Oh, Atlanta #577

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these but obviously, it’s the same old song and dance that I just don’t have the time.  Honestly I feel like if I ever wanted to do one of these every day, I’m sure I could find a story absurd enough to warrant a post.  But there are days like today where the story came to me for a change of pace, and upon seeing it, I knew it was inevitable that I had to write about it:

Deadly shooting occurs at a Subway; over too much mayonnaise being put on a sandwich.  I really can’t make this shit up, even if I tried.  But to expound on the unfortunate situation, basically a Subway employee put too much mayo on a customer’s sandwich, they became irate, and then words began being exchanged, and the next thing you know, they’re opening fire into the restaurant and killing the employee.  The manager on duty promptly returns fire because of course they’re packing too, and the whole thing ends with the shooter arrested, an employee dead, with the employee’s sister who also worked there, also shot and in critical condition.

Also, the 5-year old kid of one of the women struck was there and watched their mom get shot.

Typically, these kinds of posts are dripping in sarcasm and are more of a you’ve got to be kidding me in an ironically judgmental funny way, and I’ll be honest that this is how I felt when I started writing about it.  But honestly, it’s nothing really funny about it is as much as it’s just fucked up and sad that there are people out there that genuinely felt that the best course of action to resolve the dissatisfaction at getting too much mayo on their fucking Subway sandwich is to pull out a gun and start shooting like Yosemite Sam.

I know this particular Subway, and where it is, and it is very much not in a particularly good part of town.  It’s riding a line where everything east of it is touched by the magic gentrification fairy, and are in a period of where there are people hoping to cash in on rising property values and get paid, but on the west side of the thoroughfare is basically still the Jurassic Park of ghettos.  So it’s not really any surprise that this kind of incident happened at this part of town, but it’s still tragic and fucked up that there’s literally a person dead over mayonnaise on a sandwich.

Guess all that’s really left for me to say is that I’m sure glad I don’t work or really have any business being in the city proper anymore, because I’d sure hate to get in the crossfire of any sort of altercation over shitty fast food.

Are my expectations too high or am I employing subpar talent?

I have decided to make a post about this instead of venting further to mythical wife because she’s probably beyond exasperated hearing me gripe, and my friends’ group chat doesn’t seem like the most appropriate place to do it either.  I’m not concerned about my hire ever discovering my brog either because pretty much nobody but me reads the bullshit I write and frankly the worst things that could happen is it might open their eyes to their shortcomings, or prompt them to quit, which in turn would force my hand at finding a replacement that might be better at the job anyway so it’d be a win-win either way.

But long story short is that I am not particularly satisfied with my current nanny situation, and I’m really over in-home child care in general, in spite of the fact that it still beats the alternative, which is putting my children into the petri-dish of daycare where they might get abused.

When it was just one kid, I employed a nanny, because it was still the peak of the pandemic, and our collective maternity/paternity time was coming to an end, and we needed someone to watch #1 during the day while I worked from home.  One adult to one child worked out great and was relatively easy for that duration, but as we all know, #2 came pretty quickly afterward.

There was a lot of time where there was adequate coverage for both kids, between mythical wife’s second maternity leave, my second paternity leave, my mom coming down for a few weeks, but there was a definitive point on the calendar when all the coverage was going to dry up, and it was going to inevitably be the nanny covering both my kids, solo.

Well, that didn’t last very long at all.  I think, maybe four total days, until they basically had a mental breakdown, ghosted us and then basically quit over the phone with me weeks later.  #2’s challenging sleeping habits basically broke them, putting us in a horrendous situation where we had to scramble to find a new nanny very quickly, in an extremely nanny-favoring market, due to the number of people who are embarking on hybrid or alternative working situations.

Fortunately, we found a new nanny fairly expediently, and they quelled our initial concerns on being able to handle both of my kids, as they have been doing nanny work for well over a decade.  But it came with a catch; they had to be able to bring their own one-year old child with them, which meant they were effectively in charge of not just two kids during the work day, but three.  However, they assured us that it was doable, so we agreed to hire, and it was a brave new world.

At first, things were going pretty good.  In spite of the perceived difficult of wrangling three kids all under two years old, they never seemed to get frazzled, always kept cool, and every time I asked if they were good, if they were okay, it always was.  I admired their ability to keep cool under the pressure of multiple infants and toddlers, and their experience in their careers as well as their own parenthood really showed.

But occasionally, there were some behaviors and actions that were done that made me scrunch my eyebrow, like showing too much initiative, by rearranging my entire kitchen and doing some cleaning, which is kind of outside of their job description, as long as it doesn’t pertain to the kids.  At one point, I got a text message that was all like teehee, I owe you a Diet Coke, and this one bottle of Diet Coke that I’d been sitting on was taken.  I was a little miffed at that one, but this person was taking care of my children, so I could let one stolen soda slide.

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