When I tell people that I am moving to Minnesota the immediate response is, “Oooh, Minnesota, its cold there.” Thanks for the update, are you kidding me?! It’s cold there! Oh my, I guess that changes everything, I’m going to have to seriously rethink about this. It’s like everyone from the south have this notion that we lock ourselves inside log cabins with SAD lights and knit mittens in order to make it through the day without killing ourselves.

This is my second time yanking up the roots and replanting and it’s funny how people react when you are moving away. You do your best to try and hang out with everyone as much as possible in those final weeks, but it is inevitable that you are going to lose touch with some people. Here is my take on the issue:

1. First Tier – Family, Closest friends-These are the people that will help you plan your last nights out, they will help you pack, they will actually call you once you’re gone and make plans to come visit wherever you are going to. When you come back into town, these are the people who will take off work or stay out late with you and go into hung-over the next day if necessary. The weirdest thing about the people in this tier is that your relationships with them will become stronger with the distance.

2. Tier 2 – Extended Friends -These are the people in your immediate circle of friends, when there is a party or when someone from this tier gets married you are always guaranteed an invite, you don’t hang out every weekend, but if there is something going on within that circle, they will most likely be there. Some of these people can surprise you, but the rest will be nothing more than Facebook friends who will show up on the news thread when they post creepy pregnancy pictures (have you seen some of these!? I’m sorry, pregnancy is a beautiful thing, but you are not Demi Moore, and this is not the cover of Vanity Fair, so please stop polluting the internet with your gross stretch mark and cankle pics.).

3. Tier 3 – Coworkers, Glorified Acquaintances- These are people you always talk about planning a time to get together but it never happens because you they live far away or can never get together at the same times that you can. These are the people that you have in your cell phone that you don’t recognize when you are scrolling through the first time, and will be the first to be deleted.

Once you move away you can pretty much rule out further contact with everyone in tier 2 and 3. This may seem a little harsh but it is never truer than that first time you come back into town and see who makes it out.

It reminds me of being back in college. My freshman year I would go out to parties, have a few drinks, and try to meet new people. But there would be some guy that I probably chatted with for 15 minutes about whether the best way to remove head from your beer was to use the grease from your face to evaporate the foam or to attempting the pour out while waiting in line to fill up a keg cup. It seemed harmless and helped pass the time, but on Monday morning while walking to class I’d see that guy in passing and the rule is that if eye contact was made you would have to give them the novelty chin lift head bob. It starts off so innocent, and your thinking, ” Hey, that guy looks familiar, oh look, he recognizes me too (insert head bob). You may even mumble the words, “What’s up”, but neither person has any intent of any further conversation. The problem is that from that moment on you are destined to make this bullshit acknowledgement every day for the next 4 years. If I knew then what I know now I would have stayed back in the dorm with my creepy roommate and watched old episodes of Batman the TV show, (he seriously did that, he also had a poster of the cast which I made him take down cause it was so creepy.)

By the way . . . how the hell did people live before craigslist? I have gotten rid of more useless crap on craigslist then I could have in a lifetime through the newspaper classifieds. I’m not saying that selling things through the paper is worthless; it just appeals to an entirely different audience. If I am trying to sell a 1989 50hp Mercury Outboard my phone will be ringing off the hook, but if you are trying to unload crappy couch (see definition below) to someone other than a 68 year old retiree, there is no place better than Craigslist. Not to mention the fact that you don’t want to spend twenty five bucks for an ad to sell a sofa worth ten.  I’ll be the first to admit have a habit of stereotyping  people by appearance alone, but I promise that I am doing it in the name of humor. That being said, every time I’ve sold something in the classifieds it always brings out these old men who all look the same. Overweight, mustached, Junior Soprano Glasses, clip-on suspenders, crusty old pocketed T-shirt with notepad and pens in the shirt pocket, and a “Nothing runs like a Deere” trucker hat.

Back to the bike, this particular bike was being sold by a student in the dorms at Tulane, which happens to only be a few blocks from my house. I saw the bike, which was in decent shape minus a flat tire, but wasn’t nearly worth the $80 dollars he was asking. I offered him $20 for it explaining that I wasn’t even sure it could be fixed. He then said he was just trying to get it out of his dorm room and that now he would take $30 for it. At this point, I sincerely hope this kids parents aren’t putting up the $30,000 a year for him to get any sort of business degree, they would have a better return on investment buying shares of General Motors stock. I explained to him that it was going to cost me $15 dollars to fix the flat tire alone and then pulled out a twenty and showed it to him. I don’t know what kind of cash college kids have these days, but I know that if someone offered me twenty bucks when I was living in the dorm it would be hard to pass up. He made the deal as I suspected and I now had a new means of transportation to get to work.

I haven’t actually ridden a bike for longer than 5 minutes since before I got my driver’s license and didn’t realize how uncomfortable it would be. It may have something to do with the fact I weigh about 60lbs more than I did when I was 15. But when I was on craigslist looking for bikes, they also have ads where people are looking for bike parts. This one particular ad said the following:

Wanted: Big cushiony bicycle seat or at least one with chode hole.

I had to read it a few times and check the tab at the top of the screen to make sure that I hadn’t clicked the casual encounters link on accident. Chode hole!? Are you kidding me! Just another one of the many benefits of craigslist, the countless hours of free entertainment.

Crappy Couch – The spare sofa everyone has in their house that when you have a bunch of friend crash at your place they do paper rock scissors to see who has to sleep on it. Usually made from a material closer resembling carpet that fabric, or in extreme cases, Pleather; and is never quite long enough for a full size human to sleep on comfortably. If it has removable cushions they have undoubtedly been flipped over to their other side to hide one or multiple stains, usually vomit.  

(Bold-faced terms are awesome. But if the people who wrote textbooks actually wanted the people who read them to read the entire book they wouldn’t highlight the important terms at all. This was basically the only way that I studied from junior high until my senior year in college. Copying all of the bold-faced terms, then writing down their definitions and trying to memorize them the night before taking the test, or in some cases, a few hours before. This actually worked fairly well for me most of the time until I got some arrogant,self-righteous, prick of a professor who published a new $350 edition of his textbook every other semester thought otherwise. He thought that every word of his 600 page, left wing-agenda laced, dirty diaper of a book deserved just as much importance as the bold terms. I guess he had to do something to pay for the wool socks and Birkenstocks he wore to class every day. Well screw you John Pierce , I have a blog that 4-5 people read, you can take textbook money and your outstanding educator of the year awards and cram it.)

 Of course, I had to wait until I had another offer in my hand before doing so, but now that I am out, it feels good. The worst part of the whole process is once you give your 2 week notice; you actually have to work for those next 2 weeks. From here on, if I ever have an employee quit, they will not get to stay for those 2 weeks no matter how important they might have been. They could have been the best employee in the company, if they know that they are not going to be there next week, something is going to be put off for the sorry SOB taking their place.

 I say we shouldn’t feel bad about leaving this work for the next person once we are gone. Because guess what, the person whose job you are taking over for didn’t care about their job when they were on their way out either. Isn’t it great how everything always comes around full circle, but in this particular case I got hit with a double whammy. I have one other employee I am in charge of, and she gave her two week notice the day before I started. Crap.

 So this new company I work for is a non-profit organization. The work is the same, the offices are the same, it is just a different type of person that works at a company like this. I remember back in college, there were all different kinds of people with different priorities and different career paths but there were a couple of people that always stood out from the rest of the crowd. 

 There you are in class and the professor tells everyone to break up into groups for your biggest project of the semester. You frantically look around for someone you know to team up with, preferably someone smart, but time is ticking away and your standards are dropping fast . . . at this point you’ll take someone who simply shows up to class on a regular basis . . . it’s down to the wire and it’s not looking good, there can only be a couple of people left without a group . . .you make your way to the professor to ask if there is anyone that didn’t show up that day when you see him. Sitting in the back row drawing sketches of pot leaves and mushrooms of the back of his notebook, oblivious to anything that has been happening in the last 15 minutes, hell, probably the last 15 hours, depending on the potency. If you don’t know who I am talking about maybe you’ll recognize them by their uniform:

 Tie-dyed T-shirt

Cargo shorts or worn out jeans usually with some sort of colorful patchwork on them.

Flip Flops no matter what the season

Long hair (dread-locked or braided)

Overgrown facial hair (too long to fit in with any current style, but close enough to be mistaken for the uni-bomber )

Canvas Messenger bag

Nalgene water bottle (cottonmouth can strike anytime)

Luckily, I found out what happened to them all, and now I get to work on projects with them every day. Some dream of becoming doctors or lawyers, others are happy having a job where they can wear shorts to work every day. I’d like to think I fall somewhere in the middle.

Sorry I haven’t updated the blog in a while, the strangest thing has happened, I suddenly find myself with things to do during the work day . . .I give it a month.

So there I was, navigating the streets of downtown New Orleans in my pickup truck, searching for an elderly black woman with a walker (By the way, if anyone told me 5 years ago that I would be writing these words I would have told them to stop sniffing model airplane glue) My cell phone rings and I answer, “I be sittin right out front the water building Mr. John , see you when you get here .  .  .  CLICK.” Why is it that elderly people have such terrible telephone etiquette? Any time I speak to someone over the age 70 they never say goodbye, they just hang up.  I drove up another block and I saw her, shuffling across the in her house dress and orthopedic shoes. As she approached the truck I got out and ran around to help her in.

I’m not exactly sure what normal protocol is for helping an old lady into a vehicle, but given the height of the step up into my truck, and the size of that house dress, I knew that it was going to take a little more than offering her my arm to get in. She must have realized this too, which started the following exchange:

Old Lady:  “You’re gonna have to give me a little push”.

Me:  “Uhmmm  .  .  .  O.K., is there any particular spot that you would like me to push”

Old Lady:  “Wherever you can grab a hold of honey”

What transpired next could best be described as trying to push a bean bag chair through a doggy door.  I’m sure that she was probably more embarrassed than I was, but not by much. So after 15 minute car ride and some awkward conversation I dropped her off at her house, leaving me with a funny story to write about and disturbing image burned into my brain.

 It started out as taking over for a coworker that had to leave early to pick up a sick kid from school. First of all the whole “sick kid at school” excuse is just as lame as the “my dog ate my homework” excuse. You can’t call bullshit when someone says that they have to pick up a sick child, and there really is no way to tell. It pisses me off when any person uses their kids as an excuse for anything. Every time that I had to fire someone from my old job it was always the same story. “Come ‘on man, I got five kids to feed”, and then this one that is completely unrelated to the kid comment but is priceless either way, “This ain’t Kool-Aid running through these veins”. How are you supposed to respond to comment like that? What the hell does that even mean? 

 So this particular coworker left early on a Friday morning to “pick up her sick kid”, and never came back. Later in the day we found out that the boss had confronted her about stealing, I rest my case. Fast forward to Monday morning, I now have a new job in customer service. Customer service is sugar coating it, to put it bluntly, I listen to pissed-off people’s complain all day long. My company has 50 houses that are built or being built, some with people living in them, most with people waiting to move in. Most of the complaints come from the people who are moved into their homes and have some sort of service issues that need fixing. Here is where the problems arise, it has taken us so long to get these houses built that we have run out of money to pay our subcontractors in order to go back and fix these issues. So when angry customer calls and says that they have a leak in their house I have to make up some crappy excuse about how we are making a work order and it will get done real soon.

These are some of my own FAQs:

 Q: Nobody has worked on my house in over a week, is something wrong?

 A: Of course not, we are just waiting on an inspection

Truth: We haven’t paid our framers in over a month, and they can’t afford to pay their laborers to finish your job

Q: When I signed my contract the salesman said my house would be finished in 90 days, are we still on pace?

A: Unfortunately, I can’t give you an exact date of completion but I should be able to tell you when we are about 3 weeks from being done.

Truth: 90 DAYS!!! Are you kidding me?! You’ll be lucky if we finish in 9 months!! By the way, our salesmen are paid by the number of deals they close, not houses completed. I’m surprised they didn’t promise you a new Escalade sitting on 24’s in your driveway too.

Q: I was told that my house is going to have all hardwood floors, when can I pick them out?

A: Well, I don’t seem to have that feature listed on your selection sheet, hold for a minute and let me check with the field superintendant to see if that is something we can do.

Truth: There is no way in hell you are getting hardwood floors, you will be lucky if we remember to put padding under your carpet, now wait for 5 minutes while I set my fantasy football roster for this week.

Q: I have water pouring in from my back door and now my carpet is soaking wet, what are you going to do?

A: I will send our service guy over right away to take a look at it.

Truth: Someone will be at your house today, but it won’t be for 2-3 hours. When he gets there he won’t be able to fix anything because the real problem is that you need a new door, which we can’t get because our door supplier cut us off for not paying our bill. The only reason I am sending him out is because it will keep you from calling me . . . at least until it rains again.

2. Popeye’s Chicken – It is hard for me to stay mad at Popeye’s because it has become one of my favorite places to eat; however, as in any relationship, you have to take the bad with the good. I had never eaten Popeye’s before I moved here and was never a fan of KFC , but that first time my roommate came home with a 12-piece box of spicy white meat and butter biscuits I realized that my cholesterol would never be the same. It wasn’t until my first trip to their drive-thru on a lunch break that I found out it is the worst run fast food chain of all time. I have actually stopped at a Popeye’s on my way home from work and was turned away because THEY RAN OUT OF CHICKEN! This is not exactly a fast food restaurant with a diverse menu, but apparently their suppliers are worse at their jobs than the people who work at the restaurants.

3. Ford F150 New Orleans Edition – In Minnesota I know that Ford sells (or used to sell) trucks with a special package called Northland Edition, and I know on a Dodge you can get a Big Horn Edition. If New Orleans had its own regional truck package it would be the New Orleans Edition. Here are just a few of the bells and whistles you can find with this limited addition series.
-Large dent in one or more of the doors (hmm . . . dents in doors, maybe there is a connection between this feature an No. 1)
-Cracked windshield
-Worn out shocks (only place I have ever been where the roads are so bad you can bottom out in a truck)
-Missing trailer hitch (stolen)
-Extra spare tire in the bed of the truck (comes with 10pack of tire plugs and a can of fix-a-flat)

4. Road Construction – There is only one freeway in New Orleans and they have been working on the same 2 mile stretch of road for the entire time I have lived here. Despite being the most important road in the city they don’t seem to be in any hurry to finish it. Maybe it has something to do with the Louisiana state highway inspectors that are facing federal indictment charges for taking bribes in exchange for contracts.

5. City Councils Seats – In Minnesota, most city council members have other jobs and their duty of public office is seen as something that most of them do on the side. These are mostly ceremonial roles that handle small ordinance issues and whiney neighborhood associations. In New Orleans, the responsibilities for these positions are the same, but people will spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for a job that pays fifteen thousand a year (above the table). Just to show how crazy it is, there was a big story on the news about a council member who refused to give up his seat after he was convicted for taking bribes. But this gentleman didn’t hold a press conference; he protested by sitting on top of his replacement like a sore losing third grader who refuses to admit that he just lost the final round of musical chairs.

I wish I was creative enough to make things like this up.

I have started to come in later and later each day. Not intentionally, but then again I wasn’t in any hurry to be there on time. “On time”, that was one of those phrases that was definitely open to interpretation in this organization. A construction company where a person rolling in to the office a few minutes after eight in the morning needs to have a key, because they may, and often are, the first one’s in the office. Poor me, right, complaining about having a job where nobody cares what time you show up in the morning, but this is the fundamental problem, nobody cares. 

I am currently sitting at a desk sitting in the back corner of what was once a conference room, now being used for storage. Why here and not in a regular office or cubicle, because we had to change around our office layout so that everyone could be closer to people in their department that they deal with day to day. Just for the record, I am not bitter for being moved to the storage room like Milton from Office Space, nobody stole my red stapler and I have no plans to set the place on fire, I’m just painting the picture. But along with being an extra storage space, my “office” also serves as a back corridor for one side of the building to walk to the other or to go outside and smoke a cigarette. Simply put, I work in a hallway. Once again, I am not bitter about my new workspace, if I actually had work to do I might be, but I don’t so it’s all good. 

One of the biggest problems with working in a communal space where people are always walking through is the issue of internet privacy. Anyone who has ever worked in an office, shared a dorm room, or been a teenage boy knows what I am talking about. 

There you are, scavenging the free agent wire trying to see if anyone has picked up Green Bay’s second string running back because Ryan Grant went down in the Monday night game with an ACL tear, now he’s going to be out 4-6 weeks and you’re trying to pick up his back-up early Tuesday morning unless one of your sports rube friends didn’t already beat you to it . . . is Samkon Gado still playing for them? . . . Suddenly the HR lady walks into your office and you quickly scramble to minimize your screen so she can’t see what you’re really looking at. 

Sounds familiar doesn’t it. Again, it is truly ridiculous that we even cover it up, because everyone does it, and if they tell you they don’t, their lying. Next time you are at work, walk through the office and listen for the mouse clicks as you walk in front of someone’s door. If their smart they will have a go-to cover up document on their desktop, mine is a spreadsheet with all of our vendor information. It doesn’t matter what it is, just as long as it isn’t what you are really looking at.