Stop Yelling At Me

I went to our office this morning to dispatch my regularly scheduled radio shift. (Remember, always use Veterans Cab, the greatest taxi cab company in Richmond, Virginia!) As soon as I got there one of my drivers called me and started complaining that another dispatcher was yelling at him for doing what I had told him to do. ("Whenver you carry a customer in your cab," I'd told the driver, "Always give them your cell phone number so they call you directly if they need another cab. No matter how long it takes you to get back to them, never let them call the main office because we want their money in OUR pockets, not another driver's or owner's.") So what if the customer had to wait three hours for a cab? Well, me and the other dispatcher got into a heated discussion, for about the thousandth time in the last several years. He wants to run the cab company like a proper business, which I just think is a ridiculous idea. If we did that, I'd have to start showing up for work on time...ON TIME. That's crazy. No one should have to be at work when they're scheduled to. Forty-five minutes, an hour, hour and a half late--that's totally okay, you know? And if we ran it like a proper business, then everyone who works there would be making a lot of money and that is just insane. My uncle/father Butch and I are the only ones who are supposed to be raking in the dough, not these other guys who put in a lot of hours and really try to help the company grow. Screw them. (Well, some of them. Not all. A few of them aren't worthy of my bedroom.)

Then, eighteen or nineteen customers called to complain that they weren't getting decent service when I was dispatching cabs. That didn't bother me--I try to get at least thirty or forty complaints against me in a day--gotta keep my title as Worst Of The Worst at Veterans Cab, you know--but a few of them really yelled at me. Screaming and stuff. One customer said that I'd made them wait two hours for a taxi cab to Chippenham Hospital and caused them to not get there to say goodbye to her grandfather before he died. So? Is that MY problem? She should have just called him on the phone and said what she had to say.

So please, people, STOP YELING AT ME. I've got enough worries in my life as it is. I've got an embarrassing tattoo to get rid of, my car still hasn't been found after a night of wild partying, and for some reason my computer keeps telling me I've got mail even though every time I go outside to the mailbox there's nothing in it. Go yell at someone else.

Help With Kool-Aid

Can one of my readers/fans please help with something? I've been in the kitchen for the last several hours, trying to make some cherry Kool Aid. My problem is, I just can't seem to figure out how to get two quarts of water into that little paper package. Any suggestions or solutions?

Finishing The Puzzle

So I've been working on a big jigsaw puzzle that has taken up a lot of space on my dining room table. I finally finished it today, after two weeks. Two weeks seemed like a long time, but I got really excited and happy for myself when I looked at the puzzle box and it read "Eight Years And Up". Wow! Eight years and up, and I did it in only two weeks! I must be a super genius or something.

Why You Should Never Smoke More Than An Ounce In One Sitting

So I called my uncle/father Butch Hatch and asked him to order me a plaque so I could have something to hang on my wall proclaiming me the worst of the worst at Veterans Cab. Then, to celebrate, I bought a full ounce and decided to throw myself a little smoke party. I really only intended to smoke a quarter and save the rest for later, but one thing led to another and before I knew it I had gone through the whole bag. I didn't feel that high. Really I didn't. I was okay to drive. Or so I thought. I went to a bar on Robinson Street for a few drinks with a friend, and, well, one drink led to another which led to another and....now I know that a full ounce of weed topped off with nine Long Island Iced Teas is a VERY BAD idea.

When I woke up this morning, I was in a parking garage downtown. My hair was sticky, and even though I was still wearing my jeans, my underwear were missing. I went looking for my car, but couldn't find it. I thought I'd parked it at the intersection of Broad Street and Floyd Avenue...or maybe at the intersection of Staples Mill Road and Forest Hill...but whole chunks of my memory were just a blur. So I called a cab home. No, I didn't call Veterans Cab, because I didn't want my co-workers to see me like that. I called Napoleon Cab, a ratty little company that employs several of my former drivers. (Several of them are also my former lovers, but that's a different story for a different day.) The cab fare was $67, and my purse was missing just like my car, so I had to go next door and borrow the money from my neighbor. I hated doing that. My neighbor is a hunk, and I'd been thinking about trying to get him into my bed, so having him see me like that probably worsened my chances.

Getting in the shower to clean myself up, I caught a glimpse of my backside in the bathroom mirror and my jaw hit the floor. Apparently at some point during the preceding wild night, I'd gotten a tattoo on my rear end. It says....oh, this is so embarrassing...it says: "Warning! Biohazard. Do Not Enter." Now I have to find out how much tattoo removals cost. They're probably expensive, so I'll have to steal some more money from the guys at Veterans to pay for it. Oh well. Not the first time I've stolen from them. And it surely won't be the last.

Hooray! I'm The Worst!

Hooray! After months of working at it, I am now officially the worst radio dispatcher/ owner at Veterans Cab. (The coolest taxi cab company in Richmond, Virginia. No, wait. The coolest in the world!) I'd been fighting for the title with Rob and Harry, but now that they're both gone, the championship is all mine! I'm so happy that we get more customer complaints on my two radio shifts than on all the other shifts combined. See, if you really try, you CAN be the worst in the world at something!

Hello there!

Good day to all of you lovely people! For those who don't know me, my name is Heather Beveridge and I am one of the wonderful owners of Veterans Cab Association in Richmond, Virginia. The coolest taxi cab company on the planet! (We rock!) I thought it might be a good idea to start sharing myself with the world, so I've started this blog to express my thoughts, feelings, dreams, desires, experiences, etc. with all of my terrific fans! Yes, even you, Tommy.

So, first, a little about me...I love rock and roll, I'm 420 friendly--well, actually, 420 addicted--, and one of my goals is to play Ginger in the Broadway musical version of "Gilligan's Island". I know I'm not pretty enough and I will have trouble remembering my lines, but I won't let that stop me! You can do whatever you want if you put your mind to it. What else? Oh, I live in Powhatan County, Virginia, which is just east of Richmond. Or is it south? I was never very good with directions. I love listening to Glenn Beck and I am a proud member of the Tea Party. I am a bit of a nymphomaniac. My favorite color is red. My favorite tv show is "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader". (I learn so much watching that show. Did you know Washington is the capital of the United States? Who'da guessed?)

Well, that's all for now, to start. I gotta go walk the dog and smoke my medicine. Love y'all!