Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

“Daddy’s Never Going To Let Us Have A Puppy”


I am biased, my daughters are beautiful and cute.  But they are also manipulative.  I caught on to just how powerful both are many years ago, and it was not long after that they realized how to deal with me, being aware of their powers of the mind.  For others however, you will not be as lucky.  Even Wendy has only caught on just a couple of years ago.

It was during dinner, when Madison blurted out, “Daddy, can I have a chameleon?”  In spite of being outnumbered by four-legged animals in our house, my answer was still going to be “no”, because I am only willing to go as far as furry animals for pets.  As usual, Madison turns on her negotiating skills, all animals appear to be reptilian in nature.  However, once she realizes that my answer is always going to be “no”, she changes her performance level.  She runs through nearly all emotions, beginning with cute, then disappointment, then anger, then sorrow.

Of course I am firm, and I am relying on Wendy to hold her ground, which she is not known for.  Just like that, tears start to fall from Madison’s one eye.  Dammit, Madison is taking this to a whole new level.  I know that I am still good.  My attention is on Wendy hoping she will not crack.  “Hold on Wendy, you can get through this,” I say to myself.  And then an odd thing happens and there is no reason for it.  Madison starts laughing, but the tears are still coming out hard and furious.

This is no longer funny.  This goes beyond crocodile tears.  Madison can cry on demand.  The only time I was not prepared for Madison and tears, was in the event of a painful event, whether physical or emotional.  But as a manipulation?  But what Madison did not realize, is that Wendy would now adapt to this new strategy.

Both Madison and Emmalie have great hearts, endless compassion and empathy.  But Madison has a whole other level of the emotions when it comes to animals.  I cannot recall if I ever wrote about our Pittsburgh kitten, if not, I will have to put that one down, because it is the classic tale of how to make Dad crumble, and in front of family and friends.

There have probably been at least a half dozen attempts by all the females in our house to increase the animal population.  There are many reasons at this point for me to say no, from expenses to safety.  Safety being sensativity to increasing the risks of developing allergies.  The more concentrated and amount of fur, the better the chances of the immune system turning on us.  Then there is the fact that Pollo is a much older dog, and may not do well with the energy of a young puppy.  While some may think he would do well with the company, the truth is, that it would be an experiment.  And finally, I want to give all my attention to Pollo at this point.  I do not know how much longer I can expect him to go at thirteen years of age for a golden retriever.

And so, another attempt was made last night.  With an upcoming birthday party for my younger daughter, I spent my evening cleaning up my yard.  My family has already gotten me once before with the “surprise pet trick,” and I still never see it coming.  But I figured that since they were coming home from karate lessons, and Emmy’s birthday coming soon, that when my daughters arrived back at home and said, “Daddy, you need to come and see,” I clearly was not expecting anything other than something to do with the party or birthday.  So evidently I was not moving fast enough, Wendy came outside to greet me instead.

She flipped open her phone to reveal a puppy.  Not just any puppy, but she had taken the girls into the one local pet store that we both despise, because we know where they get their animals and the conditions that the animals are subjected to.  But with two young children tagging along, it makes the job of the pet store a lot easier to sell the animals.

So, here I was covered in grass clippings from weed wacking, and two normally beautiful little girls filled to the brim with excitement wanted me to get into the car, and take the ride with them, back to the pet store.  The dog would be ours if we chose.  The problem for my family, it needed to be unanimous, and the decision was not going to be.

This is what I gave up for my selfish decision.  My youngest was going to make it the best Father’s Day ever.  Madison hugged me like I was about to be shipped overseas.  And then out came the stories on just how cute the puppy was.  It was a great assault on my empathetic system.  But as I am known to do, I made the difficult situation for all of us.  I had to say “no.”

Of course, the ten year old mind, and the eight year old mind do not understand my decision.  Together they have oversimplified the conversation in that Daddy will never allow them to get a puppy again which was not fair because Pollo was not a puppy when we adopted them.  I did my best to assure them, this was not the case.  But simply it was going to t take time.  I knew they would not understand that.  But I had to try.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Counting Grains Of Sand


I remember as a child, and I see it in my own children, the excitement that builds with an upcoming holiday, birthday or vacation.  If I recall, that is what motivated me to look at a calendar, so that I could do the actual figuring myself as the grown ups around me did not share my enthusiasm.  I miss those days, alot.

As an adult, we can share that same excitment.  It could be a wedding date.  There were two exciting dates that Wendy and I had been waiting for, the days that our daughters would be placed in our arms.

But what happens when the event that you are looking towards is not going due to a happy event or occasion.  There are no party favors or souvinirs.  Instead, fear replaces joy.  Emotions and temperment run short.

One such occasion for me could have been when I had my open heart surgery.  I was lucky.  I had less than fifteen hours to think about the major change that was going to occur in my life.  The majority of that time was spent still coming out of anesthesia and going through pre-surgical testing.  When all was said and done, I really only had approximately five or six hours to worry about what life would be like.  The fact is, many people face open heart surgery, and unless it is due to a heart attack, that surgery may take weeks to be performed.

My Father now finds himself in that very situation.  A couple of months ago, he went to his family doctor for a chronic cough.  We are talking several months.  His doctor having already tried various modes of treatment, made the decision to order a very expensive test, a CT scan, much to my father’s objections.  As it turned out, jumping right to that test may just mean the difference between life and death.  And I do not say it that way for dramatic effect.

A little over a month ago, my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer.  More importantly, and in his favor, Stage 1, meaning that the tumor has not spread to other organs or other parts of his body.  His cancer was caught early.  His best option for treatment is surgery.  Unfortunately, it will not just be the tumor that is being removed, but his entire lung.

He has another couple of weeks before the procedure.  He has gone through a lot more than one person ought to experience in one life.  This no doubt will be the biggest event in his life as it will result in a major lifestyle change for him, no more smoking.  He had been smoking for 57 years and even with a major heart attack, and the beginning stages of emphasema, he was not able to quit.  My dad has now officially quit.  He is quite lucky.  I remember the “blackened” lung that was always put on display back in elementary health class as to convince us smoking was bad.  My dad’s lung does not look like that, which is surprising for as long as he has been smoking.  His cancer is currently a small tumor.  And if watching the calendar was not bad enough, getting rid of the cancer must be done soon.

Predatory Companies


I have to give Wendy credit.  She knows a bargain when she sees one.  Unfortunately there are some scumsuckers out there, I would probably use a nicer timer, such as predatory sellers, who prey on people who are gullible to think that they are getting something for nothing.

I learned a lesson the very hard way with my ex-wife.  We had needed to replace our old and drafty windows, so while going through a mall one day, there had been a display in the middle of the mall called “Windowman”.  I am not sure if this exists anymore under this name, or as I would find out, once I filed a complaint with the BBB, they change the name frequently because they are such scumsuckers.  Here is how that event worked.  An appointment was set up with us, “no obligation to purchase, just listen to our presentation.”  This phrase can actually apply to any type of predatory company.

My ex-wife says certainly.  Here is where it turns wierd.  The company insists on setting up our demonstration late in the evening, after 7pm.  For us, the situation was even worse, as it ended up being a Friday night.  I felt uneasy about the whole thing having done the salesman thing myself in my past, but not wanting to irritate my ex, I reluctantly agreed.

By the end of the night, which ended up being close to 11:00pm, we had seen an awesome demonstration on how our windows were failing us, as if we did not notice the drafts in the winter and the heat bouncing of the furniture in the summer.  Their super-duper double-paned windows with vynil frames were gaurunteed for a lifetime.  The savings would be tremendous.  Only one thing stood in our way.  Purchase and installation would cost us $10,000.00 which clearly we did not have and could not afford as we had no equity in the recently purchased home.  No worries, as the salesman was able to reach his manager, the owner no less at 11:30pm on a Friday night, who did everything they could possibly do to get us those windows we so desperately needed.  Paperwork signed.  Windows were to be installed in less than two weeks.  A collaborative effort with everyone seemingly in approval, almost everyone.

On the following Monday, I received a call in my shop from the window company.  It seems that there was an error on the contract, and I that all I needed to do, was to sign the new contract.  When the finance manager showed up, not the salesman mind you, he handed me a new set of finance forms along with the contract.  When I questioned him why the new finance forms, he said it was because they misplaced my original forms.  I was livid.  Those forms had all my account numbers on them.  I told this putz I wanted out.  He did his best to calm me down and assure me that everything was alright, but as I persisted, he grew weary of the argument that I was giving him.  Then he “hit” me.

He warned me that the way my original finance forms were filled out, I stood a risk of not just having the windows to pay for, but an additional amount of this home improvement, because to get the deal done, they were supposed to consolidate the debt.  However, the way it was written, the amounts were never broken down.  So if I were not to sign the new paperwork, they would hold me to the new amount, just for the price of the windows which could have easily topped out at triple the amount.  Feeling defeated, I felt I had no choice but to sign and get this corrected.

Later that evening, I contacted an attorney who informed me of my recision rights.  I had three business days from signing the contract to cancel it.  When I called the window company to cancel it, I was informed that the three business days had passed.  When I questioned that it was only Monday evening, he explained the definition of my three business days:

Day 1 = original contract signed at 11:30pm on Friday night (1/2 hour left of the day)

Day 2 = a Saturday(?) – banks are open aren’t they?

Day 3 = Monday – it was after 5pm, so everything after is transacted on a Tuesday

Again, feeling defeated, I stopped my fight, only to realize that I had signed a new contract on Monday.  That would mean that the old contract was null and void right?  I had three new business days, right?  The bastard backdated the contract date.  I did not notice it until that moment.  I was screwed.  The project would eventually be done, in the middle of an ice storm, as to prevent any attempts by me, to file a lawsuit and have the contract overturned.  The best I could do is file a complaint with the BBB (Better Business Bureau).  There was no end, but conveniently, Lehigh Valley Windowman had changed its name to Windowman of The Lehigh Valley, as it had done before and again and again.  And it always retained the same ownership and management.

So can you blame me for being as skeptical as I am today?

Fastforward to a week ago, as Wendy tried to take advantage of an opportunity.  The “free” vacation.  It is not a time share.  We just need to sit through an hour bullshit session, and we will be handed a weekend voucher for our family to visit the Great Wolf Lodge.  That simple.  Wait, we are not allowed to bring our children to this meeting.  Okay, understandable.  They do not want us being distracted by our children as we are being brainwashed into purchasing what they will be subliminally be trying to sell us, though Wendy insists they are not.

It was scheduled for a Friday night, and it had to be done by the end of the week, as it would be quite some time, before this company would be back in the “area” again.  I put “area” in quotes, because, the place we had to sit through shit was a fifty minute drive.  But on a Friday night, right at the heart of rush hour, because we had to drop our kids off at a sitter, turned into a nearly two hour drive.  Now we did give a courtesy phone call to let them know we were running late due to traffic, but we were coming.

After the lecture about how the doors were expected to be locked right at 6:00pm and my response of “don’t even think of telling me that I drove two f-ing hours to be turned away after I met all of their other demands, we were told that we should just get there as soon as possible.  Unfortunately, due to traffic being worse, the ten minute late, became a half hour, when we arrived.  Okay, not polite, but we should still be able to hear the majority of their crap.

cue the crash sound

As we rushed into the unmarked and unnamed newly built hotel, with a Hooters restaurant as its hotel restaurant-to-be, a gruff, short, middle aged woman came out of the conference room.  Before we could even finish expressing our appreciation for understanding our tardiness, she barks out, “THE PROGRAM’S OVER.  YOU’RE TOO LATE!”

5-4-3-2-1… “ARE YOU FRIGGIN’ KIDDING ME?!?  I JUST SAT THROUGH TWO HOURS OF FRIGGIN’ TRAFFIC BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T LET US BRING OUR GIRLS WITH AND WE HAD TO TAKE THEM TO A BABYSITTER!?!  F^*%^&$!!  YOU!!!  TAKE OUR NAMES OF YOUR DATABASE AND NEVER SEND US ANYTHING AGAIN.  THIS IS BULLSHIT!!!!”

No.  That was not drama.  That was pure temper.  I am not known for showing my emotions, ever.  But, I did not want to be here in the first place.  I sat through the traffic.  There was supposed to be another full hour of their brainwashing program yet.  And then I knew that I was going to have to head back into that same traffic I just arrived from.  All I remember in my rage was Wendy trying to rush me out of the building as she wanted to try and salvage any effort we came down for.  Remember, we were to be offered a free weekend trip for the family.

As I left the hotel lobby, Wendy caught up with me.  We got into the car.  She was speechless.  She had never seen me get mad like that, but she also knew I was justified with my feelings.  Still, not wanting to give up our “free” gift, she called the 800 number to explain what happened.

The person on the other end of the line gave off the appearance of being flabbergasted and apologized.  “They were not supposed to turn you away.  You are entitled to the free gift that you were promised.  We don’t work like that.”  And with that, the operator put a “supervisor” on the line who offered even more of a consolation as to make up for the inconvenience.  I tried to explain to Wendy that perhaps Karma did us a favor on this one.  After all, you do not get something for free in this country, it just does not happen.  Even with a free trip,  there is still sales tax to be paid, and probably other fees.

It has been over a week since that debacle.  And the company continues to call and email Wendy.  With each contact, they seem to be sweetening this pot.  The representative even went as far as to say, that they would cover the fees (we call them taxes) along with two international flights.  Of course, this would mean more taxes and fees to pay on our end.  With international would come passport needs, and it just keeps adding up.

You do not get something for nothing.  They need to get paid.  They have a right to earn a living.  I just do not want to be their payroll.

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