What would I do if I wasn't in sales? What happens if this current opportunity doesn't pan out? I have given the matter some thought, but really haven't come to any definite conclusions. So I thought maybe I could list some of my options here as a way to cheer me up.
1) Sales in another form - There's still plenty of rejection to go around.
2) Permanent Stay at Home Dad - Dump the day care and completely loose my mind.
3) Full Time Philospher - Well, I did get a degree in it. OK you can stop laughing now. No seriously. Cut it out, I'm getting a complex.
4) Teaching - Find the solution to (Benefits+Fam Friendly Hours+Migraine Headaches+dealing with other people's kids+ going back to school) I believe that equals Vomit to the 3th power!
OK. As you can see I have no idea what to do if this doesn't work. I welcome your suggestions.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Its Friday...Whattaboutit.
Its Friday. My parents took Jonathan for the night, an occurance that isn't as exciting as it used to be since Emma still in the house. Friday's used to be a party night, we'd actually go places called restaurants. We'd order food and people called waiters would bring it to us. We would talk about everything and nothing. We would never discuss feeding and napping schedules, dirty diapers, discipline issues. We might have a few cocktails. We might even take a cab home. Saturday morning we would sleep in and then go out for breakfast.
Growing up sucks. I want my Fridays back.
Growing up sucks. I want my Fridays back.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Anatomy of a Sales Call
You spend months preparing your product line. You carefully gauge the marketplace and develop a sort of menu of items which you will offer prospective customers. In order to protect the innocent (as well as the guilty) and keeping with the menu anology, allow me to summarize my most recent sales call.
The Customer: Oh, I really like the sound of that turkey dinner! You might have an opportunity there!
Me (playing the role of the waiter): Well, you have excellent taste, the Turkey dinner is one of our finest offerings and I assure you will not be dissapointed.
The Customer: There's just one little thing. I'm not a fan of mashed potatoes, can you sub soup for a side? Also I don't see where it says anything about Sweet Potatoe Casserole on the menu, and if I'm going to have turkey, I must have the Casserole. That's what I always have with Turkey.
Me: I can always go back to the kitchen and see what we can do, however I can make no promises, but rest assured we will do whatever we can to make your dining experience a pleasant one.
The Customer: Oh I forgot to mention, about the turkey....I'm actually slightly allergic. Can you sub Pork Chops? Oh and I don't want to pay more for my 3 course dinner than the cost of the grilled cheeze I see on the kid's menu. And of course, the dessert is complimentary and I assume the meal is guaranteed? I mean, what happens if after I order it and it gets to my table and I've changed my mind or I don't like it?
Me: Ok, let me make sure I understand. You want to pay $2.00 for a turkey dinner, no turkey sub pork, no mash, sub soup and you want us to do a custom casserole just for you.
The Customer: If you can do that, I might order it. Also, no one else gets the casserole. Its an exclusive item just for me.
Me: Let me see what I can do. Hand me that menu please.
(At this point I shred the menu into 80,000 pieces and walk back to the kitchen cursing. I am unsure whether I should throw the bitch out, or try and accomodate her. In the end, I grab my keys and head to the car to pick up some goddamned sweet potatoes. She better like marshmellow fluff and the bitch better order up in a big way!)
This is what desperation will do for you. You want an order so bad you make somebody their very own casserole.
The Customer: Oh, I really like the sound of that turkey dinner! You might have an opportunity there!
Me (playing the role of the waiter): Well, you have excellent taste, the Turkey dinner is one of our finest offerings and I assure you will not be dissapointed.
The Customer: There's just one little thing. I'm not a fan of mashed potatoes, can you sub soup for a side? Also I don't see where it says anything about Sweet Potatoe Casserole on the menu, and if I'm going to have turkey, I must have the Casserole. That's what I always have with Turkey.
Me: I can always go back to the kitchen and see what we can do, however I can make no promises, but rest assured we will do whatever we can to make your dining experience a pleasant one.
The Customer: Oh I forgot to mention, about the turkey....I'm actually slightly allergic. Can you sub Pork Chops? Oh and I don't want to pay more for my 3 course dinner than the cost of the grilled cheeze I see on the kid's menu. And of course, the dessert is complimentary and I assume the meal is guaranteed? I mean, what happens if after I order it and it gets to my table and I've changed my mind or I don't like it?
Me: Ok, let me make sure I understand. You want to pay $2.00 for a turkey dinner, no turkey sub pork, no mash, sub soup and you want us to do a custom casserole just for you.
The Customer: If you can do that, I might order it. Also, no one else gets the casserole. Its an exclusive item just for me.
Me: Let me see what I can do. Hand me that menu please.
(At this point I shred the menu into 80,000 pieces and walk back to the kitchen cursing. I am unsure whether I should throw the bitch out, or try and accomodate her. In the end, I grab my keys and head to the car to pick up some goddamned sweet potatoes. She better like marshmellow fluff and the bitch better order up in a big way!)
This is what desperation will do for you. You want an order so bad you make somebody their very own casserole.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Shaving: A brief comparison
During my recent road trip, I packed my old Mach 3, forgoing the straight razor experience before a major appointment. On my return, I shaved with straight razor. I jotted down some notes after each attempt.
Mach 3: Oh my God! The Speed....It was like shaving with lighting. No thought necessary - just go! How I have missed you my old red handled friend. Over every nook, every curve, against and with the grain. I felt like the God of Facial Hair Removal. Technology, Why hath I forsaken thee???
Straight Razor: This just takes forever. 1st Pass not very close - lets go for 2. Holy Shit! My face is on fire. I am bleeding. Maybe this stupid thing still isn't sharp enough. How can you shave what you cannot see?! The blade is too wide, and 4 inches long - no part of my face is 4 inches long. This sucks. Oh the burn!!! This experiment is a stupid idea.
I refuse to give up yet, I did spend money to buy this equipment...and I am stubborn. One month is its the Mach 3 by a mile!
Mach 3: Oh my God! The Speed....It was like shaving with lighting. No thought necessary - just go! How I have missed you my old red handled friend. Over every nook, every curve, against and with the grain. I felt like the God of Facial Hair Removal. Technology, Why hath I forsaken thee???
Straight Razor: This just takes forever. 1st Pass not very close - lets go for 2. Holy Shit! My face is on fire. I am bleeding. Maybe this stupid thing still isn't sharp enough. How can you shave what you cannot see?! The blade is too wide, and 4 inches long - no part of my face is 4 inches long. This sucks. Oh the burn!!! This experiment is a stupid idea.
I refuse to give up yet, I did spend money to buy this equipment...and I am stubborn. One month is its the Mach 3 by a mile!
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The King of the Road Award
The one's for all you truckers out there. When mere mortals could see but one lane, you proved us all wrong by blasting past us on whichever side was convenient. When I was worried about safe stopping distances, you were wise enough to know that if you couldn't stop your truck in time, my small Accord sure as hell wouldn't stop it either so on you pressed.
After all, that load of toilet valves wasn't going to deliver itself to down to Hobart's Supply and you get paid by the mile, not for earning safe driving merit badges.
As you rumbling by my window, seemingly inches away from my door, I hoped the guy in the Element didn't brake, the traction didn't shift, or your massive center gravity didn't pull me into your 18 wheels of hard driving, valve delivering, Accord-shredding fury.
Congratulations all you truckers out there - way to show us that regardless of weather, locations, or time of day you're still King of the Roads and King of the Douchebags.
Drive On....Jerk!!!
After all, that load of toilet valves wasn't going to deliver itself to down to Hobart's Supply and you get paid by the mile, not for earning safe driving merit badges.
As you rumbling by my window, seemingly inches away from my door, I hoped the guy in the Element didn't brake, the traction didn't shift, or your massive center gravity didn't pull me into your 18 wheels of hard driving, valve delivering, Accord-shredding fury.
Congratulations all you truckers out there - way to show us that regardless of weather, locations, or time of day you're still King of the Roads and King of the Douchebags.
Drive On....Jerk!!!
Friday, February 22, 2008
The Biggest Dick Award
This one's for you, Guy Who Almost Rear Ended Me! Hey the roads may be slick, there might be an asshole in front of me with his hazards on, but that didn't stop you from tailgating me down the expressway, flashing your brights at me every few second as if I had somewhere I could go. Is that rythmic flashing Morse Code for "Asshole Alert?!" You didn't even back off when you almost hit me, after Hazard Guy tapped his brakes for the 4th time. No instead, you veered your Big Dick Tough Chevy Truck hard to the right, cut off a snow plow and then cut off Hazard Man, causing more brake lights....more fishtailing and more general mayhem. Nicely Done Sir!! Unfortunately I believe I saw you in a ditch a few miles down the road. But even that didn't stop you, in fact you probably had a big, throbbing 4- wheeling boner. When I last saw you, you were hooking up your Big Dick Winch to pull your Big Dick Truck out. All by yourself. Tell me....does having that truck make you feel better when your spend your Friday nights at home alone watching gay porn???
Just Curious.
Assbag!
Just Curious.
Assbag!
The Super Safe Award
This one's for you Mr. I Drive a Honda Element with Ohio Tags! That's right... for you!! For driving a constant 35 miles an hour in the left lane. For driving the entire length of 74 E, with your hazards and your brights on. Hey there big guy...we saw you , and always knew exactly where you were for the three hours we were stuck behind you!! But wait there's more!!! For conspicuously tapping your brakes for no apparent reason other than to maintain the optimal safe crusing speed of 35 miles an hour . Your driving prowess or lack thereof caused numerous fish-tailing vehicles behind you as they reacted to your brake lights and almost got me rear-ended by another award winner to be mentioned later. You were the most annoying (but safe...) driver on the road. Congratulations.
Idiot!
Idiot!
The Great Douchebag Convention of 2008 - And Lo There Was a Great Sea of Assholes...
I drove last night from Chicago to Cincinnati during some pretty nasty weather. It was the whole snow, sleet freezing rain experience. Now in days of yore, a night like this might be spent huddled close to the fire, drinking a hot cocoa and maybe reading a book or playing charades. But in this day and age, when the white stuff falls, its a sign for all assholes in the area to pour onto the freeway and parade in a Tour de Force of world class, mind boggling douchery. No Convention would be complete without some Member Awards, so based on my experiences I am going to be handing out a few today. More to follow.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Quick Hits
1) Its an interesting statement that I can wake up at 5:30am, and feel completely rested. Its amazing how much more rest you get when the stars align and Emma sleeps through the night, Jonathan doesn't have an accident, and no animals need let out. Its the parental trifecta! Why am I typing now?! I should have gone for S-E-X - It would have been the best morning ever! File that under opportunity missed....dumbass!
2) I LOooooooOve cereal!!! Emma ate like a champ yesterday with her first feed - like 1/4 cup. Which is a lot. I attribute her sleeping to her eating so good. Fav Thing of the Day: Gerber Single Grain Rice Cereal. Give It Up for the eerie blue baby on the box!!
3) Today I take the fight against the word NO into enemy territory, with a daring commando raid to the North West. Big appointments tomorrow in Chicago. As I look out the window and see the snow piling up, I can see it will be an interesting drive up. I will battle the elements with it's snowy roads, white out conditions and sub freezing temperatures as well as the buyers for the possibility of hearing the words YES. Wish me luck.
2) I LOooooooOve cereal!!! Emma ate like a champ yesterday with her first feed - like 1/4 cup. Which is a lot. I attribute her sleeping to her eating so good. Fav Thing of the Day: Gerber Single Grain Rice Cereal. Give It Up for the eerie blue baby on the box!!
3) Today I take the fight against the word NO into enemy territory, with a daring commando raid to the North West. Big appointments tomorrow in Chicago. As I look out the window and see the snow piling up, I can see it will be an interesting drive up. I will battle the elements with it's snowy roads, white out conditions and sub freezing temperatures as well as the buyers for the possibility of hearing the words YES. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
A Seat for All Occasions
I just finished assembling a high chair that looks like something from a Star Trek set. It's ridiculously huge. Fully assembled it takes up the same square footage a Barkalounger would. Before you ask, the answer is yes, the high chair actually does recline. Why I am not sure....but it does. It has a meal tray, which looks like it could hold an entire Thanksgiving Dinner Buffet on it as well as smaller "snack" tray which fits beneath it. I mean, Jesus Christ, no wonder our kids are fat!!
On top of that, the stupid thing has toys attached.
"Don't play with your food dear...play with this fun plastic fishy thing!"
Great...now not only am I going to have a fat kid but an overstimulated one as well. Does this monstrosity come with a Ritalin trial pack?
I am looking for a place to put the Enterprise. Where ever it goes, it must be the focal point of the room - it's just to big to ignore. Should I put it in the bay window, maybe by the fireplace. While trying different options, I trip over scads of other seats. Let's ennumerate them just for fun.
The Seat for Bouncing- Complete with vibrating action and light flashing, narcolepsy-inducing, sing-songing, Rattle Rack. For when you kid needs just a little more going on.
The Seat for the Car - aka the Pumpkin Seat. This one I admit is essential.
The Swing Seat - again much like the Enterprise, an insane usage time to square footage consumed ratio. This one swings at 6 different speeds and has a electronic song and "naturescapes" sound system built in. I don't even have a fucking MP3 player, and she's got Naturescapes!!!
The Jumper Seat - This one's pretty cool . So cool in fact, I am suprised it's still legal. Essentially a plastic seat, a nylon cord, with a big spring and a c-clamp that attaches to a door jam. Its half parachute training, half bungee jumping. I want one my size I could suspend from our roof over the pool.
My Son's Booster Seat- His Booster Seat?! Why the hell's that in here???
That's 5 seats, for one butt! That one butt spends more time strapped to my chest than in any of the "must have" seats combined! Lets not forget the moving voilation in OH and soon to be KY for failing to use a booster seat on my older child.
Where's the My Kid's Being a Shit, My Back Hurts from this Damn Carrier, and All I Really Want is this Kid to Stop Crying so I Can Drink a Beer in Peace Seat. That's the bastard we're missing.
If you find one, I'll trade for it.
On top of that, the stupid thing has toys attached.
"Don't play with your food dear...play with this fun plastic fishy thing!"
Great...now not only am I going to have a fat kid but an overstimulated one as well. Does this monstrosity come with a Ritalin trial pack?
I am looking for a place to put the Enterprise. Where ever it goes, it must be the focal point of the room - it's just to big to ignore. Should I put it in the bay window, maybe by the fireplace. While trying different options, I trip over scads of other seats. Let's ennumerate them just for fun.
The Seat for Bouncing- Complete with vibrating action and light flashing, narcolepsy-inducing, sing-songing, Rattle Rack. For when you kid needs just a little more going on.
The Seat for the Car - aka the Pumpkin Seat. This one I admit is essential.
The Swing Seat - again much like the Enterprise, an insane usage time to square footage consumed ratio. This one swings at 6 different speeds and has a electronic song and "naturescapes" sound system built in. I don't even have a fucking MP3 player, and she's got Naturescapes!!!
The Jumper Seat - This one's pretty cool . So cool in fact, I am suprised it's still legal. Essentially a plastic seat, a nylon cord, with a big spring and a c-clamp that attaches to a door jam. Its half parachute training, half bungee jumping. I want one my size I could suspend from our roof over the pool.
My Son's Booster Seat- His Booster Seat?! Why the hell's that in here???
That's 5 seats, for one butt! That one butt spends more time strapped to my chest than in any of the "must have" seats combined! Lets not forget the moving voilation in OH and soon to be KY for failing to use a booster seat on my older child.
Where's the My Kid's Being a Shit, My Back Hurts from this Damn Carrier, and All I Really Want is this Kid to Stop Crying so I Can Drink a Beer in Peace Seat. That's the bastard we're missing.
If you find one, I'll trade for it.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Am I Lloyd Dobbler?
I was watching Say Anything last night (insert gay joke here), when I saw certain similarities between myself and Lloyd. Could I have been Lloyd???
The argument for a similarity:
1. He goes after a girl way over his head, and gets her. Granted my wife didn't get a fellowship to study overseas, but she did get full rides to undergrad and law school. I took 7 years (that's right...seven) to get an undergrad degree. By the way did I mention mu degree was in Philosophy and did I further mention I earned it at NKU. Not exactly Harvard over there...
2. Has no clue what he wants to do with his life, except that wants to be with Diane and he doesn't want to sell anything, process anything or buy anything. OK -While I am a sales person, in high school - I had no idea and certainly didn't want to be a sales person and really just wanted to be with my future wife. Still not sold on the sales career, still like being with my wife.
By the way, to be a real sales person, you have to sell stuff. As I have commented before I haven't sold crap in months.
The Crap Market's been off....its not my fault
Our Crap is priced to move, but maybe there's just to much of it out there.
The argument for a similarity:
1. He goes after a girl way over his head, and gets her. Granted my wife didn't get a fellowship to study overseas, but she did get full rides to undergrad and law school. I took 7 years (that's right...seven) to get an undergrad degree. By the way did I mention mu degree was in Philosophy and did I further mention I earned it at NKU. Not exactly Harvard over there...
2. Has no clue what he wants to do with his life, except that wants to be with Diane and he doesn't want to sell anything, process anything or buy anything. OK -While I am a sales person, in high school - I had no idea and certainly didn't want to be a sales person and really just wanted to be with my future wife. Still not sold on the sales career, still like being with my wife.
By the way, to be a real sales person, you have to sell stuff. As I have commented before I haven't sold crap in months.
The Crap Market's been off....its not my fault
Our Crap is priced to move, but maybe there's just to much of it out there.
Crap is a nutty business..its hard to predict.
3. Lloyd was an underachiever. I drew some really fantastic bubble art on lots of scantron tests my Senior year, a fact my GPA reflected and a fact that probably cost me some scholarship money when I did finally decide to go to college.
4. Parental conflict - In both my case and Lloyd's there was some pretty intense parental dislike and conflict we had to negotiate. Granted I never had to meet them in jail, but I did have to go to Outback with them alot. That's kinda like jail isn't it, Mate? By the way, who puts skinless cucumbers in salads anyway? Devious Down Under trickery!
5. I taught my wife how to drive a stick on our second date.
3. Lloyd was an underachiever. I drew some really fantastic bubble art on lots of scantron tests my Senior year, a fact my GPA reflected and a fact that probably cost me some scholarship money when I did finally decide to go to college.
4. Parental conflict - In both my case and Lloyd's there was some pretty intense parental dislike and conflict we had to negotiate. Granted I never had to meet them in jail, but I did have to go to Outback with them alot. That's kinda like jail isn't it, Mate? By the way, who puts skinless cucumbers in salads anyway? Devious Down Under trickery!
5. I taught my wife how to drive a stick on our second date.
The argument against -
1) I do not own a trench coat and never owned one with shoulder pads.
2) I never had a boom box I could hold over my head, and if I did it certainly wouldn't have Peter Gabriel playing in it. I think I would have played Barry White....Can't get enough of your Love Babe would have gone over great with her parents!
3) I didn't have a huge blue land yacht to get it on in and my old hippie painted 86 Nissan Sentra really didn't have the same feel or comfort level to it.
4) Lloyd was cool, I was never that cool. Maybe I should have had a trench coat with shoulder pads.
5) I never called anyone in the rain from a phone booth. John Cusack's always doing that shit. That might have upped my cool factor too.
6) As I mentioned above, I am in sales and not kickboxing.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Great Link
I was feeling kind of down this morning, and these really cheered me up. I don't normally post links, but enjoy.
http://www.barstoolsports.com/article/motivational_posters/2064/
http://www.barstoolsports.com/article/motivational_posters/2064/
Friday, February 15, 2008
Feb 15th
My daughter, like all women, has the capacity to bring great joy and limitless suffering in equal measure.
February 14th
Everybody and everything in my house needed something, some needed more than others.....by 8:00pm, I just stopped caring and started drinking.
Economy of Words
Many of the articles I read, when discussing writing or speaking, often praise economy of words. Those of you that know me, know I spray words around with wild abandon. I grossly over talk and typically over-write. So, my excercise for the next several weeks - in addition to whatever topics I have is to summarize a day in a single sentence. And no, the sentences cannot be like 17th century literature where they go on for whole paragraphs.
Hey it was either this or Haiku and I am saving Haiku for later....
Hey it was either this or Haiku and I am saving Haiku for later....
Of Breasts and Batteries
A brief review of similarities in sizing conventions.
The A's - In both cases, the A's score high for being discrete, light weight and portable. Think sporty. Some however, may find their relative lack of size underwhelming and may desire a more powerful option. In both cases, the A is often relegated to the world of kid's toys.
The B's - In both cases, a confounding lack of respect. Women with B's often want C's. The Battery Engineers, skipped over the waiting B-size and jumped straight to C. Isn't that like taking the stairs 5 at time? For many, it's just too big a jump. I ask you dear readers, and you Mr. Duracell, what is wrong with just enough?
The C's - A Classic. C's make the world go round. The C size are almost always the the first one sold out at both the battery store and the the lingerie store. They always get great reception, make the train go Choo-Choo and have a long history of getting young women out of speeding tickets.
The D's - Sometimes you need something....more. D's are heavy, impractical for lugging around and yet people love them. You put a LED mini flashlight and a big Maglight down on the table and most guys will gravitate towards the Maglite. (Maglites use D's too!). Interestly, based on some internet research I have been doing since I was 18, there are many counterfeit D's out there. No so much in the battery world, but in definitely as far as breasts are concerned. Unlike many objects of value, the presence of so many fakes in the market has not deflated consumer interest or the worth of these objects. Quite the contrary, a virtual Boobs Race has been started with top surgeons and space age materials being used to create the perfect pair that make men drool and other women jealous. But this economic phenomenon will be tackled another day.
The A's - In both cases, the A's score high for being discrete, light weight and portable. Think sporty. Some however, may find their relative lack of size underwhelming and may desire a more powerful option. In both cases, the A is often relegated to the world of kid's toys.
The B's - In both cases, a confounding lack of respect. Women with B's often want C's. The Battery Engineers, skipped over the waiting B-size and jumped straight to C. Isn't that like taking the stairs 5 at time? For many, it's just too big a jump. I ask you dear readers, and you Mr. Duracell, what is wrong with just enough?
The C's - A Classic. C's make the world go round. The C size are almost always the the first one sold out at both the battery store and the the lingerie store. They always get great reception, make the train go Choo-Choo and have a long history of getting young women out of speeding tickets.
The D's - Sometimes you need something....more. D's are heavy, impractical for lugging around and yet people love them. You put a LED mini flashlight and a big Maglight down on the table and most guys will gravitate towards the Maglite. (Maglites use D's too!). Interestly, based on some internet research I have been doing since I was 18, there are many counterfeit D's out there. No so much in the battery world, but in definitely as far as breasts are concerned. Unlike many objects of value, the presence of so many fakes in the market has not deflated consumer interest or the worth of these objects. Quite the contrary, a virtual Boobs Race has been started with top surgeons and space age materials being used to create the perfect pair that make men drool and other women jealous. But this economic phenomenon will be tackled another day.
Monday, February 11, 2008
360 Update
1. Cross your fingers....I may be close to closing a sale with a NE account. Mmmmm...why do I suddenly feel like Charlie Brown moments before Lucy jerks the ball out from under his feet.
2. I could hear my daughter passing gas through the nursery monitor the other night. It was fantastic!
3. My son told me on leaving for school today that he had better not see any dust on things when he got back. WTF?! I was so shocked I forgot to back hand him. I'll remedy that first thing this evening.
4. I shaved again with the Antique Tweesee - better. Much better. I think it needs to be a bit sharper, but this was good. I still didn't have gonads to attempt my chinular area. Maybe a really wild goatee is the look for me.
5. Seriously. Anyone see the Enquirer and its overly orgasmic, one sided coverage of something Ken Hamm of the Creation Museum said. Apparently Darwin is now to blame for racism and the Holocaust. Never mind that biblical arguments for both have and are still maintained by some. This somehow merits front page in what passes for a newspaper and 2nd page in the Sunday Paper!! Howabout this headline: Enquirer contributes to IQ drop! Second Dark Ages Looms! Here's the link to the story. http://news.cincinnati.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2008802090335
6. As a side note, my wife and I were invited to church this weekend.
Thats the rundown.
2. I could hear my daughter passing gas through the nursery monitor the other night. It was fantastic!
3. My son told me on leaving for school today that he had better not see any dust on things when he got back. WTF?! I was so shocked I forgot to back hand him. I'll remedy that first thing this evening.
4. I shaved again with the Antique Tweesee - better. Much better. I think it needs to be a bit sharper, but this was good. I still didn't have gonads to attempt my chinular area. Maybe a really wild goatee is the look for me.
5. Seriously. Anyone see the Enquirer and its overly orgasmic, one sided coverage of something Ken Hamm of the Creation Museum said. Apparently Darwin is now to blame for racism and the Holocaust. Never mind that biblical arguments for both have and are still maintained by some. This somehow merits front page in what passes for a newspaper and 2nd page in the Sunday Paper!! Howabout this headline: Enquirer contributes to IQ drop! Second Dark Ages Looms! Here's the link to the story. http://news.cincinnati.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2008802090335
6. As a side note, my wife and I were invited to church this weekend.
Thats the rundown.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Shaving Update....
My 1st Razor came in yesterday. Its pretty basic, black bakelite looking handle, some pitting on the spine of the blade. I began honing it while Emma was asleep. In the process of trying to test the edge, I cut my finger, so I thought that was a good sign. Then I stropped it for like 30 times, and lo and behold it shaved arm hair off clean as a whistle. I looked in the mirror and went through "pretend" shave motions. Using my right hand on my left side of face seemed very do-able. Using either hand on my right side of face seemed very suicidal. I thought to myself, " How the hell am I going to do this?"
There's also the question of sharpness, just because it will cut my thumb and some armhair, will it cut facial hair? As I was about to find out, I have no idea and I suspect neither do you just how sharp razor-sharp is.
This morning, I took the blade upstairs lathered up and after working up enough courage took the blade in hand. Working backwards through the mirror, the simplest motion of getting the correct angle on blade to skin was harrowing. I put the edge on my cheek, tilted upwards and began a short, hesitatant stroke. I immediately stopped, removed my glasses and put in contacts. I felt I needed as wide of an angle of clear vision as possible. I rebraced myself. Put my first aid supplies at the ready, googled the location of any and all major facial blood vessels and re-assumed the position. And I can tell you, I shouldn't have so nervous or concerned about my vision, or any of that because it didn;t cut shit. It maybe pulled a few hairs out, but more than anything it just scraped and annoyed.
Later during the day, I honed some more, restopped, tried again - but just one little section. It actually did remove hair, but felt like it became dull again very quickly and still pulled like a mother.
Later during the day, after more honing and stropping, I tried again. (For anyone that cares, after the 1st time I only used the 8000 grit side of the Norton Stone) I think I ran that blade up and down the stone like 30 times, making a total of atleast 60-70 for the entire day. Upstairs once again, better but still like shaving with the worst razor ever made.
My assumptions and findings:
1) Razor not sharp enough and/or improperly stropped. No suprises here, since I don't know what I'm doing.
2) Razor sharp is a term grossly overused by our society. When I say or hear someone say Razor Sharp from now on, I'll have flashbacks to my facial hairs being plucked out by an antique version of the As Seen on TV Tweese and the sound of steel scraping endlessly on a whetstone.
More exciting, my second razor just came in. Perhaps I'll sharpen some more and try tomorrow.
There's also the question of sharpness, just because it will cut my thumb and some armhair, will it cut facial hair? As I was about to find out, I have no idea and I suspect neither do you just how sharp razor-sharp is.
This morning, I took the blade upstairs lathered up and after working up enough courage took the blade in hand. Working backwards through the mirror, the simplest motion of getting the correct angle on blade to skin was harrowing. I put the edge on my cheek, tilted upwards and began a short, hesitatant stroke. I immediately stopped, removed my glasses and put in contacts. I felt I needed as wide of an angle of clear vision as possible. I rebraced myself. Put my first aid supplies at the ready, googled the location of any and all major facial blood vessels and re-assumed the position. And I can tell you, I shouldn't have so nervous or concerned about my vision, or any of that because it didn;t cut shit. It maybe pulled a few hairs out, but more than anything it just scraped and annoyed.
Later during the day, I honed some more, restopped, tried again - but just one little section. It actually did remove hair, but felt like it became dull again very quickly and still pulled like a mother.
Later during the day, after more honing and stropping, I tried again. (For anyone that cares, after the 1st time I only used the 8000 grit side of the Norton Stone) I think I ran that blade up and down the stone like 30 times, making a total of atleast 60-70 for the entire day. Upstairs once again, better but still like shaving with the worst razor ever made.
My assumptions and findings:
1) Razor not sharp enough and/or improperly stropped. No suprises here, since I don't know what I'm doing.
2) Razor sharp is a term grossly overused by our society. When I say or hear someone say Razor Sharp from now on, I'll have flashbacks to my facial hairs being plucked out by an antique version of the As Seen on TV Tweese and the sound of steel scraping endlessly on a whetstone.
More exciting, my second razor just came in. Perhaps I'll sharpen some more and try tomorrow.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
The Thinking Pugilist...an update
This just in. As my wife was dropping my son off at daycare and reminded him of my threat (in no manner did she reference Spidey Suit , he sighs and says, "I wish Grandma had never got me that Spiderman suit."
He knows my target. He knew it before I did almost! He's thought this out and now is apparently accepting that he will loose the suit. Thus the fatalistic remarks. I guess better to love and lost than never to have loved before doesn't quite fit him. Better I suppose, he never knew the joy of the suit, so he would never know the pain of its loss.
Who...or what....am I raising.
He knows my target. He knew it before I did almost! He's thought this out and now is apparently accepting that he will loose the suit. Thus the fatalistic remarks. I guess better to love and lost than never to have loved before doesn't quite fit him. Better I suppose, he never knew the joy of the suit, so he would never know the pain of its loss.
Who...or what....am I raising.
The Thinking Pugilist
My son has been fighting again. Apparently the whole room was fighting, a sort of pre-school free for all, with my boy in the middle. Dishing out beatdowns and serving up some whoop-ass. I can accept that a room with 20+ preschoolers can get wild. When I was a substitute teacher I couldn't control a room of 13 year old girls, so I don't blame the teachers entirely. But when the whole room goes up in a pitched battle with Hot Wheels, Foam Blocks and fists flying...it might be time to look at root causes, possibly get additional staff or additional training. You shouldn't have to put the Pre-K 4 room on lockdown and send in additional staff in riot gear to control the situation. When I walked in there today, they ran out of time-out corners, so there were unhappy kids sitting alone in random spots. There were like 3 kids who weren't in trouble. My son wasn't one of them.
Later at home, I told Jonathan how upset that was that he was starting fights. Which based on what I could glean from him and his friends, he was. I tried to explain the difference between defending oneself and instigating. I also told him he was way too smart to start a fight during Free Dancing right in front of the teacher. Obviously he'll get caught and then he'll get in trouble both here with me and at school. I also expressed my frustration with him that we kept having this conversation, as he was too smart not to learn the lesson. My new threat - the complete distruction of something he loves the next time he picks a fight for no good reason.
He then spent the next three hours trying to determine what I would throw away. It was an obvious effort to weigh risk reward. I mean, if I am only throwing away an action figure...who cares! Instead I told him..."Who knows it could be your Spiderman suit or maybe your lightsabers. It could be anything. But whatever it is, will be gone forever." He kept asking, then he tried to tell me.."OK, the first thing will be this." He holds up a busted up Hot Wheel, missing a wheel and all chipped up. I laughed and reminded him that would be choosing.
Later, I heard him giving our cat an almost verbatim lecture based on the one I gave him. Only it was about the cat pooping in his toy room.
" Gary...I have had it. How many time do we have to have this conversation before you learn? Do you like being in trouble.....do you like it when I am mad at you..."
It kept going, complete with hand gestures and intonation. I had three thoughts at the time:
1) I could laugh
2) I could and probably should beat him
3) I should call for professional help since he may be smarter than me
I smiled and listened to the end of the lecture. I think I did a good job, he obviously listened. As for what I will throw away...I am seriously leaning towards the suit. It has to be devastating, because as of right now he could care less. The cowboy boots are still on the fridge and he just doesn't care. I hope he doesn't push me, I'll feel horrible doing it.
Am I a bastard?
Later at home, I told Jonathan how upset that was that he was starting fights. Which based on what I could glean from him and his friends, he was. I tried to explain the difference between defending oneself and instigating. I also told him he was way too smart to start a fight during Free Dancing right in front of the teacher. Obviously he'll get caught and then he'll get in trouble both here with me and at school. I also expressed my frustration with him that we kept having this conversation, as he was too smart not to learn the lesson. My new threat - the complete distruction of something he loves the next time he picks a fight for no good reason.
He then spent the next three hours trying to determine what I would throw away. It was an obvious effort to weigh risk reward. I mean, if I am only throwing away an action figure...who cares! Instead I told him..."Who knows it could be your Spiderman suit or maybe your lightsabers. It could be anything. But whatever it is, will be gone forever." He kept asking, then he tried to tell me.."OK, the first thing will be this." He holds up a busted up Hot Wheel, missing a wheel and all chipped up. I laughed and reminded him that would be choosing.
Later, I heard him giving our cat an almost verbatim lecture based on the one I gave him. Only it was about the cat pooping in his toy room.
" Gary...I have had it. How many time do we have to have this conversation before you learn? Do you like being in trouble.....do you like it when I am mad at you..."
It kept going, complete with hand gestures and intonation. I had three thoughts at the time:
1) I could laugh
2) I could and probably should beat him
3) I should call for professional help since he may be smarter than me
I smiled and listened to the end of the lecture. I think I did a good job, he obviously listened. As for what I will throw away...I am seriously leaning towards the suit. It has to be devastating, because as of right now he could care less. The cowboy boots are still on the fridge and he just doesn't care. I hope he doesn't push me, I'll feel horrible doing it.
Am I a bastard?
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Shaving Update
Well....I have my strop in, which like a 2 ft long strip of leather and my hone in. Hone is a fancy word for a sharpening stone. I am still waiting on the razors. Researching on line there are two camps of straight razor enthusiasts.
The Technicians, who analysis their razors edge under microscopes, refer to people as Honemeisters and have all these acronomyns like RAD or Razor Aquisition Disorder. They in general appear very dead set against my method of buying on ebay and self honing. They advise buying from a reputable dealer and also very into the experience. Its a hobby. They are very nice, very knowledgeable and genuinely concerned that those who try straight shaving, have a good experience.
Then you have guys like me, from the Let Er Rip school of thought. Various environmentalist and tinkerers who have always been intrigued by razors and damn the torpedoes and the inevitable blood loss insist on going alone and perhaps in shaving parlance....against the grain.
I will say this...the Technicians have me intimidated. Mother Earth News had me all fired up and ready to go, the online forums have tempered that a little. This will be a project and a process, not an overnight success.
The Technicians, who analysis their razors edge under microscopes, refer to people as Honemeisters and have all these acronomyns like RAD or Razor Aquisition Disorder. They in general appear very dead set against my method of buying on ebay and self honing. They advise buying from a reputable dealer and also very into the experience. Its a hobby. They are very nice, very knowledgeable and genuinely concerned that those who try straight shaving, have a good experience.
Then you have guys like me, from the Let Er Rip school of thought. Various environmentalist and tinkerers who have always been intrigued by razors and damn the torpedoes and the inevitable blood loss insist on going alone and perhaps in shaving parlance....against the grain.
I will say this...the Technicians have me intimidated. Mother Earth News had me all fired up and ready to go, the online forums have tempered that a little. This will be a project and a process, not an overnight success.
Le Raison D'Etre
In our society, value is often associated with the product that one produces. The tree is good because it produces fruit. The programmer writes codes, the carpenter builds...I don't know... things, the hooker produces the clap. (and money for me...atleast that bitch better!) It's very odd, to be brought up in this Germanic, 90 degree angle worldview, and then work in a job that thus far hasn't produced anything.
A salesperson, more than anything, is judged by what they sell. My product is the Sale. The last time I sold something, I think Top Gun was in the theatres.
"Where'd Whooo Gooo?!"
Last week was a great week because all these accounts started the review process. I've been on conference calls and sending samples, and plotting strategy. It's actually my favorite part of sales - that moment when the chase is on and the potential hangs thick in the air like giant cloud.
I'm gonna take that Cloud and make it my bitch. It's gonna R A I N! Its gonna rain little white 84 bright, 20 lb paper, laser printed purchase orders. I'll be all swimming in 'em like Scrooge McDuck, making paper hats....Its going to be great.
Ahh the potential. The dreams of a saleman...
A salesperson, more than anything, is judged by what they sell. My product is the Sale. The last time I sold something, I think Top Gun was in the theatres.
"Where'd Whooo Gooo?!"
Last week was a great week because all these accounts started the review process. I've been on conference calls and sending samples, and plotting strategy. It's actually my favorite part of sales - that moment when the chase is on and the potential hangs thick in the air like giant cloud.
I'm gonna take that Cloud and make it my bitch. It's gonna R A I N! Its gonna rain little white 84 bright, 20 lb paper, laser printed purchase orders. I'll be all swimming in 'em like Scrooge McDuck, making paper hats....Its going to be great.
Ahh the potential. The dreams of a saleman...
Friday, February 1, 2008
The Art of Selling: The Cold Call
In the past few weeks, I have made a serious effort to contact any accounts which are on my list, but for whatever reason haven't been contacted yet. In most cases, it is because I never found a sale rep to manage them. Calling on many accounts, you have to have a sort of triage system. These were the ones that needed to wait. Some of them are large accounts, some are small. I have tried to contact them all. I have been rejected by many. Here are some of my favorite methods of rejection.
The Bottomless Voicemail - Quite a few accounts direct to a buyer's name like Melissa Kelly. I leave a VM in her "suppossed" box. I suspect however, that its really a dummy box, specifically set up to dump vendors that, sight unseen, they have no interest in. I have left multiple messages, some serious, some funny. No response. My question is, if I have been screened, was it the sound of my voice? What made them hit the dump button? I may never know.
The New Jersey Sneer: I have cold called accounts all over the country. I can tell you without fail there is a huge difference between accounts located in the South and Midwest and accounts located in the Northeast. You call someone in Georgia, and they'll listen to you, and polutely tell you why they are not interested. I can handle that.
However, I called an account in NJ today :
Me: Cincinnati
Buyer: We're not interested...sir. ( The sir slid from his lips, dripping with disdain and impatience)
Phone goes dead...
What the fuck?! What kind of qualifying question is that?! Should I have said France? That assbag never even saw the line - he doesn't even know what he isn't interested in!
Webular Dismissal A buyer's job is essentially to say no. A salesperson's job is to go out everyday, and do battle with the word "No!" In this never ending battle, there is a new weapon buyers are employing against sales people everywhere and that weapon is the World Wide Web. Invented by one younger, less corpulent Al Gore.
Me: Hi my name is Chris, can I speak to the Greeting Card Buyer?
Buyer: You got him, how can I help?
Me: Well, I'd like to come up and talk to you about how we can help you with your Greeting Card sales for Christmas 2008.
Buyer: Are you a ....new vendor? (He askes with hope in his voice, waiting to spring the trap.)
Me: Yes, new to you at any rate.
Buyer: Oh, I see. (Excellent!) You'll need to go through our new vendor selection process. Its very convenient, and all web based. Here's the URL.
Ah, the web forms. Page after shimmering page of inane questions which take hours to fill out. Much like the Bottomless VM, there is no escaping the Webular Dismissal.
The Treadmill: I suspect that those who employ this method are actually nice people who are trying to let me down easy. I have a great initial call, where they appear genuinely interested and ask for samples and information. You race to get them everything they need, and then you spend the next 7 weeks chasing them trying to follow up to determine their interest, or obvious lack thereof. See also the Run Around.
The Wicked Stepmother: "Yes, Cinderella, you can go the ball, if you do this, and that, and that and that...ad infintum." Some accounts, lead you to believe they are very interested, if only you can meet these conditions. The list is so long and so ridiculous in many cases you are bound to fail. You reach and grasp and think, if only I can do these 50 things, I too can get the opportunity sell a crappy midsize chain that probable won't buy dick! Trust me, they won't buy. If by some magic of fate you manage to answer their demands and climb over the Great Barrier Wall, on the the other side are Punji sticks, Lions and all manner of obstacles to deny you entry. You'll be trapped.....forever. If they ask for more than 3 things, or their demands are so ridiculous and so obviously bullshit you almost laugh when they tell you....turn around and spend your time elsewhere.
The Bottomless Voicemail - Quite a few accounts direct to a buyer's name like Melissa Kelly. I leave a VM in her "suppossed" box. I suspect however, that its really a dummy box, specifically set up to dump vendors that, sight unseen, they have no interest in. I have left multiple messages, some serious, some funny. No response. My question is, if I have been screened, was it the sound of my voice? What made them hit the dump button? I may never know.
The New Jersey Sneer: I have cold called accounts all over the country. I can tell you without fail there is a huge difference between accounts located in the South and Midwest and accounts located in the Northeast. You call someone in Georgia, and they'll listen to you, and polutely tell you why they are not interested. I can handle that.
However, I called an account in NJ today :
Buyer: We really don't do alot of business in cards.
Me: We handle smaller orders, how much is not too much.
Buyer: Where are you guys from?
Me: Cincinnati
Buyer: We're not interested...sir. ( The sir slid from his lips, dripping with disdain and impatience)
Phone goes dead...
What the fuck?! What kind of qualifying question is that?! Should I have said France? That assbag never even saw the line - he doesn't even know what he isn't interested in!
Webular Dismissal A buyer's job is essentially to say no. A salesperson's job is to go out everyday, and do battle with the word "No!" In this never ending battle, there is a new weapon buyers are employing against sales people everywhere and that weapon is the World Wide Web. Invented by one younger, less corpulent Al Gore.
Me: Hi my name is Chris, can I speak to the Greeting Card Buyer?
Buyer: You got him, how can I help?
Me: Well, I'd like to come up and talk to you about how we can help you with your Greeting Card sales for Christmas 2008.
Buyer: Are you a ....new vendor? (He askes with hope in his voice, waiting to spring the trap.)
Me: Yes, new to you at any rate.
Buyer: Oh, I see. (Excellent!) You'll need to go through our new vendor selection process. Its very convenient, and all web based. Here's the URL.
Ah, the web forms. Page after shimmering page of inane questions which take hours to fill out. Much like the Bottomless VM, there is no escaping the Webular Dismissal.
The Treadmill: I suspect that those who employ this method are actually nice people who are trying to let me down easy. I have a great initial call, where they appear genuinely interested and ask for samples and information. You race to get them everything they need, and then you spend the next 7 weeks chasing them trying to follow up to determine their interest, or obvious lack thereof. See also the Run Around.
The Wicked Stepmother: "Yes, Cinderella, you can go the ball, if you do this, and that, and that and that...ad infintum." Some accounts, lead you to believe they are very interested, if only you can meet these conditions. The list is so long and so ridiculous in many cases you are bound to fail. You reach and grasp and think, if only I can do these 50 things, I too can get the opportunity sell a crappy midsize chain that probable won't buy dick! Trust me, they won't buy. If by some magic of fate you manage to answer their demands and climb over the Great Barrier Wall, on the the other side are Punji sticks, Lions and all manner of obstacles to deny you entry. You'll be trapped.....forever. If they ask for more than 3 things, or their demands are so ridiculous and so obviously bullshit you almost laugh when they tell you....turn around and spend your time elsewhere.
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