Casting a spell

Yesterday I had to hawk up objectives for my MBO (management by objective) for this quarter. Evidently they were due on 30 April, but stuff. So here we are, halfway into the quarter and just coming up with MBOs.

Around 1030 my manager IM’d me asking if he could get them by COB, so I basically manufactured four that seem relatively appropriate and IM’d them back.

I also added a fifth: “Commit no detectable felonies.”

He approved the four and made number five an OKR (Objectives/Key Results). Because OKRs are aspirational.

He’s careful about wording MBOs in such a way that they don’t negatively impact bonus pay.

Well, it’s Friday, so let’s have something uplifting. I love Annie Lennox’s voice, and here she is, banging out the R&B classic, “I Put A Spell On You”.

Together

Ever since the onslaught of the novel coronavirus—meaning, since people started realizing that COVID19 was not going to be “like the flu”, but was going to start killing us by the tens of thousands—anyone with an email account has been getting the online version of the corporate we’re-in-this-with-you commercials with the somber piano music and keep-us-in-mind-for-all-your-money-spending-decisions message.

In addition to such emails from United Airlines’ CEO, the Paris hotel where I stayed in 2018 and every supermarket where I have an affinity card, I’ve been getting about two a week from a fast-casual restaurant chain in D.C., who are obviously really anxious.

But I think the absolute biscuit for self-serving marketing messaging goes to Mash & Grape, from whom I bought two bottles of booze about three years ago because they have a flat-rate shipping fee. It would have been three bottles, but they didn’t have the rum in stock, and they didn’t bother to tell me that. I had to call them to find out why the total dollar amount didn’t match my order. I've never even looked at their website since.

Here’s their opening gambit:

I mean, of course: “Let’s get through this together!” is such a sincere notion when paired with four bottles of bourbon. Which I don’t drink.

Recycling news

A few months ago, Fairfax County announced that they were no longer accepting glass as part of their recycling pickup. If you really wanted to have your glass added to some sort of non-landfill destination, you had to take it to specified collection points, where you fed it through portals one bottle at a time. There’s one—just one—in the People’s Republic, so you know they weren’t serious about it.

Well, a few weeks ago, I went to drop off two bags representing my consumption since some time in December. Here’s what I found:

They’d removed the one collection point, allegedly because of the pandemic. And, in fact, they listed three in the county where you could take your glass.

Well, obviously, people were not amused:

But last Saturday I swung by, and the County had blocked off entry to the entire parking lot and stuck that poxy sign right there.

I seriously despise this excuse for government.

A little squirrely

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve noticed a squirrel that looks much darker than the little toerags I usually see around the People’s Republic.

Wikipedia tells me that the melanistic morph of the Eastern Grey Squirrel most frequently is found around the Michigan-Ontario area. But apparently Teddy Roosevelt imported some breeding pairs to Washington, D.C., during his presidency. I don’t know why—they’re all greedy little furry landsharks that dig up my potted plants, regardless of their coloration.

But I’ve got one in my back yard. Joy.

Gratitude Monday: Privilege

Friday was the 75^th anniversary of VE Day, so I took the day off to remember the time when the civilized world smashed Nazis instead celebrating them. Can you just imagine the 40 millions of dead whirling in their graves that not even a century later, we’re letting fascists threaten elected officials, swarm unimpeded through state Capitols and pervert the Department of Justice?

Dang.

Well, my idea for the day was to hit a nursery to check out camellias, replant an azalea bush and shift shelves in a kitchen cupboard so I could have all my stemware in one place. Then I drank champagne.

It was actually very productive, and I was heartened by the news that the thugs in the White House are going viral, so to speak.

So today I’m grateful for paid time off, for having a garden to dig in and for being able to afford wine. I well understand that these seemingly simple things make me privileged, and I really, really appreciate it. I also appreciate that those who sacrificed everything to defeat fascism 75 years paid the price for my comfort.