The Mobile Office

I am enroute to Boston to check up on Marie, who broke her arm while snowboarding a couple days ago.  She apparently attempted to cartwheel down the hill but her puny little arms couldn’t handle the torque.  You’d think someone who got an A in Physics at MIT would have known better. 

Since this trip was unexpected, I have had to bring along my work with me, and thank goodness today’s modern planes are fully equipped.  I am flying Virgin Atlantic, which offers wifi (slightly faster than dial up internet) and power ports on all flights.  I arrived first to my row and quickly snagged both power ports. I would share, if asked.  But so far no one has asked.  I guess I am the only workaholic.  The other woman in my row is reading and also watching Oprah on the free satellite TV.  At least she gets the multi-tasking thing. 

I have answered  or sent about 20 emails so far, and am trying to get up enough nerve to log onto Skype to try to make a call.  That might be pushing things a little too far.  There is no one sitting next to me, so I have already claimed that real estate, laying out my files and using the extra seat's tray table for my supplies and coffee.  Haha!  I just got an idea!  Maybe I should offer to pay the woman in my row to do some admin work for me?  She might be able to earn enough to cover the cost of her flight!  But then again, she might get economy class syndrome while working and file a worker's comp claim against me.  I guess I'll just keep to my side of the row for now.

Mountain-Standard Time

I came up to NorthStar for New Year's and planned to return home on Monday, but somehow I got waylaid. It is beautiful and relaxing here, even if there is no snow.  Best of all, the internet is fast so I have been able to work from here.  Therefore, when Marie suggested we stay a couple more days, I couldn't say no. (Plus, it meant I could wait a couple more days before cleaning all the bathrooms and locking everything up at my dad's place... doesn't take much to convince me to put off those chores!)

For work, I have been interfacing with groups of people in India, Europe, and the Philippines which has meant getting up early for 5 AM or 6 AM calls, then staying up late for 9 PM or 10 PM calls.  It makes for a long day.  And this afternoon it dawned on me -- why am I working on their time zones instead of the other way around?  I have decided to create my own timezone.  I am going to call it Mountain-TMS timezone.  The business day runs from 6 AM to 10 AM, and then ends and starts again from 4 PM to 10 PM.  The time in between is for skiing, sort of like a First-World siesta break.  Hmm, it's 10 AM now.  Quitting time! 

The Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing but the Truth

A man named Jim Porter wrote an article for the Sierra Sun in which he discussed the Stolen Valor Act.  This law has two provisions, the intent of which is to prohibit people from giving the impression they have won an honor such as a Purple Heart when in fact no such honor was bestowed upon them.  He discussed two provisions of this law – 704 (a) which among other things makes it a crime to knowingly wear a medal which was bestowed by Congress in connection with the Armed Forces if that medal was fraudulently obtained, and 704 (b), which makes it a crime to falsely represent yourself as having been awarded a medal if in fact you haven’t (i.e., lie about having been awarded a Purple Heart). 

In his article, he talked about how the court struck down a case which was raised pursuant to 704(b) of the Stolen Valor Act because they felt the defendant was entitled to free speech, even if that speech was untruthful.

So my question is, if there is a specific law which states you can’t lie about a particular thing, but this is unconstitutional  because your right to free speech protects your untruthful speech, then what do we make of any other law which requires truthfulness?

What about the laws which require us to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth when we testify in court or in a deposition, or sign a statement about truthfulness for employment applications, loan applications, college applications, etc.?  What is the difference between lying when approaching this type of speech and lying about having earned a Purple Heart?  In the case cited, the person was lying to try to make himself appear to be a more appealing candidate for public office.   We should all be happy to know that our politicians can now justifiably lie as part of their free speech --- but I guess they have always known that. 

Other People's Money

Don't you just love the sound of it?  Other People's Money, OPiuM, the new drug of choice for the American crowd.  I am tired of everyone using my money. I want to feel fully American. Patriotic even.  I NEED to use OPM.  It's my right!!!  Since I don't qualify for the normal entitlement programs (yet), I have to figure out other ways to get access to the your money.

How about this:  I go out to dinner with my Dad, but cleverly forget to bring my wallet!  Thanks Dad! I'll pay you back later!  (See, I already sound like a politician!)

Or maybe this:  I am invited for an afternoon visit to Tahoe with my friend who has rented a fabulous house on the lake's edge.  Hey Bruce!  Glad to see you!  Let's have a drink!  Oh, shoot!  I left all the wine at home, and I had a really good bottle, too!  Darn!  What?  You have some?  Ok, I'll try just a little.   (Hours pass)  WooHoo!  This sure is a nice placsh! Hiccup!  I can't find my car keys! Hiccup!  Where could they be?  I thinth I will need to stay over night.  Hiccup!   zzzzzzzz....

Then there's vendor largess:  Wow!  Thanks for these free skybox tickets to the Sharks games!  Sure I'll send some business your way! You betcha!  Hey, can you pass the chicken wings and Dove bars?  Who are you anyway?  Do I know you?

Taking advantage of neighbors is always good:  Hi Amy, just wanted to drop by and leave you with these lovely roses I picked (from Lena's garden).  Yumm!  It smells good in here!  Did I catch you at dinner time?  The fabulous smells of your great cooking are making me hungry!  I wish I could make dinner too, but my stove and refrigerator are broken.  Such a pity!  Oh no, no!  I wouldn't dream of intruding!  Well, if you insist!  Isn't it lucky I also have these gladlock containers in my purse for the leftovers? 

More neighborly love -  best if left in a note pinned to the front door, while your neighbor is out getting his Saturday morning coffee:  Hi Brian!  Buddy!  How's it going?  Hey man, I hope you don't mind, this morning I needed to borrow your lawn mower, pressure washer, tool chest, barbecue, and chainsaw.  Took them with me to Mariposa - see you Sunday night!  Have a good one, man!  By the way, can you take care of our dogs this weekend? Food's in the pantry, but if you run out, get the jumbo size bag at Safeway and I'll pay you back later! 

Ahhh.  I am really liking this OPiuM business. I am starting to feel just like a real American.  Everyone should have the opportunity to walk a mile in someone else's shoes!  Speaking of which, who might have some shoes I can borrow?  Ma-rieeeeeee!

Is the grass always greener?

Do you ever pass strangers on the street and wonder what their lives are like?  I don't usually indulge in this this sort of pastime, but when I came across the guy in the picture below the other night, I found I could not help but wonder about his life.  I'm sorry the picture is not very clear, but that's what happens when you see something so completely odd that you have to first drop everything you're carrying, then dig through your purse for your cell phone, and then run half a block to get close enough to take a picture:

The man is carrying a lifesize headless mannequin.  Every so often he would stop and adjust it in his arms.  First, it was slung over his shoulder, with the severed neck dragging behind him.  Then he had it gripped across the breasts so that he and the mannequin formed sort of a "T" with the man's body, but he was too wide on the sidewalk, so finally he settled on this grip, across the kneecaps, which seemed to suit him.   All the while he was talking to the girl next to him, as if this was just a normal thing to do. There was not any discussion at all referencing his odd baggage, such as, "When we get home, let's dress up this mannequin", or "I hope my mannequin will fit on the back of my motorcycle." No. Instead they chatted about a song they had heard on the radio and what they planned to do for the weekend, as if carrying a mannequin down the streets of San Francisco at 10 PM at night on a Wednesday was a normal thing to do. 

Who knows? Maybe he always walked around with a mannequin, to avoid feeling lonely.  "Bring a friend," said the invitation.  "Why, don't mind if I do!  I just happen to have a mannequin-friend who would love to come along!  Of course, she doesn't have a head, but don't mind that.  She's quite pleasant otherwise. A great listener!"  I find myself wondering if she is heavy, or maybe she is very light. Maybe she floats, and the reason he wants her is because he is planning on surfing at Ocean Beach the next morning, and his surfboard was stolen.  Riding the waves on a mannequin might be fun, after all.  Hmm.  This is San Francisco. Maybe he just wants to ride the mannequin while his girlfriend watches.  It couldn't be that they would want to have the mannequin watch, because she doesn't have a head.  I don't know.  This is why I don't spend much time wondering about the lives of strangers.  You never know what you might discover.  I guess I should just mind my own business. My mannequin-less business.

Lessons Learned

I have learned a valuable lesson: If you have to go to the emergency room, regardless of the reason for your visit, claim to have chest pains in addition to whatever symptoms you may also be experiencing. This will get you immediately to the front of the line, and shortly thereafter, perched on a comfy gurney and on your way to see a doctor.  When you pay $100 for a visit, this is the treatment you deserve.

Bob was out riding his bike at lunch today and shortly thereafter, he began experiencing flutterings in his heart rhythm, which wouldn’t stop after a sufficient period of rest.  He called his doctor’s office, and was told that since this condition was somewhat of an emergency given his bypass last year, he would receive a call back shortly.  Nonetheless, two hours later, no response.  Well, what can you expect from a doctor who diagnosed a near-MERSA staff infection as bursitis, and was shocked and amazed to learn, despite Bob’s complaints of chest pains, that Bob had a 97% blockage of the main artery in his heart?  Good thing I had insisted on further tests, because this guy was never going to order them. 

Rather than wait for his doctor to eventually finish picking his nose and give us a call back, Bob ended up going into the ER, which is where we are now.

Arriving in the lobby, there is a woman whose lip is swollen to the point it threatens to cover her nose. It is beginning to consume her entire face.  “No, I widn’t hit it wif anyfing,” she struggles to say.  “I don’t fink I ate anyfing unusual.”  She is ushered to a seat to wait.  Apparently she did not understand that she should also say, “And I am also haffing chest pains.” 

Shortly thereafter, a young, athletic looking guy walks in and proceeds to slump to the floor.  “Why are you sitting on the floor?” an orderly asks.  “I didn’t want to faint and fall on the floor,” he says, with a miserable expression on his face.  “Are you having vertigo or feeling dizzy?” inquires the orderly.  “No, I just don’t want to faint. I am in terrible pain, and when that happens sometimes I black out. I didn’t want to fall over and get hurt.”  He is trying to sound calm but is apparently not feeling too well.   I want to whisper to him, “Claim to have chest pains!” but I can’t manage to do it without detection.  “You can’t sit on the floor,” says the orderly.  In a few minutes she returns with a nurse who takes the man’s blood pressure and helps him to a chair.  “So, are you feeling dizzy or having vertigo?” asks the nurse.  “I said no, no dizziness, I just feel faint from the pain.  My ear is in terrible pain. I was seen at 3AM morning and what they gave me doesn’t seem to be helping the infection.”  I immediately perk up and begin listening intently.  Having suffered terribly over the years from horrible ear infections, I can completely understand his pain and misery.  Now I really want to scream “and chest pains!  Remember, you also have chest pains brought on by the stress of the ear pain!”  But instead, he just slumps further in his chair while listening to a lecture on the semantics of the word “dizzy”.  The nurse drones on, “Well, dizziness doesn’t have to mean a spinning feeling. It could also mean a fainting feeling.  So if you say you aren’t dizzy but you are faint, I am not quite sure what you mean. Let me ask again, are you feeling dizzy?”  “Yes, I guess so,” he concedes. “It just really, really hurts. I can’t concentrate.” I see that familiar look pass between the nurse and the orderly.  “Drug seeking behavior!” they seem to be communicating telepathically to each other. “He is just in here to get more vicodin.”  I think about claiming to be the poor boy’s mother and reminding him that while he is not trying to be a burden to the ER staff, he also is having chest pains which for some reason he forgot to mention.  But just then, Bob is wheeled into the back recesses of the hospital for his EKG and the opportunity passes. 

Everything looks good for Bob, but just to be sure, he gets blood tests, a chest Xray, additional EKG’s, an order for a stress test tomorrow morning and an appointment to be fitted with a heart monitor for a 24 hour test, which unfortunately won’t be conducted until July 20th, 9 days from now.  I guess this is the only situation where the severity of having chest pains is outweighed by the scarcity of heart monitors.  No worries.  Bob feels better knowing that he has not had a heart attack.  Now he is hungry and we leave the hospital in search of something vegan.  It’s after 9 PM which in this area, means our choices are fast food or Wheaties with rice milk.  Guess which option wins?  Dinner of champions, here we come!

Man with Too Many Countries

One of the best things about the work I do is the diversity of assignments I get to pursue.  In any given week I might be scheduling speaking events for the local treasury symposium, closing a hush-hush financing transaction, or figuring out a way to bring a few million dollars back to the US from Russia without paying huge fees or suffering an FX loss.  This week, my task was to look for the best payment methods to offer to online consumers in over 200 different countries.  As part of this job, I would also need to ensure my client could minimize its FX gains or losses which arose when they converted the local payments received into US dollars.  To get started on this project, I decided to group all the countries we sold to into the geographic territories that coincided with my client’s regional businesses, and then to further group them by currency, since in many cases a common currency such as Euro, US Dollar, or Australian Dollar was used.  What I learned was this:  There are a lot of bizarre countries out there!  Like Togo.  Where the heck is that located? Oh, right next to the Bight of Benin, Burkina Fasa and Ghana.  Well at least I’ve heard of Ghana.  Not to be confused with Guyana, French Guiana or New Guinea (which is not the same as Guinea-Bissau, or Republic of Guinea).  And then there are the Bailiwicks – the Bailiwick of Guernsey and the Bailiwick of Jersey.  Really???  Even Google had a hard time locating Vanuatu, Tokelau, and Tuvalu.  Do you think the people of these places actually have money to spend buying things online ?  I suppose if you haven't engaged in genocide, you aren't a religious fanatic, or you don't produce oil, then your country may remain in relative obscurity forever. 

One of my favorite finds was Lesotho, whose current ruler is King MoShoeShoe II.  “Give me my shoe shoe and while you’re at it, throw in some sock-socks!”  Down the list of countries appear Nauru, Niue and Aotearoa.  Aotearoa is the native language name for New Zealand, explaining why it appears with the “N” countries on my list.  Then there are all the –stans:  Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Pakistan.  This last country, along with Turkey, has me wondering - Where do you draw the line between Eastern Europe and Middle East?  I have to classify these into regions somehow…

Another odd thing about the countries are the two-digit ISO codes which are used to abbreviate the country names.  AQ is Antarctica.  Hmm. Q.  AX is the Aland Islands.  BJ is the Bight of Benin.  Think about that.  BJ and Bight together don’t exactly bring up happy thoughts.  Nor does the abbreviation for Bermuda.  BM.  Reminds me of a cross country driving trip I once took with Carena.  All the towns put their initials on the hillsides.  We passed W, then C.  Then we came to Battle Mountain.  Could there actually be a nefarious plan behind it, like some kind of strange suggestive-sell for the gas station bathrooms?  I could see the marketing geniuses at work:  “We’ll subliminally entice them into the station by putting a gigantic BM on the side of the hill, but to get to the restrooms, they will have to weave past the aisles of ho-hos, twinkies, and hot pink sno-balls!  Who will be able to resist that much temptation?”

But I digress.  Time passes and I need to figure out how to collect payments from Sao Tome and Palau in currencies other than conch and coconut shells, without violating the drug-trafficking regulations.  Details, details!