Al Dente
This might be first in a series of post we’re calling Ten Years Of Marriage. We’ll see how it goes. –Ed.
Al Dente? Who the hell is he? LOL! No, he’s not a person. He’s a thing. Al dente is actually Italian. It means “this bites.” (Disclaimer: This is a guess. I was too lazy to google. –Ed.)
In honor of my wife asking me to think about what I’ve learned during ten years of marriage (our anniversary is next week) I thought really hard and remembered spaghetti.
That’s using the old noodle!
My wife, although technically not a “chef,” is nonetheless extremely accomplished and talented in the kitchen. She really knows how to cook. Naturally this is both good and bad. Good in the sense that there are a lot of good eats. Bad in the sense that every meal dirties every pot, pan and kitchen implement in the house.
It’s bad in one other small way. It’s such a slight of a trifle that it’s almost not worth mentioning. Almost.
Every single thing I do is wrong. In the kitchen, I mean.
So there I was this one time making spaghetti. That means I had dumped some packaged noodles in a pot of boiling water. To me that’s “cooking.”
As was often my wont, when the timer went off I picked up the pot and dumped the noodles in a colander in the sink.
My wife saw. “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled.
Oh shit. Little Tommy in trouble.
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Too Many Words
Like Mozart with his “too many notes” I have been shamed by the assertion that my heretofore writings contain, and I quote, “Too many words.”
The charge, bitterly leveled by my otherwise serviceable spouse, had placed me in the uncomfortable position of scheming the proper retort.
Thus quote the author, “.”
The Island of Misfit Toys
Do you work for an idiot? This is not a rhetorical question. Pound the comment section below and tell me all about it. Misery loves company and I love you.
The Decade of Despair. 11 years of insignificant ecommerce jobs in a small town and counting. Three jobs, three bosses, and three teams of us, the underbelly employees.
An odd coincidence is that in every case the employees ended up referring to themselves as “The Island of Misfit Toys.” Loosely translated I think that means: “Those willing to put up with this shit.”
Bosses who are in over their heads are more likely to bully subordinates. That’s because feelings of inadequacy trigger them to lash out at those around them.
There were amazing parallels between the bosses, too. Questionable ethics, pointless products, and treatment that would send the ASPCA into a frenzy if it didn’t happen to organisms as pathetic as human beings.
Oh, and the bosses were able to achieve amazing feats of stupidity.
After all, it takes a lot of leadership to inspire your employees to think of themselves as “The Island of Misfit Toys.” Can you even imagine?
In this post I offer one hypothetical and back it up with a typical average example of what it’s like to work for an idiot. As if you wouldn’t know.
Guess Who’s Not Coming To Dinner #boss
This is one of those times when I wrote a really, really long post, then decided to “edit” by throwing it all in the trash and starting over with an eye towards brevity. Sometimes my word processor overfloweth and I writeth the crap. And sometimes I just write crap.
It happened in the 20′ x 20′ dungeon known as “work.” The boss’ wife stopped by and since there’s no privacy and his desk is six feet away from mine, there was no way to avoid overhearing their lover’s prattle. I did consider killing myself, though. It might have been extreme but it would have gotten the job done.
“Is there any chance you can get off early tonight?” she asked him. “The family would like you to join us for dinner. Me. And the kids. All of us. The people in your life collectively known as Family.”
It was an extremely slow day. Absolutely nothing was going on. How on earth would he answer? What would be his reply?
As if there was ever any doubt.
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Wife Invents Caregiver Holiday
One of my responsibilities was “The Meds.”
Last Saturday my wife surprised me. “Today’s a holiday.”
I was as eloquent as ever. “What the?” Oh yes. I’m a man of many pith.
“It’s Caregiver Appreciation Day. I’m taking you out to dinner!”
Our time at Club Meds was finally over. We were going home.
Yeeeeeeeeeeee-haw!
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I’m The Guy?
What do you mean it’s all on my shoulders?
My wife had surgery and I took on the role of being her one and only caregiver. (Hey, a new word for my resume.) In other words, high jinx has ensued.
A mere 24 hours ago I was so naive in the ways of the world. I had never been The Guy before. I look back in time at that previous version of me and think, “You chump.”
A lot has happened since then. Let’s get you up to speed.
You Ate What?
Reenactment: Your guru in action.
Whenever someone relates to me a harrowing experience, I strive to look interested and engage them in conversation. To feign interest I’ll often ask thought-provoking questions like, “Did you live?”
It can be a lively conversation booster.
Spoiler alert: In the story I’m about to share, I lived. Or, as Nethack might put it, “You survived that attempt on your life.”
But perhaps I’m relating things out of turn. It all started when I met my wife for lunch…
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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