry cleaners with mixed emotions. Obviously I have untapped mad Math skills, but would I live long enough to put them to good use?