From Under My Rock

Had an annoyance this morning. I'm finally getting back to my writing group. The fall session started in late August, but I would have missed two of four sessions due to Burning Man, so why pay for that? So I was ready and eager to get back to having to explain things to my fellow writers who know nothing about science-fiction.

A ritual I've developed is hitting the McDonald's drive-thru for breakfast. I love their sausage biscuits with egg, and I get a milk to go with it. I do this because making breakfast myself requires spoons that I'll need later. Plus, yummy biscuits.

I should have known there was a problem when the line was at a dead stop. But I had given myself plenty of time, and I wanted my sandwich! So I crept the truck up to the order box. Where I gave my exceedingly simple order in a clearly enunciated voice. "Sausage Biscuit with Egg, and a milk, please."

All I get is an "OK, second window" and nothing on the order screen. This was a little disturbing, but the screen has been out for a while. And my order is dead fucking simple.

Still creeping. I have the window down and I don't care who hears me mangle Turn the Page Finally get to the window, with my formally comfortable time cushion deflating rapidly.

The young lady asks me for an amount way over what I know my order costs, even with tax. When I question this, she reads back my order as "Egg McMuffin meal . . ." I stop her right there. Where the hell does one get "Egg McMuffin" from "Sausage Biscuit with Egg"? She gets the correct order up, and after wandering aimlessly for three minutes hands me my order. Stopping only long enough to check it was my order, and not a BigMac or a half-eaten donut from across the street, I raced (as well as one can race on streets with a 25mph speed limit) to school, devouring my precious food all the way. I figured I'd just slam the milk in the parking lot. I'm an old truck driver, many times I've eaten a meal in stages in three different places.

Find parking, put up my Gimp Placard, and grab my milk. I twist the cap open and get a refreshing mouthful of . . . nothing. That, and my lips are very cold. The milk they handed me was frozen solid. It was a rock. Frustrated, I grabbed a few swallows from a water fountain and headed in for the group.

Which was terrific as ever. Good to see everyone again after the extended summer break, and see what people were working on. This group lasts two hours, 1000-1200 hours, and it was a warm day here in Santa Clara. We even stayed late to allow one more story to be read. The milk jug was still solid.

Back over to McD's, where the manager was appalled. She quickly checked the unit where milk and the like are stored and swore in a language that was both beautiful and venomous. She was pissed. I've seen this woman, always clad in the best hijab that manages to compliment the uniform of the day, running the morning shift like a pro. She takes pride in her work. She quickly refunded my money, and I was on my way.

But seriously, the problem with the frozen milk aside (which is a training issue, someone forgot to reset the temperature controls) my real complaint was with the young lady who took my order. She failed to offer a greeting, failed to confirm my order, failed to tell me my total, and I never got a thank you. This location is hiring a lot of new people, but someone that inexperienced should not be running breakfast rush by herself. I can only imagine how many errors ahead of me were the cause of the glacial movement of the line.

I know I've never worked fast food, but I have worked jobs where getting and relaying accurate information is vital to success. I've been a dispatcher, carried messages from contractors to my warehouse manager and sales staff, and, oh yeah, learned to call in artillery and air strikes! You do not want to say Sausage Biscuit with Egg and have them hear Egg McMuffin in that last one!

And it really isn't like this is my only option. Within a short drive, there is a Jack in the Box, a Burger King, and if I want to go nuts, I can sit down at Denny's. I hate to sound like That Customer, but they are in a fight to keep my money in their tills.

Oh, well. At least I got my biscuit.

13 hours later, and I still cannot believe it.

Last night, about 2255, five minutes before I close and go home, the phone rings.

Now the night had been insane, mainly due to the massive number of weather-related flight delays. I had six drivers who were going to be out after I left, all with arrivals after midnight. Two had arrivals after 0100! So I had been hopping, updating ETAs, making sure the drivers had passenger phone numbers (when we had them), and generally trying to make sure that things would run smoothly for the answering service.

( Then the phone rings )

The second insanity involves the BossLady snarking someone in email.

We charge an extra $10 for international arrivals. The reason is simple: we meet the flight when it lands. International passengers have to clear customs, which means longer waiting times, and a higher parking fee for the driver. People can avoid this fee by calling our 800 number when they clear customs. We send them out to the limo stand, and the driver, who has been waiting off the airport property, swoops up and gets them.

There is a company that has made calling the 800# standard policy. Yesterday, we has a No-Show at SFO for one of their Russian employees. Driver waited nearly 3 hours for the call. An email exchange revealed that Boris had "looked for his limo for 40 minutes and couldn't find him, so he took a taxi."

BossLady replied that these folks aren't supposed to look for their limo, they are supposed to call us. Any deviation from their policy needs to be specified. We're more than happy to send the driver into the terminal to wait, but you gotta pay for it.

What we got back was an epic whine. The company wasn't sure if he had his confirmation, or knew how to find a pay phone, or spoke English, or was competent in any way so it is all our fault.

If this guy is so helpless, why is this company flying him around the world?

I don't get paid enough.

There is too much to explain in detail, too much even for a summary. So I'll be brief.

• To every stupid, lack-of-prior-planning, moron I dealt with; may a moose become erotically obsessed with your ass.


• To every single airline I had to deal with tonight: may your trip to paradise involve a flight on your own airline, with a tricky connection in Chicago.


• To my whiny, piss-ant drivers (not all of them, but a select few): may you be evicted because you didn't make enough money after demanding that every job that inconvenienced you be taken away.


• and finally, To the webmasters at United and American; may your lives someday depend on machinery that is as stable and dependable as your fucking "track flight" pages.

But I have to give a shout out to the drivers who dealt with all the shit tonight professionally, calmly, and who asked "how can I help?" I'll remember you guys when I get add-ons and juicy trips.

What a week.

Along with the Saturday trip to Ikea, and Sunday assembling Ikea, I had to work a full schedule. Work got interesting at points. But I had one of those backaches that just wandered around from muscle group to muscle group like an irritating tourist.

But the new TV stand is up, and looks good. We have plans to continue the transformation of the place, but that can wait until some more pressing needs are met. Speaking of that, boosting signal for my lovely wife: Give her money. She's awesome. Why should you give her money? Because for the past 18 years she has taken care of me. She literally saved my life the first time I had pneumonia by making me go to the ER, then practically carrying me down three flights of steep stairs and pouring me into the car. Now it's her turn to be taken care of. I'd donate, but she already gets my money.

Anyway, now that you've thrown cash towards my Kiri, back to me. Today I'm taking it easy. Currently watching the Giants beat up on the Rockies (up 10-0, end of 8) and contemplating food. Got a little done today, a few dishes and some tidying. Tomorrow, I need to do recycling, pick up a couple of things at the Auto Parts Store Formally Known As Kragens. After that, since we're having beautiful weather, wash Darby and start sorting out winter clothes for storage.

But for now, sloth. Sloth and baseball.

No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

Tonight at work was like having an intricate, carefully balanced machine explode. Violently. With the A-Team music playing. Then all the parts somehow fall almost exactly back into place. One of my poor drivers had his work for tonight and tomorrow changed at least six times. Thank Halford he has a sense of humor.

Add in a complete fail by the United Airlines site, and is anyone surprised I'm drinking heavily?

I like working opening on the weekends. For the most part, it's quiet. Handle the drivers, a few customer calls, and read my book.

Today, that routine was rudely interrupted. At 0753 our online booking thing goes off. Not overly unusual. Then I look at it.

A pick up at SFO at 0838 this morning. A few seconds alter, the agent calls me. She apologizes for the late warning, but she had just about the same warning.

Note this was a flight from Tokyo that had been in the air for close to seven hours. The customer could have called us before boarding. He could have called us yesterday. But he waits until the plane is making its turn onto the approach pattern to let his travel agent know he needs car service.

To make things even more fun, today was dead. Meaning I had just enough drivers to handle the work we had scheduled. I caught two lucky breaks. First, when I did an ETA on the flight, it was about an hour late. Secondly, I had a driver scheduled to work a bit later in the morning who lives pretty much next to SFO. So I was able to cover the run.

But seriously, I often think that some of our passengers think we have a freaking fleet on-call 24/7.

Currently blooming right outside our office.



I'm still alive, just haven't had much to talk about recently. It does look like a major change is coming here at Offhand Manor. More details when we nail down how this is going to happen.

Because yesterday was an endurance test.

Bosslady had asked me to come in a hour early as she had an appointment. I came in at 1500 to find that our office was without power or phones. Not because of the storm that was raising havoc, but because Pacific Graft and Extortion was doing repairs. Repair that were supposed to have taken a couple of hours, but due to said storm had now reached fours hours of work, with many stops for safety concerns.

No power, no phones, no internet. Which meant that I really couldn't do 90% of my job. I couldn't check flight ETAs, I couldn't take reservations, and I was using my personal cell phone to talk with drivers. Then it started getting dark. The only light I had to work with was a brass desk lamp that was plugged into an emergency battery, and my flashlight. Thankfully, power came back around 2000.. but no phones. Bossman had to come back to deal with that, and he ended up staying until closing. Nice to have somebody else in the building. We finally got out phones and internet back around 2130, and I dived in trying to catch up and a full day's of work. It was a pretty slow day, so that didn't take too long. I was even able to finish up some reservations that had either been written but not entered, or entered into the computer by Bosslady from home but not written up yet.

By the time we left at 2300, I felt like I had been through the wringer. At least I brought a book.

But today I have off, and I finally have my new vacuum cleaner. I also have the Gordon Biersch Spring Collection, more fake Mexican food that you could shake a stick at, and ten picks for Friday night's $500 million dollar jackpot.

Now taking a break, then some cleaning so tomorrow I can vacuum this place! I even bought some of that odor-absorbing powder. I am a domestic GOD!

As those of you with access to my locked posts already know that this past weekend at work was hellish. A huge number of last-minute jobs, last second changes, and I work alone in the office. I was flailing about with half-done reservations, handling drivers, and calling the bosses for guidance every half-hour.

Today, I came in for my closing shift, and one of the owners told me I handled things like a pro.

I have suffered from impostor syndrome for years... that fear that suddenly everyone will notice that I am wholly unqualified to do whatever it is I'm doing, and expose my failings to the world. So to be told that I handled a rough patch well really made my night.

Maybe I am good at this after all.