Sis is BUSY!
The new gig has me hopping, trying to ramp up my learning curve, embracing a schedule, navigation of office politics, and my biggest pain, time management. Add that to Daylight Savings Time (I love the sun being out longer!), and The Boy on track and me training again…I’ve neglected you all!
Mea culpa or as The Teen would say, my bad.
I love, love, love my new gig.
I come in contact with people which A: supports my gift of gab; B: introduces me to more things I was not aware of; C: makes me more determined to stay involved in my community.
Let’s see what’s on my mind…
Governor Corbett signs a strict bill about identification and voting.
Would I be a citizen if I wasn’t born in this country?
iTunes keeps effing up my computer.
Why I’m weeping (this week) for our future.
Fail to plan, plan to fail.
In my old life, I was a banker chick. My passion was financial literacy, driving past a building that I had assisted in financing, and customer service. In retrospect, I also liked selling. I loved closing the deal (and the bonus check that came with it wasn’t too shabby). I didn’t like the panic attacks, the sleepless nights when I didn’t reach my goals, and the multiple car accidents because I was so damned distracted thinking about work. One of my pet peeves was the third of the month. Anyone who has visited a bank on the third knows that Social Security and Disability checks come out that day. Depending on the area where I worked the line would already be formed when we arrived for our 8:30 opening. God forbid if the third fell on a Saturday or Sunday or the mother of all times, the July 4th weekend…this was a guaraty we wouldn’t have lunch, spend the whole day obliging weird request like all twenties and 30 on ones, or all gold coins, or two dollar bills. This was on top of cashing multiple checks, many to people who didn’t have ID.
Bouncing from bank to bank (the turnover rate for tellers is almost as bad as the turnover of cashiers at my local Wawa) to fill in on these days, I wouldn’t know the person standing in front of me. Also, I have this innate fear of the elderly getting swindled. So, I always asked for ID. Training taught us that you don’t REALLY know a person unless you are waking up next to them (and as Maury “you are not the daddy” Povitch has shown, that may not always be applicable). I would see young ladies bring old men into the bank and watch hungrily as we counted out their cash. I saw elderly women come in clutching a letter, asking for money orders or cashier checks so that they could pay taxes on the lottery that they “won”. In each case, each person had to prove who they were to me. It makes sense to protect your money and provide ID. There was always that stubborn person who would insist they not show ID and that such and such knew who they were. But what happened when such and such wasn’t there? No one could vouch for you. At the time it was twelve bucks to get a state ID.
When Governor Corbett signed into law that ID would be required to vote, this caused all kinds of a ruckus. Democrats are crying foul, that there was oppression on the part of the Republicans. Other groups joined in the madness claiming this was a blatant attempt to disenfranchise minorities, college students, and the elderly.
How insulting to minorities, college students, and the elderly. Not all of this group is ID less.
To get on a plane, ID is required. To get on a train, ID is required. To get a job, ID is required. To get a cell phone, ID is required. ID is required to do just about anything but fart. So why is this such a big deal?
I could be Tea Party, Independant, Democrat, Republican, whatever…I would still stand behind this law. In 2012 how hard is it to get an ID? People make everything else a priority, why not make getting proper ID just as important as live Tweeting The Grammys?
WE THE PEOPLE
The Cubs have been spending much time visiting Historic Philadelphia. Still in my patriotic state of mind, I tried quizzing each Cub about the tours we attended and the questions they peppered each Park Ranger with. They got most of the questions correct.
When we visited the National Constitution Center, some of the facts were that teens could identify 90210 but not their own zip code. The teens polled couldn’t name the three branches of government, and they could identify a rocker (I can’t recall which one) but not our Vice President, Joe “Pull my Finger” Biden.
Some of the people I work with have put YEARS into working toward American citizenship. They begin by taking English lessons, then memorize one hundred questions for the test. Fill out a ten page (both sides full of questions, mind you) application, and gather all kinds of documentation to work at being a citizen.
The Teen said in her Government and Law class when the class was administered the same test not one person could pass. The class had the privilege of being citizens because they were born here, not because of any knowledge.
I worship at the alter of Apple. It is what it is. But every single time there’s a new update my computer crashed. Apple needs to fix that ish ASAP so I can stop getting side eye from The Mister.
A pedophile has been roaming the neighborhood. So in addition to folks getting their summer on, I have to watch the kids from this pervert. So far there have been six attempts reported to the police. Two were false.
The Boy is in a stage where he lies. Whether its about showering (Funkmaster D in the house!), homework, or a chore. He’s stretching the truth or out and out lying. His hand is sore from writing lines, he’s going through technology withdrawal, and my slipper has met his behind a few times.
These lies, while annoying, hurt *him*. There have been instances where kids report the pedophile tried to lure them and after being questioned by police admit that they were lying.
That isn’t something to play around with. Ever hear of a kid who claimed to see a wolf and when the wolf eventually showed no one believed him?
Same with this. It’s bad enough every one in a green van is questioned by police. I already feel reservation about sending the Boy out, but with a perv running amok and people lying about him, making it more trivial than the serious issue it’s supposed to be…this is a nuisance.
The kids who lied did it to get out of going to school that day. I wouldn’t want to go back to teen years, but school is better than working for the man. In school you have to study, do homework, join an after school club, and possibly avoid bullies.
As an adult, there’s taxes to pay, bill collectors to dodge (shifty side eye), feeling sandwiched between kids and an ailing mom…school seems like a better choice. Not to mention the man power wasted and the time spent chasing leads that were fruitless.
Kids have got to stop trying to run games and get to school. Open your mind and learn!
Once again it’s Thursday and I’m wondering where the Hell the week went. This time, it’s my own fault. It is so true that when you fail to plan, you plan to fail. My agenda was blank save one meeting. I let my day control me instead of me controlling the day.
Since the cats aren’t able to tell time, I really need to use the time I have early mornings to plan for the week. There’s track for The Boy, driving and Color Guard for The Teen, The Mister was tapped to lead the Men’s Day service plus he’s revamped the Cub program, and I still have my political work, knitting, blogging, and wine*. All backwards and in heels**.
What does this mean?
It means I return to my Sunday routine of plopping my butt in the comfy red chair in the corner of my Starbucks and working out my week.
If all goes as ‘planned’ then I should finally reply to comments, have a few posts banked, do my community work, engage and involve myself with the kids, spend time with The Mister and possibly, not fail.
* I jest. I’m fasting for Lent. Wine and no food don’t mix well.
**How Ginger Rogers described dancing with Fred Astaire. Women are expected to wear capes.