I fought the law…

…and the law will probabaly win.

Ok, not me, but a man named Dave Vontesmar. Mr. Vontesmar lives in Arizona. Phoenix, to be exact.

And Mr. Vontesmar has to commute daily for his job at Sky Harbor airport.

Mr. Vontesmar is not a fan of the recently installed cameras that Phoenix has been using to catch speeders (and, let’s be clear, raise revenue).

It is, as this article describes, a “photo-enforcement gantlet (sic) on Interstate 17, Arizona 51 and Interstate 10.”

Mr. Vontesmar IS, however, a fan of going in excess of the speed limit.

And so the perfect solution is born.

Dave Vontesmar wears a monkey mask when driving. Sometimes a giraffe mask, but mostly a monkey mask.

And when the tickets, some 37 so far, totaling fines upward of $6,500, show up at his home, he says:

“‘Not one of them there is a picture where you can identify the driver,’ Vontesmar said. ‘The ball’s in their court. I sent back all these ones I got with a copy of my driver’s license and said, ‘It’s not me. I’m not paying them.””

Well ok. I guess they use the car registration and the driver’s license photo to id the drivers and issue the ticket.

So Vontesmar is working a loophole here.

Except…

“…officers sat outside Vontesmar’s home and watched him drive to work. ‘We watched him four different times put the monkey mask on and put the giraffe-style mask on,’ Officer Dave Porter said. ‘Based on surveillance, we were positive that Vontesmar was the driver.'”

So fine, he’s probably not going to get away with this, but damn…you gotta like his style!

File this under: hot desert sun does something funny to folks.

Photo from azcentral.com

Still breaking this thing in

Last month, it was complete happiness and joy to celebrate my one year anniversary! Wow, a whole year.

Both of us marveled at how fast a year could fly by, and had great times remembering our wedding day. Truly, the best day of my life.

Just this week, we finally finished up our wedding albums (yay!) and so it goes, into the life of a married couple.

A few weeks ago, The Good Man had occasion to laugh and point at me (this happens fairly often, actually). He said, “You’re still not used to having someone around all the time, are you?”

Well. No, actually.

I mean. I was single for a long time.

And for a while, even when I was in a couple, we had such different schedules that I found myself with a lot of alone time on my hands. Which was ok.

Don’t misunderstand. I love my husband and miss him with an ache in my chest when he’s not nearby.

But…

Look, we all do things we’re not proud of. And, well, it’s often better to do such things without a witness.

Like, I don’t know, eating a dozen donuts, while still wearing your stained nightgown at 3:00 in the afternoon, sitting on the couch watching re-runs of “The Hills” or “Real Housewives” or something.

Or…

Listening to “The Big 80’s” radio station, indulging in the strains of “Tainted Love” or “Jump for my Love” or “Love is a Battlefield” without *someone* commenting “oh. my. god. Why are you listening to that?”

Or…

Putting a goopy green mask on your face while painting your toenails and plucking your eyebrows without hearing “Agh!”

Or…

Belting out a show tune, for no reason at all.

Or…

Needing to spend some, erm…time, in the one restroom in the house…without some damn boy standing outside the door making farty noises with his mouth. Cuz that’s not funny. And it’s rather embarrassing. But it makes him laugh every time so I can’t be too mad, because he’s adorable when he laughs.

You get my drift.

This marriage thing…it’s like breaking in a new pair of shoes that you *know* will be incredibly comfortable, but you gotta wear through the tight spots first.

Things that they don’t teach in manager training

I’ve been a manager at my job for quite some time now. I think seven years at last count. So I’ve been through a lot. And yet, sometimes, I’m still a bit thrown by the curveballs lobbed by the folks who have the grand misfortune to report to me.

On Friday, one of my employees, a very hardworking and rather quiet girl came tearing into my office. I swear, if she was a car, she would have left black marks on my industrial carpet.

The employee looked at me with wide eyes.

“Is it ok if I go home?” she said, and paused…then tacked on…”I don’t want to barf here at work.”

I happen to know she’s three months pregnant and having a rough time of it, so I said, quickly, “Go. Now.”

She turned and peeled out of the building.

This got me thinking about back when I was first made a manager, and the anemic training course they sent me to.

They discussed “things you shouldn’t say” and “things you should say” and “what to do if you have to fire someone.” But never, never did they discuss “when it’s ok to let someone go home early because they are gonna blow chunks.”

I guess that’s where you have to rely on that ol’ manager gut instinct, hey?

Other oddball things I have experienced and was never properly prepared for:

Male employee spent all of our one-on-one session telling me, in detail, that he and his wife were trying to get pregnant and, to their dismay, had ended up having to resort to IVF. TMI. But wait, there’s more. We haven’t begun to TMI yet.

About a week later, he comes running into my office…”My wife just called, she’s at the doctor, she’s fertile right now, so I have to go give a…um….sample. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Ugh.

“Just go!” I said, and to his retreating back, tacked on, “If this happens again, please just tell me you have to go to the dentist!”

Or the really, really good employee, like top notch worker, who felt the need to tell me that the only way she could deal with the stress of her job was that she and her husband would smoke a bowl as they commuted home from work every day.

“I’m thinking about smoking one at lunch too, this job is crazy.”

Well. Ok. *Technically* she’s doing this on her own time and off company property. And my employer at the time was pretty lenient about such things.

But still. Things I don’t need to know. Especially as the manager!

Also important to mention that managing isn’t just about direct reports, it’s about managing your own manager too.

So, in that same vein, at that same employer, I had a boss who delighted in telling me how much cocaine she did at her wedding. “It was the only way to get through it, I never really loved my husband. Still don’t.”

Oooohkaaaay. She only lasted a year at the job. Freak.

And the best was, not long after starting this newest gig, one of the ladies on my team had been out sick for a few days. I assumed the flu, a migraine, tummy upset. Whatever. I didn’t need to know. Upon her return, I simply inquired, “hey, are you feeling better?”

What followed was a long, detailed and gory description. Let’s just say…you can have a colon polyp burst and leave it there, mmkay?

You can’t unhear something, no matter how hard you try.

But, when all is said and done, I haven’t had to have the granddaddy of all uncomfortable manager situations. My dear brother-in-law has been subjected to this more than once. Poor guy.

We call it…the Stinky Conversation.

The one where you have to ask your employee to please shower…and use soap…because their coworkers are complaining.

Double ugh!

I’m telling ya, those fancy politically correct manager’s training classes do nuthin’ to prepare you for the real world!

Random Sarcasm Generator

You know, when I was growing up, my mom always told me, “boys don’t like girls with smart mouths.”

Luckily, mom was wrong.

Plenty of boys liked me just like I am….most notably, The Good Man. (And yes, TGM, can show me a thing or two about being a smart ass).

So, feeling especially cranky today and still wiped out creatively from the latest round of the Tweet Me a Story contest, today, I’m going to continue to rely on a creative crutch.

Using the random blog idea generator from yesterday, here we go.

Random Ideas: The smart ass edition:

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Depends on where I’m looking.

Define faith.

While on an airplane, that moment just after you hear “whump” but right before the pilot says, “everything’s all right folks.”

10 things I’m pessimistic about

*sigh* I don’t even think I could make it through three much less a list of ten….why even try?

Why do you feel you need to change?

Because I have sand in my shorts. I can *definitely* feel that. : tug :

Something that I enjoy doing for a friend…

Pointing and laughing.

10 things I learned at school *not* on the curriculum

My mother reads this blog. I can’t tell you that…..

Plus, I streamlined most of my brain cells with the assistance of beer, so it’s not like I can remember anything I learned anyway.

What was the question?

If you could follow someone around for one day (unseen), who would it be and why?

The police cleared me of those charges. I don’t have to answer that.

Injustice in the world makes me feel…

Like the plotline to a bad superhero movie (take your pick, there has been so many in recent years).

Why should I be responsible?

I dunno. Wanna go get a beer?

10 things I believe in

I believe…I’ll have a beer. Not sure I can get in 10, who’s with me? (I’m looking at you, Emmett)

Do you feel underappreciated?

Only by the ungrateful.

I am going to make tomorrow different by…

Isn’t tomorrow, by definition, different from today?

How have you changed recently?

Back to that sand in my shorts….

You know….I could do this all day…..

Office Archeology

You know, you work in an office environment for forty hours (or more) a week, and you start to become immune to your surroundings. Same gray walls, same tan carpet, same beige cubicle wall fabric.

However, when you are new, you tend to notice the odd stuff laying about, but being new, you don’t say anything for fear of sticking out like a sore thumb.

So you go along to get along…but you wonder. Oh you wonder.

Today, I had all my afternoon meetings wiped off the ol’ calendar, and found myself with some time on my hands (a very dangerous thing for a mind such as mine).

So I went on a walkabout to document some of the more puzzling items I find about my new office environment.

Put on your Indiana Jones hat and join me, won’t you, as we engage in an office archeology and sociology expedition.

Let’s just begin with the number one item that perplexes me on a daily basis.

It’s a pair of keys that go to a cable that secures a laptop against theft.

They are lying atop of a bank of filing cabinets that line a well-traveled thoroughfare at work. Meaning, these aren’t in a cube, they are actually far from anyone’s cube home, laying by the main doors to our floor.

I always ponder…WHO owns these? Do they know they are missing? Is there a laptop somewhere that is forever shackled to a piece of modular furniture with no means of escape? OH THE FUTILITY!

Seven months I’ve been here and these keys haven’t moved a centimeter. I often wonder how long they were there before I found them. Every day, there they sit.

Along the same lines of “something left on a bank of filing cabinets”, we have this:

I hear you saying, “What’s weird about that, Karen? It’s a stapler!”

Yes. Yes it is. A high capacity stapler. Yup. You could affix about 50 to 75 pages together with that big guy.

It’s sitting on a public thoroughfare, on top of cabinets that are at least chest high (and I’m fairly tall), so you can’t even get good leverage to push the handle to make the staple.

And the location is very, very far away from any copy room, copy machine, printer or other such device (it is right outside of a conference room, actually).

I mean, one of these high capacity staplers sits in every copy room. I’ve checked all the copy rooms on the floor, they all have one, so this guy isn’t lost or misplaced.

I have never seen a single person use this nice stapler.

There it sits. Lost and forlorn, unable to be useful for anyone’s stapling needs.

All alone. Maybe I should introduce it to the keys?

Ok, on to the stairwell. I happen to sit a floor above my boss and the rest of my team, so this stairwell is very, very well traveled.

Wait, what’s this?

Let’s go in a little closer, shall we?

Oh, it’s just a bit of rubbish, right? A bit of a Heath bar wrapper. Yup. What’s odd there?

One of our coworkers had a bag of mini-Heath bars in his office that was descended upon by office vultures. Sure, no biggie. Janitorial will just get that when they sweep the stairwell.

Trouble is…we haven’t had Heath bars in the office for TWO months. At least. Maybe longer. And I guess janitorial doesn’t sweep the stairwell because that bit of wrapper has been there for those two months, not moving a hair’s breadth to the left or the right.

Plus, I think it might have been me that dropped it, I’m not sure. I do remember a bad day where I was madly unwrapping and gobbling mini-Heaths as I stomped up the stairs, mad at my boss.

I keep thinking this wrapper will go away, but no, it’s become part of the landscape. (I know, I know…I *could* pick the damn thing up myself)

Ok, from the stairwell, let’s move on to the copy/supply room. Nothing odd there right? Paper products, binder clips, sticky notes, highlighters, and these:

Big deal, right? Simply those Vis a Vis dry erase pens that you use for overhead transparencies. No big deal, an office necessity, right?

Well…except that every conference room in the building has the kind of overhead projector where you hook up a laptop, not the old fashioned push a slide on there and write on it kind.

No one uses clear transparent slides anymore. As far as I can tell, they haven’t for some time here.

And we have a full stock of pens.

So you say, “oh fine, those are just leftovers”. Sure, I agree. No big deal. I took a couple packs for use at home (nice fine point pens! Yes!).

And this week, I notice the stock has been replenished.

For pens that no one uses.

Hmm.

Ok, big finish.

Despite the fact there is MUCH more that I could document here, I’ll draw to a close with the piece de resistance, the coup de gras, and some other French phrases I can’t think of but are probably fitting….

We have to go to the thirteenth floor for this one.

Here we go:

It is probably hard to see from the crappy iPhone photo, but that there is your standard office environment exit sign. But on the left of the sign is a clingy sticker thing that portrays…the bones of the human foot.

Now sure, we are a biotech company and interested in medical things…but we don’t do anything that involves feet. At all.

I have NO idea why the foot is on the exit sign or what it means? Is this some puzzle from employees past? Are they telling me to beat feet for the exit? Are they saying, “walk on!” Am I being told to think on my feet or I’ll be made to exit?

WHAT!?! What are you telling me? Speak to me, wise ancestors! I have to knooooooow!

Ok, I’m getting whipped up, so that must mean that’s enough for today’s scientific analysis.

Join us next time when we’ll explore “that stain on the cube wall” and “storage room, from dust bunnies to gold”.

Thank you, and good night.