An Old Fashioned Topic Dump: Working from Home, an Upcoming Road Trip, Young Ruffians, and Our Fun Facts

google mapsToney is now working from home. She does customer service for a giant company, and is on some sort of dedicated team that only takes calls from a certain type of customer. It’s all very mysterious to me. But the new assignment came with a hefty (and welcome) bump in pay, and the opportunity to do everything from the relative comfort of home. It’ll be pretty sweet when there are 17 inches of snow outside.

She’s been in training for a few weeks, and finally started working on her own today. There’s a big desk set up in our bedroom, with all manner of Batcave-style electronics on it, including a crazy monitor that must be three feet tall. It’s a pretty wild setup.

Unfortunately, this week she has to start at 8 am. Next week it’ll be 9:30, and I should be out of there by then. But this morning I was sleeping, and she was taking calls a few feet away. I heard her ask someone the name of their first dog — presumably a security question? — then said, “Yes, John matches what I have. How can I help you today?” John?!

I got up, even though it didn’t feel like I’d reached the natural end of my sleep cycle. But I was afraid I’d start farting, or something. I could imagine Toney trying to cover it up: “I’m sorry, I think we’re getting some feedback on the line. Or maybe there’s a helicopter flying over your house?”

And she was so chipper and friendly-sounding. I can’t have that, so early in the morning. Does that make any sense? I had to clear out, and quick.

But I think it’s going to be a good thing. It’s a great opportunity for her, and I’m jealous of the no-commute, no-office politics part of it. Nice.

I’m going to West Virginia on Friday. I made a vow to see my parents more often, and a couple months ago told them I’d be down there in late August. And I’m actually going to follow through on it.

Toney can’t go, and the older boy is back in school. So, I’m taking the younger youngling with me. We’re going to leave early on Friday, and return on Monday.

Yeah, and it’s turning into something a little more crazy than I’d hoped. An aunt and uncle are cutting short a vacation, so they can see us. That’s nice, and everything, but it puts me under a lot of pressure. Ya know? I fear they’ll be disappointed. “We came back for this? To watch this bastard sit on a couch and eat pie??”

Plus, there are a lot of parental “what do you want to eat?” and “what do you want to do?” questions. Too much emphasis for my liking. I don’t care for such a high level of emphasis. It makes me nervous.

I’m still walking most days — about four miles — and something a bit strange happened over the weekend. My daily route takes me through the elementary school parking lot, and I had an encounter with some young ruffians there.

They were hanging out, playing grab-ass, and being hyper-obnoxious. I’d put their age at approximately 14, and there were five or six of them. I spotted the passel of dipshits up ahead, and knew there would probably be some trouble. They were all wound-up, and swinging for the fences.

“Yo, you got a lighter, man?” one of them said, as I approached. Yo? That bugged me, already. Then, man? It was a double-whammy of disrespect.

I said no, and two of them walked toward me in a semi-aggressive way. “I think you’re lying,” one of them said.

“Fuck off,” I replied, and kept walking. It wasn’t a well thought-out plan. Five or six 14 year olds could have easily beaten the living shit out of me. Even these pampered suburban wannabes. Who do I think I am, Billy Jack?

But they backed down, and allowed me to pass without incident. So, I felt pretty good about that. However… there’s now a slight edge of danger to my daily walks. What happens the next time? It never stops.

Finally, I went through some “training” at work a couple of weeks ago. At the beginning we had to go around the table, say our name and our position with the company, then tell everyone a “fun fact” about ourselves.

Mine wasn’t overly “fun,” but it did the trick. There were certainly some lamer “facts,” and that’s good enough for me. As long as mine wasn’t the lamest, or so weird and dark it caused everyone to audibly gasp, I consider it to be a victory.

I’m going to close out today’s update by asking the very same question of you guys. In the comments section please tell us a fun fact about yourself, something we probably don’t know. It needs to be true though, we’re not doing material here…

And I’m calling it a day. I need to be at work in 30 minutes, and I’m 45 out. Ahhh, it’s just like old times here.

See you again soon!

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A Few Quick Things, vol. 4

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I think I'm starting to look waxy. Do you know what I'm talking about? When some men reach a certain age, they begin to look like exhibits at a wax museum? Think Billy Crystal, or Jon Voight. Of course, I'm not nearly as old as those bastards, but I … [Continue reading]