Lies, Damn Lies, and Religious Statistics

I saw this little blurb on a Yahoo! news story. I found quite a few points to be very interesting indeed! One of the most extensive studies of religious practices in America finds that nearly 30% of us have left our childhood faith for another one--nearly 45% of us if you count those who jumped from one flavor of Protestantism to another.

I found two points from this survey utterly fascinating, mainly because they pertain to me, of course. From the story:

An even more extreme example of what might be called "masked churn" is the relatively tiny Jehovah's Witnesses, with a turnover rate of about two-thirds. That means that two-thirds of the people who told Pew they were raised Jehovah's Witnesses no longer are - yet the group attracts roughly the same number of converts. Notes Lugo, "No wonder they have to keep on knocking on doors."

Har-de-frickin-har. See, when you're inside, the JW's like to make you feel like being on the outside makes you in the minority. They won't release real figures about how many people leave their cult, but they imply that those who do are in the very tiny minority. Guess most of us aren't the sheeple they planned on herding. Suck it, JWs. Not that any of them still in the cult bother to read anything other than Watchtower Bible & Tract Society approved literature. Brunnehilde ought to get some relief from this statistic. We're in the majority, baby!

Another interesting blurb from the story:

The single biggest "winner," in terms of number gained versus number lost, was not a religious group at all, but the "unaffiliated" category. About 16% of those polled defined their religious affiliation that way (including people who regarded themselves as religious, along with atheists and agnostics); only 7% had been brought up that way. That's an impressive gain, but Lugo points out that churn is everywhere: even the unaffiliated group lost 50% of its original membership to one church or another.

Woot! Go, independent thinking! It's about time more people were honest with where they stood on religious matters. The numbers would probably look MUCH different if people didn't feel guilted into admitting religious affiliations.

-- Virgil, solidly in the majority!

Illiteracy Special on TV!

An issue near and dear to my own heart is airing tonight, Feb 25th, on ABC's "World News With Charles Gibson" called "Living in the Shadows: Illiteracy in America."

If they get their statistical information right, prepare to be shocked. 20% (1 in 5 people) of this nation is considered functionally illiterate, and in some areas it's as high as 1 in 3 people. The reasons for illiteracy are as varied as the people themselves, but they almost always include some kind of learning disorder or unstable family life, especially with abuse involved, and poverty. It's almost never because someone was just "lazy" or didn't "apply" themselves.

In my opinion, illiteracy (or below average schooling) is the root of many other social problems. Convicted felons who go through education programming while locked up are only 30% more likely to reoffend. Without any educational intervention, the recidivism rate is a staggering 70%--if you have no real marketable or educational skills and you add on top of that the social ostracization of having been in prison, who is going to give you a job? Children of adults who are illiterate are twice as likely to be illiterate themselves. It's almost like an inheritable disorder.

Of course, much of this comes down to issues of generational poverty, which I don't know if the special will even touch on. Kids who grow up in poor homes hear on average 500 different words in a day. A toddler growing up in a professional/upper middle class home hears 3200 (this comes from Ruby Payne's Framework for Understanding Poverty). The advantage is clear even from the outset. Children from generational poverty usually don't even get the kind of nutrition required for peak learning to happen. They are behind the curve to start with nutritionally and with their support structures, and yet there are still people who like to argue we all start from the same point. Sigh. But this is great p.r. for those of us with agencies in the fight against illiteracy. Maybe we'll get more community support after this special hits. We could use both the money and the volunteers. More importantly, maybe it will give more adults who need the help the courage to step up and ask for it.

Watch the special! I'll likely have an after-report, whether you're interested or not. :)

-- Virgil (making popcorn as you read)

And The Green Horse Posts Up!

Wow. So, Ralph Nader has decided to launch another shot at the Presidency.

I'm not sure how I feel about Nader and the Greens at any given moment. I think everybody needs to be more environmentally aware and more concerned about labor issues than they are right now. They can either ignore it now or have the issue hit them hard later. But I always feel a little let down by the lack of any real planning on the Greens' part to make the solutions to their issues happen. I'm the kind of voter who needs a clear step by step idea of what's going to happen. Politicians rarely give that to me.

I'm NOT the kind of voter who thinks that Nader is a "spoiler." Anybody who wants to run should be allowed to present their platform. I do think it hurts the Democrat vote, but the greater purpose of building momentum for 3rd party tickets is more important. I think we'd do a lot better as a country if we didn't have such a two party stranglehold on the system (which is really more like the same party with different salad dressing choices). I also think that the more 3rd party candidates make a bid for political seats that it's valuable, because that ties into the support and money they get for the next time around. I wonder if I'll ever see a fully viable 3rd party candidate in my lifetime. I think Ross Perot actually came the closest to being viable. Michael Bloomberg may still run.

One thing a third party candidate does for certain is force their platforms into the public consciousness. That's pretty vital to shifting the center of politics. The other candidates may not full embrace the ideas of third party candidates, but they are at least forced to account for them. Which almost always causes policy to shift. That's pretty invaluable in itself.

-- Virgil

Soooo Sleeeepeee

Have I mentioned how glad I am to be done with graduate school?

I think all the MA's graduating with me this semester are about as through with it as I am. Speaking for myself, I feel a bit like a soldier in the field who is "short," whose term is almost up. It's all I can do to keep from checking out completely. I haven't checked out of teaching yet, but I'm certainly checking out of the classroom. My own classes seem really, incredibly dull to me. And they shouldn't be. I picked what I thought would be exciting subjects. I don't really think it's the profs' fault. I think I'm just sick of discussing theory and am ready to get back to actually doing something.

It doesn't help that this semester is the most complicated. I have to write something on Moby Dick from an environmentally critical point of view very soon. Which means I have to finish reading the damned thing. Because I'm also a glutton for punishment, I'm going through Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations again for my seminar paper, also from an environmentally critical point of view, which means I have to provide an economic historical background to it as well. I think I'm working on ideas of first nature and second nature (nature after humans have had something to do with it) and that Smith's work is the point where land begins to merge with the idea of capital, turning exclusively into second nature rather than primary nature, causing a shift in ideology with the capitalist triad of land/capital/labor....ah fuck it. It's normally the kind of thing I should be excited about. This paper represents the merging of both my interests: literary culture and economics. Ironically, the last time I wrote a significant paper on Adam Smith was for my undergraduate senior economic capstone project, where I also merged literary culture and Adam Smith, although this time with the book Tom Jones. When my 70-year-old prof said to me outside of class, "You know, I've always wished that someone would come along and do a reading of Tom Jones using Adam Smith; but literary people and business people don't often move in the same circles." Well, how the hell do you pass THAT up? Looks like Adam Smith is riding in to see me out of the university again.

But yeah, the sleepy gets in the way. I hate not being able to read the books I want. I've got a stack of what I want to do. But I have to wait ten more weeks to get to them. I had to cancel my subscription to the London Financial Times a long time ago because I simply didn't have any spare reading time. I miss The Economist. I miss being able to read about African politics (don't ask me why I'm interested, I don't know; just always have been). I can't read any Dawkins. I hardly have time to even read to my son, certainly not to the length that I want.

Here's my rant about the situation (as if the previous spleen wasn't a rant). The university encourages and attracts specialists. Very rarely will you get a well-rounded intellectual. I'm not saying specialists aren't smart. They're very smart--about their own niche. I hate when graduate students preface their comments with, "Of course, this isn't in my field..." because it implies that it's OK not to be fully informed. There's no way a person could know everything, of course. But I don't really think the university system as it stands really promotes integrated critical thinking; it's up to you to piece it all together. Maybe that's as it should be. But it would do a world of good if we had to take history classes along with literature classes, for instance. Or economics (the user-friendly kind!) along with discourse on slave narratives. Or if maybe a few good books on history were thrown into the syllabus as background readings. One of the best classes I ever had was as an undergraduate in medieval history; the guy was a visiting prof from Harvard, and he loaded us up accordingly. We had a couple of background history books and I would say five or six pieces of literature. You read the history, you read the literature, you talked about both in class. It was awesome.

I want my newspapers back, and my African politics and the sudoku puzzle. I want to read Ian Fleming novels and Edith Wharton without having to use her as background in a "publishable" essay. I want to get back to my short story collection. I want my nights and weekends back.

It's not that I didn't learn things; I learned a lot. And it's not that I didn't enjoy my classes, because I did. I'm grateful for the expanded education. But I've also learned that the university's version and my version of the "life of the mind" greatly conflict. I've learned that what is more important to me is to be doing, rather than theorizing. Doers need good theories. But I prefer to be testing those theories myself. I think that's why I like teaching, out of all the experiences of grad school. My secret dream is to be the sort of person who both does and writes, like Barbara Ehrenreich. An activist writer, if you will, where economics and culture and social concerns all crash in together (and maybe even African politics!). Who knows? Things in life are beginning to point that way. And I'm experienced enough now to know that the things you get the most pleasure and fullfilment in life from take a while to present themselves to you. You have to actively be thinking about these things, reflexive, to borrow a grad school term.

And so, while I put aside the idea of a PhD that I had thought was the next step for the past few years, I set it aside without any reservations; I think if I were a less secure person, the concept of floating in my own ideas for a while would give me a great fear of being "aimless." For once in my life, the transitionary period doesn't scare me to death; and I'm pretty proud of that.

-- Virgil

So THIS is What It Feels Like?

Basketball season is nearly over in the grade schools. We're in the middle of tournament right now, a round robin that we just lost our first game in. We have one more game to play, and if we lose it, we're out. It's been funny to watch them all grow as ball players these past few months. Dante's team has third and fourth graders on it, both boys and girls. Some of them are still at the stage where if they make a basket, they go hug coach.

But it's also been quite intense, as well, especially for Dante. He's taller than pretty much everybody else in the 4th grade, so he got put down in the post. He's expected to clean up rebounds and make the tough inside shots. He started off kind of rough, but he has really grown as a player over the past weeks. He had one wicked block that he got to smack down, which reverberated through the gym and caused the audience to let out a whoop. Now, these kids aren't even five feet tall, so it's not like Dante got an eight foot block (we're talking maybe five and a half feet from the ground to the ball in the air, here). But the sound was impressive.

He's been frustrated because he isn't the point guard. Every kid wants to be the one who makes all the shots. The first few weeks were spent trying to convince him that he played one of the most important and complicated positions on the team. It finally kicked in after a while, and he got quite good at blocking, rebounding, and taking the ball away from other kids. Too bad his team usually couldn't capitalize on those turnovers. But he learned a lot.

I decided that my job in all of this was to be the loudest parent in the gym. I am pleased to say that I'm pretty sure I own that distinction. For whatever reason, our team doesn't seem to have as many family/fans at the games than all the other teams. You can see the disappointment on their little faces when they hear the huge roar of other people cheering on the other team. So, my job was to remedy that. I never shut up. I'm the obnoxious parent you wish would shut up. But I ain't going to. When we're on offense, it's "Come on Blue! You can do it! Go Whoever!" at the top of my lungs. If it's defense, then it's "Come on, defense, stay on him! Get the ball! Rebound! You can do it! DEFENSE! WOOT!" If a basket is made, I hoot even louder. I can tell a distinct difference when we parents start hooting. They play harder. They look more determined. They smile more. They do better.

Last night, some of the opposing parents, probably observing the correlation, started trying to counter me. I am proud to report that even though I'm only 120 pounds, I shouted down the ginormous pipefitter that was booing and screeching. I never yell bad things at the refs or the other team. I can keep it up longer than he can. I always come home slightly hoarse. There certainly is no question as to which child belongs to me. Which leads me to the interesting incident that happened last night.

After the season is over, they have a four-five week smaller season for those kids who aren't quite ready to quit. When we found out about it, I was under the impression it was too late to sign up. Apparently, the extra season lets volunteer coaches "recruit" who they want on the team; the regular season puts teams together somewhat randomly (with allowances for the nepotism that inevitably happens when coaches and their sons are both involved in the school system). You don't have much say about which team you're on at school. In the extra season, apparently a lot of scouting goes on, even at the 4th grade level. When word got around that Dante wasn't signed up yet, I had two offers within 48 hours--neither of which we'd solicited. One coach called me at work. Later last night, he came up to me, had the form and everything ready to go. He seemed to desperately want Dante for the team, even though the deadline was past. I "signed" him. :D

I like this coach anyway. But with Dante on board, he seems to have put together something of a "dream team." It'll be interesting to see how they do. None of the other teams seem to have anybody at post like Dante. If there were stats, he'd be at the top of the league defensively. His extra season team has on it two excellent shooters, including the best point guard in the league; we call her the "glamazon," because she's only about half an inch shorter than Dante and just dominates the other kids. The other team members are good supporting members as well. With Dante on board, it looks like Coach filled a hole. This particular coach's team is the number one team to beat in the regular season--they lost one game by only a couple of points.

It'll be good for Dante to get the experience that comes from playing with good ball players (not that the kids on his team are bad). It was also a little strange to get recruited that strongly at the fourth grade level. I have no illusions about Dante going on to play college ball. But I've often wondered what it must be like for the families of a talented player--all the phone calls and letters. If this is any indication what it's like at ten years old, it must be intense!

-- Virgil ("DEFENSE! WOOT!")

Way to Go, US

Apparently the big news today is that Cuban dictator-for-life Fidel Castro has retired. Here's the story. His equally geriatric younger brother is set to take over officially, as I understand it, although he seems to have been quietly running things since 2006 when Castro failed to kick the bucket yet again.

Castro's existence is funny to me, because it makes a complete mockery of the CIA. Some of their plots to overthrow him couldn't have been portrayed better if Ian Fleming's James Bond had gotten hold of the mission.


Actually, The Man With the Golden Gun might as well pass for an allegory on Castro, considering Scaramanga is considered indestructible, the mafia fails to bump him off, there were a number of silly little plots against him as well, and a good chunk of the action takes place in Cuba. The CIA would've had more luck if they could've used a James Bond.

Some estimates indicated the number of attempts on his life to be as high as 638--a documentary on him suggests that, in fact. (Not all attempted by the CIA, of course.) Examples, you ask?

They've tried to blow him up with an exploding cigar, Three Stooges' style. They worked very hard on these cigars, which contained the same toxin that's in Botox.

They invested in hundreds and hundreds of mollusks, one of which was going to be huge and painted in lurid colors to attract El Presidente whilst he was scuba diving. When he grabbed it, BOOM! Explosives hidden inside the giant mollusk would solve our minor dictator problems. ("Gee--look at that one! It's 1000 times the size of a regular mollusk, and it's pink! Let's check it out!")

While we're on the subject of scuba diving, another nefarious plot was to infect his diving suit with fungus; whammo! debilitating skin disease sets in.

They hired the mafia to put out a hit on him. The mafia failed.

His former gf put poison pills in her face cream (given to her by the CIA) to smuggle in and kill him. He found out about it and offered her his gun. She couldn't pull the trigger.

They tried to get a famous pitcher to purposely throw a foul ball while Castro was watching the game and kill him--or so I heard.



Honestly, doesn't it sound like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers? As his son Scott said, "Why not pull a gun and just waste him!" (sort of a paraphrase) If the whole world already realizes you're doing these crazy things, it really doesn't make much sense not to just try and shoot him.

And great job there, USA, embargoing those Cuban cigars, three of which Officer Sanborn shredded for me. It really helped push him out of power, didn't it? With a fucking gold watch straight into retirement.

-- Virgil

Damn the Torpedoes...

At this point, the bomb has dropped, and hopefully it's the last shot in a long and protracted administrative war. I still don't want to talk too openly about it until I know the full outcome. But in my opinion, if something is the right thing to do, then you smooth the way into doing it. You don't puff yourself up and have an egotistical hissy fit. Nor do you implicate other higher up administrators by implying they were dead set against it when nothing could be further from the truth.

So, in my brooding mood, I went to my favorite dom's website, Mistress Babydoll (and she's in the English dept--go figure). Although I've never really put my own list of demands in writing before, I found her "intake" process to be remarkably on par with what I would've come up with. In fact, I couldn't have said it better myself. Considering what's about to go down, a certain departmental Balrog would do well to pay close attention. Maybe take notes, even. "Go back to the shadow! You cannot pass!!" Indeed.

Incidentally, I run my classroom on more or less the same principles...

1. Pay close attention to everything Mistress says or does to you and remember it. This is so you can:

2. Do and endure everything Mistress does to you and tells you to do (and not do!) exactly as She instructs unless it is impossible or very difficult for you, in which case you must, as always:

3) Communicate clearly and promptly to Mistress so that She can make all necessary decisions and adjustments, which makes it possible for you to:

4) Please Mistress and fulfill Her needs, desires, and whims in every way you can.

That's it, boys. That's the deal. My attention to your kink is for the purpose of gaining control of you and conditioning you to obedience and devotion. The control and conditioning are for My pleasure and benefit as well as your deeper fulfillment in serving Me.

And there you have it, folks. I'll probably even include it on the syllabus next time around.

-- Virgil

An Update on the Kiddies

This semester compared to last is absolutely fabulous. Even the losers in my sections don't lose as badly as the last semester crowd. Most people actually turn their work in! Holy crap! But even with "good" students, it's amazing how they will find ways to present their own set of problems. Some observations:

* I have a "super-keener." You know, that kid who always expects to get on the prof's good side, who jumps the gun with answers, who implies at every chance that you and he are better than "them," by which he means the rest of the class. Sigh. Sometimes a super-keener can be good, particularly if you need to jumpstart discussion. But for every other person who prefers more than half a second to think things over, he can be a real pain in the ass. Did I mention he's an English major?

* I have a super atheist. A self-proclaimed super atheist. Now, I'm as super-atheisty as they come, but someone forgot to send me the memo where we mutated into superheroes and were supposed to go around announcing it. The only annoying aspect of this is that she's managing to find a way to work disdain for religion into every one of her writing assignments. She's just as bad as Conservative Boy, who works God into every one of his writing assignments. I get it, you two. You feel strongly about something. Now try and have a different thought about something else.

* I think I'm developing a fanboy club. It's mostly boys. Every now and then I'll have a fangirl. But it's almost always boys. I've been studying this new phenomenon, and I'm not sure what to make of it. At first I thought it might be a "hot for teacher" thing. I've sort of ruled that out. They act more like they want to be buddies. I know what the teacher crush looks like by now, and that ain't it. Then I thought that maybe it was a healthy dose of "glossing." These boys are pretty smart--4.0's, mostly. I'm sure they want to keep them. They have big plans for the future. Why not buddy up to your teacher and make sure you get to keep your 4.0? But I don't think it's that either (although I'm keeping my eyes open).

Now I think it's a Mommy fetish.

Most of them have unresponsive/absent mothers. They're keen on getting praise for their work. I drove one to the student health place--which, as it turns out, was probably more "mothering" than he's had in ten years. I get their life stories, which tend to be full of drama and negligence. They ask for life advice. I'm pretty sure it's a Mommy fetish.

But God, they're cute. Who wouldn't want a cadre of cute little 18 year olds running around you? Their ideas are so stereotypical and not fully formed. There's plenty of things you can tell them for the "first time" and get to watch that wonder of discovery all over again. Batmite! schooled one on multinational corporations recently. It was a beauty to watch. And they're so full of fire. By the time they get to my age, most people are too busy trying to figure out how to afford material signifyers and have lost interest in Great Conversations and change. At this level, they're absolutely chomping at the bit.

I like them. I have a regular coffee meeting with one fanboy from a year ago. I like to think that those sorts of connections help them make something of life. Me and #1 Fanboy talk about his family life, his gf, his future, his classes, his ideas. I like him better than most people I know, even if he is 19. But at the least, he'll make a good first lieutenant in my growing ideological zealot army. If I could only figure out how to unleash them. Of course, they still have quite a bit of training to go through...

-- Virgil

Because White People Can Be Really Stupid

We're at the point in Dante's life where he's beginning to give more than a passing glance to issues about race relations in the US, and as usual, he asks very straightforward questions. It is my opinion that kids sometimes ask the most honest questions because they make them so simple. Particularly since much of El Hijo's and my training in literature and culture comes from the mid 1800s, when your child asks you, "Why did they have slavery in the first place, and why did people put up with it?" you are in an incredibly accurate position to know just how much detail could go into that response. History, economics, culture, religion, politics, all of it factors into the equation of why slavery had such a powerful hold over people in the US. Based on my study of the time period (which is still ongoing and consumes damn near an entire 6 foot bookcase's worth of primary and secondary sources), it is my opinion that American slaveholders were likely the most brutal slaveholders in the history of slaveholding. I've got a shitload of source material for that, if you're interested.

But what was my eloquent answer to the boy's question? All that came out was "Because white people can be really stupid. Especially when they're interested in money and power."

And quite frankly, I don't know if there really is more to the story than that. Most slaveholders were sadistic bastards. Most of them knew that slaveholding was fundamentally immoral, and worked like hell to reconfigure all their cultural, educational and legal structures to prop it up and make themselves feel better about it. And the dirty little secret in American culture is the fact that the North did plenty to encourage and sustain it. Most white Northerners weren't very interested in abolitionism, and treated free blacks with incredible racism at best. Many were even openly violent toward free blacks they thought were taking jobs and the like. The North was certainly not the "good guys." At best, they were the "indifferent guys."

Today we still deal with a culture that was spawned out of that time period, well over 150 years ago. Although we may no longer be overtly racist (most of the time), we are most definitely "white supremacist." Everything in our culture trends toward valuing white heterosexuality as the "norm" and everything else as the "marginal."

A few quick examples:

When you think of "Southerners" during the Civil War and just before and after it, what is the image you come up with? It likely is a vision of women in hoop skirts, or men with accents. I bet they're mostly white images. But "Southerners" at one point, would have more truthfully referred to black slaves, considering they outnumbered whites in many areas. But when we think of "the South", most of us are trained to think white, not black.

Switch it up and think of the North. Who do you think of? Probably people like William Lloyd Garrison or other abolitionists, or industrialized people, a bit more forward thinking than "the South." Those people are probably also white in your mind. Where the devil did all the blacks go? We're culturally trained not to pay as much attention to them as a group.

How often have you heard somebody say something like, "You know, I went to that new doctor the other day--you know, the black one (or the woman doctor)...". This happens all the time because we're trained to pick up on race as a quick and easy guide for distinguishing between people (and we're certainly not the first culture to do so).

Obviously not everyone automatically thinks of white people when they think of positions like engineers, doctors, etc. But most of us do. We value "ethnic" women with whiter features as more beautiful than women of darker colors, and if you think that's not right, go try and find a dark skinned model in a magazine. I can think of exactly one who works regularly (Alek Wek, who is actually one of my favorite models and close to my exact age, actually--google her). How many more white models/actresses do you see on the covers of magazines than black ones? And the tired excuse that there are just "more to pick from" with white models is paper thin--and overlooks the fact that one of the reasons for the seemingly greater "availability" is because our society values white features.

Meh.

I'll end my rant here. I'm in the middle of another examination of black writing from the 1800s-1850s this semester, which has only reinvigorated all those former observations. And I did go into more detail with Dante about the factors behind slavery. Which prompted his next question:

"Why was there segregation? Who cares if black people sat at the front of the bus?"
And surprisingly, the answer still works: because sometimes white people can be really stupid. Sigh.

-- Virgil

Funny Mathematickin'

Probably one of the greatest personal stresses to me right now is the giant quagmire of a grant application that we've been working on for a month. With this application and the business taxes we file in May come the biggest dogfight of my job: trying to explain to Director/Buddy that just because we're a nonprofit it doesn't mean we have to end the year with a zero balance.

I'm not sure why she thinks that. But whenever I try to explain it, I get the "I'm right on this. I've been doing this for 15 years." Or something like that. Nevermind my own business experience and my own economics degree. I get sent back to fudge the numbers and move money around so that it looks like we spent it all.

It simply isn't true.

The IRS lets you carry a substantial balance over to the next year. Universities do it with "endowments" all the time. As long as you maintain the activities that make you tax exempt, you're fine. Without any money at year's end, you can never grow. Nonprofit just means you don't have a line item that says "profit". It means you reinvest the leftover into either an endowment fund or to expand programming. It doesn't mean you don't have any money.

I managed to win the fight about reporting our true numbers on our tax returns last year, and I plan on winning that fight this year, too. I have some clout on this, because if I buck up and don't do the taxes, then she has to, which will never happen. So I get my way. The first year I had to report our taxes, she made me make it come out to zero balance, which I didn't think was right, but I said "Oh, well, maybe there's something I don't know," and went from there. Last year, I said "Oh, hell, no," and did it the right way. When we had our outside financial review, I was only a few pennies off, which felt incredibly good. And legal. If I'd fudged the numbers, we'd have been fucked during our review.

But I can't win the fight in reporting the budget on this particular grant, because it funds our salaries, and it's too close to her heart to screw with. I rationalize it by saying that since it's technically a projected profit and loss statement, it's "imaginary" anyway, so who cares what the balance is at the end of the year, as long as it isn't negative. What difference does it make?

I don't even know if it's worth hunting down the relevant legal mumbo-jumbo to prove it.

At times like these, I feel like I've outgrown the place. I'm not sure where the next step is, and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to take it yet, but I sort of think I'm almost done.

-- Virgil

A Bit of a Preview of Things to Come

A very wonderful thing is set to happen for me in less than three weeks. What it is, I cannot say publicly yet. Part of the reason is that I'm afraid to jinx it. The other part is that I have no control over who in my department reads this blog anymore, so sometimes I delay saying certain things to make sure my fanny doesn't get put into the blender.

I had no idea things would turn out the way they did. Sometimes fighting and fighting and fighting some more pays off.

To quote one of my all time favorite rappers and one of my many personal role models, Lady of Rage (Batmite, stop snickering!):

I rock on with my bad self cause it's a must
It's the Lady Of Rage still kickin up dust
So umm, let me loosen up my bra strap
And umm, let me boost ya with my raw rap
Cause I'ma break it down to the nitty-gritty one time

I rocks rough & stuff with my Afro puffs.

-- Virgil, the cat who actually ate the canary. ;)

I Hate People Part 3

Hmph.

Wanted: One bus driver. Must not be a complete psycho and be somewhat socialized. Position available immediately, considering the last spazz up and quit during the staff meeting today.



Argh. I can't really say that it was totally unexpected that she quit today. And she technically didn't quit, she just told us that she wanted to quit by a certain time, and that she'd be happy to train the next person (like hell). I'm actually kind of experiencing a weird relief. I hate indecision, because then it paralyzes everybody. At least now I know where we stand.

-- Virgil, a few books short of a library driver...

Meme-poo

Here's a new meme that hit me via Meg.

Here’s the rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

The book: Thich Nhat Hahn's Fragrant Palm Leaves, a journal of his from about 1963 when things in Vietnam were beginning to get difficult and he had come to the states to lecture.

5th sentence on page 123: If you are miraculous, my consciousness will be miraculous.

Next 3 sentences: If you are distant and remote, I will be distant and remote. Look into my eyes and you will know if your universe is bright or dark, infinite or finite, mortal or immortal. The poet Tru Vu wrote: Because eyes see the blue sky, eyes glisten sky blue/Because eyes see the vast ocean, eyes extend as far as the sea.

The tagged:

JP--although, I demand you pick up the book you're using for your sex theory class. >:D
Batmite!--because he'll go find a really bizarre book, rather than a close one.
El Hijo--just to make sure he's actually reading something towards his dissertation......(and yes, you can read your fav wrestlin' blogs or forums, and pick the 5th sentence there, if you like. That would probably be a whole lot funnier, actually.)
Kitush--because I don't think I've ever asked you what you read.
Kari--because this seems like a meme right up her alley!

-- Virgil

I Hate People Part 2

One of the things my nonprofit does is run a mobile library to remote parts of one county here without library access. We stop at headstarts, apartment complexes, and even two schools, which I think is sad, because they don't even have a library in the school! We've grown every year, and the grant funds the truck, the trailor, the driver's salary and all the supplies and maintenance, and gas, which, as you can imagine, is ridiculous for a thing like that. We have our own t-shirts, our own slogan, we're recognized in parades, the whole nine yards. It was a really great idea, and it seems to be working out for the most part.

When the bus driver chooses to work, that is.

I don't know what it is about that position, but we can't keep any quality help in it. We've increased the pay, learned from mistakes made in the past, revamped our job description, updated our software, done just about everything except sacrifice somebody's firstborn--and I think we'd do it, if we thought it would solve the problem. Here's a list of the drivers we've had in the last two years and their subsequent malfunctions:

Airforce Husband: He was the first driver, and he was the husband of someone who was working for us at the time. Not a great idea, but it helped them out. He drove it a few times and then promptly tried to kill himself over 20 times. I've been on a library run several times. It's a tad boring, but nothing to induce suicide for. As he was too incompetent/depressed/bizarre to drive the bus, it passed to the second driver.

Psycho Wife: She was the person we were trying to help by giving her husband the job. So she took over the driving of it. The bus went to the garage every other time it was supposed to run because she always "managed" to find something wrong with it. Once she took it in claiming it was "leaking" fluid. Turns out it was the goddamn air conditioning condensation that all cars drop to the ground when you run the air. A couple of times I think she fabricated problems or created them herself. Well, more than a couple of times. Like her crazy ass husband, she got "sick" to get attention. She went to the hospital 150 times in 2006. That's, like, once every two or three days. But in practice, she'd be OK for two or three weeks, and then a little flurry of hospital activity. Always some vague and unprovable disease. At some point, I wanted to start asking to see scars. She quit unexpectedly, and left us completely in the lurch.

Grumpy Genetic Defect Man: He was probably the shortest lived driver we've ever had. I don't even think we got him properly trained before he quit. He was constantly bitching about things and never driving. All I remember of him was that we all went to a conference together and he told us all he had webbed toes. Eeeew! He lived on a farm and had no one to talk to all day, because his wife had a Very Important Job in town somewhere. He was very poorly socialized.

Single White Stalker: This woman we thought would work out great. She was a school bus driver and seemed pretty excited to drive the library around. Trouble is, we couldn't get a damned report out of her to save our lives. She kept tabs of what went on in the library on little slips of paper like this: "Kaylie, Book about dogs." OK. Who's Kaylie, where do you stop for her, which damned book was it, when the hell did she check it out?? She refused to use the software. She also became increasingly weird around me and Director/Buddy. She would say the weirdest things, show up at weird times, call D/B all hours of the day and night, etc. Then, in a moment of revelation, she unveiled her unabated love for D/B, and we're all probably lucky both of them aren't in jail or both dead. D/B is very homophobic, although she's getting better. It's probably her biggest fault. It also makes the incident rather funny. Of all people to hit on. What's funnier is that Stalker woman was convinced the reason D/B wasn't available was because she was in a relationship with ME. Yeh, me of the husband and child. She gave her notice and quit. She continues to be weird to this day, and as a matter of fact, I just got into a giant scuffle with her recently over W-2's. Sigh.

Queen of the Alcoholics: This woman also seemed perfect for the job. She had her CDL, was only looking for part time work, etc. She had all these great ideas for moving the library forward, expanding our services. We were excited. Most of all, she could run the damned reports. She worked for about five weeks. Then, in the fifth week, I get a call (why is it always me??) from a prominent local reporter chick. She's at one of our regular stops doing a feature on the daycare there, and found out our library was scheduled to stop and she'd love to include us in that feature. Holy shit, you can't ask for better publicity than that. Just one problem. The driver was 30 minutes late, did we know when she would be coming, because they couldn't wait long. All the little kids were standing there with big pouts and their books in their hands. God, there couldn't have been a more horrific PR moment. Several billion frantic phone calls later, turns out Queenie is a raging alcoholic who got so drunk on Friday that she was still so hung over on that Tuesday and couldn't take the bus out. She quit/got fired. I was one part very angry, one part very amazed that her blood hadn't poisened her. Being angry and curious at the same time feels weird, I at least have that to report.

Enter the New Spazz: A few weeks after Alcoholic girl left, we hired the New Spazz. She also seemed great in the beginning. They all do. She's been here probably 8 months. I can't get any paperwork out of her to save my life. On top of that, she has these bizarre mood swings where she wants to tangle with me--never with D/B, always with me. Not smart. Who do you think is going to be more influential when it comes time to argue for which of you gets what raise? Piss me off enough, and you'll find out. There have been several times where D/B should've stepped in and settled things. But she just doesn't know how to do that as a manager yet, which is absolutely maddening. She won't turn in any reports, she won't answer emails, and we can't get any real contact from her. I've called her two or three times, she won't answer the phone. We're going to have to fire her, is my bet. Our grant funding this cycle is dependent on those reports. If we don't submit them, we don't get refunded. I'm not letting Spazz ground the mobile library. Not by a long shot. But I don't have the authority to fire her myself. But I can sure as hell make it miserable to speak of her around her. I can bitch about her for weeks on end and how she's not getting things done. We're going to have to hold her pay if she keeps this up through February. Nothing motivates people more than a paycheck. What boggles me is how she's gotten multiple emails and letters about our concerns and chooses not to call in and get the problem solved. Now, we don't see her nearly 100% of the time, because she's supposed to drive the library in the other county, so there's no reason for us to be around her. Unfortunately, that makes it too easy to dodge us when we need her to be accountable.

I have no idea what to do. I've been on the bus run many times. It's not something that should cause you to want to a) kill yourself b) drink yourself stupid c) fall in love with the director or d) hide in a hole in a forlorn county.

Maybe I need to fix the job description to include mental benefits?

-- Virgil

Personnel Poobah

The main reason I haven't been posting regular material is that there has just been so much trench fighting of late. It seems like everything in my life is under attack from some angle, sometimes even from multiple sources. Probably one of the most stressful things going on right now is my "other" job, the nonprofit gig. I absolutely love my job. I can't express that well enough. But we're small, and so we haven't had the luxury of extra people until now. With extra people come extra problems. I have never been trained in human resources or personnel management. And yet, here I am, square in the middle of a bunch of personnel poop. The maddening thing is, it's not my job to handle personnel issues. It's somebody else's job in this office. But since she's literally never had to do it before, she seems to be pushing it off on me. I don't have the authority to sit somebody down and read them the riot act, so it's a maddening sit-n-spin circle of hell.

I don't understand for the life of me why some people work so hard at not working. Seriously, if you put half of that effort into doing your damn job, so much would get done! I've spent several weeks feeling like the hard ass in the office because I finally just got fed up and got down to brass tacks. I felt a little guilty afterwards, because I felt like I was really coming down on people. Here's the problem.

The Mooch, of whom you are no doubt sick of hearing about, has been causing half of our problems. She's out of the office more than she is in, sometimes legitimately, other times I can't verify what the hell she's doing. Since I have to sign off on her timesheets, I actually check them over. She was posting 13 hour days in some places. Knowing that couldn't be true, I left her a note on her computer monitor (since she isn't in half the time) to see me about how she was configuring her hours. She dodged me for a few days. I mentioned it to Director/Buddy, who agreed it was a problem, but never asked about it. More dodging.

Finally, I confronted her about it outright first thing in the morning when she finally came in. Turns out she was counting her bus ride to and from work. Her bus ride. You know, because she refuses to get transportation of her own? The bus takes at least 45 minutes to get here one way because of all its stops and idles. She was billing us from the moment she walked out of her home to the moment she walked back into it. Hell, if I did that, I'd spend half of my part time week just on transportation! We spent quite a bit of time going back and forth with why you can't bill for mileage time to work. Once you get here and you have to go to a meeting or out in the county to meet a client, that's billable, yeah. But your due dilligence to get here? I don't fucking think so. She continues to argue this, and we have to take it to her payroll comptroller to get it settled, where the Mooch found out that yes, people who have been in the business world longer than you have do indeed know what the fuck is going on.

But while I was trying to get the hours thing under control with the Mooch's comptroller, I discovered another thing. She's turning in mileage reimbursement forms. She has no fucking car, did I mention that? She was billing for the time that other people were driving her around--and not turning the money over to them, of course. When the comptroller found out she had no transportation of her own, she rejected the Mooch's reimbursement form. I felt a little like a hard ass on that one. I mean, scammed mileage won't exactly wreck the national economy. But it was just so....slimey a thing to do! She never offers gas money. She's been working mighty hard at getting something for nothing.

We're also still having massive hygiene problems out of her. She still stinks. I still Febreeze. The problem is with the way she's representing us to the community. I asked this same comptroller to pull her aside and talk with her. I don't have the authority to sit down and do it with her, and D/B prefers the "hint" system, which has failed miserably up to this point. So I enlisted some aid. I have no idea if the woman talked with her yet or not. She was supposed to by this point. I haven't seen the Mooch in the office to tell the difference. *Eyeroll* Even beyond the basic hygiene is the issue of dress. She has no dress outfits--which may be a matter of budget--but she wears her ratty, old converse high tops with a dress. That's her version of "business dress". And she doesn't shave her legs--which I don't care about personally, but when we're out to get money from people in the business world, we at least have to look competent. That means you wear hose or you wear pants.

Sadly, the shaving and bathing is pretty much a religion thing for her. So, I've been on eggshells about it, because then it gets into issues of "it's my religion!" The director of a very powerful nonprofit broke it down for me though in my meeting with the comptroller. She said that the Mooch had chosen to enter into the business world, and couldn't demand that it change for her. If she didn't like her job requirements, she shouldn't have chosen that job. I'm not sure it works that way, to be honest with you. But I don't think she has the gumption to sue us over her religion. I could probably win a countersuit against her for mental anguish, anyway. So that hasn't resolved itself, and the director I just mentioned actually went on a tear about how dirty she looked and how bad it was for us. Eep.

She still forgets to put the mail box flag up for the postal lady, she doesn't put complete addresses on envelopes, she forgets what we're doing at meetings and leaves important material back at the office, and more or less just fucks things up left and right. I know for a fact that we're not hiring her back. I at least got that cleared. But Jesus Christ, another eight months with her may kill me!

-- Virgil

*Stay tuned for my fucked up bus driver stories.

Hit Him!

It had been a rough several goddamn weeks. Expect a few updates on various fronts later. In brief, I'm in the middle of an administrative fight over my project; some...very interesting...results will likely be posted later. When Mama fights, she fights hard. Second, although it's not in my job title, I've been the Personnel Poobah of the office of late. We have personnel issues coming out the ass. And I've had to handle every single one of them. I so hate people right now.

SO, I went to fight night. It's a great proxy event. Instead of beating in the head of someone else in real life and screwing over my career, I can screech at some hulking mass of a man to do it. It so made me feel better! By the way, local people, if you are really planning on going to an event, you should probably tell me beforehand. It seemed like a dozen people claimed they were going, but I saw none of you there. Were you waiting on me to verify it with you??

So, of the seven fights, the first six were ended with technical knock outs in the first round. That's OK. It was a bunch of exciting first rounds. The last fight went all six rounds, surprising everybody with an upset. The 13-0 guy fell to the 5-5-1 guy. He just didn't come to fight. And there was the little matter of getting knocked down once in the fourth round. When it went to the cards, he seemed surprised he'd lost. I don't remember him throwing many punches. It was boring, in a way.

Fight Night observations:

The jeer from the crowd that drew the most laughs: "Come on, girls, let's go!!!" (Fight Night is an all male card. And yes, that was me.)

Probably not smart: When the main fight is over, and you're going to the bathroom, and you look around for your buddy and instead see the 6'4" hulking boxer who just lost and is bitching about why, it's probably not in your best interests to snort at him "You got knocked down in the 4th round--did you forget about that part?" (And yes, that, too, was me.)

-- Virgil