Yesterday I really needed a beer after I spent an hour and a
half with the I.T. folks sorting out some new processes. I cannot for the life of me understand how
they can get so excited about some of this stuff but I’m in charge of the
process so I had to engage. I had to
bring the discussion down to “civilian” level a few times by reminding them “who
they were dealing with” in terms of general technological expertise. The resident IT guy, a young genius, is
leaving so I had to ensure all the small (but vital) things he did behind
the scenes were handed off to someone with enough savvy to make them
happen. I also reminded the departing guy
that I knew where he lived. That seemed
to motivate some very directed conversation.
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| Johnny Boy Looking Over Our Shoulder Last Night |
Thankfully the beer was available since the political boss
was taking us all out for his annual Christmas happy hour at the Luciano’s, a
bar with a gangster theme located in Union Station. The bar even has a copy of the John Dillinger’s
death mask – something I’m sure helps with digestion (I didn’t see anyone
eating there). This event last year
marked the nadir of relations between my excellent boss and the political boss
when the former ran up a huge bar tab before the latter ever showed up. I attempted to be the mediator last night
when I loudly proclaimed to the once again late political boss that he shouldn’t
panic when he saw the tab. After a moment
where his face went very pale he took the joke in stride and I’m still
employed.
It was a good time with all the fellow managers although
there was a bit of a pall cast by the shocking news of our CFO’s heart
attack. She’ll undergo bypass surgery
today and we’re all pulling for her. It
felt a little strange to be drinking beer on a Thursday but it hearkened back
to my younger days when weekend eve was a night to be reckoned with, filled with feats of legerdemain. New England came through with some weather
for the drive home as the storm which has been camped over our heads for the last
three days continued to spit just enough snow to be a nuisance.
My wife spent the day sanitizing the house in advance of
weekend house guests and Christmas party which meant I had to divest myself of
my shoes once I slalomed up the driveway.
She reported we had to go out shortly to retrieve the daughter of the
Maine Musquetera who was going to be deposited in a nearby Mass Pike rest area
on her way home from her Pennsylvania college.
Since the Musquetera is coming down today for the party it made sense
for her daughter to spend the night with us.
It was kind of nostalgic having a returning college kid
under our roof again reminding both of the us the many times over the years
both of ours would miraculously (at least it seemed at the time) would once again
be plunged under our care. My wife
took full advantage of her opportunity to be a surrogate Mom for at least one
night.
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