Knowing the Consumer Well

I really appreciate that Ford is meeting us at our need. Their Super Bowl add is bound to clear the car lots of these puppies!

Ford Unveils New Car For Cash-Strapped Buyers: The 1993 Taurus

A Letter to Employers

I know this is a terrible thing to do here, but for three months we've endured such amazing injustices as far as the job hunt goes that I feel it's my duty to bring attention to the matter and call a spade a spade. To all employers *considering* hiring now or ever: You are NOT all that and a bag of chips. While I know I should continue existing in a faux state eager readiness and excitement at the prospect of ANY employment, it's just not happening any more.
For starters, I am 100% fed up with the false advertising of businesses. As hard as this may be to believe, there are actually businesses out there falsely advertising positions which do not exist. By that, I mean that these are positions which they hope to exist some day when they get that new account or when they start having the common situation of money flowing out of their ears. TWICE now, Jim has done interviews which seemed to go relatively well, until the point at the very, very, very end of the interview wherein the interviewer stated something generally to the affect of: "Well, IF the position becomes available, it won't be until JANUARY." Emm. . Excuse me? Your telling me that this position, which supposedly you (the interviewer) are handling right now (along with three other positions) won't be available until JANUARY? And emmm. . is that because you're hoping for some inordinate amount of money to somehow manifest itself within the company at some magical date in January? Great - thank you for wasting our time. My husband, he just really enjoys preening for people; it's his idea of a good time to sell himself; he likes demonstrating all of his knowledge when requested on the spot. . And he even more just LOVES acing an interview for a position which very well could NEVER exist. That's totally his idea of a real good time. Or what about the other interview he did just last week wherein he divulged all kinds of info about himself to prove what a 'very useful engine' (to coin Thomas the Tank) he was, only to have the HR lady on the other end of the line (who up until this point had seemed extremely pleasantly surprised and satisfied with Jim's answers) inform Jim that should their company acquire 'X' account, they may give him a call. . Well, thanks for all that! And of course Jim wouldn't feel like a used up whore or anything. . Of course he wouldn't! Really, I feel like this practice of conducting interviews for positions which at present (or possibly ever) do not exist should be criminal. And the fact that in both of these cases, the employer dropped that rather notable and critical bit of info at the VERY last possible moment in the interview just speaks volumes to the companies' integrity. Talk about being led on. It's on level with being invited to a fun pool party only to show up and have the host present 'the plan' to become a sales rep for xyz multi-level company. It's dishonest and disheartening.

Another amazing little factoid that I've come to be utterly disgusted with is the fact that employers simply will not accept the fact that you are willing to accept a pay cut. Again, it's been three months. . We would really appreciate some gainful employment at this point. Jim's not the type who would get hired on someplace, and then start sulking around because he's not getting paid what he got paid previously. And it appears this little issue of pay is a sticking point. People just will not accept the fact that you could be happy getting paid less - ever. News flash employers of America: every unemployed person in this country who has spent any quantity of time searching for a job has come to the realization that a pay cut is inevitable, and they have accepted it. . and it's HIGH time you people figured that one out too!

And for all the super neat-o managers out their with an inferiority complex, let's set the record strait for the unemployed folks: We don't want your job. That's great that you have a high and mighty position wherever, but we're not competing with you for your position; we're simply interviewing for the job your company advertised. While many of us are in fact far more qualified than you are for the work which you are doing, that does not mean we will be trying to edge you out the door. No, again, we're simply looking for employment - so quit being on the defensive. . it makes you look insecure and shallow.

My last gripe regarding prospective employment has to do with the manner in which people are informed of not getting the job. I received a letter in my inbox a couple weeks ago from an interview which Jim had completed at least six weeks previously. As soon as the interview was completed, though we both new it was a bad fit and just wasn't going to happen, we went ahead and sent a "thank you for the interview" card (how prompt and special of us!). I had pretty much long since forgotten about that interview until I received this special email informing us regretfully that he had not received the job. Again, we picked up on that when one of the interviewers began preparing to leave for lunch before all parts of the interview (as Jim had been informed) had been completed. . . That was our first hunch that it just wasn't looking so good. But to six weeks later get an email. . . an email? The level of utter stupidity of this is just mind-boggling. They couldn't even defer to the concept that their letter had somehow gotten lost in snail mail; no, it was an email. When an organization is that slow at simply sending out post-interview informative letters, it speaks volumes to their level of competency. Receiving the email made me realize just how close Jim could've been to getting that job (even if it wasn't totally up his alley); I mean, with time anyone can learn and accomplish anything, and clearly this little group seems to think that time is not a factor at all. Really, at that point it would have reflected much better on this group if they just didn't bother with sending out the notices at all. It should be noted that this was a position with one of the governing institutions here. WOW.

For right now, I don't plan on naming any organizations who have exhibited these extraordinary traits. But I would really like it (since I know this blog is read by lots of big employers) if the people doing the hiring and interviews could be a little more considerate to their prospective employees. Don't get our hopes up for nothing. Accept that we can accept you and your pay. Don't fret that we're going to take over the world (or your company or your job for that matter). And don't be rude. That's fair, right? If you can handle that, then you're hired!

Frightening Assumptions

Wheeewwww. . . Pheeewwwwww. . . Sigh. . Breathing again over here. I just had a very disturbing experience for which I'm now on the other side of and enjoying the relief of it all. Phew. Still glad to be breathing.

It all started when I dropped little Jimmy off at school this morning and headed off to the gym and to run some errands with Kyla. As I was coming home around 11:30, the thought actually crossed my mind that his school does not have either my husband's or my own new cell phone numbers. I thought of all the reasons both simple and complex for which they'd need to contact me during the day, and fully had in mind to promptly call the school just as soon as I got home. When I did arrive home I saw a message flashing on the machine. Checking it, I was utterly horrified to hear it was the Dean of Students at his school. "Calling to speak to the parents or guardian of James Britton. If you could please give me a call at your earliest convenience." Oh. my. gosh. I of course immediately called back and was forced to simply leave a message. . . Just let the gravity of that sink in for a moment. . . I was having visions of horror and shame and fear - nightmares really, and I was left to leave a message.

I put Kyla down for her nap, and I showered as quickly as is humanly possible (not wanting to miss the phone call). I checked my emails ever so briefly and thoughtlessly. And then I stewed. I checked the school schedule online to see when the kids would have their lunch so I could call again, and if I couldn't speak to the dean I could at least speak to his teacher to find out what had happened.

So while waiting, thoughts kept overtaking my mind - literally hijacking my brain. Bad thoughts. Sinister thoughts. I pictured little Jimmy having been sitting in the dean's office for the last four hours while the dean glared at him for his baffling behavior and wondering why in the heck James' parents were so inept at returning a simple phone call - surely this was the cause of James' behavior today. . .

I envisioned Jimmy shoving other innocent children. I pictured him sitting in his desk with his arms crossed obstinately refusing to do any work. I saw him telling off his teachers. I imagined him back-talking the dean. And then my thoughts took a turn. What if he had been the victim? What if some other kids had bullied him? What if he had been injured? What if he had been life-flighted to the nearest hospital? I googled his school to see if any breaking news clips showed up (fortunately there weren't any). And then just as quickly as it had come on, I snapped out that one. Obviously the dean wouldn't be calling me if that was the situation - probably I would have heard from his teacher, and the hospital, and the principal. . ya, there'd be more than one message on my machine if anything really terrible had happened.

So I returned to my stewing over Jimmy's behavior. I tried to think of good punishments for the sort of behavior that would elicit a call from the Dean of Students. He'd be cleaning the bathroom and sweeping the porch; he'd be doing dishes and fixing meals too for that matter. Still, I couldn't help but feel my attempts at more serious punishments would go unnoticed. I remembered back to the days of my own elementary school. There were children who were notoriously naughty (at least for that time) - kids who knew the principal a little too well or who had even been sent home on occasion. I tried to think of what these mothers did to encourage their children to behave, and alas, I could think of nothing truly special or notable. Ya, the mom's of the *naughty* kids from elementary school had finally earned my sympathy.

Finally it was lunch time at Jimmy's school (emm. . . yes, this was actually only ten minutes later), so I called back. Much to my relief and dismay, the dean picked up. "Oh, ya. Hang on just a minute." She seemed so casual as she placed me on hold - like he was just one of a list of offenders for the day, and she needed to pull his file to remember exactly what he had done to earn himself a trip to the office. "Yes, we're showing five excused absences and five unexcused absences for James for the month of October." Silence. My heart began beating again much the way most other living beings does, and I simultaneously realized how completely and utterly wrong I had been in all my assumptions. I casually explained how he had missed five days for the flu, and five days for our single family vacation planned for the last year, and how I had worked it out with his teacher and all his work had been completed. And that was it. "OK. Thank you. I completely understand." And that was it. . .

Yes, I know that mother's tend to worry, and I know that I in particular have an extraordinarily overactive imagination; but the bottom line is this: you know what they say about people who assume. . .

Organically Grown Locally

There is absolutely nothing quite like really fresh, locally grown produce. And when I say fresh, I mean "I just pulled this out of the earth" fresh. My favorite farmer is just a scant drive away from our home, and I take great delight in purchasing organic fruits and veggies from his stand. Not only do they taste amazing, but they also cost next to nothing. For absolutely NO effort on my part of trying to grow a garden in my back yard, I have all the advantages of just that.

Fernando is an amazing farmer; previously employed in the construction industry, he found himself out of work when everything came to a grinding halt a couple years ago. That's when he decided to begin growing his own food and open a little fruit and veggie stand. He's grown to love his work and says even if the construction industry ever comes back, he still plans to stay put at his little farm growing fresh produce for himself and all the locals here who love him for it.

I appreciated the reporting by Tom Brokaw on NBC on the importance of buying locally and from farmers who carefully consider their work; a beautiful piece of reporting describing how we, the consumer, can actually fix the food system by simply choosing carefully where and what we buy. . Choosing small local farms that don't use chemical pesticides or fertilizers means that we get a higher quality end product. We get a product which will serve the intended effect of nourishing our bodies - not harming them. I believe it's very important that we as the consumer make our voice heard: our health counts, and that means the food we eat should be grown conscientiously. Just because we can buy scads of uber cheap produce from government subsidized farms thousands of miles from our homes, does NOT mean that is the way we will be spending our money. I say the health of our nation's citizens is more valuable than saving some lose change to get a cheaper product. And while some local, organic produce may cost more, in many cases it doesn't. Fernando's Produce prices are very competitive, and frequently cheaper than buying elsewhere. Not only that, but he gives me any veggies that are on their way out free of charge to feed to my chickens; talk about smart recycling!

To Fernando of Fernando's Produce in Summerfield, thanks for making this possible in our area. We truly appreciate your efforts in supplying our community with thoughtfully grown organic produce.

The Best Barbershop in Belleview

Big Al's Barbershop really is the best. Their shop is always full, but the service is always quick. Yet just because they're quick doesn't mean they don't give the hair cut you request. No, in fact, for nearly no wait and a scant $6, you can actually get your hair cut the way you request it! Imagine that! I find this very novel because so many times I have taken Jimmy to get his hair cut, and he walks out looking like he's ready to enlist (obviously this was not the style his mother requested). Other times, I'm rather horrified to see just how many crooked or jagged lines are created - and for a cut that ended up costing three to four times as much as Big Al's! Now I know little Jimmy is by no means an easy customer, but the fact that Big Al's could give him the haircut I requested AND make it look nice with no real wait for SIX DOLLARS. . . well they're definitely on my good list.

Fall has Fallen!

We wait all summer (OK, half the year) in Florida for days like these last few - days where you can go outside for periods of time exceeding 30 seconds and not break into a full on sweat. It was wonderful to enjoy the cooler air yesterday, and even more wonderful to wake up this morning to sweater weather. It has been gorgeous outside to say the least! Though we are relishing these pleasant days of real fall weather now, we can't help but marvel at our own strength and fortitude in surviving the Long Summer (very similar to the Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder, but the opposite season of the year).

Here are some pictures of Jimmy and Kyla enjoying the non-sweat and possible snow (per Jimmy's beliefs) weather.

Little Jimmy opting to climb over the front of his vehicle to pick a dandelion.

Pretty baby.

You can only imagine the fart jokes being told to elicit this sort of laughter.

The Flu Week Thus Far

So, I'm sitting here feeling the effects of the flu attacking my body, knowing that sometime tonight probably my immune system is likely to succumb to the barrage of germs swarming my being. I feel like I've gone to great lengths to keep this thing away from me for the last week or so, but dang-it, sometimes it's OK to call it a good game and admit defeat.

This whole flu, SWINE FLU, thing has been circulating in the media for quite a while, and we could all see it coming. We heard about schools closing - WHOLE schools! And we heard about classes without teachers or students - just empty classrooms. And then my son woke up on Saturday with a sore throat. We'll just say there was at least one eyebrow raised in his general direction when he first admitted to having a sore throat. I was suspicious, but I tried to ignore it because, hey, it's just a sore throat, right? That's definitely not the flu or anything crazy. . . Right?

Sunday morning he woke up complaining of a sore throat and headache. A headache. It's hard for me to even put into words how odd it is to hear my son complain of a headache; it just doesn't happen. Ever. Obviously I couldn't pretend the words he said were just a fluke or some little verbal mishap, but I didn't. We checked his temperature, and sure enough he registered at 101. Well poo. So this is where I undertook my super-human ability to ward off illness. I cooked up a big batch of fresh soup, and pulled out the humidifier. I found the vix vapor rub and an extra pillow to prop him up in his sleep.

Unfortunately, despite all my preparation, there was to be no sleeping that night. The fever got a little too high for comfort or sleep. It was around 104 coming down only to 102 at best about an hour or so after giving him the fever reducers. I was alternating Tylenol and Motrin every three hours, which I now realize I had wrong (you're actually supposed to rotate them every four hours, but I was doing it every three hours - so should my child have liver and/or kidney problems as an adult, we'll all know just when the organ damage started). Anyway, suffice it to say there wasn't much sleep for any of us. Jim headed to Wal-Mart at 1:00 AM (yes, you read the right) to get some medical supplies (think Tylenol Cold, Kleenex and Gatorade).

The next day I endeavored to keep Jimmy from spreading his germs around to everyone else. There was lots of hand washing, vacuuming (not that that would get rid of germs or anything - it was just mentally soothing) and scrubbing. That afternoon with Jimmy's temperatures still not dropping below 102, I decided to call his doctor who recommended he come in the next day just to make sure all was well. She also informed me that had I come in earlier, if he did in fact have the flu they could have given him Tamiflu; but as it stood, if I wanted to get the drug within the first 48 hours of his fever, I'd have to find a walk-in clinic or something that night. Feeling far more confident than I should have, I decided to forgo a walk-in clinic and just schedule to see the doctor in the morning simply to make sure there was no infection or anything. Just FYI, this next sentence is where my optimistic, I-can-conquer-the-swine-flu attitude kind of took a nose dive. Being unemployed, we had just been confirmed for medicaid. . and my doctor doesn't take medicaid. . so I'd have to go somewhere else.

Again, there is really no way to express in writing the horror of this statement. You see, I'm picky about pediatricians. Really picky. I've developed a rather judgemental attitude towards pediatricians, largely because I've seen that there are some that are just REALLY good at what they do, and then there are lots that are just REALLY bad at what they do. There's not a whole lot of middle ground or gray areas as far as pediatricians go.I don't like my pediatrician; I LOVE my pediatrician. I don't think I could count on more than one hand the number of times there has been a single. Other. Patient. In the waiting room. They don't overbook themselves - and for this, I am a devoted follower. The doctors are kind and understanding, and they don't overbook themselves. They actually hear what I say as a mom and they VALUE it, and they don't overbook themselves. They're sweet and affectionate and empathetic and engage my children, and they don't overbook themselves. I have been to some practices where the minimal wait time in the packed waiting room (picture kids and snot mingled together in a room that is vaguely reminiscent of a cattle car) is at least an hour every time; of course this is not something that's advertised, but it's a quick and nightmarish realization when it is discovered. So suffice it to say when I find a pediatrician that I like, I stick with them forever til death do us part (or we move away).

I asked the nurse on the other end of the line if she knew of any doctors in the area that did accept medicaid. She rattled off a few names, and when pressed, even mentioned one that she thought was "OK." I called that one and was quickly reminded of other disappointing pediatricians I'd seen previously. "Hellopleasehold" a woman answered without waiting for a response. When she returned to the line, she was unapologetically blunt and brief. Ya, that place just was not going to be happening anytime in my near future if at all possible; we'd just rough it and go without seeing a doctor.

Over the course of the day, I had compiled a list of a few more cold/flu items that I needed, and headed to the store in the evening to get them. Halfway home from my excursion, Jim called to inform me that we needed Feverall. . . 'Nough said. . . Jim didn't realize with his one comment he had fully wiped out any remaining bit of strength and hope I had of surviving the flu with my sanity intact. Feverall. It's a low point for any parent when their kid needs it. As they advertise blatantly, it's the 'only brand of acetaminophen in suppository form.' In other words, my kid couldn't keep down the Tylenol we were giving him to keep his crazy fever down, so we needed medicine we could stick up his rear to keep the fever down. I returned to the pharmacy I had just left in search of Feverall, and they were out. .

So I hit another store just up the road to see if they had Feverall. I looked around, and not seeing it on the aisle, approached the pharmacy counter - loudly coughing and jingling my keys to get the pharmacists' attention (you know how they all always do that. . that thing where they pretend like your not there and there's just no possible way for them to even glance over and say, 'I'll be over in second'). Fortunately, one of the women was pretty quick to respond. I told her what I needed, and she cheerily turned to the shelf behind her commenting "Yes, we do. . . . . . . Umm. . Where's the Feverall?" she called to another woman shaking up some medicine. "Oh, we must've sold it all. We had some earlier." Another uber low moment. There's a pandemic, and all the Feverall in the area has been sold; the gravity of the situation was surreal. At the same time, I saw some Motrin Cold on the pharmacists' little shelf of hidden goodies. I didn't mince any words in questioning why the Motrin Cold was hidden back in the pharmacy when I had been looking for it for the last two days, and "No one told me people were hiding it in the pharmacies these days! " The woman responded that it was a drug which had to be signed off on to be sold. "Oh, that's great! So I've got a sick child at home, and I can't find the drugs I need to help him because there's a bunch of drug addicted crazies out there!!!". I was fully and unabashedly venting at the pharmacy ladies because I was frustrated with everything in my life. And you know what they did? They did the best thing in the world at the moment. They empathized. "That's exactly right! YOU are the one whose punished because there are crazy people in the world. It's not right! It shouldn't be that way. What does your child have, may I ask?". Well, now that we had reached this level of flagrant emotional honesty, and she actually asked the question, I didn't hold anything back again when I sob-sassed my cynical run-on response back to her "He has the swine flu. And my husband's out of work, and we don't have insurance, and the stupid medicaid isn't working, and it's not set up, and I don't know what to do!!!!". And again, I love that they leveled with me on this and empathized with me as a human being - not just another customer. "Well. . you could always go to the health department; they'll probably at least put you in a room if they know that's what you're there for. . . Or you could go to the ER. Heck, that's covered by medicaid! Ya, they'll figure out something to do with you there too!". All of their responses were offered with a tone disgust which matched my own for a broken system that's too complex and frustrating to be useful (think of submitting papers requesting medicaid for your children on the basis of NO INCOME and then having that request kicked back THREE separate times for varying, time-wasting, useless reasons). So I'd like to say to these wonderful ladies at the pharmacy 'thank you.' Thank you for really getting my outrage and fear, and thank you for offering your wonderful solutions that sounded more like solutions my girlfriends would suggest to me. Thanks for not making me a number, but for actually acknowledging my humanness.

Fortunately, we didn't end up needing the Feverall. Jimmy was able to keep down his fever reducers after that one incident. So I resumed the sick protocol in our house: writing down the times and name of each medication administered along with temperatures (we don't always remember what was given or when it was given as you may recall from previous blogs), sanitizing everything all the time, pushing liquids, and quarantining ourselves in the house. A few days later Jimmy seemed to be feeling a bit better though with a very runny and raw nose, still hanging onto a low grade fever, and coughing pretty much nonstop. It was today as we sat next to one another and he coughed and something landed on his leg that I realized the utter lameness of my attempts at scouring this endless onslaught of germs and sickness away. A little later I observed Kyla, who now had a low grade fever too, sipping out of Jimmy's cup. And then a little later I observed Kyla, who now had a real fever, sitting on top of the bathroom counter brushing her teeth with her brother's toothbrush. Ya, the germs were obviously communal within our home at this point. No amount of cleaning or cautioning was going to overcome the impending illness.

It was noon today, and I had just put Kyla down for her nap when it dawned on me that she now officially had the flu given that she had a fever and I guess that's the official start of the flu - after which you have 48 hours to treat with Tamiflu or suffer through the whole nasty thing unaided. I thought of the next week, and I thought of the week I'd experienced up to this point. Ya, um, no. It's just not going to happen again. No way on earth am I going to just deal with the flu. I called up the pediatrician (ya, my pediatrician - the one I unabashedly love) and found out how much it would be to pay for a visit cash. For around $100, I could find out if Kyla had the flu and get a prescription written up for her if she did. I thought of saving the money and trying to get in to one of the medicaid doctors, and then I thought of my sanity hanging narrowly in the balance and decided to go ahead and take that single remaining available appointment for the day.

Sure enough, Kyla does have the flu. And the doctor even volunteered to look at Jimmy too to check for signs of infection (which he doesn't have). And the doctor offered to to right a note for Jimmy's school to excuse him. And the doctor called in the prescription for Tamiflu. And the doctor gave both of my kids stickers and a squirt of hand sanitizer. Once again and this time to the kids' doctor, THANK YOU for your humanity. Thank you for offering your help. Thank you for your generosity. Thank you for actually caring about what you do. Thank you for being more concerned about kids than about lawsuits.

I left with my sanity intact and my faith in humanity renewed, and picked up the prescription which medicaid did pay for (Thank you too, medicaid. You do serve a purpose, thought it's not without a lot of jumping through flaming hoops and pleading and a complete loss of dignity). Yes, so here I am now - feeling like next week will be a better one. I may be sick, but at least my kids will be feeling better, and that will make it all much more bearable.


***Update: I've just discovered that for liability and legal reasons non-medicaid participating doctors can NOT see persons who carry medicaid. I guess I was just lucky to get in to our doctor by some error. I have a feeling our next visit to a pediatrician will be a very different kind of one.