Commuting in slippers

If the pandemic (remember???) was good for anything, it was solid proof that not all work has to be done in a traditional office or designated setting. The virus was kind enough to wait until just about everyone had computer access at home, enabling many to work or study from the comfort of their overstuffed chair at home. 

So, when some large national or international companies started to pull in the reins a little and say "we need to see your smiling face around the worksite a little more," a lot of the younger workers, who had gotten used to typing up motions for the Landseeker vs Honeyman case while clad in slippers and those flannel pants that are just right for the bedroom, living room, and produce aisle at the Giant, said "hey no, wait a minute..."

Gallup polls said that older workers, whose spirits have been broken by decades of office coffee, improper personal hygiene among coworkers, and actually having to drive the roads to work with all those maniacs out there, were less resistant to coming back.

But here's the twist: the younger workers were also the least interested in jobs that were entirely remote. Go figure.

As people will, someone studied that contradiction and found that young people feel they suffer in terms of career advancement by working from home because they have fewer chances to train and, therefore, fewer opportunities that climb up that old corporate ladder.

Getting it done at home

 

As I celebrate the 14th (!) anniversary of my retirement, I wish to tell the younger people on the job that there are very few training sessions, unless you are working in the field of diesel mechanics or pancake making, that can't be covered in a memo and/or a phone call. 

And as for promotions, the time honored advancement system based upon who you know will never go out of date. Know more people. In fact, have them over for lunch while you work at home!

But they have to leave by 1:30. Your show comes on at 2!

 

Rolling in the dough

I have been around dozens - hundreds - of volunteer fire companies, and the one thing they all have in common is this - they have to have some sort of revenue source to keep operating. Sometimes they get some sort of stipend from the local government, but not all counties do this. It costs big bucks to purchase and maintain fire and EMS apparatus, so volunteer companies have always had to be creative.

From demolition derbies to carnivals to music concerts to firehouse suppers, they have to work hard to come up with the money to serve the public. I thought this was interesting on the Library Of Congress page. In 1942, the volunteer fire company in Bantam, Connecticut, installed a bowling alley in the basement of the firehouse. 

Every night of the week, there were matches between groups, and the caption read that there were several hot rivalries going on. I can see the Plumbers vs the Steamfitters, the farmers vs the grocers, the Presbyterian choir against the Lutheran singers...a fun night out for the bowlers and their friends and families...

Sunday Rerun: All Rise!

 Years ago, someone in his audience asked TV comic Steve Allen, "Do they get your show in Oakland?"

Quick as always, "Steverino" said, "They SEE my show in Oakland, but I'm not sure they GET it!"

This makes me wonder if they see American TV shows in other countries. Sure, they see those "Real Housewives of Omaha" and "ER" and all those Chicago shows and Law & Order and what-have-you, but I mean the day-to-day stuff like "Judge Lauren Lake" and "Judge Hatchett."

Lately I find myself dawdling over the breakfast dishes to see what sort of human drama is dragged out in front of those two women. Just the other morning, Lake handled the landmark case of a woman whose daughter dropped a dookie in her friend's swimming pool.  With her customary grace, she handed down a ruling that didn't even mention "Caddyshack," which would have been my go-to from the get-go.

And then the judicial wheel turned to the courtroom of Judge Hatchett, in which a guy named Omar was accused of bringing a meatloaf challenge to his workplace. The loaf was stuffed with ghost peppers, and the challenge was to survive eating it. One guy ate some, but was gripped with paroxysms of coughing that caused internal injuries. The meatloaf purveyor viewed all this with a certain amount of glee, even though his coworker was in the hospital for surgery and three weeks of recovery. Big fun, huh? Judge H threw the book at him - a judgement for the plaintiff to the tune of $5,000.

And remember, I have always told people who have nothing on their calendar for any random weekday morning or afternoon, the best free show in town is in your nearest District Court, where protestations of innocence rival the best theatrics of Gielgud and Barrymore (or Nicolas Cage, for you youngsters.) But what if people in distant lands can tune in and see our judge shows and form an impression that Americans are always running around deucing in the pool and creating foods to blow out their co-workers' esophagi?

America, where is our precious dignity?