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Posted on

the hug voyeur


Still rainy and cold in Oregon, melancholy. I was supposed to do something with my brother last night, but he called and bailed after work. So, I stuck around my folks’ place and made a sandwich and a bowl of soup for dinner. A glamorous evening it was not. I thought about maybe going to see a movie, I’ve never gone to a movie by myself… could’ve been an interesting experience. But, in the end, I sat there on the couch with this laptop on my knee, oscillating between dozing and waking while the Grateful Dead station on Sirius played in the background.

Woke before the sun this morning to venture out into the frigid pre-morning and ride the train to the airport with my mom. And, after meeting up with Sharaun and Keaton, we hopped right back on for the reverse trip. Getting to the airport about a half and hour early, however, we had some time to sit around in the lounge area where people await their arriving friends and relatives. Sitting there, I found myself smiling as people leapt up to greet those coming from the terminal. Grandfathers beamed as little kids ran up to them, hugging their legs before being swept up into their arms. Fathers gripped and snatched up children two at a time. People whose faces said they may have been sisters shrieked and hugged while commenting on new haircuts and how good it was to see one another. It truly was a fun thing to sit and watch. Got me thinking, in fact, that someone could make a great short film of holiday airport receptions. Also got me thinking, I should totally do it. All you need to be a filmmaker these days is a camera and a PC anyway…

Movie or not, I decided that, if and when I ever become a solitary old man whose filled with bitterness, I’ll remedy the situation by going down the airport on the day before Thanksgiving, or Christmas Eve, and watching friends and family reunite. It really is a remedy for the I-me-mine mentality.

And… before I leave you. GetReligion, one of the best religion-focused blogs on the ‘net, has an interesting and well-rounded article on some recent changes made to the introduction to the Book of Mormon. I’ve been somewhat critical of the Latter Day Saints here on sounds familiar before, but this article is pretty well balanced. Read it up if you’re still hankering for some more writin’.

Until tomorrow, I hope you get safely where you’re going and into the arms of who you’ll be with this Thanksgiving. Peace.

Posted on

should be a good week


It’s right cold here in Oregon, at least to someone who’s been enjoying unseasonable warmth in his own locality (y’know, that’s me I’m talking about). I arrived today and caught the train from the airport towards work, intending on catching the van at the end of the train which would take me the final miles to the local sawmill.

Turns out, through a miscalculation on my part, I had timed the whole domino of travel just wrong enough that I missed the last van, and had no way to make the final push to the cubicle farm. Instead, I got off the train near my folks’ place and began looking for a kind soul to give me a ride. When this fell through, and when the warm and dry comfort of my folks’ pace soaked into my bones, I decided I could do just as much in the remaining half of the day from the kitchen table with my computer and cellphone than I could at the office. And so, I waffled between the couch and table, watching the scant few e-mails trickle in – the holiday this week seems to have slowed things considerably.

Anyway, I’ll rise early tomorrow and dress warm so I can actually make my way into the office and get some things done. Sharaun and Keaton get here Wednesday, we’ll celebrate like Pilgrims and Indians makem-good-treaty on Thursday, and then fly home together Friday. It’s a quick trip, but it’ll be a good time to hang out. Oh, and, on Wednesday night we’re all (the young’ns, at least) going to see the Band of Horses play in downtown Portland. Should be fun, I haven’t been to a show here before, and haven’t been to one in general in a few months. Should be a good week… should be a good week.

I wore the jacket Sharaun got me last Christmas today, as I knew it would be cold in Oregon and it was somewhat chilly driving to the airport at 5am. It’s one of those sportscoat kinda things that people wear with jeans, but cut nice and a little fancy with its pinstripes on brown – I think the “real” word for it might be “blazer.” In fact, maybe you can tell me, as the post-accompanying image this day ’round is an ad featuring the exact jacket. Regardless of nomenclature, I’ve always wanted a “nicer” coat like that, and I only got to wear it a few times last year before the weather turned warm again. Today, I threw it on over some jeans, with some brown shoes and a lighter brown shirt underneath. Quite proud of what I’d done, I caught myself jamming my hands in my pockets, head down and slightly cocked as if there was a photographer rolling film while I waited in the security line at the airport.

With my little carry-on and laptop bag, and my iPod tucked safely in the inner breast pocket, I felt seriously dapper. Truth be told, the jacket is probably a bit mis-sized for me, as most bulk-made, three-sizes only, items tend to be, but I still feel like a million bucks in it. I know it’s a $100, somewhat ill-fitting, sweatshop-made thing, but when I put it on I feel mature, I feel established, I feel business. Funny, given how little I care about clothes. I’m gonna wear that thing out this week, so I’ll let you know if I get more phone numbers than I normally do, or perhaps more “sirs” when being spoken to. I’m sure I will, because… I mean… I’m wearing a damn blazer with jeans, people. It’s doesn’t get more haute couture than that, right?

Goodnight.

Posted on

my love affair


Monday my friends. An eventful weekend, that I wrote and wrote and wrote about… and then decided, in the eleventh hour, to scrap for this canned entry instead. Don’t discount it just because it’s been written for a while though, I promise it’s still good. As you read it, I’ll be flying north-by-northwise to Oregon for the week, where we’ll be spending Thanksgiving with the family. Wish me well, then, and I’ll hit you with some more words when I’m on the ground. Enjoy.

Often when I write, my memories pull me to things I’ve put down in words before. This entry is an example of that. I’ve written about the history and development of my love for music from multiple angles before, but not centered directly around the “record store” theme. And, that’s what the keyboard called my fingers to do today, write about my then-burgeoning musical fanaticism as related to record stores. Having written in bits and pieces about this already, I figured I’d link you to as much related content as I could query up, just in case you wanted to read the scattered version before the (hopefully better-reading) amassed version. So… links numbers: one, twain, and thrice.

At an early age, my obsession with the “record store” began. I guess the initial seeds were planted when my older cousin turned me on to Depeche Mode, sometime back when I was in the fourth grade. I can remember going into record stores at the mall and asking to see their Depeche Mode cassettes. I didn’t have money to buy them, of course, I just liked turning them over in my hands, looking at the artwork and reading the track titles. And, since, for some odd reason, the store in the mall kept the tapes behind the counter and the records out front, I’m sure I bothered many a clerk by having them retrieve stacks of tapes they were sure “that nine-year-old” wouldn’t buy. Over time, I learned to funnel the wee bit of discretionary income ten-year-old-me got away from Garbage Pail Kids and invested into music on tape. I began a small collection, mostly things like Depeche Mode, A-Ha, Pet Shop Boys, and the like.

Then, one day near the ripe age of twelve, our family went to visit my grandparents at their mountaintop house in Southern California. While there, my Depeche Mode introducing cousin, now himself settling well inside his teenage years, showed me the first “CDs” he had purchased. Apparently, his dad, my uncle had a new-fangled Edison that would play the odd, grooveless, silver discs. He had U2’s War and Joshua Tree, and he raved to me about them; I can still remember the passion in his young voice as he described just how good the music was on those little plastic things. It took me a while to make the conversion from cassettes to CDs though… several more years, in fact. Those buggers were expensive, and I could buy a humongous “brick” of 90min blank Maxells at K-Mart for like $10. Predictably, as I got a little older, and had a little more change in my pockets, my collection began skewing in the “dubbed a friend’s copy” direction. When I met Kyle after we moved to Florida, things exploded. With the influence his dad had on his extremely-mature-for-his-age and varied musical tastes, and the mainline connection to his dad’s collection in Texas (via dubbed cassettes again, but of course), my horde of lovingly hand-labeled 90min Maxells flourished.

Shortly thereafter, after I’d become teenage no-good in my own right, a little “record store” (although, there wasn’t a lick of vinyl but for the “DJ” albums in the back) opened up tucked into a corner of our local supermarket-anchored stripmall. Being only a few miles from my house, I used to ride my bike there regularly to peruse the selection. Owned by a middle-aged guy named Roland who had muscular dystrophy, or maybe ALS, I can’t be sure. He walked the store with the aid of those metal hand-gripped “wrist crutch” things, spoke with a thickly-slurred speech, and was actually a pretty ill-tempered guy – from what I could understand. For the most part, though, the store was “run” by a longhair in his early twenties. He was almost always there when I went in, and I used to remember his name, but it’s gone now.

At some point, in an effort, I’m sure, to flog dismal sales, Roland began offering his customers the option of “previewing” CDs. Previewing CDs was a relative new idea at the time, and plenty of stores were busy implementing in-store “listening stations” for the purpose. There was one key difference with Roland’s model, however, he let customers “preview” the discs overnight, for a $3 fee. Nevermind that this practice would be highly frowned-upon by the WEAs and Sonys of the world, it enabled him to make his cost back on the disc with just a couple “previews,” and you agreed to buy the disc if it came back in less-than-pristine state (only happened to me once, with Coil’s Stolen and Contaminated Songs. (If you haven’t heard that album, you likely never tried mushrooms in the 90s, and, unless you plan on trying them now, there’s really no need to hear it at all). Anyway, I “obtained” many an album through this “rent-a-CD” scam, dubbing them off for less than it would’ve cost to buy a cassette new. I used to rent an album a night (you could only do one at a time), Roland would acidly correcting me when I asked to “rent” something – “Issh nah rentihg!,” he’d chew around his tongue, “Issh pree-yooig!”

On a sidenote, that longhair worker and I developed a sort of record store friendship over time. He’s special order things for me, and even recommend new music to me based on what I bought and rented. In fact, he’s the one who first suggested I try out Pulp’s Different Class, which I now hold as one of my absolute favorite albums of the 90s. Kinda cool.

On another side note (the other side, perhaps), I can’t help but think now how a CD “rental” policy would translate for today’s teenagers. At the time, I was renting and dubbing CDs at the rate of one a day. Today’s kids would be renting and ripping or copying digitally, completely lossless. They could then make a torrent of their newly acquired album, and put it on the web almost instantly. I, on the other hand, had to actually purchase all that dubbed music again on compact disc later in life. Oh how times have changed…

Roland’s music store eventually went out of business. In fact, when it did, the guy who owned and operated the music store where I was working at the time bought a lot of his unsold stock. Oh, that’s right, we skipped that part, didn’t we? After graduating highschool, I took my love of the record store to a new level by actually seeking employment at one. I loved working at that store, and my impressive knowledge of music, for a guy of my age, helped make me a successful salesperson. Soon, I was “promoted” to the position of assistant manager. This meant nothing, really. A tiny raise, keys to the store, and being entrusted with counting the day’s take before recording it in the books and dropping it in the floor safe. Other than that it was just more headache: having to deal with upset customers and stupid merchandise return policies, and having to ruin peoples’ weekends by cold-calling them looking for someone to cover a slacker’s deserted shift. But man, I absolutely loved that job… headaches or no. I was around my people all the time, around the music. More than that, I could buy CDs at a buck over cost. I must’ve put half my paycheck right back into the boss’ pocket every single payday. He must’ve loved it. The job also came with “access.” If I wanted some rare Prodigy remix CD5 that was only released in limited quantities in the UK back in ’91, chances are I could page through one of the distributors’ books and put it on backorder. It sometimes never came, sometimes took months, but, more often than not, I’d score the illusive item.

This “access” turned out not to be limited to “legit” rare items, either… nope. One day, I was surprised to see a few CDs marked with neon pink “import” stickers mixed in with the regular stock. I say surprised, because, by then, I was entirely familiar with the kind of CDs mom-and-pop shops tag and sell as “imports.” Yup, bootlegs. Illicit disks that cost as much as a typical CD wholesale, likely due to the shady way they have to be mass-produced, shipped, and advertised, and retail for anywhere from $25 to $30 a pop. I asked the boss about it, and she replied that some guy had come into the store with a list of items he could get, and a trunkfull of items he had on-hand. She called the owner, and got the OK to do some speculative purchasing and see how they sold (the markup was good per disc, earning at least 200% on each, if not more). She took an empty box, accompanied the man to the parking lot, and took off his hands some discs she figured might sell, she also took a copy of his larger inventory list. I immediately asked to see the list, and was delighted to see several Beatles’ bootlegs I’d been after online, some of the original Yellow Dog releases that were already completely out of print. Finding a source like that for bootlegs, and at “cost” (well, his cost, at least), was like a dream come true to me.

I had a few truly enjoyable years in the employee of the record store… but then I had to move away from home and go to “real” college. Not long after, a new friend from my Circuits class introduced me to something called Napster, and, overnight, my love affair with the record store was over. Oh sure, I still enjoy walking into one, the least corporate the better, and perusing the stock. There’s some sort of magic charm those places have for me, I’m drawn to them even more than the traditionally-classic male retail pulls: home improvement, electronics, and books. I’ll always like record stores, I’m sure… it’s just that, for me, they’ve become quite obsolete. The internet is now my preferred music distribution channel. Because, obtained legally or otherwise, they’ve got the record store beat on price and stock.

That’s it. Have a good Monday. Goodnight.

Posted on

elevenovembers


For some reason, this seemed like a good thing to do today. Eleven years of Thanksgiving-time writing, from 1995 to last year. Cobbled together from pre-blog journals, and post-journal blogs. Random, but perhaps interesting…

Enjoy.

——————

11/23/95

Turkey Day!! I’ve been listening to the Rascals a lot, Animals too. But The Beatles’ Anthology Volume One came out Tuesday – I’ve been hitting that pretty hard. I guess the album of the moment though is JJ Cale’s Naturally; it’s freakin’ awesome. Much props and nuff spect to Bob for that one.

Joey and I went back to Astro yesterday – we pried the manhole cover off and actually descended into the chamber of doom. We took a large magic marker and wrote our own coded messages on the wall. I wrote “the chamber of doom has been breached.” Then over the proper entrance to the tunnels, I wrote “we now rule the underworld” and left first and last initials for he, Kyle, and I. Pretty cool it was.

I’m listening to the Beatles’ rooftop concert now. Guess I’m kinda bored since I’m sitting here writing on this computer. I wish there was something to do ya know? I saw the movie Clerks last night and it was pretty good. Christmas will be here soon, my B-day even sooner – 19 whole years of life, and lots of information swimming around up there ya know. One day I swear I’ll be pretty smart. Maybe not. Someone’s at the door – I guess I might have to go when they walk in here.

11/7/96

dave
is a lunafoil
and his hands are
very cold
It hurts to grip a pencil
And stings to crack his knuckles
His bones are tired and heavy
And his skin is dry and warm
His feet fit well in his own shoes
And his long shirt hangs limp

12/4/97

Woke up late today and had to rush out to class. Only come to find out that we have some quiz that I didn’t even know about. Needless to say, I didn’t do very well. This Physics class is really bringing me down – I just can’t get it. I just pray that I get at least a C in there so I don’t have to take the whole God-forsaken class over again next semester, that could screw everything up.

I am going home tomorrow again to work for Frank the funnel cake man. Wheee! I love work in the food business. Owell, it’s $100 and boy do I need it. I wish I could win the lottery, I’d keep going to school for the education sake of it, but I wouldn’t be as pressured. My finances would be set for life, no more worry. The whole money thing really sucks. I mean, I know there’s no other way to do it. You have to have some sort of economy, but I don’t understand how it works. How can our money be backed by gold, why is gold so special anyway? What makes it so valuable. I guess it’s the same unknown force that can make some words “bad.” Arbitrary choice is what I call it. Okay, maybe the scarcity of gold plays a role, but still – who cares. Dinosaur eggs are pretty rare too – why not back our money with those?

I mean, whose to say that this money is actually worth something? It’s all just paper. If someone who had no concept of money was offered a $500 bill, they’d say “What do I want with paper?” “But, it’s backed up with valuable gold sir.” “What’s gold, I don’t care, give me food or shelter or love, something I can really use, you know? What do I want with a shiny metal or green paper, they won’t sustain my life.” Ahhh, but without them you can’t get shelter or food. That’s the catch.

So, I can understand the need for money and economy – I just wish it didn’t govern my life so much. I mean, why am I really in college right now? Because I have a passion for learning and love to go to school?, not really – although I do like to learn. But the reality is that I am in college because I need a degree to get a job, I need a job to get money, which I need to live. I guess it’s a valid argument to say that you really don’t need money to live, you can always live without money, there’s plenty of ways. But those are the ways of a man in the mountains who traps and makes all his own food, has no electricity, and lives like a pioneer.

Maybe that’s why I am drawn to that lifestyle, not the full-on pioneer life, but a happy mix of mine and theirs. You know, a mountain cabin, but with electricity so I can have lights, television, and computer. Just enough amenities to live comfortably. I wish that I could just be retired but not old. Have some money to live off of that I never worked for. Man, the lottery would be great. Almost time to head back to school.

11/24/98

Well, the once a month entries continue – not by choice, it’s school clamping down on me again. It’s now the day before I go home for Thanksgiving, which means to me that in my head, the holiday season I love so much has begun. I am now reading Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. I am about 600 pages into the first book, and there are eight of them. It’ll be neat to see when I actually finish the whole thing. And he’s still writing. I can’t wait until Christmas, but then again when can I ever? I think I am going to fare pretty well in my classes this semester. Hopefully. Owell, I think I am going to go now – gotta get busy doing nothing.

11/3/99

Nothing much going on. I had my annual winter cold last weekend, it was a bad one too. I am just now beginning to feel better. I’m about to head out to the library and get some Operating Systems studied up. The test is tomorrow morning, and I really need to do well on it – although not as well as I need to do on the next Networking exam. Man – this school thing is going to be the death of me.

Listening to the new Counting Crows album, it came out yesterday – it’s pretty darn good, but I still have to get used to it before I flip out over it. Got a new modem for my computer, and I’ll get around to installing it when I have some free time. Frank moved out of the house back home – the parents are happy I guess. I can’t wait to be married and settle down. I am ready to start something of my own, a life, a family. I can’t wait. I hope that this operating systems test goes alright.

I know that these entries are so dull, I have nothing really to write about beside school. That’s all I do and think about. This thing will definitely be shut down after school.

11/28/2000

Right now I have taken two cash advances in less than a month, just to pay bills. I am paying bills with bills, and that’s not good. What happens if I max out my last credit card going to Florida and then have nothing to fall back on in case of emergency, or if I need to take one last cash advance to get us through January.

The money situation is really getting to me. I feel like a failure to Sharaun, and I have some guilt about the amount of debt we have. Talking to other grads at work and realizing that they have similar debts and money issues makes me feel better. And everyone keeps telling me that the first couple years starting out are really hard. But, I don’t want to be paying on my school loans right up until I retire – that’s ridiculous. I want to be out from under all this debt in a reasonable amount of time.

It’s the apartment rent that’s killing us now, along with the fact that work for Sharaun is slow and sparse at best. Half days here, full days less often – and just not enough extra income coming in right now. It’s not even really that, there is enough money – but there are also things in these next few months that are taking more than normal. Car downpayments, school loan payments starting, etc. I keep replying on MS Money’s cash forecast, saying that things will begin to go better after January. It sucks that our roughest month is the one month where it’s nice to have extra cash for gifts. But, whatever – we still have food to eat and a warm place to sleep – so what am I complaining about.

So now I’m just waiting for a conference call to begin, supposed to be getting some pick up work on somebody’s project. Whatever, I’m just glad to have something to do – I hope there’s a chance for some recognition with this work, whatever it is. I just want to start making a professional as well as personal impression on people. I have already established myself as a funny and friendly guy – now I need to put out the dual image of that guy doubled with a great worker. Then I can get my name out there and start on my path to riches!

Well, that’s enough for now – the phone should ring any minute…

11.25.2001

Thanksgiving was great!! We went to the a lodge in the mountains. It was almost like being at an “inn” from the Wheel of Time series that I am reading (again). We spent a lot of time relaxing, reading by the fire, watching the snow fall, etc. It was a blast. It was so gorgeous out there. Now I’m back at work, and just waiting until the next big vacation: Christmas. Then I have almost two weeks of off-time, not that my current on-time is all that taxing that I need some off-time, but whatever. We did all our Christmas shopping yesterday, and it’s been really Christmas-ey feeling lately. We’ve had a fire the past two nights, it’s been chilly enough.

Sharaun’s new job starts in January, and the money should start nearly doubling each month. That will be the biggest development since we’ve been here. Finally, enough money to pay off the last credit card, and then start sacking some away for a possible house downpayment, and start chipping away at the school loans. Right now, we’re set fine until Christmas, since I pulled out of our stock plan at work, and we got that check plus the extra each paycheck. So, once her money starts coming in, I can re-enroll in the stock plan and maybe even start putting the full into both retirement plans again. I really want to do that, and as soon as possible too. I have been too long out of them.

11.25.2002

Ever since I removed this thing from the work PC, I haven’t really written. Much, much, has happened. And I even think I lost an entry due some strange overwriting that may have gone on between this local file and the one on the server.

Anyway. So much. My boss got fired. One of my best friends is getting a divorce. Another, less-close, got an a car accident and nearly died; drunk. We took a limo to see Rent in San Francisco. Sharaun learned today her job is gone next year, so it’s back to the hand-pressing for her. Too much, way too much to write in detail about. I’ll let that serve enough, mostly because I’ve been through it all so many times in my head and out of my mouth, that I’m sick of talking about it all.

Right now I’m feeling depressed. I’m feeling removed, lonely or something. Sharaun is at a late-night soccer game, I stayed here. I guess part of the feeling I have right now is almost guilt. Over what, I don’t know. But I’m sure it’s guilt. I was driving home, thinking about how I’m sometimes proud at how well I roll with the punches, and also how sometimes I think I shouldn’t “roll” so easily. Sometimes I almost think I’m removed from things too much. I mean, I like to think that I just don’t let things I can’t change bother me. But maybe it’s more than that, maybe I just am too separated from it all. I kinda know what I wanna say here, but not really. It’s more rambling. It’s not like I’m a cyborg without feelings, but sometimes I’m very cleverly removed from experiencing things in the “conventional” way. I have this buffer zone or something, which I feel is somewhat admirable and somewhat questionably detestable. Or something.

11/24/2003

thiickkeenn your maan11y swordd

11/25/2004

thanks

11/24/2005

yellow photos

11/24/2006

football and leftovers

——————

Oh, and, oddly enough, I’m still trying to finish the Wheel of Time series…

Goodnight.

Posted on

washing cars


Happy Monday, in the new bizarro world where I go to work every morning.

I’ve been thinking lately about my longer-term career prospects. I think, providing I can maintain it, my current employment should provide a usable path to a lifetime career and decent retirement. What’s more, I do, more often than not, like what I do, and even take pride in my work on occasion. So, it’s not quite “meaningless toil” to me, which I feel is good. However, there are times when I begin to think that I could be just as fulfilled, if perhaps not more, doing any number of alternate jobs. I’ve often thought, for instance, about “running away” to somewhere in the rural Midwest. Maybe driving around through the farm-based heartland until I find a decently populated town which could use a little PC –repair shop. Somewhere where I could buy some land, go to work at my little storefront on Main Street, get to know the populous: who’s courting whom, who’s sister just had a baby, who’s marriage is on the rocks because Henry’s too fond of the sauce, that kind of stuff. When I think about “having money” in terms of “sustaining a happy standard of living” instead of “building a fortune,” these kind of alternative job-lifestyles really seem attractive.

And now I’ll totally change the subject. At the risk of talking about work, which, as a policy, I don’t do here – I wanted to write down some thoughts from Dave’s Management Playbook. Here goes:

One of the things I find difficult about being a manager is dealing with peoples’ constant desire to “do something more.” Don’t get me wrong: On the surface, aspiring to the “next big thing” is great. In fact, it’s often what you look for in employees, that yen to land the bigger fish, to take whatever they’re doing to that next level. It’s also, in some regards, the kind of attitude that often gets rewarded in the workplace. However, there are some boundaries to this “moving up the ladder” task-tackling-strategy that some folks don’t seem to understand. The biggest problem I see with people who have this mindset is that they seem to forget the limitations of their present job-role when they ask for “something bigger and better” to work on. As a manager, I’m looking to get you ahead – it’s an integral part of my job to help develop you. If you’re my performer, I’m always trying to get you that “high visibility” thing to work on, I want you to succeed and excel because, when you do, it makes us both look good. There are limits to this, though, and some people seem to understand them – while others don’t. Let me explain.

Here it is in a nutshell: If you want something “bigger, better” than what you’re currently doing, make sure that whatever you choose or suggest fits within the context of what you currently do at the company.

What do you mean, Dave? Well: If I managed a car wash, and all we did at the car wash was wash cars, I wouldn’t expect an employee to come to me and say something like, “Dave, I’ve been washing cars here now for three years. Next year, I don’t want to wash cars anymore; I’m tired of that kind of ‘mundane’ work. Everyone here washes cars. Instead, I’d like to paint cars. As my manager, I expect you to support my career decision.” Yeah. OK. Look buddy, this here business is a car wash. At the car wash, we wash cars. If you want to paint cars, go get a job at the car-painting place. If you work at the car wash, you should expect your job to involve washing cars. Just because everyone else, from the newest new-hire to the most senior car-washer, washes cars, doesn’t mean that work is “mundane.” In fact, at the car wash, washing cars is the most important job there is. There is no job more important, no task more critical, than getting the cars washed. “Everyone” washes cars here because if they didn’t, our business wouldn’t be successful. I fail to see how this is that so difficult to understand.

Now, that being (somewhat sarcastically) said, there is room at the car wash for that three-year veteran to “move ahead” and potentially get to that “next big thing.” How? Well, there are infinite ways, really, but let me dream some up right here. How about coming to me and suggesting some things that might improve our custom? Or, suggesting some process tweaks that may save us time and/or money? You want to do something different? How about coming to me with an idea about offering an interior detailing service for a premium over our basic wash, and offering yourself as the person who’d be in charge, maybe with some supporting projections on the potential financial upside? See, there are plenty of ways you can get yourself noticed, and potentially even shift the bulk of your work away from car washing per se, while still operating within the bounds of our business. As the car wash manager, these ideas will likely impress me, and I’ll be much more willing to bite on them, as they play right back into our core business. I would expect you to remember, however, that, at the heart of things, you still work at a car wash – and, as such, you’d still be expected to wash cars. It is, after all, what we do at the car wash.

Let me clarify that there is nothing wrong with working at the car wash and aspiring to someday paint cars. Heck, if that’s what you want to do, and the car wash is merely a stepping stone on your path there – you can expect me, as a good manager, to support you. I’ll even keep an eye out for car-painting jobs which may be open, and be sure to send you with all the good recommendations I can manager. I’ll do this because, ultimately, I’m primarily concerned with you working hard for me while you work for me – and I know that keeping you happy will also keep you working hard. If you can comprehend this, we’ll do well together. But, if you expect me, as your manager at the car wash, to “reward” you for your service by exempting you from the “everyday” task of washing cars, you’re going to be disappointed. I understand that you want to be set apart from the hired-last-week Armor All guy, I do; I’ve been there. But don’t expect a special job that doesn’t involve washing cars. Once again, this is a car wash – and we need pretty much everyone here to wash cars or we don’t make money.

So, workers, never give up looking for your big break. Never stop “thinking ahead” and looking for your opportunity to excel and make your own way. But, unless you’re willing or wanting to change jobs, make sure to look for these things within the context of what you currently do. I understand that jobs get “comfortable,” and it’s tempting to want to do that next big thing from within the comfort zone you’ve built-up in your current position. If you’re looking to make a career move, then you should make your career move. It’s very difficult to make a successful upward career move while maintaining the comfort level you’ve achieved “doing what you’re good at” currently. In fact, this kind of career “slide” or “shift” is only doable by those with keen networking and political maneuvering skills. If you’re the girl at the car wash who expects her manager to reward her by letting her not was cars with the rest of the troops – you likely don’t have the slickness to negotiate one of these “shifts.” And, since I could write a whole other Playbook entry about making those “slick” moves, I’ll leave it at that.

So, what can you, Mr. Car Wash Worker-Bee, do? Let me leave you with some concrete suggestions which will probably get you ahead within the operational boundaries of your business: First up, why not try to continue kicking butt at the car wash? Do better than the car washers you can do better than. Maintain a good attitude and be friendly. Demonstrate to the boss that you understand how important getting cars washed is to her business. Perhaps help her identify ways to wash more cars, or wash the cars you already wash better in the same amount of time. Make an effort to understand the car wash industry, and relate what you’re doing at your car wash to how others are doing things are their car washes. Make connections with people who work at other car washes, mention to your boss that the Southside Suds is doing a two-for-one promo next week, that you heard it from a buddy you know who works there, convince him it may be a good idea to send out coupons for free waxing with every wash that week – show him your knowledge and connections can help him be competitive. You get the idea. There are millions of way to shine at your job, just don’t make the mistake of forgetting what exactly it is you where hired to do when you shine.

There are millions of ways to “move up” at your current job, but unless you also want to “move out,” make sure you’re appropriately tying your aspirations to your role.

Goodnight lovers.

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those paid suckers


Sunday. Don’t want to go to work tomorrow. Don’t want to go to work period. Just flat out don’t want to go to work. Would like to do most anything otherwise. But, I’m going to work; I am. I’ll be there at 8am, just like the rest of those paid suckers. Doesn’t mean I can’t complain.

As much as I hate the end of daylight savings time for having to leave work in the dark, a little part of me likes it because it it somehow fools me into feeling less lazy with that post-work time. Since it’s dark outside when I get home every evening, I feel less wasteful not taking advantage of the remaining post-work daylight to “get something done.” With no post-work daylight, assuming a position on the couch as soon as I’ve kicked off my shoes and splashed the days’ grease off my face at the sink is just easier to abide. Thing is, even with the extended hours of sunlight daylight savings time affords me, I don’t do much with it. The difference is purely psychological, but it works for me.

This weekend, we finally got some rain. I think it rained all night Saturday – I mean, as far as I could tell in the few times I awoke. I’ve written before about how much I love the rain, sometimes, and this year we’ve been pretty much entirely dry until now. I actually got up early and mowed the lawn at 8am that day, the earliest I dared on the weekend with sleeping neighbors. I beat the rain by a few hours, and it felt good to be done by 10am. The rest of the day was spent indulging in a triad of manly vices: beer, meat, and football. It was a good day, though, despite likely taking a few days off my life in the long run. Who says that’s not a valid trade, anyway, I mean, I had a good time.

I guess, looking back on last week’s lack of writing, that my triumphant return to work had me reeling more than I thought. Despite feeling like I walked back and and picked up where I left off without a hitch, it instead seems that I was indeed adjusting to the grind again. Getting back into the habit of hearing my BlackBerry chirp through the night, heralding each new e-mail piling up in my inbox; trying to re-commit to my short-term memory the unimportant dates which are so important to what I do; and re-establishing those all-important “networking” links by having half-work/half-not “catch-up” meetings with coworkers. In the evenings, I went back to my no-laptop-while-Keaton’s-awake policy, and that hurt the blogging too. Hopefully it gets better… but the fact that I’m forsaking friends right now to type this should speak to my dedication.

Unfortunately, I don’t have more in me. Goodnight.