Category Archives: Rant
TWISTED PANTIES
Are you stepping on eggshells?
Saying what is expected?
Avoiding waves and swells,
Politically corrected?
Are you afraid that it’s crude,
To put a nose out of joint?
Feel like you’re being rude,
Trying to make your own point?
Don’t worry so much,
Just learn to speak free,
Don’t use “nice” as a crutch,
We’re not supposed to agree,
We’re supposed to be true,
Express ourselves clearly,
Just speak for you,
Hang onto that dearly,
Step on a few toes,
Every fence can be mended,
And no one’s died as that goes,
From just being offended,
So let down your charade,
Stop your resisting,
I’m sure panties were made
To stand knotting and twisting.
Not to belabor the point but…
I wrote this as a response all the unenlightened comments on this photograph posted on the Occupy New Brunswick page on Facebook.
I’m sure he saved as much as he could (as he mentioned) but, being a teacher making crap wages, it wasn’t nearly enough. Don’t worry, though. Teachers are used to taking abuse from everyone. We’re used to being held accountable for bad grades and never thanked or appreciated for good ones. We’re used to hearing about how our jobs are “easy” and how overpaid we are because we get summer and Christmas vacations off. We’re used to being hated by students, criticized by their parents and undervalued by everyone.
We’re used to it but we do our jobs anyway.
We stand up in front of a room full of distracted kids and somehow manage to engage their increasingly elusive interest for a few minutes. We ignore the eye rolling and the clock watching and get on with our jobs.
I work as a high school English teacher in Sweden. Maybe conditions are different here but I normally start work before eight in the morning and finish after five. Working ten or twelve hour days is a frequent occurance. A minor percentage of our working day is spent actually teaching. The rest of the time we spend in meetings, marking essays and making lesson plans. The students get week-long breaks in fall, winter and spring, but I (and the rest of my colleagues) work during all of those. I get a few days off around Christmas, and I get the standard amount of time off during the summer to which all Swedish workers are entitled by the government.
Yeah, I’m stressed out and tired. I’m exhaused. But I cannot let my students down. They are the reasons I get up in the morning and go to work everyday. I do my job for them.
I’m a teacher. That’s what I do and I’ve never wanted to do anything else.
One Evil Tortilla Chip: a dental adventure
(Warning: this may gross out some of you)
It all started on Monday when I was eating these new Santa Maria “American Barbecue” tortilla strips. Unlike the traditional triangle-shaped variety, these are shaped like long rectangles with surprisingly sharp edges. One of them became lodged quite painfully into the lower right corner of my jaw. I tried to maneuver it out with my tongue, but it was really stuck in there and seemed be digging deeper into my cheek. After a few seconds I managed to remove it but the area felt weird, almost like I could still feel the offending object there. Oh well, I thought, mouth injuries usually heal pretty quickly. It should be okay in day or two.
However, in a day or two I had developed a rather painful hard lump on my lower right jaw, which kept increasing in painfulness and size and I was starting to resemble a large chipmunk storing up food for the winter. There was definitely some kind of infection in there or something that wasn’t going to heal on its own, so I left work early and went to my local medical center. Because the injury had nothing to do with my teeth, I thought they might be able to help me. Instead, they told me I needed to see a dentist and sent me on my way without looking at it. As it happens I have a dentist appointment next week for a checkup, but this needed immediate attention. I went home and called the emergency dentist, kicking myself (at least metaphorically) for getting myself into this situation. Unlike regular health care, dental care in Sweden is not covered under the national health plan, and this had the potential to cost me a fortune. I was told that I could come in that evening but that appointments after normal working hours cost twice as much. Since I wasn’t in excrutiating pain I decided I could wait and got an appointment first thing in the morning.
By morning the lump had doubled in size. When I got to the dentist’s office, I filled in the requisite health declaration form and was taken in within minutes. So far so good. The hygienist looked at the affected area and tapped my teeth firmly with a dental instrument just to make sure there was nothing wrong with them, and indeed, there was not. She then took an x-ray just to be sure. Then the dentist came in and my condition presented him with a bit of a challenge. I told him that this had never happened to me before and he told me that he had never seen this before in a patient. He even brought in a colleague to take a look. They both kept remarking at how nice my teeth looked and I said that yes, I have very good teeth and hardly ever need to see a dentist.
What neither of them had ever seen before was this, a gingival abscess, an infected area in the gums which apparently can be caused by aggressive tooth brushing, toothpicks, or in my case, food that is forced into the gumline. I am very lucky in that the infection never got into my teeth since that’s a much more complex problem to fix. He lanced and drained the infection, which involved a lot of squeezing of the very sore infected area. (I think that many dentists are secret sadists.) However, it needed to be done. He then prescribed me some penicillin and an anti-inflammatory painkiller.
Then came the most painful part of all (or so I thought): the bill. I was fully expecting it to cost a fortune but, surprisingly, the entire visit and treatment came to only 475 Swedish kronor (about $70 US). The antibiotics and pain medicine came to a further 175 (about $25). For someone used to the exorbitant costs of American health care, just under one hundred dollars for an emergency visit to the dentist including the medications is really not that bad at all.
Still, it’s lot to have to pay because of one evil tortilla chip. I’ll certainly be avoiding those in the future, and I recommend that everyone else do the same.
Green Laser Assault
I was assaulted at work today by a student with a green laser pointer. Here in Sweden, these green lasers are considered dangerous and are therefore illegal to bring into, well, almost anywhere: schools, airports, any public building really. This student was apparently unaware that it’s illegal to bring a green laser into a school and that shining it into someone’s face is considered assault. Yep, he shined it right into my face, as well as one other teacher’s face and the faces of several students. He was just trying to be an annoying asshole, not knowing that the way he was doing it was a criminal act. Not that this matters. Ignorance of the law does not excuse one from breaking it.
It’s just a damn good thing that he didn’t shine the laser directly into my eyes, since I have epilepsy. He didn’t know that either, he said, otherwise he never would have done it. Cute. I got it on the side of my face, though. I was standing next to the front door talking to a couple of students when I saw this green glow in the corner of my eye. When I looked up I saw the student hide something in his hand. I then went back to talking to the students and it happened again. The little bastard did it twice. I guess he thought it was only some harmless fun, but it really did scare me. You don’t screw around with that kind of thing when you have this condition. I walked over to him, almost shaking at this point, and told him to never, ever, EVER, shine that laser in my or anyone else’s face ever again. He mumbled an apology and I went back to work. A few minutes later, though, I saw one of my colleagues talking to the student and he was not happy. Not happy at all, for he had gotten the green laser right in his eyes. As he was talking/yelling to the student, he (the student) kept getting more and more belligerent. At one point I thought he was going to hit my colleague.
At this point neither of us knew that green lasers are illegal in schools and shining them in people’s eyes is an assault, but we learned this shortly afterward. My colleague attempted to confiscate the laser but the student was adamant that he didn’t have it anymore. He had apparently given it to a friend. We tracked down this friend and, naturally, he didn’t have it either. The laser-wielding student was then suspended from school and asked to leave. Unfortunately we weren’t yet aware that this was a matter for the police. We found out after he left. We were get in touch with the police tomorrow, though.
The student will be removed from the school. If he doesn’t leave voluntarily, then we’ll make it a police matter and he’ll be forced to change schools. The owner of the school won’t want to do this though, since he’s afraid this will tarnish the image of the school. Bullshit to that, I say. A student did something wrong and we did something about it. How will that make the school look bad? If we did nothing, it would make the school look worse. Anyway, this is all moot. The student broke the law and the police have to be contacted about it. If the school won’t then I will, goddammit. Even though I was told that I would probably lose my job if I did.
I just want to make the student into an example and show the other students that there are consequences to their actions. They kept saying that they thought we were making such a big deal over nothing and it really wasn’t that important. If that’s how they feel about it then I guess they wouldn’t mind if they had a green laser shined into their eyes for five seconds and suffer searing pain and permanent retinal damage. Then, we’ll see if they still think it’s not that important.
When is a hospital not a hospital?
When it’s a medical center. Even if it calls itself a hospital.
I left work early yesterday because I was feeling very poorly: dizzy, lightheaded, disoriented, and feeling in my head as if I was riding a roller coaster. I told my boss I had to leave and he told me to go to the nearest hospital. He even offered to put me in a taxi and pay for me to get there, but I said I could probably make it on my own. Anyway, I called Tobias (Swedish boyfriend) and he said he’d meet me at Capio Lundby Hospital, since it was the nearest one. At least I thought it was.
When we got there the staff seemed confused as to why we were there, since this was apparently not a hospital but a local clinic or medical center (vårdcentral in Swedish), despite the fact that the sign on the outside clearly reads, “Hospital.”
“So, uh… why did you come here?” the receptionist asked.
“I need to see a doctor right away and this is nearest hospital to where I live.” I said.
“Oh,” she said, “Well, that’s an easy mistake to make. It says hospital on the building but it’s not really a hospital. We don’t take emergency patients. For that you need to go to one of the emergency hospitals.”
She agreed that it was a stupid rule but that rules are rules.
At this point, I began to get really upset, since I was feeling genuinely awful and no one seemed willing to help me. They then took me into a room and let me sit down while a very kind and sympathetic nurse talked to me and calmed me down. She looked up the number of my neurologist and had Tobias call his office. He didn’t speak to the doctor but after giving an explanation of my symptoms to one of the nurses there, it was I suggested I go to the emergency room ASAP.
The problem was that the nearest emergency room was across town, and it would take us an hour to get there on public transport. So, the hospital/medical center arranged for a taxi to take us there at their expense. They did seem sincerely sorry that they couldn’t treat me and were being as helpful as they could. The taxi ride took about fifteen minutes.
Eventually I was admitted to triage and was seen to by a whole team of nurses and doctors. They did an EKG test, took lots of blood and urine, asked me a bunch of questions, and fixed me right up. It was nice that I didn’t have to wait very long either. It was the shortest emergency room visit I ever experienced. In and out in about two hours time.
So, to make a long story short, if you ever find yourself in Sweden and need to go to the emergency room, make sure that the hospital you go to really is a proper emergency hospital. Not all of them are. I found out the hard way.
For a good time…
…call Ginger at the Morrisville, NC branch of TruGreen. Her number is: 919.481.1172. Please be sure to ask for the High Priestess Kang stalking special.
In 2010, fed up with my trainwreck of a garden, I contracted TruGreen for service. I freely admit that I was beyond excited since Dock wants nothing to do with yard maintenance and there is very little I can do with my deteriorating spine. Alas, like many things in this wicked world, TruGreen broke my heart. Shattered it in a billion pieces, I tell you.
TruGreen couldn’t be arsed to keep to its agreement. As I mumbled many times over, it was if I had to call TruGreen and remind it that I had bags of money at my house with its name on it. The service was that horrendous.
2011 rolled around and I figured I would give them a chance at redemption, mostly out of sheer laziness on my part. This was a very poor decision.
After waiting twelve weeks for service that should be performed at six-to-eight week. intervals, I gave up. Then…the phone call came. TruGreen wanted to swing by to seed my lawn for a not so nominal fee. At this point, I cancelled the agreement. It’s just not worth doing business with an organization that drives you batty. The customer service rep I spoke with was entirely ambivalent but agreed to terminate the contract.
Shortly after noon today, a TruGreen truck was idling right in front of my house. Rather than dealing with otherwise lovely men who do not speak English well, I called the local office. It is my lucky day. Ginger answered the phone.
I begin to explain the situation, express my displeasure with the truck idling outside of my house, etc… and cunty Ginger says “Well, it’s not as if they are stalking you.”
Aaaaah. Wrong. Words.
/me waggles tentacle
You know, in this stellar economy, where jobs are abundant, it would be prudent to maintain a professional decorum lest one ends up with a pink slip in their grubby paws and no opportunity for unemployment. Either Ginger is sucking some major TruGreen cock or she is as dumb as a fence post. Perhaps it’s both. I have never met her.
I will say that I do not plan on meeting Ginger. I find her narrow lexicon tedious and do not necessarily appreciate dealing with a snotty customer service troll who thinks she is omnipotent because she is paid to speak on the phone.
Look…we all know customer service jobs suck. We all know these people are abused by angry customers and they’re not compensated well. That’s fine. But when you turn your vitriol on me, please do not sound appalled when I call you a pedantic, little shit in return.
So…if you’re looking for something to do today, go ahead and call Ginger. Alternatively, if you live in the Raleigh-Durham area of North Carolina, you should consider refraining from contracting TruGreen. Unless, of course, you like talking naughty cunts like Ginger.
WOTD: cynical
Dictionary.com defines the adjective cynical as “bitterly or sneeringly distrustful, contemptuous or pessimistic.” Haha, I’m totally impressed by their use of the word, “sneeringly.” Well done.
Anyway, we’re so bloody cynical at work. Not only has it gotten to the point where we assume that everything will be shit (that’s a given) we actually place bets on just how shit it will be. Right now three colleagues and myself have an office sweepstakes going on about how many people will bother showing up for tonight’s open house. The lowest bet is zero, followed by two, three, and my rather optimistic five. The winner will get a bottle of cheap wine.
We’re teachers, okay? We don’t get paid enough to buy anything decent or expensive.
Update: The person who guessed that zero people would attend is the winner. She’ll get a plastic container of Great White Aussie Chardonnay.
Stop complaining about my complaining!
I like to complain, although it’s a strain,
On your overly optimistic ears,
Like a Tourette’s tic I find it’s cathartic,
It has kept me out of prison for years,
Don’t understand? Well my seeming command,
Of my actions is not all it appears,
Your complaining about my complaining,
Besides causing hypocritical jeers,
Takes me to the edge, and this much I pledge,
If I do crack you‘ll soon know it my dears,
When I complain it’s to keep myself sane,
To stop my system from jamming its gears,
Accept when I rant, and maybe I shan’t,
Tear a strip off of your collective rears!
Shipping and Handling
My new furniture came yesterday!
From IKEA to me, hip hip hooray!
Well, actually, not right to me.
To the closest pick up place, you see,
Which is far away, or pretty far,
At least if you don’t have a car.
I could get a ride off of a friend,
But alas, it’s closed on the weekend.
It’s not a tragedy, but I’m annoyed.
This is just what I wanted to avoid.
Furniture’s here but I can’t get it.
Paid for delivery. Now I regret it.
Learn from this, folks. Having it sent,
Just way too bloody inconvenient.


