Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
On Thursday morning, the Day of the Meetings, I got up at six o'clock,
took a quick shower, then got all trussed-up in dress clothes. Generally
speaking, I only have to tuck my shirts in when somebody dies, but this
was an exception to the rule. I felt like I was shrinkwrapped.
I met my Nashville counterpart in the restaurant downstairs, and we each
had eighteen dollar omelettes, and about fifty cents worth of coffee for
four bucks. He had his laptop, and all manner of notepads and writing
instruments with him. And I had nothing. Already I was second-guessing
myself....
We rode to the office in his car, and I was the navigator. It's amazing
how everything comes back to you. I had him taking side streets and
whipping here and there. Oh, I was putting on a freakin' Burbank-driving
clinic. I knew my way around.
There was high-security at the office building, and the guards eyed us
with suspicion. Finally, after exhausting all their asshole-options,
they reluctantly handed over a couple of passes which would allow us to
park in the garage and ride the elevators up and down. We'd just have to
pass through one more phalanx of guards in the lobby, and we'd be home
free. And yes, I just used the word "phalanx."
The lobby guards were all behind a giant marble counter, and there were
metal detectors and odd-looking gates everywhere. I approached one of
the gates, and saw that it was two sheets of plexi-glass that slide
together or apart, depending on the situation. The sheets were apart
when I walked up to it, but slammed together as I neared. Whoa!
9/11 or no 9/11, if my nuts get caught between those things, there's
gonna be a situation.
We went upstairs and met up with a few bigshots. Then we got on the two
Ballbuster conference calls, this time from the point of origin. Pretty
cool. After that, it was time for our first "meeting."
It wasn't really a meeting, it was more of a seminar. The company is
going-live with a new operating system later this year, and this was
reportedly part of the training that everyone would be required to take.
Today's topic? Change readiness. I nearly reverted back to my roots and
blurted out, "You're shitting me, right?"
They led us to a conference room, where a
person who looked like kd lang was waiting for us. Only, on further
review, I saw that it wasn't the singer, in fact it wasn't even a woman.
It was a man, a man who looked like kd lang. He was sporting some sort
of hipster/western wear hybrid outfit, and boots that came to a radical
point, then flipped up on the ends. Ho-ly shit. I wish Buck could've
been there to see it.
Ol' Genie Shoes proceeded to provide us with pre-emptive grief
counseling, and strategies to deal with the big changes a new computer
system will bring to our lives. I simply couldn't believe it. Change
readiness seminars?? They flew us across the continent for this? It's
like something off a Mike Judge movie.
We went to lunch at some expensive restaurant, where the prices are
printed on the menu as: 17. Not $16.95, but 17. They had about four
things to choose from (apparently it's chic to have a tiny, tiny
menu), and all were loaded with freakish ingredients that I wanted no
part of. I finally decided to go with a blackened chicken sandwich, hold
the weirdo designer mayonnaise. Shit man, I wanted to find an In 'N' Out
Burger, or an El Pollo Loco. I was already getting tired of all the
poofter eating.
This restaurant is supposedly one of the best places around to see
famous actors and whatnot. But they stuck us in a private dining room,
off to ourselves. Wotta rip-off. I wanted to see Martin Scorsese, not
Ben from accounting. Somebody returned from the bathroom and said George
Clooney was seated right outside our room, but who the hell knows? I
never saw him, or anyone else of note.
The afternoon was taken up by an elaborate corporate "road
show." It was held in a full-on movie theater, and there were
probably 200 people in attendance. Some of the big wheels got up and
gave a State of the Company address, and general pep talk. Then there
was some info on the new computer system, and we were released.
My counterpart and I were supposed to receive our annual reviews after
the road show, but it never happened. We ended up walking around the
building, talking to people we speak with on the phone every day, but
had never actually met in person. Man, that was a mind-blowing
experience. I recognized all the voices, intimately, but the faces and
bodies attached to them just didn't compute in many cases. I'm sure they
had the same reaction to me.
Dinner was at a high-roller Italian place, a few miles away. Again, we
had a private dining room, and the joint was crawling with VPs,
Executive VPs, Senior VPs, etc. Simply excellent. And once again, we had
four entrees to choose from. I opted for "medallions of beef,"
or somesuch, because everything else featured shit people from West
Virginia just don't eat.
I asked the waiter what kinds of beers they had, and he said they only
serve Peroni. "Well, that'll make it easy to choose, won't
it?" I said. That caused a ripple of laughter, which gave me a
small boost of confidence.
The guy who was sitting beside me said he'd just finished writing a
novel, and it would be published in the summer. It took him eight years
to write, he claimed, and three more to edit. Genuinely
interested, I started asking him follow-up questions. But he clearly
didn't want to talk about it. WTS??
I picked at the bloody beef on my plate, and quaffed several Peronis
(which tasted like Moosehead, I thought). Then it was over. A few of us
stood on the sidewalk out front and talked for a half hour or so, then
it was back to the hotel, and back to Scranton the next morning.
THOUSANDS of dollars spent....
I had an adventure in the Cleveland airport trying to make my connecting
flight, and I'll tell you about that tomorrow. I also need to give you
an update on my Big Ass Television, which has been kinda interesting.
And I'll get into some other small things as well.
--
On Thursday morning, the Day of the Meetings, I got up at six o'clock,
took a quick shower, then got all trussed-up in dress clothes. Generally
speaking, I only have to tuck my shirts in when somebody dies, but this
was an exception to the rule. I felt like I was shrinkwrapped.