Caterwauling

There was a trait in someone I used to know. 

Not a good one. Trait or person. 

He’d ask how you were doing … what you’re doing this weekend … what you did last weekend ….

But he didn’t care. Or listen. He was just waiting for his turn to talk. 

And when I start to miss him, I realize his replacement does the same damn thing. 

Now if I keep my eyes closed he looks just like you

But he’ll never stay, they never do

Now if I keep my eyes closed he feels just like you

But you’ve been replaced

I’m face to face with someone new

— Halsey, “Eyes Closed”

Unfortunately the replacement will keep asking till you say something. 

And at least the original one did have interesting stories. That is certainly not the case anymore. 

I can’t believe the thing I miss is the original’s gift for making conversation when no one hates small talk more than I do. 

When will I ever learn?

Without my boss leaving and our Steve Bannon burning our life’s work to the ground…

I would never have made it to my friend’s dad’s memorial service one county north of here. 

I was already an hour south of this midpoint area. And I never left earlier than 7 pm. 

Now I’m no longer all that special. So I could bounce at a good hour and make it up there for six to be with her on the saddest day of her life. 

Now to find another advantage to all this change. Day 54 and, thankfully, counting. 

But it will take a minute to get there. 

I was pondering the value of anti-harassment training when the (rumored) biggest offender isn’t even there. 

Then it hit me. Where did that rumor originate?

From the same shit-stirrer who tells everyone how “negative” I am — and everybody else is. 

That is the one who very publicly branded this person as an offender. 

So …

What if all the talk about the alleged offender being an offender is just plain wrong too?

I mean, I think the person is fine. Cordial at least. I don’t know much else. Professional as far as I can tell. 

And really, I’d trust my judgment over anyone else’s. So I’m going to make my own decision there.

Shame others don’t seem to follow my logic. 

So we have to write dumber to not provide so much competition. 

Now we have to talk dumber too. 

And to be told this in public is an awful lot like trump saying he’s under investigation and his lawyer telling us we read that tweet wrong. Like, is everyone hearing this?!?

Every damn day: 

My Spicer: I need your opinion.  

Me: I pick X. Here’s why. (Insert long list of experiences, and what we’ve tried that hasn’t worked.)

Spicey: We are going to do the complete opposite of what you picked. 

Me: Why?

Spicey: I promised Bannon. I was not tasked with knowing why. 

Me:  I was in your position before. And now I’m going to have to be the one to execute certain failure after you declare it so. Does this save money? Make 10% more? If so, happy to do it that way. If not, it costs man hours. And lots of them. Do you purposely pick the exact thing I advise against? 

Spicey: Takes 90-minute lunch.

Worked from home today. It was all I dreamed it could be. And none of the being fetched, save for a couple phone calls that I could react to without trying to remain silent. 

Guess I have to go back. Sigh. So nice without the two hour drive and the human interaction. I mean, isn’t saying hi once a month enough? Takes up too much time to do it every day. 

Thanks, giant goose egg, for the good day. 

Tripped not over the cat, but just in front of her.

Usually she trips me and I can tumble pretty gracefully. But today, like most everything except that Hazmat area my career has turned into, it’s my own damn fault. 

Is that a golf ball in your left foot, or are you just happy to see me?

Here’s to hoping Lundbergh can ease off the summoning, lest I use my crutches as the blunt objects I’ve been dreaming of. 

Well it feels like fourscore. But it was only seven.

Facebook reminds me of a work trip to Philly, and a weekend in Wildwood Crest, N.J. I’ll always remember.

A friend invited us to stay with him. Then when we got there, he said nope — can’t stay here. But I called this oceanfront motel and got you a room.

He neglected to say he wasn’t paying for the room. Or that it would cost me more than $500, in addition to the rental car the company wasn’t covering because the work was done.

But I finally got to see a real boardwalk. And have a real weekend off. And I could finally say I’d gotten to the Atlantic City area.

I don’t have a ton to say. Just that I had just switched jobs, was making good money, liked what I was doing and got to travel.

Those were the days.

How far away they feel.

If some folks aspired to mediocrity, they wouldn’t even graze their heads on that bar. 

I didn’t say I was the one who overheard it. 

I hope everyone realizes by now that I’m a big fat ball of goddamned sunshine. And that the gossipy. Snippy, negative see-you-next-Tuesday never stops running their mouth. 

I mean I’ve shut down their negativity with high-paid witnesses present. 

I permit a lot of things I never dreamed I’d let slide. But it’s so validating to spot projection when I endure it.