A local corporation contacted me recently, wanting to know if I would consider coming out of early retirement.
Having visited and admired a site I had built, the hiring director from the firm wanted me to maintain a corporate Web site for them, incorporating e-commerce through online ordering of their vast array of electronic components and products.
Not much would tempt me away from my present capacity of being a lazy bum, but my interests lay in graphic design and the Web anyway, on which I work daily. Photography is a big part of what this business wants me to do, along with writing all of the product descriptions and mission statements.
Electronics have always been one of my greatest fascinations; however, restricting my lazing to the weekends only, requiring me to awaken again at the crack of dawn would take a substantial return monetarily and perk wise.
“Well, how much are you looking for?” the headhunter said.
“In the neighborhood of $150,000 a year, depending on the benefits package.”
“How about five weeks of vacation annually, fourteen paid holidays, full medical and dental coverage, company-matching retirement fund of 50% of your salary, and a company car leased every two years,” the human-resource manager said. “And for starters, what about driving a red Corvette instead of that measly Cooper?”
Aside from having insulted my beloved form of transportation, he looked at me squarely in the eye, awaiting my reaction, which must have expressed utter disbelief. Now this was an offer I would have trouble refusing.
“Wow, are you kidding?” I said.
“Yes, but you started it.” What a wise guy, I thought.
Turns out the offer wasn’t worth it for me overall. I’d be afraid of parking a red Corvette in the parking lot behind my flat. I’ve seen lesser expensive cars on blocks out there. One time a vehicle was propped up on rocks.
Since it’s Sunday, I figured this might be relevant and inspirational. Timmy O’Malley, my buddy the bartender who was mentioned in the previous entry, tells the following bawdy story in his tavern on many occasions. It gets plenty of eye-rolls.
O’Malley talks about learning to be a conniver early while in his youth, always mentioning the day when he was in the confessional booth with Father Burke.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two weeks since my last confession.”
He goes on to speak about his messing around with one of the girls in his class, doing unmentionable things to each other.
“Timmy, was it with Patty McGuire?” the priest said.
“No it wasn’t, Father.”
“Was it with Sinead Higgins?”
“Nope, not her either.”
“How about Annie Monahan?”
“Father, I can’t tell you. I do not want to dishonor her.”
The priest told Timmy he was very noble; but for having sinned, the youngster was to say a novena and sweep the church after the next Sunday’s Mass.
“I left the confessional and met up with my mate, Tommy Shenanigan,” O’Malley adds. “He asked me what I got for penance and I told him.”
“Boy, did he give it to you,” his best friend said.
“Yeah, but at least I got some good leads.” (Enter cued-up eye-rolls.)
So goes my weekly contribution to nonsense on the Inter-Webs. Thanks for your continued support. May God bless you, keep you happy and well.