Bob Owen

Friday, August 29, 2003

I need to rant. I work in the "hospitality" business. I'm a bartender. At a private golf/country club. It's not one of those places where everyone speaks in a nasally voice. The members at this club are actually quite nice, and down to earth. It's my co-workers. What has happened to work ethic? Is it gone? Or do I expect too much?

I'm 34. Just last week, I turned 34. Happy Birthday to me. The waiters/waitresses, etc. range in age from 19 to 70ish. The closer you are to 70, than to 19, the harder you work, except of course in my case. I appear to be the exception to the rule. Last night, I aksed for a little cooperation from the waitstaff. A tiny little thing that would make my life easier. And the laziest bugger in the whole place, tore down my polite, but to the point note, and refused to help me out. He isn't the only lazy one. The people I work with do the following things that drive me nuts:

1. They drop their dirty dishes everywhere, and leave them for everyone else to clean up.
2. They think it's okay to show up for work late. When confronted on the issue, I hear "it's only 5 minutes, whats the big deal?" The big deal is, you're late.
3. Frequently, and I'm talking every other time I work, at least, the person who works the shift before me doesn't do their required tasks for the day. Instead, they watch TV, read the paper, and work on the crossword puzzle. I not only have to do my job, but their job. When I approach my boss on the subject, nothing gets done. The staff unaccountable, and management is too.

Having a job to go to right now is a luxury to some. The unemployment rate is high, and people are laid off every day. Fire those who simply don't want to do the job.

I have this undying work ethic. When I should be able to just sit down, if I have unfinished work, I can't relax until it's done. I don't do things half assed. I never have. I work hard from start until finish. Where has society gone that more people don't possess the same work ethic?

I'm done. For now.

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

I think I'm going to have to start counting down the days, hours, minutes and seconds until the kids go back to school. The fighting, whining and complaining has been non-stop for days. They taunt each other constantly. Even a glance in one anothers direction is cause for a battle royal. I think I'll go hunker down in my bunker. Heh, that rhymes.

He's better than a venus fly trap. My younger son J that is. He caught a centipede today, and put it in his bug jar. The centipede is now residing in his room. My husband, the initial writer of this blog hates centipedes. He squeals like a little girl when he sees them. This centipede is still a baby, and J is now thinking of a name for it.

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

Friday, August 22nd, is my nephew The Senator's Birthday. He'll be 5. We'll be in Chicago, visiting a friend. A hint:: The Senator will be finding Weapons of Mass Destruction in his pile of gifts. These are the kind you can't break. No, I'm not worried about The Senator breaking them, oh no. I'm worried about The Senator's mother breaking them. He was the previous recepient of a cap gun, which his mother snapped in half in a fit of "tit for tat" after The Senator broke a flimsy kitchen utensil. Enjoy!

As expected, Scratchy passed on yesterday at about 10:00 a.m. Jack was holding him, and he just stopped breathing. I hope he didn't suffer. Bob, Jack, Matt and some neighborhood kids had a funeral/burial for him last night. As I was preparing Scratchy for interment I had to find a box or something to bury him in. What I found was a new use for those disposable Glad Ware containers. He fit perfectly, however, My husband didn't feel it was appropriate to bury him in the Glad Ware because he would be there forever, rather than becoming one with the earth. I don't suppose the people at Glad Ware want to use such an advertising slogan, it might upset those wanting to protect mother earth.

We're down to one pet, that I know of. One could only guess what kind of creatures Jack may have stashed in his room. I think the one pet, Sophie, also known as the twelve pound dog, misses Scratchy. She would give him a lick, and watch him for hours as he ran in his wheel. She never did attempt to hurt him. I can't imagine the day that I have to deal with her passing. She's as much a part of the family as any one else.

More later, I'm off to try to get some kind of police job, which is a story for another time.

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

Imagine Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes or Dennis from Dennis the Menace. I have such a boy living here. He's 7. He went to his Aunt Cathy's. He found frogs. She received Best Aunt in the World honors. Unforunately, soon, we may need such a frog. Scratchy, Jack's hamster is dying. I doubt he'll make it through the day. Last night, I picked him out of his cage. He feels cold to the touch, but he's still breathing. Even such a small creature is comforted by a mothers touch. I held him and then wrapped him up to try to keep him warm. I checked on him this morning. Barely breathing. I wish there was a humane way to end it for him, I just can't do it. Let me tell you about Scratchy:

Scratchy is a teddy bear hamster. Initially he was really fuzzy. Scratchy developed a sweet tooth. For those of you who know me, you'll understand how that could be. I love sweets. I love to bake, and I love to share. Scratchy knew my voice. He was happy to see me when I got home from work, because he knew I would take him out of the cage and give him sugar coated cereal. Scratchy also would come out if he heard the noise food wrappers make, or if he smelled freshly delivered pizza. Just months ago, Scratchy was active and crawling all over his cage. He would hang upside down inside, and he was then dubbed by Jack "Spiderman." Today, Scratchy looks like he's a 100 year old man. His hair fell out, he's wrinkled and blind. I'll miss him when he's gone. Jack on the other hand, has plans for a new tennant for the cage. I guess thats okay. Everyone deals with death in their own way.

Visiting Chicago gave me a look at true entrepreneurs. They came in the form of pan handlers, beggers and the like. There were the very crude with just a cup. Then we found the group of 6. Outside of Watertower Place on Michigan Avenue. They drew a crowd. This group of young men, dressed alike, would dance and put on quite a show, complete with a 5 gallon pail for you to place your money. They suggested we should each put $20.00 in their bucket. Imagine if they put that much effort in to getting a real job, or education.

Monday, August 18, 2003

A weekend in Chicago. Me. My mom. No children. Heaven! I missed Bob and the kids. I missed the dog, but it is so enjoyable to go shopping without someone(s) whining. It's nice to go to dinner whenever you want, and not even worry about a kids menu. It's nice to sleep when you want, watch TV that doesn't involve The Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon. It's also nice to come home to peace.

We stayed in downtown Chicago. 3 Blocks from Lake Michigan and about 3 blocks from Michigan Avenue. There was the constant sound of sirens and horns honking. Everyone honks their horn in Chicago. I wasn't even sure sometimes why they were honking. The sirens were non-stop. I suppose sirens are typical in an urban setting. I just didn't know how constant they were. Drivers in Chicago had no patience. I almost got hit by a car that was turning a corner as I stood on the edge of a curb near a crosswalk.

The coolest thing happened though as I was sitting in a construction zone on Interstate 90 near Rockford, Illinois. Traffic was being reduced to one lane. Signs were posted. I moved to the appropriate lane, only to have other motorists come zipping up the side to squeeze in at the last moment. I hate that! The more expensive the car, the more likely the driver is to do just that. As I'm sitting patiently in line, I looked in my rearview mirror. The barrage of drivers attempting to squeeze in at the last minute had come to a halt. I wondered why. Two semi's had placed themselves side by side. No one was getting past either one of them. They kept all of the really important people who must go ahead of the rest of us, behind them. It was awesome. Just as you absolutely had to move over to the right lane, one of the truckers let the other trucker in. It was a beautiful thing. I didn't even mind sitting in traffic after I saw what they had done. One of the trucks was from Slumberland. I know where I'm buying my next furniture.

More later....

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

Imagine that I found this blog at a garage sale. I dusted it off, removed the cob webs and am going to take over.

Hi! I'm Trivialbob's wife. He ran low on blogging energy. He hasn't blogged in almost 2 months. I have had ideas, but he was my creative outlet. I'm not nearly as talented a writer as he is, or his sister or his dad, who had a guest junket on her site. Check it out, they are both great writers. I am mediocre. While my husband and sister in law were learning about nouns and pronouns from their father during childhood, I was learning how to fish. I live with the grammar police (my husband) and he lives with someone who can't sit still. I always need to be doing something.

This summer, I have worked evenings, and hung out with my kids Matt-9, and Jack-7 during the day. Today, I learned why when I was a child, my mom couldn't wait for us to go back to school. The boys fought, whined, and whined some more. They are now in their rooms, hopefully sleeping. This mean old mom made them take a nap. We now have a "Worst mom in the world" trophy to go with Bob's "Worst dad in the world" trophy.

The good part about being home all summer, is that it really hasn't been all that bad. Actually, it's been very very good. The first two months was baseball for the boys 4 nights a week. We've been swimming, and Jack has found countless frogs, toads and other bugs. As always, he asks: "Can I keep it as a pet?" If we kept everything he caught as a pet, we'd have to move to a farm.

More later. I'm off to Chicago for the weekend.