Called by Recuiter

Adventures

I’m used to being called by recruiters (a.k.a. headhunters). This week at my current work location, I have received three distinct calls from the same recruiter, who called me by name and skillset. This would be unremakable, save the fact that I don’t even know my own phone number here.

RememberLong Distance?

Observations

Do you remember the days when you would answer the phone — rotary dial with a 25 foot cord, of course.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Aunt Martha. Is your mom there? Tell her it’s long distance.”

Just a few months ago, I was remarking that I have not heard anyone use that line in at least fifteen years, probably twenty. Naturally, the reason is that we don’t pay 25 or 40 cents per minute for long distance anymore. Now, if we are smart, we can pay as little as 2 or 3 cents per minute. So it’s no surprise.

Just yesterday, however, I called Aunt J and asked for my cousin, and received, “May I take a message? I’m on the other line with my sister long distance.” So it was nice to hear the old phone lingo again.

Shop Wal Mart

Observations

You know what I’m sick of? I’m sick of folks telling me not to shop at Wal Mart. Am I to believe that not shopping at that store is supposed to help out the people who work for that store or the vendors who sell to that store? Or is it just supposed to salve my conscience. Well, I’m still not buying it because I at least have some basic understanding of how a free market economy works.

Up at 1 a.m.

Family

Probably, not many parents enjoy waking up at 1 a.m. to deal with croup. There may be mucus and upchuck to deal with. There are tears to wipe away. Generally the parent is working for an hour to get the child’s breathing back to normal, and so his beauty sleep is in arrears.

Well, last night I got to help B out with a little croup, but I have to admit that I didn’t mind the work. I sure felt sorry for the boy, but it was a special time. It is not often that one can be awake with his son — who is nearly five years old — at 1 a.m., hold him, speak gently to him to calm his spirit, tell him that his dad had the same croup when he was five. It is not often that on can wrap a blanket around him and stand out of doors under a moonless December sky in 30 degree air that is absolutely still and explain why he can see the lights of Omro, Oshkosh, and Winneconne reflected from the clouds, and then hold his son on his lap and rock him to sleep and lay him back down, knowing that he is going to be alright until morning. No, that is tolerably rare.

Busted

Observations

Tonight, G and I were arguing about whether busted was slang or not. It seems we were both right. In the course of looking up that word, I came across another one — buttinsky. Well, shucks, who would have guessed buttinsky was in the dictionary. “Butt in” + Slavic syllable = light-hearted insult = great fun!

Got a Knife?

Adventures

B.B. tells us a funny [true] story. He was checked in at the airport and walking out to the plane when a passenger’s wedding ring got stuck between the rollers on the luggage rack. An airline employee, eager to solve the problem, began asking the passengers, “Does anybody have a knife?”