Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Just because...

Even though everything else is going well, that doesn't mean I can't get a little snarktastic. Or a lot snarktastic.

I tried to post this the other morning, but blogger was being a bitch.

Dear Fundraising Moms:

Part of the joy of having children is educating them. Bully on you for electing to send them to a private school, when public education in our county is actually rather exceptional. Of course, no matter where you send kids, they're bound to be pressed into service selling crap for school. It happens. And you, trying to be the good parent you believe yourself to be, take the order forms to work. Congratulations. Most parents seem to have grasped the "leave the order sheet lying about, or post it in the kitchen, and if someone wants to order, they will" concept.

Not you. Oh no.

Not only did you bring me the sheet, and beg me to circulate it, (and technically, I did. I put it in someone else's inbox) but you whined at me, and kept pestering me till I ordered one of your stupid subs (out of sheer desperation, so you'd shut up and let me work, already). Fine. Dandy. I've got lunch for a day. You went away. Life is great. Right?


Other parents also have grasped the concept that "I sold this crap for my kid, so I have to make sure the appropriate parties get the crap I sold them". Not you.

For your future reference, it is highly irritating, wholly inexcusable, and right pisses me off when you call my line, and address me by my coworker's name (nevermind that I say my name in my greeting)and spit out "This is StupidMom and I've got the subs. I've got my kids in the car, so you're going to have to pick them up. Bye." See, my job as Nursing Administration's Bitch involves things like scheduling meetings, filing, typing minutes, attending to projects, and generally doing whatever my three bosses want. And I'm pretty sure that not only are you not my boss, but "delivering your damned fundraiser shit" wasn't on the list of assignments any of my real bosses did give me.

And listen, just because my co-worker got wrangled into doing this shit last year? Doesn't mean I will. I will slap your subs into the refrigerator. I will put a note up that says they're here, but I will not distribute them. I will not collect money for them. I will not expend any more effort than absolutely necessary on them. Why? Because they're not my goddamn kids, and last I checked, I didn't force anyone to buy them. You? Did. And I? Don't have time for that shit.

So in short, either Brittney and Kaylor sell their own shit, or you just deal with it.


Special Sauce
Who totally sold her sub to someone else because she was so pissed off.


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