Tying Isn’t Losing

There is a boiling point, the threshold where you’re sitting (think frog in frying pan: “Um, smells like chicken?”) and then all of a sudden it bubbles to the surface. Not exactly career Nirvana (“With the lights out, it’s less dangerous…”), perhaps purgatory is a better description (“Hey, anybody seen my chains?”). The realization that you’re stuck, that’s right; your career trajectory has just “peaked” at 1973 Pinto cruising speed (“Man I hope nobody plows into my arse”). I reached this pinnacle of mediocrity and am here to “help” others (“And that’s why you don’t use the ‘MF’ combo during human resource events…are you going to eat that?”) Actually, it’s more of a whine fest, and who doesn’t like a good old fashioned whine fest (“Gout drama? That’s EXACTLY why I hate going to your mom’s house for Thanksgiving!”) I’m sure there is a legitimate read regarding career growth somewhere (“Oh the Places You’ll Go? Is that the way it works, SEUSS! Huh, you just bust your @$$ in ‘Happyville’ and $h!^ just kind of ‘comes together?’ Oh wait, here comes a postcard from the real world, and it says ‘that’s not good enough…’” “Mommy, Grandpa smells like beer and is yelling at the Seuss book again”) but this is more of a “don’t do this” kind of guide, like reality TV. That said, the “beauty” of being stuck is that one can still live a respectable life (“Howdy neighbor, um, your zippers down”) and more importantly, still have “stuff.” (“Wow, I finally bought a TV bigger than my price reduced house”). Anyway, being the garden variety self-centered American, let’s bring the focus back to me, where it belongs. This is kind of a rant, so let me start over (“C’mon man, you can’t put me in back in the womb? I NEED A LIFE MULIGAN!”) This great piece of literature (“Honey, we’re out of toilet paper…never mind…RIP!”) is one man’s struggle to make a difference in the professional world, outside of bringing in donuts for his birthday (“Hey, way to go short on the strawberry frosted…@$$HOLE! At least he’s one year closer to death”). I have been told my writing is difficult to read (“It made me want to gouge my eyes out!” C.R.) so just stay with me (“Too late”) and you will be “enriched” with the “knowledge” bestowed upon you (alternatively, think of it as finishing a marathon: “Man, that sucked, not exactly sure why I did that?”). Being the low attention to detail person that I am (“Hey, look who got accepted to the city university”) I’ll try to piece something coherent together, but chances are I’ll remember stuff out of context and try to jam it in (“And another thing that sucks, why can’t I choose between cable companies?”). I’ll probably cross reference stuff as I remember (or embellish to make me look cool, something about hot chic’s and Porsche’s), but don’t put this down; keep in mind; you may stumble on something that triggers a certain kind of memory: “that sounds vaguely familiar to someone I may have known…are there any fudge stripped cookies left?” Also, I like to write poetry/musings, so that will periodically show up: “Here I sit all broken hearted…”