Monday, May 12, 2008

Can't work with 'em, can't kill 'em

So, the ds18 got a part time job for the summer, and maybe beyond. Working with his mother, doing data entry. Not rocket science, but the money is good, and he can do it during the school year too.

Except he blew opening day.

Had to go to get his physical last week. The one his mother harped at him to not leave till the last minute. The one his mother admonished him to be sure it was complete, because they are really picky about it, and won't let you start without it. The one where they needed his shot records by last Thursday, and when I walked in the house at 4:40p.m. on Friday, the shots records were still lying on the counter in my kitchen.

He's not doing orientation in my kitchen. Hint hint.

Drove the shots record over, but it didn't show his updated tetanus and TB test, which was done at school. The school which, at 4:55 p.m. on Friday, was now closed. So I told the kid, call them on Monday, and hopefully you can get it faxed, and there won't be problems with starting. Except, they give you a pink slip when you're cleared for your physical -- yeah, a pink slip to START your job, not end it -- and he couldn't get the pink slip without the tetanus and TB stuff, which meant he went all the way to the hospital for orientation today, and then turned around and came home.

Now, there is not much more to start a mother's ire on a Monday morning, of her vacation, no less, when she is sans two children in the house and looking forward to a quiet day of cleaning, organizing, and listing patterns, than to have a teenager who is supposed to be bored to tears in orientation at the hospital, suddenly show up on one's doorstep. There just ain't enough excuses in the world to cover that one.

I think that there was one other time where this kid made me this angry, and I was up in his face yelling at him, when the dh intervened and said to him "Damn boy, even I
know not to make her that mad. Yeah -- it ain't pretty when the mama is upset. That boy heard it all day, whilst I drove him to the bank, the grocery store, to Target (where I made him put in an application), to the appliance store (where I tried, but the applications were online), and home again. Didn't even put up a fuss when I told him to drive his brother to drumming class, because he knew he was at Defcon 5, because the next hospital orientation isn't for four weeks, because of the holiday. He may've been considering the priesthood, by the time I was done with him, just to get some peace.

But I did get the trash taken out, a clean kitchen floor, some folded laundry, and two clean cars outta the deal, before the boss -- MY boss, and now HIS boss, who could've terminated him for being stupid -- called and said she'd pulled strings and he could start on Thursday, as scheduled.

Guess I'll have to let him live. But only after I get some more socks folded, and we drive to pick up a huge lot of patterns tomorrow, listening to Barry Manilow all the way there, and stopping at every antique store from here to there, and back again. Oh yeah, he'll stop procastinating after that. Maybe.

I doubt it........

So, for those days when you can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em, here's a killer ivory wiggle dress, in Florence Nightingale's favorite color, from Teresa's Reborn Treasures. Arsenic not included.

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