Admitted Student

I’m excited.

I just attended the “Admitted Students Dinner” for my Weekend MBA program, and it has put a real and sudden feeling of reality into what I’m doing.  Up until now, I’ve been doing everything via the web and e-mail — my application, acceptance letter, financial aid preparations…everything has been cyber-this and virtual that.

But having dinner in a room at the Henry Center in Lansing with 160 of my future best friends is a very grounding experience.  Listening to a panel of alumni tell me just how much work they went through is a very grounding experience.  Listening to professors say how much they expect to be done before class even starts is a very grounding experience.  Getting a bag full of books, and a stack of syllabi and assignments due before my first class is a very grounding experience.

So to backtrack…I’m excited, with a large dash of terror-sauce.

In one 7-day residency session, I am going to complete three full college couses — 5.5 credit hours in seven days — and not fru-fru courses, no.  Financial Accounting, Managerial Principles and Supply Chain Principles.  I think I — right now — have a total of 26 chapters and nearly 50 questions/quizzes/exercises to complete in the next 2-1/2 months, not including the three on-line pre-courses in Statistics and Accounting.

Whew.  Excited, with a large dash of terror-sauce, topped with “what-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-into?”

But I can do this.  Other people have done this.  Other people have done this around marriages and childbirth, and I have to go through neither.  My wife is behind me on this, and says she’s excited for me…at least right now.  We’ll see how excited she is after a year of dad-who’s-no-help-with-the-kids and husband-who-does-no-housework.

This program will last until March 2011.  Two years; maybe a bit less.  I survived five years in Indiana.  I lived through six years of hellacious help desk duty.  I can do two years of school — especially if I keep my eyes on the prize at the end: an expected doubling of my salary and a hope for more than that.  Those other things — Indiana and help desk — had nothing at the end to look forward to other than just the cessation of hostilities.  No prize for completion…nothing.  “It’ll feel better when it stops hurting.”  You get the idea.

This program?  Two years of grueling school and 3-hour drives, and at the end of it I have an M.B.A. degree from a program ranked 18th among public universities and 40th overall?  A program rated #1 for return on investment?  A program with a career services department ranked #3 (IIRC) in the nation?  Well, hell!  I can do this!

I’m excited!

Earth Day +1

So, Earth Day was yesterday.  To celebrate, I took a picture and uploaded it to Earth Mosaic.  I also commuted 20 miles by myself in a car, and ate my lunch with disposable plastic silverware.  Yay!

I took a walk at lunchtime today.  My job is almost exactly one mile from Lake Michigan, and I can walk to the beach and back in just over a half-hour…35-40 minutes, say.  I leave my desk, hoof it to the water, grab a rock as a totem and hoof it back.

I realized just how much a walk like that signifies one’s basic trust in the world around them.  There I am, a mile from anything that belongs to me; a mile from any shelter that will accept me; a mile from any sustenance that’s available to me.  I just trust that when I return, it’ll all be there…that I won’t need anything to survive while I am walking.   I trust that no cataclysmic events will occur while I am out; that I will not need to kill zombies or grizzly bears; that I will not need to evade guerrillas.

As I was walking, I heard a large airplane, and turned to see a fairly big turboprop circling over town.  Shortly, I heard a helicopter and all I thought was, “Hm, must be the Coast Guard.”  Sure enough, the familiar orange Aérospatiale appeared overhead.  Then it struck me how the exact same sounds would provoke much different behavior in the different war-torn areas of this world.  I’m sure that right now in Iraq or Afghanistan, the sound of an approaching helicopter inspires people to scream and dive for cover so as to avoid being a target.  The sound of an approaching airplane indicates that something nearby is about to explode.  To me…it just inspires a “hmph.”

I leave my home every day with nothing more than a lunch in a bag and the clothes on my back.  In days gone by, leaving one’s home involved much more.  One could not trust that the means of survival would be available where they went — there were no Burger Kings, no K-Marts and no Shell stations.  One took what one needed with them, and and hoped to procure more along the way but did not count in it.

Think “Oregon Trail” here — the early settlers did not expect to refill their supplies along the way.  They filled a wagon with all the salt pork, gunpowder and bacon grease that it could carry, and set off on a journey.  Today?  I throw an egg-salad sandwich and some pudding in a bag and head out for the day, 20 miles from home, and just trust that I can get gasoline if I need it and something to drink if I’m thirsty.  It implies a level of comfort and trust in what’s around me, really.

The average American, I’d wager, leaves for work with no means of protecting themselves, no means of procuring food or shelter (other than a credit card and a cell phone) and no way of treating themselves if they become injured or sick.  We toddle off, naked to the realities of the world that are always hiding just behind the veneer of our society.  We are really just that close to being an active participant in a struggle for survival.  One terrorist, one natural disaster, one anything could disrupt everything.

Wow, listen to me…all doomsday-theory and all.  I really didn’t mean to go this way when I started.   I think I started on this train of thought when we visited Colonial Williamsburg earlier this month, and I read a plaque that said the average limit to a day’s travel in 1799 or so was 80 miles.  Mind you, we had just driven 900 miles in two days in order to read that plaque….and had averaged almost 80 miles per each hour that we were on the road.  Not to mention that we set off with the clear expectation that food would be available on the road whenever we needed it, as would shelter for the night.

What kind of leap of faith is that, really?  Get in your car, drive for 8, maybe 10 hours.  Find yourself 400-500 miles from your home.  Then simply pull into a hotel, get a room and sleep for the night.  We, as a nation of people, simply expect that wherever we are we will be able to find a place to sleep. (in exchange for some money, of course)  In the vast majority of the cases…our expectations are met.  And it’s really not that big a deal; there are hotels everywhere!  Somerset, Pennsylvania.  Canfield, Ohio.  Mesick, Michigan.  Marinette, Wisconsin.  Rolla, Missouri.  Everywhere — and lots of everywhere is nowheresville…yet there are hotels.  And usually at least one Chinese restaurant.

What a Difference…

…a year makes.  Here I am, just freshly turned 39 — yesterday, in fact.

A year ago, when I had just turned 38…I went on vacation and suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning that put me in a Virginia hospital.  The effects lasted for a month afterward.

My marriage was severely on the rocks.  We hit a low time in our relationship, one I don’t wish to repeat.

My job was stagnating.  Day in, day out, the same thing.

Today?  We’re planning to go back to Virginia in just under two weeks.  I’m scared of it, a bit, and excited for it, a lot.  My marriage?  Still kind of crummy…not a lot of happiness in our house, but there’s more than there was, and I think we’re on the mend.  I’m leading a $500,000 project at work, with actual hopes for recognition, if not a real raise or anything.

And best of all, I’ve been accepted to a decent MBA program and will be starting classes in a bit less than five months.  My life will be crazy.  I will be driving three hours to school every other weekend.  I will have reading and homework every night, and it will take time from my family.  My work will not slow down, and I will be frazzled.  And I’m planning on enjoying every last minute of it.  (maybe not the increased screaming from my 2-year-old twins)

I am actually working TOWARD something.  Something better, at that.  I have a purpose.  I have a goal.  I have something to make me feel young and alive.  I need to feel young and alive.  I’m ashamed at all of the years I’ve wasted, and I don’t want to do that anymore.  In 2011, when I am 41 years old, I will hold a fresh, new MBA in my hands, and I will hit the ground running.  I will get a new career and earn twice the money I earn now, and I will provide a better life for my family.

They surely deserve it.

New Shoes

I got a new pair of shoes — sensible ones; Cordovan-colored Dockers-brand Oxfords.  They replace a pair of ratty Nike track shoes that have eaten themselves over the past year.  I am amazed at how much better I feel with a nice pair of shoes on my feet — at how much they transform my work wardrobe, at least in my own mind. (so let me have this one)  I suddenly feel less like a pc technician nerd, with my tennis shoes on, and more like a real professional.  Yeah, because of my shoes.  I think I felt this way when I started wearing a nice belt every day, too.

Heck, I think just having nice things in general makes me feel better.  I feel better about climbing out of our Volvo in the work parking lot than I did when I was driving my 1984 Ford LTD.  Our Volvo is no great shakes, either — ten years old, 177,000 miles on the clock, and lots of shaky, pulsy, floppy things going on with it…but it looks good, and I guess even an old Volvo still isn’t the same as an old Mazda.

Anyway, I’ve never been a shoe person — more of a coat person if you want the irrelevant truth — but this time, getting a new pair of shoes has made me feel better, more worthy or something.  Dang, am I becoming more normal?

Em. Bee. Ay.

Yup, big changes coming down the pike.  I applied to business school.  I was ACCEPTED by said business school.  This July, I start the Weekend MBA Program at Michigan State University.  Nineteen months later, I’ll have an MBA, and hopefully a whole new job which will unlock untold riches for my family and me.

What has me at a loss, though, is wondering if getting into an MBA program — a decently good one, at least — is a bigger deal than I think it is.  I mean, getting into Harvard Business or U of Michigan is a big deal, no doubt.  I’m getting into a program that’s ranked somewhere between 37th and 50th, depending on who you ask — not top-notch, but not un-ranked like Baker College or Lawrence Institute of Technology.

So I spent a couple of months on my application — getting transcripts, resume, recommendations; writing essays; taking the GMAT exam.  Then, five days after I submitted my application, boom, I was accepted.  No interview or anything.  I had prepared for a 3-10 week wait, as cautioned by an e-mail from the program.  Nope.  Five days.

It’s burnin’ me up…is that a big deal?  My reaction was, “oh, cool!”  Then we went out to Chili’s to celebrate.  Should my reaction have been more along the lines of, “Oh. My. God.” (sit down in chair and fan face) “Honey, give me a blow-job right fucking now, because I. Am. The. Shiz-nit!”

See, I don’t know.  I’m assuming it’s good, but I don’t want to go around crowing about it, if this is actually relatively normal.  At the same time, if this kind of thing never happens, I’d like to know about it so I can be appropriately proud.

Well, regardless, I got into a decent MBA program; one with a GREAT career services department, and I should be poised to break into a good-paying management job in March of 2011, and I’m damn happy about that.

Fire Henry Paulsen

Fire ‘im.  Can his ass.  $350 billion (with a “b”) of my tax dollars are gone…simply gone; disappeared into the gaping maw of the banking industry.  Why?  Because Sec. Paulsen got his way, and got billions of our dollars, and got to spend it as he saw fit.  Out of $350 billion, did I see a single dime of it placed anywhere that would help me or my family?  No.  Hooray, bank CEO’s can keep their yachts and personal chef’s.

I say if you want to help America, divide the bailout money between the Americans.  Instead of the laughable “trickle-down” theory we’ve been saddled with for so long, let’s try the “trickle-UP” theory…give the money to the average guy, let him spend it, or save it, or pay bills with it, and watch the money make its way UP the chain to the large institutions.

What does Henry Paulsen say?  He’s gone on record as saying the last bailout didn’t work, because Americans didn’t go out and blow their checks on tv’s and fru-fru, but (god forbid!) spent the money on bills, necessities and paying down debt.  Henry Paulsen has said that if there is another bailout it should NOT go to the American people, because we “did it wrong” last time.

Sounds to me like the American people had more sense than our Treasury Secretary, the Federal Government, or the entire banking industry.  In the words of Ann Richardson — “Henry Paulsen…you ARE the weakest link…good bye!”

It Starts Today

Well, today was the big day.  January 20, Inauguration Day.  The Big O got sworn in — my guy — Barack Obama.

Today, I know that most of my Republican co-workers are going to have a radical paradign shift…now, whenever anything bad comes from Washington, it’ll be because of Obama, and whenever anything good happens, it’ll be because of all the people in Congress, and/or because the administration will be “riding a wave” or “along for the ride.”

Yesterday, anything bad that happened was because of the “damn Democrat Congress,” or was “out of Bush’s hands,” while anything good that happened yesterday was because of Bush’s leadership skills.

Wait.  What?

I, personally, am ecstatic about our new President.  I ditched work for an hour to watch the inauguration on tv…happened to be on Fox News (fair’n balanced coverage) so the commentary ran to the women’s coats, the Obama girl’s proclamation that their dad’s speech “had better be good,” and glowing praise for the senior ex-President Bush.

Still, it was a moving moment for me, sitting in the waiting room of the Cardiac Cath Lab at the hospital where I work, next to a man who claimed to be in the Color Guard at President Truman’s funeral, watching the National Mall packed to the rafters with people — happy people, people waving U.S. flags and cheering — and listening (live!) to our new President delivering a rousing call to action for the American people, on the Capitol steps, under a thin, January sun.

I hope he can deliver.  I hope he sets the tone for the whole administration, and I hope he can get the things done that he wants to get done.  I guess that means that I have hope.

Yes We Did

It’s been a month since my last post.  The big budget bugaboo hasn’t put me out on the street or starved my cat to death or anything.  We’re actually doing better now — the price of gas dropped from $4.29 to $2.11 / gallon.  I filled up the car yesterday for $35…a month ago it cost nearly $70.  Now our family budget is merely elastic-waistband tight, not snare-drum-head tight.

So that huge bailout plan passed about a month ago…and we haven’t seen a single benefit from it yet.  The economy still reeks.  The news this morning said the NYSE dropped 10% in the past two days — yet another record drop.  Those record drops happen so often now that I’m blase’ over the whole tanking-economy thing.  Isn’t that sad?

And we elected Barrack Hussein Obama as our next President of the United States.  I’ll say it right up front: I never thought I’d see a black man elected to the presidency in my lifetime.  I sincerely thought that the combined prejudice of Americans would never let that happen, and I’m elated to have had that stereotype shattered.  Obama’s acceptance speech, given at midnight on a Chicago stage on Election Day, moved me to tears — not just through the power of his words, but from the realization that I may soon become proud to be an American once again.

The past eight years of Bush have severely shaken my pride in America.  The mere act of having him *appointed* by the Supreme Court in 2000 shook my faith in Democracy.  Another thing I’d never thought I’d see…I saw:  a president who was not elected, but appointed…and contrary to the popular vote, as well.  I could not believe that in 2004, the American people simply handed the country back to him.  My wife actually cried.  “How could they just do that?” she cried, “we just gave the country back to the super-rich.”  She was right, look at us now.

After eight years of Dubya attacking anyone and anything that farted sideways at the U.S., playground-bully style, the world views us as just that — playground bullies.  They’ve called the Bush presidency a “regime,” something we reserve for people like Saddam Hussein or Communism.  The world views Bush as a dictator, a despot, an unstable tyrant…and via a sort of “trickle-down” theory…they view the American people as some mixture of sad victims, spoiled brats, vulgar cretins and ignorant hicks.  Americans abroad are not greeted warmly, nor welcomed with open arms.  We’re the loudmouthed, tackily-dressed buffoons ruining everyone else’s quiet breakfast.

Well, the world has welcomed Barrack Obama with open arms.  It’s amazing.  I’m glad I’m here to see it.  Yes, I voted.  Yes, I voted for Barrack Obama — we voted for Barrack Obama.  Yes We Did.

Listen To The People, Ya Morons!!

The big, bad bailout plan failed yesterday.  So far, we the people are not on the hook for $2,300 each to pay for Wall Street’s boo-boo.  I, for one, say “Woo-hoo!”

Listening to Anderson Cooper last night, it struck me that the only people who really want this $700 billion bailout to pass are the wealthy — because they’re really the only ones worried about this problem.  The wealthy live off their stock dividends and mutual funds, and they’re all tanking right now.  By my standards, they’re still raking in the dough, but by their standards they’re watching their incomes plummet.  Heck, they might have to postpone buying that new Bentley, and keep driving their V-12 Mercedes for a second year — could you even imagine that horror?

All the “party line” keeps saying is that Wall Street needs bailed out, and they keep waving the boogey-man of recession at us.  I now dearly hate the catch-phrase “From Wall Street to Main Street,” by the way.  It’s on the lips of everyone in the news now; it’s like a white-collar version of “Git’R Done,” and I dearly hate that mindless phrase, too.  Regardless — the White House is blatantly trying to scare the American people into knuckling under and agreeing that we each have to pay thousands of dollars that we don’t have.  The “experts” keep bleating that “the people don’t understand.”

You know what?  That doesn’t help.  Trying to scare people and call them stupid isn’t the way to get their blessing — anyone with children should know this.  “Hey, dumb-ass!  Vote for the bailout or I’ll kick your ass!”  How’s that sound?  Good?  No?  That’s essentially what Dubya, Paulson, et al are saying on the TV.  “Submit or suffer, you weak-minded fools!”

I, for maybe the first time in my life, am GLAD that the elections are a month away.  The politicians are actually listening to their constituents right now — mostly out of fear for their jobs, yes — and their constituents are not just saying, but screaming at the tops of their lungs, “NO, DON’T PASS THIS THING! WE CAN’T AFFORD IT! WE DON’T WANT IT!”  CNN polls run 20 to 1 against the bailout.  Online message boards get 2,000 angry messages in an hour.  Chicago radio shows get five people in the entire week in favor.

Yet, the politicians keep trying to push it down our throats…again, threatening us with plagues and boogey-men, and telling us we don’t understand.  I think that We the People understand more than Congress thinks — we understand that no matter what the market does, or is supposed to do, or didn’t do, they’re asking US to pay for it. Is this any different than Dad gambling away the mortgage payment at the casino, then asking 8-year-old Timmy for the money?  No.

Hello, Congress?  We’re not buying it.  Literally.  Enough with the “bailout.”  Find something different.  Or don’t.  Whatever, we don’t care.  We’re just not paying for it.

Partisanship? Really? Now?

I feel like I need to throw up.

Our country is facing an economic crisis — disaster, recession, armageddon, collapse, whatever…spin the big wheel of doomsday phrases.  Our country is having a big problem with the economy.  Banks are failing.  When have I ever watched banks fail and be taken over by the government?

Never!  That’s when!  Never!  I have never seen our economy in this situation.  Oh, sure there was the big crash at the end of the 1980’s, but it really kind of pales in comparison to what’s going on right now.  This is big.  This is “Potter Just took over the bank” from It’s a Wonderful Life big.  Costs of mundane goods are skyrocketing, homeowners are losing homes, it’s grim out there.

And Washington is squabbling about Democrat versus Republican.

Excuse me, I just vomited a little in my mouth and swallowed it back down again.  I had to wipe some off my lip before I could continue.  What I said is right — lawmakers in Washington are quibbling like spoiled brothers and sisters over which parties demands are more important.  Democrat plans versus Republican plans; Republican checks versus Democrat balances.  Donkeys versus Elephants.

My god, our economy is melting down outside their windows, and they’re sissy-fighting over party politics!?  Does anyone in Washington pay attention to the rest of the country?  I mean really, what’s important here?  The good of the country?  The good of the citizenry?  Hello?

It sounds to me like D.C. is on fire, and I hear fiddles coming from the Capitol.