Manana

Ok stop yelling at me. I haven't felt like writing lately. Believe it or not, writing the blog is an easy thing to put off. I am busy and there are lots of other things going on.

Some people think that procrastination is the thief of time. All of my life, I have been reading time management aphorisms decrying the tendancy to delay until tomorrow that which can be done today. Do it now.

Quotes like: "Procrastination is the grave in which opportunity is buried," have haunted me for years. Still, I have continued to plod on the wayward path of frittering last-minute idlers. I am the one who turns in his taxes just under the deadline on April 15th regardless of whether I am getting a refund or paying. If I am traveling, I finish packing as the car warms-up for the trip to the airport. If I have a report due on Monday, I start working on it Sunday night, after the 11 O'clock news.

I know I am not alone. In fact, I believe that there is a genetic component in what I call the Manana Syndrome My parents had it and so do my siblings. We have all been conditioned by goal-oriented society to be ashamed of our tardy tendancies.

The sign over my desk intones:

On the beaches of hesitation

Bleach the bones of countless thousands

Who, at the moment of victory

Sat down to wait

And, waiting, perished.

There are hundreds of books and seminars designed to overcome Procrastination. But there are virtually no guides to help people overcome their sense of urgency.
But at last I have found the reason why people behave this way: It Works.
One writer, John Perry, dignifies his tendancy to dally, labelling it Structured Procrastination. And there was another piece in April 05 Money by David Futrelle examining the positive side of procrastination.

Most of us who are successful procrastinators work exceedingly well under pressure. The fear of failure that drives most people to "get it done now" does not haunt the breast of a good procrastinator. We see our TV watching and paper shuffling as preparation time. We are terribly creative. We can find a million reasons Not to do something. The less gifted simply start working on the task. They will probably be done while we are still considering the options. Then, they fill their time with even more tasks to get done. I ask you, "What kind of life is that?"

We procrastinators make everything we do more interesting, adventurous and important. Seeing the deadline right smack in front of you charges up the adrenilin. "The sight of the guillotine tends to focus the mind" - another quote I have been carrying around on a yellow sticky note to enter into my journal, someday.

Poor CEO's

News Item:

"(WASHINGTON) Carly Fiorina, who lost her job as chief executive of Hewlett-Packard three weeks ago, has emerged as a strong candidate to become president of the World Bank, according to an official in the Bush administration..."

My last real job was going pretty well until Carly Fiorina decided that HP needed to buy Compaq. My company had a big contract, managing all the contract staffing at Compaq in the USA. My role was essentially to keep the customer happy. I was making good money and life was good. Then came the HP cloud.

There was a big, protracted fight within HP stockholders about the merger/takeover. During this time, the uncertainty about the future tainted everything. New projects froze. Plans were put on hold. Budgets were constrained, management was scared and clueless. My workplace became a Hellhole.

In the end, Carly won the day. HP took over and the bloodbath at Compaq began. We watched helplessly as our contacts were laid-off. The relationships Compaq had developed with suppliers was nullified as HP asserted it's power. The inevitable happened: my job went away along with many others at the Hellhole. Thanks, Carly.

After two years, skillions of dollars, many thousands of casualties (both at Compaq and its suppliers) the HP board finally realized what I could have told them in the first place: Carly was wrong. She was punished severely, sent packing with a mere $21 Million severance to ease the sting of her public humiliation. She is eligible for unemployment benefits on top of that.
My severance was two months pay, plus unused vacation. This barely covered my tab at the local gin mill.

I guess I'm finding it hard to garner sympathy for the poor CEO's in the news. ( Poor Bernie, no one told him about the fraudulent accounting; poor Martha, she had to do jail time for doing what everyone does). But above all, poor Carly - what idiot would want to hire her, after the HP fiasco?

Only the Best

Friends and relatives (especially my wife) often forward job leads to me via e-mail.
These are well-meaning attempts to aid in my pursuit of the Ideal Work Experience (IWE). As you all know, the IWE has eluded me throughout my career. In fact, you could say that the search for the IWE has actually been my real life's work.
Yes, you could say that, but you would be wrong. Most of my "career" has been spent trading labor hours for a paycheck. I think I was a good employee. I worked hard most of the time; I showed-up; I solved problems. In short, I earned my pay. I have disdained the idea that I had anything that could be termed a Career. The word Career implies planning. I just took the best offers I could get with no real thought about where it would lead. The idea of searching for the IWE has only occured to me since I was laid off, nearly 2 years ago. Shows you what happens when you have time to think about things.


I know I may have given some of you the impression that my work goals were basically maximizing my time spent at the water cooler and minimizing the time spent in meetings. It is true that I have been fairly cynical about work in my writings, but this has really been a commentary on dysfunctional organizations, where Management egos wreck previously effective enterprises. Most of the successful organizations I worked in were effective despite management, not because of their genius.


I never felt defined by my title, since the real me was the person who came home from work in the evening and who left for work in the morning. In the beginning, I had buoyant hopes that the cliches were true and somehow I would rise to the top - whatever talent I had would be recognized and rewarded. Ah naive youth.

These early hopes were pretty much dashed on the rocks of despair by managers who were looking for leaner and meaner disciples. The real world was colder and crueler than I had imagined. They wanted people who were disciplined, who would follow orders, praise the Emperor's new clothes...

Anyhow, the other day, a friend forwarded a job lead for a Data Warehouse Project Manager. I checked it out, but the company is a high powered consulting outfit, looking for bright, young, lean and hungry "Playas" who devote their waking hours to activities that bring-in billable hours from the clueless client. This is not now nor ever was Me.

Henceforth, I wish to inform folks who might be tempted to send me job leads that I am only considering work at one of Fortune's "100 Best Places to work in America."

Epiphany

One of my favorite work metaphors has been the Sinking Ship. Often times we get so hung-up on the petty events of our working lives that we sense disaster just ahead, lurking just below the icy ocean surface, unseen by the Captains up in Mahogany Row.

I have oft described my assignments as "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic", or "criticizing the choice of tunes played by the orchestra" as the freezing ocean rushes in through giant gash below the water line.

While this may be poetic and entertaining imagery, it is less accurate than it is therapeutic. Of all the enterprises where I applied this metaphor, none of them was actually seriously damaged by the crisis that I was experiencing at the time.

This point came clear to me today as I was reading the WSJ. There was an article about people who actually loved their long commute to work and back.
These were people who looked at creative ways to spend the time, rather than railing at the unknown forces that stalled traffic, broke-down busses and trains and caused passengers of irregular hygiene habits to sit next to them. These people had managed to alter their attitude toward a heinous experience and turn it into lemonade. They read books, wrote their diaries, listened to tapes, even meditated. What genius!

Thinking about this, it suddenly became clear to me that we create our own Hellholes!

This mental abberation is easy to see in others: we all know people who seem to create bad luck for themselves by their behavior, choices, negative thoughts.

But when we look in the mirror, we see a noble hero, valiantly fighting for truth and justice in a world filled with ego-maniacs and blowhards.

So, let the word go forth. I have resolved to adopt a new attitude toward my next work situation. No longer will I be calling names, alluding to clueless management and corrupt co-workers, while painting myself as a decent, well-meaning perfect employee who has been badly-used.

I am re-born. I shall henceforth endeaver to re-invent myself. In the future I shall try my hardest to be as evil, self-serving and untrustworthy as the rest of you bastards. It feels better already.

Edifice Complex

I was reading a book the other day titled "Pushing The Limits". The author, Petroski has a fascination with big engineering projects, and has written a rambling but interesting account of some of the most impressive bridge and tunnel projects of the past hundred years or so. The book got me to thinking about people who had the vision, drive, talent and opportunity to build bridges and other massive construction challenges.

Building a bridge has some stickiness to it that I find worthy of envy. For a systems analyst, getting the weekly payroll to correctly generate a few thousand paychecks might have a short term glow to it. But, before you know it, you need to do it again, and again. After a while, no one really notices, unless you foul-up.

Implementing a successful business application cannot really compare to the lasting, palpable presence of a bridge or an edifice.

Most of the folks I've known (this probably includes YOU) have spent a lifetime of work and never do anything of comparable permanence. My favorite kind of work - shoveling snow - is quite satisfying in the short term. But, the visual pleasure of seeing the mountain of cleared snow is fleeting and ephemeral when compared to the gratification one gets from building something out of solid materials.

Even artistic accomplishments - paintings, statues, poems have a persistence that invites an increased sense of accomplishment. By the way, Blogging is the second least permanent medium I can think of, right after a spoken conversation. Verbal discussions and blogs are quickly crowded off the frame of focus by other distractions. Even the newspaper which most people throw away each evening, has more stickiness - and portability. Readers can take the morning newspaper into what Brian euphemistically calls the "library" to peruse during their daily squat. Try doing that with your Desktop monitor. But I digress.

The worst kind of work is missionary work. Helping people who are stuck in a bad situation is admirable. But bringing the evils of civilization and religion to the innocent peaceful inhabitants of some far flung jungle is worse than being a machine gunner.

Most of the work I have done is probably analogous to tunnel work. Most of the results are hidden. We were always talking about the light at the end, hoping that it was not an oncoming train.

No Valentine for Bush

Wow, the Iraqi election results are in. Surprise. They chose a Theocracy. The secular slate which supported the US got only 14% of the vote. The new duly elected representatives will be kicking our asses out of the country before you can say "catastophic failure."

So much for the Bush administrations's 300-Billion dollar, 10,000 man experiment in mid-east democracy. The newsguys say the administration is "surprised" by the results of the election - just like they have been surprised by everything that has happened since Bush was elected in 2000.
Now, we have a new ally for Iran in the mideast, bought and paid-for by US citizens and US marine blood. How do you guys like it? I think it sucks.

Final Thoughts on The Superbowl

What has happened to the championship game of the NFL? Instead of a sporting event, it has become a political media event. We have former presidents, an ex-Beatle, and business leaders all vieing and mugging for the camera. Flyovers by the Air Force and touching scenes of young soldiers overseas watching the game as a connection with home.
These are all fine and interesting scenes but what do they have to do with football?

To a TV football watcher who saw the first superbowl (but forgets who played, the whole thing has gotten way out of hand. And not in a good way.
The start time for the game has been tweaked for optimal commercial payback. The original 2pm daytime kickoff time has drifted upwards to 6:30pm EST. This makes partying less attractive. The loyal season ticket holders are not rewarded with championship tickets at reasonable prices, and how can they compete with the grinning state solons who are offfered tickets nearly for free.
Women who know nothing about football and care even less are watching for the commercials and the half time shows.
Don't get me started on the commercials. How did it happen that an industry has sprung-up to keep viewers posted on the ads? You can go to a website on the internet and vote for your favorite superbowl commercial (of the forty or so that interrupted the game.)
Folks, we have been duped into actually asking for commericials! It is sick, I tell you.

Gig from Hell

Perhaps it is not surprising to readers of this journal when I report that my current contracting assignment has turned into the Gig from Hell. What started out as a benevolent, routine Access Database job, working for "volunteer" wages at a local non-profit has devolved into a rat's nest of complications.

My first mistake was underestimating the work. My second mistake was assuming that the working conditions were agreeable. The third and biggest mistake was assuming that the users knew what they wanted.

I had estimated the cleanup effort at 40-60 hrs, and stipulated that my charges would not exceed the upper-limit. After I actually got in there and analyzed the situation, I was a bit surprised to find that there was no resident expert to explain why things are the way they are. And no one could articulate what they wanted me to do.

In my past lives, I always had a knowledgeable user who could define - or at least validate the business rules. At this place, my inquiry about business rules was met with a look of panic. We don't have business rules, my user almost sobbed from the stress of my probing interrogation.

That's when I realized that what they wanted was magic. Somehow the database should support some unknown objective. Just get rid of the records that we don't need. Oh, good let's talk about the ones you do need. I have no idea. That's why we hired You! Oh dear, that will take a bit longer.

Another vexing complication is my incompetence when it comes to actually doing labor intensive technical tasks. I can fudge my way through some basic SQL queries, but the mysteries of writing macros (or any form of code) seem to be beyond my ken. Another fortunate aspect of my professional career has been the luck of teaming-up with talented techies who like to do that sort of thing.

So, here I am. Alone on the open ocean of independent contracting - over my head with no life raft, mucking around with forms and mismatched data types and referential integrity - working for peanuts.

Oh yes it has been a learning experience. Corporate America, please, take me back!

Cutting Edges

Procter and Gamble wants to buy Gillette. Oh, the copywriters are honing their headlines to show how cleverly they can play on the words about these mega-consumer providers. The lines are too easy, and it will take some really disciplined writers to reach for the simile, metaphor or turn-of-phrase that will make readers envy the cleverness of the writer rather than fighting the urge to pummel the writer.

A favorite metaphor of management is expressed with the tired business objective "...to be on the cutting edge" of their industry. I think this is an ill-chosen image. I think they mean "progressive" or "at the forefront" or even "ahead of the pack." But the words conjure a vision of wood shavings curling away from a plank, or a scythe mowing a swathe of wheat. The cutting edge is destructive. The glint of the razor begs for blood.

When I hear some maven of business uttering this pop cliche, I cannot help but recall a Mad Magazine cartoon - a kid is sliding down a long curving banister and as he rounds the final curve, he suddenly sees that the bottom section turns into a giant razor blade. Oooch.

Tom Lehrer immortalized the image in one of his little ditties ( Bright College Days"
The lyric goes
"... Soon we'll be out, amid the cold world's strife.
Soon we'll be sliding down the razor blade of life..." (oooch)

You would think that the company that offered an eternally-sharp "Ginsu" razor blade would become gloriously successful. But Gillette has demonstrated that the real money comes from the recurring sale of blades not in the sale of razors.

There is something vaguely disturbing about the recent spate of acquisitions and mergers between already large companies (e.g., Oracle-PeopleSoft, SBC-AT&T, Cingular-AT&T Wireless). These mega-deals may benefit the corporate mavens and stockholders, but they don't sound so sweet to the employees that will be consolidated-out of a job, or to the consumers who will inevitably pay increased prices in a less competitive marketplace. (Fewer employees, more profits = bloody brilliant!)

I would like to believe in the Ayn Rand brand of free market rationalism, but my gut tells me that more big companies are not a good thing. These multi-everything institutions begin to behave like political entities rather than economically driven organizations. Monopolistic control of pricing and availability will ultimately reduce consumer choices while increasing the cost of goods. The rising costs do not result in better quality goods - because executives realize that they get more bang for the buck if they spend the buck on marketing than if they spend it on product development.

Face it. We are screwed.

========
In a related story, US auditors cannot account for Nine Billion US Taxpayer dollars that was spent in Iraq last year. Incredibly, our guy Bremer said that we gave most of it to the Iraqi provisional government, but did not make them account for how the money was spent. Don't the Iraqis have oil? Why are we paying for everything? Who the heck is in charge?

When the enterprise gets so big that those responsible do not have to answer to anyone, we are screwed. Royally.

In yesterday's historic election in Iraq, everyone was surprised. The turnout was higher (percentage-wise) than in most American elections. This, despite the fact that they all had to walk to the polls, stand in long lines, risk death or injury, undergo a personal body frisking, and hardly anyone one really knew who they were voting for.

On second thought, it sounds a lot like the reports from Ohio last November.

When Weather is News

I know what you're thinking: Here comes another rant about the TV Media's irrepressible campaign to exploit the fears of viewers to make them stay-tuned and watch more commercial messages.
But you are wrong. I have no interest in lampooning those silly "live updates" with some pitiful newsy standing outside in the driving blizzard to report on the blowing snow, the wind-chill factor, the dangerous driving conditions. Nor am I going to jab the tiresome weather guys and gals for "teasing" us with the promise of dire weather warnings that we will only learn if we stay-tuned to the upcoming segment.

No. These may be pertinent examples of the disturbing trend of weather-tainment, but they are not the topic I wish to address today. Let me remind you that the theme of this journal is the nature of work and the meaning it has on our lives.
More importantly, this has been the record of one man's quest to find the self-actualized life. A search for fulfilling, meaningful work and an ideal workplace. (Unlike the Hellholes where he has toiled for most of his questful life).

I know exactly what you are thinking: "Give up. Utopia is for dreamers. Besides no one wants to employ an aging, stubborn, insubordinate, fat guy with no sense of urgency. (Did we mention unorganized?)"
Well, then fine. You have your opinion. I have this! (Holds-up a potentially winning megamillions lottery ticket. Fade to scene of snowplows on highway.)

Cold Enough For You?

We had a big winter storm yesterday. Twenty-something inches in my driveway. It was the best kind of snow to clear away. Fine, dry and light. The Snowthrower went through it like butter. Not really a big deal. And let's face it, shoveling snow is the purest form of work you can do.
Annually, I host a get-together for the guys to watch both league championship football games. Typically, they are the most interesting games to watch, since they pit the best teams from each league.

By 3pm the local streets were clear enough for George and Bill (fearless fans who laugh in the face of travel warnings) to come here to watch the league playoff games, drink beer and eat grilled meat. Rick and my brother cancelled, since neither of them had shoveled-out their driveways yet; they were still waiting for someone else to do the work (imagine passing-up the opportunity to occupy one'self in such satisfying labor.) My brother who is not a true believer claims that God put the snow there and he was not going to mess with the work of the Creator. Besides, the governor had declared a state of emergency. The roads were a mess. Despite such wimpery in the audience, the Patriots vanquished the Steelers handily.

Today, Mit Romney was on TV. State workers were being asked to stay home today, since there was nowhere for them to park with all the snow. Now, I know a few state workers, and I'll bet my lottery winnings that not one of them insisted on going-in on public transportation. One friend was supposed to start her new job as a state employee. She was told to stay home and take a paid day off. (That's what I call a great beginning. A harbinger of Utopia? Time will tell.)

We are going to the Superbowl Baby!

The superbowl is to a professional football player the ultimate success. As searchers of peak work experiences, we should all rejoice in the good fortune of these football employees - especially the third string back-ups who don't really have to do anything. They get a free trip to Florida in February. They get a nice ring, that can be auctioned off for big bucks someday, if necessary. And they get a huge bonus - even if they lose. That's pretty good work, if you can get it.

Investigating

I was surfing the channels on TV the other day and happened to stop on the program called "Dog - The Bounty Hunter." This guy - Dog has a great job. He chases down bail jumpers, beats the hell out of them and then lectures them about fiscal responsibility all during the ride back to jail. Apparently, Bounty Hunters do not need a warrant. They can come to your house, kick down the door and shoot you if you resist.

Hmmn I thought, Bounty Hunting might be a little to much of a career transition for someone whose most confrontive act was asking for the senior discount at Papa Gino's.

But, when I saw an ad on Monster.com for a Private Investigator, I started thinking about the parallels between systems analysis and crime fighting. Analytical mind, patient observer, willing to write up detailed accounts of relatively mundane events, able to keep a secret... Crap. That was the booger in the oatmeal. How the heck could I be trusted to keep a secret? I'm a yakker, a shmoozer, a story teller. No way I could pass the battery of psychological tests to find the perfect investigator: Disciplined, heartless, follower of orders, no empathy for the victim oops I mean suspect.

By the way, the dirty little secret of job boards is that many of the listings are NOT jobs, but rather sneaky and underhanded come-on's from people who do not have jobs but use fake jobs to suck you into giving them information and paying them money to list you in their database, which they say will help you find jobs. Some of their come-ons are probably familiar: (Work at home licking envelopes and make hundreds a week! Be a Secret Shopper - you can get rich! Earn Millions from the Belly Button Lint you have in your own home!)

This "ad" was the same type of marketing BS. The offer you a "test" to see if you are the right sort of personality to be an Investigator earning thousands of dollars just watching people go in and out of motels, or tracking down bail jumpers,like Dog?
I must say I was surprised to learn how many different jobs there are in the field of "investigation." Here is the list they published in the ad.

* Background Investigations
* Civil & Undercover Investigations
* Retail & Cashier Fraud Surveillances
* Crime Scene Analysis
* Sales Fraud Investigations
* Criminal & Drug Investigations
* Real Estate Fraud
* Nursing Home Abandonment Cases
* Insurance Fraud
* Music & Video Piracy
* Nanny & Child Care Investigations
* Integrity Shopping Services
* Missing Persons & Research
* Pre-Employment for hotel chain employees
* Dead Beat Spouse Collections
* Process Service
* Customer Service Investigations
* Internet and Web Hack Programmer Investigations
* Telemarketing & Collections Investigations
* Protective & Bodyguard Services
* Work at Home scam Investigations
* Skip Tracing
* Clerical and Office embezzlement
* Forensic and/or Evidentiary Photography
* Federal Anti-Piracy Investigations
* Medical Negligence Examinations
* Identity & Social Security Theft


Sounds like crime creates a lot of jobs. Maybe we need to encourage that sort of behavior.

Marketing Lies

It has been bone-chilling cold around here lately. So, it was not surprising that my eye was caught by an advertisement for Air Tran hyping the discount fare to Sarasota, FL of $89 In smaller type was the qualifier "One-way". So it was a great rate for a terrorist or someone planning to expire in Florida.

Then I noticed that the price had a small asterisk. So I read the footnote which was printed in faint microscopic letters. It was a disclaimer that the price * doesn't include a segment cost of $3.20 or a 9/11 security fee of $10 or a charge that they call Airport Passenger Facility Charge of up to $18. Hmmn. Now, we are talking about a one-way ticket that costs no less than $120. Further, the weasel words included "limited availability" of seats at this price, and two weeks advance booking was required for these non-refundable tickets, if you could get one.
How come the government doesn't protect consumers from lying marketing bastards?
We should teach our kids to read ads as follows: "Sonny, when you see an ad with an asterisk it means 'we are lying.' fine print= Lies. Fast talking= liar."

Talk about liars, Air Tran used to be called ValueJet before the big crash a few years ago. They have the worst safety record in the industry.

Best Places to work

Fortune Magazine has recently published their annual list of the 100 Best Places to Work in the USA. Not surprisingly, none of my former employers were on the list. (In fact, now that I think of it, most of my former employers are not even in business anymore. Wang, Prime, Index Tech, Bull Express)

Actually, none of them - even the ones that became Fortune 1000 companies - could have even make a list of the top 100 thousand best places to work in the USA.

"What makes a workplace into a Hellhole?" is a frequent question posed to yours truly. The answer is very simple: Clueless Management.

Our system of promotion and reward tends to advance the most competitive and ruthless among the workforce. This is the ideal province of narcissists and sociopaths. Only a small fraction of those individuals who succeed under this system are truly talented, empathetic and wise.

To my way of thinking, a good place to work requires Wisdom and Empathy in the governing hierarchy. Most of the senior management I have observed (and read about) are wrapped-up in their own agendas and egos. They give lip service to the people who do the work - the rank and file. At quarterly meetings they drone, "We could not have done it without you." But, privately, they believe that all success is due to their genius; but, failure is due to "economic conditions" or "lack of sufficient training."

Do not get me wrong, I am not an anti-management disgruntled dissenter. In fact, I am a booster for the wise and empathetic managers who make decisions which allow all boats to rise with the tide. If I ever meet one, I shall be sure to document it right here.

Necessity is the mother

Thinking about reinventing myself. It's pretty obvious that hiring managers are not interested in the old Me:
- The aging, insubordinate, prima donna systems analyst.
- The fussy bastard who complains about everything from unacceptable working conditions to excessive useless meetings.
- The curmudgeon who rails at the prospect of commuting for more than 15 minutes, who takes 90 minute lunches, who stays home at the first sign of a sniffle, who insists on being sent to boondoggle User Conferences in places like San Francisco, Las Vegas and New Orleans.
- The fraidy-cat self-preservationist who refuses to even apply for a job in a location that might be attacked by terrorists (ie, any company that has offices above the fourth floor).
- The obstinate foot-dragger who insists on designing usability into those tedious business applications.
- The self-appointed Director of Dissent, donut aficionado, and first-one-in-line at the Coffee Wagon.

So, perhaps it is high time to evolve to a new profile. You know, the type that managers like to have on their teams:
- Hard working, entrepreneurial spirited, get-it-done mentality.
- Hands-on experience with every system platform and software utility ever produced.
- Competitive sociopath with monomaniacal focus.
- Willing to go the distance, step-up to the plate, win one for the gipper.
- Positive can-do spirit, especially when implementing the managers agenda, however flawed.
- Docile, loyal, eager-to-please, regardless of how idiotic are the directions from above.
- Thin, shaven, recently bathed and wearing clean clothes.
- Willing to suffer complete assholes, long meetings, tedious commuting distances, outrageous working conditions (eg, cubicles, no cafeteria, professional dress code), and lengthy work days.

Hmmn. This will be a challenge.
Hey, I just noticed tonight's Mega-million lottery jackpot is $92 million. Talk about re-inventing myself.... Yeah. That's the ticket....

Vexing events

I got an unsolicited e-mail yesterday. It said:

"My name is Megan Connelly and I am the Recruiting Coordinator for American Express Financial Advisors. I came across your resume on Jobfind.com and I'm very interested to meet with you to discuss the Financial Advisor position. We are currently seeking individuals to work in our Waltham location. This opportunity can be both personally and financially rewarding. It requires initiative, hard work, self-discipline, and an entrepreneurial orientation."

The e-mail went on to say that someone would be calling me yada-yada. I decided to be proactive. I replied:

"Dear Megan,
Thanks for your interest, but I am definitely not looking for anything that involves hard work or self-discipline. My goals are to be overpaid, have lots of naps and excessive vacation. I want a big corner office and a beautiful buxom secretary...And lots of stock options. "

After re-reading my reply, I realized that I should have been more firm about my lack of interest in working in Financial Services, selling shoddy investment advice to unsuspecting victims who have managed to put a few bucks aside. So I added: "If you had read my CV carefully, you would ascertain that my career objectives do not include Bloodsucking weasel."

In a related story: There was a news item a few days ago about an unfortunate woman from Brockton. (I should say "cursed" because she was both dumb and dentally challenged. ) She fell for the scam where someone from a foreign government/bank sends a "confidential" E-mail to you to inform you that you have inherited money from a deceased distant relative. To get the huge payout, all you need to do is send ten thousand US to handle administrative costs. Now, most of us are too smart to fall for this type of fraud. But this woman went into it for $25,000. More money than she had. She had to borrow $15k from the bank. Pretty sad. Pretty dumb. How come our government cannot track these thieves down and send them to GITMO for some creative interrogation?

Another news item: The Congo where 4 million people have died in 5 years is asking, how come everyone is falling all over themselves to help save lives in Sri Lanka, but the plight of 4 million dead Africans is met with global apathy. Good question. Anybody got a good answer?

After a holiday haitus, I shall be returning to my contract job next week, finishing-up. I will be available for new assignments soon. Tell your friends, unless you happen to know Megan Connolly.

Hard to Ignore

The news is filled with coverage of the disaster in South Asia. The death toll has gone from initial estimates of 10,000 to the current estimate of 140,000 with another 150,000 survivors in imminent danger of death by disease and starvation. The graphics are mind-boggling. The numbers are incomprehensible.

The headlines are filled with politicians elbowing each other to get to a media microphone to show their heartfelt horror and support for the dead, dying and those left to mourn. Partisans are doing everything they can to show that the opponents are cheap bastards or pinko commies, giving your hard earned money away. The most absurd statement was uttered by pea-brained Sean Hannity. "I didn't see the Indonesians rushing to help us after 9/11."

The US Public Relations guys are doing circus contortions to explain the almost daily revisions in the monetary commitment of our government. I find this to be a silly waste of time. The US citizenry may be accused of a lot of faults, but there is no nation in the world that has tried to do more to help others have better lives. It is true that we are usually so wrapped-up in our own selfish concerns that we seem to ignore the world - especially the third world. But when adversity strikes, we are at our best. Generous. Caring. Willing to help.

There was an earthquake in Iran a few months ago. The US was quick to offer aid - and with no expectation of benefit. Many of our critics in the UN and in Hollywood are dishonest not to acknowledge that the Iraq situation was an attempt to bring peace to the region. You may judge iot to be a failed strategy, and bad execution, but the the intent behind our occupation of that country was to give Iraqis a chance at democracy. I do not believe we went there to control the oil, despite what all the Bush haters say. I think the US is still the only country to win a war and not keep the spoils. Your welcome Europe, Japan, Bosnia, Granada, Panama.

Yesterday at lunch, my anti-Bush companion asserted that the Bush administration was big on promises but they still have not made good on monetary pledges of aid to Africa. This sort of nitpicking does not help. Jon Stewart, fake newscaster of the Daily Show showed a clip of Star Jones on The View (ABC) was discussing the near-miss she had experienced. "I was just there last month," she said, referring to her honeymoon visit to one of the posh beach resorts that was destroyed by the Tsunami. "God blesses." she pronounced, apparently referring to the fact that God held back until SHE was home safe, before going ahead and killing hundreds of thousands of people. Jon Stewart wondered how far up your own ass must your head be to make a statement like that.

To those who denigrate the US, just check the news. Oil Rich and Muslim countries Saudi Arabia and Kuwait were initially reported to be ante-ing up a mere $10million to help the victims. Saudi officials announced yesterday that they were adding another $20 mill. This will actually be paid by the US in the form of higher oil prices.

We are the champions of the world. Don't you forget it.

Out With The Old

I spent the first day of the year 2005 in my traditional fashion - on the sofa, in front of the TV, with a cold beverage in hand. The college bowl games were pretty exciting. Texas - Michigan and Iowa-LSU games were down-to-the-wire nail biters. There is a difference between these games being played by young athletes - who play for love and glory - and those NFL games where the guys who show up are just working for a living. Last Monday, Philly took out their quarterback after three plays, to save him for the playoffs. They lost the game.

The question that comes to mind is: Why bother watching these "meaningless" games? Even the play-by-play announcers were bored. John Madden suggested that since Philly wasn't even trying to win, they should just call the game and let everyone go home.

When was the last time you watched a pre-season or pro-bowl game? Unless you are a hopeless loser with nothing else to do, you only tune in to watch games that mean something. Who wants to waste valuable time watching people who think they are just working? Not me, coach.

So, another year has arrived. I am conflicted by the simultaneous realization that
a) I managed to survive another year and
b) I probably will not win the megamillions lottery in 2005 either.

For some reason, I'm reminded of the comic strip where Dilbert encounters the Angel of Death. Dilbert exclaims "You don't look so grim to me."
The Reaper responds with a grin, "Unlike you, I love my job."

The realization that you are another year closer to the final destination is not morbid. It's just a fact of life. About the time when you pass the fifth decade of existence on this planet, it begins to sink-in that you have definitely passed the halfway mark. I notice that as we get older, my cohorts and I do not greet the new year with the same enthusiasm as we did during our callow youths. Yet, with the magic of psychotropic pharmaceuticals, we are able to look to the future with hope, equanimity and on-demand boners that last up to 36 hours.

In 2004, I continued my search for gainful employment in a job market that seemed chronically un-interested in my career experience. I did land a couple of temporary gigs, but nothing that would provide funding for the lavish lifestyle to which I aspire in my senior years. The good news is I did not attend any meetings. I did not feel the sting of the manager's whip. And I will not see nearly half of my earnings taken for government welfare programs, risky foreign adventure and funding municipal porkbarrel projects.

My wife thinks I should re-invent myself this year. She's been watching too much Dr. Phil, I think. Or maybe she thinks I should get cosmetic surgery. (I'm not sure they have a liposection unit large enough to make my love handles disappear.)

So, let us see what the gods have in store for us this year...a new Hellhole opportunity? A "reinvented" self-actualizer? Megamillions winner?
Who knows?

Happy New Year

No Blog today. I am watching football. Come back later.

Snow Daze

I am tired. This morning I got up early and cranked-up the trusty Sears snowblower for its maiden run of the season. Started on the first pull. I wrangled the 6 inches of blizzard in the driveway and 2 foot snow banks left by plows. Snow work is good work. You get a visual reward when you look back and see how much you have cleared away by dint of your hard labor.

At a desk in an office the mounds of paper never seem to disappear. Stuff is never really done. You get to thinking about cycles. Office Work is tightly linked to cycles. I know guys who get up every morning, and they don't think about the date on the regular calendar, they think about what fiscal week it is. They are the beancounters who toil and sweat and agonize about money that belongs to shareholders - nameless, faceless gamblers whose greed infects the institutions that they have bought a piece of. 21st Century slavers who buy and sell the anonymous workforce like they were just cattle. Hey, I know: it's just business. But it's not about worker satisfaction.

Judy hates to drive in the snow, and I don't mind. So I drove her to work in the Caravan. On the way over to Watertown, I noticed two vehicles spun-out - both big SUVs being operated by people who do not have a firm grasp on physics. I was a C student in High School but I still understand momentum, inertia and gravity enough to stay out of a ditch in slippery weather. (At least when I am sober)

My wife and I have both picked-up some respiratory congestion probably from the grandkids who were sniffling all week during their visit. Or, was it from all the kissing of friends and relatives during the holiday festivities. We'll we all got to share something besides the love I guess. Cough, Cough. Or maybe she got it at work and gave it to me. Staying home sick is not an option at her place of work; they don't believe in being sick. So all the sick people come to work and give it to their coworkers and customers. I dunno.

If I was back working in an office, I'd be home taking a sick day. I don't believe in spreading disease or working on snowy days. If I was feeling ok, and there was no snow to shovel, I'd probably be at my desk, shuffling paper, staring at some PC screen of data base attributes, running queries, thinking about lunch. Maybe I'd be dozing at the director's end-of-fiscal-quarter meeting. Of course, this is the meeting where he reflects on the contributions the IT group has made to the company during the past year. (Funny, he never mentioned my projects.) Mainly he talks about the hardware improvements to the infrastructure, (like any of us non-geeks give a rat's patooty about hardware.) Then, the employee of the quarter would be recognized. Always one of the cute young gals with bodacious boobs. No argument. They do make working in an office more interesting.

But just thinking about the meetings at the old office makes me want to yawn.

The Day After

This morning, we were up at 4am to take the kids to the airport for a 6:00 take off. As I loaded- up the minivan, it was cold and dark toward the east. a bright moon was a the southwestern sky. The ground was dry. Last Monday's snowstorm was followed by an unseasonable thaw - with tropical rains driven by a strong wind. The temps had been in the 50's during that storm or we would probably be looking at a couple of feet of snow like they got in Chicago.

By the time I had the car warmed-up and packed with bags and grandkids, a cloud bank moved in and the sky was dark. Snow flurries could be seen in the headlights as we sped along the black streets. We were virtually alone. A commuter's delight I was thinking, Hey maybe I should get an early morning job. Being out and awake in the early morning is invigorating!
We made it down the pike though the Ted Williams tunnel and into Logan. (We kept a lookout for leaks, but couldn't see any.) I took the arrivals lane instead of the departures at terminal B so we didn't use curbside boarding. Fortunately there were short lines and by the time I got the van parked, Dana was done checking her luggage. The boys were still drowsy and distracted by the bustling crowd. Pretty soon it was time to go through security and board the plane. There was nothing left for us to do so we hugged and kissed them all goodbye and went home.

As I drove back on the pike, I was still noticing that the traffic was very light. At the Brighton Tolls, it finally dawned on me that this was the day after Christmas and a Sunday to boot. A lot of travelers would wait a few more days to get back from whence they came.
We got home and went back to bed.

I figure the Kids should be arriving in San Jose about now. So we are waiting for the call. The flurries have evolved into a fine powdery snow, maybe an inch or so on the ground. I don't think this was forecast. No complaints, compared to the earthquake/tidal wave killing 10,000 people in South East Asia, we feel pretty lucky.

It is quiet in the house. The cats have resumed their normal duties. Sleeping on the sofa, puking on the rug, grazing the cat bowls. They seem a little hungover as a result of the catnip toys that were brought by Santa Claws. (Sorry couldn't resist that.)

I do not have any work planned for this coming week. I shall try to get back on my schedule of doing nothing.

Post script: We got the call around 4:30pm Everyone arrived safeley.

Twas the morning before Christmas

I was lying snugly in my bed, thinking about stock prices and bacon, which I did not smell sizzling in a pan down in the kitchen. Suddenly, at my door there arose such a clatter that it made the pile of sleeping cats scatter, wondering what was the matter. One hid in the closet, two scampered under the bed.
"Wake-up, wake-up, Grandpa" It was of course Vinny and Tony, screaming with the delight of surprising a slumbering grandpa in his lair. Climbing up on the bed, jumping on body parts that were not designed for such activity. Ok Ok I said I'm getting up. Go tell Nana to make me breakfast! I shouted. Tony went back down the stairs with the message. "Grampa want breakfast, Nana!" he repeated on every step. Vinny stayed and kept tickling me to make sure I stayed awake. Tony came back shortly with an apple.
"Breakfast" he announced.
But when I reached for the apple he held it back saying, "My breakfast." laughing at his joke.
I went downstairs and settled for a toasted bagel with cream cheese.

IT'S A COLD SICK WORLD OUT THERE

Grandchild update. (Skip this section if you are a Grinch.) The kids arrived in Boston yesterday morning at the ungodly hour of 6:30am. The ground was covered with a light coating of snow as we drove into Logan in the dark. We were just happy that the Northeaster that was threatened by the fear-mongering weatherguy did not materialize. As we waited at the doorway where the throngs of arriving holiday travelers pass through on their way to baggage claim, there were many touching scenes of people being met by people who were glad to see them. This is civilization at it's best, I was thinking: loved ones braving the arduous challenges of modern mass transportation to travel long miles to be with their families. Out of the din and confusion I heard a small but powerful voice yelling "Grandpa, grandpa, grandpa." It was 2 year old Tony, of course.

We all got back to the house as the morning commuters started boarding trains to Boston. Vinny, who is now 4yrs and very much into trains, insisted that we first stop at the Farms station to watch the big diesel engine come in. While we waited, he delighted us with his rendition of "The night before Christmas." As soon as they all got home and unpacked, Vinny started coughing. I'll spare you the details of the rest of the day, but it involved a visit to the local pediatrician, hospital laboratory and pharmacy. Finally, after a long and exhausting day, Vinny (and the rest of us) got a good night's sleep and we are hoping he is better and ready to take the train into Boston today (which he has been talking about for a month!). Tony is cute as a button, yakking and following the cats around the house tirelessly. Cats like to be chased, so it works out fine for all concerned. Tonight, we will put up the Christmas Tree. This should keep them entertained for at least ten minutes. Also, little cousin Dennis will be visiting if the coughing is kept down.

By the way, the 6 degree temperature is unnecessarily frigid. This is an unpleasant reminder to Dana of the reasons they do not live in Massachusetts anymore.

Reasons to Stop reading the News. This morning I read in the news that Aleve - the effective pain reduction pill that I have been popping on a daily basis for the past 3 or 4 years - is suspected of elevating the risk of heart disease and stroke. This is just another in a continuing series of recent reports that the pills we take to make us feel better are actually killing us.

If you tune in to the nightly news reports at 6:30pm, you are assailed by every pharmaceutical company with TV advertising budget. They've got a nostrum for every ailment and a pill for every discomfort. Purple pills to heal your acid etched esophagus, blue pills to put the wood back in your willy, gunk to hold your dentures in, and shots you can take to raise your white blood cell count enough so you can keep taking your chemotherapy ( a diabolical medicinal approach where you take poisons that hopefully kill the cancer before the poison kills you. )
Some of the ads don't even tell you what the product does. But then they recite a list of the side effects, all of which are nasty. Ask your doctor, they say. Maybe I should change my HMO. I ask the doctors and they say "No, it's not for nagging rectal itch. We still don't have a cure for that."

All I know is this: The nicest luxury yacht in Hyannis Harbor is owned by the Eli Lilly pharmaceutical family. Another unpleasant side effect of taking drugs is the obscene profits accruing to the big drug companies.

More signs of seasonal sickness: Here is what looks like a hoax news item:
"Search resumes for 5 missing fishermen "
Now, why aren't they out there looking for the missing guys instead of checking out their Curricula Vitae ??

Making a Difference

"Tis the season for chestnuts roasting on an open fire, jack frost nipping at your nose, carols sung by a choir of eskimos and, of course the annual contest to see who can get through an entire evening of TV watching without bumping into "It's a Wonderful Life." We've all seen it a few hundred times. Bedford Falls, George Bailey played by Jimmy Stewart, mean old man Potter. We all know the story by heart - a depressed George Bailey, ruined and hopeless decides to end it all on the icy bridge. His guardian angel a large white rabbit names Harvey persuades him that his life did have meaning - by taking him for a walk through bedfor d falls as if he hadn't lived. On the third day he wakes up and .... As I clicked over to the Comedy Channel to watch South Park, I vaguely wondered how the companies I have worked for would have been different if I hadn't worked my magic while on the payroll. Letsee - Wang Labs. Hmmn. I helped design the first commercial application on the Wang VS Minicomputer. But they went bankrupt a few years after I left. (Perhaps they should have been nicer to me). Then Prime Computer, where my most memorable contribution was to design a customer file structure that would allow an intelligent executive to determine how much business a global customer had done with us. Pretty impressive except that the CFO didn't understand it. He had me transferred to Manufacturing because I pointed-out that he was the only one in the room who didn't get it. They scrapped that idea. A few years later, they were out of business. Then there was a short stint at Index Technologies. Aha, I managed the miraculous recovery of their lost user database. Unfortunately, before we got the thing up and running, they got bought out and the new guys laid everyone off. Then I went to Honeywell-Bull, where I analyzed and tested a new piece of software they were considering from Brock Controls. I advised against using this software. They thanked me for my incisive analysis by going ahead with the original plan and made me work on the project. Within a year, they were suing Brock for non performance. Everyone hated the new system. I went to the diploma factory where they were implementing Peoplesoft. I designed a nifty HR DataMart there, but the HR folks were too busy to try it out. My recommendations regarding the hiring of a certain loose cannon as Project Manager were ignored, with disasterous results. My best efforts were rewarded with a demotion. This act of clueless management turned out to be the best thing that had happened to me in a long time. I went to TAC, where I was finally recognized for my ideas and ability to stay awake during staff meetings. Ok, I admit that I did fall asleep once when the Director was giving us a pep talk. A few months later I was laid off. 

 So, that's the story of the impact my career has had on the world: Nada. I might just as well have been born rich, so I could have at least developed my Tennis game.

Critical Feedback

We all need feedback at times, even from our supporters. One UK band named Damageplan got a bit more harsh criticism than they expected last night at a night club in Ohio . As they began their first number, an armed gunman leapt upon the stage and shot the guitarist at point blank range, killing him. The gunman fired more shots and killed several others before being slain by an alert police guard.

We are not surprised that a band called Damageplan would evoke such a response. I have often thought that David Chapman killed John Lennon in response to Double Fantasy - that terrible album that interspersed some pretty good Lennon performances with hideous and artless songs written and "sung" by the tone-deaf-bitch-who-broke-up-the-Beatles - Yoko Ono. (I tell you, if I had wasted my $5 bucks on the album, I'd have been tempted to shoot him myself.)

DamagePlan performed at the Ozzie Fest recently. So you don't need to listen to know you would hate their music too. Maybe enough to take action...

Harlotry in the Office

The drudgery of working has again intruded on my schedule. One of the sancrosanct traditions of my existence during the recent hiatus from the world of employment, has been Tuesday High Tea. In actuality, "Tea" is just a euphemism for "Beer." A small group of unencumbered semi-retired guys getting together for a couple of cold brews for an hour or so, to discuss the issues of the day and to celebrate our liberty.

Our wives (all of whom work) do not object to this benevolent weekly gathering. They think it's nice for guys to initiate social interaction that doesn't involve sports. They worry that a guy not-working spends too much time alone. They have read stories about men who become despondent during retirement, and they encourage us to find activities that make us get dressed and leave the house.

Yesterday, for the first time, I missed it. No, I didn't forget what day it was (as one member of our group frequently claims.) And I certainly didn't have anything better to do. I was working.

Just as I was about to leave to head over to Natick, the Office Manager asked if I could help with an emergency mail-merge for a communication that had to go into the mail yesterday. I am ashamed to admit that I did not yell "Tough darts, see ya tomorrow," (as I would have, if I had been an employee.)

No, like the mercenary whore that I am, I thought about the money. I sat down and designed master document and the database query that churned-out several reams of perfectly-composed personal letters and matching labels instead of going for a beer with my buddies. This is how debased we can become as desperate house husbands trying to earn enough cash to buy the wife an expensive piece of jewelry for a Christmas present, (or perhaps a nice 5 megapixal digital camera for himself.)

Infamous Days

History is the story of human events and cycles. Let's face it: the remarkable events of history are mainly associated with wars and other deadly catastrophes. I cannot remember reading anything in my history books about nice people living peacefully together, helping each other. Oh yes, there were stories of missionaries and such, who braved the tortuous conditions of pestilence and plague to help others - if they would agree to be converted. I do not think the work of missionaries is righteous, so much as self-serving. Possibly, even malevolent.

Anyhow, tomorrow is the anniversary of the historic Day of Infamy (Dec 7, 1941) the attack on Pearl Harbor, which gave the author James Jones a writing career. Every book he wrote (eg, From Here to Eternity, and other titles which I cannot remember.) were based on events of that day, at that Island Paradise turned into a graveyard for the American fleet. I was born a few months after that infamous day, and have dedicated my life to staying away from Hawaii. So far, I have been quite successful.

Work has become a hellhole. Every day at the crack of dawn (10am) I drag my tired ass into the office to grind out mindless queries on the access database. I need to restructure the tables and rewrite every bleeping report.
Writing new procedures. Making them into a well-oiled information machine. I am a data quality missionary in the jungles of the Sargasso Sea. I work for 3 or 4 hours straight, taking short breaks for biological necessities.

When I get back home, it is dark. No one has cooked dinner. The cats are annoyed. My wife is righteously tired from her own workday, which began at 8am. She is watching Dr. Phil on TV, wondering why I have not planned for the evening meal . She is ready to confront me with her anger and disappointment. But I quickly dial the phone to arrange for a nutritious meal to be delivered piping hot, with extra sauce.

Tomorrow, we will run the same tedious program, and on, and on. Until we die. Or, win the lottery!

Reasons to be Thankless

Cripes. I've been putting-in about 4 hours a day since last Friday. It's a big adjustment for me. Going to an office every day reminds me of how dumb and inefficient time wasters office workers can be.

Now, I am an expert at malingering. I can spend an entire day doing absolutely nothing except staring out the window and wondering about the meaning of life. But I never have considered time spent doing nothing, sleeping or standing in line at at the coffee wagon as "wasted." Wasted time is when morons - impersonating busy people - are sitting at their desks surfing the web, or congregating in useless meetings, pretending to be getting something done, complaining about how stressed and "swamped" they are with work, or wondering what the boss thinks.

Here it is 8:30am and I am looking at another day of grueling database analysis. For the 4th consecutive workday, I will shower, shave, put-on clean pressed clothes and drive to an office. The office will be closed for Thanksgiving and Friday. I am Thankful for the long weekend, but will be doing about twenty hours next week as well. I miss the times when I could look at several whole days with no one expecting me to be anywhere, wearing the same clothes for a week, bathing only when the cats started following me around the house, shaving only when strangers would start handing me spare change.

This is the definition of Freedom. I will be Thankful when I can return to that blessed state.

Back to Work

On Friday, I got up early, showered and shaved. I put on clean, pressed pants and a newly laundered shirt. I went to an office in a nearby town and worked on their database for 4.5 hours. I must say that I survived this first stint of office work since I left my previous job in April of 2003.

The hardest part was looking out of the window and seeing that I was missing an unseasonably warm afternoon. This is defense exhibit 9233 proving that the gods hate me. They see that I am stuck in a stuffy office showing the administrative staff how to do mail merges, and they taunt me with a perfect day for staining the new screen porch mahogany deck.

As I say, I survived. I'll probably be back there tomorrow for three or four hours. Then maybe 7 or 8 more partial days. The office is closed on Thanksgiving and the next day. I have to re-structure the database, rewrite some report queries, do some necessary clean-up and reformatting of the actual business data. Then write up some pretty user documentation. The whole job will be about 40 hrs work.

Then I'll probably take some R&R time before looking for more work. After all, it is the season to reflect on one's blessings and hope for the future. More importantly, it is a time to renew fellowship over malt beverages, washed down with Bar-B-Qued ribs.

Games People Play

I am disturbed by the recent news from Iraq. The TV news reports that the occupation of Fallujah by US troops is almost complete. At the same time that we are clamping down on one troulespot, new problems are igniting in new places. This reminds me of the carnival game called whack-a-mole. You hit as many mole heads as you can in a race against the clock. Every time you whack the mole in one hole, he pops up again in another spot.
It's a maddening game that you cannot win, whcih is why carnivals run it.

How can we put down the new insurgency with troops tied up occupying Fallujah. If we leave, they will come back. If we stay, they will just go and cause trouble somewhere else. Like drug dealers and hookers here in the homeland. They just keep moving to the unguarded areas. Without civilian cooperation (and a bit of old fashioned vigilantism on the part of the civilian populace), we cannot win.

WARNING: When I was Googling the term Whack-a-mole, I got an item that describes a "game" that was going around the internet last year called "Whack-a-mole." Apparently the "game" is a devious way to keep you busy while a hacker installs a piece of nasty spyware on your machine.

Thundering Silence

It's quiet here today. This is the first weekday in about a month that there are no workmen here. They have gone to go and pound, drill, saw and pound again on someone else's house. They have taken their giant country and western playing radio and their dunkin donuts coffe cups and omwitch wrappers and their loud talking to the next victim - er, I mean customer. The screen porch is 93.7% done. All it needs is screens and a door, maybe some electical details. I think these will be done in the spring. This is ok with me, because the final payment is not due until the job is done. The dumpster is scheduled to be removed by Friday.
Finally, I have my house back.

I was somewhat dismayed to read an article today about how badly some lottery winners have fared. It seems that the sudden influx of a huge amount of money can be a bad thing for a lot of people. Especially people who have no experience with wealth. A lot of the "winners" have ended up bankrupt and despised by their families. One winner's brother hired a hit-man to kill him in hopes of inheriiting the fortune. I recall reading a profile a few years ago about a young woman who won something like twenty million. She was unhappy after a few years because her relationship with siblings and parents had become strained. "No matter what I gave them, they didn't think it was enough." she said after buying new homes for her family members that were slightly smaller than hers. They thought she was selfish. She thought they were moneygrubbing.
This would never happen to me. If I won, I would give all the money to charity: The Noonan Rectal Itch Foundation. This venerable organization is dedicated to finding not just a treatment but a cure for this agonizing condition.

===========
I am brushing-up on my Microsoft Access knowledge. Reading "Access 2000 for People Too Lazy to Read The Help Documentation." It's pretty informative. But I keep dozing off. My contract gig starts on Friday, and will probably run 7-10 days of maybe 4 hours a day. Not bad for a starter engagement. That's what we consultants call them: engagements.

Man, it is quiet today. Even the cats seem to be spooked by the eery silence. They have assembled in the doorway, looking at me for an explanation.


Ah, as if on cue, the landscapers have arrived next door with their big mowers and blowers and...of course the giant leaf-sucking machine.

Snow Job

The porch guys have one or two more days work, finishing up the trim and electrical. Then, they will go away and work on inside jobs until March, when they will finish installing the screens. I will be glad to have them gone. The noise and distraction from their hammering and power sawing activities (not to mention their boombox) have been driving me up a wall, and out of the house. I (reluctantly) have agreed to allow them access to the bathroom, rather than having one of those unsightly portable toilets sitting in the driveway, next to the dumpster. During the inhumanly cold weather, I feel obliged to offer them the option of coming inside to warm-up periodically. Although it has only been about two weeks since they started, it feels like 6 months since I have had the house to myself.

This morning I had to shovel about 4 inches of wet snow. Winter has arrived. Thoughts are wrenched away from screens and decks to ice and snowthrowers. Thanksgiving. Christmas (and grandsons).

The news is full of world events. And problematic questions.

The sight of the adoring throngs of Palestinians at Ramallah yesterday gives one a real sense of what we are up against when we say we are at war against terrorists. Not only do they worship the man who ruined their hopes of peace and independence, but they are habitual wasters of valuable ammunition. Don't those bullets come down, somewhere? Maybe landing on people? Does Allah like being shot at?

Now they are reporting that all the enemy strategy guys escaped in Fallujah . Duh! Does anyone else think we might have helped more insurgents to become martyrs if we had not announced the attack two weeks in advance?

Nine Iraqi police stations were looted by militants yesterday. How come the cops didn't shoot the looters?

Presidential assassin John Hinkley wants to get more walking-around time. He's just fine now. I would make it mandatory that any shrink who lobbies for freedom for a former homicidal maniac would have to co-sign a guarantee that the said former mental patient will not violate any laws - or the shrink will be accountable for any crimes committed by the nutcase, and will serve the appropriate sentence as the mentally accountable party. Also the guys who were shot must sign-off on any plan to let this guy out without a chaperon.

The Peterson trial is almost over (we still need to go through the spectacle of the sentencing.) The amazing statistic that has been in the news is that the leading cause of death for pregnant women is homicide. More shockingly, the father of the baby usually commits the crime. Should the prolife movement get involved with this extreme form of abortion? Why aren't they speaking out?

The Big Dig tunnel system has sprung a leak or two - but nobody is responsible. Gov. Mitt wants the Turnpike chairman to resign. But, this will accomplish nothing.
We want our money back!

One Flake Does Not a Snowstorm Make

I had a job interview yesterday. The hiring VP reminded me of the guy who didn't like me when I was starting up the Data Warehouse Project at the Diploma Factory; I probably reminded the hiring VP of someone who would soon need to be demoted. I don't think it was the right situation for me - they were looking for someone who had actually succeeded in starting up a data warehouse. Hah, I told him. That's the boring part.
He didn't even smile at some of my wry humor ("Why, 2 years ago I couldn't even spell XML...." and, "You're not offended by fag jokes are you?"). I figured he was giving me a strong hint when we said goodbye and how nice it was to chat, when he added, "Good Luck in your job search."

Still, it was an interview. The first time in 15 months that I had gotten past the phone screen to an in-person meeting. That indicates something. Perhaps not a trend, but remember: every blizzard starts with a single flake. The Globe reports that the national job numbers are starting to look better. Can a full-time job be around the corner? Now that the garden is put to bed, and the construction workers are a distraction, I am anxious to get out of the house these days.

My wife thinks I would hate going back to work-a-day routine: everyday, getting up early, daily ablutions (as opposed to showering every third or fourth day whether I need it or not), sitting in commuting traffic, working with (and for) assholes. Sitting in a stuffy office, talking about data models and budget line items. Or arguing with the insane network admin. Meetings. Going to the bar for beers. Hey, wait. That last one is the chief work related activity that I do miss!

I am not desperate. I have had several business writing jobs lately. The last one was an executive letter inviting C-level Captains of Industry to a really boring IT records management conference. The client loves my work and wants to book me for another series of letters. Ok, I said, why not? The research I do for the letters is interesting. They send me all the info I need and I just write it up pretty. Takes about 8 hours over about three days, counting research, draft and finished composition, haggling with client over nitpicking edits, complete re-write, final edits and nitpicks, calming cocktails.

I make more than Dave Barry, and I'm just as funny.

Letting the Chips Fall

Some years ago I read a book that had a title something like "Machiavelli and Management." The gist of it was that the strategies and tactics of many managers seem to be wrenched from the playbook of that pre-renaissance despot-philosopher. One of the most useful truths that I have embrace from that reading was the inspired observation, which I paraphrase, That which you take by force you must keep by force.

I am not just laying-down an allusion to the current situation in Iraq. In fact, I am thinking about a job opportunity that has come onto my radar. The job title is Manager of IT Business Information Systems for company that fits within my job search parameters: Within 5 miles of home, no higher than third floor, no heavy lifting, exorbitant salary.
(Actually, the last criteria has not been established, yet.)

Apparently, I applied for this job via one of those web job boards, and now they want to talk to me. The prospect of a real interview (after more than a year of drought) raises some serious issues for me. After ruthlessly bashing management in print and orally for eons, how can I now credibly interview for a job with the word Manager in the title? Answer: it's easy to rationalize nearly anything. More importantly, the question arises: How can I fool them into thinking I am evil management material?
Then, the Machiavelli quote comes to mind. My corollary is : That which you achieve with a lie, must be maintained with a lie. This Truth presents an untenable problem for me. You need an excellent memory to support a lying personality. I do not have the instinct or energy to be a career liar.
So, I'll just have to go in and be myself.
I know what you are thinking: Bad move. Well, let's see...

Time to go to the polls and vote. You too.

election thots

As you know, this blog is about work, not politics. But we have an important election next Tuesday, which will determine the course of history, or more accurately - the course of the future.

For what it's worth, here is how I see the current situation:

Of the two choices we had in 2000, George W. Bush was the right guy to have in the White House when we were attacked on 9/11. We all cheered his response against the terrorists. But somewhere between defeating the Taliban in Afghanistan and bombing Iraq, things went wrong. Bad decisions based on bad intelligence led us into a war which most of us now agree was unnecessary and badly conceived. Instead of beefing- up the resources protecting our borders, ports and soldiers, huge sums of money have been spent in a low-percentage attempt to import Democracy to a people who will always prefer - and will always vote for - Theocracy.
[Incidentaly, What kind of example are we demonstrating to the world? 10,000 lawyers, more hanging chads, dead voters, fraud, scandal, etc. Maybe we need Jimmy Carter to come with a UN team to monitor our elections!]

I read in the paper yesterday that a recent study estimated 100,000 civilian deaths in Iraq due to American military action. Didn't say how many wounded. (Hey, it was in the paper so it's got to be true!) If this is even half true, how can we still justify our intervention to save the populace from a murderous dictator. Can we honestly say things are better today for the Iraqis. Or us? Do you feel safer? I don't.

Despite inheriting a budget surplus in 2000, we now have a budget deficit that will impose an even greater burden on the next generations of Americans, many of whom are already forced outsource child care because both parents must work to support a half-decent lifestyle. Many are priced-out of the hope of buying a home in the communities that they grew up in. (Is this the Conservative interpretation of family values?)

If re-elected, Bush has promised a continuation of the tax breaks for the those earning over a million dollars a year. This item alone represents 90 billion in lost revenue. That amount could cover quite a few protective vests for soldiers on the from lines who can't get them. And, perhaps some of it could be used to fund the education program that Bush takes credit for despite the fact that he refuses to pay for it.

Finally, Bush is a public embarrassment. He cannot utter an unrehearsed sentence without flubbing it. Everyone knows he is the front man for the real presidents - Cheney, Ashcroft, Rumsfeld and Karl Rove. The arrogance and capacity for deceit that this team has already demonstrated is chilling.

Now, on the other hand we have John Kerry. He has shown himself to be a chameleon and a phony. He continually reminds us that he defended the country, although his own words seem to contradict the amount of defending he was doing (as opposed to pillaging the countryside). There are many men whose military experience qualified them to be heroes, but there is nothing to indicate that that such valor would make them become good presidents. He has chosen some embarrassing photo ops - just recently the hunting trip - which make you want to cringe.

Still, no one denies that Kerry is intelligent, has a long career in government, and has an understanding of why we want and need global partners, and how mindless Nationalism easily leads to Fascism.

Despite our doubts about Kerry's character, we know two things. 1) This election is really about who appoints the next few Supreme Court Justices. The progress of the past three decades in human rights and personal liberty are at risk under a neocon-backed presidency. 2) We are not more secure with Bush in the White House. Despite the tough and scare filled rhetoric, the Bush administration has failed to secure peace in Iraq. The real enemy - Osama Bin Laden looks healthier than ever as he broadcasts (from a studio - not a cave) his latest warnings for the next attack on the USA.

How can John Kerry do worse?
The message for George Bush (and his co-presidents) is "No more years."

Total Exclipse of the Cards

As predicted, the Red Sox cowboyed-up and vanquished the opponent. The Cards folded like girly men. Most of the drama was in the commercials which have been repeated in mind numbing frequency throughout the games. Will Badger ever find his way home? Do you believe AOL really listens to their customers?

How the hell does Manny get MVP? (Mr. two errors in one game?) Wasn't Shillings gutsy appearance the real spark for the team?

Well, back to work. I have another writing job today. This one is due Monday. I have to read a big document and abstract it into a little document. If the work keeps up at this rate, I may be forced to consider resigning from retirement.

Wickid Pissah

St Louis will be playing the blues in the night, going back home after dropping the first two games to Boston. I don't count these guys out yet. They have a dominant record at their home park and were weak on the road with the Astros in post season. On the other hand, the Red Sox played very strong in New York. It should be a couple of nail-biters. Productivity in the Boston area will be poor again this week due to bleary eyed fans who stayed up to watch the game.

Someone ought to tell "Buckwheat" Manny Ramirez to get a haircut for crissakes. He has not impressed me so far. Take his big money away and give it to Papi Ortiz.

Am I the only one who hates all the distracting graphics that the TV guys paste on the screenduring sports games? I like the bar at the top showing the details of the game, men on base, speed of piches, etc. All that is good. It's the animated previews of other programs that take up the lower third of the screen, the crawling text, the jiggling, flashing, whooshing images. All this eye trash, spoils the game. And I don't care what Steven King is doing in the stands. Let's watch the damn game.

Work Series

The builder called Friday to tell me that he would be over to start building the screen porch on this coming Tuesday. This is excellent and surprising news. I only signed the request for a building permit a few days ago. I figured it would take at least another month to get something going. I always knew I was a "fill-in" job, and I accepted the fact that this small job would get bumped by conflicts of larger jobs The contact agreement had a final deadline of May 3, 2005. But, now the builder seems to think that he will get most of it done in the next few weeks.
The only downside is that now we will need to come up with the money sooner.

On Tuesday afternoons, several of us guys usually meet at George's for "tea". You know, Ice cold frosty "tea" that comes in six packs. This week, I think we should move the Tea here, so we can supervise the work.

====
Last weekend, I completed a freelance writing job. Then on Monday, I called on a local business nonprofit to look at their database and discuss fixing some reporting problems. I think they liked me. I gave them a written proposal for 40-60 hrs of work. No response yet.

I'm thinking actively soliciting more business writing gigs. I think I am good at this type of writing, and the remuneration is excellent. The uncertainty of work and the prospect of down times between jobs is much preferrable to a tedious work series of fifty 40 hour weeks per year. And, you know, someone needs to keep an eye on the guys working on my new porch. So, I am optimistic about the prospect of small occasional work to pay for my lavish lifestyle....

=======
The other day, a retirement expert-financial planner called to offer his services.
"Well, I might be interested if you can answer one question." I said in my most cooperative tone.
"Sure. What's the question?" he asked, helpfully as he mentally began to tote up his commisson.
"When am I gonna die?"
"Excuse me?"
"I know how much money I have. The only thing I don't know is how many years to divide into the nest egg?"
The silence on the end of the line spoke volumes. Finally, "Well, actually, it's not quite that simple..."
"Oh yes it is," I interjected. "Tell me! When?"
"Sir, I am not in a position to answer a question like..."
"Hey, it's the only question I have about financing my retirement." I hung up, not to string the poor shmuck along any further. I really need to find another way to entertain myself - instead of jerking around with telemarketing callers. But it is fun.

=============
Last night just before game one, Steve Tyler from Aerosmith sang the National Anthem. In my humble opinion it was the best work I have ever heard him do. Well, maybe "Walk This Way" was a little catchier. (Or, was that Led Zeppalin? I dunno. Neither of those bands fall within my golden era.) Anyhoo, just as Tyler finished the SSB there was a low fly-over of two F-150 Air Force jets. Or is F-150 a Ford Truck model? I don't know nuthin' about jets - or trucks. The timimg was awesome. I figured I had enough time to get up and get a frosty brew. By the time I got to the fridge there was this tremendous roar overhead. It scared the crap out of me for a split second. The cats - who are quite accustomed to the noise and vibration associated with the occasional but noisy passing of freight trains - panicked and ran under the table. Then, I realized it was the Fenway fly-over jets on the way back to Hanscom Field in Bedford. Through the rear slider I could see the lights speeding through the dark sky as they screamed overhead, dishing thunder to the ground below. It makes you wonder: how the hell does anyone get any sleep in Iraq?
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Speaking of Jets, the Pats kicked their New York asses all over the field today.

Changes to the game

They should institute some changes to baseball to make the game more interesting.
#1 A 3 pitcher limit, pitcher must bat to stay in game.
#2 Video review of close calls (two big mistakes by umpires occurred in last two games)
#3 No women sports analysts - wimmen are not allowed to play, and they shouldn't be allowed to talk during the game. Exception: Dick Cheney's daughter.
#4 Every other spectator sport has a time limit. In Baseball, the limit should be nine innings. Game over tie or no tie. Or maybe a sudden death home run shootoff.
#5 No spitting. The constant expectoration on camera is revolting.

Remember, these guys are professional entertainers, not amateur athletes.

It Ain't Over Until I Say It's Over

A fat lady sang tonight in the heart of Gotham city. Oops, it was Rohan Tinan singing God Bless America with an Irish accent. Oh well, stuff happens.

Then an odd thing occured. The Red Sox did not embarrass themselves. They did cowboy up. Except for the foolish move of bringing Pedro in to pitch a few Yankee runs in, and getting the Yankee fans revved up, the game was a unabridged victionary.
OK they won the pennant, and I am happy. The small problem is: It ain't over.
(But, wow!)

Walkoff Home Run

All of a sudden I'm hearing this term. No one has defined it for me, so, I looked it up on the web at a place called FAQ Farm. Here's what they say:

"A walk-off home run is a home run which ends the game. This is a phrase that has only recently entered the baseball lexicon. Comes from the fact that if the home team hits a home run to take the lead in the 9th or an extra inning, both teams walk off the field since the game is over. "

Eternal Endeavers

Despite my better judgement, I allowed myself to get sucked into the game again last night. Another grueling contest that should never have gone fourteen eternal innings. The whole spectacle raises some metaphysical questions about the meaning of life, the existence of a supreme being and the reality of an afterlife.

I felt very sorry for the poor shmucks who paid big bucks to sit in the narrow seats freezing their collective asses off for more than 5 hours while their hometown heroes bobbled, stumbled and slid around the bases like a bunch of little leaguers.
While I was ensconced on a comfy sofa with a frosty Sierra Nevada, a perfectly grilled burger and of course with my trusty clicker within easy reach, the ticket holder in the stands had to settle for undrinkable coors lite beer for $3.50 a pop and marginally warm hot dogs at $5.00 and a long line at the rest room. They had to watch every tedious second of the "park experience" including the singing of God Bless America. I surfed around, catching fragments of the Cards vs Astros, the football game on ABC and Sienfeld reruns.

I think it is pretty clear that if there is a god, then he is a taunting bully. Faithful Boston fans are yanked helplessly back to New York like kittens chasing a string 2 of Red Sox wins in a row. In their hearts, they know how it is going to end, the way it always ends, but they can't help hoping. This is the nature of this earthly existence. Something wonderful will happen - tomorrow, if you believe! Then, just when you think it might happen, despite all of your pessimism and dark thoughts, that's when the hammer of defeat smacks you with a baseball bat. That is why I call it a Hellhole.

If there is an afterlife, and I am on some cloud looking at the re-runs of my life, I firmly believe that I will be pleased that I chose the option of not-being-there when it comes to professional sporting events. However, it begs the question of whether I used my time on Earth wisely in watching the game on TV, when I could have been doing something worthwhile - like, making fudge.

Gurus who specialize in Time Management remind us that Time is the supreme scarce resource. No matter how rich we are or how smart or sexy, we cannot ever get back so much as a single second of Time. Nearly everything else in our lives can be replaced - relationships, property, even critical body parts. But we never get to do yesterday over. Our lives are like spools of twine unravelling one second at a time. One day there will be no more twine. It behooves us to spend this day doing things that we wont regret.
So, anyway, who's watching the game tonight?

Homer in the 12th Inning

I have an interview scheduled this morning, so I gave up and went to bed at 1AM with the game tied in the 11th inning and the Red Sox so deep into the bullpen that they were bringing in Wakefield to pitch again.

This morning I hear that Ortiz wins the game 20 minutes later with a homer in the 12th. He shoulda done it in the 9th when he had bases loaded, and I was still awake. They play again tonight - this is the reshedule of the game that was rained-out friday night. I'm sick of seeing the Jeeter and Sheffield and especially Alex Rodriguez. They are not human.

Don't get your hopes up. You will not be seeing Pedro vs Clemens in the World Series.

Blowout

After last night's blowout loss to the Yankees (19-8), I feel compelled to quote myself from my blog entry of several weeks ago:

"That giant choking sound you hear in the distance is coming from Fenway Park. It's annual the Red Sox end-of-season slog up Heartbreak Hill."

I take no pleasure in being right. I merely note that one should have faith in causes that are worthy of one's hope. It did not escape the notice of some observers that A-Rod (the guy that the Yankees outbid the Sox for) led the smackdown.

This year I hope they fire that punk Theo Epstein and also bring Grady Little back as Manager. And get rid of those annoyingly stupid TV announcers. Scratch interviews with celebrities in the stands - we don't care what they think!

No team has ever come back from a 3 game deficit and won the Series. Looks like the Yanks against the Cards in the finals.

October Surprise

Normally, just before the national election one or both of the candidates campaign staff reveals some tawdry secret that reveals what a slimy evildoer the opponent is. Or, the incumbent finds some reason why the country should not even consider changing horses midstream. Did John Kerry think he was dealing a lethal blow by calling the VP's daughter a lesbian? Hmmn, it was shocking - but mainly because only a thoughtless A-hole would make that kind of remark.

But anyhow, the real surprising event for me recently was that I got calls from two people who called to discuss potential projects. I am working on one (paying) writing project this weekend. (Naturally a rush job due on Monday - but they don't pay the big bucks unless there is an unreasonable deadline involved.)

Monday, I have an appointment with a local business to look at their database and see if I can help them clean it up. I have a feeling that I will be the right one for the job, (whether I am or not). Between these two gigs I will earn enough to cover my bar tab for a month!

That's not all: I have a message from a headhunter who wants to discuss a contract opportunity with me - urgently. So, something is up. Fiscal quarter? I dunno. I just feel busy all of a sudden.

I was watching 20-20 last night. They had a piece on the Saudi Royal Family and their obscene oil riches. They were interviewing one of the Princes (the 5th richest man in the world with some twenty three billion of his own)on his yacht anchored on the Riviera, where he spends the summer. Apparently, the homeland desert is too hot. He admitted that he had a lot of money, but quickly pointed out that his luxurious 150 ft yacht was "used." He had bought it from Donald Trump. He viewed this bit of frugality it as a sign that he was not living in excessive luxury - despite the fact that the majority of his countrymen and women live in squalor. He accepted the disparity as simply the way Allah wants it.

I guess it's all relative.

I read this am that the auditors can't account for billions of dollaers that were earmarked for the Iraq war. I'll bet that all those wounded amputee soldiers are wishing someone had spent the money on better armor.

Hey wait, we already know who has stole - oops I mean accidentally overbilled - several million dollars in reconstruction activities in Iraq. Can they spell Halliburton? (Dick Cheney's lesbian company). What a surprise that the Dems should have discovered the error just before the election....

Home Improvements

It hasn't really been a week since I updated the blog. I had attempted to write on two previous occasions, but my timeless prose was lost somewhere in the internets (as our hi tech prez would say). There is a glitch in the blog-writing program that allows your text to disappear if you fail to save the text before clicking on another window. I call it a "glitch", you might call it "user error."
Pajamas pajahmas - let's not fight about it.

The new baby and mom are doing fine. They look a bit tired what with the nightime feedings and the chaos that is caused by the arrival of a new member into the family routine. They have turned the ringer of the phone off so the only way you can contact them is to go over there and bang on the door, yelling "Police! We have a warrant. Open up!"

Our builder stopped by yesterday for a serious discussion of the porch project. We gave hime our "final" changes to the drawings. He will have a contract ready in a few days, and then we will be underway - sometime in the next 5 months. The survey guys were here last week, measuring and siting and writing notes in their booklets. They sprayed little red circles on the street marking the property lines. Hmmn. Hey neighbor, get your tree off my yard!
The project next door is nearly complete. Maybe the crew will just come over here and do my little porch in a few days. Dreamer or what?

The house across the street just went up for sale. Over a million. Hope they get the price. It will help my property values. Most of the people who are looking at the property are arriving in fancy cars. I made a deal with the owner that for the price of a couple of cases of beer, I would agree not to sit on my front lawn in a beach chair, wearing plaid bermuda shorts and my favorite Hooters Tee shirt, looking like a bipolar geezer who has gone off his meds. The owner offered to double the extortion payoff if I would promise to stay inside whenever prospective buyers were on their premises. The agreement doesn't specifically prohibit me from mooning them from the upstairs window, so I can still have fun with it.

My wife took a week off from work to be on-call for the newborn and mom. It has been enjoyable for us, since she rarely takes time off to be at home. Normally we go somewhere on vacations. So it is a bit of novelty for her to be around the house, telling me what to do (You know you promised to paint the living room before Columbus day!) and what not to do (Are you having another beer?), and organizing my exercise regimen (Get up you lazy lout; It's 7:33 am - time for our walk!).

I cite the recent scientific study "Men who drank one-two beers per day had a bone density 7 percent greater than nondrinkers." If two is good for you, how much better to have more beers? But my logic is useless in the face of her determination.


On the plus side, when she is not over the daughter's house in her capacity as grandmother. she has been doing the shopping and cooking, which gives me a break - and plenty of time to get that painting done. She has re-taken control of the kitchen.
I can't find anything any more. The beer opener is in a different drawer. The cupboard has been re-organized. She will be going back to work next week, so I can get some rest, and re-arrange the utensil drawer the way I like it. Re-gain some of the weight I have lost walking and being denied access to the beer fridge,
PS - The living room has been painted - ceiling walls and woodwork - two coats.