She stole my Extra Virgin Olive Oil!

Anyone who’s been through a divorce knows the trials and tribulations I’ve had to endure. Its bad enough to find out that the person who bore your three boys doesn’t like you, let alone find out a week before your birthday that she’s been having an affair for the last six months.

But this latest assault just rubs me the wrong way. She stole my Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

I’ve allowed her 100% access to the kids and house. I think this is fair as our youngest is still in high school and currently our divorce is on hold until I can get a job and pay her for half of the house. She only moved out two months ago (to a place I call – Bachelor Arms) so this latest “issue” is a surprise to me. Am I her personal 7-11?  I think what I don’t like is that fact she didn’t tell me. No note. No email. Nadda.  It wasn’t until last night when I was cooking a dinner of sausage & peppers with linguini that I realized the EVO was pilfered.

I have no idea what else is missing! I’m sure if someone is going to stoop so low as to steal your olive oil, that they may have also purloined some other staples from my larder as well. I’ll likely happen upon these missing items when I’m cooking again. It was like this about a month ago when I noticed that she took two of the smaller strainers. (again another pasta dish).  I’m not being petty, I have said time and time again, she can have what ever she wants, I want her out of this house ASAP and did anything I could to make this happen (and that took her over two months to do).

I would not think of stepping into her domain and lifting her pickles. This behavior is strange indeed.  She did leave a post it the other day stating she’s taking a mixing bowl (I was out running errands). When I saw her later that afternoon (she had come by to walk the dog & pick up #3 son) she then asked if she could take it. I said it appears you were going to take it regardless, based on the note. Truth be told, I was probably still stinging from the prior colander incidence. 

I just think I deserve some respect. Is that too much to ask for? 

Plea for a job

The following is an mass email plea I sent a couple of weeks after I was let go. I was really tired of annoying HR forms & stuff. It did lead to a few calls which is good.

Fellow Marketers and Colleagues:

Well, the economic times have finally hit me and I’m resorting to a mass email campaign. While these are generally reserved for school fundraisers and foreign lottery scams, I guess this is a testament to the times. It occurred to me – We all work in the same industry and are members of the same group. If I needed to let my brethren know of my plight, who better than you?

I promise no chain letters or threaten harm to you or your loved ones if you don’t forward this to 5 others.

I was "let go" last week and to date have contacted 48 A/E/C firms. Have you any idea how mind-numbing some HR portal are? My favorite ones have like 20 screens (and a counter to view your ”progress”) where they force you to enter every job you ever had for the last 10 years. While that alone is not tough, its doing it in the format they require – 2 digit months/days and 4 digit years, supervisors name, phone and email (did they even have email 10 years ago?) and other such important and obviously vital details. Then, at the very end, you are allowed to import your resume, which you’ve just spent an hour recreating for them!

Only to have them respond in 2.25 seconds with “while your qualifications are impressive. . .”

Firms seem to have had a great deal to say about me! Remarkably, Firm A makes an identical assertion. Firm B also express this view but does not limit its opinion to my qualifications. Rather, it considers my “credentials and qualifications” to be “impressive.” Firm C takes a different focus, indicating that my “background is impressive.” According to Firm D, my “resume is impressive.” Furthermore, Firm E feels slightly more strongly, stating that they were “most impressed” with my resume. Clearly, there is a consensus among many firms that I am “impressive.” Although there is some disagreement about whether my background, credentials, qualifications, resume, or a combination of these are impressive, it is obvious that I am impressive on some level!

So I ask you, Could you open your outlook, your rolodex, that massive stack of business cards on your desk that tests the elastic strength of the rubber band that holds it together, and possibly send my resume to a few of your friends – You know, the one that complained that their too busy to meet for drinks. Or the one that cancelled dinner at the last moment because they had to finish that proposal.

And what do you get for this lofty, time-consuming gift? Karma. Sweet, Beautiful, Karma.

You see, I was just like you last week and I know if I had contacted myself last week with this request, I surely would have done so! I appreciate your help and I hope that I never have to reciprocate, but if requested, I will.

Wishing you a lovely and blessed holiday.

The Amazing One, Marc

Sleep disorder testing - What a frick’in nightmare!

When I was first investigating my heart condition, I had to endure a lot of other tests. This is one of them. 

Arrive at the “sleep center” at 9:30 last night. They didn’t start to hook me up till 10:30. By that time I was really tired & looking for a good nights sleep (despite having 26 wires connected to my face & head, leads on my chest, stomach and ankles – 2 each). I too, wondered “what if I have to pee?” and they showed me a quick disconnect device (which I never got to use). By 11 (I am trying to stay awake for the instructions . . .) its finally lights out & testing time.

In the dark they have camera’s watching me, microphone recording me (snoring and other bodily noises I assume) and for the next 15 minutes they use an intercom to give me instructions . . .”roll eyes up, now down, grit teeth, wiggle toes, blink.”

Once I get the clearance to sleep - I can’t. I am aware of every frick’in noise in that place! Noisy ac, the sound of a candy wrapper down the hall (through a very heavy door mind you) a jet-driven toilet that I swear could swalllow a small deer, the weird CRUNCHY pillow, etc. Some time around 1 am a loud voice comes over the intercom (they assumed correctly I was barely awake) MARC, TURN OVER, WE CAN”T GET A HEART BEAT! I literally did a 180 in the air above my bed. And landed on my back. Sometime around 2:30 the heavy door swings open (slamming the chair next to it) and bright light fills the room. Nurse Racket decides to fiddle with the electrodes on my ankles and once she satisfied with her elaborate taping job, she leaves slapping her hands together like a baker getting flour off her hands.

I not sure if I ever went back to sleep. At 5:30 the daytime staff arrive (for what I ask, this is a sleep clinic!), coffee is brewed and at 5:45 they barge in again. Within 12 minutes, they rip the tape & electrodes from my body and I'm out the door "ready" to drive home. Blink Blink.

Once I get home I realize they didn’t rip all the stuff off (including her salute to ankle taping) so I have to tear it off myself, cursing my hairy ancestors. Then I discover the lovely use of putty and Vaseline used for the connections on my scalp (12 of the 26 leads). Needless to say, now I understand the instructions to rinse and repeat.

So how was your night?

Bad Interview

Now, mind you, I've interviewed all my life, I average 2 a year while I have a job and significantly more when I'm in between gigs (like now!). I've had bad interviews, horrible interviews, I even had a guy die on me once. but this last one was the worst. 

Meeting was at 1:00 and I arrived at the golden hour of 12:45. This allows me to see the employees at their lunchtime best (and identify if they are a cup-a-soup crowd or a subway crowd). The office is not an office, but a house, next to a small (but busy) regional airport. Every two minutes the entire structure rattles and shakes as tiny 4 seater planes barely clear the roof. The odd part was watching the employees as this is happening. Aluminum bullets loaded with aviation fuel are literally 5-10 feet above their heads and their discussing Lady GaGa's Grammy dress as if nothing is odd. 
The waiting room is not a lobby, but a converted mudroom and it already contains a "reception" desk. 

My interview was with the VP and he was late from lunch. He arrived somewhere around 10 after and we proceeded past the kitchen to one of the bedrooms which serves as his office. Now this house was converted to an office sometime in the 60's but it STILL had 60's space/rocket wallpaper! It also contained two desks. It seemed odd that a VP would share an office, but then again, at least it didn't have bunk beds!

He sits down and the very first words out of his mouth are - "I have no idea why Mike sent you here" (always a charmer this guy). He mentions that according to my resume, I've never worked in this industry and I quickly point out that in many of my jobs I was new to the industry and this allowed me to bring a fresh approach. Apparently, he's not looking for fresh. He wants someone with a golden rolodex, ability to talk the talk, and willing to pay for client's lap dances at the many fine establishments in the area (where I'm sure they have a tab).

Suffice to say this last interview lasted all of 8 minutes. I was outside ducking airplanes at 1:20 pm. I then went to the Nursing home/Hospice to visit my dad for a more uplifting experience.

Oops

True story - 
Just got off the phone with my sister who live in Oregon. My sister is 6 years older and my parents first born. I was adopted & came last in the line-up. Suffice to say due to age difference, my sister & I really didn't have a relationship until we were adults. 
One of the things we like to remind each other is how much my sister is like my mom & how I lucked out on that gene pool. Case in point. . .
Yesterday my sister & her neighbor decided (on the spur of the moment) to go to the local Y and go swimming. (I was always envious that she can do laps for an hour, while I'm lucky to actually do A lap!) Anyways, seems they decided to go to the local "alternative grocery store" after the swim & grabbed her cloth shopping bags from her trunk. She mentioned when checking out that the bag boy seemed a bit odd, but they chocked it up to the large quantity of raisin bran they purchased. Well imagine my sister's horror when she brought the bags into the house & was emptying the bags and found their bra's and panties in one of the bags!

A Little Background

Thought it might be useful to put a wee bit of background on me and why I started this Blog. Number 1, to vent and help me stay sane, and Number 2, Well, if it helps you in dealing with a similar situation – Great. And, if you are seeking new inspiration and ideas for a television show – Good Luck!

Perhaps the easiest way is to start from today and go back a few months. . .

Today is Valentines Day 2010, and the 2nd anniversary of my becoming bionic. You see, I have an AICD (http://health.howstuffworks.com/aicd2.htm) in my chest. It prevents me from SCD - Sudden Cardiac Death. I’ve been lucky that it’s never fired, but it has taken control and monitored a couple of situations.

January 1st, my father went into the hospital for a Gall Bladder/EColi Infection and recently has been transferred to a nursing home/hospice. He’s 92 and has dementia. He only knows me about 50% of the time when I visit him.

The day after Christmas, my wife of 28 years moved out (at my request). For more on that, see October. I lost my job December 3^rd. As we all know, this recession has hit the A/E/C (architecture/engineering/construction) industry very hard and my prior firm was just not very well diversified.

In October, I found out my wife had been having an affair for the past 6 months. This confirmed what I had suspected. Sadly, I found out a week before my birthday (Happy B-Day!) but couldn’t address the situation until after my #2 son’s B-day as I didn’t know how this was going to play out. Perhaps the worst 3 weeks of my life.

Also in October, I celebrated the 1^st anniversary of my Septal Myectomy (http://www.mayoclinic.org/hypertrophic-cardiomyopathy/treatment.html). I had found out a couple of years prior, that I had HCM (http://www.mayoclinic.org/cardiovascular-disease-rst/hypertrophic.html) and thought I might be able to escape surgery, but realized that Summer the medications I was taking were not doing the trick and surgical intervention was necessary. Sadly, there are very few surgeons experienced in this and I wanted to go to the best and that led me to Dr. Joe Dearani at the Mayo Clinic.

So for the past 6 months, you can see I’ve had a lot to deal with!

Aside from that, Some personal stuff - I’m the father of 3 boys (#1 is 24, #2 is 20 and #3 is 16) all living at home. You can find me at the gym M-F for about an hour & a half and I'm home before the sun rises. I consider myself a bit of a renaissance man as I like to design & build things. I did my pool, backyard & outdoor kitchen myself, and I love to cook (desserts especially).

I’ll be sharing bits and pieces as they become relevant. Until then, I welcome your comments. Thanks for allowing me to vent.