Long-term storage…

The risk in throwing things away is that you’ll wake up one morning and realize you just tossed out something you now need. In the vast majority of cases, this moment never happens and we go on with our lives with a little less crap laying around junking the place up. Some people have a harder time than others letting things go… or even just accepting that even though it’s something they very clearly remember doing that was important once upon a time, no one is ever going to need it again.

I can’t stress with enough conviction that we will never, under any conceivable circumstance, need to retrieve the office document archive from 1985. After 26 years, it’s probably safe to assume that those days when you were the young buck are well astern and you should probably just let them go instead of insisting that we hold them in our very small storage room “indefinitely.” Those boxes are more likely to fall over on some poor unsuspecting intern and kill them than they are to contain anything that anyone in the office might actually find useful.

I hate to have to be the one to bring this up, but you’re already the person in the office who keeps too many plants and too much trade show swag in your area. I’d consider it a massive personal favor if we could try to avoid you ending up on the pilot episode of Hoarders: Cubicle Farm Edition. So please, dear colleague, let it go.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Garryowen…

Editorial Note: Apparently at one point, I had default music playing on my MySpace profile *shudder*. It seems to be for the best that it went extinct some time ago.

OK, so more than one person has sent me a message asking what’s up with the music on my profile. If you’re that interested, Wikipedia has a good article on the song itself. Mostly it’s there because I sort of like it. I know, century old marching tunes aren’t exactly top-40 material, but then again, I’ve never been much of a top-40 kind of guy. Still, I like the imagery of Custer’s 7th riding out of Fort Lincoln, guidons unfurled in the breeze, to meet their destiny on the Plains.

What can I say, I’m got a soft spot for lost causes.

10,000+

I’ve been giddy with anticipation for this event (Yes, I know I’m a geek, so sue me). I’ve been obsessively checking MySpace all evening and I’m finally ready to announce that tonight my little corner of the internet passed the 10,000 views mark. You people have had nothing better to do than check in on my maniacal ranting 10,000 times. Let’s think about that for a minute, shall we?

So, tonight, I’d like to thank all of you readers who keep coming back day after day for making me a little part of your daily routine. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. And while I won’t promise limitless new and interesting content, I hope that I can at least manage say something interesting or even something insightful from time to time.

So here’s to you Mr. and Ms. MySpace Blog Reader. Let’s try this again at 20,000.

Live, from the 5th Circle of Hell; or From Atlanta with Love

There are a few posts from this week’s trip and you’ll be reading them in whichever order I feel like fleshing out my notes. There is also one that will be written, but not posted without the consent of the other parties involved. Barring that consent, it will remain a permanent part of my personal archive and never see the light of day. Either way, it’s there as a part of the record. You know, for 300 years from now when someone finds one of my old flash drives buried in the rubble of civilization and has to reconstruct what life was like in the 21st century based on only a handfull of snarky blog posts.

I digress, however, from the work at hand. I hate the airport at Atlanta. It’s over crowded both in terms of flight operations and the sheer number of our oblivious fellow airport patrons (did you really think I was going to use the phrase “fellow traveler?”). All the early flights are sold out, so here I sit until 7:30, when, I hope, the skies over the ALT are not full of thunderheads. It’s summer in Atlanta so I’m not holding my breath. This place is some kind of hellish business traveler’s purgatory where time takes on no actual significance.

It’s only saving grace is that it has indoor smoking if you know where to look; thus proving that even hell has its perks. Thank God I’m easy to please.

And now you know the rest of the story…

So, twelve hours ago everything was a pressing crisis and the wheels were coming off. This morning, I sit here at 0930 and really have nothing to do. The super-secret-leadership-team hasn’t issued any taskers, made any requests, or made there presence felt in any way with the exception of running into some of them taking a smoke break. Does anyone what to take a stab at explaining why people wait until 1600 to tell you something needs to be done by the end of the day. I’m just wondering… and waiting. No need to be optimistic, so I’ll just be cautious.