“Each packet wrapped in a promise of God”

Seriously…. WHAT THE FUCK?  Just in time for Easter, another little piece of brain washing for the kiddies!

Only in the Mid-West, I tell ya!

Recently a friend from Twitter asked me to do some work for her and for the job I had to use the ‘expertise’ of a second party to fulfill her needs.

I asked for sample colours of a particular fabric to be sent in certain shades for her to select from.

I received them and sent them on to her.

She was delighted with a particular colour, which I immediately ordered for her.

Insert Murphy here.

I took Brad to work with me the following morning and he was answering the phone while I was doing some paperwork.  I could hear this “I think you should talk to Kerri”….. “No, I really think you should talk to Kerri”… “No, no, you need to talk to Kerri”.

I took the phone and there was a very agitated man on the phone.

“I’m really sorry”

I wait for the bomb to drop.

“I’m really, really sorry”

Uh huh…

“I sent you a sample that wasn’t available.  That fabric is out of stock and discontinued.”

I’m sorry… WHAT??  I asked you for current stock and you went and cut a piece off a fabric that wasn’t actually there?  How does that work?

*eye starts to twitch*

OK, so what other colours do you have?  THIS one?

“No, it’s discontinued too.

How about THIS one?

“Um…. … can I call you back? “

Sure… why the hell not, I’m not getting any younger and I’m sitting here getting nowhere.

Ten minutes later I get the promised phone call.  It’s his boss.

“Hi Kerri, I’m really sorry”

Uh huh

“I’m really, really sorry”

Oh Jebus, here we go again.  Stop grovelling, get some balls, and find me the fucking fabric!

So, long story short, I lost the order, have probably lost a future customer, completely lost my sense of pride in my work and have lost a good chunk of my reputation with it.

All because of one incompetent nincompoop!

The picture at the top of this page was taken from this site.  I would like to stress that this company had NOTHING to do with the above debacle.

It’s a basic spelling concept, guys.  I can understand a typo, it happens, but you do it ALL.THE.GODDAMNED.TIME!

You don’t LOOSE your voice, you LOSE it!

Arghh

Oh, and while you’re at it, can you please learn to punctuate?   Your run-on sentences are driving me nuts!

So… how’s your day been?

You are about to receive a surprise from the Australian Government.

No, it isn’t a birthday card from the Prime Minister or the Queen.

It’s a Bowel Cancer Screening Test Kit.

NOICE!

The period of my pregnancy from about 34 weeks onwards, I called ‘The Blah Period’.

I was tired, looked and felt like a sack of crap and just wanted the damned thing OUT!

My first baby, the gorgeous Sooz, had given me no trouble through the pregnancy. No heartburn, no morning sickness. She did, however, have the habit of sticking a foot under my ribcage and giving an almighty shove.

I digress… Susan was due February 27. I had seen my Obstet that week and he informed me all was well, and as I was 4cm dilated it would be any time now. “Pack your bag” he said.

*ahem*

After two weeks, two more Obstet visits and two more suggestions that I pack my bag, he booked me in for induction the following day “Just in case you don’t blow tonight” were his exact words (23 years on and I still remember the words!)

Next morning I dragged my sleepless, sorry and literally aching ass out of bed, showered, woke up Limo Driver and we made our way to the hospital. I was BURSTING for a cup of tea, but wasn’t allowed one, so the morning was already off to a bad start, I not only had a sore ass, but I was in a FOUL mood!

In those days they gave me no idea what to expect from an induction, so I was flying blind.

I arrived at 7:30am and sat and sat until 9:30 when they inserted the drip. Every ten minutes or so they would come in with an expectant look. I gave them a blank look back “what?”. What are they expecting from me? What is supposed to be happening?

At 11:30 still nothing, and still no cup of tea. I was frothing at the mouth. Am I ok? Is everything going to plan? Where is my doctor? I haven’t seen him yet and assume he is playing a quick 9 holes at the local golf course.

12:00 midday and Midwife Extraodinaire comes in and says they are going to break my waters. “Awesome” I think, they are finally going to do something. I am taken into a delivery room and look in horror at ‘the crochet hook’. “You’re going to do WHAT? With THAT?”

Luckily for them, it was completely painless, though the memory of the device still makes me shudder.

The deed was done and again we have to wait… but for only about 2 minutes, when I get my first contraction. An ALMIGHTY contraction. I am taken back to the waiting room, as it is still ‘going to take some time’. *snort*

Still no doctor – must have been a quick 18 holes.

Limo Driver is timing my contractions from that stage on. Second contraction is 3 minutes later. 3rd is 2 minutes later. 4th, 5th and 6th, all two minutes apart.

Limo Driver decides to speak to Midwife Extraordinaire. “No, that can’t be right, it’s her first and it’s going to be a long time yet”. We had been dismissed. *shrug*

So, taking her at her word, we continued to keep time of the contractions. Maybe these weren’t contractions? Maybe I had the flu! That’s it, I had the flu! A painfully regular flu!

Where is my doctor?

12:30pm The flu is now at one minute intervals. Still no doctor. Midwife Extraordinaire comes in at Limo Driver’s insistance and takes me to the examination room, where BINGO! she realises I am fully dilated and about to drop a VERY large bundle on her nice clean floor!

“Oh” she says “I should call your doctor”. She hadn’t called him yet?

12:40 After approximately 20 contractions (or so) I ask “how long is this going to go on for?” Midwife Extraordinaire rolls her eyes and informs me that the average time is around 10 hours. I had been in labour for a grand total of 40 minutes and had already had enough. “Fine, that’s it, I’m outta here! Childbirth is cancelled!”

I glared at Limo Driver who had put me in this predicament in the first place and barked at him to take me home.

Midwife Extraordinaire was desperately trying to pin my legs to the bed to keep me from climbing off, telling me I was going nowhere as she needed to check my progress.

She looked

Looked again

Limo Driver looked.

Limo Driver almost fainted.

I was crowning.

WHERE IS MY DOCTOR???? 36 quick holes perhaps?

Sooz, though in no rush to leave her comfy spot, was not pleased that her safe abode had been forcibly crumbled. She was now making a SPEEDY exit!

Three times in my life I have been pleased when someone throws the ‘childbearing hips’ line in my direction. Each of those times was in Labour Ward.

Sooz was born at 12:48pm March 14. At 9lb 10oz, she was long, fat and screaming hungry. 10 fingers, ten toes, two beautiful big blue eyes and a head of blonde ringlets from the day she was born.

Oh…. and I forgot my bag! Heh

So, where was my Maternal Instinct? Another story, maybe for another time.

I have a new laundry and I’m totally in love. *happy sigh*

I have NEVER had a nice laundry. I’ve never had a bench in my laundry. The laundry was always the ‘tacked on’ thing in every house I have owned/rented/squatted in. Even the house I grew up in had a shonky laundry. I have never had high expectations for this room.

That was until Sunday night.

It was like a bright light had filled the room and angels sang Hallelujah….. good GOD! Laundries do not have to be cesspits!

On Saturday, we decided that we were going to DO the laundry. We had been mulling over this for a while, and I had already measured, chosen and purchased the bench system I wanted. It had been sitting in flat packs in the back of our wagon for around three months. All we had to do was get into it.

Saturday we pulled all the crappy little hooks, gadgets and weird shit that had gathered there over the years, off the walls. We filled the holes, cleaned the walls and ceiling and waited overnight for the spakfilla to dry. The Hawaiian also got busy with the silicone and prettied up the edges of the sink, around the tiles etc.

Sunday – Paint paint paint – two coats done in around two hours. It was a hot day!

Now comes the tricky fun part. The dreaded flat packs! Legs, countertops, rails, brackets….. shit, no toggles for the gyprock walls, and its Easter Sunday. My boss came to the rescue, so we visit him, in paint covered clothes, to pick them up. “Come right over” he’d said. He neglected to let me know that his entire extended family were there! He will pay…… he WILL pay!! *sigh* At least my t-shirt, thongs and bag matched!

Toggles in hand we were able to complete the job. My skills with a tape measure came in handy. The benches fitted without a millimetre to spare!

Sunday night was the turning point after a lot of effort over the last 12 months to get this house renovated. We have done a massive amount of work, and every room still has one or two small things that need to be completed before we can put the house back together the way we want it. We needed to get something done and have a room finished. Our sanity depended on it. The laundry is THAT room, and we are OH SO proud of it

Pity the rest of the house is a dump! Heh!

It’s been hard work for the poor kids who have to party all night long and come home to bacon and eggs at 6 in the morning….. dragging all their friends whose parents arent so gullible.

These are my kids

Gorgeous, huh?

These are my kids after a few drinks

Yes… they’re ‘special’.

This is where things can become either frustrating, comical or both. I have come across many methods of customers attempts to convey these measurements to me, however the following are my favourites:

The ‘How Long is a Piece of String’ method – the customer digs around in her handbag and pulls out a piece of string. There are two knots in the string, one represents the width of the window, the other represents the drop. Two problems with this method….. which end is the starting end? Which knot is which?

The ‘Elastic Fantastic’ method – similar to the ‘How Long is a Piece of String’ method, except there are no knots. Fully stretched is the drop and half stretched is the width. HALF stretched? What the fuck is HALF stretched?

After 30 years in the industry, a customer finally came in with a new method. YAY!

The ‘I’m a Fucking Moron and Still Confuse Feet with Metres’ method – customer still has a handbag, but this time a piece of paper makes its way to the surface. OMG! A piece of paper! This looks REALLY promising! My elation was, however, short lived!

The customer tells me the width is ’3 feet’ plus ’89′. OK, I’m flexible, I can do imperial measurements…. but what is this ’89′ shit? Is it 89 mm? 89 cm? 89 inches?

The customer asks me to show her a measuring tape and she will explain it to me. I show her the tape and she gives me all sorts of grief about it being metric. Of course its metric! We went metric in Australia 41 years ago FFS!

OK, harsh I know, but sometimes customers are just plain STUPID!