UnrealisticExpectations 3.0

Lots of hubbub in the world around old–and I mean old–Don Imus.

Everyone’s ready to castrate a man for a slip up–not even one made out of malice, but one made by and old dude trying to play some humor.

Blacks are offended. Women are offended. Whites can’t say things like that. Imus should be fired.

Right-on! While we’re at it, let’s start drowning some kittens every time someone says something stupid. You know, like that stupid thing you said a few minutes ago, yesterday or last week. Hell, if you’re me, it was probably within the past 10 seconds.

Anyway, I’ve already ranted a lot more than I wanted to. Every media outlet, every perfect citizen has now had the opportunity to say Imus’ little slur outloud, in print or online, and you’ll notice how I avoided it–although we’ve all been given cart blanche to say it or write it and it’s okay now.

I’ll tell you what I think: Most people are hippocrites and most people say far worse with much mor malice towards others all the damn time and the way this is being handled in the “free market” is total garbage. Most people don’t even listen to Imus to understand the context. Hey, it’s not like he went all Kramer on anyone.

Each one of you casting stones should remember: You could be next.

Even Barack Obama, a man I had a lot of hope for, wants Old Don fired, but Obaby sure can forgive other people in politics–seems like he may have a bandwagon streak in him. Much easier than acknowledging what a bunch of horse pucky this is.

We live in stupid times, folks. Anything for a cause, no matter how stupid it is, I suppose. At the end of the day, if you don’t like it, turn the dial. That’s worked for people and Al Sharpton for years.

In the world of everyone fighting for my dime and my time, Netflix is a current winner.

For starters, I hate hate hate going to video stores. Hell, I used to manage one back in college and I loved the job, but it was a task to hire people who either didn’t steal from you or who actually took pride in their work and cared about the customers.

Yeah, that was me at college. I even worked my ass of 3-4 shifts a week so the Store Manager could take all the credit of keeping his store in order. Pathetic, but I digress.

Video Storeheads are also a bit elitist–they know all about the movies, they silently judge you as you check out (oooh, another Steven Segal for you, sir?) or they pretend to have so much more knowledge than you because they actually work “in the industry”–but, here’s a secret for you storehead: Everyone knows that everything comes out on Tuesday and you don’t get a SAG card for working at Blockbuster, okay? Okay. Now, shut up and hand me that Van Damme movie without giving me your better-than-me look because you get a handful of these rentals for free each week; it’s a guilty pleasure and I’m in the mood for staying up late, eating White Castle and enjoying some Van Damme-age while my wife and kid are out of town.

But, enter Netflix.

For my monthly fee, I get a couple of more movies, no late fees, no driving out at 11:50 on a week night to return that damn video and snotty little 23 year old store manager on a retail power trip.

And, honestly, that was enough for me. I’d sometimes supplement this $18 a month fee with a trip to the local store to find a video game or a handful of different movies if I knew I’d have nothing to do and could use the extra entertainment, but with the inclusion of the XBox 360 and Nintendo Wii into my life, well, I’d just as soon buy a single game and not have to deal AND I’ve got something to do when there’s nothing to watch–and let’s not forget that thanks to the DVR, I’ve got tons of television stuff that I’m missing. And don’t get me started on iPod Videos that make their way down from iTunes or other sources.

But, here comes Netflix with a PVT (Previously Viewed Tapes, at BBV (Blockbuster Video), so maybe it’s just PV) program. Not only are they kind enough to make recommendations (and Netflix, take this hint: Make it easier for me to find the stuff out on DVD this week, okay? Okay. Let’s keep my queue fat without much effort on my part), but they’ll even show you every single item with a little highlight noting when it’s available to purchase as “used”.

But wait. Waitwaitwait.

It gets better.

Easier, even.

Once you click to let them know you’re interested… this little Ajax-like div/popup lets you get right to the action and decide right then and there if you’re ready to have that Pirates of the Caribbean shipped to your home.

Not only that, but since you’re most likely already logged-in, they let you know that by pushing ONE MORE BUTTON Pirates will be shipped right to your doorstep where your subscription goes to and will be billed right to the card your subscription is billed to.

Take that, Amazon! I love Amazon and spend more money there than I ever probably should, but when you purchase a Prime membership, you find ways to make it worth your money–and it generally is. The problem with Amazon is that their checkout process–even when using that beloved 1-click–is TOO DAMN TEDIOUS and there’s too much for me to look at and review.

My ADHD does not like this.

My ADHD likes pushing one more button and being finished with the process, having a movie on its way and me back to browsing the next movie that is going to my queue when I should be designing screens for some online functionality for my bosses.

And if that wasn’t cool enough, Netflix has been adding 250,000 users per week of their “watch it now” service which gives, well, me, 18 hours a month of free, on-demand content to watch. Sure, just at my computer, but I’ve got dual monitors AND I’m on these computers far too much as it is. And if I’m travelling for work, it beats the hell out of porn per view, right? Sure, the selection isn’t great just yet, but they’re preparing for a future where this getting movies by mail just won’t cut it, which is something the Blockbusters of the world should have been doing while they’ve been raking in profits for years.

So, Netflix, keep those top couple of buttons open on that shirt of yours. The Sternum Bush is rocking my world.

And keeping me away from the Video Store Ninjas that I hate so much.

Today, I decided to take a new opportunity that is Contract-To-Hire that I am pretty positive will turn out to be a fantastic experience and will provide me with the opportunity to flex my own professional skills.

When I sent out my resignation to the company I contract for, I had a lot on my mind and I was pretty steamed.
(more…)

The following is a true story, based entirely off of actual events. Any time represented is based upon the

amount of time displayed on my phone at time of disconnect. Due to the fact that I’m a simple human, some

of these numbers could be approximations.

Thank you.

Last night, I decided that it was time to lower our cable bill. We’ve got Showtime and, frankly, we don’t

watch it. I’d submit that we use our HBO and Encore channels (Entourage, Lucky Louie, Big Love, Sopranos,

anyone? To say the least… and I’d be remiss to not admit that I’ve DVR’d Deadwood all season and just

need to find the time to catch up. Or remove from the hard drive, convert to PSP and watch it on my

commute. Something.) and a bunch of the other HD and digital channels, so they didn’t have to go–plus,

when the basement remodel gets all wrapped-up in the next 1-2 months, we’ll be adding an additional HD

Plasma or something, so we’ll have to re-incur some of those costs to get another cable box.

Man, that sucks.

It was around 11.30 and I was also attempting to watch Eureka on DVR, but I gave good ol’ Comcast a ring.

I pushed through all the buttons to identify myself as someone who was wanting to downgrade service.

I wondered as I did that if I was, perhaps, sealing my own fate.

Several minutes later, after completely devouring the late night snack of cottage cheese and applesauce

(hey, my gramma started me on this when I was little and I love it… get your own snack), I got a little

tired of my man Yanni cranking away at me on hold. But, there’s that point in time when you realize you’ve

already put in 5+ minutes on hold and that certainly you could not be too far from being the “next in line”

so you find something to do to hold on a bit longer.

Like peeing.

TMI?

Yeah. TMI.

Sorry.

I landed back on my couch, feeling pretty relieved, and looked at the timer on the phone. 8:56. Wow.

Eight minutes. 56 seconds. Entirely too long to wait on hold to cancel service.

Seemed ridiculous to me to hold so long in an off-peak time. I hit redial, but this time, after stating

that I speak English, I decided that maybe I should let someone know that I wanted to ADD/UPGRADE service

via the pushbutton menu. After all, I’ve had this Comcastic sorta service for years and years now, and I

recall that just about anyone has been able to tinker with the service that I have, sooooo…

As I hung up the phone and looked at the time: 2:34.

Two minutes. Thirty-four seconds.

I could be just a member of the “serendipity” club, but something tells me that my experience was hardly

Comcastic. And probably had some serious business rules applied to it.

I guess it’s time to start looking at what “competitive” means.

Well, if the both of you that remembered to check-in for the last update around mid-month, you saw what was going on and that I had a pretty good bead on a 6 month contract. And I did.

And I took it.

Good times–the first day started out pretty good, seemed I was doing all right, well-regarded without even really being known, toting around my own laptop instead of having a company one, but still, fitting in and making some progress.

Then, at lunch, I mentioned my 6 month contract, and the person I was having lunch with mentioned that the contract for the entire company wasn’t that long.

F me.

I shot off an email really quickly asking for an update and I received a telephone call whilst in the middle of a pretty important meeting.

We’re sorry, Russ, your contract is only 6 WEEKS. We’re not sure where you got this information.

Whoa.

Except that I forwarded the exact email with the information. And I kept my burning, seething rage under control as I explained that this really put some undue stress upon my family–I had just turned down an interview the previous week for a full time, permanent position that would enable me to do cool things like telecommute a couple of times a week, pay me fair, offer me good benefits, etc. all because I was under the reasonable assumption that I had a 6 month contract–because I HAD ASKED 300 F-ING TIMES.

Nice.

Quality.

Lies.

So, in essence, what we’ve learned is that by being honest, straight-forward and having integrity, you get stabbed in the back and lied to, but if you’re smart enough to get that “Quit without giving 2 weeks notice and we’ll fine you $3000″ clause removed, you suddenly hold all the cards.

For about 4.5 more weeks.

Sigh.

I’ve assured everyone that I will do my job–but that I cannot commit to being available 100% full time M-F during business hours because if an interview arises, I’m going to it, and it’s not up for debate or negotiable.

Mighty ballsy of me. Borderline arrogant, if the situation wasn’t as it is.

To be fair, the company that I am sub-contracting through is being cool–they’ve been trying to bring me in for a full-time interview, but it seems to me that 90% of their employees travel 90% of the time, and I do not want to do that. I kind of dig my family, dig my home, dig my neighborhood–and that’s the rub, right? I mean, if I love all that stuff so much, I really shouldn’t be the type of person who sits back and tries to be picky–but at the same time, how do I go off and leave for weeks at a time and leave all the family responsiblity on my wife? I just don’t think I want to do that, don’t think I should do that–eh, I just don’t want to do and that’s that. Not much of an option–and hopefully there’s enough time to make sure that’s an option I do not have to consider. If I play my cards right, do my job well (which I do believe I am doing very well at this point), then there’s a chance I could also get hired by the company we’re doing the work for.

But, who really knows?

Makes life interesting.

I’d settle for boring so I could really just focus on finishing the basement (which now has all the walls done, 75% of the conduit run, all the plumbing done and is almost ready for drywall).

Giddy up.

Okay, so let’s start with a funny. Alan just set me this…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reQ_Laq2O2o&search=human%20space%20invaders

Now, let’s start with me. I wish I didn’t have to; this is the type of stuff you just cannot believe happens to you. In glorious technicolor.

I left a job a few weeks ago. A full time job that made me very, very miserable to the point that… I almost thought something was wrong with me. I had an opportunity arise that was a work-from-home situation for a few months–enough time to find the right next thing, enough time to get it all figured out.

I took the gig, did a little travel to the office of the company and back and work and back to the office and back. My reviews came in great–they loved me, my work and I was truly “getting it” and all was well. Hell, the contract might even get extended, even though I didn’t think it would go quite as long as they suspected.

No problem.

Except that the company decided to take a tank job on itself–or at least they told me that. Whether or not it’s actual, I’m sure I’ll never know because they’re in Springfield, MO and I’m in Chicago, IL, but even so, it wasn’t a fun thing to have my life turned upside down and then I’m living with my auntie and uncle in Bel Aire.

But not until I switch my flights, pay an upcharge of $115 to get out, hurry back to the hotel, pack, get checked-out, get to the airport and get through security with just about 45 minutes to spare.

Except that the security guard was nice enough to stop me from clearing security–hell, from even entering security.

“You’re flight was just cancelled.”

“Shit.”

Back to the ol’ United counter for me, while on the phone with home sharing not only the bad news, but the worse news of not making it home tonight. Good times… especially with the thought that I’d have to secure another hotel room and then try and get on a flight the next morning…as long as it wasn’t cancelled, as well.

“You’re not going to believe this…” came the announcement from the lady at the counter who just stood up on said counter.

Yeah, she was right. There’s no way this day could get any better, so just let me have already, lady.

“…Your flight’s back on and it’s tentatively set for 9.30p.”

Wow. Holy crap. I could not believe it and while other people were busy with their pissing and moaning, I was busy heading back to security, getting through and copping a squat at a relatively private desk-like area with so I could have some privacy for the next few hours as I IMd to and from home, Troy and anyone else that’d listen to my story.

Until around 11.30p when the flight finally took off. Which naturally landed me home around 1.30a, but it was fine. I was home and I got to see everyone the next morning. Even if I was unemployed… Funny thing, even when I feel like a loser, Sydney still feels like I’m “Daddy” and that’s a name badge that’s much better than any of the negative ones I can give myself.

As luck would have it, it’s been less than a week since that happened that I’ve found something else. I had a couple of interesting nibbles out there that I kept a little alive–and I’m back to something full time as of next week. I cannot complain too much… and the phone keeps ringing, so I think I’m out of the dangerous area of having to dip into savings. Instead, I get to go back to work on a contract with a big big name and a really big client, too–all the while, I’m being considered as a full time employee at the big big name contract place as they have that need, as well. Working out really well, I suppose.

But you know, I’m just getting tired. I want to be through all these mounds of paperwork and negotiations–there’s a clause in my contract right now that says that if I quit without giving 2 weeks notice, they’ll fine me $3000 and I have to agree to it–which I don’t, and won’t. So it’s back and forth–they will not give me any sort of recourse if they let me go early or if the contract doesn’t last the full 6 months, so it seems a little lopsided.

Like I said, I want to be done. Even though there’s a lot of demand and a lot of interesting work out there, at the end of it all, I just want to be happy, happy, happy and home for dinner.

Is that so damned wrong?

My life is…

Well, I think that, from the outside looking in, probably a pretty damn good life. I’m fortunate to have a loving wife, adorable and healthy version 2.0 of a daughter, a good home with a good yard, solid friends, a nice MAME machine, a freezer full of meat and a bunch of other stuff.
(more…)

Funny? Nah. True? Sorta. Anyone care? Maybe just a little.

See, we’ve all got these little attachments and we all sort of check-in on each other from time to time, but the blogging world is so full of… public-icity or -osity or whatever it is that prevents a lot of us–including yours truly–from actually writing anything of substance.
(more…)

Nothing irritates me more than writing a post–and even doing the copy to clipboard thing… only to find that WP has dumped it or that some oddball setting’s been changed that causes it to get dumped.

Bah.

Irritating.

I’ve been in a pretty constant uphill-climb mode for the past week.

But, let’s start from the top, shall we?

When we moved into our house just about a half a year ago, we had lovely new sod dropped in on the ground.  We were pretty much the only house in the neighborhood with lush, green grass.  And constantly running sprinklers.  And too much to mow.

Except under our deck.  Everything there started to die off pretty quickly from lack of sunlight.

Frankly, why we would want to keep the area as it was didn’t make much sense, so we started to think about what we could do, and as life and luck would have it, we managed to get ourselves into a position fiscally to be able to take care of that space.

We decided to go with a paver brick patio (ie Unilock Hollandstone, Autumn Red) and a firepit sandbox for Sydney. Heh. Like diligent consumers, we did research. We got quotes. We even had “a guy” but he came back with a price quote that was only a couple of hundred bucks lower than the guy in the middle–and “the guy” doesn’t even do this type of work as his full time job.  So, unfortunately for “the guy” we couldn’t choose him. (more…)