Taxes – Bloody Taxes

Its not enough that I have property taxes due the beginning of April, but was also blessed with that annual event that happens on the 15^th – The Blood Letting of America.

This year, I tried to complete my taxes several different ways – single, married joint, married separate. There is no escaping it, I had to pay. Seems I was too busy to run a side business this year & all those wonderful deductions fell to the way-side. Like watching money blow away. That, coupled with my two-legged deductions that keep getting older and therefore, no longer useful in that department – It’s a no win situation. I wish someone would tell Uncle Sam that the ex-deductions still live here and have to eat.

Olive oil update

Yeah, the crime of the century was actually a non-event. Seems Son # 2 used it and some salt as some form of facial rub. Relax Bubbelah, I’ve replaced them. Now, if I can just get to the bottom of the colander caper. . . .

My Electrician

So I go to see my electrophysiologist (some called them an EP, I call him “the electrician” as opposed to my cardiologist – “the Plumber”). He’s the guy that monitor’s my heart’s electrical activity. Its really a very interesting visit in a scientific kind of way. They put a paddle on my upper left clavicle area where “my little friend” is implanted. (Visually you can’t see it, but you can feel it.) then they test it by surging power to it. You can feel your upper Atria and then your lower Ventricles vibrate. You do get dizzy as your brain is not getting 100% of the blood supply due to your quivering heart.

Then they interrogate it. Yup, they do a data dump & it spills all its information. So my Doctor says – “Oh looky, you’ve had 8 episodes of SVT (Supraventricular tachycardia) in the past 3 months !” now for all you lay folk out there, that’s a super fast heart beat. Usually they come on fast and if they don’t convert to sinus (normal) then they could trigger my device to kick in and either shock me, or monitor & wait. Amazing. Like a lifeguard. That and the fact that I’m Bluetooth is cool! I have a device at home that allows me to send a data dump if I’m not doing to well. I’ve done it a couple of times. It also reminds me to do it, should it sense something. It has this 4 inch light that glows off & on. Like the mother ship wanting to communicate.

So back to Dr. Bendarhi’s comment. “8 episodes - Have you’ve been under any stress lately?” “Yeah, you can say that.” was all I could muster.

Not a good day

I’m usually an upbeat person. You know, the kind that sees the glass is half full. I’m not the cheery, wide-grin smiles 24-7 type, but it takes a lot to get me down. But yesterday, I got the news that the position I really wanted, they decided to “go in another direction.” Also, rather than any of the key personnel I interviewed with giving me this news, they had the department secretary call. So sad.

The months of unemployment were going to end. The position had a nice balance between creative & administrative. The folks seemed very nice. This opportunity was much needed as I face my father’s rapid decline. He is barely able to talk anymore and when he does, it doesn’t make any sense. Usually, he recognizes me when I say good-bye.

I think what also is getting me down is that this is the second company to post ad, interview candidates, THEN decide that they don’t need to fill the position. Not sure if its poor HR management or what. Its not only depressing to me but their own employees as well! And with this most recent news, I’m left in the dark – I have no idea what going in a different direction means. I can assume is cheaper than hiring a new person, but that’s it.

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?