Sunday, April 20, 2008
Me: No one raindrop feels responsible for the flood.
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Tomorrow is the first anniversary of our first unchaperoned date, the day we met at Grand Central Station, walked all over central Manhattan and Central Park, had dinner at a revolving restaurant over Times Square, and wandered around the city in a tiny sporty convertible as the theaters were letting out, searching for the route north, with the player blasting BNL, him singing along, and me flirting with taxi drivers trapped beside us. We were together about 14 hours that day, talking steadily, and by the end of the evening and the first kiss in the Poughkeepsie train station parking lot, where I had left my car that morning, and where he drove the two hours to take me back rather than put me on a late train, I was already falling hard. I found him fascinating then, and still do. His mind is unbelievably fast, his heart is soft, and his old-fashioned chivalry is sweet.
Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.
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Local newspaper. Article today about the village volunteer fire department.
Back when I was on the rescue squad (EMS), five or six years ago, there were somewhere between 75 and 85 active members (could have been a lot more - for some reason 90 sticks in my head), all volunteers. Most were firefighters, perhaps 18 were EMS. This is a relatively sparsely populated rural area, and when I joined I was expecting that the ambulance would be called out perhaps a maximum of three times a week.
I was shocked that we, the EMTs, were called out an average of three times a DAY! The firemen took out the heavy rescue vehicle to automobile accidents once or twice a week. The full firefighting apparatus was called out perhaps once a month, if that.
It was a little annoying that the firefighters got all the glory, and the EMTs seemed to provide most of the service.
Anyway, the newspaper article was about the loss of volunteers. The local fire company is down to 30. Quite a drop. They're desperate for volunteers. I don't know what the ratio of EMTs is, but the company handled 1100 callouts last year, and EMS had to be the majority. These people mostly have full time jobs. There are usually a minimum of three people riding the ambulance on a call. They have the radio with them at all times, and when it burps, whoever's on call punches out at the job, or tumbles out of bed, or puts the baby down, or changes direction on the highway, and heads for the fire station. With so few EMTs to handle so many calls, it's got to be pretty disruptive to their lives.
"They" said that the problem seems to be that with the economy down, people can't take off work for the training and the callouts, not to mention that many are now working two jobs. The town is afraid they're going to have to hire professionals. That's going to affect taxes, which will make it even worse for those folks already working two jobs.
In a brief moment of sheer madness, I considered volunteering again.
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Showing posts with label volunteer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label volunteer. Show all posts
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
1741 Dilatory Day
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
I visited the optometrist today. My eyes were dilated at 3:30 pm, and it's now 11 pm, and my pupils are still wide open. I had to wait four hours before I could leave the mall, and then it was only because I had some good sunglasses, and was driving east. I'm still having some difficulty focusing.
My prescription hasn't changed much. I'm a little less nearsighted than last year. I went ahead and got new lenses for my old everyday frames (I like the frames, and they still look good), but didn't get the sunglasses or the backup glasses changed. I don't know why my lenses are so expensive - $225, extra lightweight, scratch resistant, bifocal, no other coatings.
If you're nearsighted, that's one big benefit of aging - your eyes get better.
I had the full exam, and the only place I'm less than "just fine" is depth perception. I got only one out of four on that, but it's because I read so much, and I'm a left-brain reader, which means that my right eye does all the work and the left eye just goes along for the ride. That screws up depth perception. If I read more fiction, my eyes might share the load more, I guess.
I'm rather pleased because both my grandmother and mother were starting cataracts by my age. I'm clear.
--------------------------
The volunteer folks called while I was out, left a message and followed up with an email. The county office for aging wants someone to come in every other Monday all summer to handle scheduling, appointments, and fliers for the mobile medical exam van.
I can't seem to convince these people that I want no assignments that require an ongoing commitment, I don't want to commit too far out, and I want to keep weekends free from Friday 5 pm until Monday noon. I want just SWAT-team type stuff, like manning an desk at a clinic, or swinging a hammer some afternoon. I can commit to weekend days no more than two or three weeks ahead. I don't want ANY responsibilities that extend beyond one stint.
Their problem is that they do have a lot of volunteers who do want something to do, something regular to make them feel useful, who want responsibility, but most of them are verging on senility, and they really can't handle the jobs they're assigned. They get confused easily, and don't know that the problem is with them...they think the problem is the materials.
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The temperature today was in the mid-60s. Snow is predicted for Friday. Sigh.
.
I visited the optometrist today. My eyes were dilated at 3:30 pm, and it's now 11 pm, and my pupils are still wide open. I had to wait four hours before I could leave the mall, and then it was only because I had some good sunglasses, and was driving east. I'm still having some difficulty focusing.
My prescription hasn't changed much. I'm a little less nearsighted than last year. I went ahead and got new lenses for my old everyday frames (I like the frames, and they still look good), but didn't get the sunglasses or the backup glasses changed. I don't know why my lenses are so expensive - $225, extra lightweight, scratch resistant, bifocal, no other coatings.
If you're nearsighted, that's one big benefit of aging - your eyes get better.
I had the full exam, and the only place I'm less than "just fine" is depth perception. I got only one out of four on that, but it's because I read so much, and I'm a left-brain reader, which means that my right eye does all the work and the left eye just goes along for the ride. That screws up depth perception. If I read more fiction, my eyes might share the load more, I guess.
I'm rather pleased because both my grandmother and mother were starting cataracts by my age. I'm clear.
--------------------------
The volunteer folks called while I was out, left a message and followed up with an email. The county office for aging wants someone to come in every other Monday all summer to handle scheduling, appointments, and fliers for the mobile medical exam van.
I can't seem to convince these people that I want no assignments that require an ongoing commitment, I don't want to commit too far out, and I want to keep weekends free from Friday 5 pm until Monday noon. I want just SWAT-team type stuff, like manning an desk at a clinic, or swinging a hammer some afternoon. I can commit to weekend days no more than two or three weeks ahead. I don't want ANY responsibilities that extend beyond one stint.
Their problem is that they do have a lot of volunteers who do want something to do, something regular to make them feel useful, who want responsibility, but most of them are verging on senility, and they really can't handle the jobs they're assigned. They get confused easily, and don't know that the problem is with them...they think the problem is the materials.
------------------------
The temperature today was in the mid-60s. Snow is predicted for Friday. Sigh.
.
Friday, March 14, 2008
1727 I don't know if I can volunteer again.
Friday, March 14, 2008
I volunteered again today at a tax clinic. This one was for seniors who don't usually make enough to file taxes, but have to this year in order to get the $600/$1200 rebate.
This was run by the same bunch that didn't show up last month, and didn't notify us volunteers that it was cancelled.
They did show up today, but I wish they hadn't. Everything was so screwed up. I spent a lot of time being frustrated.
From here on, I'm blowing off steam. Feel free to hit "Back" on your browser.
They told me to report to the RSVP (Retired and Seniors Volunteer Program) office, address 409 Commercial Park. I Googled the address, so I knew generally where I was going. However, it was still difficult to find.
Commercial Park used to be a mall, consisting of three large connected buildings. It used to be a grocery store, a department store, and a bunch of smaller stores, but the county bought it, revamped it, and it's now Social Services offices in the center building, county college classrooms in one end building along with some other offices, and Family services and some kind of business incubator in the other end. As you are driving down the street, there isn't a single sign anywhere saying "Commercial Park"! If you don't already know that's Commercial Park, you'd never find it.
So, I parked. The only sign identifying what's in any building is the Social Services sign over the central building. No numbers. No office listings.
I went into the central building, and asked the security officers where #409 was. They told me the left end building. I walked over there. Again, no office listings, no directory.
I asked the security officers in that building where #409 was. They gave me directions down some twisting hallways. The office numbers went up, but stopped at around 403. I kept walking, and found an open door with no sign, and no number, and asked where RSVP was. That was it. Gee, thanks. Are you hiding?
I asked where I was supposed to go for the tax clinic. The secretary didn't know. Said I should ask the security guards. Back to lobby. They didn't know either, but guessed it was probably a classroom, "try down that hall". I found a room with people in it, and asked. Yup, that's it.
I went back and told the security officers where it was.
It got worse. I at least knew to go to Commercial Park, and had figured out where that was.
Whoever had advertised it to the seniors wasn't very clear about where folks should go (we were in classrooms in the county college branch), and a lot of the seniors who came in (with canes, walkers, friends or relatives who had taken off work to drive them) were very angry because apparently the flyers said that it was sponsored by a state representative's office, so they went to that office in uptown first. The secretary there had no idea where the tax clinic was, so she sent them to the County Office for Aging (which at least was in Commercial Park). The Office for Aging had no idea where it was, but suspected that RSVP had something to do with it, so they sent them to that office, which at least was in the same office park, but they had to go through the same runaround I had endured. A woman somehow managed to find us, and when she told me RSVP still didn't know where we were, I called RSVP and the Office for Aging and told them.
That is totally ridiculous! I don't blame these people for being angry. I wonder how many elders needed our help, but never found us.
I did intake.
The flyer apparently did not tell them what paperwork they had to bring. I was told by the idiot woman in charge that the senior MUST have their actual social security card, and the letter they get from SS detailing the amount they got in 2007. My instructions were to verify that they had both items, and if they didn't, I was to send them home to get them. Then I'd give them a form to fill out, and the two other volunteers would help them with the forms. When the forms were completed, the clients were to wait on the other side of the room to be called to the tax prep room across the hall, where there were seven accountants with laptops. I was to put a sequence number on the form so I could send them over in sequence.
I asked how I would know when the next should be sent, since I couldn't see the tax room. That caused much consternation. The woman in charge told me that each client would take about 10 minutes, so I should GET UP AND WALK ACROSS THE HALL EVERY 10 MINUTES to see if there were any free preparers. The expression on my face said "Bullshit!" That's stupid! If a client takes 11 minutes, that ... well, figure it out you idiot.
I suggested that when an accountant finishes a client, he or she should cross the hall and give me a high sign, and I'd sent the next. She said no, we don't want to inconvenience the preparers. So I suggested that the preparers tell the client when they are finished to, on their way out, stick their head in the door and let me know they're done. She didn't like that, either. In the end, she took one of the two volunteers who were supposed to help with the forms, and stationed her at the doorway of the tax room, and when a client left, she'd come in and call the next sequential number.
My God! Extremely inefficient use of resources.
So, pissed off clients who had wandered all over the city started arriving. They got more pissed off when 5 of the first 6 to arrive did not have their SS cards. SS had advised them not to carry them, to keep them in a safe place. They all did, however, have their Medicare cards, which are provided by SS, and have their SS numbers on them.
I crossed the hall and explained the problem, and asked if the Medicare card would do. The idiot woman who had given me the instructions said no, it MUST be the actual SS card, that it was an IRS requirement. So I had to send those pissed off people home.
More arrived, same problem. I went to one of the accountants to argue their case, and the accountant said the Medicare card would be fine, that it was needed simply to establish identity, since anyone could have intercepted the amount letter. But since the Medicare card had the SS# on it, and it would match the letter, that would establish identity.
Then a guy showed up with neither SS card nor Medicare card. He couldn't understand why his driver's licence wouldn't establish id. Yeah, it doesn't have SS#, but it does have a photo and his name, and the name matches the letter.
I personally agreed, in fact I thought it was a better proof of id, so I crossed the hall and asked the idiot woman in charge. She said absolutely not. Send him home. I sent three people home, then asked an accountant. The accountant said sure, driver's licence would be fine.
The idiot woman in charge must have been arbitrarily making up her own rules.
I felt bad for all the people who, after getting the runaround on location, were sent home because that idiot woman was making up her own rules without consulting the preparers, and seemed to enjoy playing "Gotcha! with the clients.
So, we finally got in the groove, and people were getting in and getting processed, when one of the volunteers announces, at 11:40, that she is hypoglycemic and must eat at noon. There's a diner right across the parking lot, so she's going to go get takeout and will be right back. There was a lull, so the other volunteer, who was helping people fill out forms, decided to go with her. Get takeout. Be right back. A few minutes.
They returned at 1:20. Without takeout. They had eaten in the diner. Leaving me alone to do intake, help with forms, and keep an eye on openings in the tax room for an hour and a half. Alone. At the busiest time, since the easiest time for the seniors to get a ride was lunchtime.
I was incredibly pissed.
When they returned and asked if more people had been in, I said yes, and told them how many. I didn't say anything else. I doubt they noticed that more people had been in while they were missing than during the time they had been there.
The flyer had said the hours were 9 to 3. I was told to turn away anyone who arrived after 2. They didn't want to start anyone new after 2, even though the average process time, from getting the intake form to finished e-filing, was 15 minutes. In my opinion, the flyers should have SAID that the last clients would be accepted at 2. Who's the flyer addressed to? Shouldn't it give information important to the intended audience?
That about blew the top of my head off. At 2 pm I stacked everything, cleared the desk, and got the hell out of there. I did NOT want to be there when someone came at 2:05 and I had to tell them they were too late. Uh uh. No way. Especially after having sent folks home for SS cards they didn't really need. I'm outta here.
I hate career bureaucrats! Thinking is foreign to them. But then, that IS the definition of bureaucrat.
-----------------------------
The only amusing part of the day - the woman who said she had to file for her husband because he has "aged hymers, whatever they are...". (Actually, the implications of what she said are sad. Somebody has not filled her in on what that is, and what it means.)
.
I volunteered again today at a tax clinic. This one was for seniors who don't usually make enough to file taxes, but have to this year in order to get the $600/$1200 rebate.
This was run by the same bunch that didn't show up last month, and didn't notify us volunteers that it was cancelled.
They did show up today, but I wish they hadn't. Everything was so screwed up. I spent a lot of time being frustrated.
From here on, I'm blowing off steam. Feel free to hit "Back" on your browser.
They told me to report to the RSVP (Retired and Seniors Volunteer Program) office, address 409 Commercial Park. I Googled the address, so I knew generally where I was going. However, it was still difficult to find.
Commercial Park used to be a mall, consisting of three large connected buildings. It used to be a grocery store, a department store, and a bunch of smaller stores, but the county bought it, revamped it, and it's now Social Services offices in the center building, county college classrooms in one end building along with some other offices, and Family services and some kind of business incubator in the other end. As you are driving down the street, there isn't a single sign anywhere saying "Commercial Park"! If you don't already know that's Commercial Park, you'd never find it.
So, I parked. The only sign identifying what's in any building is the Social Services sign over the central building. No numbers. No office listings.
I went into the central building, and asked the security officers where #409 was. They told me the left end building. I walked over there. Again, no office listings, no directory.
I asked the security officers in that building where #409 was. They gave me directions down some twisting hallways. The office numbers went up, but stopped at around 403. I kept walking, and found an open door with no sign, and no number, and asked where RSVP was. That was it. Gee, thanks. Are you hiding?
I asked where I was supposed to go for the tax clinic. The secretary didn't know. Said I should ask the security guards. Back to lobby. They didn't know either, but guessed it was probably a classroom, "try down that hall". I found a room with people in it, and asked. Yup, that's it.
I went back and told the security officers where it was.
It got worse. I at least knew to go to Commercial Park, and had figured out where that was.
Whoever had advertised it to the seniors wasn't very clear about where folks should go (we were in classrooms in the county college branch), and a lot of the seniors who came in (with canes, walkers, friends or relatives who had taken off work to drive them) were very angry because apparently the flyers said that it was sponsored by a state representative's office, so they went to that office in uptown first. The secretary there had no idea where the tax clinic was, so she sent them to the County Office for Aging (which at least was in Commercial Park). The Office for Aging had no idea where it was, but suspected that RSVP had something to do with it, so they sent them to that office, which at least was in the same office park, but they had to go through the same runaround I had endured. A woman somehow managed to find us, and when she told me RSVP still didn't know where we were, I called RSVP and the Office for Aging and told them.
That is totally ridiculous! I don't blame these people for being angry. I wonder how many elders needed our help, but never found us.
I did intake.
The flyer apparently did not tell them what paperwork they had to bring. I was told by the idiot woman in charge that the senior MUST have their actual social security card, and the letter they get from SS detailing the amount they got in 2007. My instructions were to verify that they had both items, and if they didn't, I was to send them home to get them. Then I'd give them a form to fill out, and the two other volunteers would help them with the forms. When the forms were completed, the clients were to wait on the other side of the room to be called to the tax prep room across the hall, where there were seven accountants with laptops. I was to put a sequence number on the form so I could send them over in sequence.
I asked how I would know when the next should be sent, since I couldn't see the tax room. That caused much consternation. The woman in charge told me that each client would take about 10 minutes, so I should GET UP AND WALK ACROSS THE HALL EVERY 10 MINUTES to see if there were any free preparers. The expression on my face said "Bullshit!" That's stupid! If a client takes 11 minutes, that ... well, figure it out you idiot.
I suggested that when an accountant finishes a client, he or she should cross the hall and give me a high sign, and I'd sent the next. She said no, we don't want to inconvenience the preparers. So I suggested that the preparers tell the client when they are finished to, on their way out, stick their head in the door and let me know they're done. She didn't like that, either. In the end, she took one of the two volunteers who were supposed to help with the forms, and stationed her at the doorway of the tax room, and when a client left, she'd come in and call the next sequential number.
My God! Extremely inefficient use of resources.
So, pissed off clients who had wandered all over the city started arriving. They got more pissed off when 5 of the first 6 to arrive did not have their SS cards. SS had advised them not to carry them, to keep them in a safe place. They all did, however, have their Medicare cards, which are provided by SS, and have their SS numbers on them.
I crossed the hall and explained the problem, and asked if the Medicare card would do. The idiot woman who had given me the instructions said no, it MUST be the actual SS card, that it was an IRS requirement. So I had to send those pissed off people home.
More arrived, same problem. I went to one of the accountants to argue their case, and the accountant said the Medicare card would be fine, that it was needed simply to establish identity, since anyone could have intercepted the amount letter. But since the Medicare card had the SS# on it, and it would match the letter, that would establish identity.
Then a guy showed up with neither SS card nor Medicare card. He couldn't understand why his driver's licence wouldn't establish id. Yeah, it doesn't have SS#, but it does have a photo and his name, and the name matches the letter.
I personally agreed, in fact I thought it was a better proof of id, so I crossed the hall and asked the idiot woman in charge. She said absolutely not. Send him home. I sent three people home, then asked an accountant. The accountant said sure, driver's licence would be fine.
The idiot woman in charge must have been arbitrarily making up her own rules.
I felt bad for all the people who, after getting the runaround on location, were sent home because that idiot woman was making up her own rules without consulting the preparers, and seemed to enjoy playing "Gotcha! with the clients.
So, we finally got in the groove, and people were getting in and getting processed, when one of the volunteers announces, at 11:40, that she is hypoglycemic and must eat at noon. There's a diner right across the parking lot, so she's going to go get takeout and will be right back. There was a lull, so the other volunteer, who was helping people fill out forms, decided to go with her. Get takeout. Be right back. A few minutes.
They returned at 1:20. Without takeout. They had eaten in the diner. Leaving me alone to do intake, help with forms, and keep an eye on openings in the tax room for an hour and a half. Alone. At the busiest time, since the easiest time for the seniors to get a ride was lunchtime.
I was incredibly pissed.
When they returned and asked if more people had been in, I said yes, and told them how many. I didn't say anything else. I doubt they noticed that more people had been in while they were missing than during the time they had been there.
The flyer had said the hours were 9 to 3. I was told to turn away anyone who arrived after 2. They didn't want to start anyone new after 2, even though the average process time, from getting the intake form to finished e-filing, was 15 minutes. In my opinion, the flyers should have SAID that the last clients would be accepted at 2. Who's the flyer addressed to? Shouldn't it give information important to the intended audience?
That about blew the top of my head off. At 2 pm I stacked everything, cleared the desk, and got the hell out of there. I did NOT want to be there when someone came at 2:05 and I had to tell them they were too late. Uh uh. No way. Especially after having sent folks home for SS cards they didn't really need. I'm outta here.
I hate career bureaucrats! Thinking is foreign to them. But then, that IS the definition of bureaucrat.
-----------------------------
The only amusing part of the day - the woman who said she had to file for her husband because he has "aged hymers, whatever they are...". (Actually, the implications of what she said are sad. Somebody has not filled her in on what that is, and what it means.)
.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
1696 Wasted Morning
Saturday, February 16, 2008
I was supposed to volunteer at the free tax clinic again today. The notice said to be at the Saugerties High School at 10 am.
I remembered it wrong, and rushed to Saugerties (45 minutes away) to be there at nine. When I arrived and found no one there, I dug the notice out of my purse, found that I was an hour early, and drove around Saugerties a little to waste some time and look at houses. Got back to the school at 9:45, found the front doors still locked and no other cars in the lot, and so I waited. And waited. Luckily I had brought a book and had plenty of gas. By 10:20, the only other people to show up were the other two RSVP/SWAT volunteers.
We went around to the back of the building and found an open door. Hunted down a custodian. He knew nothing of any tax clinic.
I left. Went to the village diner and had French toast and tea, and headed home. I am thoroughly pissed. Either we were told the wrong address, or the wrong date, or the clinic was canceled and no one thought to tell us. The notice we got didn't have the name or phone number of the tax clinic contact, so we could not have checked for ourselves.
I'm supposed to do this again on March 1, and I'm tempted to cancel. That happens to be the 1-year anniversary of meeting my NJ friend. I've already alerted him I'm not available that Saturday, so he may have already made other plans, but if there's another no show with the tax people, I'd be spitting nails. I'd rather cancel out and take the chance of just sitting home. At least I wouldn't be angry AND sitting home.
---------------------------
On another front, I was curious about the C-string (back view here). I didn't see how they could possibly work. They supposedly are sweeping Europe, and are next to impossible to find in the US. So I shopped online to find the best deal, found a reasonable seller in Canada, and bought one. It arrived today.
It actually is very comfortable, barely there, and stays on while walking around the house, bending, sitting, and so on. I gave it the acid test of a belly dance shimmy - and it fell off. Oops. If I ever have the courage to actually wear it (doubtful), it will be with slacks or panty hose only. Something there to catch it if it attempts to escape.
I think it's going to be one of those gee-whiz things that everybody has to buy one, and then they will disappear - except for the "ahem"s who will insist they are proper bathing suit bottoms.
Actually, one may as well just go commando.
.
I was supposed to volunteer at the free tax clinic again today. The notice said to be at the Saugerties High School at 10 am.
I remembered it wrong, and rushed to Saugerties (45 minutes away) to be there at nine. When I arrived and found no one there, I dug the notice out of my purse, found that I was an hour early, and drove around Saugerties a little to waste some time and look at houses. Got back to the school at 9:45, found the front doors still locked and no other cars in the lot, and so I waited. And waited. Luckily I had brought a book and had plenty of gas. By 10:20, the only other people to show up were the other two RSVP/SWAT volunteers.
We went around to the back of the building and found an open door. Hunted down a custodian. He knew nothing of any tax clinic.
I left. Went to the village diner and had French toast and tea, and headed home. I am thoroughly pissed. Either we were told the wrong address, or the wrong date, or the clinic was canceled and no one thought to tell us. The notice we got didn't have the name or phone number of the tax clinic contact, so we could not have checked for ourselves.
I'm supposed to do this again on March 1, and I'm tempted to cancel. That happens to be the 1-year anniversary of meeting my NJ friend. I've already alerted him I'm not available that Saturday, so he may have already made other plans, but if there's another no show with the tax people, I'd be spitting nails. I'd rather cancel out and take the chance of just sitting home. At least I wouldn't be angry AND sitting home.
---------------------------
On another front, I was curious about the C-string (back view here). I didn't see how they could possibly work. They supposedly are sweeping Europe, and are next to impossible to find in the US. So I shopped online to find the best deal, found a reasonable seller in Canada, and bought one. It arrived today.
It actually is very comfortable, barely there, and stays on while walking around the house, bending, sitting, and so on. I gave it the acid test of a belly dance shimmy - and it fell off. Oops. If I ever have the courage to actually wear it (doubtful), it will be with slacks or panty hose only. Something there to catch it if it attempts to escape.
I think it's going to be one of those gee-whiz things that everybody has to buy one, and then they will disappear - except for the "ahem"s who will insist they are proper bathing suit bottoms.
Actually, one may as well just go commando.
.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
1666 Volunteer day
Saturday, February 2, 2008
I volunteered at a free tax clinic today. I was assigned to the intake desk, right inside the front doors of the votec school where the clinic was held. I took names & addresses, and handed out forms and materials. It would have been a pretty good assignment, except for a few problems.
There were two sets of double doors between me and the outside, but one of the inner doors wouldn't close when anyone opened it. And if someone pushed it partially closed, it crept wide open again. This meant if I didn't get up and close it everytime anyone went through the door, I was blasted by a constant cold draft. The door was about 15 feet from my desk.
I did manage to get hold of a building custodian. I explained the problem. She looked at the door hanging open, pulled it closed, and said "There, all fixed." I gave up. I considered blocking the door with a garbage can or something, so people would use the good door, but I was afraid I'd be breaking some fire regulation.
I noticed something really odd. The door with the attitude was on the right as you look at it from inside, on the left from outside. You'd push it to exit and pull it to enter. Everyone who exited pushed that door open. Ok, that makes sense. We automatically keep to the right in the US. However, about nine of ten people who entered, pulled on that door! They all reached out with their left hand to open the door, and pulled the door on their left open! They did not reach with their right hand to pull the door on their right open. About the only time anyone entered through the "good" door was when someone else was on their way out the "bad" door. How odd is this?
There were adult classes going on in the building, so there were literally hundreds of people going in and out.
The actual tax assistance was going on in a large room elsewhere. I think they forgot me. I was there for almost six hours, and nobody came to see if I needed a potty break, or a drink of water, or lunch. I couldn't leave the post because of the papers there, and because we couldn't have un-checked-in people wandering around the building looking for the tax room.
Luckily, I didn't need a potty break because I was so thirsty.
I'll be doing this again in two weeks at a different location, and I'll make sure I don't have the same problem. I'll make sure someone is assigned to relieve me occasionally.
I was surprised at the number of people who came in for tax help with all the kids in tow, mostly one-a-year ages. Like, three toddlers, or five preschoolers. I can't imagine what it was like in the tax room.
Most people left happy, and smiled and waved at me on their way out. That was nice. There were only three people who left in a huff - two because there weren't enough Spanish speakers to help them and they'd have had to wait, and one woman because "They're too impersonal in there!" Whatever that meant.
.
I volunteered at a free tax clinic today. I was assigned to the intake desk, right inside the front doors of the votec school where the clinic was held. I took names & addresses, and handed out forms and materials. It would have been a pretty good assignment, except for a few problems.
There were two sets of double doors between me and the outside, but one of the inner doors wouldn't close when anyone opened it. And if someone pushed it partially closed, it crept wide open again. This meant if I didn't get up and close it everytime anyone went through the door, I was blasted by a constant cold draft. The door was about 15 feet from my desk.
I did manage to get hold of a building custodian. I explained the problem. She looked at the door hanging open, pulled it closed, and said "There, all fixed." I gave up. I considered blocking the door with a garbage can or something, so people would use the good door, but I was afraid I'd be breaking some fire regulation.
I noticed something really odd. The door with the attitude was on the right as you look at it from inside, on the left from outside. You'd push it to exit and pull it to enter. Everyone who exited pushed that door open. Ok, that makes sense. We automatically keep to the right in the US. However, about nine of ten people who entered, pulled on that door! They all reached out with their left hand to open the door, and pulled the door on their left open! They did not reach with their right hand to pull the door on their right open. About the only time anyone entered through the "good" door was when someone else was on their way out the "bad" door. How odd is this?
There were adult classes going on in the building, so there were literally hundreds of people going in and out.
The actual tax assistance was going on in a large room elsewhere. I think they forgot me. I was there for almost six hours, and nobody came to see if I needed a potty break, or a drink of water, or lunch. I couldn't leave the post because of the papers there, and because we couldn't have un-checked-in people wandering around the building looking for the tax room.
Luckily, I didn't need a potty break because I was so thirsty.
I'll be doing this again in two weeks at a different location, and I'll make sure I don't have the same problem. I'll make sure someone is assigned to relieve me occasionally.
I was surprised at the number of people who came in for tax help with all the kids in tow, mostly one-a-year ages. Like, three toddlers, or five preschoolers. I can't imagine what it was like in the tax room.
Most people left happy, and smiled and waved at me on their way out. That was nice. There were only three people who left in a huff - two because there weren't enough Spanish speakers to help them and they'd have had to wait, and one woman because "They're too impersonal in there!" Whatever that meant.
.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
1348 Penmanship Shmenmanship, Who Cares?
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Rereading the previous post, I get a feeling of suppressed annoyance. It really has nothing to do with the credit card issue, because that has nothing to do with me.
It's penmanship.
And other idiocies.
Renewals aren't too bad - I stick a preprinted label on the form when I mail them out, so it's easy to figure out who sent it back with their check. Of course, there's always the three or four who don't return the form with their checks, or who for some unknown reason tear the top part, with the label, off. Duh? Why? There's always a few.
The real frustration comes from the new members. They fill out the form with their name, address, phone number, and email address.
Don't they realize that someone has to READ that thing? Is this a "1", or a "7", or a "9"? Is that an "o", or a "u", or an "a" ? And then there are the ones whose name is just a scrawl - I can't even tell how many letters there are, let alone what individual letters are. Of the 18 new members in this batch today, I had difficulty reading 12 of them. I could take the information off the checks for a few, or a preprinted return label on the envelope, but the rest I had to guess.
That really really bugs me.
Then there's the folks who put their full name and address on the form - and leave off the zip code. They don't know their zip code? They don't write or dictate their address very often?
I don't understand.
When I worked for The Company I often ran meetings where attendance was mandatory. I passed around an attendance form, and each and every time, I warned people that if I couldn't read their names, they would NOT be credited with attendance, and they'd have to go through it again. And yet, after every meeting, I couldn't figure out fully 20% of the names, even with the department lists in hand for comparison.
Idiots.
Yeah. I'm frustrated.
.
Rereading the previous post, I get a feeling of suppressed annoyance. It really has nothing to do with the credit card issue, because that has nothing to do with me.
It's penmanship.
And other idiocies.
Renewals aren't too bad - I stick a preprinted label on the form when I mail them out, so it's easy to figure out who sent it back with their check. Of course, there's always the three or four who don't return the form with their checks, or who for some unknown reason tear the top part, with the label, off. Duh? Why? There's always a few.
The real frustration comes from the new members. They fill out the form with their name, address, phone number, and email address.
Don't they realize that someone has to READ that thing? Is this a "1", or a "7", or a "9"? Is that an "o", or a "u", or an "a" ? And then there are the ones whose name is just a scrawl - I can't even tell how many letters there are, let alone what individual letters are. Of the 18 new members in this batch today, I had difficulty reading 12 of them. I could take the information off the checks for a few, or a preprinted return label on the envelope, but the rest I had to guess.
That really really bugs me.
Then there's the folks who put their full name and address on the form - and leave off the zip code. They don't know their zip code? They don't write or dictate their address very often?
I don't understand.
When I worked for The Company I often ran meetings where attendance was mandatory. I passed around an attendance form, and each and every time, I warned people that if I couldn't read their names, they would NOT be credited with attendance, and they'd have to go through it again. And yet, after every meeting, I couldn't figure out fully 20% of the names, even with the department lists in hand for comparison.
Idiots.
Yeah. I'm frustrated.
.
1347 To the Museum
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
To the Maritime Museum volunteer gig this afternoon. I processed new member and renewal checks. The first half-hour was opening envelopes. The second half-hour was making copies of the forms and checks to leave on the accountant's desk. The last two hours was updating the membership info in the database.
I hate Lotus.
We found an "uh-oh" with the new dues payment forms. The museum wants to start accepting credit cards, so there's a space on the form for the type of card, the number, and a signature. No space for the expiration date. Cute. That's the letters I sent out last week, so this month we'll start getting payments we can't process. Real cute.
Well, that's the coordinator's problem, not mine. I refused to have anything to do with credit cards the first time it was proposed.
"We're going to start accepting credit cards for the dues, so you'll have to process them in the gift shop."
"No."
"Huh?"
"No. I won't do credit cards."
"Huh?"
"I don't want to do credit cards. If you want credit cards done, someone else'll have to do them. I've got more than enough to do now. I won't take on more."
"Oh."
Man, as a volunteer, you can pretty much dictate your terms. Lots better than being an employee!
The credit card machine is downstairs in the gift shop, and it's temperamental. Last week some woman bought like $45 worth of stuff in the shop, and the machine overcharged her card by fifty-some dollars. The volunteer on the register followed the printed instructions to cancel the transaction, then tried to refund the card, and nothing worked. She offered the woman a cash refund from the register, and the woman, tapping her foot impatiently, refused it. Small panic, phone calls made.
Hain't no way I'm touching that fool machine. Sounds like something a paid employee should do anyway.
No plans for tomorrow.
I guess I have to admit I did waste time yesterday. Absolutely no other person has been in this house in the past year. The place is a mess. When Roman picked me up to go Mass MOCA a few weeks ago, I was waiting outside for him. He asked if he could use my bathroom, and I said "No. We'll go to the diner." He was shocked, but nope, no one's seeing the inside of this house until I can clean up. I used to say it's cluttered, but at least it's clean clutter. Now the clutter is so bad, I can't clean.
Roman's house is a mess, too, stacks of paper on every surface and the floor, but that's different and ok. He lets me in his house (but nobody else, only me). He doesn't understand the difference. I said, "Well, when a man sees a woman's house all messy, he thinks, 'Yuck. She's a rotten housekeeper.' When a woman sees a man's house all messy, she thinks, 'Aw, so male. He needs a woman.' And that's a BIG difference."
So, tomorrow I move storage containers to the basement, and see if I can't get some order in one or two corners, at least.
.
To the Maritime Museum volunteer gig this afternoon. I processed new member and renewal checks. The first half-hour was opening envelopes. The second half-hour was making copies of the forms and checks to leave on the accountant's desk. The last two hours was updating the membership info in the database.
I hate Lotus.
We found an "uh-oh" with the new dues payment forms. The museum wants to start accepting credit cards, so there's a space on the form for the type of card, the number, and a signature. No space for the expiration date. Cute. That's the letters I sent out last week, so this month we'll start getting payments we can't process. Real cute.
Well, that's the coordinator's problem, not mine. I refused to have anything to do with credit cards the first time it was proposed.
"We're going to start accepting credit cards for the dues, so you'll have to process them in the gift shop."
"No."
"Huh?"
"No. I won't do credit cards."
"Huh?"
"I don't want to do credit cards. If you want credit cards done, someone else'll have to do them. I've got more than enough to do now. I won't take on more."
"Oh."
Man, as a volunteer, you can pretty much dictate your terms. Lots better than being an employee!
The credit card machine is downstairs in the gift shop, and it's temperamental. Last week some woman bought like $45 worth of stuff in the shop, and the machine overcharged her card by fifty-some dollars. The volunteer on the register followed the printed instructions to cancel the transaction, then tried to refund the card, and nothing worked. She offered the woman a cash refund from the register, and the woman, tapping her foot impatiently, refused it. Small panic, phone calls made.
Hain't no way I'm touching that fool machine. Sounds like something a paid employee should do anyway.
No plans for tomorrow.
I guess I have to admit I did waste time yesterday. Absolutely no other person has been in this house in the past year. The place is a mess. When Roman picked me up to go Mass MOCA a few weeks ago, I was waiting outside for him. He asked if he could use my bathroom, and I said "No. We'll go to the diner." He was shocked, but nope, no one's seeing the inside of this house until I can clean up. I used to say it's cluttered, but at least it's clean clutter. Now the clutter is so bad, I can't clean.
Roman's house is a mess, too, stacks of paper on every surface and the floor, but that's different and ok. He lets me in his house (but nobody else, only me). He doesn't understand the difference. I said, "Well, when a man sees a woman's house all messy, he thinks, 'Yuck. She's a rotten housekeeper.' When a woman sees a man's house all messy, she thinks, 'Aw, so male. He needs a woman.' And that's a BIG difference."
So, tomorrow I move storage containers to the basement, and see if I can't get some order in one or two corners, at least.
.
Friday, June 29, 2007
1337 Museum and Berries
Friday, June 29, 2007
Went to the Maritime Museum today to send out the July membership reminders, 44 of them. The Board has approved all our suggested changes, so today's letters didn't promise any gifts or premiums. Once I send out the June membership cards and premiums next week, it will get a lot easier. Every envelope will contain exactly the same thing, finally.
This weekend is the Jazz Festival on the Rondout, with fireworks off the bridge Sunday evening. There are several small and a few large yachts docked at the museum already. The city is running shuttles from the uptown malls again, so parking's not a problem, but combining the jazz with the fireworks means that Sunday evening, when I'd want to go, the place will be packed. I have to think about it.
My black mulberry tree is fruiting. Yummy. The berries are best right off the tree and into the mouth, and only in the morning. I've got another young groundhog this year climbing the tree after the berries. He goes up easily, but to get down he has to go way out to the end of a branch until it bends close to the ground, so he can drop off.
There's a wild black raspberry plant taking over the hosta bed along the front and side of the garage. Every year I risk "the death of a thousand cuts" to cut it back, and every year it returns. The berries are especially juicy this year, I eat a handful or two every time I go out to the car, and I'm thinking maybe the better plan would be to cut back the hostas and let the raspberries have that bed. The hostas bore me. Of the ten or more plants, only one is variegated, the rest are a plain flat green, and hostas have butt-ugly flowers.
I may be shooting myself in the foot. One unrestrained raspberry plant would happily take over my entire yard in three years. AND, raspberries attract bears.
Anybody know a way to corral raspberries short of surrounding them with a six-foot apron of concrete?
.
Went to the Maritime Museum today to send out the July membership reminders, 44 of them. The Board has approved all our suggested changes, so today's letters didn't promise any gifts or premiums. Once I send out the June membership cards and premiums next week, it will get a lot easier. Every envelope will contain exactly the same thing, finally.
This weekend is the Jazz Festival on the Rondout, with fireworks off the bridge Sunday evening. There are several small and a few large yachts docked at the museum already. The city is running shuttles from the uptown malls again, so parking's not a problem, but combining the jazz with the fireworks means that Sunday evening, when I'd want to go, the place will be packed. I have to think about it.
My black mulberry tree is fruiting. Yummy. The berries are best right off the tree and into the mouth, and only in the morning. I've got another young groundhog this year climbing the tree after the berries. He goes up easily, but to get down he has to go way out to the end of a branch until it bends close to the ground, so he can drop off.
There's a wild black raspberry plant taking over the hosta bed along the front and side of the garage. Every year I risk "the death of a thousand cuts" to cut it back, and every year it returns. The berries are especially juicy this year, I eat a handful or two every time I go out to the car, and I'm thinking maybe the better plan would be to cut back the hostas and let the raspberries have that bed. The hostas bore me. Of the ten or more plants, only one is variegated, the rest are a plain flat green, and hostas have butt-ugly flowers.
I may be shooting myself in the foot. One unrestrained raspberry plant would happily take over my entire yard in three years. AND, raspberries attract bears.
Anybody know a way to corral raspberries short of surrounding them with a six-foot apron of concrete?
.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
1324 Library, Scanner
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Yesterday I volunteered at the Kingston Library. They were starting up the summer reading program, with a story-telling magician, crafts, a speech by the mayor, and ice cream. Little kids. Looked like 9 or 10 and under, maybe. One of my adoptive pen-pal boys, from the picnic a few weeks ago, had brought his little sister, and I think he might have a crush on me. He and I did some intricate paper-folding.
I usually don't do too well in a room full of small children, too much random activity going on around me scatters my brain, but the pen-pal picnics and this program weren't too bad. They kept the kids organized and directed, so I was able to appreciate them.
I almost didn't find the library. I had the address, but as usual, few of the buildings on the street had visible numbers. It was a very residential street. I finally just parked well beyond the number I was looking for, and walked back up the street. Turns out it was a building I had rejected as obviously abandoned. It's a huge very old brick building, surrounded by blacktop and a high, badly rusted, bent and leaning chain link fence covered in weedy ivy. I believe it was once the Sojourner Truth School. Gates in the fence were all chained closed. Took me a while to find the one open gate, the one to the parking lot.
Inside the fence, the building is in good condition, and inside the building, it's nice. I'm glad. I hate to see old buildings torn down just because they're old. I do wish the city would do something about that fence, though. I guess they think they need it - I drove past the building today, and the gates to the parking lot were chained. High graffiti neighborhood, maybe?
-----------------------------------
I bought a new flatbed scanner today. The old one is about 15 years old, I swear, and takes forever to do even a B&W prescan. I used to go make a cup of tea when I was scanning something, and would actually go to the print shop in the village if I needed more than two pages copied. I was never unhappy with the quality, just the time. Also, Jay had a habit of discarding directions (probably the ONLY paper he ever threw out, I guess he considered it insulting), so I never knew what half the options meant, and was afraid to change any settings. This one is fast, and I HAVE THE BOOK!
I'm happy. Gonna scan in lots and lots of old photos.
.
Yesterday I volunteered at the Kingston Library. They were starting up the summer reading program, with a story-telling magician, crafts, a speech by the mayor, and ice cream. Little kids. Looked like 9 or 10 and under, maybe. One of my adoptive pen-pal boys, from the picnic a few weeks ago, had brought his little sister, and I think he might have a crush on me. He and I did some intricate paper-folding.
I usually don't do too well in a room full of small children, too much random activity going on around me scatters my brain, but the pen-pal picnics and this program weren't too bad. They kept the kids organized and directed, so I was able to appreciate them.
I almost didn't find the library. I had the address, but as usual, few of the buildings on the street had visible numbers. It was a very residential street. I finally just parked well beyond the number I was looking for, and walked back up the street. Turns out it was a building I had rejected as obviously abandoned. It's a huge very old brick building, surrounded by blacktop and a high, badly rusted, bent and leaning chain link fence covered in weedy ivy. I believe it was once the Sojourner Truth School. Gates in the fence were all chained closed. Took me a while to find the one open gate, the one to the parking lot.
Inside the fence, the building is in good condition, and inside the building, it's nice. I'm glad. I hate to see old buildings torn down just because they're old. I do wish the city would do something about that fence, though. I guess they think they need it - I drove past the building today, and the gates to the parking lot were chained. High graffiti neighborhood, maybe?
-----------------------------------
I bought a new flatbed scanner today. The old one is about 15 years old, I swear, and takes forever to do even a B&W prescan. I used to go make a cup of tea when I was scanning something, and would actually go to the print shop in the village if I needed more than two pages copied. I was never unhappy with the quality, just the time. Also, Jay had a habit of discarding directions (probably the ONLY paper he ever threw out, I guess he considered it insulting), so I never knew what half the options meant, and was afraid to change any settings. This one is fast, and I HAVE THE BOOK!
I'm happy. Gonna scan in lots and lots of old photos.
.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
1300 Museum With Helper
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
They brought in a helper for me today. We had 60-some envelopes to stuff with membership cards, various letters, and premium gifts.
The coordinator said, "He's challenged, but he learns quickly." He's sweet, but it think it might have taken longer with him helping. I had him folding letters and putting them in the envelopes, and he was soooooooo precise! I was putting other stuff in the envelopes as he finished them, and stamping and sealing them. When we got down to the last four envelopes for today, I handed him the stamps and told him to put the stamps on those envelopes, and seal them.
He put the stamps on, then he went to the men's room. He took the first of the four envelopes with him. Duh? I heard the water running. When he came back out, the flap of the envelope was soaked, and he was frustrated because it wouldn't stick.
I licked and sealed the other three real quick, while he was waving that one in the air trying to dry it.
We got only 24 done.
One of them is covered in tape.
More to do tomorrow.
.
They brought in a helper for me today. We had 60-some envelopes to stuff with membership cards, various letters, and premium gifts.
The coordinator said, "He's challenged, but he learns quickly." He's sweet, but it think it might have taken longer with him helping. I had him folding letters and putting them in the envelopes, and he was soooooooo precise! I was putting other stuff in the envelopes as he finished them, and stamping and sealing them. When we got down to the last four envelopes for today, I handed him the stamps and told him to put the stamps on those envelopes, and seal them.
He put the stamps on, then he went to the men's room. He took the first of the four envelopes with him. Duh? I heard the water running. When he came back out, the flap of the envelope was soaked, and he was frustrated because it wouldn't stick.
I licked and sealed the other three real quick, while he was waving that one in the air trying to dry it.
We got only 24 done.
One of them is covered in tape.
More to do tomorrow.
.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
1289 More Museum Day
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Back to the Maritime Museum today, to process last month's renewals forms and payments. There's about 65 of them, and in three and a half hours I got through about 40. I'll have to go in tomorrow to finish.
I talked to the volunteer coordinator, Betty, about the envelope stuffing. She kept interrupting to object, and I got mad. I don't often snap, but this time I did. I told her to please shut up the hell up and hear me through to the end.
When I got to the end, she agreed with me. Wonder of all wonders. She said to write it all up and submit it to Russ. He may or may not have to take it to the Board.
It took me three hours to stuff 24 envelopes yesterday for the April renewals, and tomorrow or next week I'll have to stuff 65! And, when Betty took the 24 to the post office yesterday to mail them, because of the different premiums for the different membership levels stuffed into them, and the differing amounts of paper, every single one of them had to be weighed separately to calculate the postage.
But from talking with Betty, I learned that arguing "time" isn't going to get me anywhere. I'll have to approach it from a cost angle.
Many of the premiums are such that they probably get immediately tossed into the trash (the window decals, magnets, maybe even the notecards). And yet each of them does cost the museum some amount. Plus, postage has just gone up, and if gas prices continue to rise it will likely go up again, so mailing premiums that most people don't really want is an extravagance.
The two changes I'd like to make are to:
1) Consolidate the new and returning members' letters into one. No one will be offended if it's not personal. And...
2a) Do away with the premiums altogether. Betty says that the premiums are to encourage people to join, but really! No one is going to pay $50 for a "friend" membership just to get a randomly chosen refrigerator magnet with a photo of a lighthouse on it, when they can buy one in the gift shop for less than a tenth of that. All members get free admission, and a 10% discount on all merchandise and events anyway. What more do they need? If Russ or the Board insist on the premiums, then...
2b) Print up a paper coupon for inclusion in the envelope, which will allow the member to show his membership card and the coupon in the gift shop, and select a gift or a rebate appropriate to the membership level. If members want the premium, and live too far away to visit the gift shop, then they can request that it be mailed. That's still cheaper than mailing them in mass to everyone.
I have to go in tomorrow. And probably next Monday. When I have so much yard work and house work I should be doing. This is exactly the situation I wanted to avoid when I kept refusing any volunteer assignments with continuing responsibility!!!!!!
Unhappiness.
I didn't write it yesterday, but I came seriously very very close to saying "I quit", and walking out, when the data base was screwing up on searches again. NO STRESS ALLOWED!
I didn't, only because no one else knows the procedures, and I didn't want to leave them in the lurch.
Once I get this envelope stuffing situation under control (or determine that the powers that be refuse to recognize it as a problem needing fixing), I'm going to write up the procedures to be followed in such a way, with such clarity, that an idiot can pick them up in mid-month and follow them. Once those things are done,
the next time the stress starts
I will feel able to quit and walk out
without feeling the least bit guilty or worrying about what anyone thinks.
So there.
.
Back to the Maritime Museum today, to process last month's renewals forms and payments. There's about 65 of them, and in three and a half hours I got through about 40. I'll have to go in tomorrow to finish.
I talked to the volunteer coordinator, Betty, about the envelope stuffing. She kept interrupting to object, and I got mad. I don't often snap, but this time I did. I told her to please shut up the hell up and hear me through to the end.
When I got to the end, she agreed with me. Wonder of all wonders. She said to write it all up and submit it to Russ. He may or may not have to take it to the Board.
It took me three hours to stuff 24 envelopes yesterday for the April renewals, and tomorrow or next week I'll have to stuff 65! And, when Betty took the 24 to the post office yesterday to mail them, because of the different premiums for the different membership levels stuffed into them, and the differing amounts of paper, every single one of them had to be weighed separately to calculate the postage.
But from talking with Betty, I learned that arguing "time" isn't going to get me anywhere. I'll have to approach it from a cost angle.
Many of the premiums are such that they probably get immediately tossed into the trash (the window decals, magnets, maybe even the notecards). And yet each of them does cost the museum some amount. Plus, postage has just gone up, and if gas prices continue to rise it will likely go up again, so mailing premiums that most people don't really want is an extravagance.
The two changes I'd like to make are to:
1) Consolidate the new and returning members' letters into one. No one will be offended if it's not personal. And...
2a) Do away with the premiums altogether. Betty says that the premiums are to encourage people to join, but really! No one is going to pay $50 for a "friend" membership just to get a randomly chosen refrigerator magnet with a photo of a lighthouse on it, when they can buy one in the gift shop for less than a tenth of that. All members get free admission, and a 10% discount on all merchandise and events anyway. What more do they need? If Russ or the Board insist on the premiums, then...
2b) Print up a paper coupon for inclusion in the envelope, which will allow the member to show his membership card and the coupon in the gift shop, and select a gift or a rebate appropriate to the membership level. If members want the premium, and live too far away to visit the gift shop, then they can request that it be mailed. That's still cheaper than mailing them in mass to everyone.
I have to go in tomorrow. And probably next Monday. When I have so much yard work and house work I should be doing. This is exactly the situation I wanted to avoid when I kept refusing any volunteer assignments with continuing responsibility!!!!!!
Unhappiness.
I didn't write it yesterday, but I came seriously very very close to saying "I quit", and walking out, when the data base was screwing up on searches again. NO STRESS ALLOWED!
I didn't, only because no one else knows the procedures, and I didn't want to leave them in the lurch.
Once I get this envelope stuffing situation under control (or determine that the powers that be refuse to recognize it as a problem needing fixing), I'm going to write up the procedures to be followed in such a way, with such clarity, that an idiot can pick them up in mid-month and follow them. Once those things are done,
the next time the stress starts
I will feel able to quit and walk out
without feeling the least bit guilty or worrying about what anyone thinks.
So there.
.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
1211 Tuesday and Wednesday
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Yesterday I paid the estimated tax, filled the gas tank, shopped for groceries, wrote and sent a letter to old friend Danny to ask if he and his wife would be able to meet me for dinner while I'm at the Gathering in Maryland at the end of May, and went to Office Max to see if the laptop would be able to connect through their free WiFi. Bad news.
The hardware locates the wireless networks and even connects, but then I get an error message that it "cannot connect to the internet". Hercules, who had seen this two weeks ago, had said it looks like the hardware is ok, but the software, Windows or Internet Explorer, is screwing up. I guess I'm going to have to bite the bullet and make a call to service.
On the way home from Office Max I stopped at Wendy's. I had a craving for french fries. All I'd had to eat all day was oatmeal. I knew I needed real vegetables, too, so I bought a salad, which I brought home for later. But later I wasn't hungry, so it didn't get eaten. It's huge, so I had figured it would be good for two meals, yesterday's dinner and today's.
This morning I got up late, so I rushed to get to the museum by 1 pm to handle a backlog of memberships. When I got there, the door was locked, and there were no cars parked outside. The Rondout creek is over its banks and lapping against the museum foundation - I'm sure the basement must be flooded. I wondered if maybe that's why no one was there. Even if they're out for lunch, there should be a car or two there.
The road was blocked off just past the museum. It looks like all of lower Kingston is flooded.
I decided to walk around the Rondout district (higher ground) a bit, see what shops and restaurants are new. I ended up having lunch, pulled pork and salad, at the Ship to Shore. It's very fancy and gentrified now. Twenty years ago it was pretty much a beer, wine, and hamburger place. Mensa used to do a Yahtzee TGIF there every Friday. I can't see playing Yahtzee there now....
I wandered through a few boutiques ($40 necklaces On Sale! for only $200!!), and got back to my car at 3 pm, just in time to see the museum director pull in. She saw me and waved, but it was too late for me to start processing memberships, so I left.
I really truly hate being under pressure to get stuff done on any kind of schedule. I am determined to enjoy retirement. I have been very clear right from the beginning of this volunteer gig that I want to just show up when I can, and do jobs that always need doing, and are finished when I leave - like painting walls, cleaning floors, caulking windows, weeding flowerbeds, filling in at the cash register in the gift shop, setting up for events. I don't know how on earth I got talked into this membership thing. It's an ongoing responsibility with time requirements, which is EXACTLY what I didn't want! Someone, someday, is going to complain about the buildup in the "Membership ToDo" box, and I'm going to hand it to them and say, "You do it", and walk out and never return. No one can say they haven't been warned.
I refuse to give up my freedom for this.
Well, anyway, having eaten lunch in the Rondout, I don't want that salad in the refrigerator. Tomorrow is the Third Thursday Therapy dinner in Poughkeepsie. Saturday I'll be having lunch and dinner with The Man in NYC. So the whole salad will have to be eaten on Friday - if it's still good by then - but Friday I have to try for the museum again, and I hate to take it with me.
Damn. I do this all the time. Is it any wonder I hate schedules. It's WORK for me!
.
Yesterday I paid the estimated tax, filled the gas tank, shopped for groceries, wrote and sent a letter to old friend Danny to ask if he and his wife would be able to meet me for dinner while I'm at the Gathering in Maryland at the end of May, and went to Office Max to see if the laptop would be able to connect through their free WiFi. Bad news.
The hardware locates the wireless networks and even connects, but then I get an error message that it "cannot connect to the internet". Hercules, who had seen this two weeks ago, had said it looks like the hardware is ok, but the software, Windows or Internet Explorer, is screwing up. I guess I'm going to have to bite the bullet and make a call to service.
On the way home from Office Max I stopped at Wendy's. I had a craving for french fries. All I'd had to eat all day was oatmeal. I knew I needed real vegetables, too, so I bought a salad, which I brought home for later. But later I wasn't hungry, so it didn't get eaten. It's huge, so I had figured it would be good for two meals, yesterday's dinner and today's.
This morning I got up late, so I rushed to get to the museum by 1 pm to handle a backlog of memberships. When I got there, the door was locked, and there were no cars parked outside. The Rondout creek is over its banks and lapping against the museum foundation - I'm sure the basement must be flooded. I wondered if maybe that's why no one was there. Even if they're out for lunch, there should be a car or two there.
The road was blocked off just past the museum. It looks like all of lower Kingston is flooded.
I decided to walk around the Rondout district (higher ground) a bit, see what shops and restaurants are new. I ended up having lunch, pulled pork and salad, at the Ship to Shore. It's very fancy and gentrified now. Twenty years ago it was pretty much a beer, wine, and hamburger place. Mensa used to do a Yahtzee TGIF there every Friday. I can't see playing Yahtzee there now....
I wandered through a few boutiques ($40 necklaces On Sale! for only $200!!), and got back to my car at 3 pm, just in time to see the museum director pull in. She saw me and waved, but it was too late for me to start processing memberships, so I left.
I really truly hate being under pressure to get stuff done on any kind of schedule. I am determined to enjoy retirement. I have been very clear right from the beginning of this volunteer gig that I want to just show up when I can, and do jobs that always need doing, and are finished when I leave - like painting walls, cleaning floors, caulking windows, weeding flowerbeds, filling in at the cash register in the gift shop, setting up for events. I don't know how on earth I got talked into this membership thing. It's an ongoing responsibility with time requirements, which is EXACTLY what I didn't want! Someone, someday, is going to complain about the buildup in the "Membership ToDo" box, and I'm going to hand it to them and say, "You do it", and walk out and never return. No one can say they haven't been warned.
I refuse to give up my freedom for this.
Well, anyway, having eaten lunch in the Rondout, I don't want that salad in the refrigerator. Tomorrow is the Third Thursday Therapy dinner in Poughkeepsie. Saturday I'll be having lunch and dinner with The Man in NYC. So the whole salad will have to be eaten on Friday - if it's still good by then - but Friday I have to try for the museum again, and I hate to take it with me.
Damn. I do this all the time. Is it any wonder I hate schedules. It's WORK for me!
.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
912 Odd Musings
Wednesday, October 4, 2006
Today I delivered a handful of Pilot's Logs to a marina about 9 miles south of the Bear Mountain bridge. Five and a half hours, a little over 150 miles. It was a beautiful day for the drive (although it would have been much nicer to be out of the car), sunny and high 70s. Route 9W along the section just above and below Bear Mountain is very scenic. I pulled into overlooks several times on the way home, including one that overlooks West Point.
I got into an odd train of thought on the Throughway on the way south, concerning infinity. (I've never heard this argument before, so there must be something wrong with it....)
No even numbers (except 2) are prime,
all prime numbers are odd,
odd numbers can therefore be grouped as prime or not prime,
and all non-prime odd numbers are the product of odd numbers.
So all numbers greater than 2 are
Today I delivered a handful of Pilot's Logs to a marina about 9 miles south of the Bear Mountain bridge. Five and a half hours, a little over 150 miles. It was a beautiful day for the drive (although it would have been much nicer to be out of the car), sunny and high 70s. Route 9W along the section just above and below Bear Mountain is very scenic. I pulled into overlooks several times on the way home, including one that overlooks West Point.
I got into an odd train of thought on the Throughway on the way south, concerning infinity. (I've never heard this argument before, so there must be something wrong with it....)
No even numbers (except 2) are prime,
all prime numbers are odd,
odd numbers can therefore be grouped as prime or not prime,
and all non-prime odd numbers are the product of odd numbers.
So all numbers greater than 2 are
- Even, factors are even x even;
- Even, factors are even x odd;
- Odd, factors are odd x odd; or
- Odd and prime
- Therefore there are three times as many even products as there are odd non-prime products.
- Since there are as many odd numbers as even, and only 1/3 of odd numbers are non-prime products, then two thirds of all odd numbers must be prime.
- Therefore the average difference between prime numbers should be less than 4.
- But if you look at a list of the first 1,000 prime numbers, the 1000th prime number is 7919.
- That's an average difference of almost 8.
- There are 105,097,565 prime numbers between 2 and 2,147,483,647 (ref. here).
- That's an average difference of about 20.
- It's reasonable to assume that the difference increases as the numbers go up (primes get more scarce because non-prime multipliers get more common).
- Therefore, there's a huge (impossible) clump of prime numbers up there somewhere taking up the slack,
- or there's a fallacy in the argument - can you spot it?
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