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.

Phase 1 Complete

One of the best-known, if not the deepest, 20th-century philosophers had this to say about job interviews:

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.

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.

Shameless Exploitation of Critters Cuter Than I

Child prodigy Jack, spreading wings like Icarus.


Heidi. The size of the bricks has not been exaggerated.


Heidi again.


Heidi yet again.

Morning Hickness

Sorry for the delay between postings, but the tangled wwweb they've wwwoven seems incapable of supporting my poor little neglected machine.

Anyway, City Stages is this weekend, but I'm gonna miss most of it, since i'm working. It's tempting to quit now with two minutes' notice instead of two weeks', but that's not good business ethics, or something. These days, companies can be bought and sold in less than two weeks; governments can topple in that time, and people can go from being married to divorced about four times in two weeks. But me not showing up every day to talk people out of buying gadgets would upset everything too much.

Now, if someone gave me an all-access pass, you know I'd be outa here. I'm certainly not going to miss any job that forbids me from surfing the net on the clock (even when it's just to answer a customer's question about a product). For their part, my cow-orkers have gotten used to the idea of getting all the commission I would be getting if I were selling what they were selling, as long as I don't hurt the store's numbers. The other day was one of the best Wednesdays we had on record, with one customer buying $3000 worth of toys on a whim. Naturally my colleague saw him first, and acted like he had accomplished something when the guy left. Separating a fool from his money is no great feat, but it can be profitable.

Speaking of fools with money, there's at least one who's done something right. I try not to take notice on the intrigues of celebrities, but when somebody steals my girl I can't just stand idly by. I haven't decided on a course of action yet, but I'm planning to watch Vanilla Sky, which should infuriate me with Tommy Boy all the more.

Oh, and I have an interview in Turkey next week with a Colorado-born man from Hunstville, or maybe it's some other way around. Naturally the district manager decided to put all hands on deck that day to rearrange all the merchandise for our post-Father's Day blowout. This will be the first sale of this kind in the Sharper Image's history, which goes to show you that even the early adopters are a discriminating bunch. So that means I'm working six days straight (as a part timer, mind you), and have to be in two places at once. You know your job isn't right for you when you hope to get an ultimatum that will push you over the edge. It's just that, if I'm gonna be fired, I want it to be spectacular. It's at least reassuring to know that nobody's failure is as memorable as yours.


Watch your six, Maverick.