Life Interrupted

How I got my blog name is as interesting as watching paint dry, no I’m just kidding, it was a bird nest on the ground. In my warriors days, between the mid 1990’s through the year 2010, I’d went toe to toe with four very hard cord Wicked Witches on four separate jobs. The last Wicked Witch in this bunch, gave me my blog name. By now you know, when it comes to my personal life, I like to exaggerate, because I’m trying to capture your attention. These women are no more, or no less worthy of being named Wicked Witches than I am, but for literary purposes, I’ll refer to them as Wicked Witches. Back to the story, there I was going toe to toe with the most intrepid and diabolical Wicked Witch of the west. She threw shade on every employee, bar none. Interesting enough, when she callously disregarded my feelings, I’d turned the tables on her. All I can say, “She could dish it out, but she couldn’t take it.” Things got so bad between us, that she sent me to see a psychiatrist (mandatory five (5) paid visits) and the rest is history. Me think that she thought I’d be so embarrassed by her desperate and callous ploy, that I’d quit working. If so, then she was dead wrong, because I was thrilled, ecstatic, and bursting with enthusiasm, because my employer paid the bill. Not to mention, I took advantage of being away from work, but still on the clock getting paid. I think I’d driven the Wicked Witch crazy at this point. What happened next was pure gold. The psychiatrist in this story, the one assigned to my case, she also contributed to my blog name. During my fifth and last mandatory visit with her, she tried to convince me to remain her client. I’d refused, so she took me behind the wood shed. To this day, I’m still bruised. ;-D Her diagnoses of my mental state was spot on, but also a scam to bilk me out of money. She was truly an amateur psychologist. Seriously, she operated her, “Psychiatric Business” out of her, “dilapidated living room” in her home. Not only that, she dressed like she was going to shop at Walmart, or what I’d prefer to as, “Trailer Park Chic.” It was psychology meet Appalachian mountains poverty. Needless to say, I would’ve been crazy to spend one penny on her hustle. However, she did warn me that my job was contingent on me becoming her client. Did I lose my job, you betcha, but the best part, I got hooked on all thing psychological.

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