Where Were You...

...when you read that I almost got killed by a Cottonmouth?

http://flimsycups.blogspot.com/2010/11/biographical-information-tid-bit-1.html

Today is the 10 month and a day anniversary of the publishing of that emotionally charged and bone chilling post.

How have you dealt with the shocking realization that the web came so close to losing the author of this blog...before the internets was even known to the general public?

Were you able to say a prayer of thanks and move past it...or have you been obsessively replaying the event in your mind just to make sure I did actually survive unscathed?

How has your life changed since that moment? Do you now cherish every word of every post as if it was the last. Do you read like I was dying?

Do you panic if a few days pass without a post...terrified that Satan's hand puppet has come back to finish the job?

Or was the emotional turmoil of it all just too much, too much to process and, unable to cope, you've cut your internet off completely.

Tell us your story. Make it an emotional performance...prance and preen. Solipsize the event so we can all have a better understanding of how to deal with it.

You don't know who you might be helping.

Please acknowledge a moment of silence before hitting respond.

Picking Daisies.

My actual job, how I spend my days, is a blast. Despite their initial concerns that I was over-qualified or whatever and that I'd get bored...I love it. All I've heard is what a bang up job I've been doing...more evidence of my embarrassing, slobbering love for what I do.

Well we can't have that....

Evidently I'm supposed to be filling out a weekly pre-report. A report that lists all the stops I'll be making the next week. Then on the following Friday, I amend that report to show what I actually did and do the next weeks pre-report.

Understand that I only have the most general control over where I'm going. I make arrangements to ride with sales reps...I go where they go. That means that I have to request a list of all the stops we'll be making...so I can fill out my weekly pre-report.

"Well ________ didn't have any problem getting the reps to do it."

Good point. Why don't I go ask him how he did it? Only I can't....because he QUIT.

As it turns out, despite the procedural proficiency of the fella before me...the reps don't seem to know the drill. When I requested a list of stops from the fella I'll be riding with on Tuesday...he sent me a list of ten place names. No address, no phone number...not even a city name.

That's an issue because I'm not simply making a list of where I'll be stopping. I have to enter each stop into a piece of software that they got on the black market when the Soviet Union collapsed. You can't enter anything without an address and a phone number.

I spent an hour on Friday afternoon looking up addresses and phone numbers...for places I WILL BE IN ON TUESDAY. An hour of the most precious and finite resource in the Universe...looking for something that I don't need until Friday and which will be right in front of my face on Tuesday.

Of course it's no surprise that the rep doesn't know the procedure. Why would he considering that the number of folks I've ridden with who have even the foggiest ******* of who _______ is could be counted on one hand. I guess he was too busy filing out paper work to get out and do his job. Maybe I could do like the fella before him and just make it all up and go play golf.

At this point you may be asking yourself...and you would be right to...how did they know he was just making it up? After all he wrote it down, entered into The Software...therefore it must have happened. The Software doesn't lie.

Heretical as it may sound, it is possible to use The Software as a tool for lying. They get reports everyday on what product is and isn't moving. Cases, numbers...M-O-N-E-Y..money. People who love to fill out reports...they're the same people that can't be shut up during meetings...are usually people that don't do any actual work.

Every office, every job, has it's stupidities. First thing Monday morning I have to go pick up some product. It takes these jokers two hours to get my samples together...even though the request was made three days in advance. That's what it takes to get the product though...product I sell so I can make them money and they can pay me. It's stupid but it's necessary if we want the samples.

I've done things that were even less necessary than these pre-reports..imaginary things. During basic training when the Drill Sergeants would get a case of the red-*** they'd march us to a freshly mowed clearing and tell us to pick daisies. Of course, I had signed on for that...singed on to have my will subsumed.

This isn't the Army...we don't have that kinda deal. This is stupid and unnecessary...it's a leash. It's a cavalier attitude toward my time and efforts and it's got me on the verge of a depersonalizing rage.

I guess I'll just have to take the place over.

Post #23

There are magic words...abracadabara, presto, shazam...please.

Hello is not one of these words.

If you answer the phone and don't get a response with the first hello...maybe try one more but that's it...stop it. Yelling into the phone...HELLO...HELLO...HELLO...ever louder...HELLLOOOO...HELLO...HELLO!...is not going to make the mystery caller suddenly respond.

If you're that desperate to talk to someone just wait ten seconds and it'll ring again.

I've gotta get out of this office.

Hello...HELLO...HELLO...HELOOOOOOW....

Post #10

Sometimes I hear things that are painfully vapid and stupid, but they're presented in such a way that you don't really have a choice but to follow them out to their ludicrous, meanigless ends. Like coming to a four way stop with three dead ends.

I had the sports radio on in my little room the other night...Finebaum had been off for hours, but I just hadn't bothered to turn it. Anyway...the top of the hour sports news comes on and the announcer states that some batter...he had a latin name I can't remember...was "still having trouble with pitchers named Dave."

Seriously? Did somebody write that down believing it was worth pointing out? Are we to believe that this batter has some sorta mental hang up with pitchers named Dave. Are there managers out there desperately seeking pitchers named Dave to deal with him? Evidently you could just pick somebody from the stands named Dave and put him on the mound...or maybe there's some tendency in all pitchers named Dave that present a problem for this batter. Anybody bother to ask about their middle names?

What, for the love of cupcakes, am I supposed to take from this information?

Nothin' it's just some inane observation about a coincidence...a verbal and mental rice cake. Yet, I can't help myself from taking a bite...it's been politely offered up.

How much of our brain space you reckon is clogged up with memories of crap like this?