Lost Socks, Big Burritos, Politics, and Me
There’s a new book out, penned by a self-described naturalist, Dr. Pedale, called (I’m not making this up) The Meaning of Lost and Mismatched Socks. supposedly, in his new book, Dr. Pedale investigates, in a quasi-scientific yet laughable tome, the disappearance of socks. One must suppose, after reading a description of this book, that Dr. Pedale spends a lot of time with dryer lint. Better him then me, I suppose. At least he’s a scientist and he gets paid for doing so, or perhaps he gets to enjoy the prestige of his recent publication. Either way, the man must know his tubes from his athletics.
Today, we went for lunch at Chuy’s. We had an engaging conversation about politics over big burritos. It was actually quite nice, especially since it’s been rather nice outside. It beats sitting in and slumping over a computer all day. And the burritos were good.
Tomorrow, we are having yet another send-off at work. I’m actually starting to enjoy them, despite the fact that, this week anyway, the send-offs have all been for “worker bees” rather than “middle managers.” What’s the difference, you ask? Well, that one’s easy. Worker bees are folks who actually DO something. “Middle management” represents the feudal class of the
bourgeoisie; they are folks who are “slightly privileged” but not terribly important in the grand scheme of things. Carol’s third rule of layoffs states that, if they start laying off the “middle management” you know it’s bad for the company but good for you, while, if they conversely layoff the worker bees, it’s bad for you but good for the company. Either way, you seldom get to pick your poison.
But then, what am I complaining about? I don’t even own a dryer so, in theory anyway, I should not fret over lost socks. I enjoy big burritos, all politicians are just plain scary, and I’m still here.
Until next time…
