When I was new to finance, I tripped over so many phrases that are now part of my everyday vernacular.
Like, I see proofers trying to correct this stuff. Sometimes at the expense of not seeing/fixing actual mistakes.
OK so maybe that’s why I have to do 100 rounds of reviews a year.
In any event, they always trip up over “the back half” (of the year). Or 2H, for short.
(Please don’t change 2H to Q2. Ever. Please.)
A lot of times, I try to avoid this stuff. Like, at some point someone (Ready Treaddy) insisted we capitalize the word Members if it comes after a publication name.
I HATE that.
So I rewrite sentences to say “members of.”
I hate THAT too but it’s my little win.
In any event, usually the back half/2H refers to a calendar year.
But I also think about it in terms of life.
With Republicans destroying the climate, ripping families apart and fucking the economy like it’s a 10-year-old girl, as they do … we’re all aging fast.
Then there’s the Mar-a-Lago Face set, where you get plastic surgery to make you look older and uglier.
So really, the “back half” of our lives probably starts at, what, 30? 35?
In which case, I’m probably in the back yard of my life. With one foot in a sinkhole.
Well now I forget what I wanted to write, as I have depressed myself.
Something something at least I’m traveling and doing fun shit while I can. Or maybe something something too set in my ways to change now.
Probably something something it’s the holidays and damn I miss my Momma. The person I spent the front two-thirds of my life (and the back two-thirds of HER life) with.
Or maybe it’s the fact that i do have to slow my spending but I’d rather slow my aging.
Or maybe it’s a friend is between jobs and I’m proud of him for renting a house in Anna Maria Island between gigs. I said what’s it like without a single Slack or Teams ping and he said that’s what heaven is.
Sad but that’s so true — a day without a Teams ping is … well, other than FARCICAL … what passes for a real vacation.
No wonder I’m out chasing highs between the pings. Clocking out and not wanting to clock someone, for X number of boundary-protected minutes or hours.
That’s my Christmas wish. That and not having to worry about money if you do read someone to filth for their 83rd “bumping this up.” Bump this, foo.