Sunday Funny

Now, normally I don’t care for “pet speak.” I see it all over my greyhound message boards, from people trying to imitate how their dogs (and cats) would type if they could. Grammatical errors abound, spelling is horrible…and often you have to attempt to read the “message” out loud in order to get a clue as to the meaning (sometimes even THAT doesn’t work). To me, it’s degrading to our animals that I believe to be very intelligent. If they could speak English I don’t think it would look like that. It annoys me to the point that I don’t read posts at all from the people that “speak” that way for their dogs…too much work.

However…this is just plain funny, considering that I just watched the interview in question (well, a part of it anyway) this week. Seriously…you can’t make this stuff up.For more animals with English issues (but sound political statements nonetheless), click on the link in this post’s title or on YES WE CAN HAS in my blog roll. Funny, funny stuff.

Steam


my.giant.head
Originally uploaded by Nancy Allen

Remember my previous Steam posts, from when I was living in Alabama?

I am a professional.

I am fluent in both languages. I’m not sure that you’re even fluent in English.

I don’t need to be told how to do my job. I had to have been pretty clear about what I was doing for my college to grant me a bachelor’s degree and my professional organization to grant me national certification.

I’m fairly familiar with mental illness and working in this setting. The past 9 years of working in this setting have seen to that.

I know what I was hired to do, and I know what you were hired to do. Let’s not confuse the two, shall we?

Until you know what it is like to be a necessary evil…until you know what it is like to be a walking after-thought…until you have been spoken about in front of your face as though you are an appliance or a chair in the room…

(Here’s where my more sensitive readers might want to scroll down, by the way.)

Until you can understand sign and English and work between the two, get the hell out of my face, my business, and my way and let me do my job.

Whew.

Well, this one’s going to be a bit more cryptic because I don’t really know who reads me up here in SC…but I still need to let it out or I’ll explode.

When you make a computer mistake that affects your employees, it should not be the responsibility of the employees to make it right. I understand that it makes more work for you to correct the mistake, but I’m still not seeing how it’s anyone’s issue but yours to see it fixed.

When someone is hired for a job, it is assumed that the person has the required knowledge and skills to perform the job. If you weren’t hired for that job then you probably don’t need to try and tell the person in the job how to DO the job. I’m sure that he or she can handle it.

Creating a working environment where you have happy and willing employees almost always leads to productivity. A work environment where employees feel like they are either being watched every step of the way or they have to beg and scrape for the materials needed to do their jobs will not lead to productivity or a boost in morale. I try to remember that when I’m supervising my interpreters.

I did a 9-1 stint today alone…lots of clients back to back to see a doc, but also discussion in between with deaf staff members. My hands are worn out, my brain is totally mush…yet I still have to finish out my day (till 4:30 rather than 5, though, since I left home at 8 to get to the gig on time). And we’re in a hiring freeze so it has to be justified that we need another interpreter in this area. I’ll tell you what, put on my hands and feel the pain in my joints right now, or try to string a coherent sentence together with my foggy brain for the past two hours and you’ll get your justification.

It’s funny, an interpreter I know who used to work where I do now warned me when I took the job all those years ago that “this job will be the end of you…they will work you to death there,” but I scoffed. And have been for the past almost 10 years.

Ten years. Lordy.

Once September is over I will only have two months left at my job. Sobering thought…and honestly I’m not sure if it’s because I will miss it or sobering because there are still two months left. Time will tell.

Vacation, Day One: Young Harris Memories

Today started very early. I went to church with Mom and Dad and then took a trip back in time when we decided to eat lunch at Young Harris College‘s new “restaurant.” It’s where the cafeteria/dining hall used to be.

Liz and I talk often about how different our experiences were at YHC. She loved it and counts it as one of her more fond memories. I have blocked out so much of the 2 years I spent there that when Dad asked me what I thought of the new dining hall today I absolutely could NOT remember what the old one was like. I have no memory whatsoever of ever setting foot inside that building. Funny what the mind does.

My heart broke a little bit when we parked in the upper lot behind Appleby West, my first dorm at Young Harris, and I looked up the hill in front of me to see a parking lot where Mama and Papa Rich’s house used to stand. Robby, their son, is the person in my life that I have known the longest (that isn’t family) that I am still in touch with and count as a friend. I spent time in that house as a friend of the family, as a girlfriend, and finally as “family,” and to have it not there just seemed kinda wrong, even though the inhabitants are all long gone.

The swing that was given to the college by my sorority, Sigma Beta Sigma, was one of the few things I recognized out in front of the new dining hall. I remember vividly sitting on that swing with Amy one night and figuring out the secret to life, the universe, religion, and probably calculus…only to be interrupted by a yelling Robby thundering down the hill toward us and forgetting what we’d only moments before been sure would CHANGE THE WORLD.

I wasn’t sad to leave today, despite all the tiny smiles I afforded my heart as we walked around that tiny corner of my past. It made me who I am, unpleasant as it was, so I can’t wish I’d never been there. I can only wish that I’ll forget all the bad things, just like I have the dining hall. And then, after I’ve forgotten, I can don my old purple and yellow sorority jersey and take my children there. I can tell them how Amy was convinced she was developing pneumonia because I had to leave our dorm window open a crack so I could hear the chapel bell that my sorority was “in charge” of protecting. I can tell them how Liz and Heather and I made a snowman on the front porch of Appleby Center and then snuck it into the lobby.

I can tell them how I was a student there just like their Grandpa, my father was before me, and I can say then that if they want to go there I’d be very proud.

I wonder how long that bit of forgetting will take?

Playing Chicken with a Tornado

We’ve had a crazy weather day here in the Upstate and I don’t know that it’s going to get any better soon. Thanks to Kay coming on land and getting a bit stuck we’ve had rain rain rain and more rain today with a few thunderstorms and a tornado thrown in for good measure. Apparently there was a bad tornado that left some damage in Clemson…but Tiger Fans NEVER FEAR, it hit NEAR Death Valley, not IN Death Valley. I apparently caused a resident at the hospital tonight a momentary fright when I said that it had hit “at” the stadium.

Not that I don’t totally get that…you tell me or anyone in my immediate family (except for my brother in law who suffers from a raging case of “I’m a University of Alabama Fan”) that a tornado has hit Between the Hedges and watch the hysterics ensue. But I digress…

I left the hospital early today because I was very concerned that said storms would produce tornados in Greenville while my dogs were safely locked in their crates on the SECOND STORY of my house. I got home and sat through the outer edges of a nasty nasty storm, and finally was ready to feed the dogs and get on with making my dinner. Suddenly my phones were all going off with text messages and voice mails. Seems the hospital was trying to find me because there was ANOTHER deaf patient there and they needed an interpreter.

Did I mention that the hospital is about 45 minutes from my house on a sunny day with no traffic?

I fed the dogs and hopped in the car to head south to the hospital. I was listening to the radio, as you do, and the weather alerts just kept coming and coming. As I got off the interstate onto the road that leads to the hospital (but is still a good 20 minute drive), a new weather alert came on talking about a BAD storm that could produce a tornado that was heading RIGHT for the hospital where I was going. In fact, it was supposed to be at a town about 10 miles from the hospital at 7:30. I was supposed to be at the hospital at 7:30.

Enter the game of chicken. I was determined to get there first. I didn’t. What I did, however, is get to the hospital while it was under a weather warning…which means that you can’t leave until it is lifted or expires. Thankfully it was changed to a watch rather than a warning shortly after I’d gotten there so I could leave but under a warning from public safety that it wasn’t a good idea. I considered that after I’d interpreted the intake and was ready to go until I asked when the watch was set to expire.

PSO: 2am, ma’am.
Me: Yeah, NO. I’ll take my chances.

On the way home I came up on a wreck. I couldn’t really tell what had happened because I was kind of blinded by all the flashing lights from the emergency vehicles that responded. However, it did give me pause because I had come that same way only hours before. What is that saying, there but by the grace of God?

So yeah, I raced a bad storm and didn’t really lose, I think it was a draw. And now I’m back home, tired, full of bad take away food and ready for bed.