With 318 miles in front of us, I check to see that the suitcases are loaded in the back and all seatbelts are clicked securely in place. Everything we physically need to accompany us is intact. The mental faculties are the ones in question.
Screams immediately fill the vehicle, even before the car pulls out onto the asphalt. Little can be done to soothe them, aside from an abrupt end to the journey altogether.
The young one’s angst is understandable – only four months into the world and instead of the freedom to explore the abundance around her, she’s shackled in an uncomfortable, unforgiving car seat; forced to watch the magic pass her by at 70 mph.
Comfort sets in for the rest of us as we hold firm to the knowledge that soon she’ll fall asleep. The hum of the highway will turn her current despair into quiet slumber.
Reports of unfavorable weather filter in from the radio airwaves. Soon our trip will likely be met by high winds, rain and even hail. We could delay the drive by an hour and avoid the treacherous weather. With evening rush-hour traffic starting to thin out, however, the risk of inclement weather feels like one worth taking. A shared glance with my wife is not necessary to know we would both prefer to drive through the storm and complete the trip sooner rather than later.
Miles tick by and tension begins to mount as the screaming persists longer than anticipated. By occupying the passenger seat, the role of quieting the baby falls to me. Either by giving her a pacifier, gently rubbing her head, singing her to sleep… something must be done. The family is depending on me. As the father and the husband, it’s my duty to restore calm and order to the chaos that ensnares us. This is my role. I cannot fail. I mustn’t.
But I do.
From the back, the elder child makes a request for some driving music. Eager to not enflame any other passions, I quickly grant the request. We are soon serenaded by the chorus sounds of “E-I-E-I-O!” It means nothing to the baby, but typically keeps our two-year-old son gleefully occupied, even if it’s just for the short term.
However, his younger sister’s cries make his favorite songs less enjoyable, so he joins me in the task of trying to calm her down. Being a small child, his simpler, more direct plan involves looking at her and yelling, “Stop crying!”
A genius plan, and yet… it too fails.
Soon the noise level inside the car is matched by the noise level outside the car. Rain begins to pound the windshield. If nothing else, it distracts my son from his sister’s screams, as his pleas of “Stop crying,” turn to shouts of “Rain!” Oddly enough, it’s a welcome change.
Peace is momentarily restored inside the car as the little one finds happiness in a padded baby book. Its mere presence dries her tears. Controversy stirs, though, as the sight of the book in the arms of the infant sets off a primal, territorial reaction from the first born. He wants it. What is she doing with it?
Attempts to appease my son with the other 30+ books we brought for him come up short. Apparently there is some magic contained in the padded book that is unequaled by any other piece of children’s literature.
I find myself wanting the book; to be swept away by its powers of escapism.
The car is in danger of getting swept away, not by the reading material, but by the increasing wind and rain. The unexamined option of postponing the trip now seems like one worth exploring. No matter, though. Should we find ourselves in peril, we can always cling to everyone’s favorite padded book as it calmly floats us down the river to safety. The kids clearly believe in its capabilities.
Besides, the storm pales in comparison to the threat of hearing damage we’re all suffering from due to the internal - rather than external - factors.
An eternity passes. The sun begins to set and the rain finally lets up. Soon we will arrive at our destination. I gaze out the window at the sign by the highway to see just how close we are.
Only 298 miles to go.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Happy at the Bottom
To me, climbing the corporate ladder sounds as much fun as falling off an actual ladder and hitting every rung with my face on the way down.
Is it a lack of ambition? Maybe.
Laziness? Sure.
But mostly I don’t want to be anyone’s boss, and I’m sure no one would want me to be theirs.
One reason I’m not “management material” is because, despite not wanting to supervise people, I would take seriously the task of hiring employees, which immediately disqualifies me for the job. For instance, I would try to learn as much as I could about a potential employee’s personality and not just get them to rehash their resume. Instead of asking ridiculous, formulaic questions like, “Give me an example from your previous job when you successfully overcame an obstacle,” I would ask questions like, “After the first month or two of working here, will everyone think you’re a total douche?”
Habitually late, poor hygiene, steals from the company… I don’t care. But if the new guy always uses the middle stall in a men’s room with only three stalls, I couldn’t live with myself for hiring him.
Managers are also in a no-win situation. If my meticulous hiring practices paid off and everyone liked one another and worked well together, the only one left for them to turn on would be me. And they would because I’m not sure I could turn off my supervisory sensor after leaving the office.
What if, while enjoying a Saturday night out, you saw one of your employees get thrown out of a bar for acting like a drunken nuisance? It’s happened to a lot of people, and it doesn’t make anyone a criminal, but can you really ignore that come Monday morning?
What if, while driving home one night, you see a car pulled over by a police officer and notice it’s one of your employees? At first you assume he was just pulled over for speeding, but as you pass the scene, you start to wonder if the cop will want to inspect the car. He could find something that might be a tad bothersome, like pot, or something slightly more worrisome, like a body. Some might argue that’s even worse than always using the middle stall. I would not argue this, but someone else might.
And the boss always has to be careful of a watchful eye too, right? Let’s say you bump into a colleague at the drug store while nervously scanning the condom aisle. As the boss, do you immediately grab the box labeled ‘Magnum,’ knowing that if you don’t, you risk losing the respect of your employee and everyone in your department (since he’ll surely tell everyone)? On top of that, do you load up your cart with eight or nine boxes and shoot him a confident look that says, “That’s right, I’m grabbing eight or nine boxes”?
Or what if you, the boss, are at the pharmacy on your lunch break, and the guy you just interviewed for a job is strolling through the same aisle? Do you say to yourself, “He’s being responsible” or do you eliminate him from consideration because you think he won’t be willing to work weekends? What if he grabs the ‘Magnums,’ but the job you’re hiring for is a professional stair climber? You can’t hire him now because it would mean imminent disaster (mostly for the stair climber).
See, there’s just too much to worry about. I couldn’t do it. Let me climb the corporate chair or one of those midget ladders you use for painting indoors.
Is it a lack of ambition? Maybe.
Laziness? Sure.
But mostly I don’t want to be anyone’s boss, and I’m sure no one would want me to be theirs.
One reason I’m not “management material” is because, despite not wanting to supervise people, I would take seriously the task of hiring employees, which immediately disqualifies me for the job. For instance, I would try to learn as much as I could about a potential employee’s personality and not just get them to rehash their resume. Instead of asking ridiculous, formulaic questions like, “Give me an example from your previous job when you successfully overcame an obstacle,” I would ask questions like, “After the first month or two of working here, will everyone think you’re a total douche?”
Habitually late, poor hygiene, steals from the company… I don’t care. But if the new guy always uses the middle stall in a men’s room with only three stalls, I couldn’t live with myself for hiring him.
Managers are also in a no-win situation. If my meticulous hiring practices paid off and everyone liked one another and worked well together, the only one left for them to turn on would be me. And they would because I’m not sure I could turn off my supervisory sensor after leaving the office.
What if, while enjoying a Saturday night out, you saw one of your employees get thrown out of a bar for acting like a drunken nuisance? It’s happened to a lot of people, and it doesn’t make anyone a criminal, but can you really ignore that come Monday morning?
What if, while driving home one night, you see a car pulled over by a police officer and notice it’s one of your employees? At first you assume he was just pulled over for speeding, but as you pass the scene, you start to wonder if the cop will want to inspect the car. He could find something that might be a tad bothersome, like pot, or something slightly more worrisome, like a body. Some might argue that’s even worse than always using the middle stall. I would not argue this, but someone else might.
And the boss always has to be careful of a watchful eye too, right? Let’s say you bump into a colleague at the drug store while nervously scanning the condom aisle. As the boss, do you immediately grab the box labeled ‘Magnum,’ knowing that if you don’t, you risk losing the respect of your employee and everyone in your department (since he’ll surely tell everyone)? On top of that, do you load up your cart with eight or nine boxes and shoot him a confident look that says, “That’s right, I’m grabbing eight or nine boxes”?
Or what if you, the boss, are at the pharmacy on your lunch break, and the guy you just interviewed for a job is strolling through the same aisle? Do you say to yourself, “He’s being responsible” or do you eliminate him from consideration because you think he won’t be willing to work weekends? What if he grabs the ‘Magnums,’ but the job you’re hiring for is a professional stair climber? You can’t hire him now because it would mean imminent disaster (mostly for the stair climber).
See, there’s just too much to worry about. I couldn’t do it. Let me climb the corporate chair or one of those midget ladders you use for painting indoors.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Joining the Online Social Frenzy
Ok, I’ve finally stopped living in 2005 and started living in 2008. I’m now on Twitter and Facebook. And before I say anything else, let’s be sure to add Twitter and Facebook to the list of things that people do only because other people are doing them. So I’m guilty of doing at least two of those things. But hey, if Ashton Kutcher can get a million followers on Twitter, I figure I can probably get four or five.
On the flip side, I doubt I can say anything worth reading in 140 characters or less, considering I have an unlimited amount of space on this blog and can’t offer anything worth reading on here. So don’t get your hopes up. Nevertheless, I’ve leapt out of my old-man rocking chair and into realms that are well below my age bracket.
And just for the record, I posted a joke on here about how one of the symptoms of the swine flu includes, “tasting delicious with applesauce” the day before Stephen Colbert joked on The Colbert Report that one of the symptoms includes, “tasting like bacon.” So clearly the Emmy-winning writers of the The Colbert Report read my blog to steal ideas for their show. Since they’re no doubt reading this right now, let me just say, “You’re welcome.”
On the flip side, I doubt I can say anything worth reading in 140 characters or less, considering I have an unlimited amount of space on this blog and can’t offer anything worth reading on here. So don’t get your hopes up. Nevertheless, I’ve leapt out of my old-man rocking chair and into realms that are well below my age bracket.
And just for the record, I posted a joke on here about how one of the symptoms of the swine flu includes, “tasting delicious with applesauce” the day before Stephen Colbert joked on The Colbert Report that one of the symptoms includes, “tasting like bacon.” So clearly the Emmy-winning writers of the The Colbert Report read my blog to steal ideas for their show. Since they’re no doubt reading this right now, let me just say, “You’re welcome.”
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Swine Flu - Fact from Fiction
With the swine flu having reached the U.S. and parts of Europe, people are starting to panic about how widespread the virus will become. As a result, all sorts of myths and rumors have emerged regarding the illness. As always, this blog is here to provide nothing but the facts regarding this powerful threat.
Depending on your region of the globe, swine flu has many names, including ‘hog cough,’ ‘pig pneumonia’ and ‘bacon bronchitis.’ Questions raged early on about how it spreads, with many medical professionals believing it stems from people having “relations” with pigs. That of course has been dismissed. Now medical professionals believe it’s linked to people having relations with infected pigs. Doctors are also warning that swine flu can be spread whenever a police officer sneezes on you.
Symptoms include fever, runny nose, sore throat, nausea, vomiting, curly tail, snorting when you laugh, refusing to clean up after yourself, making derogatory comments towards women, and tasting delicious with applesauce.
Many worried citizens have confused their swine flu symptoms with those of the bird flu, but it’s important to remember that bird flu symptoms include fever, coughing, sore throat, worm breath and pooping on cars.
If you in fact have swine flu, your doctor will likely suggest a steady diet of fruits and vegetables, a few prescription pain killers, and 5-6 gallons of water sipped from a trough.
Health officials have announced that everything within a 15-mile radius of Senator Henry Waxman’s house is currently under quarantine.
Depending on your region of the globe, swine flu has many names, including ‘hog cough,’ ‘pig pneumonia’ and ‘bacon bronchitis.’ Questions raged early on about how it spreads, with many medical professionals believing it stems from people having “relations” with pigs. That of course has been dismissed. Now medical professionals believe it’s linked to people having relations with infected pigs. Doctors are also warning that swine flu can be spread whenever a police officer sneezes on you.
Symptoms include fever, runny nose, sore throat, nausea, vomiting, curly tail, snorting when you laugh, refusing to clean up after yourself, making derogatory comments towards women, and tasting delicious with applesauce.
Many worried citizens have confused their swine flu symptoms with those of the bird flu, but it’s important to remember that bird flu symptoms include fever, coughing, sore throat, worm breath and pooping on cars.
If you in fact have swine flu, your doctor will likely suggest a steady diet of fruits and vegetables, a few prescription pain killers, and 5-6 gallons of water sipped from a trough.
Health officials have announced that everything within a 15-mile radius of Senator Henry Waxman’s house is currently under quarantine.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Maybe It Was Bernie Madoff
Despite my aversions to the latest breakthroughs in technology, as mentioned in an earlier post to this blog, I at least emerged myself years ago in the joys of online banking. There is no joy, however, when you log into your checking account and see parentheses around the number that’s listed in the ‘Available Balance’ column. At that moment there is only fear. Well, and panic. And some slight rage.
If you’ve never seen parentheses around your ‘Available Balance’ figure, it means you’ve never been overdrawn on your account. If you have seen the parentheses, your first thought is undoubtedly always the same as mine, “My bank is stealing from me.”
Sadly, if this were 2007, that would be seen as a joke. Now, that very well could be the case for a lot of people. But before I sought revenge by driving to my nearest branch and dropping off a busload of Hannah Montana concert-goers, I looked at my check book to see if my math was wrong or if I forgot to subtract an earlier transaction. Three and a half days later I discovered it was both of those things.
I think I would have enjoyed getting tangled up in a lengthy, bitter, expensive lawsuit with my bank (and ultimately losing) more than I enjoyed figuring out where my math went wrong. I also would have enjoyed getting tangled up in a lengthy, bitter, expensive alligator attack more too.
At this point, you’re probably wondering, “Why don’t you have overdraft protection?”
My response to that is, “Why don’t you shut up?”
Why would I want to deprive the bank of charging me $50 for kindly pointing out that my account has a negative balance? Besides, if I don’t have enough money to keep my account in the black, I can certainly afford to go another $50 into debt.
So pish to your overdraft protection. Pish, I say.
If you’ve never seen parentheses around your ‘Available Balance’ figure, it means you’ve never been overdrawn on your account. If you have seen the parentheses, your first thought is undoubtedly always the same as mine, “My bank is stealing from me.”
Sadly, if this were 2007, that would be seen as a joke. Now, that very well could be the case for a lot of people. But before I sought revenge by driving to my nearest branch and dropping off a busload of Hannah Montana concert-goers, I looked at my check book to see if my math was wrong or if I forgot to subtract an earlier transaction. Three and a half days later I discovered it was both of those things.
I think I would have enjoyed getting tangled up in a lengthy, bitter, expensive lawsuit with my bank (and ultimately losing) more than I enjoyed figuring out where my math went wrong. I also would have enjoyed getting tangled up in a lengthy, bitter, expensive alligator attack more too.
At this point, you’re probably wondering, “Why don’t you have overdraft protection?”
My response to that is, “Why don’t you shut up?”
Why would I want to deprive the bank of charging me $50 for kindly pointing out that my account has a negative balance? Besides, if I don’t have enough money to keep my account in the black, I can certainly afford to go another $50 into debt.
So pish to your overdraft protection. Pish, I say.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Some Post-Easter and Pre-Tax Day Yuks
A few jokes for today...
As part of a sudden change in plans for reviving the economy, President Obama announced today that the U.S. is officially filing for divorce from Mel Gibson.
Many Pittsburgh baseball fans were excited to hear about this story until they realized the outcome would not be affecting their team’s Major League roster.
When a story leads off with this sentence, “A polar bear attacked a woman at a Berlin Zoo Friday afternoon after she climbed a fence and jumped into its habitat during feeding time, police said Saturday,” (brace for the picture) it’s a good indication that prices at the zoo’s concession stands have gotten out of hand.
There was an article on cnn.com yesterday about the "laws of attraction" between men and women. It's time for all these scientists and “love experts” to stop wasting their time studying why certain people are attracted to each other, and just admit that how attracted a woman is to a man depends on the success of his band, and how attracted a man is to a woman depends on whether or not she ever had a penis.
Good night! Enjoy the veal, tip your waitress.
As part of a sudden change in plans for reviving the economy, President Obama announced today that the U.S. is officially filing for divorce from Mel Gibson.
Many Pittsburgh baseball fans were excited to hear about this story until they realized the outcome would not be affecting their team’s Major League roster.
When a story leads off with this sentence, “A polar bear attacked a woman at a Berlin Zoo Friday afternoon after she climbed a fence and jumped into its habitat during feeding time, police said Saturday,” (brace for the picture) it’s a good indication that prices at the zoo’s concession stands have gotten out of hand.
There was an article on cnn.com yesterday about the "laws of attraction" between men and women. It's time for all these scientists and “love experts” to stop wasting their time studying why certain people are attracted to each other, and just admit that how attracted a woman is to a man depends on the success of his band, and how attracted a man is to a woman depends on whether or not she ever had a penis.
Good night! Enjoy the veal, tip your waitress.
Friday, March 27, 2009
And Ask For a Raise
I’m not a job-placement professional, but in today’s current job market, I’d probably advise people to look for work in the childcare industry.* They could certainly use good people. Then again, if that’s your only option you might choose to stay unemployed. I would.
That is in no way meant to disparage those that do work in the industry. Quite the opposite. That is meant to point out that I do not have the qualifications or the stomach for that kind of work. Much the same way that I don’t have the stomach to be an ER doctor, NFL lineman, or a member of the armed services.
Deciding to look after infants and toddlers all day long, multiple days a week, particularly ones that aren’t yours, is truly noble. Looking after ones that are yours is nothing to sneeze at either. I only do it because, monetarily speaking, I’m required to by law. Since this is the case, I plan to stick around and hold over their heads how much money they owe me as soon as they can grasp that concept. Also, my wife would have me hunted down and killed if I left.
Having the same number of kids as parents in a household, also known as “playing man-to-man,” is largely thought to be a manageable situation. This is a myth. How daycares get their employees to agree to individually take care of up to five kids, which is the case at my son’s daycare, is beyond me. Every day that I pick him up, I expect to see at least one teacher weeping in the corner. It hasn’t happened yet, despite seeing situations that would cause me to weep in the corner if I was in charge.
One aspect that probably makes it a little more tolerable is that the people who work at my son’s daycare receive free daycare for their own children. This certainly makes the job a little more inviting because daycare is expensive. Why is it expensive, you ask? For the same reason ice road truckers command such a high salary – the work is perilous and few people are willing to do it.
I looked it up, and somehow, “daycare employee” does not rank high on the list of professions that cause the most number of suicides.** It falls well below social worker, homicide detective and Tyra Banks’ publicist.
This doesn’t mean the industry couldn’t use more good people. So think about it if you’re looking for work or like to help your fellow man. Not that I’m recommending it. I’m just saying.
*Unless you’re the Octo-Mom, in which case you should have to experience the phenomenon of a real-life Lost scenario.
**I did not look it up. Hey, this isn’t The New York Times.
That is in no way meant to disparage those that do work in the industry. Quite the opposite. That is meant to point out that I do not have the qualifications or the stomach for that kind of work. Much the same way that I don’t have the stomach to be an ER doctor, NFL lineman, or a member of the armed services.
Deciding to look after infants and toddlers all day long, multiple days a week, particularly ones that aren’t yours, is truly noble. Looking after ones that are yours is nothing to sneeze at either. I only do it because, monetarily speaking, I’m required to by law. Since this is the case, I plan to stick around and hold over their heads how much money they owe me as soon as they can grasp that concept. Also, my wife would have me hunted down and killed if I left.
Having the same number of kids as parents in a household, also known as “playing man-to-man,” is largely thought to be a manageable situation. This is a myth. How daycares get their employees to agree to individually take care of up to five kids, which is the case at my son’s daycare, is beyond me. Every day that I pick him up, I expect to see at least one teacher weeping in the corner. It hasn’t happened yet, despite seeing situations that would cause me to weep in the corner if I was in charge.
One aspect that probably makes it a little more tolerable is that the people who work at my son’s daycare receive free daycare for their own children. This certainly makes the job a little more inviting because daycare is expensive. Why is it expensive, you ask? For the same reason ice road truckers command such a high salary – the work is perilous and few people are willing to do it.
I looked it up, and somehow, “daycare employee” does not rank high on the list of professions that cause the most number of suicides.** It falls well below social worker, homicide detective and Tyra Banks’ publicist.
This doesn’t mean the industry couldn’t use more good people. So think about it if you’re looking for work or like to help your fellow man. Not that I’m recommending it. I’m just saying.
*Unless you’re the Octo-Mom, in which case you should have to experience the phenomenon of a real-life Lost scenario.
**I did not look it up. Hey, this isn’t The New York Times.
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