Rant VIII: The Reckoning

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I hardly know. I guess I better just type it out here.

My depression is so bad its actually affecting my marriage. I smile for the kids and the few interactions I have but on my own I'm a mess. I haven't been able to find a job that will work with the hours so work is few hours for barely enough to pay for child care. That's put a strain as well. Like, we are barely squeaking by, financially. Blue was paid Friday and now we have less than 10 bucks because of a car issue and more bills are past due. How am I ever going to keep power from getting cut off or buy groceries?

I feel ike I'm dying. I don't know what to do anymore.

I'm really sorry.
 
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Work has been something else since the announcement of another vote (After the last one failed to an LGBT controversy with some more conservative customers who went to the press). I am in full crisis control mode and it's actually been half exhilirating and half exhausting trying to put together an entire campaign in the last three days of one of the biggest votes that I'll ever be personally responsible for, and where the result has huge ramifications on my personal life. That's not the rant. The rant is me going out to one of the communities voting and having one person threaten to kick my ass, and then right after I get into a yelling match with the mayor. Seriously, did I drop back into the 1970s where Muslims and Gays are the devil!?
 
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Work has been something else since the announcement of another vote (After the last one failed to an LGBT controversy with some more conservative customers who went to the press). I am in full crisis control mode and it's actually been half exhilirating and half exhausting trying to put together an entire campaign in the last three days of one of the biggest votes that I'll ever be personally responsible for, and where the result has huge ramifications on my personal life. That's not the rant. The rant is me going out to one of the communities voting and having one person threaten to kick my ass, and then right after I get into a yelling match with the mayor. Seriously, did I drop back into the 1970s where Muslims and Gays are the devil!?
If you're dealing with counties that have been a social conservative lock for decades, then yes, it's EXACTLY like being in the 1970s.
 
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That's exactly who I'm dealing with. It's disappointing and I feel it's not really my role to drag people into the 90s, let alone 2010s.
 
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One person in my project group says she doesn't have group messaging on her phone. She wants us all to download and use an app that I'm sure she's a shill for since it's all I've heard about since we got put in a group together.
At any rate, I am not happy with this idea since I really don't want an app on my phone that I'm basically using for one person. But today I decide I'm being a child about this and just download it. Later on I look at my regular messaging program. It shows that I have sent a text to a NJ number that is not in my contacts. I look up the number and find out that this app randomly does this to verify your number. WTF!

I fucking hate group projects. Honestly.
 
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"I'm sorry, but I get free text messages with my service plan, I don't want to use an app that uselessly uses my data plan for something that I get for free."
 
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Back in the old days, for years and years, a Taco Bell tostada was beans smeared on a crispy round tortilla, topped with red sauce, lettuce and cheese.

Now, a tostada has chipotle sauce instead of red sauce and tomatoes.

I didn't know it would be such an epic struggle to get the cashier to understand that I wanted one with red sauce and no tomatoes or chipotle sauce.[DOUBLEPOST=1442245062,1442244830][/DOUBLEPOST]speaking of Taco Bell rants, I still miss this damn thing:

 
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Taco Bell is an abusive lover that treats you like shit, but you still keep going back.



(That could be worded better :( )
 
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and this is maybe more of a pet peeve or a whine, but it kills me how many people swear to this day that an enchirito had a corn tortilla.

It was a freaking flour tortilla dyed orangish-yellow. I don't know how many times I pulled the packaging (with the ingredients list) out of the store room to prove it to some customer who swore that they were allergic to corn, or didn't like corn tortillas or whatever. It was no different than a soft taco tortilla (though we didn't have soft tacos back then), with added food dye.
 
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I'm not surprised they got rid of the olives. That was always the #1 thing people asked us to leave off of the various dishes that had them.

I was kind of shocked when I first found out that they don't fry shells or cook meat on premises any longer.
 
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My wife is always incredulous when I suggest Taco Bell.

They put an addictive chemical in their tacos that makes you crave it fortnightly!
 
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I woke up this morning feeling ragey, and my daughter was throwing an inane temper tantrum that made no sense, and I have basically given up on figuring out why our new cable box won't connect correctly lest I break it over my knee. I should probably call tech support, but it will probably end with more rage as I talk to someone with an accent I don't understand telling me to turn it off and back on again.
 
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I like Taco Bell. I have less indigestion issues from their tacos then I do from other types of fast foods. But there is none really near us. So unless we are out somewhere near one we rarely eat it. Our usual go to Mexican food place is a restaurant chain called Eldorados (North Carolina). Their nacho supreme is awesome.
 

fade

Staff member
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I just assumed all the poo jokes were just jokes. I've never had any issues eating Taco Bell.
 
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That's just unnatural. I worked for Olive Garden for 6 weeks in high school and the thought of eating there makes me nauseous to this day.
I worked at a Wendy's for one summer as my first job - I still can't eat any of their food almost 20 years later other than the "Frosty."
 

Dave

Staff member
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I worked at a Chili's for a few years...and the place was fucking spotless and the food was rotated properly, marked properly, and cross contamination was a no-no. I don't know if it's every Chili's or just the one I was at, but I'd eat the food there if they dropped it on the floor for more than 5 seconds and served it to me. It was that clean. Every night after closing, we'd take the entire kitchen apart - overhead vents, fryers, everything - clean it and put it back together again, then we'd wipe down ALL the walls and dump cans of soapy water to scrub the everyloving crap out of the floor. Yeah, you got out really late after closing, but you knew the place was spotless.

The Italian restaurant I worked at allowed the cooks to smoke on the line and I don't think I ever saw a mop...so yeah.
 

GasBandit

Staff member
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Oh don't get me wrong, the Olive Garden was as clean and well run as you could expect most restaurants to be (granted, cleaning the women's room was blood-drenched horror and half the managers were on crystal meth, but still). The reason I can't eat at the Olive Garden, or the "Oh Gee" as my friends would call it, is because it supersaturated me. Hours and hours with all this stuff all around, all over you, having to scoop it out with your hands (I was in the dish pit)... coming home every night reeking of sweat and ricotta cheese. Go faster, spray it with that scalding water, load that rack, shove it in the machine, stand knee deep in that alfredo while an avalanche of chicken fingers falls on you because bussers don't give a shit.. Gaagghh. Can't do it. Can't. Can't do it.
 
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I worked at a Chili's for a few years...and the place was fucking spotless and the food was rotated properly, marked properly, and cross contamination was a no-no. I don't know if it's every Chili's or just the one I was at, but I'd eat the food there if they dropped it on the floor for more than 5 seconds and served it to me. It was that clean. Every night after closing, we'd take the entire kitchen apart - overhead vents, fryers, everything - clean it and put it back together again, then we'd wipe down ALL the walls and dump cans of soapy water to scrub the everyloving crap out of the floor. Yeah, you got out really late after closing, but you knew the place was spotless.
That's pretty much how my taco bell was, too.
 

Dave

Staff member
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Oh don't get me wrong, the Olive Garden was as clean and well run as you could expect most restaurants to be (granted, cleaning the women's room was blood-drenched horror and half the managers were on crystal meth, but still). The reason I can't eat at the Olive Garden, or the "Oh Gee" as my friends would call it, is because it supersaturated me. Hours and hours with all this stuff all around, all over you, having to scoop it out with your hands (I was in the dish pit)... coming home every night reeking of sweat and ricotta cheese. Go faster, spray it with that scalding water, load that rack, shove it in the machine, stand knee deep in that alfredo while an avalanche of chicken fingers falls on you because bussers don't give a shit.. Gaagghh. Can't do it. Can't. Can't do it.
I started as one of the salad cooks and ended as the head line cook. So I was responsible for making sure everything was plated correctly and cooked right. I was amazingly good at it, considering I'm not that good of a cook outside of an assembly line a restaurant style. I kept things moving and even when slow I kept everyone engaged and ready just in case. We'd be singing and joking around pretty much all night. The managers didn't care as long as we were business when it called for it. And they were very upset when I quit.

It's one of the few things in my life I can truly say I was good at. Too bad it couldn't have been playing high stakes poker or sex.
 
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I worked on a blueberry farm during two summers packing blueberries. That was when they used to have the cellophane and rubber bands on compressed cardboard pints instead of the plastic clam shell type of containers. Sometimes crates came in with snakes in them. Sometimes the pickers would fill pints with leaves so they'd have more crates counted. The thing that absolutely turned my stomach was when a crate came up the line that one of the pickers had pissed in. The owner took the crate, washed the berries off with a hose, and put them back on the line to be packed once they were dry. I almost cried. It took me years to eat raw blueberries and even now I prefer them cooked in something.
 
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