During the 1950's a social psycholgist, Abraham Maslow, discovered why no one can achieve lasting happiness. You may recall reading about his theory "The Hierarchy of Needs" in college. The theory says that all humans in all societies seem to share the same basic urges. We must eat, we desire security, we lust, and we need the esteem of our fellow villagers.
People who do not follow these pattern are deemed to be sick, and they are labeled Sociopaths and Psychopaths. But for most of us, we are doomed to be driven by these predictable levels of Need.
Maslow created a chart that listed the Needs in hierarchical order with food being near the bottom and respect near the top. He asserted that when a person is at the "Need Food" level, all energy and focus is directed to satisfy that need. Once the physiological needs are met, the human tendency is toward satisfaction of psychological needs, such as the need for love, acceptance, respect. At each level, the brief moment of satisfaction is soon replaced by a nagging and persistent desire to get to the next level.
Our work lives are spent as metaphors for this model. In the beginning, we just want a job to pay the bills. Then we start bitching about the working conditions. Then we start thinking about how to keep from losing the good job we have found. Then we seek promotion. We want a nicer office, a more attractive secretary, more vacation time, free water. No sooner do we get our office with a door than we notice that some people have bigger offices and better furniture. Because we lust, because we envy, we spend our entire working lives never being truly satisfied.
Here is the problem: there is no upper end on the need scale. In apparent fear of running out of paper big enough to display a chart of all the needs humans can aspire to, Maslow copped-out by labelling the uppermost level with the term "Self actualization." He defined it as "becoming everything you are capable of being..."
No one can ever attain self actualization because there will always be... something more to desire. It's human nature. And it's the reason why no one is very happy for very long.
That's just the way it is. Cowboy up.
9/30/2003
9/22/2003
Lazy Days
As I begin to pick the last of the tomatoes and clean out the clutter in the garden, I am still in the "looking for work" mode, although not with my usual furious intensity. The job scene is pretty quiet. I have made inquiries at all of the companies on the 100 best places to work list that are within a 15 minute commute (both of them). My skill set as a senior (ie, high paid) business systems analyst is not very much prized in an economy that is not authorizing new projects or ventures. I am not worried, though.
The general improvement in the stock market is evident in favorable 401K mutual fund statements that are showing marked improvements since March of this year. If no devastating event occurs to ruin the gains, we are pleased with this. It is further encouragement that things will get better. Business cycles happen. Employment is inevitible. So, I enjoy the leisure that the current status affords me for as long as the fates decree.
I was once leery of retirement, wondering "what would I do all day?" I have no such thoughts these days. There is precious little time in the day, and much to do. The biggest risk for me is not getting anything done, since it is so easy to defer tasks to tomorrow. I schedule most of my gotta-do's (things that require me to go out of the house, like food shopping and dump runs) for weekdays, when I have the least amount of competition from others (traffic congestion and lines). I putter around on the weekends, or we get in the car and go somewhere. We never have enough time for all the things we want to do and places we want to go. Not a bad life, except the fact that the grandkids are in Calif.
The general improvement in the stock market is evident in favorable 401K mutual fund statements that are showing marked improvements since March of this year. If no devastating event occurs to ruin the gains, we are pleased with this. It is further encouragement that things will get better. Business cycles happen. Employment is inevitible. So, I enjoy the leisure that the current status affords me for as long as the fates decree.
I was once leery of retirement, wondering "what would I do all day?" I have no such thoughts these days. There is precious little time in the day, and much to do. The biggest risk for me is not getting anything done, since it is so easy to defer tasks to tomorrow. I schedule most of my gotta-do's (things that require me to go out of the house, like food shopping and dump runs) for weekdays, when I have the least amount of competition from others (traffic congestion and lines). I putter around on the weekends, or we get in the car and go somewhere. We never have enough time for all the things we want to do and places we want to go. Not a bad life, except the fact that the grandkids are in Calif.
9/14/2003
What I did this Summer: Jetsam Memoirs
Autumn approaches. The air is crisp and clear. The sky is studded with puffy clouds and it's good to be alive, and outside, with long sleeves. A time for reflection, to nourish that seed of inner peace that has taken root in the fecund humus of the soul.
Yesterday, I planted a row of hardy chrysanthemums on the north border with the Murphys. I built a berm out of compost from the back yard. It took about twenty wheelbarrows full of rich dark organic material. I had several large, aged piles of rotted grass clippings, vegetable peelings, assorted prunings and leaves. The back is kept mostly natural so pine needles and leaves are never raked, but left to decay naturally. This produces a layer several inches thick of the black gold called "leaf mold". I mined several barrels of fluffy, pure compost to mix in the gardens, thus assuring another bountiful harvest next year.
At the end of the day, sitting with an icy Harpoon IPA, I am struck by the alarming brevity of days and the sudden realization that summer has passed with the velocity of a clattering freight train. One moment you are thinking "Jesus! This is eternal." Then, without warning, a thunderous silence. You find yourself squinting at the blinking tail light of a caboose retreating into the dark distance.
The summer was well spent. It started in May, when the leadership at the Hellhole decided to make a decision. The CMT (Crack Management Team) felt that they had to do something to fix the company. The choices were: 1) to reduce the number of costly offsite executive planning meetings, 2) to pump up an impotent sales force, or 3) to lance the festering boil of a bloated workforce.
Previous decisions had included Instituting a new Dress Code, Changing the Company Logo, Reorganizing and Redefining Mission Statement (and confusing nearly everyone), Eliminating free water, Hiring more lawyers, Downgrading support for the biggest customer (because they wanted to be less dependent on the cash cow), Forcing the implementation of a less effective systems (which annoyed the biggest customer even more), and instituting a simplified but incomprehensible set of performance goals.
The results of these initiatives were gratifying for the HR department. Not only did they have more interesting work overseeing the new goals and org chart modifications, but they could busy themselves getting new stationery and business cards with the new logo.
Unfortunately, none of these decisions resulted in increased revenue. The CMT fretted about the bad economic situation, and decided that they needed to go down to Naples Florida, which was the only place that they could think clearly (not to mention the excellent golfing, fishing and other accommodations). They would have to make some hard choices.
The CMT had no use for the wisdom of gurus like Tom Peters who says "You cannot shrink your way to greatness." They felt that the time-honored way to save a sinking boat is to throw things overboard. "Jetsam" is defined as cargo or equipment that is tossed intentionally (as opposed to "flotsam" - the stuff that is ejected into the water as the ship sinks).
Funny, they didn't lay off any senior execs, even though these are the ones who led the ship into the shoals of fiscal wreckage. We marvel at their ability to blame failure on external factors, but fully ready to take full credit for any successes, no matter how accidental.
So, my fellow jetsam and I have had ample opportunity to reflect on the nature of work. And to explore other professions - gardening, multi-level-marketing, thoroughbred handicapper, piano player in a sporting house, freelance writing, fisherman, van driver, house painter, gigilo, you name it. Some of the jetsam engaged in furious job hunting, and some of them did find successful landfall. I have sown some seeds and made some calls. As a no-limits person, I feel that one of these fine crisp days, the phone will ring with the perfect opportunity. (I just hope I am not out back sitting by the verdant garden, snoozing on the chaise lounge when the phone rings.)
Yesterday as I sat, admiring the new compost berm, my wife came home after a hard day at the office . She inspected my work and declared with a scowl, "It looks like a grave."
Yesterday, I planted a row of hardy chrysanthemums on the north border with the Murphys. I built a berm out of compost from the back yard. It took about twenty wheelbarrows full of rich dark organic material. I had several large, aged piles of rotted grass clippings, vegetable peelings, assorted prunings and leaves. The back is kept mostly natural so pine needles and leaves are never raked, but left to decay naturally. This produces a layer several inches thick of the black gold called "leaf mold". I mined several barrels of fluffy, pure compost to mix in the gardens, thus assuring another bountiful harvest next year.
At the end of the day, sitting with an icy Harpoon IPA, I am struck by the alarming brevity of days and the sudden realization that summer has passed with the velocity of a clattering freight train. One moment you are thinking "Jesus! This is eternal." Then, without warning, a thunderous silence. You find yourself squinting at the blinking tail light of a caboose retreating into the dark distance.
The summer was well spent. It started in May, when the leadership at the Hellhole decided to make a decision. The CMT (Crack Management Team) felt that they had to do something to fix the company. The choices were: 1) to reduce the number of costly offsite executive planning meetings, 2) to pump up an impotent sales force, or 3) to lance the festering boil of a bloated workforce.
Previous decisions had included Instituting a new Dress Code, Changing the Company Logo, Reorganizing and Redefining Mission Statement (and confusing nearly everyone), Eliminating free water, Hiring more lawyers, Downgrading support for the biggest customer (because they wanted to be less dependent on the cash cow), Forcing the implementation of a less effective systems (which annoyed the biggest customer even more), and instituting a simplified but incomprehensible set of performance goals.
The results of these initiatives were gratifying for the HR department. Not only did they have more interesting work overseeing the new goals and org chart modifications, but they could busy themselves getting new stationery and business cards with the new logo.
Unfortunately, none of these decisions resulted in increased revenue. The CMT fretted about the bad economic situation, and decided that they needed to go down to Naples Florida, which was the only place that they could think clearly (not to mention the excellent golfing, fishing and other accommodations). They would have to make some hard choices.
The CMT had no use for the wisdom of gurus like Tom Peters who says "You cannot shrink your way to greatness." They felt that the time-honored way to save a sinking boat is to throw things overboard. "Jetsam" is defined as cargo or equipment that is tossed intentionally (as opposed to "flotsam" - the stuff that is ejected into the water as the ship sinks).
Funny, they didn't lay off any senior execs, even though these are the ones who led the ship into the shoals of fiscal wreckage. We marvel at their ability to blame failure on external factors, but fully ready to take full credit for any successes, no matter how accidental.
So, my fellow jetsam and I have had ample opportunity to reflect on the nature of work. And to explore other professions - gardening, multi-level-marketing, thoroughbred handicapper, piano player in a sporting house, freelance writing, fisherman, van driver, house painter, gigilo, you name it. Some of the jetsam engaged in furious job hunting, and some of them did find successful landfall. I have sown some seeds and made some calls. As a no-limits person, I feel that one of these fine crisp days, the phone will ring with the perfect opportunity. (I just hope I am not out back sitting by the verdant garden, snoozing on the chaise lounge when the phone rings.)
Yesterday as I sat, admiring the new compost berm, my wife came home after a hard day at the office . She inspected my work and declared with a scowl, "It looks like a grave."
9/08/2003
Another Road Not Taken
In my eternal quest to discover how I should spend the rest of my life, I have made another choice. I have decided NOT to become a professional gambler. Recent evidence has demonstrated with virtual certainty that in games of chance, if I did not have bad luck, I would have no luck at all. I know that sounds like a line stolen from a blues song, but it is true.
The recent venture to Suffolk Downs (where Seabiscuit was first spotted by his legendary trainer) yielded a big flat negative gain. None of my cleverly worked out 'systems' - designed to select high-paying winners - was successful. I would have done better to go with interesting names (eg 35-1 longshot named "Trailer Trash" - which paid about $75.00. I, of course, bet on another horse, named something like "She-can-win".)
Also, last week I donated a tidy portion of my unemployment check to the Native American Fund, aka Mohegan Sun. (Hey, here's an idea for the Jesse Jackson gang, looking for economic justice - lobby for permits to open Casinos. That's where you can confiscate some serious reparations.)
Anyhow, gambling is not for me. I have invested in Lottery tickets, scratch tickets, football pools, and none of them has paid me back. Roulette, video poker, slot machines all have failed to return anything since that big ($1,000) hit three years ago when I got a royal straight flush on video poker. I'm sure I have given every penny back to those murderous savages.
No, my future is in commerce. Thus, I will redouble my efforts to obtain a traditional job at outrageous wages. Like a surfer, waiting for the perfect wave, I scan the horizon patiently, searching for that perfect opportunity, hoping there are no maneating sharks in the water to chew on my ambitions.
The recent venture to Suffolk Downs (where Seabiscuit was first spotted by his legendary trainer) yielded a big flat negative gain. None of my cleverly worked out 'systems' - designed to select high-paying winners - was successful. I would have done better to go with interesting names (eg 35-1 longshot named "Trailer Trash" - which paid about $75.00. I, of course, bet on another horse, named something like "She-can-win".)
Also, last week I donated a tidy portion of my unemployment check to the Native American Fund, aka Mohegan Sun. (Hey, here's an idea for the Jesse Jackson gang, looking for economic justice - lobby for permits to open Casinos. That's where you can confiscate some serious reparations.)
Anyhow, gambling is not for me. I have invested in Lottery tickets, scratch tickets, football pools, and none of them has paid me back. Roulette, video poker, slot machines all have failed to return anything since that big ($1,000) hit three years ago when I got a royal straight flush on video poker. I'm sure I have given every penny back to those murderous savages.
No, my future is in commerce. Thus, I will redouble my efforts to obtain a traditional job at outrageous wages. Like a surfer, waiting for the perfect wave, I scan the horizon patiently, searching for that perfect opportunity, hoping there are no maneating sharks in the water to chew on my ambitions.
9/03/2003
Labor Day Musings
So, I'm reading in the Globe today that the Police in NewHaven CT arrested Jesse Jackson and 14 striking Yale employees for blocking traffic.
This raises at least two burning questions:
1) What do these people who work for a living have in common with Jesse Jackson? He's never had a real job in his life. It seems to this blog that his principle shtick is to wander freely around America stirring up racial tensions, and, then standing tall in support for the poor oppressed. How does he get paid? Does he travel by public transportation? Why should he worry about having an arrest record? He will probably not have to answer "Yes" to the "Have-you-ever-been-arrested?" question on a job application. Unlike the poor striking workers, who will most likely be forced-out of their current jobs for not being team players. Strikers risk the inevitable conclusion that the organization can run without them. But can they count on Jesse Jackson for a letter of reference. Sorry, the photo op is over. Time to move on to fry new fish.
2) And what is it about blocking traffic to get attention? Surely, this is the most moronically negative attention-getting stunt I can imagine. There is a theory (advanced by biblical scholar, Mel Brooks) that there were actually more than ten commandments, but the others were lost when Moses dropped one of the tablets. I imagine that one of the lost dictates would go something like" "Thou shalt not knowingly impede the flow of traffic." How does a group expect to get sympathy by causing traffic tie-ups? To me, this is not "civil disobedience". This is "Terrorism". Isn't terrorism defined as: inflicting pain on innocent bystanders? It is, in fact, a cowardly act, since the real foes are not directly challenged.
If it were up to me, the traffic blocking arrestees would be remanded to Camp Gitmo in Cuba for serious interrogation and perhaps torture until they admit their heinous crimes. No trial, just a lifetime of sitting around waiting for the line to move.
This raises at least two burning questions:
1) What do these people who work for a living have in common with Jesse Jackson? He's never had a real job in his life. It seems to this blog that his principle shtick is to wander freely around America stirring up racial tensions, and, then standing tall in support for the poor oppressed. How does he get paid? Does he travel by public transportation? Why should he worry about having an arrest record? He will probably not have to answer "Yes" to the "Have-you-ever-been-arrested?" question on a job application. Unlike the poor striking workers, who will most likely be forced-out of their current jobs for not being team players. Strikers risk the inevitable conclusion that the organization can run without them. But can they count on Jesse Jackson for a letter of reference. Sorry, the photo op is over. Time to move on to fry new fish.
2) And what is it about blocking traffic to get attention? Surely, this is the most moronically negative attention-getting stunt I can imagine. There is a theory (advanced by biblical scholar, Mel Brooks) that there were actually more than ten commandments, but the others were lost when Moses dropped one of the tablets. I imagine that one of the lost dictates would go something like" "Thou shalt not knowingly impede the flow of traffic." How does a group expect to get sympathy by causing traffic tie-ups? To me, this is not "civil disobedience". This is "Terrorism". Isn't terrorism defined as: inflicting pain on innocent bystanders? It is, in fact, a cowardly act, since the real foes are not directly challenged.
If it were up to me, the traffic blocking arrestees would be remanded to Camp Gitmo in Cuba for serious interrogation and perhaps torture until they admit their heinous crimes. No trial, just a lifetime of sitting around waiting for the line to move.
8/27/2003
Why Managers Fail
The WSJ today contained book reviews of recently published books purporting to be studies tracking the causes of spectacular failures both of executives and companies. Hmm.
Nothing new or surprising to fans and stalkers of this humble observer.
The chief reason cited for smart executives to fail is blindness. We are not talking about ocular malfunction here, friends. We are talking about the inability to see things as they really are. People, events, data that do not conform to the ego expectation of the Emperor.
It is the fatal flaw of ego driven leaders that causes failure for themselves, and for their companies when unchallenged by the board. Look at WorldComm and Enron, look at Martha Stuart, Arther Anderson, Saddam Hussein and many others.
Companies and regimes that have developed empire egoes are likely to blindly enter into destructive mergers (AOL/Time Warner) or lose focus (Polaroid) or just lose good people, like my last employer. Doomed, I tell you, they are all doomed!
Nothing new or surprising to fans and stalkers of this humble observer.
The chief reason cited for smart executives to fail is blindness. We are not talking about ocular malfunction here, friends. We are talking about the inability to see things as they really are. People, events, data that do not conform to the ego expectation of the Emperor.
It is the fatal flaw of ego driven leaders that causes failure for themselves, and for their companies when unchallenged by the board. Look at WorldComm and Enron, look at Martha Stuart, Arther Anderson, Saddam Hussein and many others.
Companies and regimes that have developed empire egoes are likely to blindly enter into destructive mergers (AOL/Time Warner) or lose focus (Polaroid) or just lose good people, like my last employer. Doomed, I tell you, they are all doomed!
8/21/2003
The Road Not taken
Life is a series of choices, decisions and moments. I believe that the paths we travel during our lives are not predetermined, but instead are highly volatile. Every day the newspapers are full of stories about the choices people make. A tragic story in todays's Globe - two teenage girls are killed when the car they are riding in crashes into a stone wall. They had been walking home just a few moments earlier, and had accepted a ride from a friend. Life would have been different had they declined the ride. Last year, there was a story about two couples who happened to meet the Great White band leader at a tattoo parlor. The band member gave them free tickets to the performance that terrible night at the nightclub in Rhode Island. Three of the four were among the hundred who died that night in the fire.
These are unhappy examples of the ways a small ad hoc decision or choice can take you down a wrong path. There are just as many stories about people who had good things happen to them because of a chance event. On a whim, a Brookline man decided to buy a $2 scratch ticket at the convenience store yielded a winning ticket for $50,000. Many people have been in the right place at the right time, when good fortune smiled. Hmm. I can't really think of any others, but I am pretty sure there are more inspirational stories.
Until I can think of more positive reasons to go outside, I believe I will just stay inside today and crank up the air conditioning. Who knows what evil lurks outside.
These are unhappy examples of the ways a small ad hoc decision or choice can take you down a wrong path. There are just as many stories about people who had good things happen to them because of a chance event. On a whim, a Brookline man decided to buy a $2 scratch ticket at the convenience store yielded a winning ticket for $50,000. Many people have been in the right place at the right time, when good fortune smiled. Hmm. I can't really think of any others, but I am pretty sure there are more inspirational stories.
Until I can think of more positive reasons to go outside, I believe I will just stay inside today and crank up the air conditioning. Who knows what evil lurks outside.
8/16/2003
Fire and Rain
This week I had a gig as a Freelance Lab Monkey. Some researchers over at McLean Hospital ( the high-end nut house where James Taylor woke up one morning and found out Suzanne was gone) are studying a group of volunteers to see what role heredity plays in obesity and eating disorders. They were paying $200 for a 2 hour interview and test. Hell I never was much good at math but that's like $100 per hour. Not bad wages for an unemployed fat guy.
They wanted to know if I was fat just because I ate too much, or was I a binge eater who had uncontrollable feelings around food. I admitted that there were two foods I am 'out of control' around: Beer and Bacon. This was not what they are looking for. They want psychos who unconsciously eat a whole box of cookies or an entire gallon of ice cream, and then feel bad about it.
I rarely feel bad about my gluttony. I am not responsible, since I probably inherited some gene from my ancestors, all of whom were fat. The Irish gene that evolved as a response to the famines, no doubt. Hey, don't laugh. Next time the terrorists destroy the power grid and the world goes crazy, you skinny bastards will be dropping like flies, and I'll just live off stored fat, and getting buff in the bargain.
The researcher shrink who interviewed me seemed a bit disappointed that I was not able to report more trauma and angst in my life. (eg, most morbid fear: running out of bacon). I guess people with heavy duty psychosis tend to eat a lot. I admit to having a modest closet full of my own idiosynchronies, mind you - but I am clearly minor league, compared to the issues of the true manic overeaters. They also will also interview my siblings, each of whom will receive $200 also. My brother was delighted. He said "Hell, I'd pay two hundred just to get someone listen to me talk for two hours."
Next week I have another freelance opportunity - to record burps for a novelty recording studio in Medford. Maybe I'll stop by the new Krispy Kreme donut shop while I am in the area.
The employment scene is looking pretty good!
They wanted to know if I was fat just because I ate too much, or was I a binge eater who had uncontrollable feelings around food. I admitted that there were two foods I am 'out of control' around: Beer and Bacon. This was not what they are looking for. They want psychos who unconsciously eat a whole box of cookies or an entire gallon of ice cream, and then feel bad about it.
I rarely feel bad about my gluttony. I am not responsible, since I probably inherited some gene from my ancestors, all of whom were fat. The Irish gene that evolved as a response to the famines, no doubt. Hey, don't laugh. Next time the terrorists destroy the power grid and the world goes crazy, you skinny bastards will be dropping like flies, and I'll just live off stored fat, and getting buff in the bargain.
The researcher shrink who interviewed me seemed a bit disappointed that I was not able to report more trauma and angst in my life. (eg, most morbid fear: running out of bacon). I guess people with heavy duty psychosis tend to eat a lot. I admit to having a modest closet full of my own idiosynchronies, mind you - but I am clearly minor league, compared to the issues of the true manic overeaters. They also will also interview my siblings, each of whom will receive $200 also. My brother was delighted. He said "Hell, I'd pay two hundred just to get someone listen to me talk for two hours."
Next week I have another freelance opportunity - to record burps for a novelty recording studio in Medford. Maybe I'll stop by the new Krispy Kreme donut shop while I am in the area.
The employment scene is looking pretty good!
8/09/2003
Waiting for opportunity to knock
I had an "interview" the other day. Actually an invitation to join a group that is starting a company to sell CRM software and customization services to mid-size companies. I know the guy who is leading the effort and he has a good track record. They like my experience as application development project manager and IT relationships management. The team he has assembled is a good mix of young and wizened smart guys and the market for these products is hot.
If I was ten years younger, I would be delighted to have the chance to be part of the Leadership a successful enterprise, but at age 61, I am tired of striving, playing politics, shutting-up when the boss is clearly wrong, being told what to do and how to do it, bullshitting, being bullshitted, sitting in meetings, and wearing business clothes. (Ok. I still like to sling the bullshit, but not for political reasons).
So I am passing-up on the opportunity to be a founding member of the startup phase, mainly because the work in the initial stages consists of selling. I am a poor sales agent.
I am too much of a Buddhist:
I do not overcome objections, I accept them meekly and move on.
I do not ask for the order, I wait patiently for the prospect to make an intelligent decision in my favor and then call me with their requested quantities.
I hate to bother people when they are "busy".
( BTW: I find that most people who characterize themselves as "busy" are actually filling time with unimportant tasks to make themselves feel important)
I am intimidated when I meet business people who seem to be intelligent and thoughtful about their information needs. (ok, this is a rare event, but it happens)
When asked a question about a product's fitness for a particular purpose, I usually respond truthfully - which is a definite drawback in the sales profession.
I know about these things because I have slept with a salerep for many years. My wife has been a success selling everything from Electronic Potting Compounds to to Filing Cabinets to Payroll Services and Insurance. While remaining completely ethical, she is dogged and ruthless in pursuit of her prospect. She is convinced that they need her product, and she is deternmined to get the order. In short, her success is because of attributes that I lack.
I'm still in the market for a job, mind you. But I want one of those kushy gigs where you work for a successful publically-traded company with great benefits, big budgets, and big projects, high pay, low stress, interesting work, intelligent coworkers, progessive management, no heavy lifting.
I sit by the phone waiting for one of these opportunities to call. I should check the batteries; the damn thing hasn't rung in weeks.
If I was ten years younger, I would be delighted to have the chance to be part of the Leadership a successful enterprise, but at age 61, I am tired of striving, playing politics, shutting-up when the boss is clearly wrong, being told what to do and how to do it, bullshitting, being bullshitted, sitting in meetings, and wearing business clothes. (Ok. I still like to sling the bullshit, but not for political reasons).
So I am passing-up on the opportunity to be a founding member of the startup phase, mainly because the work in the initial stages consists of selling. I am a poor sales agent.
I am too much of a Buddhist:
I do not overcome objections, I accept them meekly and move on.
I do not ask for the order, I wait patiently for the prospect to make an intelligent decision in my favor and then call me with their requested quantities.
I hate to bother people when they are "busy".
( BTW: I find that most people who characterize themselves as "busy" are actually filling time with unimportant tasks to make themselves feel important)
I am intimidated when I meet business people who seem to be intelligent and thoughtful about their information needs. (ok, this is a rare event, but it happens)
When asked a question about a product's fitness for a particular purpose, I usually respond truthfully - which is a definite drawback in the sales profession.
I know about these things because I have slept with a salerep for many years. My wife has been a success selling everything from Electronic Potting Compounds to to Filing Cabinets to Payroll Services and Insurance. While remaining completely ethical, she is dogged and ruthless in pursuit of her prospect. She is convinced that they need her product, and she is deternmined to get the order. In short, her success is because of attributes that I lack.
I'm still in the market for a job, mind you. But I want one of those kushy gigs where you work for a successful publically-traded company with great benefits, big budgets, and big projects, high pay, low stress, interesting work, intelligent coworkers, progessive management, no heavy lifting.
I sit by the phone waiting for one of these opportunities to call. I should check the batteries; the damn thing hasn't rung in weeks.
8/03/2003
On the Nature of Work and Art
Some people have a high falootin opinion of themselves, and therefore, their work. Let's distinguish jobwork from the broader term used by artists to describe their creations.
The healthiest among us realize that working for a boss is something you do for the pay. Most of this work is of transitory value.
Most of the projects I have worked on in my career were late and over budget. Few of the things I accomplished lasted longer than the next regime. In fact, virtually every one of the very successful companies I worked for eventually went out of business or were absorbed by another organization and exist only as unimportant subgroups. Wang Labs, Prime Computer, Index Technologies, Bull Express are prominent examples. But, there are thousands more similar stories. All the accomplishments of people who worked for these organizations have been rendered irrelevent and meaningless. OK, I will grant that the people who invented e-mail, GUI, and the Worldwide Web have made lasting contributions, but virtually all of these people were actually working as unsupervised artists in a creative friendly environment.
Do real artists think of their creations as work? Is it art, if I sit down to write an essay specifically for paid publication? I think not. The editor then becomes my boss. The mere consideration of issues like: who will pay for this when I'm done? have a constraining effect on my creativity, because I know most mainstream editors will not buy my stuff unless I tone it down and leave out the most creative elements.
Let's face it, people who work for their pay have a lot in common with whores. Get over yourselves you stinking prostitutes.
Some people have a high falootin opinion of themselves, and therefore, their work. Let's distinguish jobwork from the broader term used by artists to describe their creations.
The healthiest among us realize that working for a boss is something you do for the pay. Most of this work is of transitory value.
Most of the projects I have worked on in my career were late and over budget. Few of the things I accomplished lasted longer than the next regime. In fact, virtually every one of the very successful companies I worked for eventually went out of business or were absorbed by another organization and exist only as unimportant subgroups. Wang Labs, Prime Computer, Index Technologies, Bull Express are prominent examples. But, there are thousands more similar stories. All the accomplishments of people who worked for these organizations have been rendered irrelevent and meaningless. OK, I will grant that the people who invented e-mail, GUI, and the Worldwide Web have made lasting contributions, but virtually all of these people were actually working as unsupervised artists in a creative friendly environment.
Do real artists think of their creations as work? Is it art, if I sit down to write an essay specifically for paid publication? I think not. The editor then becomes my boss. The mere consideration of issues like: who will pay for this when I'm done? have a constraining effect on my creativity, because I know most mainstream editors will not buy my stuff unless I tone it down and leave out the most creative elements.
Let's face it, people who work for their pay have a lot in common with whores. Get over yourselves you stinking prostitutes.
7/30/2003
I had an email from a former workmate who disclosed a "dread of the meaninglessness of it all." I wrote back:
No-No, mon ami, you must not dread the meaninglessness; you must embrace the meaninglessness of your workplace plans, schemes and deeds.
Our work lives and so-called accomplishments are worth nada. Our career successes are nothing more than footsteps in the sand, soon obliterated and forgotton by the next wave or at longest, the next high tide.
The only real joy of life is the sensation of utter freedom. (I believe that this is why humans crave Art - because it records those moments of unfettered creative expression. ) Isn't that why people get addicted to drugs, as well?
Those of us who must toil for a living must make the best of those truly meaningless tasks that Caesar demands. A well-developed sense of humor is a gift of perspective, which serves us well.
When I was younger, I consumed large quantities of alcohol to sooth my aching soul. Now I am older, with a more delicate liver. These days, I choose to imagine myself gathering material for a great humorous work of Literature. Nothing bothers me, because I now have the perspective to see that - whatever the idiocy - it simply is not important.
Still, one must avoid assholes, as they tend to piss one off. The resulting Rage clouds the thinking mechanism.
Your mentor,
DN
No-No, mon ami, you must not dread the meaninglessness; you must embrace the meaninglessness of your workplace plans, schemes and deeds.
Our work lives and so-called accomplishments are worth nada. Our career successes are nothing more than footsteps in the sand, soon obliterated and forgotton by the next wave or at longest, the next high tide.
The only real joy of life is the sensation of utter freedom. (I believe that this is why humans crave Art - because it records those moments of unfettered creative expression. ) Isn't that why people get addicted to drugs, as well?
Those of us who must toil for a living must make the best of those truly meaningless tasks that Caesar demands. A well-developed sense of humor is a gift of perspective, which serves us well.
When I was younger, I consumed large quantities of alcohol to sooth my aching soul. Now I am older, with a more delicate liver. These days, I choose to imagine myself gathering material for a great humorous work of Literature. Nothing bothers me, because I now have the perspective to see that - whatever the idiocy - it simply is not important.
Still, one must avoid assholes, as they tend to piss one off. The resulting Rage clouds the thinking mechanism.
Your mentor,
DN
7/29/2003
Life in the fast lane.
The other day, having some time on my hands, I spend the morning in the periodical room of the newly refurbished Wellesley Library. I was reading an article in the current HBR about what management practice really work. The authors had dilligently studied a raft of companies and tracked the successes and failures over a ten year period. They looked at various approaches TQM, Six Sigma, kaizan, ERP,CRM and a host of other trendy practices and methodologies. To put it in a nutshell, it seemed that the successful companies all had a few things in common: a clear focus about the business; a simple strategy that was understood by management, employees, customers and stockholders; strong trusted leadership; and a simple organizational structure. They could find no causal relationship between any of the tools and techniques and superior business performance. Kind of makes you wonder whether all this technology is worth a fiddler's fart.
Well, my summer has been pretty quiet. The garden looks great, I have shed 10 or 12 lbs, and some things in and around the house have gotten painted. My plan to write a mystery novel has bumped into a huge obstacle, namely the lack of a good plot, characters and dialogue. Fortunately my wife is still working, therefore I have the house to myself most of the day. Well, there are the three cats, but they are low maintenance. They sleep 23.5 hours a day, then they chase each other around for 20 minutes, eat, visit the litter box and, exhausted, return to their slumbers.
Next week will mark the end of my third month of unemployment. I am not eager to return to the working life, but my financial situation dictates that I must get a job. I have been through several boom-bust business cycles in the past, and I remain calm about the prospects of eventual employment at a sustainable wage. Well meaning people keep reminding me that I'm not a young fellow anymore. But, I have always believed that talent trumps bias. I'm thinking that even in a bad economy, 94% of the people who want to work have jobs. I think those are pretty good odds.
The other day, having some time on my hands, I spend the morning in the periodical room of the newly refurbished Wellesley Library. I was reading an article in the current HBR about what management practice really work. The authors had dilligently studied a raft of companies and tracked the successes and failures over a ten year period. They looked at various approaches TQM, Six Sigma, kaizan, ERP,CRM and a host of other trendy practices and methodologies. To put it in a nutshell, it seemed that the successful companies all had a few things in common: a clear focus about the business; a simple strategy that was understood by management, employees, customers and stockholders; strong trusted leadership; and a simple organizational structure. They could find no causal relationship between any of the tools and techniques and superior business performance. Kind of makes you wonder whether all this technology is worth a fiddler's fart.
Well, my summer has been pretty quiet. The garden looks great, I have shed 10 or 12 lbs, and some things in and around the house have gotten painted. My plan to write a mystery novel has bumped into a huge obstacle, namely the lack of a good plot, characters and dialogue. Fortunately my wife is still working, therefore I have the house to myself most of the day. Well, there are the three cats, but they are low maintenance. They sleep 23.5 hours a day, then they chase each other around for 20 minutes, eat, visit the litter box and, exhausted, return to their slumbers.
Next week will mark the end of my third month of unemployment. I am not eager to return to the working life, but my financial situation dictates that I must get a job. I have been through several boom-bust business cycles in the past, and I remain calm about the prospects of eventual employment at a sustainable wage. Well meaning people keep reminding me that I'm not a young fellow anymore. But, I have always believed that talent trumps bias. I'm thinking that even in a bad economy, 94% of the people who want to work have jobs. I think those are pretty good odds.
7/23/2003
I woke up late today. I know you are thinking, "Yah, what's new?" Hey, I've been up early a lot lately. The fishing trip last week started at 6:30am. And with the kids living with us, the daily noisy furor was well underway at 6am. So it was unusual for me to lie in bed, enjoying uninterupted slumber, as late as 10am. But it was delicious.
I have not been exercising lately. It's boring. It hurts. And, I've been noticing that regular vigorous exercise tends to rob one of that protective layer of fat that has been carefully cultivated to sustain the body in the event of a famine. Besides that, exercise is un-natural. Did you ever see a tiger jogging in the woods, or a gorilla lifting weights? No. I figure that if God wanted us to exercise he would have made mention of it in the Bible. Or, He could have issued a fatwah, or there would have been a commandment "Thou shalt move thy ass and keep it firm." Clearly, exercise is a device of Satan.
I have been studying this matter for literally minutes, and my findings are a slap-in-the face to conventional scientific research, based on facts and rigorous analysis. Did you ever notice that people who "work-out" regularly are obsessive and compulsive? You don't have to lhave a Phd in Psychology to know that this type of behavior is pathological. These freaks are sick! They think sweating is a good thing. "No pain, no gain" is their insane mantra. After this epiphany, I threw my exercise weights out the window. (Judy says "Fine, but next time open the window first." )
Well, enough blogging. Time to check the mail to see if there are any job offers. I have promised to paint the dining room ceiling today. My arms are already tired. Maybe tomorrow.
I have not been exercising lately. It's boring. It hurts. And, I've been noticing that regular vigorous exercise tends to rob one of that protective layer of fat that has been carefully cultivated to sustain the body in the event of a famine. Besides that, exercise is un-natural. Did you ever see a tiger jogging in the woods, or a gorilla lifting weights? No. I figure that if God wanted us to exercise he would have made mention of it in the Bible. Or, He could have issued a fatwah, or there would have been a commandment "Thou shalt move thy ass and keep it firm." Clearly, exercise is a device of Satan.
I have been studying this matter for literally minutes, and my findings are a slap-in-the face to conventional scientific research, based on facts and rigorous analysis. Did you ever notice that people who "work-out" regularly are obsessive and compulsive? You don't have to lhave a Phd in Psychology to know that this type of behavior is pathological. These freaks are sick! They think sweating is a good thing. "No pain, no gain" is their insane mantra. After this epiphany, I threw my exercise weights out the window. (Judy says "Fine, but next time open the window first." )
Well, enough blogging. Time to check the mail to see if there are any job offers. I have promised to paint the dining room ceiling today. My arms are already tired. Maybe tomorrow.
7/22/2003
It's been a hectic week. My younger daughter, her husband and two grandkids were staying at our house, awaiting their move to California. They had to vacate their apartment on the 15th, but could not move in to the CA unit until yesterday. The chaos of having your grandchildren 7X24 is mindblowing. Both boys had birthdays, and the de riguer parties were well attended. Now they are all gone, and we will not see them until Thanksgiving.
The car did not get fixed on the first try, but the good news it they do consider the electrical problem a warranty-covered item. I am awaiting a part that needed to be ordered - aparently from China, since they have not called (wiring harness for the passenger door).
Last friday's NU deep sea fishing trip netted zero keepers. I did enjoy the day on the water, however, owing in no small measure to the abundance of $2 beers furnished by a stalwart crew. On the trip back to port we were treated to a scene from the Perfect Storm, complete with pelting rain, lighting strikes close enough that you could hear the thunder at the same instant that you saw the flash. And 30 foot tidal waves - or so it seemed. We weren't scared though - we were too drunk to be scared.
Yesterday, I mowed the lawn and watered the garden. Then I took a nap, and finished reading the daily newspapers.
Again, there were no job offers via e-mail or on the phone. While sipping a frosty gin 'n tonic in the back yard, I rested, thinking how exhausting job-hunting can be.
The car did not get fixed on the first try, but the good news it they do consider the electrical problem a warranty-covered item. I am awaiting a part that needed to be ordered - aparently from China, since they have not called (wiring harness for the passenger door).
Last friday's NU deep sea fishing trip netted zero keepers. I did enjoy the day on the water, however, owing in no small measure to the abundance of $2 beers furnished by a stalwart crew. On the trip back to port we were treated to a scene from the Perfect Storm, complete with pelting rain, lighting strikes close enough that you could hear the thunder at the same instant that you saw the flash. And 30 foot tidal waves - or so it seemed. We weren't scared though - we were too drunk to be scared.
Yesterday, I mowed the lawn and watered the garden. Then I took a nap, and finished reading the daily newspapers.
Again, there were no job offers via e-mail or on the phone. While sipping a frosty gin 'n tonic in the back yard, I rested, thinking how exhausting job-hunting can be.
7/16/2003
Today the van is in the shop for repairs. Strange electrical malfuction makes the door locking mechanism do unpredictable things, like lock all doors when I shut off the radio, and clicking lock and unlock at random times for 20-30 seconds. This gets attention in parking lots, where poeople undoubtedly think I am an idiot who doesn't know how to handle his keyless entry system. The service manager looked grimly at my after-market remote starter and warned me that this installation might invalidate the warranty. There goes this week's DET check. kachink kachink.
Walking back from the dealership at 8am, I crossed the Ceder Street overpass which looks down on Route 9. It was a bit awing to observe the volume of traffic going both ways. All these people, getting up early, sitting in slow moving traffic, rushing to get to their desks in cubicles and cages, with some dickwad telling them what to do.
I resolved to slow-down on my job hunting activities. I am not ready for that again.
I will wait until the economy improves, and there is a sharp rise in the demand for fat old guys who can't follow orders, but want a lot of money.
I read the Alan Greenspan had promised to keep interest rates low, and for the sixth time in a year, he declared that the economy was definitely showing signs of a potential recovery. He is one funny bastard. Keep it up Alan; I'll be eligible for an extension on my unemployment in December.
I used to think it was good for interest rates to be low. But now I wonder, how do you earn money on your savings?
Walking back from the dealership at 8am, I crossed the Ceder Street overpass which looks down on Route 9. It was a bit awing to observe the volume of traffic going both ways. All these people, getting up early, sitting in slow moving traffic, rushing to get to their desks in cubicles and cages, with some dickwad telling them what to do.
I resolved to slow-down on my job hunting activities. I am not ready for that again.
I will wait until the economy improves, and there is a sharp rise in the demand for fat old guys who can't follow orders, but want a lot of money.
I read the Alan Greenspan had promised to keep interest rates low, and for the sixth time in a year, he declared that the economy was definitely showing signs of a potential recovery. He is one funny bastard. Keep it up Alan; I'll be eligible for an extension on my unemployment in December.
I used to think it was good for interest rates to be low. But now I wonder, how do you earn money on your savings?
7/12/2003
They tell me it's the weekend, as if that has some meaning. Every day is the same for me. No, Judy slept until 8 am today. I think she normally gets up at like 3am to get ready for work. It takes a lot of make-up and trying-on of various clothes to look presentable enough for the bank. Some robbers might be offended if the personnel were improperly dressed. It doesn't make any difference what day it is if I don't wake up to the smell of bacon sizzling in the pan. I generally do not eat breakfast, but I can be counted on to rise like a breeching whale to the odor of fried pork fat.
Darn, no one called me in for interviews again this week. I try. Lord knows I try.
Maybe I should edit my standard cover letter, where I say "It doesn't say so on the resume, but I feel that you should know that I often have violent impulses and hear voices that command me to do ... things."
Judy thinks that sort of disclosure is detrimental to a positive work image.
I agree (and so do I).
Darn, no one called me in for interviews again this week. I try. Lord knows I try.
Maybe I should edit my standard cover letter, where I say "It doesn't say so on the resume, but I feel that you should know that I often have violent impulses and hear voices that command me to do ... things."
Judy thinks that sort of disclosure is detrimental to a positive work image.
I agree (and so do I).
7/08/2003
Things are getting dicey around the homestead these days. The working spouse is starting to resent the hulk lying in bed snoring peacefully as she leaves for work every morning. The passions become even more harrowed when the working spouse returns from the salt mines to find the house exactly the way she left it, except for the cats that have not been fed and the lay-about now sitting in the TV room in front of a pile of beer bottles and empty potato chip bags, watching a DVD movie at 5pm and nothing planned for dinner.
I explain that the time can get away on a fella when you don't get up until 10:30. Sorta like jet lag. You lose track. Urrp.
It's times like these, some working spouses can say things they really don't mean.
So we haven't needed the A/C during these hot nights. it's been pretty cool, if you know what I mean. Hey, she'll get over it. I still have enough money in the emergency fund to buy some jewelry if I really need to thaw things out. I figure maybe I'll paint the dining room on the next rainy day, and all will be forgiven. Urrp.
I explain that the time can get away on a fella when you don't get up until 10:30. Sorta like jet lag. You lose track. Urrp.
It's times like these, some working spouses can say things they really don't mean.
So we haven't needed the A/C during these hot nights. it's been pretty cool, if you know what I mean. Hey, she'll get over it. I still have enough money in the emergency fund to buy some jewelry if I really need to thaw things out. I figure maybe I'll paint the dining room on the next rainy day, and all will be forgiven. Urrp.
7/01/2003
How Do You Like My Tan?
Ok fans, relax. I am back from my travels to the Cape and Island. I have managed to stay in the shade during all those hot sweltering days, swigging on beers or gin 'n tonics while other mad dogs and Englishmen went out and exposed their flesh to the ravages of the blazing sun. Strange that so many white people spend so much time lusting after that perfect tan. I do not deny that tanned skin looks good, but as an EPA (Exceptionally Pale American) I am incapable of getting anything but a hue which resembles a cooked lobster.
We had a great time, despite having our credit card cancelled due to "suspicious activity" - someone had used our visa number to buy stuff on the Internet. Then, there was the unfortunate septic tank incident. I will spare you the disgusting details, but I can say that I learned that it costs $250 to have a 1,000 gallon septic tank pumped out on an emergency basis - it only costs $150 if you schedule the sucking during normal business hours. By the way, they want payment immediately or they threaten to pump it all back in.
Suffice to say, there was a dicy time when 6 adults, many of whom had been drinking liters of Marguaritas, needed to find alternative facilities for certain bodily functions. Fortunately, we were only a short van ride to the Mall restrooms. That was Monday. The next day, the sun came out, and the rest of the week was shit free. Wherever you were, it was delightfully cooler on the cape. We went to the national seashore, Martha's Vineyard, and local beaches, using 50spf sunblocker when we were forced to be in the sun. ($1.99 at Christmas Tree Shops)
We returned on Sunday, to an overgrown lawn, a garden seriously in need of weeding and 3 cats who pretended we were total strangers. They hid under the bed and would not come down until they heard dry cat food clinking in their bowls. They were probably pissed off at being left behind, even though we had a licensed veterinary assistant check on them every day. She also watered the parched gardens, so the tomato crop was saved from dessication during those horrid hot days.
One of the messages on our answering machine was from Zoots. They had noticed that I hadn't been to the Wellesley store for a while, and they were wondering if anything was wrong. I guess the economy is starting to reflect my diminished need for starched and pressed shirts.
Yesterday, I had a conversation with an old business associate who was interested in my "freelance writer" status. It was chilling, because, Lord knows, this type of discussion could unfortunately lead to w-w-work. There I said it. Part of me is flattered to know that people are still interested in paying me money for my efforts. But, it's too soon. I haven't even made a dent in my personal "To-Do" list. In the end, Judy reminds me, I should not pass up the opportunity to earn money. Zoots, and the local economy is counting on me.
Ok fans, relax. I am back from my travels to the Cape and Island. I have managed to stay in the shade during all those hot sweltering days, swigging on beers or gin 'n tonics while other mad dogs and Englishmen went out and exposed their flesh to the ravages of the blazing sun. Strange that so many white people spend so much time lusting after that perfect tan. I do not deny that tanned skin looks good, but as an EPA (Exceptionally Pale American) I am incapable of getting anything but a hue which resembles a cooked lobster.
We had a great time, despite having our credit card cancelled due to "suspicious activity" - someone had used our visa number to buy stuff on the Internet. Then, there was the unfortunate septic tank incident. I will spare you the disgusting details, but I can say that I learned that it costs $250 to have a 1,000 gallon septic tank pumped out on an emergency basis - it only costs $150 if you schedule the sucking during normal business hours. By the way, they want payment immediately or they threaten to pump it all back in.
Suffice to say, there was a dicy time when 6 adults, many of whom had been drinking liters of Marguaritas, needed to find alternative facilities for certain bodily functions. Fortunately, we were only a short van ride to the Mall restrooms. That was Monday. The next day, the sun came out, and the rest of the week was shit free. Wherever you were, it was delightfully cooler on the cape. We went to the national seashore, Martha's Vineyard, and local beaches, using 50spf sunblocker when we were forced to be in the sun. ($1.99 at Christmas Tree Shops)
We returned on Sunday, to an overgrown lawn, a garden seriously in need of weeding and 3 cats who pretended we were total strangers. They hid under the bed and would not come down until they heard dry cat food clinking in their bowls. They were probably pissed off at being left behind, even though we had a licensed veterinary assistant check on them every day. She also watered the parched gardens, so the tomato crop was saved from dessication during those horrid hot days.
One of the messages on our answering machine was from Zoots. They had noticed that I hadn't been to the Wellesley store for a while, and they were wondering if anything was wrong. I guess the economy is starting to reflect my diminished need for starched and pressed shirts.
Yesterday, I had a conversation with an old business associate who was interested in my "freelance writer" status. It was chilling, because, Lord knows, this type of discussion could unfortunately lead to w-w-work. There I said it. Part of me is flattered to know that people are still interested in paying me money for my efforts. But, it's too soon. I haven't even made a dent in my personal "To-Do" list. In the end, Judy reminds me, I should not pass up the opportunity to earn money. Zoots, and the local economy is counting on me.
6/20/2003
I am up early today. It is 9am and the sun is out. I am going for a long walk before the clouds roll-in. The day is a rebuke to all weather forecasters who presume to know what will happen more than 24 hours ahead of time. They had gloomily forecasted drenching rains, and they have been wrong. Let's hope their errors contunue through the weekend.
It has been a furious week of jobhunting for me. Hah. I just thought I'd type that sentence to see how it looked. Actually, I did comply with the DET's insistence that I actually perform jobseeking tasks to earn the weekly check. Mostly web based research. But I did actually go to Boston yesterday to attend the CRM show at the Heinz. In past times at these events, I can usually find one or two old cronies who are working the exhibit floor. If I don't get a job lead, at least I end up with a free logoed tee shirt.
Yesterday, the exhibit floor was sparsely attended. A sign of the economic times perhaps that many company budgets for new (and perhaps unecessary) software products are still unthawed. The booth people eyed each passing attendee as a vulture looks at an injured wildebeast. It was an uneasy feeling. The more I looked at the various products, the more convinced I was at their tedious sameness. All the booth people were eager young marketers, utterly convinced that their solution was perfect for me. I dealt with the most persistent of them cruelly. "I don't really need this crap, my Rolodex works fine and I never turn on my PC." or I pretend that my Cell phone is ringing and walk away from them, saying "I need to take this call." Little do they suspect that The phone is merely a prop; I cancelled the Cingular account last month.
Today I am struck with a profound sadness that I did not won the Mass Millions Lottery last night, and I resolved to buy a ticket to tonight's $175M Mega Millions drawing. Hope, you are my raft in this roiling sea of uncertainty.
It has been a furious week of jobhunting for me. Hah. I just thought I'd type that sentence to see how it looked. Actually, I did comply with the DET's insistence that I actually perform jobseeking tasks to earn the weekly check. Mostly web based research. But I did actually go to Boston yesterday to attend the CRM show at the Heinz. In past times at these events, I can usually find one or two old cronies who are working the exhibit floor. If I don't get a job lead, at least I end up with a free logoed tee shirt.
Yesterday, the exhibit floor was sparsely attended. A sign of the economic times perhaps that many company budgets for new (and perhaps unecessary) software products are still unthawed. The booth people eyed each passing attendee as a vulture looks at an injured wildebeast. It was an uneasy feeling. The more I looked at the various products, the more convinced I was at their tedious sameness. All the booth people were eager young marketers, utterly convinced that their solution was perfect for me. I dealt with the most persistent of them cruelly. "I don't really need this crap, my Rolodex works fine and I never turn on my PC." or I pretend that my Cell phone is ringing and walk away from them, saying "I need to take this call." Little do they suspect that The phone is merely a prop; I cancelled the Cingular account last month.
Today I am struck with a profound sadness that I did not won the Mass Millions Lottery last night, and I resolved to buy a ticket to tonight's $175M Mega Millions drawing. Hope, you are my raft in this roiling sea of uncertainty.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)