Warning Labels

Years ago, I had a job cleaning up transcripts for a court reporter. Essentially, I would get an audio tape of the proceedings (most often depositions) and a Word Perfect document that was rife with mistakes. The document was auto-generated by the stenography machine the court reporter used, and my job was to listen to the tape and make corrections as needed.

One of the things I learned during the course of my transcribing was that warning labels are a big deal. I mean a really big deal. There are literally experts who specialize in warning label placement, size, color, verbiage, etc. Too few warning labels could mean a lawsuit, and most people realize that. What most people don't know is that too many warning labels, or even poorly placed or badly worded warning labels, can also mean a lawsuit.

So, this morning, when I found a Website that creates custom warning labels for you (It's fun -- try it!) I decided to add one to this blog.



So there you have it. Don't sue me if you squirt milk out of your nose.

No Christmas This Year

I suppose the croanies over at the AFA will be boycotting Google next (see my last post for details on why) since their spell checker doesn't seem to know the word "Christmas". I wonder if it understands "irony"?

You People Disgust Me

What is it about the holidays that brings out the worst in people? This is supposed to be the one time of the year when people are more tolerant and forgiving of one another. I guess that's just lip service.

I read on Snopes today that the American Family Association is asking people to boycott Target the day after Thanksgiving (incidentally, the biggest shopping day of the year). Why are such drastic measures called for? What ultimate faux pas did Target commit? Quite simply, they have failed to promote Christianity to the satisfaction of the AFA. To wit, they do not allow Salvation Army kettles in front of Target stores, and do not use the phrase "Merry Christmas" in their in-store promotions and public advertising. How scandalous! It's time for a little dose of reality.

Frankly, I'm glad the kettles are gone. I don't like being harassed when I come out of the store. I feel largely the same about this begging that I do about any panhandling - I just want to be left alone! Furthermore, if you allow one group to beg for money, you must necessarily allow all groups to set up camp just outside your doors. That in mind, I certainly do not fault Target for their policy with respect to solicitors (the Salvation Army or otherwise) and I really don't think religion had anything to do with the decision to keep them out.

As for the "Merry Christmas", when did December become a month only for Christmas? Christmas certainly isn't the only December holiday. We also have Kwanzaa and Hanukkah both starting on the 26th (Hanukkah actually formally begins at sundown on the 25th), and for the Pagans, Yule on the 21st. The Muslims are left out in December, and don't have another holy day until January (Ramadan began October 16th), but that doesn't mean they don't exist.

While we're at it, in terms of numbers, Christians only account for 33% of the world's population -- hardly a majority (fair disclosure: that number is about 76% in the United States). Also keep in mind that those whose religious beliefs fall under the umbrella of Christianity are actually spread among some 35 odd variants (who sometimes are none too pleased with one another). Interestingly, non-believers make up about 13% of the US population (second only to Christianity as a group), and also shop at Target.

Christmas is supposed to be one of the most holy days for Christians -- they are celebrating the birth of their savior. If you ask me (and even if you don't), perhaps some of these busy-bodies calling for boycott could better spend their time brushing up on the tenants of their faith; particularly tolerance, forgiveness, and that whole bit about not judging. They certainly don't seem to be following them very well.

I originally had planned to hole up on Friday (it being my birthday and all) and hide from the mobs that will be out shopping. In light of this nonsense, however, I've decided to make a special trip to deposit some of my hard-earned cash at my local Target store. I hope everyone who reads this will join with me and do the same.

Jobs That Suck

Driving back to Philadelphia last week, I heard a song that I haven't heard in years. This particular song reminded me of a job that I had not long after I got out of the Army in 1997.

My official title at this company (that I won't mention by name because they're small and I don't want the lawsuit if I impact their business) was "Data Processor", but I'm pretty sure that the truth in advertising law should have required them to list the title as "Piss Boy", which certainly is a more accurate description of how I was treated. Looking back, they really missed a bet with my talent. I'm no smarter now than I was then; I'm just better paid and more appreciated. Then again, how much can you respect the skills of an employee who only costs $6.50 an hour?

They basically kept me on with a promise that I would be doing "database programming" while I wasted away doing mind-numbing collation, sorting, and printing (I was young, and needed the money). When I did have ideas, they were either completely ignored, or worse: stolen from me without any credit.

I left that job with a smile on my face at 2:00 on a sunny afternoon in December. It was the only job I ever walked out on without giving notice, and it felt wonderful.

But that wasn't my first exposure to corporate America. The job I had before that was as a Carousel Operator in a distribution warehouse for Maiden Form. I'll spare you the boring details of what was involved (except to say lots and lots of bras and panties).

Part of what I had to do at the end of every shift at Maiden Form was figure the gainshare time for the Carousel employees on my shift. This was a horrendous process involving a pencil with a large eraser, lots of hair pulling, and about 45 minutes. It made no sense to me, so armed with MS DOS 6.0 (which our computer ran) and a good knowledge of QBasic (a downsized version of QuickBASIC that shipped as part of DOS) I whipped up a quick program that would compute the gainshare time automatically. You plug in the numbers; it spits out the answer. Viola! The company is saved 40 minutes of labor on every shift (that works out to 120 minutes, or two hours a day for those who don't want to do the math).

About 5 weeks later I was summoned to HR. Would I be getting an award? A big raise? Perhaps some type of recognition for the personal time I spent saving the company money? Well, sort of. What I got was a first hand lesson in the old adage, "Oh, how we fear that which we do not understand." coupled with a healthy dose of corporate politics.

My supervisor (I'll call him Don) came along with me to the HR Manager's office. We stood there dumbstruck while the HR Manager launched into a nice little condescending lecture: "When I hired you, didn't I explain that you were not to reprogram the Carousel?" The answer was, of course, yes. She had in fact told me not to reprogram the Carousel, and true to my word, I hadn't touched a single line of the Carousel code. My little program ran on a separate computer entirely. I tried to explain this, but I only got the glassy eyeballs and featureless expressions that they must teach in HR school.

About that time I started to realize what was going on. So, like a drowning man reaching for a cynder block, I turned to Don.

"Don, you're my supervisor", I told him accusingly. He nodded dully, apparently unaware that there would be a tough quiz that day. "Well, say something!" I pleaded.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked.

I decided this was my last chance to salvage that $200 a week I was taking home, so I followed up with a question I thought the HR manager might be interested in hearing about: "Are you generally happy with my performance?"

He flashed me a grin and said, "Yeah, you're doing a great job."

Realizing that Don wouldn't answer any question he wasn't spoon fed, I continued. "Do I come to work on time?"

"Yeah, you're here early every day." (Thanks for noticing)

"Would you say that I'm a good worker?" (Except for maybe being a little too efficient)

"Sure - I don't have any problems with you at all." (How nice of you to say -- so tell me why we're standing in the HR office again?)

I glanced over at the HR manager. She was clearly unimpressed. That's when I had an idea: if I was going down, I might as well go down in glorious flames and at least get some self-satisfaction and a neat story out of it. "Jump up on her desk and take a dump!" that inner voice said.

Unfortunately, logic, reason, and a healthy dose of fear that I'd be telling the story to my cellmate took over, so instead, I put one last question to Don: "Can I use you for a reference?" He told me that I could, then escorted me back to my work area to collect my belongings.

Looking back, I should have seen it coming when, in the job interview, that HR Manager had asked me, "If you could be any kind of car, what kind would you be, and why?" With the benefit of hindsight, I now know that what I should have said was, "How about the garbage truck that backs over your Volvo you self-important jerk!".

But that wasn't my only experience getting fired. I've actually been fired twice: both times from menial jobs, and both times for the dumbest reasons. Six months after leaving Maiden Form, I got the corporate prostate exam by another company, again for a stupid reason.

This time I was working as a temporary contractor through SOS Staffing for American Stores (later bought by Albertson's). My job at American Stores was to create company access badges for a newly built highrise building that was the new company headquarters in Salt Lake City. This job simply involved taking pictures of people, creating a record in the security database, granting the individual the appropriate permissions to the access the areas of the building needed for his or her department, and finally printing out a spiffy access card complete with their picture. Truth be told, it was a pretty cake job, even if it didn't pay very well, as before, I was well liked, and respected by my supervisor.

Then, one Thursday night at 10PM, I got home from picking my mom up at the airport and found a message on the answering machine. It was from SOS, and in a nutshell, said "Don't come to work tomorrow."

I found out the next day that during the course of taking pictures, I had made a comment about a picture (I don't know what), to someone (I don't know who) who apparently objected to what I said (I don't know why). That person complained to HR, who picked up a phone and had me removed faster than you can say "unemployment".

Since I hadn't even gotten a chance to retrieve my personal belongings, I stopped by American Stores after I left SOS to see my supervisor, who was the head of building security. He wasn't even aware that I had been sent packing, and he seemed pretty disappointed (and disgusted) to hear it. I guess HR never thought to notify the person who would have to feel the pain of my sudden departure. Go figure.

As it fate would have it, losing the job at American Stores was a good thing for me personally, because it forced me out into the job market at just the perfect time. My next job turned out to be my first programming position.

So if you're stuck working for a jerk in a job that sucks, keep your chin up. You might just be lucky enough to get fired for a stupid reason, and land that great job you've always been hoping for.

Weight Loss

Reading over my previous post, and looking at the picture of me with Don Awalt, I'm starting to realize that I really do look different without the extra weight. For reference, I dug up this picture that was taken of me on July 18th:


It's not too bad except that my face looks so swollen one might be inclined to think I'm having an allergic reaction to something. That's what 44 pounds looks like.

Sure, I've notice that I'm a lot more spry than I was 4 months ago, and that I don't look or feel so bloated. The difference in my face, though, is striking.

People ask me how I did it as if there were some secret to weight loss that I alone discovered. Unfortunately, my answer is always much less exciting: diet and exercise. The next question is inevitably which diet I follow. Is it Atkins? Maybe Weight Watchers? Some low-fat regiment?

If I had to classify the method I use, I would probably call it something like "Logic, Math, and Finite Suffering".

First, the logic part. Simple logic dictates that if you consume more calories than you burn, your body will store the excess as fat. Conversely, if you burn more calories than you consume, your body will convert fat into energy (it has to come from somewhere). At a very basic level, it doesn't really matter where the calories come from -- fat, sugar, carbs; it's all the same. That's why Gastric Bypass procedures work -- they limit the intake of all calories, not just fat or carbohydrates.

The math portion is equally simple. I did a little research and found out that one pound of fat is roughly the equivalent of 3,500 calories. Thus, to lose 1 pound per week, you must consume 500 fewer calories than your body requires each day (3,500 / 7 = 500).

The next question is how many calories are needed per day. There are a number of Internet calculators that will do this for you. There is a really comprehensive calculator here that includes figures for exercise, or a more simple version here. Back to some simple logic, if you don't exercise, you get fewer calories. If you do exercise, you get more calories (yummy food), plus you'll jump start your metabolism.

Finally, the "Finite Suffering". By that, I simply mean that there is a finite amount of pain, grief, or discomfort that a human body is capable of experiencing. If you're suffering a little, why not get the most bang out of your buck?

A lot of people have a problem staying on the diet wagon. What I do is let myself go every once in a while. On those days, I go crazy (usually on the weekends) and eat pretty much as much as I want of whatever I want. I get all cravings out of my system, and then get back to it again. Also, if I do go a bit over, I try not to let it get to me. This is a game of averages over time -- not a race to some arbitrary number. As long as I'm not averaging weight gain over time, I'm happy.

One Degree of Separation

In the spirit of the theory of Six Degrees of Separation, I thought I'd show my one degree of separation from Microsoft founder Bill Gates. Here is a picture of me with Don Awalt, the founder of RDA Corporation:




And here is Don Awalt with Bill Gates:


For me to get through my personal network to Bill Gates, I need only go through one person; thus, I have one degree of separation.

Another interesting deduction that may be gleaned from the pictures: I'm taller than Bill Gates. (Probably because I don't have all the money making me slump.)

Smokers for Dummies

Ah, but I repeat myself in the title of this particular rant.

Unfortunately, I am a smoker. I've smoked for almost 20 years (since I was 13), including while I was deployed to Desert Storm. In classic irony, when I got home after fighting in the Gulf, I couldn't buy a pack of cigarettes in my own home town (Salt Lake City, at that time). The legal age to buy cigarettes in Utah is 19, and I entered combat 2 months after my 18th birthday. So, had I been taken prisoner, everything would have been perfectly okay just so long as I didn't request that last cigarette before they executed me.

Over the past 20 years, I've tried virtually every method available to assist with smoking cessation: cold turkey (painful, and it didn't work), the patch (I just wanted to roll it up and smoke it), the pill (Zyban made me a zombie who want to smoke... and eat your brain), the gum (works pretty well for the first 5 hours, which is great if you're on an international flight, but ineffective as a cessation device), the lozenge (why not just gargle with someone else's loogie, because that's what it feels like in your mouth).

That being said, since I seem to be stuck being a smoker, I at least try to be a polite smoker. I avoid smoking around non-smokers, even where it is allowed. I make it a point to always stand downwind from non-smokers when I'm outside, and in cases where smoking next a non-smoker cannot be avoided, I ask that individual if he or she minds if I smoke.

Why are there not very many polite non-smokers? When did it become okay to be rude? How is it morally acceptable to shun someone with an addiction?

You wouldn't tell an obese man in a restaurant that it is disgusting to watch him eat, and you certainly wouldn't lecture him on how bad his eating habits are for his health. Why is it socially acceptable to draw attention to a smoker's habits and provide unsolicited (and unqualified) advice, but not okay to criticize a fat guy ordering a Double Whopper and a large order of fries?

As you may have guessed, a snide comment was made to me by a lady in the elevator today. She mentioned something about being able to smell a cigarette. Now for some reason, that's socially acceptable. But what I had commented on her perfume instead? "I can smell your perfume... Then again, maybe it's just a urinal cake."

Some in the anti-smoker camp would have you believe that they simply object to the increased costs of healthcare smokers put on the system -- more even than obesity. The fallacy of that logic just now becoming more well known. As a Rand Corporation report on a study published in "Health Affairs" in 2002 on the subject points out "Obesity contributes to higher cost increases for health care services and medications than do either smoking or problem drinking..." So much for the "you're driving up my medical bills" argument.

Still, smoking is definitely a known health hazard. Like most smokers born after 1863, I'm well aware of the risks. Actually, there is a correlation between people who smoke and education level. It seems that there is an inverse relationship between number of smokers and annual income -- the more you make, the less people smoke. The same goes for education, although there are obviously exceptions (I'm one of them). However, there is nothing more annoying than making those student loan payments on a Masters Degree, and then being lectured on science and medicine by anyone who made it past 3rd grade. Yes, I get it. It's bad for me.

I think a lot of non-smokers -- particularly reformed smokers -- simply assume that smokers are just weak. Since I've lost more than 42 pounds in the 4 months I've been working on this Philadelphia contract, I can assure that I am not weak. I'm no stranger to accomplishing things with sheer will power.

The easiest way to not smoke is to not start in the first place, and that's what I tell my kids. Instead of showing them graphic pictures of black lungs and trying to scare them with tales of emphysema and lung cancer, I've taken a different approach. Instead, I try to make them understand what it means to be a smoker (the social stigma, the yellow fingers & teeth, stinking of cigarette smoke all the time, etc..) and how it feels to try to quit.

Smoking is an extremely powerful addiction, this is something non-smokers far too frequently discount. So what effect does smoking have on a person? Here are some interesting facts:

"When inhaled, nicotine stimulates the central nervous system. The chemicals in a cigarette move to the brain through the bloodstream, causing a rise in blood pressure and heart rate, constricting of the blood vessels, and reducing sensitivity to pain and stress." (emphasis added)

Source: Nicotine Addiction Pamphlet from Cigna Behavioral Health

Wow, so that cigarette really is keeping me from killing you; and you want to take it from me?

"...both the behavioural [sic] effects and the mechanisms of action of nicotine in the IVSA model resemble those for classical drugs of abuse such as heroin and cocaine."

Source: "Nicotine Addiction in Britain" published by the Royal College of Physicians

There's no question about it, the addiction is extremely powerful. But is it as bad as "drugs"?

Tobacco is as addictive as heroin (as a mood & behavior altering agent).

Nicotine is:

• 1000 X more potent than alcohol
• 10-100 X more potent than barbiturates
• 5-10 X more potent than cocaine or morphine

Source: University of Minnesota Division of Periodontology

Nope, it's not as bad as "drugs". It's worse. But what happens when you try to quit?

What are the symptoms of nicotine withdrawal?

• irritability
• impatience
• hostility
• anxiety
• depressed mood
• difficulty concentrating
• restlessness
• decreased heart rate
• increased appetite or weight gain

Source: American Heart Association

Well anyone who has been around a smoker trying to kick the habit can attest to that list -- particularly the "hostility" part. Still, you don't hear about people doing crazy things to get cigarettes, do you?

"From World War II, there are records of starving people trading food for cigarettes in concentration camps"

Source: The Why? Files (Science Behind the News)

So perhaps the addiction is stronger than most people may believe.

The analogy I give my kids is that quitting smoking is like holding your breath. At first, it doesn't seem so hard. But, as time wears on, you begin to feel anxiety that eventually builds into outright panic, and the whole time you know that everything will be better if you can just take that next breath! Then, when you finally give in and breathe, a wave of relief washes over you. For me, trying to quit, and then having a cigarette feels almost identical.

So whether you smoke or not, the next time you're confronted with a smoker, remember this post and give them a little slack. Lacking that, at least show common human decency.

15 Years Already

I've been getting a tremendous amount of activity on my 3rd FASCP Memories blog lately, and it looks like we're actually going to put this 15-year reunion together. It's hard to believe it's been nearly 15 years since we got home from Desert Storm. Where did the time go?

As I mentioned in a post to my other blog today, one of the cool things that's really starting to take off is a Frappr map I set up to show the locations of where all my old Army buddies ended up. Frankly, I think this is a great implementation of the technology available today, and some of the "Web 2.0" features that the tech community is buzzing about.

It's amazing how an event like combat service can bring together people from all over the country and all walks of life with different backgrounds and experience, then change them forever before flinging them out across the country again (as illustrated by the map). The bond we all share, though, is not one to be broken by mere time or distance. Sharing blood, sweat, and tears does something to you. It changes you somehow, in a way that is subtle, yet undeniable.

In April, I'll get together with these men -- the finest I have ever known, and some of whom I haven't seen in 12 or 14 years. We'll swap new stories, retell old stories, and remind each other that we were a part of something bigger than ourselves.

Irony

Here's a little irony I discovered while making my last post. The blogger.com spell checker doesn't know the word "blog".


Who QA's these things?

Blog Tagline Idea

Yesterday, in another spate of rambling ideas flowing through my overcrowded cranium, I started thinking about this blog, and what it's all about. What I came up with was an idea for a tagline that I thought was pretty good:

Ed Talks Life
Baring my soul (and sometimes my ass) for the whole world to see.

Catchy, eh?

Poor Performance Strategy

I graduated college with a 4.0 grade point average, and one of the most important things I learned was that sometimes, performing poorly can give you a competitive advantage.


Take the case of my final course in grad school. I tanked it - on purpose. I came screaming in toward graduation with a 4.0 like a fighter pilot landing on an aircraft carrier. Then I decided to wave off, and give myself I a 3.9 instead. A few strategically flubbed assignments did the trick quite well, and I gracefully landed with a B.

That sounds crazy right? Would it surprise you to hear that I had very good reason for doing so, and that looking back, I'm certain that it was the right decision?

Human psychology is a very interesting and delicate thing. I've found from experience that if you tell people your GPA is 3.9, they think "Wow! He was a good student; he must be sharp." By contrast, when people hear that your graduating GPA was 4.0, they think "Wow! That school must have been really easy."

Which statement would you rather be associated with?

So, in the world of resumes as in the world of politics, sometimes you just have to tell them what you know they want to hear. To avoid lying, sometimes you have to do things just so you can truthfully tell people what you know they want to be told.

Veteran's Day

To those who fought for it, freedom has a flavor the protected will never know.

So here we are on another Veteran's Day. Regardless of your political proclivity, you live in a country where it is okay to voice your opinion. If you enjoy that simple freedom, find a Veteran today and thank him (or her).

Lest we forget: All gave some; some gave all.

Oddly enough, Veteran's Day is perhaps the most significant day of the year for me - more special even than my birthday. I'd rather be honored for what I've done and who I've been than recognized simply for not dying again this year. Each year at this time, I pause to reflect.

When I was about 11, I decided that I wanted to be a Paratrooper. Granted, I cut my teeth on movies like Rambo and Uncommon Valor, but it was more than just the glory (although admittedly, that had its draw, too). In a certain sense, I was drawn to being a part of something bigger than myself, and what could be more noble than defending mom, apple pie, baseball, and the American way of life? (and I don't even like baseball)

I grew up in a time when our country was still suffering the sting of Vietnam, and quite frankly, I always admired Vietnam Veterans. I also felt a certain amount of shame for the way most of them were treated when they returned home, although I am too young to have ever witnessed it first hand. Still, I admired the way they held their heads high anyway as if to say, "You won't break me. The war didn't break me, and neither will you, because I did what had to be done."

I spoke with an Army recruiter when I was 16. He politely told me to come back and see him after I turned 17 (go away kid, you bother me). So in my Senior year of High School (I was a year younger because I skipped 6th grade), on my 17th birthday, my parents and I marched down to my nearest Army Recruiter. In this case, he was a young man by the name of Sergeant John Paxton who looked like he'd be right at home on some farm in Iowa. As it turns out, I was only his second recruit. 5 days later I signed my contract (as did my parents, since I was legally too young to enter into a contract) and began my time in the Delayed Entry Program. It's hard to believe that was 16 years ago (1989). I don't want to detract from today's point, so I'll save my stories for another time. (If feel like you simply must read some military stories today, go check out my 3rd FASCP Memories blog.)

If you see a Veteran today, shake his hand and say thank you. Something else that Veterans like to hear: "Welcome Home". You would be amazed how many Veterans have been moved to tears when I tell them that, because in some cases, they really haven't heard it much.

Assorted Ramblings

Perhaps the biggest challenge in having a blog is coming up with stuff to write about. Since I started this blog, I've found that I'm increasingly coming up with more ideas for stuff to blog, so the good news is that it's getting a little easier to find topics.

Sometimes, if I don't have time to write about a particular subject, I'll send myself an email and label it "Blog Ideas" (I use gmail, so this works great). Unfortunately, a lot of these ideas don't make the cut. Sometimes I'll go back and decide that the topic was stupid, or that I don't feel like writing about it after all. Other times, I may have a good idea, but there's just not enough to say about it to justify a blog post.

Today I realized that I have enough odds and ends in my "Blog Ideas" to comprise a consolidated blog post. With that in mind, I set about writing a single post with multiple ideas. What happened instead was that I managed to come up with enough rambling nonsense to make multiple posts, so that's what you get today.

Strange Things You Remember

I realized while loafing on my sofa over my morning coffee that my brain is litterally packed full of useless junk. I can remember a plethora of things that seemed important at the time I committed them to memory, but are utterly useless to me now. For example, I know that the Army Technical Manual that covers the maintenance of a HMMWV is TM9-2320-280-10, unless you need to do something more complex than operator maintenance, and then it's TM9-2320-280-20&P.

It's too bad I don't know any way to purge the useless information, because I just know it's taking up memory that could better be occupied by more important things.

I've always had a decent long-term memory. My earliest memory is from when I was about 10 months old. People think I'm crazy when they hear this, but it's true. In fact, when I was 4, I levied an accusation at my mother (another conversation I remember as vividly as what I had for lunch): "Why didn't you tell me I was blind when I was born?" Obviously, she was a bit nonplussed at this statement, so she asked me why I would think that. I explained that I couldn't remember seeing anything from that young, therefore I knew I must have been blind. If could have seen, I would remember it. I didn't realize that not everyone could remember all the tiny details.

It's an interesting thing to have memories that precede language abilities. Looking back on the experience of being an infant through the eyes of an adult, it really helps me understand a lot about communication, and the human thought process. Because I didn't have language at that age, everything was abstract, thus my thought process followed abstract patterns. For example, I remember seeing my mother, but my thoughts were not "mother", or what a mother represents. Rather, my thoughts were an association with the feelings I attached to my mother: safety, warmth, comfort, etc.

I can also remember getting upset at being put in my crib for a nap. I didn't feel like "tired", I felt like "lonely", and I wanted someone to come pick me up. Oddly enough, my mom remembers this too (although perhaps not the specific incident) so she was able to puzzle out my age by the description I gave of the room my crib was in.

Don't misunderstand me - I don't have a photographic memory, and I forget things just like everybody else (just ask my wife). I simply seem to have an unusual ability for recalling very early memories. I always thought it would be a great advantage to have a photographic memory, though. Being able to memorize technical books would certainly be more helpful than being able to enumerate the emotions of a 10-month-old.

College Education: An Excuse

Before I graduated from college, people used my lack of education as an excuse. "We're sorry, but this job requires a college degree." That used to really annoy me - particularly since I know a number of college graduates who couldn't pour sand out of a boot even if the directions were written on the bottom.

Fast forward a few years and now I have Master's Degree. No more excuses, right? Wrong. Now that damned degree is used an excuse for why I am able to do anything: "You write so well, but you have a Master's Degree, so that explains where you learned it." Indeed. "You know so much more about the Internet than I do, but you have a degree in Information Technology, so that explains it." Really? Are you sure it's not just that you're stupid?

Every time someone makes a comment like that I wince. People don't realize that whatever skills I have are inspite of the degree - not because of it. Anyone who thinks college graduates are better at writing (or anything else) has obviously never been to graduate school.

The degree has just become the most convenient excuse for any success I have. When will people learn?

Elevator Hatred

I hate elevators. There - I said it.

It sounds silly, right? How could anyone hate a device that saves us from climbing countless flights of stairs? Easy - I hate elevators because they are awkward. I don't like being next to people in elevators, and I know that they probably don't like being next to me.

I hate having to stand there and look at the floor or whatever and be quiet. A few months ago, I had to attend one of those mandatory "Harassment Prevention" training classes that corporate America now makes all employees go to. One of the things they pointed out was that a lot of people are getting into trouble for staring at women's reflection in the elevator doors. (Of course, in order to be safe from complaints these days you have to act like the 3 Monkeys)

I also don't like smelling people, and I don't like them smelling me. But in an elevator (particularly a crowded elevator) you don't have much choice. Of course, sometimes you have the joy of smelling someone in absentia. (You know what I mean) Ssssssniifff! mmmm somebody had eggs for breakfast. It's disgusting (unless I'm the one in absentia).

Another thing that really annoys me is people who talk on their cell phones in elevators. Frankly, if I wanted to listen to you talk, I'd be on the other end of your call.

For me, a trip in an elevator is like nap time in Kindergarten: no talking, no touching, and try not to notice the person next to you has stinky feet.

Shameless Plugs

After reading Chantay's first blog post the other day, I remarked that she didn't have to plug my blog so much in her posts. Granted, I appreciate the gesture, but I wanted her to know that I didn't expect it. Then I quipped, "I haven't seen plugs that bad since I walked past the hair clinic." Plugs - get it?

I guess you had to be there; it was really funny at the time.

Metro Madness

This morning, Chantay blogged about proper etiquette on the Metro, or as I call it (particularly this time of the year) "the Petri Dish".

Frankly, I think there’s something unsavory about being trapped in a little box with 100 people, while you stand next to a guy who’s coughing up a snail, and cling to a grimy pole covered with god knows what.

If you think I’m just being paranoid then you obviously haven’t read a sign I saw in a Metro station in D.C. last Friday night. It read: "If there are 10 DC residents on your train, 3 of them have HIV." Now there’s something to think about while you’re packed in during rush hour with some suit’s ass in your face.

It makes me wonder about the diseases that aren’t so high-profile. What about typhoid or tuberculosis? How many people on my train are nursing a nasty case of Ebola? CNN reported this morning that the number of Gonorrhea cases in the US is down, but Syphilis is on the rise. I consider these things and it becomes clear to me that probably 8 out of those 10 people on my train are afflicted with something or other. That leaves just two of us healthy, and you’d better hope nobody gets off at the next stop, because statistically speaking, that could be very bad for your health.

The fact of the matter is that even apart from the obvious health risks, riding public transportation can be a frustrating and infuriating experience. I've sometimes fantasized about taking a cattle prod with me when I ride the Metro. Zap! Take that slow old lady standing on the left side of the escalator! Zap! Call them back later Mr. Loud-Cell-Phone-Talker! Think about it: if they gave you a free zapper with your Smart Trip card, people would learn to be polite in a hurry.

Flatter Me

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. That considered, what am I to make of my wife's new blog? Here's what she had to say in her first post:

So I can't say that my driving force behind a blog is entirely pure. I'm basically only doing it because my husband has one, and I can't let him feel like he's superior to me. That just wouldn't be, well, just.

I'll save the soapbox dissertation on superiority for the next game of Battle of the Sexes Trivial Pursuit (bet that still stings), but I will say that I welcome her blogging efforts, and I look forward to reading her blog.

What's in Your Wallet?

My wallet is a trusty old leather bi-fold jobber that I got for Christmas 6 or 7 years ago. Granted, it was an expensive model, but I never expected it to hold up this long.

I was reminded of this because at my current client site, I have to scan my access card in the elevator before it will take me anywhere. This is pretty common these days (I've been scanning to get in where I work for years) , and for convenience I simply keep the badge in my wallet. Usually I can just scan my whole wallet (or my whole butt if my hands are full) without removing the badge and it works great.

When I took out my wallet to scan it today, I realized that it's getting pretty thick, and I probably have a lot of junk in there that needs to be thrown out. What is it about wallets and purses that makes them prone to collecting crap? What is it about the crap in you collect in your wallet that makes keeping it irresistible?

The world may never know an answer to these questions, but I decided to see just what excess baggage I've been carrying around with me. Here's what I found:

• 4 Credit cards
• 2 Debit cards
• My Driver's License
• The claim ticket to get my car out of the parking garage
• An Aetna medical card from my wife's last employer (hence it is no longer valid)
• 5 business cards - one is mine from an old job, one is my wife's from 2 jobs ago, one is from a musician I met on a cruise, and two are from former colleagues. None of them are important now.
• My Dave and Buster's Power Card that I've only used once despite dragging it around all year
  
• A student ID from Ocean County College (that I only attended for one semester) in New Jersey, that expired 08/31/2001
• My Sam's Club membership card that expired in May
• A very tattered and worn Social Security card
• 4 video store membership cards, 3 of which don't exist in Maryland
• My "Death from Above" calling card. (This is something I picked up while serving in the 82nd Airborne Division 10 years ago. The front side has a picture of a skull wearing a beret and holding a knife in its teeth over the top of what appears to be the Ace of Spades with wings. Under this is the text "Death from Above" The back side reads: "I am an American Paratrooper. If you are recovering my body, kiss my cold dead ass!!!") That's nice to whip out during boring business meetings.
  
• My Smart Trip card for the Washington DC Metro
• A Graffiti cheat sheet for my cell phone that runs on Palm OS 4
  
• My Southwest Airlines Rapid Rewards membership card
• My MSDN Universal subscription card
• My PADI Open Water Diver SCUBA certification card
• The electronic key to get into the office of my current client that started all of this

In case you're wondering why you don't see any pictures listed, there are several reasons. First, wallet pictures have a nasty tendency to be years out of date. Do you really want to see a picture of my 14-year-old daughter when she was two? I keep the newer (digital) pictures in my phone, so I whip that out to bother people instead of the sweat-soaked wallet. (Sometimes I still bother people with the sweat-soaked wallet, but that's more for my own amusement than to show them pictures.)

I guess I'll clean out my wallet and make some room for new crap. If nothing else, it will improve my posture.

The Uniform Tells the Story

In another of what is bound to be several posts in a series leading up to Veteran's Day, I thought I'd blog a bit about military uniforms.

One of the things I really liked about the Army was the uniform. Sure, I thought I looked cool, but beyond that, you can really tell a lot about a person simply by the uniform. Their uniform tells you where they've been, and what they did while they were there.

You can tell a person's name and rank; that much is obvious. But what else does the uniform say?

For one thing, you can quickly determine whether or not that soldier has been in combat. In the army, the unit patch is worn on the left shoulder. In other words, you can always tell what unit a soldier is currently in by the patch on his left shoulder. If a soldier serves in combat with a particular unit, he is then entitled to wear that unit's patch on his right shoulder (referred to by Army Regulation 670-1 as a "Former Combat Service Unit Patch") even after he leaves the unit.

In my case, I wore the 82nd Airborne Division patch on both shoulders until I transferred out in 1994; then I continued to wear the 82nd patch on my right shoulder, but my current unit patch on the left. So, a naked right shoulder means no combat, a patch on the right shoulder tells you he or she went to combat with that unit.

What else can you determine? Well, some awards are worn on every class of uniform. The Parachutist Badge ("jump wings"), Air Assault Badge, and Pathfinder Badge are great examples. Which brings up an interesting side note: there is great rivalry between these different specializations. Paratroopers think they are the toughest, Air Assault troops insist they're wrong. Who's right? I always contended that you weren't entitled to make any comparisons unless you went to both schools, which is what I did. The answer: they're both right, but in different ways for different reasons. More on that in another blog post.

Back to the uniform. While not worn on utility uniforms (BDU's, DCU's, etc. - the camouflage uniforms Rambo made so popular), ribbons and medals are worn on class A and B uniforms. These also tell the story of where the soldier has been, and what he did while he was there. I'll use my own class B uniform as an example:



What does the uniform say about me? Obviously I was a Sergeant. You can see the double set of wings, which probably indicates I was in some form of elite unit or another (having one set of wings is rare, having two is even more so). The fact that I'm wearing the Parachutist Badge on top of the Air Assault Badge probably indicates that I was in an Airborne unit, since under Army regulations, both badges are equal.

Beneath the ribbon bar, you can see two badges: one is an expert driver badge, which tells you I logged a lot of miles in a military vehicle (for some reason, as strange as it sounds, that silly award was fairly coveted. I still have no idea why.) You also see that I qualified as expert with the M-16 rifle.

Unit patches are not worn on a class B, so there's no way to know that I'm wearing a combat patch. Or is there? Actually, yes, there is. Some of the ribbons are directly related to combat service in Desert Storm. Here's a closer look:


Ribbons and medals read left to right, from top to bottom, going in order of most important or significant, to least important. Foreign awards always come after US awards. In my case, here's what those awards are:

Top Row from left to right:

1. Army Commendation Medal with Bronze Oak Leaf Cluster indicating 2nd award (e.g. I got this award twice)
2. Army Achievement Medal with Bronze Oak Leaf Cluster indicating 2nd award
3. Good Conduct Medal with rope device containing 2 knots indicating 2nd award

Middle row, left to right:

1. National Defense Ribbon
2. Southwest Asia Service Ribbon with single bronze star indicating one campaign
3. Non-Commissioned Officer Professional Development Ribbon with numeral 2 indicating 2nd award

Bottom row, left to right:

1. Army Service Ribbon
2. Kuwaiti Liberation Medal (awarded by Kingdom of Saudi Arabia)
3. Kuwaiti Liberation Medal (awarded by Kingdom of Kuwait)

So even with no combat patch on this uniform, you could look at the ribbons and glean quite a bit of information about my combat service. You would know that I fought in Desert Storm, and that I only served one tour there. You would also know that I didn't get into any trouble for at least 6 contiguous years of military service, and that on at least 4 occassions, I was honored for individual achievements that set me apart.

Wouldn't it be nice if you could tell this much about a person's civilian career from their clothing? .... "I see you have 7 years of college! Oh, but 3 of them were Law School. *snicker*"

Driving In the City - A Quiz

You're the white car in the following illustration:

Traffic is stop-and-go, and you're currently stopped. The traffic light changes from green to yellow rapidly on the way to red. Do you...

a.) Stop and patiently wait for the next green light
b.) Rush ahead knowing that you'll block the opposing traffic
c.) Pretend not to notice
d.) Curse

Many drivers are faced with this decision every day. It seems like I get to either make this decision, or watch someone else make it every time I drive in the city (the city being anywhere in the United States with a population over 50,000 these days). Unfortunately, very few people get the correct answer. So here's a little cheat sheet for you.

If you answered "A" above:
Congratulations -- you got it right. Tell your friends and family, and explain to them why they are idiots for not doing this. Then go see your doctor for a prescription to Xanax.

If you answered "B" above:
Not only are you overly aggressive, you also like to screw other people. By blocking the box, you force opposing traffic to wait for you. Like you're that important! You deserve a ticket, and an STD.

If you answered "C" above:
You're in the same category as the people who chose "B", but you're also weak and pathetic.

If you answered "D" above:
You're a lot like me. Maybe we should sit down over a beer and plot our revenge against the "B" and "C" people.

Wish List

Update 1 (11/7/2005) - I added a book I'd like.
Update 2 (11/14/2005) - I removed the hard drive from the list
Update 3 (11/25/2005) - Removed items I got for my birthday (it's gettting awfully short now -- I'll have to think up some more items)

---

I tested out Froogle's Wish List functionality, and frankly, I found it severely lacking. So, with Veteran's Day, my Birthday, and Christmas looming over the horizon, I decided I'd create my own Wish List in a blog post and simply give people the direct link.

So here it is -- my wish list.

Transcender MSCert: "Developing XML Web Services and Server Components with Visual C# .NET and the .NET Framework" Practice Exam with Study Guide (download version)

$179 at Transcender [direct link to this item]

Other places to check: None -- this has to come from Transcender

Reason I want this: I'm required to get Microsoft certfied on this technology this year, and Transcender is supposed to be the best way to self-study for the exam.


Sopranos Season 5 Boxed Set

$79.98 at Suncoast Video [direct link to this item]

Other places to check: Ebay, Amazon, Froogle

Remarks: Used is fine.

Reason I want this: I already have the first four seasons, and season six is just around the corner.

3rd FASCP

With Veteran's Day approaching, and a 15-year reunion in a few months for the platoon in which I served during the Gulf War, I took a little time today to add some pictures to my 3rd FASCP Memories blog. It's definitely worth looking at: click here to see.

Life Quiz

I'm normally not someone who is prone to taking those stupid online quizzes, but I found one that was posted on CNET News so I decided to try it out, mostly because I was intrigued.

Since they were kind enough to provide me with the HTML for this pretty little chart to display my result, I decided to go ahead an post it (unedited) including their link to take the quiz.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	7.8
Mind:	7.9
Body:	6.7
Spirit:	6.7
Friends/Family:	6.1
Love:	9.1
Finance:	7.9
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Below is the analysis they provided about my scores. I've added emphasis to items I though were interesting. Those who know me well may find a little irony in some of this.

Life: Your life rating is a score of the sum total of your life, and accounts for how satisfied, successful, balanced, capable, valuable, and happy you are. The quiz attempts to put a number on the summation of all of these things, based on your answers. Your life score is reasonably high. This means that you are on a good path. Continue doing what is working and set about to improve in areas which continue to lag. Do this starting today and you will begin to reap the benefits immediately.

Mind: Your mind rating is a score of your mind's clarity, ability, and health. Higher scores indicate an advancement in knowledge, clear and capable thinking, high mental health, and pure thought free of interference. Your mind score is within a healthy zone. This means you have achieved a level of mental balance and harmony consistent with living a healthy, happy life. Continue doing what works, and keep your focus. In our fast-paced world, mental clutter is all too common. Be vigilant in maintaining healthy mental function.

Body: Your body rating measures your body's health, fitness, and general wellness. A healthy body contributes to a happy life, however many of us are lacking in this area. Your body score is fairly average, which means there is room for improvement. Keep a focus on your physical health. Protect your body as it is your most valuable physical asset. Nutrition, stress reduction, and exercise are key.

Spirit: Your spirit rating seeks to capture in a number that elusive quality which is found in your faith, your attitude, and your philosophy on life. A higher score indicates a greater sense of inner peace and balance. Your spirit score is relatively high, which means you are rewarded by your beliefs. Spirituality is clearly important to do. Never let it slip, and continue to learn and grow.

Friends/Family: Your friends and family rating measures your relationships with those around you, and is based on how large, healthy, and dependable your social network is. Your friends and family score is not bad but can be improved. Maintain your current social net, while you try to expand it. Try new things and form new friendships. You will be rewarded greatly.

Love: Your love rating is a measure of your current romantic situation. Sharing your heart with another person is one of life's most glorious, terrifying, rewarding experiences. Your love score is very high, which means you are in a very happy situation right now. Do all you can to keep it strong.

Finance: Your finance rating is a score that rates your current financial health and stability. You have a rather good financial score, which is not all that common these days. Keep doing what works. Avoid common pitfalls and save for the future. You will be glad you did.

So after going through the results of this quiz, I have the same reaction that I do to horoscopes: "Well, duh!"

Beers to You

Many a successful business deal has been made over a frothy brew at a local pub. An uncountable number of business relationships have been forged in the hazy smoke of some bar. Yes, I dare say that social drinking has become part of mainstream business -- at least outside of Utah.

A number of people (primarily teetotalers) have argued this point with me, but experience tells me that you can sometimes accomplish more over a few drinks than you can at the office.

With this in mind, and notwithstanding the fact that since I'm away from home on this contract I really don't have anything to do after work, I was thrilled when a couple of guys from the office invited me out last night.

(Image horked from my good friends over at Woot)

We went to Monk's Café on 16th & Spruce, which is conveniently only about 3 blocks from my apartment in Philadelphia. If you're in Philly, I recommend this place. It's a little expensive, but they have a wide variety of beers, and the food is really good. Come early, though, because seating can be a problem.

I had a Sam Adams (with a few jokes about Sam Jackson). I didn't get drunk, I didn't fall down, and a bolt of lightening didn't shoot out of the sky and strike me down. Better luck next time.

Anyway, my point here is that humans are social creatures, and we need interaction with others. Arguably we get a certain amount of that in our work environments, but it's still nice to get together outside of the office. I say Thank You to those who invited me. I enjoyed it.