Now, it's been six months since her plates were due for renewal. I remember her making the call to renew her plates. I remember her asking me to put the sticker on the car. I remember doing it.
...there is no sticker on the plates. Well, there is, but it's last year's. And the corners of that sticker have curled up, almost as if someone had been trying to peel a sticker off. Those stickers are supposed to self-destruct if you try to remove them, but I'm sure there's a way to get around that problem.
Here's the thing: I could see getting away with an expired plate for a month, maybe two--but six? This isn't the south side of Chicago; this is the Fungal Vale, where driving past a closed business after dark gets you accosted by a squad of cops. Where I got pulled over because my license plate light was out and it was "obscured" by a line of rust. Where I got pulled over for having a headlight out.
The story she told me sounded fishy, too. The cop was telling her that she was lucky, as he was going to save her "a trip to Markham" (the nearest county jail). Who the hell is taken to jail for an expired license plate? And the cop gave her her license back--since when do you get your license back when you're being cited?
So we'll go to the DMV on Wednesday and get a new sticker for the plate--and I'll pull all the old stickers off, and put the new sticker on again--and pay the fine, and chalk it up to experience. What the fuck.
* * *
Today, at my job, we had a reduced schedule. I only had to work eight hours today. I got there at 12:30 and was there until 9 PM, and it felt marvelous to be working an eight hour (rather than a nine hour) day.
We were told, a few days ago, that our employer would provide lunch today, since we had to work. How nice, right? Well, in inimitable fashion, my employer managed to make a hash of it.
I get there at 12:30 and am doing my job, and after I'd been there about an hour and a half, multiple broadcast messages kept popping up on my screen: "Bring your ticket to the lunchroom when it's time for your lunch break, and [General Manager] will serve you!"
My lunch break was at 4:30, so the fact that I had not yet been given a ticket did not really bother me. But the day wore on, and still no ticket--well, since my supervisor wasn't there, I'd just go bug one from another team, is all.
About 2:30 so I hit the can, and saw that the leftovers from the morning shift's lunch were sitting on a table in the middle of the call center. I snagged a (cold) hot dog and ate it in four bites.
Along about 3:30-ish or so I went to the restroom again, and had a look in the lunchroom to see if they were setting up for evening shift's lunch--and the place was deserted.
This, I thought, does not look good.
Let me make a long story short: there was no lunch for evening shift. Evening shift got morning shift's leftovers, which consisted of a couple cases of tepid bottled water and a box of snack-size Fritos packages. Evening shift was not given tickets because there was no lunch for evening shift.
I should complain about this.
Thursday I should seek out the general manager and complain about this, and about the fact that it has now been over two weeks since I first requested a replacement badge from my supervisor, and I am still waiting for one even though it's now been a week since I asked my supervisor's boss, the operations manager, for a new badge. I should complain about being stuck at work on August 28th because the security guard was nowhere to be found for forty-five frickin' minutes and because no one could be arsed to get me a new badge. I should also complain about not having a supervisor whose schedule aligns with mine, and therefore having to go begging for help and being moved all over the call center and not being able to sit at my desk. About feeling marginalized, about feeling like no one cares about my career development or anything other than me sitting in that desk and being on the phone. About the fact that the "10 commitments" they have plastered on every wall in the joint simply do not apply to me.
*sigh*
What a pisser. How hard is it to fuck up something as simple as, "Hey, we'll give the crew hot dogs!"
* * *
But it's now my weekend, and I'm going to enjoy it. Even though I have to cut the grass and go to the DMV. *sigh*