She Told Me So...And I Shoulda Believed Her...

The blog is back.  It’s been a wild six months.  As many of you know, I’ve started a new job that I love, and it’s been busy busy busy.  Thanks for your patience while I’ve been transitioning.  My job is not the only thing that’s in transition.  So is the blog.  Guess What Happened at Work Today? is evolving to Guess What Happened Today?   It’s not that I don’t like writing about work anymore, it’s just that there are so many other cool and weird things going on to write about.  So here we go...

Guess What Happened Today?

I just woke up from a pretty hellish night.  My lovely wife and I did something last night that long-married couples should never do.  My bride said it was a bad idea, but I convinced her to try something that we have never done before.  I think other couples have done it and survived, but I’m not sure of that.  It was dangerous and it was risky.  I was sure that it would improve things, but Laura was pretty sure it wouldn’t.  We were nervous, and I was intent on getting it right the first time. After almost 25 years of doing it the same way, we suddenly changed things up.  We switched sides of the bed.  And it was a freaking disaster.

Pick your side.  And stick with it.  Forever.

This is a true case of ‘…If it’s not broken, don’t fix it…’  There was no real reason to change sides of the bed.  We got new pillows yesterday, and I guess I got wrapped up in the excitement of that big change and decided to throw caution to the wind and shake it all up.  Let me tell you, this is not the kind of exciting change you should want to make in the bedroom.  It was horrible, with a capital Yuck!

First, we have a king-sized bed, and we’re both edge-huggers.  This creates a large gulf between us that previously was often filled with a kid, and that is now frequently filled by a dog.  The dog was in a total state of confusion all night, and that doggy angst translated into Laura angst.  She was skeptical from the get-go on this one, and I was excited and ready to view life from the other side of the bed. If truth be told, I hated it from the minute I got into bed, and it was only made worse when the dog came flying onto the bed and landed squarely on my junk.  I yelped, and Laura snickered.

We tossed and we turned all night long.  I was wildly relieved to hear that Laura hated every minute of it because I wanted my side back, but there was absolutely no way in hell that I could have woken up this morning and asked to move back to my side.  This experiment proves that change for the sake of change is a crappy idea.  So at 6:09 am, we switched back.  I’ve now seen life from the other side, and I didn’t like it. No sir. Not one bit.

The moral of this story is that if you need excitement in the bedroom, and you want to experiment, there are a whole lot less risky ways to get it than to ask your 25-year sleeping partner to switch sides of the bed.

Up next, my new life at the gym.

Happy Holidays! It Must Be Poem Time!

 


This poem has become such a part of my Christmas tradition that I can't even think about the holidays without sitting down to try and rhyme some couplets.  Enjoy.






It’s about a week before Christmas

And I can't believe the fast pace, 
That this year did fly by
Like a rocket in space.

Our kids a year older
My hair so much more gray,
And my wife's getting hotter
With each passing day. 

She grows younger each year
Like that flick with Brad Pitt,
And I feel older each day
As I moan, ache and sit. 

But this poem should be festive
Not a rant about time,
After all, it is Christmas
So let each silver bell chime. 

It has become my tradition

Every year on this date, 
To send a poem for my friends
The past year, my update.  

My girls are real rock stars
Those ladies impress me each day,

But they shop like their mother
So I thank God for my pay. 

Twelve more months in the air
In 1D, my fave seat, 

Being first on each flight
It's a magical feat.

Ya, I’ve pushed aside old folks
When the boarding begins,
But it’s all part of my quest
For those overhead bins.

A big change to my life
A virtual punch in my gut,
A bright shiny new iPhone
Ended my Blackberry rut.

I was wildly worried
That I’d miss the red light,
And while I love this new Apple
I’m afraid I was right.

I don’t miss the phone
And I don’t miss the keys,
But when I see flashing red lights
I go weak in the knees.

So onward and upward,
It’s just a phone, get a grip,
But living with autocorrect
Now that’s been a trip. 

My lovely dear wife

Says I'm dim and obtuse, 
Her texts make up new words
Don't understand?  No excuse! 

I should know what she types
Is clearly not what she meant,
And that her crazy device
Changed the message she sent. 

But that’s why it works
For me and my spectacular bride,
She’s right, and I’m wrong
Don’t dare correct her, I’ve tried.

If I keep talking ‘bout Laura

I’m bound for the pen,
I’ll be so deep in trouble
And made to sleep in the den.

This poem, like this year

Draws soon to its end,
So an opportunity arises
For my best wishes to send.

It’s my hope for this Christmas

For all the folks I hold dear,
That you share the joy of the season
With your peeps far and near.

Happy Holidays from Sean, Laura, Haley, Ainsley & Madeline

 

Check out our video Christmas wish for you

It's Summer, So Why Am I SAD?

It feels like a year since my phone has rung. I’ve been sitting staring at it, waiting for something to happen. Anything. Even a wrong number would be welcomed. It’s the last day of August, and we are officially in the dog days of summer. I know that we all long for summer. Lust for it even. But summer makes me SAD.

For other people, the normal people, summer is a delight. They begin to look forward to the next one even as the sun is setting on the current one. It’s about heat and sun and vacations and relaxation. Let me just be clear…I love vacationing with my family and spending extra time with them. I like barbeques and beer. (Just for the record, I do NOT enjoy the beach or swimming in the ocean-but that’s a story for another day.)  I enjoy the nice weather and the long days, but when it comes to work, for me, summertime is a horror show.

Over the last few years, it’s become crystal clear to me (and anyone that works with me) that I’m pretty much an adrenaline junky. I love it when things are crazy busy. I love to have multiple balls in the air at one time. I thrive when things are happening. As long as it keeps going, I can keep going. I like my phone ringing, my email binging and my text messages pinging. The wilder it gets, the more I enjoy it. I really like visiting customers, I love writing proposals, and I look forward to making presentations. I even love the traveling for work. 

I love being busy at work.  Love it.

May is a crazy month in my industry. There are a number of big industry events, and customers are trying to clear things up before summer, so it’s a wild time. Trade shows and conferences and all manner of stimulating things to think about and do. June is really a month where customers are getting their last quotes and proposals before summer, and getting all questions answered, reports submitted, and plans made for the fall, so my phone is ringing like crazy.

Then July. All of a sudden, it’s like I’m the last person left on the earth. I feel like Will Smith in I Am Legend where he thinks he’s the last person on earth. I swear to God that I have gone for two days without receiving one email. It’s like even the spammers are on holidays too. I have been known to restart my phone just to make sure I’m connected the world. Occasionally around 3pm, I’ll send an email out to the universe just to see if I get something back. Crickets. I’m alone, and it drives me crazy.

Will and I are the same.  Except for the machine gun.  And other stuff.

When August hits, whoever isn’t on holidays goes on holidays, and I’m truly by myself. I start to get paranoid. And then anxious. By 2pm on a Tuesday I am in mid-anxiety attack when finally, and without warning, I get an email. Immediately the anxiety goes away, at least for a minute. No projects are getting done in the summer, no new business, and customers don’t want to have meetings. In fact, if I try to set up a meeting I’m met with silence on the other end of the phone that if voiced would certainly sound something like, “Are you freaking insane?  Why do we want to have a meeting in August?...Catch me in October.”  If it weren’t for the odd golf tournament, I probably wouldn’t see a customer between June and September

There’s this well-defined condition called Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). Essentially, it’s seasonal depression. Most people afflicted with SAD experience symptoms in the depths of winter (the winter blues), and it’s often associated with the amount of light that they get, so treatment often begins with light therapy. I clearly am not reacting the lack of light, so shining a light therapy lamp on me is not going to help the situation. When I checked the Mayo Clinic website, they confirm that Summer SAD is a real thing. I have all of the symptoms of Summer SAD, with a smattering of Winter SAD symptoms thrown in just for fun. My energy is drained, and if you ask my lovely wife, I’m moody.  I don't feel like doing things that I usually love to do (like writing this blog, for instance). Her suggested treatment?  A smack in the back of the head followed by a swift kick in the ass. The only summer SAD symptom I don’t have…weight loss. (For me, that would be the benefit of Summer SAD).  

The light is just not gonna help me.

I’m not sure I have a full-blown case of summer SAD, but I’m sure of one thing…My wojo (work-related mojo) has departed, as it does every summer. The only thing that will bring it back is a ringing phone, a binging in-box, and a bunch of pinging text messages. Let the autumn commence!

Confessions of a Blackberry Traitor

Well I’ve now been an iPhone user for just over a month. I made such a big deal about my anxiety related to giving up my Blackberry that I thought it would be worth putting it all to bed with one last Blackberry/iPhone post. As it turns out, the world hasn’t ended, at least not yet. I can now admit that I had a minor Chicken Little moment leading up to the deactivation of my blackberry and the permanent extinguishing of my little flashing red light. 

No matter how I feel about my Blackberry, the iPhone is a thing of beauty

There is clearly life in my post-Torch world. Who knew?  It did take about 2 weeks to get through the initial withdrawal stage. Every time I spotted a flashing light (even out of the corner of my eye), I had a real physical response. I learned that I live in some kind of freakish Pavlovian blur where any little flashing light can evoke a programmed response. I also learned that it doesn’t even have to be a red flashing light. Any colour will do. I’m ashamed to admit that even seeing the flashing signal light on a passing car has caused to me look for incoming mail. Sad.

In the absence of the flashing red light, I’ve got my  new iPhone set up to send out every conceivable signal it can when I get an email, just to make sure I don’t miss anything. Where my little red blackberry light felt like my pulse, my iPhone’s vibrations emulate an actual heartbeat when I get a message. Problem solved.

On the positive side, I have been introduced to the world of apps. I had no idea what I’ve been missing. I didn’t realize that I was so disorganized and out of control. Thank you App Store for helping me solve all the problems I didn’t know I had. I have discovered so many new things, and I now understand the truth behind the marketing slogan, “There’s an app for that.”  If there isn’t an app, it’s just not a problem worth solving.

At the moment, I have four different weather apps on my device. One from Yahoo, one from the Weather Channel, one called Solar, and one called Swackett. Yahoo is very utilitarian, the Weather Channel app is highly informative, Solar is fun, and Swackett is like a game. The problem?  None of them agree. Four weather apps, four different forecasts. None of them have effectively replaced simply looking out the window, and none of them is better than the one I had on my blackberry.

It's Solar.  It doesn't do much, but it sure is pretty

It's Swackett.  It does so much, it's hard to get the weather.

I now have an app called Card Munch. The purpose of Card Munch is to take a photo of somebody’s business card, and the hamsters inside the device add the contact details to your contact file, then, and here’s the magic, search the card-owner up on Linkedin, and send them an invite to connect. You would think that as a Linkedin junky that Card Munch would be right up my alley. I’ve had it three weeks and I haven’t munched a single soul. I suppose I’m just a Linkedin purist. No short cuts.

 

I also have an app called StoCard. The purpose of StoCard is to store the details of all your affinity and loyalty cards in one place, instead of in your wallet. You can simply take a picture of the bar code on your Baskin Robbins Frequent Buyer card and shazam, it’s in your phone. I spent a great deal of time adding all my frequent flyer cards, my hotel frequent guest cards, my Air Miles card, and guess what?  I’ve never flashed my phone. Not once. I privately think those people who flash their virtual Starbucks card instead of paying cash are just a little bit hoity toity for me. (Sorry, honey.).

Have you heard of Songza?  Of course you have. Songza is about curated soundtracks for your life. If you wake up on Saturday morning and you’re sitting around the house sipping your chai tea, petting your cat while doing the New York Times crossword, and you need some background music, Songza anticipates that need and abracadabra, a list of songs you’ve never heard by artists you’ve never heard of is ready for your listening pleasure. If it’s Tuesday night and you’re standing in the kitchen yelling at the kids because they’ve ignored your demands to empty the garbage for the eighth time, and the dishes you told them to put in the dishwasher on Monday are still in the sink, guess what?  Songza doesn’t have a list for you. If you need a playlist for that you’re on your own. Maybe I should create that app.

I guess I just don't have a lifestyle that requires a soundtrack

So all in all, the transition to iPhone was pretty smooth. Our friends at Apple don’t make it as easy to load up your custom ringtones as our friends at Blackberry do. Transferring my contacts and syncing my calendar didn’t happen as lickety-split as promised, and managing email is a little quirky. They clearly designed the iPhone for pleasure over business, and now they’re working the business in. It’s fun. Accessing the internet is better and faster. And now, in breaking news, I kind of like it. Words I never thought I’d say. You heard it here first. And I promise, Ana Maria, you’ll never hear about my Blackberry again.

Sheldon is my twin brother...I'm convinced.

If you’ve been following along, you’ll recall that I’m a fan of the Big Bang Theory. I love Sheldon. I’m starting to think the reason that I love Sheldon is because I am Sheldon. At least from the moment I enter an airport ‘til the moment I leave the airport at the other end, I become Sheldon Cooper. You know I’m a bit of a diva, and you know I don’t like it when people approach me or talk to me, and I would never think to start up a conversation with someone on the plane, but something happened today that had Dr. Sheldon Cooper written all over it.

If you’re also a fan of the Big Bang Theory you’ll understand what I’m about to share. If you’re not, you may as well shut it down now. Take a second to click on this link to put the rest of this story into context.

Sheldon has a spot.  I have a spot.

So now you see where this is going. I have a seat. It’s where I like to sit. If I’m lucky enough to get upgraded to Business Class, that seat is 1D. I pick it every time. I like it a lot. For today’s flight, I picked that seat. Yesterday. I’m quite deliberate about it. It’s the first seat on the plane. It’s on the aisle. It has lots of legroom. You get served first by the flight attendant, and you are close enough to the galley and the flight deck to hear the real reasons for delays or diversions. It also offers easy access to the lavatory. To me, it’s the best seat on the plane. They say that in the event of a crash, it’s better to be at the back of the plane, but that seat is so good, I risk it. Every time.

I’ve said before that I do everything I possibly can to be the first one on-board the plane. There’s a method to my madness. If I’m there first, I get my crap into the overhead bin before anyone else. I can sit down and get myself situated before my seatmate arrives, and I can get my headphones in to discourage any and all attempts at conversation. Today things went horribly wrong at the airport.

First, the plane was late which on its own shouldn’t cause a great deal of concern. For some reason all the flights were overbooked, and people were jockeying for all available standby seats. People get a little antsy when they’re trying to get on a plane and they can’t. I was standing beside a man who, with every minute of delay, got sweatier and sweatier. Another man pushed his way up to the desk and announced that he wasn’t moving until he got satisfaction. I don’t know what his issue was but I kept hearing him say ‘unethical’. Because of him, the agent got way behind on the flight, and when it was time to board, another agent had to do the boarding and I was stuck on the wrong side of the line, and thus, missed my opportunity to board first.

So I was about the 5^th passenger to board the plane. I was ahead of Mr. Sweaty, and definitely ahead of Mr. Unethical, who had put down roots at the desk. But I was far behind Ms. Bitchy and her traveling companion, Mr. Greasy Hair. When I got on the plane, Ms. Bitchy was in my seat. I just kind of stopped in my tracks…a bit dazed and confused. When I informed her that she was in my seat, from behind her C-list aging Hollywood starlet sunglasses she said, “Ya, you can have my seat.”  But that’s not my seat. I had the best seat. 1D. I angle for that seat.

Take my seat, will ya? 

“And what seat is that?” I asked. 3F she informed me. 3F?  There are so many things wrong with that answer. First, it’s not 1D. Second, it’s a window, not an aisle. I don’t have a particular issue with looking out the window, but since I turned 40, I pee more often, and as a result, I occasionally visit the washroom during the flight. If I’m on the aisle, I don’t have to bother anyone. 3F also has less legroom. And I don’t like to be blocked in. I’m not claustrophobic, it’s a preference. 

Because, while I am definitely a bit of a flying diva, I also have a massive aversion to making a scene, I grunted at her, gave her the look, and went to seat 3F. It’s kind of prissy to get upgraded, sit in business class, then make a scene because you didn’t get your favourite seat. I’ve seen people do it, and I’m just not that guy. I’m the kind of guy that will sit and stew. When I'm lucky enough to get upgraded, I'm sure as hell not gonna make a scene. I’m not sure how he knew about it but the flight attendant thanked me twice during the flight for moving for them.

If you sit in 1D you are absolutely, without question, the first one off the plane. There is nothing and nobody standing in your way. If I am in the window seat, the speed of my exit is absolutely determined by whoever is sitting on the aisle. I’ve had too many experiences where that person has decided to let half the passengers deplane before they get up, and today was no different. I was stuck sitting while everyone else was halfway to the parking lot. Argh.

I know how crazy this all sounds. I really do. But like Sheldon, I have a seat, and I know exactly why I want it. I want it because it’s the best. 

PS...I'm just the same when I don't get upgraded. Then my seat is the exit row aisle.  Don't make me fight you.

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu...

Someone once said that parting is such sweet sorrow.  I don’t know about sweet, but there’s certainly lots of sorrow.  I’ve known it was coming for quite some time, but it finally happened yesterday.  I said good bye to a dear, dear friend forever.  It’s officially the end of my relationship with my blackberry, and I’m going to miss it.

Many people have said that I should give it a week with my new phone and I’ll forget all about my blackberry.  They say that the iPhone is so much more in so many ways, but I just can’t see it.  I’ve entered the withdrawal stage, and it’s not pleasant.  I’m so programmed to feel that little red light, it's like my pulse, and as if attached to one of those heart monitors in the hospital, my little red pulse has stopped blinking. Flatlined. Forever. 

My first blackberry was made of stone.  It weighed about 6 pounds, and you couldn’t break it.  It came with a hard plastic holster, and in those days, wearing your blackberry on your hip like a six shooter was super cool.  I had that blackberry for a number of years, until the metal frame around the screen came loose and started to scratch up my face.  That was the first time in my life that technology started fighting back.  With your black plastic holster that clicked every time you moved it around, the world knew that you were awesome.  That things were happening in your life that you couldn’t be separated from for even one minute.  I was always anal about what was happening at work when I wasn't there, and now, finally, I had something that allowed me to take the edge off that terrible stress.  

Then I met Curve. I never loved you and you never loved me, but like all good couples, we powered through.  I never wanted anything bad to happen to you, but I sure wasn’t sad when your little nasty trackball fell out.  What made me sad was that it was a condition that could be fixed.  Our relationship after that was touch and go until you mysteriously got dropped into the toilet.  Sayonara, Curve !

Oh Curvy, you almost caused me to fall out of love with Blackberry

Then came the Bold.  You, I loved.  Maybe I loved you because you weren’t a Curve.  I loved you because you didn’t have the stupid trackball, but rather, a sleek and sexy trackpad.  The plasticky curve you were not…you had some presence…you were so, I don't know, bold!  Where I didn’t really care what happened to my Curve, I was devastated when, as I was climbing out a window onto my roof, your beautiful brilliant screen was pierced by a nail.  Sad on one hand, but on another, the nail pierced you and not my leg.  You may have saved me from a horrific tetanus shot (for a big boy, I’m unnaturally afraid of needles). I was sad to see you go.

Good-bye Bold, Hello World.  Blackberry World Phone, that is.  You came to me when I started a job that, thankfully, wasn’t long-lived, and frankly, I wasn’t sad to see either one of you go.  You may have had the ability to connect me to the world if I had decided to trek through Botswana, but you were missing some important stuff.  Once you’ve had a camera on your phone, it’s pretty hard to go camera-less, and If I've got a phone that lets me travel the world, I probably want to snap the odd picutre. I know it’s silly, but you just get used to having it there.

And the best came last.  Ahhh, the Torch.  Lots of folks disagree with me, but I have loved my Torch since the moment I laid hands on it.  It has presence and it has weight, but not too much weight.  It fits my hand beautifully, and I like how it looks.  A lot.  We’ve been together for over two years, and with the exception of sometimes giving me some attitude, and occasionally going to sleep when it’s not supposed to, I've loved it.  For two years we’ve been inseparable.  We’ve been from one end of this country to the other more times than I can count and we’ve pretty much covered the continent together.  You’ve been my only lifeline to my family when I’ve been away and lonely, you’ve kept work information flowing like digital intravenous, and you’ve kept me company when I’ve been stranded in airports and train stations, and even on the side of the road.  

I'd like to think my blackberry is going to be sad to lose me too.

I always said I’d never give you up, and here I am, giving you up.  I feel like I’ve let you down, when you’ve never let me down, not even for one second.  It's true...when your red light was extinguished for the very last time yesterday I felt sad.  Genuinely sad.  I’m about 22 hours into life without my blinking red light, and I feel lost without it.

Thank you Blackberry for always being there for me.  I’m going to miss you.

10,003 A very sweet number!

Woohoo! I just checked the blog, and today, Guess What Happened At Work Today had its 10,000th visitor (no prizes, no balloon drop, sorry). I posted my 50th entry the other day, and today, we're at 10,003 visitors!

So a huge thank you to everyone who's been reading, and thanks for all the encouragement and feedback (even the 'constructive' stuff). So onward. I really appreciate the folks who've 'starred' in the posts, and I mostly appreciate not being sued.

One of my favourite comments was received recently..."I love it when you post new stuff, especially when it's not about your blackberry." Oddly, the posts that were specifically about my insane relationship with my blackberry are the most read and shared. And my mother-in-law, possibly the most faithful reader of this blog, and who I happen to adore, got a huge kick out of the brown shoes blogpost.

Anyway enough of that. Thank you for your support.

____________________________ 

A really short post today:  

As a VP of Sales and Marketing, I really appreciate companies who spend the time to be creative and funny in their advertising. Last week I saw a commercial that I thought was the best commercial I have seen in a very long time, and from a place I never would have expected it to come from.  Kmart.  Enjoy.  Don't pee your pants.

Click here to see what may be the funniest commercial ever.