"You gonna get another job?"...

[Volpone]

I'm a sad person right now. I really realized it tonight and it needs saying. My Dad died of cancer in 2000. My favorite Aunt died of cancer in 2004. My Mom died of cancer in 2012. I've spent my life trying to find a girl to spend the rest of my life with. By the time I got my dog, I'd increasingly given up on that and I spent 10 years with my dog and cat. Then, just when I thought I had everything figured out, my dog died last March. I mean, I knew her time was running short. That's why the push to figure everything out. But it still hit me hard. Because we got through so much before that. So it was just me and the cat. The cat died in June. Again, not really a surprise. She had kidney problems and was on a special diet. So when she wasn't able to eat the special diet, that should've tipped me off. And maybe it did. But mostly it was like "Yay, I don't need to make a special trip to the vet and pay $40 for a 3# bag of cat food and do the deal from my car (because of the 'rona) like a drug deal." But eventually she stopped eating the food she could keep down. And all her organs shut down. So it's been just me since then.

Also, around that time I got roped into a job I fucking hate. Everything about it, I hate. And I was already doing a different job I hated. So now I'm doing 2 jobs I hate and have no time for what I want to do. If my friend who hired me had been honest, I could've quit the lower paying job I hate, but he told me "1-3 months," knowing full-well it was going to be much longer than that, but I wouldn't agree to longer than 3 months. Meanwhile I lost the renters for my first rental and my other renter got to be a (even bigger) pain in the ass (than he already was). So yeah. I have a lot of sadness and loneliness. But I'll make it. Spring is coming. My friend has everyone hired so once they get onboard I can slip out of that commitment. There's plenty of dogs and cats that need loving homes and I'm flirting with a girl (as well as I can).

But I still miss my dog. (And in retrospect, she was likely the release for 20 years of pent up grief. This is normal. But getting through it is still exhausting. And I think the only way to get through it is to move on--which is hard to do when I have no time to have a new dog and cat or girlfriend.)

 

[Volpone]

The blind-spots in peoples' minds are just fascinating to me. Like the cup that is also 2 faces or the old lady/young girl. Or politics, where someone that can clearly perceive one thing absolutely cannot see the other perspective. But I'm not here to talk politics. The reason for this is this job for my friend. I have to conclude that it is completely impossible for him to grasp just how much I hate everything about it. I mean, I've literally been telling him this for...at least 5 months now, but I'm realizing he just can't understand that. To recap, it is support for high-level complex accounting. Using SQL code (that someone else has written for me) to pull reports for people, using software to pull data from Oracle servers, parse it, and feed it to software that converts the data into charts and graphs. Maintaining a 2,000+ item checklist that is updated by hand every month.

One clue was talking with him on the phone Sunday. OK. First off, he has a tendency to call people (on hands-free) when he's driving somewhere to pass the time while he's driving. Which is annoying in itself. He won't have anything he really wants to talk about, he's just using you to kill time. I mean, if I were more extroverted, I might get that. And I do understand keeping in touch with friends. Especially as an old single guy. Old single guys tend to not have a lot of friends, so it's probably good to stay in touch with the ones we have. But I'm rambling. The point is, as I was trying to extricate myself from the call, I mentioned that I had to get together my tax stuff for my accountant and he revealed that he will sometimes spend extra hours on his taxes, trying to get an extra $100 refund. Someone who's brain is wired to derive pleasure from doing taxes and has an undergrad in accounting and a masters in computer science; who's worked for the same company for 25+ years just can't understand how much someone who is NOT an accountant and who explicitly decided not to be a computer programmer (I studied for 2 years and eventually gave up because I hated it and was never going to be very good at it) might not enjoy being a data analyst. Shit, even the title makes me sick.

Anyway, I worked at the factory last night, so less than a half-day for him yesterday. Then I slept in today to recover from the factory last night. And I spent some time getting together tax stuff that I didn't get around to Sunday because I was on the phone with him for goddamn 20 minutes. And of course doing my own stuff for a bit. Well I finally get on the work computer and see that he messaged me around 11am, asking how whatever stupid project I'm supposed to be working on is coming along. Well, probably the way it was when I messaged you before I left for my other job yesterday. Now I've got to fire up Outlook and wade through the... 165 (largely automated, machine-generated) e-mails I got in the past 27 hours or so. But when I'm done with that, I'll open the SharePoint--just like he fucking could do himself--filter on uncompleted tasks, and tell him exactly what it would've taken him 45 seconds to find out for himself: There are 11 uncompleted tasks. 2 are his, 5 are a person on his team, 2 are legitimately not complete yet, one is no longer a monthly task and should be removed, and one that didn't get done so the assignee plans to do it with this month's close--exactly what I told him 27 hours ago. He just doesn't understand--and apparently can't understand--how little time I have for this and how much I hate it to the point that it is making me sick. Thank God this is the last month of it.

(I just made about $30, typing that. And I feel no guilt about it at all because if I'm not providing value and they refuse to let me go, they deserve to get soaked by contractors. And also, because I wouldn't have *needed* to write it, if he hadn't immediately pissed me off the instant I got on the computer. Shit, even getting on the computer is frustrating. But that's another story that I think I may have already mentioned above.)

 

[Volpone]

....and now for something completely different. [/johncleese]

I have an A-Team van. Because I needed something to use for property management/renovation and a van could be used for moving, camping, and hauling my motorcycle. And it gave me an excuse to do an A-Team van. I tend (mostly) not to do frivolous big expenditures, I like to have an excuse for them. I built the TARDIS because I needed a place to store garage stuff while renovating a garage.

BUT...for various reasons the "Ghostbusters: Afterlife" movie really impacted me. I can't fully explain it. Losing The Dog and The Cat. Losing so much this year. Feeling lonely and lost. Old. Watching a movie based on happy memories of childhood, where the protaganist was a lost misfit who suddenly finds out she's right where she belongs and saving the world and vindicating her dead grandfather--and all his friends showing up for him in the end; The ECTO-1 and the police car, rolling out of the station, full code...I'm literally tearing up just typing this. Sobbing as I think about the bit in the ECTO-1, where Mom is trying to express how proud she is of her daughter: "Phoebe, you're a..." "I'm a scientist."

And as much as my friend pisses me off, I'm pretty sure he has similar feelings. And a brainy 13 year old daughter as a divorced Dad. So we've been talking about building an Ectomobile.

Now to do it right, you need a 1959 Cadillac/Miller-Meteor Futura ambulance/hearse. Problem is, there were ever, like, 400 of those in existence. Columbia Pictures got at least 2. I know of at least 2 others. So the task is to find one of less than 396 sixty-three year old cars--that is in, or can be restored to operating condition. Not an easy task. Or you can find a "close enough"--say, a '57 Chevy Nomad wagon. OR! You can find a '59 Caddy Sedan DeVille and pay a limo/coachbulder to convert it to a station wagon. Possibly a crime/blasphemy, but if you have the dough... it's a slightly less impossible way to get a screen-accurate ECTO-1. But not practical for someone like me--even if I had a valid excuse to build one (apart from having lots of unused garage space and enough money to do one).

The thing is, like the General Lee (to some degree), the car for the ECTO-1 wasn't nearly as impractical when it was used--1984. (A '69 Charger was plentiful and cheap in the late 1970s--the show made them significantly scarcer--and more desirable (until the Confederate flag became eeevil).) The car was only 25 years old at the time--technically not even a vintage/historic car by most standards. A car well over a half century old is more...problematic. So the more practical option is to do an updated Ectomobile. 25 years puts it around 1996, giving you a decent option: Either a Chevy Caprice or Buick Roadmaster wagon. You need to make some concessions because it's a lot smaller car, but I'm confident you could make a nice Ectomobile from either car.

Problem is, either car is getting almost as fucking hard to find and expensive as a '59 Caddy ambulance. Well, not quite so bad, but you could actually find them less than a year ago for reasonable prices. Now they just aren't out there. Which is probably just as well, because I don't need an Ectomobile. Because then I'd need 4 jumpsuits, 3 people, and 4 replica proton packs. On an unrelated note, I did have a chance to build an accurate Mystery Machine (a '67 Chevy van at a fair price and a firm that could do a vinyl wrap for a fair price) but that's another story (at the time I didn't have the time, money, or space for a second van. If I had the chance again, I'd seriously consider it, but what are the odds that I find another late '60s Chevy van in decent running condition. That was a literally once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The A-Team van was too though. I looked for that bastard for over 2 years before finding mine.)



On a completely unrelated note, Pandora is actually finding lots of new stuff tonight for my station. Cool.

 

[Volpone]

I swear to god... So I'm not at work yet, but my friend texts me: "Did the checklist get created and the note sent?" Yes. Because it needed to be created back on the 15th. If you check your e-mail, the note is there. And if you go to the SharePoint site, the checklist is there. These are all things that would literally take him less time to check himself than to ask about.

 

[Volpone]

I can't come to bed. SOMEONE IS WRONG ON THE INTERNET.

So I'm a member of the local real estate investment group. And I value that membership. I have chosen real estate investing as a wealth-building tool myself. BUT... We have a private Facebook group. And there are some...characters...in the group that have their own agenda to advance.

One of the fairly big wigs in the group just made a post about how much safer real estate is than stocks. And his proof was cherry picked screencaps of stocks from a year ago compared to their price today. I couldn't let that just slide so I had to point out that if you picked price of stocks at the end of March, 2020, compared to at the end of March 2021, it would tell a completely different picture. And if you looked at the price of a home in 2007 compared to the price of a home a year later, you'd have second thoughts about how safe real estate investing was. I went into a bit more detail and pointed out that real estate cash-flows a lot better than stocks and that I myself am investing in real estate (with money I made on the stock market).

He comes back with "Thank you for your input, but I'll still take my 20 homes that I bought in 2008 for $55K that are now worth $145K." Well no shit, Sherlock. I literally just said the market was bottomed out in 2008. Of course you almost tripled your money. So just for laughs, I pulled up performance of the stock market over the same time. In 2008 it was around 6,500. Today it is around 34,000. So something over 500% growth. I came very, very close to replying and saying "Well, by your own example, if you invested $55K in the stock market in 2008, it would now be worth around $268K. So your...times it by 20...your $1.1M that you turned into $2.9M? If you'd just put that in the stock market, it would be worth $5.7M today.

But I realized that there was no way to win that argument so I just let it drop.

To be fair, he's using a bad example to prove a good point. Because I'll bet he didn't *have* $1.1M in 2008. He had a few thousand and he built a house of cards with that. Get a mortgage on the first house. Use that collateral to get a mortgage on the next house. Lather, rinse, repeat. If you've got a few thousand to invest in the stock market in 2008...you can invest basically twice that. Because people were building houses of cards in the stock market in 1929 and it all collapsed. If he'd bought his 20 houses in 2007 instead of 2008 he'd be singing a different song today about how great real estate is.

[Oh, and that's the great thing about being successful: You can increasingly get away with telling people what you think. I mean, I don't that often, because I've learned that it makes things harder for you overall. But if you've got enough money in the bank to be unemployed for 6 months, you can tell your boss you hate your job and you won't be working any overtime. If you don't need the approval of someone who makes a great deal of money selling people house-flipping boot-camps, you can tell them they're not being honest. There's a saying...how's it go? "Life is like a shit sandwich: The more bread you have, the less shit you have to eat." Something like that.]

 

[Volpone]

Truth be told, I'm hiding out a little bit today. I should be up and productive by now. But I also don't want to start something that I don't have time to finish. Finally about ready to get the rental ready to relist. I probably don't have to bring any area rugs or bath towels to do any staging, but that gives me some pleasure. So I probably will. The catch is, the old rugs I used when I listed the place have been integrated into my own house, so while the place is listed I'll have to do without them here (or just buy more at Wal*Mart). And while I have the time to get the place listed today, I really don't have the time to show it, screen applicants, and do up lease paperwork (or at least that's what I'm telling myself) until my contracting gig wraps up. I could also go for a run, but it's kind of cold and shitty out.

Oh. Now I remember the other thought I was rolling around: As I age, I've been cutting back on calories. Around my early 30s I switched to the 6" sub at Subway (does anyone eat at Subway anymore?) and cut cookies and bacon out of my diet (or at least restricted them to special occasions). At the end of last year I started cutting certain meals in half--a box of mac & cheez, a frozen pizza, etc. For various reasons I had frozen waffles this morning. I invariably have a stack of 3, although I considered doing just 2 today. Well now I'm feeling like a bloated slug. So maybe I need to cut down to 2 waffles when I do that going forward.

 

[Lanzman]

Too many carbs, dude.

 

[Volpone]

I work at the factory until around midnight today, but the person in Ireland on the team I'm stuck doing contracting for wanted a 9am virtual meeting today, so I got up an hour earlier than usual to sit in a meeting by myself. This is why I fuck off and bill them for it. Waste my time--in a job I didn't even want and don't have time for--and...well, I can't waste your time, but I can charge you for time I waste. And yes, that's a shitty attitude, but I've been calling attention to that I don't want to be in this job for months now and they insist they want me, so what the heck.

 

[Volpone]

(To be fair, someone more important than either of us roped her into a different meeting, apparently.)

 

[Volpone]

Tonight I had an interesting thought, after working myself to the point of tears over a dog that died almost a year ago: In a way, I *enjoy* being this sad. I grew up in a family that didn't display emotions, in a culture that didn't display emotions (the midwest). I was a man in the Marine Corps. You don't display emotions there. So it is kind of...interesting...to feel something--and to feel it this strongly. It maybe makes me understand why people go to haunted houses and horror movies.

 

[Volpone]

Lightbulb went on this morning: My neighbor is dying. I mean, not anything specific or short term, but she's on the path. My phone battery was a little low when I went to bed and I get a lot of spam calls anyway, so I turned it off. Turned it on and she'd fallen down in her horse barn again and couldn't get up (texts and voicemails). Luckily she'd managed to get up, but this isn't the first time this has happened. She had her knee replaced last summer and the hope was that this would improve her mobility, but it looks like that isn't the case. Her sisters stop in and help her, but there's only so much they can do. And she's enough like my Mom--or my Dog--that there's no solution. She could go in some kind of home or assisted living facility, but giving up her horses and her way of life would probably kill her faster and more cruelly than dying out in her barn. This is another downside of my mission/purpose in life: I like helping people and solving problems. I realized years ago that there are some people you just can't help. And between my neighbor and my dog it occurs to me that there are some problems you just can't solve. And that's painful to me--even to type it. Kirk at the end of TWoK painful. You go through life thinking there's always some way to win and then you're forced to accept that sometimes you can't. No matter how clever you are or how hard you try.

 

[Volpone]

This popped into my head last night, just as I was getting into bed. Thought I might have to get up and fire up the computer to get it out of my head and in writing in order to get to sleep, but didn't need to: Last night my friend called up to chat. His Indian hire starts on the 21st. I might like to wait until he's on board, but I decided my last day is the 16th. My Dog died on the 17th (yes, St. Patrick's Day, hooray for that buzzkill). That really marks the spot where my plans started going sideways. So it needs to mark the spot where I started getting my plans back on track again.

 

[Volpone]

I gotta get out of this contracting job. I have my own problems that need attention. But all of my attention and energy gets sucked up by this miserable gig.

My manipulative/idiot renter paid the March rent last night. Only he paid last year's rent instead of the rate increase I reminded him of when he was trying to get me to renew his lease instead of having him month-to-month. So I need to reach out to him for another $24.

But this morning I logged onto work and picked the meeting that was the most important for me to be in. While I was in that meeting someone else from the meeting messaged me about SharePoint issues. Then while I was talking to her my friend/boss called about a ticket in the system for Tableau access. So now I've got at least 2 things that need my attention there, right off the bat, 448 unread e-mails, I'm still in my jammies, I work at the factory starting this afternoon, and I have a SharePoint task I'm supposed to be doing during that time that I'll need to farm out because I'm on my other job.

So I'm immediately overwhelmed and exhausted the instant I get out of bed.

 

[Volpone]

There is more rant, but I ranted it via PM to someone on FB. Maybe I'll drag it out and cut and paste it.

 

[Volpone]

My renter's days are numbered. I don't understand manipulative people who play power games--especially against someone who has more power over them. This fuckstick has been playing games since Day One. I mean, forget saying he was a nonsmoker on the application and later smoking in front of me. That's a whole other thing. But when we signed the paperwork I asked for the deposit and he was like "I'm not moving in today." And I made the mistake of NOT saying "You know what? That's fine. I'm going to tear up this lease and keep screening applicants." Then he forgot to pay the rent the first 2 months so I had to text him to remind him. I always send renters an invoice a few weeks before rent is due. And a receipt when I collect rent. Well a few months in he texts me, complaining about how I'm always bothering him about rent. He also locked himself out of the house about once a month, like I've got nothing better to do than drop whatever I'm doing and drive over to let him in--right up to the day that I forgot my phone at home so he spend a day locked out. Oh, and when we were doing the lease, By The Book, you want to lock in a multiyear lease. Luckily he only wanted a 1 year lease "I want to see how things work out." I smiled and said OK and, because by that time I'd been drawing some conclusions, thought "you are totally forgetting that that works both ways." Of course when he said he was going to need rent assistance and be late on his December rent so I said "well, worst case, your lease is up at the end of February" he freaked out and got all butthurt. Once his lease was up he was like "I'd really like to sign another lease." I thought "Yeah, I bet you would." Instead I said "right now we're only doing month-to-month leases for everyone. Oh, and don't forget, for the next year the rent increases automatically by 2.9% so your rent for March will be $XXX" So he comes back with "That's fine. I just don't want to find out I need to move out in 30 days." Well play stupid games...

So he texts me at 10:40 on Sunday "Sorry for texting so late. I left the rent in the mailbox." I'm in my jammies and enjoying a cocktail, but I put on some pants and put the beverage in the fridge and go get the rent. Sure enough, he paid last year's amount. Next morning I text him, reminding him that the rent went up for the second year. Astonishingly, he doesn't give me any kind of flak. He just apologizes and says he'll get it to me. Since he's still got 2 days, I'm thinking "maybe we can make this work."

It is now 9:15pm on the 1st. I'm in my jammies, enjoying a cocktail. And I still haven't received the 2.9% difference from what he paid--like, lap dance money. So now we get to play games. I don't particularly enjoy playing games. But I know all kinds of games. And I win at almost all of them. And the loser usually isn't very happy. Fucker. I don't like being a dick. But I know how to. So if you force me to be a dick, I'm going to be a DICK. Play stupid games...

PS: The main reason I haven't sent him the 30 day letter yet is because I haven't had time to put someone in my other house so I might as well keep him and play the games he apparently so desperately craves.

 

[Volpone]

Oh, I'm so happy. Today's the 1st. As I mentioned, Idiot shorted me chump change on the rent as a petty manipulative power play. So I was stuck staying up until Midnight, in case he had the payment. He did not. While I was waiting I may have had a few cocktails. Killing time I drafted the 30 day notice. 1) I cannot describe the feeling of joy I had, filling in the blanks. It made me realize I shouldn't wait around and give him "a chance." He's had nothing but chances. And pissed them all away. Anyway, because I legally need to give 30 days notice, the earliest I can demand that he move out is 11:59pm April 30. So there's nothing wrong with getting the letter ready. I'll have had 2 weeks to put someone in the other place before I have to send it. And then another month before I need to get in and see what needs to be done to get the place ready to list again.

 

[Volpone]

It's hard to decide what I like best about a gun safe:

-That it makes it harder for burglars to steal your guns while you're out of the house or
-That you'll likely be murdered if there's a home invasion while trying to remember the accessible but hard-for-a-burglar-to-find place where you hid the key.

This message brought to you by the insomnia of working 2nd shift 2 nights a week and trying to transition back to regular time to be productive the rest of the week.

 

[Volpone]

Oh God. This is going to ramble. Just need to let off some emotion. I try not to talk specifics on guns online for reasons that will likely become clear later.

Thursdays are my day to TCB. The company in my contracting gig is in the middle of month end accounting close and it is going so bad they extended Day 1 a second day. Up until now I've made it a point to at least pop in on Thursdays during close, but we're getting so close to when I'm leaving--when I HAVE to leave because my own life is so far behind right now--and I've got so much stuff to do today that I decided today is mine.

My manipulative lying renter...His lease ended last month. He's on month-to-month right now. He whined about that and I told him everyone goes to month-to-month right now. (Technically true since he's my only renter at present.) I also reminded him there is an automatic 2.9% rent increase each year and March rent would be $XXX. He acknowledged this but complained that he didn't want to get a 30 day notice like he could on month-to-month. I ignored this. So Sunday night he texts me--at 10:40pm--that the month's rent check is in the mailbox. Since I trust nothing with this guy, I changed out of jammies, ran over, and got it immediately. Naturally it was for the old rent amount. So I politely text him and remind him the rent went up. He's very apologetic and says he'll get me the difference. I tell him that, fortunately, since he paid early he has a few days to fix it. Monday comes and goes. I'm sitting at my desk at 11:59pm on the 1st. No check. At 6:51am on the 2nd, he texts, apologizing, saying how busy he is, and promising that he'll get it to me as soon as he gets home from work. I went to bed a little after 10pm. Checked my phone in the morning. No texts.

So now, with the other stuff I've got for Thursday, figuring out what I'm going to do about him gets added to the agenda. A fellow landlord was in favor of me sending the 7 day pay or quit letter and I'll admit I actually printed it out, but realized it wouldn't accomplish anything except wasting my time over a small amount of money. An e-mail from a real estate attorney acquaintance confirmed this. So back to the regular schedule. Oh, but first I have to check on my gun.

Back in August 2019 my house got burglarized. Certainly a professional job. In and out in about an hour on Sunday morning, while I was out walking my dog. Took only guns. Well in November 2020 I got a call from the police. A police department up near Chicago had recovered one of my guns. So I started calling them to try and get it back. A few months ago I finally got a direct number and a point of contact. She said she'd look for it in evidence. 2 weeks ago I sent her a letter with more details, a full description of the gun, a couple photos, and a sketch of the company logo and its location.

Called this morning. Was told the officer was out and I should call back in 30 minutes or so. Did some little chores around the house and called back. She had my gun. I could come and get it. I would need to bring my ID and the bill of sale.

The bill of sale. Luckily I keep good records--although not as organized as they should be as we will see. First I went through photos on my computer. I'd taken a picture of the gun right after buying it and since I think visually, it would be easier to spot that than just start poring through data. Found it. Checked the date. November 2012. Looking for a receipt that was almost 10 years old. Next I got on my computer. Almost certain I paid with credit card so I checked my accounting software from December 2012 back and found the exact date, price, and seller. So now I would just need to dig out my banker boxes and find the one that would have credit card statements from that period. Dug out all the bankers boxes and went through them all to varying degrees of detail. I had the box with statements up until 2009. And the one with statements after 2013. What were the odds I put the box I needed "somewhere Safe, where I could not Lose It"? Started going through non bankers boxes. Actually, I'd already been through them, but I went back and looked again. And in a box under a bunch of stuff and behind a bunch of other stuff, with a laptop in the top so that I'd initially thought it was an obsolete electronics box, was a big file folder. Statements and receipts. For the right credit card. So after 2 hours of sweating and cursing, I now have the bill of sale from 2012 for my stolen rifle on my desk, trying to think what day I can make the 5-7 hour drive to get my gun back.

It's past time for lunch, I've accomplished virtually nothing I was supposed to accomplish today and I'm looking forward to burning another entire day in the near future to recover my stolen property. I'm exhausted. And hungry. And for Lent this year I decided to try to be vegetarian so I've got to try to think of something to have for lunch before finally getting the day started.

 

[Volpone]

Of course now it's almost 3pm and I'm exhausted from dragging a ton (not quite literally) of files out of assorted closets and rummaging through them--and emotionally exhausted to boot. Probably not going to get some of my stuff done today and contemplating taking tomorrow off from work to go get my gun.

 

[Volpone]

I'm about done with my friend. I have Thursdays off. I've had them off for months. They show up on my Outlook calendar as me being unavailable. If I can get in and help out, I will. As it happened, could not today. Too much going on. So tonight my friend texts me "Did you send updates today?" "I don't work Thursdays." "Did you have the intern to send them, because she didn't." No. Because it is not my job to arrange for the intern to do things. And the intern only works half days most days. The fact that I wasn't at the morning meeting and that my Outlook shows me as being off should've maybe tipped you off to have someone do my stuff.

I've got a fucking renter that is being a pain in the ass. I've got another house that's been vacant since September because I don't have time to get it rented. I've got to spend 10 hours on the road ASAP to reclaim stolen property. You're the manager of the department. Fucking manage it.