Hand Job Security

Often there are things only I know or things only that I can do and my co-workers will suggest that I keep those secrets for job security but I think the Department runs better if more people know more things so I always share my knowledge.

I'll teach you everything I know to date because I know that I'm going to learn something new tomorrow.

...

She asked me to design the letter. She typed the text. After I was finished with Thank You letter that was going to be from her son, the Candidate, she asked my opinion. I told her, "It seems needy." So, she had me change some things. I would have changed a lot more but then it would have been my letter and I didn't feel like lending my voice.

...

The Owner said that when she spoke to the printer, the boss said that she just needed my application file. The Owner inquired as to which application was preferred and it was stated that any application would do.

I had my doubts. I can produce a file in the format of the most common applications. I purchased $1200 worth of Adobe products to be able to do such but I like using CorelDRAW. I've been using it for over a dozen years.

I doubted but I sent my Corel file anyway. I got an email back that the printer couldn't open it.

Yeah, I didn't think so.

She also wanted me to tell her what fonts I used in the design. I've been around long enough to know that unless all your fonts are super standard, you have to convert your text to curves before it leaves your computer.

I doubted her skills.

...

I apologize that this post didn't live up to the title.

The space before the exclamation point is how it was written

I couldn’t remember making the file and I couldn’t remember saving the file, so I opened it.

There was a phrase written twice.

The power behind you is stronger
than the fear in front of you !

The power behind you is stronger
than the fear in front of you !

I couldn’t remember whose file it was but it was a short list of whose it could be. I thought it was a co-op's but then I looked at the file's properties and found out who authored it. It was my predecessor, and that struck me as odd.

He didn’t seem like the type of guy that would have to give himself a little pep talk.

Maybe he wrote the note for someone else.

I wondered way I saved it. I think it’s a bit silly, which could be why I saved it, and if I were to try to convey that message, I would say: “The power within you is stronger than the power in front of you.” I know that it looses some of its poetry but I think it’s a stronger statement and it puts you more in control of the situation. When I hear about the power behind me I want to look behind me to see what that power is.

Both the power and the fear ultimately lie within, you get to choose which is more powerful.

Fear's probably a more common companion for most.

"Hope for the best," I was told - I was hoping for something better

I've been away even though I haven't been anywhere different. I'll drop by the old places when I get a moment and everyone asks what I've been up to; "Nothing much. Just busy," is the usual answer that I give.

You would figure that being busy would afford me some stories to tell; but anything that I can think up is usually more boring than usual. I seem to be racing with the rats more.

I can't speak of the political things I do to my associates because those things are contrary to what the boss of the city wishes and whether I like it or not the city and me have the same boss. I often try not to make things difficult on me.

...

The owner told me that the postcards have brought in some business. I think she said it to encourage me but it just made things worse. It cost me time and effort to help her make money and I will not see any of it. I'm a sucker for staying.

If she were ugly, I would have left a long time ago.

As I was leaving, I nearly ran into her mother, who lives across the street from the office. She asked about whether or not the checks her daughter gave her were any or or not. I said, "The gas is off," as I motioned to across the street, "So I'm guessing, No."

There was so little life left in her mother's eyes; more life gone than having a pig's heart value put into your chest would take.

sincerely,

Nine o'clock on a Saturday morning was an odd time for my cell phone to ring. I didn't recognize the number but I flipped it open anyway.

It was the Candidate. At first I thought, "What the fuck are you doing calling me? You need to be seen with the troops."

The piece I did earlier in the week was being dropped to the whole of the voting district. It takes a lot of volunteers to drop the whole district and the Candidate, the one they are doing the favor for, needs to be seen.

But it's not my race. I don't even live in the district. I'm only in the game because of a mutual friend.

"Yeah, Tim. I just wanted to say thanks. I have a lot of volunteers dropping your piece, and I just wanted to say thanks. I couldn't have done it without you."

I was a little quiet. I didn't know what to say. The last that I heard was that he wanted some design changes so I didn't know where he was coming from, and I still thought he should be spending his time with the troops and not phoning to thank me. Me, I'm safe as house, until the campaign is over or until our mutual friend stops helping him.

I told him that he was welcome and that it wasn't a problem. I had sent the piece to the printers three days prior. I had already moved on, mostly. There were some things that did cross my mind to say but I didn't feel that it was the right time.

I wished him luck.

The next day I was with our mutual friend. I wanted to know if she knew anything about what motivated the Candidate to call me.

"The Candidate called my yesterday to thank me for the piece."

"Aww, that was nice of him."

"Yeah but last I heard he didn't like it; he wanted to change the inside."

"No. He likes it. But that was after he was told to trust our design instincts."

I still think someone put him up to calling me.

I think it was his mother.

I see trouble a brewing

It was 9:27AM. I was waiting for the 9:00AM meeting to begin. My cellphone started to do its impersonation of a dying horse fly by buzzing on its back across the conference table.

I checked the caller ID and then flipped open the phone.

It was the Senior Campaign Manager, he wanted to discuss changes to the piece that was sent to the printers eight hours prior to him calling. He was present when I told him that the piece was sent. The four of us in the room said, “No changes.”

“No changes,” doesn’t actually mean that there could absolutely be no changes, it just means that there will be no design changes. It mean that I’m not going to go moving this thing up a little and that thing down a little, I’m not changing colors and I’m not changing text size or style; or at least not without very good reason.

I worked on the piece for over three days; about twenty seven hours, and that includes working one of those days after an eight hour day job; and it was all for the donut. I get nothing but verbal thank you’s, if I get anything.

He wouldn’t tell me what the changes were, he wanted to discuss them when I had time. I told him that I wasn’t going to get any time. His manner of speaking clued me in that he wanted design changes and if he had told me that on the phone, I would have told him, “No changes,” which is why he probably didn’t tell me.

He shouldn’t be calling me directly anyway and he definitely shouldn’t be calling me at my day job. I work at the request of a friend who is his friend. In my mind, I “work” for her, any changes would have to go through her; and when I’m at my day job, there is nothing I can do to help even if I had wanted to.

I got a chance two hours later to call her; the one I “work’ for, to let her know, the Senior Campaign Manager seemed to be going behind her back and plus I knew she would still agree to no changes.

“Did Jimmy call you?”

She paused before for she said, “Yes he did, and I was very angry that he called you. He shouldn’t be calling you at work.”

“Yeah, I know, but did he tell you the changes he wants? Because he wouldn’t tell me.”

“He told, and I told he we agreed to no changes.”

“Okay, but what did he want changed?”

She told me. They were design changes.

If the requested changes would have improved the piece we would have done them but the changes would have ruined some of the designed purposes of the piece. The changes would have made the piece flat, robbed it of dimension and depth, all of which the candidate’s image needs improving in.

I had wished I was angrier with the situation because I had every right to be angry. Four people in the room approved the design. Four people with experience with design, marketing and campaigns; the candidate is young and the son of the Senior Campaign Manager; who the fuck is he to be questioning the rest of us. Why does his one vote override everyone else’s?

After my day job, I went to her office.

“I can’t believe he said that the Candidate wouldn’t approve the piece without the changes.”

“Yeah, I know. Who’s he hurting? I don’t care if he doesn’t use my work,” I said, motioning at the mockup still spread across the end of her desk.

“And you know it’s true that all of the successes that he has had are with things that we have had a hand in. Nothing else that they have been doing has been working out. He wouldn’t still be in the lead without us.”

“I actually wish that I was angrier with the situation. You and Charlie were more upset than me.”

“He crossed a boundary! He shouldn’t be calling you.”

I also found out that Charlie had not been speaking to the campaign over differences of opinions. They had been asking for his thoughts and then ignoring them. He told me that he only started speaking to them again because he knew that I would be involved with this piece. He said that he was tired of fighting with them.

I see trouble a brewing.

If that's what you really want...

I do most of the print work. If the agents need something printed, they ask me. She's been around since the start, so I don't argue too much with her about her ad copy or ideas for postcards and such; I usually just do it when she seems to have a strong opinion. With others, it would be my way or the highway.

She told me exactly what she wanted and I gave it to her and she liked it.

I hated it.


So, when the owner wanted to order up some more, I redesigned it to more of my liking.



Looking at the top one still makes me a little angry.

Customers were served but there was no smiling.

It was the worst week that I could remember but then I usually don't remember the worst things because I move on from them but towards the end of the week I was rather curt with most people; my patience was gone.

Someone was one vacation so that guy's work load get split between my and my supervisor. The split was about 60/40 in my disfavor. When I have to cover someone else's job, I'm still required to do my own job, only there isn't enough time in my day to do both, so my regular job suffers.

I get a little heated when I can't do my job due to reasons caused by others. It didn't help matters that folks were transferring phone calls from people with complaints to me no matter which desk I was sitting at, even though I had nothing to do with the complaint.

Take a damn message and give the message to the proper person and stop being a lazy complaining do nothing.

There is a whole system setup for folk to lodge their complaints. The system tracts the process step by step. Send the calls there.

All I want is for people to do their job. Why is that too much to ask?

MMmmm, Toasty

At my twenty-fifth high school reunion there were a lot of shaved heads, the easiest remedy for baldness.

I still have most of my golden locks only they are not golden.

I wouldn't say that I dislike my job but when I'm on vacation I'm reminded about how much I enjoy not having to do it.

We started having people over even though the house is still mostly in the remodeling phase. The embarrassment of living in a house in the state it currently is in motivates us to finish some of the remodeling.

We had two cookouts in under a week. The first cook-out was a little difficult to pull off with just my Weber gas grill so before the second cook-out, I bought a Weber charcoal grill. I've never grilled with charcoal before but what I did know was that I was going to grill using lump charcoal and I was going to start the charcoal with a chimney starter because that's what people who know how to grill on charcoal do it.

I can crank the gas grill up to seven hundred degrees when the lid is closed. The charcoal grill seems to get even hotter than that.

I'm learning.

Both times, I toasted the rolls, but just the inside and I brushed melted butter on them first. I got the idea of toasting just the inside of the roll from 'wichcraft, a cookbook by Tom Colicchio. Both groups of people nearly marveled over the toasted rolls and commented how they would always have their rolls toasted from that point on.

People, it was just a toasted roll.

I want to put a pizza stone on the grill and make pizzas. I think a commercial pizza oven is usually set to 700 degrees. My oven tops out at 525 degrees. I think with the grill, I can get closer to the 700.

I gave them cash because they already have enough junk

By chance we were in the elevator together.

"So, is the one bloody nose the worst that happened?"

"Yeah, and that wasn't too bad because at least her parent was there."

That little girl that got the busted nose had the hottest mom there and my own 67 year old mother was the second hottest. The pickings were slim and by slim, I mean nonexistent.

If I'm going to feel obligated to show up at my eight year old niece's birthday party then I think there should be at least a few hot moms around. It was actually a joint birthday party between my two oldest nieces.

I'm not trying to get smarter, I'm trying to get less dumb

I wish someone would pay me money to work on my house.

…

I’m trying to read more. I think reading makes you smarter.

Unless you’re reading dumb shit.


...

I was at my niece’s eighth birthday party on Sunday. It was the first time that I was at my sister’s house but that’s a different issue.

There were kids everywhere and just a few adults, not counting my immediate family and myself, there were six adults. The number of kids was over twenty five.

I got there at about quarter of two; the invite said that the party was scheduled for one. I say by my two younger sisters and my mom. “So what, did people just come by and drop their kids off?” I asked.

There was a large inflatable water slide set up on the side yard, a bouncey house set up nest to that and then a six foot in diameter kiddie pool about two and a half feet deep set next to the swing/play set. There were lots of places for kids to be and those places were spread out.

The rules as I could gather were that there was to be no jumping into the kiddie pool and no one was allowed into the upper portion of the play set.

It was a crazy scene of mostly unsupervised children and about three minutes after I first arrive a little girl was leaking blood from her nose into a beach towel.

I sat watching, hoping not to see what I was very much expecting to see and I would notify my mom who was acting somewhat as a co-host as to certain dangers that I saw.

I left when the pinatas came out and I hoped that my sister’s insurance was up to date.

I will probably cook a duck someday, just to be able to say that I had cooked a duck

That cashier at Borders is dead behind the eyes.

I had waited as long as I could to mow the lawn which turned out to be Sunday at 3:30PM. Half way through the back yard, I remembered that I through away a 16' boat in the household trash. It took awhile. I cut it up into barrel size pieces and every trash day would toss out a couple pieces more. At the time, I had thought nothing of it but now when I think of it, I shake my head.

After finishing mowing the back yard, the side yard and the front yard. I peeled off my sweat soaked clothes and heard the first crack of thunder.

I didn't because it sounds sarcastic

Maybe, I'm mean.

Maybe, I'm rude.

Maybe, I'm both.

I want her to stop talking. I want to find out what her schedule is so I can avoid her. I would rather not see her ever again.

"Do you like to cook?"

"Sometimes," I answer because I fell that is better than, "No, I just like to buy expensive cookbooks with 40% off coupons," even though it's truer.

She then tells me about her Fanny Farmer cookbook and how it's the best general cookbook she has found, and how it's better than the "Joy of Cooking;" it's a story she has told me before.

She watches me. I avoid looking at her, mostly, until I feel her eyes on me. She asks if I've read some title I've never heard of. I assume her question is precipitated by the other two books put I had placed on the counter, paperbacks from the "buy one get one at half price" table. When I answer, "No," she then tells me that I should.

I stand silent as she finishes ringing me up.

She hands back my credit card and says, "Have a nice day, Timothy."

16 is better than 28 but it still ain't good.

Because I'm cooler than you I don't have to work on Breed's Hill Day. Although, it's not actually called Breed's Hill Day.

So, I had planned to take things slowly on my day off, maybe mow the lawn, maybe bake some bread, maybe read a book, or at least some of a book. I started by making coffee and it was a pretty good pot of coffee, I still don't know how I can get such a range of flavor by making coffee precisely the same way every time.

Anyway, when I was in the bathroom, I heard a drip and the drip was coming for the same location as a drip that I fixed a couple of days before so at first I thought maybe I hadn't tightened something properly, but I found out that it was a brand new drip.

The tank on the toilet was dripping from the handle. Personally, I've never seen this problem before mostly because it isn't supposed to happen. The innards of a toilet have an overflow valve that keeps your tank from overflowing and normally this overflow valve is at a point lower than the hole for the lever but mine was such a way that they were just about at the same height so when the fill valve malfunctions the handle hole would drip.

I thought, "No big deal. I'll just replace the fill valve that is malfunctioning," and I even thought that I had one in the basement. In the basement, I notice a lot of water, too much water to be of any good, water coming from the hot water heater. I think I might have said, "Son of a bitch."

Replacing a hot water heater isn't too difficult but it certainly wasn't something I wanted to do on my day off.

I drove to Home Depot and looked at the 40 gallon tanks; it was a 40 gallon tank that was leaking. The price difference between a 40 and a 50 gallon wasn't too much and my house is a two family home and two family homes are supposed to have something larger than a 40 gallon hot water heater, so I got the 50.

It's a 12 year tank, top of the line and with the parts and fittings that I needed, it cost me $765. I had hoped that the value of the house increased somewhat with the larger water heater.

I got the heater into the basement, with some help and some effort and then cut the box away from it and noticed a rather large dent at the top. I let out a breath. The box had shown no signs of damage so I wasn't certain where or how the damaged happened but I knew it wasn't my doing. I had two choices: one was to haul it back out of the basement and return it to Home Depot and the other was to install it and hope that the damage was only superficial but I wasn't certain if Home Depot would take back a previously installed hot water heater.

It was a perplexing decision but then I figured that my powers of persuasion could convince someone at Home Depot to believe my story and not fault me for trying to install a damaged hot water heater that later had to be returned.

Things went well, I had to rerun both water lines and redo the pipe for the exhaust but the gas line pretty much matched up and when it was all said and done, the new tank didn't leak. I think I might have said, "Sweet."

But WTF? One fitting that I needed was $16 and I needed two of them. For sixteen bucks I could almost justify someone stealing one. Sixteen buck for a 1/2 inch union is outrageous. I'll have to price them at Lowes.

I need a day off, I think

I'm so close to saying, "Fuck you."

Only I don't actually say, "Fuck you," you just cease to exist to me. I just stop all contact.

I don't pick up your phone calls.

But I ask myself, "Why now? Why not then? What has changed?"

I usually try to take a step away before I make any lasting decisions. I try to see things from a different angles.

Probably part of me wants to hear her say, "Please don't go."

hi

It took me about three weeks to read Skeletons On The Zahara by Dean King, which is pretty quick for me because I usually will only read a chapter or two at a time right before I drift off to sleep.

(That's the kind of updates you've been missing.)

I got a Certificate of Commendation from the United States Marine Corps. It reads, "Outstanding and selfless support in the planning and execution of Marine Week Boston 2010..."

A Lt. Col. came by my place of employment and handed it to me along with a special and specific coin commemorating Marine Week Boston 2010. It was a day that I was busy doing my own work and busy doing the work of someone else as well, so I didn't get to chat much with the Lt. Col. but a co-worker got a similar commendation so he entertained the Marine.

I took it by the other bar that some of the old regulars hang out at because for a couple weeks whenever they would ask what I was up to I would mention Marine Week.

They were impressed.

I was kind of impressed to.

I was just doing my job, the event did come during the busy season which was annoying but we managed. It was done and done and then we moved on and then the Lt. Col. walked into my office a month plus a week later. It was a surprise.

...

Working for free is getting to me.

I feel somewhat disrespected and it's been hard to shake. I think that if you're working for free that you should get treated better.

Unless you're a slave and then it sucks to be you.

...

I had just finished reading Isle of Passion by Laura Restrepo before I picked up Skeletons on the Zahara. I remember looking at all the unread titles I have sitting about, trying to decide on what to start next.

I'm wondering what to read next.

Nothing tickles my fancy.

I'll probably end up buying something new.

I read a little of Betting on the Muse by Charles Bukowski because I'm still trying to get him but I don't. Maybe because I've heard stories like his in person all my life. I like his writing style but I think his subject holds no interest for me.

I think that I'll read Ham on Rye and if that doesn't do it for me than I will move on.