It’s not that I am lazy, it’s that I just don’t care. One of my many favorite lines from "Office Space" and the story of the last couple of weeks for me.
It all started a couple of weeks ago. It was like any other Friday in Phoenix, hot, sunny and hot. (Yes I said hot twice but it's Phoenix, it's HOT) I was in the office working, jamming to some music (thank you Pandora) and waiting for the weekend, even though I was going to work a few hours the next day. Then one of the partners stopped by my office, asked if he and the other partner could meet with me in the conference room. That’s never a good sign, I started to think “What the heck did I do wrong?”
Well it was like I was being broken up with. The official story is that the firm lost some clients, lost some bids, not enough work, so they had to cut someone loose. All I could hear is that "It's not you, it's me" which as most guys know that means...it's you but I don't want you to freak out so I am telling you it's me.
Well, after being assured it wasn't me (trust me...it's not me), I was told that I had a month, then my couple weeks of vacation, then I was unemployed. Of course I wasn't happy, I just started working for that firm. Well after another week, I had landed another job with another firm but not to start for another month. That left me with three and half weeks of working at a firm that didn't want me. So I was suppose to still work hard and put in full effort...yeah right. It's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care. I mean I worked as much as possible from 8-5. Sorry if I am not putting in overtime, it's not like a get paid for it and I just don't have the motivation to bust my hump so that the audit gets done timely. I won't see anything from it. Maybe not the best attitude, but hey it's not me, it's them.
So after tomorrow I will have a forced vacation for a couple of weeks, then back to it. I have a feeling in a couple of weeks, I will care again and I won't be lazy, in fact or appearance.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
So I Think I Can Dance...
Those of you who know me, know I am a guy and I am white. Now when I say I am white, I mean I am white. If I were to run naked in the snow, you wouldn't see me. Not that you would want to see that anyways but it would be useful if running away from bad guys on a snow covered mountain. I am the kind of white you see in Idaho, land of my forefathers. (Word to the wise, if you ever go to a water park in Idaho, make sure you are wearing sunglasses. It's like snow skiing on a sunny day.)
If you have seen me dance before, you would hope to never see it again. I remember once going to a Scottish festival while I was living in Utah. Theresa and the kids were out of town, so I stayed all day watching the competition, eating food, and shopping the booths. I was really trying to feel connected to my Scottish ancestors. At night, they had a band play, they were called the Wicked Tinkers, if I remember correct. As they played, people began to dance. Never before had I seen such bad dancing and you couldn't say it was because everyone was drunk. We were in Utah, alcohol is outlawed. (Incidentally, according to an Internet site, you may be an alcoholic if you have ever, under the influence of alcohol, questioned the teachings of the Mormon church. Ask Michael Scott.) It was just the heritage of the people, it was my heritage. I felt a connection to my ancestors like never before. Sure the Scottish can't dance, but we can throw big rocks and logs, we don't need dancing.
Nevertheless, after 13 years of asking, I went dancing with Theresa. Yes, I went dancing. Dance class actually. To learn to swing. Honestly, it was a mistake. Theresa said something about swinging on Saturday night and naturally I said yes. J/K my friends, J/K.
It was a good time, I look forward to trying it again. I only learned the very basics but with a little practice...ok, a lot of practice, I can be the next Lord of the Dance. Maybe I can get my own reality show, or at least be on one. I don't know, something to think about.
Stay cool Arizona, Patterson, Out!
If you have seen me dance before, you would hope to never see it again. I remember once going to a Scottish festival while I was living in Utah. Theresa and the kids were out of town, so I stayed all day watching the competition, eating food, and shopping the booths. I was really trying to feel connected to my Scottish ancestors. At night, they had a band play, they were called the Wicked Tinkers, if I remember correct. As they played, people began to dance. Never before had I seen such bad dancing and you couldn't say it was because everyone was drunk. We were in Utah, alcohol is outlawed. (Incidentally, according to an Internet site, you may be an alcoholic if you have ever, under the influence of alcohol, questioned the teachings of the Mormon church. Ask Michael Scott.) It was just the heritage of the people, it was my heritage. I felt a connection to my ancestors like never before. Sure the Scottish can't dance, but we can throw big rocks and logs, we don't need dancing.
Nevertheless, after 13 years of asking, I went dancing with Theresa. Yes, I went dancing. Dance class actually. To learn to swing. Honestly, it was a mistake. Theresa said something about swinging on Saturday night and naturally I said yes. J/K my friends, J/K.
It was a good time, I look forward to trying it again. I only learned the very basics but with a little practice...ok, a lot of practice, I can be the next Lord of the Dance. Maybe I can get my own reality show, or at least be on one. I don't know, something to think about.
Stay cool Arizona, Patterson, Out!
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