Month: August 2015

This year for our anniversary we got tickets to see Willie Nelson who was playing at the local fair. Because, in all honesty, there’s really no more romantic way to celebrate your commitment to each other than by eating deep-fried Twinkies alongside aging ladies in cowboy boots.

Admittedly this may not be everyone’s dream date, but it was actually a huge improvement over our first anniversary years ago, which we spent cleaning our guest bathroom.

Don’t misunderstand. It’s not that we preferred scrubbing toilets to the more romantic notion of looking lovingly into each other’s eyes over free tortilla chips at El Torito, but the next night was our turn to host the monthly Homeowners’ Association meeting, and we didn’t want anyone on the HOA Board comparing us to the “rat” lady several doors down. In retrospect this was probably not very logical, since I doubt anyone could even find the rat lady’s bathroom. We did find her refrigerator, though. It was in the middle of the patio.

Since we didn’t have anyone to pawn off the kids on this year, we were forced to bring them along. This was one parental decision they actually agreed with. Granted, not all youth would see the value of such a concert, but Thomas has been brainwashing…I mean, schooling, our youngsters in classic folk and country music for several years now.[1]

The prospect of combining a steel guitar with junk food and vertigo-inducing, spinning rides was almost more anticipation than any of us could handle. We all anxiously counted down the days.

Now, not only does it generally not rain in California between the months of May and October, but the state is in a serious drought. So, it was a shock to all, particularly those who’d been at the fair all day, when the skies opened up and poured water down upon the fairgrounds a few hours before concert time. Because we had not gone to the fair early in the day (in an effort to keep Twinkie consumption down to an acceptable level), we managed to avoid arriving at the venue unprepared.

The rain started shortly before we were set to leave the house. Once my brain processed the fact that actual water was coming down from the sky, my amazement turned to joy. A few more of these downpours might turn our grass back to green, which in turn meant we wouldn’t have to worry about replacing everything in sight with succulents in order to have enough water to flush the toilet. I don’t have anything against succulents, but the idea of turning the pool into a huge cactus pot was a little depressing. Besides, Larry the Pool Guy is ex-military, and I feel safer just having him around. You never can be too careful.

When we recovered from the excitement, we scurried around the house in a mad panic trying to remember where and in which year we’d last seen the umbrellas and rain slickers. Was it before or after the infamous toilet scrubbing? Had the kids already been born?

Once we’d successfully dug them up, we hopped in the car and psychologically prepared ourselves for the ride to come…Californians are notoriously incapable of driving without incident in any weather other than sunshine. As it turned out, luck was on our side that day; we managed to make it to the fair unscathed.

As we entered the grounds with our protective rain gear, it was clear to us that the folks who had been there all day and were forced to contend with the elements unprotected, were having a slightly different experience than we were. Many had completely given up trying to stay dry and had decided to embrace nature, which was primarily achieved by taking off their flip-flops and treading barefoot through the puddles of water inhabited by half-eaten, mushy fries and remnants of mysterious items wrapped in bacon. This didn’t seem like a very sanitary idea, but with my umbrella in hand and close-toed shoes, I didn’t think my opinion would be appreciated.

We’d really worked up an appetite dealing with all that water and immediately headed for the concession stands. Eating, however, proved challenging, since there were no covered areas except the bathrooms. We were understandably less than thrilled with the idea of spending another anniversary huddled around a toilet, and instead opted for Plan B, which consisted of alternately holding umbrellas for each other and shoving food into our mouths.

As we were finishing up the last of our dinner, the rain started to let up, allowing the rides to re-open and paving the way for extensive negotiations with the kids in an effort to keep the cost of the evening within reason. At $6 per ride per kid, Disneyland was cheaper…not to mention less grimy, less rickety and, generally speaking, less dubious. Snow White didn’t usually have a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. After heavy haggling and a few tears (mine, not the kids’), we settled on two rides each and no more Twinkies.

Once the rides were behind us, we were ready to walk over to the concert area. Right about this time it started to rain again. We had proven that we could handle this water stuff and expertly pulled out our umbrellas for the second time that day (and this decade), as we made our way over to see Willie.

Arriving at our seats, we made a roof with our umbrellas and hunkered down while we took obnoxious selfies and waited for the concert to begin. It began to rain harder and harder.

Studying the stage it dawned on us that there might be a problem. It wasn’t just the audience and the doobies that were getting wet. The instruments on the stage were all covered in plastic, which appeared to be dripping and closer inspection revealed the floor was flooding. Our eyes moved slowly to the roof over the stage…uh, where was the roof?

Apparently the builders had consulted the historical weather charts and found it rained so little in California on concert days that it was more cost-effective to ditch the roof on the outdoor stage. I wondered if Willie was going to play his guitar wearing waders and a giant Hefty bag. As it turned out, Willie was not feeling like embracing nature (and probable electrocution) and opted to stay in his trailer.

No concert for us. Maybe cleaning the bathroom really wouldn’t have been so bad. At least our bathroom has a roof.

[1] While I had generally been supportive of this educational experience, I heavily considered putting the brakes on his efforts when the kids started obsessively playing Bob Dylan’s “Christmas in the Heart” album. Bob Dylan lending his voice to songs meant to soothe your nerves and put you in the holiday spirit is already bad enough during the actual holiday season, but the fact that the kids were listening to this in mid-July made it nearly unbearable.

As every parent knows, you have 2 careers: one career as a parent and then a second career doing whatever you do when  you’re not parenting, or as I call it, “yelling at your kids.”

I happen to work outside the home and for the most part really enjoy it. I get to create PowerPoint documents, lead meetings on topics I don’t understand and learn exclusive vocabulary that will confuse and annoy everyone outside of my workplace.

As I have found that I am not particularly good at keeping work-speak in the office, there is a strong possibility that I will slip up and use some of this language in one of my postings. Therefore, I am providing these official translations to help you decipher my ramblings.

Fire drill – this term is only used in the literal sense about once a year, and only following a notice from the Facilities Department. The rest of the time this means someone, somewhere did not do what they were supposed to do, causing it to end up in your lap with minutes to spare before the deadline. You would love to pull out the extinguisher and spray the person who needlessly started this fire, but there is no time to waste.

I had to stop using this term with my parents, because they couldn’t understand how in the world our fire drills lasted an entire week and why I wanted to spray people.

Dropping the ball – an action (or lack thereof) that causes a fire drill. During the Fall this is often the result of too much discussion regarding the department NFL pool.

Landing the plane – finally finishing a project that you should have finished a week earlier but were too busy watching YouTube.

Sanity check – validating with someone of equal or higher authority that your idea is completely reasonable, even though nobody agrees with you.

Heteroskedasticity – this is a term bandied about by the statistical team. I have no idea what it means, but after 5 years, I have finally learned to pronounce it and now use it to sound smart. Since I don’t happen to know any statisticians outside of work, this is a safe strategy for impressing my friends and family.

The extended team – the people left off the meeting invite.

Coach someone – to yell at an employee for dropping the ball and or not landing the plane. This has nothing to do with heteroskedasticity.

Align – ensure you have “buy in.”

Get buy-in – align.

Execute – to get something done / complete. This has nothing to do with the death penalty… unless you DON’T execute, in which case you had better watch your back.

Socialize (a document) – take your PowerPoint to a party so it can make friends with other PowerPoints.

It can also mean to make sure everybody you don’t want to tick off approves of the document.

Wheelhouse – your area of expertise / responsibility. This is a stupid term and anyone caught using it should be subjected to a lecture on heteroskedasticity.

This summer my 10 year old and her best guy friend officially declared their undying love for each other. Well, she did…at which point he ran upstairs and hid under a table…certainly not an uncommon reaction in these types of situations.

While Dominic laid low, literally, Elizabeth detailed out for her future mother-in-law and me the type of wedding she wanted. Most importantly, it needed to be 80’s themed. In fact, she was ready to forgo a traditional wedding dress in favor of a jeans miniskirt. (During subsequent planning discussions, her best friend pleaded with her to go with a dress, but Elizabeth was not to be influenced.) 

She didn’t fully elaborate on what she would force the wedding party to wear, but I could see where this was going. Odds were everyone was going to end up with crimped hair, including the groom. I silently pleaded with Dominic to stay under the table…for the next 20 years.

When Elizabeth went to go find her man, Corinne decided this was a prime opportunity to get into the picture. This was, after all, the duty of every little sister. She sidled up to Dom’s mother and me and loudly whispered “This is bad but I like Dominic a little too.” The love triangle was on! This was definitely Shakespearean. As Corinne ran upstairs to help pull Dominic out from under the table, I wondered if it was too late to send the poor kid into the witness protection program. He needed a new identity and quickly. 

Once the kids were out of the room, Dom’s mom and I talked business. She pointed out that it was a good thing we had just sold our condo, since we would have to pay for the wedding. I agreed this would be good use of any remaining equity we could squeeze out of that dump. As the negotiation continued, I offered to hunt down the mystery animal next door for the dowry. Although there has been no confirmed sighting of the animal, from the bizarre squealing it makes, we suspect it is something from the boar/pig/hog family – definitely appropriate for a dowry. While I had always parked in the street when bringing the girls over to visit, Dom’s mom noted that I should feel free to start parking in the driveway. After all, we’re family now.

A number of years ago I was promoted to a managerial position. Never having been a manager before, I quickly found that there were several new skills I would need to acquire. First of all, I needed an HP 12C financial calculator. To be respected in my segment of the financial industry one must discard the old Casio pocket calculator in favor of one these electronic wonders of the modern world. It makes no difference whether or not your job actually requires you to quickly calculate interest payments or amortization schedules; this was the tool of the trade and you must carry one at all times.

I had held out as long as I could, but I knew my management days were numbered if I resisted any longer. When the package arrived I approached it with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This was my ticket to certain success and career superstardom, but could I figure out how to use it? This thing is no ordinary calculator. It comes with comprehensive instructions – in the form of a starter manual and a supplemental CD which you need to consult just to figure out how to do simple addition. (You first punch in the whole list of numbers to be added and then hit the plus key at the end.) I haven’t yet claimed defeat, but while my shiny HP 12C sits prominently on my desk for all to see, I grab my hidden Casio when I have to calculate how many sick days I have left.

I’d always fancied myself a fairly educated person – a notion which was totally false, as I learned when I sat down at my first meeting with executive management. Vocabulary words were whizzing by that I had never heard before and wasn’t even sure I could spell. Where did these words come from? Did managers secretly read the dictionary at night? They all seemed to understand each other, so maybe an executive e-mail went out Mondays with the words of the week? The lady next to me just said “diminuous”…or was that “deminutous”?

After the meeting I desperately searched for this word on dictionary.com, but to no avail. I stewed on this for weeks when, to my surprise, my boss used the same word in a conversation with me. Thoughts raced through my head – this was my chance… should I stop him and ask him to spell it? No, I couldn’t admit this failure. I would have to figure this out myself. After several more internet searches, victory was finally mine:

de minimis (adj): so small or minimal in difference that it does not matter or the law does not take it into consideration

Shortly thereafter, my staff began receiving Monday morning e-mails with the word of the week.

One of the perks of these new responsibilities was an office. Offices are prime real estate and being low-man on the totem pole, I was given the only one left that wasn’t spoken for. For the first time in my career I had a desk with 2 chairs on the other side, a large bookshelf, a file cabinet nearly as tall as I am, and a huge white board.

While I was naively happy with my new surroundings, others took pity on me for having the smallest office. Well-meaning colleagues would come by and sympathize with my plight. “Well, at least you have a door that you can close, right?” and “Yep, (sigh with pity) this used to be my office.” Finally, “Oh Jesse had this office….” (voice dropping off). Since Jesse disappeared one day never to be seen or heard from again, I wondered what had become of him. Had the dimensions of the office sent him over the edge? Was my mental health at stake? In all likelihood Jesse had simply never learned how to use the HP 12C.