Depends May Be Needed

It’s nice that MJ thinks I know it all.

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Most of the time I am stupid and don’t know ANYTHING.

Today? He thinks I should have known it all.

I get a text from him. “It’s not here! When will it be here?”

In all fairness, if I was waiting for something like he is waiting for, I would be doing the same thing. I told him that he couldn’t go anywhere until the package came because it requires a signature.

My response? “Not sure. If it’s not there at by 10:30, it won’t be there until after 3:00. Sorry.”

Then he calls me. Immediately! The conversation is a repeat of what I just texted him. I try to explain that while I USUALLY know everything, I do not know this one thing. He whines some more. Would he just shut up? I am tired of hearing about this. Thank God he was out of cell phone range and couldn’t talk about it all weekend.

After flying across half the country, I thought I would mess with him a little. I start texting him when I land.

“Did it come?”

“Why not?”

“Geez, what is taking them so long?”

“I bet you are just dying to get it!”

My texts are flying. I could win a texting competition I was sending them so fast. I would have been in Twitter jail if I was tweeting.

His response to me? “Shut up, Mom!”

Yeah, I let it go. I was being a shit and deserved it. Sometimes I just can’t help it. It’s just soooo much fun to mess with him.

Well, the package FINALLY came. At 5:38 pm! So late!

And MJ is ecstatic.

Secretly? I am happy too. Why?  IT WILL SHUT HIM UP! He’s been wanting this for so long. I keep hearing how this will help his snowboarding, keep him outside more and how much fun it will be.

Me? I am thinking of medical bills, co-pays, doctor appointments.

A trampoline.

Another secret?  I am excited. I love trampolines. They are so fun.

I have only one problem. The bouncing motion.

Let’s be real. I am 40+ years old. Have had 2 children. 1 that weighed a whopping 9 pounds 5 ounces! do you know what that does to a woman? It’s stressful.

What sizes do Depends come in? Do they come with invisible panty lines? Do they make noise when you move?

If I am going to jump on that thing? Depends may be needed.

Anyone know where they are cheaper?



Turn Me Off

I have to learn to turn myself off.

Yesterday,I woke up to 3 missed calls and three messages. The only people who call me at 3:30 am is the answering service from work.

I panicked.

Then I remembered. I wasn’t on call. None of MY staff members were on call. Why were they calling me?

Because someone in my coworkers department didn’t answer their phone when they were supposed to be. And then? That person’s manager didn’t pick up their phone. So by default they call me. Why?

Because I always pick up the phone. ALWAYS.

Except Saturday night. I turned my ringer off. For once.

So why was I the one sitting in the car while Rambo chattered about his BWCA trip, with my stomach in knots and blood pounding in my temple?

Because I had just reassured the account on Friday that they chose the right company.

I. Me. Myself.

I put my reputation on the line. My reputation that I have worked so hard to cultivate for my company. A reputation that helps to win sales and keep customers happy.

What do I get in return? Reflux? Check. Migraines? Check. Anxiety? Check.

So what did I do? I took my platinum balls out of my velvet case put them in my pocket. Why my pocket? Because they won’t fit in my thong, duh!

And I sent a meeting request. With the other manager and our boss, the VP of Operations. For bright and early this morning.

Mr. VP knew when he saw that meeting request it wasn’t good. He knew my Queen B crown was going to be polished up and sparkling in the sun. He didn’t know my balls were coming out too.

I didn’t yell. I didn’t swear. (I know! I was proud of myself.)

I explained that I am tired of being on 24/7 and then worrying when I shouldn’t have to worry. I am tired of taking on all the pissed off accounts, making excuses, putting my reputation on the line only to have someone fuck up. AGAIN.

I am not doing it again. Screech (nice name for my coworker…hehe! I think of Saved by the Bell’s Screech. Not from before, but now) will have to call the customer and explain to him why his employee didn’t pick up and why the back up plan in place failed.

Someone else gets to feel my pain.

And I get to turn myself off and not worry so much anymore.

Yeah right. Until the next time.

Oh, and by the way? I know you were thinking this was going to be about sex. Right? Admit it!

Off to the airport!