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Work Stinks
I worked as a pharmacy tech. a few years ago. It was o.k. The pay was straight, it was close to my house and the owner was really flexible with my school hours.
The pharmacy was located (it has since moved) on Welch Blvd. If you know Flint, your first thoughts should be :HOOD!! It was sandwiched in between a Little Caesars pizza and a dollar store.
Little Casesar's manager, Lon, paid a crackhead, that I affectionately called "Crackhead Rick"( His name was indeed Rick and he smelled of and smoked the ever popular crack rock) to clean the parking lot. He had to sweep and pick up trash every day. He also collected cigarette butts that were discarded, but I dont think he was paid to do that. I am pretty sure he just smoked them in the alley.In exchange for his services, Crackhead Rick was paid with a large pizza daily. You could always see him in the afternoons walking down Welch with a pizza box and a grin.
Anyhoo, one morning at about 9 a.m., I was waiting on a customer.We both noticed a car pull up in the parking lot, directly in front of the pharmacy. It was an old school caddy, with five people inside. An old man began to get out and I assumed he was coming in to pick up his medications.
As the old man exited the vehicle, a passenger lifted his walker out of the car. The old man straightened up, held on to the walker, and began to unbutton his pants. I just kept staring, not for the possible view of old man weiner, but out of pure confusion.
The old man (who had to be like 80) pulled his pants and under-roos all the way down and started to bend over. He bent over directly towards the street and just released.The customer that I was waiting on and I stared in disbelief.
I said "Is he....." I couldnt even get it out before the customer said " He's boo booing." I saw things begin to drop from behind the old man. I really wanted to run, but I was frozen. I was thinking " Is this man really using the bathroom, number two style, as his family and friends in the car are just listening to the radio and eating Little Debbie Cakes?''
As the man was, um "going" Crackhead Rick ran from down the block and was screaming. He got directly in the old man's face, mid drop and was like " Aye man. Dont be boo booin out here. I gotta clean that sh!t up!!" The old man replied with one last drop. ( Im sorry, I know this is gross)!!!!!
The front passenger in the car got out of the vehicle, with a roll of toilet paper. She handed the roll to the old man, who then proceeded to wipe himself. He threw the used toilet paper on the ground and the woman put his walker back in the car. They then left the parking lot, with Crackhead Rick doing circles around the pile and cussing to himself.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
First I would like to say that I know I do not live in the safest neighborhood. I can understand how a mail delivery person may find my block to be quite upsetting. Not only does my neighborhood mail carrier have to worry about pitbulls biting at her ankles, she has to be alert enough to dodge crackheads on the prowl, in search of a fresh rock, and my welfare peeps who get a little angry when their check does not come on time.
That being said, I honestly have a terrible mail carrier. She is constantly talking on her cell phone while delivering mail. .. I often find letters in my mailbox that belong to my neighbor. Many times, my letters are ripped or my packages are beat up. .. I was informed by my carrier over the summer, that I needed to keep my front door closed between 11a.m and 3 p.m. so that she could deliver my mail. Apparently, my dog barked too loud when she came up to the porch. ..I obliged and made sure that my five pound dog did not scare her.
Today, I just could not take it anymore. I wanted to beat the sh!t out of my mail "lady".
When I came home from the grocery store, I noticed her walking down the street. It was snowing and I did not have a chance to shovel, so I expected that my mail box would be empty. I approached her as she walked down the street past my house and I said "Hi. I was just wondering if I had any mail today?" She told me that I did have mail. I asked her if I could have it. That heffa said no. NO????? I cant have my mail? I was pissed. I asked her why. She told me that I could not have my mail , because I needed to shovel. I said, "Ok can you hand it to me then?" She said no again. She then told me she would come back the next day. Mind you, there was like two inches outside, but arent carriers supposed to deliver in extreme conditions?.. So I asked one more time for my mail. She was smiling and said no again. I could not take it. I said" Look, GIVE ME MY FUCKING MAIL!!" She started walking away and was like "Uh Uh "and laughing. She was like "call the post office, my name is Sherry. The number is 73.." I cut her off and I was like " I already know the number, I have called and complained on you so many times. How are you even employed?" She went back to her truck-- no mail for me, but a great view of a mail truck driving away..... It was so hard to hold myself back from doing what I wanted to do: Why cant I just get a nice mail delivery person like they have in the suburbs? A friendly chap, who always delivers with a smile?.. .. I called and complained on her, again. They actually seemed to care this time and said that she could have at least handed me my mail. .. Doesnt this carrier appreciate that I am a loyal USPS customer, and I could have extremely important mail in her bag today. My magazines are coming and I have to keep up with the upcoming spring fashions!!
That being said, I honestly have a terrible mail carrier. She is constantly talking on her cell phone while delivering mail. .. I often find letters in my mailbox that belong to my neighbor. Many times, my letters are ripped or my packages are beat up. .. I was informed by my carrier over the summer, that I needed to keep my front door closed between 11a.m and 3 p.m. so that she could deliver my mail. Apparently, my dog barked too loud when she came up to the porch. ..I obliged and made sure that my five pound dog did not scare her.
Today, I just could not take it anymore. I wanted to beat the sh!t out of my mail "lady".
When I came home from the grocery store, I noticed her walking down the street. It was snowing and I did not have a chance to shovel, so I expected that my mail box would be empty. I approached her as she walked down the street past my house and I said "Hi. I was just wondering if I had any mail today?" She told me that I did have mail. I asked her if I could have it. That heffa said no. NO????? I cant have my mail? I was pissed. I asked her why. She told me that I could not have my mail , because I needed to shovel. I said, "Ok can you hand it to me then?" She said no again. She then told me she would come back the next day. Mind you, there was like two inches outside, but arent carriers supposed to deliver in extreme conditions?.. So I asked one more time for my mail. She was smiling and said no again. I could not take it. I said" Look, GIVE ME MY FUCKING MAIL!!" She started walking away and was like "Uh Uh "and laughing. She was like "call the post office, my name is Sherry. The number is 73.." I cut her off and I was like " I already know the number, I have called and complained on you so many times. How are you even employed?" She went back to her truck-- no mail for me, but a great view of a mail truck driving away..... It was so hard to hold myself back from doing what I wanted to do: Why cant I just get a nice mail delivery person like they have in the suburbs? A friendly chap, who always delivers with a smile?.. .. I called and complained on her, again. They actually seemed to care this time and said that she could have at least handed me my mail. .. Doesnt this carrier appreciate that I am a loyal USPS customer, and I could have extremely important mail in her bag today. My magazines are coming and I have to keep up with the upcoming spring fashions!!
Do You Like Polka?
Last monday morning, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few items. It was about 8:30 a.m. and I am not a morning person. I require caffeine on a daily basis to allow me to function and early morning is no exception. At such an early morning time I am am not mentally ready for any random acts or suprises.
As I made my way through the empty parking lot, I noticed a white haired elderly woman sitting on the passenger side in a Buick in the front handicapped space. We made eye contact and she immediately motioned for me to come see her. " Hey you, come here!" she shouted. I was confused but intrigued as to what this woman may want or need from me.
As I slowly approached her car, I could see the woman moving things around in the vehicle. She looked over at me and said " Come on I said! Come here!" I was hesitant because I was thinking this woman could shoot me in the face or try to stick me for my paper. I mean, this is Flint and we have some gangster type old folks around these parts.
When I got about a foot away from her car door, the woman asked me "Do you like polka?" She then turned and cranked up her radio dial and an unfamiliar screeching type of music poured out. The woman then began smiling, clapping and dancing with her arms. I just stood there staring. My ears rejected the verbal abuse called polka and I wished I had a shot of red bull at that point. I couldnt believe that this old lady was so excited that early in the morning. I was wating for a Bob Saget type to jump out of a shopping cart and tell me where the cameras were. Bob Saget never came.
The woman turned her radio down and explained her love for the polka to me. " I love the polka. It's my favorite music. It's my favorite music to dance to. I cant dance anymore though, because I cant walk anymore!" She then burst into tears.
I was so confused and I did not know what to do. I asked her if she was o.k. and if I could call someone for her. She told me her husband was in the store. " Here he comes now" she said.
A smiling elderly man approached. He looked friendly and I felt comfortable leaving. I walked past her husband and he grinned at me. He turned and asked "Hey, Do you like polka?"
As I made my way through the empty parking lot, I noticed a white haired elderly woman sitting on the passenger side in a Buick in the front handicapped space. We made eye contact and she immediately motioned for me to come see her. " Hey you, come here!" she shouted. I was confused but intrigued as to what this woman may want or need from me.
As I slowly approached her car, I could see the woman moving things around in the vehicle. She looked over at me and said " Come on I said! Come here!" I was hesitant because I was thinking this woman could shoot me in the face or try to stick me for my paper. I mean, this is Flint and we have some gangster type old folks around these parts.
When I got about a foot away from her car door, the woman asked me "Do you like polka?" She then turned and cranked up her radio dial and an unfamiliar screeching type of music poured out. The woman then began smiling, clapping and dancing with her arms. I just stood there staring. My ears rejected the verbal abuse called polka and I wished I had a shot of red bull at that point. I couldnt believe that this old lady was so excited that early in the morning. I was wating for a Bob Saget type to jump out of a shopping cart and tell me where the cameras were. Bob Saget never came.
The woman turned her radio down and explained her love for the polka to me. " I love the polka. It's my favorite music. It's my favorite music to dance to. I cant dance anymore though, because I cant walk anymore!" She then burst into tears.
I was so confused and I did not know what to do. I asked her if she was o.k. and if I could call someone for her. She told me her husband was in the store. " Here he comes now" she said.
A smiling elderly man approached. He looked friendly and I felt comfortable leaving. I walked past her husband and he grinned at me. He turned and asked "Hey, Do you like polka?"
The Chronicles of Crack-head Roy, Body Odor, Out of Date Wardrobe & The Jailhouse
Just admit it. You have a crackhead in your family. Everyone does. My happy family produced "Crackhead Roy". The best crackhead uncle a gal could ask for.
I would post photos of Crackhead Roy so everyone can get a visual, but I think since I admitted in print that I am actually related to him, thats enough. Let me try to help you picture what I get to stare at in disbelief when he comes around to beg for money or recyclable bottles.
Roy is about 42 years old and stands about an even 6 feet. He has black hair that looks like it gets washed each time America votes for our next president. His clothing attire is a pair of beat down nikes that he has had since I was in high school, levis that have seen two decades and t-shirts full of holes and stains from the crack smoke that gets blown on them.
I have the pleasure of telling you that the man smells like prostitute vagina, crack residue, stale ciggarettes, ninety-nine cent beer and ass. I would bet he changes clothes weekly and showers bi-weekly. Did I mention I am adopted? Anyhoo.....
Now that you have a feel for him, I would like to share one of his amazing stories. Crackhead Roy gets locked up about twice a year. Back in 2002, he was locked up for about six months. During his incarceration, Crackhead Roy wrote me a letter. I would like to share with you a few highlightes..........
February 5, 2002.........
......... I am on the first floor. The *f#gs are on the third floor. We dont go up there. It smells like sh*t. We hear them have sex at night time.
........ We get really hungry in here. A bunch of us decided to go in on some noodles and have a big dinner. We lined our toilet with a garbage bag and put like 15 packs of ramen noodles in their and some water and cooked the noodles in there. We hooked it up. It was good.
.... I have been meeting alot of cool people in here. There is this dude we dont F!ck with though. He is gross. He is in here for making love to his animals.
Yes people you read it right. He stated that the "guys" on the third floor are having sex, but the animal lover is "making love".
* Please excuse his ignorance
I would post photos of Crackhead Roy so everyone can get a visual, but I think since I admitted in print that I am actually related to him, thats enough. Let me try to help you picture what I get to stare at in disbelief when he comes around to beg for money or recyclable bottles.
Roy is about 42 years old and stands about an even 6 feet. He has black hair that looks like it gets washed each time America votes for our next president. His clothing attire is a pair of beat down nikes that he has had since I was in high school, levis that have seen two decades and t-shirts full of holes and stains from the crack smoke that gets blown on them.
I have the pleasure of telling you that the man smells like prostitute vagina, crack residue, stale ciggarettes, ninety-nine cent beer and ass. I would bet he changes clothes weekly and showers bi-weekly. Did I mention I am adopted? Anyhoo.....
Now that you have a feel for him, I would like to share one of his amazing stories. Crackhead Roy gets locked up about twice a year. Back in 2002, he was locked up for about six months. During his incarceration, Crackhead Roy wrote me a letter. I would like to share with you a few highlightes..........
February 5, 2002.........
......... I am on the first floor. The *f#gs are on the third floor. We dont go up there. It smells like sh*t. We hear them have sex at night time.
........ We get really hungry in here. A bunch of us decided to go in on some noodles and have a big dinner. We lined our toilet with a garbage bag and put like 15 packs of ramen noodles in their and some water and cooked the noodles in there. We hooked it up. It was good.
.... I have been meeting alot of cool people in here. There is this dude we dont F!ck with though. He is gross. He is in here for making love to his animals.
Yes people you read it right. He stated that the "guys" on the third floor are having sex, but the animal lover is "making love".
* Please excuse his ignorance
My Block- The Blue House
Growing up in Flint, Mi has allowed me to observe and share my block with some very interesting people. My neighborhood is low income. However, my block is kind of a mixed crowd. We have some homeowners who handle their business. We also have some renters that like to shake this street up with their constant outburts of randomness.
The people who live next door to me started out cool. They mowed their lawn, watched their 4 kids ( I thought) and didnt have a loose dog constantly roaming my yard. In Flint if a person has these "qualities", they qualify as being good neighbors. It didnt take long for me to realize that the people next door fooled me.
The first indication that something wasnt right with them, was the fact that they let their two yr old roam the block in a soggy diaper and barefoot. The only supervision of the toddler is his 9 yr old sister. He plays in the street and picks through trash. This all before 9 a.m.
One day all of the kids were playing outside, unsupervised as usual. I noticed the 10 yr old girl walking down my driveway. I went to the window and said, "Tiffany, what were you doing in my yard?" Her sister answered for her. " She just peed in your yard." Yes thats right people. The child copped a squat in my yard. You may be asking yourself as I did at the time, why the hell did she pee in my yard? It turns out her mom locked them outside of the house so she could take a nap. Way to flex those parenting skills.... She could have at least peed in her own yard. Where are all of the kids with manners these days?
I observed the kids itching their heads constantly for a few weeks. I called the girls over and asked them if I could look at their hair. I looked down only to see head lice bugs crawling through their hair like they were on a blonde obstacle course. "Does your mom know you have headlice?" I asked. They gleefully answered that she did know that they were infested and had known for weeks. Greeeaaattt.......
Side note: Just the other day I watched the kids as they brought their cats outside to play. Both the girls began sucking on and licking their cats ears. It wasnt something new. I think they do that when they watch t.v. or something. Maybe it is a nervous habit. Well, they didnt stop until one of the sisters said " Wait! We cant lick their ears anymore. Thats gross!" The other sister looked confused and with a mouthfull of calico cat ear said "Whats gross?" Her sister responded, " We cant suck their ears anymore, their OUTSIDE cats now!!" Right, you only suck your cats ears if they stay indoors. What rookie feline ear suckers they are!
The people who live next door to me started out cool. They mowed their lawn, watched their 4 kids ( I thought) and didnt have a loose dog constantly roaming my yard. In Flint if a person has these "qualities", they qualify as being good neighbors. It didnt take long for me to realize that the people next door fooled me.
The first indication that something wasnt right with them, was the fact that they let their two yr old roam the block in a soggy diaper and barefoot. The only supervision of the toddler is his 9 yr old sister. He plays in the street and picks through trash. This all before 9 a.m.
One day all of the kids were playing outside, unsupervised as usual. I noticed the 10 yr old girl walking down my driveway. I went to the window and said, "Tiffany, what were you doing in my yard?" Her sister answered for her. " She just peed in your yard." Yes thats right people. The child copped a squat in my yard. You may be asking yourself as I did at the time, why the hell did she pee in my yard? It turns out her mom locked them outside of the house so she could take a nap. Way to flex those parenting skills.... She could have at least peed in her own yard. Where are all of the kids with manners these days?
I observed the kids itching their heads constantly for a few weeks. I called the girls over and asked them if I could look at their hair. I looked down only to see head lice bugs crawling through their hair like they were on a blonde obstacle course. "Does your mom know you have headlice?" I asked. They gleefully answered that she did know that they were infested and had known for weeks. Greeeaaattt.......
Side note: Just the other day I watched the kids as they brought their cats outside to play. Both the girls began sucking on and licking their cats ears. It wasnt something new. I think they do that when they watch t.v. or something. Maybe it is a nervous habit. Well, they didnt stop until one of the sisters said " Wait! We cant lick their ears anymore. Thats gross!" The other sister looked confused and with a mouthfull of calico cat ear said "Whats gross?" Her sister responded, " We cant suck their ears anymore, their OUTSIDE cats now!!" Right, you only suck your cats ears if they stay indoors. What rookie feline ear suckers they are!
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