Here’s a new thing I’ve been doing lately. I wander off into my own head. Just sitting there, in my chair in the living room, no TV, no music, no games, nothing. Just me, silence and my tinnitus.
It was in one of these stretches of nothing that I realized that I could make ice cubes out of iced tea and then my tea wouldn’t get watered down as the ice melted, so occasionally, they’re productive.
Sure, sometimes I get lost in a Facebook rabbit hole. I think a lot of us do, but this is different. I’m just in my head. Whether that is good or bad, I don’t know and maybe not for me to determine. That might be above my pay grade. I might just be slipping into a depressive episode and this is a new thing that one of my several medications is doing to help me recognize it.
I did just get one of the dosages increased but that only happened the day before yesterday and these mini “catatonic states” started a couple of weeks ago.
I was in my chair at 9:45 when I decided I was going to come in here and start writing a post and I turned off the TV. I finally left the chair at almost 11:00 to come in here.
I had sat there for over an hour, mostly obsessing about something that really pissed me off today. To most people, it would probably be just a minor annoyance and they’d bitch for a minute and it would be over.
Not me. I pull the errant string on the sweater and run with it until the sweater is a big fucking pile of chaos.
You see, I got this paracord bracelet a couple weeks ago. Something to recognize Mental Health Awareness Month, to show my support for it, this month and beyond. It wasn’t very expensive, but some of the money supposedly goes to help veterans with mental health problems and PTSD in particular. I got it from the Til Valhalla Project. I didn’t make that a link for reasons that will become apparent shortly.
After I received the bracelet, I was getting an email every other day begging me to write a review. I finally caved and did as they asked. My review said that it was a good looking bracelet that was well made. The only complaint I had was that the clasp, while solid and strong, was a pain in the ass to put on with one hand. It basically requires you to thread a bolt through three holes that you have to line up perfectly and then screw the bolt into place. I suggested that in future versions they may want to consider other options for the clasp. I gave it 4 stars and submitted my review so they’d stop bugging me about it. I submitted it just as I described. I started with the deserved compliments and in a reasonable, non-confrontational manner, stated what I had a problem with.
I know. Doesn’t sound like me, does it? “Reasonable” and “non-confrontational” are generally not adjectives that come up when I’m being discussed, but I really do start out that way. Most of the time.
They do respond to many of the reviews, thanking the reviewer for their input and stuff like that, so today I went back to the reviews to see if they had responded to mine and see what they had to say.
Well, they responded alright. Not in the way you might think, but they did.
Apparently, they are able to edit the reviews however they want. My review was now a 5 star review and the review itself was nothing but high praise wrapped up in a grammatical nightmare. They also changed the date and moved it back a couple of weeks, which I can only assume, was so that if I did go back and check for it, it wouldn’t be where I thought it was.
They severely underestimated my level of petty. Especially when such a grammatical atrocity has my name on it. That’s what pissed me off more than anything. I don’t put my name on anything I won’t stand behind 100%.
There where just over 200 reviews and I went through every. last. one. I was the only “Eric W” on the list, so that ruled out the possibility of it being someone else just by coincidence.
Naturally, I initiated a campaign to let everyone know what they had done and set about the task with gusto.
Ads pop up on my Facebook now for this particular bracelet.
They pop up A LOT.
So I wrote them a comment expressing my displeasure along with a screenshot of my, now, “review”. I copied and pasted the comment into Notepad and set about my mission. I scrolled through Facebook for a solid hour and posted the same comment and screenshot on every single ad I could find that they put up.
Every. Single. One.
They frequently found it and promptly deleted it, and I would put it back.
I’m thinking about using the screenshot of my review and putting corrections on it in red and leaving the comment “If you’re going to change my review because you didn’t like what I had to say, at least use proper sentence structure.
Yeah, I’m doing that next.
See! Sweater >>>>>> big fuckin’ pile of chaos.
Welcome to my brain. Please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times. You must be *this* tall to ride.
I know, I know. “Jesus, Eric, settle the fuck down. It’s not that big a deal.”
No, maybe it isn’t. Not to everyone. It’s a personality thing with a touch of psychology. There are others that will completely agree with me. To me, it’s a personal attack, especially given how nice I was about things at the beginning. The response was unwarranted, dismissive and a blatantly crooked way to do business. I’ve bought a few things from them over the last several years, but not anymore. If they are so easily willing to be this dishonest, I’m not out of line to question whether or not the money actually goes to where they say it does. That trust is gone and they’ll have to put a lot of effort into earning it back.
I’m aware that they won’t and they give absolutely zero shits about losing me as a customer and they don’t give a damn about my Facebook campaign either.
I’m aware that it’s all a great big waste of time and energy all for nothing. So if I know that, why do I do it?
Because while I’m wasting my time on that, I’ve forgotten about the more pressing issues that I have that I can’t do anything about right now. It allows me to DO something and not feel like I’m sitting here spinning my wheels wondering if I’m ever going to find a job despite the rampant ageism and automated resume readers. I’m not wondering when the other shoe is going to drop on the money my father is giving me every month to keep the bills and the rent paid, because it’s my father and there is always another shoe and it’s usually a big one. I’m not wondering why it’s taking so goddamn long for Social Security and Disability to decide whether or not 40 years of working and paying taxes, including serving in our military, is good enough for them to finally give some of it back.
I’m not wondering or worrying about anything because for a little while, I get to be an indignant, self-righteous asshole.
For a little while, I get to be right.
And I need that. Desperately.
Because outside of that, it feels like my life is in shambles.
So I create something I feel like I have control of, petty as it may seem to you.
Know that I am aware of it and I know the reason for it and yes, I will continue to do it anyway. Being self-aware of what is going on in my brain and recognizing when depression is setting in is half the battle, and that’s a good thing.
That and a dosage increase, apparently.
Will I ever be cured of this affliction? Fuck, I hope not. These posts would get even more boring than they already are. I’ll try real hard to think of something fun for the next post. Between the AI conspiracy rant from last time and back to depression this time, I’m due for some funny shit again.
At least I’m not a pro football kicker still living in the 19th century. I’d hate to be that guy right now.
I love all ya’ll. I’m just over here clinging to my righteous indignation.
Well done. Well said. I would have done the same thing.