Category Archives: BitchBitchBitch

Land Not For Sale

First, I have a back-story, but you can skip to the break if you want the short story.

In 2004 Sparring Partner and I bought 10 acres of prairie. The 20 acres adjoining ours were owned by DrC. Over the next two years we built and moved into the home where we currently live. DrC decided to sell his 20. His Realtor, in a case of mistaken identity, asked Sparring Partner’s dad if he was interested in buying the 20 acres next to him. But those acres were next to him, they were next to us. Follow?

SP’s dad, an entrepreneur to be sure, instead of correcting the Realtor that he had the wrong Surname, decided on a whim to buy the 20 acres himself. My FIL never built next to us as had intended to make arrangements to either let us buy the property outright or leave it to SP in his will. Unfortunately, he never followed up on that intent before falling terminally ill and dying a couple years ago. The property became part of the family Trust by default.

A year ago we agreed to buy the 20 acres from that Trust. It was a very difficult decision financially because if FIL had “sold” it to us before his death, he would have done so at whatever his cost had been, which relatively and frankly speaking, was almost nothing. Instead we ended up having to pay appraised value because it was part of a Trust. I agreed to this with the stipulation that we would immediately turn around and sell 10 acres off to defray the cost.

My husband, being the sentimental kind of guy he is, even though the property wasn’t anything more than an acquisition to my FIL, had our Realtor list the property exorbitantly high. He decided that if I was going to make him sell the land, he wasn’t going to let it go easily.

We are not quite to the break, if you’re still following along. This fall we received our first offer, but nearly half of what it was listed. Sparring Partner was so insulted, he refused to even counter. A couple of weeks later, the same buyer made a legitimate offer, albeit still too low. We countered. They came back a little higher. We countered. They came back a little higher. We did not counter. Yes, it was a joint decision. We determined that the potential buyer made the offer because it was their first and preferred choice. Acreage in the area with distinct advantages like ours, are rare. We were convinced we hadn’t heard the last from them.

BREAK (FINALLY!)

Last week, we received an offer to buy 10 acres we had listed for sale. It was from the same people (with the same Realtor) who had made an offer several months ago. There was some countering on both sides, but on Friday we accepted their offer. Our Realtor emailed the paperwork to us to review, and then early this afternoon she forwarded an attachment of a map confirming the property that was to be sold. As soon as I opened the file, my stomach dropped. Due to an inaccurate description, the buyers and their agent had thought they were purchasing the 10 acres adjacent to ours instead of the lot furthest away.

We immediately called our Realtor and told her of the error. I am so disappointed by what I’m sure will be this as a deal-breaker. I’m angry at how careless and irresponsible both the Realtors were for not catching it and misrepresenting the property. Finally, I am just heart-sick for the buyers themselves. We’ve seen them walking the property more than once with a couple of small children and people who were likely their parents. They are a young family hoping to build a home. They’ve stood and watched the sunset on what they thought would be the location of their deck. They probably made announcements this weekend, and even when they went to work this morning, the week of Christmas, that they finally found where they will raise their children.

I wouldn’t want to be the buyer’s representative right now trying to explain how he screwed up, but I feel even worse for that family.

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Nothing Stays the Same

I use to wait impatiently for comments on my blog posts to come in, but to be honest with you, I haven’t read the ones to my last post. I have mobile WordPress so I know a couple came in, but I hesitate.

The other day I posted something in my private group on Facebook. The responses highlighted how much interaction has changed. I was griping. I needed the verification, acknowledgement, validation (AHA! I worked it out in my head the word I wanted!) that what I was feeling was OK. Instead I regretted posting what I had within the hour once I read the comments. They weren’t bad, just that they seemed slightly…off. I don’t know, you know?

Smart, clever and in-tune women don’t write snarky posts anymore. They are neutral. They neutralize those around them. They are baking soda on a greasy fire, which if you look at it that way, it’s a good thing, right, because who wants a fire, much less a grease-fueled fire?

*****
My daughter is a first-grader. It’s been two years since 20 first-graders stopped being anything. When my BIL showed a photo of his new handgun to Sparring Partner yesterday, I wanted to punch him in the face.

Zinger

Well. Shizzle just got real up here where I work. The new specialist corporate had been courting decided not to accept so we have no one to take the place of our current surgeon if he retires.
Except he IS going to retire. While he hasn’t “officially” announced it, he told me personally that it would be at the end of the year. The kicker is that he must have mentioned it to someone else as now his referrals are onto the rumor and our schedules have been negatively affected. Productivity has dropped to half in the past couple of months of what we’ve done at this time of year.

On top of that, the Scheduler and Receptionist both announced that their last day in the office will be the end of the month. Their timing not only couldn’t have been worst, but it shows an utter lack of respect for the surgeon, especially since one had been with the office for 30+ years, and the other was a friend she arranged to get hired. This leaves me as the remaining clerical staff member until we can get someone trained.

I was asked if I was going to arrange for their going away party by one of the staff in a satellite office. My retort, “Hell no!” may have been just a tad brusque.

I’m also having a hard time not rolling my eyes at the person who has been selected as the “obvious” replacement for the Scheduler. She’s currently a surgical assistant and although she hasn’t even started training, she has announced that she never understood why there were two people doing what surely she alone will be able to do. I’m going to sit back and enjoy the hell out of that one in a couple of weeks.

In other disappointing news: Those UGGs I bought my daughter that I raved about? Exchanging due to defect, but had to pay the difference between the sale price and the current price at Zappos. And I had to exchange my Sven clogs, too! They had a chip in the toe that they tried to fix before sending to me that I didn’t immediately notice. That wasn’t such a big deal because they did it quickly, without any hassle and the weather last week was crap so I couldn’t have worn them anyway. And finally, my MIL said we are raising “heathens” because we don’t take them to church…or did I already tell you this?

Oh, and because this is one of the few places I can talk unabashedly about what my uterus and ovaries have been up to, there’s this anecdote Last week I was sure that my period was going to show up at a most unfortunate time since it’d had been almost a month from the last one on March 8 (remember? It was on the day of my mole check?). I made sure to be prepared at the Visitation and Funeral. However, it did not make any kind of appearance, and it didn’t several days later. And then I started to wonder if FINALLY I was hitting actual menopause after all these years of having defunct ovaries. AND THEN I remembered that March 8th was the day I had my LASIK, not my mole check. My mole check was on the 21st of March so I still had another week to go. Except it showed up YESTERDAY! A full flippin week early! I HATE MY OVARIES!!

This post is just to remind you that just when you think it’s safe to gloss over and skip to the end, it isn’t.

I can’t get no satisfaction.

There were many fantastic parts about our trip to the Black Hills that I loved, but unfortunately our hotel was so disappointing, it pretty much obliterated any warm, fuzzy feelings I should be having about the trip.

When I booked the hotel room, our intent was to get adjoining rooms, which we’ve easily done in the past. This hotel had connecting rooms, but they were already booked, so I went ahead and took two non-adjoining rooms and kept checking for cancellations. When we arrived, I happily discovered that the suite with one living room area and two King beds and two baths was available for all but one of the nights of our stays. I scooped it up, especially when I was told it even be a little cheaper than two separate rooms.

I imagined that the suite would be beautifully appointed, clean, secure. It was anything but. I was happy to be able to leave it every morning for outings.

Since our return home I made a phone call to the hotel, and when that was nonproductive, I filed a formal complaint on-line. When that also was responded to and subsequently rejected, I requested the next up on the chain of command.

While I’m sure you would all be riveted by the details of not only the state of the room and the specifics of the phone call and emails (riveted, I say!), I will wait until this has been resolved, one way or another before exposing more.

What I want to know is have you ever had stayed someplace you were severely disappointed in; and then did you request an adjustment? Did you have any luck resolving the issue in your favor?

And whatever happened to Customer Satisfaction?

NINE

It’s getting late and I’m crazy-ass tired and yet – I am compelled to post. Let’s keep it brief and get to the points I wish to cover, shall we?

1 – My MIL wasn’t able to get around very well this weekend, complaining of pain in her legs. Monday a.m. she was admitted to the hospital. She needs to have her hips that she had replaced 15 plus plus years ago replaced. Mr. DD has spent every evening at the hospital as now she’s been running an unexplained fever. Once she recovers from the fever, she then will spend the next couple of weeks in a nursing home until the scheduled date of her surgery since she can’t go home as the FIL is also recovering from a surgery from a couple months ago. Getting old sucks.

2 – XBoy has brought home work every day from school that he refuses to finish in school. This on top of the regular homework, which includes 20 spelling words, like “autumn” and “September”. Is this normal for 2nd Graders? In the three weeks he’s been in school, we’ve already had the note about pushing another kid as well as the initial note about XBoy’s belligerence in refusing to do his work. How many more weeks before school’s out?

3 – ZGirl received her one year vaccinations including the first half of the flu (regular flu) shot. Mr. DD and I spent that night alternating between holding and comforting an arched-back, screaming hysterically, and feverish baby. Remind me to tell you how the next morning I opened the door on her head. I’m sure it’ll be funny in a week or two.

4 – The next day I stayed home with ZGirl since she was still running a low-grade fever. I was in the middle of getting her lunch in the microwave, running a load of wash, running the dishwasher and we lost electricity in the house. A car accident somewhere down the line. I called and bitched to my husband since he has some sort of magical power to make it come back on again if I get screechy enough with him.

5 – AND THEN tonight Mr. DD announces that we have no propane. Even though our contract with the natural gas company is “keep full” (which means to come in every month and top of the tank). The company has done this not once, but twice before. Instead of calling them tonight and fight with them later over the emergency service charges, he will call and have them deliver during normal business hours. No hot water for a shower or the endless dishes or ZGirl’s or XBoy’s baths.

6- My own post requesting advice on how to get rid of violets garnered less response than a post I didn’t even write. I’m wounded.

7 – Mr. DD and I had a huge fight. Huge. It was about money. Or should I say the lack thereof? Not being able to find a new job is wreaking havoc on our marriage. Is that oversharing?

8 – We received news a couple weeks ago that one of Mr. DD’s nephews and his wife were expecting their first baby. This weekend we heard she miscarried. Now instead of sending the congratulatory card, I need to find a sympathy card.

9 – I’ve caught a cold.

Excuse the multiple updates if you get this through a reader. I blame life right now.

MY HEAD JUST EXPLODED

There are days that I get so angry and worked up, I can barely complete a simple task *.

I am angry that I have to consider a job opportunity 30 miles away. Maybe not a big deal to you city dwellers who are accustomed to a two hour commute one way, but this farm girl with a penchant for instant gratification will find the drive an equivalent of water boarding.

I am angry that the people yelping the most about the healthcare reform are those who HAVE healthcare. A (conservative) friend of mine said that the reform will just make those who don’t have insurance (because they are on Medicaid or don’t have a job) more likely NOT to get a job. It’ll “keep e’m lazy”, she said. Hey, that’s just awesome. Thanks for lumping me in with that group. So reward those who are on Medicaid by letting them KEEP Medicaid and let the few like me who don’t qualify for any healthcare without facing bankruptcy suffer for the many. Perfect answer.

I am angry that the people who proclaim their patriotism the loudest are the ones who love to throw around endearing terms like “King Hussein”. I get the whole “freedom of speech gives me carte blanche to spew my verbal diarrhea”, but don’t preach to me how you think this whole country is going in the shitter because of “King Hussein”. It’s going to the shitter because you’re an ignorant, fear-mongering, vitriol-filled, a-hole that does nothing but BITCH to anyone who will listen instead of educating yourself.

In addition to the previous paragraph, I’m angry about the endless and utterly ridiculous comparison of President Obama to Hitler. See both the Rude Pundit’s and Suz’s posts for a couple of succinct and eloquent summarizations.

I am angry that some ignorant woman believes she’ll carry her twelve fetuses to term and give birth to them NATURALLY and that she’ll get to hug them, and squeeze them and call them George, Jr., George III, George IV, etc., etc.. Actually, I’m sure that the healthcare in Tunisia is quite topnotch, especially since it must be an international hub, squeezed there between Algeria and Libya. Anyone else find it unbelievable that the expectant mother claims to be carrying six boys and six girls? I doubt that she’s even beyond 9 weeks, much less far enough along to make out the sex of each baby. I bet Suelman is pissed to be not just one-upped, but four-upped!

I am angry that while a certain Holy Roller Christian Blogger pleaded for forgiveness for stealing content from another More Famous Blogger under the guise of, “I just read her book and her words were so true!”, no one seems to have noticed that Holy Roller stole the words of another Not As Famous Blogger and since now Holy Roller is moderating her comments, her readers are faithfully continuing to follow her and stroking her poor, sweet, innocent head and telling her how wonderful and God-fearing she is and “of course we forgive you as you certainly meant no harm to More Famous Blogger who is siccing her evil minions upon you”… and I want to fucking choke someone. If she stole from two bloggers, she’s stolen from more and no one seems to care.

I am angry because I care that no one cares and that I shouldn’t care. It’s none of my damned business anyway, right?

I am angry that I’ve procrastinated until the very last evening before school starts to write my son’s name on 64 fucking crayons and sharpen 48 fothermucking pencils (oh, and yes, I have to get his name on them, too) and resist the temptation to just shave XBoy’s head bald tonight while he sleeps since there won’t be any time to get it cut according to the school’s policy before Wednesday morning! Not to mention that the yard hasn’t been mowed in three weeks and I am out of diapers. Well, *I’m* not out of diapers; ZGirl is.

* And dammit! Why the hell can’t I get two goddamned paperclips separated?! It’s not brain surgery!

…and so…

Just WHAT exactly are YOU angry about today?

FOOL ME ONCE, SHAME ON YOU; FOOL ME THRICE, SELL THE SOB BEFORE THE FACTOR WARRANTY GOES OUT

Last February, we traded in our SUV for a brand new Toyota mini-van (because suddenly we’ve become OLD!). A few months ago, several lights on the dashboard came on and while I tried to google the reason for it (because doesn’t google have the answers to everything?), I ended up scheduling an appointment with the nearest Toyota dealership for a diagnostic. We’ll refer to that trip as Appt #1.

On a Friday afternoon, after scheduling time off from work, I drove 45 miles to Appt #1. After sitting in their lame-o waiting room for about 40 minutes, the service manager came in to tell me that the oxygen sensor was out and needed to be replaced. Unfortunately (you will see that word too many times in this post), they had to order the part and schedule an appointment to put it in: Appt #2.

On my way home from Appt #1, while driving 70 mph, I notice the hood of my van shaking and shimmy-ing. I pulled over to find that while the safety latch was engaged (thank God!), it wasn’t closed. I called the service manager and told him about it, and he seemed duly apologetic.

Appt #2 also was scheduled Friday afternoon. Again, another 45 mile trip to the dealership. Another 45 minutes in their waiting area watching ceaseless updates on M.J.’s death. The service manager came in to tell me that they replaced the sensor but UNFORTUNATELY, when they hooked up the van to make sure everything was A-OK, they discovered the second sensor was out. Of course they did NOT order more than one, since apparently having a sensor go out on a vehicle with only 13,000 miles on it is unusual.

I was peevish and short with him. I told him that it’s difficult for me to get time off from work. Oh, we can do it on Saturday if you want. Well, shit. If I had known that…my bad. So I scheduled Appt #3.

He handed me my keys and I walked out to get my van. I made sure the hood was shut and opened the sliding door to put my purse in the back (the world’s LARGEST purse, which is why it goes in the back). When I did, there was ZGirl’s car seat, unhooked and slid to the side. Goddammit! I muttered, and stomped back inside to find the service manager.

When I told him about it, he found the service tech and I overheard the tech say he couldn’t figure out how to get it back in once he had removed it (they had to take out the front seat of the van to reset the sensor or some such bullshit, and the carseat was in the way). The service manager came out with me and helped me get it all tightened up again. While I could have done it myself, I thought he should instead.

Appt #3’s scheduled date arrives and I again make the trip south. I still have some semblance of humor in spite of everything and as I hand the keys over to the service manager, I say, “Make sure the hood is down; the carseat is installed; and the part is fixed.” *insert ‘ha-ha’ here to take edge off of the sarcasm* I brought a magazine with me for the waiting room and settled in. Of course, about 30 minutes later, the service manager walks in. He looks grave, and my face flushes with annoyance: “I’m so sorry to tell you this but UNFORTUNATELY we ordered the wrong part. We’ll have to re-order and reschedule you in (Appt #4??? No fucking way!).”

Don’t bother, I tell him. It’s been one error after another here and now I’ll just take it to The Metro (100 mile trip) to get this stupid part fixed (since even though my husband could do it, it would void the warranty). If you had just ordered two, we’d be done by now.

We had no idea that both sensors would go out and then we’d have the cost of returning the extra part.

Well, don’t you now still have the expense of returning an extra part since it’s the wrong (motherfucking – what I wanted to say) part?! Not to mention my extra expenses for lost time at work and gas and my own personal time?? He apologized meekly some more; asked if there was anything they could do and I kicked him in the crotch and on his way down, I judo chopped him in the throat. Not really but in my mind’s eye…

Since then, I’ve had Appt #4 with a dealership in The Metro. It required not only 200 extra miles on my van as well as a full day off from work. I combined ZGirl’s doctor appointment with the trip so I had her along, which meant I brought XBoy along to be my buffer when ZGirl started getting fussy, but I also convinced my mom to join me and turned the day into a shopping spree where I ended up buying a new light-weight stroller that just about sent Mr. DD down to the courthouse to file for legal separation! Wheeeeee!! Good times, y’all.

Not only that, but in the past few days, I’ve received not one, but two phone calls from the first dealership (Ernst in Columbus, just FYI to you googlers looking for a reputable dealership: this is SO not the place). The first was to see if I was satisfied (??) with the service; the second to follow-up on the fact that I was most definitely NOT satisfied with my service. And to add insult to injury, the second caller had the nerve to excuse every mistake the dealership made:

  • The hood was left open because one guy checked the engine but a second guy who didn’t know about the first guy is the one who parked your van and doesn’t check the hoods of every car he drives. (It’s still the first guy’s fault!)
  • We can’t hook up carseats because of the liability involved in case there’s an accident. (So I’m supposed to believe that while your service tech is inept to the point he cannot simply latch back up again the latch he UNlatched, he’s qualified to remove AND put back in the driver’s seat??)
  • We couldn’t have known that your van would have needed two sensors and cannot keep in stock every possible part. If we had ordered two sensors, we would have had the expense of returning it. (Granted, it was the vehicle’s “failure” in the first place, it was the dealership’s when it came down to them ordering in the wrong part, which they still had the expense of returning – and like I give a shit what their “expenses” are??)

Finally I just railed into her by saying, “Don’t you dare call me after you find out that I’m displeased with the service I received and then make up excuses for their errors. You can call me and apologize; offer me free products (I could really use some mud flaps and Mr. DD likes to use genuine parts – a.k.a. oil filters); and even send me a check to reimburse me for the gas used for Appt #3 and #4, but don’t you DARE tell me how I don’t have the right to be upset and make up excuses for the ineptitude that dominates your dealership!!

The only defense I will offer is that Earnst doesn’t just service Toyota’s. In other words, I should have gone to a dealership that is strictly Toyota in the first place. In the 15 years Mr. DD and I have owned and driven Toyotas, we have never had to make a visit to a service department for any work before this. Not once. So to make four trips in two months pisses me right off.

You know what sucks even just a little bit more? I’ve now noticed a rattle in the back passenger door. Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeee!!!