Now that it's official that I'm not even properly qualified for the position I currently hold, I've decided it's time to finish my stint in retail. Only problem is, I'm not sure where to go from here. I'm so far removed from television production that my chances of landing a decent paying job in that field are slim and none, and slim just left the building.
Having tried and failed many times to either change positions in retail, or branch out into a new career field I'm running out of ideas. Do I go back to school? If so, do I try for grad school in media, communications, and/or politics? Or do I just go back to undergrad and try for a degree with more obvious career choices like accounting?
What do people do for a living anyway? I obviously have no idea. And how do I stop feeling "locked in" by my current salary? These are rhetorical questions. I'm not changing jobs or going back to school because I just don't do something if it is not in some way counter productive.
Yada Yada Yada
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Down for the Count
Well so much for that position with a certain unnamed national retail company. I've been knocked down yet again, and this time I don't think I'll be getting up. I guess JC Peney is as good a place as any to live out a career in exile.
I've got a woman's thighs
and a woman's mind
neither are nice.
Women's rights!
A remembrence fund has been set up in honour of my career search, you may mail a contribution (tax deductible) to the following address:
I've got a woman's thighs
and a woman's mind
neither are nice.
Women's rights!
A remembrence fund has been set up in honour of my career search, you may mail a contribution (tax deductible) to the following address:
Dave Career Memorial
13690 West Niles Blvd
Santiago, Chile AZ4 6T7
13690 West Niles Blvd
Santiago, Chile AZ4 6T7
Monday, May 15, 2006
Weather every 10 Minutes
Without exception, the people who work in front of the camera at your local TV station are equal parts worldy egomaniacs and sheltered, dim-witted know-nothings. Also without exception, the smaller the market in which you work, the larger the egos of said anchorfolk. Imagine what it was like working in the 30somethingth largest market in the US. God help anyone who gets stuck working in Billings, Montana.
In Iowa, local TV personalities are real celebrities. The kind you might wait in line for hours to see and still feel good about yourself. If George Clooney and Kevin Cooney were each attending separate events in Des Moines, it'd be a toss up as to who would draw the largest crowd.
Worst among anchor offenders are the weather gu, er 'meterologists,' with their delusions of meaningfulness they attach to boy-who-cried-wolf type weather hysteria. Prime-time television might as well not even exist in Iowa, because the meterologists are always pre-empting it to talk about the rainstorm halfway across the state.
During my stint at one of DSM's local TV huts, I worked with a particularly obnoxious misogynist, excuse me I mean meterologist, whom we'll call John Updike for the purposes of this story. John was young. Fresh out of weathivision school and ready to impress. He'd lick anyone's minge to get ahead, but he'd draw a firm line at sucking dick. I never much cared for him.
Because John was a certified idiot, I spent a lot of time intentionally making him mess up on-air. Most of the time I would take pleasure from forcing errors most viewers wouldn't notice; giving him bad cues, mis-timing his countdowns, and 'accidentally' switichg off his prompter which showed him his position relative to the map on the green screen behind him.
After one particularly annoying Saturday morning assholish comment from John, I decided it was time for him to pay. We were doing a segment on dog owners after the break, and John was to toss from the weather center to the anchor-with-guest in the other studio. During the break, John was pre-reading the copy for his toss on the prompter and asked me how to pronounce "Daschund." I was already looking for a way to embarrass him on-air, and hallelujah the man had tossed me a home-run pitch, right down the center of the plate.
I confidently explained the word was pronounced "Dash" (as in Mrs.) Hound." He accepted my answer without question and during the toss announced that anchor 'Joey' was in the studio with some special dash hounds.
As if the anchor in the studio with the puppies were in on my devious plan, he corrected John on the air before beginning the interview. Ah, the power of live television to make the people who make it laugh.
In Iowa, local TV personalities are real celebrities. The kind you might wait in line for hours to see and still feel good about yourself. If George Clooney and Kevin Cooney were each attending separate events in Des Moines, it'd be a toss up as to who would draw the largest crowd.
Worst among anchor offenders are the weather gu, er 'meterologists,' with their delusions of meaningfulness they attach to boy-who-cried-wolf type weather hysteria. Prime-time television might as well not even exist in Iowa, because the meterologists are always pre-empting it to talk about the rainstorm halfway across the state.
During my stint at one of DSM's local TV huts, I worked with a particularly obnoxious misogynist, excuse me I mean meterologist, whom we'll call John Updike for the purposes of this story. John was young. Fresh out of weathivision school and ready to impress. He'd lick anyone's minge to get ahead, but he'd draw a firm line at sucking dick. I never much cared for him.
Because John was a certified idiot, I spent a lot of time intentionally making him mess up on-air. Most of the time I would take pleasure from forcing errors most viewers wouldn't notice; giving him bad cues, mis-timing his countdowns, and 'accidentally' switichg off his prompter which showed him his position relative to the map on the green screen behind him.
After one particularly annoying Saturday morning assholish comment from John, I decided it was time for him to pay. We were doing a segment on dog owners after the break, and John was to toss from the weather center to the anchor-with-guest in the other studio. During the break, John was pre-reading the copy for his toss on the prompter and asked me how to pronounce "Daschund." I was already looking for a way to embarrass him on-air, and hallelujah the man had tossed me a home-run pitch, right down the center of the plate.
I confidently explained the word was pronounced "Dash" (as in Mrs.) Hound." He accepted my answer without question and during the toss announced that anchor 'Joey' was in the studio with some special dash hounds.
As if the anchor in the studio with the puppies were in on my devious plan, he corrected John on the air before beginning the interview. Ah, the power of live television to make the people who make it laugh.
Pass/Fail
The same girl asked me for change 5 different times today. To give her at least some credit, she did catch me on both sides of a clothing change; out of my fancypants duds for my final interview with a certain unnamed national retail chain, and into my hipster wannabie garb complete with designer (if not wholesale) jeans and Puma zippy.
Begging, however, ranks higher on my list of moral reprehensibility than scamming. Scam artists are the scum of the earth. At least beggars have had to swallow their pride and have the decency to ask you for your money outright. Scammers want nothing more than to rip you off, sucker.
I believe everyone on the planet gets scammed at least once in his or her life. It happened to Ben and me on the streets of Liverpool a couple years ago. A moderately well-dressed, middle-aged, white woman stopped us on the street corner and explained that her wallet had just been stolen and she had no money to get on the bus home. All she wanted was spare change to call her children and tell them she was okay.
Ben and I being suckers; we decided to help her out. It should be said that even though we'd been in the UK for a few days, both of us were still in that phase where foreign currency feels much like play money. Our inability to feel any sense of value associated with the thick coins filling up our pockets led us to give the woman something in excess of 5 Pounds sterling. A total sum of more than $8 using the exchange rate of the day. Not a lot of money, but certainly a phone call and a week's worth of bus trips to scam other passers by.
I remember my dad getting scammed once in San Francisco as well. We were about to buy fare cards for the Cable Car at the Fisherman's Wharf. A man standing next to the fare machine stopped us from putting our dollars in, and became our personal transit broker. He took our money in exchange for 3 fare cards. How convenient for us that we didn't have to use that clumsy machine. Thank you kind sir. Naturally, the fare cards were expired.
It should be noted that both my mother and I saw directly through this particular scheme, but were powerless to stop my father from diving into the abyss.
Do you have any embarrassing stories of being ripped off? Maybe we could do a TV show about them. Where's John Stossel when you need him? Or did he already do this story 1000 times?
Begging, however, ranks higher on my list of moral reprehensibility than scamming. Scam artists are the scum of the earth. At least beggars have had to swallow their pride and have the decency to ask you for your money outright. Scammers want nothing more than to rip you off, sucker.
I believe everyone on the planet gets scammed at least once in his or her life. It happened to Ben and me on the streets of Liverpool a couple years ago. A moderately well-dressed, middle-aged, white woman stopped us on the street corner and explained that her wallet had just been stolen and she had no money to get on the bus home. All she wanted was spare change to call her children and tell them she was okay.
Ben and I being suckers; we decided to help her out. It should be said that even though we'd been in the UK for a few days, both of us were still in that phase where foreign currency feels much like play money. Our inability to feel any sense of value associated with the thick coins filling up our pockets led us to give the woman something in excess of 5 Pounds sterling. A total sum of more than $8 using the exchange rate of the day. Not a lot of money, but certainly a phone call and a week's worth of bus trips to scam other passers by.
I remember my dad getting scammed once in San Francisco as well. We were about to buy fare cards for the Cable Car at the Fisherman's Wharf. A man standing next to the fare machine stopped us from putting our dollars in, and became our personal transit broker. He took our money in exchange for 3 fare cards. How convenient for us that we didn't have to use that clumsy machine. Thank you kind sir. Naturally, the fare cards were expired.
It should be noted that both my mother and I saw directly through this particular scheme, but were powerless to stop my father from diving into the abyss.
Do you have any embarrassing stories of being ripped off? Maybe we could do a TV show about them. Where's John Stossel when you need him? Or did he already do this story 1000 times?
"Tomorrow" belongs to mediocrity
Did you see the West Wing series finale last night? For your sake, I hope you had other plans. To sum it up in one word or less: boring. Man, did that show go down hill after Sorkin stopped doing coke.
The final episode did its best to try to appease long-time WW viewers whilst wrapping up the loose ends from the rather soap-opera-like story arcs from the past two seasons. In this and only this was the last installment a success. If you were waiting for one of those profound, "they did it again" moments so typical of West WIng's past, then you were left waiting. And the final shot? Air force One flying over the Atlantic on the way to New Hampshire?
Lame.
The final episode did its best to try to appease long-time WW viewers whilst wrapping up the loose ends from the rather soap-opera-like story arcs from the past two seasons. In this and only this was the last installment a success. If you were waiting for one of those profound, "they did it again" moments so typical of West WIng's past, then you were left waiting. And the final shot? Air force One flying over the Atlantic on the way to New Hampshire?
Lame.
Friday, May 05, 2006
The Password is...
(Medium)
Back from the windy city with computer finally working properly; I'm now able to relay some of the best bits from this past weekend...except that I've already forgotten them or Cupcake has stolen my thunder by posting the best material.
Seriously though, what do you call a pilot's wife? Or for that matter a pirate's wife?
Most of the Chicago crowd thought my post about the relative nature of the word 'medium' to be quite lame. I guess I'm a lot like Stephen Colbert, in that if you don't get my ironic, cynical comedic voice, then you must be an idiot. He and I are both genui. That notwithstanding, the medium gag played a big role in the events of said weekend.
In fact, the weekend took on an official theme: Medium.
Much time was devoted to long-winded explanations of how the current activity actually applied to the weekend theme. Most convincing was the game of Hangman (TM) played over dinner Friday night. The category? You guessed it. What do you think the answer was. I'll give you a hint, if you are thinking of that vaguely familiar Chloe chick from some late-night commercials a few years ago, then you are getting warm.
--------
| |
| O
| >|< __ __ __ __ __ __ __
| ^
--------------
Yay for me. Pictures to follow.
Cubs game Fri. They won. Wrigley's great. Windy. Rained all day Sat. & Sun. Nancy. Umbrella. Poof.
Back from the windy city with computer finally working properly; I'm now able to relay some of the best bits from this past weekend...except that I've already forgotten them or Cupcake has stolen my thunder by posting the best material.
Seriously though, what do you call a pilot's wife? Or for that matter a pirate's wife?
Most of the Chicago crowd thought my post about the relative nature of the word 'medium' to be quite lame. I guess I'm a lot like Stephen Colbert, in that if you don't get my ironic, cynical comedic voice, then you must be an idiot. He and I are both genui. That notwithstanding, the medium gag played a big role in the events of said weekend.
In fact, the weekend took on an official theme: Medium.
Much time was devoted to long-winded explanations of how the current activity actually applied to the weekend theme. Most convincing was the game of Hangman (TM) played over dinner Friday night. The category? You guessed it. What do you think the answer was. I'll give you a hint, if you are thinking of that vaguely familiar Chloe chick from some late-night commercials a few years ago, then you are getting warm.
--------
| |
| O
| >|< __ __ __ __ __ __ __
| ^
--------------
Yay for me. Pictures to follow.
Cubs game Fri. They won. Wrigley's great. Windy. Rained all day Sat. & Sun. Nancy. Umbrella. Poof.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
New and Improved?
Dear Readers,
I sincerely apologize for the lack of posts, lame or otherwise, for the past few days. Apparently I have the computer equivalent of a black thumb. My brand new Toshiba notebook, which I use to write these important messages to all of you, recently went under the knife to have the factory installed lemon-of-a-hard drive replaced.
You might recall that the same disease is what rendered my previous Sony notebook deceased. Luckily there were lessons learned from the first go around with computer hardware disasters, so none of my important files were lost this time around.
The computer is out of surgery now, and resting up a bit before returning to normal duties. Thanks for your patience regarding this matter. We at PoE hope to be able to serve up more bullshit in a day or so.
Sincerely,
PoE Staff
I sincerely apologize for the lack of posts, lame or otherwise, for the past few days. Apparently I have the computer equivalent of a black thumb. My brand new Toshiba notebook, which I use to write these important messages to all of you, recently went under the knife to have the factory installed lemon-of-a-hard drive replaced.
You might recall that the same disease is what rendered my previous Sony notebook deceased. Luckily there were lessons learned from the first go around with computer hardware disasters, so none of my important files were lost this time around.
The computer is out of surgery now, and resting up a bit before returning to normal duties. Thanks for your patience regarding this matter. We at PoE hope to be able to serve up more bullshit in a day or so.
Sincerely,
PoE Staff
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