My brother-in-law only gets back to our little state about once a year, but when he comes up for vacation, it’s like a little vacation for us too.
This time it was even more of a nightly “time out” from the stresses of everyday life than usual, because he showed up with a bottle of moonshine.
And a lot of fresh ginger. Continue reading
Dammit. Continue reading
Lovey Howell spoke these words on Gilligan’s Island, when it seemed that a ship might pass their uncharted desert isle. Ginger immediately leapt to her feet and took Lovey by the arm – “Oh, I’ll help you.” The next scene shows Lovey in a nautical ensemble, complete with a jaunty hat.
I remember this because it’s precisely the question I would ask. I don’t always know what I’m doing, but I know how to find out. Remember, I’m the guy who brought brie, french bread and shrimp cocktail to a cop-and-marine-filled paintball match, was scoffed at, and proceeded to shoot the crap out of everyone. I will never forget looking John – a Nassau County Corrections Officer with a psychotic gun collection – in the eye, aiming at my friend Chris, and hissing “I’m gonna off that motherfucker.” He looked at me like he was scared, and he’s 6’6″ and diesel as hell. I held up some corrugated plastic as a shield, crawled through the scrub brush, and blew my beloved Chris away with a paintball at point-blank range.
The paint was purple. Not a coincidence.
So work sucks, and it’s time to go. My colleagues are nice except for the CFO, who is an undermining asshole. I didn’t know that the SEC was in to do an examination until the day after I agreed to take the job. The CFO makes a mint while I and my assistant are at the very bottom end of the pay scale. It’s a 3-person job and there are two of us. My bonus was inappropriate. Everyone’s was, including the CFO’s, but his was in the wrong direction.
And ultimately, I blame the CEO – a man I like and respect who has given his trust to the CFO, whom I don’t. No one does. If the man Googled himself, he would be appalled.
An international bank wants to see me on Friday – they have a huge real estate trust and a private wealth management division where Compliance work is needed. I must haircut, manicure, buy new shoes, buy a new belt, pick up my fancy suit pants from the cleaners, and find a way to turn Casual Friday into Froufrou Fund Friday.
I’m a bit unprepared – I can’t find the people I’m meeting anywhere online. But I will.
I am very sorry that I will be incommunicado tomorrow, but personal business calls me out of state and I can’t be back here before late tomorrow night. Peace, all.
I might know what to wear to this rescue. But the fact is… I want to write for a living. There’s half a novel in the can. Well, the Ralph Lauren shirt box.
