Given Up?

Someone is looking a little ‘pooched’….

A recent conversation the other day with my sister has kind of stuck with me…. causing me to notice something more and more….

There are men out there who have given up on life, and are either proud to display their lack of giving a shit OR just honestly don’t give a shit, and there fore don’t give a shit showing it off.

My sister bumped into a cousin of ours, and although it’s a long and sordid tale on how our families kept us apart for decades, we’ve always clung to whatever interaction we had with them. (there are three cousins, one I know reads this blog, one I’m not sure off, and the cousin in question doesn’t ‘do’ the internet). 

Our sick and twisted families have blown apart so many of us, and  have dragged this generation of the family through so much shit, it’s hard to believe we’re family, so I use this word loosely – as in, we’re related through blood, unfortunately.  My sisters and I have had our share of run-in with the Doyles, and although it aided in breaking us up temporarily, we’re working our way back as sisters.  My cousins on the other hand, haven’t been able to get it back together, and as heart wrenching as it is, they still have so much to work through, as their ‘entanglement’ was a lot heavier and is far from being done.

Sorry, I digress, so back to what I was trying to say….

My sister mentioned how she bumped into the oldest cousin, what they were talking about, yadda, yadda, yadda, and she said that the saddest thing about the whole conversation was how he was standing there, in sweat pants.  My first reaction was, well, he’s not going to dress up in a three piece Armani suit to go to the video store.  But then she elaborated…..

It wasn’t just that he was wearing sweat pants, but dirty, grimy, yellowing sweat pants… not just stained or was maybe painting in them, but unwashed, unkempt, oily from repeated use sweat pants.  Not ‘just came from the gym’ sweaty, but “I’ve been wearing these for three weeks and can’t figure out how to take them off’ sweat pants OR more like “I have given up on my appearance, and I now live in these”.  She was struck by how sad it seemed.  And so am I.

No don’t get me wrong, I’ve been known to leave the house in pjs, comfy pants, or what are sold as yoga pants, but I don’t ‘yoga’, so call them what you will.  But I don’t leave the house in anything that could be considered gross on any personal hygienic scale.

Later that day, we passed a man walking down the street, wearing grey dirty sweat pants.  Obviously lived in, as the had that little ‘pooch’ that develops around the groin, and the yellowing was gross…..

The next day, see a man in Wal-mart, grey sweat pants, dirking greying areas, pooched, and gross…..

Man in McDonalds, pooched navy sweat pants, complete with ankle elastic, pilling and fuzzying across the ass and knees and what looks like actual oil stains in the fabric….

I could go on, but take a look around… they’re everywhere!

These men in question wouldn’t be what you’d maybe suspect to be special needs at all – I’m not trying to mock men who have special needs that you’d see frequently – complete with a visored hat, wind breaker, and fanny pack on an outing with their 60 year old mother – I’m talking about men who you’d expect to see in jeans and a t-shirt, or hoodie, fully functioning, can hold a good job and drive a car type…. people I wouldn’t expect in the slightest to dress in such a manner….

Which makes me wonder, have these men just given up? 

Given up on themselves, their lives, their partners… as obviously they’ve given up on their appearance.  Grubby sweat pants don’t have a time or a place, ever! 

And it makes me wonder about my cousin’s true mental state – I can only imagine the crap the Doyles have done to him, as I know what it’s like to be at ground zero with them.  What’s different between him and myself is I’ve never let them into my life ~ I’ve known what they are for a long time and wouldn’t play their games, but unfortunately, my cousin was heavily involved with them, believing they were family, and he has been recently and very seriously burned. 

I just hope he’s okay, and that someone some day soon, burns those sweat pants of his!

Martyr Not Mommy….

So I just had a 3 day weekend….

And two of those days were spent cleaning the house….

I come home from work today, all three guys all happened to have the day off – Lukey because it was his rotating day off, Chris because his shop just burned down, and until they get the windows replaced, there aren’t any to install, and Trevor sliced his hand open on Friday, and he can’t do his mechanic stuff with stitches in his palm.

I walk in, and immediately notice that the kitty litter hasn’t been changed. Nice!

I walk up the stairs, and immediately notice that the dining room table is crammed full of shit – nerf dart guns, remote control thingies, coin jars, toques, papers, mail, snow pants, sweaters over the chairs… I’m sure you get the idea, but I could go on…. Very nice!

As I pass the living room, I notice all the crap all over the coffee table – books, remotes, overflowing ashtrays, a vaporizer, BB guns, empty drinking glasses, and I notice a huge pair of orange handled scissors sticking out of the couch cushions…. WTF? I pull the scissors out and put them away. Really very nice!

I walk into the kitchen, just off the dining room, and immediately notice that the dishes from dessert last night are still in the sink, the drain rack is still full from yesterday, the counters are full of shit – car stereos, cell phone chargers, crumbs, dishes, a crumbled half bag of pasta that’s been kicking around for about a week, and some unidentifiable sauce that I have know is a recent addition, but what exactly, I don’t know. To compound this, if you’ve ever seen my kitchen, you’d also know I have about 4 feet of actually usable space, not because of how cluttered the counters are, but because of how tiny my kitchen really is.

I head to the sink, and empty the dish rack, and start on the dishes…. and I get the “What? What? Bad day at work?”

“Nope, it was a good day, until I came home….” I pause, decide that I am NOT cleaning this, drop whatever it was in my hand, and decide I’m going out. I head to Farm Boy for organic bread, and decide to hit Wal-Mart, as I have a prescription waiting, and I’m hoping to kill time with an oil change….

As I turn around, and head out the door, I’m getting shit saying that they can’t live in a pristine perfect house, and that people actually do live there….. I have ‘unrealistic expectations’ Really? Because this shit wasn’t here when I left for work at 7:30 this morning….

“Really? You talking to me? I am constantly cleaning something in this house, somewhere, every day…. 99% of the time without much complaint. But this is too much. Waaaaaay too much. All I ask is that people clean up after themselves. Apparently this is too much.”

I clean the kitchen, two or three times a day, as dying from some science project is not my idea of a good meal. I clean the one and only bathroom I use – which also just happens to be the one everyone else uses, as I am not looking for athletes foot, or planters warts, or Gawd knows whatever else you can pick up from a filthy bathroom this poor girl shares with three guys – a garbage man, a door & window installer and a mechanic. The other bath is very rarely used, and has been cleaned once in the six months, which was 2 weeks ago, as Chris vomited, missed, and THAT bucket got to sit outside the bathroom for exactly one week, mop included, until I absolutely had to wash the floors, so I had the immense pleasure of cleaning it out.

On my way out, as maybe a little ‘something-something’ to think about, I decide I’m now going to start ‘storing’ my tampons on the dining room table. The big GIANT screaming box of Tampax. And for good measure, I toss one on the coffee table. Why not, it’s so full of crap that if it weren’t bright green, you probably wouldn’t notice it there at all anyways.

I get the bread, I get the prescription, I don’t get the oil change, as they were closing in half an hour (new hours). I manage to kill an hour. DAMN! But I’ve got no where else to go, so I head home.

I walk in, kitty litter still stinks…

I walk up, table cleared, but shit that doesn’t belong there has been tidied up, but not completely removed and put away. A nice little collection of things to go into other rooms is at the top and bottom of the stairs.

Kitchen and living room, untouched…

Except for the tampons. They’ve managed to make their way onto the stairs, all the way up to the very top, almost outside my bedroom. So as I go up to my room, and discover these, I turn and ask why they are there, as I wanted them on the dining room table? I am informed (and none-too politely I might add) that they are “not going to be subjected to my attitude.” And that my friends, is a DIRECT quote! So as I bend down to pick them up, I put them back down just as quickly. And before even I know what I’m doing, I kick them, the whole box of 48 (with 2 missing) and they all come raining down onto the main level, spreading all over the dining room, the living room, the entrance. I VERY clearly announce that THAT is where I now what them all kept. I turn on my heels, giggle, acknowledge my evil twisted side, and fly into my room, closing the door. As mad as I am, the look on the faces, and the entire situation, was hilarious.

Within nano-seconds, Lukey is up, flings open the door, and chucks every single one of them into the bedroom, green tampons flying all over the room, he yells, “Enough” and slams the door. Fine…. I’m still trying to not laugh, and I’m glad he didn’t stick around to argue about it, as I’m nearing hysterical laughter. So, I then go into the bathroom, remove MY toilet paper, seeing I bought all 110 rolls over the weekend, seeing as no one else was concerned about us being down to 3, and they are now hibernating under my bed.

Now flash back to ANY other average day of the week, I usually get home before Lukey, I’ve tidied up whatever mess has been left out, clean the kitchen, cleared the table of what ever gas guzzling, remote controlling, nuts, bolts or screws building shit has been left out, not to mention all the other crap that gets dumped there. Most people have a small table or shelf at their entrance to catch all the little incidentals. Not us, we use the entire dining room tables that seats 8 easily.

I have dinner started, if not close to done, the house is tidied, I tidy the entrance as I use it. Same as the bathroom. Except on my day off (usually Saturday) I’m scrubbing tubs and toilets. No one else does it. No one else even tries. I keep a jumbo container of Lysol wipes on the toilet for spot cleaning, but apparently I’m the only one who has ever seen them, as I’m the only one who has used them.

So yea, I’m pissed off. Really pissed off. Why am I wasting my days off cleaning house? Don’t tell me it’s because I’m the Mommy. Don’t even come close to suggesting it. I will FREAK! I like a clean house. I really like it. No, actually, I love it. Everything needs a place, and it needs to go to it’s place when you’re done using it, so it can be there exactly when you need it again. It doesn’t take much to maintain, and on the flip side, it doesn’t take much to loose the maintenance. But even that isn’t my issue. Well, it is and it isn’t.

I just am so pissed off that I am the only one cleaning up, and it’s not even my mess.

I’m just feeling so taken advantage of. I know I behaved childishly. I know I was probably out of line. I know the tampon thing was stupid, but the guys are so fearful of them, it made my point. But I’m not their mommies, and I’m not going to constantly be cleaning up their shit – literally and figuratively.

Not too long ago, I was informed that because I like it that clean, I’ll have to clean it. REALLLLLLY? I’ve never bitched about being the only one to mop the floors, not once. General cleaning, not a problem. But if I’d like a toilet without pubes and urine on it, neither of which are mine, I get to clean it DAILY?!?!?!

Not too long ago, I was given shit for not thanking them when they ‘clean’ (Aka – tidied their junk out of the living room). I was VERY quick to point out that not a single person has EVER thanked me for cleaning anything – not the kitchen after them, or scrubbing the tub – we all use it, daily. They shut their mouth pretty damn quick.

Am I playing Martyr, maybe…..

But I am NOT playing Mommy….

And I’ll keep you posted on Tampax’s next appearance, as this is sooooo not over!

Martyr in the Morning

Martyr –noun

1. a person who is put to death or endures great suffering on behalf of any belief, principle, or cause: a martyr to the cause of social justice.

2.a person who undergoes severe or constant suffering: a martyr to severe headaches.

3.a person who seeks sympathy or attention by feigning or exaggerating pain, deprivation, etc

I’m sarcastic, I’m pushy, I’m funny, I’m loud and obnoxious. I like to make my point, and I’ll beat that proverbial dead horse until someone ~ ANYONE ~ has heard what I have to say. This is strong in my ‘public’ personality.

But in my ‘private’ personality, - what most people don’t know about me - is that I’m a care taker. I care for those I love, and 99% of the time I swoop in and rescue, play mommy, do the dirty work, saving whomever from whatever evils I see coming, or just doing the grunt work so someone I love doesn’t have to…

On the flip side I also know I can play the martyr .

I know myself better than anyone else…. it just depends on how truthful I want to be about it, I guess.

This morning was no exception……

Lukey has a hard ~ VERY hard ~ time waking up in the morning…. and by that I mean he guy has a 120 decibel alarm clock, and even that sometimes doesn’t work on getting him up. I don’t know about you, but waking in the morning to something as loud as the jet engines of an airplane in your bedroom is NOT conducive to a ‘good morning’ in my books….

So I have created the role for myself as the ‘Morning Waker"’. I set my alarm clock, I wake up, I wake him, I play the snooze game, and by 6:10 am, his butt has to be out of bed. No ands, ifs or buts about it. This also means on my days off, weekends, etc… there is no sleeping in for this gal unless Lukey is sleeping in as well. Most days, this is fine, as I work too, so no biggie.

I will also add that I am not a ‘Wake Up’ kinda gal. I mean, you here people who say they ‘Don’t do mornings”, well I don’t do wake ups. At all. I wake up so quick tempered – and it doesn’t matter when – I refuse to nap, no matter how exhausted, as I wake up horrible. I know this, and so I try my best to keep it in check.

So bottom line is that there are days Lukey works that I don’t. Like today…. and when the tables are turned, he sleeps in even though I have to work. So, technically, he gets more sleep-ins than I do, not that I’m keeping score….

And this morning was especially brutal – I wake him the first alarm, and he bitches and tells me to leave him alone. Me, in my short fused & groggy state, decides, fine, fuck you, and I roll over and try to go back to sleep. Snooze goes off, but I’m NOT go to wake him, but I know he’s got to get his ass ready for work, so my legs suddenly become quite restless….. and I get nothing. So I hit the snooze again….

Final Alarm, I sarcastically gently wake him with a “Hun, not to bother you, but last call to get up. Get up, don’t get up, whatever, but my job is done” And in a huff, I roll back over. Luke looks at me like WTF, and turns on his light. Obviously he’s not wake to realize this is one of those ‘tread lightly’ moments, and says, “What’s your problem?”

Well, them is fighting words my friends… I can hear the ding ding of the boxing ring bell, as my gloves hit the floor….

So an argument ensues, I begin to feel like I’m loosing, I play it…. No, I mean I REALLY play it….

My Martyr Card

Obviously Lukey’s time is running out and he’s got to get to work. Obviously I am a super thunder bitch first thing in the morning. The last thing I see is the pleading look in his baby blues as he tells me his cell phone is dead, and asks if am I sure this is really how I want to send him to work, in this state. Luke will sit and chew on this ALL DAY and it will eat him up ALL DAY.

I’m mad, so of course I say yea, and if he was smart, he’d have plugged in his cell phone while he slept, like most responsible people do… ~Ouch, I know, I’m a giant bitch~

So he turns his back, and leaves for work, and maybe 30 minutes later, I’m sorry. Very Sorry. He’s right, I’m wrong, and although playing my martyr card seemed fitting this morning, it just makes me feel lousy and evil all day.

I’m a lousy bitch, and I hate it.

Getting To The Point

Quickie Update: (in point form)

~ Things are settled with Shoppers Drug Mart – I ate crow, and honestly, it didn’t taste so bad – they were so good about it

~ My Dad died three years ago – incase you missed that HUGE re-post I copied from my previous blog

~ I’m over-worked and under-paid – and so is the rest of my friends

~ Mark is doing well – on the weekend he was bitching about the cost of groceries – it was the first time he did it on his own – I usually drive him and foot the bill – I pointed out that grocery shopping does suck, but eating is very good… He agrees

~ I’ve been reading and scaring the shit out of myself – Skinny Bitch and Gorgeously Green is NOT for the faint of heart – toss in a few PETA videos, and anorexia is looking like the safest choice

~ I’m tossing around the idea of quitting smoking…. I know I know…. those who don’t know me are appalled that I do smoke, and those that DO know me are laughing their asses off….

~ Went to Sexapolooza - ‘nuff said :)

~ I’m still battling a double ear infection, kinda low-grade, but enough to hurt – so yea, maybe I AM ignoring you, maybe I’m not….

~ We’re going on a trip in three and a half weeks – Dominican Republic Here I Come!

~ I’ve been a home body lately, I guess it’s just the January ho-hums kicking in…. I’ve been cleaning and purging and cooking and crafting up a storm….

~ I’ve spent the last week watching seasons 1 & 2 of Dexter…. Who knew I could so easily be rooting for a Serial Killer…. it’s amazing how much I still don’t get done when I don’t have tv to occupy my time…. it really took away from my internet time…. which is also a huge waste of my time – damn you facebook & zygna poker!

So this is where I’ve been…. incase you missed me!

Three Years!

Well, today marks the three year anniversary of my Dad's death. I've been pretty mum on it - a small, select few really know what I've gone through, and an even smaller few have managed to pick up the little broken pieces of my heart and protect them while I've been shattered.

I have wasted too many years not living, and my Dad's death has been a real eye opener. The conversations we had into the wee hours of the night in his hospital room are still with me like they were yesterday. I can still hear his voice, his laughter, I can still remember what he smelled like, and hear his feet tapping gently to music. He's still here, with me, and these things I could never describe fully or share well enough for you to understand. And that I'm okay with. I think I'd rather keep these to myself anyways.

But the changes in my life are insurmountable.

My Dad asked me to live.
And live I am.

My Dad asked me to slow down.
And slow down I am.

My Dad asked me to soften.
And soften I have.

My Dad asked me not to be angry.
And I'm angry no more.

My Dad asked me not to be so judgemental.
And judgemental I am no longer.

My Dad asked me to protect the family.
And protect them I have.

My Dad asked me to take vacations.
And vacations I have taken.

My Dad asked me to always be true to myself.
And true to myself I am.

My Dad asked me to keep my promises.
And keep promises I have.

My Dad asked me to hold him the night before he died.
And hold him I did.

My Dad asked me to always keep him with me.
And he will forever be with me.

He was the first man to truly love me, and probably the only one who would unconditionally. And he's gone. It's still very surreal, and sometimes I even forget. Christmas shopping this year - I found tons of things he would have loved to get, and considering he was the toughest to buy for - I found it ironic that I could find soooo many things.

Dad asked a lot from me, we both knew this, and it's a heavy responsibility to take on, and I still have soo much more to do - some will have to wait for specific time, others are just more challenging, and a few are just way too personal to share, but these were my Dad's last requests, and I've always been up to the responsibility of such things, I'd do anything for him. He knew this. Dad and I had our secrets over the years, and I've kept them.

But what I learned the most from his passing, is that life really, truly is too short. I'm sorry to use such a cliche, but I couldn't possibly word it any better myself. I've wasted years of my life, just keeping busy, not really slowing down, looking around, and truly seeing my surroundings. I've lived too many years not savouring moments. Just racing from one thing to another.

I've been defensive - oh Lord knows I have been. I've been angry about things in my past, and I've carried that anger with me through my life. I've blamed anyone and everyone. I've kept people out and trusted so few, and because of this I've missed out on a lot. I've missed out on a lot of life. This I do truly regret.

So, where am I three years later?

Living a life true to myself.

I have lost people in my life along the way, and this does make me sad. I do miss them. I know the past cannot be changed, but I know how different things would be now. I have made my mistakes, oh yea.. you could say I've made a few.... okay, quite a few... but I was in such a horrible place in my life, and everything was so dark for me. Carrie - the strong and beautiful - actually needed support - yet I couldn't find the words to ask. I've never asked for help, nor could I, and it would take A LOT for me to accept an offer. So, I just did what I did best: Put up walls, and tell the world I was just "FINE"! Needless to say, I don't use that word anymore.... or, at least I try not to. I've left doors open, but no one has come through, not that I could blame them.

I've also gained a few new friendships over the last few years, and these 'newbies' are seeing a softer, calmer me. Not to say I'm not still a wee bit wild - but it's only because I'm in a better place in my life, and it has naturally made me this way. There are a small few who are closer to me than others, but all of them I cherish, and I'm very aware of how close I get to people. I do not judge them, nor they me, and for this I am grateful. I've really tried to let them see the real me - something not many people have seen before. And their acceptance has been incredible. I am beginning to realize just how lucky I am.

I've made some major changes in my life this year, and some ever bigger ones more recently, and the complete 180' flip has been challenging, but worth every second. By no means is it all coming up roses, but for the first time ever in my adult life, I'm truly living for me. I don't know where I'm heading in this life. I don't know what tomorrow will bring to me, but whatever it is, I will be better prepared for it because of what my Dad has taught me - both in his life, and in his death. I know where I want to go, but how I'm gonna get there - well, I guess only my Dad knows now!

My Guilty Faux Pas

Sooooo,

I've told this story so many times, when I was updating my BFF, I could have sworn I had already blogged about it, but she pointed out that I hadn't, and she was so right!

Just before Christmas, Lukey and I were finishing off our Christmas shopping, and the last stop was Shoppers Drug Mart (SDM). I need two things ~ an Axe body 'detailer' for a stocking stuffer, and Aleve pain killers - random, I know, but none of the other stores we had hit up that day had any of either, and although I dread this store, here I was running in, again, as it was more convenient than not.

So, long story short, this SDM didn't have either, but they had giant Kinder-Egg Christmas Balls that would be cute in my son's stocking, Axe gift packs, which were a good deal, I settled for tylenol, although it's not what I wanted, a good sale on my favourite Keri moisturizer, and kleenex was 49 cents - who could argue. In the process of finding all these 'bargains', I couldn't find a cart or basket to save my soul, so I was juggling all these things, and a few more, throughout the store. Eventually, reality kicks in, I cannot possibly hold anything else, and I head for the checkout.

I had been in a great mood, I had been patient all day, I hadn't really encountered long lines, and the ones that were long, were moving pretty quickly, so it's not like I was standing there like a ticking time bomb with a short fuse. I have little patience for poor customer service, after trading half my life to retail. But in all honesty, I was feeling pretty festive, and relieved as finally, ALL my shopping was done! YAY!

As I mosey up to what looks like the shortest checkout, where I was fourth in line. A woman and her daughter were wandering between two checkouts, and when she realized I was there, she very aggressively pushed her cart into the counter in front of me, giving me a dirty look, like I was cutting in. I chuckled to myself, took a step back, and let them in. Whatever, it just gave me time to scope the magazines, as I still didn't have the newest issue of Real Simple - my total favourite - and low and behold it was there. It took some fancy maneuvering to pick it up, as only the index and middle fingers of my right hand were available for such feat, but I did it - and I was super excited.

As I approach the checkout, the woman with the cart starts to unload onto the counter. Cool, I'm next, and there are about 4 or 5 people behind me. My arms are aching, but my turn is in site. The woman's purchases have filled the counter, and her cart isn't empty yet, and the young guy who is supposed to be ringing in her purchases hasn't yet, as he's rummaging under the counter. He pulls out a sign saying 'This Cash is Closed', re-adjusts his bangs to cover both his eyes, looks in my direction, and says, "Yo, sorry, I gotta go for break". I look over my shoulder to see who he's talking to, the customers behind me scatter to other lines, and I'm just standing there, thinking maybe a manager walked by or something, and I missed the exchange. He's still looking towards me and says again, "Yo, I'm closed, I'm going for my break". I'm sorry, he couldn't possibly be talking to me..... OH MY FUCKING GAWD HE'S TALKING TO ME.

I giggle, shaking my head, and said, "I've been here just as long as she has, and it won't take long to ring me through, trust me, I want out of here just as much as you." He shakes his head, re-adjusts his Emo-bangs, and says "No, I gotta go."

"Ummm.... No, you have to ring me through."

"Ummm.... No, I'm going for my break"

"Ahhhhh... No, you're not, it'll take a few minutes, but please, you gotta put me through"
"No, I don't."

"I've been standing in line for almost 15 minutes according to your clock, this isn't fair"

"Oh well, my break time is my break time."

Now, I'm scanning the store, searching for either a place to dump all the stuff, as I don't need any of it, or for a manager, a cashier who's willing to sneak me in, or a customer who'd let me cut in..... something, and there was nothing, NOTHING......

"Please just ring me in, it isn't much, and it'll be another 20 minutes in any other line. I could just stand here and wait the 15 minutes for you to come back, it would be faster."

"I don't care, I'm going for break."

"No, you're not"

"Yes I am"

And that's when I've had my fill.......

I just swing my arms open wide, scattering everything onto the floor, right there at the checkout, and look at my little friend and said:

"It probably would have been faster to ring me through than to clean this up. I told you you weren't going for break yet."

He's in shock, just staring at me. He can't believe I just did that. Neither can I. But I did. I walk out. I am PISSED!

I get into the car, Luke's looking at me like what took so long. I burst out, telling him the whole story on our way home. I'm freaking, I'm so pissed. Hours later, I'm still fuming, so I ended up emailing SDM. I don't like that location, as I've never had a positive experience there with their staff, but out of convenience, I go. So, I will copy and paste the emails I've been having with SDM:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello Ms. Doyle,
Thank you for writing to us about your experience at the Shoppers Drug Mart located at 3151 Strandherd Dr. in Nepean. We apologize for any inconvenience you may have experienced.

At Shoppers Drug Mart our entire philosophy is based on the understanding of care and concern of our customers. In fact, our promise is to 'provide superior customer satisfaction beyond expectation'. Obviously we did not meet or exceed your expectations, and again, we sincerely apologize. Your comments and concerns are important to us and have been forwarded to the Management Team at the store.

As an added apology, we would like to add some Optimum points to your card. Please provide your card number at your earliest convenience.

Thank you again for bringing this matter to our attention and allowing us to improve our services to our customers. Please do not hesitate to contact the Customer Call Centre at 1-800-SHOPPERS should you have any further questions or comments.

Regards,
Angela
Shoppers Drug Mart Customer Service

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking this is an automated response, as it came the next day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you Angela for your prompt reply.

I no longer have an Optimums card, as a few years back my points all mysteriously disappeared, to which I later found out that my sister was able to redeem them without the card, as she, I'm assuming, had enough of my personal information it was done manually.

But thank you once again for getting back to me so quickly, unfortunately, it doesn't change much.

Thanks again,

Carrie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello Carrie,

Thank you for your reply. We would like to mail you a new Shoppers Optimum card and investigate your issues with your card as mentioned below. Please provide your date of birth and full address so we may do so.

Should you wish to provide this information by telephone, please contact the Customer Service Call Centre directly at 1-800-SHOPPERs and any representative will be more than happy to assist you.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,
Angela

Customer Service

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hmmm.... still Angela, maybe it isn't automated......

Now, I just received this one today, so I haven't acted on it, but you know I will.

And in conjunction to this, I also received one from the Store Manager:

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Carrie,

I have read your comments in regards to your experience at my store and I am truly shocked. These types of behavior and the experiences you have had surprise me greatly as this type of truly poor service has not been pointed out to me before and I appreciate you taking the time to let me know. As the owner I am not privy to these types of experiences personally as I would hope no one would display this lack of respect when I am around but it troubles me even more that it occurs when I am not. I have done my best to look into the particular cashier and can't seem to pinpoint him based on the description of "long bangs" as most of my male employees have short cut hair and any one working that night doesn't seem to fit the description. I am going to do my best to get this figured out because everything you have written from the out of stock situation, to issues with my cosmetics department, to cashiers making out (that's a real shocker) are quite troubling.

I sincerely apologize for your experiences at this store and I can fully understand why you would not want to shop here again...with that kind of service neither would I. This will all be brought up in forth coming team huddles so that it can be rectified and prevent any future bad experiences by any of my customers.

On last thing Carrie. I have not had these types of comments made in regards to a customer experience since I opened this store. The survey at the end of the receipts has provided mostly good comments over the years with a small degree of dissatisfaction by customers and thus I appreciate you taking the time to inform me of these events. I do want to get one final clarification and that is that we are talking specifically about the 24 hour store on Strandherd next to the Metro and not the one next to the Home Depot. I apologize for my question but your experiences are so uncharacteristic of what I expect from my staff that I feel that I may have a real situation on my hands.

Again please accept my apology for your experience(s) these last few weeks.

Regards,

~~~~ ~~~~ (I'm protecting his name)
Owner

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Ummmmm....... now here's the kicker - it IS the location by Home Depot......... I got the wrong Store number off of mapquest. A HUGE FAUX PAS!!!! I am such a bitch!

This owner seems so genuinely concerned, and so worried, I actually want to go work there! OMG! He's all concerned, apologizing profusely, and I FUCKED UP!

So, tomorrow, I will compose an email, eating crow, and thank him for his time a patience, and letting him know that I am now only going to shop at his location, as he seems like a manager with his head screwed on straight.... OMG - I'm such a boob!

And in the meantime, I'll be avoiding the other SDM like the plague, and possible going into the new one, maybe with cookies I'll bake him, as I feel horrible, as he's probably getting slaughtered from head office for having horrible employees.

My bad - wanna cookie?

My Christmas Duh!

So, with my three different Christmas celebrations, you'd think that ME of all people, would have captured them on camera, so I could post, burn to disk, eventually print, and even more eventually later scrapbook.

I even kept my camera in my purse for the weekend, and after three Christmas meals and 4 gift openings, celebrated with me and Luke, Luke's family during the day, my family that night, and then my chosen family (aka my BFF) on Boxing Day, here is the one and only photo I took.

I am such a dork!

Won't this make for a great Christmas card for next year?