u/Tight_Steak_232

I bought land and was planning on putting a house up on the back of the 80 acres. The driveway would approximate .4 miles. I knew I would have to get the driveway prepped long in advance and divided my parcel with the driveway on the highest section, fields on either side. Shortly thereafter, a neighbor, Shit for Brains (SFB) approached me to rent my fields. He had rented from the former owner and offered to pay me 60% of what he paid the former owner. I declined. When I told him why, SFB offered to pay the same. Again, I declined. Every other property around me was earning $75 an acre, and he was only offering $50. We finally settled on $70...with three conditions: First, he couldn't plant on the area I had staked out to be my yard. Second, he couldn't plant on my driveway (which was easily identified as it was now sculpted with the hump in the middle and had 10 loads of gravel already delivered.) Third, he had to have his corn out before December 1 because I would need at least the adjacent field cleared for a new pole shed. He agreed. I put it in writing, and after grumbling, SFB signed.

I lived in the cities at the time this was happening, so imagine my surprise to get a call from Dad two weeks later and learn SFB had plowed straight through my driveway and planted on it. Further, he PARKED all his equipment on the far side of my freshly seeded lawn!! He drove over the flags and twine indicating the yard. I was livid. My dad told me to relax and just put the driveway back in (most of the gravel would still be there). At that time, Dad also realized SFB had driven over a burn pile (old outhouse torn down, mostly burned) with his tractor, and two tires were now flat.

He came to retrieve his equipment on probably the muddiest day of the month and knocked on my dad's door (he lived next to the parcel I purchased) to see why I plowed down his driveway and flattened his tires. Dad explained to him he shouldn't have planted corn in the driveway, and how could I possibly have flattened his tires when I hadn't been up since he parked there?

That December, I still hadn't received my first half of rent money (first half prior to plant, second half at harvest). Corn was ripe and due for harvest, and I had two days to prep the field for my shed. I had loads of gravel arranged for December 2nd or 3rd, and there was corn where it was supposed to go. I drove to the renter's home, and only his wife answered. I explained that the corn was supposed to be harvested already and I hadn't received rent yet. She said she'd tell him. He never showed.

December 2, gopher state one call staked out electric lines. Corn still there. December 3, gravel and materials are delivered to my property for the shed. Corn still there. December 4, morning of, guys arrive to build the shed but can't come down the driveway because the renter parked his massive combine at the road, completely blocking my driveway. They call to let me know they can't start. I tell them just drive over the cornfield on either side of the driveway. According to our contract, there wasn't supposed to be corn there, and the rental agreement expired.

The shed was a standard 40x60. They had to bulldoze about 1/10th of an acre to level the gravel. Some time that afternoon, the renter came down screaming at me about his ruined fields. I explained he signed a contract requiring all corn be removed prior to December 1. He said he never signed a contract. I told him if he never signed a contract, and I didn't receive money for the rent, the corn was mine. I could do what I wanted with it.

SFB was also a county commissioner, and SFB called upon a cop friend for a favor: get out to my property right now and put a stop to further construction damage. When cop showed up, he obviously heard only one side of the story. So, when I showed him the contract, explained SFB hadn't paid for it, showed the crop wasn't removed in time, and explained that he damaged my driveway and killed a bunch of my grass, I asked him what he'd do in my situation.

"I have access to a combine. I can cut it down for you. If he pays you, I can give him the corn...less the cost of harvesting it. And rent for storing it. If he doesn't pay you, I'll cover the cost of the rent." By January the following year, the renter had paid the cop for the corn, and cop had paid me for the rent. He came to the cop with the money...and a receipt for payment...backdated to the preceding year (tax purposes). Cop said he wouldn't sign it unless the date was correct. SFB was furious but initialed the change.

That very next year, SFB was booted out of his commissioner seat because he was using the position for personal gain. I think the cop narked on him.

My boss stole my work regularly and presented it to upper management as if she had created the data herself. I wasn't happy about it, but I worked for her, so...it was my job.

She then said my work was marginal, and I shouldn't expect much of a raise. She said this to everyone in our department, so we started chatting among us. As it turned out, each department was allowed x amount of dollars to share for raises. Upper management left it up to the boss to mete out among our department...including herself. I think we all wound up with about 1%, while she received 11%. We fumed.

I created a margin-per-minute forecasting tool for a cable sales show that had a ton of back data used to build it: day of the week, anticipated holidays with low viewership, Black Friday, etc. The problem with creating a forecast that asks questions that require answers to ask more questions is that eventually you encounter a circulatory reference. It just stops working and muddles in confusion.

I work with Excel macros, and I have learned that there is a way to limit the times the circulatory reference will run before arriving at an answer that's "roughly right". I also know that there is a method to turn automatic calculations off, which will give you an answer that is nothing near roughly right. So, when I forwarded the information to my boss, I knew she was going to march into a board meeting and pass it off as her own work. I also knew they'd put scenarios through the workbook...certain what-if situations just to see what happens if, say, the interest rates change, or tariffs are enacted, etc. during this meeting. I disabled autocalc.

She goes into the meeting full of herself, feeling fat because she got the majority our department's raise herself, and obviously too busy to review my spreadsheet to ensure it was functioning perfectly. As predicted, she goes in. They ask her to change the tariffs to 30%, and she does. Her results do not change. They ask her to change interest rates, and again, no change. She's getting flustered, so one of the other managers asks her how she set the spreadsheet up, and she had to admit she didn't do it. They called me in.

I walk over, asked if there was a problem, and I see my boss wearing a smile that doesn't even approximate the cheeks, let alone the eyes. The managers told me my boss's spreadsheet didn't work anymore. Could I fix it? I pop to formulas and check to see if the recalc was still off, and of course, it was. I put it back on, and I tell my boss to invoke the macro again. Boom. Correct answer. This gets them to question how I built the spreadsheet, so I got into all the nitty gritty bits about the data, the formulas, how I circumvented the circulatory reference, etc. And she sat clueless. Red faced. No idea why I included minutia such as the election, weather forecasts (lots of snow meant lots of home shopping). They were fascinated.

Did I mention I was pulled into an advisory analyst role afterward? I didn't work for her anymore. Nice raise. Private office with three windows instead of a cubicle (boss had a cubicle with a window). They were NOT impressed that she didn't involve herself fully into the margin spreadsheet.

We fell in love with pugs a few years ago. My daughter INSISTED on finding a pug puppy with her own money, and I tried to talk her out of it. I thought they were homely. Long story short, we are now on our fourth pug almost 12 years in. And I know I can never be without a pug.

We've had multiple other dogs in the past and have rescued a few, as well. One of them, a chocolate lab, ended up with stomach cancer and started falling down stairs and bleeding from his rectum. We realized it was time to say goodbye. Only, when we went to the vet to have it done, he didn't behave as expected. The shot that was supposed to calm him down made him panic and crawl in our laps. The shot that was just supposed to make him close his eyes peacefully and go to sleep was even worse. We realized at that time he wasn't ready to go. It was traumatic for the whole family, and even the vet cried and said it had never happened before.

Cue our next chocolate lab: Mousse was diagnosed with a seizure disorder at a young age. Each one of them muddied up his brain cells, until we FINALLY figured out (totally by accident) that giving him a half a tums a day stopped his seizures altogether (we did it for his gas). Unfortunately, by that time, it was too little, too late. We couldn't put him down because we were afraid it was too early, so he ended up dying in my husband's arms while the car was warming up to go to the vet.

We have now just received a diagnosis of splenic cancer in our near 10-year-old pug, Matilda (Tildie, or Deedeedumdumdum). To say we are heartbroken is a drastic understatement. In one way, we'd do anything at all to save her. In another, we know she'd have to undergo surgery to remove her spleen, which would extend her life maybe 6 weeks, but she'd be hurting from the surgery, and then undergo chemo, which is also brutal. The whole procedure would break $10k and would maybe give us another 6 months of probably uncomfortable time for her.

The cancer has already caused her to lose weight and accumulate large amounts of fluid in her belly (not bleeding...just fluid). She sleeps most of the day but gets up to woof at the UPS guy and partakes in the nightly ritual of treats. She doesn't eat much else. But her tail is still curled, and she still smiles. The thought of saying my final goodbye tears me up fiercely. She's my DIVA. She rules the roost. She is so precious!

Has anybody ever gone through splenic cancer and had a positive outcome? The prognosis is absolutely awful.

Need to let some steam off or I'll explode. Last night, we went to a restaurant near us that is fairly popular. Despite being out in the middle of nowhere, it's conveniently located at the junction of two highways and is known for reasonable prices, good service, and tasty food. On Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, as well as most holidays, you will not get a table if you haven't made a reservation unless you're only two or three and there at a less busy time.

We called ahead to make reservations and were told they weren't necessary on a Monday. We made them for 7 anyway. When we arrived, our group of six came to a restaurant packed to the ceiling and expanding on the outdoor seating area. It was chilly, so this wasn't a viable option for us. The hostess who should have been seating us explained that the group was supposed to be 68 people but actually ended up being over 100. And they TRICKLED in...they STARTED arriving at 5:30, but the person in charge told the waitresses they could take the drink orders but not the meal orders until the guest of honor arrived. There was going to be a speech presented, gifts, roasts, etc.

This meant that not one meal was served from 5:30 until 6:45, so our table which was supposed to be reserved? Not available. We stood in line at the bar waiting for our drinks as this group monopolized the entire restaurant. The waitresses were fuming, because they would have been steadily serving tables from 4:30 until 6:45 instead of serving just a couple cocktails per table. At 7:40, they brought out cake. The manager told them they would have to serve it outside because they had to honor other reservations and guests. Still, it wasn't until 8:10 that we were seated.

The worst part is that the gratuity was added to that ticket automatically, and the business owner paid the tab. The waitresses made less than 20% of what they should have earned for that period of time. When it came time to serve us, our waitress was frazzled and apologized profusely.

I was stinking mad and still am!