ROE INTENSE

“My name’s RI, by the way,” I said. I settled a handful of pans into a dish rack for washing. “I’m Huey,” the new guy said. I wanted to call him He Who Has Giant Earrings (Gauges) – in reformed Hebrew, ‘HWHGG,’ – but I figured Huey was easier on the eyes, ears, mouth and nose. And boy-howdy are they giant. I didn’t look too close. Staring is not polite. They look to be 3/4” gauges, maybe up to an inch. He’s soft  spoken. He appears to pick up technique fast. I asked when he had started. Less than a week ago, he had said. I finished a load of dishes and went to check on orders. None were up, but the my manager was there. “Does that other manager work here anymore?” I asked. I was referring to another gal that I had worked with several times before. “Yeah, she works during days,” she said. “But Iron Man got transferred.” (Iron Man is yet another shift manager. I call him Iron Man because of his ability to persevere. I guess he wrecked his motorcycle really bad. Traumatic brain inj

I pulled into my pizza restaurant’s parking lot Wednesday evening. A greeter was washing the glass of the storefront. I could see people milling about inside. Seemed normal. Cap’n ’s right-hand man, Leff-Tenant , is a smart young manager. He works hard. I enjoy working with him because he’s careful. He’s also considerate of every responsibility in the store. He was the first person I ran into. He was rocking a beard net and looked nervous. Exhibit A) The beard net. Beard nets are required for certain types of facial hair. Beards. Duh. But why nervous? It’s not like the beard net was of a type that caught fire at random. And it’s not like it held calm wasps to his face that could explode into a stinging rage like wasps tend to. And the existence of his lower jaw and chin did not come into question due to the net. Those types of beard nets might make anyone nervous. Then I saw it. Corporate color flashed out of the corner of my eye. I whipped my head around to focus, but it was go

Some Fridays are busy right off. Some start in the dumpster. My shift starts at 6:30 PM. I’m delivering solid for about an hour until the end of the dinner rush under normal circumstances. There are days, however, where the dinner rush starts a bit late. You could call them Sleepers. You show up. The delivery screen is empty. Drivers are doing prep, gabbing with greeters or cleaning. It feels like it’s going to be a slow night, then BLAM. ORDERS. Friday was one of those nights. The bell chimed its normal chime as I stepped into the back of the restaurant. Cap’n was helping some people with computer stuff in the back. She scurried up to the front to get me ready in the system. The cooks weren’t too busy. The greeters were laughing about something on their cell phones. I started looking for work. I went to the dishes. Two drivers were already washing the dirty and stowing the clean. I went ahead and pulled a few buckets of dishes from the front as needed and added to the dish queu

I changed my shift around. I now deliver Wednesdays and Fridays. “But RI,” you might ask, “if you’re being Gazelle Intense about getting out of debt, why are you dropping hours?” Sanity, I think. My own and that of my wonderful wife and children. Sundays have become grumptastic for me. We don’t like that. Also, the weather is changing. I’m going to need time to work on the house. Saturdays fit. In other news, we got three drivers from another restaurant. They’re cool. I haven’t gotten to know two of the three very well. They seem nice. The third doesn’t seem to enjoy the change. Or maybe someone bullied him before work. Or maybe he’s just got painful gas during every shift. I call him ‘Disappointed’. Notice the capital ‘D’. For those of you that are new to my blog, I don’t give out the names of the people I work with. But,  you  need to hear my stories, so I give them other names. I’ve told you about Cap’n , Tick , Tock, the Scott, Leff-tenant , the Warrior and a couple of other

I can count on two fingers the number of times I have been pulled over in the last ten years. The second of the two happened Wednesday night. It started raining last Sunday. The rain turned into a four-day mist. It was damp the whole week. My grass grew with uninhibited vigor. The leaves of our day lilies glowed a vibrant green in the low-light of the overcast afternoons. Several of the tulips were opening. It’s beautiful weather in my book. I was on my way back from a damp delivery later that Wednesday. I was heading South on 24 th Street. The radio hummed with some music or another. I pondered life and music and pizza. Then an SUV pulled into view with nothing but its parking lights on. They were headed the opposite direction. It was dark. And wet. I was worried about them. My mind flashed back four or five years previous. It was daytime. I was headed West on L street in a rusted out Buick Regal. The speed limit: 30 mph. I was behind an 18 wheeler that was going 15. Ok, sorry.

Divorce- [dih- vawrs , - vohrs ] (noun): total separation; disunion; (verb- used with object): to separate; cut off. It’s a word that no married person wants to hear. Or speak. Six years ago, I dedicated my life to one man. A year later we married. Life was good and we had everything we wanted- or so it seemed. The reality was that we were in debt, fighting over the finances and generally unhappy. My marriage was disintegrating right in front of me. You see, I was the Nerd and the Saver and my husband was the Free Spirited Spender. I attempted to work on our financial issues but it seemed like no matter how hard I tried, Mr. Free Spirit and I were never on the same page. Bills were past due and our bank account was always bouncing. But we got that new video game and had that silly kitchen gadget we thought we needed! Before I knew it, our financial differences had become a major marital problem that couldn’t be fixed. I found myself saying the worst four words I had ever said. I

Hello. Welcome to the Roe Intense guide to getting and staying out of debt despite medical setbacks. This 5 step process stinks. I’m speaking more about the challenge therein. You might say the same about the quality. I’m serious about the challenge part. For the vast majority of Americans, medical setbacks are unwelcome surprises, not to mention three quarters of us live paycheck to paycheck and the average credit card debt per household is over 15 G’s . These experiences are specific to myself and our family. I am sure it will be easy for you to relate. If not, just wait. Murphy loves you. Medical setbacks aren’t an ‘if.’ They are a ‘when.’ Let’s get started. STEP 1: Wait for a medical setback to occur. (It won’t take long.) Please note that this step is even more effective if you can pile your medical setbacks on top of tax and/or car repair setbacks . I arrived at home on April Fool’s at around 7 PM from Nerd Job. It was my first Wednesday delivering pizzas, and yes I was l