The Final Countdown

If you currently have a song in your head, welcome to my world.

It's our last few days in New York. It's very weird, yet incredibly exciting. We're both spending time trying to figure out why we haven't done this sooner, and have only come up with one answer: responsibility. That's very, very sad. Why? It's not responsibility to a family member, or responsibility to a child, or even responsibility to a pet. It was responsibility to the damn job. "But if I leave, who will do (insert inane project/task/duty here)?" The answer, of course, is anyone. They'll find someone who can do it, or at least claim the ability to do it, and that's all that matters. The machine will grind merrily forward. Quality, competence, accuracy all be damned. Those are minor things, really. The webpage will be maintained by someone. The quickpads will be claimed by someone. (They would've been claimed by someone else anyway. That one was a foregone conclusion.) Even if it's not the same someone. Deb's job is already being done by two people, and it wouldn't surprise me if it took three or more. My job? Mine was already done. All the pieces were in place for the grand reduction. That'll still go through just fine. So there was really no need for the quickpads, other than for me to learn CASL. Sure, it would've helped reduce the need for "employee intervention" even further, but that's OK. Hell, maybe someone will even learn to program like I did. Good luck to you if you do. If you get a colored print on semi-gloss paper, you'll achieve the same level of recognition I got. Congrats to you.

Oh yeah. For a couple of the returning visitors to the site... some of you still have spyware. And you still have to search to find my site. Thank you for making me laugh, and don't forget to douse your beeswax candles before you go to bed at sundown. Oh, and leeches in large quantities are always a good cure. For anything. Especially insomnia. Try it!