Floppy Discs and Funeral Homes in Planting Trees

I had both a psychiatry appointment and a therapy appointment yesterday. I just want to say: I’ve never seen my psychiatrist so angry as when I told her about how the sleep clinic had treated me, especially the part about calling in my information with my last name spelled wrong and with my birth year 60-70yrs off the mark over and over again and rushing me off the phone instead of repeating my information back so I could fix it. Thank God for the fed up pharmacist that called them on my behalf. I like to imagine she formally tore them a new asshole.

The bad part is, I was supposed to have a followup scheduled to check in on how the new medicine is treating me, but I have no idea if that even got scheduled to begin with, since my medicine was so fucked up. I am dead serious when I say I will drive there myself to address them in person, despite not having a license. I can’t just not go back, since that medication has no refills available.

The psych also seemed to react when I passed on the doctor’s name, in a knowing fashion. She told me to try again, this time going to Little Rock, if this medicine doesn’t seem to help, because “they’re trying to get good professionals here in Conway, but…” [insert knowing glance down and off to the side.]

Moving on.

I took it upon myself last week to dig everything out from the under-cabinets in the hardware counter at work, because my manager is an unorganized hoarder. We keep the paint pigment refills down there, and they were all over the place. I have no idea how he can keep up with what he needs. (Frankly, I think it’s why we run out of certain colors now and then. Do you know how hard it is to tell a customer “yes, we have the base, yes, we have the color card, but we literally can’t make your lavender because it needs one pump of red and we’re out of that.”)

What I did could be considered my organizational magnum opus. I made a space for paint refills alphabetically, since they’re labeled with letter codes. I made an area for overstocked ones, like the T yellow we have 92835y329 of, probably because he has no idea what’s down there and guesses when he orders them. I took out all of the tools that have lost their labels that he’s supposed to find the UPC for but instead he hides down there, and all of his label supplies. The high point, though, was the mounds and mounds of paperwork, folders, books, binders, and terrifyingly old cds that I discovered.

Of course, I took pictures.

First of all, the cds.

Just, wow. And if that wasn’t oldschool enough, have a few “real life save icons” as well:

Probably the funniest thing I found was this notebook which had a single page written on it. It definitely wasn’t my manager’s handwriting, which is all fancy and cryptic and OCD looking. Whoever’s it is, I hope they had a fantastic DnD campaign.

Another oddity worth noting was the morgue pamphlet he was using as a bookmark in one of the folders. I didn’t get a photo of that one. I’d like to add that my manager is like in his 70s or 80s, quite up there, and he’s probably keeping it for other reasons than this, but I just know if I make it to that age, that’s going to be my dark ass humor in a nutshell. Morgue pamphlet in this book, funeral home pamphlet in that book, coffin catalog in my bible, etc. etc.

Onto the more serious findings, though. I found a training guide teaching you about the paint machine, the pros and cons of different paints, how paints are made, and commonly asked customer questions and how to answer them. You know, the thing I needed a year ago when I got the hardware position. I have literally learned everything through customer commentary, squinting at fine text on labels, and google so far. I’m going to read the fuck out of that book and have real answers when people ask if you can use this paint without a primer, or put latex over oil based, etc.

I also found the manager’s guide to processes. It’s their daily job in a to-do list. You bet your ass I’m going to pilfer that and read it through, too. I passed the management test and checked the box next to hardware. My manager is the warmest, kindest soul, and I’m not going to try to push him out of the position, but he’s had a couple of health scares since I was hired on and it’s general wisdom to prepare for his eventual retirement. I want that position. I will fight these bitches.

I mean, as much as I want any job in big box retail, which is to say, if I never move up, I could give a rat’s less. I’m just trying to make my time more expensive to the company, since I’m spending full time hours up there. That and management gets to handle a lot more numbers and paperwork, the thing I thrive on.

Yawn.

That’s all I’ve got.