Dear Environmentalists…

So… Beavers illegally logging, eating camels and kangaroos, what is next?  Seriously, these are headlines form the last few days in which these people are freaking out about some of the dumbest things.

I am not sure what you folks do for a living, but evidently the whole economic downturn isn’t effecting you much. If it is, you aren’t letting on.

In the town where I grew up, you guys came in and whined about the spotted owl. You killed the economy. It was a logging town, and that is what we did. We cut down trees, and those trees were tuned into lumber. The lumber was used to build homes. When that whole whiny explosion happened, it ruined our town.

I recovered, but there were a whole lot of folks that didn’t. Even in the housing boom, my little town didn’t boom very well. Well, now we are all in trouble. Job losses are at an all time high. The economy continues to tank, and you fruitloops are still hollering and screaming that we have to save the world…  Somehow, regardless of the income of the average American, you insist that we walk softly and plant flowers everywhere we go. You know, i have to be honest with you. Right now, I am just trying my best to make sure that my family is taken care of. Spotted owls, and yellow salamanders be damned.

Now I am not going to dump the oil from my most recent oil change into the gutters or anything, but you know what? I am not going out of my way to use recycled materials, go green, and eat organic. I am going to buy what is cheap. I don’t care if something I eat causes some bird to lose an acre of land, not today.

I am happy, when times are good, to help out a little. Right now I think it might be a good time for Obama to lay off that whole promise of a greener administration. I am thinking that the money it would cost to go green would be better off spent on other things.

I know, fish sparkle nice, and baby monkeys are cute. I really like wildflowers, and I think mountains are pretty. I think that in general, folks aren’t out to wreck the world. I think, that it is probably time to stop worrying about flatulent cows and kangaroos, and focus on the effect of no jobs on our fellow man.

In this time, when things are so tough, it is time to focus on getting everyone through this slump. Once the money comes in, it would be awesome if we worried about bovine farts, but for now… not so much.

If it happens that you are able to focus your efforts on saving the endangered prarie dog because you have plenty of money, well, maybe you aught to worry about the endangered family.

Working for yourself.

  I have decided, that I hate bosses. Not the people themselves, though I have had a few that I won’t invite over for after dinner snacks, but the position. It’s not so much the fact that I have someone that is trying to rule my life, It is just that so far, I have had bad luck with having to deal with inept people trying to do a job they aren’t qualified to do.

  I give up! My solution, is to be my own boss. That is right, I am going into business for myself. Ok, only temporarily, while I am looking for work I have picked up some side-work doing construction.

  I still have a real jerk for a boss. This guy is lazy! Man, I wish he would just get off his rear end and do stuff he is supposed to get done.  He pays for crap, and the tools he gives me to work with are marginal at best.

 Ok, not really. I am just grateful I have work right now. It is tough out there. I have found, that I have a problem.

  Construction workers are tough. I can carry 5-2×4′s at a time, and hoist 4×8 sheets of 1/2 inch plywood up on a roof. I used to be a skinny little flower, but in my old age, I have gotten some meat on my bones. I have spent the last few months growing one of those little miniature goatee thingys under my bottom lip, so when I wear a beanie and sunglasses, I look super tough.

I listen to Def Leppard really loud and drink caffeinated coke. I also have my work belt all full of tools. I really look the part. If I had an Indian and a sailor, I would make a very convincing construction worker.  Once, I even had a band-aid on my finger, and it has to be convincing when I forget my pencil in my hat and I walk into the hardware store. I am, as far as anyone is concerned, a bonified construction worker/carpenter.

  I am totally going to lose my street cred. Seriously, I envy those guys in their trucks. I have some serious truck envy. Do you have any idea what can happen to a guy that pulls up to the hardware store in his Jetta? I am building a friggin house, and I am trying to drive around with copper pipe hanging out my back window. I am the nerd of the construction community.

  I really need a truck. Plywood on the roof of a Volkswagen? You have to be joking me? I am the butt of the all the jokes as I drive by McDonalds at luck time. I can;t even show my face at the mobile lunch wagon.

  Oh well, what do you do, right? I guess I could always ask my boos to spring for one, but he is a real jerk.

Proposition 8

What a fun last few weeks. Pretty much everyone I voted for, lost. No Ron Paul, No Dino Rossi, and no driving in the carpool lanes.  It was a little painful to take, but I am ok. It was a bummer to watch the television knowing that I was observing a train wreck, and there was absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.

One thing that I watched with particular interest, was the passing of proposition 8 in California. It defines marriage as a union between a man and a woman.  It passed.

The last few days have got me thinking. I guess because Most of the anti-prop 8 sentiment was directed at my faith. Yeah, I am one of THOSE people. (not the gay ones, the other side.)

Let me start out by saying the typical ignorant thing… I am not anti-homosexual, I have lots of homosexual friends. (good heavens, how many times do I have to read that insane line when I see people defending their views by saying this.) Truth is, I have a few gay friends. I however don’t look at them as my “gay” friends. At least no more than I look at my other friends as my “living with a girl or boy out of wedlock” friends. They are just friends. I don’t have enough friends to be able to afford the luxury of discriminating any of them. Pretty much, if you are nice to me and you don’t suck, you can be my friend.

I am pretty sure all of them know my position on things based solely on the fact that I am a semi-religious person. My religion influences my decision about what my views are. Proposition 8 is one of those times, when I had to take some hard looks at what it is that I believe.

You know what, I don’t grope, molest, grind, or otherwise show excessive affection in public. My wife would never stand for it. When I am at home… well, that is none of your damn business. To be honest, as long as I am not in the next unit from you, I don’t care what you do either. I don’t care of you do it with a male, female, or computer. That is your deal.

Now that I have been married for 10 years (almost)… I also have found that marriage is not always about sex. (Uhm, I will end that conversation in the off chance that my wife reads this blog.) I can’t imagine that it is much different for a homosexual union. They still have dirty dishes (oh so dirty…) and floors that need vacuumed, and toothpaste caps that are left off.

If two people that care about each other want to live together as committed partners, you know, I am cool with that, I really am. Man and woman, woman and woman (if they are hot), man and man (as long as one is a decorator) or whatever. Commitment and kindness is awesome.

I guess that the thing that I struggle with is that my religion views marriage as a sacred thing between a man and a woman. Call it semantics or whatever, but I was kinda hoping, and thinking that the whole marriage thing was something that God put the old stamp of approval on. Of course a homosexual has the right to feel special too. However, since 99% of Christian denominations would agree that Marriage is between a man and a woman, and the majority of voters agree… Can we just call this one? Twice in California, folks have said they want marriage to be defined in this manner.

I promise to fight tooth and nail for you to be able to share health insurance. I think you have the right to listen to Barry White in the bedroom. You can buy a house together, and I will come over to your housewarming party. ( I like Johnsonville brats.) I have a best friend that I love. He is a guy, and I am a guy. (it is the brotherly love kind, not the gee I think you are hot kind.) There was a time in our bachelorhood, that we were chilling together all the time. We talked about all sorts of things, like what we wanted in life, our goals, our aspirations, and what we wanted done when we died. We shared cash when we were broke, and we were joined at the hip. If something had happened to him, I would like to think, that since we were so close, that I would be able to go to the hospital if something happened. I would have liked to think that since I knew so many intimate details, I would have been able to have some input into what happened with him.

You wanna be even more committed to someone of the same sex, I think there should be some sort of validation for you as well. Can we just call it something other than Marriage?

I think I have this justified in my head. It makes sense to me. I understand that someone that wants to call a union between two same sex couples wants to be afforded the same luxury, but you know what, this amazing country, that did NOT vote in Ron Paul, says they are not interested in that. They ayes have it.

I struggle to walk a fine line. "Love your Neighbor as yourself." It doesn’t have any caveats in it that say that you are only supposed to love your neighbor if they are not gay. I am pretty sure it means everyone. On the other hand, I have to teach my daughters about morals and the kind of life that the Lord would have them lead. I also have to fight against the extremist views of people that think that Homosexuality is a worse sin than two hetero folks that live together. Uhm… just in case you are wondering, from a religious point of view…no difference.

I need something that I can use to tell my kids that, this is not something we would encourage. The proper way would be to be married to your spouse of an opposite gender, and then you get to make babies and stuff. I don’t however want my children running around with crucifixes trying to exercise the demons out of people that are homosexual.

So the tough part for me? Well, the conflict is in rectifying and making sense of the fact that the majority of the people in California (and other states) have voted this in for the second time. Now, because I support this amendment I am labeled a racist bigot by the homosexual community.

The same community that thinks that I have been duped by a cult. The same community that is as intolerant of my views as they think that I am of theirs.

I think we are just both missing something here. I think you are wrong, you think I am wrong. Your view is that Marriage is a fundamental right for anyone, I think it should be defined as between a man and a woman. Surely one of us HAS to be wrong.

That is my conflict. That someone here HAS TO BE WRONG. I don’t want it to be me. This is something I built my life around. I go to church 1, sometimes 2 times a week. I live it (sometimes poorly) every day of the week. I advocate for it, and I study to make myself a more informed and aware person. I do this specifically so that I am removed enough to make the right decisions for my family and I don;t get caught up in the emotion of it all and do something stupid like move to some compound in Texas, or drink poisoned Kool-Aid. I don’t drink, and folks like to tease me about it. I walked down the street in a white shirt and tie and had people throw things at me and make rude comments about my lifestyle. I have had people go so far as point guns at me and threaten my life, and I was and still am prayed for nightly by many a Christian friend that is sure that I am on a one way train to hell.

I don’t feel that I need to hide what I am. I should be able to walk proud. I should be able to openly discuss the details of my life with others without the fear of being judged. I should be able to get a job and not worry, that once they find out what my way of life is, that I will lose that job. I just want people to respect me. I can’t send my kid to just any private school. Many that are based on religion have specific classes on mine, and how it is wrong. I have had people screaming in my face, and literally stomping on things that hold sacred… All this and more, and I am not even gay!

Maybe we aren’t all that different. I see your way of life as wrong, but I am totally willing to overlook that aspect of your life and be your friend. I don’t want you to be my token gay friend, I just want you to be my friend.

If you won, and you were rejoicing in the streets, would I feel dejected? Yeah. Believe me… watching Ron Paul get .3% of the votes did a number on my will to live. To be a conservative in a liberal state and watch vote after vote lose, it was a rough night. To feel like my vote was wasted and my voice wasn’t heard was tough. I have to pay taxes and I will have the will of a democratic majority imposed on me. I will grumble plenty, but I will deal with it. I know that in 4 years, I will have the opportunity to get all excited again, and then have my hopes crushed one more time. 

I guess I know how you feel a little more than you think. I think we all need to see that the playing field is a little more level than you might think. I promise I am not a bigot. I don’t have enough room in my heart for hate. I would hope that as you hope, pray, or wish that I would be open minded and accepting, that you might do the same for yourself.

If you get to have a homosexual marriage, then am I disgusting if I were to marry more than one wife? (Trust me, one is MORE than enough.. but hypothetically?) If I have to open minded to your way of life, is it going to be ok, that I am a religious conservative, or am I just another narrow minded idiot that is so simple minded that I lower myself to believe in a fallacy created by some gold digging teen that decided to make a church organization for the sole purpose of taking over the world and turning people into fundamentalist wackos?

I have my views, I may not be right, or it may not be your cup of tea, but there were more people that agreed with me. I don’t apologize for democracy, nor do I condone the persecution of you because of your views. Can you say that same about your feelings toward me?

Management

 

Thus far in my life, I have yet to be in the presence of a really good manager.  I would like to think that I am one, and everyone else sucks at it, much like I consider myself an ace driver in the freeway and everyone else sucks. Something tells me that may not be true.

 I could be wrong I suppose, and whether a manager is good or not depends on your view. If the manager works for you, then your idea of a crummy manager may be one that does not produce. The details are not so important, as long as the results are there. However, if you are the one being managed, prepare to be miserable or not.

My management style… weekly meetings as a group with some goal setting.  Individual meetings as the week progresses to follow up if need be.  Basically, the person doing the job should not need their hand held, right? I mean you hired them to do a job they were supposedly qualified to do… if they can’t do it, then you find someone that can.  Am I way off base here?

Not my management style but the one I am continually subjected to… constant  follow ups (many each day) with detailed emails or phone calls of how exactly I should do things.

Now this is strange, because when I do it left to my own accord, not only do I get great results, but I get compliments from others. When I do it on the managers terms, it just gets done. That is it, nothing more, nothing less.

Maybe it drives me nuts right now because I am back in school.  I figure if the teacher gives me a project to do my a certain date, it is up to me to do it, and do it well by that date. If I am unclear on something, then it is my responsibility to ask questions and get clarification.  If I choose to start on it 2 hours before it is due, and I can do a good job, then it really shouldn’t matter all that much. The teacher only needs to see the end result. If the end result is garbage, then It will reflect in my grade.

Business should be the same, but for some reason, it isn’t. Are there just too many Managers in the world?

Here is one example from my former days at one of the most stressful jobs I have ever had. (stressful because of a totally inept manager.)

7 am: Call from Manager asking me what the plans are for the day.

9 am: First appointment

10 am: call from Manager asking how 9 am appointment went, and plans for the next appointment along with lengthy discussion about what I thought I could improve, and what I may have left off the order that I closed.

11am: another appointment

12pm: You guessed it, another phone call from the manager, going over the same things again

1pm: another appointment

2 pm: another call from the manager going over the same stuff, and reminding me where I am for the month, and where the difference between bonus and the ability to keep my job are.

3pm: Paperwork while on the phone with the manager

4pm: Another call from my manager asking me what tomorrow’s goals are.

5pm: finish the paperwork because the manager was calling me so I couldn’t finish it.

6 pm: I am supposed to be eating dinner but the phone rings. You guessed it. It’s the manager wondering if I have a “plan” for tomorrow.

7pm, (no joke) voicemail telling me that we had a good day.

You might think I am exaggerating, but this is actually how it happened. This guy was an absolute idiot.

My experience: Inside sales 6 years, outside sales 7 years, Dir of sales 3 years… (I actually ran sales organizations in 3 different countries.)

My managers experience (not even kidding): Manager at a PayLess Shoes. Manager of a Best Buy store, promoted to “Outside Sales Manger”.

You have got to be kidding me, right? I have negotiated multimillion dollar contracts with fortune 100 companies.  This joker sold shoes.

When I was in the interview, he asked me if I had any questions. I did. Everyone should have them.  If you walk into an interview and they ask you if you have any questions and you tell them, “no”… they should never hire you. It means you haven’t given the job any more thought than to get up and put a tie on to go to the interview.

One of my many questions was, “how would you describe your management style?” His answer was, “Mostly hands off…” Yeah right.  This guy was SO terrible at managing people, that I actually broke down and asked the Dr. for anti-anxiety medication. Not only that, but 3 other people did the same thing.

The company was so terribly brilliant, that their answer to the problem…was to promote the guy. Great, at least he is out of our hair, right? Well, we need to replace him, so who will we replace him with? That is right… a retail manager. Never mind that as they interview me and look at my resume they tell me that they are impressed and want my experience to help develop this new arm of the company. Uhm… hello, outside sales manager, right here? Duh?

So… I left. My anxiety left, and so did the rest of the sales force. The idiots has spent millions of dollars to develop this program and it fell flat… all because of really bad management.

Fast forward to today… I spent the last 6 months developing a business plan, and in R&D for a new company. It is a grocery company. We make fruit snack things… all natural and healthy like. I am a good salesman. I am a really good salesman. I have surpassed many a quota in my day, but I do it my way. I don’t like to sell like a sued car salesman. That being said… the grocery business is a totally new animal. I am WAY out of my element here.  There are brokers and distributors, slot fees, and buying groups. This is nuts!

The answer…To hire a sales manager.

This is fine, I asked for one. No, I begged for one. So they got me one.

Unfortunately they forgot to tell her that she was a sales manager, and not a company manager.

I have been spending time with her trying to learn the nuances of the grocery business, and today I went out and visited some places on my own.  I wasn’t afraid before, I just had no idea who to talk to or even ask for. I am good to go now.

I walk into the store, talk to the manager, and the salesman mode kicks in. I find out the person that is the buyer and how to get into this place and I come back to the office. I show the sales manager the information and get this in an email reply.

“Please contact this woman by the end of the business day today [Friday] as all buyers check their emails on Monday morning. Please let her know that we are local, we will deliver, we are Kosher, and that we will pay for promotions.

Also include our company name, address, website, and your phone number and extension. I would also appreciate it if you could copy me on this email so that I can keep track of it.”

 

Uhm, really? People read emails in the morning? WHOA… new concept.  You have all the details that you want, YOU write the damned email.

Seriously, we are going to have a spirited talk here real soon and I will explain to you in detail what you job is.  It won’t be friendly.

1. you aren’t my manager.

2. If you were my Manager, you would be a very poor one.

3. Micromanagement is not effective to employee morale.

4, I know you are excited, but lets focus the excitement in a productive way. trying to manage me, is not so productive. (I started the company, remember?)

I am not so worried at this point, because it seems to be just a misunderstanding. It will all get cleared up. But let me give you some help… remember the school story?

If you need help, let me know what you need, and when you need it by. That is all I need. walk away. If your demands are unreasonable, I will let you know, and we can come up with something that we can agree on.

If I get stuck, I will come to you. You do not need to come to me. Nor do you need to give me a step by step process of how you would like it done. If you are going ot put that much effort into it, you may as well do it yourself.  If I tell you I will get it to you in a week, I will see you in a week. If you walk into my office and I am not working on it at that very moment… march your butt back out and wait until I get it done. We agreed on what I would do and when I would finish it. You will get it on the agreed date.  If you would like to add to that load, that is fine. We will need to have a discussion on how well it fits into the current schedule.

If you need help with something YOU are working on, my door is open. Ask whatever you want and I will do my best to get you where you need to go. If however, you are coming in to ask me about the status of something we have agreed you don’t need yet, you would do better to visit the employee lounge. Leave me alone.

If the time comes that you need what you asked me to do, and it is not done… I should have come to you at some point and told you that it wasn’t going to be done on time and I would have some reasons. If none of those things happen, then it is time to take it up to the next level. If in fact you were my manager, then you can start the discipline process. Fire me, or whatever.

Also… you job is sales. It is not “design changer person”, or “ignore the foundations of the product” guy and “just take whatever crap the manufacturing facility sends us” person.  You sell stuff. You manage the sales of stuff. You job is to facilitate the movement of money for goods.

That “/operations” part of my “sales/operations” title means that I do things that are not related to what you do. When I write the graphic designer, you do not need copied on that email. When I write product reviews to the production facilities, you can see them, but you don’t get to have input. You take what we make and you get it into the market. If you thought it sucked to begin with, you should never have taken the job.  And just because you want something and YOU think it is good enough, it doesn’t mean that it is.  It has to meet my standards… (remember that “operations” thing?)

So all of you readers (all 3 of you)… If you become a manager, Manage, or do the work yourself. Don’t micromanage. It pisses off the employees, and it makes for frustration. Frustration = stress, and stress means you will have people calling in sick just to avoid you.

Tell them what you expect, and expect them to do what they are told. If you are a sales manager, Your guys aren’t retarded. they know they have a job to do.

I am glad I only have to answer to the boss… The best part is, I have all the information on how the product is made. If I go… I go bye bye to the highest bidder.

You know what… the world would be a better place if everyone managed like me!

Sorry honey, I found someone else.

That is right, you heard me. I found someone that can fulfill my wildest dreams. To drown myself in butter and southern cuisine.

 For years now, I have been trying to figure out how to get rid of that salty old boat captain she is married to.  This could possibly be the LUCKIEST guy in the world. Not only does he have the Rock of Gibraltar hanging from  his ear, but he also has the undisputed Southern Queen of cooking on his arm.

I myself would love nothing more than to eat myself to death on that sweet buttery goodness that she cooks on my television. I swear she is magic. She is the one of the few people that can turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse.  Rumpelstiltskin move over, this woman can do better than turn flax into gold, she can turn my heart to mush.

Let me qualify my slobbering by saying that I spent 2 years in Southern Georgia and Northern Florida. Of all the food I have tasted in the world, and believe me, I have tried some great stuff, Southern food is my absolute favorite. To hear her talk about bowled (boiled) greens and fried okra is like slapping a big frosty mug of beer down in front of an alcoholic.

Don’t tell my wife, I have to find a way to break it to her easy. It will take some time for me to decide the best way to break it to her. In the mean time, I went to the bookstore and bought her the Lady and sons second cookbook.  I can’t seem to get her to talk in a southern accent though.

Paula Dean, I promise to compliment you on your cooking, and eat everything you cook. (except raw oysters, the jury is still out on that one.) If I could write our vows, I would promise to love your food; in sickness, when you would make me homemade chicken soup, and in health, when you made me a Georgia Peach smoothie; For richer, when you would take me on a tour of the south to eat your favorite southern foods, for poorer, when you cook black-eyed peas and collard greens (with hushpuppies), till an early death by cholesterol poisoning do we part. (then you can go back to Captain Ahab.)

You forever shine in my heart, at least for a half an hour a day.

If any of you need me, I will be in the garage downing a bottle of Barbecue sauce.

Quick, buy lots of rice!

The other day, I bought 40 pounds of rice. Not because I need 40 pounds of rice, but because everyone else was. It is the cool thing to do. Much like the Christmas rush for Tickle Me Elmo, Rice is all the rage. (Though I am not sure you will get much enjoyment out of tickling a bag of rice.)

I don’t know what got into me. I don’t even eat that much rice. I was reading my news sites and they mentioned that there was a run on rice. Maybe it was for the challenge of it all, or maybe it was just to spite those people that thought they were going to die if they weren’t able to fill a semi-truck with rice to get them by for the next few days, but I went on the hunt for the elusive bag of rice.

I knew that Costco would be out, so off I went to the local Cash and Carry. It is a store that carries all the run of the mill corner store hubba-bubba gum crap that Costco doesn’t.  Lucky for me I had my Chinese co-worker in tow so I would have someone to tell me which stuff to buy. (Like I know, I eat meat and potatoes most of the time.) In we went and swiftly found our way to the rice isle. “No good kind of rice here,” my co-worker informed me. So… off we went running around the store in search of more rice. Lucky for us, we got the last 4 cases of rice on the end-cap. Ok, they were sitting in front of a pallet of basmati rice, but evidently that stuff isn’t very good, so it doesn’t really count as rice.

You would have thought we were unloading bricks of gold from Fort Knox by the way people were looking at us. Keep looking pal, but when you are stuck eating old cans of spaghettios, I will have a big old bowl of rice… You can have your fillet Mignon, but will you have rice? I will.

So 3 of us at 40lbs of rice each on our shoulders marched out of the store. We were victorious in our hunt. That is right honey, your brave hunter gatherer just brought home something that everyone else seems to want. It must be valuable, right? I mean they throw it at weddings, more than half the world eats the stuff on a regular basis. Having 40 lbs of rice is like striking oil in your back yard.  In fact I think tonight I am going to run out in the street with a bag of rice over my head and do a rice victory dance.

I had sweet satisfaction later that night when I went shopping at Costco and went by the place where the rice was supposed to be. There was another white guy staring wistfully at the place where the rice used to be. “Bummer man,” is what I wanted to say, as he sadly lugged two 20 pound bags of flour into his cart.  I did a little victory shuffle right there, hoping secretly that he saw me and realized that I had bought 40 pounds of rice earlier that day. Reality set in though and I realized that I had to get some flour too. I tossed a few bags into the cart and it was off to the oil isle I went. The same guy following me. I guess he figured I knew my stuff.

40 pounds of rice, 80 pounds of flour, and 3 gallons of oil are now in my possession. Bill Gates, eat your heart out. You will be in your island mansion only wishing that you had the rice that sits safely in my garage. Oh yeah, and just as punishment for you releasing Vista, I am not sharing.  It probably would not be compatible anyhow.

I can now rest at night knowing that when the buildings are burning and the people of the world are killing each other for lack of food, that I will have my rice.

Does anyone know how to cook rice?

What is happening to me?

200 lbs, slightly balding, 2 kids, broken car, needs vacation…. Sounds like a bad personal ad.  I wish that were all it was.

 Seriously, did I actually sign up for all of this? Was there a heavenly form that I skipped so some angel with a vendetta secretly entered a host of trials into the computer knowing that it would throw me for a loop?

It has been not just one of those days, but one of those weeks. The kind where you are sitting a work, and you just wish in your head that your body would give out and you would fall on the floor in convulsions so that you can go to the hospital for a few days… I don’t want anything real bad to happen, just a few days to get my brain back together.

Here is me, getting organized.

1. open computer

2. pull up Excel Spread Sheet.

3. Ignore spreadsheet and start surfing the Internet.

4. Find a topic that I remembered was interesting to me 10 years ago and do a master’s degree with of research on it.

5. 4 hours later realize that you blew a ton of time.

6. reopen the spread sheet.

7. Forget what the spread sheet was for in the first place.

8. Start surfing the Internet for cool hacks that Microsoft secretly put into the program so you can pretend to know what you are doing.

This has happened for the last 2 weeks… almost every day. I am now behind in my schoolwork, and like a moron, I signed up for another 15 credits.

When I slow down long enough… I realize that it isn’t something I can’t handle. I mean, there are 24 hours in a day, and I only need about 6 hours of sleep.  A little organization and the occasional,”no, I don’t think I am going to have time to do that for you,” would put me in a much better situation.

I actually thrive on last minute deadlines. I in fact love them. I think I do my best work that way. The problem is, that if I happen to miss the deadline even by a few minutes, I get this general feeling of dread… It starts off with frustration and then into anxiety, then into attempting to brush it off back to anxiety… then all of a sudden, all of the other things I need to do come piling onto my shoulders and I feel overwhelmed.

It doesn’t freak me out too much, but sometimes… just sometimes I wish that I could win the lottery or a rich relative would die so that I could just focus on school and have the money thing covered.

It is a combination of things… and if I am busy, I don’t think much about it. but as soon as I have time to start thinking about it all… it just piles up. And fast too.

So here I am organizing my week so that I can catch up on all my school work. I think I have it all figured….hey, did you know that the 66 VW bug was the only one to come standard with a 1200cc single port engine and was the last year for… and oooh, I can get a deal on an ipod!

Getting down to business.

Typical of me… I forgot Valentines day. I also forgot my wife’s birthday, and almost missed Christmas.

I married my wife because she is a human filing cabinet. If I was left to my own devices, I would probably forget to eat and starve to death.  It was her Mother that called me the morning of her Birthday to ask me if we wanted her to swing by with a birthday cake… For whom? My birthday isn’t until September.

Lucky for me… My wife told me Happy Valentines Day this morning as I left to head to work… I never made it to work… first because I ended up having to go to the drugstore, then, because I felt like garbage, and finally because I ran panicked to the local Target (TAR-JEI = a fancy upscale store for redneck folks. At least 2 steps higher than Walmart.)

So what…. a card, chocolate rose, m&ms, Littlest pet-shop for the 3 yr old, and some flowers at the store… That aught to do it…

 Untill I came home and she had a new MP3 player waiting for me, since some jerky kid from the neighborhood stole my last one out of my car.  Thanks Honey…  I love the way you make me feel stupid.  Maybe next time I can get you something from the dollar store and REALLY feel like I botched things.

The definition of insanity…

Sure, there is the old adage of, “Insanity is the process of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results…” I got one better.

 The true definition of insanity is to start two companies, go back to school, and have a kid all at the same time. (2 kids total.)

 Well, I am trying… That week the baby was born was a little rough, and now I am behind in school. I hope I can get caught up this week. I need to send everyone off to Hawaii for a few weeks and then just work in a quiet house.

 I keep swearing that I am going to go into work early and work on school stuff afterward, but that isn’t working so well. Here is my day:

Get up at 9 am (because for some reason Alice, who I counted on as my alarm clock now sleeps that late, and since I had ZERO sleep the night before because of puking babies…)

Jump in the shower

Make a run for my car, returning to the house at least 3 times, because in my sleep deprived stupor, I have forgotten either my keys, my computer, my wallet, or any combination of the above.

Drive in traffic, and almost hit at least 3 people because I am either mad and road raging, or I start to dose off.

Get to work

Try to sneak in the door so the boss doesn’t realize how late I am.

Set up the laptop

Hope I don’t have any emails for the boss, as he never likes to deliver bad news in person, even though his office is right next to mine and I can wave to him from my seat, and talk to him through his door.

Pound on the keyboard, as I realize that I am supposed to be running this company and nobody will return my emails or phone calls.

Chew copious amounts of Trident “Tropical Twist” gum as an alternative to snacking on junk food that is making me fat. (I am havering at 200… Not so good.)

Drink water

Go pee

Repeat the last 2 items 5  or 6 times (this “diet” is crap, it doesn’t work. Maybe I should consult a dietitian instead of trying to make up my own “gum and water” diet. )

Type some emails to some friends

Check my facebook to see if anyone left comments about my baby

Look up some info on products I am supposed to be selling

Check my email

Check my school site

Do a little homework, but keep business sites open so I can flip to them if I hear the boss stir from his nap.

walk around the office to stretch my legs.

Go into the conference room and make a call or two about a totally unrelated project I am working on, and hope nobody hears me.

Make a call or two to people that I am actually supposed to be talking to,  in a desperate attempt to make it look like I did something constructive.

Go to talk to the boss and share this “amazing milestone” so he thinks I worked today.

Leave for home about an hour early, even after getting to the office late. (Hey I worked)

Drive for an hour and a half to get to a place that is 15 minutes away.

Pull into the driveway at home, and realize I forgot a whole bunch of stuff at work. (usually my phone, or something I had printed on the printer that had to do with guns or something.)

Unlock the door to the house to find everyone asleep.

Sit on the couch and try to read the assignment that we will cover in class that night.

Get distracted because my oldest daughter wants to play littlest petshop.

Get even more distracted because she is not interested in playing littlest pound where the mean vet wants to euthanize all the animals.

Chose between leftover Chicken, Pizza, or something else in the fridge because I have to eat and then run off to school.

Fall asleep.

leave for school.

Come back because I forgot my books

Drive like a bat out of hell so that I am not late to my school, because there is a 40 year old nerd in my law class that is trying to get a good grade by kissing up and trying to make himself look good, and I don’t want to look like a chump getting to class late.

Ask lots of questions so that the professor will slow down enough to let me write the notes that I am a page behind on.

Take the quiz he hands out.

Fail said quiz.

Run out to my car.

Fight for pole position against all the other kids going to school and driving ricers and gunning engines in the garage. ( at least one will come close to hitting me as they drive through the garage. )

Drive home, racing at least 2 different people from school that insist that the 2007 Honda with an airfoil on the back is faster than my 1996 VW Jetta with 150k miles on it.(well duh?)

park the car, realizing that I got a really dumb question on the quiz wrong, knowing that I did in fact know the answer.

go in the house (at 10:30 at night) hoping to get a few minutes of quiet to do some homework.

Realize that I will not be getting any quiet moments, because my daughter now has gotten up to go “potty” for the 20 millionth time time.

Hold the new baby

Discuss my wife’s hard day with her.

Put everyone to bed.

Turn on Tivo and watch the programs I missed while at school.

work on homework at the same time

Fall asleep 10 minutes into tivo programs and homework.

Wake up at midnight (45 minutes later) because I have to change the baby

Give up on homework and staying awake, and lay down in bed.

Not be able to sleep because the baby sounds like R2D2 at night making all sorts of weird noises as she sleeps

Finally fall asleep

Wake up 45 minutes later to change the babies diaper…again

stay awake listening to the R2D2 sounds again….

finally fall asleep

Wake up at 9am because The oldest has finally decided to join the living and now wants to watch Dora. Of course this must be done in bed… with mom and dad.

Jump out of bed and tear into the shower realizing that for the 2nd week in a row, you will be at least an hour late for work….

Rinse, repeat.

Insanity…
 

How do you do it?

I am relatively new to this blogging thing. I have been around the Internet in one incarnation or another since the advent of BBS’s. I remember the old days when you would dial up to play those crazy space trader games and stuff. Boy did I think that was cool. I would play for HOURS!

Then came 14.4 dial-up, whoa now that was sweet! You could call a phone number and tie up your phone line for hours as you tried to surf the Internet…

We steadily climbed the ivory Internet tower to 56k Modems, then once DSL or cable modems came..whooey then you could really scream with 10-base T.  Now they have Gigabit cards that really move stuff and you can get bonded T-1 Lines for a decent price, and just a few months ago my postage stamp sized lawn in front of my terribly overpriced house was torn up and a box with fiber optics was stuffed in the ground. Now I can get some SCREAMING speeds if I want to pay for it.

I have a house with a personal network that hooks up to my TIVO, the computer, and I have a wireless network that serves a laptop, and I can actually surf the Internet form my brother-in-laws Sony PSP. Yeah… one of those little tiny hand held game things… It is nuts! If I had an X-Box or PS3, I could hook up those too.  My parent company builds circuit boards you put in vending machines that allow you to hook THOSE up to the Internet so that parents can see if their kids are buying candy at school… talk about crazy!

I remember the rotary dial phones.. we had two.  My best friend was on a “party line”, now THAT is old! then wee jumped to the buttons that would tick the needed number of times, then onto touch tone.  Cell phones were expensive!!! I remember standing in line for Depeche Mode tickets, and having some girl there with this HUGE brick phone that was trying to call into Ticketmaster at the same time she was trying to buy the tickets in person. I remember thinking how rich she must have been to have a sweet bag phone like that.

Then came beepers for us folks that couldn’t afford cell’s… for $30 a month, we could get people’s phone numbers on some stupid box. I remember we had “codes.” some numbers were from girlfriends calling to tell you they were thinking about you… a number with a 911 at the end meant call FAST! and There were other ones too… like 1134 meant call a certain buddy to find out where the party was that weekend. (upside down it read hell.)

I remember my first cell phone… the plan was CRAZY expensive for like an hour of minutes.  Now for half the price I paid before, I have texting, (I have no idea how to do this,) Instant messaging, (again, no idea how to use this,) Internet access, (ditto) and music download capability…..Oh yeah, and an FM radio. I JUST NEED A FRIGGIN PHONE!!! Seriously, I have no idea how to do anything but make calls from my phone…that has a color screen…that I can actually watch television shows on.

So we come to the evolution of writing… I remember some on-line journal places in the early days… I must have started 20 of them. Then came websites. (I have 3, and no idea how to make a decent website.) And…Now blogs.

I have been told time and time again throughout my youth, to keep a journal for my kids. I start it, and I write about every 3 years, only the problem is that I get all nostalgic, and then I start getting serious, and then I start writing things that I never want my kids to read, so I stop.

All this technology, and some people are really good at using  it. Me, I suck at it.  Seriously, I am terrible. All this technology, and I hate it. It is supposed to make my life easier, and all it does is introduce more stress and anxiety into my life.  I have even gone so far as to look up those sites on the Internet on how to go buy a place in the mountains and live off solar power and stuff… I can’t seem to find enough time between my Internet surfing, Instant messaging, Cellular phone call receiving, video game playing, emailing, and MP3 downloading to write in my blog.

What the heck was wrong with journals, letters, and rotary phones… I guess then, I was too busy building tree forts, playing outside, hucking pine-cones at my friends, and running like a maniac through the back acre to write anything then either.

Who invented time anyhow?