Karma's a Bitch..

So. Tomorrow's the day. 

I've just received the final, signed copy of the Demand Letter that will be sent to my ex employer.  Yup.  That's right!  THE Demand Letter.  The one that let's them know they violated my rights under the American's With Disabilities Act as well as Maryland's Fair Employment Protections Act.  It is on its way to the Corporate Offices via FedEx. 

And from there, it will be sent to in house counsel because the Corporate Offices will immediately shit their little pants because it's been sent to them FROM. AN. ATTORNEY.  An attorney who specializes in EMPLOYMENT DISCRIMINATION LAWSUITS.  An attorney who has a tremendous track record defending EMPLOYMENT DISCRIMINATION LAWSUITS. 

This is actually stage one.  Basically what I'm doing is giving them the opportunity to give me what I want in exchange for the settlement to remain confidential for both parties and attorney costs would be relatively low.  Because of this condition I cannot tell you exactly what's in the demand.  Suffice it to say I will be generously compensated for their indiscretion.   

I have never in my working life been unemployed this long.  I'll admit I've made bad financial decisions because I didn't figure I would be sitting here, 5.5 months later, without a job.  My mind has turned to mush and I feel like I can't remember how to do anything. 

They will have 20 days to respond to the letter.  What can happen at this point is that they can completely ignore the letter and not respond at all.  They can agree with all aspects of my demand; or, they can come back and counter my demand with an offer of their own.  At that point, we can begin some level of settlement negotiations. 

Should they not agree or negotiations break down, an actual lawsuit will be filed.  Should this occur, I will contact each and every local newspaper within my immediate community.  Then there will be the calls to The Washington Post.  The Baltimore Sun.  USA Today.  The Wall Street Journal.  A lawsuit is public information and I will make sure the public knows exactly what Wells Fargo has done.  Plus, you have to remember, Wells Fargo asked for and was given bailout funds.  I'm sure the American public, as well as the jury pool locally would need to know this information. 

Once the lawsuit is filed, the real waiting begins.  Lawsuits can take so long for a variety of reasons.  First there is the horrible backlog within the Courts themselves.  Fortunately I will be able to file this in the Federal Courts so it will go a little faster.  Second, there is the tendency for defendants of these types of lawsuits to "paper the plaintiff to death".  This will not actually hurt me because my counsel has been retained on a contingency basis.  All that would happen should Wells decide to do that is to increase attorney's fees that they would have to pay for.  None of the attorney fees would be deducted from my award. 

Then there's the discovery phase, depositions, status hearings and the like.  There could be mandatory mediation at which point we would be right back at settlement negotiations.  Should no agreement be reach at that point, a trial would be scheduled on the docket. 

I don't know exactly how well I'll fare waiting for all this.  I've gone through every cent of my savings, my 401k and my retirement.  There's also the fact that my unemployment will be running out soon.  In the time it will take to wait for resolution within the Courts, I could lose everything I own.  I am not looking forward to this aspect.  I am hoping Wells understands it would not behoove them to take me down this road.  I know where all the bodies are buried and I know the process they'll go through in making any decisions within the Company.  This knowledge will not work in their favor. 

So.  Here I sit.  I've marked 20 days off on my calendar and I'll be watching my email like a hawk.  I'll have to turn my phone back on so that I can answer any call that comes from my counsel.  It's time for praying, breath holding and finger crossing. 

I'm not usually a litigious person.  I don't view the Courts as another form of the lottery.  And if there was ANY question that I contributed to my termination, I would not be doing this.  But I didn't.  I worked hard and was damn good at what I did.  My research and testimony benefitted the Company financially.  My ability to settle lawsuits for the least amount of compensation benefitted the Company.  Developing a life altering, terminal illness was not a choice.  And my illness did not severely impact my ability to do my job. 

As they say..

Karma's a Bitch.

Articulate Ramblings

The trip to the grocery store would be quick; just a few things needed for dinner.  Her mother had just picked her up from day care; and, as usual, the car filled with her little voice as she recounted each and every detail of her day; hands gesturing wildly.  She was a bright, energetic, engaging little girl.  Her mother would occasionally catch a glimpse of her in the rear view mirror; her little smile stretching from ear to ear. 

Walking through the store, she held tightly to her mother's coat with one hand; the other free to wave at everyone who passed by her.  Her stories were peppered with the enthusiam of a young child; laughing merrily at the jokes that made sense only to her.    

Standing in line, she continued her chatter.  Her mother's face beamed with the pride that only a parent can feel.  Being the first born, her language skills were highly developed and she could articulate her thoughts well.  She quickly involved everyone around her in her conversation. 

A young man in his 20s approached the line.  A product of the fashion flaws of the early 80s, his face was framed by a perfectly coiffed mullet.  His clothes suggested he was on his way out for the evening; the V-neck silk shirt tucked impossibly into skin tight jeans that could only have been spray painted on.  Jeans so tight as to show each and every bump and bulge. 

He apparently had experience with young children; his conversation was light and tuned into the little girl.  "How old are you?" he asked.  "I am this many!" came the delighted answer; four little fingers up in the air.  Her mother glanced back and smiled at the young man and then at her daughter.  She told him the same joke she had been telling all evening; the one that made no sense and he laughed along with her.  He told her a knock knock joke.  Her giggles filled the air and captured the attention of everyone within earshot to giggle with her.  

The line moved up and it was her mother's turn.  She looked back again at her daughter, standing half as tall as the young man, their conversation continuing with silly jokes and laughter. 

As they were about to leave, the little girl tugged lightly at her mother's coat.  At first, she was ignored as the groceries were paid for; ".. just a minute sweetie, mommy's almost done".  Then the tug seemed a bit more persistant, ".. but Mommy! I HAVE to TELL you something"!

Her mother turned around, the young man still standing there, holding those few items in his hands; her daughter pointing directly at him.  "Mommy, that man has a really large penis, don't you think?"

The initial silence was deafening.  The color slowly rushing to the young man's face; the mother's face; everyone in the vincinity.  Then the giggles started; lifting like a wave in the ocean.  The little girl looked up at her mother, intently waiting for an answer. 

The mother's eyes filled with the tears that the laughter had brought on.  She looked down at her little girl; the innocence in her face gleamed like the beam of a lighthouse. 

"Yes, honey, it appears he does." 

The mother's eyes moved up and caught those of the young man.  His face a crimson red.  His smile as bright as the little girl's. 

"Perhaps the pants are just a BIT too tight", she quietly said. 

"Obviously."

The Power Of Words..

The power of words. Woven together, we're able to convey our thoughts; our dreams, our ideas. We can string them together as beads to make you laugh or cry, inform and detract. But; is it the word that is powerful; or, is it wielded by the eyes or ears of the receiver?

When spoken, we paint the picture using the brush strokes of our voices. We intone and accentuate. Our smiles lighten the slash of the insult; our anger manipulates. But, even spoken, words are misinterpreted. Malapropisms make the serious, comical. A double entendre' creates a sexual tension where none exists. And when there is an audience, we can draw the listener back when we see our words have been misunderstood.

When written; however, words are cold and sterile; waiting for the hands of the gifted writer. The story being told emerges from the blank page. The imagery of the words are used to fill the head of the reader with pictures. And we have to trust that the picture being seen is the picture being drawn.

As writers, we can become puppeteers, pulling the strings of emotions with the simple use of a font. It is the equivalent of intonation. And once those words are committed to paper, the strings are cut and Pinocchio has become the boy.

Judgment is one of those words. By itself, it is innocuous. It holds no more power than any other. We use it to convey a trust in ourselves, in others, ".. you'll make the right decision, just use your best judgment." We use it to gently nudge the conscience, ".. don't judge a book by its cover." And we use it to condemn, ".. you're so judgmental !" By definition it can mean the utterance of an authoritative figure; a divine sentence or decision. It also means the process by which an opinion is formed through evaluation and discernment. And discernment is a synonym of judgment; the definition meaning the quality of being able to grasp and comprehend.

Hypocrite, on the other hand, is a word that holds power in and of itself. By definition it means a person who puts on a false appearance or who acts in contradiction to a stated belief or feeling. By declaring someone judgmental, we become the hypocrite.

But, how do we arrive at that conclusion? Have we been driven there by the words being presented? Or, has the destination been reached by our own emotions. If we allow those emotions to navigate us, we can arrive at a destination not intended.

As we traverse the written word, we must use caution. If we find ourselves incensed by what we read, we must step back and extricate ourselves from our emotions. This is a task easier said than done. We fear our silence equates to acquiescence. And, in our zeal to express displeasure, we crave the acceptance of unity of thought.

We must remember; the power of words lies not just with the writer. 

She's Sorry Now..

Ha!

I've been getting phone calls from one of my ex-colleagues lately.  At first, I was a bit surprised.  That awkward feeling of talking to someone from the office after I was fired. 

And, I'll admit, I was a bit skeptical about why she was calling.  I probably still am.  They don't know about the lawsuit; my demand letter hasn't been sent yet. 

She calls me every morning on her way to work and we have the same conversations we used to have when I was home sick.  We talk about the workload; the direction of the courts; a little home life slipped in for good measure. 

I figured I would just let her talk and would gauge my words carefully.  And, I finally got to hear what I've been waiting to hear for 3 months. 

Since I was fired, 3 people have left the team.  Three people who would never have left the team.  And, although I feel sorry for the members still there; they are carrying case loads that are crushing, I can't help but feel just a bit smug.  I guess that red-haired, vicious cunt should have thought more carefully about her decision.  Even more so than what she committed to paper and what she spewed from her mouth the day she fired me.  Can we say "evidence"? 

A suggestion I had made before I was fired has been implemented.  With the caseload as it is, everyone was failing their monthly audits.  Oh, management knew we were doing our jobs and doing them way above what could be expected.  But the mundane record keeping was taking a back seat because of the travel and the volume.  It was killing moral.  I had made a suggestion that the audits needed to be revamped to score on a one to five scale rather than auto fail for forgetting to do something.  These audits are the mainframe of the annual evaluation. 

The girl they hired to take my place seems to have exaggerated her work history and doesn't seem to have a clue how to do the job. 

I. AM. VINDICATED!

And with her team in shambles I can only imagine the conversations between her and upper management.  This is an important team during a critical time in the industry.  And that stupid cunt knows I should be there.  Like.  Everyday. 

I can't wait until the demand letter is sent.  Knowing the process as I do, the letter will be sent to the corporate offices and then routed to in house counsel.  They will, in turn, contact upper management from my former department to find out what the FUCK happened. 

And the red headed, vicious cunt will be called on the carpet because any dime I get will come directly from their operating budget. 

I'll bet that bitch is sorry now..

I'm just sayin'

So, here's my question.

Why is it that vegetarians and vegans all tout the benefits of going meatless; and yet, all I see in the grocery store are products based on.. yup.. you got it.. meat..

Soy burgers, tuna free tuna, veggie chicken strips.  If I'm buying a carrot, I want it to TASTE like a carrot.  If I buy a penis, I want it to TASTE like a penis.

WHOA!  Where did THAT come from? 

Someone's always bitching about something being bad for me.  Grilling meats causes cancer.  Dairy products contain hormones.  Seafood contains mercury.  Well, guess WHAT!?! I don't give one fatassed pig's flying prick about that shit.  BREATHING is bad for me; you don't see me converting to NOT breathing.. do ya?

Don't get me wrong.  I LOVE my veggies.  Grilled, broiled, fried, sauteed.  NOT boiled though.  YUCK.  The only time you'll see a veggie in water in MY house is when I'm making stock; and those get thrown out once it's done.  Oh, and I don't like lima beans. 

Listen, I won't make you eat my 12 ounce, perfectly marbled, thick cut porterhouse, grilled to the finest degree of medium rare.  But don't you DARE start telling me I'm killing myself and would be SO much healthier if I cut meat out of my diet. 

Oh, and get honest with yourself.  It's TOFU.  Soy bean extracted, gelatinous looking brick of GROSS.  Call it what it is.  Be PROUD!  Don't try coloring it brown, shaping it like a burger, and then try and tell me it tastes JUST LIKE CHICKEN!

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to my PNN family. 

If you're a mother, grandmother, aunt, special friend, stepmother; no matter.  If you help shape and mold; care for and shelter a young person; you hold a place in that child's (adult's) life unlike no other.  And for that, you should be honored. 

I hope all of you enjoy today, surrounded by your family and friends.  It's not the flowers or candy; it's the company.  A visit to you for no other reason than you live in their heart. 

Relax, enjoy and absorb all the love that's being bestowed on you today.  You deserve it.  All the mistakes, mis-steps and angry words do not deflect from today.  Your "mommy" guilt is to be put on vacation today. 

We all do the best we can as moms and we work with the tools we were given. 

The complete history of Mother's Day can be traced backed to the Egyptians in celebrating Isis, the mother of all pharaohs.  There's all kinds of intrigue and murder involved in this; but, the point is, Isis was their Mother. 

The Romans and Greeks also had their female deities whom they worshiped as being the Mother of their nations. 

In the 1600s, by clerical decree, England broadened the celebration to include real Mothers.  This day, "Mothering Day" was especially important to the working class of England.  This day was also tied in with Lent and the Mother Church and carried with it quite a religious connection. 

When the English came to this country, this day fell by the wayside.  I suspect it was due to their Puritan ideals that no one could be put above God.  It would be centuries later before the modern day Mother's Day would be re-invented. 

In 1870, Julie Ward Howe visualized a new Mother's Day.  Even though she was the author of The Battle Humn of the Republic, she had become distraught over the death and carnage that was the Civil War.  She called on all Mother's to come together to protest the futility of their sons killing the sons of other Mothers.  

Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise all women who have hearts,
Whether your baptism be that of water or of tears
Say firmly: 
"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands shall not come to us reeking of carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of
charity, mercy and patience.
 
"We women of one country
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
  
From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says, "Disarm, Disarm!"
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice!
Blood does not wipe out dishonor
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have of ten forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war.
 
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
 
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
 
Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.
 
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions.
The great and general interests of peace.   

  Julie Ward Howe

The next stop on our journey is with Anna M Jarvis.  After her mother died, she campaigned for a national Mother's Day in honor of her mother and to honor the peace in 1908. 

A U.S. Senator from Nebraska, Elmer Burkett, proposed making Mother's Day a national holiday.  This was at the request of the Young Men's Christian Association (YMCA).  The proposal was defeated; however, by 1909, 46 states were holding Mother's Day Celebrations. 

Of course, there was the commercialization of the Day.  Anna Jarvis finally removed herself from the controvery as she saw what she had intended become nothing more than another Hallmark moment. 

But, today, we celebrate.  Regardless of how it came to be, there has always been a need to honor the women who give us birth; nurtured and molded us and gave us the skills to lead our lives and become mothers ourselves.  Which is why I expanded it to include any woman who touched our lives. 

So, Happy Mother's Day! 

Baby on Board

With a new grandbaby on the way, you can well imagine I spend my time checking out all the baby websites.  This will be her first; so, of course, she wants all the best of everything and like the good Grammie I am,  I figured I should check out the new-fangled doo-dads that every modern mommy should have.  

I am flabbergasted at the products aimed at "protecting" the baby.  Items that help the new mommy wrap, bind and sterilize just about everything that the baby can come in contact with, including "baby gloves".  These are not gloves that the baby wears.  No, these are gloves that you give to potential health hazards, say, the grandparents for instance, prior to allowing them to actually HOLD the baby.  These items are designed to save them from every pitfall and peril associated with childhood.  I felt pangs of guilt as I realized my own children grew up in a home that so jeopardized their lives as to border on the neglectful.  

As I perused the pages, my mind started to wander about my own childhood.  God only KNOWS how any of us survived. 

First, we were born to women who; throughout their pregnancies, smoked and drank, took aspirin, ate bleu cheese and tuna from a can.  They didn't even get tested for gestastional diabetes.  

We slept on our tummies in brightly colored, lead-based painted cribs with slats wide enough for us to get our head through and giggled with glee every time we did it. 

There were no childproof caps or locks on doors and cabinets.  If mommy told us stay out of something, we did just that. 

We rode in cars with no car seats or belts and would climb from front to back for as long as mommy would allow it. 

We drank water from the garden hose, shared soft drinks, ate mudpies and worms and the worst that happened was we weren't hungry come dinner time.  

We ate white bread, real butter and bacon.  We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar and yet, we did not have a problem with obesity. 

We had BB guns and played with sticks and somehow managed not to put too many eyes out despite the warnings. 

We fell out of trees and broke bones and teeth.  We managed to do all this without so much as one lawsuit being filed. 

We tried out for activities; and, if we didn't make the team, we learned to deal with disappointment. 

There were no X boxes, PlayStations or Nintendo.  We didn't have video games, DVDs, CDs, iPods, cell phones, computers, the internet, chat rooms or 180 channels on the television.  Yet, we managed to entertain ourselves all day long.  We were outside from the moment we were allowed until the street lights came on at dusk.  We built go-carts from scraps and, after running them into the bushes over and over, we learned to solve the problem. 

If we got in trouble, our parents did not bail us out.  We had to accept whatever punishment was given and learn the lesson the hard way. 

What was the outcome of such a traumatic upbringing?  The generations of the 30s through the 70s have produced some of the best risk takers, problems solvers and inventors of our time.  The past 80 years has been an explosion of innovative ideas. 

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility. 

I can't deny that I probably would have puchased some of the items myself had they been available.  But as I look back and compare, most of what's on the market seems more geared at taking the work out of parenting rather than protecting the child. 

It just kind of makes me want to run through the house with scissors.