Soapbox Diner: Go on, Run-on. You can't keep me down.

Soapbox Diner

Go on, Run-on. You can't keep me down.

07.15.07

Man, oh, man. Ya know, one of the great comforts I once found in living in Seattle versus the quasi-desert of Eastern Montana was . . . there is no weather here. It does not get too hot, nor does it get too cold. However, and thank you Mr. Gore for enlightening us to this most salient of points, the climate, she's a-changin'.

So currently, I bask in the inside temperature of 80 degrees. Outside, it's a balmy and just-right 72. I cannot go outside though, as I am working on QCing five new trainies today - none of whom seem to grasp the fine art of ending sentences in appropriate places with periods and/or question marks. Oodles and scads of text I drift through, and nary a closing punctutation to be found. Methinks I will end up wanting to shake the commas out of someone very, very soon.

So I've been patiently waiting for some child support to make it's way to me for about 3.5 weeks now. And if I may, let me say that We Are Not Amused. So I called Support Enforcement to gently query, "Wherefore art my money, gentle Sir?" And he said, "Uh, I dunno. I'm not required to be curious until it's been over 30 days. Bu-bye now."

And being at that point it'd only been a couple weeks, I decided I would calmly await my money. The following week I called the automated service and Lo, it still wasn't there.

See, these are times when a girl's gotta be sneaky on a dead-beat dad (DBD). So I called DBD. Naturally, he did not answer my call, so in my best Damsel in Distress voice, I left a message, "DBD, something terrible's happened! Call me back right away!" And then I hung up the phone.

See, the art to communicating with DBDs is this: They are selfish creatures and not too bright, usually. However, convergent with these traits is an unrelenting sense of self-importance; they have big egos. And because they are not always too bright, but are tremendously impressed with their own ability to Be Important, they are suseptible to their curiosity. We ladies must master the art of giving them just enough information to hook the suckers, but not too much to scare them off. See, isn't it a clever, clever little rouse, darlings?

'Of course you haven't gotten any child support!' He said, 'I just started a new job. They haven't garnished my checks yet.' And again, just a little artful probing into how the World Done Him Wrong, and I was armed. Now I could call Support Enforcement.

Silly men.

And so I did. 'I'm sorry, ma'am. I cannot provide you with the name of DBDs Employer.'

'Well, see, that's the thing. From what I've been informed, he was unemployed until recently.'

'Yeah. That's the money you've been getting for the last two months, Bitch.'

'Yes, thank you. Well, as we both know that he is now employed again, just for giggles, why don't we send out an Order for Wage Garnishment. Doesn't that sound like a super plan, Columbo?'

'Well, we don't know where he's working.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't you just patronize and otherwise attempt to verbally belittle me with your tone of Omniscience? Because it seems to me that you have all of his contact information, know he's a member of the union, and know that he's been employed again for three weeks. Ergo, the combination of these facts would lead one to believe you're either stupid, lazy, or unwilling to do your job. Does that sound to you like an accurate assessment of this situation, sir?'

Fuckers. I hate that patronizing bullshit. Little does he know that I'm gonna be a beetle with a new ball of dung now. He is officially my new Bitch, and will be until such time as he gets off his bloated ass and gets me the money he's paid to collect on my behalf. Fucker.

Who links to me?

sbd v. 11 @ 2002-2007