Dyy6 amzl delivery station
CyberArk
2015.08.12 22:05 yanni CyberArk
Technical talk, news, and more about CyberArk Privileged Account Security and other related products. *This subreddit is not affiliated with CyberArk Software.*
2023.05.28 13:01 geetanjalicommercial The Rise of Vatika One on One: Sector 16's Premier Commercial Property
 | submitted by geetanjalicommercial to u/geetanjalicommercial [link] [comments] Introduction: Gurgaon, a bustling city in India's National Capital Region (NCR), is renowned for its thriving commercial landscape and remarkable real estate developments. Among these, Vatika One on One in Sector 16 has emerged as a premier commercial property, attracting attention from investors and businesses alike. In this blog, we will delve into the rise of Vatika One on One and explore why it has become the preferred choice in Sector 16's commercial real estate market.
Conclusion: Vatika One on One has emerged as a premier commercial property in Sector 16, Gurgaon, due to its prime location, iconic architecture, mixed-use development, state-of-the-art facilities, smart and sustainable design, excellent connectivity, and the developer's reputation. With its strategic advantages and attractive features, Vatika One on One presents an excellent investment opportunity for businesses and investors seeking a prominent presence in Gurgaon's commercial real estate market. The rise of Vatika One on One signifies its ascent as a preferred destination for those looking to establish a successful business venture in Sector 16. |
2023.05.28 12:29 Any-Cartoonist-9025 Are customers geniuses or is it just a fluke?
 | Twice in the past couple late nights dashing during great peak pay i had customers order 5 items on one order then 1 small item on another order(same customer, same address). Tonight was a Casey's(gas station) order for candy and drinks, then same person ordered 1 pack of skittles on another order. Barely tipped, but I got 2 delivery fees, both $5 peak pays. So $16.50 for 5 miles. Since this happened twice this week, do you think it's a fluke, or did they figure out a loop hole to get their orders quick without tipping? submitted by Any-Cartoonist-9025 to doordash_drivers [link] [comments] |
2023.05.28 09:37 Noghbuddy The Spirit of...
I ran into a bit of writer's block writing the next part of Secret Chord. It wasn't helped by this weird anthology rattling around in my head. So, I decided to write it down to get it out of the way. I hope you enjoy it, or even take it as a series of possible writing prompts. I only had more ideas about the bootlegger of the story, so we'll just say everyone else is up to interpretation and imagination. Let me know what you think.
And yes, I do have a strong fascination with music. Why do you ask?
---------
Radio is a beautiful thing to Jack Rushing. The ability to reach the common man wherever he may be and bring to him the comfort and pleasure of music, the up-to-date latest news of the wider galaxy, or the simple human connection of Jack’s interludes. Now it wasn’t radio exactly, but the semantics were unimportant. What was important was broadcasting out to the galaxy at large wherever humans may be. To bring together those lonely souls adrift in the wider-
A crash brought Jack out of his reverie. His short fik assistant dropped a box after tripping over a wire. “Careful with those! We haven’t saved those yet!”
“Yes, yes! Sorry.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose Jack replied, “It’s fine. You’re doing fine, Kos. Just watch where you’re going. Now bring those here, we’re about to go live.”
Kos recovered the spilled cardboard sleeves and deposited the box on the small table beside Jack. He stood and thumbed through the selection. This box alone could buy a new cargo hauler, and the cramped studio held crates of these black-market treasures. Kindly donated by a mysterious benefactor.
He drew out a couple records and a tape then handed them to Kos. “Alright we’re gonna start with ‘Sixteen Tons” he said pointing to each song number, “Then ‘Pride and Joy’, ‘Midnight Rider’, ‘East Bound and Down’ and we’ll end with…” He dug around and exclaimed, “Ooh, this.” He handed the vinyl to the fik trying to juggle everything who shuffled into the next room. Jack could see through the glass as Kos began to set everything up, while he put on his headphones and adjusted the mic. The per-recorded program from the night cycle was ending.
With a thumbs up from Kos, Jack punched a few buttons on his console before the vintage “On Air” light blinked to life.
“Good morning, O’ wayward souls, I’m Jack Rushing back again with another slew of songs once thought lost to time. Our generous benefactor, Mr. Suit-and-Tie, continues to comb the seedy underbelly of the galaxy at large to bring you nothin but the best. Meanwhile, me and Kos, my stalwart companion, are broadcasting live from beautiful downtown Nondescript. This is the Spirit of Radio bringing you ‘Sixteen Tons’ by Tennessee Ernie Ford.” Jack pointed through the glass to signal Kos to start before muting the mic.
*****
Cooking was an art as much as a skill. Bo had cooking in his blood. History was repeating itself, as Bo’s ancestors worked as a ship’s cook to gain passage across the Atlantic, so too did Bo book passage across the sea of stars by working as the ship’s chef.
Some people say a man is made out of mud, A poor man’s made out of muscle and blood…
Bo adjusted the volume on his pad so he could hear it as he worked. He was finishing up cleaning after the ship’s dinner and moved on to his special project. He promised Mephla a specially made dinner for two. The felinoid had taken an interest in his cooking. She enjoyed watching him cook as much as eating what he made. He knew she’d arrive any minute, so he set out on some prep work.
Finding ingredients was a novel challenge, but not impossible. A passable replacement was possible with just about anything, but it took Bo the better part of a year and half seeking them out. Salt was salt, thank God, but others he had to be a bit more creative. It seemed the galaxy preferred lard to butter. Probably due to the ursdains or the mostly carnivorous population, but he could work with it. He was most proud of his most recent discovery of a little root-bulb that mimicked garlic damn near perfectly. He’d been jonesing for garlic-bread for years now, and now he could finally scratch that itch.
He began setting up his mies en place and pre-heating his oven and prized possession. Well, one of them anyway. His father always said all he needed in the kitchen was a chef’s knife and a cast-iron skillet. Turns out he was right. Those two have taken Bo from one side of the galaxy to the other. The damn electric stove-tops still irked him, but he could manage.
Just as he was finishing up breaking down the…bird of some description, The calico felinoid entered and leaned against the doorway. She didn’t say anything, just watched with a self-satisfied smile. Or maybe that was just how her face always looked. God, he loved that face.
Bo was particularly proud of the little mound of pasta he’d created. It was too labor intensive to serve the crew at large, but he’d made a little batch just for tonight. Maybe one day he’d be the one to introduce dried pasta to the galaxy, but for tonight it was a special treat for a special woman.
*****
Curiosity is what drew Mephla to the diminutive human. She saw him duck into the kitchens of the ship one day and had to know what he could possibly know about food. Peeking in reviled a pleasant scene of a craftsman in his element. The way he felt or smelled each ingredient before staring off into space or closing his eyes. He once told her he could picture how a dish would taste just from the smells of the ingredients. Of course, this didn’t stop him from sneaking tastes of each step while he worked.
Yeah I love my lady, She’s long and lean, You mess with her, You’ll see a man get mean.
She loved to watch him work; from cutting and slicing veggies, herbs, and meat to how he juggled different pots and pans to combine, split up, then recombine the food in some ritual of flavor. One of his favorite phrases was “Don’t waste flavor.” Whatever that meant, it worked. He busied himself with roasting what he called “the star of the dish” while simultaneously preparing the “landing spot” of the plate.
He began slicing the fowl and placing it over some sauce covered…something. She’d eaten enough of his food to trust him. Humans (at least this one) enjoyed meaty, fatty flavors. This suited Mephla just fine.
“Oh. Almost forgot. How could I forget?” He turned and retrieved some buttered-bread concoction and placed two on each plate. It smelled divine. She entered his temple and stood behind him, holding him tight from behind.
Nuzzling the top of his head she said, “You keep cooking like this I’ll end up as big as an ursdain.”
She’s my sweet little thang, I’m her little lover boy.
*****
Freedom was a dangerous business. Bill Elliott stared at the representation of the guard cutter currently scanning and searching every ship passing through this jump point. Not normally a problem. Not unless you happen to be haulin’ a couple tons of human contraband bound for less-than-legal ports. The next system over had the hyperspace lane entrance that’d set Bill home-free.
But I’m not gon’ let ‘em catch me, no I’m not gon’ let ‘em catch the Midnight Rider.
“I’m tryin’ buddy. I really am.” He grumbled at his radio. He adjusted the number nine cap on his head then climbed out of his seat. His rig was a supped-up cheap cargo hauler. It’d fit in just about anywhere in the galaxy, but it was packing a drive big enough to rival…well a guard cutter.
He clambered to the cargo hold to take another count of what he had. Most of the crates and pallets were labeled in code. It’d be just about the worst code one could come up with for fooling humans, but luckily the Galactic Community didn’t seem to recognize names like Marlboro or Jack Daniels. Bill’s world as a bootlegger was made of these not-so-subtle code names, including his own name.
Finishing taking stock, including the smaller cases labeled “Colt” under the floor panels, he checked on the hulking drive core awkwardly crammed in the engine bay and bleeding out into the cargo and extra crew bays. With no epiphany found Bill walked back to the cockpit and fell back in his seat.
His options were limited. He could turn around and make a few extra jumps and extend his delivery by who knows how long. Which would also be suspicious as all Hell trying to avoid a GC cutter. Or he could gamble and pass through the checkpoint, hoping beyond hope they don’t decide to pick his ship apart bolt by bolt.
East bound and down, loaded up and truckin’, We’re gonna do what they say can’t be done.
Bill chuckled, “Yeah. Let’s watch this ol’ Bandit run.” He waited for the last ship in line to jump out of system before warming up his drive. This is what the burner tags were for after all. He got the green light then put the hammer down.
*****
Enterprise is the lifeblood of any organization or business. Rohan Singh thought of himself as quite the enterprising human. As humanity was cast to the four winds, Rohan wept for the lost spirit and culture, and would do anything and everything he could to seize back control of humanity’s spirit.
Rohan eased back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. He pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it. The Galactic Community was no stranger to financial wheeling and dealing, however the human had a couple perks to leverage. First was a fresh perspective. A stagnate market was one just begging for any flashy new enterprise. Which led to the second: adaptability. So rote was supply and demand that any upset could cripple an unsuspecting business. And upset he did. With an army of felinoid lawyers and ssypno investors Rohan quickly build company after company within shell company after shell company.
It started simply with human-made chachkies and knick-knacks sold for inflated prices, but quickly built capital for larger ventures in ship flipping and Rohan’s favorite: casinos. There is no better cash cow than the scientifically perfected art of mass gambling. With a large influx of cash, he had the freedom to invest in…less reputable opportunities. Tobacco, alcohol, and guns sold the galaxy over. Keeping his plantations and stills secret was an ever-present challenge, but one that paid dividends. Guns on the other hand were a harder business to stay in. Oh sure, human “slug throwers” were quickly becoming popular. The demand was there, but Rohan couldn’t keep a steady supply. It seems most of the humans with the know-how simply went into business for themselves. Rohan could respect that, but he’d need one with loose scruples on the payroll. Then was the matter of drugs. How did human drugs react to alien physiology? That could open a whole new-
This next song goes out to Mr. Suit-and-Tie.
Money Money Money Money… Money!
Rohan grinned. Sure, his wealth was reward enough, but there was still his goal of humanity’s spirit. He rose and was about to key his intercom when it buzzed to life.
“Sir, the Spirit of Fortune is pulling in, and Mr. Liberty is here to see you.”
He keyed, “Send him in.” He stood then went to face the window behind his desk. It showed a view of the cyan gas giant the small station orbited. As if on cue the Spirit of Fortune began to slide into view. The massive casino ship was the first of what Rohan hoped would be a fleet. It was a cruise ship on steroids. He could imagine a Las Vegas of various ships drifting from sector to sector generating unimaginable wealth. And of course, cleaning up some of his less-than-sterling cash-flow.
He turned back to watch the approaching man pass the mirrored water features lining Rohan’s opulent office. Mr. Liberty wore a fitted suit and smart glasses and handed Rohan a pad.
“Sir, we’ve found another ring. This one operating at the edge of ssypno space.”
Taking and reviewing the pad Rohan answered, “Perfect! Do we know their source?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“I see. That’s alright. Buy whoever you can and once you have an account of everyone tip off the GC through the usual channels. I’ll put a personal bonus on every human you and your people liberate.” He handed the pad back.
“Of course, sir.”
“Good. Get going. No time to waste.” With a nod, Mr. Liberty strode back out through the front doors.
Rohan turned to observe the Spirit of Fortune once again before crushing out his cigar and keying the intercom, “Hold all my calls and meetings. I’ll be in the vault.”
“Yes, sir”
He walked to the side of his office where a hidden door was. Opening the side panel, he placed his eye up to the retinal scanner and pressed his thumb to the DNA analysis needle. With a silent hiss the door slid open, and he descended the stairs to the heavily armored room. Inside was a vast collection of human paraphernalia.
Paintings, sculptures, and general artifacts lined the walls and adorned pedestals. This quite possibly was the largest collection of human relics. Stolen and sold on the black market, Rohan made it his mission to ensure every piece of humanity’s spirit, its soul, was once again in human hands.
He slowly walked the aisles until stopping at a small sculpture of the Buddha.
“Greed is bad, eh? If that were true, you’d still be a ssypno trophy.” He slowly gazed around at his collection. He could picture the museum of humanity and its accomplishments. A vast temple that the dispersed humans could visit, and remember who they were. Know their true nature and heart. The preservation of its soul. “I’m not proud…” he spoke to the Buddha, “But it must be done.”
submitted by Noghbuddy to WolvensStories [link] [comments]
And yes, I do have a strong fascination with music. Why do you ask?
---------
Radio is a beautiful thing to Jack Rushing. The ability to reach the common man wherever he may be and bring to him the comfort and pleasure of music, the up-to-date latest news of the wider galaxy, or the simple human connection of Jack’s interludes. Now it wasn’t radio exactly, but the semantics were unimportant. What was important was broadcasting out to the galaxy at large wherever humans may be. To bring together those lonely souls adrift in the wider-
A crash brought Jack out of his reverie. His short fik assistant dropped a box after tripping over a wire. “Careful with those! We haven’t saved those yet!”
“Yes, yes! Sorry.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose Jack replied, “It’s fine. You’re doing fine, Kos. Just watch where you’re going. Now bring those here, we’re about to go live.”
Kos recovered the spilled cardboard sleeves and deposited the box on the small table beside Jack. He stood and thumbed through the selection. This box alone could buy a new cargo hauler, and the cramped studio held crates of these black-market treasures. Kindly donated by a mysterious benefactor.
He drew out a couple records and a tape then handed them to Kos. “Alright we’re gonna start with ‘Sixteen Tons” he said pointing to each song number, “Then ‘Pride and Joy’, ‘Midnight Rider’, ‘East Bound and Down’ and we’ll end with…” He dug around and exclaimed, “Ooh, this.” He handed the vinyl to the fik trying to juggle everything who shuffled into the next room. Jack could see through the glass as Kos began to set everything up, while he put on his headphones and adjusted the mic. The per-recorded program from the night cycle was ending.
With a thumbs up from Kos, Jack punched a few buttons on his console before the vintage “On Air” light blinked to life.
“Good morning, O’ wayward souls, I’m Jack Rushing back again with another slew of songs once thought lost to time. Our generous benefactor, Mr. Suit-and-Tie, continues to comb the seedy underbelly of the galaxy at large to bring you nothin but the best. Meanwhile, me and Kos, my stalwart companion, are broadcasting live from beautiful downtown Nondescript. This is the Spirit of Radio bringing you ‘Sixteen Tons’ by Tennessee Ernie Ford.” Jack pointed through the glass to signal Kos to start before muting the mic.
*****
Cooking was an art as much as a skill. Bo had cooking in his blood. History was repeating itself, as Bo’s ancestors worked as a ship’s cook to gain passage across the Atlantic, so too did Bo book passage across the sea of stars by working as the ship’s chef.
Some people say a man is made out of mud, A poor man’s made out of muscle and blood…
Bo adjusted the volume on his pad so he could hear it as he worked. He was finishing up cleaning after the ship’s dinner and moved on to his special project. He promised Mephla a specially made dinner for two. The felinoid had taken an interest in his cooking. She enjoyed watching him cook as much as eating what he made. He knew she’d arrive any minute, so he set out on some prep work.
Finding ingredients was a novel challenge, but not impossible. A passable replacement was possible with just about anything, but it took Bo the better part of a year and half seeking them out. Salt was salt, thank God, but others he had to be a bit more creative. It seemed the galaxy preferred lard to butter. Probably due to the ursdains or the mostly carnivorous population, but he could work with it. He was most proud of his most recent discovery of a little root-bulb that mimicked garlic damn near perfectly. He’d been jonesing for garlic-bread for years now, and now he could finally scratch that itch.
He began setting up his mies en place and pre-heating his oven and prized possession. Well, one of them anyway. His father always said all he needed in the kitchen was a chef’s knife and a cast-iron skillet. Turns out he was right. Those two have taken Bo from one side of the galaxy to the other. The damn electric stove-tops still irked him, but he could manage.
Just as he was finishing up breaking down the…bird of some description, The calico felinoid entered and leaned against the doorway. She didn’t say anything, just watched with a self-satisfied smile. Or maybe that was just how her face always looked. God, he loved that face.
Bo was particularly proud of the little mound of pasta he’d created. It was too labor intensive to serve the crew at large, but he’d made a little batch just for tonight. Maybe one day he’d be the one to introduce dried pasta to the galaxy, but for tonight it was a special treat for a special woman.
*****
Curiosity is what drew Mephla to the diminutive human. She saw him duck into the kitchens of the ship one day and had to know what he could possibly know about food. Peeking in reviled a pleasant scene of a craftsman in his element. The way he felt or smelled each ingredient before staring off into space or closing his eyes. He once told her he could picture how a dish would taste just from the smells of the ingredients. Of course, this didn’t stop him from sneaking tastes of each step while he worked.
Yeah I love my lady, She’s long and lean, You mess with her, You’ll see a man get mean.
She loved to watch him work; from cutting and slicing veggies, herbs, and meat to how he juggled different pots and pans to combine, split up, then recombine the food in some ritual of flavor. One of his favorite phrases was “Don’t waste flavor.” Whatever that meant, it worked. He busied himself with roasting what he called “the star of the dish” while simultaneously preparing the “landing spot” of the plate.
He began slicing the fowl and placing it over some sauce covered…something. She’d eaten enough of his food to trust him. Humans (at least this one) enjoyed meaty, fatty flavors. This suited Mephla just fine.
“Oh. Almost forgot. How could I forget?” He turned and retrieved some buttered-bread concoction and placed two on each plate. It smelled divine. She entered his temple and stood behind him, holding him tight from behind.
Nuzzling the top of his head she said, “You keep cooking like this I’ll end up as big as an ursdain.”
She’s my sweet little thang, I’m her little lover boy.
*****
Freedom was a dangerous business. Bill Elliott stared at the representation of the guard cutter currently scanning and searching every ship passing through this jump point. Not normally a problem. Not unless you happen to be haulin’ a couple tons of human contraband bound for less-than-legal ports. The next system over had the hyperspace lane entrance that’d set Bill home-free.
But I’m not gon’ let ‘em catch me, no I’m not gon’ let ‘em catch the Midnight Rider.
“I’m tryin’ buddy. I really am.” He grumbled at his radio. He adjusted the number nine cap on his head then climbed out of his seat. His rig was a supped-up cheap cargo hauler. It’d fit in just about anywhere in the galaxy, but it was packing a drive big enough to rival…well a guard cutter.
He clambered to the cargo hold to take another count of what he had. Most of the crates and pallets were labeled in code. It’d be just about the worst code one could come up with for fooling humans, but luckily the Galactic Community didn’t seem to recognize names like Marlboro or Jack Daniels. Bill’s world as a bootlegger was made of these not-so-subtle code names, including his own name.
Finishing taking stock, including the smaller cases labeled “Colt” under the floor panels, he checked on the hulking drive core awkwardly crammed in the engine bay and bleeding out into the cargo and extra crew bays. With no epiphany found Bill walked back to the cockpit and fell back in his seat.
His options were limited. He could turn around and make a few extra jumps and extend his delivery by who knows how long. Which would also be suspicious as all Hell trying to avoid a GC cutter. Or he could gamble and pass through the checkpoint, hoping beyond hope they don’t decide to pick his ship apart bolt by bolt.
East bound and down, loaded up and truckin’, We’re gonna do what they say can’t be done.
Bill chuckled, “Yeah. Let’s watch this ol’ Bandit run.” He waited for the last ship in line to jump out of system before warming up his drive. This is what the burner tags were for after all. He got the green light then put the hammer down.
*****
Enterprise is the lifeblood of any organization or business. Rohan Singh thought of himself as quite the enterprising human. As humanity was cast to the four winds, Rohan wept for the lost spirit and culture, and would do anything and everything he could to seize back control of humanity’s spirit.
Rohan eased back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. He pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it. The Galactic Community was no stranger to financial wheeling and dealing, however the human had a couple perks to leverage. First was a fresh perspective. A stagnate market was one just begging for any flashy new enterprise. Which led to the second: adaptability. So rote was supply and demand that any upset could cripple an unsuspecting business. And upset he did. With an army of felinoid lawyers and ssypno investors Rohan quickly build company after company within shell company after shell company.
It started simply with human-made chachkies and knick-knacks sold for inflated prices, but quickly built capital for larger ventures in ship flipping and Rohan’s favorite: casinos. There is no better cash cow than the scientifically perfected art of mass gambling. With a large influx of cash, he had the freedom to invest in…less reputable opportunities. Tobacco, alcohol, and guns sold the galaxy over. Keeping his plantations and stills secret was an ever-present challenge, but one that paid dividends. Guns on the other hand were a harder business to stay in. Oh sure, human “slug throwers” were quickly becoming popular. The demand was there, but Rohan couldn’t keep a steady supply. It seems most of the humans with the know-how simply went into business for themselves. Rohan could respect that, but he’d need one with loose scruples on the payroll. Then was the matter of drugs. How did human drugs react to alien physiology? That could open a whole new-
This next song goes out to Mr. Suit-and-Tie.
Money Money Money Money… Money!
Rohan grinned. Sure, his wealth was reward enough, but there was still his goal of humanity’s spirit. He rose and was about to key his intercom when it buzzed to life.
“Sir, the Spirit of Fortune is pulling in, and Mr. Liberty is here to see you.”
He keyed, “Send him in.” He stood then went to face the window behind his desk. It showed a view of the cyan gas giant the small station orbited. As if on cue the Spirit of Fortune began to slide into view. The massive casino ship was the first of what Rohan hoped would be a fleet. It was a cruise ship on steroids. He could imagine a Las Vegas of various ships drifting from sector to sector generating unimaginable wealth. And of course, cleaning up some of his less-than-sterling cash-flow.
He turned back to watch the approaching man pass the mirrored water features lining Rohan’s opulent office. Mr. Liberty wore a fitted suit and smart glasses and handed Rohan a pad.
“Sir, we’ve found another ring. This one operating at the edge of ssypno space.”
Taking and reviewing the pad Rohan answered, “Perfect! Do we know their source?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“I see. That’s alright. Buy whoever you can and once you have an account of everyone tip off the GC through the usual channels. I’ll put a personal bonus on every human you and your people liberate.” He handed the pad back.
“Of course, sir.”
“Good. Get going. No time to waste.” With a nod, Mr. Liberty strode back out through the front doors.
Rohan turned to observe the Spirit of Fortune once again before crushing out his cigar and keying the intercom, “Hold all my calls and meetings. I’ll be in the vault.”
“Yes, sir”
He walked to the side of his office where a hidden door was. Opening the side panel, he placed his eye up to the retinal scanner and pressed his thumb to the DNA analysis needle. With a silent hiss the door slid open, and he descended the stairs to the heavily armored room. Inside was a vast collection of human paraphernalia.
Paintings, sculptures, and general artifacts lined the walls and adorned pedestals. This quite possibly was the largest collection of human relics. Stolen and sold on the black market, Rohan made it his mission to ensure every piece of humanity’s spirit, its soul, was once again in human hands.
He slowly walked the aisles until stopping at a small sculpture of the Buddha.
“Greed is bad, eh? If that were true, you’d still be a ssypno trophy.” He slowly gazed around at his collection. He could picture the museum of humanity and its accomplishments. A vast temple that the dispersed humans could visit, and remember who they were. Know their true nature and heart. The preservation of its soul. “I’m not proud…” he spoke to the Buddha, “But it must be done.”
2023.05.28 09:16 Michayel_Lyon FC buying Bertrandite, Brani, 15k/ton profit, 24k demand
ATTENTION SPACE TRUCKERS!
The civilian freighter Kobayashi Maru requires the loading of Bertrandite, for "training exercise" purposes. Wundt Hub has adequate supply to load her 24K ton rig. Total payout is 756 million credits, 15k profit per ton!
Buy order : System : Brani Station : Wundt Hub (L pads) Selling Price : 16,513 Supply : 763,872
Fleet Carrier : Kobayashi Maru (H8F-N0K) Buying Price : 31,517 (15,000 profit/ton) Demand: 24,000 Fleet carrier next to the station. Estimated profit: 360,000,000
Note that the Space Trucker Syndicate advises space truckers as follows:
submitted by Michayel_Lyon to EliteSpaceTruckers [link] [comments]
The civilian freighter Kobayashi Maru requires the loading of Bertrandite, for "training exercise" purposes. Wundt Hub has adequate supply to load her 24K ton rig. Total payout is 756 million credits, 15k profit per ton!
Buy order : System : Brani Station : Wundt Hub (L pads) Selling Price : 16,513 Supply : 763,872
Fleet Carrier : Kobayashi Maru (H8F-N0K) Buying Price : 31,517 (15,000 profit/ton) Demand: 24,000 Fleet carrier next to the station. Estimated profit: 360,000,000
Note that the Space Trucker Syndicate advises space truckers as follows:
- Please check the carrier first to ensure demand BEFORE heading to the station to purchase.
- Be kind to other commanders and update this Reddit post with remaining demand when loading is nearing completion.
- Do not loiter on the carrier after delivery as the carrier may depart at any time. It is best to dock at Wundt Hub, in anticipation of the next space trucking opportunity.
2023.05.28 08:24 MindentMegmondok Citypaq PIN not working, how can I get my package?
I ordered an item and chosed citypaq as the delivery method. 2 days ago I got an SMS with a pin, saying that the package is in the chosen citypaq and can be collected until the 31st of may. Yesterday I went there and typed the pin, after some thinking the machine said it's incorrect. Tried multiple times, same error. The staff could not help me (it's a gas station).
What can I do? What happens if I can't collect the stuff until the 31st, is it lost and will be sent back to the sender?
submitted by MindentMegmondok to askspain [link] [comments]
What can I do? What happens if I can't collect the stuff until the 31st, is it lost and will be sent back to the sender?
2023.05.28 06:10 theshortonewithcurls Gas stations available, someone said 76 near Airport is closed to the public
 | submitted by theshortonewithcurls to guam [link] [comments] |
2023.05.28 05:52 KratosDoesntLift I feel like I'm at the end of my road
Posting on alt account.
For years I've been working every type of job imaginable. After working a job a bit, I begin having meltdowns and can no longer handle whatever job I'm working at the time.
I have worked these jobs: Fast Food (6 months), Car Dealership as a detailer (3 months), Electronic Store (1 month), Kayak Store (2 years), Bus Driver (6 months), Call Center (4 years), Grocery Store (1 week), Hardware Store (2 days), Sandwich shop (1 week), Gas Station (1 year), Pizza Delivery (1 year), Medical supply transport specialist (1 day), Truck Driver (5 months), Phlebotomist (8 months), Substitute (1 year give or take), and lastly Truck Driver again which I'm trying to keep working.
I will start a job, be fine for a bit, and for no apparent reason at all, I begin to have mental breakdowns. I have crying fits and anxiety attacks. I've talked to therapist and a psychologist, and none of them can figure out what's wrong.
I have been married for 7 years. I have no kids. Due to my issues with work, I feel like a failure. I can't provide for my wife. My rent is behind. My bills are all behind. Life is meaningless to me at this point. My depression is through the damn roof. Very little seems to bring me any sort of happiness anymore.
My wife crocheted me a stuffed dragon. It was her first stuffed animal, and he is super derpy. I instantly gravitated to him, and I love him so damn much. I named him Sox. Because of my current truck driving job, I tag team a lot, and I don't want to be judged for needing an emotional support dragon.
My anxiety is through the roof and I've only been at this job for a week. I got home Friday night, and the second I saw Sox I broke down crying and just held him. My wife was on her way home, so she didn't see, but I'm mentally broken at this point.
How the heck do I keep going? What is the point? I've tried medication, it doesn't seem to help. I've completed an aptitude test, and it said I would be a good accountant. I signed up for college courses this fall, but due to recent developments in AI, accounting may disappear as a whole.
I'm not going to unalive myself due to my family and how many people have done that in our circles in recent years. But I'm just broken. I don't want to get out of tomorrow to go back out on the road. I'm holding Sox right now trying like hell not to cry.
submitted by KratosDoesntLift to Vent [link] [comments]
For years I've been working every type of job imaginable. After working a job a bit, I begin having meltdowns and can no longer handle whatever job I'm working at the time.
I have worked these jobs: Fast Food (6 months), Car Dealership as a detailer (3 months), Electronic Store (1 month), Kayak Store (2 years), Bus Driver (6 months), Call Center (4 years), Grocery Store (1 week), Hardware Store (2 days), Sandwich shop (1 week), Gas Station (1 year), Pizza Delivery (1 year), Medical supply transport specialist (1 day), Truck Driver (5 months), Phlebotomist (8 months), Substitute (1 year give or take), and lastly Truck Driver again which I'm trying to keep working.
I will start a job, be fine for a bit, and for no apparent reason at all, I begin to have mental breakdowns. I have crying fits and anxiety attacks. I've talked to therapist and a psychologist, and none of them can figure out what's wrong.
I have been married for 7 years. I have no kids. Due to my issues with work, I feel like a failure. I can't provide for my wife. My rent is behind. My bills are all behind. Life is meaningless to me at this point. My depression is through the damn roof. Very little seems to bring me any sort of happiness anymore.
My wife crocheted me a stuffed dragon. It was her first stuffed animal, and he is super derpy. I instantly gravitated to him, and I love him so damn much. I named him Sox. Because of my current truck driving job, I tag team a lot, and I don't want to be judged for needing an emotional support dragon.
My anxiety is through the roof and I've only been at this job for a week. I got home Friday night, and the second I saw Sox I broke down crying and just held him. My wife was on her way home, so she didn't see, but I'm mentally broken at this point.
How the heck do I keep going? What is the point? I've tried medication, it doesn't seem to help. I've completed an aptitude test, and it said I would be a good accountant. I signed up for college courses this fall, but due to recent developments in AI, accounting may disappear as a whole.
I'm not going to unalive myself due to my family and how many people have done that in our circles in recent years. But I'm just broken. I don't want to get out of tomorrow to go back out on the road. I'm holding Sox right now trying like hell not to cry.
2023.05.28 04:12 babeasaurus Delivered for the first time in almost 4 years!
In 2019 I was attacked by a dog and had my arm severely damaged- owners had nothing- I got 2k from them in the end.
I have been terrified of going back to Flex. But today I did it! It is a bit different then what I was used to and I made some painful mistakes today (having to go back and forth/ up and down stairs) due to not realizing that multiple packages would be delivered per drop off... gonna fix that before my next trip tomorro!
But! I am excited to be back!
Any tips? In both of my runs today, I had a "missing package". I apparently scanned it at the station, but when it came to delivery poof gone! I have no tint, and a sedan. I don't remember anything falling off of the 4 tier carts! Not any hiding spots. I don't put anything in my trunk. Also, I had a hard time combing the correct groups. I'm sure the more I do it, it will become easier, but it was a frustration today!
submitted by babeasaurus to AmazonFlexDrivers [link] [comments]
I have been terrified of going back to Flex. But today I did it! It is a bit different then what I was used to and I made some painful mistakes today (having to go back and forth/ up and down stairs) due to not realizing that multiple packages would be delivered per drop off... gonna fix that before my next trip tomorro!
But! I am excited to be back!
Any tips? In both of my runs today, I had a "missing package". I apparently scanned it at the station, but when it came to delivery poof gone! I have no tint, and a sedan. I don't remember anything falling off of the 4 tier carts! Not any hiding spots. I don't put anything in my trunk. Also, I had a hard time combing the correct groups. I'm sure the more I do it, it will become easier, but it was a frustration today!
2023.05.28 03:04 Neayss AITA for snapping at my collegue?
Good evening reddit, this happend just a couple of hours ago and i feel really shitty right now.
So i(F27) work in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant, usually for a saturday evening we are about 5 people on shift, divided in pairs for each station.
Tonight i was working with S(M19) and It was a super busy night, with lots of take aways a deliveries on top of all the customers dining at the restaurant.
S started packaging and closing 3 orders that needed to be delivered toghether while i prepped the food for the tables eating outside.
I needed space in the fryer for some fries for a burger i was serving, so i took the chicken wings from one of S's order, and, to help him , i put them directly in the paper box for the delivery.
This is something quite normal when the nights are very busy, i do this all the time with literally EVERYONE, S included, and he does this with me at every occasion, i never heard him or anyone else complain about It.
So i didn't think much about It, and put in my fries, when i see S leaving the station, going straight for the sink, and starting washing dishes.
Flabbergasted, i'm left with about 15 orders and 3 deliveries which i have no idea if are being completed or not ,totally alone.
One of my other collegues takes pity on me and start to help me sort everything out while S keeps washing without saying a word.
I asked him if i did anything wrong, and that i was really sorry if in the chaos i messed up his orders or made him feel "left aside" or not trustworthy, that it wasn't my intention and i was just trying to make space for my stuff, not "steal" his work.
He said It wasn't about It and kept angrily washing and ignoring me.
I was feeling awful, i started silently crying (not very mature i know) and when the situation was calm enough i went straight outside for a break.
The more i thought about It, the angrier i got, when the night was almost over and we were alone, i snapped.
This is where i might be TA.
I told him that the next time he left me like this without saying anything i would refuse to work with him again ; to at least TELL ME what was going on and if i did something to offend him, not to just disappear. I wasn't screaming but i was really harsh.
He went on defensive and said that he was just "making space" for me to work and there wasn't time to explain or question while we were so busy, and that i "took work off his hands".
One of our managers arrived and calmed the situation down. Later i felt guilty and apologized for being harsh to him, he kept saying that he was pissed off at me doing his stuff so he just left to avoid to confront me about It.
My other collegue told me that it wasn't important and i am just stressed for the incoming summer, but didn't completely agree with me.
Right now i feel really ashamed for my behaviour, but on the other side i keep thinking he could have just said SOMETHING instead of leaving me alone in such a shitty situation.
So reddit, AITA?
submitted by Neayss to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
So i(F27) work in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant, usually for a saturday evening we are about 5 people on shift, divided in pairs for each station.
Tonight i was working with S(M19) and It was a super busy night, with lots of take aways a deliveries on top of all the customers dining at the restaurant.
S started packaging and closing 3 orders that needed to be delivered toghether while i prepped the food for the tables eating outside.
I needed space in the fryer for some fries for a burger i was serving, so i took the chicken wings from one of S's order, and, to help him , i put them directly in the paper box for the delivery.
This is something quite normal when the nights are very busy, i do this all the time with literally EVERYONE, S included, and he does this with me at every occasion, i never heard him or anyone else complain about It.
So i didn't think much about It, and put in my fries, when i see S leaving the station, going straight for the sink, and starting washing dishes.
Flabbergasted, i'm left with about 15 orders and 3 deliveries which i have no idea if are being completed or not ,totally alone.
One of my other collegues takes pity on me and start to help me sort everything out while S keeps washing without saying a word.
I asked him if i did anything wrong, and that i was really sorry if in the chaos i messed up his orders or made him feel "left aside" or not trustworthy, that it wasn't my intention and i was just trying to make space for my stuff, not "steal" his work.
He said It wasn't about It and kept angrily washing and ignoring me.
I was feeling awful, i started silently crying (not very mature i know) and when the situation was calm enough i went straight outside for a break.
The more i thought about It, the angrier i got, when the night was almost over and we were alone, i snapped.
This is where i might be TA.
I told him that the next time he left me like this without saying anything i would refuse to work with him again ; to at least TELL ME what was going on and if i did something to offend him, not to just disappear. I wasn't screaming but i was really harsh.
He went on defensive and said that he was just "making space" for me to work and there wasn't time to explain or question while we were so busy, and that i "took work off his hands".
One of our managers arrived and calmed the situation down. Later i felt guilty and apologized for being harsh to him, he kept saying that he was pissed off at me doing his stuff so he just left to avoid to confront me about It.
My other collegue told me that it wasn't important and i am just stressed for the incoming summer, but didn't completely agree with me.
Right now i feel really ashamed for my behaviour, but on the other side i keep thinking he could have just said SOMETHING instead of leaving me alone in such a shitty situation.
So reddit, AITA?
2023.05.28 01:00 The_Patriot Starjump Politics
Starjump Politics
1.
It’s a simple thing really. Or at least it used to be. Or at least, he thinks it used to be. Was there not a time - oh so far back along the arc - when the captain of a ship simply issued commands, and the crew simply obeyed? Or is that a legend passed down from one captain to the next, father to son, generation after generation?
Capt. Omen had certainly issued the command. Starjump. He’d had the navigators work the arcane magic that was their source of cred, both physically and emotionally, and the numbers had been delivered over the ether to the little screen at his wrist. This place to that. Here to there. From Y to Z. Math. Cash on Delivery.
The creds had flowed into the Navigators account, the product had been created, received by Command Executive (no less the captain himself), and the order had gone down to Engineering. Down, down, down. So far down, no one in Command or Engineering had any idea how far away (in relative spatial terms) the Engineer was at any given moment. But down, for certain.
Down and splat. The Great Master Engineer Belaster had balked.
Rather than simply obeying. It’s a simple thing really. Or at least it used to be.
Capt. Omen knew there would be an Increase. There was always an Increase.
What was his father's favorite old saying, passed from His Father Before Him and so on back to The Time When Someone Knew What The Hell He Was Doing? Ah, he remembered.
“Fuck Engineering.”
2.
Belaster passed through the unbelievable door. Junior Engineers buzzed about the area, doing nothing, but looking busy - so long as he was within earshot. When the tons of dense metal swung back behind him with a harsh cha-whump, he knew they would be back to the standard activities of drinking and gambling. Not a problem.
Starjump - now that’s a problem.
The great ship only made two jumps a year. That was the routine since long before he’d arisen to the post of Great Master. What was the Commander up to? Leave the loop? What business could be scraped up in that endeavor?
The Master Engineer strode silently through the gantried, claustrophobic mass of the Outer Engine. As he turned over the Captain's orders in his mind, he passed the old and mammoth machines that marked the mantle of his world. It took the same amount of time it would have taken to drink a flagon of decent wine for him to make it to the entrance to the Inner Engine. And by the time he pulled the key from his jerkin, he was beginning to form some ideas of his own about the opportunities that might be waiting in the proposed “endeavor”.
Two of the most trusted acolytes - Apprentice Engineers by their proper title - stood guarding the door to the Inner Engine Room. Until Belaster died, this foyer was as close to the heart of the great ship as they - or any other living thing - would come to the True Engine. As he slipped the key, along with his great fist, into the gaping maw of the Security Fissure, the two junior men obediently turned their backs and knelt into compliant unknowing.
The designation “room” was a misnomer. The space was a vast and oppressive orb, full of tubes, wires, lights, switches, monitors, and every other sort of mechanical contrivance the Builders of Yon could imagine. Machines upon machines in a dizzying layered continent of motorized confusion.
And not one piece of it had worked in living memory. Perhaps ten living memories.
Engineer Belaster worked his way quietly and humbly along a causeway on his right. In about half the time it had taken him to make it from the Outer Engine to the Inner, he came upon a square panel half his size and width. He stopped aside this nondescript feature in the wall. He looked left. He turned slowly, and peered back the way he had come. He turned back with his body facing the way he had originally paced the walk. Formality. Custom.
There was no lock. He simply placed his right hand on the wall, and leaned, ever so slightly. The panel pivoted on an unseen hinge, and with a slight crouch, and one great sidestep, Belaster entered the real engine of the ship. The Sepulchre of the Great Innovation.
Altering the regimen the GI was accustomed to...had this been done in his father’s time? His father’s father? Had it ever been done? Had the GI ever varied from the formula he knew? What consequences might arise from making the changes necessary to achieve the Captain’s little side trip?
Capt. Omen had no idea the Great Innovation existed. Like every other soul upon the ship, he had no reason NOT to believe that the great engines were anything other than what their names proclaimed them to be. Capt. Omen had no idea that the cyclic journey of his craft was anything more than navigator math and brute engineering muscle.
Capt. Omen had other concerns, motives and compelling factors. Belaster had his own set of same, a compliment to his high station, political power, and terrible secret knowledge. And now, this side trip. Completely unprecedented. Unnecessary. Inconvenient. Maybe...profitable.
He had a headache. As he moved, slowly and respectfully to the Sepulchre of the Great Innovation, he heard his father’s ghostly voice speaking somewhere in the back of his mind, a raspy whisper on troubled winds, anointed and annoyed:
“Fuck the Command Executive.”
3.
The GI was a man. He was, in fact, the same genus and species as Belaster, or Omen, or any of the other humans on the ship. He was the oldest of his species by a profoundly long shot. The GI was over fifty thousand years old, if you went by base-metric. And still, he was 27. He’d been 27 for an extremely long time.
The GI was a real “G.I.” He had been an infantryman on the Homeworld, so many ages past. He’d fought in a land war in a place called “Babylon” around the end of the second millennium, early antiquity.
An injury, caused (believe it or not) by the shrapnel created by a combustion weapon buried in the primordial sand, had severed just enough of the GI’s nerve column to render him the perfect candidate for a singularly diabolical experiment of the type so popular with the barbarians of the age.
He had the right number of family members: 0. He had the right number of very close friends: 0.
He was well within the span of ideal years. He was, before the injury, a picture of the ideal “healthy young man”. No one would miss him if his body evaporated from the healing center, no computer would resist the removal of his identifying numbers from their primitive record keeping systems.
Said diabolical experiment was on the nature of semi autonomous interface and control processing. The scientists of his age were making early, brave, crude attempts at man/machine interface. Could the GI process data in his semi-responsive cranium? Could he be augmented to the point where he could move simple input/output switches with that brain? And lastly, but oh-so-most importantly, could he be kept in a physio-chemical stasis field efficient enough to keep him “alive” long enough to be useful?
The primeval researchers considered their experiment a semi-success. Yes, the stasis pod they had been working on for so many years functioned optimally. They considered their efforts in man machine interface development to be inconclusive. They were horribly, terribly wrong on that point. They simply didn’t have the technology to know it yet.
As the years passed, and other technology developed astride, the GI was demoted (with pathetic regularity) from “less interesting” to “obsolete” to “inconvenient”. When an enterprising pirate removed the GI’s pod from a long-dormant storage facility, no one noticed, and no one cared.
4.
Belaster never bothered to wonder how the GI had gone from “man” to “computer” to “engine.” He never wondered if the GI had come to this ship as he was now, or if the great work had been done aboard. The Unrevealed Manual made no mention of these details. If anyone was curious about these facts, they had ceased to be curious about them many ages ago.
The Great Innovation was capable. That's all the Engineer needed to know. Information from the Navigators went in, and with the flick of a switch, the ship simply “popped” from one point in space to another. So it was, so it is, so it would be, forever and ever, amen.
Access to the GI made the Chief Engineer a tin-pot dictator. The GI made the Command Executive a Puppet Royal. The GI made the Navigator corps a misguided and ignorant priesthood. The GI made commerce possible. The GI made the ship a marauding metal miracle.
Only Belaster knew it. On this good ship, the GI was God.
Belaster took the preliminary data from Navigation and processed it into the proper interface.
Impudently out of sequence, and with a bit of trepidation, the worship ceremony had begun.
5.
Will is among the stars. From every point, to every point, William’s consciousness existed under every rock, in every cloud, in the gulf between the stars, in the sliver of nothing between any two atoms you might like to choose.
Will had always been everywhere. He was in his center, wrapped in warm jelly. He was at an edge that never reached an end, far from the coldest glint of far-off starlight. He was his thoughts, he was his sense, he was all and nothing. Any memory of a hand, or a touch, or a breath, or a taste - or any such isolated singular foolishness - was gone. So long gone.
He did not know why the desire to focus came. At intervals, Will would desire to focus his conscience on one point. It lasted a second. He did not know what a “second” was, but that definition was fairly accurate.
In those moments, Will pulled back from the reaches of infinity, and for no reason at all, he would turn his being upon a certain point in space, very near a large floating orb, covered with light, and life. He would behold and embrace that point. Then his existence would fling back out to everywhere at once.
In that moment, the starship would move - in a blink - the distance between one planet and the other. Light years. A feat that would tax - almost to breaking - the resources of every other known starship in the universe.
By this gift of His will, the GI made of the starship’s ancient engines a great bounty of scrap metal bullion. By His grace and generosity, the Chief Engineer was made the Supreme Ruler in the true power structure of the ship.
Will did not know these things, he knew everything. Will did not care, he was care.
And being that, he was not capable of being surprised when a desire began to well in his contemplation. He was able to recognize that the craving was...oh, what was that word...he hadn’t thought of it (or the concept) in millennia...
New. That was it. This yearning was “new”.
How pleasant!
He didn’t think of it in exactly those terms, but it is a fair way to describe the aggregate of the wisps and winds of Will’s ancient thought process as it worked over the first hints of the coming fascination.
In the little Hidden Chamber aboard the starship, Chief Engineer Belaster adjusted long untouched controls, monitored geriatric output screens that had not shared light once in an epoch.
Inside the stasis pod, unseen and unmonitored, for the first time in an all but endless season, Will Gibson sprouted an erection.
6.
Captain Omen wondered why it was that after so much time on this ship, so many generations of Command Executives, it had come to him to suffer the slings and arrows of the current predicament. The men were set on going “off course”. And that course was set.
For better or worse, it would be he who commanded the vessel off her eternal merry-go-round, and out into far off spaces. For richer or for poorer. For sickness, more likely than health.
He moved the additional credits into the Engineering account, along with a highlighted copy of his original orders.
Again, he thought...”Fuck Engineering.”
He ministered over the real controls of the starship - a little pad of characters and numbers attached to the pod that housed the G.I. Unless all his holy studies were shit, the information he entered would break the great ship from its long endless circle and off to the programmed destination.
And if it didn’t work? The old engineer didn’t think he had to worry too much about that eventuality. If his commands were in error, or the interface in a state of disrepair, they’d most likely all be dead in an instant.
Why had it come to him, this aberrance, after all the years of peace and profit that had been blessed upon his ancestors?
Blameless, he was. Not his idea at all. Orders come from the Command Executive, not Engineering.
As he pressed the “ENGAGE” key, he muttered again the ancient curse:
“Fuck the Command Executive”.
8.
The GI tensed. Actually tensed in the surrounding medium, which jiggled slightly for the first time in forever.
Input crossed terminal space, information flowed, and Will Gibson’s essence changed focus from the XYZ vector of his current “center” across an etheric neuron into a different set of vectors.
9.
The Captain blinked as the starfield changed. In an instant. He’d seen this before, but this time, everything in his vision was new. Starjump successful.
As it should be. A simple thing, really.
10.
The Master Engineer blinked as the panel output display changed from “pending” to “complete”.
Starjump successful. As it should be. A simple thing, really.
A simple thing, really. But this time - so new!
So wonderful.
Inside his mortal chamber, for the first time in a very very long time, a pathetic driblet of come spurted its way out of the GI’s cock.
Inside his mind, the GI released a long, slow, mental “ahhhhhhh”, followed shortly by three human words:
“Fuck the Universe.”
Durham, NC
April, 2012
submitted by The_Patriot to u/The_Patriot [link] [comments]
1.
It’s a simple thing really. Or at least it used to be. Or at least, he thinks it used to be. Was there not a time - oh so far back along the arc - when the captain of a ship simply issued commands, and the crew simply obeyed? Or is that a legend passed down from one captain to the next, father to son, generation after generation?
Capt. Omen had certainly issued the command. Starjump. He’d had the navigators work the arcane magic that was their source of cred, both physically and emotionally, and the numbers had been delivered over the ether to the little screen at his wrist. This place to that. Here to there. From Y to Z. Math. Cash on Delivery.
The creds had flowed into the Navigators account, the product had been created, received by Command Executive (no less the captain himself), and the order had gone down to Engineering. Down, down, down. So far down, no one in Command or Engineering had any idea how far away (in relative spatial terms) the Engineer was at any given moment. But down, for certain.
Down and splat. The Great Master Engineer Belaster had balked.
Rather than simply obeying. It’s a simple thing really. Or at least it used to be.
Capt. Omen knew there would be an Increase. There was always an Increase.
What was his father's favorite old saying, passed from His Father Before Him and so on back to The Time When Someone Knew What The Hell He Was Doing? Ah, he remembered.
“Fuck Engineering.”
2.
Belaster passed through the unbelievable door. Junior Engineers buzzed about the area, doing nothing, but looking busy - so long as he was within earshot. When the tons of dense metal swung back behind him with a harsh cha-whump, he knew they would be back to the standard activities of drinking and gambling. Not a problem.
Starjump - now that’s a problem.
The great ship only made two jumps a year. That was the routine since long before he’d arisen to the post of Great Master. What was the Commander up to? Leave the loop? What business could be scraped up in that endeavor?
The Master Engineer strode silently through the gantried, claustrophobic mass of the Outer Engine. As he turned over the Captain's orders in his mind, he passed the old and mammoth machines that marked the mantle of his world. It took the same amount of time it would have taken to drink a flagon of decent wine for him to make it to the entrance to the Inner Engine. And by the time he pulled the key from his jerkin, he was beginning to form some ideas of his own about the opportunities that might be waiting in the proposed “endeavor”.
Two of the most trusted acolytes - Apprentice Engineers by their proper title - stood guarding the door to the Inner Engine Room. Until Belaster died, this foyer was as close to the heart of the great ship as they - or any other living thing - would come to the True Engine. As he slipped the key, along with his great fist, into the gaping maw of the Security Fissure, the two junior men obediently turned their backs and knelt into compliant unknowing.
The designation “room” was a misnomer. The space was a vast and oppressive orb, full of tubes, wires, lights, switches, monitors, and every other sort of mechanical contrivance the Builders of Yon could imagine. Machines upon machines in a dizzying layered continent of motorized confusion.
And not one piece of it had worked in living memory. Perhaps ten living memories.
Engineer Belaster worked his way quietly and humbly along a causeway on his right. In about half the time it had taken him to make it from the Outer Engine to the Inner, he came upon a square panel half his size and width. He stopped aside this nondescript feature in the wall. He looked left. He turned slowly, and peered back the way he had come. He turned back with his body facing the way he had originally paced the walk. Formality. Custom.
There was no lock. He simply placed his right hand on the wall, and leaned, ever so slightly. The panel pivoted on an unseen hinge, and with a slight crouch, and one great sidestep, Belaster entered the real engine of the ship. The Sepulchre of the Great Innovation.
Altering the regimen the GI was accustomed to...had this been done in his father’s time? His father’s father? Had it ever been done? Had the GI ever varied from the formula he knew? What consequences might arise from making the changes necessary to achieve the Captain’s little side trip?
Capt. Omen had no idea the Great Innovation existed. Like every other soul upon the ship, he had no reason NOT to believe that the great engines were anything other than what their names proclaimed them to be. Capt. Omen had no idea that the cyclic journey of his craft was anything more than navigator math and brute engineering muscle.
Capt. Omen had other concerns, motives and compelling factors. Belaster had his own set of same, a compliment to his high station, political power, and terrible secret knowledge. And now, this side trip. Completely unprecedented. Unnecessary. Inconvenient. Maybe...profitable.
He had a headache. As he moved, slowly and respectfully to the Sepulchre of the Great Innovation, he heard his father’s ghostly voice speaking somewhere in the back of his mind, a raspy whisper on troubled winds, anointed and annoyed:
“Fuck the Command Executive.”
3.
The GI was a man. He was, in fact, the same genus and species as Belaster, or Omen, or any of the other humans on the ship. He was the oldest of his species by a profoundly long shot. The GI was over fifty thousand years old, if you went by base-metric. And still, he was 27. He’d been 27 for an extremely long time.
The GI was a real “G.I.” He had been an infantryman on the Homeworld, so many ages past. He’d fought in a land war in a place called “Babylon” around the end of the second millennium, early antiquity.
An injury, caused (believe it or not) by the shrapnel created by a combustion weapon buried in the primordial sand, had severed just enough of the GI’s nerve column to render him the perfect candidate for a singularly diabolical experiment of the type so popular with the barbarians of the age.
He had the right number of family members: 0. He had the right number of very close friends: 0.
He was well within the span of ideal years. He was, before the injury, a picture of the ideal “healthy young man”. No one would miss him if his body evaporated from the healing center, no computer would resist the removal of his identifying numbers from their primitive record keeping systems.
Said diabolical experiment was on the nature of semi autonomous interface and control processing. The scientists of his age were making early, brave, crude attempts at man/machine interface. Could the GI process data in his semi-responsive cranium? Could he be augmented to the point where he could move simple input/output switches with that brain? And lastly, but oh-so-most importantly, could he be kept in a physio-chemical stasis field efficient enough to keep him “alive” long enough to be useful?
The primeval researchers considered their experiment a semi-success. Yes, the stasis pod they had been working on for so many years functioned optimally. They considered their efforts in man machine interface development to be inconclusive. They were horribly, terribly wrong on that point. They simply didn’t have the technology to know it yet.
As the years passed, and other technology developed astride, the GI was demoted (with pathetic regularity) from “less interesting” to “obsolete” to “inconvenient”. When an enterprising pirate removed the GI’s pod from a long-dormant storage facility, no one noticed, and no one cared.
4.
Belaster never bothered to wonder how the GI had gone from “man” to “computer” to “engine.” He never wondered if the GI had come to this ship as he was now, or if the great work had been done aboard. The Unrevealed Manual made no mention of these details. If anyone was curious about these facts, they had ceased to be curious about them many ages ago.
The Great Innovation was capable. That's all the Engineer needed to know. Information from the Navigators went in, and with the flick of a switch, the ship simply “popped” from one point in space to another. So it was, so it is, so it would be, forever and ever, amen.
Access to the GI made the Chief Engineer a tin-pot dictator. The GI made the Command Executive a Puppet Royal. The GI made the Navigator corps a misguided and ignorant priesthood. The GI made commerce possible. The GI made the ship a marauding metal miracle.
Only Belaster knew it. On this good ship, the GI was God.
Belaster took the preliminary data from Navigation and processed it into the proper interface.
Impudently out of sequence, and with a bit of trepidation, the worship ceremony had begun.
5.
Will is among the stars. From every point, to every point, William’s consciousness existed under every rock, in every cloud, in the gulf between the stars, in the sliver of nothing between any two atoms you might like to choose.
Will had always been everywhere. He was in his center, wrapped in warm jelly. He was at an edge that never reached an end, far from the coldest glint of far-off starlight. He was his thoughts, he was his sense, he was all and nothing. Any memory of a hand, or a touch, or a breath, or a taste - or any such isolated singular foolishness - was gone. So long gone.
He did not know why the desire to focus came. At intervals, Will would desire to focus his conscience on one point. It lasted a second. He did not know what a “second” was, but that definition was fairly accurate.
In those moments, Will pulled back from the reaches of infinity, and for no reason at all, he would turn his being upon a certain point in space, very near a large floating orb, covered with light, and life. He would behold and embrace that point. Then his existence would fling back out to everywhere at once.
In that moment, the starship would move - in a blink - the distance between one planet and the other. Light years. A feat that would tax - almost to breaking - the resources of every other known starship in the universe.
By this gift of His will, the GI made of the starship’s ancient engines a great bounty of scrap metal bullion. By His grace and generosity, the Chief Engineer was made the Supreme Ruler in the true power structure of the ship.
Will did not know these things, he knew everything. Will did not care, he was care.
And being that, he was not capable of being surprised when a desire began to well in his contemplation. He was able to recognize that the craving was...oh, what was that word...he hadn’t thought of it (or the concept) in millennia...
New. That was it. This yearning was “new”.
How pleasant!
He didn’t think of it in exactly those terms, but it is a fair way to describe the aggregate of the wisps and winds of Will’s ancient thought process as it worked over the first hints of the coming fascination.
In the little Hidden Chamber aboard the starship, Chief Engineer Belaster adjusted long untouched controls, monitored geriatric output screens that had not shared light once in an epoch.
Inside the stasis pod, unseen and unmonitored, for the first time in an all but endless season, Will Gibson sprouted an erection.
6.
Captain Omen wondered why it was that after so much time on this ship, so many generations of Command Executives, it had come to him to suffer the slings and arrows of the current predicament. The men were set on going “off course”. And that course was set.
For better or worse, it would be he who commanded the vessel off her eternal merry-go-round, and out into far off spaces. For richer or for poorer. For sickness, more likely than health.
He moved the additional credits into the Engineering account, along with a highlighted copy of his original orders.
Again, he thought...”Fuck Engineering.”
He ministered over the real controls of the starship - a little pad of characters and numbers attached to the pod that housed the G.I. Unless all his holy studies were shit, the information he entered would break the great ship from its long endless circle and off to the programmed destination.
And if it didn’t work? The old engineer didn’t think he had to worry too much about that eventuality. If his commands were in error, or the interface in a state of disrepair, they’d most likely all be dead in an instant.
Why had it come to him, this aberrance, after all the years of peace and profit that had been blessed upon his ancestors?
Blameless, he was. Not his idea at all. Orders come from the Command Executive, not Engineering.
As he pressed the “ENGAGE” key, he muttered again the ancient curse:
“Fuck the Command Executive”.
8.
The GI tensed. Actually tensed in the surrounding medium, which jiggled slightly for the first time in forever.
Input crossed terminal space, information flowed, and Will Gibson’s essence changed focus from the XYZ vector of his current “center” across an etheric neuron into a different set of vectors.
9.
The Captain blinked as the starfield changed. In an instant. He’d seen this before, but this time, everything in his vision was new. Starjump successful.
As it should be. A simple thing, really.
10.
The Master Engineer blinked as the panel output display changed from “pending” to “complete”.
Starjump successful. As it should be. A simple thing, really.
A simple thing, really. But this time - so new!
So wonderful.
Inside his mortal chamber, for the first time in a very very long time, a pathetic driblet of come spurted its way out of the GI’s cock.
Inside his mind, the GI released a long, slow, mental “ahhhhhhh”, followed shortly by three human words:
“Fuck the Universe.”
Durham, NC
April, 2012
2023.05.28 00:17 AS-VOA CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS [MOD APPROVED POST]
Musical Producer Friends,
I’m looking to feature indie music on a podcast of mine called “I Miss Lockdown,” a “low-talk” comfort podcast for introverts. The first episode is currently available at IMISSLOCKDOWN.COM, and will give you an idea of what my format is.
I’m looking to feature ambient, lo-fi, deep chill, drone, and atmospheric music, sometimes freestanding, sometimes as background as I speak over it.
I’m wanting to approach this as almost an old-stool overnight FM radio broadcast from back when I was a kid (so, 70s / 80s, when DJs still had choice on their music and their style of delivery). I grew up listening to overnight jazz and “deep-cut” FM, where the talent often just waxed poetic and did stream-of-conscience freestyle over a quiet track, almost in a Beat poet manner. I loved it, and it kept this lonely kid company. Later, when I did a brief stint in broadcasting as an overnight board-op and on-air fill-in myself, I did the same, to no small degree of success (the station got lots of positive feedback, but I wasn’t union at the time, so they couldn’t hire me on).
And as an old-school rave/psy-trance/chillout DJ, I’m also a big believer that music should be HEARD, no matter if it’s on a label, or off someone’s cassette fresh from their bedroom.
Some touchstones for me that give you an idea of where my head’s at, and what I take inspiration from: Lo-Fi Girl (obvs) and Ultima Thule are biggies. Intellectually? Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell. Sagan & Feynman.
I can’t see this project making any kind of money anytime soon, so this would simply be an avenue for you to get your music featured and heard by my slice of the public. I have about a thousand followers (450 YouTube subs from another project that will also be in the audience). Obviously, all tracks will be listed and linked in show-notes, along with links to socials, etc, and on-air attribution (where appropriate) both in the audio-only podcast notes, and the YouTube description.
In the next few days, I’ll be setting up a web form to submit individual tracks for consideration, but for now, if you’re interested in participating in this project with me, email me at:
[[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])
…with the subject something to the effect of “music” and include a brief rundown of you and your style and ethos, along with any relevant links to your productions, BANDCAMP/SOUNDCLOUD pages, etc.
The first episode is already up and being well received. I plan on doing this twice-monthly to start, and may do it weekly if the response is good. I’d love it if you’d consider participating, and let me share your music with my corner of the world.
Best regards,
-Andrew
submitted by AS-VOA to ambientmusic [link] [comments]
I’m looking to feature indie music on a podcast of mine called “I Miss Lockdown,” a “low-talk” comfort podcast for introverts. The first episode is currently available at IMISSLOCKDOWN.COM, and will give you an idea of what my format is.
I’m looking to feature ambient, lo-fi, deep chill, drone, and atmospheric music, sometimes freestanding, sometimes as background as I speak over it.
I’m wanting to approach this as almost an old-stool overnight FM radio broadcast from back when I was a kid (so, 70s / 80s, when DJs still had choice on their music and their style of delivery). I grew up listening to overnight jazz and “deep-cut” FM, where the talent often just waxed poetic and did stream-of-conscience freestyle over a quiet track, almost in a Beat poet manner. I loved it, and it kept this lonely kid company. Later, when I did a brief stint in broadcasting as an overnight board-op and on-air fill-in myself, I did the same, to no small degree of success (the station got lots of positive feedback, but I wasn’t union at the time, so they couldn’t hire me on).
And as an old-school rave/psy-trance/chillout DJ, I’m also a big believer that music should be HEARD, no matter if it’s on a label, or off someone’s cassette fresh from their bedroom.
Some touchstones for me that give you an idea of where my head’s at, and what I take inspiration from: Lo-Fi Girl (obvs) and Ultima Thule are biggies. Intellectually? Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell. Sagan & Feynman.
I can’t see this project making any kind of money anytime soon, so this would simply be an avenue for you to get your music featured and heard by my slice of the public. I have about a thousand followers (450 YouTube subs from another project that will also be in the audience). Obviously, all tracks will be listed and linked in show-notes, along with links to socials, etc, and on-air attribution (where appropriate) both in the audio-only podcast notes, and the YouTube description.
In the next few days, I’ll be setting up a web form to submit individual tracks for consideration, but for now, if you’re interested in participating in this project with me, email me at:
[[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])
…with the subject something to the effect of “music” and include a brief rundown of you and your style and ethos, along with any relevant links to your productions, BANDCAMP/SOUNDCLOUD pages, etc.
The first episode is already up and being well received. I plan on doing this twice-monthly to start, and may do it weekly if the response is good. I’d love it if you’d consider participating, and let me share your music with my corner of the world.
Best regards,
-Andrew
2023.05.27 22:39 YaBoiHaydenB I didn't make it to my last shift of my previous job, should I say something to them?
Hi, as the title suggest, I missed the last day of work at my previous employer, a gas station chain in the Midwest. I put in a two weeks notice because they didn't give me any sort of adequate scheduling, to the point where I was scheduled for once a week, despite me talking to them about getting more hours so I could transfer from part time to full time, talking to them about how i can improve my performance & them telling me that they've noticed an improvement in my work ethic after the fact.
I gave my two weeks in while I got hired at my current job as a delivery driver & they had me start a few days after my interview. The way that my current job is scheduling me would make it physically impossible to go and do the last shift for my previous job, so i put the last shift for my work on the back burner mentally, but turns out i was scheduled for today, but i can't make the shift because of scheduling conflicts.
Now I'm fairly certain this is going to burn bridges with my previous job irregardless, but would it be a bridge burned less metaphorically speaking, but should I be honest with them and say something along the lines of "hi, I'd like to apologize for being unable to attend my last shift, my current place of work has a shift that conflicts with the last shift here and i apologize for not saying anything in advance" and so on and so fourth or should I just not say anything to a place that most likely isn't going to recommend me anyway?
Even though the previous job is an "entry level retail job" (as much as i dislike the phrase and implications) I am a bit worried because right now I'm doing self-taught online coding courses with plans to become a web developer in the nearish future (half a year to 2 years from now ideally), & I'm worried with that one job on my resume where I essentially just ghosted them after i put my two weeks in.
submitted by YaBoiHaydenB to careerguidance [link] [comments]
I gave my two weeks in while I got hired at my current job as a delivery driver & they had me start a few days after my interview. The way that my current job is scheduling me would make it physically impossible to go and do the last shift for my previous job, so i put the last shift for my work on the back burner mentally, but turns out i was scheduled for today, but i can't make the shift because of scheduling conflicts.
Now I'm fairly certain this is going to burn bridges with my previous job irregardless, but would it be a bridge burned less metaphorically speaking, but should I be honest with them and say something along the lines of "hi, I'd like to apologize for being unable to attend my last shift, my current place of work has a shift that conflicts with the last shift here and i apologize for not saying anything in advance" and so on and so fourth or should I just not say anything to a place that most likely isn't going to recommend me anyway?
Even though the previous job is an "entry level retail job" (as much as i dislike the phrase and implications) I am a bit worried because right now I'm doing self-taught online coding courses with plans to become a web developer in the nearish future (half a year to 2 years from now ideally), & I'm worried with that one job on my resume where I essentially just ghosted them after i put my two weeks in.
2023.05.27 21:05 BP642 The Nature of Prey 5
[First] - [Prev] - [Next]
+-----------+
Memory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized human time]: August 6, 2136
“Humans call themselves omnivores, where their diet consists of both plants and meat. They are not to be considered “Prey,” nor compared to the Arxur, as the Federation textbook would have you believe, as I personally verified their foodstuff.
What this means, however, is that they must be protected for the time being. Their smaller status would paint a large target on their homeworld, where the Arxur could easily pick them off…”
“However, this is not without benefits.”
“Humanity has pledged military support (eventually, anyway) and cattle donations in return for our protection and knowledge of the Federation and Arxur.”
While the prospect of gaining more food sources has dampened the outrage of leaving the Federation, skeptics still had their doubts. If word travelled to the Arxur that Venlil Prime isn’t part of the Federation, humans wouldn’t nearly be enough to defeat an extermination fleet. When questioned on this, the Chief Huntress reassured the public that strategically, the Arxur wouldn’t waste resources attempting this. Further questions about the subject forced her to invoke the Huntress Secrecy Phrase, a strategic omission that's essential for Venlil Prime's interests: "No Comment."
Another major question the press asked her was about the humans themselves. Not much information was known about them, other than being “false prey.” It was only fair that when the Venlil Empire receives information regarding the humans, the public should be informed as well.
In the coming weeks, Chief Huntress Tarva and Ambassador Noah signed off on an exchange program, where carefully selected media and arts were allowed for public consumption. Genres of all kinds spilled out. One of the first written works the humans shared with us was “Freak the Mighty,” which I’m pretty sure was a thinly-veiled analogy.
Why fail alone, when you can work together towards a common goal, as allies?
The exchange program was taken further. There were only so many human ships available to deliver food to Venlil Prime, so the Venlil Space Corps will need to help the deliveries, and humans would be needed to maintain the food and cattle quality. To promote a smoother cooperation, the Space Corps personnel would be assigned to an “emotionally compatible'' human partner.
Due to my skill set regarding spaceflight, I was diverted to the exchange program. The human I spoke to was named Marcel, he was a soldier with a dry sense of humor, a passion for environmental causes, and a philosophical mind. Such a strange predator… having “prey” thoughts. Them caring about the environment placed Humanity miles above the Arxur. But then again, the fact that he supports environmental preservation suggests there are humans who’re against it.
’I guess some of their prey instincts slip through the cracks…’
Anyway, Marcel was pleasant to talk to, and we’re finally meeting in person to officially sign off on the digital exchange and do our work.
Marcel texts.
I texted back.
When the shuttle finally docked and I made my exit, I started making my way towards the meeting room, following the map guide. I brought my datapad out to text along the way. Until we officially pass the in-person meeting phase, we’re still not allowed to do video calls. Marcel insisted that the average human wouldn’t be afraid as long as the Venlil in question wasn’t physically attacking them or excessively “looming” over the human, but the Venlil overseers didn't want to take a chance with video calls or pictures.
Leaving the Venlil-only section of the station, I entered the empty hallway and found the room Marcel resided in. I knocked to announce my presence and gave my name.
"Come in Slanek!" A voice called out.
I padded my way through the door and noticed the little thing sitting at the table, hands folded and staring at me with tiny wide eyes. There's a small bag sitting next to the table.
'Come on Marcel.' I thought, averting my gaze a little and refrained my tail from making sudden movements, 'Just don’t be afraid.'
"Slanek." He said with a raspy voice. "I don't know if the feeling's mutual, but you're really cute.”
“'Cute' didn’t translate. It doesn’t mean weak, correct?” I asked.
“No, it just means “appealing to the eyes.” There’s a lot of creatures on Earth that could easily kill humans but they still look cute anyways.” Marcel explained.
“Hmmmm…” I slowly stepped closer to the table, making sure I didn't loom over his small size.
I take a closer look at the human. 'Red hair… small… hairless… weak… helpless…’
“Marcel, I don’t think you look cute.” I said bluntly.
Marcel gave off a barking noise, the translator telling me it was laughter. “I didn’t think so. Here, I brought you something.”
He opened a bag on the table and pulled out a round thing wrapped in paper. He opened it to what seemed like a hunk of meat with a yellow melted square on it.
“This right here is one of the most common foods in my country called a "burger." It’s supposed to have some vegetables on it and stuff, but we’d rather not give you food poisoning, so I just replaced the plantstuff with meatstuff instead..”
He offered me the ball of meat. While its meat portion looked appetizing, the yellow stuff inside made me question if it was spoiled. My stomach rumbled anyway.
’Would Marcel really try to poison me after we talked all this time? Would it be ok to refuse?’
I plucked the ball of meat, sinking my claws in, rotating to inspect.
Hmmmmmm…
’Speh it. It looks better than a ration anyway.’ I bit a small portion off.
T h e F l a v o r
The meat softly cracked in my maw, tiny bits bounced over my tongue, washing the salty taste over my whole mouth. I never tasted anything like it; the foreign but heavenly taste couldn’t compare to the slimy formless meat jelly the military and Federation handed out. I bet this burger would beat even the best of Tarva’s dishes!
The flavor got better somehow. The yellow stuff stuck to the meat like strings, it tasted sharp, contrasting the salty juices the burger leaked out, reminding me to take another bite. And another… and another…
The burger lasted a total of 3 minutes.
’It’s gone… speh…’
“Oh my god Slanek, your kind purrs when you like something? That’s even cuter!” the human gave his biggest, toothless smile.”
I couldn't help but slightly droop my tail in embarrassment. Such a display was unsightly in Venlil culture. Hopefully humans didn't know about it yet.
"Ahem..." I coughed to divert his attention, "The burger tastes amazing Marcel. No Federation cuisine tastes anything like it, and I hope to have more in the future."
"I'm glad you liked it. I know one pound of meat isn't enough for the day, but don't worry, you'll get more later. Plus other meatstuff from other cultures."
A beeping noise came from Marcel's comm device.
"Well Slanek, we should start heading for the sign-out area and get ready to move out."
I swished my tail in agreement, then we made our way out the door. While we walked, I reflected on my experiences.
At the moment, I almost felt bad for the skeptics for not being able to try this common delicacy; these burgers are almost worth dying for. However, that's up to Chief Huntress Tarva on how well this alliance can keep up.
+-----------------+
A/N: All Criticism is welcome.
submitted by BP642 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
+-----------+
Memory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized human time]: August 6, 2136
“Humans call themselves omnivores, where their diet consists of both plants and meat. They are not to be considered “Prey,” nor compared to the Arxur, as the Federation textbook would have you believe, as I personally verified their foodstuff.
What this means, however, is that they must be protected for the time being. Their smaller status would paint a large target on their homeworld, where the Arxur could easily pick them off…”
“However, this is not without benefits.”
“Humanity has pledged military support (eventually, anyway) and cattle donations in return for our protection and knowledge of the Federation and Arxur.”
While the prospect of gaining more food sources has dampened the outrage of leaving the Federation, skeptics still had their doubts. If word travelled to the Arxur that Venlil Prime isn’t part of the Federation, humans wouldn’t nearly be enough to defeat an extermination fleet. When questioned on this, the Chief Huntress reassured the public that strategically, the Arxur wouldn’t waste resources attempting this. Further questions about the subject forced her to invoke the Huntress Secrecy Phrase, a strategic omission that's essential for Venlil Prime's interests: "No Comment."
Another major question the press asked her was about the humans themselves. Not much information was known about them, other than being “false prey.” It was only fair that when the Venlil Empire receives information regarding the humans, the public should be informed as well.
In the coming weeks, Chief Huntress Tarva and Ambassador Noah signed off on an exchange program, where carefully selected media and arts were allowed for public consumption. Genres of all kinds spilled out. One of the first written works the humans shared with us was “Freak the Mighty,” which I’m pretty sure was a thinly-veiled analogy.
Why fail alone, when you can work together towards a common goal, as allies?
The exchange program was taken further. There were only so many human ships available to deliver food to Venlil Prime, so the Venlil Space Corps will need to help the deliveries, and humans would be needed to maintain the food and cattle quality. To promote a smoother cooperation, the Space Corps personnel would be assigned to an “emotionally compatible'' human partner.
Due to my skill set regarding spaceflight, I was diverted to the exchange program. The human I spoke to was named Marcel, he was a soldier with a dry sense of humor, a passion for environmental causes, and a philosophical mind. Such a strange predator… having “prey” thoughts. Them caring about the environment placed Humanity miles above the Arxur. But then again, the fact that he supports environmental preservation suggests there are humans who’re against it.
’I guess some of their prey instincts slip through the cracks…’
Anyway, Marcel was pleasant to talk to, and we’re finally meeting in person to officially sign off on the digital exchange and do our work.
When the shuttle finally docked and I made my exit, I started making my way towards the meeting room, following the map guide. I brought my datapad out to text along the way. Until we officially pass the in-person meeting phase, we’re still not allowed to do video calls. Marcel insisted that the average human wouldn’t be afraid as long as the Venlil in question wasn’t physically attacking them or excessively “looming” over the human, but the Venlil overseers didn't want to take a chance with video calls or pictures.
Leaving the Venlil-only section of the station, I entered the empty hallway and found the room Marcel resided in. I knocked to announce my presence and gave my name.
"Come in Slanek!" A voice called out.
I padded my way through the door and noticed the little thing sitting at the table, hands folded and staring at me with tiny wide eyes. There's a small bag sitting next to the table.
'Come on Marcel.' I thought, averting my gaze a little and refrained my tail from making sudden movements, 'Just don’t be afraid.'
"Slanek." He said with a raspy voice. "I don't know if the feeling's mutual, but you're really cute.”
“'Cute' didn’t translate. It doesn’t mean weak, correct?” I asked.
“No, it just means “appealing to the eyes.” There’s a lot of creatures on Earth that could easily kill humans but they still look cute anyways.” Marcel explained.
“Hmmmm…” I slowly stepped closer to the table, making sure I didn't loom over his small size.
I take a closer look at the human. 'Red hair… small… hairless… weak… helpless…’
“Marcel, I don’t think you look cute.” I said bluntly.
Marcel gave off a barking noise, the translator telling me it was laughter. “I didn’t think so. Here, I brought you something.”
He opened a bag on the table and pulled out a round thing wrapped in paper. He opened it to what seemed like a hunk of meat with a yellow melted square on it.
“This right here is one of the most common foods in my country called a "burger." It’s supposed to have some vegetables on it and stuff, but we’d rather not give you food poisoning, so I just replaced the plantstuff with meatstuff instead..”
He offered me the ball of meat. While its meat portion looked appetizing, the yellow stuff inside made me question if it was spoiled. My stomach rumbled anyway.
’Would Marcel really try to poison me after we talked all this time? Would it be ok to refuse?’
I plucked the ball of meat, sinking my claws in, rotating to inspect.
Hmmmmmm…
’Speh it. It looks better than a ration anyway.’ I bit a small portion off.
T h e F l a v o r
The meat softly cracked in my maw, tiny bits bounced over my tongue, washing the salty taste over my whole mouth. I never tasted anything like it; the foreign but heavenly taste couldn’t compare to the slimy formless meat jelly the military and Federation handed out. I bet this burger would beat even the best of Tarva’s dishes!
The flavor got better somehow. The yellow stuff stuck to the meat like strings, it tasted sharp, contrasting the salty juices the burger leaked out, reminding me to take another bite. And another… and another…
The burger lasted a total of 3 minutes.
’It’s gone… speh…’
“Oh my god Slanek, your kind purrs when you like something? That’s even cuter!” the human gave his biggest, toothless smile.”
I couldn't help but slightly droop my tail in embarrassment. Such a display was unsightly in Venlil culture. Hopefully humans didn't know about it yet.
"Ahem..." I coughed to divert his attention, "The burger tastes amazing Marcel. No Federation cuisine tastes anything like it, and I hope to have more in the future."
"I'm glad you liked it. I know one pound of meat isn't enough for the day, but don't worry, you'll get more later. Plus other meatstuff from other cultures."
A beeping noise came from Marcel's comm device.
"Well Slanek, we should start heading for the sign-out area and get ready to move out."
I swished my tail in agreement, then we made our way out the door. While we walked, I reflected on my experiences.
At the moment, I almost felt bad for the skeptics for not being able to try this common delicacy; these burgers are almost worth dying for. However, that's up to Chief Huntress Tarva on how well this alliance can keep up.
+-----------------+
A/N: All Criticism is welcome.
2023.05.27 19:57 jusbro92 🐐1st LEGENDARY SELLER🐐 Buying/Selling 2K23 MT! [XBX/S] [XB1] [PS5] [PS4] Price/Details Inside! Over 2,800 Positive Reviews on Reddit 🤝 Buy/Sell with Confidence as I am Highly Trusted 💯! Longest Tenured Re-Seller Here! Confirmed Trusted Trader! 😎 Online until 2am EST 😎 Stay Safe🙏
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2023.05.27 19:21 SchlesingerMindy323 [HIRING] 25 Jobs in IA Hiring Now!
2023.05.27 18:33 King_Clutch94 Memorial Day
Are Delivery Stations and FC's going to be Open On Monday or will they Be Closed?
submitted by King_Clutch94 to AmazonFC [link] [comments]
2023.05.27 18:06 onamatope obg question?
 | the answer is 4, and i struggle to understand why. isn't it appropriate to use the technique when contractions start? submitted by onamatope to nursing [link] [comments] |
2023.05.27 18:05 onamatope obg question?
 | the answer is 4, and i struggle to understand why. isn't it appropriate to use the technique when contractions start? submitted by onamatope to nursing [link] [comments] |
2023.05.27 17:46 Pristine-Region-7403 Buying on the jp server
 | If I buy this gift card from Playasia will I be able to buy 3000 paid crystals on jpsekai? Also can someone explain how am I supposed to use it 🙏🏻🙏🏻 submitted by Pristine-Region-7403 to ProjectSekai [link] [comments] |
2023.05.27 15:44 Jgrupe I'm the New Sheriff in Hollow's End - I Need Some Help with a Case
I recently accepted a job as the new sheriff in a small town called Hollow's End, making me the only law enforcement officer within a hundred miles. As it turns out, this decision may have been a huge mistake.
Normally a job like this in a little town with a couple thousand residents would mean a pretty boring and mundane existence. I’ve worked in a few different small towns over the years and I was expecting this to be more or less the same.
At first it appeared that mundane was exactly what I would see. Besides a few speeding tickets, I didn’t run into any real trouble. There was Randy, the town drunk, who often slept in the police station's only jail cell. I picked him up on a nightly basis for starting fights or disturbing the peace, vandalizing businesses or screaming bloody murder while walking the streets. He was typically alone in that cell (which he often called his apartment) although there was room for ten or more in the big cage. Every so often he'd end up sharing it with someone who had been unfortunate enough to cross his path, and lacked the common sense to avoid him.
The town had your typical problems with shoplifting teens and the odd disputes between neighbors and spouses. But for the most part it was peaceful and quiet, and the jail cell remained empty, aside from Randy.
It seemed that most people in Hollow's End resolved their differences privately, without resorting to calling 9-1-1.
But I've come to realize something since starting as the new Sheriff in Hollow’s End. Despite the similarities to other places I've been, this town is not like other towns.
There’s something very weird about this place, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. The residents have been welcoming and friendly, don't get me wrong, but at times I feel like an absolute outsider. Like there's some secret I'm not privy to.
During town hall meetings, for instance. I’ll make suggestions or ask questions and everyone goes quiet - like they’re in on some big mystery that I don’t know about. People whisper and shoot glances in my direction, then go quiet when I look their way.
I know, this must sound paranoid to an outsider. But that’s what I feel like I am here - an outsider.
Anyways, I thought getting some other people’s perspectives might help. Maybe you can see what I'm missing here. And maybe you can help me figure out what's really going on in this place.
Today started out like any ordinary day. I was sitting at my desk in the bullpen of the police station, doing a crossword puzzle and listening to the baseball game on the radio, waiting for some action. Like I said, not much happens in Hollow’s End - but my experience told me that some people would be out raising hell on a warm day like this one. There were sure to be a few drunk and disorderly calls and maybe even a DUI or two.
Randy, the town drunk, was locked up in his cell as usual, snoring away. I’d picked him up in the wee hours of the morning and he had ranted at me for a while before passing out. It had been more than eight hours now and I was planning on waking him up soon to kick him out, starting our daily routine all over again, when the red phone rang.
There was a dispatcher who put the calls through to this phone, and if it didn’t pick up after three or four rings it flipped over to my cell phone. I nabbed it just in time before it switched over.
“Hello?” I said into the receiver. “This is the Sheriff. What’s your emergency?”
“Will you shoot that fucking rooster already!!!?” Randy screamed from his cell, so loud I couldn’t hear the person on the other end of the line. After this outburst he promptly began snoring again.
“Sorry, can you repeat that?” I asked.
“Ummm, hi,” a timid voice on the other end said. “Is this the police?”
“Yes, this is Sheriff Parsons. What’s your emergency?”
The woman sounded confused, as if she still did not realize who she was calling or why.
“Hi, yeah. Um, I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have called.”
She was about to hang up and I pleaded for her to stop.
“Hey,” I said. “If it's an emergency, then you dialed the right number. What’s going on?”
The woman hesitated and sounded uncertain, but I tried to convince her to trust me.
"Listen, I might sound annoyed, but that’s just because you interrupted me in the middle of my crossword puzzle. And Randy's really getting on my last nerve. But I’m actually pretty anxious to get out of the station. I can come by and talk if you want to explain in person. Whatever it is, maybe I can help.”
“Sure,” she said finally. “I’ll give you my address.”
I hung up the phone and immediately filled a nearby bucket with cold water from the bathroom sink. It would only take a minute, and whatever the woman was calling about didn’t sound that urgent.
I really didn’t want to leave Randy alone in the police station. He was good with picking locks and who knew what sort of hell he would raise if left alone in the bullpen. He’d gotten out of that cell more than once - and I had no idea how he did it. This way was just easier.
“Wake-up time, Randy,” I said, opening the cell door, freezing-cold bucket of water in hand. “What were you saying about a rooster? Because I actually need to replace mine.”
“Ten more minutes,” he yelled angrily. Then he opened one eye and saw the familiar bucket of water in my hand and shot to his feet. “Y’know, on second thought, I’m good. I’ve learned my lesson. Can I go now?”
*
Several minutes later I pulled up in front of the house. A young, pretty, brown haired woman stood at the front door, holding it open. She held up her hand and waved at me timidly.
I walked up the driveway and stood on the front porch, introducing myself to her as kindly as I could.
“So, you’re the Sheriff. You're new to Hollow’s End as well?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I’ve been here for just a few weeks. It’s nice. People have been very welcoming. Mostly. When did you move in?”
"Last Summer," she answered.
Her lip trembled and there were tears in her eyes as she tried to speak, but her words caught in her throat.
“Whoa, hey what’s wrong? Are you alright?”
“It’s my husband,” she said. “He didn’t come home from work last night and he isn't picking up his phone. This isn’t like him to be gone for so long without calling. I don’t understand what happened to him. I don't know if maybe they did something to him.”
“Slow down,” I said, pulling out my notepad. “What WHO did to him? Is there someone out there who has it out for your husband for some reason?”
She shook her head, clutching herself and looking past me with nervous eyes.
Her neighbors were just getting home, getting out of their car with a load of groceries in their arms.
"Hey, Cindy," the man called over to her. "Everything alright?"
“Great!” she called back, with a fake smile plastered across her face.
“Miss? What’s going on,” I asked, confused. “Do you think they might know something?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Listen, the only one in town who we trusted was the old sheriff, and he’s… Well, you know. And now I don’t know who to believe. This place… We had no idea when we moved here what it was like. Did you?"
I shook my head slowly, trying to figure this woman out.
"You’ll see. Everyone who lives here finds out soon enough. For us it was the garden. We thought we knew better, but we found out quickly enough that you have to follow the rules in this town. And one of the rules is, don’t talk to outsiders. I’m sorry, but I think that’s still what you are. An outsider.”
I opened my mouth to say something but she was already retreating back inside.
“Who is the old sheriff?” I managed to get out.
The door was almost all the way closed, but then she paused and opened it up again. Just wide enough for her to say one name.
And it was the last name in the world that I would have expected.
*
Of course the one time I actually needed to find Randy he was gone. The man was constantly raising hell, and residents of Hollow’s End were always calling me to complain about him. But now that I needed to speak to him everyone was going radio-silent.
Further proof of THE CONSPIRACY, a paranoid voice in my mind said, but I inwardly silenced it.
I drove around town in my beat-up old cruiser, trying to spot Randy in one of his usual haunts.
He wasn’t sleeping in the ditch in front of the liquor store. He wasn’t in the forest in the fort he had built out of fallen tree branches. He wasn’t in the washroom at the gas station. And when I went to the playground and looked at the monkey bars there was no sign of him there either.
It was like he had completely disappeared from the face of the earth.
I was about to give up looking for the time being when I finally spotted him, walking along the shoulder of the road up ahead. The man had long, scruffy hair down to his shoulders, an untrimmed beard which was brown with dirt, and he wore a duster jacket, carrying a backpack with him at all times. His cold, blue eyes had always looked intelligent to me, and I had thought ever since I met him that he was smarter than he let on. Even if he was also completely and utterly insane.
I pulled the car over and got out, but he kept walking straight past, ignoring me.
“Randy,” I called after him. “Hey, buddy. I need to talk to you about something.”
He pretended he didn't hear me, continuing to march forwards.
“Hey man, I’m sorry about the bucket. It’s just… you’re like Houdini. I can’t leave you alone in that cell. You get out every time. And it's really hard to wake you up without it.”
He didn’t say a word. So I just kept talking.
“Fine. I get it. You have every right to be pissed off. Maybe I should just consider changing the locks. Something tells me the old sheriff might still have a copy of the key to that prison cell.”
That finally got to him.
Randy stopped walking mid-stride and turned to face me, a little grin playing at the corner of his mouth.
"I have no idea what you're referring to.”
I clicked my tongue, giving him my best attempt at a disappointed, fatherly look.
"Guess I'll just have to arrest you again and search your bag until I find those keys. Maybe I'll check a few other places too, if they're not in there."
"Arrest me for what!?" he yelled indignantly.
"For being a pain in my ass," I answered back.
Really I just needed to talk to him. I had no intention of arresting him.
I heard a noise over my shoulder and turned to look, but there was nothing there except my cop car, and the rear view mirror a little ways back, showing a reflection of us. When I looked at Randy again he was pale as a sheet, and looked like he'd seen a ghost.
He stuck out his wrists, asking me to cuff him.
“Just do it. I’d rather be in there anyways. Especially at night. It isn’t safe out here, man.”
Randy had always said these sorts of things, but now I was starting to take him a bit more seriously for some reason.
I put the cuffs on him, but just for appearances. There were a few people watching from the windows of nearby stores and houses. There were always people watching in Hollow’s End. Always that feeling of eyes on the back of your neck.
“You’re not under arrest,” I said quietly. “I just want it to look like you are. I need to talk to you.”
*
I drove us back to the station and tried to interrogate Randy along the way, but he promptly fell asleep and started snoring the moment the car began to roll. I had forgotten that was one of his quirks - Randy was a narcoleptic whose spontaneous sleeping fits were often brought on by driving. He was like an infant, soothed by the motion and lulled to sleep.
When we got back to the station I looked in the mirror and noticed he was gone.
Feeling even more confused than usual, I opened the back seat to look at the place where he had been sitting.
Randy had disappeared, leaving the handcuffs behind.
Of course there was no way out of the back of the police cruiser without the doors being opened from the outside. But that hadn't stopped Randy.
Nothing could stop Randy.
And the sonofabitch still had the spare key to the jail cell. And who knew what else he'd pilfered from the station after quitting or getting fired or whatever the hell had happened.
Annoyed, I got back into the driver's seat and decided to go out for a patrol to clear my head. Driving always helped me think. I managed to find a picture of the missing man from Nightsoil Avenue by pulling up his driver's license through the patrol car's onboard computer system. It was the one and only modern piece of technology in the ancient vehicle, and worked reasonably well.
Despite looking for several hours all throughout the town, I didn't see the man anywhere. Through some detective work, though, I managed to find out his employer's name. He had recently started working for J&M Delivery Co. - a local takeout food and liquor delivery business in Hollow's End. I resolved to go speak with the owners after a quick pit stop at the police station.
I went inside and was somewhat unsurprised to find Randy was already in his cell with the door locked, inexplicably drinking a steaming hot cup of coffee from a mug I'd never seen before, which said "#1 Sheriff" on the front of it.
While this WAS very irritating, it was also the best news I'd seen since finding out the "dad bod" was back in style.
Sitting down at my desk, I tried to think about how to approach this situation. I needed this man's help. But he was clearly insane, and also possessed some sort of Houdini-level magical prowess.
His alcoholism was another concern. He was typically blackout drunk at this hour of the day, and it was barely 5PM.
"Get talking, Sheriff," he said suddenly. "It's almost noon and I haven't had a peep all day. If you don't want me to start rantin' and raving, you better get to the point."
I let this sink in for a few moments, ignored the urge to check my wristwatch, then asked him a question I'd never asked him before.
"Why DO you drink, Randy? What exactly is it inside of you that you need to drown with booze every day? And what happens if you don't?"
"You've seen it, Sheriff,” he muttered back at me. “You've seen the broken windows on Main Street. If I don't drink, those fucking faces show up in the glass every time. They're waiting for me, if I forget to drown their voices I'll hear them screaming. And you don't want to hear the screams of monsters, Sheriff. Trust me, there ain't nothin' in the wild world more terrifying than the screams of your nightmares. Just pray you never hear 'em. But I think you will. Nah, scratch that. I know you will. And then you'll be joining me in this cell, drinking right along with me. And they'll have a new sheriff in town. Every week a new sheriff…"
He was rambling and I tried to cut him off but he was gone now. There was no way to get through to him except by doing the unthinkable.
But luckily I'd gotten pretty good at doing unthinkable things.
I went into my desk and pulled out my trusty bottle of scotch, and hated myself as I poured him a tall glass of the stuff.
*
Once Randy was good and drunk, he began to spill the beans.
And what a story it was. Completely unbelievable, of course. The drunken ravings of a lunatic. But the tale terrified me nonetheless.
"So this is why you drink? This is why you smash people's windows and run around screaming in the middle of the night, saying things are chasing you?"
He nodded.
"You really expect me to believe this?"
He nodded again.
"But if you get drunk you don't see them?"
He continued nodding as I left the bullpen to go use the toilet.
"You're an idiot," I said on my way out.
"You'll see," he said back to me. “Probably any minute.”
*
I got to the bathroom and did my business, then began to wash my hands in the sink. Scrubbing them with soap and hot water until they stung. Standing there in the quiet bathroom, all alone, I suddenly felt more scared than I had ever felt in my life.
Out of my peripheral vision I saw a dark shape in the mirrored surface of the glass in front of me. It was too close to be my reflection, too sinister and dark. It was moving on its own, and not matching me at all.
I didn’t want to look up. But I found myself doing it anyway. My heart hammering, I looked into the glass and saw a face that was not my own.
There was someone else staring back at me from the glass. Her face was inches away, looking ready to jump out at me.
It was a woman. Her skin looked like she had been poisoned. Her eyes had dark rings around them and her veins stood out prominently, inky black in color. Her flesh was sweaty porcelain, her gaze vacant, as if she didn’t notice me at first.
But then her eyes caught mine and it was like a veil had been lifted between us, and she took me in, her rotten smile growing wider and wider. Black teeth were revealed, and between them where her gums should have been there were a million spiders, crawling outwards, seeking the light, trying to get out. Trying to get at me. Skittering and crawling across her skin, moving down her arms and tracing a path toward me.
More arachnids began to pour out of her hair and out of her eyes as she held back laughter, holding up her hands to bridge the gap between worlds. Reaching out to touch the glass, it shimmered and turned to water for a second, before changing back to glass again.
Wasting no more time, I punched the mirror with my fist, shattering the glass, thankful that my hand didn’t go right through and into that other world.
The pain was exquisite, the blood dripping immediately from the wound and running down my arm, soaking it and staining my uniform with red.
Shards of broken glass could be seen embedded between my knuckles, sprinkled across my skin and driven deep into the flesh in places. Jagged bits of broken glass hung suspended in front of me, some still stuck to the wood where they had once been attached. Pieces fell into the sink, ringing against the porcelain, and I tried not to look into those bloody, shattered reflections for too long.
I felt no pain, though. My heartbeat was still a pounding drum of pure adrenaline, numbing me completely from the agony that I wouldn’t feel until later.
The only sensation coursing through me at that moment was pure fear. Terror as I began to consider how many windows, how many mirrors, and how many pieces of glass I walked past each and every day. What if every one of them suddenly contained a monster, ready to leap out at me the moment I made the mistake of looking at it?
I stumbled out from the bathroom and Randy saw my bloody hand immediately. He stood up and moved closer to me in the cage so he could examine me better.
"You saw them, didn't you?" he asked. "Yeah you did. I told you those fuckers were real. Oh, and I forgot to mention this curse is contagious, so it spreads to anyone you spend too much time with. Now, get your ass in here and have a drink with me. I promise it will help. See, I knew we were gonna be friends. Nothing says martyrdom like a five dollar bottle of scotch. We can be Joans of Arcs together!"
I was too stunned to respond. All I could think to do was follow Dr. Randy’s recommendation: Take a few drinks and try to drown out the demons.
He knew this world better than I did, after all. As much as I thought I had everything figured out, it turns out I didn't know shit about the world, and I didn’t know fuck-all about Hollow’s End.
Taking another glass from the desk, I wiped the cobwebs and dead spiders out of it (trying not to think about the mirror) and poured myself a glass of the cheap scotch and another, smaller one for Randy.
"Okay," I said, sitting down across from him in the cage. "I was wrong. Dead wrong. About everything. Now, can you please tell me what the fuck is going on in this town?"
Randy smiled and began to speak.
You can't talk to outsiders about what happens in Hollow's End, but I'm not an outsider anymore.
Love it or hate it, I'm a part of this place now.
And it's a part of me..
YT
TCC
submitted by Jgrupe to nosleep [link] [comments]
Normally a job like this in a little town with a couple thousand residents would mean a pretty boring and mundane existence. I’ve worked in a few different small towns over the years and I was expecting this to be more or less the same.
At first it appeared that mundane was exactly what I would see. Besides a few speeding tickets, I didn’t run into any real trouble. There was Randy, the town drunk, who often slept in the police station's only jail cell. I picked him up on a nightly basis for starting fights or disturbing the peace, vandalizing businesses or screaming bloody murder while walking the streets. He was typically alone in that cell (which he often called his apartment) although there was room for ten or more in the big cage. Every so often he'd end up sharing it with someone who had been unfortunate enough to cross his path, and lacked the common sense to avoid him.
The town had your typical problems with shoplifting teens and the odd disputes between neighbors and spouses. But for the most part it was peaceful and quiet, and the jail cell remained empty, aside from Randy.
It seemed that most people in Hollow's End resolved their differences privately, without resorting to calling 9-1-1.
But I've come to realize something since starting as the new Sheriff in Hollow’s End. Despite the similarities to other places I've been, this town is not like other towns.
There’s something very weird about this place, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. The residents have been welcoming and friendly, don't get me wrong, but at times I feel like an absolute outsider. Like there's some secret I'm not privy to.
During town hall meetings, for instance. I’ll make suggestions or ask questions and everyone goes quiet - like they’re in on some big mystery that I don’t know about. People whisper and shoot glances in my direction, then go quiet when I look their way.
I know, this must sound paranoid to an outsider. But that’s what I feel like I am here - an outsider.
Anyways, I thought getting some other people’s perspectives might help. Maybe you can see what I'm missing here. And maybe you can help me figure out what's really going on in this place.
Today started out like any ordinary day. I was sitting at my desk in the bullpen of the police station, doing a crossword puzzle and listening to the baseball game on the radio, waiting for some action. Like I said, not much happens in Hollow’s End - but my experience told me that some people would be out raising hell on a warm day like this one. There were sure to be a few drunk and disorderly calls and maybe even a DUI or two.
Randy, the town drunk, was locked up in his cell as usual, snoring away. I’d picked him up in the wee hours of the morning and he had ranted at me for a while before passing out. It had been more than eight hours now and I was planning on waking him up soon to kick him out, starting our daily routine all over again, when the red phone rang.
There was a dispatcher who put the calls through to this phone, and if it didn’t pick up after three or four rings it flipped over to my cell phone. I nabbed it just in time before it switched over.
“Hello?” I said into the receiver. “This is the Sheriff. What’s your emergency?”
“Will you shoot that fucking rooster already!!!?” Randy screamed from his cell, so loud I couldn’t hear the person on the other end of the line. After this outburst he promptly began snoring again.
“Sorry, can you repeat that?” I asked.
“Ummm, hi,” a timid voice on the other end said. “Is this the police?”
“Yes, this is Sheriff Parsons. What’s your emergency?”
The woman sounded confused, as if she still did not realize who she was calling or why.
“Hi, yeah. Um, I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have called.”
She was about to hang up and I pleaded for her to stop.
“Hey,” I said. “If it's an emergency, then you dialed the right number. What’s going on?”
The woman hesitated and sounded uncertain, but I tried to convince her to trust me.
"Listen, I might sound annoyed, but that’s just because you interrupted me in the middle of my crossword puzzle. And Randy's really getting on my last nerve. But I’m actually pretty anxious to get out of the station. I can come by and talk if you want to explain in person. Whatever it is, maybe I can help.”
“Sure,” she said finally. “I’ll give you my address.”
I hung up the phone and immediately filled a nearby bucket with cold water from the bathroom sink. It would only take a minute, and whatever the woman was calling about didn’t sound that urgent.
I really didn’t want to leave Randy alone in the police station. He was good with picking locks and who knew what sort of hell he would raise if left alone in the bullpen. He’d gotten out of that cell more than once - and I had no idea how he did it. This way was just easier.
“Wake-up time, Randy,” I said, opening the cell door, freezing-cold bucket of water in hand. “What were you saying about a rooster? Because I actually need to replace mine.”
“Ten more minutes,” he yelled angrily. Then he opened one eye and saw the familiar bucket of water in my hand and shot to his feet. “Y’know, on second thought, I’m good. I’ve learned my lesson. Can I go now?”
*
Several minutes later I pulled up in front of the house. A young, pretty, brown haired woman stood at the front door, holding it open. She held up her hand and waved at me timidly.
I walked up the driveway and stood on the front porch, introducing myself to her as kindly as I could.
“So, you’re the Sheriff. You're new to Hollow’s End as well?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I’ve been here for just a few weeks. It’s nice. People have been very welcoming. Mostly. When did you move in?”
"Last Summer," she answered.
Her lip trembled and there were tears in her eyes as she tried to speak, but her words caught in her throat.
“Whoa, hey what’s wrong? Are you alright?”
“It’s my husband,” she said. “He didn’t come home from work last night and he isn't picking up his phone. This isn’t like him to be gone for so long without calling. I don’t understand what happened to him. I don't know if maybe they did something to him.”
“Slow down,” I said, pulling out my notepad. “What WHO did to him? Is there someone out there who has it out for your husband for some reason?”
She shook her head, clutching herself and looking past me with nervous eyes.
Her neighbors were just getting home, getting out of their car with a load of groceries in their arms.
"Hey, Cindy," the man called over to her. "Everything alright?"
“Great!” she called back, with a fake smile plastered across her face.
“Miss? What’s going on,” I asked, confused. “Do you think they might know something?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Listen, the only one in town who we trusted was the old sheriff, and he’s… Well, you know. And now I don’t know who to believe. This place… We had no idea when we moved here what it was like. Did you?"
I shook my head slowly, trying to figure this woman out.
"You’ll see. Everyone who lives here finds out soon enough. For us it was the garden. We thought we knew better, but we found out quickly enough that you have to follow the rules in this town. And one of the rules is, don’t talk to outsiders. I’m sorry, but I think that’s still what you are. An outsider.”
I opened my mouth to say something but she was already retreating back inside.
“Who is the old sheriff?” I managed to get out.
The door was almost all the way closed, but then she paused and opened it up again. Just wide enough for her to say one name.
And it was the last name in the world that I would have expected.
*
Of course the one time I actually needed to find Randy he was gone. The man was constantly raising hell, and residents of Hollow’s End were always calling me to complain about him. But now that I needed to speak to him everyone was going radio-silent.
Further proof of THE CONSPIRACY, a paranoid voice in my mind said, but I inwardly silenced it.
I drove around town in my beat-up old cruiser, trying to spot Randy in one of his usual haunts.
He wasn’t sleeping in the ditch in front of the liquor store. He wasn’t in the forest in the fort he had built out of fallen tree branches. He wasn’t in the washroom at the gas station. And when I went to the playground and looked at the monkey bars there was no sign of him there either.
It was like he had completely disappeared from the face of the earth.
I was about to give up looking for the time being when I finally spotted him, walking along the shoulder of the road up ahead. The man had long, scruffy hair down to his shoulders, an untrimmed beard which was brown with dirt, and he wore a duster jacket, carrying a backpack with him at all times. His cold, blue eyes had always looked intelligent to me, and I had thought ever since I met him that he was smarter than he let on. Even if he was also completely and utterly insane.
I pulled the car over and got out, but he kept walking straight past, ignoring me.
“Randy,” I called after him. “Hey, buddy. I need to talk to you about something.”
He pretended he didn't hear me, continuing to march forwards.
“Hey man, I’m sorry about the bucket. It’s just… you’re like Houdini. I can’t leave you alone in that cell. You get out every time. And it's really hard to wake you up without it.”
He didn’t say a word. So I just kept talking.
“Fine. I get it. You have every right to be pissed off. Maybe I should just consider changing the locks. Something tells me the old sheriff might still have a copy of the key to that prison cell.”
That finally got to him.
Randy stopped walking mid-stride and turned to face me, a little grin playing at the corner of his mouth.
"I have no idea what you're referring to.”
I clicked my tongue, giving him my best attempt at a disappointed, fatherly look.
"Guess I'll just have to arrest you again and search your bag until I find those keys. Maybe I'll check a few other places too, if they're not in there."
"Arrest me for what!?" he yelled indignantly.
"For being a pain in my ass," I answered back.
Really I just needed to talk to him. I had no intention of arresting him.
I heard a noise over my shoulder and turned to look, but there was nothing there except my cop car, and the rear view mirror a little ways back, showing a reflection of us. When I looked at Randy again he was pale as a sheet, and looked like he'd seen a ghost.
He stuck out his wrists, asking me to cuff him.
“Just do it. I’d rather be in there anyways. Especially at night. It isn’t safe out here, man.”
Randy had always said these sorts of things, but now I was starting to take him a bit more seriously for some reason.
I put the cuffs on him, but just for appearances. There were a few people watching from the windows of nearby stores and houses. There were always people watching in Hollow’s End. Always that feeling of eyes on the back of your neck.
“You’re not under arrest,” I said quietly. “I just want it to look like you are. I need to talk to you.”
*
I drove us back to the station and tried to interrogate Randy along the way, but he promptly fell asleep and started snoring the moment the car began to roll. I had forgotten that was one of his quirks - Randy was a narcoleptic whose spontaneous sleeping fits were often brought on by driving. He was like an infant, soothed by the motion and lulled to sleep.
When we got back to the station I looked in the mirror and noticed he was gone.
Feeling even more confused than usual, I opened the back seat to look at the place where he had been sitting.
Randy had disappeared, leaving the handcuffs behind.
Of course there was no way out of the back of the police cruiser without the doors being opened from the outside. But that hadn't stopped Randy.
Nothing could stop Randy.
And the sonofabitch still had the spare key to the jail cell. And who knew what else he'd pilfered from the station after quitting or getting fired or whatever the hell had happened.
Annoyed, I got back into the driver's seat and decided to go out for a patrol to clear my head. Driving always helped me think. I managed to find a picture of the missing man from Nightsoil Avenue by pulling up his driver's license through the patrol car's onboard computer system. It was the one and only modern piece of technology in the ancient vehicle, and worked reasonably well.
Despite looking for several hours all throughout the town, I didn't see the man anywhere. Through some detective work, though, I managed to find out his employer's name. He had recently started working for J&M Delivery Co. - a local takeout food and liquor delivery business in Hollow's End. I resolved to go speak with the owners after a quick pit stop at the police station.
I went inside and was somewhat unsurprised to find Randy was already in his cell with the door locked, inexplicably drinking a steaming hot cup of coffee from a mug I'd never seen before, which said "#1 Sheriff" on the front of it.
While this WAS very irritating, it was also the best news I'd seen since finding out the "dad bod" was back in style.
Sitting down at my desk, I tried to think about how to approach this situation. I needed this man's help. But he was clearly insane, and also possessed some sort of Houdini-level magical prowess.
His alcoholism was another concern. He was typically blackout drunk at this hour of the day, and it was barely 5PM.
"Get talking, Sheriff," he said suddenly. "It's almost noon and I haven't had a peep all day. If you don't want me to start rantin' and raving, you better get to the point."
I let this sink in for a few moments, ignored the urge to check my wristwatch, then asked him a question I'd never asked him before.
"Why DO you drink, Randy? What exactly is it inside of you that you need to drown with booze every day? And what happens if you don't?"
"You've seen it, Sheriff,” he muttered back at me. “You've seen the broken windows on Main Street. If I don't drink, those fucking faces show up in the glass every time. They're waiting for me, if I forget to drown their voices I'll hear them screaming. And you don't want to hear the screams of monsters, Sheriff. Trust me, there ain't nothin' in the wild world more terrifying than the screams of your nightmares. Just pray you never hear 'em. But I think you will. Nah, scratch that. I know you will. And then you'll be joining me in this cell, drinking right along with me. And they'll have a new sheriff in town. Every week a new sheriff…"
He was rambling and I tried to cut him off but he was gone now. There was no way to get through to him except by doing the unthinkable.
But luckily I'd gotten pretty good at doing unthinkable things.
I went into my desk and pulled out my trusty bottle of scotch, and hated myself as I poured him a tall glass of the stuff.
*
Once Randy was good and drunk, he began to spill the beans.
And what a story it was. Completely unbelievable, of course. The drunken ravings of a lunatic. But the tale terrified me nonetheless.
"So this is why you drink? This is why you smash people's windows and run around screaming in the middle of the night, saying things are chasing you?"
He nodded.
"You really expect me to believe this?"
He nodded again.
"But if you get drunk you don't see them?"
He continued nodding as I left the bullpen to go use the toilet.
"You're an idiot," I said on my way out.
"You'll see," he said back to me. “Probably any minute.”
*
I got to the bathroom and did my business, then began to wash my hands in the sink. Scrubbing them with soap and hot water until they stung. Standing there in the quiet bathroom, all alone, I suddenly felt more scared than I had ever felt in my life.
Out of my peripheral vision I saw a dark shape in the mirrored surface of the glass in front of me. It was too close to be my reflection, too sinister and dark. It was moving on its own, and not matching me at all.
I didn’t want to look up. But I found myself doing it anyway. My heart hammering, I looked into the glass and saw a face that was not my own.
There was someone else staring back at me from the glass. Her face was inches away, looking ready to jump out at me.
It was a woman. Her skin looked like she had been poisoned. Her eyes had dark rings around them and her veins stood out prominently, inky black in color. Her flesh was sweaty porcelain, her gaze vacant, as if she didn’t notice me at first.
But then her eyes caught mine and it was like a veil had been lifted between us, and she took me in, her rotten smile growing wider and wider. Black teeth were revealed, and between them where her gums should have been there were a million spiders, crawling outwards, seeking the light, trying to get out. Trying to get at me. Skittering and crawling across her skin, moving down her arms and tracing a path toward me.
More arachnids began to pour out of her hair and out of her eyes as she held back laughter, holding up her hands to bridge the gap between worlds. Reaching out to touch the glass, it shimmered and turned to water for a second, before changing back to glass again.
Wasting no more time, I punched the mirror with my fist, shattering the glass, thankful that my hand didn’t go right through and into that other world.
The pain was exquisite, the blood dripping immediately from the wound and running down my arm, soaking it and staining my uniform with red.
Shards of broken glass could be seen embedded between my knuckles, sprinkled across my skin and driven deep into the flesh in places. Jagged bits of broken glass hung suspended in front of me, some still stuck to the wood where they had once been attached. Pieces fell into the sink, ringing against the porcelain, and I tried not to look into those bloody, shattered reflections for too long.
I felt no pain, though. My heartbeat was still a pounding drum of pure adrenaline, numbing me completely from the agony that I wouldn’t feel until later.
The only sensation coursing through me at that moment was pure fear. Terror as I began to consider how many windows, how many mirrors, and how many pieces of glass I walked past each and every day. What if every one of them suddenly contained a monster, ready to leap out at me the moment I made the mistake of looking at it?
I stumbled out from the bathroom and Randy saw my bloody hand immediately. He stood up and moved closer to me in the cage so he could examine me better.
"You saw them, didn't you?" he asked. "Yeah you did. I told you those fuckers were real. Oh, and I forgot to mention this curse is contagious, so it spreads to anyone you spend too much time with. Now, get your ass in here and have a drink with me. I promise it will help. See, I knew we were gonna be friends. Nothing says martyrdom like a five dollar bottle of scotch. We can be Joans of Arcs together!"
I was too stunned to respond. All I could think to do was follow Dr. Randy’s recommendation: Take a few drinks and try to drown out the demons.
He knew this world better than I did, after all. As much as I thought I had everything figured out, it turns out I didn't know shit about the world, and I didn’t know fuck-all about Hollow’s End.
Taking another glass from the desk, I wiped the cobwebs and dead spiders out of it (trying not to think about the mirror) and poured myself a glass of the cheap scotch and another, smaller one for Randy.
"Okay," I said, sitting down across from him in the cage. "I was wrong. Dead wrong. About everything. Now, can you please tell me what the fuck is going on in this town?"
Randy smiled and began to speak.
You can't talk to outsiders about what happens in Hollow's End, but I'm not an outsider anymore.
Love it or hate it, I'm a part of this place now.
And it's a part of me..
YT
TCC
2023.05.27 15:22 herecomethehighstepp I found an old sheet with all the 10- signals while I was working in an attic
 | submitted by herecomethehighstepp to mildlyinteresting [link] [comments] |
2023.05.27 13:54 IliacatJoke I am in my 30s, make $95,000, live in Sydney, work in IT and this week I paid my Obstetrician
Apologies this is late, I completely lost track of the date/time difference!
Disclaimer: I am very grateful to have had a lot of parental assistance over the years and also have serious mental health diagnosis, both of these flavour my money choices heavily (e.g. private healthcare and lack of car loan/insurance)
I am also heavily pregnant so please excuse any baby brain related errors!
START SCENE
Retirement Balance: $62,000
Equity: $35k of a $680k property, we bought our 3 bedroom apartment last year using my parents’ equity, so no deposit was required.
Savings account balance: 20k - a lot of health/baby related costs have come out of it lately!
Credit card debt (and how you accumulated it): $800 which I pay off each monthly pay, if it wasn’t for the grocery rebates I’d consider getting rid of it.
Student loan debt (HECS): BA in passion/fun area, then IT/Accounting degree, very proud to say I am down to my final $19k!
My husband P earns around $90,000 in healthcare but can be more with overtime, he has around $30k in super and his HECS debt is due to be wiped out following our recent election so won’t be including that.
Section Two: Income
Income Progression: I had been working in retail full time after loving full time work instead of uni, until my transition to IT so started as a retail casual worker on $30k 10 years ago and changed to IT 6 years ago, jumping from $55k to $95k in that time, mostly through promotions, 1 company merger and 2 company changes.
Main Job Monthly Take Home: I am paid $5200 monthly and P is paid fortnightly at $2400 to $3000 depending on his shifts. Both our pay excludes tax, HECS payment and medicare levy, his pay includes salary packaging.
Section Three: Expenses
Mortgage: 3150 (locked rate until next year, pending interest rise)
Savings contribution: $500
Donations: $25-75 a month mostly to various MH organisations
Electric/Council/Water: 400 (we’re currently overpaying ahead of Mat leave)
Internet/our mobile phones: $320 (we’re currently overpaying ahead of Mat leave)
Subscriptions (Newspapers (NYT, SMH), Youtube, Xbox, online backups/cloud, VPN, pregnancy app, Amazon Prime, Netflix, Bitlocker, UberOne, Spotify Duo): $110
Private Health insurance: $420 for Top CoveTop Extras + pregnancy
Car insurance: covered in my parents plan, our car was a gift from my parents
Regular therapy: Psychologist $220/fortnight and psychiatrist $280/quarter
Transfer to P for things like fuel: $500
7 Day Money diary:
Thursday:
5am
I’m staring at the ceiling while the baby kicks my kidney, P snoring next to me, contemplating my existence. I’m trying not to start ‘the list’ run through in my head (buy milk, have I booked my next blood test, where is my winter coat, etc).
5.30am
Give up on sleep and get up for the day, I make a weak coffee for me and a regular coffee for P (I like the taste of coffee, weak lets me have 2-3 cups throughout the day without hitting my pregnant caffeine limit) and start packing up my lunch and bags for work. It’s OB day so I won’t be in the office until 10am today.
9am
After a dance party in the car we’re at the OB, all good news and another list of final scans and tests, we’re now in the downhill run! I pay for my last half of (private) OB management fee since we’re passed 28 weeks now. ($2500 (Medicare rebate soon: $580))
Stop at a bakery to treat myself before work, danishes are the breakfast of champions! ($12.00)
2pm
Last vendor meeting of the day, and i’m ready to take a nap. I’ve decided to spend the rest of the afternoon working on my handover document, I’ve only got 8 weeks to go before Mat leave!
3pm
Text my psych to convert our Saturday afternoon to a Zoom call, I’m not up for extra waddling to the train this week.
5pm
Spend the train ride home working on my crackhead baby spreadsheet (colour-coded, multi tabbed, shopping list, meal prep list, etc) and researching baby items.
P meets me at the station to grab my bags and we walk home, well he walks ahead and I move at a more stately pace.
7pm
Crawl into bed with a bowl of pasta and Ambulance UK on the iPad, kitten at my feet, older cat at my hip. Eventually P awkwardly maneuvers around blankets, my pregnancy pillow and cats.
11pm
Spontaneously adding to my online chemist wishlist of things I need for post birth and hospital bag. Cats and P grumble when I once again get up to pee, pregnancy feels so glamorous now.
Total: 2512.00 (pending MR)
Friday:
6am
Wander around the apartment with coffee in hand and contemplate the nursery layout options, I’ll measure it all tonight and make a floor plan so I can visualise it better. After boarding the train, I scroll through my due date Bump Group on Discord and catch up on the topics, many of the mum’s are NA based so the chat pops off 12am - 4am my time. I message a few friends and my bestie spams me with tiktoks. We tell a few dark MH jokes and I try not to laugh on the train.
8am
Arrive at the office, coffee number 2 in hand and I jump into a few Teams chats with various groups, including my manager and counterparts in another city’s office. They’re in a different time zone ahead of us so they flag any issues that started earlier our time and I’m grateful.
1.30pm
Where the hell did today go? I’ve barely left my desk and can’t believe the amount of firefighting I’ve been doing today, following up vendors, coordinating fallback solutions for outages, soothing ruffled feathers and talking team off the ledge in stressful situations.
I’ve definitely not eaten enough today and decide to place an ubereats order instead of raiding my mini fridge stash - Subway it is! ($18.97)
I spend my lunch break reading my latest pregnancy/birth book (The Complete Australian Guide to Pregnancy and Birth) and it’s honestly my favourite one I’ve read so far. I’m also a big fan of the podcast the authors run. I have queued up this week’s episode for the trip home as the mum featured has a similar mental health issue to me and I’m excited to hear her journey, also to get ideas for things to raise with my care team.
5pm
Security protocols kick us out of the office building and I am thrilled to escape! P picks me up from work since he’s off today, and my hips and feet are very grateful. There’s a quick stop in at Coles for pizza ingredients, milk and the very essential choc chip waffles. ($46.94)
Once we’re home P feeds the cats and unpacks while I get started on the bases, my birthday present last month was a KitchenAid and at the rate I’m going the cost per use is coming out pretty damn good! I leave the base to rise, pop my feet up and do my nightly blood pressure (127/82) which I log into my health app. I also add my weight from yesterday’s OB appointment and I'm thrilled to say I’ve stopped losing weight now the suspected HG has finally settled.
7pm
Take several brag photos of my pizzas #homemade and settled in front of the TV with blankets, footrest and P. I do send P back to the kitchen twice for serviettes and my water bottle, but once I’m settled, I’m not bloody moving.
I queue up the latest Top Chef (International All Stars Season 20) on Plex and get ready to support my fellow Aussie! P grumbles about my fixation with Top Chef, but all he gets is side eye in response. It’s a great episode for creativity, he even admits the winning dish is impressive. He vanishes the second the episode’s over for his office and a rewatch of the extended, super, mega, special edition of The Hobbit. I move on to Ambulance UK and annoy him over text with questions about the medical terminology being used.
8pm
Bedtime with a heat pack as my back is killing me! I try to convince P to come to bed and hold it against me since bubs is not allowing stomach laying anymore.
8.30pm
Success! P is helpfully holding it against me while I finish the episode and scroll the Iconic. Oh no! There’s now Stanley cups on there, I add it to my wishlist and promise myself I’ll think about it first. I want to also be a chic put together Stanley cup girlie!
Total: 65.91
Saturday:
3am
Back scrolling the Iconic and on a hunch check my credits (after rage returning maternity clothes a few weeks ago) and bingo there’s a credit there. I play around with wishlist items and stacking discounts, there’s a pale pink theme developing between the pink pregnancy overalls and the Stanley cup.
3.30am
Screw it, I’m ordering (10 points if you can guess what room of the apartment I made this order from) and it’s all due this afternoon except the pregnancy belt I've been grumbling about wanting. ($14.95)
9am
P brings me coffee, the kitten and the statement that he’s approved our Medicare Safety Net balance (he’s our primary family member) which means the rest of our refunds will be great going forward!! I’m very excited for 90% back on out of pocket costs for most medical things from now until December. Between my mental health and pregnancy I’ve beaten my normal record of September for the max you can pay OOP.
12pm
I’m sitting on the floor in the nursery trying to sort out piles of tiny clothes and remember to get P to help me off the floor before he heads to work. I head to the kitchen and start the bread process, I make our bread from scratch every weekend and the KitchenAid has made this sooo much easier. I decide one x1 wholemeal seed bread for P and x1 rosemary focaccia for me. Once they’re rising I head off to bed for a nap before therapy this afternoon.
3pm
I made myself some tea and washed my face to prepare for therapy as I woke up from my nap feeling like I was on another planet. I head into my office, no no now the nursery, damn I slightly tear up at the thought of my nice office now being a small desk in the corner. Well that can be another topic for my session today!
3.30pm
My psych and I go over all of the last 3 weeks worth of appointments with my health team and what my next steps are. I need to sort out my postpartum stay referral and lock in when I’m starting my top up meds. We talk through some of my work frustrations (not clear cut sexism but a level of obliviousness some of male managers are showing) and how I’m tracking mood/symptoms wise across the pregnancy. We’re both very aware that the final few weeks of pregnancy and the accompanying hormones can cause serious issues, so we go over warning signs and coping mechanisms. We go over the difference between ‘normal pregnancy feelings’ and my mental health condition feelings.($220)
4.30pm
Session done and my bread has all risen nicely despite the cold weather, I start the baking process and contemplate dinner. P is at work until 10pm so I’m on my own, which means all the Top Chef reruns and Ambulance UK my heart desires! I have a craving for spätzl so dig that out of the cupboard and defrost the schnitzel.
Iconic delivery!! I am officially a Stanley cup owner! I ordered the original, not the soft matte because Tiktok told me to, so I’m hoping I’ve made the right choice. Something about cold water through a straw just hits the spot. My glittery Starbucks cup looks on in disgust.
10pm
P finds me at my desk working on my spreadsheet of crazy, I mean baby, and is impressed but also too tired to focus on it now. I hear him calmly explain to the kitten that he can’t join him in the shower but he isn’t entirely successful.
We get into bed and P puts headphones in so I can drift off faster (or because I threatened more Ambulance UK? We’ll never know!).
Total: $234.95 (pending MR)
Sunday:
4am
And I’m up early again, my passenger is apparently an early riser these days which leads to me looking down and asking for more sleep “pleeeeease!” I try 37 positions and try to get comfy before finally drifting off again.
8am
I steal P’s dressing gown (mine’s now got an awkward gap due to the bump) and start the coffee process, the kitten joins me after finding a piece of plastic to pinball around the kitchen with, I am not coordinated enough these days to dodge him so I remove him and plastic to the living room.
I’m craving an egg muffin so I cook some sausages, eggs and toast english muffins and enjoy a mindless tiktok scroll while I eat.
12pm
I’m surprisingly tired after doing nothing all morning and head back to bed for a nap. I really hope the tiredness isn’t a sign my illness from last week is back! I’ve got a support group meeting in a few hours so I set an alarm.
2pm
I join the support group Zoom and immediately hear about how many people are sick or recovering from some flu or cold thing. There’s a lot of bugs going around at the moment! I meet some new people who have the same disorder or same ‘family’ of disorders as me and I update the group on my pregnancy journey. I really bond with 2 of the new ladies and I offer my email up to both to keep in touch before next week’s meeting.
5pm
I’m happily browsing Facebook Marketplace for baby things when Mum calls, she’s been shopping for baby (uh oh) and is excited to tell me about it. Amazingly she’s bought a bedside bassinet very similar to the one I was planning on buying secondhand and a safari themed lamp for the nursery. She’s also ended up with a high chair for their house on the coast and a bunch of themed fabric for swaddles, pillows, etc.
Total: 0.00 thanks Mum!
Monday
7am
I wake with my alarm for once, which would be odd except for how awful I feel. I end up deciding to call in sick, the flu thing that knocked me around until early last week appears to be back. Pregnancy means lots of cold/flu meds etc are not an option so I can’t soldier on. I alert my manager, set my team up with urgent tasks, chuck my OOO on and crawl back into bed.
A few things debit like SMH and Youtube (accounted for in monthly expenses above)
10am
I open my phone to a flurry of emails on my personal account, OH! It’s healthcare cover day! We have finished all our waiting periods and the beacons are lit! Let the floodgates of services and information begin! Our hospital and health fund both email to welcome me to their online learning platforms.
11am
A nice lady from our health fund calls to give me the spiel. I'd normally be wary about what all these amazing services are going to cost, but it’s all covered! She tells me about the learning platform (Nourish), the sleep clinic calls I’ll get after the baby's arrival and the welcome pack I’m going to be mailed. I get my login details as soon as we hangup, another fun thing to explore tonight once I’m feeling human again.
P is amused by how excited I am for all this information, he does caution me against over planning/over researching which is something I’ve been working on with my psych. I struggle to find a good balance between planning for problems and over planning to the point of stress. It’s a work in progress. I suspect I’ll always have issues with control/over planning.
4pm
I’ve napped most of the day, dealt with 1 urgent work issue and am now getting access to the hospital’s learning platform (Cradle). I'm grateful they’re short 5-7 minute long videos so put some on the iPad while I make tea and toast before deciding to tackle the nursery again.
7pm
Mum calls about more baby things - they’ve bought me a change table!? I’m slightly annoyed then I’m thrilled - it’s a brand I like that’s normally $400 ish for $30 at auction yesterday (a Sunday afternoon family hobby). They've just collected it, they’re going to sand and paint it for me in a nice green for the safari nursery. Another thing ticked off the baby spreadsheet.
Dinner tonight was heated up leftovers, I’m too tired for cooking.
Hmm blood pressure is high, I hope this is just sickness related and log it in my app.
8pm
Bed time! Despite sleeping all day I am exhausted and pass out almost immediately.
Total: 0.00 thanks again Mum!
Tuesday
11am
I’m in the office however I cannot tell you what I’ve done today, it’s all a blur and when I sit down with my ipad to make notes for this money diary my brain goes blank. I scroll through my sent emails and can see I’ve sent 26 emails (herding a difficult vendor, setting up meetings for later in the week, submitting my sick leave for yesterday and setting up a new starter orientation). I make another coffee and realise the mini fridge hasn’t been restocked (because I am the one that stocks it each week sigh). I jump online and do a grocery order - yogurt, cheese, salami, tomato paste, sliced bread, babybel cheese, apples and several juices) (52.00) it’s due in next 2 hours.
1pm
I make myself toasted sandwiches and try not to eat the entire packet of babybel. My work lunch group tells hilarious stories from their level of the office and it’s a nice escape from my level’s workload.
2pm
I send off my psychiatrist's referral for my private postpartum care stay (1-3 weeks long) and check it’s all covered with my health care fund (it is!). The private place I’ll be staying at calls me to check in, advise me of next steps and to give me my tentative booking date of 1 week after birth. I’ve got a spare 20 mins so do my intake assessment with them over the phone and get the all clear to be accepted in a few weeks. I’ll get another assessment 2-4 days after I give birth just to make sure I’m still a good candidate. I look over the welcome pack, what to bring lists and advice on partner overnight stays that all hit my email when I hang up. I forward the relevant bits to P and jump back into work.
5pm
An afternoon of meetings meant I did no deep/focus work or work on my handover, but I accept that and move on. I top up my Opal card for the week (50.00) via the app and it’s loaded by the time I’m tapping on the train. I’d normally account for this in the expenses up top but my train trips are very sporadic right now due to pregnancy waddle, so I’ve been carpooling with coworkers and P has been collecting me if his shifts line up along with the occasional UbeShebah.
5.15pm
I’m pinged regarding a site issue and it looks like the site is down. I jump on via my phone and iPad while on the train, I also start my time tracker for out of hours work. I scrap the conference call between my team and the vendor at 6pm and instruct the site to rollover to fallback mode, my team member gets them online again. I email my manager a quick update and switch back to tiktok scrolling. I’m really enjoying not having to fight for a seat most train trips now since I’m so visibly pregnant!
6.30pm
P meets me at the station again, is horrified that I’m dragging 3 books, several cups to wash, my coat (I overheated on the train) and my iPad around in multiple bags, he snatches it all and we start the walk home.
He’s made bolognese and it is the best smell to walk into after a cold day! I smother mine in cheese and prop my feet up to depuff. Then I puppy dog eyes at him and he agrees to Ambulance UK, we’re now in the London seasons and I’m loving the big city vibes. He still cringes at the medical sounds, but takes the time to explain how these patients would be treated at his hospital after their ambulance trips. I enjoy his commentary and it adds a background I would never normally know about.
8pm
I take my blood pressure and it’s high for the 2nd night, I’m a bit concerned but trying not to stress. It’s not 160/100 aka get your butt to ED but it’s still over normal. I log it in my health app and make a note to monitor it and call the OB if it’s up again tomorrow.
I message a friend about his opinion of epidurals (since he does them all day) and ask for the dumbed down reality check, he’s been an amazing support this pregnancy so I know he’ll give me a great answer, and he replies back with all the pros/cons as well as the common issues and how they get fixed. He reminds me to ask my OB since I’ve got pregnancy hypertension, it’s likely I would almost benefit from that common side effect and I make a note in my phone to ask at the next appointment.
Total: $102.00
Wednesday
5am
Coffee, kitten pats, older cat snuggles and then a small cry because I forgot to wash my preferred pregnancy leggings. I thankfully remember I’ve got an onsite vendor meeting today so don’t dress like a potato! I still wear Stan Smith’s but a cute knit dress and scarf up top so I look presentable. I bathe in embryolisse cream after washing my face (fun pregnancy fact - you can develop dry skin patches that make you look like a lizard!) and actually put some makeup on (Charlotte Tilbury base, YSL touche elcat, innisfree powder, lancome mascara and CT blush) followed by Replica’s By the Fireplace perfume. Ready for battle!
7am
On the train scrolling through the morning reports, I’m relieved to see all systems are reporting green after a few small hiccups yesterday. I move onto discord and catch up the overnight conversations in bump group.
9am
Quick catchup with my team and then I spend the morning preparing for the big cross time zone/country catch up with all IT team leads also updating my WIP tracker. I obviously then forget to save it and rage stomp off to the kitchen to make conciliation coffee.
I rage shop for KitchenAid accessories but don’t actually buy anything and my manager comforts me over teams.
12pm
I’m wrapping up in person site meetings to see a bunch of messages from P, he’s grocery shopping and querying baby wipe brands. (One of the best tips I got was to buy a pack of nappies and wipes each grocery trip to build your stockpile so it’s not such a shock, since newborns go through 10 nappies a day!). I reply but I’m a bit late and he finishes in Aldi, Coles and the butchers for the next fortnight (389.23). I’m getting very over this cost of living price increase on basic things like milk. He’s a smart shopper so I know that he didn’t overdo it.
3pm
I’ve taken my blood pressure a few times today and it keeps coming back high. I ring the OB’s office and book in for tomorrow morning (spoiler: my blood pressure meds are increased and I’m asked to check in with my pregnancy nephrologist sooner)
4pm
What the hell is this debit? Oh it’s the meal delivery service I forgot to suspend this week, guess we’re going to be a bit overstocked on food this week. I’m just going to class this as idiot/baby brain tax. (69.95)
5pm
P collects me and I have a small cry in the carpark, he’s had the baby capsule installed and driven to collect me with it so I can see it. Things are starting to feel very real now! I practice removing it and carrying it up to the apartment when we get home.
Leftover bolognese for dinner and we do separate screen time. I head to my computer after a bit to review my spreadsheet, since P has smashed out a bunch of things today in Baby Bunting. Nappy bin, capsule + install and baby bath are all ticked off! I get the receipts off our emails to log the costs (375.16)
7pm
Mexican bowls for dinner and we decide to try out the new RPA reboot that’s recently come back to TV (from the 90s!). I honestly hate every minute of it, the talking heads are really cringe and after the gritty realism of Ambulance UK (and Nurses Down Under) I can’t cope with it. We switch over to Ambulance UK after 1 episode and discuss deleting the rest. I was also really disappointed by how “doctor focussed” it was to the point where the nurses and allied health professionals (physios, ambos, etc) were cut out of certain shots, but you could still see their hands or shoes, that’s just not reality in Australian healthcare they’re the people patients see 90% of the time! Okay getting off my soapbox now.
8pm
I start my out of hours tracker and handle an issue for a site 3 hours behind me, in the end the onsite team and I get our part done, one of the vendors does not. We decide to tackle it tomorrow and a flick off a complaint to our account manage regarding this vendor rep. I notice a few of my counterparts are all in a teams call in their timezone and realise they must be cutting over a new system since it’s so late their time. I make a note to not bother them first thing tomorrow since they’ll likely all be start late.
9pm
Yep blood pressure is still high, so I’m glad I’ve got the appointment booked for the first thing tomorrow. P takes it for me twice just in case I’m doing something wrong with the cuff but unfortunately it’s still high. I’ve finished my new pregnancy book and I would recommend it to any Aussie mums or dads to be out there, P even flicks through it.
Why are both cats trying to sit on me? Oh we forgot to feed them! I sort them out and all is well again in their world.
10pm
My glorious bed calls me to me and I bundle myself up in the blankets, scroll through tiktok and happy cry at birth videos.
Total: 834.34
END SCENE
Weekly Total: $3749.20
Food + Drink: 589.09
Fun / Entertainment: 0.00
Home + Health: 2720.00
Clothes + Beauty: 14.95
Transport: 50.00
Other (Baby): 375.16
REFLECTION:
Besides the health care costs, this is a pretty normal week for me! I’m obviously thrilled to hit the Medicare max as this makes things so much easier with health care costs. I feel really relieved to know all my future costs are being covered by private health or what isn't is at a higher rebate now. Seeing my hospital estimate last week (before private health covers 95%) was really confronting and made me briefly reconsider my choice to go private, but the things that are now covered by health fund are amazing and worth nearly $30k over the first 3 months of the baby's life (especially if we end up needing special care nursery).
I’m pretty impressed about how many wtf and ffs I say in real life that I’ve removed from this diary. I find the Aussie approach to swearing can be a bit relaxed haha, so I did my best for you guys!
The impact of the baby brain is very real, aside from mental blanks at work, I had to check things like my subscriptions and ask P a few times, since so much of it is bpay and auto-debit, I don’t pay attention to it! There’s a few charges we have always had historically like tolls and ubereats that we’ve cut way back over the past few months.
I'm also considering a "what it costs to have a private baby in Aus" as well as a follow up in a few months once I've settled into Maternity Leave life (minimum wage, not my current salary) because tracking was fascinating and I'm a data hoarder.
Happy to answer any questions in the comments if I've explained something poorly.
submitted by IliacatJoke to MoneyDiariesACTIVE [link] [comments]
Disclaimer: I am very grateful to have had a lot of parental assistance over the years and also have serious mental health diagnosis, both of these flavour my money choices heavily (e.g. private healthcare and lack of car loan/insurance)
I am also heavily pregnant so please excuse any baby brain related errors!
START SCENE
Retirement Balance: $62,000
Equity: $35k of a $680k property, we bought our 3 bedroom apartment last year using my parents’ equity, so no deposit was required.
Savings account balance: 20k - a lot of health/baby related costs have come out of it lately!
Credit card debt (and how you accumulated it): $800 which I pay off each monthly pay, if it wasn’t for the grocery rebates I’d consider getting rid of it.
Student loan debt (HECS): BA in passion/fun area, then IT/Accounting degree, very proud to say I am down to my final $19k!
My husband P earns around $90,000 in healthcare but can be more with overtime, he has around $30k in super and his HECS debt is due to be wiped out following our recent election so won’t be including that.
Section Two: Income
Income Progression: I had been working in retail full time after loving full time work instead of uni, until my transition to IT so started as a retail casual worker on $30k 10 years ago and changed to IT 6 years ago, jumping from $55k to $95k in that time, mostly through promotions, 1 company merger and 2 company changes.
Main Job Monthly Take Home: I am paid $5200 monthly and P is paid fortnightly at $2400 to $3000 depending on his shifts. Both our pay excludes tax, HECS payment and medicare levy, his pay includes salary packaging.
Section Three: Expenses
Mortgage: 3150 (locked rate until next year, pending interest rise)
Savings contribution: $500
Donations: $25-75 a month mostly to various MH organisations
Electric/Council/Water: 400 (we’re currently overpaying ahead of Mat leave)
Internet/our mobile phones: $320 (we’re currently overpaying ahead of Mat leave)
Subscriptions (Newspapers (NYT, SMH), Youtube, Xbox, online backups/cloud, VPN, pregnancy app, Amazon Prime, Netflix, Bitlocker, UberOne, Spotify Duo): $110
Private Health insurance: $420 for Top CoveTop Extras + pregnancy
Car insurance: covered in my parents plan, our car was a gift from my parents
Regular therapy: Psychologist $220/fortnight and psychiatrist $280/quarter
Transfer to P for things like fuel: $500
7 Day Money diary:
Thursday:
5am
I’m staring at the ceiling while the baby kicks my kidney, P snoring next to me, contemplating my existence. I’m trying not to start ‘the list’ run through in my head (buy milk, have I booked my next blood test, where is my winter coat, etc).
5.30am
Give up on sleep and get up for the day, I make a weak coffee for me and a regular coffee for P (I like the taste of coffee, weak lets me have 2-3 cups throughout the day without hitting my pregnant caffeine limit) and start packing up my lunch and bags for work. It’s OB day so I won’t be in the office until 10am today.
9am
After a dance party in the car we’re at the OB, all good news and another list of final scans and tests, we’re now in the downhill run! I pay for my last half of (private) OB management fee since we’re passed 28 weeks now. ($2500 (Medicare rebate soon: $580))
Stop at a bakery to treat myself before work, danishes are the breakfast of champions! ($12.00)
2pm
Last vendor meeting of the day, and i’m ready to take a nap. I’ve decided to spend the rest of the afternoon working on my handover document, I’ve only got 8 weeks to go before Mat leave!
3pm
Text my psych to convert our Saturday afternoon to a Zoom call, I’m not up for extra waddling to the train this week.
5pm
Spend the train ride home working on my crackhead baby spreadsheet (colour-coded, multi tabbed, shopping list, meal prep list, etc) and researching baby items.
P meets me at the station to grab my bags and we walk home, well he walks ahead and I move at a more stately pace.
7pm
Crawl into bed with a bowl of pasta and Ambulance UK on the iPad, kitten at my feet, older cat at my hip. Eventually P awkwardly maneuvers around blankets, my pregnancy pillow and cats.
11pm
Spontaneously adding to my online chemist wishlist of things I need for post birth and hospital bag. Cats and P grumble when I once again get up to pee, pregnancy feels so glamorous now.
Total: 2512.00 (pending MR)
Friday:
6am
Wander around the apartment with coffee in hand and contemplate the nursery layout options, I’ll measure it all tonight and make a floor plan so I can visualise it better. After boarding the train, I scroll through my due date Bump Group on Discord and catch up on the topics, many of the mum’s are NA based so the chat pops off 12am - 4am my time. I message a few friends and my bestie spams me with tiktoks. We tell a few dark MH jokes and I try not to laugh on the train.
8am
Arrive at the office, coffee number 2 in hand and I jump into a few Teams chats with various groups, including my manager and counterparts in another city’s office. They’re in a different time zone ahead of us so they flag any issues that started earlier our time and I’m grateful.
1.30pm
Where the hell did today go? I’ve barely left my desk and can’t believe the amount of firefighting I’ve been doing today, following up vendors, coordinating fallback solutions for outages, soothing ruffled feathers and talking team off the ledge in stressful situations.
I’ve definitely not eaten enough today and decide to place an ubereats order instead of raiding my mini fridge stash - Subway it is! ($18.97)
I spend my lunch break reading my latest pregnancy/birth book (The Complete Australian Guide to Pregnancy and Birth) and it’s honestly my favourite one I’ve read so far. I’m also a big fan of the podcast the authors run. I have queued up this week’s episode for the trip home as the mum featured has a similar mental health issue to me and I’m excited to hear her journey, also to get ideas for things to raise with my care team.
5pm
Security protocols kick us out of the office building and I am thrilled to escape! P picks me up from work since he’s off today, and my hips and feet are very grateful. There’s a quick stop in at Coles for pizza ingredients, milk and the very essential choc chip waffles. ($46.94)
Once we’re home P feeds the cats and unpacks while I get started on the bases, my birthday present last month was a KitchenAid and at the rate I’m going the cost per use is coming out pretty damn good! I leave the base to rise, pop my feet up and do my nightly blood pressure (127/82) which I log into my health app. I also add my weight from yesterday’s OB appointment and I'm thrilled to say I’ve stopped losing weight now the suspected HG has finally settled.
7pm
Take several brag photos of my pizzas #homemade and settled in front of the TV with blankets, footrest and P. I do send P back to the kitchen twice for serviettes and my water bottle, but once I’m settled, I’m not bloody moving.
I queue up the latest Top Chef (International All Stars Season 20) on Plex and get ready to support my fellow Aussie! P grumbles about my fixation with Top Chef, but all he gets is side eye in response. It’s a great episode for creativity, he even admits the winning dish is impressive. He vanishes the second the episode’s over for his office and a rewatch of the extended, super, mega, special edition of The Hobbit. I move on to Ambulance UK and annoy him over text with questions about the medical terminology being used.
8pm
Bedtime with a heat pack as my back is killing me! I try to convince P to come to bed and hold it against me since bubs is not allowing stomach laying anymore.
8.30pm
Success! P is helpfully holding it against me while I finish the episode and scroll the Iconic. Oh no! There’s now Stanley cups on there, I add it to my wishlist and promise myself I’ll think about it first. I want to also be a chic put together Stanley cup girlie!
Total: 65.91
Saturday:
3am
Back scrolling the Iconic and on a hunch check my credits (after rage returning maternity clothes a few weeks ago) and bingo there’s a credit there. I play around with wishlist items and stacking discounts, there’s a pale pink theme developing between the pink pregnancy overalls and the Stanley cup.
3.30am
Screw it, I’m ordering (10 points if you can guess what room of the apartment I made this order from) and it’s all due this afternoon except the pregnancy belt I've been grumbling about wanting. ($14.95)
9am
P brings me coffee, the kitten and the statement that he’s approved our Medicare Safety Net balance (he’s our primary family member) which means the rest of our refunds will be great going forward!! I’m very excited for 90% back on out of pocket costs for most medical things from now until December. Between my mental health and pregnancy I’ve beaten my normal record of September for the max you can pay OOP.
12pm
I’m sitting on the floor in the nursery trying to sort out piles of tiny clothes and remember to get P to help me off the floor before he heads to work. I head to the kitchen and start the bread process, I make our bread from scratch every weekend and the KitchenAid has made this sooo much easier. I decide one x1 wholemeal seed bread for P and x1 rosemary focaccia for me. Once they’re rising I head off to bed for a nap before therapy this afternoon.
3pm
I made myself some tea and washed my face to prepare for therapy as I woke up from my nap feeling like I was on another planet. I head into my office, no no now the nursery, damn I slightly tear up at the thought of my nice office now being a small desk in the corner. Well that can be another topic for my session today!
3.30pm
My psych and I go over all of the last 3 weeks worth of appointments with my health team and what my next steps are. I need to sort out my postpartum stay referral and lock in when I’m starting my top up meds. We talk through some of my work frustrations (not clear cut sexism but a level of obliviousness some of male managers are showing) and how I’m tracking mood/symptoms wise across the pregnancy. We’re both very aware that the final few weeks of pregnancy and the accompanying hormones can cause serious issues, so we go over warning signs and coping mechanisms. We go over the difference between ‘normal pregnancy feelings’ and my mental health condition feelings.($220)
4.30pm
Session done and my bread has all risen nicely despite the cold weather, I start the baking process and contemplate dinner. P is at work until 10pm so I’m on my own, which means all the Top Chef reruns and Ambulance UK my heart desires! I have a craving for spätzl so dig that out of the cupboard and defrost the schnitzel.
Iconic delivery!! I am officially a Stanley cup owner! I ordered the original, not the soft matte because Tiktok told me to, so I’m hoping I’ve made the right choice. Something about cold water through a straw just hits the spot. My glittery Starbucks cup looks on in disgust.
10pm
P finds me at my desk working on my spreadsheet of crazy, I mean baby, and is impressed but also too tired to focus on it now. I hear him calmly explain to the kitten that he can’t join him in the shower but he isn’t entirely successful.
We get into bed and P puts headphones in so I can drift off faster (or because I threatened more Ambulance UK? We’ll never know!).
Total: $234.95 (pending MR)
Sunday:
4am
And I’m up early again, my passenger is apparently an early riser these days which leads to me looking down and asking for more sleep “pleeeeease!” I try 37 positions and try to get comfy before finally drifting off again.
8am
I steal P’s dressing gown (mine’s now got an awkward gap due to the bump) and start the coffee process, the kitten joins me after finding a piece of plastic to pinball around the kitchen with, I am not coordinated enough these days to dodge him so I remove him and plastic to the living room.
I’m craving an egg muffin so I cook some sausages, eggs and toast english muffins and enjoy a mindless tiktok scroll while I eat.
12pm
I’m surprisingly tired after doing nothing all morning and head back to bed for a nap. I really hope the tiredness isn’t a sign my illness from last week is back! I’ve got a support group meeting in a few hours so I set an alarm.
2pm
I join the support group Zoom and immediately hear about how many people are sick or recovering from some flu or cold thing. There’s a lot of bugs going around at the moment! I meet some new people who have the same disorder or same ‘family’ of disorders as me and I update the group on my pregnancy journey. I really bond with 2 of the new ladies and I offer my email up to both to keep in touch before next week’s meeting.
5pm
I’m happily browsing Facebook Marketplace for baby things when Mum calls, she’s been shopping for baby (uh oh) and is excited to tell me about it. Amazingly she’s bought a bedside bassinet very similar to the one I was planning on buying secondhand and a safari themed lamp for the nursery. She’s also ended up with a high chair for their house on the coast and a bunch of themed fabric for swaddles, pillows, etc.
Total: 0.00 thanks Mum!
Monday
7am
I wake with my alarm for once, which would be odd except for how awful I feel. I end up deciding to call in sick, the flu thing that knocked me around until early last week appears to be back. Pregnancy means lots of cold/flu meds etc are not an option so I can’t soldier on. I alert my manager, set my team up with urgent tasks, chuck my OOO on and crawl back into bed.
A few things debit like SMH and Youtube (accounted for in monthly expenses above)
10am
I open my phone to a flurry of emails on my personal account, OH! It’s healthcare cover day! We have finished all our waiting periods and the beacons are lit! Let the floodgates of services and information begin! Our hospital and health fund both email to welcome me to their online learning platforms.
11am
A nice lady from our health fund calls to give me the spiel. I'd normally be wary about what all these amazing services are going to cost, but it’s all covered! She tells me about the learning platform (Nourish), the sleep clinic calls I’ll get after the baby's arrival and the welcome pack I’m going to be mailed. I get my login details as soon as we hangup, another fun thing to explore tonight once I’m feeling human again.
P is amused by how excited I am for all this information, he does caution me against over planning/over researching which is something I’ve been working on with my psych. I struggle to find a good balance between planning for problems and over planning to the point of stress. It’s a work in progress. I suspect I’ll always have issues with control/over planning.
4pm
I’ve napped most of the day, dealt with 1 urgent work issue and am now getting access to the hospital’s learning platform (Cradle). I'm grateful they’re short 5-7 minute long videos so put some on the iPad while I make tea and toast before deciding to tackle the nursery again.
7pm
Mum calls about more baby things - they’ve bought me a change table!? I’m slightly annoyed then I’m thrilled - it’s a brand I like that’s normally $400 ish for $30 at auction yesterday (a Sunday afternoon family hobby). They've just collected it, they’re going to sand and paint it for me in a nice green for the safari nursery. Another thing ticked off the baby spreadsheet.
Dinner tonight was heated up leftovers, I’m too tired for cooking.
Hmm blood pressure is high, I hope this is just sickness related and log it in my app.
8pm
Bed time! Despite sleeping all day I am exhausted and pass out almost immediately.
Total: 0.00 thanks again Mum!
Tuesday
11am
I’m in the office however I cannot tell you what I’ve done today, it’s all a blur and when I sit down with my ipad to make notes for this money diary my brain goes blank. I scroll through my sent emails and can see I’ve sent 26 emails (herding a difficult vendor, setting up meetings for later in the week, submitting my sick leave for yesterday and setting up a new starter orientation). I make another coffee and realise the mini fridge hasn’t been restocked (because I am the one that stocks it each week sigh). I jump online and do a grocery order - yogurt, cheese, salami, tomato paste, sliced bread, babybel cheese, apples and several juices) (52.00) it’s due in next 2 hours.
1pm
I make myself toasted sandwiches and try not to eat the entire packet of babybel. My work lunch group tells hilarious stories from their level of the office and it’s a nice escape from my level’s workload.
2pm
I send off my psychiatrist's referral for my private postpartum care stay (1-3 weeks long) and check it’s all covered with my health care fund (it is!). The private place I’ll be staying at calls me to check in, advise me of next steps and to give me my tentative booking date of 1 week after birth. I’ve got a spare 20 mins so do my intake assessment with them over the phone and get the all clear to be accepted in a few weeks. I’ll get another assessment 2-4 days after I give birth just to make sure I’m still a good candidate. I look over the welcome pack, what to bring lists and advice on partner overnight stays that all hit my email when I hang up. I forward the relevant bits to P and jump back into work.
5pm
An afternoon of meetings meant I did no deep/focus work or work on my handover, but I accept that and move on. I top up my Opal card for the week (50.00) via the app and it’s loaded by the time I’m tapping on the train. I’d normally account for this in the expenses up top but my train trips are very sporadic right now due to pregnancy waddle, so I’ve been carpooling with coworkers and P has been collecting me if his shifts line up along with the occasional UbeShebah.
5.15pm
I’m pinged regarding a site issue and it looks like the site is down. I jump on via my phone and iPad while on the train, I also start my time tracker for out of hours work. I scrap the conference call between my team and the vendor at 6pm and instruct the site to rollover to fallback mode, my team member gets them online again. I email my manager a quick update and switch back to tiktok scrolling. I’m really enjoying not having to fight for a seat most train trips now since I’m so visibly pregnant!
6.30pm
P meets me at the station again, is horrified that I’m dragging 3 books, several cups to wash, my coat (I overheated on the train) and my iPad around in multiple bags, he snatches it all and we start the walk home.
He’s made bolognese and it is the best smell to walk into after a cold day! I smother mine in cheese and prop my feet up to depuff. Then I puppy dog eyes at him and he agrees to Ambulance UK, we’re now in the London seasons and I’m loving the big city vibes. He still cringes at the medical sounds, but takes the time to explain how these patients would be treated at his hospital after their ambulance trips. I enjoy his commentary and it adds a background I would never normally know about.
8pm
I take my blood pressure and it’s high for the 2nd night, I’m a bit concerned but trying not to stress. It’s not 160/100 aka get your butt to ED but it’s still over normal. I log it in my health app and make a note to monitor it and call the OB if it’s up again tomorrow.
I message a friend about his opinion of epidurals (since he does them all day) and ask for the dumbed down reality check, he’s been an amazing support this pregnancy so I know he’ll give me a great answer, and he replies back with all the pros/cons as well as the common issues and how they get fixed. He reminds me to ask my OB since I’ve got pregnancy hypertension, it’s likely I would almost benefit from that common side effect and I make a note in my phone to ask at the next appointment.
Total: $102.00
Wednesday
5am
Coffee, kitten pats, older cat snuggles and then a small cry because I forgot to wash my preferred pregnancy leggings. I thankfully remember I’ve got an onsite vendor meeting today so don’t dress like a potato! I still wear Stan Smith’s but a cute knit dress and scarf up top so I look presentable. I bathe in embryolisse cream after washing my face (fun pregnancy fact - you can develop dry skin patches that make you look like a lizard!) and actually put some makeup on (Charlotte Tilbury base, YSL touche elcat, innisfree powder, lancome mascara and CT blush) followed by Replica’s By the Fireplace perfume. Ready for battle!
7am
On the train scrolling through the morning reports, I’m relieved to see all systems are reporting green after a few small hiccups yesterday. I move onto discord and catch up the overnight conversations in bump group.
9am
Quick catchup with my team and then I spend the morning preparing for the big cross time zone/country catch up with all IT team leads also updating my WIP tracker. I obviously then forget to save it and rage stomp off to the kitchen to make conciliation coffee.
I rage shop for KitchenAid accessories but don’t actually buy anything and my manager comforts me over teams.
12pm
I’m wrapping up in person site meetings to see a bunch of messages from P, he’s grocery shopping and querying baby wipe brands. (One of the best tips I got was to buy a pack of nappies and wipes each grocery trip to build your stockpile so it’s not such a shock, since newborns go through 10 nappies a day!). I reply but I’m a bit late and he finishes in Aldi, Coles and the butchers for the next fortnight (389.23). I’m getting very over this cost of living price increase on basic things like milk. He’s a smart shopper so I know that he didn’t overdo it.
3pm
I’ve taken my blood pressure a few times today and it keeps coming back high. I ring the OB’s office and book in for tomorrow morning (spoiler: my blood pressure meds are increased and I’m asked to check in with my pregnancy nephrologist sooner)
4pm
What the hell is this debit? Oh it’s the meal delivery service I forgot to suspend this week, guess we’re going to be a bit overstocked on food this week. I’m just going to class this as idiot/baby brain tax. (69.95)
5pm
P collects me and I have a small cry in the carpark, he’s had the baby capsule installed and driven to collect me with it so I can see it. Things are starting to feel very real now! I practice removing it and carrying it up to the apartment when we get home.
Leftover bolognese for dinner and we do separate screen time. I head to my computer after a bit to review my spreadsheet, since P has smashed out a bunch of things today in Baby Bunting. Nappy bin, capsule + install and baby bath are all ticked off! I get the receipts off our emails to log the costs (375.16)
7pm
Mexican bowls for dinner and we decide to try out the new RPA reboot that’s recently come back to TV (from the 90s!). I honestly hate every minute of it, the talking heads are really cringe and after the gritty realism of Ambulance UK (and Nurses Down Under) I can’t cope with it. We switch over to Ambulance UK after 1 episode and discuss deleting the rest. I was also really disappointed by how “doctor focussed” it was to the point where the nurses and allied health professionals (physios, ambos, etc) were cut out of certain shots, but you could still see their hands or shoes, that’s just not reality in Australian healthcare they’re the people patients see 90% of the time! Okay getting off my soapbox now.
8pm
I start my out of hours tracker and handle an issue for a site 3 hours behind me, in the end the onsite team and I get our part done, one of the vendors does not. We decide to tackle it tomorrow and a flick off a complaint to our account manage regarding this vendor rep. I notice a few of my counterparts are all in a teams call in their timezone and realise they must be cutting over a new system since it’s so late their time. I make a note to not bother them first thing tomorrow since they’ll likely all be start late.
9pm
Yep blood pressure is still high, so I’m glad I’ve got the appointment booked for the first thing tomorrow. P takes it for me twice just in case I’m doing something wrong with the cuff but unfortunately it’s still high. I’ve finished my new pregnancy book and I would recommend it to any Aussie mums or dads to be out there, P even flicks through it.
Why are both cats trying to sit on me? Oh we forgot to feed them! I sort them out and all is well again in their world.
10pm
My glorious bed calls me to me and I bundle myself up in the blankets, scroll through tiktok and happy cry at birth videos.
Total: 834.34
END SCENE
Weekly Total: $3749.20
Food + Drink: 589.09
Fun / Entertainment: 0.00
Home + Health: 2720.00
Clothes + Beauty: 14.95
Transport: 50.00
Other (Baby): 375.16
REFLECTION:
Besides the health care costs, this is a pretty normal week for me! I’m obviously thrilled to hit the Medicare max as this makes things so much easier with health care costs. I feel really relieved to know all my future costs are being covered by private health or what isn't is at a higher rebate now. Seeing my hospital estimate last week (before private health covers 95%) was really confronting and made me briefly reconsider my choice to go private, but the things that are now covered by health fund are amazing and worth nearly $30k over the first 3 months of the baby's life (especially if we end up needing special care nursery).
I’m pretty impressed about how many wtf and ffs I say in real life that I’ve removed from this diary. I find the Aussie approach to swearing can be a bit relaxed haha, so I did my best for you guys!
The impact of the baby brain is very real, aside from mental blanks at work, I had to check things like my subscriptions and ask P a few times, since so much of it is bpay and auto-debit, I don’t pay attention to it! There’s a few charges we have always had historically like tolls and ubereats that we’ve cut way back over the past few months.
I'm also considering a "what it costs to have a private baby in Aus" as well as a follow up in a few months once I've settled into Maternity Leave life (minimum wage, not my current salary) because tracking was fascinating and I'm a data hoarder.
Happy to answer any questions in the comments if I've explained something poorly.