But…

It’s funny (not funny ha-ha) how much you learn about someone when they’re gone.

My mother like to watch people fail.

My mother poisoned me against my own father.

My mother was borderline bi-polar, and drove away anyone who ever got close to her.

I used to fight with my mother monthly, like clockwork.

My mother kept me from ever really knowing my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins — the entire maternal side of my family, really — because of her hatred for them.

My mother held grudges.  Like, really held grudges.  Sears and Roebuck pulled a bait and switch once in 1967, and she never shopped there again.  She and my father divorced in 1983, and when I started planning my wedding in 1996, she told us that if my father were there…she wouldn’t be.  And had she not passed away before the ceremony…she wouldn’t have.  AND, she would have held it against me for the rest of her life.

I have a pair of aunts — one of them really is my aunt — who have been a couple for as long as I’ve been alive…and my mother never accepted it…hence, I found out on my own, after she’d passed away, when staying at my aunts’ bed and breakfast.  No, get your mind out of the gutter…we walked by their room and saw there was only one bed.

Nothing I ever did was good enough for my mother.  If I got all A’s and one B on my report card, she said “why wasn’t it all A’s?”  When I finally did get all A’s, she said “what’s the big deal, I knew you could do that, what took you so long?”  If it was cold, I heard “why didn’t you cut any firewood?”  If I cut firewood, it was “we need more than that.”  If I cut more than that, it was “why didn’t you drag it in on the sled and stack it in the house?”  If I did that, it was something else.

So now I’m in my 40′s.  I don’t have a relationship with anyone on my mother’s side of my family…a fact pointed out by my wife tonight when she said she was puzzled that I never, ever talk about any of my cousins on my mom’s side.  I realized…I’ve never met most of them.  I’ve met one, that I can think of.  My mom hated her older sister, so we didn’t visit.  My mom’s oldest sister left home when she was young, and was a grandma by 30 or so…and I met one of HER kids once, I think.  Only one of mom’s younger brothers has had kids, and I think I’ve met them once, as well, but mom didn’t like him either, so we didn’t visit.  Her family even has a huge reunion every year, but every year she’d fill me with guilt about wanting to go, so we wouldn’t.  Eventually I quit wanting to.  Nothing seems harder than answering the question “why’d you wait so long to come?” 230 times.

Christmas?  At home, we didn’t visit anyone.  Thanksgiving?  Same.  Easter?  Same.  I thought it was normal until I met my wife, and we went over to her family’s house for every holiday for huge gatherings.

And the love of failure?  She knew I have a phobia of needles…and a love of flight.  So when I said I wanted to be a pilot, she told me, “you know pilots have to have yearly physicals?  Tough ones.  With lots of needles.  And you have glasses, so you can’t be one anyway.”  She didn’t tell me this once…she told me this every time I brought it up…for over ten years.  Want to play football?  “Okay, but you’ll need a physical, and they’ll give you a shot, and I won’t drive you to practice, and you’ll break your arm.”  And on and on.

And throughout the 27 years I had my mom, I loved her, and I trusted her, and I always thought she told me the truth.

But she didn’t.  And I hate her for it.

Yet, I still love her, because she was my mother, and little boys love their mother even as they commit real atrocities on them — much worse than the poisoning and manipulating that my mother did to me.

So what do you do when your relationship with your mother has fucked up your relationship with your father, your cousins, your entire family and colored your entire outlook on relatives and relationships?  I don’t know, that’s what.

From all of you, I have learned what happens when you put policies ahead of people, and why I should never do so.

From all of you, I have learned how NOT to handle promotions and advancement.

From all of you, I have learned how to make the workplace an inhospitable place.

From all of you, I have learned the consequences of a high power distance in the American workplace. (eg: “Me manager, you worker; Me big, you little)

From all of you, I have learned how not to communicate with my employees, so they remain in the dark as long as possible about all things that may affect them, large and small.

From all of you, I have learned how not to administer and interpret an employee satisfaction survey.

From most of you, I have learned how to show my employees that I really don’t care about them.

From one of you, I have learned how to play the political game par excellence…and why I should not.

From one of you, I have learned what happens when you start to believe your own horseshit.

From one of you, I have learned how to single-handedly squash morale and destroy employee engagement.

From one of you, I have learned the dangerous combination of Inexperience, Incompetence, and Ignorance.

From one of you, I have learned what happens to the non-favored when one plays favorites.

From one of you, I have learned that perkiness and blue eyes do not make up for an utter lack of skill.

From one of you, I have learned what it’s like when one leaves every last shred of personality out in the car every morning.

From one of you, I have learned why one should not be a lying douchebag.

From one of you, I have learned the difference between a good person and a good manager.

While my recently-earned MBA gave me a sound education in things like finance, strategy and leadership…it is only textbook-learning.  I am truly thankful to have had these years of real-life experience to fully round out my education and make it immeasurably more applicable.

(Pause)

Since 1994, I have never been without my wife for more than a week.  I have never been without my kids for more than a week since my son was born in 2000.  Now I am 1,400 miles from all of them for the next two months, and I have to say…it’s already hard.  It’s like I don’t know what to do.  Hell, I haven’t had to do my own laundry or grocery shopping in years.  It’s funny on the surface, but really not.

I mean, my wife and I have talked about this since November when I started pursuing this job, and we traded the usual “it’ll be hard but we can do it” banter.  This is different.  This is where the rubber meets the road.  This is where she’s on her own with four kids and a house to maintain and pack up, and I’m on my own in a little apartment in a strange city.  I think she has the tougher row to hoe, at least in terms of workload.  I think I have the tougher row to hoe psychologically.  My wife gets to have the kids to occupy her mind, and she’s in familiar surroundings, while I have very little that’s familiar to hold on to — my laptop and my car, just about.  Yes, I know how pathetic that sounds.

On the other hand, it’s not like I’ve been stationed in Siberia or Antarctica, either.  I’m in Florida in April.  Today was 86 degrees and spotlessly sunny.  I’ve been driving around with the sunroof and windows open.  My temporary place is a tidy studio apartment on the Alafia River, in a nice, quiet neighborhood where the neighbors wave as I (a stranger) drive by, and where I watched dolphins swim past this evening.

Anywhere there are dolphins is a peaceful place, right?  I mean, they’re dolphins.

Adding to the positives, after spending the week here — even with atypically cloudy weather, and tornado-spawning thunderstorms on Thursday — my wife has pronounced that she likes Tampa.  That is such a huge weight off my chest — the old saw “if the wife ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy” (or the shorter “happy wife, happy life”) is more or less applicable here.  Thankfully, her verdict after the week is “omigawd, we get to live here?”

But that’s in June, after the kids finish the school year.  Until then, I live in a little studio apartment that’s just slightly bigger than our house’s living room.  By myself.  And so…here I am.

My. New. Job.

When I enrolled in business school, it was a leap of faith.  A big BIG leap of faith.  I read as much as I could about the Michigan State University WMBA program…on their website, on independent ratings and review sites, everything I could find.  The reviews and stats all said that I could expect a good job to come of it — the average pay reported by previous graduates was $89,000 per year, and they had a 90%-ish placement rate.  When attended an “information day” I asked, and they assured me that their graduates had job offers before graduation, not after.

So I leapt.  It’s been nerve-wracking, always having this little rodent in the back corner of my mind, gnawing on the doubt…the doubt that says “Sure, they say that, but really?”  The doubt that says, “hey, you’re going to graduate with not only a new MBA, but also with over $60,000 in student loans.”  The doubt that says “you know, you’re gambling a wife and four kids on this bet.”

So, I’ve been diligently following the Career Services Center’s (CSC) advice, and honing my resume and interview skills, and attending job fairs, and…nothing.  Nothing but a looming graduation date.  I’ll tell you, it looms pretty large when the stakes are high.

But now…my worries are over, because I landed a job.  Not only that, but fulfilled every one of the stats and review that I read.  I did have a job offer before I graduated.  I am getting a bodacious raise over my current salary.  I did get a signing/relocation bonus.  They were right — my degree entitles me to nothing…but makes it possible to earn everything.  My massaged resume was impressive.  My newly-kindled interview skills — and let me tell you, they were abysmal — won over the right director and VP.  My network…which I didn’t think I even had…worked.  I networked my way into my new job.

So now, just when I thought my adventure would be winding down with graduation and all…it’s only beginning.  The day after graduation, we’re packing up the car, and driving from Michigan to Florida, where I start on Wednesday.  My family gets to spend spring break down there with me, at least, then they have to head back to Michigan to finish the kids’ school year.  In June, we will finally be together, and living in Florida, which is a big BIG change from Michigan.  We trade deer for gators, trout for sharks, blizzards for tropical storms…we also trade winter for summer, pines for palms, being broke for being comfortable.

Mostly, even though life is hectic right now, trying to set up apartments and hotel stays and orientations and 50 other things…I keep thinking to myself, “my God, it actually worked.“  I keep being amazed by this, and by the hope I have for our future.

My God.  It actually worked.

It has been a long time since I blogged here… since April.  I look back at the past year and… I’m still doing exactly the same things that I was last November.

• Still attending business school
• Still working the same job
• Still driving the same car
• Still spending my free time in my basement, studying

But…I think things have progressed.  Instead of 30 more drives to school, I have nine.  Instead of graduation being far-off…it’s 4-1/2 months away.  The car now has 207,000 miles on it.  My kids are a year older and a year wilder.  I’ve worn a shiny thumb-groove in the spacebar of my school laptop — no joke.

I can’t wait to graduate.  My wife wants to see me again.  I’d like to have free time again.  Hell, I’d like to have a life again.

And, because I have fun with it…some more titles from spam mail in my Gmail account…

lyr zuuy — Roger that….agent 42-alpha activated…

jruu 9jwe — Agent 42-alpha is to assassinate what?

jwht wvu — assassinate the assistant manager of the McDonald’s on Garfield St.?  Are you sure you’re with the Chinese government?

Easy to buy! We accept Visa, Codeine — Awesome!  I knew investing in codeine would pay off someday!

Make YourPenis 3-inches longer & thicker, girl will love you — Is that 3″ longer AND 3″ thicker?  So it’s like a cheese-log?  And which girl?

Clue #1 is the constant blank, lost-sheep look in his eyes. I suppose that’s not really uncommon for managers, especially ones who’ve worked their way up to management with no formal management training. In other words, someone who is absolutely tops at coding interfaces in Unix may have no aptitude at all for employee engagement and planning meetings.

Clue #2 came last year when I was let into an e-mail chain between several managers about the budget of the project I was leading. They were debating what I should do with my remaining money — never giving me a clue, mind you, but that’s not the point — and this particular manager was not only certain that a decision had already been made, but was also a full $100,000 off regarding the initial budget my project had been granted…a number that had been shared like a parade clown shares bucket-candy.

Clue #3 was today, when I was walking through the department and this manager asked if was performing a job function for a job I haven’t held since 2006 — totally ignorant of the fact that I had been working for an entirely different team for four years.

I don’t want to think of a manager as an idiot…at the same time I know some of the other candidates that he was hired over, and I hate to see that a fool had been promoted instead of them. But such is the way of the world, I guess.

Why is this something that the rest of the world seems to be able to do, but Big Bad America can’t?

If this had happened in 1990, my mom might still be alive — instead she watched a lump in her breast grow for YEARS until she got a job with health insurance.

A. Who here would be proud to say “I let a child die because I didn’t want to pay more taxes?” Honestly, what’s more important…LIFE, or a few hundred dollars? I would sooner pay higher taxes for healthcare than I would for farm subsidies or my senator’s trip to Hawaii.

B and C. Do you ask your child what they want before doing anything? No, because they don’t know better. That’s how we Americans seem to be behaving about this — like squabbling children. Does anyone WANT to pay more taxes? No. Do people NEED health care? Yes.

Why won’t anyone just wait and see if it works before blasting their hate all over? Give it a year…if all the doom’n gloom was right, THEN start screaming — but if this new law really does do what the administration wants, isn’t that a good thing?

And there I’ve ranted for too long, in a forum that does absolutely no good because very few people actually READ, and many people just read for an opening so they can attack some more.

Hey, can I sign up for yet another “I Hat0rz Obamacare cuz hez the sux” page on Facebook? Yeah, Washington is tuned *right* in to those things, I could really make a difference.

My bet is that most people start to spout out an attack on me before reading the 4th paragraph, almost nobody got past the 5th paragraph and maybe 1% even clicked on the “read more” link up there. FML.

Mr. Menzel and Ms. D’Aluisio,
Good morning!  Until yesterday I had never heard of “Hungry Planet.“  While eating my lunch yesterday I typed in a Google search for “Food the World Eats,” and most of the results dealt with your book.  I found it fascinating.  I forwarded a link to my wife of one of the Time.com photo essays on your book, and she (a registered dietitian) found it fascinating.  In fact, your book scores a dead-on bullseye on our shared interest in eating less “American” and more healthy.

So last night over dinner (Hamburger Helper and canned asparagus, by the way) we talked about it with our kids, and we decided that we are going to try an experiment over the next year — we are going to pick 26 countries and put them in a hat; we will draw a country from the hat and spend a week researching the culture, the recipies, the ingredients; then for the next week we are going to eat like they eat — breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks.  Then we will draw another country, and continue.

We are a more-or-less normal American family.  We live in northern Michigan.  I am an I.T. nerd and graduate student and my wife is, as I said, a registered dietitian. We have four kids: a nine-year-old son, seven-year-old daughter, and twin three-year-old girls.  We eat fast food, pre-packaged junk and lots of beef, and we spend about $400 for two weeks of groceries.

Over the course of our experiment, I will probably blog about the progress, and my son is excited to use his Christmas-present camcorder to record our attempts at shopping and cooking.  The kids are on-board with this — more so after we gave them a back-door of peanut-butter sandwiches if the meals are utterly inedible to their young, American palates.

But, I wanted to send this e-mail to the both of you (which you may or may not read) to let you know that your work has inspired one American family to broaden their horizons and try what will hopefully be a fun and enriching experiment.

Sincerely,
Nick, Angel, Gable, Evelyn, Elouise and Allison Shadoff

The half-hour lunch ensures that your employees will remain stressed and hurried for the entire day, and when that half-hour is granted only grudgingly with the expectation that one will *work* while eating their 4th grade lunch at their desk…it’s a surefire mile-marker on the road to burnout.

My current employer grants the half-hour lunch…grudgingly.  There was one point early in my tenure here where even that was taken away.  I was on our help desk, and someone decided that we would all rather go home a half-hour early rather than have a half-hour of lunch…except that we didn’t get to go home a half-hour early.  I believe that there was at least a year where there was no lunch period.  People scrambled to the cafeteria and back with food — food that then needed to be consumed between calls for password changes and stuff.  For that time, I claimed a half-hour of overtime every day that I worked through lunch.

Even now, I usually bring leftovers from home and eat at my desk during lunch.  If I were to try leaving work to get B.K. or something, it would take the full half-hour to get out to the car, get to the B.K. and get food, get back, park, and walk back to my desk.  At that point the food would be cold and I would have no remaining lunchtime in which to actually eat.

And yet…this isn’t the most extreme case I’ve seen.  At my PREVIOUS employer — a car factory — they granted the half-hour lunch.  In this case, line-workers would have to hoof it from the far corners of the building to the cafeteria, stand in line to get food, then hoof it back to the line.  The far corners of the building were in some cases an honest 15 minute walk.

This precipitated the all-too-common sight of a line worker practically sprinting into the lunchroom, *grabbing* a burger and fries, *throwing* their money at the cashier while tearing open the burger with their teeth, and stuffing it in their mouth while they sprinted out.  Inhuman.

I have only had one job with a real, honest-to-gawd, lunch HOUR.  It was a crappy, little clerk job at Purdue University, but I got an hour for lunch and it was awesome.  I could meet my wife at the student union and have a relaxed meal; I could eat leftovers and go for a half-hour walk; I could go run an errand and still eat.  It was heavenly.

And just to get it out of my system…”I’m sorry, Dave…I can’t do that.”  I know that it’s from “2001: A Space Odyssey,” but they made a sequel called “2010: Something or Other” and that’s enough of a link for me.

Speaking of…I love the bit in the newer Willy Wonka movie — the Johnny Depp one, not the Gene Wilder one — where they send the chocolate bar through the tv, and they re-enact a bit of “2001″ with the bar as monolith, and ape-men dancing around it all “ook-ook” and stuff.  Good stuff.

This year, I get to buckle down to studies the whole year.  There’s a couple of weeks off in July and that’s it until the end of my program in March 2011.  I’m looking forward to it…I’m wondering what’ll be left of my family by the end of it.  I suspect the kids may eat each other.

That is all.