I've been working for this firm for over three years.
Today was the first day I got some mail. Like letter/stamp slow mail.
"Dear Debu_bitch:
As you may be aware, the Department of Labor recently passed new Fairl Labor Standards Act regulations regarding criteria employers must use to determine whether an employee in an administrative capacity [aka the slaves] can be considered exempt versus non-exempt.
.... "
Basically instead of just paying me by the hour, straight time for every hour, they will now have to pay me time and a half for any hours over 40 per week.
I showed my bosses the letter, so *now* they finally decide that I shouldn't be working so hard. That I shouldn't have to do all this shit by myself. Basically, they don't want to pay over 30 bucks an hour to get their shit out the door at the last minute.
Oh well. At least they will stop stressing me out over these last minute things. Or now ... heh ... they really will have to pay for it!!
My Chef is still in Florida. (helping his mom with the ranch/hurricane damage stuff)
Debu_snot: So, you having fun playing cowboy?
Cheffy: Honey, I'm not playing cowboy. I am a cowboy. (they have like 400 cattle - cows, steers, whatever ... they are all fucking cows to me.)
Gravy. He's my gravy.
And who else could make me laugh until I snort?
I miss him, but I don't miss him. Zoe and I have been chilling so much lately. I think not having 3 people in my tiny apartment has lowered the stress level a bit. But I don't feel as grown up. Maybe because I want to go to bed at 8pm every night.
My timing is so off lately. It's the money. It's that way when my car breaks down too. It makes me physically ill when I'm having money woes. I was doing ok until my ex lost his job & I picked up the health insurance. That extra was just the buffer I needed every month not to be checking my bank balance 24/7.
Things are weird because I've been weird.
So I decided to work on the health stuff more. I've been taking my meds, monitoring my blood sugar levels and watching what goes into my mouth. Next will be getting the cardio back.
Ok, work calls.
Oh, and if you want to buy some supplements, let me know. My dad is on this kick and bought me $100 of supplements a month. They are supposed to help. My sister freaks out on them and says all they do is make you have expensive pee, but I do enough blood work (every six weeks or so) to know if they are making any kind of dent in my numbers.
Cause it's all about the fucking numbers.
boobies.
Posted by debutaunt at October 5, 2004 04:43 PM | TrackBack