All posts tagged “work

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The Honey Wells

theHoneyWells

In 2009, like many people, I fell victim to “economic downsizing”. My job, at the time, involved developing online home business opportunities, which ultimately would be sold over the phone to vulnerable, gullible, and most likely elderly, “entrepreneurs”. It wasn’t the most honorable work, but times were tough. I foolishly left my previous job without having something already lined up. Prior to that I had never been jobless. I thought someone with my skill set could land something right away. Turned out, I was off by 3 months.

Anyway, things at this new job seemed to be going great. The company just began implementing my latest get-rich-quick program, and it proved to be very salable and lucrative for both the company, and surprisingly, the customer. I had been receiving praise left and right from all the higher-ups, I was starting to be asked to sit in on the management brainstorming sessions, and I was regularly invited to join the bosses for drinks after work. All signs pointed to an inevitable raise and promotion.

About a week before Christmas, I was called into the owner’s office; 100% sure this was going to be the Christmas bonus / raise / promotion / ‘Thank you for the New York Cheesecakes you gave everyone for Christmas’ meeting. Feeling excited and confident, I joked as I walked into the office and sat down, “So this is it? You guys are finally firing me? Ha ha ha!”

The problem was, no one else was laughing.

Thinking back on that moment, my little joke probably resulted in the fastest exit interview ever.

“Um.. actually yes we are.”

I soon found myself being escorted from the building, and once again out of a job. This time, however, my unemployment lasted a whopping 7 months. During that time, I diligently applied to over 200 positions ranging in pay from $9/hr to $30/hr. With jobs scarce and applicants saturating the market, I was only able to land about 15 interviews. Of those 15 interviews, I was offered only one position with a company that provided no benefits, no sick pay, no vacation, and paid 25% less than I had been making. I took that job.

A year later, I’m still working for that same company; barely making ends meet and hoping that I never have the need to visit a doctor. From what I still see on the job boards, not much has changed in the job market. So for now, I’m kinda stuck here.

I know I should be grateful that I’m no longer unemployed, but sometimes I think the Universe is laughing at me. Today, I stopped into Circle K after work to pick up a snack. While waiting in line, a brand new, $40k, white Ford Explorer, with custom chrome rims, pulls up in front of the store. A young man gets out of the driver side wearing a white-on-white, flat-brimmed Yankees cap (spun to the side), a white tank top, and white jeans sagging below his ass, exposing his boxer shorts. He’s is in the middle of a call on his cell phone as he walks into the store. Not bothering to lower his voice, he gets in line behind me and continues his conversation about his new job:

Yeah, dog… I been had my orientation already. … Word, dog! … Yeah I’m just waitin’ on my fuckin’, uh fuckin’ ummmm National Security Clearance badge n’ shit! … Yeah, dog, I was scurred bout dat shit too cuz my credit is fucked up, and dey look at dat shit! … Yeah dey check yo record too, dog! … Nah, I ain’t got no felonies, dog! … Nah, man I wasn’t convicted fo dat shit, and dey lowered the charge on dat other shit, so I’m cool, yo. … Yeah, so once I get my clearance badge, I’ll be workin’ up at The Honeywells n’ shit.”

Now I have no idea what position this young man landed with “The Honeywells,” but I do know that while I was unemployed, I applied to Honeywell multiple times for an Office Administrator position, and they didn’t even respond to my resume. I also applied to the Scottsdale Police Department as a Dispatcher, and I didn’t pass their background check because of a past-due credit card from college 14 years ago. Apparently National Security Clearance isn’t as strict as Scottsdale PD.

Young man, best of luck to you in your new career.

FML

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Ladies’ Man

When we last left our lovable, yet unlucky hero, I was being “evicted” from my apartment. I have since left that crazy situation and found a nice little place only a mile and a half from the last one. Although the commute is not as convenient as it used to be, I don’t have to worry about drug addicts and well… drug addicts. I think that’s enough to worry about.

I’m now shacked up with two new roommates, Seth and Hector; both of whom are 110% gayer than gay. I guess that makes them 420% gay. Seth, however, claims that he’s not really gay because he has no interest in fashion nor interior design, he just sleeps with men.

Being the only heterosexual person in our house, I have acquired a renewed sense of masculinity. I started exercising again, and I was successful in luring two ladies back to my bedroom (not at the same time). Now I’m not going to go as far as saying I fulfilled their every sexual desire, but let’s just say, one of them, I haven’t seen since, and the other is now moving to a different state and doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. They don’t call me Mr. Lova-lova for nothing.

Both jobs are still going well. Tonight was the annual talent show at the retirement community. It was a full half hour of non-stop singing, poetry, and dancing. A grand time was had by all! I really love those old folks. 🙂

As I watched them sing and dance tonight, I thought how sad it is that many of them may not be around for next year’s talent show. That’s probably the only downside to this job. You never know who will be there the next day and who won’t. So I do my best to do as much as I can for them while they’re here.

That’s about all that’s going on right now. I keep saying I’m going to write on a more consistent basis but you know how that goes.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Schneider… out!

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Carlton Sheets Has Left the Building

My real estate career has officially come to an end, and I can safely say, it was a complete and utter failure. I sold a total of zero properties, and in the process, managed to incur a letter from my former employer’s attorney threatening a law suit and criminal prosecution for stealing and distributing client lists. That’s untrue by the way.

Fortunately my newly acquired unemployed status doesn’t impact my financial situation, since, for the past 6 months I haven’t earned any income. So my confidence is high because it appears that things can only get better from here. No wait, my toilet sprung a leak yesterday and flooded my bathroom and my bedroom. So things can only get better from there. No wait…

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Sex, Lies, and Real Estate

Ok there’s no sex, but two out of three isn’t bad.

Hello peoples! First, I want to thank those who have recently checked up on me to see if I’m doing ok. I am alive and well. My real estate career, however, has taken a little turn for the worse.

After 4 months of busting my butt building a strong relationship with my only real client, I finally wrote my first contract on a small apartment building. We were supposed to close on the deal this month. Unfortunately, everything unraveled and turned to shit faster than I could say, “My boss is an evil lying, cheating, unethical, money-grubbing douche.”

See, what happened was, my boss left out a few minor details about the property I was selling. For instance, the tiny fact that the seller on the contract didn’t really own the buildings he was selling yet. You might ask yourself, “How can someone sell something they don’t own?” Well they can’t! There was a pending deal between the actual seller and the person on my contract, which I was obligated to disclose to my client.

Because the pending sale (or lead deal) hadn’t closed yet, the tenant lease agreements provided by the “fake” seller weren’t really accurate. They stated that the current rents each lease was $150 more than they really were.

*Real Estate Lesson 101: When someone buys an apartment building, they’ll calculate how much income they will generate based on the current rents. Often, right before someone sells, they’ll increase the rents to make it look like a more attractive investment to a potential buyer. Unfortunately, since the “fake” seller didn’t own the building yet, he hadn’t really raised the rents. Essentially lying about the potential profitability of the investment.

Now here’s where everything really gets F-ed up. My boss was in cahoots with the “fake” seller and knew what was going on. Rather than tell us the situation and give us a chance to put together a strategy, she instructed me to lie to repeatedly lie to my client. I, of course was unaware I was lying, and eventually when all the information surfaced, and the dust settled, my client was left with the impression that I was either trying to pull a scam on her, or extremely incompetent or worse… both. Either way, my client got pissed off and dropped out of the deal, and I lost a $13,000 paycheck.

I have had zero income these past 5 months, and spent every penny of my savings trying to establish myself as an Agent, so really needed to land this deal in order to continue building momentum. Needless to say, I was pretty upset. When I confronted my boss about why my client dropped out, she nonchalantly said, “Well, she must have not been really serious about buying.”

After making 3 trips to Arizona, renting 3 cars, paying for 10 nights in a hotel, forfeiting $1300 in inspection fees, and handing over $5000 in earnest money, my client wasn’t really a serious buyer. I guess she won’t be a serious plaintiff either when she tries to sue me.

So, after giving it a bunch of thought, I’ve decided to quit my job, and I’m going to work with my Mom’s girlfriend, Carol, doing the same thing. Carol used to work with me at this office, but she quit in January in order to branch out on her own. I have no idea if I’m doing the right thing, but I guess only time will tell. I’ll officially resign on Tuesday or Wednesday. It depends on which day my balls feel their largest.

With all these upcoming changes staring me in the face, and coming to the realization that I’m dirt poor again, I haven’t been much in the mood for blogging. These next few weeks, however, will likely provide plenty of material for future blogs.

Until then, keep your head up.

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Vegas… We Have a Problem

It’s about 5am on Sunday. My flight was scheduled for 7:30am. I should be packing last minute items, printing my online boarding pass and headed to the ATM to make sure I have cash to pay for a cab and tip the porter. Instead,I’m sitting here in my jammies, I just threw a fresh load of laundry in the washer, and my suitcase sits empty in the closet wondering what the F is going on.

Flashback to a few months ago (maybe October): I’m at work. I’m still a Transaction Coordinator, not a Sales Agent. I’m in a meeting. The boss says, “February 26th – March 3rd is the RE/MAX International Conference in Vegas. Everyone is required to attend. I will be paying for the The Transaction Coordinators, and of course, the Agents are responsible for their own travel expenses.”

Fast forward to December: The boss offers me the opportunity to become an Agent. As soon as I accept the offer the boss says, “Great! Now you can pay for your own trip to Vegas.” This is an extremely shitty little trick if you ask me. We’re going to Vegas to receive awards for our accomplishments in 2005, during which I was a Transaction Coordinator. Nevertheless, I suck it up, and I book my own travel plans.

Fast forward all the way to the first part of February: Everyone is bitching and moaning because we have to stay in Vegas for a whole friggin week. It’s going to cost $200 to go to two awards dinners, plus hotel, food, and flight. That’s not including additional fees for the mandatory seminars we have sit through. Essentially, we’re paying about $1200 per person in order to give ourselves a $30 award plaque. It’s really just a way for RE/MAX to make more money on their employees while having an excuse to go on a tax deductible drinking and gambling binge. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stick in the mud, but going to Vegas to sit in seminars and talk to your co-workers about work is like going to the strip club with a blindfold on. What’s the point?

Fast forward again, and stop when you get to February 12th: I’m in another meeting. The boss says, “I don’t know what everyone else’s plans are, but I’m only staying in Vegas until Wednesday. I’m attending the awards dinners on Sunday and Tuesday, and flying back on Wednesday morning.”

All of the Agents look at each other like, “Ain’t this a bitch!?!” At the end of the meeting everyone scrambles to change their flights to Wednesday as well. Being the thorough little worker bee that I am, I decided to first double check the dates for the Awards Dinners. Just as I suspected! The second dinner isn’t on Tuesday it’s on Wednesday. What to do, what to do? Do I play dumb and hope the oversight isn’t discovered until it’s too late to make changes, or do I tell the boss she made a mistake and force everyone to stay an extra day. I play dumb.

Fast forward to February 16th. Incoming email:
FROM: The Boss
TO: The Team
SUBJECT: Big Mistake!
Awards banquet is on Wednesday. We need to reschedule flights. Sorry.

SHIT!

Fast forward to yesterday, Feb 25th: My boss and I are in a meeting with a developer regarding a group of condos we’re trying to sell. The meeting is drawing to a close, and boss tells the developer, “We’re going to be in Las Vegas the next few days receiving awards, so I’ll contact you when I get back. Which reminds me… Eric, I have to talk to you about Vegas. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Only one person is attending the dinner on Sunday and the rest of the team isn’t even going to Vegas.”

Me: “You are aware we’re leaving tomorrow?”

Boss: “Yes, but no one can afford to go.”

Me: “Great so we’re supposed to go to Vegas to receive an award for being the most successful real estate team in the country and no one has any money??? That makes sense.”

The boss is clearly disappointed because she lives to brag about how successful she is. Showing up in Vegas alone, without her team, would be a total embarrassment. So, being the diplomatic little worker bee that I am, I tell the Boss I will attend the first dinner and then figure out if I want to stay longer when I get there.

Fast forward to about 3 hours ago (2am): I call up the MGM Grand:

Me: “Hi, I’m booked for 4 nights there, and I’m calling to find out what sort of fee I might have to pay for shortening my stay.”

Girl: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I’m going to need your name.”

Me: “Eric Schneider”

Girl: “Sir, the only Eric Schneider I have in the system was supposed to check in on the 26th, but that was canceled by RE/MAX.”

Me: “Canceled?”

Girl: “Yes.”

SILENCE

Me: “Soooo… can I un-cancel it?”

Girl: “No.”

SILENCE

Me: “You’re all booked up?”

Girl: “No.”

SILENCE

Me: “So I can still get a room?”

Girl: “No.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Girl: “Sir, you can’t get a room under the RE/MAX group pricing.”

Me: “But I can get a room at the regular rate?”

Girl: “Yes.”

Me: “Um… you know what? Never mind. Thanks!”

I hang up the phone, hop online and cancel my flight. No Vegas for me! Yippie!!!

Just for fun, I go back to the MGM Grand website to check and see what their regular room rate is. Guess what? It’s $40 less than the “special” RE/MAX group rate. Fuckers!

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Vegas Baby!!!

I’m headed to Sin City on Sunday to attend the non-stop party frenzy that is the RE/MAX International Conference. Five days of pure torture and an endless barrage of “I had this one client…” stories. This is truly a case of “Whatever happens in Vegas I wish would happen in Vegas without me.”

The good news is… well there is no good news, but I have a theory if I continually say the phrase “the good news is…” sooner or later I’ll think of something to say after it. I don’t believe this technique is published in any self help book nor do I know if it really works, but feel free to give it a try.

Let me ask you a question… if someone gave you $10 to put in a slot machine on their behalf, and you won, would you give them money, or would you pretend that their $10 was your $10, and your $10 was their $10 which you just lost in the machine 5 minutes ago?

Now I’m not saying what I would do, but if anyone wants me to drop $10 in a slot machine on their behalf while I’m in Vegas, let me know. Since I’m leaving on Sunday, I won’t have time to pick up the money, so just send me a message that you want to play, I’ll float you the $10, and if I lose, you’ll owe me $10 when I get back. OK? Good!

Last order of business: The Women’s PAC-10 Tournament starts on March 3rd followed by the NCAA Tourney. I need everyone to send out good ju-ju for the Lady Sun Devils. Maybe some of you gothic, witchy, weirdo types can make voodoo dolls of the other teams and stick them with pins n’ stuff. I’ll leave it up to you to decide how you want to support the team.

That’s all I have for now. Later, taters!

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Indoor Pool

Happy New Year everybody! Long time no blog :P. Where to start… where to start?

Let’s start where I left off: Christmas. For the most part it went well. My sister found out we bought her the iPod when my mom decided to check her voice mail messages over the speaker phone: “Uh yeah… I was calling to see if you still had that iPod for sale?”

I made the suggestion to my sister that maybe it wasn’t so wise to buy herself a $400 gift, which she put on her wish list, a week before Christmas. She pretty much reacted the way I expected she would. “What? How was I supposed to know? Don’t get mad at me!”

I tried explaining that I wasn’t mad at her; I was just disappointed that we didn’t have the chance to give her the gift. The real gift was in making her happy and the satisfaction that comes with doing something nice for someone you love. She responded, “I’m happy. I got it for myself. No big deal.”

I don’t know if my point was completely lost on her, but I’m over it now.

Anyway, I ended up staying at Mom’s the entire time my sister was in town. After the fourth straight day, however, I was ready to shoot myself, and more than ready to head home.

I got back to my apartment to find half of it pretty much submerged under water. I wondered if it had anything to do with the email I sent my landlord two weeks before about the sound of running water in the walls? Nah, that couldn’t be it. 😛

Well, it turned out that a pipe had burst behind the wall and the water was coming back into the apartment from underneath the floor, flooding the bathroom, the water heater closet, the computer room and the kitchen. The wet carpet in the computer room smelled like every trace of pet piss, body odor, and cigarette smoke trapped in the fibers had been released. Luckily, the damage wasn’t bad enough to warrant new carpet. God forbid I come out ahead. 😛

So, for the first week or so of the New Year, I had much of my apartment stacked up in my living room. I had plumbers and, water damage restoration guys, and dry wall repairmen coming in every day. They had to knock out huge holes in the walls, through the shower, and in the floor just to find the leak. They fixed leak and patched up all but 2 of the holes in the wall. I guess they wanted to keep a few open just in case any rats wanted to get in out of the cold this winter. That was nice of them. Oh… and just a few days ago, I got a phone call from the landlord responding to my email about the sound of running water behind the wall. Way to keep on top of things. 😛

New subject:

I’m going to CA again next week to do another Real Estate seminar. It was supposed to be my first event as an actual Agent, but my replacement failed his Real Estate exam. Dumb ass! So I don’t officially stop doing my current job until he gets his license and can replace me. Oh well. For those of you who don’t keep up, I was promoted from Transaction Coordinator to Sales Agent.

By the way, if any of you fuckers want to invest in Commercial Real Estate let me know. I could like sell you some good shit, and you could like make lots of money n’ stuff. We specialize in four-plex residential rental property or something like that. I’ll hook you up, dogs!

That’s all I have for now. Apologies to those whom I have ignored these past few weeks. Between the flood, my extreme laziness, and my lack of concern… well I’m sure you understand.

Until next time.

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Gender Bender

So it’s Friday night. I’m home alone with my cat on my lap, drinking a glass of wine and unwinding from a pretty stupid day at the office. I’ve had this job for 7 months now and I have to say it’s the best AND the worst job I ever had. It’s the best because I make decent money, and there’s plenty of opportunity for further financial gain. My office is in a beautiful area, and the clients are pleasant. It’s really not a bad gig.

On the other hand, my boss is a complete nut job. I’m not going to bother giving details because I lack the vocabulary to really express how crazy she is in a way that you would share my pain. Also, I somehow ended up being the designated “computer guy” at the office because once people find out you know how to operate a mouse, all of a sudden they stop trying to do things themselves. It takes me twice as long to get my work done during the day because I’m constantly helping other people with computer tasks. The other downside to my job is I work mainly with women. Actually we just added another guy, but he’s gay.

For most of my adult life, I’ve worked industries dominated by men. In an office full of men, you go to work, you work, you talk about women and sports, you work, you complain about work, you work some more, and you go home. It’s pretty much the same thing every day. Every once in a while there’s some conflict. Maybe you butt heads with a co-worker or someone drops the ball and mess up a task. In an office full of men, conflict is easily resolved by walking up to the offending party and saying, “Hey you fucking retard, you fucked up. Don’t do that again!” He replies, “Fuck you, you fucking fuck!” You call him an asshole. He’d calls you a dick. Then it’s done! Yes, done and back to business as usual. You can walk up that same guy 2 minutes later, and everything would be fine. (Keep in mind I’m talking about lateral confrontation, not how you would go about handling a problem with a boss or subordinate.)

Working with women is NOTHING like that. As I mentioned, I’ve been at my job for 7 months and, at least twice a week, without fail, I have to have a “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings” conversation with someone. Never before, have I had to say apologize to a co-worker for hurting their feelings. Never in my career have I seen anyone cry at work and storm out of the room. And not necessarily because I made them cry. Sometimes they cry when they lose a deal, or when a customer yells at them, or they just remember something from their childhood and they start crying for no reason.

So yeah, my office is definitely a hotbed of emotions and sensitivity. Oh, how I long for the days when I could critique a co-worker’s performance without them taking offense. Now, if I say boo to someone, they think I’m insulting their very being or implying that they can’t do something as well as a man can. And if an argument with someone escalates beyond two or three exchanges, forget about it, they won’t talk to me for the rest of the day. Sometimes longer.

Look, I’m not a bully. Far from it, but when it comes to work, it’s just work, and when there’s a job to be done, you do it. When it doesn’t get done, or gets done poorly, there needs to be a way to resolving issues quickly without having to tip toe around people’s feelings. I kinda look at relationships with co-workers kinda like boxers. Outside the ring, you could be friends with another fighter, but inside the ring, you have to beat the shit out of each other in order to do your job. It’s nothing personal.

I have a feeling I’m sounding like a real douche right now. 😛

So here’s what happened today. The boss walked into our office, and said to Rosemary, “Rosemary, I want you to list Ryan’s property in the MLS Online and have Eric teach you how to post pictures of the property.”

A few hours later, Ryan walked in and asked, “Rosemary did you post the pictures yet?”

Rosemary: “No, I’m waiting for Eric to show me how.”

Me: “I’m ready. I’ve been ready. Let’s do it.”

Rosemary:”Ok, give me like two minutes.”

A few hours later Ryan walked in again and asked, “Rosemary did you post those pictures yet?”

Rosemary: “No, I’m still waiting on Eric.”

Me: “Waiting on me? I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Rosemary: “Ok. Lemme just make this call real quick.”

The third time Ryan walked in, Rosemary blamed me again for not posting the pictures. I got pissed off and snapped at her, “For Christ’s sake Rosemary, how fucking hard is it to post pictures on a listing? While you were “waiting” on me, did you even try to do it? There are 5 fucking buttons to click on, and only ONE of them says ‘Edit Listing’! Did you even think of clicking on that?!?!”

*CLICK*

Me: “GOOD JOB! Now click on the button that says ‘Add Pictures’!”

Rosemary: “Forget it, I’ll do it myself!”

Ryan:”Oooooh, she’s mad at you now, Eric.”

Me: “Good! Maybe she’ll learn a little self-reliance.”

So Rosemary started crying, got up, sending her chair flying across the room, and stormed out of the office. She came back 10 minutes later, and didn’t say a word to me for the rest of the day. Granted, it wasn’t much of a “punishment”, but what a pain in the ass. Over absolutely nothing!

Monday, I’m going to have to apologize. I’ll have to pretend that I was stressed out over something else, and acknowledge that it was still no excuse for being so rude. Blah blah blah. But that’s bullshit! I go from the person trying to help her to being a heartless prick while she goes from being an incompetent retard to helpless victim. I bet she thinks that she was the one just trying to do her job, and I refused to help her. Whatever!

Anyone know a good florist? 😛

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Would You Like a Giant Sack for Those Balls?

Sometimes I wish I had a pair of giant, hairy balls, the size of watermelons, that would hang down below my knees, and when I walked they’d swing with such force, the pendulous motion would first knock down everyone in my path, and as I stepped over the fallen victims, they’d get a nice whack across the nose on the back swing. Perhaps with a set of balls  like those I’d be able to compete with the audacity of the people around me.

I want to preface the following story by saying, I don’t like to complain. I know I’m good at it, and I know it seems like I do it often, but honestly I’d much rather have things go my way. I would truly prefer to log on and blog about how the stars always seem to be aligned in my favor, and how I’m terrible at playing hide and seek with good fortune because it always finds me. Unfortunately, that’s not my path. That is not my destiny. That is not my Ka.

My boss’ son is getting married on Saturday. For some unknown reason, I got an invite to the wedding. I say unknown because I barely know the guy, and maybe I met his fiancé one time. Also, not everyone from the office was invited. In fact the guest list was so limited, it was requested that I not even bring a date. Honestly, why bother? If you aren’t going to allow someone to bring a guest to a wedding, you probably shouldn’t invite that person in the first place.

I suspect the only reason why I was invited is because my mother happens to be my boss’s best (and possibly only) friend. So the way I figure things went down with the invitations was my boss probably insisted on an invitation for my mother and her girlfriend, and just because I happen to be my mother’s son as well as an employee, she probably pressured him into inviting me too. I’m guessing the son reluctantly agreed but with the stipulation that I couldn’t bring a guest. I mean, how else would it have come up? As far as I knew there were no restrictions on any of the other invitees.

Let it be stated for the record, that I never wanted to go to this wedding in the first place; with a date or without one. I don’t particularly like my boss, and her son is a know-it-all, useless-fact-regurgitating, monstrous bore who happens to be marrying a girl who is way too smart and attractive for him. Nevertheless, I felt I couldn’t refuse the invitation and risk the consequences of bad office politics and poor etiquette. I figured I’d show up for the ceremony, stay for the first part of the reception, then bail. No muss, no fuss.

So today, I logged onto the Robinsons-May website to get the happy couple a few gifts from their registry. I’m annoyed that I have to go by myself, but not too annoyed that I can’t get them a nice gift. I’m not a complete douche. I bought them a set of nice martini glasses, a margarita set, and a wooden storage case for some expensive flatware they were asking for. It came out to like $120. Not too much, but not cheap cheap. Nice enough I think that they might feel slightly guilty for not allowing me to bring a date. Feel free to comment if you disagree with my perception of cheap and not cheap. I know nothing about wedding gifts.

I apologize for boring you with the big lead in, but I thought it was necessary in order to get a better idea of the whole situation. Now it’s time to pay attention again, because here comes the big kick in the ass; the balls across the nose, if you will:

Almost simultaneously, as I completed my online wedding gift purchase, I receive an email from the bride-to-be.

This is the actual email with names and other extraneous information removed:

******************************************
Hi Eric,

I was wondering if you would do me a huge favor. I don’t have a videographer.

So I was wondering if you would mind taking some footage for me? I just need the main events – ceremony, entrance/first dance, parent dances, toasts, cake cutting, and the bouquet/garter toss. I have a video camera that you can use and a tripod. Let me know if you’d be interested. Thanks!
******************************************

What the fuck?!?! Seriously, what the fuck??? Can you believe that?!?! I don’t even know where to begin. First of all, how does a person overlook hiring someone to take video at their wedding? Especially considering how I’ve had to listen to my boss brag about how much money she spent on the wedding, and how she also got them a brand new Toyota Highlander as a wedding gift, and how she paid for their trip to Europe for their honeymoon!

Honestly, I don’t know at whom should I be more furious; my boss for obviously “volunteering” me, or the bride and groom for not recognizing how friggin rude it is to ask me to work their wedding. I can only assume the bride and groom were pissed off for having to invite me in the first place, and figured I wasn’t good for a decent gift, and in order to get their money’s worth, they asked out of spite, knowing I couldn’t say no. Again, I don’t even know these people well enough for them to ask to borrow five bucks let alone film their wedding for free. The only other explanation would be they all intended to ask me to be the cameraman from the start, and the initial invitation was offered to get me committed to attending.

Either way, Where do people get balls this big and where can I get a pair? PLUS to have to nerve to say, “I JUST need the main events: The ceremony, entrance, first dance, parent dances, toasts, cake cutting, and the bouquet toss.” Well what the fuck else is there?!?! Footage of the guests chewing on food? The newlyweds banging in the back of the limo?

The shittiest part is, I feel like I can’t say no because my boss is the type of person who holds grudges and plays favorites at the office. I know that makes me sound kinda spineless, but I can’t see how refusing could be beneficial to my career.

I’m so disgusted with everything and everybody right now.

I’m changing my name to Matt so I won’t be so blindsided when people step all over me.

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Going Back to Cali… I Don’t Think So

Actually I do think so. I leave tomorrow at the crack of dawn. 5:10 AM baby! No sleep for me tonight that’s fo sho!

I’ll be gone till Friday the 26th. I ask that you all try not to miss me too much, as I probably won’t be able to blog while I’m gone.

Oh by the way, if there are any lovely ladies in the San Jose area who want a night of good conversation, great food, and some hardcore, dirty, pillow biting, monkey sex, let me know. I have a buddy that lives out there. I can hook you up with him.

Later taters!

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Singing the Bored at Work Blues

ZZzzzz ZZZZzzzzzzz….

Holy crap am I bored or what? The only thing keeping me awake is my co-worker yelling at her kids over the phone. I hate when parents drag their kids’ drama into the workplace. Maybe I’m mean, but I don’t care about other people’s kids. Wait, let me clarify. I love kids. It’s the parents I don’t care for. Especially when their kids are small and you have to hear them brag about how talented their 2 yr old is: Oh, little Mikey bangs on the table. He’s gonna be a famous drummer! And little Kathy plays with her own poop. She’s going to be a famous sculptor! Whatever! Come talk to me when little Kathy is 15 and she’s hopped on crystal meth and getting doinked by 50yr old perverts so she can pay for her next score.

Lots of my friends have kids now, and it’s almost impossible for them to talk about anything other than their children. EVER! I was at a strip club with a friend and this chick jumps up on the pole upside down, spreads her legs, and starts spinning around like a helicopter. There’s boobs and cooch flying everywhere and my friend says “Lincoln would have such a good time here. He’d ask to slide down the fireman’s pole.”

I don’t know, but I just don’t want to be thinking about my friend’s 2yr. old son when I’m staring at naked women. Sorta ruins the mood.

I can’t wait until I have kids, I’m going to bore the fuck out of everyone within a 3 mile radius with every mundane detail about my child. I’m going to force everyone to know the color of its poop to every new sound they make. In fact, I’m going publish a newsletter and make everyone I know read it while I read over their shoulders and comment and point at everything I wrote. Then, I’ll make them laugh at all the  things only I find cute and funny.

How’d I get off on that whole tangent? I was supposed to be talking about how bored I am at work.

OH, by the way, my little questionnaire thingy is going great. I have about 40 responses so far and I’m really accumulating some great data. I think you’ll find it pretty interesting. I’m going to wait until next week to tally up everything and publish the results and my conclusion.

Submit your answers if you haven’t done so already.

I have to go now… later!

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A Great Day!

I thought I’d share with everyone that I had a fantastic day! I think the only thing missing that could have possibly made my day any better was some sex.

First, I got to sleep in. The boss started work at noon because of the little party we had last night. It was exactly as I thought it would be, but with free food and free booze how much can you really complain?

Then, I got paid for 3 deals that closed this week, and I got another 4 new deals to start. Gotta always keep the bucket filled! I also got an extra thousand buckaroonies from the boss just for doing a good job! How often does that happen? If you answered a lot, then consider yourself lucky.

After work, I had my first session with my personal trainer, Antonio, and he kicked the living snot out of me. It was for a good cause so I include it in the list of good things.

And last but not least, the best part of my day: I talked to my Dad on the phone! My Dad lives back in NY and ever since I moved here to Arizona, I’ve done the worst job of staying in touch. I don’t know if anyone can relate, but do you ever not call someone because you feel guilty for not calling? I do that all the time! I’ll not call for a week. Then I tell myself I really need to call, but I don’t, and month goes by. Then I make myself promise to call the very next day, but I’ll forget. Next thing I know, I’m missing holidays and birthdays, and I figure surely everyone must hate  me, so I become completely terrified to call!

Honestly, I don’t know why I do that. I can’t even count how many people have been phased out of my life just because I stopped calling. Good people too. All I can say is thank god my dad doesn’t hold a grudge because we have a nice clean slate again.

So, all in all it’s been a great day. I hope you all can say the same.

You can see a few pictures of me and my dad after the break.

Dad and Me FishingGraduation DayDad and Eric on the Couch

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“And remember… Friday is Hawaiian Shirt Day.”

Tomorrow is my office party. We’re celebrating the close of our 25 deals this week by renting a stretch Hummer and going to a country western BBQ restaurant. For those of you who are local, we’re going to Rustler’s Rooste.

Now I’m sure there are people who work in places where it’s fun to hang out with your co-workers. I’m not one of those people. Tomorrow night will be a night of pure torture; having to listen to countless stories about Real Estate. If you never worked in sales before, imagine listening to this over and over and over and over:

“Then the customer says to me [INSERT DUMB REMARK HERE]. So I told him [INSERT WITTY RETORT HERE].”

There you have it. Every sales story ever told.

Anyway, I hope you all have better plans than I do.

The pigeons were at it again this morning. I didn’t bother interrupting them this time, and in return, I was treated to some of the hottest pigeon sex I’ve ever seen. I’m wondering if anyone else shares my new found obsession with pigeon porn. Hold on… let’s Google.

Right on!!! I’m not the only one:  http://www.callalillie.com/archives/2004/05/pigeon_voyeur.html

You really have to admire someone who comes up with something new. That’s why I’m totally fascinated by science and technology. Hell, the copy machine still blows my mind. Think about it… you stick a piece of printed paper into a slot, and seconds later, BAM! You have an exact duplicate of your printed paper. Is anyone else amazed? Anyone? No? Well whatever… just sit in front of your flat screen monitors and stay completely unimpressed. See if I care!

All I can say is thank goodness for the people who actually paid attention in school. Can you imagine what this world would be like if after receiving their first wedgie, or getting stuffed into a locker, nerdy kids said “Fuck it! Being smart is way too much of a hassle.”?

I think we should all take a moment and give our respect to those kids.

Ok, the moment is done and so am I. Good night.