This morning I came across the following article on Debit Card Fraud. In fact lately I have come across multiple articles about when you should and should not use debit cards, hot spots for debit card fraud and so on and so forth. Now I grant you that the following paragraph taken from the aforementioned article is completely factual, as I have seen it firsthand while working here at the Credit Union:
"When your debit card is used fraudulently, the money is missing from your account instantly. Payments you've scheduled or checks you've mailed may bounce; you may not be able to afford necessities, and it can take awhile for the fraud to be cleared up and the money restored to your account."
The article goes on to suggest different methods for protecting your financial information such as to beware phishing scams and using bank ATMs as opposed to those located in convenience stores or other unsecured areas. One recommendation in particular, however, really cracks me up:
"Don't make purchases with your debit card. Use a credit card instead, because it offers greater protection against fraud. If you do make debit card purchases, don't use your PIN - tell the cashier to select the credit option. The money for your purchase will still be withdrawn from your account right away, but you won't expose yourself to PIN theft."
Are there schemers out there? Sure. Thieves attach skimmers to ATMs and gas pump that scan your card information and allow them to create counterfeit copies. Hackers are capable of sneaking into merchant or payment system databases and accessing the card numbers of thousands of consumers at a time. Unfortunately in compromise situations like these there is not much one can do except get momentarily angry, contact one's financial institution and then move on.
In 95% of the situations I encounter though, people seem to lack one major thing that could have prevented fraud in the first place:
COMMON SENSE.
In our disclosure we specifically advise members not to record their PIN or keep it anywhere near their card. Disclosures often contain what may seem common knowledge to most, yet somewhere along the line someone could not figure out that writing your PIN in permanent marker on the signature line of your debit card is the equivalent to screaming, "HEY, FEEL FREE TO TAKE ALL MY MONEY!" Memorization of a four-digit number should not require that much effort, not to mention the fact that a PIN can be changed to ANY four-digit number for easier recollection.
I do hate these articles imply that debit cards are completely unsafe though, as there is absolutely nothing wrong with using a PIN for debit card purchases. Now, problems may ensue if one were to perhaps say the number aloud as it is keyed or have the card reader blatantly facing strangers during the transaction because then the safety of one's information probably cannot be guaranteed. But in reality no one needs to become a paranoid loon over this sudden excess media attention. Tomorrow the headlines will read, "Wearing Green Causes Cancer: Your Health Questions Answered!" and debit cards will be safe once again.
To close on a hilarious side note, I just overheard a couple of coworkers exclaiming that our members needed to exercise more common sense. Such perfect timing! It's nice to know that cynicism is not confined to my cube.
30 March 2010
25 March 2010
On The Time I Skirted Jury Duty
Per instructions contained in a letter I had received from Johnston County, I made a call on Tuesday evening to an automated line only to receive the most dreadful news: I had to report for Jury Duty at 10:30 on Wednesday morning.
I arrived early because even in Smithfield it's difficult to find parking when you are heading to the Court House. It was a beautiful day and I tried to remain optimistic that I would not be there long anyway. I found my way to the Jury Pool Room and joined about 35 other uninterested-looking people. We did not have to wait long for some Courthouse employee (I am certain she told us her name and even her title, oops) to come in and present us with a video on why Jury Duty was important and what was expected of us, yadda yadda. She then let us know that if we were selected for the upcoming case we could expect it to last 2-3 days but, gee golly, we are the lucky ones because they have some murder and drug trafficking cases coming up that could last 2-3 weeks! First I thought, "In Johnston County...? Surely not." Then it occurred to me that if I were chosen that would mean wasting MORE of my precious hours in the Courtroom hearing arguments about cases I could not care less about.
I was given plenty of time to the tune of about 3-4 hours to sit there and mull over an escape plan. I even texted a few friends to inquire about the consequences should I simply not show up after they called for the lunch break. I was told bad things would happen, so I scratched that off the list.
Finally one of the Bailiffs arrived to escort us to the Courtroom. I was strangely reminded of entering a church: it was cold, there were only rigid wooden pews to sit on and I felt out of place. The Judge began by explaining the case and introducing the various people in the room. He went on to contradict the information previously provided to us by stating that he expected the case to last until next TUESDAY. For the mathematically challenged, this means I would spend a total of FIVE days in this Legal Hell. I knew at that point I could not leave the odds of being chosen up to fate alone. I had to act fast! Luckily the honorable Judge then uttered the magic words, "If any of you feel you have a valid excuse as to why you should not be chosen, please approach the stand now so that I can speak with you."
After a moment's hesitation I mustered the courage to get up and join the line of about five others. When it was my turn I walked right up to him and said, "Sir, I work at a Credit Union Operations Center and as we have a limited number of employees in our department I feel it is pertinent I be there to attend to my job duties." I hope my jaw did not drop open in disbelief when he said, "Alright then." I earned Ninja Points for this next move though. The Clerk of Courts explained to me that my Jury Duty was only being "deferred" and she needed to know what month was best for them to contact me once again. "How about November or December, honey? Is one of those months good for you?" I smiled innocently and replied, "Oh November's great for me! Thank you so much!"
I am not certain but I may have danced out of that Courtroom.
I arrived early because even in Smithfield it's difficult to find parking when you are heading to the Court House. It was a beautiful day and I tried to remain optimistic that I would not be there long anyway. I found my way to the Jury Pool Room and joined about 35 other uninterested-looking people. We did not have to wait long for some Courthouse employee (I am certain she told us her name and even her title, oops) to come in and present us with a video on why Jury Duty was important and what was expected of us, yadda yadda. She then let us know that if we were selected for the upcoming case we could expect it to last 2-3 days but, gee golly, we are the lucky ones because they have some murder and drug trafficking cases coming up that could last 2-3 weeks! First I thought, "In Johnston County...? Surely not." Then it occurred to me that if I were chosen that would mean wasting MORE of my precious hours in the Courtroom hearing arguments about cases I could not care less about.
I was given plenty of time to the tune of about 3-4 hours to sit there and mull over an escape plan. I even texted a few friends to inquire about the consequences should I simply not show up after they called for the lunch break. I was told bad things would happen, so I scratched that off the list.
Finally one of the Bailiffs arrived to escort us to the Courtroom. I was strangely reminded of entering a church: it was cold, there were only rigid wooden pews to sit on and I felt out of place. The Judge began by explaining the case and introducing the various people in the room. He went on to contradict the information previously provided to us by stating that he expected the case to last until next TUESDAY. For the mathematically challenged, this means I would spend a total of FIVE days in this Legal Hell. I knew at that point I could not leave the odds of being chosen up to fate alone. I had to act fast! Luckily the honorable Judge then uttered the magic words, "If any of you feel you have a valid excuse as to why you should not be chosen, please approach the stand now so that I can speak with you."
After a moment's hesitation I mustered the courage to get up and join the line of about five others. When it was my turn I walked right up to him and said, "Sir, I work at a Credit Union Operations Center and as we have a limited number of employees in our department I feel it is pertinent I be there to attend to my job duties." I hope my jaw did not drop open in disbelief when he said, "Alright then." I earned Ninja Points for this next move though. The Clerk of Courts explained to me that my Jury Duty was only being "deferred" and she needed to know what month was best for them to contact me once again. "How about November or December, honey? Is one of those months good for you?" I smiled innocently and replied, "Oh November's great for me! Thank you so much!"
I am not certain but I may have danced out of that Courtroom.
22 March 2010
A Rush of Blood to the Head
On an insignificant sunny afternoon I am in a white dress walking through an open grassy field. All around me there are daisies and wildflowers; the bees humming as they go about their work. The grass tickles my uncovered feet and I feel free. I look up at the brilliant blue sky and notice puffy clouds that are moving quickly, much too quickly, above my head. A light breeze drifts through the air and my nose is greeted by a sweet floral scent. I shiver as something soft brushes my shoulders and I turn, alarmed by the ghostly touch. When I find no one I glance down and notice silky brown curls brushing my bare skin. It seems strange that my hair is long again but I do not have time to question it. I feel I should keep going.
As I continue my stroll I come across a heavily wooded area. The trees grow so tall here that I cannot make out where they end; their arms reach right into the Heavens. I take one long look back at the glowing field and move forward into thick darkness. Since the dense canopy of the surrounding trees allows very little light to peek through I am struck with the idea to crawl along the cool floor. Though an unseen branch grabs hold of my dress and rips a small tear in its thin material and despite the knowledge of being coated in soil I am not hindered in my progress.
Soon enough I reach a clearing and in the middle is a building. It is difficult to make out but it appears to be the auditorium from my original elementary school, the same old brick building that housed my Father and Grandmother during their years of primary education. Something tells me this is impossible as I recall the building being torn down some years back; however curiosity outweighs my doubts and I pull myself up and through the crumbling doors. Inside it looks the same as I remember it: creaking wooden chairs that are not comfortable in the slightest, unstable balcony overhead, outdated chandelier with dim yellow lights and a small wooden stage. In the center of the stage is a lovely man, a fine example of the tireless cliché tall, dark and handsome. He is surrounded by some of my friends and a handful of strangers. I watch him carefully from the end of the room, drawn to his humor and charming smile just as the others seem to be. I decide to approach them since I see familiar faces but I stumble and have to catch myself on a nearby chair. He looks up at me then, distracted by the noise yet the only one who seems to notice my presence. When our eyes lock in that moment I feel overwhelmingly vulnerable. I go to move, perhaps to hide, but find I am unable to do so. The man smiles at me, unconcerned by my awkwardness and unkempt appearance. I notice I am returning his smile only after my lips have already turned themselves upward in acknowledgement. He climbs gracefully down from the stage and as he begins to walk toward me...
...my eyes shoot open. It is 06:15 and some irrelevant news story is now blaring from my radio...
Damn my luck.
As I continue my stroll I come across a heavily wooded area. The trees grow so tall here that I cannot make out where they end; their arms reach right into the Heavens. I take one long look back at the glowing field and move forward into thick darkness. Since the dense canopy of the surrounding trees allows very little light to peek through I am struck with the idea to crawl along the cool floor. Though an unseen branch grabs hold of my dress and rips a small tear in its thin material and despite the knowledge of being coated in soil I am not hindered in my progress.
Soon enough I reach a clearing and in the middle is a building. It is difficult to make out but it appears to be the auditorium from my original elementary school, the same old brick building that housed my Father and Grandmother during their years of primary education. Something tells me this is impossible as I recall the building being torn down some years back; however curiosity outweighs my doubts and I pull myself up and through the crumbling doors. Inside it looks the same as I remember it: creaking wooden chairs that are not comfortable in the slightest, unstable balcony overhead, outdated chandelier with dim yellow lights and a small wooden stage. In the center of the stage is a lovely man, a fine example of the tireless cliché tall, dark and handsome. He is surrounded by some of my friends and a handful of strangers. I watch him carefully from the end of the room, drawn to his humor and charming smile just as the others seem to be. I decide to approach them since I see familiar faces but I stumble and have to catch myself on a nearby chair. He looks up at me then, distracted by the noise yet the only one who seems to notice my presence. When our eyes lock in that moment I feel overwhelmingly vulnerable. I go to move, perhaps to hide, but find I am unable to do so. The man smiles at me, unconcerned by my awkwardness and unkempt appearance. I notice I am returning his smile only after my lips have already turned themselves upward in acknowledgement. He climbs gracefully down from the stage and as he begins to walk toward me...
...my eyes shoot open. It is 06:15 and some irrelevant news story is now blaring from my radio...
Damn my luck.
20 March 2010
Good Day Sunshine
When I woke up today and pushed aside my heavy dark curtains to let in the sunlight I could not help but smile. My head was pounding, my nose was still stuffy and my throat was still sore but the knowledge that Winter is quickly fading and that warm Spring and Summer nights are swiftly approaching was cause enough to ignore any physical discomforts. Shortly after I emerged from my room my Mother opened wide all the windows and doors in our home. The breeze is drifting in beside me now and I am experiencing so many things I had no idea how much I missed. I can smell the new grass and the freshly bloomed flowers, hear the sound of a neighbor's lawnmower and I have a lovely view of the bluest, clearest skies I have witnessed in quite some time...
This is how inner peace feels for me.
Happy Weekend, everyone.
This is how inner peace feels for me.
Happy Weekend, everyone.
18 March 2010
Wal-Mart: An Ode to Incompetence
After my visit to Wal-Mart today I wanted to calmly ask everyone minus the morons in the Pharmacy to evacuate the store and then blow it all to Hell. Instead I came home and wrote an email. What will this accomplish, you might ask? Probably nothing except my own peace of mind. Plus I stayed classy.
Good evening. I am writing to express my extreme dissatisfaction with the Wal-Mart Pharmacy in Clayton. Today I requested my doctor’s office to fax in my prescription at approximately 4:45 PM in the hopes that it would be ready by the time I went to pick it up. When I arrived over an hour later I was told it was not ready because Wal-Mart policy states “in-store prescriptions” are handled first. I would like to note that I find this completely unprofessional. In the office where I am employed we process our members’ cases in the order in which they are received, regardless of whether the information is faxed, emailed, etc. By doing so we ensure that all members are treated fairly and equally.
I was told to wait a few minutes, which soon turned into a half hour. When I was finally called back to the counter, I was then informed they could not fill my prescription because they were “out” of the medicine. I would have to accept half the medicine then and come back the next day to retrieve the rest. I asked if I could have my prescription to take with me and have it filled elsewhere to avoid this inconvenience and the pharmacy technician told me that because it was faxed in they could not give it to me. I also find this “policy” absurd. It was I who requested this prescription to be faxed in the first place, so why does this mean I forfeit my right to take my business elsewhere when Wal-Mart failed to provide what I needed in a timely manner? They did offer to call in the order at another pharmacy, so I requested they contact a location closer to my office and I would pick it up in the morning. She told me it would be taken care of and I could leave.
When I arrived home I contacted the other pharmacy to confirm that this call had taken place. Not only did Wal-Mart fail to give them my correct name but they also provided them with an incorrect birth date, even after I verified all of my information numerous times. Luckily the other pharmacy’s employees were competent enough to sort out the mess and I will be able to pick up my medicine tomorrow.
I sincerely hope that this matter is researched promptly and that those employed in the Clayton Wal-Mart Pharmacy can learn to pay closer attention to detail and to treat other customers with respect. It is absurd that I did not receive so much as a half-hearted apology from any of these employees. I will certainly be taking my business elsewhere and advise others to do the same.
Most Sincerely,
Virginia Hendrick
Good evening. I am writing to express my extreme dissatisfaction with the Wal-Mart Pharmacy in Clayton. Today I requested my doctor’s office to fax in my prescription at approximately 4:45 PM in the hopes that it would be ready by the time I went to pick it up. When I arrived over an hour later I was told it was not ready because Wal-Mart policy states “in-store prescriptions” are handled first. I would like to note that I find this completely unprofessional. In the office where I am employed we process our members’ cases in the order in which they are received, regardless of whether the information is faxed, emailed, etc. By doing so we ensure that all members are treated fairly and equally.
I was told to wait a few minutes, which soon turned into a half hour. When I was finally called back to the counter, I was then informed they could not fill my prescription because they were “out” of the medicine. I would have to accept half the medicine then and come back the next day to retrieve the rest. I asked if I could have my prescription to take with me and have it filled elsewhere to avoid this inconvenience and the pharmacy technician told me that because it was faxed in they could not give it to me. I also find this “policy” absurd. It was I who requested this prescription to be faxed in the first place, so why does this mean I forfeit my right to take my business elsewhere when Wal-Mart failed to provide what I needed in a timely manner? They did offer to call in the order at another pharmacy, so I requested they contact a location closer to my office and I would pick it up in the morning. She told me it would be taken care of and I could leave.
When I arrived home I contacted the other pharmacy to confirm that this call had taken place. Not only did Wal-Mart fail to give them my correct name but they also provided them with an incorrect birth date, even after I verified all of my information numerous times. Luckily the other pharmacy’s employees were competent enough to sort out the mess and I will be able to pick up my medicine tomorrow.
I sincerely hope that this matter is researched promptly and that those employed in the Clayton Wal-Mart Pharmacy can learn to pay closer attention to detail and to treat other customers with respect. It is absurd that I did not receive so much as a half-hearted apology from any of these employees. I will certainly be taking my business elsewhere and advise others to do the same.
Most Sincerely,
Virginia Hendrick
17 March 2010
When Captain Obvious Strikes
We all know people who like to point out the evident details of our daily lives. It's the person that walks up when you have a fork in hand preparing to take a bite out of your macaroni and cheese and they ask, "What are you up to?" Those are times when I like to put on my best innocent face and say, "Gee, I don't know. I was thinking about doing some finger painting but maybe I'll just EAT MY LUNCH INSTEAD." I find these situations pretty freaking funny, but if there is one thing I absolutely loathe is for someone to approach me as I'm carrying my Chloraseptic Spray in one hand and tissues in the other and say, "You don't look like you're feeling well!"
@#$%!
Really? I already feel like a monster with my puffy red nose and scratchy voice but do you have to point out to me that I am not looking my best? I find it slightly disheartening to know that my efforts to look semi-normal while still suffering from this cold/allergy/sinus creature thing were in vain. Luckily I am optimistic as I have scheduled a visit to the doctor for tomorrow afternoon. Bring on the antihistamines.
On an almost completely unrelated side note, this same person commented on my attire for today and inquired about whether or not I am wearing green. I happen to have my turquoise necklace and when I flashed it in her direction she said, "Oh good! I thought someone was trying to get pinched! Hee hee!"
A warning: If you pinch me I am likely to dropkick you. Don't get me wrong; I love silly holidays and traditions as much as the next person but if a stranger comes up to me and invades my personal space on the grounds that it's Saint Patty's Day and I do not appear to have on my festive colors that's taking it a lot too far in my book. Just saying.
To anyone heading out for an Irish-style drunken evening, cheers! I would join the party but in my ripe old age of early-twenties I prefer to stay in on the eve of an 07:00 workday.
@#$%!
Really? I already feel like a monster with my puffy red nose and scratchy voice but do you have to point out to me that I am not looking my best? I find it slightly disheartening to know that my efforts to look semi-normal while still suffering from this cold/allergy/sinus creature thing were in vain. Luckily I am optimistic as I have scheduled a visit to the doctor for tomorrow afternoon. Bring on the antihistamines.
On an almost completely unrelated side note, this same person commented on my attire for today and inquired about whether or not I am wearing green. I happen to have my turquoise necklace and when I flashed it in her direction she said, "Oh good! I thought someone was trying to get pinched! Hee hee!"
A warning: If you pinch me I am likely to dropkick you. Don't get me wrong; I love silly holidays and traditions as much as the next person but if a stranger comes up to me and invades my personal space on the grounds that it's Saint Patty's Day and I do not appear to have on my festive colors that's taking it a lot too far in my book. Just saying.
To anyone heading out for an Irish-style drunken evening, cheers! I would join the party but in my ripe old age of early-twenties I prefer to stay in on the eve of an 07:00 workday.
16 March 2010
On My Blonde Moment
That's right: I pulled out the Blonde Card for this one. I do not typically use this cliche, as my Father and Sister are both natural blondes and easily two of the brightest people I know; however I needed a widely-known phrase to emphasize my moronic moment yesterday evening...
After work I went for a run with Allie and it was fabulous! I would estimate we ran for about a mile through the woods, which is impressive considering our previous state of prolonged physical inactivity and considering the difficulty of the trail. Lake Johnson, our local Nature Park, has some monstrous hills to overcome. We finished up our evening by walking the last two miles or so, chatting about upcoming trips and parties.
By the time I drove home it was safe to say I was exhausted from the exercise and from the lack of sleep I experienced the previous night. I was looking forward to a giant baked potato and salad my Dad had made for me, so when I got inside I threw my stuff down and headed straight for the microwave. I noticed an odd smell coming from the much-anticipated spud but thought nothing of it until I cut a nice hole down the center. Have you ever seen pictures of someone suffering from the Bubonic Plague? That's kind of how the inside of my potato looked. Needless to say it quickly disappeared in the trash can.
Since I was out a main course and it was already getting late I elected to throw together something quick and easy: chicken and rice. Let me preface by pointing out that my Mother has these burner covers decorated with little farm animals that I bought her for Christmas a couple of years ago. When we cook we usually only remove "x" number of covers depending on how many burners we plan to use, right? I tossed two of them on top of the other side of the stove along with my lunch box and garlic salt, pepper, etc that I was using on my chicken. I go to boil my rice but a few minutes later I started wondering why nothing was happening in my pot. I glanced over and noticed thick smoke pouring out from under the covers. A horrible metallic burning smell started to fill the room. I may or may not have uttered a few expletives at this point. Instead of immediately turning off the (wrong) burner I stood there yelling at my Dad that I had made a mistake and things were now burning. As I reflect on the situation I suppose this caused MORE damage, hmmm. Apparently it took me saying this out loud to snap myself out of my daze and grab my lunch box, the garlic salt and the now blackened farm decor from the sizzling stove.
After we silenced the smoke alarm, calmed my skiddish Great Dane, turned on all the fans and opened the doors to try and filter out the stench of burning paint everything calmed down, though I'm not sure my Mother appreciated my cheery rendition of "The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire! We don't need no water let the mother- -" (You get the point.) I have decided that once I replace her burner covers, however, I will be removing all of them from the stove when I cook whether I use one burner or four. Safety calls.
I will also add that while my parents were not angry at all they have found such hilarity in the situation that I am now subject to jokes such as, "Be careful using that stove today without adult supervision!" Har har.
After work I went for a run with Allie and it was fabulous! I would estimate we ran for about a mile through the woods, which is impressive considering our previous state of prolonged physical inactivity and considering the difficulty of the trail. Lake Johnson, our local Nature Park, has some monstrous hills to overcome. We finished up our evening by walking the last two miles or so, chatting about upcoming trips and parties.
By the time I drove home it was safe to say I was exhausted from the exercise and from the lack of sleep I experienced the previous night. I was looking forward to a giant baked potato and salad my Dad had made for me, so when I got inside I threw my stuff down and headed straight for the microwave. I noticed an odd smell coming from the much-anticipated spud but thought nothing of it until I cut a nice hole down the center. Have you ever seen pictures of someone suffering from the Bubonic Plague? That's kind of how the inside of my potato looked. Needless to say it quickly disappeared in the trash can.
Since I was out a main course and it was already getting late I elected to throw together something quick and easy: chicken and rice. Let me preface by pointing out that my Mother has these burner covers decorated with little farm animals that I bought her for Christmas a couple of years ago. When we cook we usually only remove "x" number of covers depending on how many burners we plan to use, right? I tossed two of them on top of the other side of the stove along with my lunch box and garlic salt, pepper, etc that I was using on my chicken. I go to boil my rice but a few minutes later I started wondering why nothing was happening in my pot. I glanced over and noticed thick smoke pouring out from under the covers. A horrible metallic burning smell started to fill the room. I may or may not have uttered a few expletives at this point. Instead of immediately turning off the (wrong) burner I stood there yelling at my Dad that I had made a mistake and things were now burning. As I reflect on the situation I suppose this caused MORE damage, hmmm. Apparently it took me saying this out loud to snap myself out of my daze and grab my lunch box, the garlic salt and the now blackened farm decor from the sizzling stove.
After we silenced the smoke alarm, calmed my skiddish Great Dane, turned on all the fans and opened the doors to try and filter out the stench of burning paint everything calmed down, though I'm not sure my Mother appreciated my cheery rendition of "The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire! We don't need no water let the mother- -" (You get the point.) I have decided that once I replace her burner covers, however, I will be removing all of them from the stove when I cook whether I use one burner or four. Safety calls.
I will also add that while my parents were not angry at all they have found such hilarity in the situation that I am now subject to jokes such as, "Be careful using that stove today without adult supervision!" Har har.
15 March 2010
Monday Morning Realizations
1. Note to Self: Do not, I repeat, do NOT allow yourself to fall asleep in the recliner on Sunday afternoons. I do not care how tired you are from Pilates and running around outside. Odds are if you nap on a Sunday afternoon you will not be able to sleep that night when it matters.
2. I really do not like eggs. No matter how hard I try to create a lasting bond with them we can never seem to get on the same page, at least not when I make them at home and skip the butter and cheese and other unhealthy toppings. I will add, however, that if I am at Cracker Barrel and they bring out a plate full of fluffy eggs smothered in Colby cheese my willpower seems to be substantially lowered and I may even be tempted into a brief fling with this otherwise undependable breakfast item.
3. This morning I did rekindle my love for Deftones, in particular their hits "Cherry Waves," "Digital Bath," and their cover of The Cure's "If Only Tonight We Could Sleep." Sorry Robert; Chino did it better.
4. The first flowers of 2010 are blooming in my yard now; a few small yellow Daffodils. They put a smile on my face.
5. Yelling at my shoes will not prevent them from trying to roll under my clutch and cause me to wreck nor will it stop them from "shedding" (two words: wet grass) on my newly vacuumed floor mats. Ironically I removed them in the first place to try and prevent a grassy mess from occurring.
6. I have decided I need to race cars as a means of taking out my aggression. For every idiot driving much too slowly in front of me on my morning commute that finally turns out of my way there is another waiting to pull out and take his or her place. I am craving the feel of raw power, enough speed to lock me against the seat and the knowledge that the only goal of everyone around me is to go faster than I can. What a magnificent concept!
7. Tomorrow marks another monthly birthday celebration here at SECU. If I had the time and skill I would love to make Misfortune Cookies. Miss Humble, author of the blog, routinely posts her fantastic recipes and my dark comedic sense and I were particularly drawn to this idea. An example of one of her twisted cookie messages: "I found your boyfriend on Craig's list. He wasn't selling his pool table..." Pure genius! The issue lies in the lack of people here who share my warped humor. Somehow I do not feel most of my coworkers would find my antics so witty.
8. Victoria's Secret, you make me angry. Damn you for creating beautiful, sexy swimwear yet refusing to sell it in your stores! Because of your trickery I am forced into ordering my new bikini online and having to pay large amounts of money for taxes, shipping and handling, all without knowing how the suit will look on me when it arrives. I hope this is not a letdown.
2. I really do not like eggs. No matter how hard I try to create a lasting bond with them we can never seem to get on the same page, at least not when I make them at home and skip the butter and cheese and other unhealthy toppings. I will add, however, that if I am at Cracker Barrel and they bring out a plate full of fluffy eggs smothered in Colby cheese my willpower seems to be substantially lowered and I may even be tempted into a brief fling with this otherwise undependable breakfast item.
3. This morning I did rekindle my love for Deftones, in particular their hits "Cherry Waves," "Digital Bath," and their cover of The Cure's "If Only Tonight We Could Sleep." Sorry Robert; Chino did it better.
4. The first flowers of 2010 are blooming in my yard now; a few small yellow Daffodils. They put a smile on my face.
5. Yelling at my shoes will not prevent them from trying to roll under my clutch and cause me to wreck nor will it stop them from "shedding" (two words: wet grass) on my newly vacuumed floor mats. Ironically I removed them in the first place to try and prevent a grassy mess from occurring.
6. I have decided I need to race cars as a means of taking out my aggression. For every idiot driving much too slowly in front of me on my morning commute that finally turns out of my way there is another waiting to pull out and take his or her place. I am craving the feel of raw power, enough speed to lock me against the seat and the knowledge that the only goal of everyone around me is to go faster than I can. What a magnificent concept!
7. Tomorrow marks another monthly birthday celebration here at SECU. If I had the time and skill I would love to make Misfortune Cookies. Miss Humble, author of the blog, routinely posts her fantastic recipes and my dark comedic sense and I were particularly drawn to this idea. An example of one of her twisted cookie messages: "I found your boyfriend on Craig's list. He wasn't selling his pool table..." Pure genius! The issue lies in the lack of people here who share my warped humor. Somehow I do not feel most of my coworkers would find my antics so witty.
8. Victoria's Secret, you make me angry. Damn you for creating beautiful, sexy swimwear yet refusing to sell it in your stores! Because of your trickery I am forced into ordering my new bikini online and having to pay large amounts of money for taxes, shipping and handling, all without knowing how the suit will look on me when it arrives. I hope this is not a letdown.
12 March 2010
On an Issue That Continues to Infuriate Me...
I apologise for my recent truancy but my cold came back with a vengeance and I have been fighting it off all week now. This may be the longest I have gone without having a voice. Anything I say comes out in this squeaky, wheezy tone that only makes for awkward conversations.
This morning between sucking down Orange Juice and Advil Cold & Sinus I overheard on the news about a young girl named Constance McMillen. Constance was ready to attend her Senior Prom at Itawamba Agricultural High School; however because she elected to invite her girlfriend, a sophomore at the same high school, she was told she would be unable to attend.
I have already been on the warpath lately regarding Gay Rights because I have read article after article on the DADT policy for gays and lesbians in the military. It appears that the opinions held by some of the narrow-minded fools in politics trickles down into school systems as well. The consensus appears to be that homosexuality disrupts "normal" life. The troops would be distracted during their missions, high school dances would be full of immoral behavior, which on a side note I find the way that kids dance/screw on the dance floor these days to be exponentially more distracting than one lesbian couple off to the side sipping punch.
According to the article the Prom has now been cancelled. The following is an excerpt explaining their decision:
"In a statement released Wednesday, the county's board of education said that, 'Due to the distractions to the educational process caused by recent events, the Itawamba County School District has decided to not host a prom at Itawamba Agricultural High School this year.'
The decision was made, the board of education said, 'taking into consideration the education, safety and well-being of our students.'"
Safety and well-being? Are these people kidding? She wanted to bring a girl to prom! It's not as if she asked to bring in guns and homemade bombs. Speaking of educational process, let me educate you people for a moment.
Think back to two important movements in our country's history: Women's Rights and Civil Rights. Women and African-Americans were treated as if they were of a lesser race than white males. Neither group could vote or had a voice in society. A woman was expected to remain quiet and proper in public, following in her husband's footsteps and doing as she was told. African-Americans may as well have been household pets to their "owners," though the dogs and cats of that era were probably treated better. Though circumstances may have varied, both women and blacks were slaves and had to fight, sometimes to an unfair death, for the rights they should have been given all along.
Perhaps homosexuals are not slaves in the physical sense, but when members of various religious and political groups constantly force them to hide their true lifestyles then are we not falling back into an age-old cycle of intolerance and oppression for anything out of the ordinary? Honestly, what does it mean to be normal anyway? People say that marriage between a man and a woman is normal but according to whom? I find it an invalid argument if one seeks to use religion as one's reasoning for not accepting this type of lifestyle. I grew up going to church and although as a realist I often question religion, the God I was taught about was a loving and kind God, one who accepted all of His children without question as long as they believed in Him and sought to return His love by living a good life. I have to say I have known quite a few gay people and some of them are far better people than any heterosexuals I have encountered.
I was having this same conversation with a close friend recently and she pointed out it would probably take a few someones being made examples and perhaps even a few gays and lesbians dying for their rights before anyone strongly opposed might have a change of heart. I hate to say it but she is right. As usual I will point out that I am in no way a perfect person but if everyone were more tolerant we could be so much better off as people and as a whole country.
Unfortunately for as many that feel as strongly as I do about acceptance there will always be others who are adamantly against change. Luckily as long as homosexuals and advocates for equal rights do not yield to these unreasonable opinions, we ultimately cannot lose.
Constance, good for you for sticking up for who you are. I hope you do not ever lose that strength.
This morning between sucking down Orange Juice and Advil Cold & Sinus I overheard on the news about a young girl named Constance McMillen. Constance was ready to attend her Senior Prom at Itawamba Agricultural High School; however because she elected to invite her girlfriend, a sophomore at the same high school, she was told she would be unable to attend.
I have already been on the warpath lately regarding Gay Rights because I have read article after article on the DADT policy for gays and lesbians in the military. It appears that the opinions held by some of the narrow-minded fools in politics trickles down into school systems as well. The consensus appears to be that homosexuality disrupts "normal" life. The troops would be distracted during their missions, high school dances would be full of immoral behavior, which on a side note I find the way that kids dance/screw on the dance floor these days to be exponentially more distracting than one lesbian couple off to the side sipping punch.
According to the article the Prom has now been cancelled. The following is an excerpt explaining their decision:
"In a statement released Wednesday, the county's board of education said that, 'Due to the distractions to the educational process caused by recent events, the Itawamba County School District has decided to not host a prom at Itawamba Agricultural High School this year.'
The decision was made, the board of education said, 'taking into consideration the education, safety and well-being of our students.'"
Safety and well-being? Are these people kidding? She wanted to bring a girl to prom! It's not as if she asked to bring in guns and homemade bombs. Speaking of educational process, let me educate you people for a moment.
Think back to two important movements in our country's history: Women's Rights and Civil Rights. Women and African-Americans were treated as if they were of a lesser race than white males. Neither group could vote or had a voice in society. A woman was expected to remain quiet and proper in public, following in her husband's footsteps and doing as she was told. African-Americans may as well have been household pets to their "owners," though the dogs and cats of that era were probably treated better. Though circumstances may have varied, both women and blacks were slaves and had to fight, sometimes to an unfair death, for the rights they should have been given all along.
Perhaps homosexuals are not slaves in the physical sense, but when members of various religious and political groups constantly force them to hide their true lifestyles then are we not falling back into an age-old cycle of intolerance and oppression for anything out of the ordinary? Honestly, what does it mean to be normal anyway? People say that marriage between a man and a woman is normal but according to whom? I find it an invalid argument if one seeks to use religion as one's reasoning for not accepting this type of lifestyle. I grew up going to church and although as a realist I often question religion, the God I was taught about was a loving and kind God, one who accepted all of His children without question as long as they believed in Him and sought to return His love by living a good life. I have to say I have known quite a few gay people and some of them are far better people than any heterosexuals I have encountered.
I was having this same conversation with a close friend recently and she pointed out it would probably take a few someones being made examples and perhaps even a few gays and lesbians dying for their rights before anyone strongly opposed might have a change of heart. I hate to say it but she is right. As usual I will point out that I am in no way a perfect person but if everyone were more tolerant we could be so much better off as people and as a whole country.
Unfortunately for as many that feel as strongly as I do about acceptance there will always be others who are adamantly against change. Luckily as long as homosexuals and advocates for equal rights do not yield to these unreasonable opinions, we ultimately cannot lose.
Constance, good for you for sticking up for who you are. I hope you do not ever lose that strength.
08 March 2010
Something Creepy This Way Crawls
Dear Insects, Arachnids, All Members of Hymenoptera and The Like,
I realize that as the warm weather approaches most of you will be interested in slithering your way out of your various hibernation spots or migrating back here to good old North Carolina. Your eggs will hatch, your nymphs will emerge from under the ice where they have currently been residing and your larvae will surface from underground. I am writing to you in advance to ask that you please reconsider.
I will grant you the fact that each of you have your niche in the world. The earthworms tunnel through the soil and help air and water to circulate. When the beautiful flowers spring forth from the dirt, the bees, flies and beetles help to pollinate them. I am even certain that mosquitoes and other pests have a purpose. Perhaps a scientist will study them someday and alter chemicals found inside these creatures into a life-changing medicine. For now though at least the spiders, creepy though they may be, are comfortable making a meal out of some of you but I digress...
Listen, the least all of you could do is be willing to compromise. Can you not come out in shifts or something? Last year at the July 4th Cook-Out there were WAY too many little creatures flying around, buzzing in people's ears and trying to steal pieces of our bratwursts. I think a maximum of twenty bugs per yard is in order and this figure includes but is not limited to flies, mosquitoes and knats. Bees and Wasps, we need to talk. I have no qualms with you playing in the flowers and in my yard but quit building your nests near my front door. If you would stop getting so angry when I try to leave my house it wouldn't be a big deal but the last time one of you stung me I ended up in the ER. Oh, and Water Bugs? I will designate who shares my shower, thanks. If any of you decide to impose again I promise I will send you straight to your watery doom down my drain. Last but not least are you, Ants. Can you not use your superbug strength to move your hills elsewhere? You guys are all over my yard lately and as your houses are not all that attractive I would prefer if they weren't the first thing people see when they drive up. Also, stop biting my feet. Flip-flops are not an open invitation.
Honestly I think the only ones I'd like to see more of are butterflies, moths, and ladybugs. You guys should come out in full force! In fact please feel free to replace the roaches in my office building or the spiders on my ceilings at home. Fireflies? I wouldn't mind a few romantic summer evenings with some of you floating in the background, if that works for you of course.
In summary if we can all just come to an understanding, less people will be annoyed and covered in itchy bites and less of you will meet your untimely deaths.
Thank you in advance,
Virginia
I realize that as the warm weather approaches most of you will be interested in slithering your way out of your various hibernation spots or migrating back here to good old North Carolina. Your eggs will hatch, your nymphs will emerge from under the ice where they have currently been residing and your larvae will surface from underground. I am writing to you in advance to ask that you please reconsider.
I will grant you the fact that each of you have your niche in the world. The earthworms tunnel through the soil and help air and water to circulate. When the beautiful flowers spring forth from the dirt, the bees, flies and beetles help to pollinate them. I am even certain that mosquitoes and other pests have a purpose. Perhaps a scientist will study them someday and alter chemicals found inside these creatures into a life-changing medicine. For now though at least the spiders, creepy though they may be, are comfortable making a meal out of some of you but I digress...
Listen, the least all of you could do is be willing to compromise. Can you not come out in shifts or something? Last year at the July 4th Cook-Out there were WAY too many little creatures flying around, buzzing in people's ears and trying to steal pieces of our bratwursts. I think a maximum of twenty bugs per yard is in order and this figure includes but is not limited to flies, mosquitoes and knats. Bees and Wasps, we need to talk. I have no qualms with you playing in the flowers and in my yard but quit building your nests near my front door. If you would stop getting so angry when I try to leave my house it wouldn't be a big deal but the last time one of you stung me I ended up in the ER. Oh, and Water Bugs? I will designate who shares my shower, thanks. If any of you decide to impose again I promise I will send you straight to your watery doom down my drain. Last but not least are you, Ants. Can you not use your superbug strength to move your hills elsewhere? You guys are all over my yard lately and as your houses are not all that attractive I would prefer if they weren't the first thing people see when they drive up. Also, stop biting my feet. Flip-flops are not an open invitation.
Honestly I think the only ones I'd like to see more of are butterflies, moths, and ladybugs. You guys should come out in full force! In fact please feel free to replace the roaches in my office building or the spiders on my ceilings at home. Fireflies? I wouldn't mind a few romantic summer evenings with some of you floating in the background, if that works for you of course.
In summary if we can all just come to an understanding, less people will be annoyed and covered in itchy bites and less of you will meet your untimely deaths.
Thank you in advance,
Virginia
05 March 2010
On Getting Back Into the Swing of Things
Today's entry must be brief as my desk is currently filled with projects and binders and notes, oh my! Yesterday was Thursday, which meant yet another Navy meeting for us Future Sailors. We have a new Petty Officer in charge of our Recruiting Station here in Raleigh and I must say he is fabulous! His only job in the Navy is Recruiting, and while that may sound extremely dull to me it is obvious to anyone that this guy loves his job. He came in smiling, highly motivated and ready to teach us more about Naval history and terms and especially excited for our PT session. As the DEP CO (Delayed Entry Program Commanding Officer) I am charged with knowing my shit, in layman's terms. I could tell that I impressed him with my array of knowledge, though honestly anyone could fight me for my position if they were willing to pick up their book and study from time to time. I enjoy learning these things.
We finally got outside for PT and I was very excited. Since I was recently sick for a little over a week I had slacked off on exercising, and by "slacked off" I mean did absolutely nothing. I figured it would feel great to stretch my muscles and jump back in. I felt my performance during sit-ups and push-ups was notable. In fact I did twenty-one push-ups; a personal best. It may not sound like a lot but I am a small female with upper body strength comparable to a wet noodle, so I was feeling pretty awesome at this point. The last part of our PT session is always a mile and a half run followed by various sprinting exercises. I was right up front on the starting line, ready to take off with the rest of my fellow recruits. I made it through the first two laps just fine, but as I was entering my third I suddenly felt as though I'd been punched in the stomach and could no longer catch my breath. I had to cut the lap short so I could run inside and vomit. (Attractive, I know.) Maybe if I were hardcore enough I would have gone back outside and finished my run. Instead I went back outside and spoke to PO Stevenson and to SK2 Whitney, apologizing for not completing the exercise. I explained how I had been sick lately and it must have jostled my stomach around enough to make me sick again. They were very nice about it, but I cannot help but feel like I have failed. I have never stopped during a run before or found that I could not complete what they asked me to do. I like to hit the wall and keep on going. There are even a few people in our group I'd like to strangle for always coming up with excuses and complaining. Yet there I was on the sidelines. I am sure that in reality it was not a big deal but I am not that kind of person. I am not meant to fail. It happens, but I loathe when it does. Anyone like me who strives to be "the best" hates that sort of thing.
Tonight after work I am going for a run. I have emailed a gym regarding their personal trainers and various classes they offer. Next week I will begin waking up early in the morning to exercise. I refuse to feel that way again.
On a happier note, Happy Weekend everyone! Besides being time to get motivated it's time to let loose and party.
We finally got outside for PT and I was very excited. Since I was recently sick for a little over a week I had slacked off on exercising, and by "slacked off" I mean did absolutely nothing. I figured it would feel great to stretch my muscles and jump back in. I felt my performance during sit-ups and push-ups was notable. In fact I did twenty-one push-ups; a personal best. It may not sound like a lot but I am a small female with upper body strength comparable to a wet noodle, so I was feeling pretty awesome at this point. The last part of our PT session is always a mile and a half run followed by various sprinting exercises. I was right up front on the starting line, ready to take off with the rest of my fellow recruits. I made it through the first two laps just fine, but as I was entering my third I suddenly felt as though I'd been punched in the stomach and could no longer catch my breath. I had to cut the lap short so I could run inside and vomit. (Attractive, I know.) Maybe if I were hardcore enough I would have gone back outside and finished my run. Instead I went back outside and spoke to PO Stevenson and to SK2 Whitney, apologizing for not completing the exercise. I explained how I had been sick lately and it must have jostled my stomach around enough to make me sick again. They were very nice about it, but I cannot help but feel like I have failed. I have never stopped during a run before or found that I could not complete what they asked me to do. I like to hit the wall and keep on going. There are even a few people in our group I'd like to strangle for always coming up with excuses and complaining. Yet there I was on the sidelines. I am sure that in reality it was not a big deal but I am not that kind of person. I am not meant to fail. It happens, but I loathe when it does. Anyone like me who strives to be "the best" hates that sort of thing.
Tonight after work I am going for a run. I have emailed a gym regarding their personal trainers and various classes they offer. Next week I will begin waking up early in the morning to exercise. I refuse to feel that way again.
On a happier note, Happy Weekend everyone! Besides being time to get motivated it's time to let loose and party.
04 March 2010
On Member Access Emails
As an indirect continuation of my post from yesterday I would like to touch further on a specific part of my job duties: Member Access Emails. I have developed a love/hate relationship with Member Access over the past year. Though a large part of me adores this feature since it allows me to avoid the incessant phones for a bit, another part of me resents these secured messages. I am not a stickler for grammar and spelling per say (that's an outright lie), but is it wrong for me to expect to have an adult conversation with our members? To emphasize my distaste, here are a few examples of some recent messages we have received along with my take on them.
SECU is Subject to Demands From Unruly Members
"auto pay from this acct. once a month $100.00"
Let's disregard for a moment the fact that this is not a complete thought and also the fact that abbreviating words like "account" is actually pointless since by the time you add in the period you have only saved yourself two characters. If you were to make such a request aloud would you word it this way? Absolutely not! People would look at you like you were rude and probably crazy.
SECU Steals From Its Members
"I usually carry a credit balance on my credit card.
What did you do with my credit balance?
You owe me money.
Please advise."
You're absolutely right Mr. Joe Member. I took those funds right off your card and placed them into my checking account. How thoughtless of me! The disappearance of funds certainly has nothing to do with the system automatically and conveniently transferring your credit balance to YOUR checking account, so don't bother searching there.
SECU Rapes Its Members ("Finacially" Speaking, Of Course)
"ONCE AGAIN MY CHECKING ACCOUNT HAS AN UNAUTHORIZED DEBIT VIA INTERNET FROM AND UNKNOWN SOURCE. THIS IS THE FIFTH INFRACTION TO BE ALLOWED BY THE SECU STAFF. PLEASE STOP PAYMENT TO OKCUPID.COM. WHILE REIMBURSING MY CHECKING ACCOUNT IMMEDIATELY. I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY STOP PAYMENT CHARGES FOR THESE ARE YOUR MISTAKES. SECU IS AT THIS POINT RAPING ME FINACIALLY ALONG WITH THE UNKOWN COMPANIES DEBTING MY CHECKING ACCOUNT. I WILL IN THE VERY NEAR FURTURE BE MOVING MY BANKING SERVICES TO A MORE RELIABLE FINACIAL INSTITUTION. THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP IN IMMEDIATELY NEGATING THIS ISSUE."
First of all, Mr. Larry Member, using CAPS LOCK is considered YELLING when you are typing an EMAIL. It only succeeds in pissing us off and does not make us want to help you. Furthermore the use of large words such as "negating" or "infraction" is much less intimidating when you are incapable of spelling the word "finance" correctly, using punctuation in the appropriate places and exclaiming that SECU has been "raping" you. Who says that anyway? "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FRESH STRAWBERRIES?! THE LOWE'S FOODS STAFF IS RAPING ME OF MY RIGHT TO A WELL-BALANCED DIET!"
SECU Confuses Its Members During a Compromise
"My debit card was cancelled 2/17. A merchant had been compromised. I have several payments that I'm not sure what they are:
(Blah Blah Blah List of Charges from December 2009 and January 2010 that are completely unrelated)
While I do get gas around town the above could be legitmate.
I would like to know what merchant had the issues?
If none of the above, I feel like the charges above are mine.
Thanks for any more information that you can give me."
I shudder to think that the only thing some members do with their lives is sit around shuffling through previous statements and trying to find any minute detail that may or may not be related to a compromise and then message us about it. Plus the statement, "If none of the above, I feel like the charges above are mine" is beyond ludicrous. I'll let you finish drawing your own conclusions here.
Perhaps the Membership Screening Process should be more thorough.
SECU is Subject to Demands From Unruly Members
"auto pay from this acct. once a month $100.00"
Let's disregard for a moment the fact that this is not a complete thought and also the fact that abbreviating words like "account" is actually pointless since by the time you add in the period you have only saved yourself two characters. If you were to make such a request aloud would you word it this way? Absolutely not! People would look at you like you were rude and probably crazy.
SECU Steals From Its Members
"I usually carry a credit balance on my credit card.
What did you do with my credit balance?
You owe me money.
Please advise."
You're absolutely right Mr. Joe Member. I took those funds right off your card and placed them into my checking account. How thoughtless of me! The disappearance of funds certainly has nothing to do with the system automatically and conveniently transferring your credit balance to YOUR checking account, so don't bother searching there.
SECU Rapes Its Members ("Finacially" Speaking, Of Course)
"ONCE AGAIN MY CHECKING ACCOUNT HAS AN UNAUTHORIZED DEBIT VIA INTERNET FROM AND UNKNOWN SOURCE. THIS IS THE FIFTH INFRACTION TO BE ALLOWED BY THE SECU STAFF. PLEASE STOP PAYMENT TO OKCUPID.COM. WHILE REIMBURSING MY CHECKING ACCOUNT IMMEDIATELY. I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY STOP PAYMENT CHARGES FOR THESE ARE YOUR MISTAKES. SECU IS AT THIS POINT RAPING ME FINACIALLY ALONG WITH THE UNKOWN COMPANIES DEBTING MY CHECKING ACCOUNT. I WILL IN THE VERY NEAR FURTURE BE MOVING MY BANKING SERVICES TO A MORE RELIABLE FINACIAL INSTITUTION. THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP IN IMMEDIATELY NEGATING THIS ISSUE."
First of all, Mr. Larry Member, using CAPS LOCK is considered YELLING when you are typing an EMAIL. It only succeeds in pissing us off and does not make us want to help you. Furthermore the use of large words such as "negating" or "infraction" is much less intimidating when you are incapable of spelling the word "finance" correctly, using punctuation in the appropriate places and exclaiming that SECU has been "raping" you. Who says that anyway? "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FRESH STRAWBERRIES?! THE LOWE'S FOODS STAFF IS RAPING ME OF MY RIGHT TO A WELL-BALANCED DIET!"
SECU Confuses Its Members During a Compromise
"My debit card was cancelled 2/17. A merchant had been compromised. I have several payments that I'm not sure what they are:
(Blah Blah Blah List of Charges from December 2009 and January 2010 that are completely unrelated)
While I do get gas around town the above could be legitmate.
I would like to know what merchant had the issues?
If none of the above, I feel like the charges above are mine.
Thanks for any more information that you can give me."
I shudder to think that the only thing some members do with their lives is sit around shuffling through previous statements and trying to find any minute detail that may or may not be related to a compromise and then message us about it. Plus the statement, "If none of the above, I feel like the charges above are mine" is beyond ludicrous. I'll let you finish drawing your own conclusions here.
Perhaps the Membership Screening Process should be more thorough.
03 March 2010
On Getting Old
Most people want to live a long and prosperous life, especially if their beliefs (or non-beliefs, whatever the case) are that you only get one life to live. I am with the general consensus and not interested in checking out any time soon but this morning I took a phone call that reminded me why old age scares me more than dying.
In case anyone is not aware I work full-time at a credit union operations center. I answer numerous phone calls and emails from our branch locations and members regarding their debit and credit card issues, disputes and fraud, ATM inquiries and everything else in-between. First thing today our secretary transfers a call to me from an eighty-five year old member. I know this is her age not because I looked it up but because she thought to share this fact with me about nine minutes in. She was as sweet as could be, bless her dear heart*, but the poor lady practically told me her life story in the span of about fifteen minutes. She had recently contacted a cosmetics company that she saw advertised on TV and she proceeded to give me every detail of her phone conversation with these people. They convinced her to give them her debit card information to "pay only for the postage" for some information and ended up trying to charge her approximately seven hundred dollars. I even heard about how she reiterated to them THREE times that her call was NOT an order and should NOT be handled that way, yet they tried to cheat her out of her money regardless. As I was assisting her with closing her old debit card she began telling me how she was still new to the area. She was originally from North Carolina but lived most of her life in sunny Florida where no one has carpet because it's too hot for carpet. She had a husband and a boat and when he passed away she thought to herself, "Why am I here all alone?" She sold her boat and came back home to be with her daughter, whom she did not want to know about her current predicament because she was certain her daughter would be angry. I did my best to direct her to the nearest branch in her hometown, though I have not the slightest clue where the tiny place is. I let her know that someone from the branch would be contacting her when the card arrived and I even placed notes all over her account that someone would need to please assist her with changing her PIN back to the original number. (She pointed out a couple of times that no one knew her secret number but that it was special to her.) Then she thanked me over and over for listening to her, as if no one ever pays her any mind at all.
If this is what it means to be elderly I simply cannot handle that. I know some old people who are just as spry as ever but what about the unlucky people who end up with Alzheimer's and lose all of their beautiful memories, or even just the people with various health problems who have to rely on others to take care of them? I have already been a child once. I had to ask permission before I went somewhere, I had to have someone drive me when I was allowed to go, I had to have help eating and when I was a baby someone had to bathe me and take me to the bathroom. Call me crazy but I do not want to go through that again!
Luckily I am nowhere near that point and luckily it is already Wednesday, dear readers. Cheers to the upcoming weekend and to not remembering it on Monday!
*It's a Southern thing.
In case anyone is not aware I work full-time at a credit union operations center. I answer numerous phone calls and emails from our branch locations and members regarding their debit and credit card issues, disputes and fraud, ATM inquiries and everything else in-between. First thing today our secretary transfers a call to me from an eighty-five year old member. I know this is her age not because I looked it up but because she thought to share this fact with me about nine minutes in. She was as sweet as could be, bless her dear heart*, but the poor lady practically told me her life story in the span of about fifteen minutes. She had recently contacted a cosmetics company that she saw advertised on TV and she proceeded to give me every detail of her phone conversation with these people. They convinced her to give them her debit card information to "pay only for the postage" for some information and ended up trying to charge her approximately seven hundred dollars. I even heard about how she reiterated to them THREE times that her call was NOT an order and should NOT be handled that way, yet they tried to cheat her out of her money regardless. As I was assisting her with closing her old debit card she began telling me how she was still new to the area. She was originally from North Carolina but lived most of her life in sunny Florida where no one has carpet because it's too hot for carpet. She had a husband and a boat and when he passed away she thought to herself, "Why am I here all alone?" She sold her boat and came back home to be with her daughter, whom she did not want to know about her current predicament because she was certain her daughter would be angry. I did my best to direct her to the nearest branch in her hometown, though I have not the slightest clue where the tiny place is. I let her know that someone from the branch would be contacting her when the card arrived and I even placed notes all over her account that someone would need to please assist her with changing her PIN back to the original number. (She pointed out a couple of times that no one knew her secret number but that it was special to her.) Then she thanked me over and over for listening to her, as if no one ever pays her any mind at all.
If this is what it means to be elderly I simply cannot handle that. I know some old people who are just as spry as ever but what about the unlucky people who end up with Alzheimer's and lose all of their beautiful memories, or even just the people with various health problems who have to rely on others to take care of them? I have already been a child once. I had to ask permission before I went somewhere, I had to have someone drive me when I was allowed to go, I had to have help eating and when I was a baby someone had to bathe me and take me to the bathroom. Call me crazy but I do not want to go through that again!
Luckily I am nowhere near that point and luckily it is already Wednesday, dear readers. Cheers to the upcoming weekend and to not remembering it on Monday!
*It's a Southern thing.
02 March 2010
With Love to my Parents
Today I am going to begin by posting the lyrics to "Stop This Train" by John Mayer. You may not be a fan of his but this song is absolutely wonderful. I find his words to be appropriate for my current situation:
"No I'm not color blind,
I know the world is black and white
Try to keep an open mind but,
I just can't sleep on this tonight
Stop this train,
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't,
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?
Don't know how else to say it,
Don't want to see my parents go
One generation's length away
From fighting life out on my own
Stop this train,
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in,
I know I can't,
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?
So scared of getting older,
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game
To find a way to say that life has just begun
Had a talk with my old man,
Said help me understand,
He said turn 68, you'll renegotiate
Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
Don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train
See once in a while when it's good
It'll feel like it should,
And they're all still around,
And you're still safe and sound,
And you don't miss a thing,
Until you cry when you're driving away in the dark.
Singing stop this train,
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take this speed it's moving in
I know I can't,
Cause now I see I'll never stop this train."
Just reading these lyrics makes me feel so very emotional. I am constantly imagining myself in other times; past, present and future. Right now I see myself a few months ahead:
I am boarding the plane at RDU that will fly me to Illinois and irrevocably change my life. I am nervous; my hands are shaking and I feel nauseated with uncertainty. I am mumbling to myself, "My sixth General Order is to receive, obey and pass on to the Sentry who relieves me..." and hoping no one hears me, lest they think I am crazy. I am stumbling throuh the narrow aisle to find my seat and praying I have a window to lean against. With every second that passes I am feeling even less stable. I am great at performing under pressure but there is a careful balance that has been tipped in anxiety's favor. "I am a United States Sailor. I will support and defend..." I take my seat and look around, though no one has even glanced in my direction. I am sighing over the book and the iPod I do not have in my possession, as bringing them would have been pointless. As the plane starts its gentle humming that tells me we are about to leave familiar ground I lean my head back and close my eyes.
Visions of my younger days begin to flash through my head. I am still very small and my Mom is pushing me in a blue stroller around our neighborhood. In our company is Max, a tiny brown dachshund. We are at the pond behind our house feeding bread to the ducks and turtles and the sun is slowly setting. We are vacationing at Atlantic Beach. My Mom is waving to my Dad and I as she heads toward the beach to catch some rays while we run for the waterslide at the pool. My Dad is teaching me to play softball and taking me to my first game. They look so proud that I have taken up sports, just like Dad. My Dad and I are back home and we are chasing each other around our yard, aiming water guns at each other's faces. My Mom and I are painting our toes on the deck while fresh chocolate chip cookies are baking in the oven. We are playing with our various puppies, usually either Great Danes or Dachshunds, and they are teaching me to treat animals as family members. My Parents arrive at my school to surprise me on my birthday. All of my friends are flocking around them because my sweet Mother has baked goodies and my Dad is telling jokes. Even my fun-loving older Sister has joined them with treats of her own. We are all in Florida together with my grandparents, lounging around and sipping fruit juice when I was younger and cocktails when I was older. I am running around the State Fair, watching as my Dad wins me giant stuffed animals and then takes me on rides. My Mom brings us snacks and snaps pictures. It is Winter and massive snowball fights ensue between my Dad and I, taking the place of the water guns from the Summer. I am still smelling the fresh cut grass and the oncoming rain in the Summer, seeing my Mother's beautiful Spring garden in bloom and the colorful Fall leaves in our yard, feeling the chill of Winter on my nose. There's cook-outs and trick-or-treating and Valentines and Christmas paper. I sense it all at once and for one overwhelming instant I awake from my reverie, only to drift off again almost immediately...
Flash back to fifth grade and I am begging my parents to let me join the band; they buy me a clarinet. I am at my first band concert and there they are again, smiling back at me near the front row. I am auditioning for various All-County and All-District chairs, I am joining the Marching Band and competing, I have taken up the bari sax in Jazz Band and I am playing in the presitigous Wind Ensemble at my high school and they are always there to support me and hear my music. I am walking across the stage as a High Honors Graduate at my high school ceremony and even though they were told to hold the applause my parents and sister and brother-in-law are cheering anyway. They were always pushing me to study. My Mom and I are listening to Carribbean music on our cruise while my Dad avoids the sun in the Casino. My Mom tells me it's going to be alright as my Dad cleans and bandages a badly scraped leg. My parents are excited for me over my first real date and hug me tightly as I cry my eyes out over my first broken heart. They are holding my hand when I am younger and letting go when I am grown, trusting that all of the valuable lessons they have taught me over the years have stuck with me, even when I did not seem like I was listening. I always did.
Moving forward and my Dad is recollecting his time in the Army, sharing stories about all the friends he made and the places he traveled. They are shocked but thrilled over my decision to enlist and always interested in hearing about the process.
It feels like I have barely closed my eyes and I am already opening them again, trying to catch my bearings. The plane has landed and they are thanking everyone for flying. It is time to go now but I no longer feel so afraid and alone. I realize my parents are still right here with me, still holding my hand and looking at me with loving eyes, ready to guide me through whatever challenges are swiftly heading my way. I am a strong young woman now and I owe it all to them. With a deep breath and a leap of faith I begin to exit the plane...
Je suis prest. I am ready.
"No I'm not color blind,
I know the world is black and white
Try to keep an open mind but,
I just can't sleep on this tonight
Stop this train,
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't,
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?
Don't know how else to say it,
Don't want to see my parents go
One generation's length away
From fighting life out on my own
Stop this train,
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in,
I know I can't,
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?
So scared of getting older,
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game
To find a way to say that life has just begun
Had a talk with my old man,
Said help me understand,
He said turn 68, you'll renegotiate
Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
Don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train
See once in a while when it's good
It'll feel like it should,
And they're all still around,
And you're still safe and sound,
And you don't miss a thing,
Until you cry when you're driving away in the dark.
Singing stop this train,
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take this speed it's moving in
I know I can't,
Cause now I see I'll never stop this train."
Just reading these lyrics makes me feel so very emotional. I am constantly imagining myself in other times; past, present and future. Right now I see myself a few months ahead:
I am boarding the plane at RDU that will fly me to Illinois and irrevocably change my life. I am nervous; my hands are shaking and I feel nauseated with uncertainty. I am mumbling to myself, "My sixth General Order is to receive, obey and pass on to the Sentry who relieves me..." and hoping no one hears me, lest they think I am crazy. I am stumbling throuh the narrow aisle to find my seat and praying I have a window to lean against. With every second that passes I am feeling even less stable. I am great at performing under pressure but there is a careful balance that has been tipped in anxiety's favor. "I am a United States Sailor. I will support and defend..." I take my seat and look around, though no one has even glanced in my direction. I am sighing over the book and the iPod I do not have in my possession, as bringing them would have been pointless. As the plane starts its gentle humming that tells me we are about to leave familiar ground I lean my head back and close my eyes.
Visions of my younger days begin to flash through my head. I am still very small and my Mom is pushing me in a blue stroller around our neighborhood. In our company is Max, a tiny brown dachshund. We are at the pond behind our house feeding bread to the ducks and turtles and the sun is slowly setting. We are vacationing at Atlantic Beach. My Mom is waving to my Dad and I as she heads toward the beach to catch some rays while we run for the waterslide at the pool. My Dad is teaching me to play softball and taking me to my first game. They look so proud that I have taken up sports, just like Dad. My Dad and I are back home and we are chasing each other around our yard, aiming water guns at each other's faces. My Mom and I are painting our toes on the deck while fresh chocolate chip cookies are baking in the oven. We are playing with our various puppies, usually either Great Danes or Dachshunds, and they are teaching me to treat animals as family members. My Parents arrive at my school to surprise me on my birthday. All of my friends are flocking around them because my sweet Mother has baked goodies and my Dad is telling jokes. Even my fun-loving older Sister has joined them with treats of her own. We are all in Florida together with my grandparents, lounging around and sipping fruit juice when I was younger and cocktails when I was older. I am running around the State Fair, watching as my Dad wins me giant stuffed animals and then takes me on rides. My Mom brings us snacks and snaps pictures. It is Winter and massive snowball fights ensue between my Dad and I, taking the place of the water guns from the Summer. I am still smelling the fresh cut grass and the oncoming rain in the Summer, seeing my Mother's beautiful Spring garden in bloom and the colorful Fall leaves in our yard, feeling the chill of Winter on my nose. There's cook-outs and trick-or-treating and Valentines and Christmas paper. I sense it all at once and for one overwhelming instant I awake from my reverie, only to drift off again almost immediately...
Flash back to fifth grade and I am begging my parents to let me join the band; they buy me a clarinet. I am at my first band concert and there they are again, smiling back at me near the front row. I am auditioning for various All-County and All-District chairs, I am joining the Marching Band and competing, I have taken up the bari sax in Jazz Band and I am playing in the presitigous Wind Ensemble at my high school and they are always there to support me and hear my music. I am walking across the stage as a High Honors Graduate at my high school ceremony and even though they were told to hold the applause my parents and sister and brother-in-law are cheering anyway. They were always pushing me to study. My Mom and I are listening to Carribbean music on our cruise while my Dad avoids the sun in the Casino. My Mom tells me it's going to be alright as my Dad cleans and bandages a badly scraped leg. My parents are excited for me over my first real date and hug me tightly as I cry my eyes out over my first broken heart. They are holding my hand when I am younger and letting go when I am grown, trusting that all of the valuable lessons they have taught me over the years have stuck with me, even when I did not seem like I was listening. I always did.
Moving forward and my Dad is recollecting his time in the Army, sharing stories about all the friends he made and the places he traveled. They are shocked but thrilled over my decision to enlist and always interested in hearing about the process.
It feels like I have barely closed my eyes and I am already opening them again, trying to catch my bearings. The plane has landed and they are thanking everyone for flying. It is time to go now but I no longer feel so afraid and alone. I realize my parents are still right here with me, still holding my hand and looking at me with loving eyes, ready to guide me through whatever challenges are swiftly heading my way. I am a strong young woman now and I owe it all to them. With a deep breath and a leap of faith I begin to exit the plane...
Je suis prest. I am ready.
01 March 2010
Gypsy
Last night I had a conversation with my first real boyfriend from forever ago. We were having fun catching up and predictably our discussion led to the topic of relationships and where we are now. I told him I had been "living it up" and enjoying the single life, doing as I pleased and not worrying about the consequences. He said to me, "You never did seem like the relationship type. I was lucky to hold on to you for a while." At first I was confused and questioned what he meant by saying I did not seem like one for relationships. His response was, "I'm not sure, but you just always seemed very independent."
I believe his comment holds more weight with me because this is someone I have known for a very long time now, someone who knew me back when I was an awkward teenager in high school just trying to make it through. I suppose you could say that he and I grew up together through those years and thinking back on our time brings on an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. I was so young and so innocent, much less jaded and less worried about things I cannot control. Becoming an adult has been as invigorating as it has been troublesome and I still have a long road ahead.
After our conversation I also started thinking more about this upcoming Summer and where I will be. Last Summer my only concerns were what pool party I would be attending next and shopping for halter tops and shorts with friends. This Summer I will be learning to handle an M-16 and to escape from a watertight room. I will enter a gas chamber and have to remove my mask alongside other recruits as we recite information and I will trade flip-flops for combat boots.
My independence that he gracefully pointed out is going to gain so much for me in the long run; however in this moment I am stuck on what I will miss. I am realizing that when you go your own way like I have it seems the road is often a lonely one. No more crazy fraternity parties with Chris and Allie or getting drunk and doing things we should probably regret but do not. No more drowning our sorrows over sushi and water, getting high on the beach or drinking homemade wine. Not that I have ever enjoyed it and not that it is easy to give up time with any of my friends but I am already slightly used to long-distance friendships with Serena and Meagan. Allie and Chris are right here with me in Raleigh though and have been for the past three years, through good and bad, and I feel the separation anxiety already.
I do not regret my decision to enlist. I feel it deep down that I am still going the right way with my life if there is even such a thing, but today I choose to be sad.
I believe his comment holds more weight with me because this is someone I have known for a very long time now, someone who knew me back when I was an awkward teenager in high school just trying to make it through. I suppose you could say that he and I grew up together through those years and thinking back on our time brings on an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. I was so young and so innocent, much less jaded and less worried about things I cannot control. Becoming an adult has been as invigorating as it has been troublesome and I still have a long road ahead.
After our conversation I also started thinking more about this upcoming Summer and where I will be. Last Summer my only concerns were what pool party I would be attending next and shopping for halter tops and shorts with friends. This Summer I will be learning to handle an M-16 and to escape from a watertight room. I will enter a gas chamber and have to remove my mask alongside other recruits as we recite information and I will trade flip-flops for combat boots.
My independence that he gracefully pointed out is going to gain so much for me in the long run; however in this moment I am stuck on what I will miss. I am realizing that when you go your own way like I have it seems the road is often a lonely one. No more crazy fraternity parties with Chris and Allie or getting drunk and doing things we should probably regret but do not. No more drowning our sorrows over sushi and water, getting high on the beach or drinking homemade wine. Not that I have ever enjoyed it and not that it is easy to give up time with any of my friends but I am already slightly used to long-distance friendships with Serena and Meagan. Allie and Chris are right here with me in Raleigh though and have been for the past three years, through good and bad, and I feel the separation anxiety already.
I do not regret my decision to enlist. I feel it deep down that I am still going the right way with my life if there is even such a thing, but today I choose to be sad.
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