What Are Frowning Non-Motivated Idiots Supposed To Do??

I heard that unemployment claims are at an all-time high. If you’re a person, like me, who ignores the news, let me explain. This is bad. Not, being attacked by a dragon, during a zombie apocalypse, while watching your football team lose, Bad.  More like your favorite politician got caught in a sex-scandal Bad. Unless of course you were the one they had the affair with, then the scandal might be worse, although if they’re good in bed and… Well, maybe I should continue and let you determine how bad it is.

The bottom line is people are losing their jobs, and jobs are important. How are you supposed get all the stupid stuff you need to make life worthwhile without one? When you have no job, you have to buy practical stuff like food and clothing, but when you have a job you can get tacky stuff like an electronic neon dinosaur wearing a T-shirt that says, “Elvis Lives!” And I happen to know there’s one on eBay right now. My wife is desperately trying to sell mine.

The funny thing is, as unemployment goes through the roof I look around and see so many places that are hiring. Now these are not all the best jobs. Most of them are probably a little demeaning. I mean I saw one sign at a restaurant that had, “Now Hiring,” on the top line of their sign, and “Hotcakes $1.99” on the second line. So, they’re hiring Hotcakes for one-ninety-nine. I don’t know what training you need to be a hotcake, and frankly I don’t know if the listed wage is for a day or hour. All I’m trying to say is the jobs are out there if you’re a little creative.

It is for these reasons and the fact that I’m bored and didn’t have anything else to do, that I present to all of you the Mr. Ohh! Career Seminar. You’ll have to imagine the trumpet fanfare and other orchestration in the back ground. I wanted to help as many folks as I could so I put this together on the fly.

The first thing I have observed is the need to smile. I see signs all over town saying places are hiring smiling faces. Now here is the great enigma. I then go into those very same places and no one is smiling. They are all frowning and rude. I therefore must conclude one of two things. Either the place is a front and they are hiring smiling people and then sending them to exotic places like the Bahamas. When I went there everyone was smiling. They were also eating a lot of conch, which is a fancy word for sea snail, Yeeeck. You can see that you have to take the good with the bad. But on the plus side if you’ve ever wanted to spend the rest of your life on a tropical island maybe you should look into this.

There is perhaps another explanation. If all their current employees, are frowning they need smiling people. The purge will start soon. You could be on the forefront of a new wave of hires that changes the entire attitude of the place. The quicker you get there and apply the more likely you’ll be on the cutting edge and be able to demand the big bucks. Think about it All you need to do is smile and you could be either be moved to the Bahamas or starting a revolution. So, forget all that resume’ and experience crap and learn to smile. Your future depends on it.

But you say, “Mr. Ohh!, I can’t smile. I’ve tried and my lips just won’t curl up. What am I to do? Don’t worry. There are solutions to everything. The second lesson is to be awesome. This is a little harder than smiling because there is no accurate definition of being awesome. The best way to be awesome is to surf on a huge wave. Then all the other surfers say how awesome you are. The thing is, we don’t all have an ocean. No Surfers. So, the challenge is to BE awesome without actually doing something awesome.

Thankfully there are books written on the subject, and all of their millions of pages boil down to this; To be awesome You MUST think you’re awesome. HUH? I don’t get it either. But you can’t fight it when it’s in a book so do this: Go to the top of a tall building and scream, “I AM AWESOME!” if no one disputes it, then you are. Go to that interview and tell that person just how awesome you are. Like this.

Have you had any experience?

I’m awesome.

Where do you plan to be in five years?

I’m awesome.

Can you explain to me how to calculate flow rates in different sized pipes?

Did I mention I was awesome?

The next likely statement will be the interviewer telling you to get your awesome butt out of their office. Congratulations! You have just been validated. A hiring manager just labeled you as awesome. You can put in on a resume. You do however have to be careful. If the interviewer happens to be the opposite sex, never tell them their butt is awesome too. This can lead to lawsuits. Enough said about that.

I have read many ads for jobs when I was unemployed and there is and there is one thing that is constantly mentioned. You must be motivated. Motivation is jumping out of bed and acting like your headed for Disney Land when you’re just going to the bathroom.

So how do you get motivated? Actually, this is hard, but I think I have a solution. Look at it this way; Motivation is a bit undefinable. Therefore, you don’t have to be motivated, you just have to look motivated in the interview. The best was to look motivated is espresso. That stuff will get extinct wooly mammoths moving. Four shots should do it. You will be motivated. So motivated in fact, you might build a model of the Eiffel Tower using the paperclips on the interviewer’s desk. But remember to stay focused. Don’t offer to wash the interviewer’s car more than once. Also, if you have to go to the restroom don’t get up and dance. In fact, if you can hold it, this just looks like more motivation.

A note about being yourself. Everyone talks about it, but no one really analyses it correctly. Frankly it’s bull crap. It only works if you’re already someone really cool. Those folks aren’t unemployed. I say get in that office and fake it, be the most awesome, motivated and smiley one in that office. They’ll have to hire you. If that’s not yourself; Who Cares?

There you have it, a guide to getting a job in tough times. I can’t say what kind of job that will be but you’ll have it. One last thing is you should be sincere. Once you can fake that you’ll be golden.

Okay it’s an old joke, but it really fit the situation, so don’t judge.

Sheeesh 

Something Wheely Wheely Bad

I have spoken to several medical personnel, and it is undeniable. Sweating and smelling bad are important for my health. Oddly, it is unhealthy to get your sweat by being lazy, lying in the sun. Which is a pain in the butt. I would have no trouble with getting my daily sweating in, if I could do it in a lounge chair, drinking a cold beverage. The perspiration just pours off me, but this sweat causes cancer. You have to move vigorously to produce good healthy sweat, and likewise good healthy body odor.

So, it comes down to exercise. But how much exercise is needed. When I take my dog out, he acts like an idiot for five minutes, walks around the block twice in fifteen minutes, and sleeps for the rest of the day. With only minor interruptions for food and to have his belly scratched. He has a clean bill of health. So, I concluded that if I walked for twenty minutes, I could sleep the rest of the day. No such luck.

My doctor says, I don’t stink badly enough after a short walk. Why she wants me to smell so bad, I haven’t got a clue. I have to get more exercise to sweat and stink to make her happy. Oh, the stupid things we do for pretty women, and she isn’t even my wife. So, the question becomes; How does one get maximum exercise with a minimum amount of work? When I was younger, we ran around all day. The thing is, we didn’t realize we were getting exercise. I’m sure if we did, we would have run screaming back into the house to turn on the Nintendo.

I looked on-line for some exercise equipment and actually achieved my goals. Just looking at the prices made my heart rate go up, and I started to sweat so much I nearly fainted. Who in their right mind would pay three thousand bucks for a bike that doesn’t go anywhere? It doesn’t have tires and only one wheel. Where’s the value? Half the bike for ten times the price.

I thought about a weight set, then looked at the instructions. You have to almost commit to marry those things. The course clearly said you would feel better in a few weeks, sure, but it took time to get real results. The next few pages talked about the maintenance plan, and the lifelong promise to your body. Look, my body and I are pretty good together but I made a lifelong promise to my wife and I’m still trying to see how that’s going to work out. The next thing, and they tell you this, is you won’t even use most of the weights until you pass level two. By that time the dust alone could double the power it takes to lift them. I’m not paying good money for something even the salesman says I won’t use. The time had come to borrow.

Last Christmas my son received a new pair of roller blades. Our feet our approximately the same size, so I went to the garage and found his old pair. Before I go on, you should know that I took ice-skating in high school. I was pretty good. Everything I’ve read says rollerblading and ice-skating use most of the same muscle movements. Therefore, as geeky as I looked, I figured I could handle the blades.

 I coasted out of the garage and knew immediately something was wrong. I don’t know if I forgot everything, or they aren’t the same in the first place, but strange things happened when I tried to move. I stood there on eight neon-green wheels and could not roll anywhere. I was able to march back to the grass where I could sit and try to figure out what was wrong, when my neighbor, came out. Mitch is a photographer, and is never without his camera. I was stuck. I couldn’t run away.

I tried to march back up the drive but my right foot kept wanting to roll back down. After a few moments I figured out that the wheels on the left foot were jammed somehow so using my left to push and right to roll I made it half way back to the shelter of my garage. Mitch was clicking away. Then suddenly the left started rolling and the right wanted to turn sharply to the left. My legs tangled. I didn’t fall but the comedy of me swinging my arms and legs to keep myself upright was enough exercise for anyone. And Mitch got it all. I found out later he submitted the video to a YouTube contest. I don’t want to know if he wins.

I made it back to my garage and sat. Mitch, seeing the show was over went home, and my son came out to see what was happening. When he saw what I was wearing he laughed. The reason he wanted new skates was because the bearings on these were shot and libel to do all kinds of crazy things. Now he tells me. His answer between sniggers was, “Hey, mom knew” I asked why he hadn’t thrown them out. He answered, he kept them to play a joke on friends. “Well, I’m not your friend anymore,” I mumbled as I flung them in the trash.

Two days later I felt it was safe to try again. In reality I looked out the front window and Mitch’s car was gone. I went outside carrying my other son’s skateboard. Now I’m no Tony Hawk, but in my day I was okay. I figured if I went slow kept the board moving, I’d be all right, and enjoy getting my exercise. The first time around the block went fine, but when I came around the last corner, I noticed Mitch was home.

Mitch had set up two tripods one with video and one for stills. His wife was selling tickets for space in their yard to watch me and their daughter was selling lemonade. This wasn’t going to go well. I should have stepped of the board at that moment, but I’m a guy.

I sped up. While moving as fast as possible and in front of Mitch’s house I preformed the one trick I know. It went great I got applause as I accelerated out of the move. Then I turned back to Mitch. I didn’t see the pothole. The font of the board went down and stopped. I was thrown into a blooming cherry tree. The petals let loose and fell till I was covered in a blanket of pink. And again, Mitch got it all.

My wife ran from house. She came to me with a concerned look, brushed away the petals from my face, and kissed me, asking if I was all right. I told her I was okay with only minor cuts and bruises. She asked if I was sure and I said yes. Then she smacked me and walked away mumbling, “If you ever do anything like that again…”

She left me there and I had to limp back to the house myself. I collected the board as I did. But I learned my lesson.

Exercise may be good for me, but laziness is a whole lot healthier   

And Amber Waves Of Weeds

You may or may not know, and may not care, but I was involved in a traffic accident last November. I’m not telling you this to get sympathy, however if some of you are having trouble stemming the flow of tears, I’ll accept monetary gifts. Please don’t hurt yourself in solidarity, I am all right. Gosh, I never realized how hard it was to be great celebrity. In point of fact I only mentioned this because of my garden.

I love my garden, and the thing I love most is the size. It is tiny. Just a strip about three feet wide and sixteen feet long. You see I live in a condo and that’s the only   land I have to take care of. It’s a lazy man’s dream. I work on it for one day in the spring mulching and planting, and one day in the fall mulching and cutting it all down. Sounds sort of silly doesn’t it. If it would just die and become mulch, I would only have to work one day to become the envy of the home owners association. I’ll have to check up on that. Either way this garden was made for me. All the glory and none of the work.

Then came last November. I had already begun the procrastination stage of my fall gardening day when I was injured and couldn’t go out. The mulch remained at the garden center and the Iris’s never went in. In that brief spell weeds grew. I wasn’t worried winter would kill them I would mulch in the spring. The fact that I didn’t have to do work seemed to be a blessing. All was right with the world.

But No! We had a mild winter. The weeds didn’t die. Then Corona hit and my local garden center closed. There was no mulch to be had. My little garden looked horrible. What could I do? Was I actually going to have to work to make it beautiful again? Just the thought of it was giving me hives. I called my children together and offered them money to eliminate those weeds, but found no relief. Their new on-line classes and online meetings with friends were too time consuming for them to do my work. And as my oldest son put it as he was leaving for his job, “Dad, you only spent one day in the garden last year. It won’t hurt you to do a third this year.”

NOOOOO! I am being beaten down by the truth. I am the father I am the one who creates the truth in this house, provided my wife agrees with it. Just because my son is eighteen, does not mean he is allowed to have any of the truth. I forbid it! Well that was certainly a nice rant but it really doesn’t mean anything. The real problem that I can’t stand is the fact that he’s right. I tried to slam my physical therapy back in his face, but really, he was the one who drove me to it. He knew what I did. Darn kids, they were so much more pliable when they were younger.

So, there I was with my trash bucket and little shovel out on the garden pulling weeds. I had on a pair of jeans a T-shirt and a sweat shirt. About five minutes into the project I was too hot and removed the sweat shirt. Well, without it I was too cold, I tried to work but was freezing so I took a minute to put the shirt back on. After one weed, I was sweating so I took it off, bending down I was too cold and so on. That shirt went on and off thirty-six times in the first twenty minutes, and my muscles were so sore I couldn’t pull weeds. Something had to change.

I went into the house to get rid of the sweat shirt and find a light jacket. My wife noticed how much I was sweating, probably by the smell, and remembering my therapist’s words, told me I should take a break. A famous doctor once said, “Americans work too hard, they should take more breaks.” Well never let it be said I don’t listen to famous doctors. While I’m sure she thought I was tired from pulling weeds and not dressing and undressing, she offered the break and I took it. Half hour later I was well rested and ready to go back to it.

I sat at the edge of the garden and pulled exactly three weeds. Then came the toad. Toads are cool. When I was a kid, I caught toads, made toad houses, and even officiated as my sister married a toad. We were a weird family. I was distracted by that thing for a good fifteen minutes. The thing was I wasn’t pulling weeds. Wy wife came out to bring me a drink, and noticed what that no weeds were pulled and yelled at me. I tried to explain to her that there was a cool toad, but while she was yelling my proof ran away and got lost in the weeds I was supposed to be pulling. She gave me a look that started to burn my skin. I just wish she would have looked at some of the weeds. That look would have killed them and saved me a ton of hard work. Oh, Well.

  At this point there was no escaping I had to pull weeds. I had supposedly been working for two hours and had nothing to show for it. The wife was angry and I was in danger of losing my happy home. So, I pulled weeds. I worked a solid ten minutes before I came to my old nemesis, The Dandelion. The Dandelion laughed at me with its bright yellow flower and oddly-cut leaves daring me to try to pull it out. I looked it in the flower and swore it would not win this round. The ground was wet so I easily dug a moat around the plant about three inches deep. I removed my gloves to get a better grip. I looked to the sky and said a silent prayer for a swift victory.

However, unbeknownst to me, the sky is very pro-dandelion. It answered my prayer with a sudden cloudburst. I should have accepted my losses and went inside but I was determined to show that yellow nuisance who was boss. I reached into the moat I created, which was now filling with water, and grabbed the green menace as tightly as I could and pulled. It didn’t budge and my wet hand just slid off of it.

I tried again. This time I found a nub at the top of the root to use for a grip. As I pulled the flowered enemy actually started to come loose and rose a few millimeters. Encouraged by this minor victory I rubbed my hands together and tried a third time. The rain fell so hard I could barely see which probably contributed to what happened next. I pulled. The root broke with a snap. The change in forces caused my feet to slip on the wet ground and I fell backwards. I landed on my back out cold with the weed in my hand.

The next thing I remember, I woke, on the couch with the weed still in my hand. The family was around me frowning. Then I noticed I only got half the root. The Dandelion beat me again.

Curse you Yellow Flower!