Author: admin

Feral Cats

There’s another local number calling my cell.

“Hello this is Vince….”

Brief recorded message…“This is NOT a solicitation. This is the credit card bureau calling on behalf of Credit Card Services and your Visa Mastercard….” BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Then an unintelligible East Indian man named Steve or Jason takes the call in a go-live direction with a predictable breathless machine gun speech about offering a zero percent interest rate on my Visa card because of my “history of payment.” You know the drill, then “Steve” or “Jason” asks for the expiration date of my card so they can magically tell me the first couple of numbers on the account to add legitimacy to the scam. Then they ask me to repeat the entire card number for verification…to compare with what they have on their screen.

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The Blame Tree

Liberty… Liberty… LIBERRRRRRTEEEEEEE!

Is anyone else moderately annoyed by the Liberty Insurance commercials. I’m not talking about their catchy little jingle, I mean their message. It took a while (being background noise in my office) for the series of ads to worm into my brain.

They’re all the same; a semi-irritated woman ranting about an accident she caused and the insurance industry’s ludicrous response of raising her rates.

The commercials start with a brief outdoor confession of an at-fault fender bender or encounter with a rogue tree and then a dismissive narcissistic response.

“…. Tap one little bumper and the insurance company wants to raise my rates. HEY INSURANCE COMPANY, NEWS FLASH…NOBODY’S PERFECT!”

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STRESSED

I keep hearing how people are feeling stressed, mostly young people. I don’t get it. I mean I REALLY don’t get it, so I’m trying to figure it out. Not because analyzing the human condition is some kinda weird hobby but because I routinely have employees call in sick because they’re stressed (from life). And that’s the excuse. Not, “ I ate a bad shrimp and have been throwing up” but “I’m stressed and need the day off to get myself together.” It’s apparently the semi-adult version of a self-administered time out.

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My Kryptonite

I’m not a phone guy. I like to talk but can’t stand these little time-wasting, microwave-driven, brain cancer-causing intrusions in my life. Much like the radio in my plane, cell phone usage should be limited to necessary communication. If you wanna talk to me, please use your voice. I look forward to it. I miss it. Apologies to my friends and family but why can’t you understand that I don’t “group chat?”

My phone “dinged” twenty six times in four minutes yesterday morning while I was working on a complex customer proposal. Thinking someone had an emergency, I glanced at my phone, only to see a family string of four word volleys and a picture of Sponge Bob with his eyes crossed and tongue hanging out. I hate Sponge Bob… the new millennium’s answer to Bugs Bunny.

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It’s Not (as) Easy Being Green

There’s something going on with money. I mean, not the typical shortage I’ve been dealing with since I was ten. I’m talking about the general condition of cash. It’s ratty. Tattered. Toilet paper money.

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