For everything you want to see, do, eat, and buy in the Alamo City, and places you can drive to within an hour of SA! Visit us for The Alamo, The Missions world heritage site, Six Flags and Sea World. Interesting posts about nearby places like Boerne, Poteet and New Braunfels are welcome, too. Stay for the tacos, the friendly locals, and Fiesta!
A subreddit for the county of Essex in the southeast of England. No, it's not really like the television show.
TLDR: Be liberal but pick a progressive running mate lmao to get exactly 306-232.
VP: Karen Bass (worst option at start, but that does mean it makes it extremely hard to get good RNG on states you don't want to win like OH, FL, but still leaves you with good room on the states you must win like PA, AZ, and NV)
Visits: Split between WI, PA & GA, you should try to get Georgia +2 at end, PA by like +5 or 6, and WI by +10
Q1: We're going to build back better than ever before. I'm going to work for every American, repairing our critical infrastructure at home and our standing in the world.
Q2: We're going to defeat COVID and get America working again. I'm going to push for this day and night from the moment I step into the White House.
Q3: I should be out there talking to the American people. That doesn't mean we do rallies with 10 thousand people, but we can't afford to just sit around in our basement for the next five months.
Q4: Who authorized this meeting? Did I authorize this meeting? We're telling Bernie Sanders that he'd better fall in line. We have an election to win.
Q5: I'm not going to spend the 2020 campaign focusing on 2019 issues. We need to talk about our plans to fight this COVID-19 epidemic and rebuild the economy.
Q6: I talked with a lot of people before I made my decision, and Karen Bass stood out as someone with the judgment and experience to work with me in the White House.
Q7: I'm proud of my son. He's overcome a lot to find success in life. This campaign is about the American people and their struggles and opportunities. I'm not going to spend my time talking about Trump and Ukraine.
Q8: Being a police officer is one of the hardest jobs there is, but they got it very wrong here. I have every confidence that Hennepin County will take the appropriate action against the officers involved in this case.
Q9: We need to put $2000 in the hands of every American, and we need to put forward a truly substantial relief package for our struggling small businesses and job creators.
Q10: Two of my old friends, Jimmy Carter and James Baker, came out with a great study on election integrity a few years ago, and it's time we put their recommendations into action. I think this would represent a reasonable compromise between making it easy to vote, while ensuring our elections are secure from fraud.
Q11: I'm proposing a pretty big bill, you might have noticed, around $2 trillion to rebuild our roads, develop mass transit and green energy, and repair critical human infrastructure needs as well. We must move forward as a country.
Q12: We're not going to have a national lockdown. That's just fear-mongering from the Republicans to distract from how they've mishandled the pandemic. This is something each locality can decide for themselves, based on local conditions.
Q13: The Court has had nine justices since 1869, and any attempt to change that is sure to destroy the Court's legitimacy even further. We must look at other kinds of reform.
Q14: We can sit around all day worrying about tactics, but the fact of the matter is, we need to win elections. If Democrats did a better job of appealing to all Americans, we wouldn't be in this predicament right now.
Q15: It's the debate, I don't care enough to look for best RNG lmao.
Q16: Jill and I are praying for a full and speedy recovery for President Trump. As someone who has dealt with tragedy, you never want to see this kind of thing happen to anyone.
Q17: We're going to be fair, but we're going to be tough. I've always supported the rule of law in my career, for decades now, regardless of what some right-wing websites try to say about me.
Q18: People know all about Donald Trump and the dozens of scandals that have unfolded around him. I think we're better off talking about solutions to the COVID-19 crisis and the economy.
Q19: The right-wing media wants to present me as some kind of a gun-grabber, when that couldn't be further from the truth. My only crime is not parroting the NRA's every last word on this issue.
Q20: These attacks are wrong and they should prosecuted to the full extent of the law. At the same time, we need more answers from China. Millions of lives and trillions of dollars have been lost, yet they continue to block any serious investigation into the origins of this virus.
Q21: We've got a small troop presence in Afghanistan right now, and we should probably keep it that way. I'm confident that country will continue to gradually stabilize over time, with a consistent but minimal investment from the United States.
Q22: Our relationship with China, depends on China. If they show a greater willingness to cooperate, then we can rebuild our relationship from the damage that Trump inflicted. If they continue to act in a hostile manner, we'll have to react accordingly.
Q23: If Trump thought he was going to win this election, he wouldn't be saying these kinds of things. I'm confident that we're going to win, and that the American people will have full faith in the outcome this year.
Q24: This is a fake laptop. End of story. I don't know how it got passed around, but you have to strongly suspect Russian intelligence or other nefarious actors here.
Q25: I want us to focus on Pennsylvania, with maybe a quick stop over the border in Ohio.
Has anyone worked in food safety as an inspector for several years then quit to be a SAH parent then rejoined years later? Has it been hard or impossible?
I have 3 years experience in a county health dept and will have about 3 years working at the state level with all my FDA trainings done when I would need to quit and I have my MPH degree. Childcare will be almost impossible where we are currently stationed for what our jobs would demand and I’m concerned I won’t be able to rejoin the field later.
I have done armed security for a few companies, a lot of loss prevention/asset protection for several retailers and one 5 year stint in house for an Art Museum. I just got my formal job offer and start at the county hospital on the 20th. We all have to go to the academy and get police powers. Excited but nervous about the change. It pays better, I’ll have actually benefits and even a weekend off every so often. Any tips from those of you already in the hospitals?
When I applied to this job, I read the description over and over and I don't know how I missed that I had to have a valid driver's license and be able make deliveries to county libraries and other things. I was recently (as of around February) diagnosed with Narcolepsy type 1 (the type is debated---as I experience cataplexy but don't have the genetic marker that sometimes indicates the potential for narcolepsy). Basically, what this means is that I tend to fall asleep and have muscle weakness when I have extreme sudden emotions, like surprise, anger, laughter, etc.
This wouldn't affect my ability to do the job---I mean, I made it through four years of undergrad without it being diagnosed, even though it definitely still deeply affected my life. I was even a nanny! I rarely ever had trouble with sleeping on the job because I just kept moving the whole time. However, I have been advised against driving by my doctor because she says that after further testing, she has confirmed that I have a "remarkably delayed reaction time" that makes me not only unsuitable for driving, but which had her very firmly tell me that I shouldn't be anywhere near the road until after treatment and medication for some time. She chalks this all up to a mixture of ADHD (which I've been diagnosed w since childhood) and Narcolepsy.
I've never had to disclose my disability in an interview before because I'm pretty good at masking the ADHD. Typically, my hyperactive energy is what helps me get the job in the first place, because I love making friends and talking to others. So, there's really no need for disclosure. But because of the job description, I feel like I should probably go ahead and let them know.
My question is: How do I bring it up and how do I do it in a way that doesn't make them question my ability to do the job itself? If anyone could give me like exact words to consider saying, that'd be super helpful.
Hi y'all! I am a GIS person for a county govt. It is my job to "draw" survey data into the parcel map. We have a lot of rural places and land use that doesn't comply (?) with the PLSS system (Land Grants). I can usually figure out the starting points for the surveys even though the monument situation here is dismal. I have a survey that seems to have Easting and Northing coordinates of some kind. It is not state plane, it is not UTM what out can it be? There are 6-7 digits out to 4 decimal places. I mean I can just try to transit using the bearings in the deeds but you know, fuck that.
So, I'm a little lost on what path I should go down now that I've completed my Bachelors of Science in Kinesology 3-weeks ago. I signed up for college impulsively and now that I've completed it I've fully come to grips with the fact that I am NOT interested in continuing education to obtain my masters.
My original plan was to get into corporate wellness but ive began to lose interest due to the lack of job options available. Unfortunately, I'm not interested in doing personal training.
Employment wise my resume has assistant kids martial arts instructor (2 years). Direct Support Professional (5 years). I have military experience as well as well as some other jobs.
I have strong social skills, I'm creative, and I'm fine with being part of a team to correspond to but I'm not interested in working closely with a team. Hobby wise I love hiking and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu with video games as an honorable mention.
Last detail is I would like to find some sort of career path in Colorado. Larimer County, Boulder, or Denver would be great options.
I'm sorry that this is vague, as you can see I'm very lost and in need of a direction.
Please let me know if you have any advice, suggestions, or know of any jobs opening up. Thank you!
Three New Terrifying True Scary Tales
Number One: The Pool
Now, this happened a very long time ago. I am not going to mention when or where though and I am submitting it anonymously. I don’t want people going back and finding out more about it and then lashing out of me.
I was 13 years old and my brother was 11. As I mentioned, this happened a long time ago and I think today, not a lot of parents would put a 13 year old in charge of an 11 year old. But this was not unusual at all back then. In fact, I was looking after my little brother all the time before either of us even hit 10 years old.
After a while, of course, always keeping my eye on him began to get very annoying. It interfered with my hanging out with friends. It was quite a drag when I would try to talk to girls. It was just a pain in the ass, really.
Anyway, one day during a really hot summer, our parents decided to drop us both off at the local swimming pool for the day. My dad had to work and my mom had errands and stuff to run plus work do to do for the church. It was so hot and there was no way we could afford air conditioning. We had one old fan in the house and a sprinkler in the yard that we could go play in. But the swimming pool was the much better option.
Of course the pool was very crowded. Lots of families would drop their kids off there during the summertime. And of course, even though I knew it already, my mom stressed to me, “Keep an eye on your little brother at all times.”
Some of my friends were at the pool too. I got to talking to them and they told me about this new girl who moved into town. She would be starting school that fall and supposedly she was really hot. So of course, I wanted to check her out. I knew the lifeguards would be watching my brother in the water, so he would be fine.
I went with the guys and the girl was really cute. My buddies all dared me to approach her, which was admittedly a brave thing for a 13 year old boy to do. Of course, I couldn’t chicken out in front of them, so I did just that.
She was a very sweet girl. We actually ended up talking for a little while. Her parents were at the pool though, and they called her back after too long. So I went back to the water to see how my little brother was doing.
The only problem was that I couldn’t see him anywhere in the water. This was a small town in a rural area, so although I said the pool was crowded, it wasn’t like a water park is crowded though. I should have easily been able to pick him out of the water. He just wasn’t there.
I went and searched around the area surrounding the pool and didn’t see him there either. My heart started beating faster and I began panicking. I went to the building where the showers and concession stand were. He wasn’t there either. You couldn’t leave that pool without going through that building, though. I asked the attendant if a 11 year old boy had left the pool on his own in the previous hour and he told me no.
I then went to the lifeguards and my buddies. I thought maybe there was a chance that I had missed him. It’s easy to occasionally miss someone in a crowd. The lifeguards ordered everyone out of the pool. Fortunately, there were no drowned children in the pool. Unfortunately, my brother was nowhere to be found outside of the pool.
The lifeguards had to call my mother at the church. I had never before lost track of my little brother like this before. I had no idea what to expect when she showed up. I was only thankful that the police were already at the pool or she probably would have whipped my ass right there in front of the entire pool.
The trouble I got into at home isn’t something that I want to go into very much. My butt very much has PTSD from the experience. But that was minor compared to the fear I felt for my little brother. Hell, I didn’t even have time to feel guilty although that I knew that I was. I was only concerned for him and wondered what would happen.
All day and night, I expected the police to bring him home. But that didn’t happen. I expected it the next day too. But it didn’t happen.
The town organized a search to look for him. I kept expecting to hear from them that they had found him. But that didn’t happen either.
After about a week of my brother not being found, I began fearing for the worst. I began thinking that he was dead. And I was terrified every waking moment of my life, expecting to absolutely hear the news that his dead body was found.
Nearly two weeks after the disappearance, we got a phone call from the police. They had found my brother and thankfully, he was alive. But unfortunately, that’s not the whole story.
Remember the attendant telling me that no boy had left on his own? Well that’s because the boy left with one of the lifeguards who was getting off duty. He had lured my brother out of the pool and into his car with promises of ice cream, something he and I rarely ever got. And my brother went to his house with him.
For all of that time, he kept my little brother locked up in his basement. He didn’t do anything sexually to him, thank God. But there was a lot of mental and some physical torment when my brother wouldn’t do what he was told to you. But the scariest part for him was thinking he would never get out and be with his family again.
Here is another weird part. The lifeguard wasn’t an adult. He did this while his parents were out of town for a few weeks. They came back early and caught him. And if you think I felt bad for my parents’ punishing me, what they did to him had to be legendary. The police thought he was either planning on killing or releasing my brother before his parents got home. But no one ever knew for sure.
He had to live with it without much help for a long time. Mental health assistance had a very bad stigma back then. But we’re both still alive today and he forgave me a long time ago.
Number Two: Taking the Garbage Out
A few weeks ago I went outside at around 3am to move the garbage to the curb since pickup would be in the morning. I often do this in the middle of the night. I just tend to keep weird hours and as the weather warms up for the summer I find the warm nights preferable to the sweltering days.
I’m not worried about bothering my neighbors since I don’t use noisy bins and all of the houses right next to me are currently empty. I actually find the quiet of the neighborhood at night quite relaxing.
Unfortunately since I don’t use bins animals are able to get into the bags a bit easier and while this doesn’t happen often it had happened on this night. So I was outside picking up the strewn around garbage and putting it into another bag when the silence of the night was suddenly broken by multiple police sirens.
At first they seemed distant and while they startled me it was not at all unheard of to hear sirens at night here. But usually it would be one in the distance. As I listened, still bagging the garbage, I could tell it was multiple sirens and they were getting closer. Then just as suddenly as it started it stopped again. There was just silence. By the time they stopped they sounded maybe four blocks away.
For a moment the night was silent again and I began hauling the bags to the curb when the neighborhood dogs began barking all at once. It was like every dog in the neighborhood had gotten the cue to start barking. Many were even howling. It continued for maybe a minute and once again it just stopped as suddenly as it had started.
I realized I hadn’t heard any barking or howling while the sirens were going and that’s normally how it would work. These dogs had started up separately from the sirens and just stopped all at once. It just wasn’t normal. I went back to the side of the house to grab more bags when the silence was broken a third time.
Just a single chime in the night. Like someone getting a phone notification. This sound wasn’t blocks away. This sound was here. RIGHT HERE. No more than feet away. As I said, the houses around me are empty.
I was done. The rest of the garbage would wait until morning. I didn’t see anyone close by but that just made it worse. There was someone close by that I couldn’t see. I immediately went into the house to leave the garbage for the morning.
I don’t know if these things were related. If the cops had been chasing someone who’s fleeing had caused the dogs to bark. Someone who received a message on their phone as they approached my house. Or if it was all just a coincidence. But I won’t be taking the garbage out at 3am anymore.
A Commuter’s Nightmare
Back in the 80s, I worked at the Irwin Memorial Blood Bank in San Francisco while living and commuting from Oakland, CA
My job as Registrar, took me all over Northern California, during Blood Drives at hospitals, clinics, major corporations, etc., where we would sometimes witness firsthand, the dead, being placed on gurneys, running out of the Coroner's or Medical Examiner’s rear doors, and down the sidewalks, because they simply didn’t have enough room or staff inside the morgues to process them. Mortuaries were having problems too due to the massive overload where deceased loved ones were admitted but not processed or interred for months or even years at a time.
I remember watching the News and reading newspaper accounts of E.R.s in hospitals, clinics, etc. so clogged with patients, that 1 in 10 would die waiting to just get in to see a Dr. It was a Public Health and Safety nightmare. It was a National disgrace. It was politically orchestrated mass murder. It was the B purge of the ‘80s and ‘90s.
I remember, starting work early on one of many Blood Drives (the A.I.D.S. epidemic was just getting started) and having to catch the first B.A.R.T. (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train out of the station at about 4:00 am, where morning after morning I would witness hundreds of people sleeping on the benches, or the sidewalks, or on the streets outside, waiting for it to open.
Hundreds of others would be seen walking around like zombies in the early morning freeze amid the concomitant yelling, screaming, moaning, begging, and pleading, all of it looking like a newsreel of the death camps at Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Many times, I was woken at home in the middle of the night, to the sounds of people howling and cursing outside my window at some real or imagined threat, until either the police came, which usually took hours because they were spread so thin, or some tenant, or other, ran them off.
I remember the time I woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice begging in the early morning cold for someone to help her. She kept repeating it over and over growing weaker and weaker until it was little more than a whisper.
By the time I’d gotten up, armed myself with the steel-reinforced baton I’d purchased at a Police Supply store, and ran the 5 floors down to the ground floor, I found her sitting in a taxi shivering from the 42-degree drizzle coming in off the Pacific. The cabbie told me it was alright; she was just cold and needed someplace to rest and warm up; He’d drop her off at one of the nearby shelters.
At the time, I was living in a local Residence Hall on Lake Merrit in Oakland, California which was little more than a converted Hotel from the San Francisco/Oakland Gilded Age of the late 1920s. It had 5 floors and a penthouse with a capacity of about 200. I never saw it get much beyond about 30 residents. It sported a full kitchen, dining area, big screen tv viewing room, swimming pool, and a recreation room with pool, foosball, and darts.
I lived with a friend, at the time, on the 5th floor just under the penthouse. There was an elevator, but like most refurbs, it didn’t work. That meant we'd have to climb 10 flights of stairs every day to reach our room. The best part was that we had the entire floor to ourselves. I guess nobody wanted to climb that many stairs. Because we were both runners, it was a little like running the 900 feet to the top of Angel Island, running across The Golden Gate Bridge and back, or running the 3.4 miles around Lake Merrit twice a day.
Because there was no air-conditioning, all the windows were left open during the summer months, but along with whatever cool air the San Francisco/Oakland Bay would bring through the gaping nearly wall-length vault ceilinged windows, it was always accompanied by the teeming, screaming City of Oakland street din: cabbies, buses, cars, trucks, vans, motorcycles, scooters, police sirens, ambulance, fire department, pedestrians, hustlers, druggies, break-dancers, prostitutes the homeless, et al. Day or night, winter or summer, it was like living in a jet engine test lab, somewhere on the 9th level of hell.
Of course, we could always close the windows against the noise 5 stories below. But if it was summer, with all the humidity coming off the bay, we’d roast like 2 suckling pigs in our own sweat even if we used a fan.
One night after a particularly grueling day at work, I came home, climbed Mount Everest (or at least K-2) to my steaming little abattoir, tore off my sports jacket, shirt, and tie, and fell into a coma-like sleep only to awake some 4 hours later to the sound of someone slamming a door, over and over, seemingly as hard as they could. It was about 2:00 am and raining so hard the water was pouring through the open window and flooding the floor and carpet. The sound was coming somewhere down the hall from one of the other units.
After about the 15th or 16th slam to my inner ear, I was up, as in a trance, running like a lunatic from unit to unit and window to window, covering the entire southside of the 5th floor; battening down the hatches, and getting drenched in the process. It was, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating. I was supposed to get up in 2 hours and commute to work in the upper peninsula.
Having unconsciously completed this Sisyphean task and realizing that there was zero chance of getting any sleep, I donned my foul weather gear, equipped my trusty baton (I used to tuck its 2 ½-foot length up my sleeve when running), and headed out the front door to Lake Merrit which was just outside the main entrance. From there, I trotted to the sidewalk circling the lake, and began to run.
As I ran counterclockwise against a torrential rain with a gale-force wind broken only by the occasional intermittent rainbow-hued lightning flashes which blinded me to almost everything around me, I almost ran into someone up ahead who was walking in the same direction.
He was hunched over against the wind and rain and wearing a long heavy winter coat. Unusual for that time of year, I thought. Whenever I would run in public, I always made it a courtesy to let people know when I was approaching especially from behind. I’d blurt out a perfunctory:
“Excuse me.” Followed by a conciliatory:
But apparently, the person ahead either didn’t hear me or didn’t care because, when I was about 6 feet from him, he suddenly turned around, exposing a darkened contorted face, jagged teeth, and a guttural growl that would have stopped a charging 600-pound Grizzly.
The sheer force of the malevolence emitted from this inhuman thing almost made me stop, but because I was moving so fast, the inertia along with the gale force wind and lightning strikes propelled me past him (or it), and fingering my steel-reinforced baton, I, in turn, steeled my nerve and kept running. I looked back only once to reassure myself that he (or it) wasn’t following.
Running on the leeward side now, with the rain at my back, I ran past a group of men in a circle smoking or drinking or doing whatever noxious or illicit thing I imagined, when, feeling charged with my own adrenalin, or the anger and resentment at that woman’s searing pleas for help, or the spook I’d almost run into, or just the gross injustices thrust upon the world in that dank, dark and dangerous time, I almost stopped, baton in hand, intending to take on the whole group: I may go down, I told myself, but at least I would take one or two with me.
Just then, the lightning struck particularly close to where I and they stood and the sheer blinding flash and concussive boom shook all of us enough to break up their conspiratorial collaboration and my righteous crusade; just enough, that is, to shove me headlong around the next bend, to the long straight full out dash to the front doors, the 5 floors, 10 landings, and 50 risers to rain-sodden home.
To get to work every day, I'd have to commute to the upper peninsula by using 3 buses, 1 train, and 1 cab and after a 10 or 12 or sometimes 14-hour day, I would have to take the same to get back. This meant that if I didn’t go out, make dinner, eat, or watch tv, I just might get about 4 hours sleep. Commuting took between 2 to 3 hours, one way.
Once on the way home, almost every stop was crowded with commuters. I was told that it was because there were so many buses down for repair. The ones still running were so filled beyond capacity, that the shocks and springs were sitting on the chassis, and stop after stop proved nearly impossible to take on any more passengers. Still, and despite the few getting out at every stop, the driver would take on even more and just pack them in.
I remember him yelling for people to get back behind the yellow line over and over. By then, he was long past any semblance of reason; his patience frayed to a single maniacal thought, his voice raspier and raspier, his manner, more and more brusk.
I can still see when he finally lost it; jumping up, out of his seat, with a nickel-plated 38 Caliber Revolver pointing at one of the passengers; an elderly woman, screaming from the top of his lungs:
“Get back behind the yellow line!”
I can still hear the woman begging the driver:
“Please...” while the passengers behind were practically trampling each other to get out of the line of fire.
I remember the sad, exhausted urgency in her voice; she really was trying to move back, but how could she, an old woman, do that with all those people blocking her way? Everyone knew this was an impossible task; everyone except the maddened driver. He just kept glaring, and bellowing with his gun out pointed right at her and the other passengers.
"Back up and make room" he yelled.
‘Or else what?’ I thought. ‘You're gonna kill an old woman?'
Getting up out of my seat, pushing my way through the throng who were pushing against me to get away, I managed to get within about 6 feet from the front when, roaring through the din and my fear and anger, I ordered the bus driver to:
“Put the gun down!” And again, with even more rage and authority:
“Put the gun down, now!”
The bus driver shocked that it might be a cop, or worse, shakily, put his gun back in his concealed carry holster and hypnotically sat back down. He resumed driving without saying another word. I got out at the next stop, along with the elderly woman. She was so shaken, that she busted out crying. I held her still fuming despite the close call because I would now have to wait for another bus and after that, 2 more; the train and a cab to get home. I wasn’t going to make it until well after 8:00 pm. As soon as I got home, I reported the bus number and the driver to Muni.
Many of the commuters I'd see day to day, or share a seat with were victims of the purge just trying to get out of the rain or the cold, or the wind, or the sun, even for just a little while. For them, it was easing the agony of living on the street, even just a little. For many of us regular commuters, during those dark times, it proved to be the same.
On one of the final buses that would take me to the train and across the bay, I remember standing, with about 50 others, on Market Street waiting. Like ours, stop after stop was so packed with people, some were standing in the street because there was simply not enough room on the sidewalk. The ones in the street would stay where they were for fear of losing their place and missing their connection and having to wait another hour, or more, to catch another.
Because the rapidly descending elevation of the southbound streets ending at Market Street from the upper peninsula were so steep and the transverse angle of the turn so sharp, some of the buses would skirt the edge of the curb, sometimes rolling up over it onto the sidewalk putting them dangerously close to the commuters waiting on the other side.
If there were any people in the street, especially the old or the infirm, they would either have to get out of the way and lose their place in line or hope the bus driver stopped before completing the turn. Most of the drivers would. Once there was one who didn’t.
I remember the television and newspaper account about an elderly woman waiting at one of the stops during the pm rush hour. When the bus made the oblique turn way too fast at 25 miles per hour she was either too close to the edge or standing in the street when she was hit by the side view mirror across the face and the left side of her head.
She went down under the wheels and her body got hung up under the chassis. The bus driver too full of passengers to stop, or late for his break, or just too coked up to notice, kept on heading for the Embarcadero before he realized something was wrong. By then, the woman had been dragged over a quarter of a mile. No one knew for sure whether the concussion from the mirror or the relentless dragging was the cause of death. I guess it didn’t matter to her anymore, one way or the other. It mattered to a lot of those who witnessed the whole thing though; screaming and yelling, block after block, trying to get the bus driver to stop.
To get across the Bay to San Francisco from Oakland or back, one alternative to the nightmare bus commute was the B.A.R.T (Bay Area Rapid Transit). It was quiet, clean, air-conditioned, and fast. Traveling under the Bay, it could span the 13 miles in minutes. Once I’d reach the train station, by bus, from the Oakland side, I’d descend one of the many street-level entries to the below-ground turnstiles which led to the train platform. Of course, there were always hundreds of derelicts, homeless, hustlers, etc., hanging out by the turnstiles waiting for their chance to slip through and get on any one of the many trains that serviced the Bay Area, but sometimes, especially after a scuffle with B.A.R.T. Security or the San Francisco/Oakland Police, they’d scatter to the winds (or the shadows as it were) until everything calmed down and then they'd be back at it again, day and night.
Almost every week I'd hear about someone falling, or being pushed, or jumping down onto the third rail, which would either short-circuit the line and knock out the power or if it was particularly grisly, halt service entirely. Because service resumption could take hours, waiting passengers would have to go back up and out onto the street and catch another train, take a cab or a bus or just walk or, as was often the case for me, run.
Once, I remember running to the next stop when I was ascending to the upper peninsula because the previous connection didn’t show up which meant it would have added another 45 minutes to my commute. The choice was obvious and inevitable: I could either
“wait to be late” or go for it. I chose the latter.
You just can't imagine what it’s like to run at a 20-degree angle uphill for about 2 miles while wearing dress slacks, dress shoes, a white shirt and tie, and a sports jacket, in San Francisco, during the summer, with the humidity until you’ve tried it. It’s, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating.
Running, I came upon a stand-alone, transmission shop, right in the middle of a residential area. The owners must have paid a pretty penny to get away with that one. There were police cars, the fire department, a metro ambulance, the San Francisco Chronicle, and a marked County Coroner’s Office vehicle scattered around the shop.
Some people along with some of the employees: their first names embroidered on their shirts, were standing on the sidewalk just outside the property watching. They’d been there for about an hour when I stopped to ask one of them (Bob) what happened.
Wearily he said:
“The girl who worked in the office answering the phone and typing up orders was shot to death by her boyfriend. The boyfriend got away but she was still down there being processed. God, she was only 24 years old. They’ll catch him, though. He hasn’t got a chance.”
'Nope,' I thought.
'In this town, I don’t expect he would.'
I was late again when I got home. Vaulting the 5 floors to reach our loft, I held my friend close, the entire night. She was ok with that. So was I.=
I am being medically retired from the military. Initially when I found this out my wife and I told my parents we plan on moving back to the same city as them so they can enjoy being part of their grandchildren’s lives. They were so excited about this, decked out rooms for our kids, and we were so excited to be close to family again. They have had long lucrative careers and are planning on retiring when I move back to spend as much time as they can as a family.
They live in a very high COL area and is in the top 5 wealthiest counties in the US. After visiting recently i realized I really don’t like it. Its snooty, people are self centered, the infrastructure is falling apart because its so over crowded, and few people give back to the community. With my experience i can likely get a job in the 100-130k range here.
Where I currently live I’m not a huge fan partially because I associate it with a lot of negative military experiences and I wanted to escape them. However the COL here is extremely low, its rapidly developing and self sustaining (covid barely affected this place). I also have been offered multiple jobs making 130-170k. This plus my pension/benefits/tax breaks would be a stupid amount of money in that area. I’ve made 25-35k base pay plus entitlements a year for the past 6 years while active duty and lived very comfortably. The idea of nearly 8x that is insane. I envision a great school district, paid off house, cars and selfishly a membership to the best golf club in town.
….but my children would miss out on their grandparents, and my parents would miss out on them. I want my parents at my kids baseball games, concerts and milestones. Not to mention i want to be with my parents as well as they are up there in age. On the flip side the money would be life changing.
Also, wife’s parents are a factor in this. She loves them, however they emotionally abuse her and steal from us. Both of them are addicts. She wants to get away from them as well and she says when she is with my parents its like she gets to have all the family moments she missed out on as a kid.
Its a ton of money, but i know i cant put a price on love, family and memories. Just feel absolutely torn.
What’s your guy’s opinion? What would you guy’s do? Anyone had similar situations?
My son will be 13 in October. Me and his mom have court ordered, joint custody. We've been divorced since 2011. I've been out of work and on disability since 2017 and I draw ssdi. His mom has a job, is married and is the payee of my son's auxiliary payment (I believe it's called,) for me being on disability. She keeps the entire check. I struggle to make ends meet for me and my son. I don't make enough to file taxes. Even though our divorce papers state that we each take turns claiming him on taxes, she has claimed him every year since 2016 or so. His mom does use his money for school stuff, Dr, meds etc. Two years ago, we went to court for me to try to get some type of child support to help for when I have my son. Which during Covid, was a lot. Especially with home schooling. I was represented by the state. My son's mom and her husband had a good attorney. The state did nothing for me and I was denied child support. Probably doesn't help that my son's step- dad has a brother that works for the courts in our county. Being on disability, I'm always home. I'm the one who picks up my son from school when he's sick and/or takes him to Dr's appointments. For every holiday, vacation or whatever the event that she wanted my son to go to when it was during my time, I always let her get him. I switched our weekly schedule 5 or 6 years ago so she had him every Sunday for church. Present day, I'm financially no better off yet his mom is still doing well. Also, any time I try to get Snap (that I wouldn't need to get if she didn't keep all of his money or pay child support,) is a nightmare. I have to fight with SSA and Snap and my ex because my son's money (that he and I don't see,) gets figured into my income. I've been dealing with several doctor visits this year (paying several co-pays,) in preparation for a couple surgeries I have to have done. I'm in the middle of looking for a new apartment for us (entire other story,) and trying to find an attorney to help me get approved for child support. Everyone I talk to says it's a difficult situation. I don't get how. I get it's difficult trying to to become my son's payee for his check but not child support. I'm somewhat venting but mostly hoping to get some feedback.
My son will be 13 in October. Me and his mom have court ordered, joint custody. Been divorced since 2013. I've been out of work and on disability since 2017 and I draw ssdi. His mom has a job, is married and is the payee of my son's auxiliary payment (I believe it's called,) for me being on disability. She keeps the entire check. I struggle to make ends meet for me and my son. I don't make enough to file taxes. Even though our divorce papers state that we each take turns claiming him on taxes, she has claimed him every year since 2016 or so. His mom does use his money for school stuff, Dr, meds etc. Two years ago, we went to court for me to try to get some type of child support to help for when I have my son. Which during Covid, was a lot. Especially with home schooling. I was represented by the state. My son's mom and her husband had a good attorney. The state did nothing for me and I was denied child support. Probably doesn't help that my son's step- dad has a brother that works for the courts in our county. Being on disability, I'm always home. I'm the one who picks up my son from school when he's sick and/or takes him to Dr's appointments. For every holiday, vacation or whatever the event that she wanted my son to go to when it was during my time, I always let her get him. I switched our weekly schedule 5 or 6 years ago so she had him every Sunday for church. Present day, I'm financially no better off yet his mom is still doing well. Also, any time I try to get Snap (that I wouldn't need to get if she didn't keep all of his money or pay child support,) is a nightmare. I have to fight with SSA and Snap and my ex because my son's money (that he and I don't see,) gets figured into my income. I've been dealing with several doctor visits this year (paying several co-pays,) in preparation for a couple surgeries I have to have done. I'm in the middle of looking for a new apartment for us (entire other story,) and trying to find an attorney to help me get approved for child support. Everyone I talk to says it's a difficult situation. I don't get how. I get it's difficult trying to to become my son's payee for his check but not child support. I'm somewhat venting but mostly hoping to get some feedback.
I grew up ridiculously poor and when I got to college on a scholarship I set my sights on something I thought I would like to do that paid well. That ended up being political communications, AKA I do press releases/social media/speeches/emails etc for political candidates.
I spent a few years working incredibly grueling jobs on campaigns, making little but working A LOT. By a stroke of grace 3 years ago I was picked up to work for a County Supervisor… at the biggest County in the nation.
My salary was beyond my wildest dreams. At 23 I was earning six figures, the benefits were (are) unreal. I still pinch myself sometimes….
But the work makes me want to jump off a cliff. It’s not necessarily the type of work I’m doing — I love writing of any kind — but the fact that I have to be on call 24/7, work unpaid weekends and evenings, and am subjected to plenty of verbal abuse from the elected official I work for.
When I was hired I told myself I needed to put up with ANYTHING because I’m SO lucky to have this job. I still feel super lucky but I physically/mentally feel I CANT put up with the pressure anymore. Thanks to you ladies I was able to get a few months off on short-term disability… but the moment I came back it all just came rushing back. I wasn’t even able to apply to any other jobs while on leave… I spent those months basically in bed recovering from the years spent at my job. I have had so many mental breakdowns from this job it’s unreal.
My partner, family and friends are begging me to leave… but I just feel like I can’t command this kind of salary and benefits stability again if I leave. Job hopping is one thing, but salaries for political communications folks don’t go much higher than I’m at right now. I just don’t know what to do.
ETA: When I was hired there was no expectation of evening/weekend work or 24/7 on-call. This was something the elected official I work for specifically told us to start doing, and my hiring contract specified I am at her whims for all things. I do work for the local government, but I have a special designation saying I work for the Supervisor. That is what commands my high salary, but by the same token leaves me at the absolute mercy of the Supervisor.
I was asked How a dog just might save your life....
I was staying with me ex. First time I moved in with anyone. When I got comfortable he started being controlling. I was the only one working as he quit his Job to "watch after me". I was working 50+ a week and still coming home to cook and clean and study. I had no children at this time. I brought my dog with me. He's a German husky mix. Beautiful boy. Since we got him from an abusive situation at 1 he's always been stuck to my side. He never showed any signs he didn't like him. He always was happy to see him. Now, it was when he started grabbing my hands and arms yanking me to him when I got a attitude or did not do what he wanted me to do. If I didn't cook a fabulous meal it was always a fight. My dog ( Louie) started barking and growling getting in between us. He would always stop until it was time to take out Louie. He got a chain for Louie instead of letting him out. We lived in the country so he roamed. He started smacking me amd pulling my hair so hard to where he would get chunks out of my head. Louie broke his chain 3 times trying to get to me. I couldn't sleep without him in the room. Until I woke up one early morning to my ex ontop choking me because I wasn't wet for him just to slip in. Louie bit him in the leg. He got 5 stitches. He left Louie outside chained for days. I had to sneak him water and food. I convinced him if he let Louie back in I'll be good. It took a couple days to convince him after countless arguments and beatings. The next couple weeks I tried my best to not anger him. Finding anyway I could take to leave without him knowing. His dad was the sheriff in our small town. Calling the cops wasn't an option. I reached back out to my ex of 7 years knowing he would still do anything for me desperately asking for help. Shockingly it didn't take him any convincing. He automatically said yes and tried to get me then and there. I told him not now. His dad is on duty and he's home. The next day I come home with a knot on my forehead because I fell off the ladder at work. He got so mad at me because I ruined my "beautiful face". Hours of him non stop yelling. I knew something was going to happen. He locked Louie in our bedroom while I was trying to get dinner prepped. He started being nice to me. Kissing my neck and grabbing my waist. I thought he was done for that night. I relaxed just enough where I wasn't cramping up anymore. He felt my body ease. He turned me around and said you told me you would be a good girl. I said I have been and I looked down and all I could see was my shirt and his shoes. He grabbed my hair and pulled me to the stove and turned it on. The gas stove was so hot on the side of my face I thought hebwas going to burn me. I started pleading with him and saying I know I'm sorry I'll do better I promise. I'll do anything for you. Believe me. He lifted me up to where I can feel the heat of the flame still but I knew I wasn't going to get burned and he said I can't trust you. He threw me to the hallway as I slammed my head between the wall and the floor. He picked me up by my hair then my neck and I couldn't breath. I started to loose my sight. Next thing I knew I can feel my face turning hot and I was gagging on the floor. I was going in and out of it. It felt like the lights and him were flashing. I could feel his breathing on my face and I started to scream. I tried to scream as loud as I could but all he could do is laugh because my voice was so hoars. He spit on me and kicked me over and over. I hear Louie barking over and over jumping at the door. I tried to keep screaming but nothing was coming out. I started coughing blood. He kicked me in the face for ruining his carpet. Started calling me a bunch of names. Louie kept getting worse. I decided to look towards the door and I can see it moving and I heard clawing. He went to go to the bedroom door and I grabbed his foot and tripped him. He started screaming names saying over and over I'm going to kill you bitch. I heard another dog barking outside. And Louie getting worse. He started punching me in every place he could while ripping my clothes off. He started groaning I want to see my first bruise your body like it was a kink for him. I didn't think I could take anymore. I couldn't speak. I couldn't scream all I could do was cry. My body felt like a truck hit me and ontop of me. I hear cracking. It sounded like tree breaking. I barely have my eyes open and I can see me laying in a pool of my own blood as he licks my fingers and keeps punching me and biting me. Over and over. Until I see Louie fly over me pushing my ex down and him screaming. I tried pulling myself up I could barely move. What felt like hours the door busted open and they tazed Louie. Louie whined and laid ontop of me. Growling at everyone who tried to come near me. A cop stopped my exs dad from shooting Louie. All I could hear is fighting. I lost my vision. My head felt empty. I felt cold. Numb. At peace. And all I could think I finally. Then I have this wave of pain over me. Felt like I was being pushed under water. I could hear sirens. Then nothing. A week goes by I wake up. Doctors come in checking me and I tried saying over and over LouievLouie... the nurse said he's in the pound you can call them when you get better. After I find out all of my injuries. cops came in . I started crying freaking out when his dad came in. Doctors had to remove him with a fight because I was in a delicate situation. I eventually told the story of what happened. Alan of course had no charges. I spent 2 weeks in the hospital after that. I finally got my phone back. I messaged my ex. Told him where to meet me. We only had a 10 min window when Alan left. I grabbed what I could with his help and we left. I went back to my old county got a restraining order. And tried sueing the police department. Got no where. After months of fighting. I got my dog back. But only on a signed agreement if he bites anyone again he will be put down. My lovely boy Is now 10 years old. And doing great.
Hi all, considering a move to Sonoma County. I understand California is expensive and Sonoma particularly - coming from another pretty expensive part of the country so it’s not drastically more as far as housing, though I know taxes, gas, food, etc. are all higher. Any suggestion on what a “good” salary would be? I know that’s a loaded question. It would my wife and I and our dog looking for a 1-2 bedroom place, maybe someday hope to buy. Not sure exactly where in the county we’d like to land, but probably on the south side of the county closer to the city. We like to go out to eat occasionally (doesn’t have to be a fancy place every time) and we like to take short road trips, maybe a big trip every 1-2 years? Don’t want to live paycheck to paycheck, but we’d just like “comfortable”. I will be coming with a job, but she’ll need to find something, so for now it’s just one salary. Any suggestions on a minimum number to target? Also, any other hidden costs that one might not think beyond vehicles, gas, groceries, and typical day to day expenses? Any advice or guidance appreciated. Thanks!
I ( 21M)left my current position 2 years ago and came back after 2 weeks because the job I went to was a shit show. I haven't really been happy since then and have barely had responsibilities added with not enough of a raise. I am about to get an offer for a job pending a background check which will be clean. To work at a county job with room to grow and move up. Its a slight pay cut maybe 2k less a year until I progress to the next paylevel which will be 3k more than what I currently make. How should I go about quitting again. I'm not excited to deal with working here for 2 weeks again.
Thanks for the rant