A day often remembered for neighborhood gatherings and BBQs is as good a reason as any for mishap to strike, and last night was no exception. After all, I would have nothing to post about, were it not for my neighbors, my job, my trying patience, and the police.
Let me be clear about this: I have a job that combines engineering, research, development, and design of complex systems... a desk job. But today, in an effort to save money, the company had every available employee drop what they were doing and-- get this-- sort playing cards. Approximately 5000 decks of used/drilled casino playing cards were shipped to the office, bundled in packs of 6 decks... all intermixed. The job entailed sorting each mixed set back into 6 proper decks of 52 cards... and to do it 834 times. Each bundle of 6 took about 20 minutes to sort. So for 5 hours I stood at a table with dozens of other co-workers reassembling these card decks. I got through 90 decks myself.
Ok, not the end of the world, but as I was sorting these cards, the VP came by and stared at me... as if to say, "Why are you doing this when you have work to be done?" He said nothing, but instead went to my boss. I got called into a meeting.
My regular project requires a team of 7 specialists to build a detailed web application which interacts with extremely sensitive financial data systems. Since we're on a hiring freeze, I'm unfortunately working solo... trying to juggle all 7 responsibilities at once. The stress of this alone has given me more than a few migraines.
In this meeting, I was informed that my project wasn't "pretty enough". Somehow the VP can't wrap his head around the way something works, only the way it looks. I explained that we needed to get the architecture completed before we worried about presentation.... Form follows Function. He didn't care much for this logic, and decided that we needed more "wow factor" which amounted to lots of visual effects and gimmicks. Naturally, this adds another skill set to my "team". In other words, the entire project has been put on hold for a month while I learn another "necessary" programming language. *palmface*
I go home and dread the evening, let alone the coming months. In the neighborhood, people are starting up their grills and setting up lawn games for National Night Out. Considering my neighbors are the kinds of folks who steal my car when I'm out of town on a business trip, I didn't much feel like having a burger with them. I opted to stay inside and watch a movie.
I kicked off my shoes and flipped on the television. Instantly, it began blaring some crappy Hollywood paparazzi show about the lifestyles of Lindsay Lohan and Michael Jackson at excruciating volumes. I tried changing the volume. I tried changing the channel. I tried turning the whole television OFF. Nothing worked! The batteries on my remote had finally run down, and I scrambled to my feet, diving towards the TV to hit the power button before I had to listen to one more anecdote from the estranged son of Farrah Fawcett's former lover.
I panted a sigh of relief, but was compelled to drink. I marched to the fridge and threw open the door, only to find it completely devoid of even a single beer. With no entertainment or alcoholic provisions on hand, the decision was made to leave the house.
My terrible truck, which gets 8 gallons to the mile, was out of fuel. With tight finances in today's economy, I needed to do some online banking to see if I could afford to venture out of the house. I'll skip the rant about my bank's new ass rape policy, and summarize the experience as about as pleasant as a visit to an epileptic chimpanzee dentist.
Next, I drove towards the gas station, passing lots of neighborhood gatherings and kids playing. I think it's a nice gesture and all, but National Night Out is designed as a "police awareness" holiday, emphasizing law enforcement visibility, and you know how well I get along with the men in blue. I decided to dial my girlfriend. No sooner had this very thought crossed my mind than I heard the wail of a siren, and flashing lights behind me. Yep, I was getting pulled over... again.
And who should stroll up to my window? Why it's none other than horny Prior Lake police officer Josh! He tells me that he didn't like the way I used my turn signal on a turn several blocks behind me. (He pulled me over right in the busiest intersection of the town. Remember, police visibility!) He also asked where I was in such a hurry to. Hell, it's more like, what I'm trying to get away from! I was only on my way to the gas station. I wasn't even speeding. In fact, I did use my turn signal, but with the amount of slop in my old truck's steering wheel, the blinker was easily released. He tried to tell me that there were better choices for a gas station than the one that was conveniently on my selected route. I kept my mouth shut. A car full of partying girls drove by, cheering, pointing, and laughing at me, reminiscent of a bad 80s film. He ran my plates, driver's license, and insurance. Everything was clean. So he handed back my paperwork with only a verbal warning.
Moments later, back on the road, I got a phone call. "Are you in jail yet?" It was my girlfriend, who I had apparently dialed and had overhead the entire police conversation. *palmface* She invited me to her grandparent's house where some of her extend family was celebrating several combined birthday parties instead of this horrid National Night Out. I decided it couldn't be any worse the last encounter with my own family, so I agreed.
When I got there, I noticed the ever familiar "Testicle Toss" game set up in the yard, and her grandfather regaled me with tales of another game which he affectionately called "Cornhole". What is the world coming to?
