Winter Heat Wave

It's 55 degrees here in the Northeast today - a week after the official start of winter. If global warming continues at this pace, we will not need to plan a retirement in the South, since scientists say we will have the same climate in Boston that is currently enjoyed in Atlanta within a few more years.

It would really annoy me if we had taken a post Christmas vacation to escape the winter blues - and then to read in the morning paper that my $200 a day resort hotel room was only a few degrees warmer than my humble New England abode. Half the fun of a winter vacation is hoping that your friends and neighbors back home are envious that you are enjoying unfettered sunshine while they are freezing their collective butts off back home. I received an e-mail from a friend who was complaining about being bored after only 2 days on a 4 day cruise ship near the Florida keys. She says, "I can't see the difference between a cruise ship and being locked up in the New York Hilton for 4 days sitting at the same table, with the same people at the same time for dinner every night." Poor thing. Her real problem is that she is not food oriented. How can you justify a cruise ship if you aren't interested in eating five times a day! No sympathy from me. Cave-in and hit the midnight buffet!

Anyhow, after several weeks of snow/ice blocked sidewalks, one can now venture forth for an invigorating walk. I need the exercise, lord knows. The continued positive economic news probably means that there will be a lot of opportunities opening up as 2004 rolls out. I have a new suit, I got new socks for Christmas, I'm positive and ... hungry. What's for lunch?

Bad Santa

I didn't get the pony I wanted. Humbug.

Christmas Time is Nigh

This saturday is "guys shopping day". Another traditional annual event where I and 3 of my closest buddies get together early to go shopping for our wives and loved ones. I usually drive, since I am the only one with a car big enough to hold us that is not despoiled by dog hairs on the seats. Four of us (George, Bill, the other Dennis and Me) have been doing this every saturday-before-Christmas for about ten years. We get to the Chestnut Hill Mall (or sometimes the Atrium) before the parking lot becomes too crowded. Then we spend 2 hours trolling the mall with our gift lists.

None of us are typical shoppers - we are dressed like middleaged straight guys - Dockers, Sweatshirt, Baseball Cap, work boots - and so our questions to the perfume counter clerks ("Got anything that doesn't smell like a fart?" or to the sales person at Victoria Secrets "What have you got in a triple X Teddie?") are often met with fear and distrust.

Then, it's over to Newton at our favorite Irish pub for Bloody Mary's. They open at 11 and we are usually their first customers. Sometimes, after a quaff or two we will then stroll across the street to check out the Antique Mall at Echo Bridge. (This is mainly George's influence, he likes to surprise his wife with some antique treasure such as used irish silver fish forks or jewelry that was old when grandma was a girl. I never buy anything, but I am amused and entertained by the sheer variety of old china, crystal and other junk that some people will pay real money to possess. I am firmly a here-and-now person, and I don't think old hunks of junk have any monetary value. I like stainless steel and teflon and battery powered clocks and modern refrigeration. )
Anyhow, we spend an hour or so, looking at the discarded legacy of the ancient world. Then we trundle back to the Pub for beer and burgers. Actually, I am the only one who still drinks more than one beer nowadays - I think the others are on medications that do not agree with alcohol. (George says he is on the Atkins Diet and recently eschews the ambient sugar in alcoholic drinks. He has lost weight. In fact, with his bushy moustache, he looks a lot like a Saddam Hussein.)

After lunch we each go home with our bags of presents, which we hide in the closet until xmas (we get them wrapped at the Mall), and nap on the couch while pretending to watch the NFL game. Somebody noted that since none of us have jobs this year, we don't really need to do it on a saturday. But traditions are traditions, dammit.

A Cold Day in the Hellhole

Man it is freezing here in the shadows of commerce. I'm thankful that technology has actually improved the process of getting unemployment benefits. It would be terrible to be standing out there in breadlines on frigid days like these.

The life of an unemployed job-seeker during a jobless economic recovery is not so bad, but sometimes it gets monotonous. (I am certainly undisturbed by employers answering my inquiries.) Some weeks, I only shave every other day. When I go out, to do chores, such as shopping for groceries, my typical uniform consists of an old gray baseball cap, sweatshirt, kahki dockers and tennis shoes. Everything is clean but a bit wrinkled, including me.

I have noticed that as I have gotten older, female strangers do not look at me the same way they used to. Age has mellowed me both in appearance and attitude. Young girls ignore me like I didn't exist; women in their twenties regard me warily, like I am probably either homeless or a pervert (maybe both); healthy looking thirtysomethings with kids in tow usually smile at me, (apparently thinking I look a lot like grandpa); middle-aged divorcees dressed in work-out togs look at the contents of my cart in the supermarket line, looking for signs of bachelorhood - weighing my paunch against their lonliness. I pretend they do not exist. I am untempted by the scent of desparation.

Today is a typical shopping day. The elderly cashier, seeing that I have a credit card that doesn't get rejected, and that my order does not contain any incontinence items, begins to flirt shamelessly ("You do not look like the plastic type to me. Let us bag your groceries in high quality recyclable paper.") She smiles sweetly at me, and then barks something in Portuguese to the bag boy.

I look at him. He is my age. He concentrates on getting the items in the bags. He looks a lot like a guy I once worked with. He was a COBOL programmer. Hoping for a sign of recognition, I look him in the eye as he hands me the bags, but he just he smiles vapidly. "Have a nice day," he says mechanically. I sit in the van for a full 3 minutes shivering, and not from the cold.

Too Sick To Work

If I had a job, I'd have called in sick today. Since there was no one else to call, I gathered the cats and announced that I would not be going to the office today, due to my nasty flu symptoms. They took the information with their usual nonchalance.

After a cup of coffee while reading the morning paper, I went back to bed. The three Siamese were curled up in a pile, right in the middle of the bed. They appeared truly annoyed when I tried to get some of the covers for myself. I am not looking for sympathy. I know that everyone else is either sick or just getting over something.

I just thought maybe the cats could show a little compassion.

Reasons To Be Thankful

There are some advantages to being unemployed. Yesterday, I went with two of my similarly unoccupied pals to the movies. It was a one oclock showing of Master and Commander. This was a real entertaining swashbuckler with great visual effects and rip-roaring action only a guy would like. From all historical accounts it depicted the realism of life on board a British Navy ship in 1805.

I am profoundly thankful to have been born in modern times - with indoor plumbing, refrigeration, electricity, computers, a distribution system that can deliver single malt scotch to a store nearby.

More than this, I am gratified to realize how damned lucky I have been in this life.
I was an aimless youth who was such a poor student in high school that no decent college would admit me, so I enlisted in the air force. The military made me a grow up, but did not overcome my insubordinate nature. Thanks to my dad's determination, I did go to college and graduated with a degree in Liberal Arts. I was an English major (although on my resume I claim it was English-Journalism because it sounds more practical.)
In creative writing class I met Judy, who (like me) fell in love with my prose. I was immediately captivated by her beauty and charm, and this was the best thing that happened in my life. We dated, evetually married, had two great and beautiful daughters who have grown into wonderful productive adults and have stayed in our lives. After thirty five years we are still together, healthy and in love.

Sure, I have had some crappy jobs, and may again in the future. But I hope I can continue to appreciate the luck that has seen me this far. And I hope that I win the megabucks lottery tonight.

Yes, We can Hear You, now shut that (bleep)ing thing off!

Just returned from a brief visit to the Left coast to check on the Grandkids. The kids are all right.

Ah, California: state of Earthquakes, Fires, Neverland, Laci and Governor Arnold. Coming back to the state where anyone can legally marry anything if they can pass the blood test.
I am cranky as hell. It is not merely jet lag; it's the world gone nuts.
prosecutors want to put that vicious criminal - Martha Stewart - in jail; and the shrinks want to let John Hinkley out to walk around Washington DC free as a crow.
Terrorists and protesters bombing civilians in Turkey and disrupting traffic in Miami and UK. Important events are taking place in the world, yet Michael Jackson dominates the news. Why? I don't care about the antics of freaks. Do you?

Air Travel still sucks. I can report is American Airlines does have more room in coach between rows than United. But you are still crammed-in three across, and there is not enough room for a well-fed man to sit comfortably. American is much less concerned than United with on-time schedules, and it shows. On the way to California, we arrived at a stopover in Chicago on time, but then sat on the tarmac for 40 minutes waiting for a gate to open up. Many people who were connecting missed their flights. The attendant tried to console an upset traveller. "This happens a lot." she said.
I am still irritated that class discrimination is still OK on airlines, and even extends to the security checks. I was selected for personal inspection when my shoes set off the metal detector. The beefy security guard frowned at me like I should know better. "Rockports always set it off," she said. "You should wear sneakers next time."

Predictably, we were treated to the inane wireless conversations of inconsiderate blabbers everywhere we went. At the hotel, during breakfast. In the cabin of the planes. On Fisherman's wharf. Outside the museum. Mercifully, they make people curtail wireless phone calls when the plane is in motion. The new showoff thing is Walkie Talkie feature which involves a lot of beeping and shouting into the receiver. If that isn't enough, now you can hear the moron on the other end as well.

Peter Drucker says, "There is nothing as useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all." I feel this applies to the Walkie Talkie feature on cell phones. Only a few people in specific jobs (eg, construction, EMT's) should have them. Some technology should be withheld from the masses. You wouldn't give a lazer-guided missile launchers to Ubangi tribesmen. Would you?

I'm sure that some people need cell phones. But, their ubiquitousness has introduced a level of interruption and annoyance into our society that I predict a rash of phone-rage incidents in the near future. Judy says it is just my sensory integration disorder acting up. According to her, most people are not disturbed by the inanities of others, and are not possessed by a demonic urge to strangle them.

Someone called back

Begin disturbing image warning=>> I hope this image is not too unsettling to my fans, but I have vowed to tell the whole truth. Young, or easily offended readers should skip to the next paragraph The other day, I was just stepping out of the shower when I heard the phone in the hallway ring. I made it before the fourth ring, and answered in my best business-like voice. It was the callback I had been hoping for earlier that day. (Actually, I had only half-expected the return call. Not returning calls is an epidemic in this junk-call-spam-drenched day-and-age.) Anyhow, there I was standing in front of the hall mirror, naked and dripping on the floor, pretending that I was dry, fully-clothed and an ideal candidate for the job. <<= End of disturbing image warning

It was the recruiter for a local company, responding to a resume I had sent more than a month ago. He had sent me an e-mail, asking me to call if I was still interested in the job. I did call, but got his voice-mail. Typical of recruiters, six hours later he was returning my call. He told me that the company needed a senior business analyst to work with the Product Manager to market and recommend improvements to a flagship software product. I had most of the quals for the job, and I was intrigued by the prospect of getting back into the marketing department, so I managed to BS the recruiter enough to convince him to "present" me to the hiring manager.
He said that they had been having a hard time finding the right person. (Probably because the job description would have been divided among three people in the full-employment days of 1999-2000). These days everyone is expected to be a superhero at apprentice wages. Hey don't get me started, I'm being positive! Anyway, it was a call back.

It was also a milestone in my journey. It is the first opportunity in months that seems worth pursuing. The location is a mere ten minute commute. The compensation is lower than my last job, but near the ballpark. And it's not IT.
Being Not-IT is a good thing. I have always enjoyed my past roles as a systems analyst in the marketing department.
Marketing management is a lot less cost-conscious than those stingy CIO's who think that staying within budget is more important than delivering speed to network users. By contrast, marketing execs are usually focused on sales activity, and I never met one who worried much about the "bottom line".

Stay tuned. We are still a long way from the sure-thing stage. But I was encouraged that someone called back. To me that is a 100% increase in activity.

Can you Hear me Now?

We decided to give Herbs and Spices - the new Asian restaurant in Lower Falls - another chance. It was a Wednesday night and not crowded, which perhaps resulted in a fairly attentive waiter. I still could not understand anything he said, due to a difference in our native spoken languages, so if he had greeted us with the "Hi I'm Lee Hong, I'll be your server tonight." we were blissfully spared the comprehension of same. Despite my fears, our order was correctly taken and served in due time.

The food was pretty good. We shared a variety of appetizer and main dishes. We had a nice time.

As we were waiting for the check, a thirty-ish couple was seated in the next booth. Totally ignoring his attractive dining companion, the boorish fellow was yakking loudly on his cell phone. It was a pathetic call, with him apologizing to someone who outranked him for not returning their call. His voice was laden with fear and lying. I almost felt sorry for him, but as is our habit, we began to chastise him so he could hear us.
His companion was terribly embarrassed, to have her date being laughed at by the next booth while he pathetically groped for credibility over the airwaves to some bigshot who clearly knew he was lying.
It was son-in-law David who came up with the solution to such ear pollution. "Why don't these places have a Cell Phone Booth?"
What a genius idea! All public places should have at least one. A simple rectangular booth with nothing in it but soundproof walls and a shelf. Wireless talkers could go and stand in the booth and not bother the rest of us. I can see them at the Bus Stop, Train Station, Theater Lobby, Supermarket - anywhere where people gather. Instead of assaulting the rest of us with your inane conversations, you can go to the Wireless Area stand in your booth and blather to your heart's content.
I smell a business opportunity! Who wants in on the groundfloor?

Momma Told Me

As a child growing up in hardscrabble Watertown, Ma, my sainted mother would often repeat her wise observation "If it looks too good to be true...it probably is." Such cynicism is one of the most useful tools in the Parental Toolbox. This wisdom has served me well. As an adult I grew to be a skeptic, a cynic and a hopeful pessimist. (The opposite of a hopeless optimist).

I don't expect everything to fail, but I am hardly ever surprised when it does. My career value proposition has been established on the fundamental premise that in a business enterprise, Crap Happens, but if you have me on your payroll there will be less crap and it won't be as messy.

Because I expect problems, I am a pretty good planner. Because I know people are unwilling or unable to communicate with each other, I over-communicate. I specify requirements, establish test plans, talk with people. Early on, I understood the different languages of business. Engineers don't like to talk to Marketing Managers. Finance people abhor Sales Reps. Programmers cannot stand the vagaries of Users. Big Shot executives don't understand ground level workers. No one can understand the cafeteria staff (but, come to think of it, that is actually because they speak Portuguese. Another topic for another rant, perhaps?). Anyway, the only thing I really do is coordinate stuff between people who don't communicate with each other.

But, despite my chronic cynicism and pessimism, I am confident that the economy will recover. It always does. And there will soon be a recognition that my niche skills will become valuable again. Like those raggedy 401k accounts that have been beaten to a pulp for the past three years, improvement is palpable.

So, to be ahead of the curve, I spent a few hours this morning, searching for opportunity. Perhaps, one might even say, searching for my destiny.... Well, the trip back to earth was short and ended with a thud. Nada, zilch, zero, ciphers. I almost clicked on a banner ad offering retraining as a cafeteria worker (Learn Portuguese in six days!)
Then, I saw something that looked interesting: Opinionsonline.com was offering hourly rates from $15 to $110 to simply take a brief survey or participate in a focus group. Wow. This seems like easy money. I could use a few extra bucks. I got some spare time. I got a computer. Lord knows, I got opinions up the wazou!
So I check it out. Hmmn. One small detail. This company is not exactly the survey company that hires you. They put the "applicant" into a database of people who might be picked to participate in such surveys and focus groups. The small detail is, they charge you $14.95 to get into the database. Aw crap! They were masquerading as a job listing and they are actually marketing their freaking database. I find this type of "stealth marketing" to be unethical and deceptive. More deceptively evil than ordinary marketing. It justifies all my cynicism and pessimism. And skepticism. Focus on this, you stealth marketers! (Raises middle finger in angry salute)

That's when momma's sage words echoed. And so I shut off the computer. And then I got out my roller and ladder. After lunch, I will spend a productive afternoon painting the ceiling in the TV room. Then, I'll tune-in to Oprah for my daily emotional fix.

Told You So

Yesterday, the Government announced that the economy is growing again. In fact the rate of growth was so dramatic (over 7%) that today's conservative pundits are declaring the winner of the 2004 Presidential Election to be George Bush. The Democratic candidates have been praying for a continued slump to fuel the popular desire for a change of leadership. Poor shmucks.

What it means to me is this: I need to get a new suit. Before you know it, the phone will start to ring with job offers and business opportunities. I want to be ready.

Judy has been a perfect saint through the summer, and even bought me some beer last week. She is a true prize, and I am not just saying this because she has demanded that I say something nice about her. I am saying it because it's true.

I think I can wait until next week to get the suit. It's 60 degrees out, and someone should be sitting in the back yard admiring the foliage, accepting the Gift of this day.

Harmful Mistakes

I read a report in the Globe today that cited the alarming increase in harmful mistakes in hospitals. They define these mistakes as routine problems like overdosing patients or surgical mishaps that actually injure or kill a patient. The most recent numbers in Massachusetts are 757 incidents this year compared to 574 incidents in 2000.

A hospital spokesperson attempted to clarify the meaning of the numbers. "It isn't really an increase in incidents," explained the spokesperson, "it really indicitive of improved reporting."
Whew! That's a relief.

Looking at the top ten employers on the Boston area with the most job openings, it is perhaps relevent that 8 of the ten are area hospitals and medical facilities. It is clear that anyone who gets sick around here should stay out of the hospitals if at all possible.

I would consider re-training for a job in the medical profession, except for the fact that I despise sick people, abhor bodily fluids, and the hours suck.

Nasty Weather Non-Fan

It's cold and raw here in the Western Suburbs of Boston.

I am sitting here today wishing I was a Marlins fan. The Boston team was knocked out of the running by the New York team in the playoffs. I admit that at first, it bothered my that "my" team lost. Then, I realized that there was no reason to allow it to affect my day.

Why should I give a sweet shit what the Boston Red Sox do? They really have nothing to do with me. And hardly anything to do with Boston, other than the fact that members of the team and some owners are temporary residents of Our Fair City. Grady Little, the (almost former) Manager hails from the cotton fields of Alabama or is it North Carolina? Who cares? Most of the player names are unfamiliar to me. Few of them were actually raised in New England, much less Boston. Next year many of them will be someplace else.

The Boston Red Sox is just another entertainment Company. The players are just employees. There is no loyalty anywhere in this business. Popular players are traded off like coeds at a frat party. Management and coaches are fired, retired or replaced at the drop of a hat. Whining overpaid prima donnas even go on strike every few years, because of the terrible oppression by league managers.

Fans are just poor saps who have more cash than good sense, who layout big bucks to watch these professionals working. And buy their "gear." Would anyone buy a picture of me looking words up in my Thesaurus?

And, What the heck does the success or failure of a company have to do with my happiness or well being? If the new Walt Disney movie flops, do I lose sleep or beat my breast in anguish? Well, I suppose if I owned stock in the company, I could care. But I don't and I don't.

All this crap about the bambino's curse is laughable. Grady Little didn't lose the game by leaving Pedro in too long in the eight inning. New York won the game in the eleventh inning. The freaking players lost the game! Fire them and bring in some players who can win in the clutch!

Anyhow, I just saw a news clip of the World Series Champion Marlins on TV. They were returning to Ft Lauderdale, coming home to their adoring fans, dressed in short sleeves, wearing sunglasses. It's cold and rainy here in Boston. I want to live in Ft Lauderdale and be a Marlins fan.

I read Joe Lieberman's position paper in the WSJ this morning. He wants to raise taxes on 2% of the voters - people earning more than $200,000 per year. As if that will solve our economic problems. It is deceiving math. In the misguided liberal zeal for wealth distribution, the results are to move money from the really rich to near-rich. We all know that the super-rich will do anything to avoid paying taxes to the government, even if it means spending huge sums of money on high-priced lawyers and accountants to find loopholes. Maybe we should just agree to cut everyone's taxes for two years and see if it works? My belief is that the rich will spend the money on stuff - which creates jobs for those of us who are not accountants and lawyers.

There was a photo of Mike Tyson at a basketball game holding up a "Free Kobe" sign. If I was Kobe, I would request Tyson to cease and desist. Cripes, the only worse thing would be to have Bill Clinton vouching for his character: "He never had sex with that teen whore."

Still Searching for My Destiny

For some incomprehensible reason, the vast American employment machine has been unresponsive to my vigorous inquiries. I have networked extensively, posted my resume on literally several job boards, perused the help wanted ads in the sunday globe, and sat thoughtfully for hours in the back yard with a chilled beer and a self improvement book. (On many an occasion, I have lapsed into a self actualizing nap, dreaming, no doubt, of my next assignment as Commander).

But none of these activities has resulted in even a single interview, much less a job offer. Ok, maybe having lunch with the same people repeatedly does not qualify as "extensive" networking. And posting a resume on job boards seems to result in an increase in spam e-mails (especially multi-level-marketing opportunities and penis enlargement products.)

OK, maybe some of the prospective employers - who might yearn to have an aging, insubordinate, "no limits" fat guy on their staff - are put-off by my demands for exhorbitant compensation, superior benefits, and an attractive, buxom secretary.

But, should I "settle" for an inferior situation? I think not.

Close Call

Ok, I stayed up until 12:23 and watched the whole game. It was exciting, and the Sox were most certainly "in there", until they lost in the 11th inning. So, while I was not really hoping for a Red Sox loss, it does let me off the hook regarding the vow to apply for a holiday job in retail if they beat New York.

I feel sorry for the real fans who watched them all year long. And the idiots who got swept up in the fever at the end of the season. And the Bozo's who hocked grandma's silver to get the money to purchase playoff or world series tickets on E-bay. But the outcome was never in doubt. Those of us who have watched them for many years knew...not to believe.

Rather than dump on the manager who left Pedro in the game too long, or blaming the fielding errors, I am content to recall that we got some post season excitement, and a great effort from a bunch of overpaid, whining, disapponting losers.

In one sense things are much better. Now we can get back to watching football without the distraction of those futile hopes of victory.

My New Job

Ha ha I was just kidding. The past week has been well spent thinking about how nice it would be to win the Megabucks lottery. Unlike some unworthy souls, I would make a great millionaire. I would share a lot of it with other people and buy a big house near the beach. If that doesn't qualify me as a deserving person, I don't know what would.

The red sox just won game 6, so the agony will go on for at least one more game. I hope they lose, so I will not have to honor my vow to apply for a holiday retail job. On the other hand....

Fairweather Fan

Ok,Ok.
I have been besieged by fans of this blog to admit that I was wrong about the Red Sox. Ok, I admit it: I was wrong. They cowboyed up and won three games in a row. Are you happy now? I am glad to be wrong. And I also lied about not watching the games. I did watch them. (But I did not watch any pregame shows. Does anyone?)

I hate to rain on your little parades out there, but anyone who believes that the Sox will beat the Yankees is counting on freakish luck. They just squeaked by these Oakland guys and NY has been in first place all year. (If the Sox win the ALCS, I will apply for a holiday job in Retail as my penance. (Will you be using your Sears Card for that tummy-hiding girdle madam? )

I saw on the news last night that tickets to the ALCS games at Fenway are priced from several hundred dollars to as much as $5,000. What kind of moron would spend that kind of money to sit in seats that are too small, munching a $5.00 hot dog and gulping a watered down, overpriced beer. A "priceless" experience? I think not.

In contrast, I will watch the games for free. Parking $0. Distance to Bathroom from my seat: 20ft. Lines: 0 Food: Unlimited and reasonably priced. Beer: ditto.
Annoying fans sitting next to me: 2 (cats, wanting attention).
Somebody tell me, What am I missing? You want fries with that? (just practicing).

More Jobs Lost to Wild Animal Attacks

Last week it was an escaped Gorilla in Boston sending an otherwise calm city into abject panic. And there were bear sightings in the western hills. A cougar on the loose in the Northern suburbs.

Now we have 260 odd people thrown out of work when Siegfried's partner Roy was mauled by a white Bengal Tiger onstage in Las Vegas. It was the event that people had been waiting for since the act started at the Mirage in 1990. But that is little comfort to the hundreds of people who are losing their jobs. What jobs? How can it take 260 people to feed a couple of tigers and empty some (large) litter boxes? These are mysteries which we want explained.

How many more must lose jobs before we stop the madness?

Fluke

Ok, the Red Sox won two games - both by a single run. No way they will win tonight in Oakland even with Pedro pitching. They can't get hits.

Don't even watch. I'm going to watch Reno 911 re-runs on the comedy channel.

Go Pats!

Killing Frost

In anticipation of the first frost which was forecast last night, I spent a few hours yesterday, dismantling the tomato vines, picking off any fruits that looked tennis ball size or bigger. I have about ten pounds of greenies. These will be stored in a cool place wrapped in newspapers and allowed to ripen naturaly at their own pace. With any luck I will still have delicious ripe tomatoes for my salads until thanksgiving. The vines which have been so kind to me this season were mercilessly chopped-up and put onto the compost pile. Recycle Gold for next year.

When I got up this morning it was clear that it did not get cold enough last night to kill the annuals. Another case of weathermen trying to capture the attention of viewers by playing up the disastrous possibilities? Well, no matter. I got something done!

The only thing that died last night was the lingering hope that the Red Sox would indeed show up to play the Oaklands in game two. I am not surprised. They always choke; and it is good that they get it over quickly. The plausabilty of them winning the next three in a row is about as likely as Rush Limbaugh saying something nice about Ted Kennedy.
I refuse to watch any more games until the World Series starts. Not that it matters.

Elusive butterflies

During the 1950's a social psycholgist, Abraham Maslow, discovered why no one can achieve lasting happiness. You may recall reading about his theory "The Hierarchy of Needs" in college. The theory says that all humans in all societies seem to share the same basic urges. We must eat, we desire security, we lust, and we need the esteem of our fellow villagers.

People who do not follow these pattern are deemed to be sick, and they are labeled Sociopaths and Psychopaths. But for most of us, we are doomed to be driven by these predictable levels of Need.

Maslow created a chart that listed the Needs in hierarchical order with food being near the bottom and respect near the top. He asserted that when a person is at the "Need Food" level, all energy and focus is directed to satisfy that need. Once the physiological needs are met, the human tendency is toward satisfaction of psychological needs, such as the need for love, acceptance, respect. At each level, the brief moment of satisfaction is soon replaced by a nagging and persistent desire to get to the next level.

Our work lives are spent as metaphors for this model. In the beginning, we just want a job to pay the bills. Then we start bitching about the working conditions. Then we start thinking about how to keep from losing the good job we have found. Then we seek promotion. We want a nicer office, a more attractive secretary, more vacation time, free water. No sooner do we get our office with a door than we notice that some people have bigger offices and better furniture. Because we lust, because we envy, we spend our entire working lives never being truly satisfied.

Here is the problem: there is no upper end on the need scale. In apparent fear of running out of paper big enough to display a chart of all the needs humans can aspire to, Maslow copped-out by labelling the uppermost level with the term "Self actualization." He defined it as "becoming everything you are capable of being..."

No one can ever attain self actualization because there will always be... something more to desire. It's human nature. And it's the reason why no one is very happy for very long.

That's just the way it is. Cowboy up.

Lazy Days

As I begin to pick the last of the tomatoes and clean out the clutter in the garden, I am still in the "looking for work" mode, although not with my usual furious intensity. The job scene is pretty quiet. I have made inquiries at all of the companies on the 100 best places to work list that are within a 15 minute commute (both of them). My skill set as a senior (ie, high paid) business systems analyst is not very much prized in an economy that is not authorizing new projects or ventures. I am not worried, though.

The general improvement in the stock market is evident in favorable 401K mutual fund statements that are showing marked improvements since March of this year. If no devastating event occurs to ruin the gains, we are pleased with this. It is further encouragement that things will get better. Business cycles happen. Employment is inevitible. So, I enjoy the leisure that the current status affords me for as long as the fates decree.

I was once leery of retirement, wondering "what would I do all day?" I have no such thoughts these days. There is precious little time in the day, and much to do. The biggest risk for me is not getting anything done, since it is so easy to defer tasks to tomorrow. I schedule most of my gotta-do's (things that require me to go out of the house, like food shopping and dump runs) for weekdays, when I have the least amount of competition from others (traffic congestion and lines). I putter around on the weekends, or we get in the car and go somewhere. We never have enough time for all the things we want to do and places we want to go. Not a bad life, except the fact that the grandkids are in Calif.

What I did this Summer: Jetsam Memoirs

Autumn approaches. The air is crisp and clear. The sky is studded with puffy clouds and it's good to be alive, and outside, with long sleeves. A time for reflection, to nourish that seed of inner peace that has taken root in the fecund humus of the soul.

Yesterday, I planted a row of hardy chrysanthemums on the north border with the Murphys. I built a berm out of compost from the back yard. It took about twenty wheelbarrows full of rich dark organic material. I had several large, aged piles of rotted grass clippings, vegetable peelings, assorted prunings and leaves. The back is kept mostly natural so pine needles and leaves are never raked, but left to decay naturally. This produces a layer several inches thick of the black gold called "leaf mold". I mined several barrels of fluffy, pure compost to mix in the gardens, thus assuring another bountiful harvest next year.

At the end of the day, sitting with an icy Harpoon IPA, I am struck by the alarming brevity of days and the sudden realization that summer has passed with the velocity of a clattering freight train. One moment you are thinking "Jesus! This is eternal." Then, without warning, a thunderous silence. You find yourself squinting at the blinking tail light of a caboose retreating into the dark distance.

The summer was well spent. It started in May, when the leadership at the Hellhole decided to make a decision. The CMT (Crack Management Team) felt that they had to do something to fix the company. The choices were: 1) to reduce the number of costly offsite executive planning meetings, 2) to pump up an impotent sales force, or 3) to lance the festering boil of a bloated workforce.

Previous decisions had included Instituting a new Dress Code, Changing the Company Logo, Reorganizing and Redefining Mission Statement (and confusing nearly everyone), Eliminating free water, Hiring more lawyers, Downgrading support for the biggest customer (because they wanted to be less dependent on the cash cow), Forcing the implementation of a less effective systems (which annoyed the biggest customer even more), and instituting a simplified but incomprehensible set of performance goals.
The results of these initiatives were gratifying for the HR department. Not only did they have more interesting work overseeing the new goals and org chart modifications, but they could busy themselves getting new stationery and business cards with the new logo.
Unfortunately, none of these decisions resulted in increased revenue. The CMT fretted about the bad economic situation, and decided that they needed to go down to Naples Florida, which was the only place that they could think clearly (not to mention the excellent golfing, fishing and other accommodations). They would have to make some hard choices.

The CMT had no use for the wisdom of gurus like Tom Peters who says "You cannot shrink your way to greatness." They felt that the time-honored way to save a sinking boat is to throw things overboard. "Jetsam" is defined as cargo or equipment that is tossed intentionally (as opposed to "flotsam" - the stuff that is ejected into the water as the ship sinks).

Funny, they didn't lay off any senior execs, even though these are the ones who led the ship into the shoals of fiscal wreckage. We marvel at their ability to blame failure on external factors, but fully ready to take full credit for any successes, no matter how accidental.

So, my fellow jetsam and I have had ample opportunity to reflect on the nature of work. And to explore other professions - gardening, multi-level-marketing, thoroughbred handicapper, piano player in a sporting house, freelance writing, fisherman, van driver, house painter, gigilo, you name it. Some of the jetsam engaged in furious job hunting, and some of them did find successful landfall. I have sown some seeds and made some calls. As a no-limits person, I feel that one of these fine crisp days, the phone will ring with the perfect opportunity. (I just hope I am not out back sitting by the verdant garden, snoozing on the chaise lounge when the phone rings.)

Yesterday as I sat, admiring the new compost berm, my wife came home after a hard day at the office . She inspected my work and declared with a scowl, "It looks like a grave."

Another Road Not Taken

In my eternal quest to discover how I should spend the rest of my life, I have made another choice. I have decided NOT to become a professional gambler. Recent evidence has demonstrated with virtual certainty that in games of chance, if I did not have bad luck, I would have no luck at all. I know that sounds like a line stolen from a blues song, but it is true.

The recent venture to Suffolk Downs (where Seabiscuit was first spotted by his legendary trainer) yielded a big flat negative gain. None of my cleverly worked out 'systems' - designed to select high-paying winners - was successful. I would have done better to go with interesting names (eg 35-1 longshot named "Trailer Trash" - which paid about $75.00. I, of course, bet on another horse, named something like "She-can-win".)

Also, last week I donated a tidy portion of my unemployment check to the Native American Fund, aka Mohegan Sun. (Hey, here's an idea for the Jesse Jackson gang, looking for economic justice - lobby for permits to open Casinos. That's where you can confiscate some serious reparations.)

Anyhow, gambling is not for me. I have invested in Lottery tickets, scratch tickets, football pools, and none of them has paid me back. Roulette, video poker, slot machines all have failed to return anything since that big ($1,000) hit three years ago when I got a royal straight flush on video poker. I'm sure I have given every penny back to those murderous savages.

No, my future is in commerce. Thus, I will redouble my efforts to obtain a traditional job at outrageous wages. Like a surfer, waiting for the perfect wave, I scan the horizon patiently, searching for that perfect opportunity, hoping there are no maneating sharks in the water to chew on my ambitions.

Labor Day Musings

So, I'm reading in the Globe today that the Police in NewHaven CT arrested Jesse Jackson and 14 striking Yale employees for blocking traffic.
This raises at least two burning questions:
1) What do these people who work for a living have in common with Jesse Jackson? He's never had a real job in his life. It seems to this blog that his principle shtick is to wander freely around America stirring up racial tensions, and, then standing tall in support for the poor oppressed. How does he get paid? Does he travel by public transportation? Why should he worry about having an arrest record? He will probably not have to answer "Yes" to the "Have-you-ever-been-arrested?" question on a job application. Unlike the poor striking workers, who will most likely be forced-out of their current jobs for not being team players. Strikers risk the inevitable conclusion that the organization can run without them. But can they count on Jesse Jackson for a letter of reference. Sorry, the photo op is over. Time to move on to fry new fish.
2) And what is it about blocking traffic to get attention? Surely, this is the most moronically negative attention-getting stunt I can imagine. There is a theory (advanced by biblical scholar, Mel Brooks) that there were actually more than ten commandments, but the others were lost when Moses dropped one of the tablets. I imagine that one of the lost dictates would go something like" "Thou shalt not knowingly impede the flow of traffic." How does a group expect to get sympathy by causing traffic tie-ups? To me, this is not "civil disobedience". This is "Terrorism". Isn't terrorism defined as: inflicting pain on innocent bystanders? It is, in fact, a cowardly act, since the real foes are not directly challenged.
If it were up to me, the traffic blocking arrestees would be remanded to Camp Gitmo in Cuba for serious interrogation and perhaps torture until they admit their heinous crimes. No trial, just a lifetime of sitting around waiting for the line to move.

Why Managers Fail

The WSJ today contained book reviews of recently published books purporting to be studies tracking the causes of spectacular failures both of executives and companies. Hmm.

Nothing new or surprising to fans and stalkers of this humble observer.

The chief reason cited for smart executives to fail is blindness. We are not talking about ocular malfunction here, friends. We are talking about the inability to see things as they really are. People, events, data that do not conform to the ego expectation of the Emperor.

It is the fatal flaw of ego driven leaders that causes failure for themselves, and for their companies when unchallenged by the board. Look at WorldComm and Enron, look at Martha Stuart, Arther Anderson, Saddam Hussein and many others.

Companies and regimes that have developed empire egoes are likely to blindly enter into destructive mergers (AOL/Time Warner) or lose focus (Polaroid) or just lose good people, like my last employer. Doomed, I tell you, they are all doomed!

The Road Not taken

Life is a series of choices, decisions and moments. I believe that the paths we travel during our lives are not predetermined, but instead are highly volatile. Every day the newspapers are full of stories about the choices people make. A tragic story in todays's Globe - two teenage girls are killed when the car they are riding in crashes into a stone wall. They had been walking home just a few moments earlier, and had accepted a ride from a friend. Life would have been different had they declined the ride. Last year, there was a story about two couples who happened to meet the Great White band leader at a tattoo parlor. The band member gave them free tickets to the performance that terrible night at the nightclub in Rhode Island. Three of the four were among the hundred who died that night in the fire.

These are unhappy examples of the ways a small ad hoc decision or choice can take you down a wrong path. There are just as many stories about people who had good things happen to them because of a chance event. On a whim, a Brookline man decided to buy a $2 scratch ticket at the convenience store yielded a winning ticket for $50,000. Many people have been in the right place at the right time, when good fortune smiled. Hmm. I can't really think of any others, but I am pretty sure there are more inspirational stories.

Until I can think of more positive reasons to go outside, I believe I will just stay inside today and crank up the air conditioning. Who knows what evil lurks outside.

Fire and Rain

This week I had a gig as a Freelance Lab Monkey. Some researchers over at McLean Hospital ( the high-end nut house where James Taylor woke up one morning and found out Suzanne was gone) are studying a group of volunteers to see what role heredity plays in obesity and eating disorders. They were paying $200 for a 2 hour interview and test. Hell I never was much good at math but that's like $100 per hour. Not bad wages for an unemployed fat guy.

They wanted to know if I was fat just because I ate too much, or was I a binge eater who had uncontrollable feelings around food. I admitted that there were two foods I am 'out of control' around: Beer and Bacon. This was not what they are looking for. They want psychos who unconsciously eat a whole box of cookies or an entire gallon of ice cream, and then feel bad about it.

I rarely feel bad about my gluttony. I am not responsible, since I probably inherited some gene from my ancestors, all of whom were fat. The Irish gene that evolved as a response to the famines, no doubt. Hey, don't laugh. Next time the terrorists destroy the power grid and the world goes crazy, you skinny bastards will be dropping like flies, and I'll just live off stored fat, and getting buff in the bargain.

The researcher shrink who interviewed me seemed a bit disappointed that I was not able to report more trauma and angst in my life. (eg, most morbid fear: running out of bacon). I guess people with heavy duty psychosis tend to eat a lot. I admit to having a modest closet full of my own idiosynchronies, mind you - but I am clearly minor league, compared to the issues of the true manic overeaters. They also will also interview my siblings, each of whom will receive $200 also. My brother was delighted. He said "Hell, I'd pay two hundred just to get someone listen to me talk for two hours."

Next week I have another freelance opportunity - to record burps for a novelty recording studio in Medford. Maybe I'll stop by the new Krispy Kreme donut shop while I am in the area.

The employment scene is looking pretty good!

Waiting for opportunity to knock

I had an "interview" the other day. Actually an invitation to join a group that is starting a company to sell CRM software and customization services to mid-size companies. I know the guy who is leading the effort and he has a good track record. They like my experience as application development project manager and IT relationships management. The team he has assembled is a good mix of young and wizened smart guys and the market for these products is hot.

If I was ten years younger, I would be delighted to have the chance to be part of the Leadership a successful enterprise, but at age 61, I am tired of striving, playing politics, shutting-up when the boss is clearly wrong, being told what to do and how to do it, bullshitting, being bullshitted, sitting in meetings, and wearing business clothes. (Ok. I still like to sling the bullshit, but not for political reasons).

So I am passing-up on the opportunity to be a founding member of the startup phase, mainly because the work in the initial stages consists of selling. I am a poor sales agent.

I am too much of a Buddhist:
I do not overcome objections, I accept them meekly and move on.
I do not ask for the order, I wait patiently for the prospect to make an intelligent decision in my favor and then call me with their requested quantities.
I hate to bother people when they are "busy".
( BTW: I find that most people who characterize themselves as "busy" are actually filling time with unimportant tasks to make themselves feel important)
I am intimidated when I meet business people who seem to be intelligent and thoughtful about their information needs. (ok, this is a rare event, but it happens)
When asked a question about a product's fitness for a particular purpose, I usually respond truthfully - which is a definite drawback in the sales profession.

I know about these things because I have slept with a salerep for many years. My wife has been a success selling everything from Electronic Potting Compounds to to Filing Cabinets to Payroll Services and Insurance. While remaining completely ethical, she is dogged and ruthless in pursuit of her prospect. She is convinced that they need her product, and she is deternmined to get the order. In short, her success is because of attributes that I lack.

I'm still in the market for a job, mind you. But I want one of those kushy gigs where you work for a successful publically-traded company with great benefits, big budgets, and big projects, high pay, low stress, interesting work, intelligent coworkers, progessive management, no heavy lifting.

I sit by the phone waiting for one of these opportunities to call. I should check the batteries; the damn thing hasn't rung in weeks.

On the Nature of Work and Art
Some people have a high falootin opinion of themselves, and therefore, their work. Let's distinguish jobwork from the broader term used by artists to describe their creations.

The healthiest among us realize that working for a boss is something you do for the pay. Most of this work is of transitory value.

Most of the projects I have worked on in my career were late and over budget. Few of the things I accomplished lasted longer than the next regime. In fact, virtually every one of the very successful companies I worked for eventually went out of business or were absorbed by another organization and exist only as unimportant subgroups. Wang Labs, Prime Computer, Index Technologies, Bull Express are prominent examples. But, there are thousands more similar stories. All the accomplishments of people who worked for these organizations have been rendered irrelevent and meaningless. OK, I will grant that the people who invented e-mail, GUI, and the Worldwide Web have made lasting contributions, but virtually all of these people were actually working as unsupervised artists in a creative friendly environment.

Do real artists think of their creations as work? Is it art, if I sit down to write an essay specifically for paid publication? I think not. The editor then becomes my boss. The mere consideration of issues like: who will pay for this when I'm done? have a constraining effect on my creativity, because I know most mainstream editors will not buy my stuff unless I tone it down and leave out the most creative elements.
Let's face it, people who work for their pay have a lot in common with whores. Get over yourselves you stinking prostitutes.

I had an email from a former workmate who disclosed a "dread of the meaninglessness of it all." I wrote back:

No-No, mon ami, you must not dread the meaninglessness; you must embrace the meaninglessness of your workplace plans, schemes and deeds.

Our work lives and so-called accomplishments are worth nada. Our career successes are nothing more than footsteps in the sand, soon obliterated and forgotton by the next wave or at longest, the next high tide.

The only real joy of life is the sensation of utter freedom. (I believe that this is why humans crave Art - because it records those moments of unfettered creative expression. ) Isn't that why people get addicted to drugs, as well?

Those of us who must toil for a living must make the best of those truly meaningless tasks that Caesar demands. A well-developed sense of humor is a gift of perspective, which serves us well.

When I was younger, I consumed large quantities of alcohol to sooth my aching soul. Now I am older, with a more delicate liver. These days, I choose to imagine myself gathering material for a great humorous work of Literature. Nothing bothers me, because I now have the perspective to see that - whatever the idiocy - it simply is not important.

Still, one must avoid assholes, as they tend to piss one off. The resulting Rage clouds the thinking mechanism.

Your mentor,

DN

Life in the fast lane.
The other day, having some time on my hands, I spend the morning in the periodical room of the newly refurbished Wellesley Library. I was reading an article in the current HBR about what management practice really work. The authors had dilligently studied a raft of companies and tracked the successes and failures over a ten year period. They looked at various approaches TQM, Six Sigma, kaizan, ERP,CRM and a host of other trendy practices and methodologies. To put it in a nutshell, it seemed that the successful companies all had a few things in common: a clear focus about the business; a simple strategy that was understood by management, employees, customers and stockholders; strong trusted leadership; and a simple organizational structure. They could find no causal relationship between any of the tools and techniques and superior business performance. Kind of makes you wonder whether all this technology is worth a fiddler's fart.

Well, my summer has been pretty quiet. The garden looks great, I have shed 10 or 12 lbs, and some things in and around the house have gotten painted. My plan to write a mystery novel has bumped into a huge obstacle, namely the lack of a good plot, characters and dialogue. Fortunately my wife is still working, therefore I have the house to myself most of the day. Well, there are the three cats, but they are low maintenance. They sleep 23.5 hours a day, then they chase each other around for 20 minutes, eat, visit the litter box and, exhausted, return to their slumbers.

Next week will mark the end of my third month of unemployment. I am not eager to return to the working life, but my financial situation dictates that I must get a job. I have been through several boom-bust business cycles in the past, and I remain calm about the prospects of eventual employment at a sustainable wage. Well meaning people keep reminding me that I'm not a young fellow anymore. But, I have always believed that talent trumps bias. I'm thinking that even in a bad economy, 94% of the people who want to work have jobs. I think those are pretty good odds.

I woke up late today. I know you are thinking, "Yah, what's new?" Hey, I've been up early a lot lately. The fishing trip last week started at 6:30am. And with the kids living with us, the daily noisy furor was well underway at 6am. So it was unusual for me to lie in bed, enjoying uninterupted slumber, as late as 10am. But it was delicious.

I have not been exercising lately. It's boring. It hurts. And, I've been noticing that regular vigorous exercise tends to rob one of that protective layer of fat that has been carefully cultivated to sustain the body in the event of a famine. Besides that, exercise is un-natural. Did you ever see a tiger jogging in the woods, or a gorilla lifting weights? No. I figure that if God wanted us to exercise he would have made mention of it in the Bible. Or, He could have issued a fatwah, or there would have been a commandment "Thou shalt move thy ass and keep it firm." Clearly, exercise is a device of Satan.

I have been studying this matter for literally minutes, and my findings are a slap-in-the face to conventional scientific research, based on facts and rigorous analysis. Did you ever notice that people who "work-out" regularly are obsessive and compulsive? You don't have to lhave a Phd in Psychology to know that this type of behavior is pathological. These freaks are sick! They think sweating is a good thing. "No pain, no gain" is their insane mantra. After this epiphany, I threw my exercise weights out the window. (Judy says "Fine, but next time open the window first." )

Well, enough blogging. Time to check the mail to see if there are any job offers. I have promised to paint the dining room ceiling today. My arms are already tired. Maybe tomorrow.

It's been a hectic week. My younger daughter, her husband and two grandkids were staying at our house, awaiting their move to California. They had to vacate their apartment on the 15th, but could not move in to the CA unit until yesterday. The chaos of having your grandchildren 7X24 is mindblowing. Both boys had birthdays, and the de riguer parties were well attended. Now they are all gone, and we will not see them until Thanksgiving.

The car did not get fixed on the first try, but the good news it they do consider the electrical problem a warranty-covered item. I am awaiting a part that needed to be ordered - aparently from China, since they have not called (wiring harness for the passenger door).

Last friday's NU deep sea fishing trip netted zero keepers. I did enjoy the day on the water, however, owing in no small measure to the abundance of $2 beers furnished by a stalwart crew. On the trip back to port we were treated to a scene from the Perfect Storm, complete with pelting rain, lighting strikes close enough that you could hear the thunder at the same instant that you saw the flash. And 30 foot tidal waves - or so it seemed. We weren't scared though - we were too drunk to be scared.

Yesterday, I mowed the lawn and watered the garden. Then I took a nap, and finished reading the daily newspapers.

Again, there were no job offers via e-mail or on the phone. While sipping a frosty gin 'n tonic in the back yard, I rested, thinking how exhausting job-hunting can be.

Today the van is in the shop for repairs. Strange electrical malfuction makes the door locking mechanism do unpredictable things, like lock all doors when I shut off the radio, and clicking lock and unlock at random times for 20-30 seconds. This gets attention in parking lots, where poeople undoubtedly think I am an idiot who doesn't know how to handle his keyless entry system. The service manager looked grimly at my after-market remote starter and warned me that this installation might invalidate the warranty. There goes this week's DET check. kachink kachink.

Walking back from the dealership at 8am, I crossed the Ceder Street overpass which looks down on Route 9. It was a bit awing to observe the volume of traffic going both ways. All these people, getting up early, sitting in slow moving traffic, rushing to get to their desks in cubicles and cages, with some dickwad telling them what to do.

I resolved to slow-down on my job hunting activities. I am not ready for that again.
I will wait until the economy improves, and there is a sharp rise in the demand for fat old guys who can't follow orders, but want a lot of money.
I read the Alan Greenspan had promised to keep interest rates low, and for the sixth time in a year, he declared that the economy was definitely showing signs of a potential recovery. He is one funny bastard. Keep it up Alan; I'll be eligible for an extension on my unemployment in December.

I used to think it was good for interest rates to be low. But now I wonder, how do you earn money on your savings?

They tell me it's the weekend, as if that has some meaning. Every day is the same for me. No, Judy slept until 8 am today. I think she normally gets up at like 3am to get ready for work. It takes a lot of make-up and trying-on of various clothes to look presentable enough for the bank. Some robbers might be offended if the personnel were improperly dressed. It doesn't make any difference what day it is if I don't wake up to the smell of bacon sizzling in the pan. I generally do not eat breakfast, but I can be counted on to rise like a breeching whale to the odor of fried pork fat.

Darn, no one called me in for interviews again this week. I try. Lord knows I try.
Maybe I should edit my standard cover letter, where I say "It doesn't say so on the resume, but I feel that you should know that I often have violent impulses and hear voices that command me to do ... things."
Judy thinks that sort of disclosure is detrimental to a positive work image.
I agree (and so do I).

Things are getting dicey around the homestead these days. The working spouse is starting to resent the hulk lying in bed snoring peacefully as she leaves for work every morning. The passions become even more harrowed when the working spouse returns from the salt mines to find the house exactly the way she left it, except for the cats that have not been fed and the lay-about now sitting in the TV room in front of a pile of beer bottles and empty potato chip bags, watching a DVD movie at 5pm and nothing planned for dinner.

I explain that the time can get away on a fella when you don't get up until 10:30. Sorta like jet lag. You lose track. Urrp.
It's times like these, some working spouses can say things they really don't mean.

So we haven't needed the A/C during these hot nights. it's been pretty cool, if you know what I mean. Hey, she'll get over it. I still have enough money in the emergency fund to buy some jewelry if I really need to thaw things out. I figure maybe I'll paint the dining room on the next rainy day, and all will be forgiven. Urrp.

How Do You Like My Tan?
Ok fans, relax. I am back from my travels to the Cape and Island. I have managed to stay in the shade during all those hot sweltering days, swigging on beers or gin 'n tonics while other mad dogs and Englishmen went out and exposed their flesh to the ravages of the blazing sun. Strange that so many white people spend so much time lusting after that perfect tan. I do not deny that tanned skin looks good, but as an EPA (Exceptionally Pale American) I am incapable of getting anything but a hue which resembles a cooked lobster.

We had a great time, despite having our credit card cancelled due to "suspicious activity" - someone had used our visa number to buy stuff on the Internet. Then, there was the unfortunate septic tank incident. I will spare you the disgusting details, but I can say that I learned that it costs $250 to have a 1,000 gallon septic tank pumped out on an emergency basis - it only costs $150 if you schedule the sucking during normal business hours. By the way, they want payment immediately or they threaten to pump it all back in.
Suffice to say, there was a dicy time when 6 adults, many of whom had been drinking liters of Marguaritas, needed to find alternative facilities for certain bodily functions. Fortunately, we were only a short van ride to the Mall restrooms. That was Monday. The next day, the sun came out, and the rest of the week was shit free. Wherever you were, it was delightfully cooler on the cape. We went to the national seashore, Martha's Vineyard, and local beaches, using 50spf sunblocker when we were forced to be in the sun. ($1.99 at Christmas Tree Shops)

We returned on Sunday, to an overgrown lawn, a garden seriously in need of weeding and 3 cats who pretended we were total strangers. They hid under the bed and would not come down until they heard dry cat food clinking in their bowls. They were probably pissed off at being left behind, even though we had a licensed veterinary assistant check on them every day. She also watered the parched gardens, so the tomato crop was saved from dessication during those horrid hot days.

One of the messages on our answering machine was from Zoots. They had noticed that I hadn't been to the Wellesley store for a while, and they were wondering if anything was wrong. I guess the economy is starting to reflect my diminished need for starched and pressed shirts.

Yesterday, I had a conversation with an old business associate who was interested in my "freelance writer" status. It was chilling, because, Lord knows, this type of discussion could unfortunately lead to w-w-work. There I said it. Part of me is flattered to know that people are still interested in paying me money for my efforts. But, it's too soon. I haven't even made a dent in my personal "To-Do" list. In the end, Judy reminds me, I should not pass up the opportunity to earn money. Zoots, and the local economy is counting on me.

Tomorrow, I am going fishing for a week in Kenya. At least there I can find the sweet peace and quietude of the dark continent.
If I am not back by July 1, you can take over my blog.

I am up early today. It is 9am and the sun is out. I am going for a long walk before the clouds roll-in. The day is a rebuke to all weather forecasters who presume to know what will happen more than 24 hours ahead of time. They had gloomily forecasted drenching rains, and they have been wrong. Let's hope their errors contunue through the weekend.

It has been a furious week of jobhunting for me. Hah. I just thought I'd type that sentence to see how it looked. Actually, I did comply with the DET's insistence that I actually perform jobseeking tasks to earn the weekly check. Mostly web based research. But I did actually go to Boston yesterday to attend the CRM show at the Heinz. In past times at these events, I can usually find one or two old cronies who are working the exhibit floor. If I don't get a job lead, at least I end up with a free logoed tee shirt.

Yesterday, the exhibit floor was sparsely attended. A sign of the economic times perhaps that many company budgets for new (and perhaps unecessary) software products are still unthawed. The booth people eyed each passing attendee as a vulture looks at an injured wildebeast. It was an uneasy feeling. The more I looked at the various products, the more convinced I was at their tedious sameness. All the booth people were eager young marketers, utterly convinced that their solution was perfect for me. I dealt with the most persistent of them cruelly. "I don't really need this crap, my Rolodex works fine and I never turn on my PC." or I pretend that my Cell phone is ringing and walk away from them, saying "I need to take this call." Little do they suspect that The phone is merely a prop; I cancelled the Cingular account last month.

Today I am struck with a profound sadness that I did not won the Mass Millions Lottery last night, and I resolved to buy a ticket to tonight's $175M Mega Millions drawing. Hope, you are my raft in this roiling sea of uncertainty.