2004-08-11 - 2:08 p.m.
This is supposed to be busy week, but it’s not shaping up that way.
In years past, this week was the bane of my existence. Nobody gets leave, and if you’re sick you’d better be dying. It’s why I never get to Pennsic War. The phones are supposed to be ringing off the hook. So far, nothing. So, I’m spending this week like I do every year, sitting and wondering what Pennsic is like. Especially this year, since the weather is so nice…
I’m in the final countdown to my new job, just sorta biding my time until I go over to the Dark Side (ie management!) Of course, I have to think of an appropriate prank for my last day as a processor. P3rh4ps I sh0u|_d n0t3 @|_|_ my 4cc0untz in l33t… I 4m th3 g33k m4n4g3r… ph34r m3…4h4h4h4h4… Or maybe I’ll just wear a propeller beanie.
I still have a tough time believing that I got this job with so little formal management experience. On the application and in the interview, I played up all the feast planning I’d done, and it seems to have worked. Admittedly, managing a bunch of volunteers does require a certain subtlety; it’s not like I can dock their wages or anything like that. Since I have no formal training, I guess I’m free to invent my own management style. Accordingly, I plan to enforce order among my minions through the judicious application of a rubber chicken. Direct disputes will be settled through pushup competitions, although wrestling to three falls will also be accepted. All staff meetings will be conducted standing up, to insure brevity and that everyone is paying attention. (I, of course, will be standing on my head.) I expect to be addressed as “Supreme Tyrant” at all times, and saluted as I pass by. (Yeah, that’ll go over real good.)
Seriously, I’m sure this will all go easily. Most of my employees-to-be already know me at least casually, so they have a sense of my character and personality. I plan on being pretty hands-off; they do their jobs, and I keep the higher levels of management off their backs. Real simple.
I’m really starting to see some results from the workouts. I can see individual muscles when I tense my calves, and my quads are starting to pop. Same with my forearms and shoulders. I’m even starting to see some growth in my lats. My weight is staying about the same, however. When I went in for my annual physical, my doctor gave me a lecture about losing weight, and cited the Body Mass Index to show that I’m mildly obese. Now, the BMI is somewhat controversial, as it does not take into account frame size or body composition. I could be a bodybuilder with five percent bodyfat and weigh as much as I do now, and the BMI would still indicate obesity. The bloodwork all came back good; cholesterol and everything else all within acceptable levels. I go back in six months; I’d like to go back at the same weight but with a radically different body composition. “Hey, you’re still 220 pounds, but your gut’s gone! What gives?” At times I wish I’d known at fifteen what I know now about diet and exercise; my wild years might have been much wilder.
In other news, J did not get the other job. We’ve decided to hire a sitter twice a week so J can keep working. We could get by on my salary alone, but we won’t get ahead very easily. Now we can put J’s check into savings and start paying down debts faster. Once we’ve got more breathing room, we can look things over again.
It also appears that I'll be cooking a special dinner for Duke Sir Cariadoc of the Bow when he comes through town next weekend. His cousin is a department head at a local college, and one of our members works in that same department. So Cariadoc comes through occasionally to visit, and they have dinner at this fellow's house. I've been asked to prepare a special dinner. Should be fun, especially since Cariadoc is famous for being picky.
All in all, life is good.
