Well, I found out today I was not the successful candidate for the District Engineer's position in Amarillo. (Yes, Elaine...Amarillo. Other than Lubbock, I can't think of a better place in Texas to call home.)
I will not deny that I am disappointed. Like anyone, I feel like I have been designated as not quite good enough. But, on the other hand, I am also relieved. I was seriously wanting the top job somewhere, but I truly want that job in my home town.
Now, it is a matter of waiting to see what becomes of my boss during the current shakeup in the MixMaster that is TxDOT. If he does not move on, I will make my peace doing the job I have done for the past 15 years. Longer than anyone else in my position at TxDOT by the way. I appear to be like a bad slice in golf. You can bitch all you want, but it just won't go away.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Amarillo by Mornin'
Well shit. Now I have done it. Last month I applied for the District Engineer's position in Amarillo. Got word Thursday, I have an interview next Tuesday for the position. In true TxDOT fashion, I will be interviewing for an Amarillo position, with my Austin based potential boss, in San Antonio. Go figure.
It has been 15 years since I had the one and only interview of my career. Could someone please tell me...are sandals, shorts and Hawaiian shirts still a bad idea in an interview?
It has been 15 years since I had the one and only interview of my career. Could someone please tell me...are sandals, shorts and Hawaiian shirts still a bad idea in an interview?
Friday, August 8, 2008
Doesn't Make Me a Bad Person...or Does It?
Just got back Wednesday from another long anticipated two week break in Gunnison, CO. Got to figurin', I have been making the journey to central Colorado for 20 years now. The wife and her sister have never really gotten along, so many years ago, we conceded the 4th of July weekend to the sister, in exchange for a couple of weeks in late July and early August. Five years ago, I discovered the Dos Rios Open Golf Tournament around the same time, and we have never regretted the trade off.
This year, as we approached the Gunnison Valley, a call from the mother in law (aka "The Purse) informed us that the wife's sister had decided to leave her 14 year old son in Gunnison with the Grandfolk when they departed around the 4th. This youngster was scheduled to depart the weekend we arrived. As it turned out, he was there the entire time we were, and was still there when we departed.
Now, those that know me, know I don't like to complain...but, godammit, if I had wanted to be around kids, I would have had one of my own. At least I could have put him to work mowing the yard or something. I was looking forward to an escape from the BS of work, a little golf, a cigar or two, and relaxing along the banks of the Gunnison River. What I was not looking for was a new 14 year old best friend. This kid wanted to be with Uncle Bat all the time. "Where are you going?" became the grating question, even if all I was doing was shifting on the couch to scratch my ass.
To be honest, it really did not bother me much, except at night. The tradition in Gunnison has always been at 9:00 p.m., the wife and in-laws go to bed, and I get a couple of exquisite hours of "me time". I watch what I want, I think about the tournament, uninterrupted, I scratch, I fart, I basically don't give a shit about life in general.
Not this year...my new best friend thought it was the coolest thing to stay up late with his uncle. As I searched the TV bands he kept calling for me to stop on programs like "Hurl", a show that combines competitive eating with stomach churning carnival rides until the contestants, you guessed it, "hurl". I kept stopping on Discovery and History in the hopes of putting him to sleep, but to no avail.
Finally, on the 10th night of the "vacation" I thought I caught a break. He left the room at 10:00 p.m., and I thought, "At least I can get in a hour or so of 'me time'". Not to be.
At 10:45, the mother in law and nephew came into the living room to announce the kid's heart rate was bouncing along at a nice 180 beats a minute. "Have him sit down and relax for 15 minutes, to see if it comes down," said I, with genuine concern in my voice. (I really wanted to see the end of the show I was watching.) As I suspected, his heart rate had changed 15 minutes later. Now, it was up to 190 beats a minute.
So, Uncle Bat loaded up the kid and the mother in law, and headed to the emergency room. (Yes, I woke up the wife to let her know what was going on). By he time we got him in, and hooked up to monitors, his rate had surpassed 230 beats a minute. A lot of things happened, blood was drawn, test were run and a lot of nurses and doctors talked. Bottom line, we don't know what caused it, but they suspect caffeine from energy drinks and Frappucino's. They iced him down, and got his rate back under control. They told us to keep him away from caffeine, and if it happened again, to immerse his face in ice water. I asked if throwing his ass in the Gunnison River would accomplish the goal and was told yes. I kept that prescription firmly tucked in my pocket the rest of the trip.
For better or worse, I had my two week brush with fatherhood. Sweet holy Moses, I am glad I met the wife, and we both share a similar disdain for offspring. I will stick with the canine variety. A simple $500 vet bill, and we were on our way back to Lubbock. (For more on the vet bill...stay tuned.)
This year, as we approached the Gunnison Valley, a call from the mother in law (aka "The Purse) informed us that the wife's sister had decided to leave her 14 year old son in Gunnison with the Grandfolk when they departed around the 4th. This youngster was scheduled to depart the weekend we arrived. As it turned out, he was there the entire time we were, and was still there when we departed.
Now, those that know me, know I don't like to complain...but, godammit, if I had wanted to be around kids, I would have had one of my own. At least I could have put him to work mowing the yard or something. I was looking forward to an escape from the BS of work, a little golf, a cigar or two, and relaxing along the banks of the Gunnison River. What I was not looking for was a new 14 year old best friend. This kid wanted to be with Uncle Bat all the time. "Where are you going?" became the grating question, even if all I was doing was shifting on the couch to scratch my ass.
To be honest, it really did not bother me much, except at night. The tradition in Gunnison has always been at 9:00 p.m., the wife and in-laws go to bed, and I get a couple of exquisite hours of "me time". I watch what I want, I think about the tournament, uninterrupted, I scratch, I fart, I basically don't give a shit about life in general.
Not this year...my new best friend thought it was the coolest thing to stay up late with his uncle. As I searched the TV bands he kept calling for me to stop on programs like "Hurl", a show that combines competitive eating with stomach churning carnival rides until the contestants, you guessed it, "hurl". I kept stopping on Discovery and History in the hopes of putting him to sleep, but to no avail.
Finally, on the 10th night of the "vacation" I thought I caught a break. He left the room at 10:00 p.m., and I thought, "At least I can get in a hour or so of 'me time'". Not to be.
At 10:45, the mother in law and nephew came into the living room to announce the kid's heart rate was bouncing along at a nice 180 beats a minute. "Have him sit down and relax for 15 minutes, to see if it comes down," said I, with genuine concern in my voice. (I really wanted to see the end of the show I was watching.) As I suspected, his heart rate had changed 15 minutes later. Now, it was up to 190 beats a minute.
So, Uncle Bat loaded up the kid and the mother in law, and headed to the emergency room. (Yes, I woke up the wife to let her know what was going on). By he time we got him in, and hooked up to monitors, his rate had surpassed 230 beats a minute. A lot of things happened, blood was drawn, test were run and a lot of nurses and doctors talked. Bottom line, we don't know what caused it, but they suspect caffeine from energy drinks and Frappucino's. They iced him down, and got his rate back under control. They told us to keep him away from caffeine, and if it happened again, to immerse his face in ice water. I asked if throwing his ass in the Gunnison River would accomplish the goal and was told yes. I kept that prescription firmly tucked in my pocket the rest of the trip.
For better or worse, I had my two week brush with fatherhood. Sweet holy Moses, I am glad I met the wife, and we both share a similar disdain for offspring. I will stick with the canine variety. A simple $500 vet bill, and we were on our way back to Lubbock. (For more on the vet bill...stay tuned.)
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