Just like the old nuns and Augustinians told me, I wasn’t going to make it to heaven. Purgatory was the best I could do if I could avoid Hell. Purgatory never sounded like it would be all that bad, actually. Heaven sounded nice and all, but to tell the truth, a lot of the stuff I’ve had the most fun doing probably isn’t allowed there. Plus it’s filled with all the people who were devout and holy throughout their lives, and we know how much fun they are. I doubt they’re suddenly going to turn into adrenaline junkies and keg-killing all-stars after 75 years of asceticism. I’ve already been to Hell, and I’m not referring to a similie-hell, I mean I have actually been to a place called Hell, on Grand Cayman. In retrospect, the name was pretty accurate. The whole day was one of the less enjoyable ones on our vacation. We sent the postcards with the Hell postmark and took some pictures, but the rest of the day was spent eating at a Hard Rock café and looking at hurricane damage from 3 years earlier. There were some turtles too.
This weekend we got to see a little bit of Purgatory. M and I happened to catch a little nice weather and decided to get active, so off we went to Purgatory Chasm a few miles down the road. We’d driven by this a few times, but had never looked into it. On Saturday we decided to make the trip. I tried to set the expectations that this would be a peaceful stroll through some large and impressive looking rocks, as opposed to the muck-jumping and trailblazing we had done earlier this year. When we got there, we were met with warning signs about the dangers of climbing the rocks and death and maiming that would follow. I still wasn’t worried, but M mentioned she was not interested in any climbing. Too late. We were already there and I was ready to go. There was a group ahead of us wearing flip flops and looking like they were ready for a picnic. As they got about 20 feet in, M saw them stop dead and turned around. I was a little too excited to see these cowards tuck tail and run. I assured M that we’d be fine and the trail would even out eventually. Truth be told, I was having my doubts about that last part, but I was ready to start scrambling. This Chasm was just as mean looking as it sounds. Picture a 10lb bag of ice you get from the store – how it’s all jagged and filled with crevices and loose chunks of ice. Now picture yourself about 1” tall and walking from end to end on that pile of ice. Now change the ice to granite and place it at a 45 degree slope. That’s Purgatory Chasm. You don’t need any special skills or tools to do it, but sturdy shoes and a modicum of athletic ability and balance are probably required to make it down in one piece. M and I had our technical gear on so we at least looked the part. Some others were visibly sweating and hyperventilating, leading pitbulls through the rocks, helping 3 year old children along and generally trying not to die. I’d recently seen a show about the Mt. Everest Expedition that was documented in ‘Into Thin Air’ and I was having a similar experience here, watching everyone flail around yet miraculously make it out alive. M did great, despite her declaration about ‘no climbing’, even incorporating a gazelle-like leap over a puddle/pond. When we reached the bottom, I suggested turning around and doing it uphill. This was met with something less than enthusiasm, so we opted for a better worn trail hike back. ‘Better’ being a matter of opinion here. The whole area is really a jumble of broken granite with some trees and moss sprinkled in. The walk back was all uphill and we were both pretty much done by the time we reached the road. So how do we reward a healthy morning? That’s right - ice cream for lunch. You don’t want to go grocery shopping on an empty stomach, or else you end up with half a grand worth of chicken nuggets and cheese. We came close, but we bypassed the chicken nuggets for Hemp Crunch and the cheese for HIGH FIBER nuggets. That’s right, I got Hemp cereal. And it’s pretty good too. I’m not wearing patchouli oil yet, but my coworkers are starting to look at me a little suspiciously. M and I somehow missed HIGH FIBER in 64 point red letters on the box she chose, but it looked ok in the store. We’re concerned about eating it and then leaving the house too early. Maybe we’ll save that for a rainy day.
On the menu this weekend was a 4lb bone-on smoked turkey breast with grill-roasted herb potatoes and roasted corn on the cob. The first smoking adventure of the season was a great success. The griller/smoker combo we got last year looks like one of those old steam locomotives with smokestack at one end. When we get that sucker going, the whole complex gets smoked out, and I did it right on Saturday. I always check around for open windows nearby before I fire it up, just so I know where the complaint will come from. So far, we’re at a 0% complaint rate. On Sunday, the weather wasn’t quite dry enough for golf, so we decided to grill again. Unfortunately, I neglected to use a drip pan on the turkey and half of the grill was coated in turkey fat. After breakfast I did a cleaning and we set out for some garden supplies while the grill dried out. My plan was to do a grill-roasted Cuban pork butt. The recipes I read were asking for cook times of upwards of 9 hours for a 8lb roast, which I was not down with. I got the swine brined while the garlic-citrus paste was made and the grill heated. Since the roast was considerably smaller than 9lbs, we were eating in less than 3 hours. I didn’t get the carnitas-style caramelization I was looking for, but there was a nice crust and the requisite pink smoke ring was present, so I am definitely making progress on my BBQ PH.D.
Lastly, I’m going to go on a little rant here. While I do work for a relatively small company, I get to interact with large number of people on a daily basis. As a result I get to experience and lot of different work styles, giving me the opportunity to develop rash and irrational opinions about how people work together. This is going to sound a little like George Carlin\Jerry Seinfeld, but bear with me.
#1 “No Offense” Really? No offense, but I am expecting to be offended now. No, really, I will take your insult and brush it aside. Thank you for the heads-up. I will be sure to return the favor next time I feel like trashing you.
#2 “Real Quick” Whew! Thank you for telling me your comments will be fast and to the point. Now that we’ve established that, let’s hear what you think is a quick point to make. Wait, it’s actually 3 points, complete with a follow up question? Oh… Ok then. What you meant to say was “Give me 5 minutes and then you can return to what you were saying”, but I forgive you.
#3 “Got a Minute” or anything that gives a fixed time. In my experience, anytime someone quantifies how long something they think a task will take, it tells me they’ve already decided it’s going to take too long for them to handle on their own and if they ask for a minute, they really want half an hour.
#4 “germane”, “suffice”, “as per”. I get it. Really I do. You went to a meeting and heard someone say these words. You were impressed to the point where you decided to incorporate these into business chat. I have a problem using words at work that you don’t use in normal conversation. I have conversations with you about your weekend and what your kids are doing. You never talk like this. Why do you put on the act when you’re speaking in front of a group of people? We’re the same people you deal with every day. I’m not fooled.
#5 Answering a question no one asked. Ah… so you don’t understand my question, do you? You’re stalling, rephrasing the question, now you’re starting to talk. I agree with what you’re saying, we all know this to be true. What about my question – are you going to address that? Some acronyms? Jargon? Oh no.. you’re nodding, trying to get me to nod too. Oh you think you’re done, you’re smiling! I can really embarrass you now. I should say “I hear your words, but I don’t understand what that means for my question”, but I’m nice. You get off publicly and I will ask you in an email later on today.
Already looking forward to Memorial day. Cheers
Monday, May 19, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
Bangin' in G-town: Life on the streets
When M and I bought Bandmeltun, I was on the tail end of a 7 year run of living with almost zero possessions. I had a tv, dvd player, playstation2, a mattress/boxspring, some assorted clothing and miscellaneous pots and pans that I retained from college and my car. The rest of my stuff was really just junk that lived in boxes until I got around to throwing it out. M’s move took a little longer, consisting of many nightly trips from Brighton out to G-town. On the first of these nights, while I cruised out to G-town solo, after work M backtracked to Brighton and then loaded up her Corolla by herself and made the long drive out in the dark. So what did I do with the extra time? A) cook a romantic meal B) unpack more boxes C) set up the TV in the middle of the living room and watch Donnie Brasco. The answer is… C. Right in the middle of a great scene where a guy is getting cut up in a basement, there’s a noise at the door and M is struggling with a box of stuff. We got her unpacked and settled in, but all was not well. When I asked what was the matter, her sad response was “I thought our first night at the condo would be special. Then I come home to gang violence??” This started a running joke that we still get mileage out of. There really hasn’t been much gang violence since that night. I occasionally fire up the PS2 for a rumble in the streets with one of the old Grand Theft Auto versions I own, but aside from that, we’ve been a gang-free zone. That may change soon. Over the weekend I had the opportunity to play the latest installment of GTA on a high-def TV and my inner thug came out swinging. I only played for 15 minutes or so, but it was absolutely incredible. I was literally howling with laughter. The game is HUGE and beautiful in a fiery, broken glass sort of way. This game is supposedly 30-40 hours of linear gameplay long, but with this particular franchise there are always thousands of hours of subplots available. However, while we did get W’s stimulus checks and the funds are available, I think a HDTV and PS3 will have to be on hold for a little while. As much fun as this was, it was a little too much fun. I had that old familiar twinge as I drove home when someone would cut me off or drive a little too slow…
The other big news this weekend was a shopping spree that came out of nowhere. As part of the financial discipline we have installed, M and I each get an allowance every 2 weeks to spend on whatever we want. I think M’s is spent before the money even hits the account, but mine has been sitting around, gathering dust. I managed to make a profit on some of it, winning $40 on a Masters’ pool. I have already pre-allocated some to fantasy football and a few rounds of golf, but largely my money is unspent. This changed drastically on Saturday. We happened to be in a ‘premium outlet’ area, shopping for a wedding gift. We purchased said gift and even managed to make it all the way back to the car and put the purchase in the car. We could have left then and there, unscathed. But we decided to go back, just to look around. Level 1 was Williams-Sonoma, where I avoided buying a mortar and pestle. Then we moved on Level 2 to find a shoe store so M could check something out she had seen online. I have a well known shoe addiction, which is odd for a man, but I don’t have a beer mirror or comic book collection so I guess it evens out. We were just about to leave when this stranger saw me investigating a pair of sneakers and commented they were the most comfortable shoes he has even worn. He stands on cement floors all day and he’s on his third pair, which he happened to be wearing. This was a boast that intrigued me. While I didn’t like his particular model, there were some others in the same family nearby. M overheard my conversation and encouraged me to try some on. I have to admit they were pretty damn nice. They were even on ‘sale’ so I pulled the trigger. Level 2 - fail. Level 3 was an UGG store, which, out of principle, I almost didn’t go in. under no circumstances would I ever normally buy anything considered trendy or desirable by any 14 year old girl. Again, I was just browsing, with no intentions of trying anything on or making any further purchases. M came by and mentioned some nice looking slipper/moccasin things. I had also seen these but was intent on not buying anything. The store manager insisted I try them on. Normally I wouldn’t have. I must have been a little woozy from my previous purchase because I went along with this suggestion. Wow. These were better than the sneakers. Maybe I was wearing really uncomfortable shoes at the time. Everything I put on was a sensual, almost erotic experience. M also liked them (although for entirely different reasons which I discovered later) and they were purchased as well. These were also on ‘sale’, although not in the ‘wow dude Ramen is 20 for a buck at the Grand Union’ sense of the word ‘Sale’, but more in the “this 2000 sq/ft house is for sale at the price of $500,000” technically on sale but is that really a sale? sense of the word. Level 3 – epic fail. By now it was almost dark, it was getting cold. Dinnertime was close. It was time to leave. We grabbed some food and started to head out. M wanted to look at one more store before we left, which I was fine with, since the spending jones was out of my system. Kenneth Cole offered some temptations – but nothing to shake me from my monk-like stranglehold on restraint. Level 4 – success. On the way out, I suggested we stop by Hugo Boss, just so M could take a look (was that really the reason?). I knew this store to be pretentious and extremely overpriced, which up to this point was a great way to not spend anything there. I had a Hugo Boss shirt once but I was too fat for it, even though it was my size and I decided this maker was designed for 130 lb Belgians and wrote it off. M wasn’t having much luck and we were conducting our victory lap when we stopped by the suit section. I rarely need suits. I already have a couple and they were acquired for relative bargains. I stay away from funerals, court and job interviews, so the need for designer wool is low. I have needed a pimp outfit though. Something I can wear to play dress up without looking like we’re there to give eulogies. Salvation Army was a logical spot for an interesting but not serious outfit like this – bad idea. So here we were at Hugo Boss half laughing but half seriously considering a dark red velvet sport coat. They didn’t have any in my size, but we tried on a few others and one or two actually looked good. Now these coats were on ‘Sale’ too, but really, come on. There’s no way anything on this store is really ‘on sale’. M really seemed to like it though and to tell the truth I did too. Now here’s where I will pause and mention something I learned in college. Were I sitting at a bar and drinking more and more and progressively buying stronger drinks, say starting with a light beer, moving on to a mixed drink and wading in to straight liquor in a dirty glass, a sober minded person would note that I would have a drinking problem and was doing something called ‘drinking with momentum’, whereby as the ability to pause and consider the consequences of actions wanes and progressively more destructive decisions are made. At this point in my shopping spree I was reaching over the bar and demanding the barkeep leave the bottle and waving my credit card around asking who wants to party. Not that I have even done that (I haven’t, really). So now I have 2 pairs of shoes and a new sportcoat (I don’t know what sport you play in this thing, but you probably don’t wear a helmet). Level 5 was a total, unmitigated disaster. So much for saving my allowance to buy that 1987 white Monte Carlo SS we pass every time we go to Target.
In other news, I have a new sport that I get to play at family get togethers. My brother MH has an older house and he is of the handyman bent, so there is always a project in the works. Most recently, a hardwood floor was installed in a sun room and kitchen. So far he’s done a great job with it. The family conversation always steers towards the next project and when it will be completed, which everyone enjoys participating in. In this case, we were discussing installing a shed for some yard tools and assorted ‘stuff’, which quickly evolved into a 1000 sq/f woodshop/summer house complete with French doors, plumbing and electricity. This would all of course be built on a series of 10ft posts that would be buried in cement tubes to compensate for the severe slope of his backyard. As the family members kept on piling on new features, he protested loudly and useless as alligator arms. This is not the first time we’ve done this to him. One time we scoped out a hand crafted stone hearth where a coal chimney was, and we’ve already planned a full bathroom and Norm Abrams-style workshop in his basement. None of this is actually going to happen but it’s fun to plan with other people’s money and time.
The other big news this weekend was a shopping spree that came out of nowhere. As part of the financial discipline we have installed, M and I each get an allowance every 2 weeks to spend on whatever we want. I think M’s is spent before the money even hits the account, but mine has been sitting around, gathering dust. I managed to make a profit on some of it, winning $40 on a Masters’ pool. I have already pre-allocated some to fantasy football and a few rounds of golf, but largely my money is unspent. This changed drastically on Saturday. We happened to be in a ‘premium outlet’ area, shopping for a wedding gift. We purchased said gift and even managed to make it all the way back to the car and put the purchase in the car. We could have left then and there, unscathed. But we decided to go back, just to look around. Level 1 was Williams-Sonoma, where I avoided buying a mortar and pestle. Then we moved on Level 2 to find a shoe store so M could check something out she had seen online. I have a well known shoe addiction, which is odd for a man, but I don’t have a beer mirror or comic book collection so I guess it evens out. We were just about to leave when this stranger saw me investigating a pair of sneakers and commented they were the most comfortable shoes he has even worn. He stands on cement floors all day and he’s on his third pair, which he happened to be wearing. This was a boast that intrigued me. While I didn’t like his particular model, there were some others in the same family nearby. M overheard my conversation and encouraged me to try some on. I have to admit they were pretty damn nice. They were even on ‘sale’ so I pulled the trigger. Level 2 - fail. Level 3 was an UGG store, which, out of principle, I almost didn’t go in. under no circumstances would I ever normally buy anything considered trendy or desirable by any 14 year old girl. Again, I was just browsing, with no intentions of trying anything on or making any further purchases. M came by and mentioned some nice looking slipper/moccasin things. I had also seen these but was intent on not buying anything. The store manager insisted I try them on. Normally I wouldn’t have. I must have been a little woozy from my previous purchase because I went along with this suggestion. Wow. These were better than the sneakers. Maybe I was wearing really uncomfortable shoes at the time. Everything I put on was a sensual, almost erotic experience. M also liked them (although for entirely different reasons which I discovered later) and they were purchased as well. These were also on ‘sale’, although not in the ‘wow dude Ramen is 20 for a buck at the Grand Union’ sense of the word ‘Sale’, but more in the “this 2000 sq/ft house is for sale at the price of $500,000” technically on sale but is that really a sale? sense of the word. Level 3 – epic fail. By now it was almost dark, it was getting cold. Dinnertime was close. It was time to leave. We grabbed some food and started to head out. M wanted to look at one more store before we left, which I was fine with, since the spending jones was out of my system. Kenneth Cole offered some temptations – but nothing to shake me from my monk-like stranglehold on restraint. Level 4 – success. On the way out, I suggested we stop by Hugo Boss, just so M could take a look (was that really the reason?). I knew this store to be pretentious and extremely overpriced, which up to this point was a great way to not spend anything there. I had a Hugo Boss shirt once but I was too fat for it, even though it was my size and I decided this maker was designed for 130 lb Belgians and wrote it off. M wasn’t having much luck and we were conducting our victory lap when we stopped by the suit section. I rarely need suits. I already have a couple and they were acquired for relative bargains. I stay away from funerals, court and job interviews, so the need for designer wool is low. I have needed a pimp outfit though. Something I can wear to play dress up without looking like we’re there to give eulogies. Salvation Army was a logical spot for an interesting but not serious outfit like this – bad idea. So here we were at Hugo Boss half laughing but half seriously considering a dark red velvet sport coat. They didn’t have any in my size, but we tried on a few others and one or two actually looked good. Now these coats were on ‘Sale’ too, but really, come on. There’s no way anything on this store is really ‘on sale’. M really seemed to like it though and to tell the truth I did too. Now here’s where I will pause and mention something I learned in college. Were I sitting at a bar and drinking more and more and progressively buying stronger drinks, say starting with a light beer, moving on to a mixed drink and wading in to straight liquor in a dirty glass, a sober minded person would note that I would have a drinking problem and was doing something called ‘drinking with momentum’, whereby as the ability to pause and consider the consequences of actions wanes and progressively more destructive decisions are made. At this point in my shopping spree I was reaching over the bar and demanding the barkeep leave the bottle and waving my credit card around asking who wants to party. Not that I have even done that (I haven’t, really). So now I have 2 pairs of shoes and a new sportcoat (I don’t know what sport you play in this thing, but you probably don’t wear a helmet). Level 5 was a total, unmitigated disaster. So much for saving my allowance to buy that 1987 white Monte Carlo SS we pass every time we go to Target.
In other news, I have a new sport that I get to play at family get togethers. My brother MH has an older house and he is of the handyman bent, so there is always a project in the works. Most recently, a hardwood floor was installed in a sun room and kitchen. So far he’s done a great job with it. The family conversation always steers towards the next project and when it will be completed, which everyone enjoys participating in. In this case, we were discussing installing a shed for some yard tools and assorted ‘stuff’, which quickly evolved into a 1000 sq/f woodshop/summer house complete with French doors, plumbing and electricity. This would all of course be built on a series of 10ft posts that would be buried in cement tubes to compensate for the severe slope of his backyard. As the family members kept on piling on new features, he protested loudly and useless as alligator arms. This is not the first time we’ve done this to him. One time we scoped out a hand crafted stone hearth where a coal chimney was, and we’ve already planned a full bathroom and Norm Abrams-style workshop in his basement. None of this is actually going to happen but it’s fun to plan with other people’s money and time.
Monday, May 5, 2008
What do you want to be when you grow up?
There is spring and change in the air at Bandmeltun. Well not a whole lot of actual changes, but a list of projects that we’re going to take on before the nice weather hits and we don’t want to be indoors. Recently we knocked off another room painting atrocity courtesy of the F’s. This time we changed the kitchen from Reese’s peanut butter cup brown to a blend of butter pecan/ tropical lightning/antique yellow (i.e. slightly darker than white). I don’t know who at paint companies comes up with these names, but they need their thesaurus revoked. So far we’ve painted a room that was camo-green and blood orange to a single shade of yellow. We made a pink room (with feather stencils) blue, a brown room (with a brown ceiling) blue, a blue room became antique yellow, and another brown room (with leaf stencils) is now red. There’s only one painting project left that I know of and we can consider the transformation complete. While I was at it, I noticed the fridge was leaking some water. I called up Mr. Go-to for some advice and he recommended making sure there was enough room underneath to circulate air to evaporate water around the condenser. Sure enough, I cleaned about 5 years of cat hair from underneath the fridge and miracles happened. Two more projects off the list.
Even when I’m not on the road, I spend quite a bit of time commuting, so I get a lot of introspection done while I’m trying to ignore my fellow commuters on the train. Lately, I’ve been looking around, wondering what these people all do for work and deciding if I would do their jobs or not. I’ve come up with the working list of job choices below:
Commuter rail conductor – yes. This has got to be one of the easier jobs out there. And I am sure there is a sweet sweet compensation plan set up when the railroads had a lot of pull and their union struck these contracts. They probably don’t make 6 figures, but they’re not getting too stressed out every day. And I suspect the job security is high, given the $5 gas that’s coming. Aircraft carrier tailhook cable monkey – no. M and I have been watching a PBS series about the USS Nimitz aircraft carrier. They show what 5,000 people do on an aircraft carrier and 99% of the jobs are not good. These particular guys reel in the cables that aircraft tailhooks grab on carrier landings. Then they grease up the cables so they don’t snap. This is all done in a small pit underneath the deck with no air conditioning. It’s not just a job, it’s an adventure.
Driving range owner – yes. Charge people $5-$13 to hit crappy golf balls out into a giant field? Yeah you have to mow the grass and drive a truck covered in armor to retrieve the balls, but the second one looks fun. Again, you’re not going to be a millionaire, but there are worse things to do than hit golf balls if you’re bored.
Corporate litigator – no way. Despite what John Grisham says (he’s started off as a lawyer, why do you think he writes all those books?), being a lawyer is not a sexy job. A lot of kids get brainwashed into thinking “I’ll be a lawyer because they’re on TV and they ‘make a lot of money’ ”, or maybe daddy was a lawyer. Who knows what would possess someone to willingly do this. Of course there is always the noble D.A. or small town lawyer handling estates for old ladies and bailing Jimmy out of his latest DUI, or the ‘Environmental Lawyer’ with dreams of taking down big oil. On the extreme other end of this is the corporate litigator, where you spend years! sending briefs back and forth and filing motions, basically looking for ways to bill more hours. Of course your adversary is doing the same thing, so there’s not a lot of urgency. There’s no Matlock moment, no Perry Mason cross-examination, no OJ-style drama with corporate litigation. You always settle and go back to donating another 8 years to another case so you can make partner and get those fat paychecks to pay for the divorce and child support you had to get because you were trying to make partner in the first place.
Taxi Cab driver – yes (depends on the city). In a big city, I think this would be fun. You’d get a lot of random party people and the occasional steam –cleaning would be needed, but I think the variety would make up for it. The pay stinks, but if you only did it for a change of pace or screenplay information, I think it would be great.
Food Critic – yes. Absolutely. I don’t think the pay is great here, but there’s a huge variety factor and the sheer enjoyment of all the different food you’d get to enjoy (or not) is astounding. Plus you don’t get a lot of food critic critics out there, unlike the talk radio guys who spout opinions and then have to deal with irate callers afterwards. Food critics get to fire and then walk away.
BBQ pit master – yes. Smoke, fire, meat, slow pace, non-strenuous outdoor work, experimentation, some travel. I don’t see where there’s anything wrong here.
Policeman – no. You get to see people on the worst days of their lives, usually while they are not of a stable state of mind and possibly armed. And now police are filmed nearly 100% of the time, so any mistakes you make are posted immediately on the internet. No thanks.
Firefighter – yes. You spend 99% of your day not doing your job, which isn’t bad. When you do get to go, people are always glad to see you and generally agree that you perform a valuable service. It is somewhat dangerous, but in a non-urban area, I think the risks are much better quantified and manageable.
Sportswriter – no. Watching professional sports is something I do for pleasure. Having a deadline or angry losers writing me hate e-mail from their mamma’s basement would take a lot of the joy out of this. While I find what athletes do to be physically impressive, they appear to tend to be less than intelligent and display some marginal personality traits. There are a lot of good hearted, grounded individuals playing professional sports out there, but for the most part when you give 20 year old males millions of dollars and train them to be as aggressive as possible with no fear of consequences, bad things come out. I will take a pass here.
Some of this has come out of the Carrier show that we watched. There are several segments on a fighter pilot squadron. These guys and 2 girls get to tool around in $60 million jets with flames pouring out of the afterburners all day long. I guess after a while even that gets monotonous. They were complaining about how they do all this training and never get to ‘work’, i.e. kill things. I don’t think anyone in the Persian Gulf has a workable air force, so these Navy guys were looking to drop some bombs. On this cruise they didn’t, so it was a lot of hurry up and wait. I think every male someday dreams of being a fighter pilot. I can’t think of a more alpha thing to do. I’m sure a lot of football players or bond traders would trade their jobs to fly fighter jets, but I don’t know what a fighter pilot would trade his job to do instead. It’s pretty much the best job in the world to say you have. I can imagine being at a party where the guys are standing by the bar and asking around at what they all do, sizing each other up.
#1, pouring scotch: “So what do you do?”
#2, sipping pinot grigio: “I’m a plastic surgeon. I work on the occasional model, but most of the time I do Botox injections and suck fat out of thighs. You?
#1, clinking ice cubes: “I’m an Investment Banker at Old Money and Starched Collar. I just spent 90 hours this week managing a team crunching debt quality ratings for this big deal we’re doing. Y’know, same ol same ol’”
#2, sip: “What about you? How’d you get that scar? I can probably do something about that if you want to give me a call”
#3, bites top off Budweiser bottle and spits cap into ashtray 10 feet away, rubs 6 inch scar and smiles: “Ah.. you see I was doing a night landing on a carrier in my F-22 during a sandstorm after a 20 hour sortie over the Gulf. We just finished doing some close air support of a SEAL team and dropped a few thousand pounds of ordnance on this village. Blew those *&%$ back beyond the stone age. I caught the tailhook a little rough and I didn’t have my mask strapped on, smashed my face on the stick and got this little scrape. Pretty dumb, huh?”
#1 and #2 wet pants and run for cheese tray.
None if this is to say that I do not enjoy what I do. Sometimes I’ll try explaining what I do, and it’s never as clear cut as any of the above. I get to my second sentence and people start looking behind me or into their drink. I say I travel to this bank or that and perform some technical-sounding task and I guess it sounds interesting, but I rarely have a work anecdote that is remotely relatable to anyone outside my business. There are days when I figure out a big problem and it’s really quite satisfying. Not blowing up a village satisfying, but it beats doing taxes I guess.
2 other things:
1. Go see Ironman – really entertaining, a nice loud summer movie.
2. I hit the driving range again this weekend and did about as well as I ever have. I guess my game is so bad that I can take 8 months off and still be in top form. Wonderful.
Even when I’m not on the road, I spend quite a bit of time commuting, so I get a lot of introspection done while I’m trying to ignore my fellow commuters on the train. Lately, I’ve been looking around, wondering what these people all do for work and deciding if I would do their jobs or not. I’ve come up with the working list of job choices below:
Commuter rail conductor – yes. This has got to be one of the easier jobs out there. And I am sure there is a sweet sweet compensation plan set up when the railroads had a lot of pull and their union struck these contracts. They probably don’t make 6 figures, but they’re not getting too stressed out every day. And I suspect the job security is high, given the $5 gas that’s coming. Aircraft carrier tailhook cable monkey – no. M and I have been watching a PBS series about the USS Nimitz aircraft carrier. They show what 5,000 people do on an aircraft carrier and 99% of the jobs are not good. These particular guys reel in the cables that aircraft tailhooks grab on carrier landings. Then they grease up the cables so they don’t snap. This is all done in a small pit underneath the deck with no air conditioning. It’s not just a job, it’s an adventure.
Driving range owner – yes. Charge people $5-$13 to hit crappy golf balls out into a giant field? Yeah you have to mow the grass and drive a truck covered in armor to retrieve the balls, but the second one looks fun. Again, you’re not going to be a millionaire, but there are worse things to do than hit golf balls if you’re bored.
Corporate litigator – no way. Despite what John Grisham says (he’s started off as a lawyer, why do you think he writes all those books?), being a lawyer is not a sexy job. A lot of kids get brainwashed into thinking “I’ll be a lawyer because they’re on TV and they ‘make a lot of money’ ”, or maybe daddy was a lawyer. Who knows what would possess someone to willingly do this. Of course there is always the noble D.A. or small town lawyer handling estates for old ladies and bailing Jimmy out of his latest DUI, or the ‘Environmental Lawyer’ with dreams of taking down big oil. On the extreme other end of this is the corporate litigator, where you spend years! sending briefs back and forth and filing motions, basically looking for ways to bill more hours. Of course your adversary is doing the same thing, so there’s not a lot of urgency. There’s no Matlock moment, no Perry Mason cross-examination, no OJ-style drama with corporate litigation. You always settle and go back to donating another 8 years to another case so you can make partner and get those fat paychecks to pay for the divorce and child support you had to get because you were trying to make partner in the first place.
Taxi Cab driver – yes (depends on the city). In a big city, I think this would be fun. You’d get a lot of random party people and the occasional steam –cleaning would be needed, but I think the variety would make up for it. The pay stinks, but if you only did it for a change of pace or screenplay information, I think it would be great.
Food Critic – yes. Absolutely. I don’t think the pay is great here, but there’s a huge variety factor and the sheer enjoyment of all the different food you’d get to enjoy (or not) is astounding. Plus you don’t get a lot of food critic critics out there, unlike the talk radio guys who spout opinions and then have to deal with irate callers afterwards. Food critics get to fire and then walk away.
BBQ pit master – yes. Smoke, fire, meat, slow pace, non-strenuous outdoor work, experimentation, some travel. I don’t see where there’s anything wrong here.
Policeman – no. You get to see people on the worst days of their lives, usually while they are not of a stable state of mind and possibly armed. And now police are filmed nearly 100% of the time, so any mistakes you make are posted immediately on the internet. No thanks.
Firefighter – yes. You spend 99% of your day not doing your job, which isn’t bad. When you do get to go, people are always glad to see you and generally agree that you perform a valuable service. It is somewhat dangerous, but in a non-urban area, I think the risks are much better quantified and manageable.
Sportswriter – no. Watching professional sports is something I do for pleasure. Having a deadline or angry losers writing me hate e-mail from their mamma’s basement would take a lot of the joy out of this. While I find what athletes do to be physically impressive, they appear to tend to be less than intelligent and display some marginal personality traits. There are a lot of good hearted, grounded individuals playing professional sports out there, but for the most part when you give 20 year old males millions of dollars and train them to be as aggressive as possible with no fear of consequences, bad things come out. I will take a pass here.
Some of this has come out of the Carrier show that we watched. There are several segments on a fighter pilot squadron. These guys and 2 girls get to tool around in $60 million jets with flames pouring out of the afterburners all day long. I guess after a while even that gets monotonous. They were complaining about how they do all this training and never get to ‘work’, i.e. kill things. I don’t think anyone in the Persian Gulf has a workable air force, so these Navy guys were looking to drop some bombs. On this cruise they didn’t, so it was a lot of hurry up and wait. I think every male someday dreams of being a fighter pilot. I can’t think of a more alpha thing to do. I’m sure a lot of football players or bond traders would trade their jobs to fly fighter jets, but I don’t know what a fighter pilot would trade his job to do instead. It’s pretty much the best job in the world to say you have. I can imagine being at a party where the guys are standing by the bar and asking around at what they all do, sizing each other up.
#1, pouring scotch: “So what do you do?”
#2, sipping pinot grigio: “I’m a plastic surgeon. I work on the occasional model, but most of the time I do Botox injections and suck fat out of thighs. You?
#1, clinking ice cubes: “I’m an Investment Banker at Old Money and Starched Collar. I just spent 90 hours this week managing a team crunching debt quality ratings for this big deal we’re doing. Y’know, same ol same ol’”
#2, sip: “What about you? How’d you get that scar? I can probably do something about that if you want to give me a call”
#3, bites top off Budweiser bottle and spits cap into ashtray 10 feet away, rubs 6 inch scar and smiles: “Ah.. you see I was doing a night landing on a carrier in my F-22 during a sandstorm after a 20 hour sortie over the Gulf. We just finished doing some close air support of a SEAL team and dropped a few thousand pounds of ordnance on this village. Blew those *&%$ back beyond the stone age. I caught the tailhook a little rough and I didn’t have my mask strapped on, smashed my face on the stick and got this little scrape. Pretty dumb, huh?”
#1 and #2 wet pants and run for cheese tray.
None if this is to say that I do not enjoy what I do. Sometimes I’ll try explaining what I do, and it’s never as clear cut as any of the above. I get to my second sentence and people start looking behind me or into their drink. I say I travel to this bank or that and perform some technical-sounding task and I guess it sounds interesting, but I rarely have a work anecdote that is remotely relatable to anyone outside my business. There are days when I figure out a big problem and it’s really quite satisfying. Not blowing up a village satisfying, but it beats doing taxes I guess.
2 other things:
1. Go see Ironman – really entertaining, a nice loud summer movie.
2. I hit the driving range again this weekend and did about as well as I ever have. I guess my game is so bad that I can take 8 months off and still be in top form. Wonderful.
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