Level up

Well, thank goodness I’m not one of those guys. The “gamers.” I don’t sit at home, hours on end, foregoing eating and sleeping because I’m exploring a fantasy world full of monsters and strange beings with weird powers.

No, instead I sit at home for hours on end saving the galaxy, exploring a world full of aliens and stoic people with Force powers. I am that guy, but only until I finish this game! I swear it.

Then it’s back to marathon sessions of Tony Hawk Pro Skater.
-t


recommended download:
Lucky Boys Confusion, Atari

Walkaway

I can’t leave without thinking about not coming back. I think, if I had a million dollars there is nothing that would be more satisfying than just walking away. Get up, take my jacket, take my bag, and leave. Leave the computer on, leave work unfinished on my desk, don’t tell anyone where I’m going, don’t tell anyone I’m not coming back.

That would be the most satisfying thing I could do. I won’t, because I am not independently wealthy, but I would like to.

I will tell you though, that when I eventually quit, I will walk out like any other day. No big party at a bar so social alcoholic coworkers have an excuse to drink, no farewell cake – because there is nothing I despise more than cake at the office. Nothing.

I can hardly wait.
-tgme

recommended download:
Less Than Jake, Union

3-2-1, CONTACT!

You know what time it is?! IT’S COUNTDOWN TIME

Today is October 31st, 2005. I leave for Milwaukee, embarking on the BIG DRIVE OH FIVE, on Dan Goldin Day weekend (extended), November 16th, 2005 through November 22nd, 2005.

I then return to work for one, one day, then it’s Thanksgiving! Then I return to work for one day, then it’s a weekend!

Then it’s back to the grind.

But, for right now? --SIXTEEN DAYS UNTIL BIG DRIVE OH FIVE—

More later. Thanks for checking in ;)

-t


recommended download:
Saves The Day, A Drag In D Flat
The Irish Descendants, Barret’s Privateers

Mr. Sandman and I are gonna have a long talk the next time I see him...

WHAT A DREAM I HAD LAST NIGHT! Man it was great, in that “man, that dream was so freaky I’m going to remember it for a really, really long time in a very creepy way” sort of way.

So. I think what prompted this was a conversation I had with my friend Kate, she’s moving to a new apartment. This conversation reminded me about the last time I was in her current apartment: I crashed there after a night of heavy drinking. So, that became the setting of my dream. Now, since none of you have seen Kate’s apartment I want you to instead picture instead a person you know named Kate, and that person’s apartment, as the setting of my dream, because, as you will later see, the description and layout of the apartment is immaterial to the important parts of the dream.

So. I’m sleeping on the couch in Kate’s apartment (picture your friend Kate’s apartment with a couch that I could fit on). And I wake up, it’s morning. And I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. And I’m a little blurry-eyed (probably from being super tired and also hungover) and I reach for my toothbrush, and a tube of some name-brand toothpaste, Crest maybe, it’s light blue and there are sparkles or some stupid gimmick. And, without really looking I put some on my toothbrush and start brushing my teeth.

Ok, this is the good part of the dream coming up. I just wanted to warn you so you can put down whatever you’re doing before you read on…

So I’m brushing, and I’m realizing this toothpaste is bad. It doesn’t taste bad, but it’s…dry, sort of…paste-y. So I look at the tube, and in one glance I see that it’s expired, and that there are tiny little spiders living in the toothpaste. TINY SPIDERS IN THE EXPIRED TOOTHPASTE! Can you believe it?

So, my brain, accustomed as it is to figuring things out, offers an explanation in my dream state: Clearly these little spider eggs were in the toothpaste and it was ok to brush with it as long as they were still eggs, but after the expiration date those little eggs hatched to become spiders. Which were now crawling all over my teeth.

Ok, here’s how the dream ended:

I started to get freaked out because there were thousands of tiny spiders in my toothpaste, and then I thought “well…I’m bigger than they are.” And finished brushing my teeth totally UNCONCERNED about the spiders that may or may not be crawling around inside my stomach and esophagus.

That’s when I woke up for real.

-t


recommended download:
Ozma, Baseball

Step back

I

Am
So


Tired.

I am dealing with some heavy physical and mental fatigue here. Exhaustion is not a bad word to use in this case. I. am. tired. Now, thank you for reading, everybody go over and read Felecia’s blog now.

GOOD MORNING COCKROACH!
-t

recommended downloads:
The Platters, Only You

Decisions, decisions

You know, I think I’m waiting for someone to catch me online, or on AIM, while I’m at work. I may be subconsciously setting myself up for a fall – because I’m lazy.

I’m all about easy. I like making as few decisions, taking as little action, as possible. Right now, getting fired would make things easy. I wouldn’t have to think about when to update my resume, if I should start looking for another job, or stick with this one, if I should kill myself for another promotion or just sit back. If I get fired, I’d have to get another job, the decision would be made for me.

That’s what I’m about: Taking steps now to reduce the number or scope of future decisions. Proper planning is the key to happiness.

It’s how I approach every aspect of my life. I anticipate as many possibilities as I can that stem from a given situation. I then formulate a plan of action (or inaction) designed to set me on the path to the best of those possible outcomes.

It’s worked so far, mostly.
-t


recommended download:
Matt Nathanson, Car Crash

Yawn

I stayed up last night to watch the world series, and, as it turned out, it was the longest game in world series history. Fourteen full innings (matching the most innings played in a world series game), lasting more than five hours (breaking the record for time), and it was in the CENTRAL TIME ZONE. I was watching in the eastern time zone. So, the Astros and White Sox got to go home and sleep at one o’clock in the morning, and don’t have anything to do until they show up at the ballpark for tonight’s seven-thirty game, I went to bed at two o’clock and was woken up by the plumbers who came today to install the new bathroom at seven-thirty AM(eastern).

So I’m a little tired. I guess it’s ok, I remembered most of everything I need today, and I remembered that I’m leaving early (woo!).

I brought my iPod with the Matt Nathanson show on it to give to Felecia, and I remembered to bring the usb cable, just in case.
I remembered to grab my phone from the charger so I wouldn’t be without it today.
I remembered that thing I had to do for work first thing in the morning, and did it.
I forgot Lindsay’s birthday gift.

So, one thing, that’s not so bad – and L didn’t even want it. So guess it works out, right?

-t


recommended downloads:
Kate Earl, Hero
The Shins, Saint Simon
Theme, The A-Team

A year and a day (about)

My iPod warranty just expired. I received a courtesy call from Apple extending an offer to extend the warranty for another year, for only sixty bucks. Covering screen, hard drive, battery life, the works. I declined. If this iPod ends up going down you can bet your ass I’m going to take it apart to look inside it…and I’ll be buying a newer generation one too, because what better excuse could there be? None, that’s right.

Anyway, this courtesy call prompted the post because the iPod was the Very First Thing I bought with money from my job. I’ve been here, earning enough money to spend, for a year. I do not know how I feel about that, but I do know I wanted to share it with the readers. Hello, readers.

-t


recommended download:
West Side Story, Tonight (Reprise)

bored-bored-bored-bored-bored

I…Am…So…BORED.

I can’t believe it. There is NOTHING to do right now. Even hypermanager is wandering around shooting the breeze with the kids in the group. No one is online. I have no new emails. I have read every blog I have linked, and commented back and forth on this one.

I…have…nothing…to do.  HELP ME.

I need distractions, and you know what make great distractions? Things available for purchase. What should I look at? What should I compare? What should I try to find deals for? I’ve done digital cameras. I’ve done cars. I’ve done laptops, hell I’ve even priced laptop batteries. I need a new topic.

This would not be so bad if craigslist weren’t blocked. Then I could laugh at the personals and search for a ping pong table.

GAH

-t


recommended download:
Marcy Playground, Punk Rock Superstar
The New Pornographers, Ballad Of A Comeback Kid

Matt Nathanson 10-21-2005

Friday night I went to the Matt Nathanson concert. It was phenomenal.

I drove in and met John at his apartment. We would have left right away, but he was playing some dumbass playstation game and looking up cheats for it online. He insisted I help out by reading the game walkthrough until he got back to full life or something. It was pretty dumb.

Then, we walked to the Paradise, where we were carded. It was an eighteen plus show, but if you were drinking (or legally old enough to) you got a wristband (white and orange) and if you were underage you’d get an X drawn on your hand.

So we get in there, and it’s John’s first time in the club, so we scope out a good place to stand, and find one, upstairs, near the bar. It was a nice spot, because while we waited for the show to start we could make fun of the tool sitting right below us. Wearing “fashionably” ripped jeans, at least one leather wristband (with star cut outs) and a black blazer with an upturned collar and lapels, he was “you know, studying for his LSATs” and it was his “first night not studying in months,” so he was “going to get ‘wasted’.” And he knew someone at Harvard so he wouldn’t have any trouble getting in, but he was studying just in case. I was tempted to throw my beer at him – but I didn’t.

Then, the opening act took the stage. Kate Earl, and she was amazing. She played a few songs on the piano with some drums and bass, then took a few solo on the piano, even dedicating one song to an audience member, and finished with Officer on the acoustic guitar. She had a great voice and was very happy to be playing, and she totally looked at me like three times. Right at me.

The next guy was a tool. He basically mimicked popular bands instead of playing original music. John and I spent the set at the bar naming which band the current song was ripping off like The Spin Doctors, R.E.M., John Mayer, and Nickelback, among others. Finally, after what seemed like six albums worth of other groups’ songs pawned off as his own he played a legitimate cover of the Jackson Five (ABC), which was fun, upbeat, and probably should have been his opening number. The whole audience got into it (and how could you not, it’s the Jackson Five), instead of just the underage girls who would scream at any twenty-something guy with shaggy hair and a close-fitting shirt that got onstage with a guitar (and had been his whole set). After that I stopped listening.

Then, the headliner, Matt Nathanson got on stage and, like every other Matt Nathanson show, it rocked. I forget what he started with, but among the first few songs he played were Princess, Car Crash, and Jesse’s Girl (Rick Springfield cover). The show was amazing. John and I were standing to the right of the stage, on the second floor. We were close to the bar, had a good view, and the bouncers that were patrolling the room weren’t giving us any trouble at all.

That is, until John started fiddling with his “I’m 21 and can drink if I want to” bracelet. Moron.

John decided, because the glue on the wristband was pulling at his skin, he would take it off. So he did. He fiddled and pulled a little, and tore, and peeled, and eventually got the band off, and dropped it to the ground. About two minutes later the bouncer (who I have previously mentioned walking past us three or four times and not hassling us) started to hassle John. “Where’s your wristband?” he said. “Oh, it, um, it… fell off….but it’s right here! Under this table!” said John. At which point he ducked under the table to retrieve it.

Unfortunately, club policy (apparently) is that no one is allowed on the premises without a wristband (or an big X on their hand). So, John was “escorted” out of the club. This was almost the half way point of the set, and the guys on stage had just started a cover of The Who’s Baba O’Reilly so when John called my phone from outside in front of the club I told him I’d wait until the song was over and then join him outside. Moron.

So, when they finished the song I made my way out through the throng and instead of joining John out front I stopped at the merchandise table because Kate Earl was sitting right there! She was talking to some hippie but he didn’t stay long. So I introduced myself and asked if I could buy a cd. We talked about her set (how good it was) and about where she’s from (Alaska), and how long she’s been playing the guitar. She showed me some pictures of the tour she’d put up on myspace and it was great. Then I mentioned that the kid I came with was a dope and got kicked out of the show, so I had to go meet him outside, and as I was getting up to leave she asked if she could sign the cd I bought! So, of course I said yes, and she wrote “To Tom, [heart] Kate” and then on the inside of the jacket she wrote “Thanks for chatting! [heart]”

John (and Donny, and maybe someone else) thought I should have asked for her number. Because that would have been the perfect opportunity, and they’re right. But I missed it.

Anyway, so I missed the second half of the show, and the three encores, but John and I ate some pizza nearby and then decided to go back and, why not, ask Kate Earl for her number.

So we walk back to the club and I head in, with John behind me and the guy at the door stops us. “You can’t come back in,” he said. He was looking right at John. “You’ve been escorted out of the club, you can’t come back in.” So I looked at the guy and I said “I can go back in, right?” and he was like, “Yep, no problem.” So I got back in there but there were a bunch of people surrounding the table and Kate was talking to like six guys including the tool that performed second, and it didn’t look like I was going to get an opportunity. So I left. But I waited around inside a little bit just to make John have to stand in the cold longer.

It was a great concert. I bet the end was good too. But, since I’m a nicer guy than I thought I might be, I left with John instead of staying for the whole thing. What a good friend, right?

Anyway, last night I got the whole concert in mp3 format, so it’s almost like I didn’t miss it. Which is pretty sweet.

-t


recommended download
The Jackson Five, ABC          

Beacon

I’ve got big plans. Big plans I say. Dan Goldin Day is fast approaching, and along with it BIG DRIVE OH FIVE. I am excited. I anticipate driving a lot longer than I anticipate, and getting lost in the great city of Chicago. Luckily I will still have free OnStar in my brand new GM vehicle, so I can ask them for directions. I think the free trial runs out in February (so after that no more long road trips – ha!).

-- Ok, I’m going to interrupt this post about BIG DRIVE OH FIVE because my manager just walked over to remind me that I had a class today that began at 9am and lasts all day. This would mean I would not have to do any work at all. I forgot all about it.

Which is a little strange, because getting out of work and the group for a day seems like something I’d remember…on the other hand I don’t remember a lot of schedule-oriented stuff, my brain latches on to more of the “obscure childhood cartoon” kind of information, and counts on reminders (like post-its, calendars, and microsoft outlook) to help out. And the training office is usually good about stuff like this, they send two confirmation emails for every class, and a third email confirming you received the confirmation emails, then a reminder email the day before the class – usually. This week though, no emails from the training center. So I blame them. I’ll just have to reschedule the class for the next available timeslot.

Well, me skipping out on an Excel seminar may mean I have to deal with the group today, but it works out better for you: If I had been in class I wouldn’t be able to post. –

That’s all for now folks… we’ll see what happens later on.
-t


recommended download:
The New Pornographers, Electric Version

I Can't Believe It

I just got, via the trading board's ftp site, the recordings of the Matt Nathanson concert from Friday Oct 21st. The one John got kicked out of (btw, John I'm giving you the opportunity to post the story, but if you don't I will).

It's all here. FLAC converted to mp3 for my media player. This is like, on the list of top ten things that could have happened Monday night, right below "having that girl I have a crush on ask me out," well, no, actually, this might be right above that on the list.

And, I'm going to Milwaukee in November, I'm going to miss the MN tour by one day. I guess I'll just have to listen to Friday's show. *-D

-t
recommended download
The New Pornographers, Mass Romantic

An Expensive Habit

I’ve got expensive tastes. I am a consumer at heart. No, scratch that. I am an acquirer at heart. I buy things, and then I keep them. Computers, movies, books, toys, games, clothes, everything. I think the only things I actually consume are food items.

This is one of the reasons I think I would make a good rich guy. I would buy everything. Well, you know, not everything, but almost certainly one of everything.

Which brings me to my reason for posting, my expensive habit: I buy things that cost money.

Recently I’ve been really acquiring too many dvds. To wit: Danger Mouse season one and two on dvd. Lost season one on dvd. Unleashed (unrated) on dvd. Sideways on dvd. Kingdom of heaven on dvd. The Muppet Show season one on dvd. That’s in the last two weeks.

Also: Star Wars Battlefront for xbox. and Enter the Matrix for xbox.

But worse than that, is I want more.
more more more more more more more more more more

I’m trying to recapture my youth here. I want it to be as if I’d never left. I want to have these television shows from my childhood (for example) for my kids to watch. To round out my collection I need

• Count Duckula season one on dvd


• Bananaman on dvd (not released)


• G.I. Joe on dvd (I’ve got all the episodes (that’s right, every single episode) on vhs, but that’s lame)


• Transformers (obviously, esp. the movie! damn that movie was great)


• Gem (maybe)


• Silverhawks


• Thundercats (maybe)


• He-Man (probably not, the toys were wicked cool though)


• The Mysterious Cities of Gold


• Square One


• 3-2-1 Contact


• Possibly Eureka’s Castle, Fred Penner’s Place, David the Gnome, and that crazy show where the mannequin came to life after the department store closed (which was freaky...)


• The Muppet Show (seasons two through six)


• Sesame Street


• Fraggle Rock (probably)


• Batman the animated series (I think)

Plus, I’ll probably need a lot of the great shows that are on right now, like The West Wing, Gilmore Girls, Friends (maybe), and Arrested Development.

I need more money. This is probably why I haven’t quit my job.

-t


recommended download:
Theme, The Mysterious Cities of Gold
Theme, Silverhawks      
and
Relient K, I’m Lion-o

Hyper-ventilating

Stick around and make a career out of it, or quit this stupid job and get a different (stupid) job. I have been back and forth approximately twenty-three times since arriving at work this morning.

Hyper-manager is back from his two weeks in Hawaii. You can feel the tension in the group. He hasn’t said anything to me and I can already feel my stress level rising. He’ll find something we did wrong during the past two weeks and go crazy, it’s the exception not the rule, so we’re all just sitting here anticipating a hyper-manager meltdown. Even if we did everything right and he doesn’t go off this apprehension-laden atmosphere is not good for the ol’ ticker.

The senior manager had scheduled a group meeting this morning where he informed us that two higher-ups on the other side of the floor have given their notice and are leaving their custody group within the month. Since our group is the most put-together, smooth-running thing management has ever seen, they’re going to shift senior manager over to the custody group, and leave our group in the care of, you guessed it, hyper-manager.

In addition, the VP of the division just moved his secretary out to the same set of cubes our group is in, so he spends a lot more time hovering around our group than he formerly did. Now, I don’t care much where the VP spends his time, but everyone else around me is acting like spooked deer. They’re jittery and paranoid, they’re snapping at people and hunched in front of their monitors to pre-empt any casual over-the-shoulder reading by the VP. You could copy, collate, and staple the tension in this place into a nice report for a two-hour media presentation on the dynamics of the modern American workplace.

The AVP, meanwhile, is contemplating moving our group to the other side of the floor, you know, for kicks. No one is excited about that prospect, me especially, because it means packing up all the crap in our desks. Instead of filing I basically just stack things on top of other things, so that would mean an end to my paper fortress.

Those are the storm clouds. There is also a bit of a silver lining:

If our senior manager takes over the custody group permanently, then a shift from my current position in this group into a new position in that group becomes much more likely. And, since it is a custody group, it will be way easier than this one. And, since hyper-manager won’t be moving, it will be way easier. And, coincidentally, that is the same group that the pretty girl is now working in – which, actually, would not make it easier, it would just add a new layer of confusion and distraction to my every day life. Which would be great for you, because I know you’re all dying for something interesting to read…What better way to fulfill your cravings than with more deluded stories about the pretty girl?

That is a terrible silver lining.

-t

recommended download:
Kate Earle, Officer

Peddling Influence

I have to say that in my experience writing is a very personal thing – and when I say “personal” I mean “selfish.” Maybe just me? Fine. I’m a selfish guy. I admit it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I admitted it like the last time I posted.

Anyway, I like writing about me. I really like people who like reading about me. Because I’m the center of the universe. Or should be.

Ideally, I’d like the gain enough influence that I can not just affect, but direct, thousands of people. I want the kind of clout Paris Hilton has. I say “it’s cold,” you say “it’s cold.” You follow? Good.

So, to further my quest for power, and respect, and influence, I think I need to take a couple steps:

Get Linked: It’s easier to get a following when more people listen to you, so if more people link to this site, my audience will grow (by leaps and bounds, probably, because I’m such a talent), after the audience is big enough…

Dupe the audience: It sounds cynical, but it’s true: people are sheep. I know, I know, you’re reading this now thinking “I’m not a sheep.” but you are. You’re my sheep. – Hang on, maybe I don’t want sheep. I want to totally direct and control the audience…ok, I’m changing animals, from now on I’m thinking of you as lemmings, and I’m the head of the lemming pack who says “HEY! I’ve got a great idea! Let’s all go for a swim!!” and then point to the water so everybody takes off. Then I sit back in my little lemming beach chair sipping coconut rum and laughing while you all plunge over the cliff side.

Repeat: Obviously, if I send my whole audience to their (metaphorical) deaths (metaphorically, I swear. I would never tell you to actually jump into the ocean (unless I thought I could get you to do it…(because then I would really consider it, long and hard))) then I’ll have to get a new audience. (ha! Did you have trouble following that sentence? Fragments? Split participles or infinitives? Terrible grammar? IT’S ALL PART OF THE DRAW, BABAY!)

So, I’m a big fan of step one, because I don’t have to do anything.
I’m a big fan of step two because that’s where I actually exercise all this power you (the audience) have given me.

Sincerely,

Tom : )

    

Destiny, (You cannot escape your...)

I have never, ever, questioned my destiny. Well, maybe one time after a long night of drinking MGD at the beach and ending up lying on the dunes staring at the vastness of the Milky Way and contemplating my existence on galactic scale I may have had a moment or two of doubt – but I swear that was the only time, and it was the influence of the (sweet, sweet) alcohol.

At no other point have I ever questioned or worried about “the big questions” like “what am I doing with my life” and “does my job define who I am” and possibly “is there anyone on the planet more beautiful than nicole kidman (just after her divorce from señor psycho, when she loosened up and started wearing heels again)”

The reason I haven’t considered these questions, the reason I’ve never worried about my destiny is because I worked it all out when I was in, like, sixth grade. I decided, sitting in my tiny little desk, in a tiny little classroom, of a tiny little parochial school, in a somewhat but not really tiny suburb of boston, that I would be happy. That is, I decided that I would end up happy. It was quite a defining moment.

You may have heard the expression “everything will be ok in the end; if it’s not ok, then it’s not the end” That’s sort of what I decided, and I’d managed to do it about seven years before I’d heard that expression for the first time. It turned into a personal philosophy almost by itself. Nothing got me down, there was no situation without a silver lining. By the time I graduated high school I wouldn’t spend more than two minutes agonizing over a bad situation. I could take one look and think to myself “well, I’m sure this has a resolution, and if I think about it a little I’m sure I could come up with the best one” Not that I ever did, mind you – that’s right, I would NOT ACTUALLY SOLVE ANY PROBLEMS – even though I could have, because I’m a pretty smart guy. The very fact that a happy resolution existed was enough for me.

I had discovered a philosophy that allowed me to be happy and avoid applying myself. It’s really been a great stress-reducer. I can’t even recognize bad situations anymore. My default expectations are good, and wholesome, and pure. Walking down a dark side-street in the city late at night approached by a hulking figure in a hooded sweatshirt, some would see a potential mugger; I see a guy out for a walk who could use a warmer coat.    

I have no aspirations. I have no goals. I don’t aspire to be happy, because I know I will be. I guess you could say I’m like a religious fanatic, I practice optimism. But it’s better than most organized religions I know (like those damn Christian religions) where you have to, you know, do something to earn salvation; mine’s much more like the early Puritan religions: They believed you’re damned from the start, and no matter what good you do in life you’re going to burn. It’s not cause and effect, it’s already been determined. Same for me. I’m gonna be happy.

And isn’t that a nice thought?

-t


recommended download:
Star Wars Jedi Master (techno remix)    

These are the things that happen (another stupid kid entry)

Our VP just got a new secretary, she sits near the group. Today was her first day on the floor so her sister came and took her to lunch. (To preempt the question she is about thirty eight years old, not the ‘hot secretary’ stereotype). She sits right near the stupid kid.

I got an email from Jack, who sits next to the stupid kid, I’d like to share with you:

Stupid kid asked the secretary if her and her sister are maternal twins and if it was a split egg.

I can’t believe it. I don’t know if anything can top it… I know I should be dreading tomorrow, but I’m almost (almost) looking forward to it.
-t



Really, I can’t believe it.

Just Go Already

So there’s this group behind us and they got a new kid, I think his name’s Kevin. (He’s sitting in cute girl’s old cube). Anyway, he’s training this week and next, which really means he gets to cut out of here at like 3:30 every day until he gets his own funds.

Jonathan, the Opie&Anthony fan, is the new manager of that group, and sits next to the new kid, directly behind me. So today, at just about 3:30 the new kid gets up to leave. Pulls on his pullover, starts to sling his backpack onto his shoulder, and Jonathan gets his attention and starts motioning with his hand, pointing down, down, down. The new kid is standing there, on arm holding the backpack like “wha?” So Jonathan stands up and says “Sit down, the big boss,” and here Jonathan motions with his eyes and a little head nod toward the VP, “is right there.”

So you know what, Kevin? Don’t listen to him. You’re done with your work for today, go home. Walk right past the VP on your way to the door. Leaving for the day does not make you look bad. It does not make Jonathan look bad. The VP is not keeping a mental list of people he can lay-off.

I find this situation a little aggravating. This will only come back to haunt you, Jonathan,  if you allow people to express their disapproval in a passive aggressive manner. STOP BUYING INTO THE GAME. Honestly.

Here is what I would do, if I were…
Kevin: I would leave. Screw you Jonathan and your “sit down sit down! gesturing”
Jonathan: I would let Kevin leave
VP: I would not be paying attention to this group, I would continue to work on whatever it is I’m working on that brought me out to the floor. (which, I’d like to point out, is exactly what the VP did – he did not look up once during the whole thing.) He did not look up and glare at someone walking out the door and make a note of his name so he can torment him and underpay him and make his manager’s life miserable for the next few years.

After two minutes Jonathan let the kid leave.

Stupid corporate america.
-t


recommended download:
Dropkick Murphys, Walk Away
        

Ma'am, JUST THE FACTS, OK!?

I don’t think I’ve revealed much personal information here over the past however long I’ve been posting. I’d wager the majority of these posts are gripes about work (as it should be). Please allow me, then, to change direction for a bit.

Personal Facts about Tom (the author):
My favorite color is blue.
I prefer Xbox to Playstation2, and N64 to either.
I would make a really good rich guy.

Ok. Well, that was fun, wasn’t it? Actually, rereading that I’d have to say those are personal opinions, not facts. How about another shot:

Personal Facts about Tom (the author) (revised):
My sister’s birthday falls on Christmas Eve.
Wisconsin is known as “the land of beer and cheese.”
Puppies are not colorblind.

There. Well, no, wait. Those are facts, but none are about me. Maybe there’s a reason most of these posts haven’t been about me. Maybe I have trouble revealing things about myself to anonymous readers. I’ll try again. Here we go, real facts, about me:

Personal Facts about Tom (the author) (revised) (twice):
My name is Tom.
I keep a weblog.
I have posted twice today.

HA! It worked that time, didn’t it?! Ha ha ha. In your face phobia-about-revealing-too-much-to-too-many! I win! Oh, wait…no. Those facts suck. You know what? Screw it. Here’s a fact about me: I can follow directions. Here’s another fact: I’m good at giving directions. Now I’m going to issue some directions for me to follow: Tom, this is Tom, reveal some personal facts to your readers. Now.

Personal Facts about Tom (the author) (as directed):
I am 6’2” and I like being tall.
I can (and will) recite all the dialogue from the Star Wars movies word-for-word, and, while some people find this annoying in others, I find it charming, especially if the person doing the reciting is an attractive female.
I like to tell myself that I like girls who read, when in fact, I like girls who talk about good books they’ve read, and why they like them. I cannot remember a single instance of ever even glancing twice at a girl absorbed in a book. I don’t like the impression that I am not the focus of their attention.
I am conceited, arrogant, selfish, and (sometimes) mean. Well, ok, I’m not really mean. I am definitely arrogant and selfish. Lately I have not had the opportunity to be conceited, but it’s sort of a default attitude for me.
I love hooded sweatshirts. They are the greatest invention of all time, except for Tony Hawk Pro Skater for Nintendo 64. The only things that even come close, on the entire scale of human experience and invention, are sliced bread, and the remote control.
I hate working hard, especially to better myself. I really only pursue courses of action that I can succeed in without gaining knowledge or experience. This is why I’m will never study for something like the GMAT or LSAT. If I can’t pass those tests with the brainpower I now possess I don’t want to.
I can rationalize and justify with the best of them (but I don’t always respect myself afterward).

Ok, one last fact:
I thought the entire premise for this post was thin, flimsy, and only marginally clever, but I wrote it anyway so I could recommend a song, and I am thrilled to death you suffered the whole way through it (except for you people out there – and I know who you are – who skipped to the end, you I will have to keep an eye on).

-tgme


recommended download:
Phantom Planet, Always On My Mind

Double-oh-BONG

I think they should make a stoner movie called “James Bong.” His agent number would be (obviously) 420, and in Q division everything would turn into a bong or a lighter.

"Here we are Agent 420, this shoe is specially designed to turn into a bong"
"And your watch is actually a lighter"
"And this briefcase, holds a wide assortment of snacks, including peanut butter crackers, twinkies, and microwaveable hamburgers"

I think that would be a good movie, or a good SNL sketch – too bad they WONT RETURN MY EMAILS. Dude, I could totally write for Saturday Night Live. I’m a white middle-class male age 18-24, I’m the key demographic. What I say, goes. Right?

The Bong girls names would be names for marijuana. The super-villain’s girl would be Mexican Red, the good girl would be Mary Jane Sweetleaf. Damn. This practically writes itself.

-t

3 15 4 5

Writing a secret code on rubber bands to fling around the office:
Materials:
Ruler (wooden)
pen (preferably black)
rubber bands
encoder (ie A=1, B=2, etc)

Step One:
     Select a message to encode, and encode it. This can be the trickiest step, remember, proofread your code! Having a conspirator decode “Lice, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” instead of “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” can be embarrassing; I often find popular quotations are a good place to start if you can’t think of anything on your own. For this example we will be encoding “Give me liberty, or give me death!”  (Patrick Henry), because it does not apply to office life.
     According to our encoder the message becomes: “7 9 22 5 13 5 12 9 2 5 18 20 5 25 15 7 9 22 13 5 4 5 1 20 8”

Step Two:
     Select a rubber band.

Step Three:
     Carefully stretch the rubber band along the length of the ruler.

Step Four:
     Using the pen, write each number, legibly, and in order, on the rubber band.

Step Five:
     Remove the rubber band from around the ruler. BE CAREFUL! At this point in the process it is not uncommon for the code-master (you) to become excited at nearing completion, and, distracted by the thoughts of becoming a master spy, let slip one end of the ruler, allowing the taut rubber band to contract, thus flinging the other end of the ruler across the room at an unwary third party (hopefully not your boss). Keep a firm grip on that ruler.

Step Six:
     Determine the recipient of your coded message, and…FLING the rubber band in their general direction, being careful to avoid eyes and mouths of coworkers.

-t
recommended download:
23 5 5 26 5 18, 10 1 13 9 5

Now all I need is a de-coder ring

Ok, so I’ve decided to start writing coded messages and leaving them around the office…what I’m looking for is a nice simple, breakable, code. Nothing ridiculous, but something that isn’t totally obvious either…these are, after all, “secret” messages.

Right now I’m using a replacement code (A=C, B=D, C=E and so on) and then reversing the letters, but… it seems a little clumsy. I’d appreciate any solutions to the problem.

ecuecfkpina aqwtu,
-v

tgeqoogpfgf fqypnqcf:
nkv, cffkevgf

Like poetry...

“I want you, and no one….no one else will do” I’ve got this song in my head and I love it. It’s a fun, catchy song with some smooooooth vocals and jazzy piano and accompaniment. I’d say it’s probably about once every three weeks or so I’m lucky enough to stumble on a song I can play over and over and over with a grin on my face. This is one of those songs and I like it so much it gets its own post just so I can recommend it.

Rachel Yamagata, I Want You

Go ahead and get yourself a copy. It’s real nice. After you listen to it a few times, hit me back…does it remind you of anyone, or anything…does its musical style evoke thoughts of a particular group or dynamic…is it great or excellent…is it too good for words? I don’t know. Keep the hits coming.

Last night I was directed to listen to some New Pornographers, so tonight I’ll try and hear some of their stuff…if I can stop listening to Rachel here for long enough.

-t

Tacky

New floors. New floors are the most recent addition to our recent addition. The house now looks fabulous. Which, technically, no, that is a lie. The addition and the new floors look fabulous. The rest of the house looks like the inside of pressure-maintenance hatch 3263827. That is, it is a disaster.

No matter. The new floors are amazing. They hardwood, laminated to perfection, and totally ready to be walked on. OH NO – WAIT - THEY HAVEN’T DRIED YET!

Oops. My family forgot to mention that the upstairs hallway was replaced by the same guys that laid the new floor and the laminate is still a little tacky. And now also has a nice, very well defined imprint of my size thirteen left shoe right at the top of the stairs.

Thanks family.

Well, that’s the upstairs. The downstairs looks amazing. A giant 20x16 ft. room in new shiny polished oak, gleaming like a big pool of water. I can hardly wait to start moving furniture in there and scratching it up.

The last time we did the floors I was about twelve, I think. We had boards balanced on cinderblocks crossing the living room, dining room, and the front hall. Trying to get from the foot of the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, and then from the kitchen out the front door from school was like a game of Super Pitfall for the old NES. But instead of alligators leaping up to kill you, it was tacky poly gleaming up at you, and the threat of dad killing you that was the real danger.

We’ve already go the plumbers and electricians scheduled to come do the finish work, lay the baseboard, finish the bathroom, and then it’s livable. I’ll be able to move into my very own room by Thanksgiving time. (Except during Thanksgiving it won’t be my very own room, because I’m sharing it with my brother when he’s home from school…so technically it’s “our” room, but thinking practically, it’s mostly just for me, me, me.) We’ve got plans to put in a big tv, the Xbox, a couch, a mini-fridge, and a small computer desk. Though, to fit it all we may still have to bunk the beds. Which is fine with me…(I like being near the ceiling?).

It’s going to be painted blue, I think.
-t

recommended download:
The Old 97’s, Designs On You

Tic-Toc

My day is a pendulum which swings wildly between nodes of boredom and frustration. It swings without regard to the laws of physics demonstrated by Da Vinci or illustrated by Newton’s Laws. Tic-Toc.

Tic – Ten thirty, nothing to do.
Toc – Ten forty-five, stupid kid needs help tying funds.
Toc – Eleven fifteen, research another bad rate
Tic – Twelve, nothing to do. Too early to leave for lunch, too late to adjust income.
Tic – Two, back from lunch, nothing to do.
Tic – Three, traders leave the floor. I sit at my desk
Tic – Four, in ten minutes we might see some action…
Toc – Four fifteen, stupid kid has income problems that should have been picked up two hours ago. This will take half an hour to fix while the rest of the group starts turning in their funds.

Meanwhile, these posts are really starting to bore the hell out of me. What’s the deal folks?! I haven’t been able to write comically or coherently for weeks now…maybe longer than that. I’ve nothing left to work for. I’ve hit the end of my rope… Cute girl left. Pretty girl moved to the other side of the floor, and we’re all at least 98% certain she’s not going to go out with me, especially after being mocked by John and Felecia at that bar, I don’t think anything less than a 25% salary increase would make the day-to-day dealing with the stupid kid worth it…there’s nothing left for me here. I’m tapped out.

Maybe that’s really true. Maybe I’ve stumbled upon the problem. With pretty girl out of the picture I don’t have any reason to come in to work – except for the work, and that’s really the worst reason to go into work on the planet. What are my options? Do I bail on the group? Do I leave the company? Do I retreat to a remote cabin in the wilderness and start typing a manifesto outlining the problems with corporate America? Or ditch it all, take a pair of jeans and my leather jacket and whatever I can fit in a knapsack and hitchhike my way across the country? Maybe I’ll buy a ticket to Mexico, start up a resort, partner with the neighboring drug dealers until a buy goes bad, then have to shoot my way out of that hell hole with M-16 machine guns stolen off of dead body guards while the hotel burns to the ground around me. Of course, I’ve been trained especially for these types of situations, so I’d get out of there unscathed, and I’d probably rescue the girl, too, assuming there is a girl…and that she’s worth rescuing, and not in league with those drug lords. Her name would probably be Rosa. After the escape Rosa and I would embark on a life of crime, the Bonnie and Clyde of Central America, I’d shoot up the banks, she’d drive the getaway car. When things heat up in Bolivia we’ll head either to Australia or maybe Nevada to cool off. Maybe Vegas, we could break the bank with our stolen money, and live large and in charge at some casino in the penthouse suite.

I think I’m liking this option. Where do I sign up

-t


recommended downloads:
The Old 97’s, Melt Show
and
Matt Nathanson, Wings

The Housesitting Connection

Two points: (1) John needs a housesitter. and (2) I'm going to the Matt Nathanson concert next week, John's coming too, he picked up the tickets today.


So, John needs a housesitter. He posted an ad online. He got some responses, and set up some interviews. I was there for the interviews to help give a second opinion on the candidates (see previous posts).

After picking the best one, John offered her the gig. Moments after the interview, as luck would have it, some friends of hers invited her to Thanksgiving dinner. So she cancelled. She was, however, the best of the bunch, so John's been emailing her back and forth trying to work something out. Maybe a few days here, a few days there, instead of eleven in a row. John was kind enough to forward me the last email from John to the housesitter. I'm paraphrasing: "I hope we can work something out, let me know if this works for you, or send me a quick email if it won't. Thanks!"

THEN as a very clever post script (quoting):

"P.S. On a side note, my friend Tom (who was at the apartment when you came over) is trying to find someone to go with him to Matt Nathanson on Friday. He won tickets in some raffle and I told him I'd help find him a date. "

Great. Thanks John. Aside from being L-A-M-E and totally corny it's also a lie. I did not win tickets to the concert, I bought 'em. And I was not looking for a date, I was going anyway.
On the other hand, there's no way I would say "no" to a date... So thanks, John, good work, and  wouldn't it be nice if it worked out? (Yes.)

-t

recommended download:
Ted Nugent, Great White Buffalo
and
MXPX, Chick Magnet    


UPDATE, (10/18/2005): She has a boyfriend. Which everybody suspected. As John said: “Yeah, the hot grad student personal trainer is single –  right.”
    

THUG2

My back hurts. And I’ll tell you why: three hour sessions of Tony Hawk’s Underground 2.

I’ve got my Xbox hooked up to my 13 inch tv in my room, which is balanced (precariously) on my brother’s nightstand, tucked into the corner, behind my guitar case, armchair (broken), laundry baskets of winter clothes (still folded), and backed by, well, clutter. I have to sit on the floor, legs crossed, hunched over in front of the tv to play. And I do, because I love Tony Hawk video games (even THPS 2, which, like The Matrix Revolutions, is nowhere near as good as the rest of the franchise but I still love it because it’s part of the franchise) (unlike Star Wars episodes II and III, which just plain sucked and have been excommunicated (in my mind anyway) from the Star Wars franchise completely, because they’re just bringing the other films down).

I really only intend to play a little. Like half an hour at a time. But I get sucked into the game. “I’ll just complete this last goal. I can score one million two-hundred fifty-thousand points in two minutes…” But sometimes it takes a while, like if you fall at the end of a seven-hundred thousand point combo with three seconds left, six times in a row…that’s twelve minutes right there. Anyway, I play longer than I should.

You guys remember Nintendo thumb, right? Back on the NES after a few too many games you couldn’t even look at your left thumb because it was rubbed raw against the control pad? Now it’s Xbox fingers. After about an hour the muscles in my hands sort of lock up around the controller. Ow.

Ok, that’s it, congrats white sox.
-t

recommended downloads:
Oasis, Where Did It All Go Wrong
and
Everclear, I Will Buy You A New Life, and Heartspark Dollarsign          

I hate my job (a song)

I hate my job (a song, to the tune of Dear Old Donegal)

It seems like only yesterday,
that I finished school.
I took some time and found a job,
Inexperienced young fool…
There wasn't a soul to greet me there,
the new guy on the floor,
Surrounded by stupid coworkers
But at least I wasn’t poor.

Around a month I’d worked here,
Third cube in the second aisle,
My manager stopped by one day
And greeted me with a smile,
“Some people to introduce you to,
You’ve been here long enough to stay,
Here are some folks you work with
Almost every single day:”

“Shake hands with the office IT guy,
whenever the printers break,
And here’s the guy with the loud radio
who spends his afternoons baked.
Shake hands with all of the AVPs
But don’t let them see you online.
Don’t make mistakes, and take no breaks
And we’ll get along just fine”

“Shake hands with hypermanager, boy,
And here's your senior, Kate.
And here's the girl you who forwards emails
that everybody hates.
Shake hands with all of your neighbors,
disgruntled cube-dwellers all,
You’ll work here ‘til the cows come home
and learn to hate it all…”


-t


P.S. Just after I finished this post my manager pulled me into a conference room to tell me they approved a “merit increase” for me. It works out to a raise of 2.77%. I’d be doing cartwheels if my cube were big enough.


recommended downloads:
Bowling for Soup, Almost
Weezer, Photograph
The Drunken Irishmen, Dear Old Donegal

             

Hey out there in business land

I called in sick today to go golfing.

It rained and it poured and it rained some more.

It's ok, I guess, we got four holes in, (bogey, bogey, bogey, bogey) and had some hot chocolate in the clubhouse afterwards. On the second hole my driver flew out of my hands on the downstroke of my swing and smashed into the ground, kicking up grass and mud and spraying rainwater everywhere. On the third hole it happened again. After that I stopped using my driver.

The greens were slow, and puddley. We weren't putting we were damn near driving the ball once we got close to the hole. It'd take off after a big strong putt and die six inches further. We were four-putting from five feet. Ridiculous.

At least it wasn't wet andcold, though. That happened at the tournament two years ago, we suffered through twelve holes that time before calling it quits.

Ok, we came back home to change and dry off, and I felt like you all should get an update thus far. Now we're off to the club for the catered dinner and the raffle and presentation of the trophies, if, in fact, anyone finished.

A bad day of golf beats any day at the office.

-t

recommended download:
Coheed & Cambria, Sweet

Better than video dating

I’m getting tired. I’m yawning and stretching and the whole nine yards. My brain is still working but my arms feel a little heavy, you know, just a little sluggish.

Anyway, John’s looking for a house sitter. This is fabulous. He posted an ad online and got tons of responses, then he asked me to help interview them. It was a very clever ad, but that’s his post not mine.

My presence at the interview is to help the candidates lighten up, and also to ask out any of the attractive potentials. He’s up to twenty eight responses, I told him to start asking for headshots and measurements.

If this works out I told John to interview housesitters every month.

-t

recommended downloads:
Ozma, Natalie Portman

Probably all in the mind.

It’s all in my head. I’ve got projections on projections. I can extrapolate any of a myriad of desired results from the smallest shreds of evidence. I can misinterpret observations and justify believability for any scenario I imagine. My brain is a powerful tool of persuasion and often delusion. It is almost exclusively used on me.

But, I also have a very real ability to affect other people. I am able to make light of things. Anything. I ridicule, analyze, and interpret any real-life situation, and reduce it to near-insignificance. I can show you that break ups are not near-death experiences. I can remind you that a broken taillight is funny, not the end of the world. I can convince you that being fed up with the teller at the bank, or the loud guy at the office, or the crummy reception on your tv is not important.

I take the seemingly significant and make it not so. The antithesis of overreaction, the opposite of emotionally invested. Laugh at your troubles, and you’ll never run out of things to laugh at. I’m the guy to help.

Just so you know.
-t

recommended downloads:
The Shins, Saint Simon
Weezer, Why Bother

A long sigh, pouty lips, and a body to die for

I may be developing a tic. A small muscle in my face is twitching intermittently and it’s driving me nuts. If this is a result of job-related stress then I’ve just added another reason to the long list of why I should be looking for a new job.

Nervous tics are precursors of nervous breakdowns. If that’s true I’m in big trouble. I’m not a nervous person. After that ulcer in kindergarten I had to reevaluate what was important, and what I should be worrying over. I managed to knock a lot of stress out of my life. I still cared a little too much about grades and getting approval from authority figures, but I managed to cut the importance of that down after high school. (see: hs gpa: 3.75; college cpa: much lower).

It’s only a job. It’s only a job. I tell you, my first mistake was getting attached to the people here. Jack, the whiner, a pessimist, but he’s a nice guy. Jonathan, the opie&anthony fan, he’s a blowhard, but he can be brilliantly funny sometimes. Pretty girl, hypermanager, Jane (the silent girl), and the few others that have names or roles to play day-to-day. I’ve got to relearn how to not care.

Apathy, cure all my ills.

-t


recommended downloads:
Pearl Jam, Brain of J.
Anna Nalick, Wreck of the Day

The roof of the world

I wasted a good title on a bad post.

I swear I won’t let it happen again.

-t

The best things in life are Wine, Women, and Song

I am bored at work. I also have more work to do now than I ever have before. This incongruous situation arises because the work I need to get done, all of it, needs to get done before noon.

First, there is the tying out of the funds, and the trouble-shooting thereof, for which I am responsible. On a good day I don’t even see this stuff, everything ties. On a bad day it could eat up two hours of my morning. (that’s 10AM-12PM).

Second, there is the inputting data to the website. This is easy and tedious, and takes fifteen minutes, never changing.

Third, there are the rates. On a good day it will take half an hour, on a bad day it will take an hour forty-five. Most days it comes out to about forty minutes.

Just accounting for those three tasks, on a normal day, I am left with about half an hour before noontime.

Then, there are the adjustments.

Every fund gets paid interest on the securities held. Our daily job is to verify things are set up correctly in the system so that they pay correctly down the line. When things are not set up correctly, we take adjustments.

Sometimes rates are bad, that’s mostly my fault, and it mostly doesn’t happen. That’s also an easy adjustment to research and fix.

Sometimes something else is wrong, and what is it? We have no idea. It’s the other side’s job to book things right, and then to worry about things that aren’t paying correctly. They never do.

I’ve got the kid who talks to his plants over at my desk at least three times a week with adjustments. It is his job to research these trades and figure out why they are paying differently. Once accomplished he is then supposed to come over to me, say “these are paying wrong, this is why” This is what he never does.

He does not research. I do. I wouldn’t trust his research anyway, I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. He books trades wrong. They pay wrong. He doesn’t research them. He doesn’t fix them. The worse he is at his job, the more he slacks off or talks to his plants, the more adjustments and research he creates, for me.

So I am sitting here. With pages of adjustments that need to be made to funds, and not doing anything. I have tons of work to do, and I can’t do any of it.

So tomorrow, if I get slammed with rates, the adjustments will have to wait. But they can’t wait too long, or the clients get upset (as they should). If they just booked the stupid trades properly the first time around we would never take any adjustments.

-t

recommended download:
Flogging Molly, Every Dog Has His Day

The Light

Maybe I’m going about this all wrong.

Maybe everyone hates working here. Maybe it’s my job to bring light and happiness into this place.

Maybe I’m supposed to let my optimism and sunny outlook shine down into the lives of these cubicle dwellers, to provide them with a spark of life, to counteract the dreariness that sets in.

Am I supposed to be a beacon of sanity here in this whorl of stupid, dull, repetitive, nonsense they call “work”? Is that my job?

Maybe. And on days like today I feel like I can fulfill that role, that I can brighten up these days with little more effort than wishing it. I can change the world, one office at a time.

It should be noted, however, that these days most often occur on the day after I’ve skipped work and had a bottle of wine at lunch, or suffered some such similar injury to my person.

-t

recommended download:
Fountains of Wayne, Barbara H.

The Funeral

I was asked to be a pallbearer at the wake of a family friend, Peg. She was 82, a lifelong friend of my grandmother, and an adopted aunt to my father and his brothers. I called into work Monday to attend the funeral.

We met at the funeral home Monday morning, said final goodbyes, and carried the casket to the hearse for the ride to the church. When we got to the church we carried the casket down the aisle to the altar. It had been raining all morning.

The service was very nice, the priest had known Peg for ten years, and offered some comforting memories, and my uncle gave a wonderful eulogy.

On the way from the church to the cemetery I rode with two of my brothers and my sister. We started talking about the arrangements we’d want each other to make for us at our funeral. “If I die, make sure…” My brother insisted, no matter the cause of his death, we tell everyone he was mauled by a bear. I asked for an F-14 flyover the cemetery at the conclusion of the graveside prayer ceremony, because that would be awesome. Then it got a little funny. Someone suggested a tape recorder in the casket playing bear growls during the wake, or a pre-recorded greeting for everybody who comes to pay their respects: “Hey! Good to see you, thanks for coming!” My brother suggested writing a few eulogies beforehand for different causes of death, then selecting the appropriate one when he dies. Car crash, mauled by a bear, skydiving accident, fall off a cliff, and so on. I finally decided on a grave stone shaped like a keg, with the inscription “Death should be a celebration.”

Funerals, in my family, are a celebration. I’ve been to my share, and the saddest, and most tragic of deaths is a young life cut short, but an old life, like Peg’s, when that life ends, we celebrate relationships, accomplishments, and family.

At the conclusion of the prayers at the grave it stopped raining. Close friends and family went to the Radisson hotel small ballroom for a reception, where a lovely buffet was prepared, and too few tables were set up. We were the last to arrive, having taken a wrong turn off the highway, and were simultaneously the group closest to the buffet, and the only group without a table, silverware, napkins or anything. Not letting any of that stop us we helped ourselves to the food and ate with our fingers until the waitstaff set up two tables for us in the foyer, next to the grand piano under the two curved staircases. We had a blast, laughing, eating, and drinking. My cousin and I finished two bottles of wine while we were there. It was as good a funeral as I’ve been too. It’s always easier to celebrate a long life of happiness and generosity. That’s a real party.

After the long ride home, (and a little time to sober up), my sister and I went out to meet another cousin for a movie and to hang out. It was a great day. Better than cutting class, or staying home sick, it was a day hanging out with the family having a good time. I took one important realization from the day:

When going to a funeral is more fun than going to work, then it’s time for a new job.

-t


recommended downloads:
Flogging Molly, May The Living Be Dead At Our Wake
The Pogues, Bury Me At Sea

Happy Columbus Day

Ok, so I didn’t get many (any?) comments on the previous post concerning the coworker’s email about the stupid kid, so I don’t know if any of you think it’s funny or boring or what. So I’m posting another such entry. Because I think it’s funny.

Background info: We work Columbus Day. We work Halloween. We work Christmas Eve. Basically if it’s not Thanksgiving we’re at work, there’s a holiday calendar on the company homepage.

Email:

Tom,
Stupid guy wants to know if we have Columbus day off? I said no we have Halloween off instead.
-Jack

***
Jack,
You could suggest the calendar on the State Street homepage that lists the holidays. Here, this is the link: (link)
-Tom

***
Tom,
That would take all the fun out of the upcoming months!
I am going to tell him if we dress up on the Friday before Halloween we get that Monday off. You think he will buy into it?
-Jack

I am not going to respond to this email. But, yes, Stupid Guy would come in to work in costume. It would be probably the meanest thing we could do to him. He does not deal well with embarrassment. Or confrontation. Or making eye contact. Or understanding directions.

I just don’t understand this guy.
-t

Like A Ton Of Bricks

It hit me this morning like a ton of bricks. Yesterday I thought it would be ok, only getting four hours of sleep. I figured I could make it through most of the work day, and crash when I got home.

But this morning when I woke up, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m not sure if my body was awake and my mind wasn’t, or if it was the other way around. I can tell you I missed three or four of those crucial directions your mind is supposed to give your body in the morning. “Open your eyes” “Swing legs to the side of the bed” “Don’t fall over”

My morning was a series of detached observations connected by long periods of complete blankness. “I can hear a loud noise” It turned out to be the alarm. It ran for five minutes before I thought “I think that noise is the alarm” Then, a little while after that I thought “I’m supposed to shut off the alarm” That’s when I should have swung my legs over the side of the bed, and remembered to stand up. I didn’t think of it until after I’d rolled off the bed and crashed to the floor. Like a ton of bricks.

I’m pretty sure I showered this morning, I remember brushing my teeth. Most of my morning went like that. I don’t remember coming in to work, but I’m sitting here at my desk writing this, so I guess I made it.

Today, I’m one tired dude.
-t


recommended downloads:
Bob Schneider, Long Way To Get
Three Doors Down, Here Without You
and
Sublime, What I Got

You know it's almost lunchtime

Ooh. I forgot to post this last night. Maybe because I was driving to the emergency room. I thought of this yesterday late afternoon, early evening:

Fast food I have a developed a strong desire to consume by the end of this week:

1. Wendy’s chicken nuggets (tenders? whatever the hell wendy’s call’s them) at least two of those 99¢ five piece things.

1. Quizno’s Chicken Cabo sub. Only $2.99!

1. Burger King’s new breakfast sandwhich, the “meatnormous”

The Burger King sandwich has 2,000 calories – that’s all the calories a normal person is supposed to have in a day. Nice of BK to help get them out of the way at breakfast. I often find myself scrambling at the end of the day to make it to the 2K mark.

I also realize, that if I do succeed in consuming all of these wonderfully dangerous foods by tomorrow I may need a trip to the emergency room to treat a heart attack.

-t

Ordinal day

I’m posting this for propriety’s sake. This is an email I just received from a coworker. His cube is on my left. On his left is the new stupid guy in our group. In this email “he” refers to stupid new guy, all other names have been changed, because I like these new names better:

Tom,

Earlier today he asked me and Consuela if a year has 56 or 52 weeks. I just sat for a minute and did not look up when he asked. I was in pure shock. Then he said, ”Cause I know a deck of cards has something like 56 cards in it.”

Jack

There you go. This is what it’s like every day.

-t

Er

I was up until 4AM last night. Now, I don’t want to hear any outraged comments or “I warned you”s. I know getting no sleep is bad for me. We were at the emergency room. We went in about midnight, and spent most of the time waiting for an attending to come around. Apparently it was their busiest night, lots of patients, lots of complications, and I can appreciate that. The point of the story is: I got home and went to bed at 4:30AM and got up at 8:30AM this morning. So I’m either way too tired to function, or I’ll be the crabbiest I’ve ever been.

If it’s the latter then I better not get bugged with any stupid questions from the stupid guys, for their sakes.

Also, I’m going to let you all in on a little secret: I would have called in sick today, to continue sleeping, but I’m going to be out Monday and Friday of next week, and I feel like I’d be letting the team down to take three unscheduled days in just over a week. Monday wasn’t a planned day off, something came up yesterday that necessitates taking the day. Friday was a planned unplanned day off. I’m planning on calling in sick to go play golf.

-tgme


recommended downloads:
The Get Up Kids, Ten Minutes
Midtown, Get Together

So, this one time, it was my fault

I just handed in my budget. I did the wrong one. This budget, that I’ve been killing myself on these past two days, and had three repostings, is due on the tenth.

I am now going to start the budget I was supposed hand this morning at 9AM. It will be a little later than that.

-t

Budgets, budgets everywhere

I came in a little earlier to finish the few pages of the budget I had left. At ten o’clock my senior manager dropped a new packet of expenses on my desk. He said, “I ended up having to correct all the expenses on this fund after you left last night. Here are the new numbers.”

So, it’s ten thirty, and I’m starting from scratch. I just thought you’d all like to know.

-t

Timeline

6:30 Find the “budget groove” and zone everything else out
7:00 Halfway through the worst of the budget my senior manager comes over, says “I  have to change postings on that fund, it wasn’t corrected after Friday. All your numbers are going to change so you shouldn’t start that budget.”


7:15 Still waiting for entries to post, stare at the numbers I’d input on the budget.
7:20 Manager says, screw it, you can just go home, if you have to hand it in late, hand it in late.
7:21 Manager swears at his computer because the reposting program crashed again, I grab my jacket.


7:22 Manager says “Screw it. Just leave the budget as it is. It’s wrong this month by one day, it’ll be wrong next month by one day in the opposite direction, it’ll wash year-t0-date.”


7:23 I debate leaving, or finishing the budget with the bad numbers like I’d planned. Fuck it.

-t

Overtime Overkill

So it’s month end here in mutual fund land. Budgets are due. You may remember a few posts about expenses booked incorrectly, and, subsequently, yours truly spending an entire evening reposting, by hand, eighty billion expense posts.

So Monday I was running around trying to straighten out rates, and bad trades. Monday night I was here until 9:30PM rebooking expenses. Today they handed out budget schedules, I have a budget due today by 6PM. I was running around fixing trades and accrual schedules on funds, verifying late exchange rates, and reviewing the Ireland fund for discrepancies. The budget didn’t get done.

So, now it’s six o’clock, I turn on my iPod and shut down everything but the budget, so I can hand it in before nine tomorrow morning. My manager, the one who asked me to stay last night for expenses walks up to my cube, glances at the budget on my computer, and the sheaf of back up printouts scattered all over my desk, and says “Wasn’t that due today?”

I’m going to let you readers be horrified and indignant for me. I don’t have the time right now.
-t

Post Meridian

Everybody loosens up after lunch. I walk back in, there are jokes, laughter, it’s an easy day. Between two and four o’clock there is plenty of time to solve any problem that comes up, sure we can spare a few minutes to talk baseball, or football, or fantasy leagues, or whatever.

I can’t stand it.

Due mainly to my lack of sleep my enthusiasm is flat-lining. I see no change in the near future. (this pessimism is also do to my lack of sleep).

Desertion: It’s all I think about. I’m going to pieces.

-t


recommended download (what else):
Billy Joel, Why Should I Worry

One and one and one is three

I’ve got a small hold on the outside world. The internet is my tether, keeping me from getting sucked all the way in to the madness I participate in every day. As long as I have that small contact with other people, normal things, I can make it through the day. Without the constant reassurance, the reminder that there are other people out there that do not care at all about mutual funds I am certain I would just get up and walk out; Grab my bag, my jacket, and just leave.

If they block blogger, if they find AIM, I’m done.

-t


recommended download:
Piebald, Just A Simple Plan

Eight o'clock and all's well

I missed Arrested Development AGAIN

This is one of those long boring stories of injustice and persecution that mean so much to the people that tell them, but they just tell and tell and tell until everyone around them is sick to death of hearing them talk because, while it is unjust and wrong, and a tale of woe and suffering, it is also very boring. VERY BORING AND WRONG.

Woe to the person who asks how work was today.

-t
recommended download:
Rufio, Don't Hate Me
Midtown, Empty Like The Ocean, and Get It Together
and Goldfinger, Superman (THPS)

The Polar Opposite of Bliss

Hey, look! A third post today! How could Tom possibly have enough free time during his working hours of ten to six to post three times? I know! He has to STAY LATE TODAY because expenses were posted incorrectly on all the funds and have to be manually reversed and reposted as of Sept. 30th! Hey, throw an extra hour of work into the workday and of course there’s time for one more post.

I HAVE TO STAY LATE TODAY BECAUSE THERE WAS A THIRD SCREW UP ON FRIDAY. That’s 1.) Bad accruals and interest lines. 2.) Morons booking, and rebooking trades with bad accrual parameters. And 3.) Bad expense postings that we found out about today.

The first I couldn’t do anything to prevent aside from taking over all of the funds. The second I couldn’t do anything to prevent, because I don’t have any say in the hiring and firing of personnel. The third no one could do anything to prevent because it was a system error, and hey what are you going to do. I don’t want a job that is this frustrating.

I JUST WANT TO UNDERSTAND HOW THINGS WORK – and if they don’t work, I need to understand why. WHICH HAS NOT HAPPENED TODAY –which is the most frustrating thing about it. I hate not knowing.

Stupid pilgrims.
-t


recommended download:
Pearl Jam, Thin Air

Burnout

I was told to get it right. We work with securities bought and sold on the stock market, these securities are set up with initial parameters that don’t change. These securities accrue interest in a determined way, most commonly 30/360 and Actual/Actual. The interest rates are determined by the Federal Reserve, each security accrues at a few percentage points plus or minus the Fed Rate. All I want to do is get things right.

If a trade comes in that should be booked at seven percent, accruing 30/360, that’s the way it should be booked. If they screw it up, we’ll get paid incorrectly, and take an adjustment. My job, as it has been stressed emphatically over the past two weeks, is to keep us from taking adjustments.

I need to research trades, I need to review security setups, I need to stay on top of every share on every fund, and make sure everyone I’m supervising does the same, so that we know about a problem the second it happens, and not half an hour before the stock market deadline.

Friday was a bad day. There were eighteen trades booked incorrectly by the other side of the floor. I caught them, I reviewed them, I went over and told them what was wrong and how to fix it. They rebooked ten of the trades incorrectly. I caught the mistakes again. I went over again. All I want is for them to get it right. The security is supposed to be booked 30/360, don’t book it Actual/Actual. It is not hard to get it right.

This is not an industry of half-measures, or winging-it, or using your “best guess.” It’s finance. Math. Numbers. There are 12 months in the year. There are never 13. There are never 10. Do not book a security to accrue for 13 months in a year. This is not hard to get right.

Friday was a bad day. There were problems because Oct. 1st fell on a weekend. Funds accrued incorrectly because securities were set up wrong. It was implied this was my fault. I was instructed to fix it. It was too much for me.

I have taken on more responsibility, an unhealthy amount, because I am the only one smart enough to deal with it. I do not ask for help. I can handle it. I am the only one left in the group who knows how to do a lot of things. I have not taught anyone, have not passed on the information. I am assuming more and more responsibility, doing more and more, becoming more and more obsessed with “getting it right.” It is a self-destructive cycle, and I know it. It is bad for the group, and for the funds, and I know it.

I will keep on assuming responsibilities I can’t handle until it finally overwhelms me. I will breakdown, I will crash and take all the funds with me. I am going to go down in flames, and I don’t want to stop it.

-t

recommended download:
Incubus, Megalomaniac

Quiet Riot

I thought I was getting over a cold. It hit me last Wednesday, stuffy nose, chills, sore throat. I ate soup for lunch three days in a row, and tried really really hard to go to bed at a reasonable hour most nights. This morning I woke up feeling much better, able to breathe, able to talk.

Then I got into work, sat down, started typing away, finishing my morning work. Then Jack came in, said “good morning” to which I responded “hhaehh..” having lost my voice. Gone. Thanks Lauren.

Saturday night we (John, Felecia, Lindsay, Lauren, and myself) went to stalk pretty girl. Lindsay, with her new do, wanted to see with her own eyes the train-wreck John and Felecia described. So, we hit up the bar, and played cards, and drank and ate fries, and it was a great time. We stayed until closing time. Pretty girl didn’t show. So, we went to IHOP. (woo) I did not order the chocolate-chocolate chip pancakes. I drove Lindsay, Felecia, and Lauren back to their apt., then John back to his, then me back home. I listened to some cds on the drive home, and unlocked my front door about 4:30AM [side note: 4AM may be my favorite our lady peace song of all time, this is a recent occurrence]. So, so much for getting to bed at a reasonable time.

I’m thankful I don’t have a voice today. I might say something mean. The way I feel this morning, it’s much safer to be quiet. The last vacation day I took was for a trip to Texas. I’m calling in sick next week to go play golf. Don’t tell my boss.

-t


recommended download:
Hoobastank, Crawling In The Dark