Who Do I Think I am?
I was yelled at the other day. I was invited into an office and then the guy began yelling things like, "Who do you think you are?" I looked down at my nametag, but that didn't help as it said Write name here. So who do I think I am? I think I'm writing a book, but since I'm not finished am I still an author? He yelled at me, "Do you think you're paid to make decisions?" I wanted to answer that, but couldn't decide.
A while ago I actually walked to the Human Resources office and asked for a job description for what I do. I was told it was still "being written." Next time I'll check with Martian Resources, maybe they'll know what I'm paid to do. The Humans certainly don't seem to have a clue. So since I don't have a job description, who do I think I am? Am I paid to make decisions? Obviously the people who pay me can't decide either!
So what am I actually paid to do? See the supervisor and be told what to do? But how can he tell me what to do if there isn't a job description? A lot of memos get put out where I work, but nobody ever seems to sign or take credit for them. "I want flags put up everywhere!" one memo will say. And when someone else doesn't want flags put up, the person who wrote the memo says, "I didn't write that, I don't know where it came from!"
I was yelled at the other day. I was invited into an office and then the guy began yelling things like, "Who do you think you are?" I looked down at my nametag, but that didn't help as it said Write name here. So who do I think I am? I think I'm writing a book, but since I'm not finished am I still an author? He yelled at me, "Do you think you're paid to make decisions?" I wanted to answer that, but couldn't decide.
A while ago I actually walked to the Human Resources office and asked for a job description for what I do. I was told it was still "being written." Next time I'll check with Martian Resources, maybe they'll know what I'm paid to do. The Humans certainly don't seem to have a clue. So since I don't have a job description, who do I think I am? Am I paid to make decisions? Obviously the people who pay me can't decide either!
So what am I actually paid to do? See the supervisor and be told what to do? But how can he tell me what to do if there isn't a job description? A lot of memos get put out where I work, but nobody ever seems to sign or take credit for them. "I want flags put up everywhere!" one memo will say. And when someone else doesn't want flags put up, the person who wrote the memo says, "I didn't write that, I don't know where it came from!"
Who do these people think they are? I can't
understand these people who won't make a statement and
stand behind it. "I didn't say that!" they'll scream at me
as I look at the memo with their name on it that says
whatever they claim they didn't say.
Back once again to who I think I am. Can I make decisions? I believe the answer to that is yes. I can make decisions, and I will stand behind that. Can the guy who yelled at me make decisions? He can't decide. He certainly has a talent for making enemies, though. I've made the decision that I don't like him. I should put that in a memo. Imagine getting a memo from me that says, "I don't like you." How horrifying, huh?
I'd like to think I'm one of those people you should be careful of on your way up in the world because you may be meeting me on the way down, too. And I remember how everyone treats me. So who do I think I am? I'm WRITE NAME HERE! So there.
Obviously this guy didn't, because he shook my hand and
seemed happy to see me! Maybe he watched me mock
someone else? I wonder to myself if those two lovely
women who went with me to the beach remember that
day, or even remember me? "Hey Baby! Nice bathing suit! When does the Elf Queen
need it back?" Do these people remember me calling them stupid? Do
they remember me mocking them, or imitating their walk?
of two or three of them. And two of the three are the two
girls on the Italian beach! I wonder what kind of
impression I left on them? Will I be running up to them in
a bookstore some day screaming, "Don't you remember
me? I'm the guy that made the Elf Queen suit remark on
the Italian beach!" Probably not because I told you, I
DIDN'T ACTUALLY EVER SAY THAT TO ANYONE! At least
not that I recall.
Back once again to who I think I am. Can I make decisions? I believe the answer to that is yes. I can make decisions, and I will stand behind that. Can the guy who yelled at me make decisions? He can't decide. He certainly has a talent for making enemies, though. I've made the decision that I don't like him. I should put that in a memo. Imagine getting a memo from me that says, "I don't like you." How horrifying, huh?
I'd like to think I'm one of those people you should be careful of on your way up in the world because you may be meeting me on the way down, too. And I remember how everyone treats me. So who do I think I am? I'm WRITE NAME HERE! So there.
Who is this guy?
Ever run into someone who remembers you from long ago and you don't remember who they are? So many people come and go in my life and to be honest, a lot of them are unimportant to me. If I stocked shelves with you six or seven years ago, I don't know who you are! Did we mix cake batter at a party in San Vito, Italy twenty years ago? Who the hell are these people?
Memory can be a really funny thing. I can remember going to a bright, Italian beach with two young, lovely women twenty years ago! I can remember their names! I can remember how sunny it was, how much fun we had, laying out our beach towels! But I can't remember the name of the guy who shook my hand the other day. I think I worked with him about six years ago. How come he remembers me? Do I make that big of an impression on people? MY GOODNESS, maybe I'd better behave a bit better now!
Ever run into someone who remembers you from long ago and you don't remember who they are? So many people come and go in my life and to be honest, a lot of them are unimportant to me. If I stocked shelves with you six or seven years ago, I don't know who you are! Did we mix cake batter at a party in San Vito, Italy twenty years ago? Who the hell are these people?
Memory can be a really funny thing. I can remember going to a bright, Italian beach with two young, lovely women twenty years ago! I can remember their names! I can remember how sunny it was, how much fun we had, laying out our beach towels! But I can't remember the name of the guy who shook my hand the other day. I think I worked with him about six years ago. How come he remembers me? Do I make that big of an impression on people? MY GOODNESS, maybe I'd better behave a bit better now!
Well, I'm quite certain I didn't say anything like that.
Shockingly, both young girls obviously found me amusing
or they probably wouldn't have been at the beach with
me. So if I had said that, they might have even laughed!
Ha ha! What an impression! Elf Queen. I'm just Mr.
Original, aren't I? Is this making an impression? Maybe
I'd better behave in what I write? Nah, if I behaved in
what I write these blogs probably wouldn't be as
interesting and you people wouldn't be reading this.
Who do I remember from my past? I remember the
women. But how many men forget lovely women from
their past? Actually, we probably forget quite a few when
we meet new, lovely women. Do I remember any guys
from my past? One or two. I'm supposed to look towards
the future, aren't I? Am I going to be signing books in a
bookstore someday when some excited person comes in
screaming, "Don't you remember me? We mixed cake
batter together in San Vito twenty years ago!"
"Uh...were you the one wearing the outfit the Elf Queen
needed back?"
I worked with quite a few women in the Air Force and
to be completely honest, I can only remember the names
To the few people from my past who I do remember, if
you see me again it'll be lovely to see you and shake your
hand! And to those whom I don't remember.....it'll still be
lovely to see you again and shake your hand! I'll just
pretend I do remember you. And please.....get the Elf
Queen her suit back!
You’d think this wouldn’t work, but it did. Did I actually do
this to a guy?
Both of these are pulled from the book "Vegas Ramblings". The book is in black and white though, no color.
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