You can do it; we can help.

In today's news, Home Depot reports a 30% decline in first quarter 2007 profits. The recently appointed CEO attributes the loss to a softened housing market. He also blames the weather (?).
As a recent customer of Home Depot, I can tell you what the problem is: They suck.

My ongoing experience with HD has been deteriorating over the years. Gone are the knowledgeable and helpful folks with the orange aprons who seemed to enjoy their work and were glad to see you. Now the employees are sparse and seem to avoid eye contact so they can escape your enquiring mind.

I suppose I should be going to the new Lowes, but it is another mile down the road.

The customer service desk is a joke. Some of the people don't even speak well the language. They constantly mispronounce your name. It takes several phone calls to transact the most basic business, and they clearly do not know what is going on.

The longest lines are not at checkout but at the returns desk.

This is a classic case where the new CEO should go "walking around." He should ask his aunt to go in and try to buy window blinds or a rug. His aunt will most certainly report that it is a harrowing experience - one that she WILL NOT WANT TO REPEAT.

The stores are chaotic; the seasonal or special display areas are overstocked and difficult to navigate with a carriage. Employees are uncertain and in short supply. The plant stock is tired looking. (We bought some indoor ornamentals last year. Great price. Shortly after we got them home, they began to show delayed signs of poor care. Today one is dead and the other still looks stunted. So, despite the great price what are the odds that we will buy more plants at HD? )

Their inventory situation is strange. Several times recently I could not get to the item I was interested in because either there was stuff piled in the way, or the gate to the aisle was closed.
A few weeks ago, I was looking for lime. There was a pallet full of bags o' lime on the second shelf but none that you could reach. I could not find anyone to help and even after i got someone in another dept to page a garden shop employee, no one showed up and I left the store without buying anything.

Undaunted, I bought a new propane grille the other day. The price was excellent and they offered to assemble the unit for no additional charge. The HD guy who I spoke to wrote the SKU on a piece of paper and told me to order it at the service desk, which I did after waiting for my turn in a well populated line. Although I asked several times, no one could tell me when to pick up the assembled grille. When I got home I noticed that there was a ready-by date on the order form (which incidentally must have been designed by and for chimpanzees). After a few days I called the desk to see if my grille was done. She could not say but would call me right back. 4 hours later, I received a voice message on the home phone from the HD service desk. The woman's accent was so thick that I could not understand the message, but I assumed it was to tell me that the grille was ready. (yo gree e eey fo u peeuh)

When I arrived at the store, it took half an hour to find the assembled grille. The service desk did not know where they kept the assembled grilles. Finally someone came out pushing a grille with my name on it. But he was not able to help put it in my van. Finally we wrangled a few guys to help me put the grille in my Caravan.

During the time I was waiting in line, I gathered from my fellow customers that they too were harboring strong feelings of dis-satisfaction. When I mentioned that they did not seem to know what they were doing, one guy agreed. "It takes two trips to get anything done right - and three phone calls."

So next time I think I need some hardware items, I'm thinking that maybe Lowes isn't so far after all.

Wrongful Diagnosis

In the news the other day was an item about a man in UK named John Brandrick, 62, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two years ago and told that he would probably die within a year. He decided to live out the rest of his short life in style. He sold most of his stuff and used the money to travel, staying in luxury hotels and generally living well.

When he failed to succumb on schedule, he was forced to confront the moment that all senior citizens dread, the real possibility that we will outlive our resources. Mr. Brandrick was simultaneously annoyed, perplexed, frustrated and delighted to be around to tell about it. It turns out, upon re-examination that he does not have the fatal illness, rather pancreatitis, a painful but non-fatal condition.

Now he is suing his doctors and the hospital for wrongful diagnosis because he spent all his money, has no home and (quixotically) no clothes. Most of us probably admire this guy for resolving to face-up to Death and spitting the grim reaper in the eye, going out in a blaze of glory. At the same time we see him as a pitiful loser who will not take responsibility for his own impulsive actions.


This story embodies the deeply ingrained philosophical contradictions of our times – especially for those of us on the back nine*.

Self-help authors encourage us to “Live as though you might die tomorrow; learn as though you will live forever.” They say we should take risks with our pleasures, but we must be patient to let wisdom arrive in the fullness of time.

It is said that the sign of intelligence is the ability to hold two contradictory thoughts in the mind at the same time. Like my mother often advised, “Have fun but be careful.” I think that studies** may eventually show that the constant presence of these opposing ideas in the cerebral cortex may cause us to be operationally bi-polar.

So, maybe we sometimes do crazy things on impulse and the regret them later on. Well, you’ll excuse me, I am going downtown to get a fire-breathing dragon tattooed across my back.


===============

*Pardon the golfing metaphor, but it was either this or “…treading down the dark road to dusty death…” I think you’ll agree that the back nine flows better.

**As far as I know there is no formal study examining the psychological effects of ambiguous warnings, yet. But someone should be looking into it.

Outrageous Acts

My favorite part of the newspaper is usually the letters to the editor section. It is said that for every reader who actually takes the time to write down their thoughts, there are thousands more thinking the same thing. So, taking into account the editorial skewing in the selection of opinions, the Letters give a hint as to what actual readers are thinking about.

In today's Globe, I notice several letters to the editor decrying what the writers thought was benevolent handling in the reporting of the story of the MIT dean who was forced to resign over embellishments to her resume. The letter writers wanted to see the perp made to walk the plank with hands handcuffed behind her; then hanged and dragged around the city square. After all, she had violated a sacred trust.
Now, all of the MIT students who were admitted during her tenure have a cloud over their heads. How could someone so unqualified be relied upon to uphold the high standards of MIT's exclusionary admissions policy?

For the record, I need to confess to a bit of fabrication on my own resume. I got my degree (BA in LA) from a good but not elite school. About ten years ago, I started changing the designation of my Major to Journalism on my resume, because I thought it sounded more practical than English Literature. Would those who pompously refer to the document as Curriculum Vitae call this Fraud?

Lying on an employment application form is fraud, and punishable according to stated policies. Creative editing of one's personal advertisement (Resume) might fall into the category of Marketing Bullshit rather than criminal misdemeaner.

I believe the outrage over the crime of resume-fudging seems a bit misplaced. Perhaps some of it ought to have been better directed at the war in Iraq, tainted pet food, or even global warming. But who am I to question the motives of others? (My last letter to the editor was about unleashed dogs and the challenge of avoiding their ubiquitous poop on the sidewalks where I take my daily -weather permitting - stroll.)

Who Among Us?

Who among us hasn’t ordered-up a massage from an escort service, or fudged a few dates and accomplishments on their resume?

The most interesting news this week has been about resignations of high level bureacrats for relatively low-level crimes. We are not talking about officials taking bribes or giving away state secrets – we are talking about two things everyone[1] does: getting naked with strange women and lying on one’s resume.

Credible Lies
The dean of admissions at MIT resigned a few days ago. She admitted that she had lied on her resume 24 years ago to get the original job at the university.

Now, most of us have fudged a detail or two, but this gal invented two or three degrees. after dropping-out after only a few semesters in school! This is real creativity…. and balls.

I think if someone can get away with a lie about credentials, then there is no foul. Who got hurt? The poor overeducated candidate who didn’t get the job? At the stage where the interview is with the hiring manager, qualifications don’t count. The fictitious degrees got the MIT gal in the game, but she scored the points herself. The losers didn’t get the job because the hiring manager didn’t like them as much. Period.

It makes you wonder how many people, if forced to take truth serum, might admit to a fabrication of the truth that got them started on the road to success. The pompous among us will say that “Integrity is important.” But that is just horse shit: the fact that some “unqualified” people can actually excel at a job they were not “qualified” for, shows us that the vetting system is flawed. People who can demonstrate those flaws should be revered, not castigated.

I say that lies are important social lubrication. They often make interactions go smoother. Imagine a world where the absolute truth reigns:

How do I look: “Actually, you look a bit haggard.”
Nice to meet you: “Really? I was a little bored.”
Here’s that report you asked for, Boss: “Bend over the desk again and let me gaze at your lovely breasts.”
Have a nice day: “I’m late because of traffic, the kids are all sick with the flu, my wife is tired of my shit, I have nagging rectal itch, the boss thinks I am a procrastinator, I have a hangover, none of my friends will talk to me, and I just discovered a lump on my left testicle. Have a nice day? [expletive deleted] you!”


DC Call Girl Ring Investigation.
The head of the Bush administration's foreign aid programs, abruptly resigned Friday after he was “outed” by the D.C. Madam during an investigation into an alleged high-priced call-girl ring.

I admit that I was one of those who was willing to forgive Bill Clinton’s on-the-job dalliances ( I consider in-office bj’s from zealous interns as just one of the perks that goes with the title of “The most powerful man in the world”).

Abrogation of trust is one thing, fibbing about one’s sex life – even under oath – is somehow on a different plane.

Heck, I am willing to give a “pass” to anyone who can get their work done, and still feels in the mood for hot naked sex. Unless it can be found that he gave away state secrets or was using the power of his office in a corrupt manner, how were American citizens hurt by this factotum’s “massages”? Perhaps it is seen by some to be an embarrassment to the administration - I don’t think so.

It will be interesting to watch the reaction of people who (like me) were eager to exempt Bill Clinton from the lied-under-oath accusation. I hope I don’t see them hurling self-righteous stones at the other guys’ glass house.

But seriously, maybe this guy’s abrupt resignation - should be the model for all public figures who find themselves caught “with their pants down.” At least this saves us the hassle and psychic energy of the usual he-said, she-said disinformation cycle.

The real criminal – who should be burned at the stake - is the Madam who is snitching on her clients to stay out of jail. That is truly an unforgivable abrogation of trust.
---------------------------
[1] Well, almost everyone. Those of us who haven’t done it in real life have probably "sinned in our hearts".

Bad News

The airwaves are always filled with news of tragedy and death. Lately, though, it seems that the news is more awful that we can bear. All week it has been the VPI shootings and the video clips of the shooter, tearful biographies of the victims, recaps of other mass killings, and on and on.

Most of us (who have time to listen during the day) were probably releived to hear the radio talk shows changing the subject, to replay celebrity asshole Alec Baldwin's child abusing rant to his 11 (or is it 12?)- year-old daughter who did not take his scheduled call. Everyone jumped on the bandwagon to condemn Baldwin's obviously poor parenting skills. A judge even issued a restraining order based on the content of the phone message.

The fact that a private phone message was leaked for the world to hear - and ridicule - is not nearly as amusing as it seems at first. The backstory is tragic and disheartening. A story of beautiful people who are rich and stupid. People who willingly create fodder for the papparazzi press and who squander the public good will by selfish and nasty acts.

I tried switching to BBC news which does not sensationalize the headlines. World war three would be reported dryly and in depth, then the news would turn to a dispute about the space width between painted lines in a Kensington car park with equal drama and thoroughness.

Even better, I've also been switching to the AM station that used to host Al Franken's Air America network. (Despite the constant assertions by political conservatives that the media is dominated by leftist commies, it was the only liberal talk station in the Boston area.

For some reason, people who listen to talk radio would rather listen to fascist neocons than to treehugging global warming alarmists. Personally, I think anyone who isn't suspicious of both parties, and who finds themselves polarized to the point where they are convinced that the (uninformed) other side is ruining the country, is totally full of shit. Air America was deeply flawed; it passed up the opportunity to argue a rational case in favor of progressive ideas, and instead devoted itself to mocking the players on the other (conservative) side. There was plenty of material, to be sure, but good, fresh and funny is hard to do, day in and day out. Stale humor is worse than watching weather forecasts for Nebraska.

Anyhow the Al Franken network is defunct - at least in Boston. Now that station plays Latino music most of the day, and the ads and news are mostly in Spanish, so I cannot understand anything they say.

Come to think of it, listening to salsa music and incomprehensible spoken word is a huge improvement over hearing the constant namecalling and snide innuendo of political talk radio.

More Evidence

Today it is a balmy 70 degrees. The sun is bright and the sky is fair weather blue. I feel the need to get out into the garden and start raking, but recent events compel me to take notice of further evidence of the benefits of procrastination.

Napoleon (1) used to say, "It is an ill wind that blows nobody good." And the big Nor'easter storm that blew into New England last Monday, dumped half a foot of rain in some places, knocked down power lines, and created a storm surge that remanded 3 Nantucket beachfront homes to Davy Jones' locker. It was the same storm that had wended its way across America from the western plains, through Illinois, and into the Atlantic belt. Untold thousands were stranded in airports around the country. Thousands more had to leave their threatened homes and places of work. All in all, maybe a million people would say that the storm caused them to not have a nice day.

So, you are asking, where is the good news? Well, for those people who did not get their taxes done last Tuesday, the Mass Dept of Revenue and the IRS announced an extension for taxpayers who were affected by the storm. The extension was noted to be specifically for those who lost power or suffered a loss which would have legitimately prevented them from filing their returns at the last moment.

In typical bureaucratic toothlessness, Revenue officials stated that they would not require any proof of hardship from those claiming the extension. Thus, virtually anyone who did not get their taxes done by the deadline had a free no-fault bonus of 3-5 days. This regardless of the fact that they may have been toast warm, dry and fully powered.

It just showed that those of us Last-minute-tax-filers who complied with the rules (I took my returns to the Post office just after lunch on Tuesday - in the drenching rain!) missed an opportunity to put it off for up to another 5 days. As Napoleon often said, "The worst waste of time is to needlessly comply with a meaningless deadline."

(1) Fritz Napoleon - A homeless man who begs for spare change on a corner near the cafe where I often go for bagels and coffee. He was a former contestant on a TV reality show called "Trading hos, " which featured pimps from different 'hoods and the often hilarious entanglements when a righteous Dude is thrust into different locale and finds himself representing an unfamiliar stable of working ladies. The show was cancelled after the first week and replaced by the mesmerizing Anna Nicole Smith documentary.

April Showers

It has been unseasonably cold, wet and nasty for at least two weeks here in the western suburbs of Boston. My “daily” walks have been curtailed, and the yard/garden has been too wet for any of the normal springtime activities. My wife has remarked that my mood seems darker and my normal jovial personality has been drifting into negative territory.

The news has not been helpful. Last week, all anyone talked about was Imus’ botched joke getting him fired. This week, we have been besieged by 24 hour coverage of the terrible mass killings on the Virginia Tech campus.

For many years, we listened to the Imus-in-the-Morning program and enjoyed its irreverent over-the-edge humor, interesting guests and focus on the issues of the day. During the past year or so, we had been turning the program off, or switching to muzac instead of enduring the unfunny skits and lame attempts to be outrageous. Worse, Imus frequently devoted unseemly amounts of airtime (and the commercial breaks seemed like at least half of every hour of the show) to personal promotions of his ranch, his kid, his wife, his brother, his charities – all tedious and unfunny. His annoying and cynical use of this pulpit drove me to turn him off on a regular basis.

I will say that he often had good guests, and I would commonly switch to his station at least once during any given morning, hoping to hear an interview with someone who knew what was going on in the world. The format allowed the guest to have enough time to present information more completely than the typical sound-bite headline news or the smarmy morning TV shows. (For example, Joe Biden explained that the reason he chose to announce his candidacy for President on Imus’ show was that NBC would only give him 5 minutes and Imus gave him twenty. )

Imus greatest crime was not being funny. He got what he deserved, but not for the right reasons. The activities of the infamous Al (Tawana Brawley) Sharpton – a conked-out race whore – make him the least qualified to stand in judgment of anyone. He and his fellow partner in racism Jesse (hymietown) Jackson immediately make me want to side with anyone or any organization that they are against.

This week , the non-Imus news has been truly horrible. The unending coverage of the massacre at VPI has been unwatchable. The horror of another crazy guy with a gun running around shooting people at random is another one of the scary things we have to worry about these days. Add it to the list of Terrorist attacks, Tornadoes, Traffic accidents, Bird Flu, and a hundred other ways that “fate” can suddenly take away everything – not because you deserved it, but just because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It got me to thinking about my working days. Over the course of a long career we all bump into people who seemed, shall we say, “tightly wound”? It’s not PC to call people crazy – but they are/were definitely among us. People who you expected to lose it one day and come in to avenge the pain and suffering of their lives by murdering the nearest authority figure: The boss.

I have a draft version of a short story – based on true events – It began when a troubled hi tech office-mate told me about his plan to shoot our boss in reaction to the colleague’s recent demotion and humiliation. He told me in great detail how he was planning to wait in woods next to the parking lot, and when the boss arrived in his gray BMW, fix him in his scope and…bang. As he told me his plans, his voice was steady and evil and his eyes were unblinking, like a snake. I judged him to be insane, and serious. This created a dilemma for me which was both moral and practical. Should I report him? What if he decided I knew too much about his plans? I feared that he would kill the boss, then me -- not necessarily in that order. If you want to know how it ends, you will just have to wait until I finish writing the story.

I never personally considered killing the boss – but come to think of it, if I had killed that sonofabitch CFO who had me fired back in 1987 - I’d be getting out of prison about now. I don’t hold grudges. But, I will admit that I smiled a few years ago, when I heard that he had testicular cancer.

Now that I'm older and wiser, I have forgiven everyone and everything. Over and over is has been proven that life events that seemed like overwhelming crises at the time resolved themselves. Most of the time, we move on to better things.

Hey, the sun just came out. Time for a walk.

About Time (part 3)

I am working on an essay titled “Oops I Didn't do it, Again - (The Arguement in Favor of Procrastination).” In the essay I take hard issue with our overplanned and goal oriented society. The essay examines the deleterious effects of the crazy-busy lives of people – especially those who are working at a career and raising families –who never have time to “Stop and smell the roses”.


When finished the essay examines the positive side of procrastination, which is seen ( mainly by some anal retentive souls) as a chronic illness that some people may inherit. For example, successful procrastinators may put things off until the last minute but they tend to work exceedingly well under the pressure of an imminent deadline. (This is why I can start working on my tax returns on April 14 and finish under the deadline.

I have no scientific evidence that procrastination is inherited, but I believe it to be so after years of observing my siblings and myself. We are inveterate and practiced procrastinators. Yet, somehow, stuff gets done. Dinners get cooked, trips get planned, appointments are kept, lunches are scheduled, deadlines are met - most of the time.

Procrastination may be a personal attribute that drives other people crazy. But you organized people need to recognize that overplanning/overscheduling drives procrastinators crazy too. I think one of the traits that procrastinators have in common is the ability to discern real deadlines (eg April 15th last date for filing last years Income tax return)from fictitious deadlines (The boss wants your status report no later than noon on Friday - as if nothing was going to get done on Friday after lunch....)

One thing about procrastinators is that they seem to enjoy spur of the moment experiences, welcome surprise and are calm in the face of impending crises that send lesser souls into a state of virtual diarrhea.

I have a few paragraphs of the essay completed, but I doubt that I’ll get to finishing it in the foreseeable future. Lots of other stuff to do that seems more interesting right now.

ON TIME (part 2)

Second part of answer to Question 2

Things I did last week:

Tea with George (Earrrl Grrrey – we don’t drink beer anymore)
4 Bags of Lime from the hardware store
Library (pickup book i special ordered "A perfect Mess")
Watched Lila (2 days)
Fixed Snowblower Shear pin
Gas for lawn mower (who says I never plan ahead?)
Trash to dump (85% recycle)
Update blog
Played about 6 hrs on World of Warcraft
Daily Walks (well almost daily)
Got burning permit
Renew subscriptions (Penthouse, Martha Stewart Living)
Shopped for Tax software (decided to wait until last minute)
Replaced color Ink Cartridge (cripes $30!)
Shopping at the market – 2 or 3 visits (I only buy the freshest produce and meat)
Cook dinner (nightly)
Laundry (2 loads)
Breakfast with Maury
Bank (Check to make sure SS check was transferred)
Lottery tix (no winners yet)
Read “The God Delusion” and “Mere Christianity”
Viewed 2 movies "The Departed" *** and "The Prestige" *
Grill shopping (waiting for sale)
Limed lawn (deferred from last Fall)

=========
Who has time for a job?
=========

How I Spend My Time Part 1

Some of you have expressed feelings that range from mild annoyance to puzzled amusement that someone who is not-currently-employed (NCE) doesn’t seem to have the time to update his blog with more regularity.

If you were my “boss” who was paying for me be somewhere at a scheduled time and produce some “work” I might feel obligated to explain to you. But why should I account for my time to some internet freeloader – who is very likely sitting in an office pretending to be doing “work”?

Since I have been NCE for more than a year now, People often ask me “Are you retired?”
And,
“What do you do with all that free time?”

Answer number one:
I think so; I am not looking for a full-time job. I don’t think I could squeeze a full-time job into my schedule, right now. I am pretty busy. This is not to say that I would not pursue a great opportunity to make a lot of money and do something interesting at the same time. The truth is that the likelihood of such an opportunity materializing is remote. So, yes, I think I am retired,

Answer to the second question:
What free time? Most days, I spend several hours sitting at a desk*, surfing the internet or writing fabulous prose or playing World of Warcraft. I read – or at least glance through - two papers every morning, Several days a week are scheduled with social contacts with adult humans for lunch or afternoon coffee/tea. Since my wife is still working 4 days a week, I do the shopping and daily meal preparation. I also have an extensive list of things to do around the house – drilling holes, painting, re-staining the outdoor furniture, repairing the snow blower, etc. Then there are the increasingly frequent visits to healthcare providers for oil change and lubrication. Also the cars need maintenance**. On good weather days, I take a long walks; on nasty days I work out for two hours in the home gym***.

On Mondays, I am day care provider for my 5 month old grand daughter, so that the parents can keep working to pay their credit card interest charges. Twice a month on Tuesdays, I have a writing group that I attend. Thursdays, I have a standing lunch with Maury who is 83 and still in remarkably good health. Fridays, my wife stays home and watches the above referenced grand daughter, while managing my progress on her never-ending “Honey-do” list. I also have the same chores I have always had (going to the dump, yard work, straightening-up the mess so the cleaners can vacuum, that sort of thing).

Many of these activities are the same things working people do, except that I no longer need to cram them all into the weekend. I can do them at my own pace, often enjoying them much more than you workerbees, who see these mundane activities as a mere checklist item to be dispensed with as efficiently as possible.

The big difference is that I am in no hurry, I have plenty of time to dawdle and to consider universal and eternal verities. (he looks out the window and watches a squirrel digging furiously in the lawn. He wonders: is it burying something or digging something up? He certainly seems busy. Where does he go during blizzards? Effing rodents; Where the hell is my BB gun? The beastslayer jumps up from his computer to rummage through the garage looking for something...)

[Time passes]

OK let us return to the question about why I do not have time (or inclination) to update the blog with more frequency. (Phone rings.) Ah, gentle reader, you must excuse the interruption, I need to take this call.

And I need more time to ponder this question properly….come back tomorrow...
==========================================================

* Much like when I was working and getting paid for it.
** These were tasks that I would tend to do “on company time” when I was working.
*** this last part was a fib - I don't actually have any exercise equipment. I thought it sounded more noble than the inconvenient truth: taking a thoroughly undeserved nap on the sofa. (This I was unable to do during my working years).

Unintended Truths

I did not stay up late enough last Sunday night to watch the Acadamy Awards (or was it the People's Choice?) I don't think I missed anything remotely entertaining or interesting. One missable moment was reported in the papers, where a heavy-set version of Al Gore accepted an award for the so-called documentary titled 'An Inconvenient Truth.'

It's on my Netflix list. By all accounts, he presents a totally one-sided version of politically-smirched scientific opinion, interspersed with some outlandish predictions of Oceans inundating occupied land.

If you were not up late watching South Park re-runs last night, you missed a classic episode, where former Vice President Al Gore shows up in Colorado to warn the South Park community about the dangers of some mythological beast that lives in a Rocky Mountain cave and was about to emerge and wreak unspeakable horrors on innocent civilians.

Of course, none of the adults in South Park will pay any attention to him, despite his arm-waving dire warnings. As they do often, the south park writers nailed it again.

Gluteal Freezing

Nineteen degrees Fahrenheit at high noon today. It is amazing that human beings can even survive in this climate, let alone choose to live here during the Winter.

OK, maybe we are just a tad spoiled by the short 9 day Florida getaway. We have discussed our options for the future and have made a firm decision to extend our visit to the southern climes to a month or even six weeks next winter. By that time, neither of us expects to have the interference of full time jobs to encumber us.

Note to the kids: Don't worry. We are not on the verge of putting the family home up for sale, heading South to spend your inheritance on a lavish beachfront mansion with an expensive cabin cruiser moored at our private dock. We have not even entertained those thoughts - honestly!

Of course, no one would blame us if we were thinking about it - which I assure you we have not. At our age, Winter is no longer a friend. The days when we anticipated fluffy snow fallen slopes and frozen ponds upon which to glide and carve have given way to aches and pains, tender epidermis, sore backs and joints; and a deep loathing for the cold arid arctic blasts.

These days, we skip the daily walk and stay warmly inside the house when the weather turns nasty. On frigid days like this, we tremble at the thought of slipping on the ice and shattering our increasingly brittle bones*; we are haunted by visions of helpless hospitalization, followed by a long recuperation punctuated by innumerable visits to an overwhelming array of health care specialists - for xrays, physical therapy, counseling for depression, acupuncture, rabies shots (just in case...). Also there are the predictable and prolonged haggling with health care insurance providers over co-pays and the costs of approved tier medications.

Even worse, we dread the thought of having the mailman or some un-invited visitor slip and fall in our driveway and sue us for all we are worth. So, I find myself going out in the middle of winter blizzards, shoveling the wet snow, ignoring the shortness of breath, the numbing left arm and burning chest pains - because the driveway must be cleared before the storm turns to rain and freezes into a sheet of slick cement. Despite the symptoms of a possible heart attack, I risk frostbite and even death to avoid the possibility of being sued into poverty.

There are no longer any kids in the neighborhood who would even think of shoveling your walk for less than $50. (I do not have a line item on my budget for such extravagance. What do I look like, Governor De Ville?) Even if we were willing to deplete our lifetime savings for such labors, we could not find a willing worker. These days kids don't need to earn money. Many of them wear sneakers that cost more than the 1950 Chevy I bought back in 1960. In my day, we would shovel all day in our sneakers and tee shirt to earn $3). Kids are not allowed to go door to door soliciting anymore because - thanks to reality shows on TV - we now know that every household on your street contains at least one raving lunatic, drug addict, sex offender, witch or lawyer. Too dangerous for kids to approach without a parental overseer.

Given the life-threatening dangers of occupying a 3 bedroom house in suburban Boston during the Winter, it would perhaps not be un-thinkable for a couple who have worked hard all of their lives, stayed out of jail, and accumulated a small nest egg to support them in their elder years – might dream of finding a nice warm haven to rest their increasingly fragile bones* far away from the vile winds of winter.

But we are Yankees who were raised to believe in thrift and parsimony. Don’t worry, kids. Rather than spending your inheritance on lavish personal amenities, we will just persevere here in frigid New England, subsisting on cold cereal mixed with melted snow, spending our days watching Court TV and Jerry Springer. It could be worse: At least we don't live in Dayton, Ohio**.

What we should all be worried about is global freezing, and whether they will ever bury poor Anna Nicole Smith?


-----------------------------------------------------------------------
*This danger is highlighted by several advertisers of nightly news programs.
**Dayton, Ohio is alleged by my sister-in-law, who lived there for several years, to be the "least desirable place to live on this entire planet."

A Miserable Conspiracy

We were among the lucky Jet Blue passengers who were able to board our scheduled flights today - an hour late, but most of us were just happy that the flight wasn't cancelled altogether.

I noticed that the Jet Blue personnel were exceedingly communicative today. I think they are frightened by the prospect of a consumer revolt after the Valentine's Day strandings. The terminals were probably swarming with Lawyers looking to sign people up for class action suits.

The standard airline customer service normally consists of conscious and assertive with-holding any useful information. Hey why bother? As long as all the airlines do it they can force the customers to actually vie with one another for one of three hundred seats that are too small for anyone who is bigger than the average circus dwarf.

I'm surprised they haven't come up with a reality show pitting travelers against one another racing and physically attacking one another to win a cramped seat near one of the working toilets. No wonder there have not been any more terrorist attacks by plane. The Imams think it is cruel and unusual to force someone to travel by commercial air liner as a prerequisite to get to paradise and the 72 virgins.

Every time I travel I am reminded of how awful the system is. The Security checkpoints make you want to laugh or cry hysterically because they are a microcosm of our general attitude toward safety. One guy had a bomb in his shoe 5 years ago, and we still have to take off our sneakers to get through security. Little old lady nuns are being felt-up by high school drop outs and probable illegal immigrants (swarthy people of dubious citizenship with accents so heavy that you cannot understand their questions or instructions)who seem to be the only people who will work for TSA at $8.50 an hour. Thank you, Homeland security. Boy I feel safer, don't you?

The American attitude toward safety is hysterical. A small fraction of kids are seriously allergic to nuts; so all preschoolers in the building are forbidden to bring peanut butter sandwiches. Some klutz's bang their heads and now everyone is required to wear helmets. Next thing you will hear that a couple of birds got sick and we will shut down Canada to keep the geese out, declaring war if they try to invade. We are an insane society, driven by fear mongers, content-challenged news programs, and a poor understanding of risk.

I think the airline industry generally sells misery. I know this because they admit that the seats are not big enough, most of them enforce class discrimination which leads to envy and hatred, they lie about their on time performance, the food, if they have any, sucks and they force us all to get sick if anyone on the plane is sick. Check out the salaries of Airline Execs. They make more than the President of Scotland.

But in the Tampa airport today, the Jet Blue people today were all about setting expectations. They had actual people on the counter today instead of those self service check-in machines where the customer does the work and the counter people just check your id and slap bar coded stickers on your luggage. They kept us informed of the progress of the flight that was delayed in leaving NYC - the one that would take us to Boston. One we got on board, they kept interrupting the TV programs to tell us how glad they were that we chose to fly on Jet Blue.

I was surprised that no one has yet given one good reason why they kept all those people on the tarmac on Wednesday for 8 hours or more, with no fresh air, no food, 3 bathrooms for 300 people, etc.
Unconscionable. I think if I had been on one of those flights, I would surely be in jail tonight.

More Beach Notes

Sarasota - Valentines Day

Fortunately, I was prepared for the day. I had bought a nice card and the traditional heart-shaped box of chocolates. Another potential Hallmark disaster averted.

Aol had featured the list of the 10 worst Valentine gifts - eg a close up photo of one's pride and joy, an ironing board, a coupon for $5 off an oil change. I was feeling pretty smug, I admit it. I am well past such ill-thought-out tokens of affection.

It was a beautiful day here at the beach, following last night's rain. I was up at 7:15, awakening from a realistic dream, where I was being hunted by gangsters who had mistaken me for some shmuck who owed them money. It was a case of mistaken identity, but there was a sense of terror when I realized that the fellows who had come to beat the snot out of me were totally uninterested in whether I was the perp or not. Some one needed to be beat-up, and the boss "did not like excuses." They got the same pay no matter who they beat-up. When I asserted that real bad guy would eventually have to be beat-up when the mistake was cleared up, and Mr. Big would be unhappy, they just laughed. Just as the big guy was putting on his enforcer gloves, I woke up with a bead of perspiration on my brow. I was relieved to see the beach our of the window, and the sun showing pink in the eastern sky.

Throughout my morning ablutions, I kept thinking about how bureaucratic the mob was. Inefficient too.

Later, I was able to get in a swim in the ocean. The water is about 62 degrees - kind of chilly but tolerable. The weather for the next two days is forecast to be colder, so that it most likely the end of swimming. Tonight I had to wear a long sleeved shirt. Brr. Tomorrow we will take the rental car and do some exploring. With the GPS system we can find anything.

Beach notes

Sarasota, Florida - Lido Key

We just came back from a leisurely dinner at Cafe Baci - a fabulous Italian Restaurant where they make their own pasta and the red sauce is the best I've ever tasted. The veal Parmigiana was excellent and I could barely finish the cheese cake with macadamia nuts and coconut. My wife could not finish her eggplant P. We has a delightful dinner and the bill was around $55. Not bad. Kind of makes you want to spend more time in places where you can have an excellent dining experience but not feel that you got rooked. A glass of nice red wine would have enhanced the meal, but we have resigned ourselves to sticking out the non drinking thing for another 6 months.

The rental car has one of those Magellan GPS navigation systems, which has been a great thing to have. Yesterday we drove up to St. Petersburg to visit a friend who had recently moved down here from Boston. The GPS got us to her parking lot without a hitch. Goodbye Mapquest hello GPS.

The weather has been great. Everyday has been sunny and warm. It is a bit chilly during our early morning beach stroll, so we are forced to wear our sweatshirts - at least on the way out. On the way back the warming sun invites us to shed a layer. By the time we emerge from late breakfast, it feels hot in a tee shirt. I slather myself with sp30 and sit on the balcony to read. An afternoon breeze kicks up, ruffling the ocean and bringing a nice cooling relief from the baking 74 degree sun.

After the afternoon nap, we emerge to forage for dinner. So far we have found willing purveyors of victuals and potable liquids, which they are willing to exchange for a piece of plastic.

We have been keeping up with the important news (eg, the Anna Nicole Smith story - another example how 24 hour news coverage can contain almost zero factual information.) We watch the weather forecast hoping to hear of a blizzard back home so we can enjoy our balmy slothfulness just a smidgen more.

OK I know, this blog is supposed to be about work issues... so here is my Zen observation of the day. As we walked the beach this morning, I noticed that there were impressions made by people who had also walked along the shore this morning.
It reminded me of the workplace. Where the marks that people make, last about as long as the next wave, or at best the next change of tide. All the time we spend, thinking our work is important - and maybe it is, for a moment, then, splash.

Climactic Induced Journeys

This morning in Boston, it is colder than a witch's you-know-what. Twenty degrees with a brisk wind, with a wind chill factor of "Too Cold to Go Outside." I think it is worse in upstate New York and back in Chicago.

Today, we will venture forth, however, because we have airplane reservations and there is a rental car waiting for us in Tampa, Florida.
Please don't view this as gloating, but as a heartfelt expression of hope that those of you who are stuck going to the office will "Have a nice day, freeze-ass."

Actually, you frigid stay-at-homes can take comfort in the knowledge that the temps in Sarasota have dropped sharply. The 3 day forecast is for daytime temps that are barely over 70 degrees. This is only a 40 degree delta! So, we will probably have a lousy time, lazing on the warm balcony, gazing at the pristine beach, reading a leisurely novel or quaffing a refreshing iced tea. Should we venture to the beach, I am sure that the incessant squawking of sea fowl will disturb us, and those scantily clad young females that often infest the beach will serve-up their usual annoying distractions.

We sincerely hope the weather in the Northeast improves, since we have to keep the house heated (for the cats) and I could use a little break on heating costs, to help make up for the daily restaurant breakfasts, fried grouper sandwiches with lobster bisque at lunch and expensive fine dinners.

Oh and not to forget the fresh squeezed Florida orange juice - chilled, but not frozen.

:-)

Following Orders

In light of my recent brush with the Law, readers have been flooding my inbox, wondering if I am some sort of anti-American anarchist scofflaw. Let me set the record straight.

It is true that I'm not good at following orders that don't make sense to me. This trait has dogged me since I was in junior high school, when I decided that History and Algebra were areas of learning that were too boring to spend any unnecessary time on.

This unwillingness to accept unreasonable authority also got me in trouble when I was in the US Air Force, where I was almost busted for ignoring a stupid order of a (drunken) Master Sergent who thought it would be entertaining to have me shine his boots.

I suspect that most of my former managers would assert that my failure to internalize marching orders has been responsible for those not-so-scintillating performance reviews that I received as an employee. Most former bosses probably saw me as a prima donna who could not be counted-on to march to the beat of the bosses drum. I believe that even the most critical of them would (reluctantly) admit that I did good work, but it was only on projects that were my idea. My inability to meet arbitrary deadlines is well documented in the secret files of the Human Resources Departments of my ex-companies.

I wish this rebellious streak could be attributed to some inner courage, or artistic nature; but I sometimes think I am simply burdened with an overdeveloped sense of right and wrong. This, in addition to the Irish and Dutch genes that comprise the biggest part of my DNA, generates an eerie obstinacy that goes well beyond "just plain stubborn." In the right environment, stubborn righteousness might be viewed in a positive light, even seen as a wondrous gift, but alas, I have yet to find such an environment.

The truth is: I have no difficulty following rules that make sense. I believe in mandatory auto liability insurance, dog leash laws, and noise ordinances. In the workplace, I subscribe to rules that benefit the organization such as being on time for meetings and not stealing copier toner cartridges. I also believe that paying one's just share of taxes and not making loud noise are examples of laws that benefit the community - even though they might attenuate the personal pleasure of some individuals.

So, there you go: I do believe in laws and rules. They make civilization possible, after all. Without rules, you cannot play games, conduct business or fight battles.

Furthermore, I agree that the Boss has the power to create and enforce rules. When a rule or directive passes the sniff test of my infallible sense of right and wrong I agree to be subject to it. If not, I generally exempt myself from it.

If I cannot see the benefit or purpose in an order - or, worse - if I question the motives of the rule-giver, then my Dutch-Irish kicks-in with full throttle.
I have frequently observed that rules are often made by little tyrants - just because they have the power, and find entertainment in making subordinates run around - much the way a small boy enjoys disturbing an anthill.


John Kerry might still be a candidate for president if he had only told the students, "Study hard or you could end-up getting stuck wearing a Mickee Dees uniform taking orders for fries and burgers -- or worse, end-up brown-nosing some fat bastard ego-maniac."
I wish somebody had told me that back during the botched joke that was my high school study hall behavior - when I was not studying History and Algebra.

Staying Out of Jail

Years ago, when I was a smart-assed teenager, barely getting passing grades in High School, smoking half a pack of Winstons a day and hanging out with what my parents thought was a "bad crowd", my father - during one of those vocational father and son chats - once articulated that he would be happy if I would just be able to stay out of prison. Now, I am well into my sixth decade, and I am pleased to report that Dad would be proud of me - on that score at least.

But, I have to report that staying out of jail is not as easy as it used to be. A few weeks ago, we got a notice from the local Animal Control Officer (ACO) notifying us of a fine for $50 for not getting our cat in on time for her annual rabies vaccination.

Now, I will admit that we are well aware of the local ordinance which compels all cat owners to keep their pets legally inoculated against rabies. I think it is a good idea, just as I believe that noise ordinances ought to be enforced to keep the racket of incessant building projects limited to daylight hours on weekdays. At the same time I accept that there are occasionally mitigating circumstances which may result in the occasional failure to obey such rules.

For example, we are very willing to bring this cat into the Animal Hospital to get shot up - even at the exorbitant cost of $85. We are committed to the health and welfare of all of our livestock (consisting presently of 2 Siamese cats). The problem here is the lack of cooperation by said cat, who I will call 'Madclaws' to protect her real identity - as she is still a minor having attained a mere 9 years of age*.

Madclaws hates to go to the Vet's. She is smart too, if she even suspects that you want to put her in a cage, she will run away and hide. She knows places in our house where we cannot find her. If you trap her in a small space, she will literally climb the walls to escape your grasp. Then if you should manage to grab her, she will attempt to claw and even bite you (I have a scar to prove it) in her frantic attempts to escape.

In the past, we have been quite traumatised by the experience, and perhaps it is not too inconceivable that we have a tendency to procrastinate when it comes to the annual rabies shot. Madclaws is an inside cat - and always has been inside. Even if offered an open door to go outside, she will run upstairs and hide.

Then a few days ago, an envelope arrived in the mail. Inside was a notice that a criminal complaint had been filed by the ACO for (I shit you not) "an unvaccinated cat." The hearing would be held next month as to why we should not be found guilty of a misdemeanor. Is this the same system that refuses to arrest illegal aliens who are stopped on the highway for driving infractions?

So, when we asked the Vet why the ACO is so anal about the annual inoculation, this is the rationale we were given: "A rabid bat might fly into the house either through an open door or window, or even down the chimney. Said bat might bite a cat, infecting it. In turn, the now rabid cat might bite a human in the house with fatal consequences."

I am not exaggerating. This is what I was told by the Vet with an absolutely straight face. I asked about the statistics on such an unlikely scenario.

I was told that there are approximately 70 human deaths per year in the USA attributed to being bitten by an animal infected with rabies. Unfortunately the stats do not break down to identify how many of the deaths occur ed in homes where the pet was bitten by an intruder bat. And besides, what would keep the rabid bat from biting the human directly rather than going through the cat as a middleman? My questions were viewed as smart-assed, I am sure.
"Why take chances?" I was admonished.
When I wondered aloud how many people were killed each year in auto accidents caused because the driver was distracted by the high decibel yowling of the uncooperative feline in the cage on the back seat, I got a look of disapproval for my dumb questions.

Anyhow, I managed to stay our of jail by pleading the case to my humorless Vet who reluctantly gave me some sedation pills for the cat. I ground the pill into a powder and fed it to the cat mixed in with the morning meal. It worked enough to slow the cat down. I got my heavy gloves out, sneaked up on her while she slept in sedated kitty dreamworld, grabbed her by the nape of the neck and wrestled her into the carrier. The rest was easy. Situation resolved. I made it back to the vet's without crashing the van, and the cat seems no worse for the experience.

So, Dad, wherever you are, you can still be proud. I'm not going to the hoosegow - this time. And we can breathe a sigh of relief that the only Rabies deaths that occure in our home will be from bat bites, not cat bites.


*I do not find it comforting to know that some Siamese cats can live for up to twenty human years.

Cranking it up

I was reading about a new search engine that is available as an alternative to Google and Yahoo. This one is aimed at the 50+ crowd. It's called cranky.com (go ahead and click on it for a sample view.)

Cranky bills itself as the "first age relevent search engine" but it seem more like a devious facade for boomer friendly marketing.

Of the 10 "Most popular" searches, I checked out the piece labeled "working after retirement" and got an article from a 1999 issue of Business Week. (Gee! That was valuable.) The "Work At Home" search was filled with offers to sell you advice about how to avoid scams. How cynical can you get?

One of the most common work-at-home schemes/scams is Envelope Stuffing.
These scams usually incorporate a "registration fee" which must be paid before work begins. Once this fee has been paid, the "employee" is asked to post an ad -- often the exact same ad that the "employee" responded to -- using his or her own contact info. Once the "employee" receives a response to their ad, he or she will stuff an envelope with information/instructions on how to get started and mail it to the new applicant. The victim is "paid" based on the number of responses/registration fees received from the ad she placed. It's just a variation of a chain-letter concept.

Anyway, I was not terribly impressed by Crankydotcom. But it gives me an idea for other audience-relevent search engines:

1) Catpoop.net - "An online meeting place where cat owners can gather to discuss litter box habits of their furry friends."

2) Ifwedidit.com - "Accused murderers and rapists need a community to share the pains and joys of indictment and possible incarceration."

3) Coloradoblizzard.org - "a blackberry network where stranded homeowners can exchange anguished thoughts with stranded travelers who are stuck at the local airport.

4)Dontmakemeshootyou.net - "a search engine that gives the home address and photo of anyone who sends you a pop-up ad, so you can hunt them down and slay them."

These are just a few that come to mind. I'm sure you can think of others.

Not Finished Yet

Today, the Careerbuilder website cites a study that predicts the creation of 1.5 million new jobs in 2007.

You are probably thinking, "This is just blog fodder. Why do you give a crap? We thought you were retired, anyhow."

Well, faithful reader, I need to remind you that this forum has always interested itself in the world of employment and the meaning of work in our lives. So I do give a "crap" - as you put it so indelicately. Besides, I have never declared myself to be "retired". I just said I was "on a sabbatical" or "Not currently Employed" (NCE).

I don't like the sound of the word "retired." It sounds so old-guyish, so end-of-the-line, so out-of-the-game. When you see an old guy walking down the steet during a weekday morning, you can usually tell the retired guys from the ones who are on vacation. Retired guys don't shower and shave every day. They tend to wear dark colors, old un-ironed sweatshirts, or gray chinos, and maybe a baseball cap. They probably need a haircut. They shamble grimly toward their destination (odds are, it's the Quickimart to buy a paper and a lottery scratch ticket.) They seldom make eye contact with others.

Old guys on vacation are usually clean shaven, appear to shower with regularity and are typically dressed in newer, brighter colored clothes. They are often smiling and appear to be interested in everything around them.

So, that is why the Careerbuilder piece caught my eye. I was interested to see that there will be more work opportunities. Granted, the chance that one of these new gigs might meet my stringent requirements is remote, but still, the odds have improved ever so slightly.

So, yes, I am still in the marketplace for a job. The other day in the paper there was an article about Sheraton's search for a National Beer Officer. The person would be responsible for tasting and ensuring quality at the bars in Sheraton hotels, and going to Octoberfest. Despite the fact that it was a nonpaying position they had about 5,000 applicants from thirteen countries. Including mine.

I can hear you thinking, "Wait, I thought that you were abstaining from alcoholic beverages." Ok, that is technically true. But I have continued to be a fan of beer. And I would consider an exception if selected for this position - a lifetime dream job if there ever was one.

More than likely, if I go back to work, it will be in one of those humdrum jobs doing database conversions and snoozing through monthly staff meetings.

A note on the blog: to those of you who still check it, I have resolved to be a better blogger this year. I plan to visit here regularly, you should too.