I'm out of here for the weekend

Well, you think it would be able to identify something

Long realizing the significance of having the need for some type of evaluation of compatibility and  measurement, thereof,  I assigned the Misfits the task of developing a type of evaluation test that would measure the character, intelligence, and general overall fit-in-ed-ness of any prospective candidates for our population here at FTI.  It was decided we needed to recruit more "cool" people as positive role models for the losers currently housed here.  

Unfortunately, the example displayed here is below the personal goals I have set for our organization with regards to excellence, but like the coach of the perennial losing Washington Generals against the Harlem Globetrotters, I bear the burden of never winning after all of these years.  I share this as an  indication of the best of anything generated.  My apologies in advance to any test-takers who may feel their own level of competency is higher than this actual test indicates.  

COOL PERSON TEST

The King has fallen

I happened into a Burger King Restaurant yesterday for a quick lunch. It has been a long time since I have eaten at Burger King, and, based on my experience, it will probably be a long time before I return.

It was around lunchtime and decided I should get a quick bite. A lot of times, I like to drop into Wendy's for a side small salad and a glass of water. $1.39 for a healthy lunch which tastes good and I can get fairly fast. I see the BK and figure I will visit "the King". I remember I heard a few weeks ago that Wendy's had finally overtaken Burger King among the big 3 in sales even though Burger King has more physical locations. I can see why.

Starting with my entrance, I notice the store is a bit shabby in appearance; dirty tables, chipped floor tile, faded posters advertising their specials, but, they do have a plasma or LCD order board. I guess they are in the 21st Century. The woman taking the order is either Middle Eastern Indian or some type of Persian and obviously has some sort of difficulty speaking and understanding standard American English. After relaying twice that my order is not to go and for eating inside the restaurant, I am given my receipt and the mumbled announcement that my order number is "duh-bruddy-tour". I have no idea what that means. Waiting approximately four minutes while NO ONE ELSE ENTERS THE STORE, I am across the counter from a surly Hispanic girl who repeatedly checks the order screen, grabs a to go sack, and crams my Jr. Whopper and Value fries into it before yelling across the counter "Jr. Whopper and Fries"! There is no one else waiting. I figure I will just take the sack and sit down. I go over to the condiment bar to get some napkins and ketchup and notice that the small portion cups are missing from the condiment station. I go back to the counter and mention to the Latina princess that the cups are missing over at the ketchup station and I would like to have some in order to get some ketchup. The astute reader will notice that the key word in this last thought has been the word "ketchup". Apparently the help at Burger King realized the same because she grabs four small to-go packets, throws them at me, and goes back to scanning the televised order board. So much for having it your way.

I really am a forgiving and tolerant type of customer. We all have bad days or days where we are overwhelmed. Mistakes happen. I get all of that. To consistently leave an unfavorable impression with the customer from the time they walk in the door until they exit, though, just doesn't seem to be the foundation of a successful business model. It's gonna take more than new Fresh Wraps and Mango Smoothies to regain 2nd place.

Jukebox: Let's have some fun

Let's climb into the Wayback Machine

I heard a news story on the TV the other evening about the government releasing the Census data from 1940 for public inspection.  I went to the website and have had a fascinating journey through both time and my memory. It's all here.

With just a bit of basic information of locations (and if you are really fortunate, street names,) you can find records indicating income, occupation, education, birthplace. etc. of your ancestors and old neighbors from when you were a kid.  It really is a lot of fun to recognize some of the old names and make some discoveries that will surprise you.  I know I did.  Depending on  whether it was a rural area at the time or not, name of streets may have changed or not even existed.  Regardless, with a little patience and a a lot of determination, you can find info on people from long ago.

It's a more educational way to spend 2 hours than wasting it away on Facebook.  

Enter the Dragon

I spoke with Rat Bastard G yesterday. It was another dimwitted conversation that we normally engage in on a periodic basis. Nothing of any real value except one nugget of information I gleened that I thought was a bit ironic.

It turns out that at the beginning of the year in the wee hours following his New Years Eve celebration, he had made a commitment to the year as one of the best he would ever have, a memorable milestone year in his life, a year upon which to look back and reflect upon and think, "Wow. what a year of accomplishment". I asked G what he was doing to facilitate and help himself to reach this designation and he replied, "nothing". He was simply going to let life come to him, hand him whatever it would, and them close the books on it December 31st and declare that 2012 was the year of the G. I thought that was a bit odd as I thought you have to live life fully rather than taking what life gives you, but no, G assured me that he was going to pull up his chaise lounge and just watch things parade past. He even told me that like the current Chinese lunar Year of the Dragon, he had taken it upon himself in his own vain manner to refer to it as the "Year of the Rat" and compose a song similar to one of our earlier Friday selections.

It will be interesting to see.  For the record, G was actually born under the Chinese symbol of the Rooster.  Before political correctness, this was always referred to as the Cock.  Dragon, Rat, Cat, Rooster, Cock.  I hope he doesn't get his symbolism mixed up.

Jukebox: That Lady could sure sing

We're hiring

It is with bittersweet feeling I write today's post.  My able bodied Assistant/Resident Trustee, Giacommo, has accepted a position outside of the area and will no longer be able to fulfill his duties here at FTI.  Of course, I hate to lose him as he has become, over the months, a trusted confidant of all things abnormal.  Generally, the little knucklehead has proven to be a reliable individual, though, persistent questions remain concerning his involvement in  this incident a while back and his ability to keep some matters confidential.  Regardless, I conducted an exit interview with him last night and wish him nothing but the best in his future endeavors. He has been a fine apprentice and is certainly ready to fly on his own.

My only question of his abilities are that I am not sure he is fully developed in the matter of keeping some subjects confidential. Last night was a good example. Somehow, some way, Gosh,-I-just-happened-to-be-in-the-neighborhood, -got-thirsty, -and-didn't-know-you-guys-were-here, Old Short Arms swoops in and joins us during the out-processing meeting. I didn't bring it up with Giacommo as it would be pointless at this juncture of his affiliation. True to form, however, the little miser was able to mooch a glass from the bartender, share in the pitcher of our ceremonial sacraments, score another round from a generous stranger, skillfully time his need to use the restroom just as the conversation lulls while the glasses are empty, and accomplish all of these tasks while only parting with $2 for a bowl of peanuts. In some ways, I am in awe. I don't know how he consistently does it.

Giacommo, I wish you good luck. I know you have the foundation, skillset, and where-with-all to succeed in you new endeavor. Just learn to discern what you share with some people. Especially those with Short Arms.

Hey kid, you are bit old, aren't you?

I note that a kids  Easter Egg hunt in Colorado has been cancelled this year due to the behavior of  aggressive  parents during last years event.

Sadly, this hits a little to close to home as it reminds me of a local charity event where cash and prizes were to be distributed that was also cancelled due to the rowdiness, pushing, and, in the case of one individual,  insistence of rights to "remuneration".  The only memorable identifying trait is that this person had unusually short arms in relation to the coat he was wearing.

This is an odd description.  I can't think of anyone I know who fits it...................

Jukebox: Hey I know this one!

That exercise and shower thing doesn't work

I received word from Gummo, the Balloon Boy, yesterday alerting me to the fact that he suffered a potential serious injury that would prevent him from participating in Institute events for a short time. As it turns out, he was lucky to escape with minor bruising and a cut, but, it could have been much more serious.

Like countless days before, Helium Man practices his daily grooming habits of a first-thing-in-the-morning shave and shower. Running a bit late, Gummo decided to save a bit of time and combine both his shower and exercise regimen into one. Gummo's normal workout includes one morning rep consisting of full arm extension twirls, reverse arm twirls, 180 degree full body helicopter pivots, and ending with a full speed front face lunge. Doing all of this in a bathtub, however, is inadvisable. In this case, the lunge was aimed at the bath faucet and resulted in a minor gash and goose-egg on the forehead. This self-developed regimen appears to be a bit silly at best and, in this case, highly dangerous. After all, one would think that if your are going to engage in this type of high impact aerobics, you would at least do so on a padded carpet or workout mat.

After mopping up the blood and his forehead looking like a windshield that had just been hit by a golf ball, Rocky Balboa was good to go and soldiered on through the day. I have alerted the FTI maintenance staff to install an alarm much like the one picture above in Gummo's dormitory room. It will tell us when he is exercising.

Oops! My Mistake.

No truer commitment to excellence, truth, and support for both our readers and staff  can be found anywhere in relation to our efforts to produce this endeavor.  With the help of the Truthometer Deluxe on a semi-periodic basis to use as the true arbiter of Truth, the shining light of veracity guides us on a daily basis.  When a mistake or slight is made that results in casting some one or thing in a negative light, I will immediately correct or retract any statements made here on behalf of the FTI collective groupthink. Today is such an example.

Yesterday's insinuations that the little miser had been watering down the beverages at his annual St. Patty's bash was met with an immediate and belligerent phone call of protest that as a true-blooded, generous, authentic descendant of Irish lineage, Dickey the Peap would simply never, ever, absolutely not, cheat or inhibit anyone's rightful privilege to liquor of any type on any day for personal financial gain. Especially St. Patrick's Day. It simply was not true. He may have a a reputation for creative ways to raise revenue, but, short pouring drinks at a social event was simply not one and he demanded an immediate apology and retraction.

Upon further reflection, I have examined my thoughts in the last 24 hours and come to the realization that I have, indeed, been wrong and that an apology to our 2 faithful readers is in order. I personally know the Peap and realize that though he is a bit, ahem, "stingy" when opening his wallet, I could ask him anytime for a drink and he would willingly and cheerfully give me all that he had and wouldn't think a thing about it. Loss, cost or value would simply not enter into the equation. Financial advantage would not be a consideration.

For the record, I faithfully and dutifully acknowledge my error from yesterday's posting and apologize for any confusion or hurt I may have caused or any damage I may have cast upon the character of our resident Darby O'gill. To summarize: HE WOULD NOT SHORT POUR DRINKS FOR FINANCIAL GAIN.

I am however, still trying to understand the need of a $20 per head "seating fee" for an event at a private residence. That seems a bit excessive.

Stretchin' the green

While spending the weekend of St Patty's doing absolutely nothing close to approaching any type of celebration in honor of the Irish Saint (including drinking of any sort), I happen to turn on the local news. It's the same weekend stuff: sport scores, the weather, fluff baby animal pieces, mindless chit-chat from the B-team news reporters,etc.,  but, do catch a snippet of a teaser comment that catches my ear. Apparently a party over the weekend was broken up that got a bit too out of hand resulting in the detainment of one senior citizen for out of control noise, fighting, and general disruption of the neighborhood.  Now, this gets me to thinking because I know the Frugal One had made a passing comment that he was planning a get together over the weekend.  I figure I will wait for the report after the commercial and listen to the story.  As it turns out, one of the revelers got into an argument over the fact that the little miser had filled Jameson Irish Whiskey bottles with colored water, pouring a generous splash of it into a glass coffee mug, filling with coffee, topping it off with whipped cream, and then trying to portray this concoction as an  Irish coffee drink.  All of this effort to save money when throwing a party.  Unbelievable.

I think it would be better if our boy had thrown a St. Seamus day.  At least the Scotch admit they are "thrifty".      

Jukebox: Is this really 37 years old?

Men have no idea

Following our weekly staff meeting yesterday, I assigned a small thinking exercise to the Misfits in order to measure what little of their actual functioning minds actually produce. Giving credit where credit is due, I thought this example by Dickie the Peap was noteworthy. Not useful, but noteworthy.

Women always say that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts.

Here is proof that they are wrong:

A year or so after giving birth a woman will often say "It would be nice to have another kid".

You never hear a guy say " I would like another kick in the nuts".

I must say, perhaps the little miser isn't as much a lost case as I had originally thought.

Jukebox: No, there's always a reason

You just have to have the right equipment

Though I avoided any embarrasing incidents as we did not have any guests over the other night, I have been still under pressure to repair the icemaker in the FTI commissary as detailed in  the previous posting.  Failure simply was not an option, something had to be done.  I knew that swift, decisive, meaninginful action needed to be taken.  Enter the FTI maintenance staff.

A related branch division of our heretofore mentioned FTI IT dept. (the most reviled department here at FTI), I had an inkling of some possible success as they promptly responded to the maintenance requisition  I had placed earlier in the day, neatly attired in their coveralls and shoe booties ( to keep Mrs. Kfred from complaining about wearing the shoes in the Executive living quarters), and ready to go.  It truly was a marvel as they rummaged through their toolkit to perform their own form of life restoring surgery to the icemaker and leave everything in like new condition.  At one point, I did note I thought it odd that having  a turkey baster, old bicycle seat,  and a single colored Rubik's cube among the collection of wrenches and screwdrivers a bit puzzling, but hey, these guys are the professionals.

In the end, the icemaker was brought back to life and all is well. Before they left, though I had to ask,"what's with the single  colored Rubik's cube? They have 6 colors.  Why only one?"

"Inspiration.  Whenever we get stuck on a problem, we go to the cube, twist it a couple of times and get all sides to be the same.  We figure if we can do that, we should be able to fix anything else."

I know not to question this type of logic.    

Sure, it's nothing that $200 can't fix

I have been informed by Mrs. Kfred that the icemaker on the refrigerator in the FTI commissary is non- functioning and not producing any type of ice presently.  Of course, this type of situation calls for direct action by me that consists of much like my snap analysis of any car engine trouble when stranded along the roadside.  The similarities are striking:  1) opening door to inspect said unit; 2) wiggling  dispenser bar repeatedly, 3) unplugging and replugging the electrical cord back into wall outlet, and 4) pronouncing, "There. That should do it".

I have a distinct feeling that tonight's scheduled happy hour will explore a new trend by serving guests refreshments at room temperature.  

Now, c-c-c-c-cut that out!

I just returned Friday night after a few days out of town on non-Institute business in support of activities in Dilbertland.  They always do a nice job in these types of meetings and give  us lots of information to go and do what is needed to be accomplished.    Normally, we always have conducted these meetings at very nice locations with the finest of service, food, and entertainment.  Everyone looks forward to it and this year was no exception.  I did, however, have one unsettling experience.  The hotel that served as our headquarters is an old hotel built back in the late 1880's.  It is a magnificent property with numerous amenities, and, also has a reputation for housing a ghost.  I think I met it.

After a full day of meetings and presentations on Thursday, we had dinner that evening and a few cocktails to socialize with everyone.  Since this is a luxury hotel and the good folks in Dilbertland constantly remind us that budgets are tight, we were each assigned a roommate in order to  afford to stay in a place of this grandeur.  Anyways, as my roommate does not drink and I had had plenty of fun and games the night before, we thought Thursday night would be a good night to call it an early evening.  I know I was asleep within 3 minutes of hitting the pillow.  I was tired.

Later, as it turned out, around 2:40 in the morning, I was in a state of semi-consciousness, halfway between sleep and still aware of where you are (Does that make sense?  It's that point where you are sleeping but really don't want to open your eyes.  That's where I was.) when the inside of my eyelids flashed.  I am a big fan of lightning.  I love it.  I have always been fascinated by it and thought there was an electrical storm going on.  Remember, during this time I am half asleep.  Opening my eyes, I realize that the light is coming from the bathroom that my roommate failed to turn off after using it in the middle of the night.  Collecting my senses and thoughts, I look over in the adjacent bed and see my roommate with his arm under his head, face up on the bed, nose pointed to the ceiling, deep asleep.   I thought, "how could he forget to turn off the light?"  About that time, the light clicked off and the room was dark.  Now this is a bit weird, but, I figure the light is off, so we are no worse for the wear.  It must be a short in the wiring.;  it's an old hotel.  About 20 minutes later, after getting  settled in, I hear a distinctive "CLICK" noise.  The light is on again.  This time, the hair on my neck is on end and a shiver goes through my body.  My mind now recalls the conversation in the lobby during check-in that this hotel is haunted.  I hadn't thought of it before.  Now this is a bit freaky, I am definitely uncomfortable.  The light is on in the bathroom, no one went in their since the last time and, yet, there it is blazing away.  I am not sure whether to pull up the covers a bit tighter around my neck or get up and turn the damn thing off.  After about 2 minutes it goes off again.  10 minutes later, it goes on again!  Now I am concerned. I say out loud "What the hell is going on?" loud enough to wake my roommate.  He rousts awake and is saying "Huh?  What's going on?  Did you forget to turn out the light?"  I explain this has happened 3 times and all of a sudden he is awake.  Fast.  I get up turn of the light manually and that is the end of it for the rest of the evening.  

Now, in fairness, I must disclose that the switch in the bathroom is a motion activated switch on a timer; it's not a standard toggle switch.  I guess something like an insect or flying bug could have activated it.  I am unaware of any type of light switch that has that kind of sensitivity connected to it , but hey, I will give it the benefit of the doubt.   I just know what I experienced  and I never saw a fly, butterfly, bee, or any other winged creature in that room.  I do not believe in ghosts.  But I do believe there are things that can't be  explained.  And I think this was one of them.

We have contingency plans

I am out of town for the next 3 days on  non-Institute business attending a meeting along with my peers from Dilbertland.   We get together once every year or so for yearly kickoff meetings and I am looking forward to making re-acquaintances with some old chums.  It should be fun.

As a result of my absence, I once again have to invoke the emergency vacancy clause of our bylaws in order to keep Institute business running and legal.    This single act broadens my powers to act decisively should any emergency occur (up to and including imposing martial law here at the compound) while I am not in actual physical presence at the FTI Control Center. I undertake this act solemnly and understand it should never be taken for granted. Such as it is with leadership.  Power has it's burdens.  

With this single act accomplished, I only have one final task to complete before my departure:  Ask Mrs. Kfred to sign my leave request.