The Candidate

The rain would hit the hood of a ski jacket that had seen its better days.  A cigarette burn just below right second pouch, a reminder of the last time the garment actually saw a slope of snow other than its front yard.  The dark blue color fading sightly, but not so much to match Tar Heels baby blue.  The crackle of rain off the hood amplified by hearing aids sounded similar to the omnipresent fresh popcorn maker which was used last on Sunday night as the family has taken to watching "Family Game Night" on Hub network while munching on the freshly popped corn with too much cheddar seasoning.

Its rough coming back after rejection, walking through puddles towards the office. If you followed my Twitter feed yesterday knowing that another candidate was chosen for the promotion I applied for.  Knowing from the first syllable and tone of voice with the recorded message that it was not positive, then listening to a very ambiguous HR rehash of the reasoning left me more confused than hurt.  While at the time my plans were to punch a few kittens to alleviate any inner-pain, sorting through the interview and whether or not it was worth the feline violence seemed better for the Meow Mix crowd and any karmatic retribution. 

Luckily I have an awesome supervisor and friends who offer their experience as mine in this situation is extremely limited.  She offered a few explanations that fit the mold of how the interview went without even being there.  As you know, I am very excitable, something I try to can at times but it's me and well, not gonna happen.  I may have been too knowledgeable, too eager, too much for the job which was a small promotion, but nonetheless, one that would mark another step towards overcoming the darkness that plagued me for years.

Couple that with nearly dusting off my online poker bankroll on the weekend and you've got two days worth of suck.  But these are VERY minor, personal problems (well, not the dusting because I'd never done that before in such a I-dont-give-a-shit way).  But, this is a personal blog not a news outlet, a political sounding board, or a place that cures hunger, just me and a boring suburban life that takes enough twists and finding a few words along the way to enter on the Internet.

Will I be applying for another position?  Yes.

Regrouping first to get the details and next time not coming off as used-car salesman trying pawn off a Pinto as a Maserati Quattroporte while interviewing.  The first equation that came to mind was best qualifications = best candidate.

Wrong.

If my personality doesn't jib with those who work in the department, it doesn't matter how productive my cube may be if the rest of the time sits there seething.  Just its their petty problem, but one the supervisor doesn't need if it can be easily fixed by finding someone who fits the need both talent and personality wide.  Keeping an open mind to that rather than finding an excuse an hour to belittle the deserving person who did get hired will keep petty jealousy next to the stapler in my middle drawer.

The hearing aids will continue to pick up new sounds, and I continue to pick up experience until my name is called.  Now, the poker issue, that's a different post, maybe one for a place for such things.

Stacking Papers

Today the pen came down and wanted to draft something about disabilities and lowered standards while over-cheering for someone like Corky from Life Goes On.

Or myself.

But, then the positive half of me said "shut the fuck up and have a drink you little bitch".

So I did.

Turns out there's good advice found underneath the self-wallowing, as in accept what people say, not what you perceive to be a participation medal. 

Yesterday, I shoved all self-doubt out the window for a period of 1.5 hours in order to chat about a job with three different individuals of separate corporate importance.  The results of the chats are not important, as we're not talking about a life-type changing position such as Craakker hammered down recently.  More of a Q*Bert disc to float me away from the purple snake of immobility and stasis while continuing this revival of all things progressive in my life. (*side note, damn you Doc, I played that game for almost two hours last night really wished I knew what Q*Bert says behind the !@$$#!@ when the snake gets him).  Q*BERT4ROLLZ?!?!?!

An interview something my monkey suit and tie have not seen for seven years, perhaps overdue, and certain during a time this body could use less stress not more.  But, neccessary.  New blood was needed, is needed, and just the attempt yesterday gave a much needed transfusion in my "career".  The word "career" sounds pretentious when referring to the types of jobs held by myself up to this point, perhaps after I stand in front of my family in 2013 with a cap and gown there will be a reason to take down the quotation  marks.

For now, I hoist The Mystical Cup of Collating Papers to Mr. Wil Wheaton, for showing that we're all human no matter what degree of "celebrity" one has attained and some of us can make other's day just by sitting at a desk with a devious smile and neatly alligned 8" by 11" pieces of paper in hand. 

Mr. Wheaton, stay awesome.

To the rest of my readers, I thank you for your continued support and don't make it too long until we drink together again.

Oh, to celebrate my lets-wait-for-a-month-before-hearing-if-I-got-the-job-and-cant-sleep-until-I-know Grand Casino Hinckley was kind enough because I spent too much money there last time to offer free lodging and side cash for my family to head up there tonight since the school district is intent on giving days off for Middle Name Pride Day and Johnny Appleseed Day?  *facepalm*

(Yes, I know it's the beginning of Lent, but my kids do not attend a Catholic/Christian school)

Billy Madison to Drizz: YOU BLEW IT!

My daughter's new favorite stuffed animal is a small shaggy purple dog named Barky.  Thanks to the good, quality people at Dave and Buster's the wife has performed minor surgery on Barky several times in the past month but some tears could be attributed to my daughter's not so sugar and spice and everything nice way of getting through the day with those toys. 

"Barky could walk around like Funky!" she exclaims.

The thought of an overweight shaggy purple dog with a belly swishing around like a half drained keg does seem amusing but impossible outside of Mary Poppins dropping in to make the medicine go down and utensils dance.

While her dreams are personal and not probable, mine focused too much on the real yesterday, making my attempt at rising up a rung on the corporate ladder end like this (couldn't find Billy Madison's clip which would have fit the bill better).

Yeah, I blew it.

My normally silver lispy tongue decided to not function yesterday as I stammered thru the HR interview with the wit of a contestant on Hillbilly Jeopardy.  Answers swirling in my head, taking the time to prep for the questions that I knew were coming, and instead approached some epic corporate fail with all the smoothness of a Jersey meathead trying to cold-call a one night stand at a country club.  Maybe the fiscially elite go for that sort of approach, but regardless I sucked, I sucked bad, and if by some small mircle I get the position it will solely on the fact that I'm tall because that's about the only message to cross the room yesterday standing a foot and a half over the lithe HR rep.

Concession on this position, not on the goal however.  That's a good thing.

What's on tap this weekend?  $5 million and a Lambo at PokerStars?  Much like Astin's point on twitter yesterday, I may take half my bankroll on Stars and give a shot at a guaranteed $1 million payoff and finish agonizingly in 13,271st place.  It's not every day a Lamborghini could be parked in the lower-middle income area of surburban Minneapolis.  A plus would be zooming out to Palo Alto for an epic race with Doc's Ferrari.  I'd need a Space Racer helmet and my lucky PokerStars monkey for props.

See it's ok to dream, even if its winning a poker tournament, having sex with (insert obscenely hot actress/porn star here), or having a stuffed animal down some Puppy Chow and piss all over your new iPad2.  It's the real ones that you bank some emotion on that hurt.  Throwing virtual money at cards carries nearly zero emotions at it.  Regardless of how high (like last weekend's drubbing of the Rush PLO fishes) or the lows like the previous three weeks of dusting cash like Dan Shak chasing gold futures, poker carries emotion only when friends are involved (again I apologize for my excitement at the WPBT but it will happen again so ply me with another drink and I'll lose some silly prop bet to you).

Son's mangled digit

The work dream will continue on another day, for now its back to the grind which isn't so bad if you look at how it could be sitting on a couch wondering where that next paycheck is going to come from, or how am I going to pay for my son's double fractured pinky.  Instead I sail on even waters, turning the sail in every direction until some wind catches it just right to start in a new direction.

Its A New Day

Starting my new job today, so I'm getting a feel for the change (which is welcomed, not to mention this kick ass comfty chair!).

Tomorrow I'd like to broach a subject of marriage for a stroll around my brain which has been on overload lately.

Be back tomorrow folks.

And if you haven't already congratulated the Pokernews crew for landing the WSOP duties, please go do so. Our refresh buttons will rejoice during all events now :)

Congrats guys, you earned it!