Hello? . . . .

What a wonderful week of blogging it has been. If I may be so bold, this past week was some of my best work. What's that you say? I haven't posted anything since 10/25? Okay technically, you are correct. But, oh the things I have posted in my mind!

I assure you, I have not given up on blogging. Many of the posts that would have gone up this past week or so have been tossed in a barrel to be used (hopefully) in the not-too-distant future.

Its just that 80-90-hour work weeks have a way of intruding on my personal time. I worked a full day yesterday (Saturday) and - after pumpkin pancakes at IHop with the wife this morning - I will be heading into the office for what I hope will be a 1/2 day. Then it's a 4-hour weekend and back to it in the morning.

And my assistant has the day off tomorrow.

Before I forget, Sean @ The Most Significant Thing has a great post that illustrates what his close friends know to be his true inner madness.

Back to those 80-90-hour work weeks. . . .

I am a salaried / commissioned employee. But in the strange nether-reaches of corporate logic the corporate bots have to cough-up time-and-a-half if I work overtime. At this point I am sitting on a king's ransom of neglect-your-family.

Not because I want to, mind you - but because our industry is cut-throat like never before. Whole companies are closing their doors - not to mention individuals going out of business - and it is a mad scramble to stay alive.

It is as if you are hemorrhaging business from one part of your body while injecting business at another point. "Never mind the IV drip! Squeeze the bag, man!"

So what does my completely pointless time card look like?

8-noon, 1-5
8-noon, 1-5

and so on . . .

My supervisor came to me the other day with my totally bogus time card in her hands. "We all know you have been working overtime and you need to put it on your time card."

"No", I replied. "I don't want to be paid overtime because you and I both know that the first paycheck I get that includes overtime will be my last."

She had no reply, nodded her head in agreement and left. . .

Overtime is the law at my company in the way that the speed limit is the law in Southern Cal. The surest way to get creamed on the highway is to drive the speed limit. Claim overtime and it's "It has been a pleasure working with you".

No sir, you hit that on-ramp and you give her the gas . . . After all, you need to get back to the office . . .

I guess . . . .