My day in the life of a Propane Truck Driver

For a while now I’ve been waiting for winter to hit so that I could experience and fulfill one of my objectives for being a new employee at my company. Why did I wait for winter? It’s a propane company silly…the colder it is the more work to be done!

My day started out at the district with a couple introductions. I was greeted by Jake, a nickname that has to do with his last name. I never quite got up the nerve to ask his first name. Jake my new BFF began our friendship with the offering of toe warmers. Oh Jake…you know the way to a woman’s heart. After applying said toe warmers and getting bundled up, hopped into the truck and our one day journey was upon us.

He gave me safety tips, taught me how regulators work, how is paperwork is completed and so forth. We arrive at our first stop of the day. Out the customer walks and joins us for the ten minutes it took to fill his propane tank. Very nice guy. Jake introduces me as, “This is Katie. She is down from Corporate for the day to learn how to do my job.” Wow. Made me seem so…oh I don’t know, like an alien from another planet. I smiled and ended up chatting with him for a few minutes.

Not even 3 minutes after we arrived, here goes a coyote hauling butt through the guy’s side yard. We all stopped, stared and marveled. And when I say, “we” I mean they marveled, I poohed myself a little bit. I guess I’m too much of a city girl to not get scared.

We encountered some shady characters along the way. I watched a customer yell at him for being a day late and slam the door as Jake is trying to explain they are one man down until next week. By the time we finished filling the tank, the customer was happy and cheerful. When we got into the truck, Jake explained that this customer is on disability and his wife died last year. Not one time did he get upset by the man’s behavior nor did he ever disrepect him. I was quite impressed. I guess Jake know that everyone is fighting some sort of battle and today the battle wasn’t really with him.

At another stop, a man came out and started in joking immediately. Calling Jake an old man. The customer was 82 years old and had one tooth in his head. And here is he making fun of us. He invited us in for coffee to warm up but we had to politely decline because of all the other stops we needed to make. Remember, we are one man down until next week

We continued on our journey, stop after stop after stop after stop. I learned a lot about Jake throughout the day. He’s a very proud man. He takes pride in his work. He takes time to get to know his customers and is quick with funny responses and stories. Jake made my day in the freezing cold, a fun and rememberable one at best!

Bring your kids to work day…

While I realize there is a national holiday for this occurence, I for one appreciate it being dedicated to one day a year.  Calm down, I get the fact that emergencies occur, schedule conflicts and what not.  But seriously, why has no one made the goverment to say it’s a crime to bring them in, “just because”.

I’m not a parent, so yes “I don’t understand”…but why should I have to see it from your point of view if you won’t see it from mine.  If you invite me to your house, then fine, I will play nice.  However, if I am at work, I’m having deadlines, stress, workload from H E Double Hockey Sticks (I say that because you bring your kids to work and I’m not even allowed to say Hell)….then why am I the one looked down upon because my facial expressions screams, “WTF”?

After you notice my facial expression because your precious offspring have ran through the office playing hide and go seek, red light, green light and have visted every cubicle stealing things off their desks while screaming in delight like they are at a playground….do you feel like you have to make comments that are neither cute (like your bratty kids) or funny????

“Oh if Bobby and little Jan don’t behave, you will have 2 kids to take home because I’m not claiming them!”

Really?  You think that’s funny.  I have the same response every time:

“There is a reason why I don’t have children and don’t own a dog.  I have a cat.  I can leave out extra food and leave for 2 weeks, and she’ll be fine”.

I get all sorts of knee jerk reactions to this comment.  But it’s always followed by yet again, another unsolicited ignorant comment, “Some day, you will have kids of your own and understand!”

I don’t appreciate people assuming that because I’m packing heat, rather an uterus, that I will want to have kids.  I’ve tried all sorts of approaches in responding to people that like to assume this about me.  Nothing works, it turns into them wanting to recruit me to the “Parent Club” or a long lengthy discussion where they do not like my answers.

So for now, I’m settling on my new response that leaves the recruiter to question why they even bother speaking to me…”I’m selling my uterus on Ebay.  As is.  Never been used, seller does not guarantee it works but will tell you it has never been used.  Buy at your own risk!”

Back off people…if I want kids, you’ll know it the second I come waddling around the corner 20 months pregnant or if I appear to be as defeated as you with all your stains from puke, crayons, dirt, boogers, tears, etc.  Until then…do not assume you know me.  Katie out.

Never give up a good thing…but let the 80′s fashion RIP

While I’ve realized a while ago that I am truly old.  This whole fashion saga of bringing back the 80′s is killing me.  The long, over sized tops with the leggings (which btw are NOT pants) reminds me of when I was younger. 

My mom and big brother always left for work/school in the mornings before me.  Yes I was a latchkey kid that had my housekey on a rope necklace around my neck.  I used to wear the stone washed, circulation strangler jeans, hightops and oversized shirts to school.  On the few days that my mother would force me to wear a skirt, this chick right here made sure she had shorts on underneath.  “But Mom, I can’t play football in a skirt.  What will the boys think?”

Most days, I would sneak into my brother’s room and steal his IOU sweatshirts, wear them to school, come home and hang them back up.  No one will be able to tell the difference.  I mean really, that sketti stain down the front and the grass stains was there.  You just don’t remember sliding into an Italian picnic last week.  Those stains are all you!!  It never worked, but I would deny it to the grave that I wore his clothes.  Looking back…I was more naive than I thought. 

This one particular morning, I had this fabulous pair of stretch paints that my grandparents bought me.  I just couldn’t find anything in my closet that would be worth wearing.  I then decide to go to my Mom’s closet.  She had this oversized red knitted, v neck sweater.

I’m off to school, pumped on how awesome I am.  Every step I took I felt like a rockstar.  I managed to not get any of my lunch down the front of me, avoided football on recess…I was home free!

On my walk home, I decided to take a short cut through someone’s back yard…unfortunately I took a wrong turn somewhere and had to climb a fence.  I’m climbing up, over the top, go to jump off and BAM!  I find myself swinging with my feet 3 feet off the ground.  After regaining my senses, I turn around and climb back up, unhook the sweater (which at this point is no longer awesome and is now my enemy) and finally climb down to my freedom.

I get home, remembering there are no stains, take the sweater and hang it back up in my Mom’s closet, WAAAAYYYY in the back so she won’t see it for a while.  I’m good.  I’m awesome.  I have a bruise on my neck from the self made noose.  Tis all good.

About a month later my Mom comes to me with this same sweater, holding it up.  It’s mangled.  One sleeve is about 6 feet longer than the other, it’s no longer a v neck…it’s more like a sache.  So she asks me, “Ka Whit, do you happen to know what could have possibly happened to my sweater?”

“Nope, Momma, I swear!”….imagine me with my very innocent, eyes.

“Are you sure you didn’t wear it to school?”, she pushes.

“Mom, why would I ever do that?  You told me I’m not allowed to wear your clothes!”…still working the innocence.

I’m not sure how long this conversation went on.  But I found quickly that I was about 2 seconds away from a good ole Momma whoopin.  So I finally broke down and confessed.  I’m telling her details about the fence and how it jumped out at me….

Needless to say I was in HUGE trouble…but I wouldn’t know that for about a half hour.  She laughed, she cried, she snorted…I’m thinking she wet herself a little. 

To this day, if I can get her to tell this story, she immediately starts laughing hysterically.  She loves to recount the moment where I was swinging by a fine red piece of yarn.

To the youngins out there that think this fashion is new…Pshaw.  Just heed my words of advice, be careful of your shirts, they may choke the life out of you

Asked to guest write in a blog…

My friend and author of “The Imperfect Enjoyment”, Dewan Gibson, asked me and 3 of his friends to write a short essay.  He posted our 500 words or less thoughts and views on the topic, “This might be long term if…”  Each of us with different writing styles and views on the subject, turned into one interesting blog.  The link is posted below, enjoy and happy reading!!

http://www.imperfectenjoyment.com/blog/2010/03/this-might-be-something-long-term-if/

Do I look lost?

Anyone that knows me, understands that I am not into Valentine’s Day.  I find it to be the biggest commercialized day of the year.  Hallmark makes a ton of money off people that don’t know how to show/tell the ones they love how they feel.  Actually, Hallmark makes people think they can’t put into words how they feel as eloquent…when truly words mean nothing, it’s your actions each and every day that speak louder than words.

With that rant out of the way…I choose not to celebrate this commercialized “holiday”.  But this year on my way home to Kentucky from Ohio, I decided I would stop at the Lion’s Den adult store since I have yet to see one in Kentucky.  Their location is a great midway stopping point.  I got gas, lunch and then went over to the Den to browse. 

Shocked, I found this place was not empty.  There were quite a few customers walking around checking out the new selections.  One woman was working behind the counter and we exchanged hellos.  I wasn’t there 2 minutes and she asked me, “Do you need any help?”  Nope, think I got this covered, thanks.

I make my path around the joint, again she jumps from out behind the counter, to ask me if I need anything.  I’ve been there a total of 10 minutes and this over eager broad is bugging me again.  This time I respond with, “No thanks, just looking.  By the way, do I appear to need help?  I mean come on, I’m a frequent flyer.”  She looks dumbfounded. 

“No…no…no.  I’m sorry.  I just wanted to be helpful.” she stammered out.  I truly was offended.  This place is busier than I would have thought for a Sunday, let alone Valentine’s Day.  I stopped to surprise Princess (my boyfriend) with some fun stuff.  I won’t reveal what I bought…but we had fun Sunday evening.

Here is my thing, the porn industry wants women to feel more comfortable with purchasing XXX items, how about we start locally by telling the sales people to back off.   How about the world realizes that women like porn too.  I luckily found it all funny…but left feeling like I was ousted in the local porn shop.

People, people, people…stop the madness!

We have all seen the email forwards making jokes about the unwritten rules of public restroom etiquette.  You know…the courtesy flush, choosing a stall away from someone already in there, don’t reach under the wall to show your neighbor your hand flipped upwards (you’ll get arrested), don’t make eye contact at the urinals, etc.  For some unbeknowst reason,the rush of a public restroom turn people into digusting animals. I would hate to see some of the restrooms in these people’s homes.  

So I’ve compiled a list of rules for the phantoms out there that like to destroy public restrooms:

1.) If you drop paper towels or toilet paper on the floor, pick it up and throw it away.
2.) If you are scared to sit on the toilet, learn how to balance yourself instead of spraying everywhere.  Or take a moment and clean the seat off.
3.) If you realize while standing at the urinal that you have a booger, don’t pick it and wipe it on the wall.  Get some toilet paper and blow your nose.
4.) If you are that adult that never quite mastered pooing without getting it ALL OVER THE SEAT, take a moment and clean it off.
5.) LADIES…there are proper trashcans in most stalls for your menstral products…use it.
6.) Soap is provided for you to wash your hands…it’s not there for decoration, just do it.
7.) For those that like to clog a toilet on a regular basis, look for a plunger and if one is not available…report it to someone.
8.) Flush the toilet when you are done.  You aren’t 2…you don’t need to save the “treasure” for your Mommy so you can receive an M&M for a job well done.
9.) Aim, aim, aim and succeed.
10.) Don’t be creepy and talk, sing or hum while going…it’s not fair to make everyone else uncomfortable.  Save that for when you are at home.

I’m sure if I really took the time to think about some of the horrendous restrooms I’ve encountered, I could come up with a longer list.  Above is my top ten peeves about the human race and their lack of common sense. Normally I would say, “Treat the public restroom like the one at home”…but I’m beginning to believe they live like this on a day to day basis.

My old job actually had to have a meeting about bathroom etiquette with certain departments in the building.  Can you imagine being in that meeting?  Rather..can you imagine being the one that actually had to conduct the meeting?  This infamous meeting happened shortly after a lady who later became known as the phantom pooper, started wreeking havoc.  The incidents started occurring on the second floor where poo whould just appear all over the toilet seat.  Not just on it, but the back of it, the side, etc.  After the meeting to teach the ladies the proper way to use the restroom…the second floor stopped having streaking issues on their toilet seats.  And everyone appeared to be happy…but that didn’t last long.

The phantom pooper didn’t learn the proper way to go, this lady decided to start using the restrooms on the first floor. I will never forget the sight of the phantom’s first markings or when they showed their ugly face.  For the life of me, I will never figure out how she managed to get poo on the front side of the bowl towards the bottom.  Nothing on the seat…just down the curved part of the front.  I’m thinking she poohed half in her drawers and half in the toilet so that when she went to stand up her pants wiped up against the toilet.  Either that, or she is one hell of a Yoga/Conformist that read if you stand on your head and wrap your leg this way and channel your inner chi, the poo will leave you faster.

It’s clearly come to a point that we need to take a stand and tell these animals we aren’t going to take it anymore.  Start picketing, hanging posters with rules up, hire bathroom monitors, lobby our local governments…send our concerns to Obama to see if he can give a motivating speech and inspire a nation to learn to use the restroom without offending their fellow Americans.

….OR…..and this is a long shot….If you see someone acting like a fool, punch them in the groin.  When they wake up and/or come out of the daze, explain to them nicely what they did wrong, take a mug shot of their face along with the “error” of their ways, get their full legal name off of their ID and publish it on the internet.  And the next time they apply for a job, the employer can google “John Doe” and BAM!  You see Mr. Doe in his true element

Making fun of people…

We all do it yet we all hate being the butt of jokes at the same time.   There are ways to make fun of people and not crush their spirit.   Growing up, I was the butt of ALL the jokes thanks to the boys I grew up with.  For one, I was the only girl around.  Two, I’m a big ole nerd…I’m ok with that…now.

For those of  you that don’t know, my boyfriend Craig and I work for the same company.  We live together and work together.  I know, it seems outlandish to most.  We were even nervous about it and had lengthy conversations prior to me accepting the job.  Skip ahead to a few months later and we seem to be doing well.  Today I had a shit-tastic day, no other way to describe it.  Here we are having lunch together and he knows I’m in a bad mood.  He found a way to make fun of me without adding fuel to my bitchiness and made me laugh.  Just pure silliness to make me smile.  But after 4 years of dating, 3 years of living together, moving to another state…he is about the only person alive that knows the boundaries. This is what happens when you fall in love with your best friend
Racial joking around is only ok if you are good friends with someone.  My real friends can call me a cracker and I will laugh at it.  Only test those waters if you are alone with that person and wait for their reaction.  I dated a black guy a long time ago who picked me up for our first date (we were friends for a long time prior to this).  I walk outside and I can hear the bass in his car pounding.  I get in the car and he’s got Johnny Cash blaring.  Without thinking I say, “You do realize you’re black, right?  I’m not the first person to point this out to you am I?”

Never make fun of someone for their monetary place in the world.  NEVER!  You wouldn’t walk up to a homeless person and say, “Hey man, sucks to be you!”.  So don’t do that to a stranger, a friend or even a family member.  Even if you are Donald Trump, your world could come tumbling down moments later.  And then what?  We all kick you when you are down?  Karma will show you up every time.

The infamous, your Mom/Dad jokes.  These are often the best one liners available.  Even more funny when siblings use these on each other.  But do be careful.  One time a friend of mine told me a hilarious your Dad joke…only he didn’t realize my Dad had died a few days prior.  Those around that knew about the passing, gasped in horror.  I was nice about it though, I gave an uncomfortable giggle, told my friend about the passing but gave him kudos for a good joke.  Advised him to be more careful in the future.

When choosing a friend to sit in public with and make fun of those around you….make sure that person doesn’t have a hearing loss.  And if they do, make sure they have unlimited text messages.  This way if they don’t hear you the first time as you quietly make fun of the female version of Dog the Bounty Hunter, with her camel toe, bleached out mullet and leather jacket with fringes….you can loudly say, “HOLD ON!” and then text them your once in a lifetime joke.  This way you don’t take the chance of repeating yourself louder and get caught.

For all those young-ins out there…here is a situation that I hope you all can learn from.  During my early 20′s (I was of legal drinking age mind you), I had a one night stand.  There are 2 points to this story, so I hope you can follow along.  I took a guy home, slept with him and in the morning he wanted a ride home.  When I inquired as to where he lived, I told him “I’ll drop you off at the bus stop”.  There was no way I was driving this lame ass guy home.  Whatever!  Skip ahead about six months later.  We are at the same place we met, he comes over and talks to me.  All the while I’m thinking, where do I know this guy from?  The public phone rings so I answer it.  The person on the other line asks for “so and so”.  I reply with, “Sorry, he’s not here right now”.  And I hang up.  I return to my spot next to this all familiar stranger and he asks who the phone call was for.  I say, “It was for so and so and I said they weren’t here”.  To my utter embarrassment, the guy says, “Why did you tell them I wasn’t here?”….Wow…I’m the biggest douchebag around at this point.  My quick wit responds with, “Dude, I’m just kidding they asked for Mr. T.”  Luckily I found an out…but I will never live this moment down.

These are just a few of the items I felt like sharing today….I hope the above words of advice help you avoid comedic public and foot in the mouth situations.  I have learned over the years that no matter how considerate you are of people’s feelings or of being politically correct, you will always find yourself chewing on the soles of your shoes.  When that happens, I can only hope you are quick to respond and know how to say, “I’m sorry”.

Tasty Cakes

A friend of mine recently told me about her teenage daughter who decided to take the plunge into adulthood and lost her virginity.  Of course all you parents out there dread that moment when your children make that ground breaking decision to have sex for the first time.  My friend told me she had a conversation with her daughter and attempted to explain that once you lose your virginity, you can never get it back.  For a woman, it’s supposed to be special and you share it with the person you care about as a way to express your love.

As each generation of young teenage girls explode onto the scene, the players play the same game but the rules change.  Each generation of ladies become more empowered, independent, sexually expressive, demanding and quick to not make the same mistakes as their mother’s generation.

You have to take the good with the bad.  You find that women are now being blamed for more domestic violence than ever before.  We are quick to throw a punch to keep from being beat on.  You find that women lose their virginity at younger ages and are mothers before they are old enough to drive.

Other than sex education classes in school (beginning in the fourth grade) teaching me how my body will change when puberty sets in, I didn’t have a lot of valid information.  No one told me how once my body began to change that I would have all these raging hormones and emotions that I could not put into words.  I was not taught that as I developed I would have a whole new set of problems to deal with.  I’m a little jealous that I don’t have a funny, uncomfortable story to share here that mentions “my flower”.

The closest thing I can share is when my grandparents took me school shopping one summer.  For most girls, I’m sure it is an exciting moment to buy your first training bra with the pink flower pinned in the middle.  I rather dreaded that moment as it meant I no longer would be accepted on the football field by the boys in the neighborhood.  On top of that crushing thought, a pink flower?  Really, that’s all the fashion industry could come up with at that time?  Ugh, pink for a tomboy is like kryptonite for Superman.

Here we are at Northland Mall shopping in Sears.  My grandma is smiling and excited for me however she can tell I wanted no part in this.  She was an angel, being patient and not reacting to my Whitney Whiner mood.  I’m searching the store making sure no one I know is around as my grandma keeps picking out bras.  Just when I think the coast is clear and I may survive this awful outing…out jumps my grandpa.  He’s holding this Dolly Parton sized bra with cups that I swear I could have curled up in and died.

“Hey Katie, do you know what this is called?  It’s a hope chest.  You hope you get one this big!”  Mortified, I take off.  No chance in hell, not enough money in the world for me to claim him.  My grandma (through snickering), “Now Bill, that’s not funny!”

Of course now even writing this, I’m laughing to myself.  He was so amused and proud of himself.  What can I say? Embarrassing humor runs rampant through my family.

So as my nameless friend is expressing her frustrations concerning her teenage daughter, I just listen and nod.  Sympathizing as I realize she had no chance in getting through that thick skull of a teenager, I come up with a thought.  Instead of telling her how she’ll never get her virginity back and sex with the man she marries will not be special, try a different spin.

Open her eyes to the next new craze of women and the internet.  A woman in her early twenties, still a virgin just finished college.  She has decided she wants to go to graduate school and figures she will write her thesis on sex through the races and religions.  What a better way to research than to auction off your virginity?  Last I heard it was up to a few million dollars.

Next time one of you parents out there has the “talk” with your daughter do not attempt the whole “it has to be special so save it for the man you marry” topic.

Just put it simple and in terms they will understand, “Keep your tasty cakes to yourself.  The longer you wait, the more money you can squeeze out of the man!!”

Racially Legal?

A friend of mine told me recently that I post entirely too many status updates on Facebook that I should save the insight and write into some sort of  blog instead.  Either he is fucking with me when he says, I’m entertaining or he’s smarter than I give him credit for.  I guess it doesn’t really matter as I’m giving this blogging thing a shot…

I’m very random and tend to make comments on the day I’ve had or the weird things I see on a daily basis.  So for tonight, I will give my recount on the dining experience I had this evening.

My boyfriend and I went to dinner and beside us is the Wally Fart workers table on their evening lunch break. Here I figured this would be the most enjoyable people watching experience and it only turned out to be lame compared to our 2 waitresses.

First there was Mercedes who was more excited to wait on Ray the toothless Wally Fart  3rd shifter than us.  I guess he must tip better…who knows?  She brought us our drinks and then said, “Please don’t think I am ignoring you but I’m going on break.  Shonda will be right out to take your order.”

I know…boring so far.  But then out comes Shonda.  She takes our order and leaves.  I look at my boyfriend and whisper, “Ok, so Mercedes and Shonda are both hillybilly white girls.  Seriously, is that even racially legal?”

While I realize that there are no written in stone rules of how each race names their offspring, there has to be an unwritten rule out there.  Or perhaps, there are people out there naming their  children such off the walls names for people like me to be confused by.