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.