So I am six weeks in on the new job. I think the fog may have started to lift,
just a little.
I came into this with my eyes wide open: lesser title, same
pay, way better benefits. Good culture.
By good I mean non-toxic, not hateful, not too political. I can wear shorts and a t-shirt to work,
alcohol abounds, swearing is the norm.
Seems like the right place for me.
But then again, that cookbook factory had swearing and alcohol too.
What that cookbook factory did not have was good management
– at any level. I actually have a boss
here. He’s nice. He’s supportive. He answers questions. He does not have temper tantrums. What a novel idea – a manager who is actually
good at his job.
This is not all honeymoon talk. I knew even in the interview process that the
employees I would be inheriting had some
challenges. Morale problems, style
issues, anger management issues, fits of rage, continual snark. We have been working on this. Hard.
Amazing what you can accomplish with a team when you actually try to be
a manager. These poor guys have not had
a manager in 9 months and the previous manager had style issues,
anger management issues, fits of rage, and continual snark.
It’s all good. I knew
what I was walking in to.
Oh, I buried the lead.
They are letting me fly business class on an upcoming trip down to San
Francisco. When I explained that that
part of my life was over – the flying coach part – they smiled and looked
away. When I explained more that I was
serious, they rolled their eyes. When I proposed that I sit in seat 1A and they
just reimburse me for the cost of a coach ticket, they said sure.
I think this place may work out.
Anyway, I have not blogged in a while. Things have happened.
A few weekends ago I had the windows open because it was
nice out. The cats and I heard this loud
thud outside on my patio. We gave each
other that look from Friends – you know the one. That look you give each other when everyone
you know is right there so who could be making that noise? I went outside to investigate. There was a large dead rat on my patio. His throat was slit. Clearly one of those horrid Donald Trump
supporting bald eagles had picked up this poor rat and then accidently dropped
him onto my patio while flying back to its fascist roost to eat him. I hate Republican bald eagles.
And then there was Fred.
We went through a heat wave.
Horrible, horrible temperatures in the high eighties. Fred started throwing up. A lot.
Throwing up white foam. For a
whole weekend. By Monday we got him into
the vet (thank you, Mark). Full spread
of blood tests on kidneys and liver, x-rays, the best that someone with pet
insurance can buy. He was dehydrated so they pumped him full of some fluids,
gave him some anti-nausea medicine, and sent him home. The next day the vet called me. Fred was fine. No kidney problem, no liver problem, no
intestinal blockage, no swallowed cat toys.
“Maybe he just ate a spider,” she said.
$734 later I was very pleased he was OK.
But boy, do I hate wildlife.
Stupid spiders. They’re probably Trump supporters.
OK, next I had to go to the dermatologist. There were some moles on by back that I was
worried about and I wanted some skin tags taken off by a professional. Skin tags.
Remember when I was in the UK and I pulled that skin tag off my neck
only to discover it was a very small living being with my face on it? I set him free in a suburban area between
Liverpool and Manchester. I think about
him often, the mini-me. Anyway, when you
have a professional remove a skin tag they first give you a shot of painkiller
to numb the little being, snip him off with very small scissors, and then
cauterize the wound. It’s very straightforward
and fast. I did not ask what happens to
the little people after you leave. I
feel kind of bad about that. They also
cut off part of my nose to find out if I have skin cancer. I do not have skin cancer. This pleases me.
OK, the next drama was just a couple of days ago. I was
driving home. A block or two from my
house the street was full of parked cars on both sides so only one car could go
through at a time. I got there first, so
a nice woman with a cell phone tucked inside her hijab pulled over to the side
so I could get through. We waved. I was probably going 5 miles per hour forward
when I heard this loud bang. I could
tell that something had happened to my passenger side mirror. I assumed I had hit the mirror of another car
and my mirror had folded against the window, except that the noise was really
loud and I was driving really slow.
Since I was just a block from home I just continued on and
parked in my garage. When I got out to
look I saw that my mirror had not folded against the window and that there were
no scratches on the outside of the mirror or anywhere else on my car. It did not look like I hit anything, except
that there was a hole in the middle of the mirror and the glass was
cracked. Then I was like, “Oh my god?
Did I just do a hit and run? Did I hurt
someone else’s car?” I heard sirens in
the distance and panicked. Right then
Mark showed up and I explained that I was going to jail, perhaps for a long
time. He thought that was unlikely and
suggested that we return to the scene of the crime. So we drove his car the one block over so
that we would not be recognized. All the
same cars were still parked on the side of the road. None had their mirrors folded back or
damaged, and there were no scratches on any of the cars.
What on earth damaged my mirror? It had to be some foreign object moving forward
in the same direction that I was and it just hit my mirror and broke it. Some foreign object like a small meteorite,
or a bullet, or a fast moving rock dropped by some fascist Republican bald
eagle at just the right angle from a great height.
I figured it would be like $600 to fix or replace the
mirror, like the cost of a business class ticket to San Francisco, but no, it
will only be $90.
So you are all caught up.
I like my new boss and my new company.
I am working on my employees.
Things are good.
.
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