Excuse me, your pettiness is showing

I’m going to take a divergence from my usual frivolity and irreverence here on this blog.

Yup, a departure. I’m instead going to sink below all that and slip right over into immature and really, a bit petty.

But I’ll redeem myself by the end. I promise.

Watch me work.

So, last evening I was out and about. I had drinks with a former coworker. A lady who is a friend, a mentor, and someone I respect deeply. It was great to catch up, laugh a little, and have fun.

Later, after we’d parted ways, I wandered over to the ol’ stompin’ grounds located near my former employer. I was looking for a friend I knew would probably be there, having a drink. I was surprised to find not just my buddy, but also a whole group of my former crew from The Company.

These are the folks I worked with, side by side, walking through fire, hand-to-hand combat, and together we had major, major success.

These are some of the best folks, and it was great to see them!

Among those present was a gentleman (using that term loosely) that I worked with pretty closely back in the day. This was quite a few years ago, well before The Good Man.

For the sake of anonymity, let’s call him…Sporto.

Back then, I sorta had a little crush on the guy. Yes, I’ll admit it, I liked ol’ Sporto a lot and might have chased him a little bit. I think he might have liked me a little too, but just a little. He actually liked it better when I was chasing him around.

So of course, I never got any traction there, and eventually gave up.

Whatever.

So last night, there Sporto was, and seemed really happy to see me. He gave me a big hug, a “how *are* you?” and that ol’ charming smile…the one like a ferret about to devour the alligator egg.

After hugs all around the group, we all got a drink and settled around a table. We quickly fell back into our old ways, teasing each other mercilessly and laughing a lot.

At one point, I said to the group something like, “yeah, my husband told me blah blah blah.”

What I said doesn’t matter.

What *does* matter is that when I said the phrase “my husband”, ol’ Sporto’s ears perked up, and he gave me a look like someone had shot his dog.

He caught my eye across the table and mouthed, “You got married?”

I nodded eagerly and held up my ring hand.

And I grinned a Cheshire smile.

Later he caught me aside, “uh…when did you get married? I mean, last time I saw you…you were….”

He left that space empty to imply, “last time I saw you, you were into ME”

Whatever.

I laughed and said, “Yeah, I got married about a year ago, he’s great, we’re having a lot of fun.”

And here’s where I got petty.

I then said to him, concerned hand on his shoulder, “Why do you look so sad?”

He mumbled, “I don’t know…..I guess…..just another good one off the market.”

What I *should* have replied was “YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE, DILLWEED!!”

Here’s where I redeem myself.

What I did reply was, “thanks for saying that…”

He then shuffled off, shot-dog look and shoulder slumped, over to the bar, and ordered another beer.

I went back to my friends and picked up where we left off.

I also *might* have engaged in a small, yet subtle vindication dance.

Dear Canadian Hiring Managers:

It’s ok. Unclench. You might like it.

“A telephone survey of 100 senior Canadian executives showed that more than a fifth of executives said a single typo on a resume or cover letter could cost a potential employee a job, while 28 percent said two mistakes would kill their chances.”

Wow, really? I’m a hiring manager. I went through a two year period where I was constantly hiring. I’ve probably looked at over a thousand resumes. All were done to greater and lesser degree. Yes, some were so sloppy it wasn’t worth taking a look, but a minor error here or there, especially if it’s a common typo, teh for the, for instance, is certainly acceptable.

I agree that job seekers need to put a best foot forward all of the time. I agree with polishing the resume, having someone else read it, making it clean and crisp. This is your sales pitch and you need to get it right.

But for me and for the hiring managers I know, one typo doesn’t kill anyone’s chances. Unless this is a job for the typing pool where accuracy matters, it’s more about the qualities of the person, not their keyboarding skills. I think if that’s the view the company takes of minor human error, then who would want to work there anyway?

Source.

Mua ha hahaha ah ah!

I have turned my minions into zombies! Zombies, I tell you!

I have shared with the minions my little addiction, and they have succumbed as have I, their mighty leader!

Oh yes.

See, while on road trip over the Fourth of July, in some forgotten town off of Highway 5, with snackies on my mind, I picked up two packs of these little beauties:

I took them and squirreled them into our car and I ATE them. Oh yes I did. Every one of them. I didn’t even offer one to The Good Man. I just ate ’em and ate ’em until they were gone.

Like that first hit off a crack pipe, I was done. I succumbed. First taste is free….then you’re gonna pay.

While devouring these nutty little heroin balls, I saw that the Pnuttles people had a website where they vend their product. Then, I thought…maybe I can save a couple bucks by ordering from Amazon.

To Amazon I went and YES! there they were. Only…it’s more complicated. I found the butter toffee almonds….but with *cinnamon* added. I didn’t even look at price, I one-click ordered those bad boys so fast your head would swim!

Oh my.

Last evening I arrived home from a difficult day at work to find that my precious had been delivered to the front door step. Yes!

I tore into the box like a wild animal to discover that I had purchased not one but TWO jars of my addiction. WHAT!?!?

Turns out I ordered 1 each of a two pack. Good lord.

The Husbandnator looked in askance (remember, at this point he was not yet a Pnuttles zombie), “we can’t eat all of those” he told me.

I shrank back, protecting my precious. But then cooler heads prevailed, and I realized he’s right.

“I’ll take one to work,” I replied.

That seemed reasonable, we agreed, then cracked open the jar we were keeping.

Husband took a few bites and declared “EVIL!”

Umm hmmm…..

We sat on the couch, feeding our addiction, watching who cares what on the television. Didn’t matter, only the constant crunch crunch of not-too-sweet delicious toffee almonds.

Today, I brought the other jar to work. I posted a note, “These are very addictive. Enjoy!”

That was twenty minutes ago and there is now a line of zombie minions coming to my door exclaiming “these are sooooo goooood”

Yup.

My Pnuttles army of zombies increases. We are unstoppable! (except for when the jar runs out and we all flop over in sugar coma)

Here’s where you too can succumb and become a member:

Link