WHAT I'M LISTENING TO: A mix CD I burned to help facilitate writing, plus I'm working my way through our Tori Amos collection. When she's on, she's on. When she's not, I have to suffer through five horrible minutes.
WHAT I'M READING: Nothing really, outside of Entertainment Weekly. Need to hit the library soon.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Last film was, I believe Southland Tales, which is one fucked up film; it's a love-it-or-hate-it picture which I think I enjoyed. Definitely out there; curious how it ever got made. Not for the mainstream. Oh, and MLS action of course.
ONCE again I've been gone too long. Seems like every day I tell myself "Today is the day I blog", and then I never get around too it.
But here I am, forcing my hand as it is almost midnight. Some quick tidbits:
1. I discovered it long ago, and have it confirmed at least once or twice weekly. I've married Winnie the Pooh. My wife is Winnie, there can be no doubt. She use to shrug off the comparison at first, but now she accepts the facts. Hard to describe on a blog without spending half the night in the details. To crib a line from the excellent "All the Real Girls" film: "When you see her, you'll know."
She gets into Pooh-like predicaments. No matter how careful she is, somehow something always ends up on her shirts. I can't buy extra large jars o' honey because I'm certain it would wind up stuck on her head. I say it all out of love for her, but she's definitely a Pooh.
2. Anybody watching the travesty that is "America's Got Talent"? We occassionally forget to change the channel at night when it's on. Last week, some old lady and her daughter got up there and whistled a tune. The snide British judge (is there any other kind?) remarked how he couldn't fathom having to listen to people whistle for another minute, much less a whole hour. This is where it got my attention. The old lady proceeded to tell him that she has whistled for up to three hours for people, and they loved it. These people told the old hag they couldn't believe it.
Nor can I.
THREE FRIGGIN' HOURS of whistling! Who the hell could do that? Why would you? Why would you force that bullshit onto other living human beings? Who sits there for three damn hours listening to an old lady pass wind through her lips rather than her asscheeks? Either the old bint is lying, or she has put guests through the misery. But what level of moron would sit there for three hours? After thirty minutes I'd be raising my hand and asking "Is that all there is?" Another five minutes after that, I'd be rushing out the door with some excuse. And even if you could sit there for 180 minutes of whistling (dixie), would you really be happy at the end? I'd be strangling the bitch with the nearest blunt object. I'd put a steel-toed boot between those lips and tell her to whistle some blood. There's no way in hell anybody who just sat through three hours of whistling could be happy about it. I'd rather lose a testicle to an overzealous, underfed gerbil. No way they could have seriously complimented that bullshit.
"Nice whistling, grandma. Now hand me that gun so I can put a bullet in both our heads."
Let us not assume politeness to mean a respect for your talent, old raggedy bitch. Two minutes of that Guns & Roses song with whistling and I'm ready to drive off a cliff. There is nobody, not one single person, who honestly wants more than fifteen good solid minutes of whistling.
3. Went to the fair last week, and had us some fun. But aren't carnies the most miserable looking folks on the planet? Have you ever seen a carnie with a smile on his face? Or even faking a half-hearted grin? The guys taking our tickets last week for the rides appeared to have cattle rods up the keister. I haven't seen faces that grim at funerals. I know it probably gets tiresome after awhile, but at least fake like you are enjoying some aspect of your job once in a great while.
4. This should make any baseball fan out there want to punch me in the throat. This coming Wednesday, my company is taking us to a Cubs game as a reward for a lot of hard work this past month. Not just to a Cubs game, mind you, but to a Cubs game on the famed rooftop.
Now, I couldn't care less for baseball unless an old woman wasted three hours during the seventh inning stretch whistling "Take Me Out to the Ballgame", but I've agreed to go. For one simple reason.
The food.
I'm told by others that the rooftop is the only place to watch a game because the food is magnificent. Now, even if it's merely good, I'm okay with it. Because it's free. I never complain about free food. I may not partake of it, but I won't complain about it. You could serve me raw roadkill with a turd halfway squeezed out and I wouldn't utter a word of complaint.
So I'm wasting my day off to see the Cubs play, just for the food.
5. My wife hurt her back somehow this weekend. We're not sure yet. Might be that she dreamed her grandmother was serenading her with THREE FUCKING HOURS of whistling and tried to strangle the demon of her dreams. Anywho, the back is in pain. So yesterday I took her to the local place of healing to see what is the problem (much better than the date we had lined up of seeing The Dark Knight). Now, the most important thing after her getting some pills to help with the pain is that her doctor's name was, and this is 100% true, Dr. Doctor.
If your last name is Doctor, do you feel obligated to go into the field? Would you be a bit embarrassed if you turned out to be a janitor at the local porn shop? "Hey, Jizzmopper Doctor, get over here and clean out booth three. Can't you see the line forming?"
"My name is Doctor, and I'll be your waiter tonight."
"Hey Doctor! Throw some more fries in the vat. The dinner rush is on."
You name a character in a book that, and every reviewer in America will mock you for the childish humor.
6. Speaking of The Dark Knight, we still want to see it. I'm a big Batman fan, and love what Nolan did with Batman Begins. But I fear the hype is in overdrive now, too much so. What follows are actual comments I've been told, word for bloody word, from people who've seen it.
"It's the greatest movie ever." (Really? The Dark Knight? Everybody gets an opinion, but if this is the greatest movie ever, cinema is in trouble)
"Heath Ledger gives the greatest acting performance ever." (Again, really? I'm not doubting he's good, but greatest ever? Better than Denzel in Malcolm X? Kinglsey in Gandhi? Welles in Citizen Kane? Peck in "Mockingbird"?)
"If Ledger doesn't win the Oscar, I'll hurt somebody." (He may, he may not. But does somebody deserve to be hurt over that? And who exactly will you hurt?)
"If he (Ledger) doesn't get the Academy Award, it'll be the biggest ripoff ever."(Maybe so,maybe history will show that Heath not getting the award is a bigger ripoff than those scams targeted at the elderly, or the whole Amway pyramid scheme-but I got doubts)
"It's the most intense experience of my life." (Try driving on the highways outside of Atlanta, when you've got to cross five lanes of morning rush hour traffic in less than a quarter mile to hit your exit as my Pooh-esque wife did)
"I'd let two dudes have a dick swordfight in my mouth to see it again." (Nice, Uncle Ron, real nice. Okay, I made this one up)
"I saw it twice already. Probably see it another four times on the big screen." (If you like it, whatever, but surely there is some other movie you can invest it and whittle it down to just four or five viewings on the big screen; this quote was told to me THREE DAYS after it opened)
It does look awesome, and I have high hopes. But there is part of me thinking that people would not be all that quick to label Ledger's performance the best of all time had he not died.
Personally, I can't imagine he's better here than in Brokeback Mountain (which I saw with Uncle Ron, oddly enough), but anything is possible.
I'll let you know my own thoughts when we see it.
7. That's all I got for now. But I plan to be back sooner next time. I hope to blog on my recent period of writing malaise. Plus, the English football season is about to kick off. The lower leagues start this coming weekend, than next weekend the Premiership begins.
I don't know about y'all, but that's got my balls a-sweating.
Be Seeing You.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Hard Wood Floors and Baby Heads: A War of Attrition
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO: "Tunnels" by Arcade Fire is one hell of an awesome song.
WHAT I'M READING: Same damn book. It's good, but it's also over 400 pages. And I do all of my reading these days on the toilet, so it takes awhile.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Tonight, it will be a documentary called "Crazy Love".
SO back in late April my mother-in-law talked us into tearing our carpet out and sticking with the loverly hardwood floors. They are beautiful.
The only problem is we have a nine month old baby. And this baby is reckless, like his older brother. He's also just learning to crawl. And his sitting is still in the rookie stages.
A dangerous combo.
Last week, he was trying to crawl. Head just two or three inches off the floor. And he dipped his head down, colliding with the hardwood floor.
It wasn't the first time, but it was the worst. Because while his mother held him for comfort, I could see his little face over her shoulder. It was one of the scariest moments ever. Because he was out of it for three seconds. Punch drunk. I've watched enough boxing and MMA to see fighters who take that hard blow to the head and are out of it. My little boy was out of it. For that brief moment in time, I knew he was going to pass out. I was fearing concussion, or worse. That was the look in his little eyes.
I quickly swooped in, afraid for my boy but also not wanting his mother to see that look. She can't handle her boys in pain. Well, not in pain like that. He snapped back into it shortly after, and finally cried. I was glad to hear those tears.
Since then, he's bopped his head again, in the same spot. So you have a nasty bruise and a nasty bump on top of it. But he keeps plugging along, smiling, and finally yesterday crawling for the first time.
SO here's the big gym schedule I proudly crowed about in my last blog.
MONDAY:
1. Treadmill-15 minutes (upping the speed every two minutes)
2. V-Crunches-2 sets of 20 each.
3. Torso Rotation-2 sets 20 each at 70 pounds.
4. Abdominal Isolator-2 sets of 10. First is 70 pounds, second is 80.
5. Abdominal Crunch-2 sets of 10 each. First is 50 pounds, second is 60.
6. Seated Dip-2 sets 10 each. First is 70, second is 80.
7. Bicep Curls-2 sets 10 each. First is 80 pounds, second is 95.
8. Shoulder Press-2 sets 10 each. First is 60, second is 70.
9. Pec Fly/Rear Delt-2 sets 10 each. First is 80 pounds, second is 90.
10. Vertical Chest Press-2 sets 10 each. First is 80 pounds, second is 90.
11. Pulldown-2 sets 10 each. First is 70 pounds, second is 80.
12. Vertical Row-2 sets 10 each. First is 60, second is 70.
WEDNESDAY:
All twelve of my Monday duties, plus
13. Tricep Extension-2 sets 10 each. First is 70 pounds, second is 85.
14. Lateral Raise-2 sets 10 each. First is 50, second is 60.
15. Chest Press-2 sets 10 each. First is 40 pounds each bar, second is 50 pounds each bar. This one you have to adjust weights for both bars.
16. MTS Row-2 sets 10 each. First is 40 on each bar. Second is 50 on each bar.
17. Leg Lift-2 sets 10 each. First is 100 pounds, second is 120.
18. Another turn on treadmill for ten minutes.
FRIDAY:
I do the first five from Monday to get the gut down. Then I do #13, #6,#7,#14,#15,#10 and #16.
So there you have it. The weights are not much right now, because I'm just starting out. But they'll be moving up every two weeks. And one day, I'll be in shape again.
Maybe.
Be Seeing You.
WHAT I'M READING: Same damn book. It's good, but it's also over 400 pages. And I do all of my reading these days on the toilet, so it takes awhile.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Tonight, it will be a documentary called "Crazy Love".
SO back in late April my mother-in-law talked us into tearing our carpet out and sticking with the loverly hardwood floors. They are beautiful.
The only problem is we have a nine month old baby. And this baby is reckless, like his older brother. He's also just learning to crawl. And his sitting is still in the rookie stages.
A dangerous combo.
Last week, he was trying to crawl. Head just two or three inches off the floor. And he dipped his head down, colliding with the hardwood floor.
It wasn't the first time, but it was the worst. Because while his mother held him for comfort, I could see his little face over her shoulder. It was one of the scariest moments ever. Because he was out of it for three seconds. Punch drunk. I've watched enough boxing and MMA to see fighters who take that hard blow to the head and are out of it. My little boy was out of it. For that brief moment in time, I knew he was going to pass out. I was fearing concussion, or worse. That was the look in his little eyes.
I quickly swooped in, afraid for my boy but also not wanting his mother to see that look. She can't handle her boys in pain. Well, not in pain like that. He snapped back into it shortly after, and finally cried. I was glad to hear those tears.
Since then, he's bopped his head again, in the same spot. So you have a nasty bruise and a nasty bump on top of it. But he keeps plugging along, smiling, and finally yesterday crawling for the first time.
SO here's the big gym schedule I proudly crowed about in my last blog.
MONDAY:
1. Treadmill-15 minutes (upping the speed every two minutes)
2. V-Crunches-2 sets of 20 each.
3. Torso Rotation-2 sets 20 each at 70 pounds.
4. Abdominal Isolator-2 sets of 10. First is 70 pounds, second is 80.
5. Abdominal Crunch-2 sets of 10 each. First is 50 pounds, second is 60.
6. Seated Dip-2 sets 10 each. First is 70, second is 80.
7. Bicep Curls-2 sets 10 each. First is 80 pounds, second is 95.
8. Shoulder Press-2 sets 10 each. First is 60, second is 70.
9. Pec Fly/Rear Delt-2 sets 10 each. First is 80 pounds, second is 90.
10. Vertical Chest Press-2 sets 10 each. First is 80 pounds, second is 90.
11. Pulldown-2 sets 10 each. First is 70 pounds, second is 80.
12. Vertical Row-2 sets 10 each. First is 60, second is 70.
WEDNESDAY:
All twelve of my Monday duties, plus
13. Tricep Extension-2 sets 10 each. First is 70 pounds, second is 85.
14. Lateral Raise-2 sets 10 each. First is 50, second is 60.
15. Chest Press-2 sets 10 each. First is 40 pounds each bar, second is 50 pounds each bar. This one you have to adjust weights for both bars.
16. MTS Row-2 sets 10 each. First is 40 on each bar. Second is 50 on each bar.
17. Leg Lift-2 sets 10 each. First is 100 pounds, second is 120.
18. Another turn on treadmill for ten minutes.
FRIDAY:
I do the first five from Monday to get the gut down. Then I do #13, #6,#7,#14,#15,#10 and #16.
So there you have it. The weights are not much right now, because I'm just starting out. But they'll be moving up every two weeks. And one day, I'll be in shape again.
Maybe.
Be Seeing You.
Friday, July 11, 2008
This is Amazing
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO: Have you heard "Cheated Hearts" by Yeah Yeah Yeah's? I have.
WHAT I'M READING: Still plowing through that book on the 9/11 Commission. Good shit.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: More 2007 films, such as Superbad and Diving Bell & the Butterfly. Good stuff. Plus the Superclassico betwixt Los Angeles Galaxy and CD Chivas USA.
SO it's been a week since the holiday. Hope everybody enjoyed their Fourth. Did get to hear a pretty big firework display late that night, so all is well.
A better week this week. Got back into the gym. Finally worked out a weekly schedule for myself, which I will be posting next time. Right now it's in my gym bag, which is in the bedroom, in which the lovely Barefoot Adult is snoozing. But I'm happy with it, and very glad to get back into my gym routine after a week off. Went all three times, which is good.
Things are starting to heat up in the Summer of 2008. We've been getting into the pool quite frequently lately. Jude is loving it, and Sullivan appears to like the water too. He smiles as he kicks his legs and splashes his hands. Daddy enjoys keeping it clean.
See, the ole Dungmaster is a clean freak. Anal about it, even. I can't just let a dirty situation go. Dirty clothes must be washed now. Tonight. Not tomorrow, or next time. Dirty dishes cannot sit in the sink overnight. I don't care if I have to wash dishes at eleven in the P.M. and am folding a load of laundry while starting another load at midnight thirty. Same goes with picking up the house. No toy can be out of its designated spot after the kid's are in bed.
It's a sickness really. Good for my family because the house is usually clean. But I can be too picky about it sometimes. It's just in my blood. And it's no different in the pool. I see a leaf or a drowned bug float by, and I'm going for the net before you can see "Anal Asshole".
Cleaning is something I'm very good at. Upward mobility in my job is not. I've been doing the same job since I started with Edy's. It's a good job, but not something that brings me great pride. But last week I was shopping with the boys at the local SuperTarget and pointing out to Jude which sections of the ice cream I had filled just two days before. I pointed out the Haagen Dasz door. Jude stared for a moment, than looked at me with his big wide eyes.
"Daddy, this is amazing."
I've rarely in my entire life felt as good as I did right then. It's not a prestige job, and any old fool could do it with minimal effort. But to hear my special boy say that to me was incredible.
IT'S question time, kiddies. Every now and then I just have questions about things in this world. Things that truly stump me. I plan to share some with you, my faithful reader, when I can remember them.
1. How does one get a circle jerk going amongst friends? I can believe two guys hanging out and talking each other into a jerk-off session. It's just two guys who could keep a secret. But how a group of five or more guys can talk themselves into whipping out the cocks and stroking for glory is beyond my comprehension.
2. Why do twenty-year old kids working the frozen department think they know more about running an ice cream business than people who've been doing it globally for decades? I can't believe the amount of times some young punk will gladly reveal to me what my company needs to do different to be better.
3. Speaking of ice cream, it's pronounced E-Dees, people. I am now officially offended by the people who come up and refer to me and my company as "Eddies". There's one friggin' "D", people. "Edy's". I've never met an "Eddy" who spelled his name with one friggin' "D".
4. Why do so many people go bonkers over the Mexican immigrants who don't speak English fluently, yet have no problem with the Amish. I love the Amish myself. But they live here without paying taxes and almost always speak in Dutch, and nobody cares.
That's all I got right now, but more will come to me. This world just confuses me sometimes.
A major event is coming next week. On Friday, in one location will be the internet blogging phenoms from Dung!2, Barefoot Adult, AND Parenthetical. We should all get together and have a blog jerk.
It's late, I'm tired, and the bed is calling my name. Time to get some rest. But I will return soon.
Be Seeing You.
WHAT I'M READING: Still plowing through that book on the 9/11 Commission. Good shit.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: More 2007 films, such as Superbad and Diving Bell & the Butterfly. Good stuff. Plus the Superclassico betwixt Los Angeles Galaxy and CD Chivas USA.
SO it's been a week since the holiday. Hope everybody enjoyed their Fourth. Did get to hear a pretty big firework display late that night, so all is well.
A better week this week. Got back into the gym. Finally worked out a weekly schedule for myself, which I will be posting next time. Right now it's in my gym bag, which is in the bedroom, in which the lovely Barefoot Adult is snoozing. But I'm happy with it, and very glad to get back into my gym routine after a week off. Went all three times, which is good.
Things are starting to heat up in the Summer of 2008. We've been getting into the pool quite frequently lately. Jude is loving it, and Sullivan appears to like the water too. He smiles as he kicks his legs and splashes his hands. Daddy enjoys keeping it clean.
See, the ole Dungmaster is a clean freak. Anal about it, even. I can't just let a dirty situation go. Dirty clothes must be washed now. Tonight. Not tomorrow, or next time. Dirty dishes cannot sit in the sink overnight. I don't care if I have to wash dishes at eleven in the P.M. and am folding a load of laundry while starting another load at midnight thirty. Same goes with picking up the house. No toy can be out of its designated spot after the kid's are in bed.
It's a sickness really. Good for my family because the house is usually clean. But I can be too picky about it sometimes. It's just in my blood. And it's no different in the pool. I see a leaf or a drowned bug float by, and I'm going for the net before you can see "Anal Asshole".
Cleaning is something I'm very good at. Upward mobility in my job is not. I've been doing the same job since I started with Edy's. It's a good job, but not something that brings me great pride. But last week I was shopping with the boys at the local SuperTarget and pointing out to Jude which sections of the ice cream I had filled just two days before. I pointed out the Haagen Dasz door. Jude stared for a moment, than looked at me with his big wide eyes.
"Daddy, this is amazing."
I've rarely in my entire life felt as good as I did right then. It's not a prestige job, and any old fool could do it with minimal effort. But to hear my special boy say that to me was incredible.
IT'S question time, kiddies. Every now and then I just have questions about things in this world. Things that truly stump me. I plan to share some with you, my faithful reader, when I can remember them.
1. How does one get a circle jerk going amongst friends? I can believe two guys hanging out and talking each other into a jerk-off session. It's just two guys who could keep a secret. But how a group of five or more guys can talk themselves into whipping out the cocks and stroking for glory is beyond my comprehension.
2. Why do twenty-year old kids working the frozen department think they know more about running an ice cream business than people who've been doing it globally for decades? I can't believe the amount of times some young punk will gladly reveal to me what my company needs to do different to be better.
3. Speaking of ice cream, it's pronounced E-Dees, people. I am now officially offended by the people who come up and refer to me and my company as "Eddies". There's one friggin' "D", people. "Edy's". I've never met an "Eddy" who spelled his name with one friggin' "D".
4. Why do so many people go bonkers over the Mexican immigrants who don't speak English fluently, yet have no problem with the Amish. I love the Amish myself. But they live here without paying taxes and almost always speak in Dutch, and nobody cares.
That's all I got right now, but more will come to me. This world just confuses me sometimes.
A major event is coming next week. On Friday, in one location will be the internet blogging phenoms from Dung!2, Barefoot Adult, AND Parenthetical. We should all get together and have a blog jerk.
It's late, I'm tired, and the bed is calling my name. Time to get some rest. But I will return soon.
Be Seeing You.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Happy Birthday America!
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO: A different version of "All Along the Watchtower" by Yul Anderson that I think I like more than either famous version.
WHAT I'M READING: The Commission, about the 9/11 commission.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Movies, the last of which was the not-so-good "The Kingdom". Also some soccer on the TV.
BUSY week at work. Too damn busy. Got off just before or after five every day. That means I didn't get to the gym one day this week. Also that I had to do my laundry overnight. I hate working way too much. It ruins my schedule.
Nice Fourth of July this year. No fireworks, again. But that's okay. With two small children, we can't stay up that late. My wife's hometown in Southwest Michigan has a great display every year, but it doesn't start until 10:30 or 11 pm. So we haven't seen any major firework displays since 2002. But for me, it's more about spending a nice day off in summer weather with family. We go to my father-in-law's every year and today was no exception. A fun day.
With working so much this week, not much time to organize my thoughts in blog form. So I'll cut it off here and hope to rejoin you next week, buff and ready to go, with clean clothes.
Hope you all had a great Independence Day. Happy Birthday USA.
Be Seeing You.
WHAT I'M READING: The Commission, about the 9/11 commission.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Movies, the last of which was the not-so-good "The Kingdom". Also some soccer on the TV.
BUSY week at work. Too damn busy. Got off just before or after five every day. That means I didn't get to the gym one day this week. Also that I had to do my laundry overnight. I hate working way too much. It ruins my schedule.
Nice Fourth of July this year. No fireworks, again. But that's okay. With two small children, we can't stay up that late. My wife's hometown in Southwest Michigan has a great display every year, but it doesn't start until 10:30 or 11 pm. So we haven't seen any major firework displays since 2002. But for me, it's more about spending a nice day off in summer weather with family. We go to my father-in-law's every year and today was no exception. A fun day.
With working so much this week, not much time to organize my thoughts in blog form. So I'll cut it off here and hope to rejoin you next week, buff and ready to go, with clean clothes.
Hope you all had a great Independence Day. Happy Birthday USA.
Be Seeing You.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
No Pain, No Gain
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO: A CD from the library called Tune Toons. I spoke of it before, with the horrid Popeye theme song. A recent trip to the library has brought it back into my life.
WHAT I'M READING: Alan Alda's first memoir "Never Have Your Dog Stuffed", because I've always liked Alda. A huge MASH fan.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Viewed No Country for Old Men today. Awesome film. I've seen all five Oscar nominees now, and three (this, Juno, There Will Be Blood) were excellent films. Kudos to the Academy. I watched I'm Not There last night. Pretty good, but it took me awhile to come to that conclusion. A love it/hate it type film with enough smoking to kill your grandma.
THREE weeks back I broke down and joined a local gym. I'd had enough of being out of shape. Back in 1998, a friend conned me into going to his gym, and I joined up. I got into it after awhile, and enjoyed my thrice weekly visits. But about mid-2000 it became easier to not go. I had just gotten engaged and was spending mucho time with my now-wife. Plus with work and other things, I seemed to always find an excuse to not go. So I quit.
Usually I hover between 185-200. I got up to 210 in early 2004, but after a very stressful time on third shift and several illnesses, I dropped thirty pounds quickly. So quickly I didn't even notice until somebody told me. I was happy at 180.
Then I got a job at Edy's Ice Cream. Most of the time is spent in my car. I wound up eating my lunches as I drove. The weight came back, big time.
I topped out, about a month ago, at 222. A gut that scared and insulted me whenever I looked at it.
So I finally broke down and joined a local gym. It's only about six minutes from home, and costs under twenty bucks per month. Plus there's no membership; it's month-by-month. So little excuse not to go. The first two weeks, I worked exclusively on cardio. Running on the treadmill for fifteen minutes (usually got over two miles in), then doing some crunches, then hitting the bike for another fifteen to twenty minutes (usually got over five miles, I rule on the bike). Some more crunches, and I went home.
This week, I broke that routine. I started hitting the weight machines. Unlike some, I really enjoy lifting weights. I had forgotten just how much until Monday, when I started. I still warm up for ten on the treadmill, but then hit the machines. I work my way down one row, hitting every machine, before working back on the other (skipping some machines, as I don't work my legs too much).
I feel great. Sore, but great. Of course I overdo it. But I get into the work-out and forget to pace myself. Right now I can barely lift my right arm to my ear, as I've somehow bruised the back of my bicep. But I'm loving my time in the gym. It gives me a high like no other.
If you're thinking about joining a gym, just do it (don't sue, Nike). You'll feel great.
ONE quick observation. How low has TV sunk that we now have a reality show where young couples are given the BABIES of other couples to raise for a few weeks, in order to prepare them. Those babies must feel loved to be handed off by their parents. And what is the point? You treat your own kids much better than others. You tolerate more. You sacrifice more.
It just seems, to me, to be the dumbest reality show yet. Even worse than swapping wives.
Be Seeing You.
WHAT I'M READING: Alan Alda's first memoir "Never Have Your Dog Stuffed", because I've always liked Alda. A huge MASH fan.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Viewed No Country for Old Men today. Awesome film. I've seen all five Oscar nominees now, and three (this, Juno, There Will Be Blood) were excellent films. Kudos to the Academy. I watched I'm Not There last night. Pretty good, but it took me awhile to come to that conclusion. A love it/hate it type film with enough smoking to kill your grandma.
THREE weeks back I broke down and joined a local gym. I'd had enough of being out of shape. Back in 1998, a friend conned me into going to his gym, and I joined up. I got into it after awhile, and enjoyed my thrice weekly visits. But about mid-2000 it became easier to not go. I had just gotten engaged and was spending mucho time with my now-wife. Plus with work and other things, I seemed to always find an excuse to not go. So I quit.
Usually I hover between 185-200. I got up to 210 in early 2004, but after a very stressful time on third shift and several illnesses, I dropped thirty pounds quickly. So quickly I didn't even notice until somebody told me. I was happy at 180.
Then I got a job at Edy's Ice Cream. Most of the time is spent in my car. I wound up eating my lunches as I drove. The weight came back, big time.
I topped out, about a month ago, at 222. A gut that scared and insulted me whenever I looked at it.
So I finally broke down and joined a local gym. It's only about six minutes from home, and costs under twenty bucks per month. Plus there's no membership; it's month-by-month. So little excuse not to go. The first two weeks, I worked exclusively on cardio. Running on the treadmill for fifteen minutes (usually got over two miles in), then doing some crunches, then hitting the bike for another fifteen to twenty minutes (usually got over five miles, I rule on the bike). Some more crunches, and I went home.
This week, I broke that routine. I started hitting the weight machines. Unlike some, I really enjoy lifting weights. I had forgotten just how much until Monday, when I started. I still warm up for ten on the treadmill, but then hit the machines. I work my way down one row, hitting every machine, before working back on the other (skipping some machines, as I don't work my legs too much).
I feel great. Sore, but great. Of course I overdo it. But I get into the work-out and forget to pace myself. Right now I can barely lift my right arm to my ear, as I've somehow bruised the back of my bicep. But I'm loving my time in the gym. It gives me a high like no other.
If you're thinking about joining a gym, just do it (don't sue, Nike). You'll feel great.
ONE quick observation. How low has TV sunk that we now have a reality show where young couples are given the BABIES of other couples to raise for a few weeks, in order to prepare them. Those babies must feel loved to be handed off by their parents. And what is the point? You treat your own kids much better than others. You tolerate more. You sacrifice more.
It just seems, to me, to be the dumbest reality show yet. Even worse than swapping wives.
Be Seeing You.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Scully Size Me!
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO: Track number six on The Fountain soundtrack is getting a lot of play lately. It's a gorgeous little piece called Xabulba (I know I misspelled that to all-hell) that puts me in a reflective mood as I drive.
WHAT I'M READING: Finally got that dull-ass McCain book out of my life. It was like steroids, in that it made me very angry and shriveled by penis. Now on to the June/July issue of MajorLeagueSoccer magazine (glad to see it still going strong, as the last major U.S. soccer magazine-Striker-only lasted three issues). Next book up is something called "A Nation of Wimps: the high cost of invasive parenting" by Hara Estroff Marano. I'm reading it to hone yet another way to scar my children forever before age five.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Enjoyed the UFC Ultimate Finale last night LIVE on Spike TV. Pretty damn good fight card and I actually like the fella who won the Ultimate Fighter 7 (Amir Sadallah if you care). Plus, Evan Tanner was sporting the Hobo Beard (tm). And, of course, season four of the X-Files. Not to mention Euro 2008.
OKAY, let me put this down for the record right now. Season Four of the X-Files is the height of Scully hotness. She looked damn good before, and she'll continue making me tingle for five more seasons (and two movies). But she never looked more attractive, nor ever seemed more intelligent than in Season Four. I'd punch my mother in the throat to have just a few seconds alone with Scully. Hell, she could sit naked next to my bed reading Shakespearian sonnets whilst I jingle-jangle-jingle for all I care.
It is definitely the combination of heart stopping attractive looks, intelligence, medical knowledge, an allegiance to doing what is right, and her command of her weapon that wrap itself up into one awesome, eye-popping Scully in a blanket.
I don't know if Gillian Anderson is smart or not, nor do I wish to find out. My attraction is to Agent Scully. Definitely in the top three hottest TV characters of all-time pantheon.
Mulder's not so bad either (that's for you, honey).
SPEAKING of the Hobo Beard (tm), every time I see a man with one, I get jealous. I also get the strong desire to grow a beard and let it go all funky and hobo-style. A Soup Saver I call it. You know, when the guy lets his beard grow long and mangy, like a street bum or a mountain man, or a MMA fighter (thanks to Kimbo Slice and Evan Tanner).
The only thing stopping me is a wife who hates beards. I can probably talk her into letting me grow a beard, but could never get her support on letting it get all bushy and such.
But I swear to all you faithful readers (both of you) that if I ever go off on my own to finish my great screenplay or novel, that I shall grow a Hobo Beard (tm) whilst writing, and come out of my cabin-in-the-woods seclusion with some fresh pages and a beard that made Tom Berenger's fake beard in Gettysburg look like a bikini-waxed pubic region.
Think Scully would find that hot?
Be Seeing You.
WHAT I'M READING: Finally got that dull-ass McCain book out of my life. It was like steroids, in that it made me very angry and shriveled by penis. Now on to the June/July issue of MajorLeagueSoccer magazine (glad to see it still going strong, as the last major U.S. soccer magazine-Striker-only lasted three issues). Next book up is something called "A Nation of Wimps: the high cost of invasive parenting" by Hara Estroff Marano. I'm reading it to hone yet another way to scar my children forever before age five.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: Enjoyed the UFC Ultimate Finale last night LIVE on Spike TV. Pretty damn good fight card and I actually like the fella who won the Ultimate Fighter 7 (Amir Sadallah if you care). Plus, Evan Tanner was sporting the Hobo Beard (tm). And, of course, season four of the X-Files. Not to mention Euro 2008.
OKAY, let me put this down for the record right now. Season Four of the X-Files is the height of Scully hotness. She looked damn good before, and she'll continue making me tingle for five more seasons (and two movies). But she never looked more attractive, nor ever seemed more intelligent than in Season Four. I'd punch my mother in the throat to have just a few seconds alone with Scully. Hell, she could sit naked next to my bed reading Shakespearian sonnets whilst I jingle-jangle-jingle for all I care.
It is definitely the combination of heart stopping attractive looks, intelligence, medical knowledge, an allegiance to doing what is right, and her command of her weapon that wrap itself up into one awesome, eye-popping Scully in a blanket.
I don't know if Gillian Anderson is smart or not, nor do I wish to find out. My attraction is to Agent Scully. Definitely in the top three hottest TV characters of all-time pantheon.
Mulder's not so bad either (that's for you, honey).
SPEAKING of the Hobo Beard (tm), every time I see a man with one, I get jealous. I also get the strong desire to grow a beard and let it go all funky and hobo-style. A Soup Saver I call it. You know, when the guy lets his beard grow long and mangy, like a street bum or a mountain man, or a MMA fighter (thanks to Kimbo Slice and Evan Tanner).
The only thing stopping me is a wife who hates beards. I can probably talk her into letting me grow a beard, but could never get her support on letting it get all bushy and such.
But I swear to all you faithful readers (both of you) that if I ever go off on my own to finish my great screenplay or novel, that I shall grow a Hobo Beard (tm) whilst writing, and come out of my cabin-in-the-woods seclusion with some fresh pages and a beard that made Tom Berenger's fake beard in Gettysburg look like a bikini-waxed pubic region.
Think Scully would find that hot?
Be Seeing You.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Interview with a Jackass
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO: The soundtrack to "There's Something About Mary", especially Danny Wilson's "Mary's Prayer" which is a nice little tune.
WHAT I'M READING: The dull McCain book still holds me captive, but luckily it's due back tomorrow so I'll be rid of it. It's like a spell, really.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: X-Files with no lights on. Euro 2008 as it heads to the quarter-finals. Plus, I got "No Country for Old Men" for Father's Day so I want to watch it soon. Way too late to be seeing last year' s Best Picture.
HOPE everybody had a great Father's Day. Mine was excellent. Morning with the boys and wife, afternoon with the in-laws up North. A wonderful dinner, some time at a brand new park, and gorgeous weather. It was good.
Today, not as such.
Had my second interview. I touched on it briefly last time, thinking it might be exciting news. But as the good book says "We may be through with the past, but the past is not through with us." See, it's with this company. First interview went well. Not great, but I'm never a great interview. But good. This time, I was more prepared than ever before. I had notes written down, questions written out. My wife did internet research on the company. I was prepared to rock this bitch.
It went downhill quickly. The lady I interviewed with last time was there, but so was some guy. Maybe her boss. Not sure. They sat me down across from both of them. He smiled and said it wasn't an interrogation. Then he spent the next forty-five minutes interrogating me. Short of the waterboarding, it was as close to Gitmo as I'll get in this lifetime.
See, somebody who once was the assistant manager at a store I worked for long ago apparently also works at this company. And apparently he didn't speak highly of me. I can only think of one real reason why, since we were always on good terms. He had been fired from that old company shortly after I left for stealing money from the cash drawers. I think maybe he didn't want me there to rat him out, as I can't believe they would have hired him if he told them what he did.
I'll break it down. At that job, I was the third shift manager. I was okay. Not great. I didn't love the job, but I did it. Unfortunately, I was caught between two bosses. One was the grocery manager, who was my direct boss. The other was the store manager, boss of all. They didn't like each other. They also constantly gave me conflicting orders. The grocery manager would tell me one thing. I'd have my guys and I do it. The store manager would get mad and tell me off. So I'd do it his way next time. The grocery manager would get mad and tell me off. I'd explain "Well, the Store Manager told me to do it this way." That would just get me chewed out, because it was his grocery department. I'd tell the store manager "Well, the Grocery Manager told me to do this" and I'd get yelled at that it was his store. No win.
After a few lies from the store manager (various, some about pay, some about shifts), I got fed up. Around Thanksgiving, I got so sick I couldn't leave the bathroom for hours. When I called off, both told me I showed a lack of commitment and was nothing but a disappointment to the company for letting my team down. That my team didn't care was beside the point. I was told to get the holiday backstock out of the backroom in two days or I'd be fired. My crew and I did it. I was proud of them. But behind my back, my assistant was being told that he'd have my job soon anyway, because they were going to find some reason to get rid of me. Nice way to run a business, huh?
So in December I put in for a job with a certain ice cream company. I got interviewed. I got the job, pending a drug test. Now, I don't do drugs. Ever. Not so much as even smoking once in my life. So I knew I would pass it. But the ice cream company told me not to put in my notice until they had an official negative drug test. So I didn't. I told my crew, but nobody else. Being the holiday season, it took an abnormally long time to get that drug test result back.
During that long wait, the store manager decided to demote me. Now, they gave me a few different reasons, all of which were not quite accurate. For example, in order to shut up the whining one night, I told my crew that possibly if we did job A, we wouldn't have to do job B. I planned to do both, but at four in the morning you say a lot of things to shut up whining and get guys working. We did job A. It was close to the end of the shift. We were told we could leave before finishing job B.
Now, in the demotion meeting, it became a little less positive. They claimed I had told my crew that we would do job A and leave job B for the day crew. Not what I said. Especially when you consider we actually started job B and were told to leave before finishing it. But they didn't let those facts get in the way. With a little spin, they had an excuse.
So, I was demoted before I could turn in my two weeks notice for the job I already had lined up. And it pissed me off that I couldn't just tell them I'm leaving, but the ice cream company told me not to. Not four days after my demotion, the result came back and I was allowed to put in my notice. Remember all that, because it's important.
I bored you with that to finish this:
Apparently the assistant who had been fired told them about my demotion. But he told them I was demoted, and only after that did I apply for and get the ice cream job. Basically, he told them I only left that company due to my demotion.
So right off the bat during my interview (with a Jackass), the Jackass begins questioning me. Not outright calling me a liar, but slyly alluding to it. He starts like this: "Did you know Assistant Manager now works here? Okay, this interview is not an interrogation, we just want to make sure we hire the right person. Somebody who turned in a accurate resume and application."
So they ask me about my work history. What I did before, what I do now. Usual stuff. But quickly, Jackass starts asking why I left the last company for the ice cream crew. At first, I don't want to sound negative, or like I'm bashing. So I allude to conflicts in personality with management. But he pushes. So I tell him a few things that happened to explain why I left, but tried to candy coat it as more wanting to explore a new opportunity (which was true-I was leaving for more money, better hours, and more chances to grow professionally). But it wasn't good enough. Jackass kept coming back with "Well, I can understand that, kind of. But even that isn't enough to convince me that you left a company after fourteen years just for that. What I want to know is what's the real reason."
I was frustrated internally. It kept coming back to the reason. I wanted an opportunity and the conflict of personality. It was the truth. But Jackass wasn't buying it because they were told different. So finally I said it plainly: "Look, I applied for and got the job with the ice cream company in early December. I couldn't put in my two weeks until the drug test came back. I knew it would come back negative, but couldn't put in my two weeks until it came back. Days before it came back, I was demoted as I said. Once it came back, I put in my two weeks."
Jackass started to tell me that I must have left because of the demotion. It wasn't about the opportunity, but the demotion. "So you get demoted, then find this new job."
"No. I had the job before I was demoted."
"Did they know this?"
"No, Ice Cream asked me to say nothing until the drug test came back."
"Was there concern about the drug test result?"
"No. I've never done any drugs. But until it officially came back, I couldn't say anything."
"So what I'm hearing is you get demoted, than there's this other job and you leave."
"I had the ice cream job lined up weeks before the demotion."
"But they didn't know that. So you got demoted and left. That's why you left the company after fourteen years."
"Let me explain it. I wanted a new opportunity. I applied with the ice cream company early in December. I got that job by mid-December. I had to wait on my drug..."
"I heard you about the test. But what I'm looking at here is you didn't mention that you left the company because of the demotion on your application with us. You put down you wanted a new opportunity, but there's nothing about the demotion causing you to leave."
"Because I left for the opportunity. The demotion came after I had the job."
"But you didn't put in a two weeks notice. Did you even give them two weeks?"
"Yes, of course. I left on very good terms."
"Did you? After the demotion?"
"I would have been leaving anyway."
"But you didn't have this drug test back. So why not just tell them before they demote you?"
"Until the ice cream company had the official report back, they asked me to remain silent about leaving."
"I don't understand that. If I'm leaving for a better opportunity, I would tell somebody. To leave after a demotion and say that wasn't the reason doesn't really make sense to me."
At which point, I knew it wasn't looking good. So I laid it out (calmly). "It would have been great to just say here's my two weeks before they demoted me, but I was asked not to by the ice cream company."
"Okay, all right. So there's that discrepancy on the application. That's what we'd heard." After a second of shuffling papers. "Any questions for us?"
Now, I had come in with over fifteen questions. I had major doubts about getting the job after the whole reason for leaving debacle. But I thought this might be a chance to redeem myself. Maybe nudge open the door again.
So I asked two questions. Jackass quickly answers them in the most generic way possible. Then he says "One last question. Give me your best one."
So I ask my grand finale question. And he takes roughly three seconds to answer before jumping up and giving me the "We'll be in touch next week if we want to have a final interview".
So I leave pissed off. Because I didn't lie on the resume. I didn't lie during the interview. I stuck with the facts about the whole thing, but Jackass didn't care. He had been told something by the Assistant who stole money and believed it no matter what.
Pissed at myself for sitting there letting them interrogate me like that. Well, letting him. The lady who did the first interview never spoke and rarely even looked at me. Not sure if she felt bad that I was put through this or thought I was such a lying pig that I didn't deserve to be looked at. But I've got a good job now, so I wouldn't have been doing any more damage than had already been done, so I should have told them that nobody calls me a liar and walked out. But I sat there and took it for forty minutes.
Pissed that a excellent job opportunity was gone over a bullshit lie. Besides a step up the ladder with a growing company (different from my current employer), the pay is almost double what I make now. I could do the job described to me in the first interview with my eyes closed. And I would be damn good at it.
But that's all gone now, because somebody I haven't even spoken to in three years decided to trash me, and his word is apparently better than mine.
So it wasn't a great day.
It usually takes a lot to piss me off, but today it happened. And what was a good shot at a great job just eight days ago is now a bad memory to share with people who ask "How'd that interview go?"
Be seeing you.
WHAT I'M READING: The dull McCain book still holds me captive, but luckily it's due back tomorrow so I'll be rid of it. It's like a spell, really.
WHAT I'M WATCHING: X-Files with no lights on. Euro 2008 as it heads to the quarter-finals. Plus, I got "No Country for Old Men" for Father's Day so I want to watch it soon. Way too late to be seeing last year' s Best Picture.
HOPE everybody had a great Father's Day. Mine was excellent. Morning with the boys and wife, afternoon with the in-laws up North. A wonderful dinner, some time at a brand new park, and gorgeous weather. It was good.
Today, not as such.
Had my second interview. I touched on it briefly last time, thinking it might be exciting news. But as the good book says "We may be through with the past, but the past is not through with us." See, it's with this company. First interview went well. Not great, but I'm never a great interview. But good. This time, I was more prepared than ever before. I had notes written down, questions written out. My wife did internet research on the company. I was prepared to rock this bitch.
It went downhill quickly. The lady I interviewed with last time was there, but so was some guy. Maybe her boss. Not sure. They sat me down across from both of them. He smiled and said it wasn't an interrogation. Then he spent the next forty-five minutes interrogating me. Short of the waterboarding, it was as close to Gitmo as I'll get in this lifetime.
See, somebody who once was the assistant manager at a store I worked for long ago apparently also works at this company. And apparently he didn't speak highly of me. I can only think of one real reason why, since we were always on good terms. He had been fired from that old company shortly after I left for stealing money from the cash drawers. I think maybe he didn't want me there to rat him out, as I can't believe they would have hired him if he told them what he did.
I'll break it down. At that job, I was the third shift manager. I was okay. Not great. I didn't love the job, but I did it. Unfortunately, I was caught between two bosses. One was the grocery manager, who was my direct boss. The other was the store manager, boss of all. They didn't like each other. They also constantly gave me conflicting orders. The grocery manager would tell me one thing. I'd have my guys and I do it. The store manager would get mad and tell me off. So I'd do it his way next time. The grocery manager would get mad and tell me off. I'd explain "Well, the Store Manager told me to do it this way." That would just get me chewed out, because it was his grocery department. I'd tell the store manager "Well, the Grocery Manager told me to do this" and I'd get yelled at that it was his store. No win.
After a few lies from the store manager (various, some about pay, some about shifts), I got fed up. Around Thanksgiving, I got so sick I couldn't leave the bathroom for hours. When I called off, both told me I showed a lack of commitment and was nothing but a disappointment to the company for letting my team down. That my team didn't care was beside the point. I was told to get the holiday backstock out of the backroom in two days or I'd be fired. My crew and I did it. I was proud of them. But behind my back, my assistant was being told that he'd have my job soon anyway, because they were going to find some reason to get rid of me. Nice way to run a business, huh?
So in December I put in for a job with a certain ice cream company. I got interviewed. I got the job, pending a drug test. Now, I don't do drugs. Ever. Not so much as even smoking once in my life. So I knew I would pass it. But the ice cream company told me not to put in my notice until they had an official negative drug test. So I didn't. I told my crew, but nobody else. Being the holiday season, it took an abnormally long time to get that drug test result back.
During that long wait, the store manager decided to demote me. Now, they gave me a few different reasons, all of which were not quite accurate. For example, in order to shut up the whining one night, I told my crew that possibly if we did job A, we wouldn't have to do job B. I planned to do both, but at four in the morning you say a lot of things to shut up whining and get guys working. We did job A. It was close to the end of the shift. We were told we could leave before finishing job B.
Now, in the demotion meeting, it became a little less positive. They claimed I had told my crew that we would do job A and leave job B for the day crew. Not what I said. Especially when you consider we actually started job B and were told to leave before finishing it. But they didn't let those facts get in the way. With a little spin, they had an excuse.
So, I was demoted before I could turn in my two weeks notice for the job I already had lined up. And it pissed me off that I couldn't just tell them I'm leaving, but the ice cream company told me not to. Not four days after my demotion, the result came back and I was allowed to put in my notice. Remember all that, because it's important.
I bored you with that to finish this:
Apparently the assistant who had been fired told them about my demotion. But he told them I was demoted, and only after that did I apply for and get the ice cream job. Basically, he told them I only left that company due to my demotion.
So right off the bat during my interview (with a Jackass), the Jackass begins questioning me. Not outright calling me a liar, but slyly alluding to it. He starts like this: "Did you know Assistant Manager now works here? Okay, this interview is not an interrogation, we just want to make sure we hire the right person. Somebody who turned in a accurate resume and application."
So they ask me about my work history. What I did before, what I do now. Usual stuff. But quickly, Jackass starts asking why I left the last company for the ice cream crew. At first, I don't want to sound negative, or like I'm bashing. So I allude to conflicts in personality with management. But he pushes. So I tell him a few things that happened to explain why I left, but tried to candy coat it as more wanting to explore a new opportunity (which was true-I was leaving for more money, better hours, and more chances to grow professionally). But it wasn't good enough. Jackass kept coming back with "Well, I can understand that, kind of. But even that isn't enough to convince me that you left a company after fourteen years just for that. What I want to know is what's the real reason."
I was frustrated internally. It kept coming back to the reason. I wanted an opportunity and the conflict of personality. It was the truth. But Jackass wasn't buying it because they were told different. So finally I said it plainly: "Look, I applied for and got the job with the ice cream company in early December. I couldn't put in my two weeks until the drug test came back. I knew it would come back negative, but couldn't put in my two weeks until it came back. Days before it came back, I was demoted as I said. Once it came back, I put in my two weeks."
Jackass started to tell me that I must have left because of the demotion. It wasn't about the opportunity, but the demotion. "So you get demoted, then find this new job."
"No. I had the job before I was demoted."
"Did they know this?"
"No, Ice Cream asked me to say nothing until the drug test came back."
"Was there concern about the drug test result?"
"No. I've never done any drugs. But until it officially came back, I couldn't say anything."
"So what I'm hearing is you get demoted, than there's this other job and you leave."
"I had the ice cream job lined up weeks before the demotion."
"But they didn't know that. So you got demoted and left. That's why you left the company after fourteen years."
"Let me explain it. I wanted a new opportunity. I applied with the ice cream company early in December. I got that job by mid-December. I had to wait on my drug..."
"I heard you about the test. But what I'm looking at here is you didn't mention that you left the company because of the demotion on your application with us. You put down you wanted a new opportunity, but there's nothing about the demotion causing you to leave."
"Because I left for the opportunity. The demotion came after I had the job."
"But you didn't put in a two weeks notice. Did you even give them two weeks?"
"Yes, of course. I left on very good terms."
"Did you? After the demotion?"
"I would have been leaving anyway."
"But you didn't have this drug test back. So why not just tell them before they demote you?"
"Until the ice cream company had the official report back, they asked me to remain silent about leaving."
"I don't understand that. If I'm leaving for a better opportunity, I would tell somebody. To leave after a demotion and say that wasn't the reason doesn't really make sense to me."
At which point, I knew it wasn't looking good. So I laid it out (calmly). "It would have been great to just say here's my two weeks before they demoted me, but I was asked not to by the ice cream company."
"Okay, all right. So there's that discrepancy on the application. That's what we'd heard." After a second of shuffling papers. "Any questions for us?"
Now, I had come in with over fifteen questions. I had major doubts about getting the job after the whole reason for leaving debacle. But I thought this might be a chance to redeem myself. Maybe nudge open the door again.
So I asked two questions. Jackass quickly answers them in the most generic way possible. Then he says "One last question. Give me your best one."
So I ask my grand finale question. And he takes roughly three seconds to answer before jumping up and giving me the "We'll be in touch next week if we want to have a final interview".
So I leave pissed off. Because I didn't lie on the resume. I didn't lie during the interview. I stuck with the facts about the whole thing, but Jackass didn't care. He had been told something by the Assistant who stole money and believed it no matter what.
Pissed at myself for sitting there letting them interrogate me like that. Well, letting him. The lady who did the first interview never spoke and rarely even looked at me. Not sure if she felt bad that I was put through this or thought I was such a lying pig that I didn't deserve to be looked at. But I've got a good job now, so I wouldn't have been doing any more damage than had already been done, so I should have told them that nobody calls me a liar and walked out. But I sat there and took it for forty minutes.
Pissed that a excellent job opportunity was gone over a bullshit lie. Besides a step up the ladder with a growing company (different from my current employer), the pay is almost double what I make now. I could do the job described to me in the first interview with my eyes closed. And I would be damn good at it.
But that's all gone now, because somebody I haven't even spoken to in three years decided to trash me, and his word is apparently better than mine.
So it wasn't a great day.
It usually takes a lot to piss me off, but today it happened. And what was a good shot at a great job just eight days ago is now a bad memory to share with people who ask "How'd that interview go?"
Be seeing you.
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