Let me preface this ensuing rant with the following disclaimer: I have nothing against democrats, liberals, or progressives, or whatever you want to call them by and large, but this specific viewpoint that keeps appearing in the news irritates me to no end, and it's not nearly as prevalent on the right side of the political spectrum. I find many things about the republican or conservative party irritating, and maybe someday I'll spout off about one of them, but today in the news I read two different articles about the pending Presidential election and both of them had one common element that I just can't stand.
Each one contained quotes of voters, in Florida this time though if you look for it you'll see it appears ubiquitously, saying they'll vote for Hillary "Because I feel it's about time for a woman President", or similarly for Obama "Because I feel it's about time for an African-American President". If this is your reasoning, please do us all a favor and unregister yourself before November.
I have no problem with anyone voting for Hillary or Barack, but I want that person to vote for them because they feel that this person is the most qualified to run the country, not because they're a specific minority. I'd ask that woman voting for Hillary because she's a woman if she would vote for Ann Coulter for the same reason? Or the man voting for Obama if he'd support Abu Jamal if he ran? Come on people, put a modicum of thought into your choices. If you support nationalized healthcare and education, by all means cast your vote for Hillary. This is the nature of democracy. If I thought that a transvestite, web-footed, albino Aleutian had the best ideas to solve America's problems and had the drive and integrity to work for those goals, I'd vote for...it. To say that you're voting for someone on the basis of anything other than their ability, your identification with their ideals, and your belief that they are best suited to run the country is a complete affront to our entire political system.
If Colin Powell had run, I probably would've voted for him. But not because I think it's high time we had an African-American man running the White House, I think he was a great candidate to lead the country. Race and gender should have no basis in whether your support a candidate. If because Hillary is a woman, shes more sensitive (which is a dubious position to take at best) then you can support her for her sensitivity, not for her womanhood.
Maybe the Republican party doesn't have this issue because they're all still living in the distant past where woman and minorities couldn't vote. Maybe they fear change, progress, and upsetting the status quo. That could very easily be true, and is a problem in and of itself. But that'll have to be a rant for another day.
Bottom line: please vote. But also please think about the candidate you are voting for and make sure you are voting for them because you believe in them, you're buying what they're selling, you think they are the person to put America back on track, not just because they're woman, an African-American, or even a Caucasian male, I guess it does go both ways.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The First Annual Red Zone Ink-Off
If you've kept up with this blog at all you know that one of the recurring characters, Billy, is a madman. He is truly insane. And what's worse, he's a father. He has a young son. We all fear for the child.
In my boss' office, 6 people were sitting there waiting to conference cases and/or conduct business of some kind.
Billy barges in guns blazing wanting to talk about how he's going to play a practical joke on his wife by inviting her out to a really nice dinner, having her meet him there after work, and then having his gardener go meet her instead dressed up in his clothing and act as though he's there to take her to dinner and it's not strange at all. Seriously, this is what goes on in his head.
My boss responds "That's almost as good of an idea as your pee-wee coaching attempt. And by attempt, I mean fiasco."
To which he snapped back "Dude. Whatever. I would've been a great pee-wee coach, it's such bullshit that they wouldn't let me do it."
"Billy, at the time you applied you had no children, who in their right might would trust you with a group of 6 year olds when you don't have any kids of your own. Do you even listen to yourself?"
"But dude, now that I have a kid, it's only a matter of time. Soon they'll have no choice but to let me coach. Or at least be an offensive coordinator or something."
My boss should've just let it die there, but instead he had to poke Billy a little more, "Getting by the fact that pee-wee football leagues don't have coordinators because the kids are 6 years old, you're still an idiot, and I wouldn't let you coach my kid if it meant I had to move to Albany. You're totally gonna be the guy who shaves lightning bolts into his kid's hair. Probably a bolt in one side and your initials in the other, not even his initials, yours."
"Dude, did someone tell you about my lightning-bolt?"
"Billy, what are you talking about?"
"I have a lightning bolt on my back."
"No you don't."
"Yes I do, and there weren't girls in the room, I'd prove it to you."
If the ladies in the room weren't egregiously uncomfortable yet, the mental imagery of Billy shirtless surely put them over the edge.
At this point, most of the people in the office decided their questions could wait and they'd come back later. In the end it was just me, Billy, and my boss, all kinda unsure of what to do next. I prayed my boss would change the subject before Billy did something I knew we would all regret.
Too late.
He didn't strip, but he did the next worse thing. He looked into the hallway, saw another male ADA and drug him in. He said that as a neutral 3rd party observer he was going to bear witness to the fact that he had a lightning bolt on his back, because everybody doubted it. Since we doubted, it was decided that we were not to be shown said lightning bolt. At this point I was wondering just what could lead to a lightning bolt besides a tattoo: a birthmark? a very odd surgical scar? his wife's fingernails from the previous night? a shaved pattern in his back hair?
While I was mulling this over, Billy ran into the hallway and then bolted back in. The room next to my boss', which belongs to a different female supervisor, was empty and he asked where she was. My boss told her she was in court overseeing one of the misdemeanor ADAs who is on trial today. So Billy took the poor other guy into that room and closed the door. Immediately my boss grabbed his phone with a sheepish grim and feverishly dialed. When the phone was answered he told the voice on the other end that she had an emergency telephone call in her office and to go there immediately. He looks at me and says "She's in the conference room down the hall, this should be hilarious." I work with deviants.
Luckily for all parties involved the 2 men returned to my boss' office before the female supervisor returned to her office, but it was announced that Billy did, in fact, have a lightning bolt tattooed on his shoulder.
He has spent the rest of the afternoon claiming that he is the winner of the first annual red zone ink-off, and he challanges anyone to ink up more than him. Not. To. Be. Believed.
In my boss' office, 6 people were sitting there waiting to conference cases and/or conduct business of some kind.
Billy barges in guns blazing wanting to talk about how he's going to play a practical joke on his wife by inviting her out to a really nice dinner, having her meet him there after work, and then having his gardener go meet her instead dressed up in his clothing and act as though he's there to take her to dinner and it's not strange at all. Seriously, this is what goes on in his head.
My boss responds "That's almost as good of an idea as your pee-wee coaching attempt. And by attempt, I mean fiasco."
To which he snapped back "Dude. Whatever. I would've been a great pee-wee coach, it's such bullshit that they wouldn't let me do it."
"Billy, at the time you applied you had no children, who in their right might would trust you with a group of 6 year olds when you don't have any kids of your own. Do you even listen to yourself?"
"But dude, now that I have a kid, it's only a matter of time. Soon they'll have no choice but to let me coach. Or at least be an offensive coordinator or something."
My boss should've just let it die there, but instead he had to poke Billy a little more, "Getting by the fact that pee-wee football leagues don't have coordinators because the kids are 6 years old, you're still an idiot, and I wouldn't let you coach my kid if it meant I had to move to Albany. You're totally gonna be the guy who shaves lightning bolts into his kid's hair. Probably a bolt in one side and your initials in the other, not even his initials, yours."
"Dude, did someone tell you about my lightning-bolt?"
"Billy, what are you talking about?"
"I have a lightning bolt on my back."
"No you don't."
"Yes I do, and there weren't girls in the room, I'd prove it to you."
If the ladies in the room weren't egregiously uncomfortable yet, the mental imagery of Billy shirtless surely put them over the edge.
At this point, most of the people in the office decided their questions could wait and they'd come back later. In the end it was just me, Billy, and my boss, all kinda unsure of what to do next. I prayed my boss would change the subject before Billy did something I knew we would all regret.
Too late.
He didn't strip, but he did the next worse thing. He looked into the hallway, saw another male ADA and drug him in. He said that as a neutral 3rd party observer he was going to bear witness to the fact that he had a lightning bolt on his back, because everybody doubted it. Since we doubted, it was decided that we were not to be shown said lightning bolt. At this point I was wondering just what could lead to a lightning bolt besides a tattoo: a birthmark? a very odd surgical scar? his wife's fingernails from the previous night? a shaved pattern in his back hair?
While I was mulling this over, Billy ran into the hallway and then bolted back in. The room next to my boss', which belongs to a different female supervisor, was empty and he asked where she was. My boss told her she was in court overseeing one of the misdemeanor ADAs who is on trial today. So Billy took the poor other guy into that room and closed the door. Immediately my boss grabbed his phone with a sheepish grim and feverishly dialed. When the phone was answered he told the voice on the other end that she had an emergency telephone call in her office and to go there immediately. He looks at me and says "She's in the conference room down the hall, this should be hilarious." I work with deviants.
Luckily for all parties involved the 2 men returned to my boss' office before the female supervisor returned to her office, but it was announced that Billy did, in fact, have a lightning bolt tattooed on his shoulder.
He has spent the rest of the afternoon claiming that he is the winner of the first annual red zone ink-off, and he challanges anyone to ink up more than him. Not. To. Be. Believed.
Another Defendant Inadvertently Turns Himself In
Here are the players in today's game:
Defendant - herein referred to as "deft"
Traumatized Child - herein referred to as "TC"
Complaining Witness (mother of TC) - herein referred to as "CW"
Arresting Police Office - herein referred to as "AO"
The scene: TC is playing on the swings in a park. CW is sitting on a bench casually glancing over at TC to make sure she's staying within eyesight, gossiping with the other mommies and nannies at the park. The sun is shining, birds are quietly chirping, the world is as it should be.
Enter: our deft.
Deft decides that he needs to get his jollys off by exposing his family jewels to TC. TC naturally freaks the hell out and runs back to CW screaming and crying. CW immediately (and quite fearlessly) confronts deft and engages in a verbal argument. Instead of denying anything, our deft pulls out a pocket knife and threatens the CW.
In a moment of what must've been an adrenaline fueled blackout, our heroic CW slaps the sneer right off our deft's face, while he was still brandishing his weapon, puny as it may have been.
The deft must've taken a pretty hard slap to the face because he immediately left the park and searched out the nearest police officer, our AO, and complained that he had been assaulted by the CW. After days and days of tedious detail oriented police work, the AO was able to ascertain that the incident started when the deft exposed his cash and prizes to our poor TC, who had no problem picking him out of the crowd at the park as well as a lineup at the precinct.
One has to wonder if the CW would've notified the authorities about the deft had he just left and run away. The world may never know.
Defendant - herein referred to as "deft"
Traumatized Child - herein referred to as "TC"
Complaining Witness (mother of TC) - herein referred to as "CW"
Arresting Police Office - herein referred to as "AO"
The scene: TC is playing on the swings in a park. CW is sitting on a bench casually glancing over at TC to make sure she's staying within eyesight, gossiping with the other mommies and nannies at the park. The sun is shining, birds are quietly chirping, the world is as it should be.
Enter: our deft.
Deft decides that he needs to get his jollys off by exposing his family jewels to TC. TC naturally freaks the hell out and runs back to CW screaming and crying. CW immediately (and quite fearlessly) confronts deft and engages in a verbal argument. Instead of denying anything, our deft pulls out a pocket knife and threatens the CW.
In a moment of what must've been an adrenaline fueled blackout, our heroic CW slaps the sneer right off our deft's face, while he was still brandishing his weapon, puny as it may have been.
The deft must've taken a pretty hard slap to the face because he immediately left the park and searched out the nearest police officer, our AO, and complained that he had been assaulted by the CW. After days and days of tedious detail oriented police work, the AO was able to ascertain that the incident started when the deft exposed his cash and prizes to our poor TC, who had no problem picking him out of the crowd at the park as well as a lineup at the precinct.
One has to wonder if the CW would've notified the authorities about the deft had he just left and run away. The world may never know.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Office Hijinks
One of the ADAs in the zone is named Dan.
Billy decided to play a joke on Dan. He printed out the word "dandy" 15 times or so and kept taping them over the name plate on Dan's door. But he kept altering the printout so that there would be a definite progression. It looked like this:
dandy
Dandy
DANDY
DANDY
DANDY
DANDY
DANDY
DANDY
From here it moved to fonts not supported by this blog, it got curly letters, a dark red background, and all sorts of feminine. Every time Dan would take it off his door, Billy would put the next one up. It served no purpose, but it was hilarious to walk by and see the development of the gag.
Dandy Dan...
I work with 10 year olds in charge of people's lives.
Billy decided to play a joke on Dan. He printed out the word "dandy" 15 times or so and kept taping them over the name plate on Dan's door. But he kept altering the printout so that there would be a definite progression. It looked like this:
dandy
Dandy
DANDY
DANDY
DANDY
DANDY
DANDY
DANDY
From here it moved to fonts not supported by this blog, it got curly letters, a dark red background, and all sorts of feminine. Every time Dan would take it off his door, Billy would put the next one up. It served no purpose, but it was hilarious to walk by and see the development of the gag.
Dandy Dan...
I work with 10 year olds in charge of people's lives.
Breast Milk Facials Get Out Of Hand
This is gonna be a long post, so strap in and make sure you have some time.
A little background is necessary for this story to fully make sense and be appreciated on the level of which it is worthy. In later November/early December my juvenile boss went on paternity leave. His wife gave birth to a son, and there was much rejoicing in the office. He stayed at home for about 3-4 weeks to hang out with wifey and new son, help change diapers, assist with 2 am wake up sessions, etc.
He came back right about the end of December, good for him because the end of December is just dead around here, no Judges are around so no cases are starting and everything just kinda stalls till the new year. So we all relax, and take the week to recharge a little bit, long lunches, faux meetings that are meaningless, hallway bowling with a lacrosse ball, and the occasional game of lock toss (loss toss is a very simple game where you tie a cord around the top loop of a master lock and see who can fling it farthest down the hallway without hitting any walls, the ceiling, light fixtures, or employees; it had to be cut short due to the number of ceiling tiles claimed victim).
One days at lunch, everyone was sitting around the conference room table and one of the female ADAs was beaming about how her husband got her a spa day for Christmas at one of the nicest spas in this Urban Center. She lamented how dry her skin had become in the increasingly cold weather and was looking forward to it being rejuvenated.
To this, my boss just shouts across the table, Just get some breast milk and rub it on your face, it does wonders.
We all just kinda sat there for a minute in silence. What exactly does one say to that? Oh, right. Of course. Thanks for reminding me. I can't believe I didn't think of that.
Finally someone had the good sense to call him out on it. He says...
Look, it's not as crazy as it sounds. We were at the doctor with the baby and the doctor was telling us how great breast milk is, how its got all these antibodies, and is rich in nutrients. That got me to thinking, when I got home I snuck a little bit of breast milk (edit: it is possible, albeit unlikely, that when he says he snuck breast milk that he did so directly from the breast, and not from a bottle. This should give you an idea of just what kind of mind we're dealing with here) on a pimple I had. I swear to God, within 2 days it was gone. This lead me to the natural conclusion that breast milk has got to be great for the skin, so I'm offering you all a bid to get into the ground floor right now. I'm quiting law and opening an super-exclusive spa that specializes in breast milk facials. Now obviously you will have to supply your own breast milk, but guys can get one using their wife's milk if they're into that kinda thing, but we're not gonna use other women's milk on people, that's a little odd. Anyway, who wants to join up, I need a few venture capitalists, anybody know anybody?
At first we all just kinda chuckled and dismissed him, but the phrase "breast milk facial" just kept popping up in conversations. It became a byline at every lunch. Meetings started to include subversive inside jokes. Breast Milk Facials started to really become a part of the office.
In early January the members of the Red Zone all got emails from one of the female ADAs attempting to gauge interest in putting together a volleyball team for an Urban league. Non-competitive, just fun, a chance to do something out of the office. People seemed generally amenable to the idea and my boss had even had a team for 4 or 5 straight years, ending in 2005. He was very excited at the prospect of getting back on the court (my boss is roughly 5'5"). That day at lunch, this female ADA and my boss were discussing the team at lunch and filling in the registration sheet they had printed off the website. They put in the requisite 12 names or so, gave a bunch of waivers out and had people start filling them in. Personally, I'm not much of a volleyball player so I was abstaining, I played on the football team, and would consider a basketball team or softball team, but volleyball just isn't my forte. I didn't think I'd be the worst one on the court, but definitely in the bottom half.
At the bottom of the registration sheet it prompts you to put in your team name. Without even asking the "team" what they should be named he simply writes in Breast Milk Facial. Everyone just acted as though this was inevitable, there was never any dissension or concern, no alternative ideas posed, no opposition whatsoever. Thus Breast Milk Facial, the volleyball team, was born. Team expectations were so low that out of 12 possible divisions (ranging from uber-competitive to paraplegic) Breast Milk Facial entered the twinkle division, second to the bottom.
It could've easily stopped here and gone down as one of the more nonsensical things I have ever witnessed over an ongoing span of 3 weeks, but it didn't.
Because there are so many teams per division, and so many divisions in the league, it is fiscally impossible for the Urban league to provide team t-shirts, jerseys, whathaveyous to the teams. So if the team wishes to all dress in conjunction, they onus lays on them. Most teams, I'm told, aren't serious enough to even toy with the idea of getting jerseys, they just show up, play, maybe go out for a bit afterwards, and then head home. But not Breast Milk Facial. The first game was just over a week away, and the leadership of the team was calling for jerseys to be made. Another email was sent out to the entire zone asking if anyone knew a reliable place that could silkscreen shirts and get them shipped fast. I replied that I had used one place in Philadelphia before, during college, and the shirts came out great and were done really quickly. I provided my boss with a phone number, and the website. He quickly replied that I was in charge of making the shirts, and that I needed to make this my number 1 priority, and I was to ignore all other work.
I made just one futile attempt to remind him that I'm not actually on the team, and therefore have little vested interest in making good shirts and getting them here in time for the first game. His reply was that job security comes with obedience and alacrity. I decided that designing these shirts couldn't possibly take too long and I could probably get something passable and still finish up all my work without too much difficulty.
The best laid plans of Mice and Men often go astray.
I designed the front of the shirt in less than 4 minutes. The design was a hit. It was BMF in stretched black letters, white outline, on a red shirt. Under the giant letters was a dripping baby bottle. You don't have to say anything, I know what you're thinking...classy.
The problem arose with the back of the shirt, for the sake of time and facility I suggested either leaving the back blank or come up with some catchy phrase to put on. This idea was summarily dismissed and the collective decided that they each wanted an animal on the back. Yes, an animal, why? You want to know why they wanted animals instead of names, numbers, identifying markers of any other kind? Because animals are, and I quote "cute". That is the only reason ever given.
All the shirts were then going to have to be individually ordered instead of in bulk. I pointed out that this jumped the price from around 9-12 bucks a shirt to about 25 a shirt. They were all okay with this. This irritates me because this means they must get paid a figure exponentially higher than I do. But I digress...
So I then had to ask everyone what they wanted their animal to be. Luckily the entire team comes from the zone so it wasn't tough to track everyone down. But then I had to browse clip art galleries galore to find suitable animal silhouettes for the project.
This I managed to get done, along with my normal regimen, by the end of the day, along with no guarantee whatsoever that these shirts would be arriving before the first game was scheduled to take place. But people were so giddy about the prospect of a customized new t-shirt, they hardly even noticed. Somehow, and this I really do not understand, we had the shirts within 3 days. 2 business days before our first game, plenty of breathing room, I was dumbfounded, but hey, kudos to the printing company, the shirts looked amazing, and they were quick. I recommend them to everyone who asks me about shirts (side note: no one has asked me about shirts since this incident, but should anyone, I will be recommending this company).
At this point my involvement ended. They had shirts, a schedule, and I had peace and quiet. That is, until the day before the game. The female ADA who was captaining the team (and one of the only 2 people on the roster with any organized volleyball experience, HS varsity volleyball team at a Jewish Girls School) came and asked me to play the next day. I replied that there was no way they could possibly need me to play, they had a 12 person roster, shirts, and more excitement than I could even fathom. She then regaled her lamentations: Zane (yes, of course Zane is on the team, if it involves intensity or competition, sign Zane up) or should I say Bull, Rhino, Goat, Koala and Flamingo can make it, but everyone else has some sort of obligation for the first game. We need a 6th or we forfeit, and you're the only one we can bully into coming.
But I don't even have a t-shirt, how can I possibly play up to standards without the official team jersey, what is my animal gonna be? It's just too emotionally damaging to be the odd-man-out here, think about my psyche, think about how I'm gonna feel when the other team points at me and laughs because I don't have the official team shirt. Do you really wanna do that to me? How does that make you look? I think you need to take a long look in the mirror and decide if you like the person looking back at you?
Naturally this didn't work, but it was worth a shot.
Eventually my need to be accepted by my peers and superiors won out...Did I mention that after the game the team goes out to karaoke and I had the opportunity to watch my boss sing? Maybe that was the reason...
Either way I reluctantly agreed with exhortations to expect nothing exciting from me on the court.
I managed to dig up a red shirt, close enough in color that it worked. The other team was definitely a group of bad sports, good volleyball players slumming in the low divisions in order to build up self esteem, or something equally as pathetic. Needless to say, BMF suffered 3 crushing, tearful, soul-shredding defeats (you play 3 games per night against the same team). But amidst the losses, BMF chants arose like the phoenix from the ashes of our team's self-confidence.
Karaoke was certainly entertaining. A few of the other office-mates came to meet up with us and good times were shared by all as Flamingo (the only one there with real karaoke talent) belted out Fergie' - Glamorous. Later, funerals were held for Bon Jovi's - Livin' on a prayer, Pat Benetar's - Love is a Battlefield, Tom Petty's - Last Dance with Mary Jane, some song by Sunfire, and Sister Hazel's - All for you.
When I tell you that some people at this bar shouldn't be allowed to sing, I mean I think a few of the people I work with were mentally drafting legislation that would preclude certain individuals from coming within 5 feet of a microphone as some sort of public health law.
At this point, I don't know whether I'll be asked to rejoin the team for the next game, it's Jan 31st. I guess I'll have to keep you posted.
A little background is necessary for this story to fully make sense and be appreciated on the level of which it is worthy. In later November/early December my juvenile boss went on paternity leave. His wife gave birth to a son, and there was much rejoicing in the office. He stayed at home for about 3-4 weeks to hang out with wifey and new son, help change diapers, assist with 2 am wake up sessions, etc.
He came back right about the end of December, good for him because the end of December is just dead around here, no Judges are around so no cases are starting and everything just kinda stalls till the new year. So we all relax, and take the week to recharge a little bit, long lunches, faux meetings that are meaningless, hallway bowling with a lacrosse ball, and the occasional game of lock toss (loss toss is a very simple game where you tie a cord around the top loop of a master lock and see who can fling it farthest down the hallway without hitting any walls, the ceiling, light fixtures, or employees; it had to be cut short due to the number of ceiling tiles claimed victim).
One days at lunch, everyone was sitting around the conference room table and one of the female ADAs was beaming about how her husband got her a spa day for Christmas at one of the nicest spas in this Urban Center. She lamented how dry her skin had become in the increasingly cold weather and was looking forward to it being rejuvenated.
To this, my boss just shouts across the table, Just get some breast milk and rub it on your face, it does wonders.
We all just kinda sat there for a minute in silence. What exactly does one say to that? Oh, right. Of course. Thanks for reminding me. I can't believe I didn't think of that.
Finally someone had the good sense to call him out on it. He says...
Look, it's not as crazy as it sounds. We were at the doctor with the baby and the doctor was telling us how great breast milk is, how its got all these antibodies, and is rich in nutrients. That got me to thinking, when I got home I snuck a little bit of breast milk (edit: it is possible, albeit unlikely, that when he says he snuck breast milk that he did so directly from the breast, and not from a bottle. This should give you an idea of just what kind of mind we're dealing with here) on a pimple I had. I swear to God, within 2 days it was gone. This lead me to the natural conclusion that breast milk has got to be great for the skin, so I'm offering you all a bid to get into the ground floor right now. I'm quiting law and opening an super-exclusive spa that specializes in breast milk facials. Now obviously you will have to supply your own breast milk, but guys can get one using their wife's milk if they're into that kinda thing, but we're not gonna use other women's milk on people, that's a little odd. Anyway, who wants to join up, I need a few venture capitalists, anybody know anybody?
At first we all just kinda chuckled and dismissed him, but the phrase "breast milk facial" just kept popping up in conversations. It became a byline at every lunch. Meetings started to include subversive inside jokes. Breast Milk Facials started to really become a part of the office.
In early January the members of the Red Zone all got emails from one of the female ADAs attempting to gauge interest in putting together a volleyball team for an Urban league. Non-competitive, just fun, a chance to do something out of the office. People seemed generally amenable to the idea and my boss had even had a team for 4 or 5 straight years, ending in 2005. He was very excited at the prospect of getting back on the court (my boss is roughly 5'5"). That day at lunch, this female ADA and my boss were discussing the team at lunch and filling in the registration sheet they had printed off the website. They put in the requisite 12 names or so, gave a bunch of waivers out and had people start filling them in. Personally, I'm not much of a volleyball player so I was abstaining, I played on the football team, and would consider a basketball team or softball team, but volleyball just isn't my forte. I didn't think I'd be the worst one on the court, but definitely in the bottom half.
At the bottom of the registration sheet it prompts you to put in your team name. Without even asking the "team" what they should be named he simply writes in Breast Milk Facial. Everyone just acted as though this was inevitable, there was never any dissension or concern, no alternative ideas posed, no opposition whatsoever. Thus Breast Milk Facial, the volleyball team, was born. Team expectations were so low that out of 12 possible divisions (ranging from uber-competitive to paraplegic) Breast Milk Facial entered the twinkle division, second to the bottom.
It could've easily stopped here and gone down as one of the more nonsensical things I have ever witnessed over an ongoing span of 3 weeks, but it didn't.
Because there are so many teams per division, and so many divisions in the league, it is fiscally impossible for the Urban league to provide team t-shirts, jerseys, whathaveyous to the teams. So if the team wishes to all dress in conjunction, they onus lays on them. Most teams, I'm told, aren't serious enough to even toy with the idea of getting jerseys, they just show up, play, maybe go out for a bit afterwards, and then head home. But not Breast Milk Facial. The first game was just over a week away, and the leadership of the team was calling for jerseys to be made. Another email was sent out to the entire zone asking if anyone knew a reliable place that could silkscreen shirts and get them shipped fast. I replied that I had used one place in Philadelphia before, during college, and the shirts came out great and were done really quickly. I provided my boss with a phone number, and the website. He quickly replied that I was in charge of making the shirts, and that I needed to make this my number 1 priority, and I was to ignore all other work.
I made just one futile attempt to remind him that I'm not actually on the team, and therefore have little vested interest in making good shirts and getting them here in time for the first game. His reply was that job security comes with obedience and alacrity. I decided that designing these shirts couldn't possibly take too long and I could probably get something passable and still finish up all my work without too much difficulty.
The best laid plans of Mice and Men often go astray.
I designed the front of the shirt in less than 4 minutes. The design was a hit. It was BMF in stretched black letters, white outline, on a red shirt. Under the giant letters was a dripping baby bottle. You don't have to say anything, I know what you're thinking...classy.
The problem arose with the back of the shirt, for the sake of time and facility I suggested either leaving the back blank or come up with some catchy phrase to put on. This idea was summarily dismissed and the collective decided that they each wanted an animal on the back. Yes, an animal, why? You want to know why they wanted animals instead of names, numbers, identifying markers of any other kind? Because animals are, and I quote "cute". That is the only reason ever given.
All the shirts were then going to have to be individually ordered instead of in bulk. I pointed out that this jumped the price from around 9-12 bucks a shirt to about 25 a shirt. They were all okay with this. This irritates me because this means they must get paid a figure exponentially higher than I do. But I digress...
So I then had to ask everyone what they wanted their animal to be. Luckily the entire team comes from the zone so it wasn't tough to track everyone down. But then I had to browse clip art galleries galore to find suitable animal silhouettes for the project.
This I managed to get done, along with my normal regimen, by the end of the day, along with no guarantee whatsoever that these shirts would be arriving before the first game was scheduled to take place. But people were so giddy about the prospect of a customized new t-shirt, they hardly even noticed. Somehow, and this I really do not understand, we had the shirts within 3 days. 2 business days before our first game, plenty of breathing room, I was dumbfounded, but hey, kudos to the printing company, the shirts looked amazing, and they were quick. I recommend them to everyone who asks me about shirts (side note: no one has asked me about shirts since this incident, but should anyone, I will be recommending this company).
At this point my involvement ended. They had shirts, a schedule, and I had peace and quiet. That is, until the day before the game. The female ADA who was captaining the team (and one of the only 2 people on the roster with any organized volleyball experience, HS varsity volleyball team at a Jewish Girls School) came and asked me to play the next day. I replied that there was no way they could possibly need me to play, they had a 12 person roster, shirts, and more excitement than I could even fathom. She then regaled her lamentations: Zane (yes, of course Zane is on the team, if it involves intensity or competition, sign Zane up) or should I say Bull, Rhino, Goat, Koala and Flamingo can make it, but everyone else has some sort of obligation for the first game. We need a 6th or we forfeit, and you're the only one we can bully into coming.
But I don't even have a t-shirt, how can I possibly play up to standards without the official team jersey, what is my animal gonna be? It's just too emotionally damaging to be the odd-man-out here, think about my psyche, think about how I'm gonna feel when the other team points at me and laughs because I don't have the official team shirt. Do you really wanna do that to me? How does that make you look? I think you need to take a long look in the mirror and decide if you like the person looking back at you?
Naturally this didn't work, but it was worth a shot.
Eventually my need to be accepted by my peers and superiors won out...Did I mention that after the game the team goes out to karaoke and I had the opportunity to watch my boss sing? Maybe that was the reason...
Either way I reluctantly agreed with exhortations to expect nothing exciting from me on the court.
I managed to dig up a red shirt, close enough in color that it worked. The other team was definitely a group of bad sports, good volleyball players slumming in the low divisions in order to build up self esteem, or something equally as pathetic. Needless to say, BMF suffered 3 crushing, tearful, soul-shredding defeats (you play 3 games per night against the same team). But amidst the losses, BMF chants arose like the phoenix from the ashes of our team's self-confidence.
Karaoke was certainly entertaining. A few of the other office-mates came to meet up with us and good times were shared by all as Flamingo (the only one there with real karaoke talent) belted out Fergie' - Glamorous. Later, funerals were held for Bon Jovi's - Livin' on a prayer, Pat Benetar's - Love is a Battlefield, Tom Petty's - Last Dance with Mary Jane, some song by Sunfire, and Sister Hazel's - All for you.
When I tell you that some people at this bar shouldn't be allowed to sing, I mean I think a few of the people I work with were mentally drafting legislation that would preclude certain individuals from coming within 5 feet of a microphone as some sort of public health law.
At this point, I don't know whether I'll be asked to rejoin the team for the next game, it's Jan 31st. I guess I'll have to keep you posted.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
I'm A Bit Old To Be Earmuffed
I was in my boss's office about 10 minutes ago. He was asking me to request a police officer to come into the office tomorrow. One of the felony ADAs came in and sat down. She started talking to my boss about his wife, and Valentine's Day approaching and what he was planning to get her. He commented on how much he liked the boots she was wearing and thought his wife would like them as well, and inquired as to where she got them.
Her response: Oh, these? Yeah, I got them at Bloomingdale's. My friends and I call them my...Ummm...earmuffs [motioning to me]-
So naturally I replied: Are you kidding? You're gonna tell me to put on earmuffs? I'm not 6 years old, I think I can handle anything you are gonna say here.
Both my boss and I are pretty sure she's going to refer to them as her "Fuck me" boots, which is a fairly common phrase, and could be fairly awkward in front of someone you're not really comfortable with. But oh no.
We call them my hooker boots.
You wanted me to put on earmuffs so that you could say hooker? it's not even a bad word. This makes no sense to me.
In her defense, since she isn't one of the ADAs I deal with, I don't really know her very well. But if she was embarrassed to say hooker around me, then I'm just bewildered. In the 6 months I have been here, I have never felt so...young. Sadface.
Her response: Oh, these? Yeah, I got them at Bloomingdale's. My friends and I call them my...Ummm...earmuffs [motioning to me]-
So naturally I replied: Are you kidding? You're gonna tell me to put on earmuffs? I'm not 6 years old, I think I can handle anything you are gonna say here.
Both my boss and I are pretty sure she's going to refer to them as her "Fuck me" boots, which is a fairly common phrase, and could be fairly awkward in front of someone you're not really comfortable with. But oh no.
We call them my hooker boots.
You wanted me to put on earmuffs so that you could say hooker? it's not even a bad word. This makes no sense to me.
In her defense, since she isn't one of the ADAs I deal with, I don't really know her very well. But if she was embarrassed to say hooker around me, then I'm just bewildered. In the 6 months I have been here, I have never felt so...young. Sadface.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Internet Company Calls Back: Round 1 (I'm Guessing)
So the internet people have finally returned my call. And what a fun conversation it was.
First off, the woman on the other side of the phone didn't have the grasp of English I was assuming she would. She was clearly of foreign descent, had a heavy accent, and struggled to find words at times. To be honest, this almost made me feel bad about being such a stubborn ass with her. But I had my orders, as I'm sure she did. I'll tell you right now I feel like very little progress was made and I assume one of her superiors is going to be calling me sometime soon and trying to intimidate me with all sorts of legal jargon.
Our conversation wasn't too long, but it was thoroughly frustrating this is how it went:
District Attorney's Office, this is [my name].
Hello Mr. [my name], how are you?
Starts off cordial enough.
I'm fine, how are you?
I'm doing very well, thank you for asking.
*************
Normally, at least when I call people, especially in a business sense, after I initiate the conversation I let the person know why I'm calling, or at the very least who I am. What's that? You too? Really? Well that's a relief. I guess she was giving me the chance to read her mind. I failed.
So...can I help you?
This the legal department for [internet company], I understand you've been had some question about the bill you received?
These aren't spelling or grammar errors on my part, this is what she actually said. Right from here, I knew it was going to be a wild ride.
I actually don't have any questions, I just want you to know that we will not be paying the bill you sent.
Mr. [my name], the bill is for the time spent gathering the information you requested, [internet company] is entitle to some fair compensation for this, don't you think?
Fair compensation? It took some peon 10 seconds to access that info in the database and another 6 seconds to print it. You want fair compensation? How about I send you a money order for 27 cents?
No, I don't. And let's get something straight, we didn't request the information, you were mandated to produce it from Court Order. We are a non-profit governmental organization, we are not going to compensate you for something you did when you didn't have a choice in doing it.
We were what to produce it? Mandarin?
Goodbye conversation, hello foolishness.
Mandated, forced, made to...
Oh. Well according to section [something or other] of Electronic Information Production Act, [internet company] is entitle to compensation for services rendered.
Okay, I clearly have never even heard of this Act, so there's only 1 thing I can do, ignore it and keep to the master plan.
And according to my bosses, we are entitled to receive the things we subpoena without having to dish out funds to everyone who thinks that just because they have to do something they shouldn't have to do it for free. We don't pay hospitals for medical records, we don't pay phone companies for phone records, and we're not going to give you twenty bucks for something you were legally obligated to provide.
Okay Mr. [my name], how about I send rules and regulations in which it state that we have the right to charge for services. You can show this to your boss.
Rules and regulations of what? Tax law in Scokee, IL? Rights of casino gamblers on the Mississippi River? Subsidy wages paid to farmers in Oklahoma? Is there a book of rules and regulations for how to charge me for subpoenad records?
I don't mean any disrespect, but that is a waste of time, miss. Unless you have a Court Ordered Subpoena which forces them to pay, there's no way you're going to get any money. If you care to send a representative from your legal department to the stand before the Judge who issued the subpoena and explain why you think you deserve this money, by all means, we would be happy to attend, but I'm not going to tell my boss to completely change the policy of the District Attorney's Office because you want money for producing information you legally had no alternative but to produce. Do you see where I'm coming from? It's not a question of compensation. It's a question of economics. If we had to shell out money to every organization that we get information from, who all charge their services to others, then we would be bankrupt inside a month, and the whole justice system would collapse. I'm sorry that I'm making your life more difficult, I know you don't wanna deal with an organization who doesn't pay their bills, but in actuality, this bill isn't legitimate.
Sir, we sent the information you requested, and are entitled to compensation for that service.
Complete and utter futility. She didn't hear a thing I just said.
Now, may I please have your mailing address so I can send you rules and regulations?
Pick your battles, Paul, pick your battles.
Ugh, fine, [mailing address]. But how about this, you tell your boss you sent it, take the money you would spend on shipping, and put it towards the bill, depending on how thick it is it may actually cover the whole thing.
She apparently missed the obvious wit and blatant humor I was laying down there.
I don't think my superiors would appreciate me lying to them. And I need submit receipts for everythings mailed.
How about me not appreciating having to listen to you when you clearly aren't going to do what I'm asking for?
If you mail this thing out, will we stop getting bills from you?
No, they will continued be mailed.
And I will continue to beat my head into the wall- I mean explain why we aren't sending you any money.
Well I can promise you that we will continue to not pay.
Okay, I go mail to your office now. Have good day.
That's it?
Uhhhh, you too, miss.
So lets recap: girl speaks passable but not great English, doesn't seem to process anything I said, is desperate to mail this binder to me, HAS to know I'm never going to read it or show it to any of my bosses, we accomplished nothing in our conversation, the DA's office explicitly stated that they intend to continue to not pay the bill, and maybe I'll get a phone call later from someone higher up in their company, preferably with better diction. And all this before lunch.
First off, the woman on the other side of the phone didn't have the grasp of English I was assuming she would. She was clearly of foreign descent, had a heavy accent, and struggled to find words at times. To be honest, this almost made me feel bad about being such a stubborn ass with her. But I had my orders, as I'm sure she did. I'll tell you right now I feel like very little progress was made and I assume one of her superiors is going to be calling me sometime soon and trying to intimidate me with all sorts of legal jargon.
Our conversation wasn't too long, but it was thoroughly frustrating this is how it went:
District Attorney's Office, this is [my name].
Hello Mr. [my name], how are you?
Starts off cordial enough.
I'm fine, how are you?
I'm doing very well, thank you for asking.
*************
Normally, at least when I call people, especially in a business sense, after I initiate the conversation I let the person know why I'm calling, or at the very least who I am. What's that? You too? Really? Well that's a relief. I guess she was giving me the chance to read her mind. I failed.
So...can I help you?
This the legal department for [internet company], I understand you've been had some question about the bill you received?
These aren't spelling or grammar errors on my part, this is what she actually said. Right from here, I knew it was going to be a wild ride.
I actually don't have any questions, I just want you to know that we will not be paying the bill you sent.
Mr. [my name], the bill is for the time spent gathering the information you requested, [internet company] is entitle to some fair compensation for this, don't you think?
Fair compensation? It took some peon 10 seconds to access that info in the database and another 6 seconds to print it. You want fair compensation? How about I send you a money order for 27 cents?
No, I don't. And let's get something straight, we didn't request the information, you were mandated to produce it from Court Order. We are a non-profit governmental organization, we are not going to compensate you for something you did when you didn't have a choice in doing it.
We were what to produce it? Mandarin?
Goodbye conversation, hello foolishness.
Mandated, forced, made to...
Oh. Well according to section [something or other] of Electronic Information Production Act, [internet company] is entitle to compensation for services rendered.
Okay, I clearly have never even heard of this Act, so there's only 1 thing I can do, ignore it and keep to the master plan.
And according to my bosses, we are entitled to receive the things we subpoena without having to dish out funds to everyone who thinks that just because they have to do something they shouldn't have to do it for free. We don't pay hospitals for medical records, we don't pay phone companies for phone records, and we're not going to give you twenty bucks for something you were legally obligated to provide.
Okay Mr. [my name], how about I send rules and regulations in which it state that we have the right to charge for services. You can show this to your boss.
Rules and regulations of what? Tax law in Scokee, IL? Rights of casino gamblers on the Mississippi River? Subsidy wages paid to farmers in Oklahoma? Is there a book of rules and regulations for how to charge me for subpoenad records?
I don't mean any disrespect, but that is a waste of time, miss. Unless you have a Court Ordered Subpoena which forces them to pay, there's no way you're going to get any money. If you care to send a representative from your legal department to the stand before the Judge who issued the subpoena and explain why you think you deserve this money, by all means, we would be happy to attend, but I'm not going to tell my boss to completely change the policy of the District Attorney's Office because you want money for producing information you legally had no alternative but to produce. Do you see where I'm coming from? It's not a question of compensation. It's a question of economics. If we had to shell out money to every organization that we get information from, who all charge their services to others, then we would be bankrupt inside a month, and the whole justice system would collapse. I'm sorry that I'm making your life more difficult, I know you don't wanna deal with an organization who doesn't pay their bills, but in actuality, this bill isn't legitimate.
Sir, we sent the information you requested, and are entitled to compensation for that service.
Complete and utter futility. She didn't hear a thing I just said.
Now, may I please have your mailing address so I can send you rules and regulations?
Pick your battles, Paul, pick your battles.
Ugh, fine, [mailing address]. But how about this, you tell your boss you sent it, take the money you would spend on shipping, and put it towards the bill, depending on how thick it is it may actually cover the whole thing.
She apparently missed the obvious wit and blatant humor I was laying down there.
I don't think my superiors would appreciate me lying to them. And I need submit receipts for everythings mailed.
How about me not appreciating having to listen to you when you clearly aren't going to do what I'm asking for?
If you mail this thing out, will we stop getting bills from you?
No, they will continued be mailed.
And I will continue to beat my head into the wall- I mean explain why we aren't sending you any money.
Well I can promise you that we will continue to not pay.
Okay, I go mail to your office now. Have good day.
That's it?
Uhhhh, you too, miss.
So lets recap: girl speaks passable but not great English, doesn't seem to process anything I said, is desperate to mail this binder to me, HAS to know I'm never going to read it or show it to any of my bosses, we accomplished nothing in our conversation, the DA's office explicitly stated that they intend to continue to not pay the bill, and maybe I'll get a phone call later from someone higher up in their company, preferably with better diction. And all this before lunch.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
People You Meet While Working for the Government: #3 The Idealist
The Idealist is a wonderful person to talk to, for about 30 seconds. After that you just want them to shut up. The idealist I'm talking about here isn't someone who just wanted to make a difference in the world so they started working for the government. THIS Idealist is the person who genuinely believes that they are a driving force for sweeping social change and they are going to singlehandedly save the city if no one else will help them. They're like Batman, sans utility belt, cape, and efficacy.
They're not easy to spot from afar, but are easily identifiable enough after their first sentence. They don't know how to talk about anything other than the following topics:
They're not easy to spot from afar, but are easily identifiable enough after their first sentence. They don't know how to talk about anything other than the following topics:
- how terrible the plight of the city is right now
- how much they look forward to really "getting their hands dirty"
- how fulfilling their job is
- how they want to save the poor victims of crime from the trauma of their predicament
- how they get frustrated that some people they work with don't seem to be as dedicated to their job
The Idealist will take any case offered.
Let me explain briefly how cases are assigned. The Deputy Bureau Chief, "my boss", gets a stack of files every morning that are either transfers to the zone or new arraignments, he then opens the file, reads about the case, determines the degree of difficulty associated with it, weighs who has the experience, ability, and intelligence to handle the case against how heavy everyone's caseload is, also considering the extra time which will be needed should the case have DWI paperwork, a ballistics report, or lab report for narcotics. He also considers how cooperative the complainant or the victim is, their relationship to the defendant, and the likelihood of them being completely honest, or available. After that, he throws darts at his dartboard and depending what number he hits he assigns the case to the person associated with the number. Occasionally, when a case is going to be especially annoying, maybe the complaining witness isn't reliable because they're a defendant in another case, or they've disappeared, or 6 people were arrested and had 3 joints between them but no one is claiming them, or the victim decides all of a sudden he doesn't want to press charges, etc. the Deputy will ask people to be honest and tell him whether or not they can handle getting a terrible, frustrating case that probably will never go anywhere but will require hours of effort regardless. It is these cases where it's good to have the Idealist around.
There could be ten ADAs sitting in the boss' office talking about caseloads or conferencing about what direction to take a case and the Deputy will see that he has a case to assign which is just going to drive whichever ADA gets it absolutely bananas (and not in the fun Gwen Stefani sense), the Idealist will always volunteer. For this, they have short periods of popularity. You might hear "man, I'm so glad ADA Savetheworld is here, otherwise I know I would've gotten that case where the one guy littered on the other guy's lawn, which violated a 3 year order of protection, thus making it a felony, so we can't offer anything less than jail time, try getting a jury to give someone jail time for littering, ADA Savetheworld bailed me outta that debacle".
This popularity is fleeting, as the Idealist will then want to talk to you endlessly about the case, so much so that you feel as though you were assigned it yourself. Interestingly enough, they aren't bothering you because they want you to recognize how much they're doing, or how awesome they are for taking this case so you didn't have to, or even to demonstrate their brilliance by sharing their strategy for winning the case with you. They don't want acknowledgment, glory, or special treatment. What they really want, is your advice, opinion, and any help you're willing to dispense. These people care so much, that they're willing to forgo the unwritten "get as many convictions as you can, look as good as you can, and prove you're better than everyone else" code of the DA's office in order to do what they consider to be more important, helping people. Yeah, I don't get it either.
These people are dangerous, they are true believers. They are an asset in that they can't be bought, bribed, pressured, blackmailed, or scared. They don't let cases get dismissed through laziness or apathy. But they are a liability in that they nag you endlessly, are annoyingly optimistic, are oblivious to your continual efforts to avoid them, and mentally cannot understand why you don't want to conference every case they have at 6:45 at night.
They pour their heart and soul into the everyday grind. Paperwork becomes more than meaningless red tape, it's a method of the system to insure justice is guaranteed to everyone. Each photocopy is one sheet closer to resolution. Each plea is proof that the city is improving.
It's very difficult to pick these people out by sight. They don't wear flashy colors because they don't feel the need to draw attention to themselves. They dress pleasantly mainstream. They have a very average look about them, mostly because they're so focused on their work they don't spend much time worrying about how they look. The exception to this is days when they appear in Court. On those days, they will look especially dapper in an effort to appear put together for a Judge or jury. But their normal mannerisms don't betray them, except for that childish smile always on their face.
Let's discuss the childish smile, because it is their most distinguishable physical feature. The reason they seem to display this smile so frequently is because, to some degree, they are still children. Do you remember being young? Remember when you used to capture spiders and let them go outside rather than squish them? Remember when you used to bring stray animals in the house and ask mommy and daddy if you could keep them because they look so sad and alone? Remember when you couldn't understand how people could kill each other over money? Remember when merely being content with what you had was good enough, you didn't need anything else? Remember Knight Rider? No? Me neither. Because we grew out of this phase of our lives by the time we were about 5. Then we started taking little Oscar Henderson's lunch money because we learned we could get 2 PB & Js instead of one and all it cost him was his lunch. The Idealist never got to where we were at 5. Physically, they grew up along with us, but mentally they're stuck in 1980 (NOTE: the year will change depending on their birthday). They see things in black and white, right and wrong, moral and immoral in every situation. They think they can fix everything if people will just listen to them. They're convinced the answer to society's problem is laughter, probably mixed with fairy dust and happy thoughts. The most puzzling thing about them is how they can grow up in this world, with so much anger, hatred, war, etc. go to high school, college, and law school, get a job with the DA's office, spend their days reading about the most atrocious acts imaginable, and still believe that a little bit of love and understanding will make all the bad people turn good again. Oh, to be 5 again.
Don't ever bother complaining to these people because they will always try to convince you to look at the upside.
Man, I can't believe that my wife is divorcing me, my kid just got rabies from the neighbors dog, I broke my right arm and leg by getting hit by a car yesterday, I'm about 30 minutes from getting fired because my star witness lied and said I coerced her into testifying, the mafia is sending me death threats on a daily basis, the electric company shut my power off three days ago by accident thinking I was someone else who hasn't paid their bill in 4 months, and I spilled coffee on my laptop this morning and now it won't turn on. It just hasn't been my week.
But hey, at least the subway was on time this morning. Stay positive, buddy, things have a way of working out.
These people gravitate towards teaching jobs, lawyer jobs, and medical jobs. They constantly pray to St. Jude. Oh, and they're half dead inside from the loneliness associated with the fact that the only people that can tolerate their bright-eyed and bushy-tailed attitude 24/7 are other Idealists, and they even get on each others nerves. So as happy as these people always are, you can take solace in your depression because at least people don't breathe a sigh of relief when you walk by their office but don't stop in.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand PPPFFFFTTTTTT.
I called the internet people a few times today, eager to get into a heated debate about the legitimacy of their bill. Their legal department didn't pick up, nor did I get a call back. But maybe this'll break up the monotony tomorrow.
One can only hope.
One can only hope.
Discretion Be Damned! Just Make It Go Away!
One of the ADAs I work with received a letter yesterday, it was from an online corporation that provides a search client, email addresses, home pages, the works. In a case I actually wrote about earlier where a guy created a screen name and sent threatening letters to his girlfriend from his ex, we had subpoenaed the IP information and registration information for the email address (read about it here, Previous Story).
It turns out that this multi-billion internet company was annoyed at having to this for us and has sent us a bill for just over $20 "for services rendered". a copy of the bill was left on my desk this morning with a note that said "We're not paying, make this go away". So I went to go talk to my boss about the bill and see what he had to say about it.
His response was the same. We aren't paying this bill. We're the DA's Office, it was Court ordered, not requested, they didn't have a choice, we aren't forwarding them any money for something they were obligated to do. If they want to send a lawyer out here to appear in front of the Judge who signed it and explain why we owe them twenty bucks, be my guest, but you make this bill go away. I'm kinda new at flexing the government muscle and not negotiating, so I asked him what exactly I should say to the person who I get on the phone who will ultimately not have the authority to erase any sort of bill because they will inevitably be either a secretary or a paralegal in the legal department.
He responded "Say whatever you need to to make the bill disappear".
I joked that he shouldn't give me that kinda flexibility or I might make him regret it. He said I could say anything I wanted as long as I made the bill disappear.
I foresee this being a mildly humorous conversation between me, without censorship and some poor schmuck who is scared to transfer me to his boss (which I will have to keep demanding) but certainly doesn't want to / can't deal with me him/herself. I'll make sure to let you know how it turns out.
It turns out that this multi-billion internet company was annoyed at having to this for us and has sent us a bill for just over $20 "for services rendered". a copy of the bill was left on my desk this morning with a note that said "We're not paying, make this go away". So I went to go talk to my boss about the bill and see what he had to say about it.
His response was the same. We aren't paying this bill. We're the DA's Office, it was Court ordered, not requested, they didn't have a choice, we aren't forwarding them any money for something they were obligated to do. If they want to send a lawyer out here to appear in front of the Judge who signed it and explain why we owe them twenty bucks, be my guest, but you make this bill go away. I'm kinda new at flexing the government muscle and not negotiating, so I asked him what exactly I should say to the person who I get on the phone who will ultimately not have the authority to erase any sort of bill because they will inevitably be either a secretary or a paralegal in the legal department.
He responded "Say whatever you need to to make the bill disappear".
I joked that he shouldn't give me that kinda flexibility or I might make him regret it. He said I could say anything I wanted as long as I made the bill disappear.
I foresee this being a mildly humorous conversation between me, without censorship and some poor schmuck who is scared to transfer me to his boss (which I will have to keep demanding) but certainly doesn't want to / can't deal with me him/herself. I'll make sure to let you know how it turns out.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Paul, Like The Pope
I was waiting for the elevator in our lobby today when I overheard two people meet each other for the first time. It was a fairly simple conversation with the standard "What floor are you going to? Oh, really? I'm one above you. Are you new here? Haven't seen you before." Blah Blah Blah boring smalltalk, until...
So what's your name?
Andrew, like the President.
Andrew?
Yup, just like the President...
Sadly, this is where I lost the conversation. But I remain perplexed. I mean...like the President? There have been two Presidents named Andrew, Jackson and Johnson. Andrew Johnson took over for Lincoln in 1865, there hasn't been a President Andrew anything since.
Is this guy just incredibly stupid? Is he involved in some sort of inside joke which I just clearly don't get? Do you get it? He has to know our President's name, doesn't he?
Maybe he meant a well known president of something else: a major corporation, a national organization, possibly even another country as unlikely as that is.
I really wish I hadn't been mobbed onto the elevator and I could've heard what the other guy said next, but since I didn't I'm going to have to reconstruct the conversation as I assume it happened...
Yup, just like the President.
You know the President's name is George, right?
Not in the 5th dimension.
Okay weirdo, I think I'm just gonna grab the next elevator.
The brown cow chews cud at midnight.
Look buddy, I don't know what kind of crazy game you're playing, or if this is some kinda prank...
I have been sent to protect you by your son from the future, the fate of all humanity rests on getting you to Worcester before the first Apple Blossoms bloom...they're beautiful in the springtime, don't you think?
I'm going to have to call security. SECURITY!!!
We will meet again Raxigin, for now I know your true identity.
I can't believe that guy works one floor below me, and how did he figure out my secret identity?
Nothing surprises me in this place.
So what's your name?
Andrew, like the President.
Andrew?
Yup, just like the President...
Sadly, this is where I lost the conversation. But I remain perplexed. I mean...like the President? There have been two Presidents named Andrew, Jackson and Johnson. Andrew Johnson took over for Lincoln in 1865, there hasn't been a President Andrew anything since.
Is this guy just incredibly stupid? Is he involved in some sort of inside joke which I just clearly don't get? Do you get it? He has to know our President's name, doesn't he?
Maybe he meant a well known president of something else: a major corporation, a national organization, possibly even another country as unlikely as that is.
I really wish I hadn't been mobbed onto the elevator and I could've heard what the other guy said next, but since I didn't I'm going to have to reconstruct the conversation as I assume it happened...
Yup, just like the President.
You know the President's name is George, right?
Not in the 5th dimension.
Okay weirdo, I think I'm just gonna grab the next elevator.
The brown cow chews cud at midnight.
Look buddy, I don't know what kind of crazy game you're playing, or if this is some kinda prank...
I have been sent to protect you by your son from the future, the fate of all humanity rests on getting you to Worcester before the first Apple Blossoms bloom...they're beautiful in the springtime, don't you think?
I'm going to have to call security. SECURITY!!!
We will meet again Raxigin, for now I know your true identity.
I can't believe that guy works one floor below me, and how did he figure out my secret identity?
Nothing surprises me in this place.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Here We Go A Caucusing, Among The Leaves So Green
So in my last post I reflected momentarily about my take on the Iowa Caucus. Apparently I wasn't the only one who was interested in this political oddity as we at the DA's office sat around at lunch discussing the implications of said caucus and what our predictions were. Zane (if you don't remember Zane, please see The Holiday Party) is a giant, combative political guru of sorts replete with opinions and predictions and theories and all sorts of information you neither asked for nor are particularly interested in. Naturally Zane and another ADA in the office, we'll call her Jane, squared off. Jane was trying to both end the conversation and get the last word, not possible with Zane, you pretty much need to just concede that he is going to say something after you, whether it's logical or coherent is questionable, but he'll spit something out. To settle the dispute, my perpetually juvenile boss decided to see what would happen if we had our own mini-caucus.
He declared that at 3 pm, the office was to caucus to settle the matter once and for all. This seemed agreeable to everyone as it would give people a diversion in the afternoon for a few minutes. The argument ceased, all was well, and we went back to discussing how excited we all were for the return of American Gladiators on Sunday Night (which was fantastic, by the way).
Around 2 o'clock I realized I had absolutely no idea how the Iowa Caucus was conducted. Rather than look foolish in front of a crowd of all my peers I decided the best thing to do was admit my ignorance and ask my boss for the mechanics. As previously mentioned, my boss is quite puerile at times, so I was a little anxious that there would be some public ridicule involved, but I was prepared to laugh about it. Upon reaching my boss' office, it became instantly clear that I was not the only one who had little to no idea how a caucus was run. I was greeted by 5 or 6 other confused looks and puzzled expressions as I entered the office. I shared that I, too, was oblivious in the ways of the caucus and would like an explanation. It took about 15 seconds for me to tell that my boss had no idea how to caucus either. So we consulted the internet, the arbiter of all truth.
Wikipedia has a nice article on the Iowa Caucus, however, the section on the process is incredibly baffling and impossible to decipher. The best we understood it, the Republicans just get a blank sheet of paper and write down the candidate they want on it, count the votes, apportion delegates accordingly; simple enough. The Democrats (we all participated in both Dems and Reps as we don't have enough people in the office to make it interesting splitting down party lines) stand in a corner of the room designated for a candidate. If that corner didn't garner a meager 15% of the population present, then the candidate was deemed inviable and representatives from other camps could court the supports of inviable candidates and coax to them to their corner with promises of similar minded views and dreams of a unified America. Or, multiple inviable candidate followers could group up in hopes of combining for over 15%, and then just deciding which candidate would get the nod on the delegates.
Naturally, somebody asked how it would work in a room with only 4 corners but more candidates, he was smacked with a ruler and dismissed as a fool. Apparently the only obvious and clear part about caucusing was lost on him. He thought there some significance in 2 walls coming together and didn't understand that corners just made it easy to segregate that area from the other areas. After his public mockery the research continued.
There is another recount after the undecideds/supports of inviable candidates have been re-parcelled out and then each candidate receives some some delegates in the next level of caucusing based on the population of their area in the caucus (there is one per precinct, usually in a high school gym, public library, or some such location) as it relates to the total population of the caucus, and somehow is linked to the statewide population (this is where it all gets hazy).
After about 25 minutes of head scratching and brow furling, we simply gave up and decided that we'd stand where we supported someone and if anyone was deemed inviable their group would be wooed by the rest. All seemed very well and good. But wait, we must have short candidate speeches (I don't know if there is ANY caucus precedent for this, but we were all feeling that nearly-the-weekend high). We drew pulled names out of a hat to see who would speak for who, apparently it's more fun when it's possible you will have to endorse a candidate on the opposite side of the political spectrum as yourself. Unfortunately, I was not lucky enough to pick a candidate, I was just a layman. But Zane did. When I say that I couldn't even focus on anyone else's speech because I was so excited to hear Zane endorse Mike Huckabee, it doesn't do my emotions justice. A Sherman Tank could've been shelling the office and I wouldn'tve noticed, I would've been focusing on the number of seconds before Zane, the lunatic, had to give a speech to support Huckabee, the zealot, who Zane pretty much feels is the anti-Christ. But Zane is the kind of guy who wants to make the game work so we all figured he would try to portray him in the most enticing light possible. Zane, the die-hard agnostic, was about to appeal to man's innate desire for God and God-centered leadership; and we all knew it. I feel kinda bad for other speech-makers. I'm sure they were good and all, but I was on the edge of my seat just waiting for Huckabee.
I won't put his speech in quotes because it isn't word for word, but in sum and substance this was it...
Mike Huckabee is a man who knows how to get things done. He's a man after God's own heart, and a man who will spread God's love and perseverance not only within our country's borders, but also out into the world. This is a man who isn't afraid to make the unpopular decisions, who isn't afraid to take a chance, and isn't afraid to be wrong.
So far nothing exciting to report. But wait...
Mike Huckabee loves you. He loves your children. He loves your wives, your husbands, and your neighbors. He burns with a passion for their well-being and has plans to make sure that they will always be taken care of. From social security to medicare, Huck has the people in mind. The angry mob will criticize his ideas and say he only has the fiscally sound in mind, but this should be dismissed as the ramblings of the uneducated masses, too naive to know what's good for them.
And it begins. Unfortunately speeches were cut to 90 seconds so there's not a whole lot of time to ride this crazy train.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here to talk to you today about two things: love and hate. Mike Huckabee loves you, and Mike Huckabee hates terrorists. A vote for Huckabee is a vote to end terrorism and establish peace all over the world. Huckabee has plans to reduce our oil consumption by exploring alternative energy methods and soon we will be completely independent of the Middle East and can deal with them accordingly. I guess we have to talk Iraq strategy. Huck's got one. It's victory, plain and simple. Finish the job and get our boys home, democracy is God's gift to civilization and the people of the world deserve it.
I cannot wait to see what he's gonna pull out for the finale. The best part of the speech thus far is that I cannot determine whether or not he's just joking around and being absurd or if this is a legit Huck endorsement. I really don't know.
Lets finish by discussing domestic policy. Huck has been labeled tough on the poor, they say he wants to cut too much wealth redistribution to the needy. Well Huck doesn't want the good people of the working class to suffer needlessly at the expense of the lazy. So he urges all of you on welfare to re-enter to workforce and become productive members of society. Get a job, give back, you don't need to be a wall street CEO to support your family. You just need that good old fashioned work ethic, we've lost that here in America, the drive to be self-sufficient, we rely on the government to take care of us and some have stopped trying. Well Huck wants you to try, and Huck wants you to succeed. Together, we can make America stronger. Thank you and God bless.
No one said a word. Just silence, not even crickets, they were too aghast also. Did he really just accuse people on welfare of not trying to help themselves and being lazy? I'm fairly certain that nobody thinks that this speech accurately reflects the views of Mike Huckabee and we all know how Zane can get once he gets a chance to stand on a pedestal, still, I really wish I'd had a video camera to capture that speech word for word, because even the gist doesn't do it justice.
Shockingly, Huckabee didn't carry the office. It went to Romney and Edwards. But we all learned a valuable lesson about the Iowa caucus, and Mike Huckabee. And learning is the foundation of knowledge. Thank you and God bless.
He declared that at 3 pm, the office was to caucus to settle the matter once and for all. This seemed agreeable to everyone as it would give people a diversion in the afternoon for a few minutes. The argument ceased, all was well, and we went back to discussing how excited we all were for the return of American Gladiators on Sunday Night (which was fantastic, by the way).
Around 2 o'clock I realized I had absolutely no idea how the Iowa Caucus was conducted. Rather than look foolish in front of a crowd of all my peers I decided the best thing to do was admit my ignorance and ask my boss for the mechanics. As previously mentioned, my boss is quite puerile at times, so I was a little anxious that there would be some public ridicule involved, but I was prepared to laugh about it. Upon reaching my boss' office, it became instantly clear that I was not the only one who had little to no idea how a caucus was run. I was greeted by 5 or 6 other confused looks and puzzled expressions as I entered the office. I shared that I, too, was oblivious in the ways of the caucus and would like an explanation. It took about 15 seconds for me to tell that my boss had no idea how to caucus either. So we consulted the internet, the arbiter of all truth.
Wikipedia has a nice article on the Iowa Caucus, however, the section on the process is incredibly baffling and impossible to decipher. The best we understood it, the Republicans just get a blank sheet of paper and write down the candidate they want on it, count the votes, apportion delegates accordingly; simple enough. The Democrats (we all participated in both Dems and Reps as we don't have enough people in the office to make it interesting splitting down party lines) stand in a corner of the room designated for a candidate. If that corner didn't garner a meager 15% of the population present, then the candidate was deemed inviable and representatives from other camps could court the supports of inviable candidates and coax to them to their corner with promises of similar minded views and dreams of a unified America. Or, multiple inviable candidate followers could group up in hopes of combining for over 15%, and then just deciding which candidate would get the nod on the delegates.
Naturally, somebody asked how it would work in a room with only 4 corners but more candidates, he was smacked with a ruler and dismissed as a fool. Apparently the only obvious and clear part about caucusing was lost on him. He thought there some significance in 2 walls coming together and didn't understand that corners just made it easy to segregate that area from the other areas. After his public mockery the research continued.
There is another recount after the undecideds/supports of inviable candidates have been re-parcelled out and then each candidate receives some some delegates in the next level of caucusing based on the population of their area in the caucus (there is one per precinct, usually in a high school gym, public library, or some such location) as it relates to the total population of the caucus, and somehow is linked to the statewide population (this is where it all gets hazy).
After about 25 minutes of head scratching and brow furling, we simply gave up and decided that we'd stand where we supported someone and if anyone was deemed inviable their group would be wooed by the rest. All seemed very well and good. But wait, we must have short candidate speeches (I don't know if there is ANY caucus precedent for this, but we were all feeling that nearly-the-weekend high). We drew pulled names out of a hat to see who would speak for who, apparently it's more fun when it's possible you will have to endorse a candidate on the opposite side of the political spectrum as yourself. Unfortunately, I was not lucky enough to pick a candidate, I was just a layman. But Zane did. When I say that I couldn't even focus on anyone else's speech because I was so excited to hear Zane endorse Mike Huckabee, it doesn't do my emotions justice. A Sherman Tank could've been shelling the office and I wouldn'tve noticed, I would've been focusing on the number of seconds before Zane, the lunatic, had to give a speech to support Huckabee, the zealot, who Zane pretty much feels is the anti-Christ. But Zane is the kind of guy who wants to make the game work so we all figured he would try to portray him in the most enticing light possible. Zane, the die-hard agnostic, was about to appeal to man's innate desire for God and God-centered leadership; and we all knew it. I feel kinda bad for other speech-makers. I'm sure they were good and all, but I was on the edge of my seat just waiting for Huckabee.
I won't put his speech in quotes because it isn't word for word, but in sum and substance this was it...
Mike Huckabee is a man who knows how to get things done. He's a man after God's own heart, and a man who will spread God's love and perseverance not only within our country's borders, but also out into the world. This is a man who isn't afraid to make the unpopular decisions, who isn't afraid to take a chance, and isn't afraid to be wrong.
So far nothing exciting to report. But wait...
Mike Huckabee loves you. He loves your children. He loves your wives, your husbands, and your neighbors. He burns with a passion for their well-being and has plans to make sure that they will always be taken care of. From social security to medicare, Huck has the people in mind. The angry mob will criticize his ideas and say he only has the fiscally sound in mind, but this should be dismissed as the ramblings of the uneducated masses, too naive to know what's good for them.
And it begins. Unfortunately speeches were cut to 90 seconds so there's not a whole lot of time to ride this crazy train.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here to talk to you today about two things: love and hate. Mike Huckabee loves you, and Mike Huckabee hates terrorists. A vote for Huckabee is a vote to end terrorism and establish peace all over the world. Huckabee has plans to reduce our oil consumption by exploring alternative energy methods and soon we will be completely independent of the Middle East and can deal with them accordingly. I guess we have to talk Iraq strategy. Huck's got one. It's victory, plain and simple. Finish the job and get our boys home, democracy is God's gift to civilization and the people of the world deserve it.
I cannot wait to see what he's gonna pull out for the finale. The best part of the speech thus far is that I cannot determine whether or not he's just joking around and being absurd or if this is a legit Huck endorsement. I really don't know.
Lets finish by discussing domestic policy. Huck has been labeled tough on the poor, they say he wants to cut too much wealth redistribution to the needy. Well Huck doesn't want the good people of the working class to suffer needlessly at the expense of the lazy. So he urges all of you on welfare to re-enter to workforce and become productive members of society. Get a job, give back, you don't need to be a wall street CEO to support your family. You just need that good old fashioned work ethic, we've lost that here in America, the drive to be self-sufficient, we rely on the government to take care of us and some have stopped trying. Well Huck wants you to try, and Huck wants you to succeed. Together, we can make America stronger. Thank you and God bless.
No one said a word. Just silence, not even crickets, they were too aghast also. Did he really just accuse people on welfare of not trying to help themselves and being lazy? I'm fairly certain that nobody thinks that this speech accurately reflects the views of Mike Huckabee and we all know how Zane can get once he gets a chance to stand on a pedestal, still, I really wish I'd had a video camera to capture that speech word for word, because even the gist doesn't do it justice.
Shockingly, Huckabee didn't carry the office. It went to Romney and Edwards. But we all learned a valuable lesson about the Iowa caucus, and Mike Huckabee. And learning is the foundation of knowledge. Thank you and God bless.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Iowa Has Spoken
So the Iowa Caucus was yesterday and Obama and Huckabee emerged victorious. I'm not gonna bother to share my views or make this website in anyway partisan, I'll just say that when i read the results of the caucus this morning I found myself unpleasantly surprised. Not by the results, but rather by my ignorance at the significance of the results.
I realized that I really didn't know much about the candidates. I think that I, as most people my age at this point, know enough to engage in a surface conversation about the candidates but wouldn't be able to seriously delve into what the major platforms for the candidates are, what fires them up the most. For example if President Bush was running now, we would know that his platform would be American Security at the expense of nearly anything. This would be his big issue, tax cuts would be there, but not as big, and immigration reform is on the table underneath some papers. But I couldn't tell you whether Obama gets more emotional about the War in Iraq, social security, creating jobs, or stem cell research. I guess everyone knows these basics:
Obama = liberal = big government, redistribute wealth, nationalized institutions of aid, etc.
Huckabee = republican = smaller government, southern baptist preacher, Arkansas governor, supports privatization, tax cuts for the businesses that drive the economy, etc.
I figured people are going to be talking about this, and since I didn't want to either a)be left out by my ignorance or b)try to talk about something which I don't know much about and make a fool of myself by saying something completely erroneous. So I looked them up, perused their bios, read a few speeches, tried to get a taste of where their priorities really were, and was appalled by both.
Granted, Huckabee's lunacy is much more overt, it's no less dangerous. It's a shame the country is too large at this point to revert back to electing people who genuinely don't want the Office and reluctantly serve out of loyalty to their country. Idealism aside, I strongly encourage you, dear reader, to read up a bit about the candidates, they all deviate from party norms on some stances, and there might be some surprises in there for you.
One thing I did notice, I think Huck and Obama have the best smiles on the campaign, now this may be a coincidence, but there might be something to the fact that they look more friendly than Hillary, Johnny boy, Mitt, even Good Ol' Fred.
This being a blog about government work, not the government in general, I don't plan on posting much about the election, but if I get bored and nothing absurd happens I might throw something up time and again. In the meantime, let's hope that whoever gets elected is able to garner support and respect from the entire country, not just their die-hard followers.
Now, have a fran-freakin-tastic Friday, I can't wait to go home and take a nap, only 6.5 hours to go.
I realized that I really didn't know much about the candidates. I think that I, as most people my age at this point, know enough to engage in a surface conversation about the candidates but wouldn't be able to seriously delve into what the major platforms for the candidates are, what fires them up the most. For example if President Bush was running now, we would know that his platform would be American Security at the expense of nearly anything. This would be his big issue, tax cuts would be there, but not as big, and immigration reform is on the table underneath some papers. But I couldn't tell you whether Obama gets more emotional about the War in Iraq, social security, creating jobs, or stem cell research. I guess everyone knows these basics:
Obama = liberal = big government, redistribute wealth, nationalized institutions of aid, etc.
Huckabee = republican = smaller government, southern baptist preacher, Arkansas governor, supports privatization, tax cuts for the businesses that drive the economy, etc.
I figured people are going to be talking about this, and since I didn't want to either a)be left out by my ignorance or b)try to talk about something which I don't know much about and make a fool of myself by saying something completely erroneous. So I looked them up, perused their bios, read a few speeches, tried to get a taste of where their priorities really were, and was appalled by both.
Granted, Huckabee's lunacy is much more overt, it's no less dangerous. It's a shame the country is too large at this point to revert back to electing people who genuinely don't want the Office and reluctantly serve out of loyalty to their country. Idealism aside, I strongly encourage you, dear reader, to read up a bit about the candidates, they all deviate from party norms on some stances, and there might be some surprises in there for you.
One thing I did notice, I think Huck and Obama have the best smiles on the campaign, now this may be a coincidence, but there might be something to the fact that they look more friendly than Hillary, Johnny boy, Mitt, even Good Ol' Fred.
This being a blog about government work, not the government in general, I don't plan on posting much about the election, but if I get bored and nothing absurd happens I might throw something up time and again. In the meantime, let's hope that whoever gets elected is able to garner support and respect from the entire country, not just their die-hard followers.
Now, have a fran-freakin-tastic Friday, I can't wait to go home and take a nap, only 6.5 hours to go.
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