14 December 2008
10 December 2008
will the real gabrielle romero please stand up
picture this -
a staff assistant from my office goes down to security to sign in a candidate, gabrielle romero*, who has come for an interview. as good manners requires, the staff assistant greets ms. romero by name and brings her to the conference room for the interview. i then meet her at the door with a hearty and welcoming - "you must be gabrielle romero. i'm the flipflop fed. let's go and meet the rest of the interview panel."
we enter the room and i announce - "may i introduce gabrielle romero." at which point the panel stands and each of them, without exception, begin their introduction with "it's nice to meet you gabrielle." niceties complete, we all sit and ms. romero begins to toss around her business cards like she's dealing us all in for a quick hand of texas hold 'em. while dealing, gabrielle romero mutters something about it being holiday time and how this is the best time to do a little business.
we were all so confused! first, by the random throwing of the business cards, then by ms. romero's seeming desire to sell us something at the beginning of her interview, and finally by the fact that ms. romero's business cards bear the name of someone altogether different - charlene tomczak*.
it was then that i inquired - "who is charlene tomczak?" the woman calmly replies - "i am. isn't this the small business meeting?"
turns out that this woman wasn't my interviewee, but a random woman who decided to answer to a name that wasn't hers and end up in an interview with the department of education instead of her small business training with the department of housing and urban development!!!
go figure!
fyi - the real gabrielle romero showed up for the interview 45 minutes late never having called to report her delay and never apologizing once she arrived.
*names changed to protect the moronic
a staff assistant from my office goes down to security to sign in a candidate, gabrielle romero*, who has come for an interview. as good manners requires, the staff assistant greets ms. romero by name and brings her to the conference room for the interview. i then meet her at the door with a hearty and welcoming - "you must be gabrielle romero. i'm the flipflop fed. let's go and meet the rest of the interview panel."
we enter the room and i announce - "may i introduce gabrielle romero." at which point the panel stands and each of them, without exception, begin their introduction with "it's nice to meet you gabrielle." niceties complete, we all sit and ms. romero begins to toss around her business cards like she's dealing us all in for a quick hand of texas hold 'em. while dealing, gabrielle romero mutters something about it being holiday time and how this is the best time to do a little business.
we were all so confused! first, by the random throwing of the business cards, then by ms. romero's seeming desire to sell us something at the beginning of her interview, and finally by the fact that ms. romero's business cards bear the name of someone altogether different - charlene tomczak*.
it was then that i inquired - "who is charlene tomczak?" the woman calmly replies - "i am. isn't this the small business meeting?"
turns out that this woman wasn't my interviewee, but a random woman who decided to answer to a name that wasn't hers and end up in an interview with the department of education instead of her small business training with the department of housing and urban development!!!
go figure!
fyi - the real gabrielle romero showed up for the interview 45 minutes late never having called to report her delay and never apologizing once she arrived.
*names changed to protect the moronic
08 December 2008
it's beginning to look a lot like ...
just say "christmas!" because if it wasn't so dark and i had actually taken the time to care about taking this photo you would see a beautifully decorated house glistening in the moonlight.
homeland security?
i write today in absolute fear and bone-quaking terror that the department of homeland security may have misrepresented its capabilities and is not, in fact, prepared to provide security to this here homeland - particularly our borders. perhaps you're thinking - "oh flipflop fed, calm down with your hyperbolic self" - but i beg you to hold off on making any snap judgements until you read this ...
recently, the department of homeland security's united states immigration and customs enforcement (ICE) has moved into the building next to the flipflop fed's building. with it, ICE has brought lots of new "g-man" types and a soon-to-open cafeteria. BUT, the big rumor is that we, non-ICE employees, will not be able to use the cafeteria because of security issues. that brings me to the main point of this post
recently, the department of homeland security's united states immigration and customs enforcement (ICE) has moved into the building next to the flipflop fed's building. with it, ICE has brought lots of new "g-man" types and a soon-to-open cafeteria. BUT, the big rumor is that we, non-ICE employees, will not be able to use the cafeteria because of security issues. that brings me to the main point of this post
YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!?@!?!?~?
that would mean that the agency which has been entrusted with protecting our nations borders does not believe it can cannot protect itself from a fellow bureaucrats (with security clearances) on their lunch hour? now that really builds my confidence!
03 December 2008
02 December 2008
in the criminal justice system the people are represented ... these are their stories
a recounting in verse of what happened two nights after thanksgiving -
twas saturday after thanksgiving, when all through the house
only two cats were stirring, one stalking a mouse.
the doors were all locked, brinks system alarmed
in hopes that none of the residents would be harmed.
the visiting parents were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of peaceful sleep danced in their heads.
and kristin in her sweatpants and i in my shorts, had given up our bed – my aren’t we sports!
when several blocks away there arose such a clatter, four rapid fire gun shots through the silence did shatter.
jolted awake, our eyes open in a flash,
with bated breath, we waited for the parents to dash.
with a ring of the phone, we were summoned upstairs,
the mother recounting the crime, not a detail she spares.
she was straightening the bed, when the shots did ring out,
like flash to the window, she sprang, have no doubt.
by the light of the moon, she clearly could see,
a non-descript man with a gun held at three.
realizing her folly, she fell to the floor,
failing to notice if he walked through a door.
“now Sherlock! now Watson! now, doctor scarpetta!
on, poirot! on, sam spade!, on mrs. jessica fletcher!
to the sidewalk we go! To the scene of the crime!
grab your coat! bring the torch! the spent shells we must find!”
“now mother, the shots were afar, it’s the middle of night.
there’s nothing to find, you’ve had a real fright.
the police have been called, it’s their job to comb the streets.
let’s all just go back to bed, get you tucked in your sheets.”
and by morning, though the sun was shining bright,
the mother was focused on the events of the night.
we reasoned, and pleaded, but couldn’t unstick,
mother’s memory, of a crime by a non-descript prick.
as we gathered outside, standing by their car door,
our neighbor, passed by, on her way to the store.
when asked of the shots, she calmly replied,
“it didn’t happen near here, it was not on our side.”
with a quick turn, mother glanced at the sidewalk,
clearly hoping for spent shells and starting to balk .
kristin and i shared a quick look, it had became rather clear,
there shall be no more crime novels, for mother this year.
(thanks to ellen for the brilliant idea of coopting the classic poem and thanks to kristin for help with the verse, but most of all - thanks to my mother!!)
twas saturday after thanksgiving, when all through the house
only two cats were stirring, one stalking a mouse.
the doors were all locked, brinks system alarmed
in hopes that none of the residents would be harmed.
the visiting parents were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of peaceful sleep danced in their heads.
and kristin in her sweatpants and i in my shorts, had given up our bed – my aren’t we sports!
when several blocks away there arose such a clatter, four rapid fire gun shots through the silence did shatter.
jolted awake, our eyes open in a flash,
with bated breath, we waited for the parents to dash.
with a ring of the phone, we were summoned upstairs,
the mother recounting the crime, not a detail she spares.
she was straightening the bed, when the shots did ring out,
like flash to the window, she sprang, have no doubt.
by the light of the moon, she clearly could see,
a non-descript man with a gun held at three.
realizing her folly, she fell to the floor,
failing to notice if he walked through a door.
“now Sherlock! now Watson! now, doctor scarpetta!
on, poirot! on, sam spade!, on mrs. jessica fletcher!
to the sidewalk we go! To the scene of the crime!
grab your coat! bring the torch! the spent shells we must find!”
“now mother, the shots were afar, it’s the middle of night.
there’s nothing to find, you’ve had a real fright.
the police have been called, it’s their job to comb the streets.
let’s all just go back to bed, get you tucked in your sheets.”
and by morning, though the sun was shining bright,
the mother was focused on the events of the night.
we reasoned, and pleaded, but couldn’t unstick,
mother’s memory, of a crime by a non-descript prick.
as we gathered outside, standing by their car door,
our neighbor, passed by, on her way to the store.
when asked of the shots, she calmly replied,
“it didn’t happen near here, it was not on our side.”
with a quick turn, mother glanced at the sidewalk,
clearly hoping for spent shells and starting to balk .
kristin and i shared a quick look, it had became rather clear,
there shall be no more crime novels, for mother this year.
(thanks to ellen for the brilliant idea of coopting the classic poem and thanks to kristin for help with the verse, but most of all - thanks to my mother!!)
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