This is wonderful. Last week, one of my coworkers left the company and emailed a farewell message to everyone. Today, another coworker who is leaving also just sent out a farewell email to everyone by taking the first coworker’s email, making some edits to it, and forwarding it. He even forgot to delete the first coworker’s email signature.
First Coworker’s Email:
As most of you heard, I will be leaving [Redacted] this week to move to Arizona. I have enjoyed working for [Redacted], and I appreciate having had this opportunity to work with many of you. Thank you for the support, guidance, and encouragement you have provided me during my time at [Redacted]. Even though I will miss you all here, I am looking forward to this next chapter in my life that brings forth new challenges! With many of you, I have shared a unique camaraderie which I hope will continue in the years to come even though I shall not be here with the company.
I do wish you and the company every success in all its future endeavors.
Second Coworker’s Email:
As most of you may have heard, today is my last day at [Redacted]. I have enjoyed working for [Redacted], and I appreciate having had this opportunity to work with all of you. I have learned a lot in my time here and have a new appreciation for the ‘challenges’ that come with working for municipal clients.
Thank you for the support and guidance you have provided me during my time at [Redacted].
I wish each of you and the company all the success in the future.
Best to all,
[First Coworker’s Email Signature]
At least he took out the part about moving to Arizona.
Aidan’s summer baseball league is about half over. His team is in 5th place (out of 14) with a 4-2-0 record, good for 8 points (2 points for a win, 1 point for a tie). Eight teams make the playoffs, so right now it’s looking promising that they’ll do that.
There is one team in the league, though, that might miss the playoffs because their coach is either an idiot and/or an asshole.
The league rules are very specific about the number of innings a kid can pitch and how much rest he must have between appearances. If someone pitches two innings or less, he must have at least one rest day between appearances, even if he only throws one pitch. Translation: under no circumstances can someone pitch two days in a row.
The rules state that the protest committee will decide on the penalty for any violations. Probably because no one had previously been stupid enough to violate the rule, there had been no reason to come up with a pre-determined penalty.
This season, though, the protest committee had to step in after the first week when one coach had someone pitch one inning and then come back the next night to pitch three more in a loss. The committee decided to issue a -1 penalty point to the team in the standings.
The next week, the coach did the same thing: He had someone pitch one inning and then come back the next night to pitch three more, this time in a win. For this second offense, the committee wiped out the victory and awarded the other team the win via forfeit. So not only did the team not get two points for winning the game, they also got hit with an automatic -1 penalty for a forfeit.
Now this team is down 4 points from where they should be, and they’re looking up at the playoff contenders.
What does one say to a team of nine-year-olds about that? Maybe the guy could try to pass the first one off as him being ignorant about the rules*, but to do it a second time? He should be relieved of duties.
*The league rules are only three pages long, so this would just be an unacceptable excuse.
I just found out that my 93-year-old grandmother has been in the hospital since Saturday, when the car she was in rolled over. Apparently she’s OK. She suffered a large cut on her arm that required stitches, and her chest is sore, which is why she’s still in the hospital under observation. She had a previous heart attack and her blood pressure is high, so they’re somewhat concerned about that.
I just spoke to her. She was talking quickly and rambling, but the story appears to be that my mother was driving with her boyfriend in the passenger seat and my grandmother in the back. Apparently a deer ran into the road (though my grandmother didn’t see the deer) and my mother swerved to avoid the deer and the car flipped over onto its roof. My grandmother was stuck upside down because her seat belt wouldn’t unbuckle. She had to stay like that until emergency responders could cut her out. My mother and her boyfriend were sent to the hospital and released.
It appears as though neither my grandmother nor my mother (who is, for lack of a better term, the black sheep of the family) felt this incident warranted notifying other members of the family. I guess word finally got to my aunts and uncle last night, two days after the fact, but they didn’t exactly rush to spread the news. I only just found out because my brother called around after stopping by my grandmother’s house at lunch and finding that not only was she not home, but there were unread newspapers, uncollected mail, and seven unanswered messages on her answering machine.
The hospital has to discharge her because insurance won’t pay for her to stay any longer, but they still want her under 24-hour care for a while. She refuses to go to a rehabilitation clinic, and they’re having trouble finding at-home care for her. My uncle told her that his girlfriend’s clinic might be able to take her and have Medicare pay for it (She’s a nurse, but I don’t know what clinic this is that she works at). She’s willing to do that, apparently. He’s supposed get more info and call my grandmother back, but he’s on his way to Vermont to look at vacation property, and she doesn’t know when he’ll be able to get back to her.
Aidan’s baseball coach entered his team in the district Cal Ripken tournament, which we were told was going to held on week of July 4, but it turns out there’s no real schedule for this thing. We got an email at 9:00 Friday night saying that we had a game Saturday at 5:30, and that if the team couldn’t make it they had to forfeit. Fortunately, everyone made it. Unfortunately, they lost 4–2. But it’s a double elimination tournament, so they still have another game to play. The tournament people told us after the game that they’d let us know when our next game was. They did that at 9:00 last night, when we got an email saying our game is at 5:30 today. Who the hell “organizes” a tournament like this? Someone with their head up their ass?
And don’t they know that the US has a World Cup match at 6:00?
Today was the last day for soccer. It ended with a story buzzing around the U6 boys group about a family who just recently moved here from the UK. They were cheering on their son by yelling, “Tackle, Tackle, Tackle!”
We don’t teach the word “tackle" at the U6 level; at this age it’s all we can do to get the kids headed towards the correct goal. In fact, even in the older age groups like Aidan’s (U9) I can’t recall the coaches actually using the word "tackle" during a game. So considering that we don’t use the word at the soccer fields, and considering the relative popularity of football and soccer in the US, it’s not surprising that some people would know what tackle means in football parlance, but not know that it’s also a soccer term with an entirely different meaning.
One mother of a boy on the opposing team of this English boy did not understand what this family meant by “tackle”. She went up to the league director, who was roaming around the fields, and screamed at him about this family that was encouraging their son to tackle kids on the field, and that she couldn’t believe that we would allow this sort of behavior. He tried to explain to her what they actually meant, but she apparently didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She screamed some more and said there was no way that she was enrolling her son in soccer again in the Fall and then she stormed off the fields.
This scenario used to terrify me when I first became a father.
Justin Ross Harris, 33, of Marietta, Ga., was supposed to drive his 22-month-old son to the on-site daycare facility at the Home Depot Headquarters in Atlanta where he works. It wasn’t until his drive home seven hours later that he looked back and realized that he had forgotten his son, who was still strapped to his car seat and had been for the duration of the hot day. By then, his son had died. Police have charged Harris with murder.
When I get in the car to go to/from work, I’m on autopilot the entire time. If there’s another stop that I want to make on the way, there’s an excellent chance that I’ll forget about it until I pull into the home or office and come off autopilot. So when Aidan was born and I became responsible for dropping him off at daycare in the morning, I had visions of going to work and forgetting he was in the back seat.
I had hoped that I would develop a new mental autopilot that would take me to daycare instead of the office, and to some extent I did, but that didn’t totally work because Aidan only started going to daycare 4 days a week. I would put Aidan in the car and make a mental note to myself to go to daycare, but several times I missed the turn and headed to work. Fortunately, I never got all the way to the office; the farthest I went was maybe halfway. Upon realizing I had forgotten to go to daycare, and was that much closer to leaving him in the car at the office, I would pull over and hyperventilate for a while before turning around.
I ended up getting an oversized tag like this one that transfers from car seat to key ring when you’re in the car as a reminder that there’s a kid in the back seat. Of course, that only helps once you get to your destination, so I still occasionally forgot to make the turn to daycare. There are other reminder devices, too, like rearview mirror tags and proximity alarms.
I wish Justin Harris had had something to remind him.
Beginning in about 2005, the CIA began secretly developing a custom-made Osama bin Laden action figure, according to people familiar with the project. The faces of the figures were painted with a heat-dissolving material, designed to peel off and reveal a red-faced bin Laden who looked like a demon, with piercing green eyes and black facial markings.
The goal of the short-lived project was simple: spook children and their parents, causing them to turn away from the actual bin Laden.
Although this idea would have been a sure-fire success, the project was scrapped. Stupid CIA can’t get out of their own way. There’s a silver lining, though:
There’s a dispute over how many of the figurines, if any, were ultimately delivered. A person with direct knowledge of the project in China said hundreds of the toys — one of which was seen by The Washington Post — were made as part of a pre-production run and sent on a freighter to the Pakistani city of Karachi in 2006.
where a former coworker gets an article published in an engineering society journal and you facilitate your current coworkers’ efforts to congratulate him by providing a dart board on which to mount the article and throw darts at its accompanying head shot, and recording the episode so that the video can be emailed to said former coworker with the subject line: Congratulations!
Nerd Note on that last post: Tumblr does allow text to be underlined in posts using HTML tags; however, although the underlining works when viewing a post on one’s blog, it doesn’t work when viewing a post on the dashboard. I jury rigged the underlining by using empty hyperlinks.
Friends don't let friends use the formatting toolbar
I just received an email from a client that is such a typographical disaster it’s painful to read. I’ll try to illustrate below, but I’m limited because Tumblr doesn’t allow text coloring & highlighting. Each sentence is a separate paragraph.
Tryout results for summer travel baseball were posted this morning, and Aidan made the A team. He’s very excited. Well, he was at first. Then he got nervous because he doesn’t know if he’ll get to play catcher. A bundle of anxiety, this one is.
He’s friends with most of the kids that made the team, and we’re friends with many of the parents of the kids on the team, so it should be a fun summer.
Aidan had tryouts this morning for the town’s summer baseball travel team. Aidan was pretty nervous when he woke up. He complained of a stomach ache, and then when I was trying to convince him to eat something he proceeded to vomit. After that he was fine, though. He just had to vomit the nerves away, I guess.
The town’s coaches nominated 32 kids to try out for 24 to 26 spots, which will be divided into an A- and a B-level team. Rather than being assigned into the two teams by the coaches, though, the travel league brought in independent evaluators to watch the tryouts and make those decisions.
I would theoretically be fine with this process, as it gets rid of the highly charged political nature of these things. However, in this particular case, the evaluators aren’t basing their decisions on much. Each kid took 4 ground balls at shortstop, three fly balls in the outfield, and a few swings at the plate from pitches thrown by a coach. That’s not a lot to go on. They didn’t evaluate pitching, which is a pretty big component of the game. And unfortunately for Aidan, they didn’t evaluate catchers. What’s the point of bringing in independent evaluators if you’re going to just have a mini-evaluation?
Aidan did ok. Not great, but ok. He’s almost certain to make one of the teams. Whether he did well enough to make the A team, though, I don’t know. We’re supposed to find out tomorrow.
Driving home from work this afternoon, I stopped at an intersection and watched as two women made their way along the sidewalk in front of me. One of the women was wearing workout clothes and walking briskly, obviously out for exercise. Her companion alongside her was sitting on an electric two-wheeled scooter, feet dangling on the ground to help her stay balanced as she traveled at walking speed, cigarette in one hand.