Gate Stooges

Wrongly Accused: An innocent man's struggle for vindication You know I'm pretty much a law and order kind of guy, but every now and again they push me too far. I went to the University of Arizona football game tonight. I have attended the games off and on, mostly on, for the past 43 years. I attended my first game in 1963, missed 1965 through 1967 while living in California and have pretty much attended since. Over the last 43 years things have changed at the old stadium. We used to be able to bring our own refreshments to the game. I would often bring a cooler full of soda along and no one bothered to look inside most of the time. The guys at the gate were a bunch retirees trying to get out of the house for a few hours. Those were innocent times. These days the list of items that can be carried into the stadium is very short and security is tight and for good reason, I suppose. We still have the volunteer ticket-takers, mostly older folks. They wear bright blue vests, emblazoned with Customer Service across the back. Unfortunately, before you can reach the friendly customer service team, you must run the gauntlet of gate stooges, an elite force, no doubt hired through some mulitnational stooge broker. The gate stooges are the first line of defense at the stadium. No contraband will pass a stooge unmolested, not today, not any day, not on their watch, damn it. Bags and purses are searched thoroughly, coats being carried are examined closely, even binoculars are given close scrutiny to insure that they are really binoculars and not a hollowed-out model, being used to sneak in alcohol or even worse, exploding gel. The gate stooges run an tight operation, damn tight. I arrived at the game tonight wearing a pair of shorts, polo shirt, ballcap and tennis shoes. I wasn't carrying anything in my hands, I know better. Even the most vigilant among the stooges would have to concede that there was little chance that I was trying to sneak in a forbidden item, or so I thought. Never underestimate the tenacity of a stooge on patrol. Where a civilian sees a slightly confused old buffoon in a bad outfit and ballcap, a gate stooge sees danger lurking. This is why they proudly don the yellow EVENT STAFF shirt. Their latest unwarranted power grab is a demand that all persons wearing hats remove them for inspection prior to entry into the facility. Enough is enough. I was wearing a ball cap tonight and the gate stooge made me take it off. I have a horse-sized head and my cap fits snuggly on my giant melon. A gnat couldn't sneak in unnoticed under my cap, but the gate stooge demanded anyway. The history of international terrorism is devoid of exploding hats, so I fail to see their purpose. Richard Reed could breeze past the stooges with fuses attached to his shoes, as long has he was bare-headed. Jackasses. I am sick to death of these intrusions, so an indignant email to the university administration will be forthcoming. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Pennies From Heaven

For some reason I can't get this tune out of my head. Every time it rains it rains, pennies from heaven. Don't you know each cloud contains, pennies from heaven. Its strange. I received an email today in my Hotmail account, provided free by the great gang at MSN, from the fine folks at Google, where Google's mission is to organize the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful©, about my Google AdSense™ account. In case you are unaware, Google offers bloggers the opportunity to place ads on their blog, in exchange for cash. Should anyone click on the excellent Google AdSense™ ad on the site, Google will send the blogger, in this case me, mad cash, as the youngsters might say. The Terms and Conditions of Service of the Google AdSense™ program preclude me from pointing out the exact location of their ad on my page, but the intepid reader may spot it. More on that later. To get back to the point, the email was to inform me that Google AdSense™ was withholding payment to me because I had not provided my tax information to them. After that Chinese snafu, the last thing Google wants is more trouble with national governments, including Uncle Sam. Well, I broke all cyberspacic records zooming to my Google AdSense™ account site, to find out how damn much money of mine they were holding. If Larry and Sergey think Merle Sneed is financing that darn plane of theirs with his hard-earned blogging dough, they have another think coming. I momentarily had the fleeting thought that it might be enough to pay off Casa Sneed, leaving me to live my dream of full-time curmogeonery. But then reality slapped me and slapped me hard. Since I've only had 1200 or so visitors in my long blogging career, it could, at most, only be a few hundred bucks. Not enough to rid myself of Casa Sneed's Chase Mortgage a wholly-owned subsidiary of JP Morgan Chase, Delivering Results®, 15-year, fixed-rate mortgage, but still enough to get a swell gadget of some sort. In what seemed like hours, but could only have been a nanosecond, thanks to the fine folks at Cox Communications, Your Friend in the Digital Age®, my account page loaded, on my swell new Compaq, a part of the HP Invent®, family of companies, Presaio V6000, provided by the wonderful guys and gals at Circut City, Just What I Need®, with stores throughout the nation, under the terms of their excellent extended warranty program. I don't like to boast, but Google is holding a $1.21 for old Merle. International readers can get the scope of this deal by using the currency converter here. Of course, that $1.21 is just for the past three months. When added to my previous total, it comes to a cool $1.21. To make matters worse, Google won't give me my hard-typed buck twenty-one, until my total reaches a hundred dollars. Let's see. If I earned $1.21 in 3 months, that's about 5 bucks per year, so when I am 76 I get my money. One hundred smacharoos when I am 76, assuming that I am not quite dead by then. Note to self, update your will. Now the terms of service for Google AdSense™ strictly prohibit encouraging others to click on the ads just so a guy like old Merle might receive the 100 smackers by say age 70, so don't do that, it would be wrong, very, very wrong. So to show that I am in full compliance with the Google AdSense™ terms and Conditions of Service, both in fact and in spirit, I quote from that excellent document, You shall not promote or facilitate a Referral Event by any means other than displaying a Referral Button on the Site, unless expressly authorized in writing by Google (including by electronic mail). So let's make sure we are in strict compliance here. My family has a history of longevity, except for my mother and brother, who both died young, plus several of my mother's sisters and then there was...anyway, I will likely make 76, so the hundred will be welcome then. In other matters, I am taking off work today and meeting my friend Lonnie for lunch. But first, I have to go out and see where the flood in the backyard is coming from. Sadie the Wonder Beagle has ripped up the drip irrigation again. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

A History of Bad Teeth

Look away children, it's a snaggle-toothed freak! If you look closely, you might just be able to catch a glimpse of the touch of gray in my beard. I had dental appointment today with my new dentist. I quit using my old dentist because it was hard to get a timely appointment with him and since he was very busy, he felt okay about raising his rates on a regular basis. Also, because he has a thriving practice, he doesn't feel the need to contract with insurance companies as a preferred provider. The old dentist had detailed a comprehensive plan to correct what ails my teeth, the new guy said about the same things were needed. My teeth are basically passable, but they are not cosmetically pleasing. Personally, I don't really care that much, but terrified children, their parents and assorted pets would appreciate me gussying up the old choppers. My goal is to die with my own teeth, a feat neither of my parents managed. Growing up, dental care was not a priority in my home, beer was. In fact, I never went to the dentist, except for one time when one of my molars was so rotten that my folks took me to the emergency room, where someone pulled it out. Medical care was much more folksy in the old days. I believe the old man stopped for a cold one on the way home, while I waited in the car, with a gauze pack in my mouth. I did not have any routine dental care until I was 19 and could pay for it myself. By that time, I had several cavities so big, that they had destroyed their host tooth, necessitating extraction. In addition, at age 8, I fell off a bike and broke off one of my front teeth. The tooth died, leaving me with a black half tooth. I was a sight to behold. My mother actually told me that bleeding gums were a sign of healthy teeth. Even as a kid I didn't buy that story. Over the years, I have gotten several crowns, caps on two front teeth and fillings in most of the others. The plan is to now crown some of the teeth with older fillings and to get three bridges to replace missing molars. Plus my natural teeth have darkened with age, but the caps on the two fronts have not, so it may be necessary to recap all four of my front teeth. The lovely Mrs. Sneed and I both have dental insurance, so I am hopeful that they will cover a sizable portion of the 10 grand or so that this is likely to cost. Today I just got a cleaning and an evaluation of what future work will be needed. You know it was an uneventful day when I am reduced to talking about my teeth. Merle Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

I Dunno

This may not be an original thought, but it's true none-the-less. It's not what you don't know that is the real problem, it is what you don't know that you don't know ,that will get you. For example, suppose you signed up for Merle's Academy of Flight and I said I could teach you to fly a 747 aircraft out of a book and without ever leaving my garage. After the exhaustive training course you could head off to try out your new skills. Not really knowing how to fly the plane won't hurt you because, as a sane person, you wouldn't try it. But because of my fine training, you don't know that you don't know how to fly the plane and so, you are headed for real problems. Here's another example, which may or may not clarify my point, but it is a funny story. I did not make this up. Several years ago a homeowner in our fair city, looked out her window and saw smoke coming out the front door of the house across the street. She called 9-1-1 to report a fire. The firemen, thinking that they knew there was a house fire, rushed to the scene to find smoke coming out of a locked wrought iron security door. While some of them cut a hole in the door, another group ascended their ladders and began to chop holes in the roof, searching for the source of the fire and pretty much shooting water everywhere. The homeowner, who was barbecuing in the back yard with a radio blasting, finally heard the commotion and rushed to the front door. The smoke evidently had drifted through the open doors and out the front. What the firemen didn't know that they didn't know, was that there was no real fire, even though there was a lot of smoke, and this caused a bunch of trouble. I bring this up because I run into people who don't know what they don't know all the time. Bosses are especially prone to this affliction. My boss is a nice enough guy, but he is so convinced that he is the world's foremost expert on *fill in subject here*, that he listens with his answer running. He is too busy forming his instant solution to the problem, to understand the question. He believes that he is the man behind the curtain with all the answers. I went to explain something to him today and because he didn't know that he didn't understand the problem, he gave me an answer that didn't really apply to the situation. Then he turned away to signal that I was dismissed. What I was trying to impress upon him was that he needed to focus on something before someone else helped him to focus. Later, someone with more credibility than me, and some juice in the chain-of-command, called him and via that call he began to grasp the nature of the beast. His solution was much better the second time around. He found out what he didn't know. The best part is that now he owns this problem, not me. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

I Win, I Win...Film Allegedly At 11

Have you ever noticed that the news people, especially the local news people will not commit to confirming even the obvious? Everything is allegedly or might have. One of our fine local channels did a report this evening about an unfortuante black bear that climbed a power pole, fell into some electric equipment and was killed. The news reporter on the scene reported that Arizona Game and Fish officials would not confirm that the bear was electrocuted. The reporter voiced-over some film showing the very dead bear being lowered by a crane. In other news, I was the winning bidder in an Ebay auction for a pair of lighty-used Mephisto Match, size 14 shoes. For the past 6 days, 23 hours, 59.5 minutes the price was $17.99. In the last 30 seconds of the auction, some other Ebay seller tried to outbid me. He bid $32 and I won at $33. I think this is a sign that I got a deal. Of course they are lightly used, which creeps out the lovely Mrs. Sneed, but $33 for a pair of shoes that retailled at $320 new isn't too bad. Unlike the lovely Mrs. S, I don't believe in cooties, at least shoe cooties. I personally don't find used stuff to be creepy, especially if I am careful about what I buy. For instance, used underwear is always a bad idea. I posted a few months ago that I lost my gold wedding band at the airport security checkpoint and replaced it with a used one from a pawn shop. I paid far less than a retail replacement. Yesterday, a fellow, who's frequent comments bouy my spirits and strenghten my resolve to keep blogging, despite the public's outcry that I stop immediately, commented on the folly of buying new cars. He is absolutely right. Buying a new car is a hugely bad idea from a financial perspective. People buy new cars for a variety of reasons and I have no quarrel with their motives, but financially it makes no sense. Consider the following example. There is a dealer in our fair city that has been selling nearly new good, reliable used cars since 1933. Currently listed in their inventory is a 2006 Ford Tauras SE, with 17,000 miles on it, for $11,995. According to the website CarsDirect, the MSRP for this vehicle is $21,515. That is a savings of 10 grand for accepting a car with a few miles and 2 years manufacturer's warranty left. A 5 year-old car is even a better deal. Anyway, that is about all that occurs to me today. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

The Jerk and the Junkster

The Sneed Family Junkster. Proudly owned and operated by Merle Sneed. In a shocking development, it turns out that I might be a nag. To make matters worse, it also turns out that I am the last member of the Sneed clan to figure it out. All the rolled eyes at family gatherings should have tipped me off, had I noticed, but I was too busy wowing them, or so I thought. Yesterday, older son Sneed and daughter-in-law Sneed arrived at our house driving a brand new Acura MDX, which is the luxury version of the lovely Mrs. Sneed's Honda Pilot, but that's another story. The real story is their concern about what I would think or more to the point, what I would say. I didn't think anyone cares what I think, but when daughter-in-law Sneed announced that they had leased the car as a joke to break the ice, it seemed obvious that they do, and that's not a good thing. I am the guy who rains on eveyone's parade, so while what I care may not matter, what I might say definitly does. Later, as son Sneed browsed the real estate ads in the paper, I asked him if he was plotting to buy a new house. Even I recognized that I sounded like a judgemental jerk. So here's my resolution. I will try to keep my big mouth shut about other people's financial decisions. Unless they are strangers, in which case all bets are off. As for me, I intend to drive the wheels off the Junkster, pictured above. This little beauty is a 2001 Mazda B3000 with 45,000 miles on it. Years of service remain. Years of payment-free service, I hasten to add. It is nearly as good as the Acura. They have a rear-view camera, the Junkster has a rear-view mirror. Acura, a voice-controlled sound system, Junster, a finger-controlled radio. Acura, a GPS, Junkster, a map behind the seat. Its a tossup as I figure it. Merle Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Mostly Hat, Little Cattle

The Sneedlets proudly announced that they were going to Disneyland on their grandma's stationary bike. They didn't get too far. And now, a rant. I don't suffer pretentious fools easily, I prefer people who are genuine. Perhaps you are thinking, well duh, who doesn't? Apparently, to a lot of people, it doesn't really matter. Consider the following. I went to the University of Arizona football game against the University of Southern California yesterday. It was a late afternoon start time, the weather was nice and I arrived an hour early, due to parking congestion, so I decided to walk around the tailgate area, to kill some time. For the readers that are not familiar with American sports, tailgating is a party held near a sports stadium, prior to a game. The tradition began when the tailgate of a pickup truck was used as an impromptu picnic table. If you watch the introduction to a National Football League television broadcast, you will see lovable working-class schmucks, grilling, drinking beer and having a grand time in the parking lot of the stadium. This is not our tailgating, no siree. Nowadays, you don't see many tailgaters actually using the tailgate of their truck. Now they have motor homes, with elaborate setups, including satellite television or large tents. It is a giant game of one-upmanship, each group constantly trying to improve their setup. Additionally, the days of tailgating for free have been replaced by the need for a pricey permit from the University. Only those willing to pony up a minimum of $330 are welcome to tailgate at the stadium. In athletics, there is no shortage of ways to get money out of the fans, and no shortage of the pretentious willing to fork it over. At the University, the tailgaters are staked out on the mall, rather than in the parking lot. As I walked around the tailgate area, I was struck by the number of people who seem to believe that being part of the right experience, conveys upon them some special status. The sights and sounds are hilarious. Come Monday, they will regale one another with fantasic tales of this past Saturday's tailgate antics. Who they saw, who saw them and what was said, all very important stuff. An example of the sort of pretense I really hate was a boss I had for 6 long years. He desperately wanted to be better than his roots and a habit of trying to impress his underlings, a group that he was positive was beneath him. He once told me that his family would forego one of their frequent jaunts, so as to spend the money on a "nice piece of art for the house". This jackass couldn't recognize art if it fell off the wall and hit him on the head. Another time he described, in mind-numbing detail, the ski equipment he and his brood owned. I was so impressed. He thought things like tailgating with the right crowd was his ticket to be taken seriously. He was insufferable. To be sure, most of the people in the tailgate area are just fans having a good time with their friends, but the whole idea creeps me out. Like Groucho Marx once remarked, PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT ME AS A MEMBER. That's how I feel about tailgating, I wouldn't want to join in, even if they would have me, because I don't want to be associated with the idea. Although, I have thought it would be fun to pay up for a permit and bring about 25 homeless guys to my tailgate party. That would freak out the posers. My favorite tailgate groups are the ones that have large tents with fences to keep out the interlopers. These setups require a $1400 permit to set up. There is a large mortgage company that has set up a tent and only invited guests are welcome. These mortgage companies stay afloat by hustling families and saddling them with inappropriate financing schemes. I sure wouldn't want to be a part of their party. The creepy Wells Fargo Bank has another big set up. Did you hear about the guy who played piano in a whorehouse? His family disowned him when he quit to manage a Wells Fargo Bank branch. Perhaps you are struggling with my exact point here so let me paint you a picture. Apparently, we have a club of Hummer owners here in our fair city. If owning a Hummer doesn't scream pretentious a-hole at you, I don't know what would. At the tailgate area, these Hummer owners drive their beasts in and line them up for the world to see. They might as well stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Johnsons hanging out. A display of coupious pigginess. To make matters worse, I will bet you that 95% of these things are leased. Nothing like having to rent your piggery. Keep it real. Merle. P.S. I don't actually know what keep it real means. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Oops, I missed Friday's Post

It is very early Saturday morning and the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I just got home from our night out. I am way too tired to say anything important, like moaning about the latest, so I have a tip that has brought some enjoyment to me. If you haven't ever heard the podcast called Croncast, by Kris and Betsy Smith, you owe it to yourself to take a listen. Either go to Itunes or Concast.com to subscribe. Kris and Betsy live in Naperville, Illinois, along with two kids and Betsy's mother, whom you never hear much about. They have a pretty ordinary life, that they share via their podcast. It is just a conversation between husband and wife and it is charming, funny and addictive. Betsy is extroverted and hilarious, while Kris is a good-hearted, socially retarded. tech guy, who lives primarily in the basement of the house, hunched over his computer. The podcast is Kris' feeble attempt to connect with other humans. In their own way, podcasting and blogging help those of us who are of a more solitary nature stay in touch with the world around us. On their show Betsy talks a lot about her Ebay sales. She collects stuff from garage sales and especially the Goodwill store to resell on Ebay. Besty swears there is serious loot to be had at the Goodwill. I took the opportunity today (actually yesterday now) to visit the Goodwill store near Casa Sneed, Betsy is always finding valuable stuff to resell at Goodwill so I thought I would see what the deal was. I found a load of crap I wouldn't touch with latex gloves on. I did notice that Goodwill has a ton of brand new golf shirts, the kind given out at corporate and charity golf events. Few serious people really want to wear a golf shirt with a corporate logo and a bunch of other stuff embroidered on it once the event is over, so it winds up at Goodwill. Allow me to interject another of my crackpot ideas. As a rule, I don't believe in wearing closthing that advertises for someone esle. I don't get why people will wear a shirt promoting a business, even if they get it for free. I really don't get why people will pay for clothing that contains advertising. Rest assured that if you see a guy around town wearing a charity event golf shirt, he is either desperate to make you think he is an important charity-supporting, civic-minded, golf-playing, business-networking, high-rolling, moving and shaking, assistant manager at the gas company, sort of fellow or a Goodwill shopper. One or the other. So, if you are in the market for a new golf shirt that says Raytheon Golf Shootout 2004, Goodwill is the place for you. Anyway, that is it for today. Merle Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

There is no such thing as a free pizza

Two days ago I got an email from the boss telling me that there would be a thank you lunch today in the conference room. Evidently, the big wheels feel that the little people have gone above and beyond and free pizza is their way of expressing their appreciation. I deleted it. My future is in the past. This meant that I would have to be absent at lunch or I would be harangued to attend, with could lead to open rudeness. The last thing I want to hear is about our fine efforts toward solving what ails us as a company. At our office, like offices everywhere, 20% of the employees do 80% of the work. I don't really want any team building with the other 80%, thanks though. Especially when it is accompanied by a speech from the bosses. So, I spent this morning hiding out at new shopping center that is under construction. The problem that I have posted about recently involves a bank that is being built there. I think I have a temporary fix for the tardiness of my coworker's project. So that is good, if it works out, but I digress. I went to get a device that I use for my work from my truck and discovered that it is missing and likely has been stolen. Normally I would be furious about this, but I couldn't muster the energy. As I searched in my truck for the missing item, I was struck by the amount of crap strewn about. Some days I spend all day driving around and doing field work at construction sites, so I accumulate a lot of empty snack bags and drink cups. I used to have a garbage bag to put them in, but I accidently threw it out with the trash. It wasn't that handy anyway because it was always tipping over and stuff spilled out. Since I had time to kill, I decided that today was ditch the empties day. As I was working at gathering up all the garbage and tossing it into a construction dumpster, a friend whom I like a lot, but infrequently see, drove up. We got to talking and he was ditching work too, so we decided to get lunch. About that time I got the pizza call. Hey, where are you? We are having pizza. Should we save you some? Didn't you get the email. Hurry back, we just started "Ah, no thanks", I replied. But it really good and there's plenty. "Listen, its not an accident that I am not there." Oh. Click. So, my friend Greg and I had a nice lunch at Michas del Norte and caught up on the latest. When I got back to work, the pizza was gone and the festivities concluded, workers worked, slugs played with the props on their desks and bosses went back to fixing what ails us. Who could ask for more? Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

With Apologies to Maslow

Its early morning here in the Sonoran desert and I am thinking about getting ready for work. I am going to try to have a more positive outlook on things today. We will see how that works out. This being ticked off is just too much trouble. More later. Well, its noon and I stopped home for a few minutes. The ordeal at work is making slow progress. My coworker now has someone working on the problem but there is no chance that the work will be completed in time to meet our customer's deadline. The boss confuses his inaction with sound management, but at least today I don't have to drag the unwilling. Fast forward 5 hours. She's a beauty, Clark. On the way home this beast pulled up along side me in traffic. The picture doesn't do it justice, so I'll describe it. The bus is lavender, with a white top. The owners opted for the wood stove accessory pack, including chimney. Want to bet woman driving this thing isn't whining about her crappy job. I'll bet she told someone to shove it in about 1976 and has been on the road ever since, at least the road to doing what she darn well pleases. Which, by the way, I hear is a lovely stretch of highway. Somethings just scream Get some perspective! at a guy, if he takes note. Do I ever learn? Hell no. On the subject of perspective, you may recall that I walk to the WalMart next door to my office twice a day. Once for coffee and later to get a sandwich at the Subway. There is a worker at WalMart who is 27 year-old and has seven kids ,including two sets of twins. They are all under the age of 10. She has to get this brood dressed and fed in the morning and get them to her mom's, so that Mom can babysit them and make sure that the older ones get to school on time. And she has to do all of this and be at work by six in the morning. Did I mention that she doesn't have a car, so it is all done on the bus? I don't know exactly what she earns, but I do know generally. Its approximately not too much. Her life is hard. In contrast, I live the life of a king, albeit a modest one. So here's a theory to explain my incessant bellyaching. Abraham Maslow came up with the concept of the hierarchy of needs. In a nutshell Maslow theorized that it is difficult to get in touch with your inner self if you are living under a bridge and eating out of a dumpster, or something close to that. But, if your survival needs are met or mostly met, you are free to discover you, which in some cases is not such a great discovery. So with apologies to Maslow for mucking up his theory, I give you Merle Sneed's Hierarchy of Screeds. My theory is that as our needs are met we whine and complain about less and less important things. Or at least I do, in which case my idea is not a theory, but rather an excuse. Take the lady from WalMart. She has to complain about the crappy landlord, the cost of basics, whether the kids get up on time, whether the bus is late, the creepy management at Walmart, you get the idea. Poor 401K performance? Not so much. Donald Trump on the other hand, bitches about whether his driver missed a small spot of champagne when he cleaned the limo or whether he only made a zillon bucks on a deal when he thought he would earn a bazillion. Bus late? Not a real problem at the Trump house. So that's it, Merle's Sneed's Hierarchy of Screeds and I am somewhere just above the middle crying about crap that just doesn't matter. Oh, my computer broke. Oh, I hate my job. What a load. Intellectually I know that I have it pretty easy in life, but emotionally it is a different matter. Why doesn't someone just dope slap me and tell me to stop my damn whining? Merle Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Another Lousy Post

Warning! If you have had it with my complaining, stop reading now. Today was a bad day at work and I am really angry at the moment. I hate to feel this way but I am too darn old to suffer fools in silence. As I posted yesterday, I am in the middle of a problem with a customer because a coworker didn't do her job in a timely fashion. In fact, she hasn't done it at all. My boss, rather than addressing the problem, has pushed it back at me. He thinks he is a great leader, you know, an empower the little people sort of fellow. He is wrong, empowerment in corporate America is code for management failure. Bosses empower to relieve themselves of responsibility. It is a way of managing without the bother of actually managing. I can't accurately express how frustrating it is to have to rely on people who are unreliable. If you want the damn job then do it. If not, leave it for someone who does. Toss in a boss who won't address the problems and it becomes intolerable. No one ever calls to say I missed a deadline and I resent being put into that position by others. My boss has this tendency to ignore the problem employees and to try to pile the work on the willing ones. The more you do for this guy, the more he will dump on you. Some of the eager younger employees in our workgroup will accept this treatment because they have visions of upward mobility. As for me, I do my job and help out where I can, but I set boundaries because the workload is a monster that cannot be satiated. My day began with another phone call from my concerned customer's representative. I pondered what to do and finally walked over to my coworker's desk to see if there was any progress on her end. She wasn't there, gosh what a surprise. I accessed our CAD database and confirmed that she hadn't done anything about my problem. Zip, nada, zero, zilch. I thought it over for a while and finally sent her a detailed email explaining the urgency for her to act, which I copied to the boss. I don't like to play these games but I figure when it hits the fan, I might need some cover. I have been after my coworker and one of her co-conspirators for about a year to address this issue before it became the crisis that it is today, so it is not like it snuck up on her. Later in the day the boss responded by asking me what my plan B was. That would be my plan if my coworker doesn't do her job and the boss allows her to collect her pay for not doing it. Does he mean how will I cover if he doesn't do his job by, gasp, actually managing? Is that what he means? I think it is. My plan B was to tell you, Bub, what's your damn plan B?. I suspect that his plan B is for me to do her work for her, so that he doesn't have to confront the problem head on. Well, there are plan B's and then there are plan B's. My plan B is you broke it, you fix it. I composed several snappy replies, but finally sent him a reply that said, "That is an excellent question." No suggestions, no solutions. I am not going to be the patsy for these two, at least not without a scene. As if that wasn't enough for one day, my vagrant son called me as I left work asking if it would be possible for me to pick him up on my way home and give him a ride as far as my house. Clearly, the restraining order has been a failure, mostly because I don't hang up on him and call the cops. I try to help him if he is doing positive things, so I don't really mind him giving out our phone number to prospective employers, that sort of thing. I draw a line at his constant poor-mouthing his situation, a situation he will do nothing to fix. Of course, what he really wanted was to mooch some money, so we had a nasty exchange. He continues to wander around all day from one end of town to the other doing who knows what. Clearly he is not looking for a job, or if he is, potential employers who check on him, find he is wanted by the police and pass on the excellent opportunity to hire him. So all in all it has been a fairly bad day. Sorry for my constant complaining, but hey, that's my life and as Dr. Phil would say, I must be getting a payoff, because I keep doing it. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

You Can Make A Guy the Boss, But You Can't Make Him Effective

I did something decidedly un-Merle-like. I bought a pair of $325 shoes at Nordstrom's in San Diego. For some time now I have plotted the purchase of these shoes because I bought into the story that they are the finest walking shoes on the planet. Turns out not to be true, at least in my case. They seem like just another pair of shoes to me. The fine folks at Nordstroms will gladly take them back because of their generous return policy, but I am the idiot that had to have them, so I guess I will just live with my decision. In other news, I received a call this past Wednesday from one of my company's very fine salesmen, asking me if a project that I am working on would be completed in time to meet a customer's opening date. This particular project has two major components. Let's call my portion, part A and the second portion we will call part 2. Just kidding, its part B. I have my portion completed and I have been waiting on someone else, we will call her Jane, to finish her work. Finish isn't really correct because she hasn't exactly started, even though she tells me every week that she will get it done. I explained the problem to this salesman and told him that he really needed to talk my boss, and who is also Jane's boss, because I hold no sway over her. He said he would do that. Thursday, I asked the boss if the sales guy called him. He says yes and asks me to explain the problem to him, so that he can call the guy back with an answer. I wanted to tell him that Jane is a lazy slug, but I laid out the problem more diplomatically. He said, "Go ask her when she will be done, and then come back and tell me, so that I can call the guy." Is he kidding me? If I could get her to do it, I wouldn't need him. But off I went and as expected, I got another nonspecific promise to get it done soon. I marched back into his office and gave him her reply. He seemed to accept, "I'll get to it" as a satisfactory response. Later he copied an email to me that he sent to the sales guy assuring him that Jane and Merle were working on it and there would be no problems meeting the customer's date. I'm not sure what the boss thinks has changed. A real solution would have been for him to give Jane a deadline, but he didn't. I don't get it. The lovely Mrs. Sneed and I have this discussion all the time. Why do some people think that because the say or believe something that it is automatically true? Saying it will be done is not a solution, it is a delusion. As the man said, "Faith without works is dead." Today the customer's representative called me and left a message to call him, because they are concerned. Well, join the club. I called back, but the guy was out. I can't tell a customer that my coworker is a sluggo and the boss is ineffective. This is the kind of crap I hate. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Sunday

First things first. It takes me about 10 readings of a particular post to get rid of most of the grammatical and errors in syntax. Even then, I only get most of them because of my incomplete understanding of the English language. So if you read a misspelled word or noun-verb disagreement, it is because I haven't found it yet or don't realize I'm wrong. I will eventually figure most of them out. The reason I bring this up is because our local newspapers have put a feature in the online editions that allows readers to comment on the stories by posting their reactions online. Unfortunately, the people most willing to comment, are those least equipped to do so, from a language and temperment standpoint. These comments are loaded with all sorts of errors, spelling and otherwise. You would be amazed how many people don't understand that just because two words sound alike, they are not interchangeable. I won't provide examples sense there errors are two numerous too detail in to much depth and their isn't space hear. The frequent poster community is made up of a loose knit group of frustrated people with too much time on their hands. Some are one-issue posters. One guy is sure illegal aliens are what ails us and every story leads to illegals for him. The paper could do a story about road improvement and this guy would write a post about how if we didn't have illegals we wouldn't need better roads. Other posters are just nuts with an opinion on everthing. No wait, that's me. Half of the posters spend their time belittling their fellow posters. It is a kookie bunch. My theory is that the newspapers put this feature in to keep this band of about 10 or 20 regular posters from calling the newspaper. I think these same people used to call the reporters to vent their anger, and now they can do it online instead. Brilliant move by the newspaper guys. The lovely Mrs. Sneed put on a very nice get together for our family today to celebrate daughter-in-law Sneed's birthday. Older son Sneed, daughter-in-law Sneed, daughter Sneed, younger son Sneed, both Sneedlets, the lovely Mrs. S and yours truly were in attendance. It was great. Vagrant son Sneed was not present, as he never is. I don't often mention them, but there are three other Sneedlets, the children of this guy, that we don't have any real contact with. They live some distance from us with their mother's parents. In our family, we celebrate the adult's birthdays on the Sunday that precedes them. Often times we go out to eat as the celebration, but daughter-in-law Sneed didn't want a fuss, they decided they would come over, as usual. Instead of going out, which is almost no fuss, the lovely Mrs. Sneed did all the work, by planning, buying the gift, card and food and then cooking. Cooking is an infrequent occurrence in our home. Just because a person can cook, doesn't mean she should, however when she decides to, it is always good. My contribution was basically to do nothing, but I did it very well. If it wasn't for the lovely Mrs. Sneed and women everywhere, we wouldn't have any family traditions. In an all-male society there would only be two kinds of days. Workdays and days off. Tomorrow is one of those unfortunate workdays. Yuk. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

It's late and I am so tired

Well, I am typing on my swell new replacement computer that the fine people at Circuit City ponied up. The folks in the store gave me an additional $150 off so my $1099 credit on the old laptop just covered the cost of the new one. Plus I am getting a refund of about half the $400 I spent on the extended warranty for the dead laptop. All's well that ends well. I have to give a tip of the hat to a kid named Brian, who was the first Circuit City employee in that store who had both a personality and a willingness to be helpful. I picked up the new computer this morning and spent part of the day transferring stuff from the old laptop. It was an arduous process, for me anyways. There is probably some magic way to move all the MP3 files from one computer to another, but I have my own method. It is called the hard way. I managed to import all 2000 or so songs in my music collection into Itunes twice. I spent a couple of hours deleting the duplicates. Again, the hard way. I met the lovely Mrs. Sneed and daughter Sneed, along with younger son Sneed and Sneedlet 1 for lunch. This evening I went to the University of Arizona football game. I have two tickets to the game but no friends to go with. I am a pathetic creature. Since I have a surplus ticket, I also have room to spread out, which is nice. Our team won and the same bunch of people that have been sitting around me for years were there. It is nice to see them again. My brother-in-law and his wife were at the game sitting in the row behind me and a few seats down. When the people next to me left, they moved down to where I was. It is nearly midnight so I suppose that I need to get to bed. Merle Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Scenes at the Bank

Its Friday morning and I think we all know what that means. That's right, I am in the living room, sitting on my ample behind, rather than biding my time in my cubicle. I went out a while ago to (a) get a maple scone and a cup of coffee and (b) go to my bank, which is really a credit union. As a side note, my credit union just changed its name. I don't like change and I am not using the new name. Ever. When I arrived at the cafe I frequent, there was a group of people milling around the front door. It turned out that the power was off and the manager was standing in the door, giving out the bad news. The owner was pacing around the parking lot trying to will the electricity back on. I approached the manager and asked if I could get my scone, if I had exact change. The scones are in a display case and I could clearly see them. The cashier kids were just standing and talking. He said without electricity, the registers wouldn't work. I asked if he could just take the money and enter it in when the electricity came back on? Nope. So it was on to Starbucks. I don't really go to Starbucks much because their coffee is too strong for my taste and they don't call a large coffee large, its venti. Well, excuse me. Its petty, I know, but its annoying. I also try to avoid going into the bank if I can because it is mostly used by the problem customers. Reasonably competent people use online service and the ATM. By reasonably competent, I mean those who understand the concept of not writing checks when you have no money and those who actually balance their account now and then. Goofballs line up in the bank. Despite my dopiness and obvious qualification for lobby use, I was there because my son gave me a check and asked me to cash it for him. There were four teller windows open, all in use, when I arrived. Five or six people waited in line. Another reason not to use the lobby is the 2 inch thick glass protecting the tellers. It causes you to have to speak loudly to be heard by the teller. Consequently, everyone in the joint knows your business. Customer: I need to deposit this check. Teller: Mrrrssgglk. Customer: What? Teller: Mrrrssgglk number. Customer: 465301 (everyone now knows your account number) Teller: Mrrrssgglk sign Mrrrssgglk pad. Customer: Where? Teller: MRRSSGGLK PAD! Customer: Okay. You get the idea. Window one was being used by a middle-aged woman and her teenage daughter. The older gal looked like a retired porn star and maybe not retired. She was wearing fatigue pants and a tight black top. It was a spaghetti strap top and underneath was a regular bra, sticking out everywhere. I don't get the bra straps showing look. She had a very skinny body, except for her enormous breasts. Clearly, those boobs were not issued with that body. No sir, that was an add-on deal. Porn star was trying to unravel some financial calamity or another. She was at the window when I arrived and still there when I left. Window two was another mother / daughter team closing daughter's account because she was leaving town. They were also at the window for the duration of my visit. Plus daughter had the thin strap, big bra thing going too. Her bra was flesh colored, just not the color of her flesh. Window three was an old guy getting a check for his property taxes. He took longer than he needed to because evidently the teller wanted to hear his entire life story. The fourth window was actually moving. When I reached window four, the old man at three left and was replaced by an even older guy and his checkbook. He asked for a complete printout of his account activity for the last two months. Evidently, he has neither last month's statement nor computer access. I did witness the most remarkable event in 21st century banking. The cell phone of a guy in line rang and he got out of line and walked outside to talk. I am not making this up. My pal just called to be sure I can make lunch, so I have to get going. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Armed and Dangerous

One of the problems with setting yourself up as resident know-it-all, like me, is that people ask you questions or tell you stuff, much of which is unwelcome. What I have discovered is that people rarely want advice as much as they want someone to agree with their ideas. Years ago I worked as a guy who hired people for a major American corporation. One day my dad called me to ask for my advice on a decision one of my siblings was trying to make. He said that my sibling respected my knowledge and experience of the subject, which was a load of shinola. The two of them had hatched this plan and were shopping for an endorsement. Dad was a major buttinski. My sister had applied for a job in another state and was brought in for an interview, but was not selected. What she was proposing to do, was to just show up in this other state, uninvited and ready to work, to prove how much she wanted the job. My poor old dad, who had the ambition of a sloth, thought this was a swell idea, show initiative, that sort of thing, old boy. My dad wasn't British, but I like the expression, "old boy". The two of them figured that this would show that she was the sort of gal any employer would be thrilled to get. I explained to him that it was a bad idea and that she would just annoy the prospective employer, possibly poisoning her future prospects. He accused me of not being supportive. She did it anyway and was sent packing once more. She didn't want advice from someone in the field of human resources, she wanted someone to tell her it was okay. In the advice giving arena, you are often just the unsupportive jackass, or the moron who gave the bad advice. When advice given works out okay, the giver is rarely remembered. Anyway, today was my day to deal with people and their religion. A subject I am totally unqualified to address. Does that stop me? No way, no how. I sit in the cubicle next to a perfectly lovely woman. She attends one of these megachurces with a hip young pastor and a bunch of rock musicians. They are serious about assaults on the faith. I was passing by her cube today when I noticed her opening a gift, so I stopped to take a look. I am a nosy sort. The gift was a DVD called Debunking the Da Vinci Code, or something to that effect. I asked, "So what are you going to do with that?" She tells me that she needs to get current on the flaws in the book that are leading people astray, spiritually speaking. Never being one to let sleeping zealots lie, I ask for an example of the heresy of which she speaks. "Well", says she, "Jesus did not have children." "But, what if he did?", I ask, "does that void his divinity?' "Yes, then he couldn't be God." An assertion without explanation. "But, when I last checked, God did have a son, at least according to you Christians", says me. "See", she says, "this is why I need the DVD, so I don't get tripped up." I suggested she believe what she believes, hang around with like minds and don't sweat what Dan Brown wrote in a book. No go, she has to change hearts and minds and change them fast. Time's awastin'. Now technically speaking, she didn't ask for my advice, but then she didn't tell me to scram either, so I weighed in. I read the Da Vinci Code, twice. It is crappola. Not from a theological perspective, about which I am not fit to comment, but as a story. It is idiotic. Dan Brown may first-class idea man, but as a storyteller, he sucks. His story lines are laughably implausible. That is, of course, unless you believe that someone could actually bust into the Vatican catacombs and pop open a dead pope's casket. Then they are perfectly plausible. No sooner had this concluded then one of the young guys in the office, a serious-as- a-heart-attack Catholic, strolls into cube Sneed and asks me a "what if" question. Specifically, what would I do if I went to church and the priest gave a sermon contrary to church teaching and contrary to my belief. In this case, ordaining women. I didn't tell him that it seems like a fine idea to me, which in retrospect would have caused him to flee in terror, leaving me free to resume my internet surfing. Instead, I told him I would just beat feet if it really bothered me. Not the answer he was going for. He suggested a strong letter of indignation was in order. Not to the offending priest, mind you, but to his boss. Why not? A pithy letter is always good. I told him that I thought writing a letter would make him feel better, but accomplish little else. I told him that he ought to write it to the guy he had issue with, not his boss. My experience is that American Catholic priests are a pretty liberal group, socially speaking, and that no matter how far up the chain-of-command he sent the letter, he would likely be ignored or condescended to. But hey, give it a go. My advice was, if writing a letter makes you feel better, then do it. However,you needs to decide if this is a deal-breaker at this particular church. If it is, then go to church elsewhere. But rest assured that the next place will have a guy who believes differently than you about something. Better yet though, just calm down and get on with life, just because he says it, doesn't mean you have to believe it. Off he went. He came back later to tell me that he had spoken to his mother and she agreed that this situation was intolerable and the priest was wrong, wrong, wrong. Then, he launched into a long diatribe that went something like this. "Blah, blah, blah, heresy, blah, blah, blah, disobedience to authority, blah, blah, blah, church teaching...blah, blah, blah." Bless the true believers, but man I have enough trouble with me. I don't have time to fix anyone else. Anyway it seems to me that people rarely really want advice, even when they ask. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Hot Off the Press

You have to click on this picture to figure it out. This is a guy selling newspapers and panhandling. I stopped at this traffic light this morning at about 9:15 am and he was sitting in the same position as he was when I went by again at 3:00 pm. The only difference was that he had removed his shirt. This guy sits at this corner for 8 or 9 hours per day. I would say it is good it was cool today, but these guys are at their posts when it is 100 degrees F. About all that stops them is heavy rain. The newspaper company that distributes both the morning and afternoon dailies here in our fair city, uses homeless guys to sell copies in the median. Someone from the newspaper company brings them to their corner in the morning and picks them up after the afternoon rush hour traffic subsides. They are only able to do this outside the city limits, because the city outlawed the practice when a couple of these fellows were run over. I am not sure how I feel about this. On one hand it gives guys like this man the chance to make some money, way more than minimum wage. On the other, it allows them to stay stuck in their life of bad choices. I do know that when the city outlawed it, the homeless advocates were up in arms over the decision. More later, I have to go to bowling tonight. Well, I am back from bowling. Someone remarked to me today that I am a generally angry guy, plus sarcastic, to boot. I admit to regular sarcasam, its my style. I would like to leap to my own defense on the anger charge. I am not a generally angry person. What I am is a person with a need for things to go right and when they don't, I get angry. There is a difference between being an angry person and getting angry. For example, some people get momentarily angry at other people about something and then can just let it go. For instance, I routinely yell at other drivers. I am not mad at them, just their stupid driving. It is bluster, not anger. Once they are out of sight, they are out of mind, leaving me the happy-go-lucky scamp that you all have come to know. I have been known to yell and even curse while repairing something. That is frustration, not anger. Other people hold tight to their anger and the object of their wrath is screwed forever, or at least a long time. For example, someone might feel slighted by another and forever remember the slight, holding it close to their heart, turning it over and over in their mind, examining its every detail, reliving its bitterness, seething in the injustice. Slowly it begins to eat away at their soul, bit by bit, gaining strengh and taking bigger and bigger bites, until they are hollowed-out shells of humanity, sitting and staring vacantly into space and occasionally shouting, "Leave me alone!" Its not a pretty sight. The latter is the real definition of an angry person. The former is just a person who gets angry. That should clear things up. Anyway, that's my thinking. Serenely yours. Merle Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Not the Sharpest Knife in the Drawer

Sometimes I'm not the quickest study. When my new best friend Alan with Circuit City said that they were going to replace my computer, I innocently believed they meant a new computer. When Alan called today, he offered a refurbished machine, similar to the one I have, or its refurbished value of $1099. I paid $1825 including tax in November 2004, so at first I thought that I would take the computer rather than the money. My instant analysis told me that I had lost $800 for less than two year's use. Then I realized that anytime you buy technology, it is a rapidly depreciating asset, so it wasn't as bad as it seemed. A refurbished unit also means that it was likely someone else's problem that was returned. Since I already have a problem computer, I nixed that idea. I called Alan back and told him I would take the money. Well, it turns out not to be money at all, but a Circuit City gift card for $1099 instead. This, of course, means that my new computer will be new, but will have to come from Circuit City. And since they buy at wholesale and sell to me at retail, they will get off cheaper than $1099. The remaining extended warranty will transfer to whatever I buy from them. Evidently, Circuit City will now offer my crappy old laptop to vendors who might want to fix it and resell it. Alan said that if I am not notified that they want it in 30 days, it is mine to keep. Yippee, I can use it to hold the door open. I guess at the end of the day it is about what I had coming. I used this beast for nearly two years, less the time it was broken. Prices have come down, so I can get a pretty nice laptop for $1100. I'm satisfied. Another thing. Last night at bowling one of my teammates asked me if I knew a guy named (insert name here). I said, "Yeah, in fact, he lives in my cul-de-sac." "Well, not anymore", he replied, "he died last Thursday." This seems real unfair. I remember when I was a kid, about 12, a boy who lived near me and rode my bus, took his father's car in the middle of the night and was killed in an accident. He was 12 and his name was Donald. I couldn't imagine someone that I knew being dead. It didn't seem real, and profoundly disturbed me. Anyway, I was walking Sneedlet around the cul-de-sac Sunday night and I noticed all the lights at the guy's house were off and the house had the feel of having been empty for a bit, like the owners were on vacation. I remembered that I hadn't seen him or his family in awhile, now I know why. Man I hate when this happens. This guy was only about 50, so if you are a 56 year-old guy, like me, this news is bad, really bad. I worry about having worked and saved all my life, only to wind up prematurely dead. This guy wasn't even sick. He went to the hospital for an elective procedure and had a heart attack. Every time one of my friends or acquaintances dies, I stop and think, why am I dragging my sorry behind to a job everyday I don't really like? Everyday I spend there, is a day I will never get back, so I should probably use them up more thoughtfully. Maybe the secret to life is to get up every morning and do exactly what you want to do, because today might be it. My neighbor's death is as disturbing as Donald's death was in 1962, in a different way. I knew I wouldn't steal my old man's car and get killed, so Donald dying was not real to me. Having a heart attack? Different story. I have think this over some more. Anyway, that's my thoughts for the day. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

There will be 9/11 tributes and remembrances galore today. Sad and horrorific scenes will fill our TV screens, relatives of victims will be asked about their reflections, heroes will be celebrated, administrations will be blamed, failures will be cited and successes touted. Most of us will just go on about our business. This is as it should be, we are a resilient bunch. Its 0650 and I am waiting until 0720 to wake up the Sneedlet, so that I can return him to his mother on my way to work. He stayed over because his mom had an important school paper due today and it is much easier to complete without the Tasmanian Devil in the room. The plan was to take him home last evening, but since they live 15 miles away, I decided to do it on my way to work this morning, with the gas situation and all. I am always thinking of the environment. We had a brief crisis last night at bedtime when he demanded to go home NOW! I was reading an article in the paper today and the author used a phrase that grates on me. The phrase is, "leaving it on the table." For instance, when the house buying frenzy was at its peak, I read some home-seller saying that no builder wants to leave money on the table. That is code for we will raise the price until you are not willing to pay. As economists have taught us, when demand outstrips supply, the price is too low. I get it. It still grates at me to here some greedy jackass actually admit it. Fortunately, the tide has turned and the jackasses are having to stack Benjamins on the table to lure the buyers. Perhaps a few less families will get in over their heads. Let's hope, anyway. Well, the time has come to wake the sleeping Sneedlet and whisk him back to the loving arms of his mommy. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

The Sneedlet Games

As you might recall, yesterday was Sneedlet One's birthday party. The World Sneedlet Foundation decided to incorporate the annual Sneedlet Olympics into the event. Due to homeowner's association rules we were not able to get the permit to construct the Olympic flame. The centerpiece of the olympiad was this very cool Sponge Bob cake that we were able to pick up cheap, because several members of the family of some kid named Noah were incarcerated as a result of a nasty jumping castle incident. (Click on the images to enlarge) The games began with the participants parading in the traditional costumes of their native lands. The Sneedlets pose after the parade in the garb of the Republic of Gilligan's Island. Then it was on to the games. First up, the Sneedlet Cup Soccer Invitational. Soccer play was momentarily halted when a Sneedlet noticed an interesting bug in the grass. The fireman's carry event went poorly. Team Sneedlet was penalized when one of the Sneedlets inexplicably put his fire hat on backwards. Things turned around quickly for team Sneedlet when they scored gold in the two-man see-saw competition. Hopes ran high in the softball heave, but our boys finished a disappointing fourth, just out of medal competition. However, one of the members of the winning team from Slovenia tested positive for gummy bears and may be disqualified. Bronze is still possible for our team. The Sneedlets rebounded nicely, picking up silver in the scooter slalom. The festivities concluded when Sneedlet One was chosen to extinguish the Olympic flame. Then we ate the cake. Yum. Merle Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Happy BD Sneedlet

Notes of congratulations continue to pour in to the MerleSneed blog from around the globe. Well wishes have come in from all the continents, with the exception of South America, Africa, Europe, Asia and Antartica. It seems my triumph over Circuit City has struck a cord. Those weighing in thus far include Brad and Angelina, despite my admonition to them yesterday, they are emphatic that there are no hard feelings, Jen and Vince, The Donald, both Hiltons, several Jacksons and spokespersons for all the living presidents, plus Nancy. There is even talk around Washington of creating a MerleSneed commemorative postage stamp. I am humbled. Of course, someone called my cell and belched "rock on" into my ear. That Brittany is a hoot. I am not able to disclose the details yet, but reportedly a prominent Hollywood sex kitten is contemplating a "Merle Rules" tattoo on her butt. That would be something. But enough about me. The guy in the picture is some 60ish fitness freak, who finds it necessary to strut around San Diego in his workout clothes so that the public can be impressed by his manliness. At this moment he was proving that white men can't dance, despite his belief to the contrary. The fact that he was dancing alone speaks volumes. Today is Sneedlet's birthday. He is three. Daughter Sneed is throwing a gala at her home to mark the occasion. Fun will be had by all and yours truly will gorge himself on green corn tamales. I can't wait. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

I Win, I Win, I Win...Film at 11

There is important news at the MerleSneed blog. After lengthy and sometimes contentious negotiations, the fine folks at Circuit City have agreed to replace my crappy laptop. I received a call today from my new best friend Alan, at the Circuit City organization, advising me that they were going to give me a new computer equal to or better than the one I bought from them in November of 2004. Despite having to jump through hoops to get them to do the right thing, it is gratifying to see them live up to their warranty promises. In other news, I received a letter in the mail today from Union Pacific railroad asking me to visit their web site and apply for a job that could ultimately lead me to becoming a railroad engineer. I am 56 years old, for cripes sake, and I don't think I need a career path. The really important news of the day is the proclaimation by Brad and Angelina that they will not marry until everyone who wants to marry is allowed to. I would like to go on record as saying that okay by me. I personally don't care who marries who. I just don't think that these knuckleheads went far enough in demonstrating their goodness. Brad and Angelina should also vow to refrain from the following until we all have them. 1. Multimillion dollar film deals. 2. Nannies, drivers, gardeners, giant stooges or paid lackies. 3. Paid photo shoots. 4. Preferential treatment all day, every day. 5. Lecturing the world about things you don't understand. 6. Pretending to be smart because you have protrayed smart people in the movies. 7. Have babish, rich girlfriends. (This one is for Brad and if certain older guys snag a young, rich babe, we can strike it from the list). 8. Media-tpes taking you seriously. There are dozens of things that I could add to the list, but you get the idea. Brangelina, it is time to walk the walk. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Get Out And Take Your Blood With You

The Hotel del Coronado on Coronado Island, California This is a lovely hibiscus on the grounds of the hotel. This is a different variety than I am accustomed to seeing. You think I would run out of stuff to complain about. You would be wrong. I am about to take you into the complicated world of a medical office. During this behind-the-scenes glimpse you will be exposed to strange and exotic names and titles. Do not be embarrassed if these titles are confusing. Try to follow along as best you can. I am typing slowly so that you can absorb this harrowing trip to The Doctor. Perhaps you have had this experience. Many people in the medical field believe that they are doing you a favor by dealing with you. After all, you are interrupting them and keeping them from their important medical-related business. And by important medical business I mean things like discussing last night's dinner or their swell/awful wife/husband/boyfriend/girlfriend. Throw a set of medical scrubs on any random knucklehead and he/she will turn into a tyrant on you. There may be some federal funding available for a study like that. Kind of like the Stanford Prison Experiment. Hmmm. Our bodies make a substance called cholesterol or blood sludge. Some of us have too much blood sludge and need medical intervention to remedy the situation. I've taken a cholesterol-lowering drug for some time now and periodically I have to have my blood drawn and tested. I then have a visit with my doctor to get the results. This past April, I was in the doctor's office for one of these visits. I still had too much of the bad sludge and not enough of the good sort. He upped the dosage of the medicine and told me to give it a few months and come in for another blood test. He needs to make sure that he is not killing my liver. Last week I called the doctor's office to set up a blood test and follow up visit, as instructed. I explained to the Medical Appointment Scheduler what I wanted and was given an appointment for my blood test today and the follow up doctor's visit next Thursday. This blood test is a pain because I have to fast for 12 hours, which is inhumane, if you ask me. Plus there is nothing fast about not eating for 12 hours. With my stomach growling and feeling light-headed I drove 45 minutes in a torrential downpour to get to the doctor's office. I was signed in by the Medical Receptionist and taken back to the lab for the test. The Laboratory Technician looked at a clipboard for some time and finally asked, "Do you have a referral from another doctor for this test?" "Is this like a loan appliation where I need two references", I thought? I explained that the doctor told me to come back in September. The Laboratory Technician told me that I was not due for another test until October 24th. She left to check with "Grace", returning to tell me to come back in October. Grace turns out to be a Medical Assistant, and was making the really big medical decisions because my doctor was not in. Medical Assistant is not to be confused with Physician's Assistant, a job requiring actual medical training. So I am out scout, per Grace, Medical Assistant. There may be a valid insurance reason for this decision, but I am not privy to them. It must be on a need-to-know basis and I apparently have no need-to-know. Instead, I was dismissed, banished, sent packing. My time? Not so important. Their decision? Final. I guess that the time to have straighten this out would have been when they gave me the appointment, not after I showed up. Just a thought. I also had to have my prescription refilled yesterday and when I called it in to my usual Walgeens Drugstore, the automated system said my doctor would have to authorize the refill. I get this same message every month and every month it takes an extra day to get the refill. This is not a problem unless you wait until you are out of pills to call in the refill. Not that I ever did that. When I picked the refill up, I suggested to the Steve, the Certified Pharmacy Technician, he might want to call the doctor and get authorization for several refills, so they don't have to call every month. He suggested that I might try that, after all, I'm merely a patient/customer and he is a Certified Pharmacy Technician. He is extremely busy telling customers that their insurance won't pay and rolling his eyes. This morning I talked to Grace, Medical Assistant, and before I got the bum's rush, was able to explain about the refill problem. She turned to her computer, tapped some keys and announced, "You don't take that drug." We had a "do not, do too", moment before the issue was settled. With a loud, long sigh she picked up the phone and called in 5 additional refills. Gosh, I'm such a bother. I went seven years (1998-2005) without seeing my doctor and it sure was less complicated than having to see him. Damn old age. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Using Priceline

This is me with 2 suitcases and Sneedlet. We are in line to check in at Southwest Airlines. I convinced him that he needed to sit in his car seat, with the harness buckled so he couldn't escape. I tied the car seat to my belt and dragged him. He thought it was great fun. (click to enlarge). Well, the good news is that we had no fights with strangers on our Labor Day trip and we didn't find any dead people in our rooms. So that's something. Normally, we use Priceline to bid hotels in downtown San Diego. It has been consistently possible to get the Grand Hyatt for about $90 per night. This time Priceline failed me and we wound up at the Marriott at the Marina. It is nice, but the layout is odd. It is inconvenient to get around the hotel. The Marriott is set up with a lot of facilities for families. Saturday and Sunday there were so many families in the hotel that it was impossible to get up or down in the elevators. Security had to come up and break up a football game in our hallway. The Hyatt is more of a business class hotel, so there are not many kids running around. We visited the San Diego Museum of Art on Tuesday. As museums go, it is not the greatest. They are having an exhibit of works by Andy Warhol. Daughter Sneed has a number of Warhol prints and is interested in his work. Me? Not so much. We also took an accidental Trolley tour. I am such a knucklehead. We wanted to get to Old Town and give the Sneedlet the opportunity to ride the trolley. I thought it was like buying an all day bus pass, with on/off privileges and that it would be $8 to $10 bucks. It wound up costing us $30 bucks each for a two-hour tour of the city. For our money, we got a grouchy old driver telling us not to talk among ourselves, because he was trying to narrate. Well, excuse me. We got off his trolley at Coronado Island and waited for the next one. Seeing as how we've been to San Diego about a hundred times, I am not sure why the trolley tour seemed like a good idea. On the Circuit City front, they are still giving me the old run around. The guy was supposed to call me by yesterday to let me know if they would replace my crappy laptop. As of today, my new best friend Alan is two days late with the answer. I am planning my one-man protest in front of their store. All is not lost yet, but the prognosis is guarded. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

We're Back!

I thought I would make a quick post. We just got back from San Diego at 9:00pm, local time. I have to work tomorrow so I need to get to sleep. Our trip was fun and filled with the usual touristy stuff, including a minor mishap or two. I was sorry to see that Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Hunter, was killed tragically this weekend. He will be missed by millions. On a more cheerful note, for the second year in a row, maybe the third, I missed all the hoopla surrounding Jerry freakin Lewis and Labor Day dull-a-thon. Bless suffering children everywhere, but if they throw in with that old buffon, they are on their own as far as I am concerned. Anyway, I am glad to be home at Casa Sneed. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Notice

The lovely Mrs. Sneed and I will be in San Diego over the Labor Day weekend, with daughter Sneed and Sneedlet 1. Posting will resume on Wednesday, September 6, when I will once more regale you with my sadly ordinary life. Merle Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Needed, Good Teacher, Inquire Within

Here is my pal Sneedlet helping me fix a chair at his mom's house. Notice the intense concentration. When I was having lunch today, the 88 year-old guy that I wrote about last week came in and sat next to my friend and me. His name is Charlie and he is a retired Army officer. He tried teaching and eventually went back to work for the government. He got out of teaching because he said teachers were unwilling to change anything about the way they had always done things. We were talking about teaching today and it got me to thinking about my ill-fated teaching career. In the mid-nineties it became apparent that there would be a lot of shake up in the telecommunications business, so I decide that I would get into teaching. I always wanted to be a teacher, but the realities of life led me in a different direction. I went back to school parttime for about 4 years before getting my elementary certification. I successfully completed my student-teaching, passed the state exam, and was soon the proud holder of a provisional elementary license from the state of Arizona. I was declared fit to teach K-8. In the fall of 2001 my employer offered to give me a year's salary if I would go away, and away I went. I applied for a bunch of teaching jobs, but never got so much as an interview. The recession was not the time for a 50 year-old guy to being going head-to-head with fresh young kids for the few available jobs. The lovely Mrs. Sneed used her contacts to get me an interview with a principal she knows and he seemed real interested in me, but never called me back. My student-teaching supervisor got me hooked up with his girl friend who was the principal at a local elementary, but one of my friends called and advised me that I better not take the job, because the principal was insane. I turned that one down. One afternoon, in early October 2002, I was watching the People's Court and I got a call from the assistant principal of a middle school. Around here middle school is grades 6 through 8. He needed a teacher for the In-House suspension program for the balance of the year. He said it was an opportunity to get my foot in the door. I later found out that the in-house kids had chased the old teacher out of the building and probably out of teaching altogether. I spent the balance of the 2002-2003 school year locked in a room with this unholy mob. It was actually a good job because they knew I wasn't going to get fazed by their antics. As I grew in the job it became pretty satisfying. My room was near the counseling offices and the counselors must have attended a conference where the theme was about changing the status quo. They all had posters on their office doors that said, "If you do what you have always done, you will get what you always got." This slogan spread around the school and there were signs repeating it posted around. This will become important later. I made friends with a 6th grade science teacher, who was an older guy too. An opportunity opened up for the next school year for another 6th grade science job. My friend Tom put in a good word for me. The assistant principal put in a good word for me and said the job was mine for the taking. He said that they did have to have an interview process, just as a formality. They said they could work around the fact that I don't have a degree in any of the sciences. After all, its 6th grade for Pete's sake. The day of the interview and I eagerly anticipated dazzling them with my brilliance, my maturity and my dependability. The committee was composed of the principal, a woman who has the personality of school paste, a 24 year-old science teacher who got the job because her mother taught at the school (my analysis), my friend Tom and the assistant principal. I figured it was at worst 2-2 if they voted on me. The first question was from the kid. "Tell us about your experience teaching science." It went downhill from there. I tried in vain to explain my qualification, even making a joke about having aced 6th-grade science. Finally, I said, "Based on your questions, I wouldn't even hire me." They stared. I didn't hear from the committee, but 2 weeks later I got a letter from the district telling me that I hadn't gotten the job. It really ticked me off to hear via letter. I went to the assistant principal's office and unloaded on him. I worked 5 days a week, 50 feet from his office and they sent me a damn letter. He didn't see the problem. He sat me down and explained that the biggest thing that I lacked was that I didn't sound like a teacher. He advised me to learn more teacher jargon. That was it. It wasn't my lack of formal science training,my excellent work in herding the miscreants counted for little, my life experience was unimportant. The deciding factor was teacher jargon. I am not making this up. I motioned to the sign in his window and said, "If you do what you have always done, you will get what you always got." He was unimpressed. The job went to a 23 year-old new teacher. I have given up on teaching. I am too old to fight the establishment anyway. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it. Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor