tough.
I'm going to the beach with my hyper-extended family for a week. Zoloft, don't fail me now.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Friday, June 24, 2005
My Legacy
I am contacting you on behalf of the Office of Student Life at Caltech because you are currently storing boxes in the Caltech SAC trunkroom. Due to the renovations to the South Houses that will be going on in the next year, the trunkroom is going to be completely emptied of its contents by June 26, 2005. If you are able, please remove your belongings by Friday June 24th at noon. If you are unable to do this, the Office of Student Life can move and store your belongings until October 8th, 2005 (end of the second week of classes) for a fee of $7 per box. If you would like the Office of Student Life to provide you with more information about what you have stored, please email cleanout@thebasement.pacifictech.edu.
Thank you.
Elizabeth
Communications Coordinator
Pactech Alumni Association
Hi,
I didn't realize I had something still down there. Could you please tell me what it is? You have my permission to open any boxes with my name on them.
Thank you,
Oscar
You have a blanket, throw pillow, some solaris 8 manuals, a box of plastic
easter eggs, some student health extension forms, what looks to be a 5x
board, a Technics CD player, a 15" monitor, a HP Deskjet 5000, and 2
plastic drawer units with assorted computer junk.
-Curtis Smith
Curtis,
Is there any candy in the Easter Eggs?
I think I can live without most of that stuff. You have my permission to donate the blanket, throw the pillow, recycle the manuals, eat the candy from the Easter Eggs (or hide them somewhere), shred and recycle the health forms, dump the 52 board somewhere (preferably the La Brea Tar Pits), donate the CD player to the nearest museum of natural history, and deposit whatever you can't identify in the Blacker or Dabney courtyard, whichever isn't full at the moment.
Thanks,
Oscar
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Who'da Thunk?
I just bumped into a website covering written languages, and noticed an untranslated scripts section. What's funny is that what appears to be a left-handed swastika is included in European runes that are anywhere from 6500-8000 years old. I'm no conspiracy theorist, but I don't even know what part of my head to scratch over that one. Maybe the Aryans invented writing.
Anyway, I've come up with a new system at work. Since I'm already going to be Written Up for not selling enough stuff per hour, and not selling enough replacement guarantees per stuff sold, I've decided to give all the credit for the rest of my sales to the other associates. It doesn't make sense for all of us to be written up at once anyway, and if one of them passes the threshhold and actually gets commission, then more power to them. There's no point in having more than $0 in sales if it's less than $180/hr and I'm getting the book thrown at me anyway.I really want to give notice really soon, and since I have all next week off for vacation, I could kill half my lame duck period with one strike.
For those of you who think I'm just whining, note that Tuesday we had three managers and three associates working at once, with maybe 2 customers per hour. Since my target sales aren't scaled by how many competitors I have, I really can't get too upset for missing an arbitrary number. Now, if the overlord says I don't have enough RSG %, I can remind him that I gave away four of them to another associate. Maybe the beneficiaries of my new plan will let me use their discounts when I'm retired and making actual spending money.
I've gotta run now if I want to eat breakfast, which I do, so I will.
Anyway, I've come up with a new system at work. Since I'm already going to be Written Up for not selling enough stuff per hour, and not selling enough replacement guarantees per stuff sold, I've decided to give all the credit for the rest of my sales to the other associates. It doesn't make sense for all of us to be written up at once anyway, and if one of them passes the threshhold and actually gets commission, then more power to them. There's no point in having more than $0 in sales if it's less than $180/hr and I'm getting the book thrown at me anyway.I really want to give notice really soon, and since I have all next week off for vacation, I could kill half my lame duck period with one strike.
For those of you who think I'm just whining, note that Tuesday we had three managers and three associates working at once, with maybe 2 customers per hour. Since my target sales aren't scaled by how many competitors I have, I really can't get too upset for missing an arbitrary number. Now, if the overlord says I don't have enough RSG %, I can remind him that I gave away four of them to another associate. Maybe the beneficiaries of my new plan will let me use their discounts when I'm retired and making actual spending money.
I've gotta run now if I want to eat breakfast, which I do, so I will.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Phase 1 Complete
One of the best-known, if not the deepest, 20th-century philosophers had this to say about job interviews:
I think he's on to something, but it goes both ways. Some dates turn out not to be dates. I mean, you pick the girl up, feed her dinner, open the doors, the whole nine yards, but it doesn't count because of some technicality (who ever heard of a third cousin?). By the same token, there are job interviews that turn out not to be job interviews. Some of them are pyramid scams, some cram 20 people into an office and herd them like cattle, and still others switch from being employer to being employee without batting an eyelash.
The lady today said she would consult with her staff to see if they could help me, and wanted to schedule a second interview. Of course she asked me to bring a loved one with me, which was weird, but whatever. After going over all of the ways her company will bend over backwards to help make an executive out of me, she casually mentions, "Of course, there's a cost involved."
It reminded me of the scene in that movie where Deuce is settling terms with his first "client," and she's trying to explain to him that he's her client. She wants him to pay $1000, while he's trying to get her to cough over $40. I was in a similar situation; they wanted me to pay $1500-$5000 for the privilege of putting on a suit in 90-degree weather to go to a fake interview. They might not be first against the wall when the revolution comes, but they won't have to wait long.
On the entrepreneur front, I've bought another car load of books. I'm taking inventory now, and will post it here for my imaginary friends to read. My favorite find so far is a ten-volume set of Bancroft's History of the United States published from 1866 through the 1870s, with original binding and in half-decent shape. It's hard to figure out what they're worth, but there are people online trying to sell incomplete sets for over $400. I paid $50 for them, and should be able to get $100 without too much problem, although I may just hang on to them, since they're so interesting. I'll post some scans and quotations from some of the quainter titles.
It's really fun buying 60- to 100-year-old books for less than the cost of blank paper. Now all that remains is to figure out Phase 2.
But what about the date, there's dating going on, on this room, right now. We can all feel that little bit of tension. What is a date, really, but a job interview that lasts all night ? Only difference between a date and a job interview is not many job interviews is there a chance you'll end up naked at the end of it. "Well Bill, the boss thinks you're the man for the position, why don't you strip down and meet some of the people you'll be working with".
I think he's on to something, but it goes both ways. Some dates turn out not to be dates. I mean, you pick the girl up, feed her dinner, open the doors, the whole nine yards, but it doesn't count because of some technicality (who ever heard of a third cousin?). By the same token, there are job interviews that turn out not to be job interviews. Some of them are pyramid scams, some cram 20 people into an office and herd them like cattle, and still others switch from being employer to being employee without batting an eyelash.
The lady today said she would consult with her staff to see if they could help me, and wanted to schedule a second interview. Of course she asked me to bring a loved one with me, which was weird, but whatever. After going over all of the ways her company will bend over backwards to help make an executive out of me, she casually mentions, "Of course, there's a cost involved."
It reminded me of the scene in that movie where Deuce is settling terms with his first "client," and she's trying to explain to him that he's her client. She wants him to pay $1000, while he's trying to get her to cough over $40. I was in a similar situation; they wanted me to pay $1500-$5000 for the privilege of putting on a suit in 90-degree weather to go to a fake interview. They might not be first against the wall when the revolution comes, but they won't have to wait long.
On the entrepreneur front, I've bought another car load of books. I'm taking inventory now, and will post it here for my imaginary friends to read. My favorite find so far is a ten-volume set of Bancroft's History of the United States published from 1866 through the 1870s, with original binding and in half-decent shape. It's hard to figure out what they're worth, but there are people online trying to sell incomplete sets for over $400. I paid $50 for them, and should be able to get $100 without too much problem, although I may just hang on to them, since they're so interesting. I'll post some scans and quotations from some of the quainter titles.
It's really fun buying 60- to 100-year-old books for less than the cost of blank paper. Now all that remains is to figure out Phase 2.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Itty Bitty City Stages
So I managed to sneak off to like 4 hours of City Stages on Saturday. It was a good time, even if there were only 20 or so people there. It was maybe half the size I remember from last year, or 25% of its peak attendance. I don't know what the city needs to do to save the festival, but there are certainly more pressing issues, even though I'd hate for us to lose it.
I discovered the Magic Fun Bus, which puts the crunk back in funk. I met the girlfriend of one of the guys in the band (I held out my hand to ask her to dance and she put a promo CD in it). Actually, I picked out three girlfriends/wives of band members from three separate groups totally on accident. It must be one of my dubious gifts.
A couple of Swing Kids showed up and decided I was the only man there that it was safe to dance with, or maybe they were just too shy to ask anybody else. So I had partners aplenty between them and an assortment of women who "don't dance." I've learned that "I don't dance," is a much weaker protest than, say, "I won't dance." Also, if the music is loud enough, you can pretend not to hear them declining the invitation. No means no, but that doesn't mean you have to take no for an answer.
They say 40 is the new 30, which means 20 is the new 10, which gives me an excuse for how I spend my time. What it doesn't excuse, however, is 60-year-old women with bare midriffs. Cleavage is one thing, but if your navel is above your neckline, it's time to pass the hoochie-mama torch on to your granddaughter. Naturally, the girls who look 22 are only 14, and the girls who look 19 are really 30. Women have a warped sense of time.
If, on seeing this picture, you think, "Hey, that clock reminds me of me," bikini season is over for you.
I was ticked off at having to pay $25 for four hours, but then when I got to the place, I just moseyed in through a hole in the fence. Appartently one of the budget cuts this year was in the fence enforcement department. I never actually came across a ticket booth, but I'm not complaining.
We survived Father's Eve and made close to 15 grand for the store. I'm still not making my minimum to earn commission, but the good news is they have a minimum draw salary that I get. The other bad news is that I'd be doing much better off if I'd stayed on Unemployment, but I digress.
I do have an interview tomorrow with an evil genius working on missile defense. I didn't ask what military his team contracts for, but at this point I'm relatively ambivalent. If hired, I'd have to get a secret clearance, which will be hard for me, since I haven't kept a secret in my life. I'm wondering if the whistleblower protection act keeps me out of jail if I uncover some secret plot that I'm not supposed to uncover on account of it being secret.
Oh, and I watched Vanilla Sky, and was disappointed at how much explanation they gave at the end. Also, I wonder if it was really tom cruise behind the mask, as it would've been much cheaper to make a cast of his face and get some $15/day extra to do his scenes for 2/3 of the film. It turns out that when you mangle his face, he's really not much of an actor. So when you think about it, all he really has going for him is his face, his wealth, and Katie Holmes.
That consolation made more sense in my head.
I discovered the Magic Fun Bus, which puts the crunk back in funk. I met the girlfriend of one of the guys in the band (I held out my hand to ask her to dance and she put a promo CD in it). Actually, I picked out three girlfriends/wives of band members from three separate groups totally on accident. It must be one of my dubious gifts.
A couple of Swing Kids showed up and decided I was the only man there that it was safe to dance with, or maybe they were just too shy to ask anybody else. So I had partners aplenty between them and an assortment of women who "don't dance." I've learned that "I don't dance," is a much weaker protest than, say, "I won't dance." Also, if the music is loud enough, you can pretend not to hear them declining the invitation. No means no, but that doesn't mean you have to take no for an answer.
They say 40 is the new 30, which means 20 is the new 10, which gives me an excuse for how I spend my time. What it doesn't excuse, however, is 60-year-old women with bare midriffs. Cleavage is one thing, but if your navel is above your neckline, it's time to pass the hoochie-mama torch on to your granddaughter. Naturally, the girls who look 22 are only 14, and the girls who look 19 are really 30. Women have a warped sense of time.
If, on seeing this picture, you think, "Hey, that clock reminds me of me," bikini season is over for you.
I was ticked off at having to pay $25 for four hours, but then when I got to the place, I just moseyed in through a hole in the fence. Appartently one of the budget cuts this year was in the fence enforcement department. I never actually came across a ticket booth, but I'm not complaining.
We survived Father's Eve and made close to 15 grand for the store. I'm still not making my minimum to earn commission, but the good news is they have a minimum draw salary that I get. The other bad news is that I'd be doing much better off if I'd stayed on Unemployment, but I digress.
I do have an interview tomorrow with an evil genius working on missile defense. I didn't ask what military his team contracts for, but at this point I'm relatively ambivalent. If hired, I'd have to get a secret clearance, which will be hard for me, since I haven't kept a secret in my life. I'm wondering if the whistleblower protection act keeps me out of jail if I uncover some secret plot that I'm not supposed to uncover on account of it being secret.
Oh, and I watched Vanilla Sky, and was disappointed at how much explanation they gave at the end. Also, I wonder if it was really tom cruise behind the mask, as it would've been much cheaper to make a cast of his face and get some $15/day extra to do his scenes for 2/3 of the film. It turns out that when you mangle his face, he's really not much of an actor. So when you think about it, all he really has going for him is his face, his wealth, and Katie Holmes.
That consolation made more sense in my head.
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