I had made it as far as the reception area when it hit me that I had personal files on the laptop I was leaving behind. Still taking care to avoid eye contact with anyone, I about-faced and made for the laptop. The office creatures standing around with mouths agape did not stand in my way.
Once I had picked up the laptop in its carrier and again made for the exit, the junior partner moved as if to block my path. Without looking at him, speaking barely above a whisper, I advised "Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it." He checked his motion.
I'll give it to the guy -- he had more stones than his partner pretended to have when he was chewing me out over the phone the previous day. Faced with the monster his big, fat, ignorant, arrogant mouth had created, that clown's lips were suddenly laced tighter than a baseball's cover.
Though, by now, Junior had given up the charade that he or anyone there was going to do anything "brave", he did ask me to surrender an expensive USB device critical to the business, and I did that. Clearly, there was concern that I was going to do something vindictive.
Fools. After 2+ years of working with me, they had no hint of who I am. Then and there, I had rescinded their license to say so much as "ouch" to me if I was standing on their collective big toe. The moment was about emancipation, not petty vengeance. I had ZERO interest in destroying them, their enterprise or anything or anyone connected to them. I said I wanted to clear my files off the laptop and that is what I meant, but I wasn't going to sit in the middle of that toxic dump of an office to do so. I wanted out and right away.
I walked briskly out of the office, down the hall and to the elevator bank. Just when I thought I had seen the last of the twin ulcers, I spied them sneaking down the hall, as if stalking me from afar. They were like the Terminator, only instead of simply shooting me, they threatened to annoy me to death. Damn those slow-ass elevators!
I turned to face them, shocked and dismayed that they had followed me. I guess the look on my face said it all because they stopped a good 20 feet away. Somberly, Senior inquired as to when they could expect the laptop. Through clenched teeth, I growled "Tomorrow!" As I said this, I raised my hand away from me at left mid-torso and with an abrupt sweep to the right, I summed it up with "You have my word on it!"
Monday, September 26, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
The Rose!
Finally got to DVR The Rose, Bette Midler's 1979 tour de force re a rockstar on the fast track to Palookaville. How's THAT for most cliche's in a single sentence? Somebody call Guinness Book! I'm gonna be famous yet.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The Meltdown in Midtown II
The thud of electronic devices meeting each other, the wall and the floor with greater force than necessary drew much attention. The office, after all, has a largely open floor plan, and sound travels.
I had announced my arrival with a spontaneous expression of intense dissatisfaction with an arbitrary intrusion into my life. My God, they knew I already worked full-time elsewhere, had family responsibilities and was in the process of buying a home -- in another state! At no time during our relationship with them had I ever worked from their office during a peak season, so why this time, particularly under those circumstances? Why should I have to squeeze my life into a few hours a day before rushing to midtown to sit in that toxic office until long after everyone had gone?
None of it made any sense, no one could give me a viable explanation and after the nonsensical and insulting phone call I got the day before, if I let it all go on, I would be as big a fool as they were to think that it could.
Upon realizing the impact my entrance had had on those present, I leaned over the desk and bowed my head. After several deep breaths, I had regained enough of my composure to follow someone's suggestion that I spend some time alone in the conference room.
It didn't help. Five minutes after the initial wave of rage came another. I walked out of the conference room with the intention that I would do any work that had to be done then and there, but I knew that, for purposes of work, I was done going to that office.
The twin ulcers were waiting for me as I made my way back to the desk where this all started. They wanted to talk. I grumbled that I didn't want to talk to anyone, I just wanted to get some work done and go home. The younger one pooh-poohed that notion. When he came at me with that pathetic office cliché "this is unacceptable", I knew it was all over. If that little snot-nosed hick thought he was gonna call me on that cheap-ass carpet, he musta been on meth. I whispered "I can't do this", then, empty-handed, headed toward the exit.
I had announced my arrival with a spontaneous expression of intense dissatisfaction with an arbitrary intrusion into my life. My God, they knew I already worked full-time elsewhere, had family responsibilities and was in the process of buying a home -- in another state! At no time during our relationship with them had I ever worked from their office during a peak season, so why this time, particularly under those circumstances? Why should I have to squeeze my life into a few hours a day before rushing to midtown to sit in that toxic office until long after everyone had gone?
None of it made any sense, no one could give me a viable explanation and after the nonsensical and insulting phone call I got the day before, if I let it all go on, I would be as big a fool as they were to think that it could.
Upon realizing the impact my entrance had had on those present, I leaned over the desk and bowed my head. After several deep breaths, I had regained enough of my composure to follow someone's suggestion that I spend some time alone in the conference room.
It didn't help. Five minutes after the initial wave of rage came another. I walked out of the conference room with the intention that I would do any work that had to be done then and there, but I knew that, for purposes of work, I was done going to that office.
The twin ulcers were waiting for me as I made my way back to the desk where this all started. They wanted to talk. I grumbled that I didn't want to talk to anyone, I just wanted to get some work done and go home. The younger one pooh-poohed that notion. When he came at me with that pathetic office cliché "this is unacceptable", I knew it was all over. If that little snot-nosed hick thought he was gonna call me on that cheap-ass carpet, he musta been on meth. I whispered "I can't do this", then, empty-handed, headed toward the exit.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The Meltdown in Midtown
As I have written, for 2.5 years, wifey and I slaved away to build the business of two of the most obnoxious guys to ever pull on a pair of socks in the morning. We did this remotely for most of that time. However, this summer, though they were aware we were preparing to relocate, they insisted one of us come to the office weekday afternoons during one of their peak seasons, which spanned most of August.
Because they were asking for -- no, demanding against all logic -- the presence of either of us up to 10 PM, I decided it had to be me because I wouldn't risk wifey coming home by herself on public transportation that time of night. Though they never gave us a concrete reason why, all of a sudden, one of us being at the office was so critical, I tried to accommodate them.
After a few days of waking up to work from home, then trying to squeeze in chores and errands, then dropping everything to rush to the office and do more work that I could just as readily have done at home, then waking up Friday morning to start the work week at my full time job, I realized how stupid this all was. At that point, I started going in whenever I was done taking care of business at home, because that was priority for me. My family ALWAYS comes first. I would arrive at their office 2-3 hours after I was expected, and was unapologetic about it.
One afternoon, during a torrential rain, I found myself yet again running errands when they were expecting me at the office. Having been caught in the downpour, I was soaked to my skin, aggravated, worn out and just not of a mind to deal with their nonsense. I was driving to a supermarket to pick up some groceries before dragging myself down there when I got The Call. A glance at my phone confirmed that the caller was indeed the elder of these two mopes.
Over the next 20 minutes, he proceeded to tell me that he didn't ask me to move during their peak season, he felt that HIS business always took third priority in MY life, the explanation for my reluctance to work from their office was "bullshit" and suggested that he was doing wifey and me a favor by contracting out to us. When I countered that, considering all the good work wifey and I had done during our business relationship, he was taking things too far, he yelled "I don't give a shit!" He closed the discussion with an imperious "Do your job!"
I didn't trip. I disengaged the call, went about my business and didn't go in that day after all.
Over the next several hours, the memory of that call marinated in my skull. The cursing, the arrogance, the gall this asshole had to yell at me as if I were his teenage son caught sneaking in on a school night after a joy ride in the family car!
At first, I had to cope with the disappointment that, in their eyes, wifey's and my overall efforts counted for little simply because we chose to put our family's interests ahead of their egos and petty office politics. I had high hopes for us with them. They made lots of promises and we really were doing a good job. But overnight, that disappointment turned to rage. For what they were paying us while we waited patiently to reap the benefits of our hard work and good faith, how dare they even hint that we should put their business ahead of our own well-being, and tolerate being harassed over the phone in the bargain?
Regardless, by the next afternoon when it was time to head downtown, I thought everything was under control. I tried to focus on business, but the closer I got to that office, the more certain I grew that I had managed only to temporarily suppress the rage I felt earlier.
By the time I walked into their reception area, I was so angry, I could not make eye contact with anyone for fear I might do something rash. I went to set my laptop on a desk and ended up throwing it, knocking a monitor and telephone to the floor...
Because they were asking for -- no, demanding against all logic -- the presence of either of us up to 10 PM, I decided it had to be me because I wouldn't risk wifey coming home by herself on public transportation that time of night. Though they never gave us a concrete reason why, all of a sudden, one of us being at the office was so critical, I tried to accommodate them.
After a few days of waking up to work from home, then trying to squeeze in chores and errands, then dropping everything to rush to the office and do more work that I could just as readily have done at home, then waking up Friday morning to start the work week at my full time job, I realized how stupid this all was. At that point, I started going in whenever I was done taking care of business at home, because that was priority for me. My family ALWAYS comes first. I would arrive at their office 2-3 hours after I was expected, and was unapologetic about it.
One afternoon, during a torrential rain, I found myself yet again running errands when they were expecting me at the office. Having been caught in the downpour, I was soaked to my skin, aggravated, worn out and just not of a mind to deal with their nonsense. I was driving to a supermarket to pick up some groceries before dragging myself down there when I got The Call. A glance at my phone confirmed that the caller was indeed the elder of these two mopes.
Over the next 20 minutes, he proceeded to tell me that he didn't ask me to move during their peak season, he felt that HIS business always took third priority in MY life, the explanation for my reluctance to work from their office was "bullshit" and suggested that he was doing wifey and me a favor by contracting out to us. When I countered that, considering all the good work wifey and I had done during our business relationship, he was taking things too far, he yelled "I don't give a shit!" He closed the discussion with an imperious "Do your job!"
I didn't trip. I disengaged the call, went about my business and didn't go in that day after all.
Over the next several hours, the memory of that call marinated in my skull. The cursing, the arrogance, the gall this asshole had to yell at me as if I were his teenage son caught sneaking in on a school night after a joy ride in the family car!
At first, I had to cope with the disappointment that, in their eyes, wifey's and my overall efforts counted for little simply because we chose to put our family's interests ahead of their egos and petty office politics. I had high hopes for us with them. They made lots of promises and we really were doing a good job. But overnight, that disappointment turned to rage. For what they were paying us while we waited patiently to reap the benefits of our hard work and good faith, how dare they even hint that we should put their business ahead of our own well-being, and tolerate being harassed over the phone in the bargain?
Regardless, by the next afternoon when it was time to head downtown, I thought everything was under control. I tried to focus on business, but the closer I got to that office, the more certain I grew that I had managed only to temporarily suppress the rage I felt earlier.
By the time I walked into their reception area, I was so angry, I could not make eye contact with anyone for fear I might do something rash. I went to set my laptop on a desk and ended up throwing it, knocking a monitor and telephone to the floor...
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Adjustments II
The flipside of the human capacity to learn is that we are first curious. We would have no motivation to find out what we don't know if we didn't care to begin with. This is what separates us from rats and pigs who can thrive in their own filth as long as there is plenty to eat. Until we get the "why" that goes with the "wherefore", we are not at peace. Reaching rational conclusions brings about a sense of satisfaction within us. That's why the forensic analysis of a disaster is not only educational, it's therapeutic.
Though it drives wifey bananas, when things go wrong, I gather fragments, piece together the wreckage and look for the black box. Hey, It works for the NTSB.
Over the years, this sometimes obsessive tendency to analyze has paid off. Today, I am seldom caught off guard by the unexpected. Under this context, I have mulled over what I hereby dub the Meltdown in Midtown.
About a month ago, I disappointed some people who badly misjudged their positions in my world. Oh, the looks on their faces when...
Though it drives wifey bananas, when things go wrong, I gather fragments, piece together the wreckage and look for the black box. Hey, It works for the NTSB.
Over the years, this sometimes obsessive tendency to analyze has paid off. Today, I am seldom caught off guard by the unexpected. Under this context, I have mulled over what I hereby dub the Meltdown in Midtown.
About a month ago, I disappointed some people who badly misjudged their positions in my world. Oh, the looks on their faces when...
Friday, September 16, 2011
Adjustments
For 2.5 years, wifey and I toiled at all hours of the day and night, seven days a week -- even while on vacation -- for below market wages to build a business. And we did build a business. Trouble was it wasn't ours, but that of a pair of arrogant creeps working off a 1960s, cookie-cutter business model. Granted that for 99% of that 2.5 years, we worked remotely, but even with that perk, we were still stuck with THEM. These are two guys with personalities so transcendently annoying, waking up knowing that a phone call from either was imminent was enough to cast a pall on my morning.
Long on platitudes and knee-jerk reactions, but short on reasoning and foresight, these clowns worked their way into the fabric of my family's lives. It was not until maybe a month after walking out of their office for good that I could accurately assess their impact on us. From the moment I quit up to this instant, I have observed positive change in the four of us, a gradual leveling out and return to normalcy. Wifey and I are literally putting our house in order and the children are responding. Though this family restoration project is in its infancy, I can write with certainty that, between wifey and me, there is sufficient resolve to get it done. Why would either of us want these innocent babies to grow up in the midst of mayhem like we did? Of course, had we continued working with those lunatics, that's exactly what would have happened.
Long on platitudes and knee-jerk reactions, but short on reasoning and foresight, these clowns worked their way into the fabric of my family's lives. It was not until maybe a month after walking out of their office for good that I could accurately assess their impact on us. From the moment I quit up to this instant, I have observed positive change in the four of us, a gradual leveling out and return to normalcy. Wifey and I are literally putting our house in order and the children are responding. Though this family restoration project is in its infancy, I can write with certainty that, between wifey and me, there is sufficient resolve to get it done. Why would either of us want these innocent babies to grow up in the midst of mayhem like we did? Of course, had we continued working with those lunatics, that's exactly what would have happened.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Moving Up...and Shelling Out
Moving is something we absolutely had to do, but I won't front -- it's a bitch. Without airing too much of my dirty laundry, I have had to pull more strings than the Godfather to make this happen. Every available resource, every nickel in the piggy bank, every pubic hair I could pluck. That's OK. I do not, and will never, regret any sacrifice I make to improve our quality of life.
Our new street is clean, tree-lined and quiet. Our home-to-be is better than twice the square footage of our apartment, not including the basement. Within a two-minute drive, there is a colossal recreation center with basketball courts, an indoor track, weights and cardio machines, not to mention ballfields for every popular sport. It's ridiculous. And it's waiting for us. And [insert generic disclaimer such as "barring catastrophe" here] it's only 3 weeks away.
The prospect of leaving The Bronx evokes mixed emotions. Whatever I have developed into, The Bronx has been the Petri dish. I will always feel a connection to the northernmost borough of New York City, but I'm oh so done with people hopelessly enmeshed in the games I've seen play out time and again. Moreover, I'll be goddamned if through failure to act on my part, one of my babies gets caught up in that bullshit. No! People can say what they like about roots and community, but until fools stop shooting first and thinking last, THERE IS NO COMMUNITY. There are only kids dying young and ignorant or innocent bystanders dying in their place.
By the grace of God, I am 43 years old. Admittedly, I pissed away a good deal of my youth through ignorance. It is my duty to my wife and children to learn from the mistakes I made and pass that wisdom down.
Am I happy to be leaving the Bronx? Despite the history I leave behind -- or maybe because of it -- you betcha.
Our new street is clean, tree-lined and quiet. Our home-to-be is better than twice the square footage of our apartment, not including the basement. Within a two-minute drive, there is a colossal recreation center with basketball courts, an indoor track, weights and cardio machines, not to mention ballfields for every popular sport. It's ridiculous. And it's waiting for us. And [insert generic disclaimer such as "barring catastrophe" here] it's only 3 weeks away.
The prospect of leaving The Bronx evokes mixed emotions. Whatever I have developed into, The Bronx has been the Petri dish. I will always feel a connection to the northernmost borough of New York City, but I'm oh so done with people hopelessly enmeshed in the games I've seen play out time and again. Moreover, I'll be goddamned if through failure to act on my part, one of my babies gets caught up in that bullshit. No! People can say what they like about roots and community, but until fools stop shooting first and thinking last, THERE IS NO COMMUNITY. There are only kids dying young and ignorant or innocent bystanders dying in their place.
By the grace of God, I am 43 years old. Admittedly, I pissed away a good deal of my youth through ignorance. It is my duty to my wife and children to learn from the mistakes I made and pass that wisdom down.
Am I happy to be leaving the Bronx? Despite the history I leave behind -- or maybe because of it -- you betcha.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Soul Food
I'm laying my lazy ass on the sofa this morning watching another old movie. Today's feature is Soul Food. It's a decent flick, but it covers so many subjects, there isn't time to delve deeply into any of them. I guess it's basically a chocolate chick flick in the vain of the Gone With the Wind of the genre, Waiting to Exhale. And don't get me started on THAT bucket of fish guts. That movie single-handedly did more to set back relations between black men and women than slavery, the DL and "wait -- not the hair" combined. They should round up every copy of that movie made for man-haters and dump them into a blast furnace! What am i doing watching this crap anyway? I should be packing or running or something. I can't stand a lazy ass, no account, trifling brother and when I manage to get up offa this couch, I'm gonna go find one and tell him so. Why isn't my wife up fixing me some damn breakfast?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Firm
I watch this flick any time I can. The script, the pace, the actors, even the soundtrack blend together to make the perfect cinematic cocktail. I especially like the scene where Mitch has to confess his infidelity to Abby. She says "You can't promise anything -- ever!" But what I like best is a tale of a smart guy who, while under unfathomable pressure, worked the angles like a geometrist. More than that, he did it to survive, not simply to affirm his superiority over his adversaries.
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