#job application fuckery

[pearls-gone-wild]

Holy fuck, I have encountered a record number of broken job application websites this morning. Two of them errored out so thoroughly that I couldn't apply at all. And let's not forget the website I had to hack so that I could even click the "Submit" button - there was a footer blocking the fucking "Submit" button! Was that some kind of test? These are not coding jobs!

Fuck. That was a test. And I passed it, because I'm trying to be a Nac Mac Feegle in my job applications. Pass me the blue face paint.

[max1461]

Frankly what I would really like is for somebody to just hand me a job. I know I could do a job, I know I could produce good work for any company that wants to hire me to do something sort of technical-adjacent. But at least in my current state of mind I truly cannot find a job, the application process combines everything that I am innately not so good at (paperwork, marketing-style writing, transactional social interaction) and which is therefore disproportionately affected by my not so great mental health. That's the uh, that's the fucked up bit. I don't think my mental health would prevent me from working, just that it's presently making it really hard to find a job, and in order for my mental health to improve (imo) I need to be doing something that feels productive, like fucking working, instead of sitting around all day. It's a nasty catch-22, which I would like someone to resolve by just handing me a job without the rigamarole please.

I recognize there are jobs you can get with less rigamarole, things like service jobs and so on. Unfortunately, these are the kinds of things that imo my mental health would prevent me from doing effectively at the moment. Like I am perfectly capable of doing some data fuckery or whatever but I think if I had to wait tables I would just have a panic attack on the first day.

And I really, really want to stop living with family so I would like to find something uh. Sooner rather than later.

Can someone who owns a fucking company just give me a job fucking your spreadsheets or whatever the fuck already. I swear to fucking god I can fuck spreadsheets like a motherfucker and without complaint.

[read-write-thrive]

soooo have we talked about how Niko doesn’t just Grow Up to be this character but is The Principal aka a non-human entity (I assume??) working for the afterlife ???? like how does one get that gig ?? is there an application process that younger her nailed and she grew up in this outside of time type thing ? did she grow up in the astral plane where we see her with Litty and Kingham ? did she get to take refuge in any of the other planes that exist in this universe (we know of hell and the lost and found department, but also the sandman canon and the more extended universe with realms like the dreaming) ?? how did time work for her???

im imagining the Lost and Found department existing outside of time from the mortal realm, so she could’ve grown up elsewhere (in whatever realms she got to trying to get home? hopefully not stuck in the artic-type place but maybe) and then when it came time for her to pass on Death goes “actually I have a job for you” since Niko has all this extra planar/different realms experience AND has these connections with the dead boy detectives (who I think Death has a soft spot for/knew needed someone to protect them) and then she’s the Principal ! which sets her outside of time (making her relatively immortal if that wasn’t already part of the job description) and allows for the time fuckery that has her as the Principal at the same time that she’s on this other plane with the sprites,,,

idk I just think we as a fandom could explore more of her having Adventures as part of her growing up in the time between younger her with the sprites and older her as the Principal, plus I think we could dive into how the Lost and Found Department works as a whole (are there other afterlife departments ? there must be, otherwise it wouldn’t be called a department, right?? is there an equivalent for adults? non-humans? beings from these other realms? I assume Death does the judging without a whole department behind her but idk maybe there’s more to it, especially if there’s more involved than the Christian esque set up we have here)

also omg Niko recognising the boys and assigning the Night Nurse to be in charge of them not only to settle the hell or not dispute (aka protect Edwin from ever having to go back to hell) but to also help them on cases 😭 she’s still looking out for her friends I will Cry oml

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

-

I had the 2nd part in my head already, so I started writing it. This post may go up pretty darn quick. If you've read so far, THANK YOU. Again, if you like it, and want to be tagged, Just lemme know.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 2 - Running in Circles

Syd looked so much brighter today. It was refreshing. She had her makeup on, she was clear, like she had been sleeping and eating regularly. Sometimes, that in and of itself was the simplest of answers. It was the key some days.

She finished telling us about how she had put in sixteen applications at various employers since the last meeting, had been to the gym each day, and finally finished a 2000 piece puzzle she started three months ago. It was fabulous news, earning her a huge applause from everyone, including Noah, who I was halfway surprised to see again today. It had only been two days, but showing up again was a 50/50 shot with newcomers. Usually, if they made it to 5 meetings, they were in it for the long haul. I was extremely pleased.

He was also a lot different today, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest the majority of the meeting, but still more open than his last visit. Reading body language was crucial in this field, so I may have read a book or two on it in my spare time. His face also looked fuller, the dark circles now just shadows slightly casting his light skin and deep color eyes. He wore a white T-shirt with a red beanie, showing the tattoos off on his long arms.

His turn came rather quickly, and he sighed heavily when all eyes turned to him.

Before he could start, I chimed in. "Guys?" Everyone looked over to me. "Before Noah shares today, can we give him a huge round of applause for showing up to his second meeting?" This was met with fierce applause and a few hoots and hollers from our more spirited members.

"Great job!" Seth smiled brightly. Abel nodded his head pointedly.

"One of the hardest parts is coming back. Good for you, bud." I could see Noah's cheeks tinge pink, but he smiled, a smile bigger than I had seen so far. He was slightly embarrassed, but I could see his appreciation. Maybe even a sparkle of moisture in his eyes? He definitely pushed that down.

He reached behind his head nervously and chuckled shyly as the clapping died down.

"Thanks guys." He folded his hands in his lap, looking at the floor. "I was in the neighborhood, so..." He threw his hands up in a casual manner, causing some laughing from the group, including myself.

"How was the last few days for you?" I crossed my legs, eyes pointed in his direction. He didn't return my gaze.

"It was different. I haven't exactly talked to anyone about it." I only nodded. I wanted to encourage him to keep sharing, but I didn't want to pry too hard. "I don't know how to bring it up to anyone."

"That's fair. I think we all went through that."

He nodded, idly picking at his thumbnail. "I have a gig this weekend, and things usually get pretty wild after. I'm nervous." His eyes then looked up at me. I felt as though he was speaking directly to me, rather than to the group. Maybe he was?

Most people look around, avoid eye contact, and talk mostly just out loud. That's the purpose. Noah, however, was holding a conversation with me, and everyone else just happened to be within earshot. That was clear.

I would allow it, for now. If it eased him in, I was game for almost anything.

"Can I ask what kind of gig?" He sucked his teeth, a smirk creeping in.

"I'm in a band." I smiled now, because he was telling us (me) something personal.

"Oh nice! What do you play? Guitar?" His eyes snapped to Syd, who had chimed in. I could see this broke his concentration bubble, and I watched as his shoulders slightly drew in.

Although, he did not stop speaking. His tone did die down a little.

"I can play guitar, but in this band, I just sing." He cleared his throat, squirming slightly in his chair. "We were on tour earlier this year, and once it was over, I realized I needed help, so I'm hoping to make good progress before the next tour starts this fall. This gig is just opening for a bigger band."

"Must be some band." I added with a smile. This brought his attention back to me.

"What's it called?" Syd's voice was bouncy, breaking through the cool calm I had manufactured. I watched him almost visibly flinch.

"I'd rather not say." And with that, I could see he was done for today.

-

After the meeting, I caught Noah booking for the exit. I ran after him, donut in my hand.

"Hey Noah!" I caught him right before he slid into the driver's seat of his Navigator. "You didn't get a snack!"

He waved a hand at me. I still jogged up to his car. "I'm good Leena, thanks though." I sighed, stopping in front of him.

"Can we chat for a sec?" I saw him look down, likely questioning his decision to come back, but still shut his door and walked over to where I stood by the hood of the truck.

"What's up?"

"Did you get a chance to find a sponsor?" His beanie was pulled down low toward his eyes. He avoided my gaze.

"Yeah, uh, I actually didn't. Turns out everyone I know is into drinking, and I don't think that'll change anytime soon." I nodded knowingly.

"We've got great sponsors here, you know? Abel is a great resource, so is Rodger. They've both been in active recovery for more than five years." He narrowed his eyes, visibly stressed by the conversation.

"Yeah, I uh...don't really know them very well."

I couldn't tell you what possessed me to say what I did next, whether it was empathy, the sugar high from the donuts, the caffeine, or something else entirely, but I still opened my mouth.

"Do you want me to be your sponsor?" I watched his eyes widen at that, his head snapping to me quickly.

"You'd do that? You don't even know me."

I smiled my bright smile, and nodded. "Absolutely, at least until you can find another or get comfortable with one of the other members. I don't mind at all."

For the first time since we'd met, which wasn't long ago, admittedly, I saw a smile touch his eyes. Something told me that Noah hadn't seen genuine human kindness in a while.

"I mean, only if you want to. Maybe just to get me to the meeting next week?" I nodded.

"Of course. Happy to." He looked around, watching the people trickle out of the building around us and waved at Seth, who smiled at him before getting in his car.

"I do think we should take some time to work out a plan for your gig. These first few weeks in recovery are crucial."

He leaned against his car, chewing his lip. "You think so?"

I handed him the donut. He skeptically accepted it, and took a small bite.

"How long has it been?" He looked down then, a sign of shame.

"Five days." I nodded.

"And when is your gig?"

"Tomorrow night." I shrugged. I had work to do.

"You busy tonight?"

-

Noah sat back in the booth, sighing heavily, his plate clear. I continued shoveling pasta into my mouth, the carbs and the donuts being my only food sources today. Work had, once again, been hectic. I could see him looking around the restaurant, people watching.

Without warning, he leaned over the table. "You know, my girlfriend would kill me if she knew I was at dinner with another woman."

His statement gave me pause for a moment. Girlfriend. I hadn't even considered that. Ignoring the small, sinking feeling in my gut, I slurped my noodle and felt a twinge of guilt. I had no interest in getting him in trouble.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he smiled then. "I didn't tell her. It's no big deal, really."

I wiped my mouth on my napkin and swallowed a large gulp of water.

"Does she know you've started coming to AA?" He shook his head feverishly.

"No, not yet." This made me furrow my brow, suspicious.

"Where does she think you are, then?"

He leaned back, perusing. "Probably figures I'm out with the guys, shitfaced already."

It took me a second to realize, I didn't know a lot about Noah. I had no idea who the man was that I just shared a meal with, agreed to be his sponsor, and unknowingly risked his relationship.

"You know, if we're going to be working on your recovery, there's some things we may need to know about each other." He signaled the waiter.

"Like?"

"Well, for one," I smiled at the waiter as Noah politely asked for a dessert menu. Then, keeping my voice low, I leaned over the table. "I don't even know your last name."

I caught the way his eyes drifted over me, my chest now slightly exposed at this angle, my black hair flowing over my shoulder.

"You don't?" He seemed unfazed, but I did catch the bob of the bulge on his throat when he dry swallowed. I leaned back. This was not the game to play.

"No." I laughed. "You always sign in as 'Noah S.' What does the S stand for? Skynard?" This made him laugh loudly.

Through his chuckles, he choked out "Sebastian." He caught his breath. "My last name is Sebastian."

I nodded, satisfied with that. It was enough to Google if I felt so inclined.

"And you?" This made me stop for a second mid-bite.

"What about me?"

"Is your name just Leena? Like Cher?" This made me drop my fork, a hard laugh echoing between us from my chest. I saw his amused smile, which almost embarrassed me.

"Mileena. Mileena Richards."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Like, from Mortal Kombat?"

I nodded proudly. "Same spelling, different origin."

"That's fucking cool."

The waiter then came back, a large slice of multi-layered chocolate cake covered in a hot chocolate sauce set down on the table, two large scoops of vanilla ice cream and two spoons set down on the plate with it.

"Wow."

Noah shrugged sheepishly. "I heard sugar helps with the cravings."

-

We walked out of the restaurant, the night nice and chilly in the February air. We stood between our trucks, full and exhausted.

"So, we didn't come up with a game plan."

I nodded, leaning my head back on the door of my Tahoe. "I'm sorry. I was starving."

He returned it with a rub of his stomach. "Same. It's fine."

"You said in group that the usual thing is to go out and party after the show, right?" He nodded. "What's the chance of just heading home afterwards? Claiming you're tired?"

"Slim. We have the show. Then meet and greet. Then we all typically hang out in the green room. Do some shots. Then hit a bar." I watched his face downturn, as if he was admitting to a crime.

"Okay. And being in a bar is a big no no for right now." He sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm not ready to tell them." I reached over, putting a hand on his shoulder. I felt his body slightly lean into the affection, only for a second.

"That's okay, Noah. We can make it work." I wracked my brain for ideas, but was sincerely lost for ideas. "Can you tell them you don't feel well?"

He put his hands down and leaned back against the door, looking defeated. "Maybe? It would need to be a pretty good disease to get me out of the after party."

This made me smirk. "You ever had the stomach flu?"

This made him chuckle. "You want me to vomit onstage?!" He feigned shock and disgust.

I laughed. "No, it doesn't need to be that dramatic. After the meet and greet, you just tell everyone you have to use the restroom, spend way too long in it, and then tell them you need to go home. Pull at the skin on your face a little, make yourself look flush. Make sure you're sweaty."

"That's a given after a show."

"You never did tell me the name of your band."

He smiled wickedly. "It's probably not your vibe?"

I lifted my chin proudly. "Try me."

"Metalcore?"

"Architects? Falling in Reverse? Ice Nine Kills? Bring Me The Horizon?" I began listing them on my fingers.

He pointed at the name of the last band. "We're touring with them some time next year."

My jaw dropped. "You've met Oli Sykes?!"

He shook his head. "Not yet, but I hear he's a really cool dude."

"Noah, how big is this band you're in?"

"Not too big, just me and three other guys."

I rolled my eyes. "Not what I meant." He laughed then, acknowledging his smartass.

"Maybe you should come tomorrow?" This took me back. The idea hadn't even crossed my mind.

"Seriously?"

His tone became excited. "Yeah! Why not? You can make sure I get out of there afterward, you can see us play, too. Maybe you'll hear something you recognize."

"Maybe I'd know if you just told me the name of the band." He laughed again, but my amusement was fading.

"C'mon, you can be my getaway driver."

"How am I going to get in, when your band is apparently a pretty big deal? I bet there aren't even tickets left."

He shook his head. "Nah, I can get you a VIP suite. So you don't have to do the mosh pits and all that."

This started to sound not so terrible after all. It had been a while since I had gone to a good rock concert. Life had been so busy.

"Can I bring a friend?" He smirked.

"Boyfriend?"

For whatever reason, I felt the inherent need to deny this immediately. "Nope. But I have a best friend who is really into metal. She just saw Bad Omens a few months ago."

His eyebrows rose, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Oh, definitely bring her. If she's into that, she may like us."

I nodded. "Alright. Where is it?" He pulled his phone out and unlocked it, swiping away multiple text notifications before opening a fresh contact and handing it to me.

"Put in your number. I'll text you all the details in the morning, when I get them." I nodded and added myself in under Leena H. He nodded in satisfaction.

Then came this sudden awkward silence. I could tell he didn't know what to do next. Handshake? Hug? Salute?

This made me chuckle, when I turned and opened my car door.

"Goodnight, Noah. See you tomorrow." I got a sheepish wave in return.

-

Back at home, after a much needed shower and settled into my bed, I pulled out my laptop.

My curiosity was too strong now. Who was this band?

My Google search took less than a second to load.

Noah Sebastian: Lead Singer of Bad Omens.

I stared at my screen for a long time. I wasn't reading this correctly was I? There it was, in black and white on my screen. It was a joke, right? Noah wasn't...he couldn't be...right?

But there it was, his photograph plastered on my screen. That was definitely in technicolor.

I didn't know much by Bad Omens, but I knew their song Just Pretend. It was one of the most played in my shower, on my drives to work. It was one of those songs that resonated with you. I heard it first on TikTok, and was hooked on that verse. That voice.

No fucking way.

I pulled out my phone, completely ignoring the fact that it was clear after midnight by now.

Me: YOU'RE THE LEAD SINGER OF BAD OMENS????

It took about three minutes, in which I was absolutely not staring at the screen the entire time, before I saw the typing bubble.

Noah: LOL Bad Omens? Never heard of them.

This motherfucker.

Me: Noah! Why didn't you say something?!

Noah: I don't get to have fun once in a while? Wow. AA's kind of a bummer.

Me: Laura's going to lose her shit.

Noah: That'll be fun for you. Talk to you tomorrow!

With that, the conversation was over. I chucked my phone to the foot of the bed, stunning a curious glance from my hound Angel. I petted a silent apology on his head and he laid back down.

What the fuck. What the fuck?!

I'm sponsoring a fucking rockstar.

[macaroni-rascal]

I don't have any fashion takes this week except to say that most of the ISU award nominations are a joke and they're enabling some of the worst shit imaginable. To misquote Adam, the skaters' moms must've been on the selection committee because there are some real choices there. The ISU is hell-bent on burying the sport, I have no words.

But what I had to chime in on was the Spanish fuckery and how actually unsurprising it is. I'm of two minds on this - Olivia and accessory did mess up the twizzles and I think scores and decisions should reflect what happens on the day. However, this has Zhulin's vodka-pruned fingerprints all over it and he's taking the only opportunity he has to fuck with IAM from behind the curtain. The younger team has potential but doesn't have the polish Liv has. In other circumstances I'd be all for a federation pushing a younger team that has more long-term potential (*cough* Skate Canada *cough*), but they're literally shooting themselves in the foot here by ruining any chances of them getting two spots (although it's unlikely S/D Part 2: Electric Boogaloo would've done so for Worlds, so who tf knows). Isn't there a wildcard option this year, though? Maybe that'll save them. It's hella interesting that the tech controller here was British and they went by TES, the plot truly is as thick as Zhulin (and yes, I just had to double-tap him, it's what he deserves).

But there's also another part of me that firmly believes that a) nobody should go into a competition expecting that they'll win, and b) this partnership should never have happened (sorry not sorry), and I've questioned MF's decisions around it heavily. After everything she's dealt with with the Spanish fed, did she really not anticipate something like this? Truly the only glue holding this team together was its political potential, and now they don't even have that? I mean, is there a universe where Olivia moves to London and begs Adrian to re-team with her for the next 2 years? I just don't know what the solution is if the fed decides to continue to be petty like this and I don't know how it might affect Tim's citizenship application process - do they have to have achieved certain results? Why didn't he have the decency to also be born in St. Petersburg? Is that what this is about - Asaf needs it more for citizenship purposes? What a clusterfuck yet such par for the course, I'm truly in disbelief that we're reliving the nonsense of the previous quad and a half but not the quality of the skating. Will Montreal retaliate now by burying this team at major events? But at the same time, wouldn't an eye-for-an-eye approach ultimately disadvantage everyone involved? Why fully fund S/D if they're just gonna stab them in the gut? I fucking hate ice dance, I swear to fucking god, I'd be on blood pressure medication if I had to deal with a quarter of this shit at my job. If I was Olivia I would've rage-quit a long time ago and be making bank as a pro, because I don't know how she's dealing with this unless she's developed a humiliation kink by now. Such nonsense.

This message made me laugh out loud--a nigh cackle--several times. The humiliation kink was the funny nail in the hilarious coffin and I nearly fell of my bed. Oh, Fashionista Nonny, how dearly I love you and your messages.

[seafoamchild]

how do people get jobs? how do people decide what job they want? like literally what is this fuckery? how does it happen?

i've been so irritable lately because even though i'm trying to remind myself i have time and i'm only 30 and everything doesn't need to happen for me all at once, there's still this big part of me that's impossible to shut out who's like "before you know it you'll be 35 and you'll have gotten nowhere and you need to change everything NOW!!" i think i've just convinced myself i'm "in a rut" for so long at so many different times in my life that it just feels familiar at this point, like it's my go-to reason for having an internal crisis. I'm in a rut! i'm so stuck! i'm so stagnant! i'm getting nowhere in life and just keep going in circles!

thank god i write stuff down because i just read something i wrote a while ago about everything i've done so far in my life. and i've done a lot! and maybe none of it was my dream job or super fulfilling or anything, but it has been a lot and i have learned real lessons that are applicable to everyday life. i have actually grown tremendously.

i still feel scared though and impatient and irritated and worried about money. NYC is expensive as shit and i have to worry about money a lot more than i did in milwaukee. rent is no joke here. it's hard not to compare myself to "professionals" around here who are my age and are making 6 figures or something. and let's be honest 6 figures doesn't even get you THAT far in NYC.

it's the end of the year so we'll see what happens. i don't know why i get so frantic. i try to do everything all at once and then i get overwhelmed. but also if i don't do anything, then nothing will change!

[qhedi-blog]

One thing about being an immigrant from a 3rd world country is the experience of disconnect there is between your daily problems and that of your acquaintances in your residence country (especially if it's a Western/ """"developed"""" one).

There are days that I have to go to work after having spent the entire night doomscrolling and witnessing from afar a catastrophic, life-changing, generation defining event. And it is expected (not legally, but socially very much so) that I don't bring these up because it would be a buzzkill for the Europeans. As an example, there have been way too many times that I went to work sleepless because I watched the news all night because some (insert political catastrophe, natural disaster, fucking war here) happened only to endure my colleagues whining all day about a less than comfortable dentist appointment or a rotten apple (this is not a joke or exaggeration btw, a colleague literally whined for A WEEK that her apple was rotten). Meanwhile I'm looking at them all 1000-mile-stared thinking "Yesterday we had an election the results of which probably doomed the next 3 generations" or "My country just had an earthquake that reportedly killed 50,000+ people but it's probably much much more because my country is not necessarily known for its honesty or transparency when it comes to this things." And it's not for lack of trying that I can't connect with these people or their problems, I tried, all the time. As a response they look at me all sheepish and quickly change the subject because it made them uncomfortable.

Some examples from JUST THIS WEEK:

An old friend of mine back home got arrested in the middle of the night for the horrible crime of being a journalist. He's not allowed to talk to a lawyer or anyone for 24 hours. When I told this to a coworker, not unprompted, but as an explanation as to why I'm a bit less than super cheerful and enthusiastic to be at work, he replied "I get it, there were some people who vaped right before getting on the train and I was nauseous from their vape-breath the entire way here". Sidestepping the fuckery here that there is no such thing as a vape-breath here, but even without that, MY DUDE, how are those 2 things equally worrying or frustrating in your mind?!

Second thing, my brother, DESPITE BEING TOLD HIS VISA WOULD GET RENEWED BY THE IMMIGRATION AUTHORITY, got a rejection for his visa application. His options are, 1) find an incredibly high paying job in 7 days (and also somehow do all the paperwork in this snail-speed bureaucracy) or 2) return to the literal hell hole we call home. The response I'll get to this tomorrow at work is, "oh shit that sucks, my kid also has the cold :(((((".

And this is a double-edged sword. Talk about it and you will be labelled "refusing to integrate" because I happen to not care if an apple happens to be rotten OR keep silent and have a lonely as fuck life where you pretend to care about the rotten apple your coworker happened to eat a month ago.

Rant over, Europeans don't come at me, not a good time.

[klm-zoflorr]

RE: FWD: Look at what this weirdo answered

We have reviewed your answer to our online application and sadly will not hold you for in person interviews for this position of hotel receptionnist. However, the board was horrified at your answers and wondered what the hell is wrong with you. Will you be interested in sitting down and explaining this fuckery? Our company is offering you the job of Madness, Tomfoolery & Jaywalking Consultant as a reward.

Some things that caught our attention:

-the items of Justice & imprisoning an innocent person were in position 14 & 18 respectively. Why such a lack of care for fairness? To the point a "wreck" is preferable to justice for you?

-Why is prostitution above a telephone. Shouldn't a telephone be able to buy many a prostitution?

-Seeing the position of "an award for a good deed" and "a decoration for bravery" (15 & 16 respectively) it is obvious you do not care for shallow proofs of honor. Still, how come these aren't preferable to torturing a person

-why

-Looking at the positions of "a madman" "a life of adventure" and "poisoning the city water", it is obvious to us you prioritise having a hella good time over the interests of our company. Please explain in detail how we could make you a slave wage using this.

-Why is a new car so low. Do you not have a license.

this is for a part-time job as a barista

[sidhwen]

jfc tumblr just gave me a mini heart-attack, I clicked on my blog and it said “there’s nothing here” 😰

(after switching blogs and then trying again it was all there though... phew...)

[qqueenofhades]

"I have many thoughts (most of them ranty) about the whole gig economy and freelancing and everything else we are expected to do just to stay afloat." I have popcorn and plenty of time to read a rant if you ever want to go in depth on the fuckery of the current system.

Like. With absolutely no exaggeration, this is the entire first page of one of the academic jobs boards that I regularly visit:

So... literally all they want is adjunct, online, part-time, non-tenure faculty who are expected to drop in, teach one or two courses for one (maybe two) semesters, then start the entire grueling job-search process all over again! Sure, that makes sense, and will definitely enable you to build a stable and predictable career that allows you to grow as a scholar and pursue meaningful work and research! How the hell are you supposed to be able to plan for the future, know what you're doing or where you're going to be, or anything else?

Not to mention the absolutely insane requirements that come with each application: just the other day, I finished one that, with all the necessary documents included, was 32 pages long. Nor is this at all uncommon. Many of the adjunct jobs listed above often want you to submit multiple documents, transcripts, letters of recommendation, teaching statements, research plans, etc etc, for -- I repeat -- a non-guaranteed, only-if-we-need-you, maybe-someday part-time job that will last six months at most and may or may not involve actual physical work (as opposed to trying to teach an online Zoom class, which is the devil). This is obviously specific to my particular field, but it's emblematic of so many things that are wrong with the economy, our approach to the humanities and historical knowledge, and the absurd hoops that people even in far less specialized areas have to deal with. Once upon a time, a college degree pretty much guaranteed employment; now it rarely does. Which is a direct and entirely foreseeable result of how systematically the rules of the economic game have been rigged by the people who benefited from them the most: the baby boomers and early-Generation X'ers. And instead of actually serious pushback against that (though there's more than there used to be) we just get "lololol millennials are lazy and entitled!!!"

I have three degrees, including a doctorate in a highly specialized field which represents 10+ years of higher education, and I'm still reduced to making lattes on the weekends in an attempt to somehow pay most of my bills. I don't know how I'll make it to the end of the year, since I've already had several other part-time jobs suddenly crap out on me and this one is only guaranteed through the end of August. And it's like... do you think I WANT to be doing this? Don't you think I would prefer to be doing the job that I trained to do and for which I would like to have an actual sustainable career model, rather than /waves hand/ All This Shit? I will give you a hint: yes. Yes, I actually would. And yet.

Anyway. Thank you for this opportunity to get that off my chest. It's just all so very, very stupid.

[dailyshialabeef]

y’all I am. LOSING IT. LOSING MY MIND!!!!!!

That job???? PAYS FOURTEEN AN HOUR. IS TWO DAYS A WEEK. IS AT. A. LAUNDRY. MAT.

We have gotta fucking do something about workers rights and just. Everything in this country. I would love to hang out and just fold laundry and talk to folks all day, get home by dinner. Maybe only work a few days and week so I can spend more time volunteering and gardening and ya know. LIVING.

I just left the service industry as a line cook because I was experiencing so much stress I was blacking out from panic attacks…I’m not bad at working. I just really don’t want to be extremely stressed out every day. But I also don’t want to spend!!! 40 minutes!!! Applying for a minimum wage job!!!!!

My other option currently is going back to seasonal work and I do really desperately want to do it. But the positions are mostly all filled by now at ski resorts and national parks. And having filled out like six in the last few hours I have started getting exceedingly burnt out by the amount of FUCKERY that a RESTAURANT AND HOTEL want. Like literally six paragraphs of waxing poetic about your fucking ambitions and how much you want to fucking work for their company and ugh!!!!!! I know it’s like to see if you’ll do it, so they’ll know if you REALLY wanna work there and out in the work but y’all. I will work hard, I will. But these places have got to start making it easier.

When my parents applied to jobs they just walked in and dropped off an application or called them on the phone. In 2022 if you wanna fold laundry for $15 an hour you gotta do a work assessment to see if you’ll turn your coworker in if they steal a box of clorox wipes and record yourself pretending to be a Good Employee.

I am. Tired. I want to break shit, I want to cry. Maybe I need water or to go for a walk. Idk. Why is the world so difficult now.

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

It should be noted, the Dutch haven't made many cars, but the ones they made were weird with a consistency to make even the French blush.

I mean, there's Spyker: you know that plane manufacturer that expanded into cars in 1900 and dissolved in '26? (Don't answer.) Yeah, since the other turn of the century, that name's getting stamped on what can only be described as steampunk supercars.

Then there's Donkervoort: you know that '50s Lotus kit car that Caterham is still making supercar slayers out of? (Because if not you NEED to click that link. It's my favorite car ever.) Well, if your one hangup with it was the original design just blends in way too much, I've great news.

But surely these three aren't very representative examples, being niche vehicles that, with the possible exception of the new Carver, were never intended for mass production, right?

Well, one could argue they're more rule than exceptions, since there was only one mass car manufacturer in the history of Dutchland. But sure, let's humor you and look at something from DAF (Dutch As Fuck), carmaker that carmade from the late '50s to the mid-'70s when it got bought by Volvo.

Well, this cute little thing may look like something ground its gears, but in truth, that can't be, because it has none: DAF was the first carmaker to mass produce a Continuously Variable Transmission!

Wait, what's that sound? A bird? A plane? No, it's our train to the explanation station! Choo choo!

You see, transmissions are a bunch of gear pairs with different ratios between them, selected in manuals by stirring a stick and in automatics by whatever the fuck this is.

CVTs, however, just use a belt between two pulleys. So how does that change ratios? Simple: if, rather than a normal pulley, you rest the belt atop two cones, you can squish them together when you want a bigger gear, like so:

Now, this would have been insane back then, but nowadays it's just the first application of now normal technology.

But worry not: you've not heard the start of it.

For one, somehow DAF designed the weird fuckery that automatically changed the gearing such that, once you were at full speed, the car went faster as you slowly let off the gas - which I'm sure was not at all terrifying. It increased its top speed by a whole 10mph. To 70. (For yankees, that's- wait no I fumbled this didn't I.)

For two, instead of having the transmission before a differential -a mechanical device that sends the drive to the rear wheels and deals with them needing to turn at different speeds during corners- the DAF system just had two independent CVTs, one for each wheel.

This solution was not very good at actually doing the job of a differential.

However, it meant that if either wheel had traction you would move forward, unlike with normal differentials that just spin the wheel with least resistance (meaning if one wheel has no traction that wheel will freespin and the other stay still). This made DAFs great for driving in shitty conditions, and thus prime candidates for rallying.

Oh, but that's not the only way DAFs' transmission propelled them to motorsport success.

You see, normally the transmission is what reverses engine movement to achieve reverse, right? Well, obviously, this can't do that. So the way these got reverse was changing the rotation before the transmission - i.e. making the engine spin the transmission the other way. This means the transmission itself didn't function any differently - or, in layman's terms, the car was just as fast in reverse as it was forwards. And allow me to just quote Wikipedia on this because I laughed about it for a good minute:

As a result, in the former Dutch annual backward driving world championship, the DAFs had to be put in a separate competition because no other car could keep up. Thus, these very cheap and simple cars were the 'formula one' in this competition.*

Why yes we have footage. However much chaos you're expecting, it starts off as more and only increases. Enjoy the bonus caravan races.

*In a hilarious coincidence, Red Bull solidified this notion by organizing a short DAF reverse race between Max Verstappen and Yuki Tsunoda. Look it up if you so wish, but it holds nary a candle to the footage above.

hello! *Waves* I also grew up watching Top Gear! I still know nothing about cars, but it is still one of my favorite comfort shows. very difficult to watch given that I do not live in the UK, but we must persist in spite of the horrors

Brother! As hinted previously, I watched it religiously after school, and I think my stack of issues of the (mostly unrelated) Top Gear magazine makes even my other stack of issues pale in comparison. The show was buckets of fun, especially for a kid sometimes too little to realize how much of it was fake. (Upon understanding it, the idea of watching challenges with points scoring based on staged events made heaps less sense to me - I think Top Gear entertained the most when it executed silly ideas earnestly). And the trepidation with which I hunted down and devoured the magazines ridicules my current struggle to dear God read something. Growing up exposed to this constant stream of the most outlandish vehicles and stunts and fabrications did a lot for my creativity - I think it's where you'll find the roots of things like my Rice'n'Shine project. And I realize that those unfamiliar may read 'most outlandish vehicles and stunts and fabrications' as 'Ferraris, jumps, and clipshow-like segments pointing and laughing at tackily pimped cars', so, to exemplify just how far beyond that it got (and because I'm not getting a better excuse to bring this thing up anytime soon), here's a vehicle I've learned of from the show: the Bug Carver, or Vandenbrink Carver, or Carver One. The Carver.

No, it's not a contender for largest engine ever, quite the opposite. A mere 660cc turbocharged engine from a Daihatsu kei car, in fact, was housed between the rear wheels it powered. Most interestingly, however, is the whole assembly had pretty much only two solid points of contact with the rest of the body, which itself had a single wheel upfront.

One may expect severe issues with flex, but no siree. This car does not jiggle jiggle.

It folds.

And quite significantly, I might add.

One could consider it a motorcycle for those unwilling to give up a car's interior, or, considering the engine and rear wheels stay put and the lean is artificially induced by electronically controlled hydraulics, a car that wiggles its passengers about for funsies. (Well, mainly stability. But I can't imagine funsies weren't a factor.)

Some, instead, consider it a fighter jet for the road, or, more simply, buckets of fun. The most surprising thing, however, is what some consider it today, because while the Carver project did end in bankruptcy in 2009, it has recently been resurrected with an electric powertrain and an immensely uglier front.

And I can assure you, millions of people (whether they noticed or not) saw a picture of it in a scammy banner ad next to the title "cheap electric cars for seniors". Which is such a hilariously baffling picture choice I can't even fathom how it happened. Surely not over someone involved actually knowing the thing, because I cannot think of a single worse use case for a Carver than someone you can't even trust with a normal car anymore.

Well, I can't, but don't worry, Carver could!

Yep. What better vehicle to deliver pizzas with than Tilty McTiltface. So if you've been in the Netherlands and your niets pizza met links rundvlees turned up as a niets pizza met overal rundvlees, well, we might have a theory in our hands.

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question: if you liked this post, you might like those - or the blog’s Discord server, linked in the pinned post!

[miggylol]

Ways to help during the election

I’ve seen people wanting to do something more specific and tangible than “spreading awareness.” Here are some targeted things you can do to help as the election approaches. With the exception of #3 in the first section, all of these should be completely free to you.

Democratic Organizing

Text potential Democratic voters to make sure they are registered to vote (and intend to do so) - After you go through an hour-long Zoom training session, you’ll be able to conduct voter outreach via text. Sometimes, you’ll be able to motivate the people yourself. Sometimes, you’ll identify potential voters who need to be targeted again for further outreach. Either way, it really helps. The most reliable strategy for success isn’t “changing people’s minds,” it’s “making sure the people in our corner actually get their votes in”

Call voters, especially in battleground states - Same deal as above, but I put the texting option first because I know the Tumblr audience

Write postcards to voters, especially in battleground states - Same deal as above, but with an even more personal touch because it’s hand-written. Anecdotal evidence, but I’ve heard some people say this did a uniquely good job of motivating them to vote

Reach out to a local organizer to see if there’s anything specific you can do in your area - In case the options above don’t appeal!

Election Process

Volunteer to be a poll worker - We know they’ll try to limit the number of polling stations, to increase the time certain neighborhoods need to wait in line. Considering that the vast majority of poll worker volunteers are seniors (a.k.a.: at highest covid risk), chances are high that there will be a shortage of poll workers, which could sadly justify closing down some polling locations if there simply aren’t trained workers to be there. Worst case scenario! But if younger people volunteer, those are more eyes and more hands that can keep polling stations open, with plenty of help in case any issues arise

Confirm your registration early - Self-explanatory.

Request an absentee ballot early, drop it off by hand if you can - This page lets you check the absentee and early-voting rules for your state. Ideally, you want a paper ballot. However, given the reports of Post Office fuckery, the best option is to take your absentee ballot and then drop it off by hand to a designated election drop box. Google “__my state__ ballot drop boxes.”

This page also lets you request an absentee ballot and check all of the rules for your state, but as it’s a private org I couldn’t verify that they wouldn’t sell your email or something. Or, you can always google “absentee ballot rules ____my state____” and find the applicable link.

A mail (paper) ballot, plus using a drop-off box by hand before election day, is really the best of both worlds. There’s the physical paper record, but you know it’s safely arrived the second you drop it in the box.

Be sure to follow the rules precisely, such as signing where it tells you to on the envelope. Plenty of absentee ballots get rejected for that.

Verify that your ballot has arrived and been processed - This site tells you when states start processing early ballots. As you can see, some of them have huge lead times. Getting your ballot in early to allow for processing = fewer election day bottlenecks.

To look up your individual ballot’s status, google “absentee ballot status ____my state____”

Another option (a necessary one if your state limits absentee voting) is to vote in-person but early. Many states have early voting, some of which stretches several weeks before Election Day. This is another way to handle any anticipated long lines on 11/3.

Election Fairness

This is all about creating a sense of accountability. If there are numerous calls on a specific topic, someone with good intentions will think “Oh, I should verify this for them.” Someone with bad intentions will go, “Damn, I guess they’re paying attention.” Either way, it’s a positive for election fairness.

If possible, you really want to call (far far far superior to email) some combo of the following nine people, or the whole list:

Your House Representative

Your Senator

And your other Senator

Your state’s Secretary of State (pick your state from the drop-down to be redirected to the Secretary’s website, and then find the contact page there)

Your local representative in the state capitol (Google “find my __mystate___ state representative”)

The ABC station for your local market 

The NBC station for your local market

The CBS station for your local market

Your local newspaper  (find your paper, go to their site, and look for “Contact Us”)

What to say when you call, and feel free to tweak it into your own words:

1-5: “Hi, I’m __your name__ and I live in __zip code__. Given what I hear on the news, I am very concerned about fair elections in November. I’m especially concerned about making sure that all voters are able to be registered, get through the polls quickly, and have their vote counted. What is __the official you’re calling__ doing to guarantee election fairness for everyone in __your state__?” 

6-9: “Hi, I’m __your name__ and I live in __town__. I am very concerned about fair elections in November. I’m especially worried about making sure that all voters are able to be registered, get through the polls quickly, and have their vote counted. Do you have any plans to investigate whether our state is really ready to run a fair election this November?”

You can call more than once (but, you know, space them out a bit). The squeaky wheel gets the grease. For the media, calling multiple times demonstrates community interest in the story. For the politicians, calling multiple times demonstrates that you are the sort of highly engaged voter who will either support them in the future, or make their life very annoying if you’re not acknowledged. Along these lines: recruit friends and family to make more of these calls. Make them short, follow the script, don’t invest too much time in any single call. The volume of calls matters more than anything.

FYI, if you need to zero in on specific people, your best option is to go local: #4 and #5 on the list above. They usually get less attention than national roles, and so your voice will weigh more as they’re less used to receiving scrutiny. And the states do oversee their own election process, so you’re not diluting the impact by focusing on your own state.

And, y’know... be sure to vote.

[ladyhallen]

nebula-n

Either somewhere that is completely normal, like a tea-shop or something that is completely wild, but the two of them treat like normal - like an underground fighting ring, which is just another tuesday for both of them

The case was this: there was a group of people doing a lot of kidnapping. No one knows the criteria but one, that they took strong people.

Harry didn’t like kidnappers or people who forced others in general. It just didn’t sit well with her.

Still, the Kingsley’s plan of, “Be bait,” was actually working. Walking home slowly and taking a lot of back alleys, reading a book and being the picture perfect person of oblivious.

She wasn’t surprised when they took her, but did they have to hit her so hard?

Sitting up, she winced when the ache on her stomach pitched into a throb. Fuck, but that hurt.

Looking around, she noted that it was an actual arena. Gladiator style, with cages upon cages of people and bloodstains on the floor.

People had died here, she realized with no small amount of anger. People had bled here a lot. The floor was a mess of stained blood and everywhere there was the scent of iron, of people still bleeding.

Her cage was shared with a group of other people. Most of them were angry, savagely pacing and occasionally rattling the bars. One man stood out of the entire group.

One, for how calm he was. And two, for how clean he was.

A lot of them had dirt or blood on their person somewhere, but this person…was spotless. He didn’t even have wrinkles on his clothes. He sat with that preternatural stillness of a snake, of a person who was ready to move at any given moment.

Others might have mistaken that posture for relaxation, but Harry had seen Aurors with less polished stances. She knew coiled readiness when she saw it.

Taking her courage and her curiosity at hand, she approached him.

“Excuse me,” she said politely. “Pardon me, but do you know what’s going on?”

He opened his eyes and looked it at her. It was almost like a trick of the light, but his dark eyes flashed red for a second.

“When the sponsors are ready,” he explained in a deep and calm voice. “They’re going to open the cages, and we’re going to fight to death. Whoever impresses the sponsors leaves here alive.”

Fuck.

It was worse than she thought.

Death matches. Underground fighting rings with only one person walking away.

Fuck it, it was actually an underground brawling ring, because she had no illusions that it would be a neat and tidy one on one match.

“Has anyone ever tried to leave?” she asked him, voice just as low and quiet. It wouldn’t do for anyone to hear.

He cocked his head at her. “No. There is something preventing people from leaving. Some sort of net. They can’t attack the sponsors.”

Attack was a very broad term. So many loopholes…

And something was niggling her mind about this person. There was calm and then there was calm. He was too freaking relaxed at the thought of a fight to the death.

Either he was insanely good, or he was planning something.

She tilted her head and considered him thoughtfully. Or maybe both.

“I want in whatever you’ve got,” she decided. “I have to get back to work on Monday. I can’t take too much time in this little holiday.”

He fully opened his eyes and looked at her. It felt like he was looking into her soul.

After a moment, he smiled.

.

.

Fon had gotten caught intentionally and he would bet that the very strong woman with incredible Cloud Flames was the same.

She was angry, focused and very smart. She’d taken one look at him and known he wasn’t there by accident.

He liked her. She reminded him of his old master.

When the cage doors opened, Fon darted out quickly and wasn’t surprised that she kept up with him. Even when he ran up the wall with carefully applied Storm Flames and jumped in to the sponsor balcony, she was right beside him.

The sponsors, the disgusting and vile men who ordered these matches, didn’t even blink. They weren’t afraid.

But honestly, the word attack was ridiculously broad. There were so many ways you could interpret it.

He broke the fancy chairs they were sitting on and then they started to be afraid. One woman started to tremble.

The Cloud caught on, which he knew she would. She darted forward and broke the wristband. It was the only thing identifying a person as a sponsor and it was practically unbreakable. She broke it.

Fon stared for a second, enthralled. What lovely application of Flames. Sure, he could have done it, but Storm Flames were uncontrolled disintegration. He could have accidentally disintegrated the sponsor’s hand just as well as the wristband if he moved that quickly.

“You can’t do this!” the man who had been a sponsor blubbered.

“Sure can,” the Cloud nodded. She tripped him over his ass and tossed him over her shoulder, over the balcony and down to the brawling mass of people. All of whom were no longer brawling, very much aware that something was happening.

Fon settled in front of the door, blocking it and smiling meanly.

Yes, the Cloud was scary but she was a woman. Most of them ran towards her.

The enterprising few who ran towards him were dealt with. He just had to think about targeting the wristbands and not attacking them. Because if he did, he would end up pulling his punches involuntarily.

Eugh, Mist fuckery.

He would have to ask Viper if he had any residues on him later, he didn’t want to think about that sort of order interfering with his jobs.

Fon finished, looked at the Cloud woman having so much fun tossing sponsors over her shoulder after breaking the wristbands.

He felt himself melt a little. She was so bloodthirsty, it was adorable.

When the last sponsor was done being tossed over, she went to him, flushed and smiling with glee. He resisted the urge to stroke her bloodied cheek. It would be inappropriate, he didn’t introduce himself yet.

Oh, but he wanted.

“Ah, I love doing vengeance,” she hissed, looking a bit disheveled. She fixed her hair into a braid and threw it back. “So, where’s the way out?”

He chuckled under his breath. She was so cute. He was willing to bet she was looking for the people who kidnapped her.

“Yes, I memorized the layout,” he said, appreciating the eldritch purple light in her eyes.

.

.

After everything and they were standing under the stars again, the man who’d introduced himself as Fon looked to her and said, “Monday is still four days. Want to come with me for a bit?”

The thing was, Harry shouldn’t. He was a stranger and a dangerous one.

Except, the entire time she was with him, Harry had also never felt happier, or more alive.

Sure, she loved her job and her life, but it had gotten to the point that after the Death Eater’s were hunted down and put away, it had gotten boring.

This man, she thought. He would never be boring.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“It’ll be fun,” he coaxed.

With a smile, Harry nodded and took his hand.

.

.

Harry is a bloodthirsty Cloud Lady here and Fon adores her.

[glorious-blackout]

Junior Doctor Shenanigans - Obstetrics and Gynaecology Edition:

A major part of my job now consists of assisting in C-sections, with one of the most important steps being the application of ‘fundal pressure’ to allow the obstetrician to deliver the baby. This can be surprisingly exhausting, especially when you’re sweating in a surgical gown under bright lights, but it’s also incredibly rewarding when the baby is finally free and lets out their first startled cry. It also means I can claim to have pushed out far more babies than I ever intended to…

On my first Saturday on-call shift, I met a lovely lady on the antenatal ward who had been admitted with mild pre-eclampsia (a condition which causes raised blood pressure in pregnancy and can develop into seizures if left untreated). She was generally well and just needed an antibiotic for a urinary tract infection, so we were able to chat away about the plans for her delivery and her excitement to meet her little boy. Neither of us knew when she was going to be induced, only that it would hopefully be soon. Fast-forward to Sunday, where I met her again on the postnatal ward with her adorable son, both safe and well after a surprise overnight C-section. Not only did she laugh when I reminded her of our earlier conversation, but she also let me have a sneaky cuddle of her baby while I was doing her routine postnatal review 🥰

As if labouring women aren’t suffering enough, they often need grey cannulas (one of the largest and therefore sorest to insert) before they go to Labour Ward on the off-chance that they go on to have a major haemorrhage. Most mums cope perfectly well when we insert them, however I did meet one dad who looked like he was about to faint when I inserted a cannula into his wife’s hand. I can only wonder how he coped with the actual birth…

All babies are cute, but you can always tell which ones are especially cute by how obsessively the surgeons/midwives/anaesthetists/paediatricians fawn over them. Our favourites tend to be babies born with full heads of hair and/or chubby cheeks.

Ovarian cysts are something I barely thought about before this job, but now genuinely terrify me. Thankfully the vast majority of them are benign, though that feels like an inaccurate term when you see a CT image of an ovarian mass so large it stretches to the diaphragm and squashes all the organs around it. On one of my night-shifts, one such cyst resulted in an ovarian torsion (where the ovary twists in on itself, resulting in horrendous pain) and the poor patient had to be taken to theatre for a cystectomy. Not only did the cyst look huge, but it turned out to be a dermoid cyst - something which, when burst open, looks like it contains a disgusting mixture of cottage cheese and human hair. You know something’s gross when even the consultant is gagging.  

Obstetrics is easily my favourite surgical specialty and there’s a lot about working there that I love, but it’s also an organisational nightmare that relies on using junior doctors as its punching bag more often than not. Between constant last-minute rota changes, forcing doctors to cross-cover multiple busy wards, asking someone to cover a night-shift when they’ve already worked six hours that day, and several occasions where nobody was allocated to do the incredibly important on-call shifts, the running of the department feels fundamentally broken and has put several of my colleagues off from ever specialising in Obs and Gyn. 

My ‘favourite’ instance of departmental fuckery was when I was urgently called away to another hospital on the opposite side of the city because they needed someone to assist in Gynaecology Day Surgery. I was somehow picked despite my senior knowing that I didn’t have a car, and thus had to get a bus into the city centre, only to complete the journey in a taxi because my usual connecting bus had been diverted. As well as leaving me a tenner out of pocket, this mad rush meant I arrived barely on time and had to stand in an operating theatre for three hours having not had lunch. What was so important that I needed to be dragged across the city for it? The consultant needed someone to hold a woman’s uterus out of the way during a laparoscopy.

Obstetrics is one of those specialties where even the major emergencies tend to have a happy outcome, which only makes it more devastating when the worst happens. On one of my recent night-shifts, a young woman was brought into the maternity unit having broken her waters at 26 weeks (around 6 months gestation), and to make matters worse she started bleeding heavily during her review. We were able to stabilise her initially, however it was strongly suspected that she had had a placental abruption - a condition where the placenta starts to separate from the uterine wall, resulting in major blood loss for mum and reduced or absent blood flow to baby. If this were the case, the only way to potentially save both of them and ensure mum’s safety would be to deliver her very premature baby. Not long after this was explained to her and her partner, she started bleeding heavily again, so much so that she had to be rushed into theatre for a caesarean section under general anaesthetic as there was no time to perform a spinal. Thankfully she remained stable during the surgery, and her baby girl was born very pale and tiny but alive. We spent the rest of the surgery controlling mum’s blood loss and were thankfully able to close the abdomen without any significant complications. Unfortunately however, while we were working on mum, her daughter had developed a significant bradycardia and low oxygen saturations despite intubation, and wasn’t responding to any of the paediatric team’s resuscitation efforts. After twenty minutes of compressions, adrenaline and blood transfusions, she passed away at only forty minutes of age. I can still remember leaving the theatre in a daze while my seniors and the consultant neonatologist went to break the news to the dad, and despite my best efforts, I ended up crying after the charge midwife asked if I needed a hug. Most of us completed our shift that night in a state of numb exhaustion, only comforted by the knowledge that the mum was okay.

In situations like this, all staff involved should have the option to attend a debrief where our seniors discuss what happened and give us space to express how we feel and cry if we need to. Rather typically, I missed the debrief in this case as barely twenty minutes after leaving the theatre, I had to scrub in and assist with another emergency C-section.    

I feel I should end on a high note, because for all it’s (many) faults, I’ve genuinely enjoyed this job. Having assisted in so many deliveries, you might be forgiven for thinking the significance of each one is now lost on me, but there is truly nothing more lovely than seeing the pure joy on the faces of parents meeting their baby for the first time. Obstetrics is probably the only specialty where happy tears are more common than the alternative, and seeing new mums and dads melt over their newborn child still feels like an enormous privilege 💖

[ot3-watch]

Episode 4: The Snow Job

Will I ever forgive the network for fucking up and ruining the episode order? No. No I will not.

NO, PEOPLE. DESPITE WHAT THE FUCKERY WOULD HAVE YOU BELIEVE, THE SNOW JOB IS NOT EPISODE 9

I never understood how people could just… take someone’s house away.

YES FUCK HIM UP

PUNCH HIS LIGHTS OUT HE ASSHOLE

Episode 2 of “I will never understand money”

WHY IS THERE ANOTHER SAM REFERENCE/?? AND WITH THE FUCKING FLASHBACK TOO I CAN’T

“I had fortune cookies for breakfast” PARKER WHY

“It’s not cereal, it’s a fortune cookie” and yet.. YOU STILL HAD THEM FOR BREAKFAST

HOw… Also… How did she happen to read a fortune that was going to be perfectly applicable? They don’t… they don’t actually work? Right? Fortune cookies are bogus right? Because I’m having chinese for dinner and i need to know what to expect

Ah yes, the start of Nate being too fucked up to function.

They never address his alcoholism well-- either they forget the con to focus on it or they ignore it because he does good work. I hate it

PEOPLE ARE THE WORST!! RETZING IS THE WORST

Why luge? Of all the snow related sports???

I love Eliot being a Lurker and Lurking. He’s so good at it.

These poor ACTUAL lugers. Having their accomplishments overwritten. Aww

Could you imagine if you’re looking at a news article about your recent win and all of a sudden it isn’t your face in the picture anymore? Seriously, that’s gotta hurt.

I remember just being so bored for most of this episode. Like,random parts were great but others…

ELIOT iS SUCH A GOOD GRIFTER

Parker is just… oh my god. “Help… help… -_-”

The random toblerone… were they sponsored? I feel like they were sponsored…

#obvious product placement

All the orange in that house is insane

Like, my mom is OBSESSED with orange but this is… eurgh.

“That’s what made this company what it is today” NO… CHEATING AND ASSHOLERY MADE IT WHAT IT IS FUCK YOU

“It’s coming from inside the house” ah. Horror movies. Fun

Sophie’s accent is sounding very first episode Nigerian… just saying

I think this was one of the episodes that made me… meh about Parker.

NO SERIOUSLY THE ACCENT THING

I CAN’T GET PAST IT

Ah, don’t you love it when US law is so fucked up that people can openly admit to taking advantage of people in trouble and the law is just like “nice carpe dieming there! Here, have a tax break”

Honestly fuck them

“It’s all legal” YEAH BUT IT AIN’T MORAL FUCK YOU

F U C K T H E M

Ah, Nate fucking them over because he’s a DRUNK ASSHOLE

I’m not saying that Nate wanting to help more people is a bad thing but like, could he not have done that without fucking everyone over?

One of my favorite running gags is the random con names that getprogressively more and more ridiculous. ANd then only hearing enough about it to bring up MORE Questions it’s *chef kiss* perfect.

I feel like Nate was just mad he didn’t have a role to play in the con so he had to change it so he could play a character.

Why does he look like fred from scooby doo

SO not only are we getting commentary on the real estate market, but we’re also getting commentary on the health insurance industry.

Ah yes, drink while driving. That’s smart.

Ah yes, Assault by a law enforcement official. That’s smart

“Organ failure, death, death like symptoms”

I LOVE HARDISON HE’S SO SMART

I love it when Eliot says smart things and everyone looks at him like *little kid voice “wait a second…. Who ARE you?”

Eliot in scrubs is very hot.

“Death scenes can be demanding… think of a really sad thing that happened in your life like, oh, i don’t know, when your father died.” HAHAHAHAHAHA

This was one of the episodes that made me not love Parker

Eliot beating Hardison at rock paper scissors is another one of my favorite running gags

“Wow, you can tell. Dead eyes. As if there’s no soul”

See, sophie? Parker’s PERFECT casting.

The OT3 already being perfect.

Eliot just picking Parker up is amazing.

Nate is just the worst I hate him

“I ain’t your daddy”

NO BUT YOU COULD BE MINE

Me? Being a slut for Eliot? Whaaaattt??

NATE IS JUST THE WORST I HATE HIM

THIS IS WHAT HE IS LIKE DRUNK CAN WE JUST STOP PRETENDING IT’S EVER OKAY

I hate when TV shows try to pass alcoholism off as a character flaw but then forget they need to back that up so they can’t let them rehabilitate fully ever because then you have a character that’s missing his fatal flaw.

Like no, fuck that. Five them a real character flaw

And not a flaw that’s not really a flaw that you’re supposed to like them even more because of. AN ACTUAL FUCKING FLAW pLEASE

You can tell it’s Parker that walks into the bank office. Even before the flashback.

Would that work? Signing away controlling interest in the company? Would that really fuck everything over? I feel like things are much more complicated than that.

This seems so complicated and one of those solutions that you need a financial degree in order to understand so I kind of really do not like it. DO I not like it because it makes me feel stupid? Maybe? But it also seems like it shouldn’t work?

It’s one of those “That sounds fake but I don’t know enough about this to disprove it” situations.

Final thoughts: 6/10. Points for Eliot being Eliot and the OT3 being v awesome. ALSO I JUST REALIZED I DIDN’T COMMENT ON PARKER JUMPING OUT OF THE WINDOW FOR ELIOT TO CATCH HER WHICH IS A TRAVESTY SO HERE I AM. COMMENTING. Points off for Nate being the WORST. Points off for a shitty handling of alcoholism. Points off for me not understanding the ending. Extra points for a v cute client family. Extra points for Hardison being v competent. Points off because this is my blog and I don’t have to answer to you and I just found this episode meh okay?

Sam count: 3/4 BLEH

IYS count: 2/4 GOOD