Yep, Brady, the very thing.

It's now been a full month since I was last able to scan anything.  It's getting to the point where I'm going to have to fold everything like a paper airplane so it'll reach the top of the stack.

The genius management response:  Clerk receives income document.  Clerk puts a vague narrative in the system.  Worker can't work with 'pay stub' so has to contact supervisor.  Supervisor goes and finds the document.

What?????!!!!

I asked:  "Why not just give the document to the worker since it's going to end up there anyway?"

NO response.
 

Don't get me started CT, we see so many issues that CAO's create for themselves because of how they "setup" their internal Operational procedures, it baffles me.  Over half the issues we see with audits are due to structural decisions that cause the issue.

Thankfully when I worked there imaging was done after the work was done, therefore when the mail came in they just placed in it the workers mailbox and we could process it the same day, then the items were scanned.  Maybe they should go back to that until it is fixed, just a crazy thought.

01/07/2016

 The mood is up. Way, way up.

 This state is just as difficult as a severe low. I have to stop and think about what I’m about to do before I do it because this is how I ended up buried in unsecured credit. Also I’m easily distracted by just about anything.

 I hate it when you go into a communal bathroom and the last person there left an unholy stench behind and you’re just there to pee so you get it over with and you wash up and just as you’re walking out someone else is coming in and the stink hits them like a bulldozer made of turds and they look at you like it’s your fault.

 I want to say “hey, that shit was here when I got here.” Which would probably receive a reply to “yeah, right.” You know, saying it with that snotty emphasis to indicate they don’t believe you and for the rest of that guy’s life he’ll remember you as the creator of the most horrid stink he’d ever encountered.

 Do you want to be remembered as ‘Hellish Turd Guy’ for the rest of that guy’s life?

 I don’t. Got his license plate number when he came out. I’ll look up his address and send him a letter.

 Get this: We can view our 2015 W-2's but we can't print our W-2's This is so 'government'. It's just baffling. If I can see the effing W-2 I should be able to print the W-2. What the hell is the point. If you're not going to let me print the damn thing why the hell are you showing it to me?

 Is this like that carrot on a stick that you use the get a mule to start moving? Is that it? Well, is this particular case I believe it is you who is the ass.

 Whew.

 Deep breaths.

 Okay, so I'm extremely distracted. It happens. It's difficult to focus on any one thing for long. It's like that toy car you had when you were a kid. You know the one? It had a little motor in it and when you turned it on it would go in a straight line until it hit a wall? Then it would back up, make a 90 degree turn, and start off until it hit the next wall.

 Well, right now, that little toy car would be far more useful for getting anything done than I would.

 Had a nice talk with my therapist today. Well, more accurately, I babbled non-stop for an hour the went to Sheetz. I have absolutely no idea what we talked about. I don't know if he even got a word in.

 There is no I in team. But there is a me. And meat, if you read it backward. But I'm not sure why that's relevant so why did you mention it? Well, I guess most teams are made of meat, right? So that work has been used correctly. I've be vindicated.

 I think I need a sedative now.

 But it's been a good day.

 Thanks for listening.

01/12/2016

 The mood is erratic but mostly up so I'm okay with it.

 I have difficulty with this time of the year. It's the pressure, you see. Not any kind of tangible pressure. Not even my own pressure.

 There is a lot of expectation forced into the two weeks at the end of every year. There is the expectation of joy. Not because of the holiday but because of the stuff. Everywhere I go there is music playing (too loud), there is lots of shiny, shiny stuff. There is lots and lots of pressure to buy things. And with the things comes the expectation.

 We seem to expect things to make us happy.

 Okay, I really don't care about presents. I care about presence. I would rather have one or more of The Wendy's around at the holiday than anything anyone could give me. Okay, a lovely, shiny Volkswagen CC would kinda lift my spirits.

 But I digress.

 There is pressure. The pressure is being applied by everything you see and hear. You try to anticipate the expectations of others and must attempt to meet their desires by purchasing stuff. Now, when you see it written out that way it's kinda silly.

 But it's there. All around. The pressure.

 Then there's the day. When all the expectations pop like a balloon. Gone. Just like that. You succeeded or you failed. The emotion attached to this thing is something I can feel in the air. The pressure. The expectation. The disappointment.

 And then it's just gone.

 Then, the following week, another expectation rises. The turning of a year. You have to go to the best party, or throw one yourself, or at least get really sloppy drunk, or something. People make resolutions that are history by the end of the next week. Vow's to themselves that things will change.

 Because of a square. On a piece of paper. With a number on it.

 Again, this sounds preposterous. Take a moment to remove the calendar from the equation. Breathe. Feel. Touch. Taste. Smell. Listen to the wind. And ask yourself, is anything really different? What does it matter? Why would any desire to improve yourself be confined to a single day?

 Pressure.

 This pressure also comes with expectation. Expectation of change. Of growth. Of all the things you desire for an entire year. And then the day comes. And the sun rises. Or there's rain. Or there's snow. Whatever.

 But the day is no different from any other day. And that expectation is lost.

 All of this affects behavior. People act differently because of the dates. Because of the expectation. Because of the disappointment when they realize it's just another day. Being around large numbers of people is problematic. Because they aren't being what they really are. They're being what they're told to be.

 If that makes any sense.

 Bad got a new friend. Short, hairy, four legs. I can't spell the breed name but it sounds like that candy, Malomar. Okay, I probably misspelled that to. You know, the cookies with that creepy cushy stuff in the middle that doesn't really taste like anything.

 His name is Grim. He used to be what is called a 'working dog'. His job was to sniff out explosives on trains. He was retired for reasons that aren't entirely clear.

 I'm happy for Bad. In fact I think this is a good thing because I really worry about her some times. Bad's been a lot happier and a lot more active since Grim came along.

 We've been having sleep-over's at The Stealth House. Mostly we read, talk, and watch crappy movies on Netflix. And then I fall asleep early. We also have supervised shopping trips which is helpful for me because when I'm chattering away by myself in the grocery store people tend to stare.

 I usually drive Bad batty on these trips. Most of the time I'm doing it on purpose. Because cranking her up makes me smile. I have no idea why.

 But she puts up with me.

 Like all The Wendy's

 Because they've adopted me.

 And I feel like the most fortunate person in the world.

 Thanks for listening.

01/13/2016

 The mood is still up.

 This is some kind of record. Really.

 I was thinking of the end of the year issues that I develop in terms of pressure. I'm not sure this is entirely correct. A more accurate description would be weight. The dragging down of the spirit in the manner of Jacob Marley's chains.

 Jacob Marley had one thing very right; we forge our chains in life. And he had one thing very wrong; said chains are not donned in death, they are worn throughout life. Everyone has them. They vary in length, and composition, and whether or not they are your own.

 The common factor is weight.

 My chains are always there, they just become more noticeable at specific times. I've discovered the difference is in my ability to carry them. Once I am freed from the temporal position of their making it's as if they've been struck from my soul.

 In the manner of a helium balloon once the weight, or the feeling of weight, is gone I go shooting straight up at a dizzying rate of speed. It's a bit of a wild ride. An important aspect of this phenomenon is that I need to remember that I'm not the only one affected by this sort of event.

 It's difficult sometimes to remember that everyone around me is impacted by my behavior. Lives touch other lives. There are few ways to prevent one life from overlapping another. I have no interest at all in moving into a cave in Montana so I have to keep reminding myself to stop, think, then act.

 It's not always possible to do so but I do my best and that's all anyone can ask of anyone else in this world.

 Avoid harming another.

 I wonder why I never see a bumper-sticker with that phrase on it?

 I enjoyed my weekend with Bad. It was good company and I really like dogs so it was nice having her new friend over too.

 The three of us went out on Saturday afternoon. I discovered that pet stores have changed a great deal since I last had a companion. For one thing, they're HUGE! The place we went to is across the river in Centerville. I think that's in Lancaster County.

 This part of the state hasn't yet been overrun by the sprawl from Baltimore, Philadelphia, Camden, and New York. It's getting there but you can still find places where you can find farmland and fields and orchards and reserves and forests. Things that no amount of human ingenuity can duplicate.

 The weather was dreary. The sky was the color of slate punctuated with clouds the color of iron and fog was everywhere. I actually like days like that. The daylight is muted so it doesn't hurt my eyes and no direct sunlight to burn my skin. There's something arresting about seeing a bridge disappear a quarter of a mile ahead of you. I get to wear my winter clothes. I have some really good coats and alpaca-wool scarves and chimney-sweep gloves.

 My pod-spouse Deb owns two alpacas who live on a farm right here in York with dozens of others. She has the best selection of stuff every winter. If you've never felt alpaca wool your missing out.

 But I'm getting distracted.

 Bad, Grim, and I went to this place in Centerville. It was big enough to have two or three zip-codes. People bring their pets along and there were just dogs and dogs and more dogs all over the store. I didn't see anyone with a cat on a leash. Bad had to stop every few feet to tell people what kind of dog Grim is (a sandwich-cookie dog) and chat for a little so I kept wandering off.

 I only got lost twice. Text messaging is a really good thing to have although it's not as rewarding as going to the customer service desk and crying until they give me candy then page her on the PA system.

 I needed to use the bathroom while I was there. As I walked in the door to the men's room there was a chap in a store uniform standing across from the sinks at parade rest. Parade rest is where someone is standing with their hands clasped behind their back and their feet about shoulder-width apart.

 I didn't think much of it when I walked in. When I came out of the stall he was still standing there. In the same place. At parade rest. And it began to feel weird.

 I thought there could be a number of possible reasons for him being there: 1) He really, really likes the way he looks in the bathroom mirror. 2) He was assigned as a bathroom attendant. 3) He's a really creepy guy who likes to spend his breaks and lunchtimes in the bathroom.

 Thoughts like those often race through my head so fast that I sometimes react before I actually think about it. In this case, I got a little snort of a laugh from possibility number three. It may have sounded insulting. It wasn't meant to be but that's the world according to Ben.

 I rushed the washing-up job and left before I'd dried my hands enough. After wiping off the excess water with my alpaca-wool scarf—did I mention you can get one from my pod-spouse?-- I texted Bad to tell her I was lost again and told her about bathroom-guy when she came to get me.

 We had walked about a half-mile or so while I was relating the story when I happened to glance back and noticed bathroom-guy casually strolling along behind us. Not right behind us; it was entirely possible he just happened to be going in the same direction...after standing at parade rest...in the bathroom.

 Being former military, I came up with a plan to deal with a potential threat. I positioned myself by the shopping cart, fully prepared to grab a handful of wet dog food, fling it on him, and begin whistling for the half-a-thousand dogs running around.

 I figured by the time he got done peeling dozens of poodles off himself we'd have made our escape.

 Ask any writer and they'll tell you writing is a process. You invent, you write, you read, and you revise. Ask me and I'll tell you writing is a seizure. I will have an innocent idea floating around in my head, minding its own business, when other ideas will start crashing into it...and getting stuck.

 The product of the collision will collide with other thoughts until more and more stuff gets stuck to it. It builds, and builds, and builds until it get stuck in the front of my mind—sideways. At that point I regurgitate it.

 The actual writing part of the writing is always over very quickly and is only limited by how fast I can type. I brought this up because there is a narrative of a fantasy novel jammed in my head and taking up so much space that it's distracting me from just about every other thing I'm doing.

 I've been on the same page of the book I'm currently reading for the past three days because I get two sentences into it when the narrative takes over and continues snowballing. I HAVE to do something with it but it isn't ready yet. There are still details that are forming and dialog taking place and events occurring and an underlying process that ties all of it together and it's just not there yet.

 I have a three-day weekend coming up. I'll either spend it writing this all out or curled up in a corner muttering to myself.

 The job-stress is still high. After a full month, I finally, just today, gained the ability to do the stuff that's been backing up...um...for a full month. I haven't the faintest idea how I'll be fitting a month of backlog into another month with all of its own stuff that needs done.

 Or, at least, not yet anyhow.

 The formation of a functional pattern is also a process and right now there's something else in the way. This is also causing stress. It's my understanding that nutrition can play a key role in the ability to manage stress so I'm supplementing my diet...with booze.

 I'm feeling much more relaxed now.

 Thanks for listening.