- Time to steal my son’s Wii. RT @fcn: Dang, watch Hulu on your Wii… http://bit.ly/9c0U8F #
- RT @FrugalDad: 29 Semi-Productive Things I Do Online When I’m Trying to Avoid Real Work: http://bit.ly/a4mcEI via @marcandangel #
- With marriage, if winning is your goal you will always lose. via @ChristianPF http://su.pr/2luvrz #
- RT @hughdeburgh: “There is no worse death than a life spent in fear of pursuing what you love.” ~ from http://FamiliesWithoutLimits.com #
- @chrisguillebeau The continental US can be done in 6 days on a motorcycle, but it’s not much of a visit. in reply to chrisguillebeau #
- Ugh. Google’s a twitter competitor now. #
- Took this morning off. Just did 45 pushups in 1 set/135 total. #30DatProject #
- RT @Moneymonk: To solve the traffic problems of this country is to pass a law that only paid-4 cars be allowed to use the highways. W Rogers #
- RT @SimpleMarriage Valentine’s Week of Giveaways: A Private Affair http://ow.ly/1oolpT #
- Your baseless fears do not trump my inalienable rights. — Roberta X http://su.pr/2qBR3P #
- RT @WellHeeledBlog: Couple married for 86 years(!!) will give love advice via Twitter on Valentine’s day: http://tinyurl.com/ybuqqtu #bp Wow #
- 193 pushups today, including1 set of 60. Well on my way to a set of 100. #30DayProject #
- @prosperousfool Linksys makes wireless repeater to extend the range of a router. in reply to prosperousfool #
- RT @MyLifeROI: Is anyone else unimpressed with Google Buzz? #
Little Monster Late Fees
Last week, I paid a late fee to daycare. I neverpay daycare late.
Except last week.
As I’ve said before, I work 80 hours a week.
For the last couple of weeks, my three year old has decided that she needs to sleep in every morning. No getting up at 6:30 for her. No way. That little prima donna wants to lounge in bed until 8, then watch a movie while eating breakfast in bed. She’s never gotten that treatment, so I don’t know why it’s become her goal.
Last week, she decided to throw a tantrum when I woke her up.
Followed by a tantrum when I reminded her she doesn’t get to wear diapers during the day.
Followed by a tantrum when I dared to pick out clothes that didn’t have horses, or didn’t look right, or weren’t sweats, or weren’t picked out by Mom, or this, or that or….
I’ve been the one to get her ready almost every morning for 3 years and she has never been catered to that way.
Me: overtired, with 1000 things on my mind.
Her: diva training, trying to wake up.
Her sister: teasing, asking questions, and generally doing her best to stand under my feet.
Her brother: gets himself ready, but tries to avoid combing his hair before school, and can’t be relied on to put on clean clothes.
Me: overtired. Juggling getting three kids and myself ready to leave. 1000 things on my mind.
Daycare: What check?
She finally got paid on Thursday. Over the 12 years we’ve had kids there, we’ve paid late maybe 5 times. I hate late fees.
What’s the fix?
Checklists don’t work for me, when I’m rushing around. I tend to ignore them while I’m herding children.
Selling the monsters to the gypsies is out. They are far too difficult to succeed working in the salt mines.
We need to start picking out clothes the night before, to short-circuit most of the tantrum. We also need to enforce bedtimes better, but that’s hard to do Sunday night if they are allowed to nap too long on Sunday afternoon, which happens when I nap with my kids on Sunday afternoon.
Maybe the best solution is to switch schedules with my wife. I’ll go in to work between 6 and 7. She can herd monsters while trying to get ready for work.
Deathbed Relationships
My great-uncle has been depressed lately.
He lives in the same apartment building and my grandmother, his sister. They are just down the hall from each other.
Over the holidays, he’s seen a steady stream of people visiting my grandma, bringing cards and pictures, or taking her out to eat. Over Christmas weekend, she spent far more time away from home, celebrating with her kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids than she did at home.
He’s never met his great-grandchildren. He’s in his 70s, living in a retirement home attached to the nursing home he will most likely die in, and he’d like to see his descendants.
It’s too late.
He didn’t lose his relationship with his kids and grandkids in a fight. Instead, he spent his entire life doing his best to avoid all forms of responsibility. He spent 50 years avoiding supporting his family. He wasn’t there for them.
Of course they won’t be there for him.
There is a simple way to get your kids and your grandkids to dote on you in your old age: You spend your entire life being there when you’re needed.
Simple.
Building a relationship that can survive–or even thrive–in the times when you’ve got very little left to give takes a lifetime of commitment.
It starts the day your children are born, when you hold that precious little high-maintenance paperweight and swear that nothing bad will ever be allowed to happen to them. Then you teach them to walk, and teach them to talk, and kiss their booboos when they fall. And they will.
Day in, day out, you be there. You feed them, clothe them, punish them when necessary, and love them unconditionally even when they make it hard to like them. Every blessed day.
You soothe their pains, manage their fears, help them grow and turn into useful adults. Every flipping year.
When they are adults, you lend an ear, you lend a hand, you help with their babies, you offer advice, you listen and talk and you are there. Decade after decade.
Then, when you are old and broke and broken down, you’ve got people who love you, who cherish their memories with you. These are the people who will drive an hour out of their way to pick you up for dinner. They’ll carry you up the stairs you have trouble with. They’ll sit at your feet and listen to you tell stories. They’ll be there for you because you’ve always been there for them.
That’s how you get your kids and grandkids to visit you in the nursing home. Simple, not easy.
If you’ve missed their childhood–for whatever reason–it’s still possible to build that relationship, but it’s so much harder. You start by taking time out of your life to do spend time and be there. Help when you can with what you can. Be there.
If you wait until you are old and broke and broken down to start your relationship, it’s too late. Your kids will know that it’s just another example of your selfishness. If you’ve never made an effort to give, you’ve got know business expecting to get. You’ll be lucky to get an occasional phone call and a greeting card for the holidays.
Time Management, Part II
I have horrible time management skills.
Part of the reason is that I take on a lot of projects.
Part of the reason is that I’m easily distra…ooh, shiny!
And part of the reason is that I’m a terrible procrastinator. On second thought, that’s not quite true. I’m actually a very good procrastinator. It’s a skill I’ve built up quite well.
Stephen Covey tells a story–one I’ve always heard applied to personal finance–called The Big Rocks of Life.
One day this expert was speaking to a group of business students and, to drive home a point, used an illustration I’m sure those students will never forget. After I share it with you, you’ll never forget it either.
As this man stood in front of the group of high-powered over-achievers he said, “Okay, time for a quiz.” Then he pulled out a one-gallon, wide-mouthed mason jar and set it on a table in front of him. Then he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one at a time, into the jar.
When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, “Is this jar full?” Everyone in the class said, “Yes.” Then he said, “Really?” He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel. Then he dumped some gravel in and shook the jar causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the spaces between the big rocks.
Then he smiled and asked the group once more, “Is the jar full?” By this time the class was onto him. “Probably not,” one of them answered. “Good!” he replied. And he reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand. He started dumping the sand in and it went into all the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel. Once more he asked the question, “Is this jar full?”
“No!” the class shouted. Once again he said, “Good!” Then he grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brim. Then he looked up at the class and asked, “What is the point of this illustration?”
One eager beaver raised his hand and said, “The point is, no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard, you can always fit some more things into it!”
“No,” the speaker replied, “that’s not the point. The truth this illustration teaches us is: If you don’t put the big rocks in first, you’ll never get them in at all.”
The original point to the story is just as relevant as the personal finance lessons associated with it. If you let your life fill up with the little crap that doesn’t matter, you won’t have time for the important things.
At work, I have 4-5 major projects I’m working on. Some of these are behind schedule. I get interrupted sometimes twenty times per day. Each one of those interruptions kills my concentration; it wrecks my groove. By the time I’m back on track, 20 minutes have passed and I’m getting interrupted again.
No wonder I don’t seem to get anything done.
If I close my door and ignore my email, the little rocks usually don’t fill up my day, allowing me to concentrate on the high-value projects. That’s not always possible, and my coworkers get upset when I throw rocks at them for interrupting me, but it does help me get things done.
Now, I just need to focus on the big things and let the little rocks slide. No twitter, no internet forums, no coworker interruptions. Then we’ll see how productive I can be.
What are your “little rocks”? How do you avoid getting bogged down?
Working My Life Away
Since J. and Crystalare playing, and I don’t have a post scheduled for today, I thought I’d share my work history, too.
There are a couple of interesting things about my work history. Job #1 started when I was 6. Job #9 started when I was 21. I’m 33 now.
- Paper route. I delivered the local ad-rag. The route was split with my brothers. When I was 6, my share of the route was just the street we lived on. I think I had 8 papers to deliver. Later, that expanded to almost half of our tiny town.
- Odd farm jobs. I spent some time doing whatever needed to be done on a local hobby farm. That means everything from helping shore up a sagging wall in the barn to raking walnuts off of the yard.
- Dishwasher at my school. My freshman year, I gave up a study hall to wash dishes and serve lunch. My school was K-12, so I’d eat at the same time as the little kids, then wash their dishes and serve lunch to the rest of the students for $4.25/hour. I kept at it until my senior year, when I decided to relax a bit.
- Construction. Working with my Dad, until I fell off a ladder and severed a tendon in my finger when I landed. Easily the most difficult boss I’ve ever had, but it was excellent preparation for every other job I’ve ever had. His philosophy was that if he had to ask for it, I should have already known he needed it. Try carrying that training into another job and see if they complain.
- Dishwasher/Cook. I turned 16 and needed a job to afford a car that I needed to get a job. Nasty cycle. It took a couple of weeks of looking. Apparently, if a teenager puts on a nice shirt and shows up to the interview on time, he is way ahead of the curve. It took about 2 months to go from dishwasher to cook, and I kept the job until I was 18. I was working full-time all through high school.
- Palletizer. I spent 9 months standing at the end of a conveyor belt, picking up 50 pound bags of food powder mixes, taking 3 steps, and putting them on a pallet. We averaged 1500 bags per night. Fifteen years later, I still can’t comfortably button the cuffs of most shirts. When I flex, my forearms look like I have an unhealty “adult” internet addiction.
- Cook. While I was palletizing, I had a second job as a cook at a bar, working for a guy who was trying to avoid turning a profit by drinking his main product. This was 5 miles from the other job, and my car died right after I started, so I biked from job to job. In Minnesota. In the winter. I was a lean, mean popsicle.
- Machine Operator. I moved from the sticks to the Minneapolis area and was immediately hired to be run a CNC machine based on a friend’s recommendation to his boss. The pay was great for an 18 year old with no skills. I worked 5 twelve-hour graveyard shifts. The job mostly consisted of putting a little chunk of metal into a machine, closing the door, pushing a button, and sitting down for 15 minutes. This is the period of my life that trained me to shop for books based primarily on thickness.
- Bill Collector/System Administrator. After Brat #1 was born, 12 hour graves got to be a big pain. I’d work from 5 to 5, come home and make sure my wife got at least 4 hours of sleep, then I’d sleep for 4-5 hours and go back to work. Brat #1(who is now 13 and about 6 feet tall) needed to be fed every hour, so solid sleep didn’t happen for months. I took a pay cut to work normal, day-shift hours. I ended up working my way through college by collecting on defaulted student loans. Shortly after I graduated, I got promoted to be the system administrator of the collection system, responsible for hundreds of millions of dollars of debts flowing into and through our system correctly. I had a security clearance allowing me access to the Department of Treasury’s computer system. After a few years of this, the company decided that there were too many people with the same job description, so 5 overworked admins got laid off while the 6th got screwed with far too much work.
- Software Engineer. This is now. I write cataloging and ecommerce software, while managing a small team of programmers. I spend half of my day working on customer software estimates, training, and assisting on sales demos and half of my day writing code. I’m kind of a big deal.
That’s it, if I don’t count my side hustles. I’ve been earning a paycheck for 27 years, and have only had 10 jobs.
When did you start working? How many jobs have you had?
Zimmerman Wins Lottery: A Prank, but What Are the Real Odds of Winning?
Satirical reports regarding George Zimmerman have been misconstrued as factual by several media outlets, which have led to the belief that the man who killed Trayvon Martin is now a multimillionaire due to a lucky lottery ticket. The improbability of the story is astounding, but the more inconceivable notion is that reporters actually believed it enough to pass it on to their audience. The origin of the hoax was the same source that profligates fake news items on a regular basis: The Onion.
The outlet makes no claims about their veracity, and yet they have been regarded as a legitimate resource on innumerable occasions. This is an ultimate embarrassment for any organization that failed to recognize the comedic parody as satire. Errors like this indicate an inhuman lack of humor in tandem with a dense mind. Fortunately, news consumers were not to be deluded, and immediately subjected the reporting to a fact check.Through metaphorical symbolism, the original faux news story implied that Zimmerman’s recent acquittal has visible parallels with a lottery victory because both scenarios seem to bestow an improbable fortune. The report
was obviously meant to be disseminated as sarcasm, but the writers must feel tremendous pride in their ability to dupe the mainstream media. An unintended prank has a marvelous ability to generate a lasting reputation for the satirist. Notoriety is now something the author has in common with Zimmerman.
A stark contrast exists between lotteries and trials, and they are not equivalent. The justice system strides to avoid occurrences of random chance while lotteries promote the notion that anyone can win. The legal process is supposed to rely on evidence. Regardless of the circumstances, a victory in the courtroom has to be vigorously earned. Contrarily, there is nothing anyone can do to increase their chances in a lottery short of buying massive amounts of tickets. In a trial, the concept of reasonable doubt exists to exonerate the defendant, which should eliminate any potential for a toss-up. Courtrooms operate using evidence while lotteries are strictly statistical; therefore, the comparison is non-existent.
Even when it comes to jury selection, the process is not chaotically uncontrolled. Both sides have a general composition is mind, and they meticulously scrutinize prospective jurors as they whittle the numbers down. The pool is always sifted for bias. They are analyzed with hopes of picking people that will be sympathetically swayed towards a certain point of view. At the end, one side picked a better jury. Lotto victors cannot pick the numbers that will be responsible for their fate. Winners of lotteries do not stalk unarmed teenagers with a gun and fatally shoot them, but apparently winners of trials in Florida do.
Lotteries are often labeled as a tax for dumb people; coincidentally, this demographic is the same segment of the population that was targeted by the falsified journalism. In fact, real lottery odds are mathematically insignificant. An ABC News study declares it would take 1,684,841 years for the average lottery player to win a jackpot. Not even Zimmerman is that lucky.
