But we only do it this way. The new doctor asked me to get records from the previous doctor. The new doctor wants the records sent to our home and then we take them into his office on our next visit. The old doctor does not mail records to patients but only will fax them to the new doctor's office. The new doctor's office says they will not accept fax, old doctor says they will not mail. 7 days and 4 phone calls later old doctor is mailing us the records. I really do have better things to do than sitting on the phone for many days over the same issue, again and again. In fact, it seems all I have done for the last two weeks is deal with issues that should not be issues other than, this is the only way we have been told that we do things.
Unless you have a really good reason, you might consider not reading your records when you get them. I've done that. It's going to be in med speak, rather than the way your doc talked to you. That can be confusing, and shift your view of your health care provider.
Especially don't peek if you've had films and an evaluation done, and the facility sent *you* the films and reports. (Their standard practice. ) It was about diagnosing something serious, and I'd have been better not knowing ahead of the appointment.)
FWIW. YMMV.
ETA: have either of them considered sending the documents via computer? Do they happen to be in the same practice organization? Do the sites for your doc have patient pages/portals, and do they allow you to add other docs to your record. If so, that *might* make things easier.
Thanks, Golden Key, good advice I am sure. We recently moved and are changing doctors for that reason. I do not expect any big surprises so indeed will use our meet and greet appointment to go over the records with the new doctor. New area different practice organization. Starting fresh.
We have got part way through registering my friend with the local practice with the sole purpose of getting him a vaccine jab. We need current photo ID - his passport is out of date, and we hope his bus pass will do. We need a utility bill or similar to the current address within three months - so the undertaker's invoice from last year is too old. It's my house so he doesn't get utility bills, and has not altered all his correspondence such as bank statements as he still has his mother's house for those, and is only here temporarily. (He can only be registered temporarily if he develops a need for treatment.) Luckily, I was on the phone to the gas for him "Yes, the meter reads the same as the last three years," and I suggested this address for future contact, which he wasn't happy about at the time, so we've got that. And he hasn't been registered with a doctor back at home, so there will be that gap on the form to fill in. Wouldn't you think that in the current state there would be a simpler way to get jabbed?
(I tried to persuade the receptionist that the government wanted the homeless to be inoculated, which must bypass all the normal formalities, only to be told peremptorily that he wasn't homeless.)
TICTH whoever is nicking the milk from my doorstep.
We've never had a real problem before with milk being lifted (we live on a close knit council estate) but in the last week they have nicked 2 pints from each of our 3 deliveries and today they took the cheese as well. Our milk is out of sight in a black box so they obviously have seen it being delivered around midnight. On Thursday we will be getting it in as soon as it is delivered and will leave the reactive security light on (we've never needed to use it before!) so they can read our message.
He does most of the stuff - can't remember why I was on the phone to the gas. Except, possibly, because I was reading the meters while he was doing building work, or he was busy working and couldn't spare the time to sit through Vivaldi. (I broke in on the call to the receptionist because they are my doctors and I was thoroughly cheesed off with how they were treating his request. A whole series of reasons why they couldn't do anything. Should probably not have done that. But I was also cheesed off about not being able to get an appointment myself without jumping through hoops or having the sort of phone I don't have. There is no alternative practice.) There is teamwork involved here.
Meanwhile, Hermes. While we were out, doing building work, they decided to deliver a cooking thermometer from Lakeland. (This was to replace one in which the battery had gone flat and in which the screw hiolding the battery compartment shut needed the smallest precision crossheaded driver, and even then would not open it. This belongs here as well.) This thermometer was in a box big enough for two box files, so wouldn't fit through the letter box. So, despite two clear notices directing them where to put deliveries, they had just put it on the doorstep. With photo on email.
Their website allows for directing to a safe place, but only one they have thought of. Labelled locking cupboard isn't there. I am going to print out a large notice, with arrow and stick it to the door.
Annie, have you contacted the dairy to see if anyone else has the problem? And at my last place, one milkman started to leave my milk in someone else's porch, I think because he was lazy and that was easiest! Eventually I had to contact the dairy. What's the message going to be?
All these surgery call in systems are pains, having dialled 17 times yesterday to get through to the queue. And for each of 16 times had to listen to the 2 minute spiel on coronavirus and obtaining a vaccine, before reaching the number unobtainable sound. The final time the spiel was followed by several minutes too many of an electronic rendition of some music I hope never to hear at a concert as I am not sure I'd manage to sit through it. Interrupted by updates on my position in the queue and other advertisements.
But I did get to ask why, if I'm a carer for a clinically vulnerable person, the clinically vulnerable one was not invited for a vaccine with the rest of that tranche. I suspect human error as it is being looked into.
Hermes have asked me to leave a review on Trustpilot, so I have. (I have tried before to leave them information on their site, but they make it difficult impossible.)
Annie, have you contacted the dairy to see if anyone else has the problem? And at my last place, one milkman started to leave my milk in someone else's porch, I think because he was lazy and that was easiest! Eventually I had to contact the dairy. What's the message going to be?
I contacted the dairy at the weekend after two lots went missing as I assumed it was an error (they refunded). But last night my husband checked the delivery and it was correct, he left it there to see what happened and someone nicked it afterwards.
The message will just be a polite note telling them they have been rumbled and we are keeping a look out. Husband is considering fitting a camera. But we can get the delivery in late at night anyway as my husband is an owl.
At my last place I was informed by a neighbour that one has to have a notice up if one installs CCTV. Twice, in exactly the same words each time.
I don't know if that covers the sort of cameras people now have with their door bells - saw about those on the news about the missing woman near Brixton.
I'm reminded of the time when I worked in an office at County Hall in London. Many of the desks had drawers with no locks, but no-one really kept anything valuable in them, other than biscuits, and the odd bar of chocolate.
Nevertheless, odd items were missed - and replacing a stolen ballpoint pen meant a terrifying journey to the Stores, and its resident Dragon. Suspicion fell on one of the cleaners, a rather unpleasant lady with a fair command of Cockney invective. I therefore left a note in one of my desk drawers, reading *Keep Out, You Nosy Old Bat!*.
Sure enough, next evening, Unpleasant Cleaner turned up, buttonholed me, and loudly said *'Ere! Oo are YOU calling a Nosy Old Bat?*
I raised an expressive eyebrow. She, realising what she'd said, exited stage left, pursued by (metaphorical) bears.
I once visited an elderly couple and commented on the security camera in their porch. “Oh, it’s not real,” said the husband. “We just put it up as a detergent.”
I kept a straight face.
At my last place I was informed by a neighbour that one has to have a notice up if one installs CCTV. Twice, in exactly the same words each time.
I don't know if that covers the sort of cameras people now have with their door bells - saw about those on the news about the missing woman near Brixton.
If it films the street you have to comply with data protection laws, including putting up signs. But ours would only film the doorway so private property.
Yes, police sometimes requests them to help with crime issues (the case in Brixton does not look good )
1) Why the *bleep* would I want to talk to you when the clear incompatibility of our communication styles is one of the things causing me most problems at present?
2) You've given me a list of three genuinely important tasks you want me to prioritise tomorrow. Before the last two hours of my day today were spent dealing with a hysterical child (X), you'd asked me to do a pointless bit of form-filling and had emailed other people saying I would get the filled form to them today. Do you want the pointless form-filling prioritised over the genuinely important tasks tomorrow? Or, in other words, how the fuck does your head work and why did you ever give a fuck about that form and if it's so important, how about you do it yourself?
3) As an example of point (1) - what the *bleep* is "I hope X is ok" in a text at 6.30pm meant to mean? X is "ok" in that I delivered a physically-unharmed child back to where they were meant to be at 6.15pm. X is clearly not "ok" in that they are traumatised after years of shit and that isn't going to change any time soon.
I know you are not are horrible person and we just work very very differently. I am trying very hard to get through my last few weeks of being managed by you without exploding at you but this seems to be becoming a more challenging task by the hour. Please can you stop being an utter fucktard for just a short period while I get myself out of here,
1) Why the *bleep* would I want to talk to you when the clear incompatibility of our communication styles is one of the things causing me most problems at present?
2) You've given me a list of three genuinely important tasks you want me to prioritise tomorrow. Before the last two hours of my day today were spent dealing with a hysterical child (X), you'd asked me to do a pointless bit of form-filling and had emailed other people saying I would get the filled form to them today. Do you want the pointless form-filling prioritised over the genuinely important tasks tomorrow? Or, in other words, how the fuck does your head work and why did you ever give a fuck about that form and if it's so important, how about you do it yourself?
3) As an example of point (1) - what the *bleep* is "I hope X is ok" in a text at 6.30pm meant to mean? X is "ok" in that I delivered a physically-unharmed child back to where they were meant to be at 6.15pm. X is clearly not "ok" in that they are traumatised after years of shit and that isn't going to change any time soon.
I know you are not are horrible person and we just work very very differently. I am trying very hard to get through my last few weeks of being managed by you without exploding at you but this seems to be becoming a more challenging task by the hour. Please can you stop being an utter fucktard for just a short period while I get myself out of here,
Ta very much,
Zoe
Is your post rhetorical or do you want answers to those questions ?
The makers of my new cordless vacuum cleaner. There's a lot that is good about it. It has decent selection of extra add-ons for most of the jobs one wants a cleaner for. All the things one needs to move or open or switch are clearly labelled. Or almost all.
There is no way to get at the bend in the tubing that leads from the floor brush attachment up to the handle and then down to the "dust cup".
There is an instruction in the manual not to poke anything into the machine.
And in that bend there builds up a wodge of fluff and any odd bits that might be lying around on the floor. A feather from a sofa cushion, a dry leaf that came in stuck to a sweater, things too small to go round and pick up by hand or with a dustpan and brush before using the machine - and why on earth would one have to?
I have spent half an hour after a few minutes sweeping the living room floor poking into the tube first a chopstick, and then a small green garden cane of the sort used for plants in pots, and then a patent attachment for vacuum cleaner tubes designed for cleaning small things outside the cleaner, not inside it. And some of the plug is still in there because the battery ran out.
There are screws in a metal plate on the base of the thing, but they are not labelled, so I suspect are the sort of thing that needs to be unscrewed by a recognised practitioner of servicing this particular make, and besides, I don't want to have to service it every flipping time I sweep the floor.
I will not mention the hair that builds up around the brushes. The model they brought out just after I bought mine has a special device to deal with that.
TICTH (a) the silly bugger in front of me who let everyone out of the train in front of him, causing me to miss the bus; (b) the next bus being 15 minutes late; and (c) roadworks, all combining to make me late for work.
Have I mentioned I'm not a natural commuter?
eta - and Scot Rail for not putting enough coaches on the train to facilitate social distancing.
I don't think the paintbrush would work on this particular model, as the fluff has become compacted - OTOH, if I did it more frequently, it might. But neither of us should have to do it - the machine should suck everything up all the way.
I have another machine which unloads its picked up stuff right next door to the brushes, which is excellent, but it doesn't come with a hose, a wand and a selection of nozzles, all of which work well in the offending device.
My wife recently opened an ISA account with a building society, and wants to transfer in some funds from another provider. That account can't be accessed online, so we were a bit flummoxed as to how to do it.
We wanted to visit a branch of the new society but basically they're not allowing that at the moment, except for mortgages. Nevertheless we applied online for an appointment.
A nice young lady just phoned and said that, as she needs to come up our way later, she'll pop the relevant forms, already filled in and ready for completion, through our letter-box, together with an envelope to send them back.
Now that I think is good, imaginative and personal service.
I've cleared the hose.
And the milkman has gone back to leaving the milk outside the box - twice now.
And whoever delivered my neighbour's stuff hid it in MY cupboard, without leaving either of us a note.
For future use: "Manuals Lib--the ultimate manuals library". I've used it to track down info on gadgets with problems. There are *free* scans of all sorts of manuals. If you can't find what you want there, many other manuals sites exist. If you can't find a manual for your particular gadget's model, check for products made just before and after it.
Thank you - a place I do frequent. Sometimes it's easier than scouring the place for where I stored my manuals when I had people in places where I usually stored them. But I still have the manual for the cleaner in the bag with the tools and the skinny extension tubes. And it is emphastic about not doing anything that is needed to get the fluff out. I've probably voided my warranty! But I have a clear run through from hose to pickup department.
Until I use it again.
Off to make a notice for the milkman. Printed this time and fixed up to the door frame in a plastic pocket.
Very polite. With graphics illustrating: a) group of full milk bottles; and b) the Milk Minder produced by his company; with c) a flow chart arrow linking the two. And a message asking for him to please put a into b.
Guess what. He hasn't. A phone call to the company is just waiting for me to get the website password. Last time they did tell me that there's no instruction not to use the boxes because of viruses sitting on them.
It seems such a trivial thing to make a fuss about. But I paid for the box for reasons. Mostly to do with summer exposure to UV light and heat, but also because of the off chance of theft - I'm in a prime position for opportunistic lifting. And the faint possibility that the blue tits find out again about the gold top milk I get once a week.
And I gave him a decent tip at Christmas.
I saw the postie yesterday while sticking up the notice, He had been confused, thinking our two doors were of one house. I took yesterday's delivery and watched him write the note and post it next door. We have clear numbers on display.
I saw the postie yesterday while sticking up the notice, He had been confused, thinking our two doors were of one house. I took yesterday's delivery and watched him write the note and post it next door. We have clear numbers on display.
It's not impossible for the postie to get confused. The other day, we at no. 14 got the post for no. 16, so I popped out to put it in the right door. Within a couple of minutes of being back, her from no. 12 was banging on the door with our post, and a little grumpy about having to wait for no. 10 to get home from work to pass on theirs. I decline to speculate about what happened at no. 2.
(And our post arrived yesterday at 6.45! In the evening. Am I right to suspect that (a) the posties are double shifting and (b) that given the number of Covid tests being sent out by post for schoolkids, the government has subsidised Royal Mail plc to make sure that come what may the tests get delivered - even if that means paying overtime?)
Where I live, the numbering is notorious. I first met it years ago, before I lived in it, and I was delivering two quiches for a church do to someone's house. I followed the signs and went past houses where it appeared I was moving towards the number I wanted. As it were 18, 19, 20, 22, 23*, 111! Aargh. How did that happen? Word among the inhabitants was that the numbering was worked out for the convenience of postie's walks. Word among the posties is tht it was done from a helicopter. I have done delivering here myself now, and the logic escapes me.
*We aren't streets, so the numbers are consecutive, not alternate with all the evens together and the odds likewise. It's possible to walk sensibly from 1 to 13, then its all hither and yon with jinks and diversions (you will notice 21 missing above - it's down an alley to 24 upwards. The house is in line with the rest - the door is round the side).
We've been having a lot of new faces in the shorts and red jackets, some of whom do not have English as a first language, so confusion is not a surprise.
Where I live, the numbering is notorious. I first met it years ago, before I lived in it, and I was delivering two quiches for a church do to someone's house. I followed the signs and went past houses where it appeared I was moving towards the number I wanted. As it were 18, 19, 20, 22, 23*, 111! Aargh. How did that happen? Word among the inhabitants was that the numbering was worked out for the convenience of postie's walks. Word among the posties is tht it was done from a helicopter. I have done delivering here myself now, and the logic escapes me.
*We aren't streets, so the numbers are consecutive, not alternate with all the evens together and the odds likewise. It's possible to walk sensibly from 1 to 13, then its all hither and yon with jinks and diversions (you will notice 21 missing above - it's down an alley to 24 upwards. The house is in line with the rest - the door is round the side).
It's a good few years ago now, when I lived a couple of hundred miles away from where I do now. I was asked to deliver targeted leaflets for my political party to selected addresses in a road, and was given the leaflets for the evens and (odd) numbers 1 to 11. It didn't look like many so I offered to take the rest of the odd numbers, which I was given, albeit with some smiles by older hands.
It turns out that all the even numbers are at one end of the road, with (odd) 1 to 11 opposite. There is no number 13 (not unusual in the UK) but neither is there a number 15 or 17. Numbers 15 and 17 were reserved for a site where they had built Hurricane fighters in the 1940s and in my time built Ford Transit vans. It's about three quarters of a mile long before the houses resume at number 19.
I have a story about numbers and party delivering things. A friend of my parents lived in a road with no 13. So someone turned up at her door, expecting it to be a different number, and was horrified to find herself at the door of someone she had, as a Tory loyal to Mrs Thatcher, been forbidden to visit. Diana Gould, who had challenged Mrs T on TV over the Belgrano. The canvasser ran away.
There is a street in Nashua, N.H. where the house numbers were assigned according to when the house was built. The first time I visited a friend on that street, she gave me a detailed description of what the house looked like.
TICTTDDOH the basely evil reprobates who hate themselves so much they need to attack people based on their DNA set to feel important. Specifically, at this moment, in my beloved city, murderous assholes picking on Asian people. Here is the inimitable Beau of the Fifth Column explaining in detail how populated that section is.
https://youtube/rFbHml5ba0M
Also those who will kick back and let micro aggressions pile two centuries deep right in front of hour eyes— fellow Californians, you know exactly wtf I’m talking about, it’s not a big secret— and then go “ Gasp golly whilikers, now it’s the Asians?”
Fuck all of you all and all of your candy ass justifications. You wouldn’t struggle to justify it if you didn’t know it was wrong.
Where to start? Our new Mobile Home Park says, no trespassing. We live right across from the community rooms, laundry, and pool. I have noticed a man who comes up the street each day and goes around the back of the building, comes out and looks in the trash cans, and then seems to putter here and there. So I am thinking he lives here and perhaps is does maintenance stuff part-time. He also comes sometimes in the afternoon with a truck and parks most of the afternoon in the visitor parking spaces of which are only a few. So when my grandchild came to visit she had to park several blocks away as we only have one parking place at our home. Two days ago I go to do the laundry and I turn the corner of the building to find him urinating on the pool fence. Not the way I want to start my day. It turns out he use to live here but is divorced, and now lives elsewhere and just sort of hangs out now, but not with his ex-wife as she wants nothing to do with him. When I asked my neighbor if she knew him she told me his story and added," I find him creepy and I am uneasy with him." So what to do? I called the park manager and he said he would talk to him, I assume telling him not to use the fence as a toilet. Today he is back. I am thinking I am making too much about this, perhaps he is homeless but I also feel uncomfortable now going to do the laundry if he might be back there, as it is a very secluded area as the pool is closed for the winter.
There is a street in Nashua, N.H. where the house numbers were assigned according to when the house was built. The first time I visited a friend on that street, she gave me a detailed description of what the house looked like.
What really struck me about that shooter in Atlanta was the way he claimed that it was because, as a Christian, he found their existence challenged his beliefs and he had to remove the temptation. (I paraphrase, but his deeply held Christian beliefs were definitely mentioned.) I know Origen's solution is not held up as an example to follow, but in this case, I think it would have been better.
Here’s the thing, I live in a predominantly Asian neighborhood, and in the last week one older Filipino man got beat up, an old woman was punched in the face, and two women at a local restaurant are getting harassing phone calls which involve a torrent of racial insults.
And since I grew up around here, I’m here to tell you it’s nothing new.
We've had a problem (mild word!) locally where youth will come up to an elderly person, often an Asian man, and punch him out--sometimes resulting in death. This predated Trump, though he didn't make it any better. It is called the "knock-out game." One of our church members fell victim to it. They tend to target people in their late 70s and 80s walking home from the grocery store during daylight hours. It's not hard, as there are any number of alleys and tiny parking lots around here--and in the south city, people tend to look the other direction.
One time it happened in broad daylight on a major road and the mayor happened to be driving by. He ended up scooping the person into his car and off to the hospital. I don't know if they ever caught the perps. It caused a flurry of enforcement for a while, I think.
When I was a teenager, I rerouted my walk to the mall because I glanced up a street I was crossing to see some gangly, scruffy white dude buzzing like a hornet around some older Filipino man who couldn’t have been any taller than me and just generally scolding him for being so Filipino and stuff. I speed- walked until I caught up to them, and then when Hornet had to step in the street to walk around a car, I just walked beside the old man like I knew him. The man glanced at me and muttered “Hierba” ( weed), to which I agreed.
Jesus. How do these cowards think that they are better than anybody when they attack small, elderly people often from behind? Those fuckers are lower than the road apples on a cattle drive.
Some members of my church would hang out in front of a neighboring Islamic Center during services with signs of support. They'd get some catcalls by the idiots, but they didn't care.
A couple of the SF Bay Area Asian elders who were attacked individually managed to fight back and injure their attackers. One of them is a 70-something woman who an asshole creep punched in the face Thursday. Same guy reportedly also attacked an elderly Asian man in the same area. Both of them were badly injured. The woman managed to fight back--and the creep was carted off to the hospital on a gurney!
:notworthy:
Yes, my husband and I were really pleased to see that. He worries so much about everybody at risk. I don't understand this at all, why younger, stronger people attack weaker elderly people. How is that a sign of anything? It's not strength, God knows. It's not courage, or daring, or striking a blow for whatever God-forsaken group you think you belong to. It doesn't get you money or fame or prestige. It seems to be nothing but a sign of terminal assholery.
One could hope that younger, stronger, people would make themselves available to walk with older weaker people, while they are being harmed. Although the woman who beat up her attacker may have harmed him, never the less I am sure that she is suffering from what happened both physically and no doubt mentally as well.
My guess would be that the younger, stronger people (i.e. the next generation) are all at work, and grandma/grandpa are taking care of the family chores like grocery shopping. It's a common set-up, to have the middle generation at work, sometimes for double shifts, while the grandparents take care of the grandchildren, and everybody meets together as a big multi-generational family when time allows. But that, of course, leaves the elders vulnerable to assholes.
Comments
So it does - just wanting to illustrate a point.
Unless you have a really good reason, you might consider not reading your records when you get them. I've done that. It's going to be in med speak, rather than the way your doc talked to you. That can be confusing, and shift your view of your health care provider.
Especially don't peek if you've had films and an evaluation done, and the facility sent *you* the films and reports. (Their standard practice.
FWIW. YMMV.
ETA: have either of them considered sending the documents via computer? Do they happen to be in the same practice organization? Do the sites for your doc have patient pages/portals, and do they allow you to add other docs to your record. If so, that *might* make things easier.
(I tried to persuade the receptionist that the government wanted the homeless to be inoculated, which must bypass all the normal formalities, only to be told peremptorily that he wasn't homeless.)
We've never had a real problem before with milk being lifted (we live on a close knit council estate) but in the last week they have nicked 2 pints from each of our 3 deliveries and today they took the cheese as well. Our milk is out of sight in a black box so they obviously have seen it being delivered around midnight. On Thursday we will be getting it in as soon as it is delivered and will leave the reactive security light on (we've never needed to use it before!) so they can read our message.
Meanwhile, Hermes. While we were out, doing building work, they decided to deliver a cooking thermometer from Lakeland. (This was to replace one in which the battery had gone flat and in which the screw hiolding the battery compartment shut needed the smallest precision crossheaded driver, and even then would not open it. This belongs here as well.) This thermometer was in a box big enough for two box files, so wouldn't fit through the letter box. So, despite two clear notices directing them where to put deliveries, they had just put it on the doorstep. With photo on email.
Their website allows for directing to a safe place, but only one they have thought of. Labelled locking cupboard isn't there. I am going to print out a large notice, with arrow and stick it to the door.
Annie, have you contacted the dairy to see if anyone else has the problem? And at my last place, one milkman started to leave my milk in someone else's porch, I think because he was lazy and that was easiest! Eventually I had to contact the dairy. What's the message going to be?
But I did get to ask why, if I'm a carer for a clinically vulnerable person, the clinically vulnerable one was not invited for a vaccine with the rest of that tranche. I suspect human error as it is being looked into.
The message will just be a polite note telling them they have been rumbled and we are keeping a look out. Husband is considering fitting a camera. But we can get the delivery in late at night anyway as my husband is an owl.
I don't know if that covers the sort of cameras people now have with their door bells - saw about those on the news about the missing woman near Brixton.
Nevertheless, odd items were missed - and replacing a stolen ballpoint pen meant a terrifying journey to the Stores, and its resident Dragon. Suspicion fell on one of the cleaners, a rather unpleasant lady with a fair command of Cockney invective. I therefore left a note in one of my desk drawers, reading *Keep Out, You Nosy Old Bat!*.
Sure enough, next evening, Unpleasant Cleaner turned up, buttonholed me, and loudly said *'Ere! Oo are YOU calling a Nosy Old Bat?*
I raised an expressive eyebrow. She, realising what she'd said, exited stage left, pursued by (metaphorical) bears.
IIRC, nothing went missing again...
I kept a straight face.
If it films the street you have to comply with data protection laws, including putting up signs. But ours would only film the doorway so private property.
Yes, police sometimes requests them to help with crime issues (the case in Brixton does not look good
1) Why the *bleep* would I want to talk to you when the clear incompatibility of our communication styles is one of the things causing me most problems at present?
2) You've given me a list of three genuinely important tasks you want me to prioritise tomorrow. Before the last two hours of my day today were spent dealing with a hysterical child (X), you'd asked me to do a pointless bit of form-filling and had emailed other people saying I would get the filled form to them today. Do you want the pointless form-filling prioritised over the genuinely important tasks tomorrow? Or, in other words, how the fuck does your head work and why did you ever give a fuck about that form and if it's so important, how about you do it yourself?
3) As an example of point (1) - what the *bleep* is "I hope X is ok" in a text at 6.30pm meant to mean? X is "ok" in that I delivered a physically-unharmed child back to where they were meant to be at 6.15pm. X is clearly not "ok" in that they are traumatised after years of shit and that isn't going to change any time soon.
I know you are not are horrible person and we just work very very differently. I am trying very hard to get through my last few weeks of being managed by you without exploding at you but this seems to be becoming a more challenging task by the hour. Please can you stop being an utter fucktard for just a short period while I get myself out of here,
Ta very much,
Zoe
Is your post rhetorical or do you want answers to those questions ?
There is no way to get at the bend in the tubing that leads from the floor brush attachment up to the handle and then down to the "dust cup".
There is an instruction in the manual not to poke anything into the machine.
And in that bend there builds up a wodge of fluff and any odd bits that might be lying around on the floor. A feather from a sofa cushion, a dry leaf that came in stuck to a sweater, things too small to go round and pick up by hand or with a dustpan and brush before using the machine - and why on earth would one have to?
I have spent half an hour after a few minutes sweeping the living room floor poking into the tube first a chopstick, and then a small green garden cane of the sort used for plants in pots, and then a patent attachment for vacuum cleaner tubes designed for cleaning small things outside the cleaner, not inside it. And some of the plug is still in there because the battery ran out.
There are screws in a metal plate on the base of the thing, but they are not labelled, so I suspect are the sort of thing that needs to be unscrewed by a recognised practitioner of servicing this particular make, and besides, I don't want to have to service it every flipping time I sweep the floor.
I will not mention the hair that builds up around the brushes. The model they brought out just after I bought mine has a special device to deal with that.
Have I mentioned I'm not a natural commuter?
eta - and Scot Rail for not putting enough coaches on the train to facilitate social distancing.
I have another machine which unloads its picked up stuff right next door to the brushes, which is excellent, but it doesn't come with a hose, a wand and a selection of nozzles, all of which work well in the offending device.
My wife recently opened an ISA account with a building society, and wants to transfer in some funds from another provider. That account can't be accessed online, so we were a bit flummoxed as to how to do it.
We wanted to visit a branch of the new society but basically they're not allowing that at the moment, except for mortgages. Nevertheless we applied online for an appointment.
A nice young lady just phoned and said that, as she needs to come up our way later, she'll pop the relevant forms, already filled in and ready for completion, through our letter-box, together with an envelope to send them back.
Now that I think is good, imaginative and personal service.
And the milkman has gone back to leaving the milk outside the box - twice now.
And whoever delivered my neighbour's stuff hid it in MY cupboard, without leaving either of us a note.
For future use: "Manuals Lib--the ultimate manuals library". I've used it to track down info on gadgets with problems. There are *free* scans of all sorts of manuals. If you can't find what you want there, many other manuals sites exist. If you can't find a manual for your particular gadget's model, check for products made just before and after it.
Until I use it again.
Off to make a notice for the milkman. Printed this time and fixed up to the door frame in a plastic pocket.
Guess what. He hasn't. A phone call to the company is just waiting for me to get the website password. Last time they did tell me that there's no instruction not to use the boxes because of viruses sitting on them.
It seems such a trivial thing to make a fuss about. But I paid for the box for reasons. Mostly to do with summer exposure to UV light and heat, but also because of the off chance of theft - I'm in a prime position for opportunistic lifting. And the faint possibility that the blue tits find out again about the gold top milk I get once a week.
And I gave him a decent tip at Christmas.
I saw the postie yesterday while sticking up the notice, He had been confused, thinking our two doors were of one house. I took yesterday's delivery and watched him write the note and post it next door. We have clear numbers on display.
It's not impossible for the postie to get confused. The other day, we at no. 14 got the post for no. 16, so I popped out to put it in the right door. Within a couple of minutes of being back, her from no. 12 was banging on the door with our post, and a little grumpy about having to wait for no. 10 to get home from work to pass on theirs. I decline to speculate about what happened at no. 2.
(And our post arrived yesterday at 6.45! In the evening. Am I right to suspect that (a) the posties are double shifting and (b) that given the number of Covid tests being sent out by post for schoolkids, the government has subsidised Royal Mail plc to make sure that come what may the tests get delivered - even if that means paying overtime?)
*We aren't streets, so the numbers are consecutive, not alternate with all the evens together and the odds likewise. It's possible to walk sensibly from 1 to 13, then its all hither and yon with jinks and diversions (you will notice 21 missing above - it's down an alley to 24 upwards. The house is in line with the rest - the door is round the side).
We've been having a lot of new faces in the shorts and red jackets, some of whom do not have English as a first language, so confusion is not a surprise.
It's a good few years ago now, when I lived a couple of hundred miles away from where I do now. I was asked to deliver targeted leaflets for my political party to selected addresses in a road, and was given the leaflets for the evens and (odd) numbers 1 to 11. It didn't look like many so I offered to take the rest of the odd numbers, which I was given, albeit with some smiles by older hands.
It turns out that all the even numbers are at one end of the road, with (odd) 1 to 11 opposite. There is no number 13 (not unusual in the UK) but neither is there a number 15 or 17. Numbers 15 and 17 were reserved for a site where they had built Hurricane fighters in the 1940s and in my time built Ford Transit vans. It's about three quarters of a mile long before the houses resume at number 19.
Also those who will kick back and let micro aggressions pile two centuries deep right in front of hour eyes— fellow Californians, you know exactly wtf I’m talking about, it’s not a big secret— and then go “ Gasp golly whilikers, now it’s the Asians?”
Fuck all of you all and all of your candy ass justifications. You wouldn’t struggle to justify it if you didn’t know it was wrong.
Older Brits will remember the great Fyfe Robertson from "Tonight": https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=512402056068261
And since I grew up around here, I’m here to tell you it’s nothing new.
I’m gonna try to post that link again, now that I’ve refreshed myself on BBCode https://youtu.be/rFbHml5ba0M
Boy, does he really hit all the highlights.
One time it happened in broad daylight on a major road and the mayor happened to be driving by. He ended up scooping the person into his car and off to the hospital. I don't know if they ever caught the perps. It caused a flurry of enforcement for a while, I think.
When I was a teenager, I rerouted my walk to the mall because I glanced up a street I was crossing to see some gangly, scruffy white dude buzzing like a hornet around some older Filipino man who couldn’t have been any taller than me and just generally scolding him for being so Filipino and stuff. I speed- walked until I caught up to them, and then when Hornet had to step in the street to walk around a car, I just walked beside the old man like I knew him. The man glanced at me and muttered “Hierba” ( weed), to which I agreed.
Good support bunnywithanaxe. Kudos to you! And I like the neighbors in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIJppbo-kvg. That is how to be an ally.
Some members of my church would hang out in front of a neighboring Islamic Center during services with signs of support. They'd get some catcalls by the idiots, but they didn't care.
:notworthy: