The Day Before Pay Day, or Cheating Your Way to the Top.

It is the last day before payday, and things always get a little weird. Even in the fast paced world of high stakes, life altering, history making research people live from check to check. And on the last day caution is the best defense.

I packed a lunch that I could keep in the bottom drawer of my desk, in a box labeled "Beware, Toxic Waste." It had a peanut butter sandwich, a small bag of Parmesan flavored chips, an apple and a thermos of iced coffee, extra cream and sugar, with just a dash of chocolate, man I was looking forward to that. It was safe and secure, away from the starving masses roaming the aisles between the banks of cubicles, asking for scraps.

Some people used to make the mistake of leaving their lunch hanging on the hook that was attached to the back wall of the cubicle. The company, in a generous nod to Christmas had them installed for coats, purses, backpacks, even fanny packs back when they were popular. One day, though, a pack of on site sales people went into a murderous rage over a dented can of chicken tortilla soup that had been hanging in a plastic grocery bag. We had to evacuate the building and replace the microwave oven.

At one people were offering to pay the security personnel, after pay day, to stand guard over the refrigerator, keeping their lunch safe from starving coworkers, excessive bacterial growth, and the overwhelming urge to eat it while sitting at their desk. But, the security people started eating all of the stuff they wanted and bartering the rest for vacation days, comfortable office chairs and parking privileges. Eventually we turned security over to automatons. They don't really work well, but they seem to be incorruptible, so far, and food is safe around them.

Lunch time rolled around and I went to the kitchen/break room. As I rounded the corner there were two members of the accounting department dressed in dirty overalls, straw stuck out of their hair, greasy hats, tilted forward in a way that suggested a complete disregard for societal standards. One of them (Amy) had a cigarette behind her ear, the other (Cassie) a wooden kitchen match. They were holding signs.

"Oh, come on, that will never work." I said. "Nobody is going to give you their lunch to help them cheat on their taxes."

Cassie looked at me and burped. "I am stuffed, just finished a whole pizza, and a chocolate ice cream cone."

"Yeah, and we just got promoted, so this will be our last lunch in the loser's kitchen. Loser." Amy added.

"One of the executives came down and we got all of the servants on his private island added as dependents, he is going to save a bundle." Cassie said, and they gave each a high five. And opened a bottle of beer.

"Congratulations, I am glad to see you moving up," I said. They always hogged the espresso machine anyway.

Another Disaster in the Midwest.

Presidential election rhetoric is heating up, and the news cycles are shortening.  It is an exciting, exhilarating phenomenon.  An anthropological dream.  If history has taught us anything (for the most part, it hasn't, but we will be exploring that in detail, later, on another blog) it is that this is the precursor, an introduction to the real devastation.

Typically, the tremors start to be felt in Iowa.  Already the politicians are sending in reconnaissance forces, to occupy key facilities, and spread misinformation, and propaganda.  

Iowa is ground zero for this disaster.  This wide, sparsely populated state of rolling hills, farmland and windmills, always seems to invite the wrath of these political monsters.  With a quiet dignity, born of hard work and toil, they don't complain.

A caucus is not like a primary, it is a gathering of people who decide what to have for dinner, normally a sandwich, like a hamburger, only instead of a patty it is just a pile of fried ground beef heaped on a bun, wrapped snugly in wax paper, and served hot.   Iowans (people from Iowa) love these things.   

Facing difficult odds with grim determination is part of their heritage, and this sandwich is a lesson in the trials of life.   Picking up the sandwich, take a bite, and watch most of the contents slide into their lap, leaving a nasty stain, and possibly second degree burns.    Without complaint, and with a silent, fatalistic acceptance they eat their "loose meat" sandwiches, have their drink, and then get to the business of "caucusing."  Serious business, indeed.  

Instead of voting, they discuss, and talk, and debate the relative merits of the various candidates, and then they vote, either by writing their choice on a scrap of paper, perhaps a sandwich wrapper, after brushing all of the loose hamburger onto a plate.  Or, by standing in a group.  

After the count is tallied, they have Blue Bunny ice cream (from LeMars, the Ice Cream Capital of the World, we recommend the "Bunny Tracks" it is, without a doubt, the ice cream of the gods).  No, not really, that would be too simple, tasty and cooperative for  presidential politics.  They start negotiating, and changing sides, and bickering, and arguing, and it can get pretty heated, not unlike a family reunion, only not so likely to end in a fist fight.  

Soon, people are unconcerned with who they vote for, and just want to go home, it is Iowa in January, and the temperature outside is approaching too cold for description, and they have to go to work tomorrow, and the election is a not for quite some time.  Most of them would vote for anybody if the guy in the front of the room would just stop talking, and let them go home.  

The next day, all of the cameras, and news people, and candidates will pack up their stuff, and drive to New Hampshire, and the business of being an Iowan can be resumed.  Of course, the rest of the nation is bracing for impact, preparing halls for the coming invasion, and laying in supplies for the eventual siege, no one is safe.

This message was bought to you by Life Explained, and the Citizens United for Political Sanity (actually "citizens united" is a little generous, there is only one right now, if you would like to join just add your alias in comments, don't use your real name, "political sanity" will definitely get you in trouble).

Change is difficult.

Yesterday we talked briefly about our new accounting software, and the almost limitless potential it might provide, it is truly a flexible, accommodating bit of programming genius with options that can be custom built for each unique requirement.  It was expensive, but it has received very high praise from most of the associates who have gone through the training session.

Of course, as we discussed yesterday, there are some people who are not delighted with the change, and are attempting to (Please, may we have one or two cones, to go?) stop the implementation by occupying the break room on the 6th floor, the room with the soft serve ice cream machine.

We detailed our plans to send in several squads from the custodial department  In a brilliantly devised, and exceptionally executed pincer movement we mobilized several units from research and development and began a full scale assault on two sides of the the break room.  Using organic small arms fire, and some light artillery provided by the secretarial staff we began to get the upper hand.

In a surprisingly coordinated (particularly when you consider it was the accounting department) counter attack the Accounts Receivable Brigade concentrated their assault on the smaller R And D contingent to the south, and under a withering hail of automatic weapon fire began to push the force back through the ornate interior French Doors, and into the  barren, open hallway where the lack of adequate cover would have left them exposed and vulnerable.

After several air strikes it seemed the weary Accounts Receivable people were going to be overrun and there would be ice cream for everyone.

While consolidating our hold on the entry way, and thinking the battle was almost won, we were hit by a large column from the Human Resource Liberation Army.  Slamming into our exposed southern flank, they rolled up the assault team like a row of dominoes and managed to capture the small conference room.

We are going to settle in for a long campaign, right now we are calling in reinforcements from the legal department, and our hopes for speedy resolution are dashed.