Bradley

Until this morning I worked with a guy that I thought was a fairly decent person - we'll call him Bradley, it reminds me of a song.

The heating and air company I work for/am part owner of is fairly small.  We have two full time installation crews, three service techs, and a few office people in varying support roles for a total of 12 people.

Just after Christmas this year Bradley started acting a little strange. Showing up late without calling, calling in sick 2 or 3 days in a row, missing work, etc. On one particular day when the office called him to see when he was going to get to his first call he told J that he was quitting. Winter time is fairly slow in the HVAC business in GA but we really liked this guy so we brought him into the office to see what was going on.

Bradley apparently wasn't getting enough hours and could barely afford his car payments, mortgage, and child support so he was heading off to greener pastures.

While he wasn't the best technician we'd ever seen, and it was slow enough that we could do without him until summer, we wanted to keep him around if we could. The Boss, the Fox Hunter, and I sat down to try to come up with a plan to help him out.  We guaranteed him a certain number of hours a week, some of which came out of my paycheck, and loaned him enough money to get caught up. He stayed.

Two weeks ago he rear ended a woman because someone cut her off and he was following a bit too close.  No one was hurt and he told us he was going to work out of his personal truck for the rest of the day. When J called to ask him when he'd be ready to roll, he sort of freaked out and went home. He stayed home the next day claiming that he was too sore to work - after a doctor released him to come back the day before. We didn't say a word about it. Wednesday came and Bradley stayed home again. The Boss told him that if he was hurt he needed to go back to the doctor and get checked out. Turns out he had pneumonia.

He stayed out through the weekend and came back to work last Tuesday or Wednesday. Everything seemed cool until yesterday. He didn't call in first thing and he wouldn't answer his work cell or his home phone. Naturally we were a bit concerned. By the end of the day we were pretty sure he was going to quit. Again.

This morning The Boss called Bradley at home and got him on the phone. According to J this is how the conversation went:

Boss: "How are you?"

Bradley: "Good. You?"

Boss: "I guess we're done then?"

Bradley: "Yup."

Boss: "Bring me your keys to the office, keys to the van, phone, and company credit card."

Bradley: "OK."

No call. No show today either.

This whole thing bothers me on two different levels, personal and professional. Here's a guy that was down on his luck, of his own doing in my opinion, and we bent over backwards to keep him employed when we didn't have to have him. Yet we loaned him money interest free and with no paperwork attached just like you would loan money to a close friend or family member. We guaranteed him a certain amount of money a week even though the company could suffer for it. And what do we get in return? Us having to call him to see if he was still working for us. It's crap.

I believe that no matter what your reason for quitting a job - don't like it, money, want to change careers - you owe it to yourself and the people you work for to have the stones to come in and quit face to face. I would rather an employee come to me and say "I hate this place, so I'm out of here" than to just lay out until we call and try to figure out what's going on.

We still don't know what Bradley's deal is, but I do know that there's only one word I can come up with to describe the way he handled this thing - Chickensh*t.

And speaking of signs

Who was the pretentious idiot who started naming businesses with _____ a restaurant or _________ a taqueria?  If someone can't figure out what your business is by the name, maybe it's time for a new name.  ___________'s Steakhouse, Jane's Bar and Grill(no E please), etc.

Jackassery

's

If there's one thing I really can't stand to see when I'm driving through town is a sign that is either spelled wrong or has an apostrophe where it doesn't belong.  I don't know why, but a misplaced apostrophe drives me mad enough to not patronize someone's business if I see their sign soon enough.  Take "Hot Wing's Cafe" for instance.  Is it possible that the owner is a very attractive Asian person named Wing?  Maybe.  Is it also possible that, being so beautiful, he or she has been nicknamed "Hot Wing"? Not likely, but possible.  If this is, in fact, the case then I humbly apologize to Wing.  Otherwise, change the sign! Those wings don't own anything, neither do those boiled peanuts for that matter.

For most of you reading this, all 3 of you, this isn't such a big deal.  But it drives me absolutely crazy to see such a failed grasp of one of the easiest punctuation rules in the English language.  Does it own something? Yes. Apostrophe.  Is it a contraction? Yes. Apostrophe.  That pretty much boils it down right there. Or, if you will, that pretty much boil's it down right they're. 

Greetings from Maine

Well, the trip to Boston for the game was a blast. My day started at 5:00 AM. It was actually a little brutal - At the airport at 7:00, land in Boston at 11:15, wait for luggage till noon. Then to the rental car place for a bit of a cluster then straight to TDBanknorth Garden to watch the Thrashers win the game with 18.7 seconds left. Then back to the car for a drive north to Augusta to see grampy. Check into the hotel at 8:00 then off to dinner. It was definitely a whirlwind day that was worth every minute of stress and exhaustion.

A minute about the fans in Boston. Several people talked to us on our way out of the arena. All of them were absolutely awesome. Even though their team just lost to ours, they were all asking us about our trip and wishing us a good stay in Boston. Class acts.

And then there was this guy. Last year when we went to see a game at Madison Square Garden we ran into another Thrashers fan. He was from Atlanta but going to school in Boston so he decided to come up to the Garden. When we got home we went to a game at Phillips and saw him again. It was a little strange, but understandable since he was on spring break. So here we were sitting in the Boston Garden and guess who plops down next to me to say hi. 15,000 people in the arena and he's sitting two sections over from us. Freaked me out just a little bit.

So now it's Sunday morning and the day is looking beautiful out the window. Highs in the 40s and lows in the 20s. Gonna go see grampy for lunch and then take in some sights.

Spatters gets a little culture

Classical music is something I know very little about.  It was never played in our house when I was growing up and we never really had any exposure to it at all.  Then I married one of the members of the ASO chorus.

Over the last few years I've been to a handful of symphony concerts to see my wife perform.  Usually on a Thursday or Friday night because Saturdays were sold out.  Except for one show, I was by myself every time.  So there I was, tired from a long day at work, sitting alone and listening to music that I had never heard before.  It's not hard to imagine me maybe nodding off a time or two.

Then along comes John Adams and his violin concerto with the lead violin played my Midori.  Once again I was alone, since no one would go with me, and sitting in row K of the orchestra pit - horrible place to sit.  This piece of music rocked my world.  I sat there fascinated for 35 minutes.  If you want to hear a sample of it you can find it at Adams' website earbox.  Just search through his works and click on Violin Concerto(1993).

During the intermission I hooked up with a friend who was there and we snagged some seats in the loge for the second set. Once again I was floored by the music. I may not have enjoyed the second and third pieces quite as much if I had been alone.  Sitting next to a true music fan helps a little sometimes.

So finally, after 3 years of going to the symphony, I have been truly moved by a piece of music.  There were other concerts I enjoyed, but nothing that had me up at 8:30 on a Sunday morning looking for sound bytes of that first piece so I could remember being there.

A little late in life, but I may just be starting to get it.

That Red Dress

Last night my wife and I went to a black tie fundraiser for our local hockey team's charity foundation.  After 45 minutes of panic, but no fighting, about no being able to find the tickets we started to get ready to go.  The problem with wearing a black tuxedo in our house is that it suddenly becomes a challenge to get out the door without being covered in white cat hair. 

While I was meandering about the house trying to kill a little time, my wife put on her dress.  The red dress she was wearing when we got married.  After I helped her zip up I started getting myself ready to go.  I walked back into the bedroom and saw her again.  That's when all the memories of our wedding came flooding back to me.

I know it's only been two and a half years since the wedding, but seeing that dress brought it back like it was my wedding day: The happiness, the craziness, trying to hold back a tear and a cheese eating grin at the same time while saying "I do" and "I will" in all the right places.

That day was the most special and happy day of my life and sometimes it only takes a little thing to bring it all back.

The Block

When I decided to start this thing I had so many things I wanted to write about. But now I'm just drawing a blank. It seemed like a great idea at the time - an outlet for all my ideas and thoughts and blah, blah, blah. Blank.

So I guess I'll have to tell you a story.

Herman was a ladybug. Not very lady-like, I know, but Herman wasn't your ordinary ladybug. He was terrified of flying because whenever he was off the ground he got airsick. Airsick? It's the damndest thing I'd ever heard too, but I'll tell you I've seen it for myself.

When he was just a little pupa, he had a horrible experience. A bird got hold of the leaf he was cringing on afraid he was about to get eaten. But the bird wasn't looking for a quick snack, she was grabbing leaves and twigs to make her nest. She took him so high in the air and over a lake that he was sure he was going to fall in the water and be devoured by a hungry fish. When he got stuffed safely into the nest he vowed to never leave the ground again.

The problem with Herman's promise is that ladybugs fly. A lot. It's pretty much their only means of transportation and, as he found out, walking from plant to plant takes an awful long time. He would stay on the plants hunting aphids long after all his friends had moved on to better pastures in the garden.

And oh how his friends mocked him. "Don't stand under Hurlin' Herman when he takes off! You'll get a faceful of aphid." "Here comes Heavin' Herman again!"

It was the worst shame he'd ever felt in his short life. It only took him a few weeks of ridicule before he came to see me about his fear of heights. We talked through his phobias until we were blue in the face, but I couldn't get him to leave the ground for anything. I finally decided that I'd get my friend the Paul the Praying Mantis to jump at him from behind the doorway to scare him into flight. It worked like a charm.

When he'd been up in the air for several seconds I yelled "Hey Herman, you're flying!"

He looked at me, looked at the ground, and promptly threw up on my carpet. It looked something like this:

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