The Possibility Of Assholery

Assholery is not an actual word per the uptight, ungroomed editors of Wikipedia and Websters. But I use the word to describe the general activity of people who are unaware, negligent, narcissistic (on the first try!), and on the whole, unpleasant. An unpleasant hole. Full of crap, hot air, ungroomed, bad oils. Asshole. And it takes one to know one.

I know this because I can be the biggest asshole in the room at any given time. I don't like to be. Being an asshole is a pro-active thing, not reactive, unless the reaction is over-the-top and uncalled for. But being an asshole carries two interesting traits: No "asshole throttle," and total asshole apathy. Simply not caring how big of an asshole you are being.

I don't try to be an a-hole nearly enough. I think there's a point when my cage needs to be rattled by a demonstration of assholery, and likewise to those around. There's no greater salve for complacency than an asshole's outburst. To mope, slope, and slog around as if there are no consequences for one's inactivity or apathetic life is a social welfare check; "It's fine to be bad at what you do, not pay attention, and speak like a juvenile idiot." No.
No it's not.

If somebody's side-holing your day, let 'em know. I work with a guy who works so mercilessly slow and methodically that it slows everybody else down. When I finally told him that I couldn't attend his meetings because we were 2 days behind due to his pace, he reacted as if I'd spent the morning reclined in his bed while his wife's perm bobbed on my knob. Fine, he thinks I'm an asshole. The days that followed saw him dash his repetitive meetings and free up a lot of people's time. In turn, WE GOT SHIT DONE. It was simple honesty and being forthright. America has lost much of its "BS Barometer" due to the creep of Political Correctness, causing us to never want to offend somebody.

Say whatever you gotta say, knowing that you may look like an asshole on somebody's sliding scale of Assholery. But don't hold back if it's the right thing to do. You can only be shat on for so long before being shat on is your fault. I think that's in the Old Testament. The worst somebody can legally do is fire-back a big "F You!" If you can take that hit, you're on your way to a special place in the Assholes of All Time.


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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Daddy Issues #1 - The Conceptin'

While recently talking with an acquaintance (read: friendly, but not airport pick-up "friends") I mentioned that becoming a father at 35 afforded me a mindset of easily-focused priorities. Being in a large number of situations that demanded a type of "After School Special" reasoning, when not flipping a coin to see if I should trust my gut (always do) helped me bank experience I may have otherwise missed out on. When Graham comes to me one day to ask what he should do about a girl who seems to be really aloof, I can firmly tell him that she's carrying some issues with her dad and needs attention and to be chased, so the farther away from her he gets, the better. THEN... she'll come a-runnin'.

A lot of people who can barely manage their own lives, health, and finances are putting people on the earth every minute. A lot of folks who cannot - but want to - have children find themselves distraught over the inability to do so.

So if I'm getting pee'ed on, pooped at, thrown-upon, stared at, grumped about, or not getting validation of some sort from my 3 month-old son, I don't mind. I've worked with grown-ups who were less refined. It's still a blessing to have a healthy, happy, growing infant to care for. I'm not bringing a lot to the table just yet for him to really bond to. But we're liking our Dinosaur Flashcards, reading about Freight Trains, and listening to Classical Music while breaking down pass coverages and blitz packages to find hot routes in the empty zones. Kid can audible.

I know enough to know I don't know all I want to. But I'm not no dummy.

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Interview Review

I had an interview yesterday for a job I think I'll be really great for. It's been a while since I had an in-person 'view, having a number of phoners and chit-chats in the past year. And the past year has been "interesting" in that "hey, that's an interesting choice of fishnet shorts, sir." Plus, the economy in California appears to be run entirely by mismanaged healthcare conglomerates and DirecTV.

So, from my interview yesterday there were a few areas I think I could have better-represented myself. In the event that the teammembers I talked with are reading my blog - yes, now and then a potential employer will check in on candidates to make sure they aren't leading their meat-alternative lifestyle in an overly-aggressive manner - HERE IS WHAT I MEANT TO TELL YOU when we spoke of these issues.

1) DEADLINES! You asked what I would do if a number of Exec's came to me with simultaneous requests and delivery times. What I really should have highlighted was that I would inquire among the team for bandwidth, as to who could help me out so I can properly deliver on the ask. And make sure I share credit across the board. I don't know why I said "Do a spit-take and flip the bird." That's ridiculous, and the wrong time to go for a laugh. The next day I would surely reward my teammates with cookies.

2) TIME ON THE JOB! I do feel I answered truthfully to the portion of why I hadn't been in a particular job for too long in the past 4 years. Working On-Contract in the Northwest is pretty common, and those contracts with some large software companies help ensure the employed aren't taken advantage of, nor get any real momentum nor continuity. Phew! And moving to (and back from) California is an experience I wouldn't trade for the world. But I also didn't really touch on the fact that I and my family are intent on remaining in the area for quite some time. I am attached to this area, want to raise a family here, have some goals about involvement in the community. Most importantly, my dreams are dead now, so that'll really be the compost to feed the roots taking hold here... yep.

3) PUBLIC KITCHEN USE! I'm no fan of any common area that allows a person to microwave any sort of fish meal. It's wrong. To keep that from happening, all of my meals will be eaten cold, at my desk, in under 12 minutes. AND I BRING IN COOKIES THAT THE TEAM GETS FIRST CRACK AT, before releasing broken ones to the vultures in the kitchen area. Real cookies. Chocolate-laden. None of that Raisin-chunk, store-bought Horse-S people try and pass off as a "friendship offering."

Okay, so hopefully they got all that. I'm a good hire, a good guy, and not involved in any Fantasy Sports this year. Bigger fish to scale. Let's do this, because I have the skills, and a calendar with nothing on it until Memorial Day.

COOKIES.

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Somebody Had To Say It

Well... I finally did it.

I often tell people to open their mouths to the inconsiderate folks in their midsts and let that inconsiderate person, or "assclown," let them know they need to pick it up a notch.

I took a pull off that bottle tonight at the grocery store.

I worked 10 hours today. I was there about 10 hours, is what I'm saying. Cut to the chase, I wasn't in the mood to be held up from getting home. Not by traffic. Not a woman who did F-all for the entire day except find her favorite navy blue capri pants and a shirt with stars on it to match those pants. And wear sunglasses inside.

Why did we invent the roof?

So I saw this woman moseying about the store, cart packed with all sorts of items. She pulled one of my favorite moves: Cart parked in random spot, shopper flits off to find something three rows over, cart is in everyone's way. I usually move the cart to a safe spot. Not until I've deposited cart-ward the most expensive item in the vicinity. This time it was a multi-greens powdered shake mix. That'll run ya 'bout $33 a tankard. Enjoy.

Oddly, I go over my 15 items so I have to go into a regular line, of which 2 are open. I get in behind, you guessed it, the Shaded Wanderer, or "Bitch Nose." I asked God to direct my focus elsewhere, and He answered. I turned to my left, and behind me was a nice older lady (older as in "High-waisted lavendar pants", not older as in "Dude, your aunt is single, right?") She had only two items in her cart, both of them for a surely aloof if not near-death cat. I asked her if she'd like to go ahead of me, she had only a few items.

"Oh, that's so nice, but no thanks. I'm going to lean here on my cart for a moment," she replied. "Sweet ass, though."

I made part of that up.

She had on red pants, but I digress...

As the Lady Still Wearing Sunglasses Indoors (5'6''-ish, bottle-blonde, spray tan, lots of gold jewelry, no discernible income) is finishing her transaction, including $33 for GreenShakes!, her credit card slip is handed back to her JUST AS HER PHONE IN HER PURSE ON THE FLOOR RINGS.

I wouldn't answer it. You wouldn't answer it. Then again, we don't drink box-chardonnay until 5 and then burn it off with a shopping trip. Even though we've been meaning to.

Of COURSE she dug through her purse for her phone before signing her slip. Why the hell else am I writing this in a mu-mu?

So as the guy hands the slip back to her and she launches into a conversation about what to have for dinner, she gets at least 45 seconds (count it off, it's longer than you think) into the chat as though nothing else was happening around her. No shopping. No other people. Zoned out. Until finally she says "Well what do you want me to do about it?"

And I just kind of nonchalantly said "Signing your credit slip would be nice."

The check-out guy had a look of surprise on his face. Ten seconds later, she said "Well, I have to go, I'm at the store and I need to sign my slip." Ten more seconds. An extra minute of time. Of life. Burnt by someone else. My favorite moment was when she hung up and acted exasperated and said to the cashier "Gosh, my daughter, she's done with school and moving back home and she can't figure out what to do for dinner and I'm trying to get settled into my new house, ya know?" She just tried to blame the last minute on HER DAUGHTER and HER LIFE.

The cashier was very nice to me, and laughed as the lady walked away.

Nobody forces you to answer your phone unless you're in a hostage situation, which this ALMOST turned in to. Very simply, being aware of the other people around you, common courtesies, the simplest of niceties can take you very far in life.

The lady behind me with the cat supplies nearly threw out her back trying to lift her 10-lb bucket of cat crap-sand. I offered to help her again when I put the little grocery divider down and said "You should really get smaller, lighter bags." Jeez, what an idiot. Some people, huh?

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