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94472
So, let's start at the beginning.
Beginning of story one: Satan, my big female Ball Python, got a thermal burn from the stupid reptile Under Tank Heater shorting out or something. A nasty burn covering about half of her underside. I get on meds about 3 weeks ago. Monday, she had a checkup to see how she was doing on the meds, and make sure everything's doing what it's supposed to. Yup, she's fine.
Story two: I started working at D&W in the Starbuck's. I got jerked around so much by D&W it wasn't even funny. From the time I got my first interview to when I started working, a month passed because I couldn't get ahold of anyone there, and they never returned my calls/pages. Once I started working, I was supposed to be full time. BUT Shane (the scheduler-type guy), only had me working, like, 2 or 3 days a week for 5 hours if I was lucky. And I never got fully trained (that Starbucks could be shut down because they made me work alone and I wasn't a fully certified Barista). I burn the crap out of my hand with some coffee. Then Leslie came in, and I get a week of full-time work, kinda. Scheduled for it. The first day, she "forgets" that she has a Dr's appt, so I have to stay and cover for her. Which means I work at 10 1/2 hour day. Then, because of bad scheduling, one of my coworkers really needs some extra hours, so I give her half of one of my shifts. Thurs, there's a note on the bullitin board not to take a break between 7-8:30 (I get to work at 5:30, so I take a break every two hours - thus 7:30). I'm peeved, but okay, it's kinda busy during that time. But Thurs was crappy (because a closer didn't flip some switch in the espresso machine, and I've never been FULLY TRAINED, I spend half an hour getting ahold of someone who can tell me what the "M2 fill hopper" error means. If closers did their jobs, or I had been trained, I wouldn't have had to open the Starbucks 30min late), and my jaw completely locks closed. So, I take a break at the first lull to take some Aleive and wait for my jaw to loosen up. Now, this Tues I'm spossa work a full shift. I get all ready for work, then feel a migraine coming on. It's only about 1:30, so I decide to take a nap and wake up at 4:40, so I can leave for work at 5 and get there at 5:30. Well, apparently my alarm clock's broken, because I wake up at 5:30 with a pounding head, quesy stomach, and so woozy I can barely walk. So I call in, and get lectured about how I need to call in earlier, blah blah. Fine whatever. I won't do it again. Tuesday afternoon, after I've already gone to bed for the day, the store director (Bill) calls and leaves a message for me to call him back.
Now, for the story of Wends.
I wake up and listen to the message and then freak out for the rest of the night, feeling sick to my stomach. Medicate Satan around 1am. I call at 4:30 to see what's up, and I'm told not to come to work, and to call Bill once he gets to work after 3. I feel even worse. So, I try to get to sleep. I finally give up around 6:30, and decide to destract myself from work by cleaning out Satan's cage (which I do every other day). I go to pick her up and . . . she doesn't move. Cold. I'm freaking out, but I'm illogical so I think, "Maybe she's just cold and lethargic - I'll put her in a warm bath and wake her up." It doesn't really sink in that she's dead until after I've had her in the water for a minute. At which point I just begin sobbing and go put her in her cage until I can cope with it all. But now that she's warmed up, she'd going into these sad little death twitches. God, I'm still crying over her. I call the vet and arrange for an autopsy (necropy, whatever you want to call it), just to make sure that whatever she died of wasn't contagious. So, I put her in a Ziploc bag and take her to the vet. Crying. Of course, this is around 10:30 by now, so I'm really tired of crying. The worst part was pulling her out of my bag in that Ziploc and giving her to the vet people. I guess the deadness of her still didn't seem real (still doesn't, really).
Finally, 3:00 rolls around, and I call Bill. He says that because I took a break when I wasn't supposed to (jaw locking means nothing), and I missed a day (in which they couldn't find anyone to cover me, so Starbuck's opened late, which is apparently ALL my fault), I'm being let go. Nice, swift kick in my ribs. And let the crying resume. Seven months to find this job, and I blow it in a month and a half. After getting screwed so much by these people, they let me go after I miss one day for a migraine.
The results from Satan's necropsy came in yesterday. Apparently it looks like she has some older liver problems, and the burn got infected. Once it got infected, the antibiotics couldn't keep up as it spread through the rest of her body, and she toxified to death. I'm pretty sure that's all right. I was too depressed to really remember all of it. So, now she's in a freezer in the garage until tomorrow when it's bright enough to dig a hole for her. Thankfully, they put her in a box for me, so I didn't have to see her all dead and stuff.
Yeah, I needed to vent. Now I need to go keep my brain busy. Macrame's pretty fun. I'm gonna make some cookies tonight, too. If I don't keep busy, I fall into a lovely black pit of despair. I'm only online long enough to find a good cookie recipe.
[addsig]
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