As if being in a cubicle wasn't bad enough.
As if earning less than half of what I used to make wasn't bad enough.
As if having to sign a time card, even though I am salaried and am not paid extra for the Thanksgiving weekend that I spent in a plane to the Middle East wasn't enough.
My boss thinks that all I do is talk on the phone. Sometimes in Spanish.
Those were his words of high praise for me.
We were in a meeting and for some reason, he decided to praise every single person in our group.
He started with Vanessa, who just returned from a trip to Brazil and Chile. He complimented her on her all-around business acumen and her work in Latin America. Where she had spent two weeks. Not to diminish what she did, but I have been working with Latin America for the past year and I lived and worked there for two years. Vanessa took a two-week business trip there.
Then he praised Elisabetta, who is from Italy and says our boss is from The School That Is Old. "Great international background. MBA. Diving in and learning everything, even though she's new."
My boss has not wanted to give her any big projects because "she's only been with us for four months."
The guy who hired me quit a month after I had started and I had to take over his responsibilities, including preparing the presentations for the board of directors and doing the annual budget and strategic plan.
He praised Randall, who has been with the company for 20 years and is indeed great. Randall knows everything and everyone and is always very helpful.
He praised Bets, the admin, who is amazingly organized and has never punched anyone in the nose even though it would be warranted.
None of the praise he gave to any of my co-workers was undeserved.
But when he got to me, all he could think to say was, "Gold Digger. Gold Digger. Every time I walk by her desk, she's on the phone. Sometimes she's speaking in Spanish!"
And that was it.
It would be bad enough if it were true, but it's not.
I have maybe three phone/skype conversations a month at work. Almost everything I do is via email because of the time differences. When I do have conversations, I am usually calling from my house at 6:30 or 7:00 a.m. so the people I am talking to do not have to stay at work until after suppertime.
My boss thinks I am a Spanish-speaking phone gabber who never accomplishes anything.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Thursday, October 24, 2013
In which Primo realizes that a lot of the people in politics are not noble
Here's the scoop:
1. Primo has become really disillusioned with the internal politics of his party. The internal politics fascinates me. I love watching the backbiting and the facebook sniping and the ins and the outs. I have watched all of House of Cards, the American version, and chunks one and two of the British version. I have watched all of season one of Veep. I don't want to argue about the issues with anyone, but I love watching the machinations of power.
I am just surprised that it has taken Primo so long. It's been pretty clear to me for a long time that most people, in the end, work toward their own interests. (Exhibit A: I joined the Peace Corps not to save the world but to have some great adventures. It's a good thing, because I discovered that the world did not want to be saved.) There is nothing wrong with working toward your own interests. What is desirable is for it to be in your interests to have a fair, just, and equitable society. Primo thinks he can get people to contribute and work selflessly on the behalf of others by appealing to their altruistic sense. I say show them how it benefits them and then we all win. Same outcome, different path to get there.
So now he is thinking maybe he doesn't want to run for office again which would mean maybe he doesn't want to quit his job just yet (doesn't help we need a new roof - goodbye $10,000). Which is fine with me.
2. But still, I am seeking new employment. I have had two phone interviews and one in-person interview. (I credit my interview-getting cover letters to Alison at Ask a Manager and my improved resume to Kimberlee Stiens at Business for Good Not Evil.
My in-person interview was at the headquarters of a company known for its quasi-outlaw brand. Nothing illegal, but people who live on the edge, who don't follow all the rules, who are tough individuals.
Everyone at headquarters whom I saw was wearing jeans and t-shirts. To work.
Which is fine if that's the culture.
I was wearing an orange pencil skirt, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket that ties at the waist.
If I get this job, I wonder if I will have to 1. conform to the jeans culture or 2. be the rebel who doesn't wear jeans to work at a place that celebrates rebels. (Update: I didn't get the job.)
3. This guy messaged Primo on facebook while we were on vacation that he wanted to run for the State House next year in the district next to ours and would Primo help him? Would he would he would he?
Primo is too nice and told the guy he would talk to him when we got back from vacation.
It ended up being several meetings that took hours and then this guy wanted Primo to help on his campaign and blah blah blah. I was against it because why should Primo spend all his time on someone else's campaign. Primo was against it because this guy doesn't even live in the city, much less the district. He lives in the state capital and thought he could come in as an outsider and win an election in a district where his party does not hold the majority. He is also almost 70 years old and has health problems and no money.
Then this guy went to some protests at the capital and had chest pains and had to go to the hospital in an ambulance and then his doctor told him he shouldn't run, so after Primo has already spent several hours listening to this guy, this guy decides oops, maybe he shouldn't run after all.
So. The good news: Primo thinks he is not going to run for office again and I hope will not be helping anyone else run. The end.
1. Primo has become really disillusioned with the internal politics of his party. The internal politics fascinates me. I love watching the backbiting and the facebook sniping and the ins and the outs. I have watched all of House of Cards, the American version, and chunks one and two of the British version. I have watched all of season one of Veep. I don't want to argue about the issues with anyone, but I love watching the machinations of power.
I am just surprised that it has taken Primo so long. It's been pretty clear to me for a long time that most people, in the end, work toward their own interests. (Exhibit A: I joined the Peace Corps not to save the world but to have some great adventures. It's a good thing, because I discovered that the world did not want to be saved.) There is nothing wrong with working toward your own interests. What is desirable is for it to be in your interests to have a fair, just, and equitable society. Primo thinks he can get people to contribute and work selflessly on the behalf of others by appealing to their altruistic sense. I say show them how it benefits them and then we all win. Same outcome, different path to get there.
So now he is thinking maybe he doesn't want to run for office again which would mean maybe he doesn't want to quit his job just yet (doesn't help we need a new roof - goodbye $10,000). Which is fine with me.
2. But still, I am seeking new employment. I have had two phone interviews and one in-person interview. (I credit my interview-getting cover letters to Alison at Ask a Manager and my improved resume to Kimberlee Stiens at Business for Good Not Evil.
My in-person interview was at the headquarters of a company known for its quasi-outlaw brand. Nothing illegal, but people who live on the edge, who don't follow all the rules, who are tough individuals.
Everyone at headquarters whom I saw was wearing jeans and t-shirts. To work.
Which is fine if that's the culture.
I was wearing an orange pencil skirt, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket that ties at the waist.
If I get this job, I wonder if I will have to 1. conform to the jeans culture or 2. be the rebel who doesn't wear jeans to work at a place that celebrates rebels. (Update: I didn't get the job.)
3. This guy messaged Primo on facebook while we were on vacation that he wanted to run for the State House next year in the district next to ours and would Primo help him? Would he would he would he?
Primo is too nice and told the guy he would talk to him when we got back from vacation.
It ended up being several meetings that took hours and then this guy wanted Primo to help on his campaign and blah blah blah. I was against it because why should Primo spend all his time on someone else's campaign. Primo was against it because this guy doesn't even live in the city, much less the district. He lives in the state capital and thought he could come in as an outsider and win an election in a district where his party does not hold the majority. He is also almost 70 years old and has health problems and no money.
Then this guy went to some protests at the capital and had chest pains and had to go to the hospital in an ambulance and then his doctor told him he shouldn't run, so after Primo has already spent several hours listening to this guy, this guy decides oops, maybe he shouldn't run after all.
So. The good news: Primo thinks he is not going to run for office again and I hope will not be helping anyone else run. The end.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
In which He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
My job, she is not going well. My co-workers and I think our boss might be losing his mind. He has been erratic and unpredictable and we are all walking on eggshells.
(PS I am writing this on July 5, the day after July 4th. I was at work. I was at work because I work for an organization that does not give July 5 as a holiday. We are not retail. We are not entertainment. We are boring corporate headquarters. My boss was happy we had today to work on the strategic plan. "We'll really be able to concentrate!" he said. "It will be really quiet!")
We think maybe he is drinking. Or is taking medication that is affecting him. Or that he had a small stroke. We don't know but he is acting weird.
1. We had a meeting in which he decided to praise everyone on our team. That in itself was bizarre - "Like a eulogy!" one co-worker said. For everyone else, he said things like, "Good strategic thinker. Broad business background. Developing new markets/products. Speaks Spanish and has traveled to Brazil."
For me, he said, "Gold Digger is on the phone all the time!"
1a. I am not on the phone all the time. Maybe twice a week.
1b. That is not exactly high praise.
1c. My co-worker who speaks Spanish? I, too, speak Spanish AND I worked in South America for two years, which, no disrespect to my co-worker, trumps a two-week business trip.
2. He had the financial report for the board of directors three weeks ago. The BoD meeting was this week. He waited until the day before the meeting to review the report and query me about all the numbers.
2a. I had too many footnotes.
2b. Why was I showing a variance of 26% when the 2013 number was 221K and the 2012 number was 176K? I finally had to explain that 221 divided by 176 is about 26%.
3. He announced a team lunch for today.
3a. We are not a lunch-going group.
3b. We all have other things we do at lunch, like going to the gym or for a walk.
3c. Now we can't do what we want to do but have to go to lunch instead.
3d. He picked a horrible chain restaurant, even though there are lots of good local restaurants as close as the chain.
4. He has paid 150% of my salary to headhunters for two positions. The organization has an HR department and a recruiter. Yet he doesn't go through HR to find new people. He is ready to spend three times my salary for a consultant to do what I have spent the past several months doing even though it is not clear that the consultant would add any value.
I am cranky cranky cranky.
(PS I am writing this on July 5, the day after July 4th. I was at work. I was at work because I work for an organization that does not give July 5 as a holiday. We are not retail. We are not entertainment. We are boring corporate headquarters. My boss was happy we had today to work on the strategic plan. "We'll really be able to concentrate!" he said. "It will be really quiet!")
We think maybe he is drinking. Or is taking medication that is affecting him. Or that he had a small stroke. We don't know but he is acting weird.
1. We had a meeting in which he decided to praise everyone on our team. That in itself was bizarre - "Like a eulogy!" one co-worker said. For everyone else, he said things like, "Good strategic thinker. Broad business background. Developing new markets/products. Speaks Spanish and has traveled to Brazil."
For me, he said, "Gold Digger is on the phone all the time!"
1a. I am not on the phone all the time. Maybe twice a week.
1b. That is not exactly high praise.
1c. My co-worker who speaks Spanish? I, too, speak Spanish AND I worked in South America for two years, which, no disrespect to my co-worker, trumps a two-week business trip.
2. He had the financial report for the board of directors three weeks ago. The BoD meeting was this week. He waited until the day before the meeting to review the report and query me about all the numbers.
2a. I had too many footnotes.
2b. Why was I showing a variance of 26% when the 2013 number was 221K and the 2012 number was 176K? I finally had to explain that 221 divided by 176 is about 26%.
3. He announced a team lunch for today.
3a. We are not a lunch-going group.
3b. We all have other things we do at lunch, like going to the gym or for a walk.
3c. Now we can't do what we want to do but have to go to lunch instead.
3d. He picked a horrible chain restaurant, even though there are lots of good local restaurants as close as the chain.
4. He has paid 150% of my salary to headhunters for two positions. The organization has an HR department and a recruiter. Yet he doesn't go through HR to find new people. He is ready to spend three times my salary for a consultant to do what I have spent the past several months doing even though it is not clear that the consultant would add any value.
I am cranky cranky cranky.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
In which Primo is Not Doing It Right with facebook
Doris somehow found Primo's facebook page. They are not facebook friends, but she somehow saw something he posted, showed it and his page to Sly, and then they together wrote an email to Primo telling him he was doing it all wrong, "it" being his facebook profile.
1. Why is Primo not facebook friends with his own mother?
Do I really need to answer that question?
2. What could someone possibly find to criticize about someone's facebook profile?
Oh LOTS!
While I wait for Primo to forward the actual email to me (if I had been in with S&D, they would have BCC'd me on their note to Primo. There is no criticism that is not good enough to share), I will summarize for you what they said.
1. His anniversary date is wrong.
Indeed it is. I put in a fake anniversary date because really, the internet does not need to know my anniversary date.
2. His hometown is wrong. That is, he put the place he lived his entire childhood until he went to college instead of the place he was born. He was born in Cambridge but grew up in - let's say Cincinnati, which is not where he grew up, but as you know, I try to change identifying details as much as possible on this blog. If Sly and Doris ever stumbled across it, I am sure they would think to themselves, "Wow. And we thought we were the only ones with a gold-digging daughter in law who eats bacon wrong! I guess we are on the right side of history because this bad bacon eating, bad cabbage using, bad envelope addressing DIL problem seems to be ubiquitous!"
So Primo put Cincinnati as his hometown instead of Cambridge. He's not doing it right!
3. He doesn't have Ted listed as his brother. He doesn't have Jack listed as his brother. He doesn't have Sly and Doris listed as his parents. How can he deny his family like that? Does he hate them? Is he ashamed of them? He is a Bad Son!
The actual email:
Deconstruction:
1. What is the difference between "do" "facebook" and do facebook?
2. His wife is listed, but his wife has blocked Doris, so his wife's name will never show to Doris.
3. Always always always the "half" brother distinction. Now, I wouldn't want to claim Ted either, but is it necessary to qualify?
1. Why is Primo not facebook friends with his own mother?
Do I really need to answer that question?
2. What could someone possibly find to criticize about someone's facebook profile?
Oh LOTS!
While I wait for Primo to forward the actual email to me (if I had been in with S&D, they would have BCC'd me on their note to Primo. There is no criticism that is not good enough to share), I will summarize for you what they said.
1. His anniversary date is wrong.
Indeed it is. I put in a fake anniversary date because really, the internet does not need to know my anniversary date.
2. His hometown is wrong. That is, he put the place he lived his entire childhood until he went to college instead of the place he was born. He was born in Cambridge but grew up in - let's say Cincinnati, which is not where he grew up, but as you know, I try to change identifying details as much as possible on this blog. If Sly and Doris ever stumbled across it, I am sure they would think to themselves, "Wow. And we thought we were the only ones with a gold-digging daughter in law who eats bacon wrong! I guess we are on the right side of history because this bad bacon eating, bad cabbage using, bad envelope addressing DIL problem seems to be ubiquitous!"
So Primo put Cincinnati as his hometown instead of Cambridge. He's not doing it right!
3. He doesn't have Ted listed as his brother. He doesn't have Jack listed as his brother. He doesn't have Sly and Doris listed as his parents. How can he deny his family like that? Does he hate them? Is he ashamed of them? He is a Bad Son!
The actual email:
We
got to your FACEBOOK page because of your email on [political figure]. We
assume you are in [city] for Sam's birthday because of your post
about [place]. Your dad doesn't "do" anything "facebook" but he did
read through some of your information. Strange that you don't list
your wife, parents or half-brothers as family members.
Your bio should also mention that you were born in [birthplace]. You also have January 1 listed as your
anniversary (?).
Deconstruction:
1. What is the difference between "do" "facebook" and do facebook?
2. His wife is listed, but his wife has blocked Doris, so his wife's name will never show to Doris.
3. Always always always the "half" brother distinction. Now, I wouldn't want to claim Ted either, but is it necessary to qualify?
Saturday, October 5, 2013
In which we have a wedding
Me: My sister's wedding. Wow.
Primo: It will be fun.
Me: But a lot of travel in December.
Primo: Yes, but it will be fun. And we can be pretty sure that there won't be any drunk people there.
Me: Ah yes. So it will be nothing like our wedding.
Primo: It will be fun.
Me: But a lot of travel in December.
Primo: Yes, but it will be fun. And we can be pretty sure that there won't be any drunk people there.
Me: Ah yes. So it will be nothing like our wedding.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
In which Primo loses his place as the Favorite Son In Law
One of the most stressful things about going on vacation with my family for my mom's birthday, other than worrying about getting Bart to stop for bathroom breaks, which turned out not to be a problem at all because he stopped any time my mom asked, and she needs to go more than I do, was watching Primo and Bart clash.
Oh. And watching Bart get lost because he insisted that his iPhone knew where we were going, even though some airport in Australia has asked Apple to disable Apple's map of the airport because people keep driving onto the flight line because Apple's mapping is so screwed up. Before we left, I suggested that we print a map to the cabin and Bart said no, he had it. Apple had him covered.
After seven hours in the car, when all I wanted to do was to get out and lock myself in a room by myself, we added 45 minutes to the trip because guess what? Apple didn't know how to get to the cabin! Bart and my sister weren't even speaking to each other except in low hisses. My mother kept trying to make suggestions, which is what someone who is used to being the boss does, but it has been my experience that most men (the men I have known) do not want unsolicited advice and they certainly don't want the unsolicited advice that they should stop at that gas station to ask for directions.
But the big part was watching two stubborn alpha males butt heads. Primo hates it when someone else is driving and when that someone else is as convinced of his own rightness as much as Primo is convinced of his, then there is tension.
I hate tension. I am tension averse. I am conflict averse. I am everything averse. And there was tension galore with Bart and Primo.
What made it even worse was that Bart wanted to do everything on a schedule and Primo hates schedules that he did not create. Bart had said we would leave my mom's house at 10:00 a.m. At 9:45, he was loading the van. He wanted to know where Primo's bag was and Primo's attitude was, Dude, it's not even 10:00 yet where's the fire?
But Bart was driving so Bart ruled and Primo got a little sulky about it.
I was impressed because I have never in the eight years I have known Primo been able to get him to be on time. Time is a flexible construct for Primo. It bends and curves and moves. For me, it is a straight line that starts with early, goes to on time, then drops straight off into Oh man I am late and that is so impolite!
My mother likes to be on time, too. Where do you think I got it from?
So we have Bart, who is
1. On time
and
2. who rented an SUV just so my mom would be comfortable (which was a very nice thing for him to do)
and
3. who calls my mother
4. on skype, which my mom has not been able to get me to do because why would I want to be on video? at least once a week just to talk, which is more than I do because I hate talking on the phone
and
5. who incurred my wrath (I hissed at him "Do not ever do that to me again" and when he tried to explain, I hissed again, "Do not! Do NOT do that!") in a way that made even Primo raise his eyebrows by summoning me to participate in a skype call with my mom last year when he and my sister were visiting, even though I was waving my hands in front of me, mouthing, "No! No!" because I do not like talking on the phone or on skype and I was not in the mood to talk on the phone and I certainly did not want to do so in a command performance
and who, for the grand slam,
6. not only told my mom that he would drive her to church when we were in Durango but that he, a non-Catholic, would also attend church with him.
Slam. Dunk.
Primo used to be the one on whom the sun rose and set. But now Bart, Bart is the favorite son in law. The king is dead. Long live the king.
Oh. And watching Bart get lost because he insisted that his iPhone knew where we were going, even though some airport in Australia has asked Apple to disable Apple's map of the airport because people keep driving onto the flight line because Apple's mapping is so screwed up. Before we left, I suggested that we print a map to the cabin and Bart said no, he had it. Apple had him covered.
After seven hours in the car, when all I wanted to do was to get out and lock myself in a room by myself, we added 45 minutes to the trip because guess what? Apple didn't know how to get to the cabin! Bart and my sister weren't even speaking to each other except in low hisses. My mother kept trying to make suggestions, which is what someone who is used to being the boss does, but it has been my experience that most men (the men I have known) do not want unsolicited advice and they certainly don't want the unsolicited advice that they should stop at that gas station to ask for directions.
But the big part was watching two stubborn alpha males butt heads. Primo hates it when someone else is driving and when that someone else is as convinced of his own rightness as much as Primo is convinced of his, then there is tension.
I hate tension. I am tension averse. I am conflict averse. I am everything averse. And there was tension galore with Bart and Primo.
What made it even worse was that Bart wanted to do everything on a schedule and Primo hates schedules that he did not create. Bart had said we would leave my mom's house at 10:00 a.m. At 9:45, he was loading the van. He wanted to know where Primo's bag was and Primo's attitude was, Dude, it's not even 10:00 yet where's the fire?
But Bart was driving so Bart ruled and Primo got a little sulky about it.
I was impressed because I have never in the eight years I have known Primo been able to get him to be on time. Time is a flexible construct for Primo. It bends and curves and moves. For me, it is a straight line that starts with early, goes to on time, then drops straight off into Oh man I am late and that is so impolite!
My mother likes to be on time, too. Where do you think I got it from?
So we have Bart, who is
1. On time
and
2. who rented an SUV just so my mom would be comfortable (which was a very nice thing for him to do)
and
3. who calls my mother
4. on skype, which my mom has not been able to get me to do because why would I want to be on video? at least once a week just to talk, which is more than I do because I hate talking on the phone
and
5. who incurred my wrath (I hissed at him "Do not ever do that to me again" and when he tried to explain, I hissed again, "Do not! Do NOT do that!") in a way that made even Primo raise his eyebrows by summoning me to participate in a skype call with my mom last year when he and my sister were visiting, even though I was waving my hands in front of me, mouthing, "No! No!" because I do not like talking on the phone or on skype and I was not in the mood to talk on the phone and I certainly did not want to do so in a command performance
and who, for the grand slam,
6. not only told my mom that he would drive her to church when we were in Durango but that he, a non-Catholic, would also attend church with him.
Slam. Dunk.
Primo used to be the one on whom the sun rose and set. But now Bart, Bart is the favorite son in law. The king is dead. Long live the king.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
In which Primo has to hide the truth from Sly and Doris because Sly and Doris can't handle the truth
My mom turned 70 last winter.
Winter is not a good time to fly to Colorado, where she lives, unless you want to spend a lot of time in an airport, so we decided to postpone the celebration until nicer weather.
I didn't even know we would have a celebration but then my mom said she wanted one and the celebration she wanted was to have all her children and their SOs come to Colorado, drive to Durango, and take the narrow-gauge train from Durango to Silverton and back.
Which sounded great in principle and indeed was fun but when we were planning this event, I neglected to think through the "Durango is 350 miles from Colorado Springs"and "Colorado Springs is 1,000 miles from where Primo and I live" parts.
Which meant there was a lot of time spent sitting on our butts over the six days we were gone from home.
Which is totally not the point but may I say that my future brother in law, Bart, is a saint for having rented an SUV to get us all from Colorado Springs to Durango. I hate being in a car and I especially hate being in a car smashed up against other people and then throw in other people who want to talk for seven hours and you might as well give me a gun.
I love my family but man there is nobody who can press your buttons like the people who put them there.
I sat in the very back with my book and my peanut butter and jelly flavored almonds from the sale rack at Target and I was just fine. Mostly.
Well anyway.
The big dilemma was what, if anything, to tell Sly and Doris.
1. Sly and Doris think my family is "not close" and therefore I, or at least Primo, should never spend any time with them.
2. Sly and Doris are about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary and their 80th and 75th birthdays, respectively. What are we going to do for them? they ask.
3. If Primo takes any vacation time or does any traveling, it should be to visit them.
I advised Primo against telling them anything. "It will just tick them off," I said. "There is nothing to be gained from telling them about this."
"But what if they find out I lied to them?" he asked. "And what happens when I call them? We'll be on the train on Sunday and that's the day I usually call, so I'll have to call on Saturday and they'll want to know why."
I sighed. My mother does not cause such drama. My mother, weeks before we got to her house, was emailing me to ask if Primo liked banana bread and if Primo liked zucchini bread and if Primo liked breakfast tacos and what did Primo like to eat? What should she cook?
My mother believes in providing meals for her guests, unlike some people who think that just because they don't eat lunch, neither should anyone else.
Primo put off telling his parents and put it off and suddenly, we were in Colorado and he hadn't said anything and then we were taking the train trip on Sunday, which is when Primo calls Sly and Doris, so he wouldn't be able to call and they would get angry and send him a nasty email about how he doesn't even have time to call his own parents and they guess they just don't rate very highly in his life etc etc etc.
He gave them a prophylactic call on Saturday - "Just tell them you'll be doing something else on Sunday," I suggested.
"But what if they ask what I'll be doing?"
"Tell them you're doing something political. That will make them happy."
Primo was shocked. "But that would be a lie!"
I shrugged. "Sometimes you have to lie. If you tell them the truth, they'll get angry and they'll take it out on you. Even the Catholic Church has some doctrine about the lesser evil. Lying to them is definitely the lesser evil."
And then we were on the train and I was posting photos from the trip and tagging Primo and it wasn't until we were on the ride back that I realized that although I had asked Stephanie, who is our facebook friend, not to mention anything to Sly and Doris about the trip - "I never tell them anything about you," she said - Primo's half-brother Ted, who is a jerk and would happily say anything to Sly and Doris to upset them about Primo, might be able to see the posts on Primo's page. I have blocked Doris and Ted on facebook - as far as they are concerned, I do not exist there, but I didn't know if Ted could see a post from me with Primo in it.
I panicked for the two hours back to the house and then had Primo delete every post I had made about him.
He sent Sly and Doris a long email and then called them later in the week.
They have not found out about the trip. But if they do, there will be hell to pay.
Winter is not a good time to fly to Colorado, where she lives, unless you want to spend a lot of time in an airport, so we decided to postpone the celebration until nicer weather.
I didn't even know we would have a celebration but then my mom said she wanted one and the celebration she wanted was to have all her children and their SOs come to Colorado, drive to Durango, and take the narrow-gauge train from Durango to Silverton and back.
Which sounded great in principle and indeed was fun but when we were planning this event, I neglected to think through the "Durango is 350 miles from Colorado Springs"and "Colorado Springs is 1,000 miles from where Primo and I live" parts.
Which meant there was a lot of time spent sitting on our butts over the six days we were gone from home.
Which is totally not the point but may I say that my future brother in law, Bart, is a saint for having rented an SUV to get us all from Colorado Springs to Durango. I hate being in a car and I especially hate being in a car smashed up against other people and then throw in other people who want to talk for seven hours and you might as well give me a gun.
I love my family but man there is nobody who can press your buttons like the people who put them there.
I sat in the very back with my book and my peanut butter and jelly flavored almonds from the sale rack at Target and I was just fine. Mostly.
Well anyway.
The big dilemma was what, if anything, to tell Sly and Doris.
1. Sly and Doris think my family is "not close" and therefore I, or at least Primo, should never spend any time with them.
2. Sly and Doris are about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary and their 80th and 75th birthdays, respectively. What are we going to do for them? they ask.
3. If Primo takes any vacation time or does any traveling, it should be to visit them.
I advised Primo against telling them anything. "It will just tick them off," I said. "There is nothing to be gained from telling them about this."
"But what if they find out I lied to them?" he asked. "And what happens when I call them? We'll be on the train on Sunday and that's the day I usually call, so I'll have to call on Saturday and they'll want to know why."
I sighed. My mother does not cause such drama. My mother, weeks before we got to her house, was emailing me to ask if Primo liked banana bread and if Primo liked zucchini bread and if Primo liked breakfast tacos and what did Primo like to eat? What should she cook?
My mother believes in providing meals for her guests, unlike some people who think that just because they don't eat lunch, neither should anyone else.
Primo put off telling his parents and put it off and suddenly, we were in Colorado and he hadn't said anything and then we were taking the train trip on Sunday, which is when Primo calls Sly and Doris, so he wouldn't be able to call and they would get angry and send him a nasty email about how he doesn't even have time to call his own parents and they guess they just don't rate very highly in his life etc etc etc.
He gave them a prophylactic call on Saturday - "Just tell them you'll be doing something else on Sunday," I suggested.
"But what if they ask what I'll be doing?"
"Tell them you're doing something political. That will make them happy."
Primo was shocked. "But that would be a lie!"
I shrugged. "Sometimes you have to lie. If you tell them the truth, they'll get angry and they'll take it out on you. Even the Catholic Church has some doctrine about the lesser evil. Lying to them is definitely the lesser evil."
And then we were on the train and I was posting photos from the trip and tagging Primo and it wasn't until we were on the ride back that I realized that although I had asked Stephanie, who is our facebook friend, not to mention anything to Sly and Doris about the trip - "I never tell them anything about you," she said - Primo's half-brother Ted, who is a jerk and would happily say anything to Sly and Doris to upset them about Primo, might be able to see the posts on Primo's page. I have blocked Doris and Ted on facebook - as far as they are concerned, I do not exist there, but I didn't know if Ted could see a post from me with Primo in it.
I panicked for the two hours back to the house and then had Primo delete every post I had made about him.
He sent Sly and Doris a long email and then called them later in the week.
They have not found out about the trip. But if they do, there will be hell to pay.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Things Primo is agreeing to do if I agree for him to quit his job
Paint the garage instead of hiring someone
Let me change my name back to my maiden name
Only visit his parents once a year
Let me publish my book, although under a pseudonym
More housework
Let me change my name back to my maiden name
Only visit his parents once a year
Let me publish my book, although under a pseudonym
More housework
Thursday, September 12, 2013
In which Primo is torn about which candidate to vote against
Primo: So I'm not sure who to vote for in the state party election.
Me: Why?
Primo: One of the candidates tried to get another candidate kicked out of the party. But his opponent is a transsexual who used to go places, like the bank, throw up her shirt, and announce, "I finally had it done!"
Me: I can see why that would be a tough choice.
Me: Why?
Primo: One of the candidates tried to get another candidate kicked out of the party. But his opponent is a transsexual who used to go places, like the bank, throw up her shirt, and announce, "I finally had it done!"
Me: I can see why that would be a tough choice.
In which my friend Bruce is going through a mid-life crisis
My friend Bruce told me that he was thinking of running for office. He owns his own business and is quite successful. He is financially secure, although some of that is due to sad circumstances: he was the sole heir when his grandfather and then his mother died. I think he'd rather have them around than have their money, but you don't get to pick these things. Nobody asks, "Would you rather your parents be dead and have $500,000 or would you rather they be alive?"
I would rather have my dad than have money. I would have been very happy to have had my dad around for the past 16 years. I didn't even get money in compensation, not that money can make up for the loss of your dad. It sure would be nice for Primo to have been able to meet him and for him to visit and hang out and do house and car repairs while he was here.
Oh I didn't take advantage of him. That's just how my dad rolled. He liked to fix things and he liked to stay busy. He came to see me once in Austin. I took him to my friends' lake place where they kept their boat. There was a problem with the lift or something and my dad was as happy as a pig in mud that he could diagnose and fix the problem.
A lot of my formative ideas about what makes a man are based on my dad. (Naturally.) And the idea that a man should be able to fix things comes from him.
My dad was an equal-opportunity dad - he believed women should be able to fix things, too, which is why he wouldn't let me get my drivers license until I could change the oil, change a tire, and change a belt on the car. I mean, I had to do all these things so he could see me doing them.
One gift bequeathed to me from my dad is the old Better Homes and Gardens (I think that's the publisher - I am too lazy to go upstairs to look) book on home repairs. I have used it - it is very useful to be able to fix your own running toilet or clear a clog in the kitchen sink.
How did I get on this subject?
So my friend Bruce is thinking of running for office.
I told him not to do it - that it was an insane idea and he would not get to see his family - he has two young children - for weeks, if not months.
"My wife is not excited about the idea, either," he said. "She said that if I need to do this - that if I have a strong spiritual need to run for office, that she will support me, but if it's just a mid-life crisis, she would rather I have an affair. Or buy a car."
"Any car?" I asked.
"A Corvette is OK. A Porsche is not."
"I wish Primo would just buy a new car," I said.
I would rather have my dad than have money. I would have been very happy to have had my dad around for the past 16 years. I didn't even get money in compensation, not that money can make up for the loss of your dad. It sure would be nice for Primo to have been able to meet him and for him to visit and hang out and do house and car repairs while he was here.
Oh I didn't take advantage of him. That's just how my dad rolled. He liked to fix things and he liked to stay busy. He came to see me once in Austin. I took him to my friends' lake place where they kept their boat. There was a problem with the lift or something and my dad was as happy as a pig in mud that he could diagnose and fix the problem.
A lot of my formative ideas about what makes a man are based on my dad. (Naturally.) And the idea that a man should be able to fix things comes from him.
My dad was an equal-opportunity dad - he believed women should be able to fix things, too, which is why he wouldn't let me get my drivers license until I could change the oil, change a tire, and change a belt on the car. I mean, I had to do all these things so he could see me doing them.
One gift bequeathed to me from my dad is the old Better Homes and Gardens (I think that's the publisher - I am too lazy to go upstairs to look) book on home repairs. I have used it - it is very useful to be able to fix your own running toilet or clear a clog in the kitchen sink.
How did I get on this subject?
So my friend Bruce is thinking of running for office.
I told him not to do it - that it was an insane idea and he would not get to see his family - he has two young children - for weeks, if not months.
"My wife is not excited about the idea, either," he said. "She said that if I need to do this - that if I have a strong spiritual need to run for office, that she will support me, but if it's just a mid-life crisis, she would rather I have an affair. Or buy a car."
"Any car?" I asked.
"A Corvette is OK. A Porsche is not."
"I wish Primo would just buy a new car," I said.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
In which I have a glimmer of hope that I might escape from here but then my hopes are dashed
Primo: I was arguing with Potsie last night about the Polka Dot candidate for governor. He thinks she's our best option but he's pretty sure she won't win.
Me: So?
Primo: Rather than accepting it, he should be working to get someone else elected! If the current [Stripes] governor is re-elected, the state will become even worse, with all the Stripes agenda. If that happens, I will have to consider moving out of the state.
Me: Cool! So we can go back to Texas or Tennessee?
Primo: No! They're even worse! I'd have to go to Minnesota.
Me: I am not going someplace that's even colder than here.
Me: So?
Primo: Rather than accepting it, he should be working to get someone else elected! If the current [Stripes] governor is re-elected, the state will become even worse, with all the Stripes agenda. If that happens, I will have to consider moving out of the state.
Me: Cool! So we can go back to Texas or Tennessee?
Primo: No! They're even worse! I'd have to go to Minnesota.
Me: I am not going someplace that's even colder than here.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Ha! Sly gets nailed!
I saw this story in Slate and showed it to Primo immediately. He laughed and agreed that Sly is a grammar (and every other kind of) bully. (Remember the time he got all mad at me because he tried to correct his granddaughter about the proper pronunciation of "extract" and she had said it properly and I defended her? And then the kids, Primo, and I had a long conversation about how Sly is always correcting them and they are tired of it. He doesn't correct them lovingly, he corrects them with anger and scorn.)
We wanted to show the cartoon to Doris, but we can't: her email is not secure because she and Sly share an email and he opens the mail that comes into the house and there is no way to have a private conversation with her. She had to slip a handwritten note to Primo during his visit to them last month in which she said that she thought Sly would have mellowed as he aged but instead he has just gotten meaner.
We wanted to show the cartoon to Doris, but we can't: her email is not secure because she and Sly share an email and he opens the mail that comes into the house and there is no way to have a private conversation with her. She had to slip a handwritten note to Primo during his visit to them last month in which she said that she thought Sly would have mellowed as he aged but instead he has just gotten meaner.
We don't dare risk Sly seeing the article or the cartoon because as you know, he has no sense of humor, especially about himself, and he takes his anger out on Doris, who can't defend herself. He doesn't try to bully me any more because he can't but man will he make Doris cry. Annoying as I find her, she doesn't deserve that.
So Primo is going to print the article and the cartoon and show it to Doris the next time he visits. We can try to make her smile somehow.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
In which my inner Machiavelli becomes useful
Primo burst breathlessly into the bedroom, where I was happily reading a book, minding my own business, not thinking about politics at all.
Primo: Remember that bill? The one about puppies? And how puppies should be taken for a walk every day, at least once a day?
Me: Yes. So?
Primo: Well, you remember that the people on my side were completely against the bill because they don't think the government should be telling people how to treat puppies?
Me: Yes.
Primo: They voted on it. And Slim Shady [Polka Dot majority leader in the state senate] voted for it! So did some other Polka Dots!
Me: Uh-huh. (I don't really care about this bill. I literally do not have a dog in this fight. Plus the bill contradicts a federal law about dog walking and you know what the constitution says about that.)
Primo: There were some Polka Dots in districts that are pretty evenly split between Polka Dots and Stripes, so they had to vote for the bill to keep the Stripes from making a big deal about it in the next election.
Me: Right. Standard political calculations.
Primo: But there are people who are not in contested districts who also voted for it! Why? I can't believe that Slim voted for it, too! I am so ticked at him! There is a huge facebook fight going on about this - a lot of Polka Dots are attacking him. Why would he do it?
Me: To provide cover.
Primo: What do you mean?
Me: He's providing cover so it's not so obvious why the people in the contested districts voted for it. Plus there's no chance the bill will ever become a law so it's a low-risk vote.
Primo [jaw dropping]: That's exactly it! That has to be it! I didn't even think about that. How did you figure that out so fast?
Me [modestly]: I was an English major. All I did was try to figure out why the characters did what they did.
Primo: But you don't care about politics.
Me: I don't want to talk about the issues with you, but I am very interested in the behind the scenes stuff.
Primo: Remember that bill? The one about puppies? And how puppies should be taken for a walk every day, at least once a day?
Me: Yes. So?
Primo: Well, you remember that the people on my side were completely against the bill because they don't think the government should be telling people how to treat puppies?
Me: Yes.
Primo: They voted on it. And Slim Shady [Polka Dot majority leader in the state senate] voted for it! So did some other Polka Dots!
Me: Uh-huh. (I don't really care about this bill. I literally do not have a dog in this fight. Plus the bill contradicts a federal law about dog walking and you know what the constitution says about that.)
Primo: There were some Polka Dots in districts that are pretty evenly split between Polka Dots and Stripes, so they had to vote for the bill to keep the Stripes from making a big deal about it in the next election.
Me: Right. Standard political calculations.
Primo: But there are people who are not in contested districts who also voted for it! Why? I can't believe that Slim voted for it, too! I am so ticked at him! There is a huge facebook fight going on about this - a lot of Polka Dots are attacking him. Why would he do it?
Me: To provide cover.
Primo: What do you mean?
Me: He's providing cover so it's not so obvious why the people in the contested districts voted for it. Plus there's no chance the bill will ever become a law so it's a low-risk vote.
Primo [jaw dropping]: That's exactly it! That has to be it! I didn't even think about that. How did you figure that out so fast?
Me [modestly]: I was an English major. All I did was try to figure out why the characters did what they did.
Primo: But you don't care about politics.
Me: I don't want to talk about the issues with you, but I am very interested in the behind the scenes stuff.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
In which Doris' present becomes a further burden
Rember that stupid Meyer lemon tree that Doris sent us as an anniversary present a few years ago? She was nice to send us a present and she was very nice to send us an anniversary present - as far as I am concerned, the only two people who have to acknowledge an anniversary are the people inside the marriage. Primo and I celebrate our anniversary by exchanging greeting cards with kittens or penguins on them and by going out to a nice dinner - the kind where you don't wear jeans. But other than that, we don't do much because 1. we don't need more stuff and 2. we are trying to save money.
So Doris sent us this plant which wouldn't be such a bad thing except
1. A Meyer lemon tree (a little wee baby one, about ten inches high) is a tropical plant.
We do not live in the tropics. We do not have ten hours of warm sun a day for the plant to bask in.
We live in a cold climate where the sun disappears for days in the winter. We live in a house that was built in 1928, which, to anyone else who lives in a cold climate knows, means a house that leaks heat and money in the winter. It means unless you want to spend over $400 a month on heating in January, you close off half your house, turn the heat way down, and wear lots of clothes.
A Meyer lemon tree is not supposed to live in the cold and the dark. I googled "Meyer lemon tree care" and got lots of information about "Florida" and Meyer lemon trees.
We are not in Florida.
(Thank goodness, although I would happily move to Miami again. No snow there! Cuban food! What's not to like?)
2. I do not like houseplants. I had no houseplants until the lemon tree. Now I have one. Which is one more than I want. Houseplants are way too much responsibility.
Wait. I have two, if you count the kitty grass that we keep for the cats so they don't get (it doesn't work) hairballs in the winter. They still get hairballs, but they happily graze on the small pot of grass that lives in the kitchen window. Which is not a place where the lemon tree could live because it gets too cold in that window and it certainly does not get ten hours of sun every day, not even in the summer.
The kitty grass is easy: it lives above the kitchen sink, so I remember to water it. If it dies, oh well.
But the lemon tree.
My gosh she might as well have given us a puppy. A potted lemon tree cannot be ignored.
So for the past few years, I have moved that darn tree in and out of the house, depending on the season. In and out of the kitchen and the stairwell, depending on where the sun is. Watered when I remembered. Which is infrequently.
I put it outside once the weather started getting nice and hoped I could forget about it for a few months.
That was not to be the case.
There was a huge windstorm the other night.
The only thing that was damaged at our house was the lemon tree. It blew over and the pot broke.
Now, I am not sad about the possibility of losing the tree, but the fall did not kill it. Which means I have to try to save it. Which meant that last night, rather than goofing off and reading my book in peace because Primo is on a work trip so I have the house all to myself with nobody bothering me, I had to glue that darn pot back together. Of course the first tube of glue was completely dried out, so I had to go back to the basement to look for more glue. I wanted to throw away the dried-out glue, but didn't feel like arguing with Primo upon his return and his eventual discovery that the glue was gone.
The man has a photographic memory for things like that, but if I ask him to do one tiny thing like print something for me next week, he will tell me there is no way he can be expected to remember something like that.
I think he remembers what is convenient for him.
Anyhow, I promised him years ago that I would not throw away any of his crap without his permission and I have tried to stick to that, although I was sorely tempted when I was in his office last night and saw the raffle tickets we bought in March still sitting on his desk.
We did not win that raffle, which happened in March.
Yet the tickets rest on his desk still.
I itched, I itched, I tell you, to throw them away.
But I promised.
Primo would be hard pressed to find anything of mine to throw away. Sure, I still have some old address books and calendars, but I have two boxes of stuff compared to his office full and basement full of crap. Phone bills from 1997? Employee manuals from 1992? He's got them.
I don't want him dead, but I have thought that if he did have a car accident, the first thing I would do, after tearing down and burning the protest signs in his office and the framed photo of themselves that Sly and Doris gave us for Christmas a few years ago, would be to throw away all of his boxed stuff in the basement without even looking at it. My theory is that if he brought that stuff with him when he moved here from California eight years ago and hasn't opened it since, it is nothing necessary for life.
I put the dried-up glue back and found another tube. Glued the pot back together, cursing the stupid plant the entire time. Tonight, I will repot it. And wonder why it continues to survive despite the neglect.
So Doris sent us this plant which wouldn't be such a bad thing except
1. A Meyer lemon tree (a little wee baby one, about ten inches high) is a tropical plant.
We do not live in the tropics. We do not have ten hours of warm sun a day for the plant to bask in.
We live in a cold climate where the sun disappears for days in the winter. We live in a house that was built in 1928, which, to anyone else who lives in a cold climate knows, means a house that leaks heat and money in the winter. It means unless you want to spend over $400 a month on heating in January, you close off half your house, turn the heat way down, and wear lots of clothes.
A Meyer lemon tree is not supposed to live in the cold and the dark. I googled "Meyer lemon tree care" and got lots of information about "Florida" and Meyer lemon trees.
We are not in Florida.
(Thank goodness, although I would happily move to Miami again. No snow there! Cuban food! What's not to like?)
2. I do not like houseplants. I had no houseplants until the lemon tree. Now I have one. Which is one more than I want. Houseplants are way too much responsibility.
Wait. I have two, if you count the kitty grass that we keep for the cats so they don't get (it doesn't work) hairballs in the winter. They still get hairballs, but they happily graze on the small pot of grass that lives in the kitchen window. Which is not a place where the lemon tree could live because it gets too cold in that window and it certainly does not get ten hours of sun every day, not even in the summer.
The kitty grass is easy: it lives above the kitchen sink, so I remember to water it. If it dies, oh well.
But the lemon tree.
My gosh she might as well have given us a puppy. A potted lemon tree cannot be ignored.
So for the past few years, I have moved that darn tree in and out of the house, depending on the season. In and out of the kitchen and the stairwell, depending on where the sun is. Watered when I remembered. Which is infrequently.
I put it outside once the weather started getting nice and hoped I could forget about it for a few months.
That was not to be the case.
There was a huge windstorm the other night.
The only thing that was damaged at our house was the lemon tree. It blew over and the pot broke.
Now, I am not sad about the possibility of losing the tree, but the fall did not kill it. Which means I have to try to save it. Which meant that last night, rather than goofing off and reading my book in peace because Primo is on a work trip so I have the house all to myself with nobody bothering me, I had to glue that darn pot back together. Of course the first tube of glue was completely dried out, so I had to go back to the basement to look for more glue. I wanted to throw away the dried-out glue, but didn't feel like arguing with Primo upon his return and his eventual discovery that the glue was gone.
The man has a photographic memory for things like that, but if I ask him to do one tiny thing like print something for me next week, he will tell me there is no way he can be expected to remember something like that.
I think he remembers what is convenient for him.
Anyhow, I promised him years ago that I would not throw away any of his crap without his permission and I have tried to stick to that, although I was sorely tempted when I was in his office last night and saw the raffle tickets we bought in March still sitting on his desk.
We did not win that raffle, which happened in March.
Yet the tickets rest on his desk still.
I itched, I itched, I tell you, to throw them away.
But I promised.
Primo would be hard pressed to find anything of mine to throw away. Sure, I still have some old address books and calendars, but I have two boxes of stuff compared to his office full and basement full of crap. Phone bills from 1997? Employee manuals from 1992? He's got them.
I don't want him dead, but I have thought that if he did have a car accident, the first thing I would do, after tearing down and burning the protest signs in his office and the framed photo of themselves that Sly and Doris gave us for Christmas a few years ago, would be to throw away all of his boxed stuff in the basement without even looking at it. My theory is that if he brought that stuff with him when he moved here from California eight years ago and hasn't opened it since, it is nothing necessary for life.
I put the dried-up glue back and found another tube. Glued the pot back together, cursing the stupid plant the entire time. Tonight, I will repot it. And wonder why it continues to survive despite the neglect.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
In which Primo and I negotiate over the terms of his possibly quitting his well-paying job that puts a roof over our heads and food on our table
You guys know that Primo wants to quit his job and do something more meaningful, which is completely understandable: the alimony ended last year and I have a job and we have a little more financial freedom plus he has been doing the same kind of work for a long time.
He is bored. He has ennui. And he wants to do something with purpose.
If we had children, he might not feel this way, as rearing children is a ton of work and you get to see results of that work and then one day, have grandchildren so all you have is the fun with none of the crap. But we do not have children and we don't have grandchildren to look forward to. Well, not grandchildren we can see frequently. Primo's two stepdaughters have three children between them, one of them brand new, and they are the cutest kids in the world but they are on the other side of the country so it's not like we get to be a part of their everyday lives.
I understand the desire for meaning and the desire to leave one's mark on the world.
And I want Primo to have this.
But I want something out of this.
As in, we have been negotiating.
So far, I have gotten an agreement that I would not face any opposition to changing my name back to my maiden name, which yes yes yes I know is as patriarchal as taking my husband's name - what's the difference between a father's name and a husband's name? - but I am not trying to make a statement against The Patriarchy or The Man. I just want my name back and I don't want to share a name with Sly and Doris.
Yes I am that petty. If you want a blog written by someone who is nice and who doesn't wish her in-laws dead (not enough to take out a contract on them - that would be wrong - but enough to wish they would either become nice or just disappear so Primo wouldn't be subject to their meanness), then you'll have to find somewhere else. There are a lot of nice bloggers out there.
(My friends' parents are starting to die. Nice parents are dying. The mean parents endure.)
I have also tried to get Primo to agree that we would never have a political conversation again. I have not had as much luck with that.
Primo has also offered to
1. paint the garage
2. paint the windowsills
I have informed him that if he becomes the stay-at-home person, he will be in charge of all the housework and the cooking.
Me: And you can't buy beer.
Primo: But that's one of the purposes of my quitting - to get to relax more!
He is bored. He has ennui. And he wants to do something with purpose.
If we had children, he might not feel this way, as rearing children is a ton of work and you get to see results of that work and then one day, have grandchildren so all you have is the fun with none of the crap. But we do not have children and we don't have grandchildren to look forward to. Well, not grandchildren we can see frequently. Primo's two stepdaughters have three children between them, one of them brand new, and they are the cutest kids in the world but they are on the other side of the country so it's not like we get to be a part of their everyday lives.
I understand the desire for meaning and the desire to leave one's mark on the world.
And I want Primo to have this.
But I want something out of this.
As in, we have been negotiating.
So far, I have gotten an agreement that I would not face any opposition to changing my name back to my maiden name, which yes yes yes I know is as patriarchal as taking my husband's name - what's the difference between a father's name and a husband's name? - but I am not trying to make a statement against The Patriarchy or The Man. I just want my name back and I don't want to share a name with Sly and Doris.
Yes I am that petty. If you want a blog written by someone who is nice and who doesn't wish her in-laws dead (not enough to take out a contract on them - that would be wrong - but enough to wish they would either become nice or just disappear so Primo wouldn't be subject to their meanness), then you'll have to find somewhere else. There are a lot of nice bloggers out there.
(My friends' parents are starting to die. Nice parents are dying. The mean parents endure.)
I have also tried to get Primo to agree that we would never have a political conversation again. I have not had as much luck with that.
Primo has also offered to
1. paint the garage
2. paint the windowsills
I have informed him that if he becomes the stay-at-home person, he will be in charge of all the housework and the cooking.
Me: And you can't buy beer.
Primo: But that's one of the purposes of my quitting - to get to relax more!
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