Ladder rack honda ridgeline

System one ladder racks.

2023.06.07 15:05 MadDamage System one ladder racks.

Hey guys. So I have a 2012 king cab frontier. I keep finding system one ladder racks that measure 78”, but my bed is 74” at most. Are all system one contractor rigs adjustable or will I have 4” sticking out.
Is it something I can adjust myself or will I have to order a new one for my truck that size?
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2023.06.07 14:50 kiplet1 [City of Roses] no. 27.2: “The first order of Business” – at This table – antique Punk bullshit – the Basics of Security

[City of Roses] no. 27.2: “The first order of Business” – at This table – antique Punk bullshit – the Basics of Security
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tends to crumble
“The first order of business,” says the man at the head of the table, “in any face time we take with potential occupancy partners, we need to assess how the anticipated anchor’s gonna impact their appraisal and availability approach.” It’s a long table, a slab of wood the color of pale flesh, polished to a striking gleam that’s broken here and there by a phone or a computer tablet laid before this person or that, until down at the very other end of it, a couple of comb-bound reports bristling with post-it flags, a spill of colorful diagrams, a worn redweld holding a couple of file folders upright, a small black notebook splayed open, the wispy scratch of a fountain pen, APPRAISAL written in ruddy black ink, AVAILABILITY , then three sharp underscores. “It’s not,” the man at the head of the table is saying, “that we anticipate an antagonism toward the anchor, on the part of any potential partners?” His flat grey suit’s a touch too big, the collar of his soft blue shirt’s undone, his sparse beard neatly trimmed. “But by anticipating,” he says, “their respective stances vis-à-vis their individualized brand engagement profiles which, let me assure you, we will be reviewing in a thorough manner before we, we take up any,” he’s trailing off, “tête-à-têtes,” blinking quizzically. The room about them’s walled in cool sheets of green-tinged glass on all four sides and more beyond refracting, reflecting, shimmering desk lamps and fluorescents, computer screens, heads popping up over cubicle walls, turning, following the figure swimming up through them, one glass door after another opening before her, “I,” says the man at the head of the table, “excuse me,” as the final glass door swings open, she’s sweeping into the room, Ysabel in her long white coat. “I tried to tell her,” someone’s saying, a receptionist maybe, bobbing in her wake, and “Do you mind,” says an older man, halfway down the table, a hand on his phone on the wood, but she’s glaring at the very other end of the table. “How dare you,” she says.
“Sorry, folks,” says Lymond, screwing the cap onto his fountain pen. “Think we might have the room a minute?”
“I, um,” says the man at the head of the table, “we just got started?”
“And we’ll get right back into it,” says Lymond. “I’m really looking forward to hearing more about this brand engagement. Now,” pushing back his chair, “if you don’t mind,” but already they’re filing out, shirts and blouses of dull green, milky blue, an intrepid puce, awkwardly around past Ysabel all in white. “Um,” says the man who’d been at the head of the table, in his flat grey suit.
“Thanks,” says Lymond, cheerfully. The green glass door swings shut. “How dare I?” he says, to Ysabel. “I’m the King. A certain latitude’s expected.”
“You could’ve gotten her killed,” says Ysabel.
“They’re watching, you know,” he says, tucking a report into the redweld. “Go on. Lean over the table. Slap me. That should be enough to undo all his sacrifice secured.”
She blinks at that, draws back. “Sacrifice,” she says.
“He thought of it as such,” says Lymond, stacking up those diagrams, tapping their edges against the wood. “Now. Slap me, or turn about, and go home.”
“Not until you explain yourself, brother.”
“Oh, Ys,” he says. “If you would play at this table,” he’s tucking the diagrams into a file folder, “you must pay attention.” A wince, as he sets the folder aside. “We find ourselves upon a crux: the duel between the Devil and the Huntsman redounded to our favor, yet the wound’s but freshly healed. Any sudden shift might tear it right back open.” His hands, folded together before him, a thumb pressed tight against a knuckle. “Is that what you would have?”
“I’ve seen the wound,” she says. “He nearly cut her through. The owr does what it can,” and she looks up from the tabletop to meet his eyes, one brown, one blue, both cold. “She sleeps. She’s been asleep since the Mason brought her home.” Leaning down now, both hands planted on the glossy wood. “I’m doing you a courtesy, by answering a question I assume you would eventually have asked?”
A bitter something of a smile. “How is Jo,” he says, “how Jo is, I know how is our Gallowglas: loyal, and effective. I trusted her to do what needed doing, and she went and got it done. Now,” over her sharp intake of breath, “I ask, once more. You know what is at stake. Do you mean to stand against any particular point of our plan?” Leaning in close. “Slap me,” he says. “Or go home.”
She steps back, she turns away. Before she can open the green glass door he says, “Take care, sister, where and when you might vent any further displeasures?” Looking down, at his folded hands. “Our tantrums are expensive.”
“You’ve no idea,” she says, “what could’ve spilled from her heart, had his stroke been a whit more true.”
She opens the door. He shifts his thumb. The thin line of a neat straight cut along the edge of his forefinger, sewn with tiny beads of dark red blood. He lifts it to his lips. “Um,” says someone, the man in the flat grey suit a touch too big, peering into the room. “Everything good?”
“Paper cut,” says Lymond, waving him in. “C’mon, let’s go. Take it from the top.”

Well and I don’t know, dim voices floating up through floorboards loosely laid across the joists, not what we discussed, poets and junkies, epic, like some, there’s a mirror, there’s no one in the mirror, there’s a crack in the glass of it jagged, chased and dappled, splotched with gold, a spangled haze, such a history, working together, that didn’t work, a drip-drip trickle from the faucet, puddles on gold-streaked marble about the sink, but there, it’s gonna be epic, dust gone dark to grey, to black, a lump of it mucked up under the mirror, with the shreds of a burst plastic baggie, this, or this, or this. There’s music, too, loud but languid, strummed guitars, a melodeon, but she’s sitting up in the dark, her head in her hands, and there is no mirror, no light, no sinks or water, no marble countertop, but there is the dust, spangled, glimmering in the milky cloud of her hair, and still the music.
“Well if we have to have a name,” says Gloria Monday.
“It’s something to put on a poster,” says the woman sitting on the nubbled pea-green couch, one hand braced on the curled handle of an orthopædic cane, a big brown scaley purse in her lap.
“Well if that’s all we want,” says Gloria, wrestling to one side a great stretched canvas, a twirling figure calligraphed in slashes of black, to reveal another propped behind it, the next wild scribble of dance. She steps back, behind a tiny silver camera atop a stolid tripod, stoops to peer through it. “We could call it the Lawn,” she says, snapping a picture. Straightening, she looks back and forth, from the painting, to the image of it, now on the enormous white-framed monitor behind her there on the worktable.
“As in get off the?” says the woman standing off to one side, her long black coat done up with brightly silver buttons, and a little grey snap-brim hat on her head.
“That’s not what we discussed,” says Anna in her houndstooth trousers, narrow black-rimmed glasses glaring in the light.
“The house,” says Gloria, taking hold of the canvas. “Run-down and falling apart and poets and junkies and twenty bedrooms to one bathroom and full of,” lifting, “epic,” hoisting it aside, “legend, and, and art,” to reveal the next. “The Lawn,” says Gloria Monday. Her feet are bare, laddered tights printed with overlapping gears, her vast white T-shirt says Robot Fightin’ Boots.
“I liked Weatherall’s,” says Anna. “If we’re going to change it.”
“Yeah, well,” says Gloria, stooping behind the camera again.
“Sounds like some Harry Potter shit,” says the woman in the long black coat.
“Jilting of,” says Gloria, snapping another picture. “Granny Weatherall? Been a while, since you been in high school?” The woman on the couch snorts up a laugh, sits up, hefting her cane. “How about,” she says, pointing the wide rubber foot of it out, toward the cavernous space beyond, “this building,” the boxes, equipment, the bulks of whatever it is under tarps shoved off to either side, stacked in the stalls that one by one march down the long high walls, “the history,” soaked in soft grey light depending from up under the rafters, the windows there scrubbed clean of filth, scraped clear of paint, “a name should honor that.”
“It was a warehouse for vegetables,” says Gloria.
“A farmers’ market,” says the woman on the couch, “built by Italian immigrants, working together. Cooperatively.”
“Snot Market,” says Gloria, “Grime Market, that didn’t work,” grabbing the next canvas, “Pus Market has a certain punch,” hauling it aside, “but Anna didn’t like any of those, and anyway it’s antique punk bullshit. Effluvial Plane I kinda liked, but that’s too, much, y’know?”
“How old are you?” says the woman all in black.
“Fuck you,” says Gloria. “That’s how old I am.”
“Gloria,” says Anna.
“No, fuck this,” snarls Gloria. “We got the space. We’re doing the thing. It’s gonna be epic. And you can either get on board, get your, people, involved,” the woman on the couch, clutching her purse, “you can write about it like you know what’s gonna happen,” the woman all in black, hands in her pockets, smirking, “or you can scramble to catch up after, like everyone else.”
“Ms. Thorpe, we must apologize,” says Anna, after a moment, but “No, no,” says the woman all in black, “tempers run hot and you let them out and that’s fine, and then you stop and you take a deep breath and you think. Maybe you do this, or maybe tomorrow you’re kicked out for squatting. You don’t – ”
“Hey, Anna!” says Gloria. “What’s the owner got to say, about us being here?”
“There are no objections,” says Anna, but Thorpe looks away, rolling her eyes. “I did my homework,” she says, lifting her little grey hat, “or I wouldn’t be here at all,” scratching her head, her dark hair short, swept back. “You’re Suzette Wilson, you’re Tom Wilson’s daughter, and I’m sorry for your loss, but the title to this pile is hardly as clear-cut as,” but Gloria’s saying, “This, this is my place,” as Thorpe says “that’s before we even get into the questions of insurance, and zoning, and inspections,” but Gloria’s shouting “S1! Last Thursday! The Teahouse! You think they waited around for fucking paperwork?”
Anna and the woman on the couch, watching them both, Gloria seething, Thorpe settling her hat on her head, “Well,” she’s saying, tucking her hands in the pockets of her coat, “S1 is street-legal now, yeah, and the Teahouse? That was in Sellwood? Long gone. And you have any idea how much the merchants on Alberta pay the city for extra cops?” A shrug, and that smirk warms to something more sympathetic. “You want to beg forgiveness instead of ask permission and I can respect that, but there’s this delicate balance. You gotta be big enough to get noticed, but you can’t be so big you get noticed, you know?” Looking out, over the cavernous space below. “And all this you want to do in a week.” Turning back, hands spread in a hapless shrug, a burble of sound, “I like you,” she says, “I do, I like the idea,” looking up. It sounds like someone’s singing up there.
Up there, up at the edge of the planks laid across the joists, up by the brief ladder bolted to the wall a couple of long bare legs kicked over and orange underpants, ee, ee-oh nor, the keening voice a grunt, doo da-da dee, doo da-da dee, down the ladder to the walkway up there, a wild mad cloud of white-gold hair, “and quickly was received, enthusiastically,” and Thorpe looks down, over at the paintings leaned, at the image on the enormous monitor. “Some say that it had more to do with her,” the singer’s making her way, hand on the railing, “improper sense of dress, than her talent, or her diligence,” opening a door up there, painted with letters that possibly once said Ranchers, or Gardeners, and closing it muffles her song. “I’m sorry,” says Anna, drawing back their attention. “It seems Marfisa forgot we were meeting this morning.”
“I’ve seen,” says Thorpe, “I’ve heard her, before.”
“Salt and Straw,” says the woman on the couch, but then, lifting a finger, “no, that’s the ice cream.”
“She kinda came with the place,” says Gloria. Up there a crash of water, flushing, that door opens, Marfisa’s stepping out, “Cartier Bresson!” she shouts. “Max Ernst, Paul Eluard, George Bataille,” as she’s making her way back along the wall above them. “Their misogyny really irritated her, but she wasn’t, she,” stopping, standing there, wavering a little, looking down at them. Absently scratching just beneath a breast, and sunlight flashing from the gold dust spangling her skin.
“I heard you play once,” says Thorpe, abruptly.
Her wide smile spreading, Marfisa tips back her white-gold head, “Lee, ee-oh nor!” she sings, reaching for the ladder. “Lee, ee-oh nor!” Climbing back up toward the makeshift floor above.
“Stone and Salt!” says the woman on the couch. “That was it.”

Ding the microwave, she opens the door of it, reaches in with a hot pad for a steaming pink mug that says Sophia & Dorothy & Blanche & Rose. In she dunks a purple octopus infuser, dandling its delicate chain a moment. Color blooms.
Out of the kitchen, across the living room, dark wood paneling, grey-green shag, shuff and snap of her slippers into a nook of a hall, too brightly lit. She nudges open a door left ajar, into a small dark room lit only by sunlight staining the edges of heavy curtains drawn, and almost entirely filled by a great wide bed. “I’ve brought tea,” she says, setting the mug on the nightstand in the corner. “Hey.” Sitting on the edge of the bed. “I called Reg,” she says, reaching along the margin of the thick dark comforter, and a gentle stroke for the blond head there, turned away. “Told him we’d need another week. He wasn’t happy, but hey. Fuck him.” Tucking a lock of her own hair, as blond, as straight, behind her ear. “Chrissie,” she says. “Chér.”
“I don’t want any tea.”
“Yeah, well,” says Ettie, and she gets to her feet with a sigh. “This would be why I stick with men. They can’t break your heart.”

The door swings open, for a moment all’s revealed, scarred floor and drifts of grit against the bar, peeling dimpled paint along the front of it and its cracked vinyl bumper, dust furring the bottles along the top shelf, the washed-out flyspecked neon lights, the bartender, spiky hair flared palely to a golden brown, hand up against the raw daylight, skinny arm festooned with shadowy tattoos, “Jacks?” says Jessie, blinking, but the light’s swallowed away as the door swings shut, and dimness closes about the warm neon, the sparkle of glass, the rattle of drums and a couple of jangled chords, bubbling bass, “Jackie?” says the bartender, his hair gone black. “Ah, naw. She ain’t here.”
“Oh,” says Jessie, in her puffy pink parka. “Sorry. I thought,” and she shakes her head, Americans were thus denied, someone’s singing, with the guitar and the drums, all right to travel to the other side. “She usually works mornings,” says Jessie. “Any idea when she’s in next?”
“No, see,” says the bartender, “I mean, she’s not here? Anymore?” Folding those skinny arms, leaning his elbows on the bar. “And we can’t be giving out people’s schedules, come on. Basic security.”
“I’m a friend,” says Jessie, and then, “I used to dance here? About a year, year and a half ago. Went by Rain?”
“If you’re a friend,” says the bartender, “I mean, she left, what, right after the holidays? Two, three months ago? So, I mean,” and he spreads his hands. “Want something to drink?”
“Where’d she go?” says Jessie.
“I don’t know, Eugene or something? But even if I did I couldn’t tell you, because, security, you know. Coffee? Anything?”
Betcha my life, there’d be no violence there, and she opens her mouth to speak but everything lights up again, washed out, as the door swings open, two women, raincoat, trench coat, gym bag and backpack, nodding to the bartender who waves hello as they head through empty tables past the empty little stage, toward the nondescript door back there. “How about Chilli,” says Jessie. “He back there?”
“He, naw, Chilli, we’re,” the bartender jumps as she walks away, “we’re under new management,” he calls after her, “so,” but there’s confusion by that nondescript door as it opens, those women stepping through around and past a man who’s stepping out, brown leather vest and rich red hair flopping from a widow’s peak, “I need you to,” the bartender’s saying. Jessie waves him off. “It’s Gaveston,” she says. “I know Gav.”
But Gaveston’s holding the door for someone else, a tall woman in a white track suit, short hair greenly yellow, and Jessie stops short, in the midst of the empty tables. “Chariot?” she says. The tall woman’s saying something to Gaveston, as she heads off past the little stage. “Iona?” says Jessie, and the tall woman looks over to see her there in pink. “Oh,” she says, stopped short. “Rain.”
“Is she here?” says Jessie. “The,” a cough, “the Princess? Uh, Queen? Ysabel?”
Iona’s shaking her head, “I’m merely here on her behalf,” she says, stepping away, but “Iona,” says Jessie, “Chariot, tell her, please,” and Iona stops, looks back. “Yes?” she says.
Jessie looks away. “Nothing,” she says. “Don’t tell her anything. Not even, that you saw me.”
“As you wish,” says Iona. Jessie’s still looking away, there among the empty tables. I’d want the giddy-up, the guitar jangles, I’d want to live it up, I’d want the pick-me-up, and the nondescript door back there’s now shut. The bartender isn’t behind the bar that flares, scoured once more by daylight as Iona opens the door outside. She steps through, the door swings shut, the darkness returns.

Nox Sea Raid say the letters punched in light across the screen. Choose Your Squad swooshes in below. A husky contralto says Set em up Sarge over the speakers, and the guy on the beanbag thumbs and clicks the controller in his lap, wheeling the view on the screen about a motley crew of centaurs, each stepping up to present arms as the focus settles fleetingly on them, uttering a catch-phrase, Rock an roll, rack em and pack em, they will fear my song, buzzbombs why’s it have to be buzzbombs, reportin for beauty! rock an rack em rock an pack em why’s it have to fear my rock an roll an reportin! “This is gonna suck,” says the guy on the beanbag, “I need more’n one tank for this.” Wrinkles about his eyes and gingery stubble along his jaw. “Whaddaya think,” he says, looking away from the screen, “would a Mixolydian,” but there’s nobody beside him, there’s a man headed away, over toward the grand dark staircase, dodging around a dark wood column, his sweater bulky, red, he’s looking up to the woman stopped there on the stairs, black trousers, a bowtie unclipped about her winged collar. “Long as he needs,” she’s saying, and “Oh,” says the guy on the beanbag, turning back to the screen, “Ellen’s home.” Clicking through the figures on the screen, rock an roll, reportin for beauty, they will fear, “The hell was he doing, wearing my shirt?” and the guy on the beanbag looks up again at that, the man in the red sweater a step or two up the stairs, and Ellen above him, maybe a shrug, “It looks better on him,” she’s saying, turning away. Why’s it have to be, says the centaur on the screen. Rack em!
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2023.06.07 01:13 adamantshade Need help finding a part

Relatively new rider, I have a 2005 Honda Shadow Aero 750 and just bought this case from Viking:
I didn't realize that it needs a luggage rack to attach to and haven't found one I think will work online.
Where do you all go for parts and does anyone know of a rack that would fit?
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2023.06.07 00:15 Jimbob209 Question. Truck won't start sometimes. Intermittent

I have a 2006 Honda Ridgeline RTL. Just recently, when I try to start it, nothing happens. I can hear the normal beeping and sounds you hear that indicates the key is in the ignition, acc, or on position, but the starter doesn't engage. Usually I'll just do this a few times and then magically the starter will start cranking and I'm good to go. Doesn't happen all the time. Is my starter dying or is there something else I can rule out? Thank you
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2023.06.06 21:12 Due_Welcome_8802 1st gen Sequoia vs GX470

Hello all,
Just got an insurance payout for my unfortunately totalled 2005 lexus gx470. I paid a lower price than current market will allow for the same car (CA) and while the insurance payout would still cover the cost of another like model, I am considering going with a much cheaper 1st gen 4wd sequoia. There are some major changes here, but bottom line they are both full frame toyotas with the ultra reliable 4.7l v8. Last one was an amazing rig, and frankly I can't see myself moving away from Toyota trucks.
Must haves: 4wd with low range (I mud and snow, its fun), 3 rows of seats, and a penchant for going well over 250k miles.
Pros of another GX: leather, 5speeds vs 4, a backup camera, bluetooth, a center locking diff, built in Japan (some say higher build quality on land cruisers and GXs vs sequoia and tundras built in US.)
Pros of a sequoia: it's 5k cheaper, less miles (150k vs 200k), seats 1 more person, easier to source parts in CA.
Both have had belt replaced recently, both have a clean carfax..... I guess my question is, is 5k worth the few extra features? Or in this economy is buying a similar but far cheaper car more worthwhile..
For reference, I have about $25k to my name atm. The GX would shrink that by half, the sequoia by a quarter. I need a truck with room, and I don't want to settle for a less reliable brand.
I think the only other cars I would consider would be an FJ80 land cruiser, or (shudders) I GUESS a Honda pilot or ridgeline. Highlander would be an option, but I don't want to match the Mrs. (08 highlander hybrid)
submitted by Due_Welcome_8802 to whatcarshouldIbuy [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 19:39 PanicSwtchd How I learned the value of life-work balance!

Edit: shortened it up a bit and added a TL;DR; Quit job due to shitty raise after 2 years of freezes. New Job bait and switched role and ended up having ageist ladder climbing manager who sucked at their job. Got worked into the ground and had long awaited vacation cancelled the morning of...waited for manager to leave and resigned while throwing them under the bus and getting them demoted so hard they haven't changed roles/titles in 12 years.
I was told to crosspost my comment in another subreddit here as folks may appreciate it here. Got a solid response with the folks talking about an a-hole boss demanding an employee work over a pre-booked vacation. I'll add a bit more context here, but this was about 12 years ago when this all went down. Since then, I went back to work for a previous employer where I was unceremoniously let go for reasons (maybe another post), but have since been working for almost 10 years at another company (folks of this subreddit are not a huge fan of them but they have probably treated me the most humanely and respectfully as I've ever seen). That said...on with the story!
In 2010, after the wonderful failings of the job market leading to salary freezes and sub-par raises, I had gotten my 3 year performance evaluation at my employer at the time. After having been promoted twice, but not getting salary increases due to freezes, I received a whopping 5% increase and told "this was an amazing increase for doing so well"...Sufficed to say, I was not very happy and started shopping around. My manager was sad, but his boss told me to "do what you gotta do, no other company out there will pay you what you're saying is market". Being young, motivated, driven, and damn smart, I went out there and in under 2 weeks I had secured an interview, gone through the process and had an offer in hand. I actually got more than I was asking...nearly a 35% increase in base salary. Took the offer, stuck to my guns of not dealing with counter offers, put in my notice, worked right through to my last day and left on good terms (important later).
The new job was great, I was working in a similar role as a L2 Support Technician but for a different class of product than what I used to work on at my previous firm (middleware). Turns out it was a bit of a bait and switch because 3 months after I joined, my new employer transferred me to the sister team of the support group I was on to support the new version of their middleware product. Prior to this version, the middleware was a free service and as such, received a free service's level of support...No SLA's, Best Effort Service with a small but knowledgeable support team. It seemed like a good opportunity so I didn't complain much.
Within 3 months we were getting overrun by tickets, chats, and calls all day every day... By the end of the 7th month we had 3 senior techs it was me, my manager, 1 other senior tech and 3 fresh-faced L1 support techs who moved into our team as 'promotions' on the US Team. I had also received a fairly sizable raise and promotion despite only being there for 6 months...which I should have taken as a huge red flag...Our Asia team was down to 2 people and having serious staffing issues due to the real need to take breaks and step away like humans...So my manager started scheduling me and the other senior tech for alternating 'double shifts' to help support APAC hours and 'reduce our ticket backlog'. We were assured that 'help was on the way...just a few weeks'. After a few weeks, the other tech complained because he has family and kids, and now it was just me working doubles...Literally would work from 830am to about 530pm, take an hour or 2 off, and then work from 730 to 430am and then repeat the next day.
My manager at the time was over double my the time of the story. I was working doubles for like 2 months straight due to the staffing issues but I thought it was a light at the end of the tunnel since I had a 2 week vacation coming up. My manager had it out for me as the next promotion I could get was for her job...So she had it out for me regularly by denying my vacation requests or planning her time off after I'd put mine in. Her rationale to put me on the evening and night shifts was in her words "you're a young man and it's more productive to work and advance your career than go out partying and drinking while the rest of us have families and children to spend time with". This time though, since I hadn't been on vacation for months, and my hours worked were racking up she begrudgingly agreed because it was about to start raising flags to higher management that I hadn't been on continuous leave for a while.
Excited for this, I had booked flights, hotels and a bunch of other things to relax...I was originally planning on going with my girlfriend, but the work hours and stuff pretty much killed that relationship...
The night before my flight there was a major outage and series of issues, and as a Senior on the team, myself and a few others had to come in at like 3am. Despite being really new, most of the former folks quit, leaving me the most senior asides the boss after a few months. 8am rolls around, I'm packing up to go home after fixing the issues and the boss walks up and says "I've cancelled your leave request due to the issue, we're going to need you in to cover for the next week or 2 and you can look into taking time off next month."
I say that, "no, I'm going on vacation...this is non-negotiable"...which she did not take well...she flips out saying "I have the next 3 days off, and that means you are required to cover. You do not negotiate. What I say, goes. Go home, you can freshen up but you need to be back in the office by 11am so I'm not late for my bookings."
I don't really know what came over me...something just kind of broke in me. So I just said OK. packed my bag up and went home. I got into the shower, washed up, shaved, combed and gelled my hair and pounded a 5 hr energy. I hadn't ironed my suits in months and most of my shirts were either wrinkled from being worn a bunch or had the crisp fold wrinkles from being pulled out of the package from the department store across the street and immediately being put on so that I could have a different short on from the day before. So I pulled out a clean shirt, and ironed my best suit and threw it on. I hadn't slept in over 36 hours but I never felt so goddamned awake and locked in in my life.
I got on the subway and walked into the office and landed at my desk around 10:59am...I intentionally spent a few minutes in the lobby getting some tea to make sure I got to my desk at exactly 11am.
Fun fact about this company...they are very much paranoid about competition, so if you immediately get into your exit interview and then get sent home with 2 weeks PTO/Severance + payout of any remaining vacation time. Usually no counter offers, just exit interview, pack your stuff, and enjoy your 2 weeks PTO.
My boss had a smug grin on her face, packed up her stuff on seeing me sitting down and left for her 3 day vacation. I waited a few minutes, told my 2 junior co-workers that I was sorry for leaving them hanging and then proceeded to print out my resignation letter, walked over to her boss and requested an immediate skip-level and requested if we could get a conference room to talk. When we got into the room, he was asking me why I was so late and that he had been checking my morning badge ins and was concerned that I was routinely coming in 2 hours late and that our working hours were 830am to 530pm. Upon hearing this I told him he probably doesn't have the full story and that before I went into it, that I needed to tender my resignation. He was shocked to say the least, but wasn't even remotely prepared for when I told him to check the "out of hours" badge ins and badge outs which is when he realized I had been working 18+ hour days for the past 2 or 3 months straight. Every "Day" of PTO only counted for an 8 hour take a full day off I had to burn 2 'days'. But every double shift earned me 8 hours of comp time which was tracked under a different allocation...His jaw dropped when he saw they owed me almost 80 days of Comp Time.
After calming down, he let me know that he apparently didn't know half of what was going on...and begged me to stay on and that I could immediately take time off as soon as she returns. I just said, "I'm done...i'm burned out, and i'm exhausted...and it shouldn't have gotten to this point." Once he realized there was nothing he could do, he said, " you mind if we order in lunch and do your exit interview and you can just lay it all on the table? I'm willing to listen, and we can have HR in to make sure your concerns get addressed." After the 3 hour exit interview where I proceeded to throw my boss under the bus about how poorly managed the team was and why there was so much attrition, they tallied my severance and I went home with effectively 3 months worth of pay from all the PTO/OT they owed me.
I left, made my flights for vacation that evening and laid out on a beach for a while and more or less just slept when i got back from vacation. I went and got drinks with my old boss who got me a position back at my old company for almost the same amount I was making at the new company, and tbh I took it. It was a bad idea in retrospect, but I wasn't really the same after that.
That said...I'm in a healthy and recovered space now. I've been at my current job for 9 years with a number of big promotions, I make over double, almost triple what I was making at those jobs and I have a management team that encourages us to take time off and has not denied a vacation or time off or even a mental health day request in those 9 years. I also only work 40 to 50 hours a week. compared to 80, 90 or 100hr weeks I was doing...
But that required me to take the steps to say "no" to my bosses and managers and setting boundaries. Good management will respect those boundaries and work with you if there's a conflict.
Anyways, enough proselytizing...what happened to my manager?
Well, within 2 weeks of me leaving, she was demoted. I didn't get too many details but she was pretty much trying to maximize her bonus by getting stuff done with as few staff-hours as possible. She found a loophole that she could allocate comp time which was not being tracked and was using that to bundle staff hours into...almost like a overtime ponzi scheme? I don't know how she didn't get fired but I can tell you's been 12 years and she still has the same title...the equivalent of a 2 or 3 year employee getting their first promotion. So Get Wrecked i suppose?
submitted by PanicSwtchd to antiwork [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 14:29 alexaplaydyingfetus cargo and bike options

Hello, I have a couple specific questions that I would like to hear from people about as I will be making a motorcycle/scooter my only motor vehicle soon.
I have been thinking that the Honda ADV 150 would be pretty ideal because of its practical features like built in storage, excellent fuel consumption, and good top speed considering its small engine. I can see how having the shields/fairings up front would make riding in wet, cold, or muddy conditions more tolerable as well.
I did the msf course yesterday and it was fun learning to use the clutch and all that. It would feel a little bit like I am missing out on further developing those skills if I got the scooter with the cvt, but I can also see how having a cvt would be nice for stop and go traffic around town and such. I don't know of any other US market motorcycles that would have a traditional clutch and the other practicalities of the ADV 150 that appeal to me.
I am also interested in learning more about less traditional ways of hauling cargo on motorbikes. I will need someway to carry my bicycle sometimes, and I see one option (the 2x2) on market, but I would probably want to fabricate and weld my own cargo rack (something I have done before with a custom diy cargo bicycle). Saddlebags look nice, but for the kind of things I end up dragging around town I would need a large open frame for strapping things onto.
The large platform on the Trail 125 would line up better with how I am used to hauling cargo on my bicycles than the plastic covered ADV 150, but the top speed would be quite limiting. The Royal Enfield Himalayan looks like it has places where things can be strapped down, but it is a bit bigger and heavier than I would like, plus it wouldn't have that underseat storage of the scooter.
If anyone would want to share their thoughts on the cvt/clutch issues or unconventional ways of hauling stuff with motorbikes, I would like to hear them. Also any other models of bike I should consider with displacement of 400cc or less would be appreciated.
I have had a bicycle as my only/primary mode of transportation for a long time so I am not worried about the inconveniences and challenges of not having a car.
submitted by alexaplaydyingfetus to NewRiders [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 12:28 imprintent Honda Ridgeline Off-Road Race Truck Wins Baja 500

Honda Ridgeline Off-Road Race Truck Wins Baja 500 submitted by imprintent to racing [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 10:52 noam223 How do I know if my car roof racks can fit a rooftop tent?

First of all I'm not sure if this is the right place to ask this and that I'm very new to this subject But how do I know if my car roof racks can fit a rooftop tent? I have a Honda CR-V 2005 Thanks
submitted by noam223 to rooftoptents [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 04:43 BilHam57 Slight Rant

D26 full time. Bally, OP, Reach. Closing shift. 3.75 years.
Many nights I'm solo. When I do have help, it's very good. I'm seldom swamped with customers, but it can get busy. During slack time I do a lot:
Pack down one of the 20 or so bays that sell out. Decontaminate boxes in many of those same bays and others. Repack faucets, tools, fittings, etc. that cus have molested. Oh, Great! A return cart. Police empty coffee cups, candy wrappers, pistachio shells (really!), empty Milwaukee tool boxes, and empty Sharkbite bags. ZMA bullshit returns, broken, old, pennied, used product from the floor. Drop a vanity for a BOPIS or a live cus. Field phone calls. Drag a printer over to reprice product. Use my Lowes app to send cus across the street Push a tabletop cart full of 1+1/2 PVC through a crowded store and then put them all up, then clean up the chaff. Rack-dive (rarely). Do the spotter thing. "No, we don't have pool parts." Lead a cus to the other side of the store to find -just the right thing-. Face shelves. Roll the boxes to the compactor. Walk around looking for a rolling gate, a ladder, a Ballymore, a reach truck, a printer, a spotter, etc. Take Lunch, but sometimes there's no one to cover. "Can you make me a key?" Oh, Great! Another return cart. Sweep. "Oh, there's a walk on Thursday. Make sure the wingstacks are straight." Now there's Sidekick. Not only do I have to log every packdown I do, they have a list of product to check on, or bays to scan for empties, as if we were somehow underworked.
Nobody else in my d packs down much or at all. One other guy who opens pulls his weight. Nobody else decontaminates. I could do less, but the place would run to shit.
submitted by BilHam57 to HomeDepot [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 02:11 Punchitchewie1 How to trade Subaru with compromised motor?

I have a 2016 Forester XT Touring (the really nice one with the turbo motor and all of the options). It's been a great car and I absolutely love it. It's in excellent shape.
It just went over 100k and started to have some serious engine stumbling issues. It's been into the Subaru dealer many times. Even after thousands of dollars of work (thankfully paid by the last shred of a warranty that Subaru offered as a favor) it's still not running right.
The working theory is that the engine is compromised and I'm looking at a minimum 6k to put into this car to get it working again. While I love this car a lot, it doesn't make financial sense for me to drop 6k (or more) into a car who's trade in value is 16k.
The car doesn't drive well, and has a lot of check engine lights on. I don't think I could "get away" with bringing it to another dealer and play dumb, also that feels pretty unethical.
This car is paid off. There are two cars I'd be interested in: Another Forester from the same dealer, or a Honda Ridgeline.
I suspect if I trade in at the dealer it's at I'll get hosed on a trade in because they know the car is in trouble, and I can't imagine I'd get a better deal at another dealer given it's pretty obvious that the car is hurting. Private party sale is out given the issues...
So the question is: What could I expect to get for this car, and what would any of you do in my situation?
submitted by Punchitchewie1 to askcarsales [link] [comments]

2023.06.06 01:30 Caotsstoac A community/club looking for Selectors, forklift operators, Dock workers, Dockhands, maintenance/cleaning crew members, Truck jockeys, truck drivers/delivery drivers, shipping and receiving workers, freezer workers, foreman, trainers, anyone involved in the labor intensive job of warehouse worker

There are many cushy positions when you say warehouse work, those are not the workers this group is aimed at. Not human rescourses, payroll, sales, computer technicians, phone sales representitives, or the company investors/owners/upper managment. Those people are all important in the day to day functions of the warehouse, i'm not saying that, I'm just saying that the low level warehouse workers who ussually work out on the floor of the warehouse in varying degrees of uncomfortable tempatures or elements depending on the products the warehouse stores. This group is for the people doing the hard labor, the heavy lifting, and this extends to the higher ups in those departments, like the foreman or trainers, who may have relatively more cushy positions, but at least all the warehouses I have worked at, those workers got there from starting out as a selector or some low level worker and worked 20 years as a selector, proving themselves the entire time before they were given some job of authority or a position where they no longer are breaking their backs, so I respect the kind of grind, and I see them as equal to low level employees despite their higher pay, position of authority, and hypothetical higher rung on the ladder of success. I don't find people who are hired for a job they have absolutely no experience or knowledge doing first hand, just because they have some degree or certification that is impressive because the amount of money they ulyimately paid for it, but in reality it is not impressive at all because they have never worked a day in their life and they dont deserve to be given a position that some people work their entire lives trying to land, I watched this happen at one warehouse I worked at, where instead of hiring from the inside, they hired somebody with zero expirience at this company, as well as zero expierience doing really anything remotely similar to the job that he was being hired to do, but his resume was impressive because he had experience as a white shirt in some office position overseeing warehouse operations, i'm still not sure what he did prior to the company I worked for hiring him, but all I know is he seemed very lost talking with people, managing people or being any kind of boss or figure of authority, Also he had no clue how to use a forklift, which I don't believe he told anyone, and if he did he lied dramatically and said like "its been awhile since i used one so I might be little rusty, but its like riding a bike so I'm confident it will come right back to me", because he just attempted to act confident on it, though you can tell he was totally unsure how to turn in an aisle to have his forks line up with the pallet he intended on dropping, so he kept cutting the wheel too soon or hed be like half lineded up. I had give him advice a couple times and in a flustered state hed act like the mechanices of a crown is so much different than a raymond, so getting used to the change isnt easy, (not realizing ive driven both and crown and raymond are probably the most similar as far as handling and what trigger does what, small insignificant differences if anything that quickly you realize and understand, but mostly designed identically." I also saw him spill a few pallets using the fork lift, once from attempting to turn to soon before he fully removed a pallet out of the slot, so he crushed and caused the back end of the pallet to come crashing to the floor. Another time I'm not sure what was the cause, but I believe he wasnt aware of how tall the pallet was and he lifted it like a foot before deciding to try to remove it, not aware that the top of the rack acted as a clothesline to the boxes on the top of the pallet. I heard this one occur, and saw the end results, but thats the impression I got out of the destruction. Anyways this was obviously infuriating, because there were plenty of devoted workers who were trying to get this job and it was a slap in the face to give it to someone who we were speculating had lied on his application to be like the ideal hire based off the requirements the job application was asking for. I left probably 6 monthes after this hire cos the company was a lost cause. No ladder to climb, no positions to eventually be promoted too. It was a fairly small warehouse with all the desirable positions filled, and as I was getting into 6 years at the company with no more than a dollar raise in total and more responsibility and I was always being asked to do things that managers would do, like train people, drop items when they werent in stock, just getting taken advantage of and no hopes of ever getting out of selecting. About to be 30 years old I realize I needed to dedicate my time and work ethic to a company that would reward my hard work, cos I'm getting older and I cant select forever, exspecially risking injuring my back or worse. So this group I intend to use as a community or club of other warehouse workers who can relate to the labor intense job, the atmosphere a warehouse brings with it, because you dont work with the public, your working ussually 2nd or 3rd shift with only mostly male co workers, so most warehouses have a anything goes kinda comedy or ball busting about the way theyre run, that makes it maybe too much for snowflakes of the world, but I think the enviorment and the workplace is home, it has its flaws for sure, the pay is not ideal, but if I can find a warehouse or a way to be paid better I would be so happy with my career, its a shame they don't respect their workers enough to pay them living wages, most of us have families and we can barely make ends meet.
submitted by Caotsstoac to USAWarehouseworkers [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 19:56 Emotional-Fennel8175 2021 tundra bed cover and ladder rack

I have a 2021 tundra trail edition and I was wondering what combo of bedcoveladder racks you guys use? The Yakima one and interior sliding covers won’t work because of the bed boxes on the trail edition.
submitted by Emotional-Fennel8175 to ToyotaTundra [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 19:07 Old_Medicine2022 What’s your favorite tonneau cover?

I have a 2023 RTL-E and I’m looking doing some camping. I plan on buying the Honda Tent for the Ridgeline, but I also would like to get a tonneau cover that will protect my gear, and also allow me to use the tent when I take it off. TIA.
submitted by Old_Medicine2022 to hondaridgeline [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 18:48 Redallaround I towed an old Honda with my Ridgeline

I towed an old Honda with my Ridgeline submitted by Redallaround to hondaridgeline [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 18:40 JoeHasOpinions Samsung DeX work truck setup - help wanted

So here's the gist of it: I have an S21FE for work and desire a desktop environment for managing tickets and comms.
The space: 2012 Silverado 1500 regular cab (8' bed & cage ladder rack for those interested)
The main components: S21FE, this ForHelp portable monitor off Amazon ( ), and this small VESA mount I had laying around ( ), and a Bluetooth media type keyboard/trackpad when I find one I like.
The vision: Just like a 1 cable desk solution for a laptop or phone, I want a dedicated space for my phone to sit and charge while I work off of the monitor, ideally getting certain things done more efficiently than if I had to fumble around with the touch screen. This monitor both displays and charges my phone, even acts as a single port USB-C hub, so I have that part solved already.
The part I'm having trouble with is where to mount the screen. I have no qualms about putting holes in the interior paneling, but I only want to do it once. Currently the only horizontal face without electronics immediately behind it is the upper glove box, would this make sense to bolt the VESA mount to? Would it need wood reinforcement on the back side? Is there a more obvious place that I'm missing? Am I basing this setup on the entirely wrong mounting solution? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? Why is the sky blue? Is the moon made of cheese and the earth actually flat? Am I a madman for wanting to turn everything I own into some form of desk based computer station? Should I get a 2 or 3000 watt inverter to run a gaming computer in my truck cab?
The answers to these and many other questions will hopefully appear below in short order.
Thanks in advance for any help. Will update with pics when I get this actually setup.
submitted by JoeHasOpinions to CarAV [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 16:58 Radiant_Broccoli6299 Electrical problem in 2012 Honda Ridgeline

Electrical problem in 2012 Honda Ridgeline
My battery won’t charge in spite of showing voltage after a jump. It’s 3 months old, but the car has only been driven a couple times since I replaced it.
Alternator is 2 years old but very little driving.
DCV reads 14.8 after a jump and slowly drains, about 14.3 after 15 minutes.
Battery cables have to be good if the batter is getting volts right?
I checked the ground and it’s good. My next guess is some weird parasitic drain, or this battery is just trash.
What do you think?
submitted by Radiant_Broccoli6299 to MechanicAdvice [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 14:30 convolutedpsyche Adiós Ridgeline, hello real truck. Any suggestions for roof rack for 2023 F150 w/ panoramic sunroof?

Adiós Ridgeline, hello real truck. Any suggestions for roof rack for 2023 F150 w/ panoramic sunroof? submitted by convolutedpsyche to f150 [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 12:07 BodybuilderAnxious19 WoW Balancing: Fixes

  1. Tone Down Trinket Bonus: As it stands, all DPS classes are currently benefitting from a 25% trinket bonus. This needs to be cut down to a more balanced 20%.
  2. Boost Healers’ MMR: Looking at the stats, the top DPS in SS currently holds an MMR of 2466, while the top healer is lagging behind at 2367. This needs to be reversed - we should make it more achievable for healers to rack up higher ratings compared to DPS, possibly encouraging more players to take on the healer role.
  3. Balance All Healers: At present, the MW Monk is hogging the limelight in high ratings, making up 50% of all healers. This video 7 even states that without a MW Monk, you’re pretty much out of luck in solo shuffle. To combat this, all healers should be balanced to the same competitive level as the MW Monk.
  4. Scrap the MMR Cap: The current MMR cap in WoW simply isn’t working. Instead, we should look to DOTA 2’s recent MMR system and tailor it to WoW’s needs. Key features of DOTA 2’s system include:
Incentivize Participation with a PvP Trading Post: To maintain player interest, a PvP equivalent of The Trading Post could be introduced, where players can exchange Rating for elite versions of PvP sets from old expansions, elite enchants, mounts, and recolored versions of old gladiator mounts. To unlock these items, players need to maintain a high rating and play a certain number of games in the current PvP Trading Post month.
I want to explain my ideas a bit more detailed:
  1. Access to Recolored Gladiator Mounts: If you’re set on a recolored version of an old gladiator mount, you’ve got to put in the work. To get one, you’ll need to hit a 2400 rating in the current PvP Trading Post and play at least 50 games above that rating, similar to the criteria for a typical gladiator.
  2. Purchase with PvP Rating: Here’s a twist – what if we could buy all these flashy cosmetics with PvP Rating? Imagine you’re sitting on a 2400 CR and you’ve got your sights set on a recolored TBC Glad, but you’re also hankering for the S3 Legion Elite. To snag both, you’ll have to play more games to earn more CR. The good news is, your MMR won’t be affected, so there’s no risk of a drastic drop(by this I mean you wont play against lower tier players since your games will be based just on MMR). However, to keep things fair, we’d cap the CR gains at a maximum of 30 CR per win(this forces ladder activity). And if you lose, you’ll either stay steady or lose just a smidge, until your MMR aligns with your CR.
  3. Season End Protocol: Let’s shake things up a bit near the end of the season. About a month, or maybe 1.5 months, before the season wraps up, we’ll disable the trading post. This would let the top players duke it out for R1 and accelerate the pace of climbing CR to match your MMR level.
Here’s how the new system will work:
  1. Initial Calibration: Players will be put into a brief calibration phase, initially seeded by their previous rank. Unlike before, the calibration phase won’t be tied to a fixed number of matches. Instead, a player is considered calibrated when their Rank Confidence exceeds a specific threshold.
  2. Variable MMR Gain/Loss: Matches will no longer provide fixed MMR gains or losses. Instead, these values will fluctuate based on several factors, such as the Ranks and Rank Confidence of the participants. To avoid extreme outcomes, we will cap the gain/loss per match.
  3. Rank Confidence Deterioration: If a player doesn’t engage in matches for a certain period, their Rank Confidence will slowly decrease. This change ensures that skill evaluations remain current and that players who return from a break won’t struggle with inflated or outdated MMR values.
These changes aim to provide a smoother and more representative matchmaking experience, particularly for players returning from breaks(this will also fix the issue we have with people who achieved 3k rating in SL S2 compared to people who achieved 3k in DF S1(its just an example)). The Glicko algorithm, with its focus on Rank Confidence, should allow a more accurate and dynamic response to shifts in player skill levels.
submitted by BodybuilderAnxious19 to worldofpvp [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:36 ColoHusker Moving/clear out sale, mostly tools, woodworking, remodeling items

If you are interested in something, lmk and I can send or upload pics and pull model numbers. If you are interested in a bunch, we can setup a time to come by.
Sometime the week of 6/12 whatever is left will be donated to the tool library/maker spaces/Habitat Restore.
Corded power tools in great shape with storage cases if they came with them.
Large corded tools:
Pneumatic tools
Misc Tools
Edit: had a work issue come up this AM. Getting back to it. I apologize & thx for your patience!
submitted by ColoHusker to denverlist [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 02:44 butthole_stim Im smat

Im smat submitted by butthole_stim to Dualsport [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 02:33 butthole_stim I got an idear, feedback my ass, to the moon motha fucka

I got an idear, feedback my ass, to the moon motha fucka submitted by butthole_stim to Dirtbikes [link] [comments]