Caterwauling

When I was 19, a psychic told me about “Roadway.”

I’ve written about this. I’ve thought for decades it was about travel. Like, either the hotel or the trucks.

I walked away thinking, huh, don’t get hit by a Roadway truck, got it. Or don’t stay at that chain.

When I was in NYC last month, I saw that there’s a Roadway moving company. With cute purple trucks.

And I thought, is this my sign to move here?

Well I was just dicking around the Marriott site and whatever I typed in, the search came up as “Roadway” … or so I thought.

BROADWAY.

Holy schnikes. Did this weird witch see me spending as much time as I do on Broadway?

No insights other than that. Just … here I’ve been looking for a sign — a literal sign — and I’ve been standing under the biggest damn sign since my first trip there WHEN I WAS NINETEEN.

Kelly introduced me to the idea of Non-Player Characters, or Non-Playing Characters, in Disney.

We were surrounded by useless people the world and certainly the parks didn’t need.

Heather is the perfect NPC. She’s not a main player in the video game. You don’t play her. She’s just some random figure that drifts in and out and serves no purpose but as part of the scenery.

But the thing about NPCs is, while they don’t move the story along, they do impact YOU.

I type all this to say that I thought the new HR person wasn’t terrible. At first.

Like, I know HR is not your friend and especially not after six months, which is as long as it takes them to get indoctrinated.

I’m guessing it’s her six month mark.

Because we are asked to fill out a fun survey on our anniversaries now. 25 questions and she’ll pick five answers.

I filled it out dutifully, as I need to set the example. I sent a photo of me and the owner.

And after the 25th question, I put in a little joke that I literally wrote (NOT FOR PRINT).

Guess which of the 25 questions she picked … WITH THE NOT-PC THING … and sent that along with my photo of me and the owner … to the whole goddamned company?

Look, I have no shame. None. You can’t take a joke, you don’t fucking know me.

But not when it’s in print next to a picture of the OWNER of the company.

I messaged her and I asked if she’s OK? Like, you’re HR, right?

It was a rookie mistake on my part. I know better.

Women in leadership hate other women in leadership.

I’m easy enough to take down because I have no filter. It’s super easy to pin my words on this donkey.

But I absolutely insist on having the moral high ground over Heather.

(Who, I can do five posts about her fucking useless weekly calls. Christ.)

Non-Player Character 2 — er, HR — edited my post.

I said how did it pass your filter? She said she was looking for “juicy” replies.

I see why no one fills out this shit now.

As CH said to me, “Juicy is for bachelorette parties.”

And as Shan said to me, because Question 25 was about memorable quotes to live by, “If at first you don’t succeed … it’s only ATTEMPTED murder.”

CH said maybe next survey will be a nice “Fuck Marry Kill, corporate edition.”

Fuck NPC 1 and 2, Marry my team, Kill myself.

Speaking of the husband I never met, I almost thought I had a meet-cute today.

A guy in Dollar Tree started talking to me and he realized he lost his phone.

He asked if I could call it.

I thought hmm, a trick? But no, he truly looked nervous.

So I said of course and I called it.

We didn’t end up finding it. But a lady paged from the front that they found a phone, and he was off.

I didn’t think anything of it, but he kept saying “Thank you, thank you!” to me as he dashed to the front.

When I was checking out, I got a call from that number. But I couldn’t understand the mumbly cashier, so I let it go to voicemail.

It rang again as I was merging into traffic. Ignored.

Then I channeled my mother a bit. Pointing out as always that men would watch me and be terrified to approach me. (Which happened in Sprouts today.)

“Be nice,” she would say. “Can you be nice?”

We know that answer.

Anyway I was just sitting here and he called again.

I thought, “OK Momma, stop pushin'” — just like from the “Hope Floats” movie.

I pick up and he’s like hello who is this.

I said what?

He said I missed a call from you?

Dude is lucky he’s cute because he’s not too bright.

I said yes, from the Dollar Store? When you lost your phone?

He paused and he said oh! Yes! Hey I got it back!

I laughed and said obviously.

Then he’s like OK thanks! and hung up.

Like …

Damn.

That would have been such a fun story to tell someday. If he had, say, used my number for good instead of FORGETTING what happened five minutes earlier.

Fuckin’ men.

I have six sets of NWT sheets here.

Even after all the shit I’ve given away to friends, Habitat and that dastardly Goodwill … most with tags … there’s still plenty of stuff in my house.

I talk myself out of selling, for one reason or another.

Finally, egged on a bit by Kelly reminding me that once you let go of things, the universe fills the void in better ways, I said fuck it. Get these sheets out of Mom’s shower.

I’ve had no luck with Postmark. I have a million followers but no one bought my NWT Juicy crap.

Man, in 24 hours on Vinted, I sold four sets of sheets. And the other two have a dozen offers each.

I didn’t ask for anything other than retail price. Which I could prove because the sticker was still on them.

I did knock down the price on one of the twin sheet sets. It smelled a little funky from being stuck in a plastic tub for 10 years. But nothing a good wash can’t fix.

I am open to reasonable offers. But reasonable has a very wide definition.

I’m not talking about the people who are offering like 45% off when you see what I fucking paid. Mom even left the Ross receipts in some of them.

No, I’m talking about, as I was bagging up my four sets today, I got a message about a fifth.

“Um, I see you are charging $20 for this set. But it clearly appears there’s a $1 on the sticker.”

I mean first off, I can charge what I want. This is Betsey Johnson. I could have charged $50 and someone like me would have said fuck yeah, I missed this when it was popular.

Second off, as I wrote back, “The price is $19.99.”

One penny.

My guess was she was trying to haggle me down to $8 like everyone else was.

Which … as you see, wait 24 hours and someone else will say fuck yeah.

But then she said ok I don’t have the funds right now but I hope you still have it after my paycheck clears.

Shit.

Like … look, my first reaction was I will send it to you for ten bucks.

But then I have run into dipshits on eBay who haggled and then resold my stuff for 3x retail.

I still regret letting that Bon Jovi tour program go when I needed cash to that whiny little fucker who said he was going to report me for using his images (!) and then he ended up buying it.

And my kindness has limits. I had a feeling that girl would have said oh I get paid next week and I’d be the type of person to pause the listing. Then never hear from her again.

In any event, I just ignored the message.

My rule, which I came up with on the spot, is I will negotiate on shit I can’t use. Twin sheets? Nope. Have them.

Queen sheets? Hey I will remove that listing and open that package, just as fast as look at you.

I do have to acknowledge those lowball offers though.

But hey, I made $56 and all I had to do was make six listings and do two trips to the post office and FedEx.

And buy about $30 worth of shipping bags. Details!

I gave everyone a handwritten note. Nothing fancy, just sweet dreams or hope all your dreams on these pillows come true.

Not “I’m so sad my mom didn’t get to use these” or “I was saving these to sleep on with the husband I never met.”

But hey, $56, right?