I had a migraine yesterday and I feel the onset of another one any minute now. Must write now or never.
Wednesday morning, I spent about an hour closeted with Owner in his office with the door closed. Seems Crazy Employee managed to get me involved in another one of her schemes.
When we rescued Crazy's puppy, we took her to the vet our company uses so puppy could have the required vaccinations. I had given them my corporate credit card when we took the other rescued dogs in, so I knew these charges would be applied, too. Crazy took the dog home and, about two weeks later, brought her back to the vet to be spayed. Late that same afternoon, Crazy came into my office looking meek.
"Could I ask you something? I don't really want to talk to Owner about it. He makes me nervous."
That's good. She should be afraid. She should be afraid of me, too, though.
She'd spoken with the vet who informed her that, when they performed the surgery, they also discovered that the puppy had a dental problem that was best resolved early. The vet tried to get in touch with Crazy, but failing to do so, had fixed the problem. The surgery bill was $500.
Crazy wanted to know if I thought it was Owner's intention to continue to pay all the puppy bills. Absolutely not, I told her. I suggested that she speak with Owner herself, but I had no reason to believe that would be even remotely okay. Once again, she didn't want to speak with Owner. Crazy said she understood and that she'd make arrangements to establish a payment plan with the vet. That conversation took place at the end of March.
When Information Superhighway looked at the statement we received from the vet, there was that charge. She brought it to Owner's attention, knowing it had to be related to Crazy's dog. Owner then called me in to discuss what I might know about it. I recounted our conversation and went to my office to get my credit card so we could ensure that it was, indeed, a Crazy Land card. Of course it was mine.
Owner trusts me without hesitation. When I was in charge of things for around a decade, I could have robbed the company blind had I been so inclined. We've been friends for over 3 decades. He knows he need never question my ethics. Nonetheless, I could feel my face assuming the expression of icy rage that scares the hell out of people. I couldn't wait to get out of the office and discuss the situation with Crazy Employee.
Owner called the vet's office to clarify exactly what had happened. We were told that they called Crazy just that morning and made her set up a payment plan. The charges will be taken off my card. Owner told the vet to always get direct approval from him or me for any future charges of any kind.
He was greatly relieved to not have to talk with Crazy. If Owner had a nickname for Crazy, it would be Loathsome. He has a list in his head of the numerous examples of her bad behavior based on her profound sense of personal entitlement. There are even some things he doesn't know about. I finally staggered out of his office, still furious.
Technically, Crazy had indeed lived up to the assurance she gave me that she'd take care of the charges. However, she didn't do that until the bill came due here. I should point out that Crazy actually sees the bills before they get to the Superhighway. She knew disaster was imminent.
I decided to take a walk and calm down. On the way back, who should I run into but Lillian and another of her gentlemen callers. One of the neighbors had called Animal Control the day we were trying to help the old dog and I was terrified she'd think I'd made the call. I just kept looking at the sidewalk and hurried into the office.
By then, I'd decided to let the Crazy thing go. Owner has his list and I have mine. I'm not sure which one of us she should fear the most.
01 May 2008
29 April 2008
It's Only Tuesday. I'm Already Exhausted.
Yesterday started somewhere around 4:00 a.m. for me. My mom had a colonoscopy scheduled and was told to arrive at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. Late Friday afternoon, the hospital left a message telling her she needed to pre-register, but by the time she got the message, that department had already closed down for the weekend. She thought perhaps they wouldn't do the procedure unless she pre-registered, so I suggested that we plan on getting there a little early.
I am not a morning person.
We agreed to get there around 5:30, but I was anxious about whether my alarm clock would work, so I woke up around 4:00 and never went back to sleep. There's nothing wrong with my alarm clock. I have issues about being on time and I'm always afraid that the electronic devices that run my life are going to fail me in some critical moment.
I was at the hospital for a couple of hours, then I brought my mom over to my house around 9:00, took a shower and left for work. Things were going as well as could be expected when I got a call from our receptionist saying Crazy Employee wanted me to come downstairs and look after the dog from next door. The dog had been lying by the side of the road and she'd coaxed it to a grassy area between my office and Lillian's house. He was unable to go any farther, unable to stand up on his back legs.
Owner came downstairs with me and we tried to get the dog to stand up. We brought him some water and a couple of large bowls of kitty food. The poor creature wolfed down the water and food. I tried to slide my hands under his hips to help him stand up, but that didn't help, either. There was a high potential for me to get bitten, so I abandoned the effort.
Finally a young man, whom we believe to be Lillian's son, ambled out of the house and over to where we were attending to the dog. I noticed track marks on his arms. The first thing he wanted to know was whether anyone had a cigarette. If I'd had a cigarette, I'd have been smoking it. I explained the problem to Son.
"He can get up. He just doesn't want to," he said. I repeatedly assured him that wasn't the case. Son retrieved a cord from inside the house, slipped it around the dogs neck and tried to get him up. Couldn't do it. I asked if Lillian was around. She was asleep, her son said.
After several attempts, I suggested that maybe the dog needed to rest. I told the son we'd keep an eye on the dog from our upstairs window. He mumbled thanks and walked back to the house. I got the dog more water and more food. I called a number of mobile vets, but no one was able to come. Even if they'd had time, the dog doesn't belong to me and I have no desire to try to get Lillian to agree to treatment (even though she wouldn't have to pay for it). Also, I'd almost guarantee that the dog has never had a single rabies shot. Vets won't work with animals who haven't have rabies shots.
This morning, I was afraid I'd drive up and see the dog, dead where I left him. He wasn't out there, so I got the Golf Pro to look out of my window to see if he was in Lillian's back yard. He was lying in his usual spot. Crazy Employee came in a little while ago to tell me about how they got him back. It's really more than I can think about right now.
Nothing makes me angrier than children and animals being mistreated or neglected. Clearly Lillian has appeared in my life to help me find more compassion in my heart. I have a lot more work to do in that area, apparently.
I am not a morning person.
We agreed to get there around 5:30, but I was anxious about whether my alarm clock would work, so I woke up around 4:00 and never went back to sleep. There's nothing wrong with my alarm clock. I have issues about being on time and I'm always afraid that the electronic devices that run my life are going to fail me in some critical moment.
I was at the hospital for a couple of hours, then I brought my mom over to my house around 9:00, took a shower and left for work. Things were going as well as could be expected when I got a call from our receptionist saying Crazy Employee wanted me to come downstairs and look after the dog from next door. The dog had been lying by the side of the road and she'd coaxed it to a grassy area between my office and Lillian's house. He was unable to go any farther, unable to stand up on his back legs.
Owner came downstairs with me and we tried to get the dog to stand up. We brought him some water and a couple of large bowls of kitty food. The poor creature wolfed down the water and food. I tried to slide my hands under his hips to help him stand up, but that didn't help, either. There was a high potential for me to get bitten, so I abandoned the effort.
Finally a young man, whom we believe to be Lillian's son, ambled out of the house and over to where we were attending to the dog. I noticed track marks on his arms. The first thing he wanted to know was whether anyone had a cigarette. If I'd had a cigarette, I'd have been smoking it. I explained the problem to Son.
"He can get up. He just doesn't want to," he said. I repeatedly assured him that wasn't the case. Son retrieved a cord from inside the house, slipped it around the dogs neck and tried to get him up. Couldn't do it. I asked if Lillian was around. She was asleep, her son said.
After several attempts, I suggested that maybe the dog needed to rest. I told the son we'd keep an eye on the dog from our upstairs window. He mumbled thanks and walked back to the house. I got the dog more water and more food. I called a number of mobile vets, but no one was able to come. Even if they'd had time, the dog doesn't belong to me and I have no desire to try to get Lillian to agree to treatment (even though she wouldn't have to pay for it). Also, I'd almost guarantee that the dog has never had a single rabies shot. Vets won't work with animals who haven't have rabies shots.
This morning, I was afraid I'd drive up and see the dog, dead where I left him. He wasn't out there, so I got the Golf Pro to look out of my window to see if he was in Lillian's back yard. He was lying in his usual spot. Crazy Employee came in a little while ago to tell me about how they got him back. It's really more than I can think about right now.
Nothing makes me angrier than children and animals being mistreated or neglected. Clearly Lillian has appeared in my life to help me find more compassion in my heart. I have a lot more work to do in that area, apparently.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)