Prince of Pricing & Procurement

That's my new job title, and I'm sticking to it!

I finally found out (inadvertently) from my boss the other day that my job is "pricing and procurement".  (Darn, it's not as salacious as it sounds.)  I was glad to hear it, so now I have an idea what to put on my resume as my job responsibilities.  I'm even gladder that he continued and explained that the two interviews they have done are for estimators/designers to go to client sites and come up with a plan for me to base my estimates on, rather than the incomplete chicken scratchings I'm given by the current estimator.  I'll miss not coming up with designs of my own, but it also means that I don't have to go to a site and create a best-guess plan because there's no measured property map for me to use.

In the Very Merry Month of May

Yesterday, I caught myself writing an 9 for September instead of a 6 for June on the phone messages I took.  Today, I wrote an 8 for August.  Am I starting to show signs of dementia, that I don't know what month it is?  (The brighter side is that, if the pattern continues, I should be all right again on Friday.)

So Long, Fathead

There is a small window in the restroom at work.  At a certain time yesterday afternoon, I noticed my shadow.  Specifically, I saw that I could see through the shadow of my hair, since it is so thin on top.  (Again, this is the time to mention Doodles Weaver's line, "Well, who wants fat hair?")  Since my shadow is now smaller, does that mean my head doesn't look as big as it used to?  Or does my head look even bigger, without all that hair to conceal it?

I Think that I Shall Never See...

...a screened-in front door on TV.

Obviously, I can't (and won't) watch every TV show, but I've never seen a sitcom (or drama) house set that has a screen door along with its front door.  (I guess they don't have insects in TV towns.)

If you've seen a screen door on a TV set, please let me know.

Every Minute of Every Day

I was told that I had to leave an hour early yesterday (or take two hours for lunch).  "Why?" I asked.  "I stayed only 45 minutes late yesterday."  Yes, but the minutes from the other work days added up to another fifteen minutes.

Every other place I have worked rounded employee time to the closest quarter hour.  Hence, if you clocked in at 7:57 a.m., it was assumed you started at 8:00 a.m. and wouldn't be paid for those three minutes.  Here, though, they pay strictly according to what's on the time card.  Needless to say, this could become quite inconvenient, as there are about 30 guys lined up for the time clock as soon as the door is unlocked in the morning.

Let's see...  I clocked in three minutes "late" today, so I had better stop my lunch three minutes early, and then I'll have to clock out exactly at 5:00, and...

Like another Hole in the Head

I went for a haircut last night.  I tried a new place, since they had a coupon.  The guy did a pretty decent job -- for a guy with green hair, tattoos on his arms and neck, and a weeping sore on his chin.  The only bad part of the experience was when I was done and he handed me a mirror to check out the back of my head.  That hasn't happened to me for a while, since I had good barbers in the Noog and in Tulsa, so I didn't need to check their work.  Much to my dismay, I saw a large area of skin on the back of my head.  I know my hair is thinning, receding, and graying, but when did it start falling out in entire patches?  It's just about time for that really short, ex-military person style haircut, isn't it?

Age Is a State of Mind

'Tis time for my obligatory birthday post.

This morning, I treated myself to a free "Grand Slam" breakfast at Denny's.  (If you're interested in a free breakfast on your birthday, go to their website and sign up for their "loyalty program".)  As I ate, I was reading the second book in a mystery series about a retiree (and her dachshund) who travels the country in an RV.

I was at a restaurant for breakfast and reading about a woman who travels.  It was so out of my routine that I found myself relaxing and nearly forgot that I wasn't traveling myself; I still had to get to work!

What does that say about my state of mind as I turn a year older?

Another Day in Santa Fe

Today ends my third week on the job.  The job's okay.  There are little annoyances, but that's to be expected anywhere.  Actually, the job is good because I'm continually busy, so there's no time to be bored.  (Okay, so the phone might ring a little less often and let me complete a thought once in a while...)  The commute is a drag, though.  This weekend, I'll stop being lazy and really analyze the train and bus schedules and set up a route so I won't have to drive an hour each way and refuel my car every four days.


Today, I get my first full paycheck.  (Because the pay period is Thu. to Wed., my first check, two weeks ago, was for just three days.)  I wish I could spend it on myself -- go to a restaurant, buy a couple more shirts for work (even at a thrift store), buy books -- but my credit card bill has arrived, and it's time to renew my auto insurance, and I'll need to register my car and get a new driver's license for NM.  Do you think maybe I'll have a little more money in two weeks?  And when will I accumulate enough to pay for shipping my belongings from Tulsa to ABQ?


Oh well, at least there's money coming in now, so I won't need to borrow from my mom again.