Once again, I see that it has been a week since my last post. I guess I'm not much of a blogger, but I don't do this for money or fame. In all honesty, I have been busy, but aren't we all?
One trait that I have always enjoyed is learning new things. Sometimes I find myself with several open projects. It took me one month to refinish my dining room table because I had several other projects going on. When I finally finished it though, damn, it looks good. Now it makes the chairs and the buffet look pretty bad. The drop leaf mahogony table in my kitchen not only needs refinishing, it also needs repair. I think I've had that task on my list for about 10 years now. That wire on the cool shell lamp has been waiting on me for almost a year. I guess its a good thing I bought the lampcord six months ago. When you really think about it, I think I can do the whole job in about 15 minutes, so I have no excuse why its sitting here beside me uncompleted. My wife wants me to replace the ceiling fan in the guest bedroom. I want to do it too.
We just moved into a new house. Every interior wall and ceiling could use a new coat of paint, but the office, master bath and guest room are screaming for immediate attention. The others can wait. That will be a project on my 2010 list. Most of our art collection and family pictures are up on the walls, but many still lean against the wall in a neat pile. Their cold stare haunts me as I walk by. What haunts me more is that I need to go back to Atlanta and finish some projects I started at our house there. I'm going there tomorrow night and spending the weekend doing what I should have done before I left. I'm really not looking forward to it, but it has to be done. 2009 is running out quickly.
I forgot to put the ferns in the garage last night. It was 26 degrees when I woke up. They stare at me too. My wife usually feeds the sharks in the Psycho Kitty Memorial Aquarium, but they have been staring at me with that creepy fish eye look. Maybe she forgot to feed them, but they rarely answer me when I ask. Plus, they tend to lie. Its a shark thing. So, I'm going to sign off and pick a project, maybe the lamp or the framed art. But, what I really need to do is....
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
I'm Tired
I'm tired of a lot of things. I'm tired of my older cat puking on the carpet. I'm tired of the younger cat begging for people food and telling our new neighbors that she goes to bed hungry. She doesn't. I'm tired of moving one pile to another in order to finish moving. I'm tired of gas logs. I want to burn real wood like a pioneer.
But I am a news junkie and I use several sources to get my news. I'm tired of the gatekeepers at the mainstream media. I like making my own decisions and I hate how liberal the press has become even more than ever before. I'm tired of the global warming debate. However, I love how the myth has been exposed. I didn't hear this on the mainstream media though. I had to go out and find this on my own. I'm tired of high unemployment. I'm tired of our government trying to spend our last dime. I'm tired of war in general and I'm tired of hearing about anything Somalian. I'm tired of the current real estate market. We bought a house last year with thousands of dollars of instant equity and it is all gone already. I'm tired of Sarah Palin, but I'm even more tired about the millions of people that are going around scrutinizing and bitching about her every move.
I'm tired of Congress. I can't stand Robert Gibbs. His scolding to a reporter yesterday made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. I'm tired of hearing about Tiger Woods. There are more important things in life.
I'm mostly tired of being forced to be politically correct. I have never been one of those persons that openly tried to offend any race, creed, color or religious choice. I don't hate all Muslims and I don't go around using the N word or any other racial term. But if I cry foul that Ron Artest is bragging about drinking Hennesey at halftime in the locker room, I would like to do it without being called a racist. I really want to know how he was able to pull this off and why nobody noticed it before now. What was he trying to accomplish by sharing this with us? I'm tired of Pac Man Jones and Terrell Owens. I don't care if I never see either of them on my TV.
I'm tired of the SEIU and ACORN. I'm tired of Chicago style politics. I want Al Gore to give back most of the money that he made on global warming scare tactics. Now that we discovered the truth about true info being destroyed, I want him to give back his Nobel Peace Prize. I haven't heard from Al yet, he seems to be inconveniently quiet right about now.
I'm tired of hearing about Czars. This whole breach of security at the State Dinner is tiresome indeed. If we can't rely on the Secret Service, then who can we trust? Seperation of power, how convenient.
Yeah, I'm all over the place and randomly ranting. I must be tired. But I'm really only about halfway done. I think this is a good stopping point though. If you disagree and request a debate, then pick a topic. I will address your topic in the order it was recieved. Press #1 for English or Numero #Dos para Espanol.
But I am a news junkie and I use several sources to get my news. I'm tired of the gatekeepers at the mainstream media. I like making my own decisions and I hate how liberal the press has become even more than ever before. I'm tired of the global warming debate. However, I love how the myth has been exposed. I didn't hear this on the mainstream media though. I had to go out and find this on my own. I'm tired of high unemployment. I'm tired of our government trying to spend our last dime. I'm tired of war in general and I'm tired of hearing about anything Somalian. I'm tired of the current real estate market. We bought a house last year with thousands of dollars of instant equity and it is all gone already. I'm tired of Sarah Palin, but I'm even more tired about the millions of people that are going around scrutinizing and bitching about her every move.
I'm tired of Congress. I can't stand Robert Gibbs. His scolding to a reporter yesterday made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. I'm tired of hearing about Tiger Woods. There are more important things in life.
I'm mostly tired of being forced to be politically correct. I have never been one of those persons that openly tried to offend any race, creed, color or religious choice. I don't hate all Muslims and I don't go around using the N word or any other racial term. But if I cry foul that Ron Artest is bragging about drinking Hennesey at halftime in the locker room, I would like to do it without being called a racist. I really want to know how he was able to pull this off and why nobody noticed it before now. What was he trying to accomplish by sharing this with us? I'm tired of Pac Man Jones and Terrell Owens. I don't care if I never see either of them on my TV.
I'm tired of the SEIU and ACORN. I'm tired of Chicago style politics. I want Al Gore to give back most of the money that he made on global warming scare tactics. Now that we discovered the truth about true info being destroyed, I want him to give back his Nobel Peace Prize. I haven't heard from Al yet, he seems to be inconveniently quiet right about now.
I'm tired of hearing about Czars. This whole breach of security at the State Dinner is tiresome indeed. If we can't rely on the Secret Service, then who can we trust? Seperation of power, how convenient.
Yeah, I'm all over the place and randomly ranting. I must be tired. But I'm really only about halfway done. I think this is a good stopping point though. If you disagree and request a debate, then pick a topic. I will address your topic in the order it was recieved. Press #1 for English or Numero #Dos para Espanol.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
My plate is not full!
I noticed that it has been exactly one week since my last post. Apparently, I've been busy moving from one town to the other. The days slip through you fingers like sand through the hourglass. But while I have a moment, I want to bitch about some worn out 'sayings' that haunt me. One in particular is the phrase "My plate is full".
To me, this phrase is stating that you already have too much to do, too little time, and you are not willing to take on any other tasks at this moment. How convenient, huh? Now, I love my sister and she taught me many things throughout my life, but she is one of those people that often refers to her full plate. I think her plate has been full for about three decades now.
Although I learned this phrase 30 years ago, I rarely used it and I rarely heard it. But, when I did hear it, It always struck a nerve. Two examples come to mind along with sidenotes of other phrases too.
First, lets get some things out of the way so I can concentrate on my full plate. When I lived in Charlotte, I had the same boss for years. He often said "Plan your work and work your Plan". Well, thats a great saying, but it is not always practical. Sometimes you hit a snag. Sometimes you find out that your original plan needed a tweak. You might even have found yourself between a rock and a hard place.
Several years ago, my 70 something Mom married a wealthy man that tried to rule her and her grown children with an iron fist. Needless to say, we didn't care much for him, but my Mom loved him, so we remained mum. One day in particular, I had just moved from Charlotte to Raleigh and my car broke down on the beltline. Not having any local friends or a cell phone, I pulled off to the side of the road and walked to the next exit. I called my new stepfather and asked for some help. He told me that I should pull up my own bootstraps. He suggested that I get a job pumping gas at the local gas station. When I told him that gas stations are self serve only and nobody pumps gas for a living anymore, he balked and told me to find a job where a commute was not needed. He told me to plan my work and work my plan. Oh, for God's sake. Having your car die on the beltline on my way to work was not in my plan. He told me that he did not like the fact that I had three different jobs in the past ten years. "You pick a company and you stay with that company through thick and thin". Oh, Paleeeze. Times have changed you old geezer. I'm not staying for the gold watch and I'm not Japanese either. I guess his plate was full. I didn't cry at his funeral.
A few years later, I started getting serious about this golf thing. I decided to find a PGA professional to help me hone my skills. However, I made a poor choice. I chose a guy that was tall and skinny like me. I thought he could teach me to use my leverage to smack that ball to kingdom come. But he was an asshole and I realized that after spending about thirty minutes with him. We started out on the range and he asked me to pull out my 8 iron and hit the ball to a target 120 yards away. I told him that I use an 8 iron for targets about 160 yards away. If you want me to hit a 120 target, a pitching wedge would do nicely. He got angry and told me to do what he said. So, I hit the target with my 8 iron, but I didn't understand the syllabus, and I asked him what we were trying to accomplish. He told me not to question his motives. But that was where he and I differed. I don't want to just know how, I also want to know why. At the end of my first lesson, I told him that I did not pay him big bucks to teach me how to hit an 8 iron, I hired him to help me get leverage, accuracy and depth required to reach the next level. That arrogant tall drink of water looked down at me and pointed his finger in my face. He said "Wow, you sure do have a full plate, don't you?" That was the last time I saw that guy. My heart was hardened and I drove away frustrated. Maybe I should just pump gas for a living near my house like Gomer and Goober in Mayberry. I tried for months to rationalize his teaching methods and thought maybe I was wrong and he was right. But I came to my senses and decided that he was an asshole. In reality, PGA professionals are a dime a dozen. What works for him doesn't really work for me. I needed a new pro.
I found that new pro, but this time we sat down and talked before we went to the range. I told him that my plate was full. I want to change this but I don't want to change that. Can you help me? He did. My plate was not full anymore. He opened doors for me that I never knew about. He pulled back the curtain and showed me that Oz was just an insecure man pretending to be something bigger than he was. Don't dream it, be it.
As time went by, I got my own certification, but my wife was struggling at work. She was the one that assigned the jobs with a deadline. She distributed the work evenly, but there was that one prima donna that never wanted anything new. She was too busy planning her wedding and used her work hours to talk to caterers and her mommy. "Don't you roll your eyes at me, I'll just go and talk to your boss. My plate is full." It turns out that the boss had a stiffy for this girl, so she could continue her wedding plans and forget about deadlines. He could beat off in the shower and she could use her workplace for personal use. Deadlines were never met because her plate was full.
So, I don't ever want to hear somebody tell me that their plate is full. Their cup runneth over. Seasons change, people change. Plates are often emptied and you put them in the dishwasher. You get a new plate. I guess we all have full plates, but do we really? I don't. I'm not dead yet and I have lots of new people and new adventures to seek. I have room on my plate and I hope you do too.
To me, this phrase is stating that you already have too much to do, too little time, and you are not willing to take on any other tasks at this moment. How convenient, huh? Now, I love my sister and she taught me many things throughout my life, but she is one of those people that often refers to her full plate. I think her plate has been full for about three decades now.
Although I learned this phrase 30 years ago, I rarely used it and I rarely heard it. But, when I did hear it, It always struck a nerve. Two examples come to mind along with sidenotes of other phrases too.
First, lets get some things out of the way so I can concentrate on my full plate. When I lived in Charlotte, I had the same boss for years. He often said "Plan your work and work your Plan". Well, thats a great saying, but it is not always practical. Sometimes you hit a snag. Sometimes you find out that your original plan needed a tweak. You might even have found yourself between a rock and a hard place.
Several years ago, my 70 something Mom married a wealthy man that tried to rule her and her grown children with an iron fist. Needless to say, we didn't care much for him, but my Mom loved him, so we remained mum. One day in particular, I had just moved from Charlotte to Raleigh and my car broke down on the beltline. Not having any local friends or a cell phone, I pulled off to the side of the road and walked to the next exit. I called my new stepfather and asked for some help. He told me that I should pull up my own bootstraps. He suggested that I get a job pumping gas at the local gas station. When I told him that gas stations are self serve only and nobody pumps gas for a living anymore, he balked and told me to find a job where a commute was not needed. He told me to plan my work and work my plan. Oh, for God's sake. Having your car die on the beltline on my way to work was not in my plan. He told me that he did not like the fact that I had three different jobs in the past ten years. "You pick a company and you stay with that company through thick and thin". Oh, Paleeeze. Times have changed you old geezer. I'm not staying for the gold watch and I'm not Japanese either. I guess his plate was full. I didn't cry at his funeral.
A few years later, I started getting serious about this golf thing. I decided to find a PGA professional to help me hone my skills. However, I made a poor choice. I chose a guy that was tall and skinny like me. I thought he could teach me to use my leverage to smack that ball to kingdom come. But he was an asshole and I realized that after spending about thirty minutes with him. We started out on the range and he asked me to pull out my 8 iron and hit the ball to a target 120 yards away. I told him that I use an 8 iron for targets about 160 yards away. If you want me to hit a 120 target, a pitching wedge would do nicely. He got angry and told me to do what he said. So, I hit the target with my 8 iron, but I didn't understand the syllabus, and I asked him what we were trying to accomplish. He told me not to question his motives. But that was where he and I differed. I don't want to just know how, I also want to know why. At the end of my first lesson, I told him that I did not pay him big bucks to teach me how to hit an 8 iron, I hired him to help me get leverage, accuracy and depth required to reach the next level. That arrogant tall drink of water looked down at me and pointed his finger in my face. He said "Wow, you sure do have a full plate, don't you?" That was the last time I saw that guy. My heart was hardened and I drove away frustrated. Maybe I should just pump gas for a living near my house like Gomer and Goober in Mayberry. I tried for months to rationalize his teaching methods and thought maybe I was wrong and he was right. But I came to my senses and decided that he was an asshole. In reality, PGA professionals are a dime a dozen. What works for him doesn't really work for me. I needed a new pro.
I found that new pro, but this time we sat down and talked before we went to the range. I told him that my plate was full. I want to change this but I don't want to change that. Can you help me? He did. My plate was not full anymore. He opened doors for me that I never knew about. He pulled back the curtain and showed me that Oz was just an insecure man pretending to be something bigger than he was. Don't dream it, be it.
As time went by, I got my own certification, but my wife was struggling at work. She was the one that assigned the jobs with a deadline. She distributed the work evenly, but there was that one prima donna that never wanted anything new. She was too busy planning her wedding and used her work hours to talk to caterers and her mommy. "Don't you roll your eyes at me, I'll just go and talk to your boss. My plate is full." It turns out that the boss had a stiffy for this girl, so she could continue her wedding plans and forget about deadlines. He could beat off in the shower and she could use her workplace for personal use. Deadlines were never met because her plate was full.
So, I don't ever want to hear somebody tell me that their plate is full. Their cup runneth over. Seasons change, people change. Plates are often emptied and you put them in the dishwasher. You get a new plate. I guess we all have full plates, but do we really? I don't. I'm not dead yet and I have lots of new people and new adventures to seek. I have room on my plate and I hope you do too.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Change you can believe in?
Granted, I've been offline for over a week, but I still have TV, radio and newspapers to keep in touch. Its not quite the same in these days of the information superhighway, but its all I had.
So, somebody correct me if I'm wrong, but I heard that the new bill introduced by our current administration includes fines and/or jail time for citizens that don't have health coverage. I don't think that this will ever really happen in our lifetime, but I have heard rumors that Nancy Pelosi and Barack Obama support this type of new legislation.
Whether this is true or not, the mere fact that people are talking about this disturbs me greatly. Could you imagine that you are so poor that you cannot afford private health care. Yes, we all know that there is Medicare and Medicaid, but the Joe Public is being squeezed here.
According to the pending plan, people that can buy health insurance must buy it or be fined or imprisoned for not doing so. This includes wealthy people that decide to be self insured and pay their own medical bills out of pocket. Could even the most reasonable person even imagine this type of scenario. Our prisons are already overcrowded with drug dealers, rapists, murderers and ingrates. Where are we going to put these people behind bars? Build more prisons with stimulus money? Put Aunt Bee in jail because she paid the Doc in cash? I don't like the path this trip is taking. This includes the abortion issue. I have always been a pro-choice person, but I think you should pay for your own abortion. My tax dollars should not go to kill your unborn child. If you want to kill your baby, that is your choice, but don't ask me to help fund it.
So here is my take on the House of Representatives: I think they are a bunch of clowns. When I lived in Georgia, we had this girl named Cynthia McKinney that made all of us look bad. She represented most of the clowns in Congress. Aren't there about 400 plus people in the HOR compared to 100 some Senate members? I rely on the Senate to make honest opinions, but if they don't, I will be here to protest in a civil protest kinda way.
So, lets put it like this. Most people my age are having kids that are going off to college or even graduating from college. How would you like it if they were headstrong and decided that they were young and vibrant and felt no need to buy health insurance? Their employer didn't provide it and they decided to roll the dice? Do you want our government to fine or imprison them? Where are they going to put them? Where are they going to put the rich people that pay their own health care bills? Oh, I can just see it now. " What are you in for?" Well, I murdered three people, what are you in for?" Well, I didn't buy health insurance!
I was born in the USA and I thank God for that. I will be damned if I will step aside and let my neighbor get fined or imprisoned for making his own choices in this country. I can choose cable over Direct TV or I can choose AT&T over Windstream. But if somebody forces me to choose one way only or go to jail, I will choose jail. Folks, this is America, the greatest country ever imagined. Nobody is going to put me in jail or fine me for making a Constitutional right to say NO to the ongoing debate in Congress.
As a prologue, I can't believe that most of you bleeding heart liberal left wingers want this either. It is most of your children that are going to be most affected by this type of legislation. Lets put your kids in jail. Even though they have no room for them and they have no budget for it, lets do it anyway. They can sleep on cots and eat grits until you either bail them out and let them sleep in your basement or change the current policy provided to our wonderful and all knowing Congress. Change you can believe in? I don't think so.
So, somebody correct me if I'm wrong, but I heard that the new bill introduced by our current administration includes fines and/or jail time for citizens that don't have health coverage. I don't think that this will ever really happen in our lifetime, but I have heard rumors that Nancy Pelosi and Barack Obama support this type of new legislation.
Whether this is true or not, the mere fact that people are talking about this disturbs me greatly. Could you imagine that you are so poor that you cannot afford private health care. Yes, we all know that there is Medicare and Medicaid, but the Joe Public is being squeezed here.
According to the pending plan, people that can buy health insurance must buy it or be fined or imprisoned for not doing so. This includes wealthy people that decide to be self insured and pay their own medical bills out of pocket. Could even the most reasonable person even imagine this type of scenario. Our prisons are already overcrowded with drug dealers, rapists, murderers and ingrates. Where are we going to put these people behind bars? Build more prisons with stimulus money? Put Aunt Bee in jail because she paid the Doc in cash? I don't like the path this trip is taking. This includes the abortion issue. I have always been a pro-choice person, but I think you should pay for your own abortion. My tax dollars should not go to kill your unborn child. If you want to kill your baby, that is your choice, but don't ask me to help fund it.
So here is my take on the House of Representatives: I think they are a bunch of clowns. When I lived in Georgia, we had this girl named Cynthia McKinney that made all of us look bad. She represented most of the clowns in Congress. Aren't there about 400 plus people in the HOR compared to 100 some Senate members? I rely on the Senate to make honest opinions, but if they don't, I will be here to protest in a civil protest kinda way.
So, lets put it like this. Most people my age are having kids that are going off to college or even graduating from college. How would you like it if they were headstrong and decided that they were young and vibrant and felt no need to buy health insurance? Their employer didn't provide it and they decided to roll the dice? Do you want our government to fine or imprison them? Where are they going to put them? Where are they going to put the rich people that pay their own health care bills? Oh, I can just see it now. " What are you in for?" Well, I murdered three people, what are you in for?" Well, I didn't buy health insurance!
I was born in the USA and I thank God for that. I will be damned if I will step aside and let my neighbor get fined or imprisoned for making his own choices in this country. I can choose cable over Direct TV or I can choose AT&T over Windstream. But if somebody forces me to choose one way only or go to jail, I will choose jail. Folks, this is America, the greatest country ever imagined. Nobody is going to put me in jail or fine me for making a Constitutional right to say NO to the ongoing debate in Congress.
As a prologue, I can't believe that most of you bleeding heart liberal left wingers want this either. It is most of your children that are going to be most affected by this type of legislation. Lets put your kids in jail. Even though they have no room for them and they have no budget for it, lets do it anyway. They can sleep on cots and eat grits until you either bail them out and let them sleep in your basement or change the current policy provided to our wonderful and all knowing Congress. Change you can believe in? I don't think so.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Out of Office Reply
Here we go again with another missed manifesto. Oh well, this will only last a few more days. I don't know what is wrong, but the kitties are safe and the sharks are pissed about moving. I'll be back in a few days.
Friday, November 13, 2009
See ya, Wouldn't want to be ya!
This is an incredibly long post. It borders on autobiography. But it is a great way for me to collect my thoughts and avoid doing all the chores I need to do before the moving van comes on Monday. So bear with me while I ramble on. ....
I have lived in several places in my life. When I make a list, I seem somewhat nomadic, but I don't think so. Of course I spent the first 22 years of my life in South Charleston, WV. Now this figure includes 4 1/2 years in Morgantown. I have never really left a place without a twinge of regret except maybe Columbia, SC. That all changes on Wednesday of next week. I have no regrets for leaving Atlanta.
In 1986, the unemployment rate in WV was in double digits. After graduation, I became a licensed life insurance salesman for The Equitable. Selling life insurance on commission only was tough in such a depressed economy. I was going broke and people would avoid me, knowing that I might try to pre-qualify them as a potential client. I was miserable and I searched everyday for another job. My girlfriend was up in Morgantown going to graduate school and the only job I found was selling Skyliners and Three ways at Skyline Chili. Before I get too far off track, let me just say that Skyline Chili is the worst tasting chili of all time. I don't know how they stayed in business. Well, they didn't in Charleston, WV. Anyway, I knew I was going to snap when a lady had a special order. For all my effort, the lady tipped me a quarter. Yes, she gave me a quarter. With one fell swoop, I knocked that quarter out into the hallway of the Town Center Mall. It rolled across the floor and into the hostess stand at Bennigans. I had another job interview anyway and because it was my third interview with the same company, I thought for sure that the job was mine.
When I met with the HR dude, he showed me a stack of 37 resumes. He told me that I had come in second place. Do what now? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Don't call us, we'll call you. I went home and me and my dog Barney started packing our bags. I'm moving to Charlotte. It was very hard to leave and I probably wouldn't have done it except for the fact that my girlfriend promised to join me when she graduated.
Charlotte was shiny and new and I was an internal auditor. After four years, one of our competitors came calling and offered me a job in Columbia, SC. I took the job and the company car and learned my way around. Thirteen months later, I gave them back their car and took my old job back in Charlotte. However, the company had changed. My new boss, also from WV, was an asshole. After nine years in Charlotte/Columbia, I started looking for greener pastures. I moved to the Raleigh area and stayed at my mom's house while I looked for a new job.
Raleigh was a good fit for me. I met a little girl with a kitten named Gizmo. I changed her name from Teresa to Shug and Gizmo became Psycho Kitty. We all became a family in 2003. We got a cute little place in Wake Forest where Psyches was free to torture the neighborhood. Shug wanted another kitty, but I feared for its safety. Why? Because when I brought home that Snoopy doll wearing a Santa hat, Psycho Kitty beat the ever loving shit out of him. I honestly don't know whether Psyches ever figured out that Snoopy was a doll made out of fluff and stuff. But I had never seen a triple jab, roundhouse sucker punch in less than two seconds. Psyches made Mike Tyson look like a boxer in slow motion. Snoopy sat under the Christmas tree beside the Nutcracker, but you could tell he was uneasy every time Psyches walked by. But we got the kitty anyway and just called her little kitty. On her first visit to the vet, they needed to know her name. However, we had never really decided on one, so I stood there for a minute and pondered. After a few uncomfortable moments, I told them her name was Emily Dickinson.
Shug finished grad school with honors and passed the CPA exam on the first try. She went straight to PriceWaterhouse Coopers. But she literally worked about 70 hours a week, no joke. And here I thought being a restaurant manager sucked, but this was ridiculous. When the recruiters got a hold of her, the job offers were staggering. One in particular was really tempting, but it was in Huntsville, Alabama. We talked about it for a long time and decided it was too good to pass up. I left North Carolina after 18 years kicking and screaming like a toddler. I hated Alabama with a chip on my shoulder and Psycho Kitty lived the rest of his life under protest.
In retrospect, Alabama was not bad at all. Yeah, I had to make all new friends and I hated being a restaurant manager. All I ever wanted to do was be a golf pro. Shug traveled the world at her new job. For a girl that had never been outside of North America, she visited 10 countries in Europe and Asia in a short period of time. However, after only 18 months, her company went from public to private and there was a high possibility that her job would be phased out. ING wanted her badly, but they were located in Atlanta. I started packing my bags that very day, but Shug left Alabama kicking and screaming like a toddler. She hated living in Atlanta with a chip on her shoulder. Sounds familiar, huh?
Shug got promoted three times in two years and I found my dream job. Although it took me two years to get certified, I was now a golf pro. All I can say about that is be careful what you wish for. The grass is seldom greener on the other side. Atlanta has many pros but also has many cons. In fact, the cons heavily outweighed the pros in our opinion.
The turning point for me happened only six months after moving to Atlanta. I was sitting in traffic in my wife's nearly paid for convertible when a hit and run driver plowed into the back of me. He slammed me into the van in front of me and totaled the car. I was able to get his license plate number, but he was long gone before Atlanta's finest showed up at the scene. The Atlanta Police Dept. has their very own hit and run division. It is run by the dumbest, most inept Keystone cops I ever saw. It took them six weeks to investigate the accident. When I raised my voice in protest, they told me that they had over 4000 cases per year. I was nobody special to them and I would just have to wait my turn. By the time they inspected the suspect, his truck showed no damage, so they closed the case. Like Ramses, my heart grew harder and my lofty disdain was set on a path that would someday lead me to the promised land.
The drought brought heavy water restrictions and the poor economy was extremely harsh in Atlanta. Shug hated her job. She hated her idiot boss. She hated his idiot boss too. She hated 9 out of 10 of her co-workers and subordinates. It got so bad, that she used to cry every morning before leaving for work. Because of the poor economy, the golf industry took a beating. People had to decide between golfing or groceries. As a result, my employers turned up the heat on us salaried employees. Everything here was a hassle. Going to a Braves game was a hassle. No, I don't have any spare change and I don't want to buy your fake Gucci bag. Going to a concert was a hassle. Traffic was a hassle. Every day was like taking your life in your own hands and hoping you could make it through the day. There were only two things that kept us here. One was that we bought an awesome house on Lake Acworth and the other was the poor economy. Better jobs were nil and we both felt stuck where we were.
Shug was ready to quit her job and do anything but what she was doing. She would wait tables, mix paint at Home Depot or pick up aluminum cans along the interstate. Then one day out of the blue, a big time recruiter got a glimpse of her resume. He called her and said he had good and bad news. The good news is that he found a perfect job for her. The bad news is that the job was in Birmingham, Alabama. Shug and I looked at each other with that mind meld thing we have. I winked and she smiled. She went to the interview to be a manager, but they liked her so much, they made her a Vice President. When Shug gave her notice at ING, they went into a frenzy. Who was going to babysit her idiot boss? Who was going to make the trains run on time. One week after she left, ING divested. They are selling the insurance side and keeping the bank. Her idiot boss and his idiot boss will probably be out of a job within a year.
Shug loves her new job. Its not about the money though. Its about the attitude, the respect and the feeling of satisfaction at the end of each day. People in Birmingham will stop and say Hello or Welcome. Most people in Atlanta would do neither. Birmingham is slower paced and quite mountainous. It reminds me of my home town. Atlanta reminds me of what it must be like to live in prison. We already have more friends in Birmingham than we did in four years of Atlanta, and I haven't even moved there yet. But that all changes on Wednesday.
I will miss the few friends I have here in Atlanta, especially the WVU Peach State Alumni crowd. But when the moving van leaves my driveway, I'm not looking back. We closed on our new house a few days ago. I don't regret moving to Atlanta, but I can honestly say I won't miss it. All of the Georgia Bulldog fans (especially the ones that never matriculated), the City government employees, the Cobb Co. police and the aggressive drivers can kiss my ass. I'm taking my ball and I'm going home. See ya, wouldn't want to be ya!
I have lived in several places in my life. When I make a list, I seem somewhat nomadic, but I don't think so. Of course I spent the first 22 years of my life in South Charleston, WV. Now this figure includes 4 1/2 years in Morgantown. I have never really left a place without a twinge of regret except maybe Columbia, SC. That all changes on Wednesday of next week. I have no regrets for leaving Atlanta.
In 1986, the unemployment rate in WV was in double digits. After graduation, I became a licensed life insurance salesman for The Equitable. Selling life insurance on commission only was tough in such a depressed economy. I was going broke and people would avoid me, knowing that I might try to pre-qualify them as a potential client. I was miserable and I searched everyday for another job. My girlfriend was up in Morgantown going to graduate school and the only job I found was selling Skyliners and Three ways at Skyline Chili. Before I get too far off track, let me just say that Skyline Chili is the worst tasting chili of all time. I don't know how they stayed in business. Well, they didn't in Charleston, WV. Anyway, I knew I was going to snap when a lady had a special order. For all my effort, the lady tipped me a quarter. Yes, she gave me a quarter. With one fell swoop, I knocked that quarter out into the hallway of the Town Center Mall. It rolled across the floor and into the hostess stand at Bennigans. I had another job interview anyway and because it was my third interview with the same company, I thought for sure that the job was mine.
When I met with the HR dude, he showed me a stack of 37 resumes. He told me that I had come in second place. Do what now? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Don't call us, we'll call you. I went home and me and my dog Barney started packing our bags. I'm moving to Charlotte. It was very hard to leave and I probably wouldn't have done it except for the fact that my girlfriend promised to join me when she graduated.
Charlotte was shiny and new and I was an internal auditor. After four years, one of our competitors came calling and offered me a job in Columbia, SC. I took the job and the company car and learned my way around. Thirteen months later, I gave them back their car and took my old job back in Charlotte. However, the company had changed. My new boss, also from WV, was an asshole. After nine years in Charlotte/Columbia, I started looking for greener pastures. I moved to the Raleigh area and stayed at my mom's house while I looked for a new job.
Raleigh was a good fit for me. I met a little girl with a kitten named Gizmo. I changed her name from Teresa to Shug and Gizmo became Psycho Kitty. We all became a family in 2003. We got a cute little place in Wake Forest where Psyches was free to torture the neighborhood. Shug wanted another kitty, but I feared for its safety. Why? Because when I brought home that Snoopy doll wearing a Santa hat, Psycho Kitty beat the ever loving shit out of him. I honestly don't know whether Psyches ever figured out that Snoopy was a doll made out of fluff and stuff. But I had never seen a triple jab, roundhouse sucker punch in less than two seconds. Psyches made Mike Tyson look like a boxer in slow motion. Snoopy sat under the Christmas tree beside the Nutcracker, but you could tell he was uneasy every time Psyches walked by. But we got the kitty anyway and just called her little kitty. On her first visit to the vet, they needed to know her name. However, we had never really decided on one, so I stood there for a minute and pondered. After a few uncomfortable moments, I told them her name was Emily Dickinson.
Shug finished grad school with honors and passed the CPA exam on the first try. She went straight to PriceWaterhouse Coopers. But she literally worked about 70 hours a week, no joke. And here I thought being a restaurant manager sucked, but this was ridiculous. When the recruiters got a hold of her, the job offers were staggering. One in particular was really tempting, but it was in Huntsville, Alabama. We talked about it for a long time and decided it was too good to pass up. I left North Carolina after 18 years kicking and screaming like a toddler. I hated Alabama with a chip on my shoulder and Psycho Kitty lived the rest of his life under protest.
In retrospect, Alabama was not bad at all. Yeah, I had to make all new friends and I hated being a restaurant manager. All I ever wanted to do was be a golf pro. Shug traveled the world at her new job. For a girl that had never been outside of North America, she visited 10 countries in Europe and Asia in a short period of time. However, after only 18 months, her company went from public to private and there was a high possibility that her job would be phased out. ING wanted her badly, but they were located in Atlanta. I started packing my bags that very day, but Shug left Alabama kicking and screaming like a toddler. She hated living in Atlanta with a chip on her shoulder. Sounds familiar, huh?
Shug got promoted three times in two years and I found my dream job. Although it took me two years to get certified, I was now a golf pro. All I can say about that is be careful what you wish for. The grass is seldom greener on the other side. Atlanta has many pros but also has many cons. In fact, the cons heavily outweighed the pros in our opinion.
The turning point for me happened only six months after moving to Atlanta. I was sitting in traffic in my wife's nearly paid for convertible when a hit and run driver plowed into the back of me. He slammed me into the van in front of me and totaled the car. I was able to get his license plate number, but he was long gone before Atlanta's finest showed up at the scene. The Atlanta Police Dept. has their very own hit and run division. It is run by the dumbest, most inept Keystone cops I ever saw. It took them six weeks to investigate the accident. When I raised my voice in protest, they told me that they had over 4000 cases per year. I was nobody special to them and I would just have to wait my turn. By the time they inspected the suspect, his truck showed no damage, so they closed the case. Like Ramses, my heart grew harder and my lofty disdain was set on a path that would someday lead me to the promised land.
The drought brought heavy water restrictions and the poor economy was extremely harsh in Atlanta. Shug hated her job. She hated her idiot boss. She hated his idiot boss too. She hated 9 out of 10 of her co-workers and subordinates. It got so bad, that she used to cry every morning before leaving for work. Because of the poor economy, the golf industry took a beating. People had to decide between golfing or groceries. As a result, my employers turned up the heat on us salaried employees. Everything here was a hassle. Going to a Braves game was a hassle. No, I don't have any spare change and I don't want to buy your fake Gucci bag. Going to a concert was a hassle. Traffic was a hassle. Every day was like taking your life in your own hands and hoping you could make it through the day. There were only two things that kept us here. One was that we bought an awesome house on Lake Acworth and the other was the poor economy. Better jobs were nil and we both felt stuck where we were.
Shug was ready to quit her job and do anything but what she was doing. She would wait tables, mix paint at Home Depot or pick up aluminum cans along the interstate. Then one day out of the blue, a big time recruiter got a glimpse of her resume. He called her and said he had good and bad news. The good news is that he found a perfect job for her. The bad news is that the job was in Birmingham, Alabama. Shug and I looked at each other with that mind meld thing we have. I winked and she smiled. She went to the interview to be a manager, but they liked her so much, they made her a Vice President. When Shug gave her notice at ING, they went into a frenzy. Who was going to babysit her idiot boss? Who was going to make the trains run on time. One week after she left, ING divested. They are selling the insurance side and keeping the bank. Her idiot boss and his idiot boss will probably be out of a job within a year.
Shug loves her new job. Its not about the money though. Its about the attitude, the respect and the feeling of satisfaction at the end of each day. People in Birmingham will stop and say Hello or Welcome. Most people in Atlanta would do neither. Birmingham is slower paced and quite mountainous. It reminds me of my home town. Atlanta reminds me of what it must be like to live in prison. We already have more friends in Birmingham than we did in four years of Atlanta, and I haven't even moved there yet. But that all changes on Wednesday.
I will miss the few friends I have here in Atlanta, especially the WVU Peach State Alumni crowd. But when the moving van leaves my driveway, I'm not looking back. We closed on our new house a few days ago. I don't regret moving to Atlanta, but I can honestly say I won't miss it. All of the Georgia Bulldog fans (especially the ones that never matriculated), the City government employees, the Cobb Co. police and the aggressive drivers can kiss my ass. I'm taking my ball and I'm going home. See ya, wouldn't want to be ya!
Red bars on the modem
About two hours ago, I wrote a manifesto that described why I decided to start this blog up again. It was chock full of wit and reason for why I left and why I came back. I created several paragraphs and proofread it all. I clicked the submit button, but it didn't work. I looked over and saw that my modem had a red light on it.
My manifesto was gone and I don't have time to create it all over again. I will get back to you on that note. In the meantime, I have invited many of you to come here as an alternative to social networking sites such as FaceBook. Here, you can say what you want. Here, you can use curse words if you think that will make your post more important. Although I'm not the F bomb kinda guy, I often use unsavory words to make a point. I also don't have a word limit like many websites. Feel free to state your mind no matter how many words it takes.
We don't do PC here. Say want you want and say what you think. There will be no censoring and there will be no flaming. All opinions are welcomed here and we appreciate them. A good debate brings in all sorts of ideas for a better future. Call a spade a spade without being PC. There will be many facts shown on this blog, but it will also include opinions. If your opinions differ from mine, then speak up. I'm not always right and need to hear from people to set me straight.
I hate that my manifesto is gone. It was so good. I read it three times before the red light came on. But I will be back and I will make some posts soon. Keep me in mind. Right now, I'm getting ready to move to Alabama, so I might not be around, but I will try to make a daily post. If you are already here, feel free to peruse my old posts.
Page me later! DRP
My manifesto was gone and I don't have time to create it all over again. I will get back to you on that note. In the meantime, I have invited many of you to come here as an alternative to social networking sites such as FaceBook. Here, you can say what you want. Here, you can use curse words if you think that will make your post more important. Although I'm not the F bomb kinda guy, I often use unsavory words to make a point. I also don't have a word limit like many websites. Feel free to state your mind no matter how many words it takes.
We don't do PC here. Say want you want and say what you think. There will be no censoring and there will be no flaming. All opinions are welcomed here and we appreciate them. A good debate brings in all sorts of ideas for a better future. Call a spade a spade without being PC. There will be many facts shown on this blog, but it will also include opinions. If your opinions differ from mine, then speak up. I'm not always right and need to hear from people to set me straight.
I hate that my manifesto is gone. It was so good. I read it three times before the red light came on. But I will be back and I will make some posts soon. Keep me in mind. Right now, I'm getting ready to move to Alabama, so I might not be around, but I will try to make a daily post. If you are already here, feel free to peruse my old posts.
Page me later! DRP
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)