I’ve come to the conclusion that I will never be a world famous blogger if I don’t actually post something (other than links) now and then.
sigh
It’s so tough being world famous to-be. 😉
Anyway, I straightened out an old bank account, so far. I may have money to fix the poor jalopy. Don’t tell her I called her that. I really do feel just a touch supersititious about that car and the requirement for repairs. Sort of a “hurt my feelings will you…” deal. Revenge of the senior car. Now it needs a new serpentine belt and some kind of overhaul of the brakes too. I’m not exactly sure. I just know it can’t be a good thing when your brakes are like soup. How will I get the little drive beast (Todd’s phrase) down to Newmarket for Jim to fix her? That is an event for tomorrow.
Tonight I am just happy I have the money to get the drive beast back on the road. It can’t be good to have a car sitting in the driveway for a month or so. I know it bothered my Mother seeing it there. It used to be her car and she still likes it better than the newer Honda she bought. Me too really. Though the Honda does have that nice skylight, not appreciated by my Mom but I like opening it up for the sunlight and the wind.
I’m listening to CBC Radio, even though they are on strike. Some screw up union thing. I admit I have no sympathy for the union stuff. I worked non-union all my life, no tips either. Cashiers really should get tips. I don’t mind the job itself, maybe I would have lost it if I’d been on cash more than 2 years, but… it can be a pleasant job really. It depends a lot on the store you work for and how they run things. One of the worst things about working at the store I was at was being pushed to sell credit cards and having things come up which were priced wrong. So many times someone in management marked some dishes or something on sale from $50 to $10 but they neglected to stick something on them or just let we peons on the cash registers to know about it. I don’t like being the bad guy scapegoat. Sure the manager looks good, saving the customer from that bad, mean old cashier. It doesn’t leave me feeling too perky though. Actually, after a few run ins like that I decided not to be such a patsy about it. Just give them the dishes for whatever they say they should be. Seems to me if the manager cared he would go to the expense of putting a price sticker on the things. If not, it’s not my problem. I’m just a cashier. Besides, it gives me a chance to get someone else into the kettle along with me, kettle of hot water that is. At the end of the day, it’s a job. I like going home and leaving it all back in the building, overnight at least.
So, have I babbled enough? Am I famous yet? How about notorious? That could be more interesting. I’ve never had much hope of being notorious. Too nice, too sweet and all that stuff. You can’t escape who you are though. I’m stuck with the nice grrl thing. Don’t think I haven’t tried to crack the mold now and then.