Blood pressure…

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The president will deliver the State of the Union address tomorrow night. Thanks to the 24-hour news cycle, we mostly know the broad strokes of what’s going to be in it – I’m sure it’s not nearly as suspenseful as waiting for a president to send his hand written evaluation up the Hill once a year, but asking the cable news channels to adhere to an endearing 18th century standard of practice is surely too much to ask.

That means tomorrow evening I have two choices. First, I could watch the speech live and make myself crazy ranting and raving at the television in real time and ensure I’m too aggravated to get anything close to a good night’s sleep. Option two involves ignoring the live broadcast and catching the meat of it in dribs and drabs over the next few days, which would lengthen the duration of annoyance but likely reduce the intensity of my expected opposition to nearly everything I expect to hear.

In any case, it’s a safe bet that my blood pressure will be off the rails for the next couple of days. Under the current circumstances it seems the best I can hope for is avoiding a heart attack, ulcer, or throwing the remote through the screen. That doesn’t say much for my evaluation of the current state of our Union.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. “Being robbed by the rich.” Based on what I see popping up from time to time on social media I should be furious because the money I’m supposed to have has apparently been stolen by the uber-wealthy. A quick look at this month’s bank statement will show without a doubt that I’m not one of them. Somehow I don’t feel like I’ve been the victim of theft, though. I started saving when I got my first job, made some good trades, and got lucky on more than one occasion. I’ve managed to stash a little back for the proverbial rainy day and for the far off day when I’m neither willing nor able to work any longer. Because there isn’t as much there as I’d like isn’t an indication that it was stolen from me so much as it’s an indication that I need to do a better job saving. There’s a vocal little group out there who apparently think the “rich” have snuck into my account and walked away with a bag of cash. Truth be told, I’m far more worried about long term inflation and the devaluation of the dollar than I am the “Wall Street Banksters” raiding me for pocket change.

2. Low grade crud. I’ve been suffering from some kind of low grade crud for weeks now. Some days are worse than others, but mostly it presents as a stuffy nose, occasional cough, and sore throat that sort of comes and goes of its own accord. It’s annoying, but not to the level of being worth having anyone check it out. Whatever’s in there coming and going needs to just go because it has more than worn out its welcome.

3. “Islamophobia.” Rest assured when I use the phrase Islamic terrorist I know exactly what I mean. I mean a terrorist who is either motivated by their Islamic faith or one who is using it as a justification for barbaric actions. Despite what some busybody old bat standing near me in line last weekend thinks, it’s not an indication that I am “Islamophobic.” I most assuredly don’t fear Islam or any other religion for that matter. I use Islamic terrorist to denote an asshat or asshats who claim to use one of the world’s great religions as justification for everything from petty crime, to mass murder, to acts of war. Rest assured, just as soon as a Methodist or Catholic shoots up Mad Magazine because Jesus told them to I’ll be among the first in line condemning them for it. I don’t blame a whole faith for the actions of a few, but I damned well do blame that faith when they don’t rise up in one voice to condemn those splinter elements who are pirating the name of their God for a decidedly ungodly purpose.

Days like today…

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Some days are good. Some days are bad. Most days are somewhere in the realm of average. That’s just the nature of a normal distribution. Days like today, though, they’re different. Their neither good, nor bad, nor average, they’re simply exhausting for no apparent reason. Days like today are probably the ones I hate most. The bad days make me angry. I know how to deal with anger. The good days, shockingly, make me happy. I know how to deal with that too. The average days just sort of plod along and leave me mostly indifferent to their passing. Days like today I just drag myself through the door wanting nothing so much as to collapse into a pile and sleep… but I know there’s still a long list of things to check off before the I find myself anywhere close to bed. It’s the days like today I find my self worn out for no good reason and leave me wondering how the hell anyone is expected to get anything done with the couple of spare hours they have left at the end of the day. Though I suppose maybe making sure we all schlep home exhausted is all part of the grand plan. Yep. It’s a conspiracy. That’s got to explain it.

Twelve…

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Twelve years ago this morning, I was a 24 year old former teacher who had just resigned in disgust from what would have inevitably been a soul crushing career touching America’s future. It was basically a choice of self-preservation more than anything else. I’d interviewed for a new job over the phone, filled out a staggering amount of paperwork, and moved what few household goods I had accumulated since graduating college 129 miles south to embark on a new career. Early that long ago morning I met 30-odd strangers at a Shoney’s in Petersburg, Virginia waiting for an unknown future.

We were met with boxes of additional paperwork and a day’s worth of in processing. We raised our right hands and said the words and poof, we were the most endangered of all Uncle’s animals – we were federal interns. Like everything else in the government, the word “intern” means something completely different than it means out in the world. For us, it meant full salary and benefits and two guaranteed promotions if we managed not to get fired during our probationary employment period.

Since then, it’s been off to the races. Some of it good, some of it bad, but very rarely has it ever been dull for more than a few days at a time. I’ve been equal parts ambitious, discontent, proud, and horrified of the career that day launched. Uncle has given me the chance to go places and see things I never would have done or seen of my own accord. Alternately he’s driven me to drink and to ponder the rules governing what makes a homicide “justifiable.”

With a little bit of rounding, it’s now 12 down and 21 to go – or a little more than a third of a career now in the books. That figure is alternately depressing and incredibly hard to believe… or at least it is until my back starts hurting, there’s a throbbing in my knee, or my shoulder slides out of joint. Then I can tell exactly where those years went. It should be interesting to see what kind of mess I can make of the next twelve.

Teaming…

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I’m tempted to take back what I wrote last night about steps in the right direction. My opinion on that matter was corrected this afternoon with the arrival of a “save the date” email calling forth what is commonly termed a team building event. For someone who’s fundamentally an introvert, another name for team building event could easily be “An Afternoon in Hell.”

For those not yet acquainted with my views on teams, team building, and touchy felly management theory, I recommend you read this, this, and this.

I think it’s safe to say that my views on the issue have been remarkably consistent over time… and the likelihood of that changing between now and next week feels like something between slim and nonexistent.

It’ll be just another in a long line of moments to lie back and think of England.

P.S. In case you’re wondering, if you search Google for Teamwork Sucks, this humble blog is the 3rd ranked result. It seems I’ve been doing a good job at making the case. At least I have that.

Tentatively temporary…

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It’s an open secret that for the last six months I’ve been casting around looking for a new gig. Although I was focused on staying under Uncle’s umbrella, it felt like time to branch out into other opportunities. The environment had gotten a little too toxic for my liking and all-in-all, my career path was looking like something of a dead end if I stayed put.

I launched out a fair number of resumes. Had a few interviews. Got a few call backs. But there really wasn’t anything that clicked – either for me or the people responsible for hiring, it seems.

A few weeks ago I threw my hat in the ring for a temporary promotion (back to my old grade without the enormous hassle of supervising anyone) with my current office. Last week I interviewed for the position. A few days ago the HR office called to extended a tentative offer. This past Thursday I accepted. At some point in the next couple of pay cycles I’ll pick up a few extra bucks for a little extra work. Feels like a fair trade and it sets me up for possible options in the future that don’t involve another round of packing and unpacking household goods.

I didn’t start this process looking to stay where I was, but if I’m fair and balanced I’ll admit the bosses are taking legitimate steps to improve on a number of the sore points of the past. I’m willing to stick around for a while and give them the chance to prove it’s a real change for the better and not just a change until the heat’s off. The proof is in the pudding, but I’m happy enough taking their money while the proof sorts itself out.

Now it’s just a matter of the final paperwork coming through. Somehow I feel like I’ve done all this before.

Passing…

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Sometimes news hits you so hard in the head with a 2×4 that you don’t have any option but to just sit there and be stunned. Unfortunately you stay stunned only long enough for a deep, quiet sadness to rush in and fill the gap.

We kids of the 70s aren’t kids any more. We’re subject to the same laws of nature and time as all those who came before, but I never once imagined we could die. The reality, of course, is something completely different and made all the more appalling from its arrival on a crisp, clear, beautiful Saturday morning. Out of the clear blue, indeed.

Godspeed, Drew. The world is all the more dim for your passing.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. The value of time. In the final episode of the HBO series The Tudors, an aging King Henry advised his closest friend that time was the most tragic of all losses, because it “is the most irrecuperable for it can never be redeemed.” So it is… and it would serve as a solid reminder for the great and the good to be mindful to start – and stop – their proceedings in a timely manner. While they may be lord high shits in their own collective minds, you can stake your last greenback dollar that I don’t value their time any more highly than I value my own.

2. Automatic Tire Pressure Sensors. I started driving back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and the only way to know the pressure of the air in your tires was to check it manually – which I mostly did consistently each month unless one appeared to be low or otherwise in need of attention. Flash forward to 2014 and I’ve got a handy little sensor in each tire now that blinks a bothersome orange warning light whenever one of the tires has fallen out of standard. To put more of a fine point on it, this event only seems to happen precisely at 6:32AM, in the dark, when it’s 6 degrees with the wind chill making it feel -10. I’m sure that three extra pounds of air I put in the tires this morning was important, but I’m just now starting to feel my fingers again. All things considered, the damned sensors are more trouble than they’re worth.

3. Online Ordering. For the second time in as many weeks I’ve called to check on orders with two separate companies only to find that “oh, there was a problem processing the payment.” That’s not a huge deal, of course, but it would have been useful if they had at least made an effort to contact me and let me know the thing I was expecting to show up wasn’t on the move to its destination. No email. No phone call. Not a word until I went sniffing around wondering why shipping a package out suddenly took almost a week. A little basic customer service is all I expect. Just a touch. The tiniest show of interest would be appreciated… but that’s clearly a bridge too far.

Public service…

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It’s going to be damned cold the next few nights. If you have critters that live outside, go ahead and make room for them indoors for a few days until the worst of the cold passes. Unless you have one of a few specific breeds, the vast majority of domestic pets aren’t built to handle this kind of weather.

I’m not suggesting you have to drag every animal in shouting distance to sleep at the foot of your bed, but a basement, barn, garage, really any place that’s heated to a civilized temperature, cuts the wind, and gives them a warm place to ride things out is perfectly acceptable. A nice blanket or good bedding material wouldn’t kill you either, ya know? If you’re too busy or indifferent to be bothered, might I recommend you stop reading now. Seriously. Stop reading. Forget you’ve ever seen my blog. Unfollow me. Unfriend me.

If you can’t be bothered to even take basic care of your animals, I have no use for you and no choice but to declare you a miserable excuse for a human being and a douchenozzle of the highest magnitude.

This concludes tonight’s public service announcement from your kindly Uncle Jeff.

Go forth and sin no more.