Grey Goose

A fellow blogger told me, "You haven't made a comeback unless you've written more than one post." So, my world traveling friend, here it is.

Work has been incredibly busy and a source of irritation as of late. In particular the overly used concept of "teamwork." It is most commonly employed to cover up a mistake. Instead of "teamwork" advocacy, I'd prefer the trespasser to say, "look, I made a mistake and I need you to fix it." Instead of, "look, we're all on the same team here, let's just make this happen." It. Irritates. Me. We all make mistakes, okay? It's part of professional development. Skirting fault under the guise of "teamwork" may allow you to sleep better at night but you should know you're building a reputation to be a lazy glory-wallowing pig. Good employees take credit for their failures and their successes, okay? Okay.

Now that we have that in the open, I feel that we can move on.

The dog is growing at an alarming rate. Our dog food lady told me that as a puppy grows they often forget everything they have ever learned. Now, Great Danes aren't known for their intelligence. In fact, the 9FG and I are trying to decide if she's simply steeped in a 2 month growth spurt or if she is mentally challenged. I'm pulling for the former but I fear it is the latter. To illustrate my point, I've extrapolated the following scene from Thursday night of last week. The fear of redundancy makes me hesitant to characterize my current place of employment. Let's just say it was late, the 9FG agreed to pick me up (vice taking the metro). As I was walking out of the door I got a call from a ranking official and 15 minutes later I actually pulled away from the desk. The dog's head was sticking up outside of the sunroof. It made me happy. All was well as we made the 2.8 mile trip back to our yellow house in the city. Three blocks later, the dog starts to whine. Abnormally. As I mentioned before, she's not the brightest crayon in the box so I thought she had seen a tree she wanted to chew on and couldn't get to it. She starts pacing. 9FG coolly says, "I think she has to go to the bathroom." I reply, "Ah, she'll be fine, she can hold it for hours when we're at work, another 5 blocks and we'll be home." Mid-sentence the dog pops a squat and relieves herself in the back. Of. The. Car. So, as I was saying, we're trying to decide.