I pretty much never eat breakfast. I know, I know, it’s the most important meal of the day, blah, blah, blah, but I just never have been a breakfast eater. I will, however, occasionally force myself to stop and pick something up on the way to work and since the only two things between the highway and my office are McDonald’s and Subway and McDonald’s has a drive-thru, that’s usually where I end up. So probably not the healthiest breakfast but whatever!
The other day while ordering my burrito the person in the big speaky box asked if I wanted salsa, to which I replied, “Yes, hot please.” I then proceeded to the window, paid, and drove to work.
Once I got to work and opened my bag of yumminess I was shocked and very disappointed to find this:
Okay, I understand that not everyone likes their food as spicy as I do. I’m well aware that peppers and spices get me a little more excited than that the average person, but come on! I might as well have grabbed a tomato and squeezed its contents over the top of my burrito. The only thing that mild hot sauce added to my morning breakfast was more calories, and Lord knows I didn’t need anymore of those!
I normally try to look at most things with an open mind so that’s why I’m coming to you today, my faithful readers, to ask: Why did anyone waste their time to create mild hot sauce?
Apparently in certain brands you can also get extra mild. Am I just completely missing the point here?
It’s that time of year again. When people like me who don’t give two flips about football get roped into the excitement that is the Super Bowl. It’s a time of happy party people, gathering at a designated house, drinking, laughing, and yelling. A time when everyone has an opinion about the sport even though they may not know the difference between a field goal and a hockey puck. And a time when everyone actually waits until the commercials are over and the game is back on to make a run for the toilet.
I absolutely love this time of year. Not because I care about the game- no….I love this time of year because the Super Bowl is one of those special “holidays” that warrants the cheap sale of alcohol and snack foods! This is the time of year that we get together with our friends and yell and scream and get rowdy and our neighbors don’t complain. It’s when we see people that we haven’t seen or spoken to since last years game but we pick up right where we left off.
Thankfully we have our friends from Rutgers and Princeton to thank for making football popular way back in 1860 something or another. If it weren’t for them, we would have no Super Bowl, no tailgating, no cookouts and we never would have known that Clydesdales can punt footballs or that frogs are capable of synchronizing their ribbits to say Bud-weis-er. Men wouldn’t be able to tell their wives that they are going over to Bob’s house to “watch the game” and most importantly, there would be one less reason to drink beer! (Most people I know would counter that with “Who needs a reason to drink beer?” but I’m pretty picky about beer and honestly would be okay if it all disappeared off the face of the planet.)
So thank you to all the creators of American Football, thank you for giving our men a reason to beat their chest and prove that they are superior to their friends. Thank you for showing us that wardrobe malfunctions (planned or un-planned) are eventually forgotten and covered up by next years God-awful halftime show. Oh, and thanks for proving to us that no matter how “real” you try to make your advertising efforts, people will always get angry if you attempt to further flatten the already flat face of a pug, even when the pug comes out on top (literally). But most importantly, thank you for cheap snacks, cold beer, noisy sports bars, and great friends!
Note: This should be read in a sarcastic tone. If you think I really believe half of this stuff, you’re a moron. If you, yourself believe half of this stuff, well, bless your heart.
Driving to work this morning, I heard a story on the radio that absolutely confirmed to me that the world will end this year. I guess the Mayans knew what they were talking about after all!
It seems that the Apocalypse is in full swing and I am so blessed that it is beginning right in my backyard! See, the Trinity River is a pretty highly frequented body of water in the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex and many parts of the towns around the river are referred to as “Trinity Something-or-Another”. People tend to spend a lot of time around the Trinity, fishing, kayaking, swimming, and whatever else one may find exciting to do in water that is so green and murky you can’t see a quarter inch below the surface. As if river water isn’t gross enough by itself, people began seeing “dark patches” of water and began questioning exactly what it was. So an investigation was opened and the sources of the dark patches discovered.
Are you ready for this?
The Trinity River is no longer filled with water; no…the Trinity River is now engorged with PIGS’ BLOOD!!!
Okay, okay, so maybe engorged is stretching it a little but doesn’t this sound like something directly out of Revelations? “And all the waters of the earth shall recede and in their place shall come forth the blood of swine”.
It sounds scary but it really isn’t that big of a deal. The Columbia Meat Packing Plant is adjacently located to the Trinity River and at this time it is presumed that they have not been disposing of certain swine related body fluids properly. Rather than using the correct containers to dispose of the blood, someone is dumping it directly into the river and thinking nothing more of it. (I’ve seen enough rivers to know that pig blood really is the last thing I’m concerned about when it comes to what is in the water)
Now that I think of it, for as long as I can remember, every time I’ve crossed the Trinity River, mostly on the Dallas side, there has been a somewhat pungent odor. Of course, I always attributed this to the fact that the Trinity River is in fact a river that has water in it (something Texans aren’t completely accustom to) and massive amounts of river water tend to stink. Never in a million years did I think I was sniffing pigs’ blood!
I know that most of you are convinced that the anti-christ is Obama but I’m here to tell you all that you are wrong. This story only confirms it. Obviously no one in their right mind would do such a terrible thing unless they were under the direction of Lucifer, and the last time I checked, Obama was far away from Texas.
Dear friends, please prepare yourselves now while you have the chance. As we speak I am stocking up on aluminum foil and Dixie cups. Tonight I plan on fashioning a hat made out of wax paper and straw to ensure that the anti-christ can not manipulate my brain with his highly developed powers of mind control. I also think it may be wise to start brushing up on my gardening and food preservation skills. I think I shall also stop at the store on the way home and buy 500 cases of bottled water, a couple pallets of canned vegetables, and several bushels of wheat.
I can only hope that my words to you have inspired preparation. As of now, we only have 332 days to prepare and I would hate to know that any number of my friends and loved ones didn’t make it through simply because they were un-prepared.
A story came out this afternoon about a new high school in Utah that was trying to decide what its mascot would be. The student body took a vote and the winning choice was “Cougars”. After going through all the trouble of nominating and voting, the student body finally decided they wanted the big cat to be their mascot, presumably because of the schools proximity to BYU, Home of the Cougars.
Okay, so what’s so newsworthy about this? Well seems that even though they allowed the Cougar to be an option for voting, after it was elected, school officials announced to the students that they would not allow it for fear that middle-aged women would be offended.
I thought it was a compliment to be called a cougar, what exactly am I missing here?
Am I the only person fed up with our politically correct society? I remember when I was growing up, if something offended me or hurt my feelings, I was told to “suck it up” and get over it. And if one of our peers did something that we found offensive and we whined to an adult about it, we were considered “tattle tales.”
When did we become a society of whining, spineless, snot-nosed… wussies (for lack of a better word)? What exactly are we teaching the future generation?
Being politically correct is also a double edged sword. You will always have parties on both sides of the subject that are offended. Who exactly chooses which side gets to be babied and which one has to “man up”?
Take this for example:
Probably the biggest victim of PC is religion. Every day Christians are being told that we are not allowed to use God in our every day lives. We are not allowed to include God in our Pledge of Allegiance; we are not allowed to pray in public, we can’t display pictures of Christ on public buildings. How much longer before you go to a ball game that doesn’t start out with the National Anthem?
And why? Because we might offend someone.
Well let me tell you folks, as a Christian, I’m downright offended. Who the heck decided that Bob the Agnostic’s views and opinions were more important than mine? Why did I not get so much as an argument? I’ve been out of school for a few years but I’m pretty sure I remember learning in history class that this country was founded on Christianity. Yes, we have always been friendly and welcomed everyone that wanted to come but, they have to play by our rules. We sure don’t have a problem with shipping people back to Mexico if they decide to come over here illegally. Why? Because that’s one of our rules.
How is it then that when Bob and all his agnostic buddies come trouncing around, breaking all our rules, we bow down and kiss their feet? Why do we go above and beyond to make THEM happy?
It’s a pretty screwed up system we got going on here y’all.
I’m sorry if I offended anyone by anything above but…oh what am I talking about? No I’m not! If you find anything in here offensive, it’s your prerogative (yes, yours, not mommy’s and daddy’s, not your boss’, not congress’) to bang your head on the desk, curse my name, and never read another thing I post ever again. And it’s my prerogative to think you are a moron.
I really am a pretty easy-going person, I promise! Just ask anyone who spends any amount of time with me, it takes a lot to get my blood boiling. I like to tell people that know both me and my mother that if you imagine the exact opossite of me, you will get mom, and vice versa.
My mother, God rest her soul, is a very, ummm, how should I put this delicately?….Opinionated soul. Don’t get me wrong, I love the woman to death and she has been an excellent mom to me, I wouldn’t trade her for the world but she absolutely has an opinion about everything, a very STRONG opinion at that, and she will not rest until everyone has heard it and has agreed to change all of their views to align perfectly with hers. This of course means that once everyone has become part of her drone army, she has to change her opinion because, it’s just no fun if no one will fight with you!
I, on the other hand, tend to conform and try to understand both sides of every story. This character of mine is one reason I’m always getting in trouble with my mother. Being an only child, when mom gets mad at my step dad and needs someone to talk to, I’m pretty much the only resource. I learned a long time ago that there really is no winning an argument with someone as bullheaded as my mother but it sure is fun to make her think she’s losing!
So you would think by now that she is used to the fact that I don’t always completely side with her. Yes, I see her point of view but I also see the other side of things too. See, my mom has a tendency to nag and drill the same thing, over and over and over until you finally reach a breaking point. Bobby is pretty quick tempered as well so it really doesn’t take long for this to happen, In fact, they are a pretty volatile mixture.
Anyways, my point of this blog really isn’t about my mother, I just wanted to make a point that I understand there are two extremes out there and most people do fall closely to my mom’s side. I am somewhat of a rare breed. When I say it takes a lot to get me going, I mean it takes A LOT. Trust me, people have tried and failed. I just learned early in life that there really isn’t a whole lot out there that’s worth getting so upset over. Am I immune to stress? Absolutely not! Just come talk to me at the first of the month when I’m paying bills. But I also learned that there are a lot of things in life that you have no control over and there is no point in making yourself sick over something you can’t change. If you need to control something so badly, why not focus your energy on something that you can actually have some sort of effect on?
All this talk about stress and anger management aside, there are some things that have a way of “pushing my buttons” easier than others.
One of these things is ignorant people.
There are two types of ignorant person; the first type is the Stupid Ignorant. Stupid Ignorants are the kind that I find a little easier to tolerate. These are the ones that, for whatever reason, are incapable of completely comprehending the environment in which they have been thrust into. Somewhere in their evolutionary lineage a step was missed. Someone forgot to cross the “I’s” and dot the “T’s” (yes that was intentional) and their hereditary paperwork was filed incomplete. We all know one or two or twenty of these S.I.’s, their characteristics can be most closely compared to that of a chimpanzee. The chimp wants to excel but it just doesn’t have the mental ability to do so. Therefore, since it is of no fault of their own, I can usually learn to forgive an S.I.
Closely related to the S.I. (and sometimes these two actually overlap each other) is the O.I. or Oblivious Ignorant. O.I.’s are normal members of the general population; they have learned to think and integrate their ideas properly and have the normal amount of intelligence it takes to be “normal”. In many cases, O.I.’s are very successful individuals and because of this, you can not point them out simply by looking at them or interacting with them for brief periods of time. In fact, Oblivious Ignorance is unique in that it does not show itself all the time. This gets a little confusing so let me give you an example.
I probably have the worst luck with tires of anyone on the face of the planet. Seriously, I wish I would have been keeping track of how many tires I’ve had to replace in the last year alone, I’m pretty sure I could achieve my 15 minutes of fame in the “Guinness Book” .
So, this past weekend I went to the tire shop to replace my two front tires that are getting pretty slick and, as luck would have it, they didn’t have the right size. Since I had a very busy day I didn’t really have time to go anywhere else so I decided to just wait and try to find somewhere this week (they still haven’t been changed btw) and continue to “baby” them and add air as needed. Knowing this, I made sure to leave enough time on Sunday morning to swing by my local QT (because they have free air) and put air in them so I would be okay the rest of the day. Luckily only one of them had started to go down and it was still aired up enough to drive a little ways.
When I arrived at QT, I noticed a lady in a Honda Civic was at the air station and, since I needed gas as well, figured I would go ahead and fill up while waiting for her, it doesn’t take that long to put air in a tire after all. As I was pumping gas in my car I noticed that the entire group of passengers had exited the car and was sitting in the grass next to the car, including the lady, and no one was using the compressor. I thought this fairly strange because Sunday morning was quite chilly and the girls in the party were bundled from head to toe and shivering. I just shook my head and turned my attention back to the gas pump.
As I completed my fill up, another car pulled in behind the Civic, blocking it in and also blocking access to the compressor completely. My first thought was that someone else was there to get air and I thought nothing of it, I still had plenty time to get to church anyways. As I pulled out of the fuel bay, I noticed that the man in the new car, a jeep, seemed to know the Civic woman. I later came to the conclusion that it was her husband or boyfriend, am I right? Who cares!
This is where I started to get rather annoyed because it appeared that she had called her husband (that’s what I’m calling him, deal with it) to put air in her tires. Seriously? Is it that hard to air up a tire? Even if she had never done it before in her life, no one else in the party took the time to figure it out?
I’m pretty sure that the girls were her daughters; which from that we can deduce that Civic Woman understands the concept of sex. I know we have all been to a hardware store and understand that certain tools have “male and female” components. We are all adults here (if not, stop reading) and understand the piece that goes INSIDE the other piece is the male, and we all understand where this logical reasoning comes from. So, assuming that Civic Woman has had sex, and has had children, she understands that the male goes in the female. How hard would it have been then, to look at the valve stem on her tire and realize that it obviously resembles a certain piece of the male anatomy and that the air compressor has a part on the end that likewise resembles the female anatomy and they actually fit together quite nicely?
You know what; I’ll even chalk everything up to this put to Stupid Ignorance. I mean, sexual tendencies are an instinctive thing right? So considering the fact that the great apes and even the lowly sea slug are able to figure out how to have sex (yes, I know sea slugs are hermaphrodites, roll with me here) we can assume that even S.I.’s are capable of doing so as well. But what happened next is just ridiculous.
Keep in mind that after Jeep Man arrived, the compressor was completely blocked in so there was no way for me to just pull in and start using it.
Jeep Man now has been briefed on what the problem is. He nods his head and begins to walk around the car, making sure to look at every detail. Civic Woman follows him and listens intently as he points and explains something.
Finally! Someone who knows what they are doing!
On his third trip around the car, Jeep Man finally stops, walks back to the compressor and pushes the button to turn it on. He walks toward the front driver side tire, bends down, takes the cap off the valve stem and proceeds to air the tire up.
Two seconds later, he stands up and walks the air hose back to its housing, walks around the car two more times and then stops again at the same tire, leans down, looks it over, and says something to Civic Woman who now begins furiously digging around in the trunk and eventually produces a jack and spare tire.
From where I’m sitting the tire doesn’t appear to be flat but I’m just happy to see that something is going to be done to rectify the situation. Jeep Man proceeds to jack the Civic up and remove the tire and replace it with the spare.
Yay! We are done!……Not so much.
Now that the spare is on, Jeep Man take the “flat” to the air hose and begins to air it up. Once it has reached maximum inflation, he goes back to the spare and jacks the car up AGAIN, takes the spare off and puts the original tire back on.
Yay! Now we are done!….Not so much.
Now Jeep Man goes to the rear driver side tire, runs his hand around it and again jacks the car up, and replaces the tire with the spare.
At this point, I’m getting very irritated so I get out of my vehicle (in case they haven’t seen me sitting there patiently) and go up to them to ask if I can use the compressor for 30 seconds to air up my ONE tire.
Now, I don’t want this to come out sounding offensive so let me just say, I am far from being racist and I honestly believe that we are all created equally regardless of the color of our skin or what country we came from. That being said, as I walked up to the couple and proposed my offer, it was returned with blank looks and finally “No Habla Inglis”
I DON’T CARE IF YOU SPEAK ENGLISH OR NOT!!! We are sitting at an air pump, this is where you put air in your tires, I have been sitting here for 45 minutes now with a half flat tire, WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK I WANT TO DO, TAKE YOU TO DINNER???
You know how an extremely frustrating situation eventually starts to turn comical? That’s where I am at this point. The actions that are taking place in front of me are now becoming so much like a circus that I can actually hear Thunder and Blazes (you know, the clown music Doot doot doodle oodle doot doot doo doo…) playing in the background.
Finally, after replacing each, and I do mean each, tire on the car with the spare and airing it up, Jeep Man and Civic Woman finally load up and leave. I pull forward, hop out, air my tire up, and leave the scene in less than a minute. Sure, I could have left and found another station to take care of my situation but there was a point that needed to be made and if it had to come at the cost of me being late to church, it was one worth making!
So to conclude (I know this has been a rather long post, sorry!) if you are ever confronted face to face with Oblivious Ignorance, simply take a deep breath, sit back, and pretend it’s just another day at the circus!
You know how you get a certain song stuck in your head and no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to get the little booger to leave your brain? Or what about when you think you will outsmart the song and starting singing another that is equally as annoying. Now do you not only have one song stuck in your head, but now two and they are intermingling with each other. Instead of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” or “Mary Had a Little Lamb” you are not singing about “Mary’s Twinkling Lamb”.
The worst thing about these ill willed songs is that it’s never the entire song; it’s always just a few words, usually the first line from the chorus. I mean, if you’re going to torture me Mr. Song, why not do it full force?
So all night last night, every time that I would wake up (which was quite often) I would find myself singing the same thing over and over and over. First off, let me preface that I am not a huge fan of Taylor Swift. I’m pretty sure that anyone that knows me on a personal level can agree that I’ve made that no secret. It’s nothing against her personally in fact; I think it’s great that there is finally a young, female, role model that the younger generation can actually look up to. I think it’s great that they can finally see that there is more to success than power and corruption, or drugs and alcohol. So for that, I hope that she continues her career and continues to be successful. I just don’t care for her music.
Why is it then, that every time I woke up last night I had “Someday I’ll be, living in a big ‘ole city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean” over and over a million times in my head? I even found that turning the radio on to something completely opposite from Taylor Swift-ish music (they call it country but it’s not the country I remember growing up on) had absolutely no effect whatsoever.
So here I am sitting at work this morning and since I get here before everyone else, I normally enjoy the peace and quiet. This morning however, I’m praying that someone would come in and start ranting and raving about something.
I know every office has to have that group of people. The one’s that sit 5 feet from each other but still feel the need to scream at each other when talking about personal stuff. And they always belong to the early shift. They come in at 6 or 7 and want to talk about everything that their dog did last night or how many cucumbers they have in their garden. As if those types of conversations aren’t bad enough, they have to elaborate.
Kid you not, the other day the “Silence Pirates” were discussing the matter of quirky (that’s the word they used, I referred to most of these things as downright weird) habits. Now, we all know that this is a topic that can go south quickly and, I would assume, most people would take into consideration the ears of those around them when they discuss such things. But Silence Pirates don’t care. They just want to be heard and they will go to all extremes to make sure that everyone within a 3 mile radius stops everything they do to listen to them. These mean little Pirates have the audacity to think that we actually care about their problems.
At one point, I overheard the following statement:
Excuse me? You do WHAT? Seriously, why, why, why, why, why, would you first, do that, and secondly, admit to doing it? And let’s not forget that you are screaming to the person 5 feet away so all 50 people in the office can hear you! Thank goodness this was before the rest of the office came in because I’m pretty sure there would have been an absolute explosion of laughter.
Are people really just that oblivious? Have we been so desensitized that common etiquette has just been thrown to the wayside?
The more and more I think about it now, the more I think my girl Taylor Swift sounds like an excellent musical choice. Anyone got a CD of hers I can listen to?
I have been getting these random e-mails from people I’ve never met telling me that they found my resume and “feel that [I] would be an excellent candidate for a position within our company.” That may not seem all that weird but the funny thing is they always ask for my personal information, name, phone number, SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER, address, all that fun stuff.
First of all, the name of the sender is usually something like Tom Turkeyandmeatballs or something completely off the wall, secondly, these always come from a Gmail account. I understand that not all small companies have company e-mail but the least they could do is create a company Gmail account. How hard would it be to come up with XYZcompany@gmail.com?
All that aside, my biggest issue with these messages is that they say nothing about what company they are with, what kind of job, where they are located, NOTHING. I’ve gotten a few that say “We reviewed your resume…blah,blah,blah” and then 2 sentences later say “We do not have a copy of your resume on file, please send a copy if you have it.” Ummm, contradict yourself much? Obviously this little scheme has not been put together very well.
I used to ignore these messages and just chalk them up as spam but I have responded to a couple just to humor them stating “Please advise what company you are with and where you got my information before I send you any personal information.” Strangely, I haven’t received any responses.
This morning I was feeling exceptionally feisty and decided to send a different response. Here is the original e-mail:
You have been qualified to become a secret agent, where you are will
surveying different shops like walmart,western union etc and give us a detailed
report on them without their knowledge.
We request you to forward us your resume asap.If resume is not handy kindly
email us your following details below:
And my response:
“Dear Gerber Baby,
Thanks for sending me this message on this fancy letter machine. Sorry it took me so long to reply but I couldn’t figure out how to send you a message back. I kept using that funny little Morse code thingy to send you a response but every time I tried to tap the words in this funny little arrow would pop up on the screen and start doing a jig…Right there on the darned screen! I asked Bubba about it and he said he thought that little contraption was called a mouse. A mouse? Now who ever heard of such a thing? Bubba ain’t none too smart though, I knew he didn’t know what he was talking about because my cat, Precious, was sitting in my lap the whole time and she never once tried to chase that little mouse contraption.
Oh well, I’m shocked that you want me to be a secret agent, heck, I can’t believe the F.B.I. actually found me. I’ve been hiding from you people for 15 years! I guess that’s why you want me to be a secret agent though huh? I reckon since I’ve been able to hide from you for this long, I must be pretty darn good at being all secretive and stuff. Well I just wanted to let you know that I would be more than happy to be a spy for you and I even have my own gun! I also have a pet raccoon that I’ve trained to attack when I tell him to, his name is Sprinkles.
I’m just so gosh darned excited to get started being an agent. Heck I usually park my house right outside the Wal-mart so it won’t be no problem going in and out of there any time I need to. And my old man, Jim Bob Earl Frank, well he said that if I could be a secret agent at the Wal-Mart then he just might be able to get that job he’s always wanted to. See Jim Bob Earl Frank ain’t none too bright but gosh darn it he sure is a good pest control person. Yup, see he don’t shower but once every 3 months so all he’s got to do is walk into a house and them thar rodents just fall over dead.
I don’t speak french so I don’t know what one of them fancy resume thingies is but here’s all the stuff you asked fer:
First Name: Clarabelle
Middle Name: Josephine
Last Name: Nipplebank
Address: Where ever I park the house
City: Doesn’t matter as long as the county ain’t dry
State: Any of them except North Carolina, my P.O. said if I ever step foot in North Carolina again I would go straight to the big house
Zip: Well I don’t reckon I understand why this is important but I ain’t got no zipper on my pants to zip up
Country: Yeah, I prefer country over city, them city folks is rude
Phone Number: I’ve got 2 of them but only 1 works
Can’t wait to hear what my first assignment is. I’ll make sure and not feed Sprinkles for a couple nights make sure he’s good and angry!”
Seriously though, do people really fall for this? I’m far from being one of those paranoid types and I probably should be a little more careful at times but the fact that people still fall for these kinds of schemes amazes me. It’s sad that we as humans just can’t get our act together. Maybe I’ll go over to Clarabelle Josephine Nipplebank’s house tonight (if I can find it) she seems like she’s got her act together.
***Note: This is all for fun folks, don’t get all politically correct on me and chastise me for bringing a little humor to your day. If you are offended by anything you just read…well, honestly, I don’t care.***
I got a visit today from one of the operations managers at my job. He was trying to watch and see how I handled a certain report so that he could train someone else at another location to backfill me when necessary. From the moment he sat down at my desk he was trying to change everything that I do on this report. I could understand if it was not effective but the fact is, I have been doing this report for about 6 months now and I haven’t heard a complaint yet.
The guy who was doing it before me literally took all day to get it done and he only had one function, this report. He would come in at 0730 and stay past 1700 to do this report. I have absolutely no clue what he was doing because now that I have taken this over it literally takes me at the very most 2 hours but more often than not, I can have it done in 30 minutes. So obviously what I’m doing is far more efficient than the guy before me.
Now I know a little about computers and Office products but Excel is one of those things that I’m a little slower at. I remember the first time I was introduced to macros; I still don’t know how I lived before them! So the operations guy is sitting behind me and says “Why don’t you use a VLOOKUP?” My response to this is simple, “Because I don’t know how.” I do however know that my predecessor WAS using the VLOOKUP function of Excel and that obviously wasn’t working all that well for him.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand the concept of a VLOOKUP and I can see where it has definite benefits but I can also see where it could be a little time consuming.
I don’t even care that there is or isn’t a better way to do what I’m doing, in fact I agree that there most definitely is a better way but the thing is, if this works for me, and I enjoy doing it this way, why do I need to change?
Why must we always be faster than fast? And faster than fast is never fast enough. Why can’t we learn to slow things down and enjoy them for a change?
My thing with this situation is- I’m the type of person who has to be doing something constantly. I can’t stand to be bored. I thrive in a fast paced, high stress; “balls to the wall” type environment however lately, work has been super slow. So one way to compensate this is to try to manage my time a little better, meaning, take my time in doing things and making sure that they are done correctly.
Now, I know that I should keep the company and my customer in mind when doing this and I do. Just because I take an extra 30 minutes to do this report doesn’t mean they don’t get it in a timely fashion in fact, they request to have it no later than 1500 every day and they ALWAYS have it before noon and no one has ever complained.
What’s that saying? “Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke”,” Slow down and smell the roses”…either of those seems to play well in this problem.
When are we going to learn that we can get more done if we take the time to step back and slow down occasionally? It applies to every day life, not just my reports. Humans feel as though we have to hit the ground running and continue going flat out until we finally break. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with the world. Maybe if we slowed down and enjoyed the things that we take for granted we could eventually get more done…hmmm just a thought!