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Am I missing something? Doesn't "next week" mean "at some point during next week" rather than "by 8 AM on Monday"?

You could at least wait until the week is up.
Normally I'd agree with you wholeheartedly but they indicated this was a position they were urgently filling, and it has been par for the course for employers to just not say anything at all to applicants who don't make the cut - you might only find out because the position listed has been pulled from their site. About 90 percent of the applications I've filed and got interviews for they had filled the position by just after the start of the next business week, and only one of those companies even said anything - most of the time I've had to call them and ask about my candidacy to learn that they had moved on to the next step. That, and I was taught to be kind of aggressive about seeking a response, as it indicates that you're not just a file-and-forget.
 
I'm officially cleared for work again.

When I tried to give my family the details of what's going on, my grandfather continually interrupted me to tell me I was doing everything wrong, and that I should have done this, and should have done that, and how I'm such a fucking idiot and a disgrace and all that jazz.

Normally, this would hurt. I'll fully admit that he knows all my buttons and since I was a little kid has always known just what to say to hurt me the worst. Today, it just made me angry, especially when he started threatening me. If I were somehow able to move past him and get to any of the silverware I would at least be facing an assault charge right now. I can normally keep my anger under control, but I've basically bolted myself in the room to avoid a confrontation, because if we butt heads again, it's going to be physical, and one of us is going to end up in the hospital. Considering he's got 100 pounds and half a foot on me, even at 65 he'd probably whip my withdrawal-addled, half-dead ass. I'm honestly more upset about that than the upbraiding for no goddamn reason.

I want to leave, but I just got off workman's comp and I know my job won't approve a transfer, especially considering that word through the grapevine is that me and the other 'superfluous' operations manager are getting the axe after Christmas. I can't leave right now.

The only light at the end of the tunnel is a girl that I was interested in wanting to meet up after Christmas, but I doubt she'd want anything to do with a loser that can't even buck up to his abusive old man after 14 years of taking it like a bitch. I'm burning with rage, but I'm angriest at myself for not being able to do anything about it.
 
Normally I'd agree with you wholeheartedly but they indicated this was a position they were urgently filling, and it has been par for the course for employers to just not say anything at all to applicants who don't make the cut - you might only find out because the position listed has been pulled from their site. About 90 percent of the applications I've filed and got interviews for they had filled the position by just after the start of the next business week, and only one of those companies even said anything - most of the time I've had to call them and ask about my candidacy to learn that they had moved on to the next step. That, and I was taught to be kind of aggressive about seeking a response, as it indicates that you're not just a file-and-forget.
Fair points!

It'll work out. Applying for a job with all this shit going on must be horrible.
 
I've just been emotionally numb but over emotional at the same time. Lost some friends, feeling detached from everything and in a borderline panic due to Rona and the Childsniffer but hey I got part of my final done so everything's ok.

No it isn't, the only people checking up on me are my mom and one kiwi user after posting another dead kid article.
 
Received the official confirmation email that I did not get the on-campus job. They "have identified another candidate whose experience more closely fits our requirements."

It was a damn group interview, all girls. I wore a pantsuit, the others wore the typical leggings/skinny jeans/jeggings with a blouse of some kind. I don't like that stuff: I either wear a pantsuit or dress to interviews or church. They were almost all blonde or light brunette, spoke in nearly the same way, and were all either nursing or elementary ED majors. Needless to say I stuck out; I don't look like them. With the way my last name falls I was one of the last to answer each question, so every answer was already taken when it got to me, or everyone else said what I was gonna say.

I assume I was not hired because I was too intimidating, despite having held managerial positions in the past, in favor of hiring cookie-cutter girls.
If by intimidating you mean ugly, you're probably right.
I'm officially cleared for work again.

When I tried to give my family the details of what's going on, my grandfather continually interrupted me to tell me I was doing everything wrong, and that I should have done this, and should have done that, and how I'm such a fucking idiot and a disgrace and all that jazz.

Normally, this would hurt. I'll fully admit that he knows all my buttons and since I was a little kid has always known just what to say to hurt me the worst. Today, it just made me angry, especially when he started threatening me. If I were somehow able to move past him and get to any of the silverware I would at least be facing an assault charge right now. I can normally keep my anger under control, but I've basically bolted myself in the room to avoid a confrontation, because if we butt heads again, it's going to be physical, and one of us is going to end up in the hospital. Considering he's got 100 pounds and half a foot on me, even at 65 he'd probably whip my withdrawal-addled, half-dead ass. I'm honestly more upset about that than the upbraiding for no goddamn reason.

I want to leave, but I just got off workman's comp and I know my job won't approve a transfer, especially considering that word through the grapevine is that me and the other 'superfluous' operations manager are getting the axe after Christmas. I can't leave right now.

The only light at the end of the tunnel is a girl that I was interested in wanting to meet up after Christmas, but I doubt she'd want anything to do with a loser that can't even buck up to his abusive old man after 14 years of taking it like a bitch. I'm burning with rage, but I'm angriest at myself for not being able to do anything about it.
Fucking lol. This thread has some great nuggets of gold.
 
Covid cases are rising enough in my area that we've been put into what our government is calling a "red zone", which basically means almost back to social isolation. They're talking about adding even more restrictions this weekend and honestly it's really starting to fuck with me. Things are getting bad quickly, and even though I'm stocked up I really don't want to be back into full lockdown mode again. The fatigue is definitely starting to set in.
 
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Pandemic cases are rising enough in my area that we've been put into what our government is calling a "red zone", which basically means almost back to social isolation. They're talking about adding even more restrictions this weekend and honestly it's really starting to fuck with me. Things are getting bad quickly, and even though I'm stocked up I really don't want to be back into full lockdown mode again. Fatigue is definitely starting to set in.
It'll never stop being weird to me that the COVID response is as harsh as it is. From a standpoint of health, the effects of the lockdowns themselves are pretty severe and far less predictable than the virus. I'm not seeing some Spanish Flu-tier superbug that would warrant this response, and there's an awful lot of FUD around the numbers for COVID deaths (not to mention the downright paradoxical responses to it I'm seeing, like putting infected people in nursing homes where the virus not only stands a chance of actually stacking bodies but possibly mutating UP in severity rather than down, as a lot of bugs tend to).
 
I got called in off my vacation tomorrow to work. However, they're going to pay me double and give me Monday off in exchange.

Now, listen. Say they call me in for double pay on Monday and give me Tuesday. And then Tuesday turns out they need me again. . .
 
After months of obsessively looking, I've found a bug-out shack on an acre of level dirt, at the edge of a smallish town two counties over. It's pretty fucking perfect, so today I put in an offer.

But there's some fuckery with an easement through the property to another lot the seller owns, which has to be formally removed--something he should have fixed before listing the house, but that he hoped a buyer would be willing to sort out with the county. (I don't blame him, but LOL fucking no; people would rather stick pins in their eyes.) So my offer is contingent on him getting that done within 60 days of accepting it, and I'll even pay half the surveying fee on closing, since it would benefit both of us.

He may very well say no, but considering he's already lost three potential buyers who didn't want to deal with it, I think he'll go for it. God damn, I hope he goes for it; I haven't been this excited and happy and hopeful about anything since before the lockdowns began. I haven't seen my mom in over a year, and I'm not going to have any sort of real Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year's, so can I please just have this fucking house?! Please.

It's a little over an hour's drive from my current house. I tried to find something closer in, but everything I could afford was either a shitty manufactured home with no garage or shop space, and/or fixers so tired and run-down I could smell the sadness through the pics on Redfin. The prices on the nicer houses have suddenly jumped up, thanks to everybody else who has seen the writing on the wall and decided to flee our self-annihilating progressive city for the far suburbs and semi-rural areas, so I had to go further afield. But I'm really glad I'm pursuing this now, because I think the exodus is going to pick up a massive amount of steam in the coming year.
 
Just finished an hour long call of being yelled at by a close friend. She's feeling a lot of stress and isn't really in a mindset to want to listen to my suggestions and as much as I know it's my fault since I got a bit heated after taking a lot of it, I'm starting to feel like she doesn't want to listen to me and wants to just dig her heels in and refuse to change what she's doing about this. So overall, I'm feeling like I'm not being as understanding as I should be, or just telling her to take on more stress when I'm honestly really just trying to help her with her problem. I don't know anymore.
 
After months of obsessively looking, I've found a bug-out shack on an acre of level dirt, at the edge of a smallish town two counties over. It's pretty fucking perfect, so today I put in an offer.

But there's some fuckery with an easement through the property to another lot the seller owns, which has to be formally removed--something he should have fixed before listing the house, but that he hoped a buyer would be willing to sort out with the county. (I don't blame him, but LOL fucking no; people would rather stick pins in their eyes.) So my offer is contingent on him getting that done within 60 days of accepting it, and I'll even pay half the surveying fee on closing, since it would benefit both of us.

He may very well say no, but considering he's already lost three potential buyers who didn't want to deal with it, I think he'll go for it. God damn, I hope he goes for it; I haven't been this excited and happy and hopeful about anything since before the lockdowns began. I haven't seen my mom in over a year, and I'm not going to have any sort of real Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year's, so can I please just have this fucking house?! Please.

It's a little over an hour's drive from my current house. I tried to find something closer in, but everything I could afford was either a shitty manufactured home with no garage or shop space, and/or fixers so tired and run-down I could smell the sadness through the pics on Redfin. The prices on the nicer houses have suddenly jumped up, thanks to everybody else who has seen the writing on the wall and decided to flee our self-annihilating progressive city for the far suburbs and semi-rural areas, so I had to go further afield. But I'm really glad I'm pursuing this now, because I think the exodus is going to pick up a massive amount of steam in the coming year.

What are you planning to do with one acre of land?
 
What are you planning to do with one acre of land?
Avoid people.

Grow stuff (seriously, I've done some small-scale permaculture in my small urban yard, and would love to go bigger).

Run around it, arms outstretched, yelling, "It's mine! All mine!" at random intervals.

You know--the stuff you do when you have an acre of dirt.
 
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