Fourth Quarter's Second Quarter Quarterly Report

Today is March 31, the final day of the second quarter of retirement.

In keeping with custom, I am offering an overview of key accomplishments, challenges and trends in Fourth Quarter's retirement business.

In general the global economic crisis has had little impact on our business because we have chosen to act as if it isn't happening. While we are required to caution shareholders that this may have significant long-term negative effects on the retirement business, the short-term benefits are too appealing for us to worry about it. We remind shareholders that we are officially classified as a Baby Boomer Retirement, Type A, and thus are well within the boundaries of expected decision-making with our lack of preparation for the future.

We are required to report salary levels of all chief officers. In this quarter, the sole executive earned nil cash, but did receive three (3) free lunches from various media organizations.

We are also required to inform our shareholders of significant activities in the quarter and prospects for the full year. We have chosen to do so this quarter with a slideshow, which is attached to this statement. Simply click on the little arrow thingy to play it.

Respectfully submitted,

D Kennedy
COF (Chief Old Fart)

Bronze to Jorge

This has been a very disappointing weekend.

On Saturday night Jorge, our favorite contestant on Groomer Has It, got eliminated in third place. I know all this happened a long time ago in America, but we're just getting it here. Jorge was so clearly the best of the group that you just know that either he did something that pissed off evil judge Xavier. Or equally likely that one of the other two had done something that secretly pleased the evil judge. We will never know, but Jorge was robbed.

I am sure that part of the reason reality shows are so popular is because the formula for most of them is actually quite a cruel one. In real life, if we gave a test to people and they all did well, we would tell them they had all passed.

Why doesn't the show just say Jorge and the other two guys are all damned good groomers, so we're going to split the pot and give it to all of them. Of course the answer is that the show is less about grooming and more about the drama of people getting the chop one week after another. It's a plotline straight from Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians" only there's no mystery about who's killing off the cast. (And yes, UK friends, I do know the original title, but I ain't using it.)

(Of course, these shows are also about entertainment, and if you missed it you might want to catch Jorge's earlier comment on this blog here.)

I love all sorts of competition, but there is a nasty streak running through all these reality shows. The people who who go on these shows really, really want some recognition - top groomer, top chef, top designer, top model, top singer, top dancer, whatever. And to get the prize, they have to take heavy doses of criticism weekly, usually suffer some form of humiliation and almost always experience anxiety. In return, all but one of them finds out that this week they're the ones dancing with dead weight in "They Shoot Horses, Don't They".

It's as if some TV producer once upon a time stumbled upon Jack Welch's infamous HR formula at GE where once a year managers had to fire the bottom ten percent of their department. The policy helped make GE rich - and demoralized - but it has failed at many other companies, so who knows if it's good business or not. But put it on TV with a cast of characters, and it's all high drama and tension.

Of course, that all makes so much sense. I don't think you could get me to watch a television show about interior design. But tell me some goofball judges are going to be cruel to a couple of flamboyant designers and send one home, and I tune in every week. And as someone who doesn't even own a dog, it is a bit telling about LK and me that we kept watching Groomer Has It in the first place.

But, we're not happy about Jorge getting the boot. We will have to see if we bother to watch the final next week.

Well, OK. We will. But we won't enjoy it anywhere near as much.

Women Are from Venus, Mentors Are from Uranus

I started a new role yesterday. I was asked to be a mentor. I had no idea what a mentor does, so I readily accepted.

It turns out that it's one of those relationships where the other guy just wants to talk. Great! A perfect match with my skill set.

A lot of the time the conversation over lunch was just brainstorming, and that grew progressively better as we had a second glass of wine. The rest of the conversation was pretty much the sort of stuff you cannot talk about with the people who work for you. And you definitely do not want to talk about with the people to whom you report.

Most of the time it's just mates having a chat, but there is a little of the feel of therapy session with an amateur psychologist or perhaps confessional with a defrocked priest. Because of that it doesn't feel quite right to name the person, so let's call him My Mentee even though it's not any super confidential thing.

It's actually quite a bit of fun to hear about some of the problems and issues My Mentee is facing. I get to use some of those brain muscles that have been dormant since I retired, and I realized that I really enjoy dealing with business problems - especially when they're not mine. I'm not talking about the world-class Wall Street issues, but the nitty gritty problems where you can actually make something work if you make the right decision.

But don't get me wrong. I do not want to return to work. I just enjoyed the brainstorming and, I suspect, I will enjoy vicariously seeing how My Mentee copes with the stuff he is dealing with. He's an extremely bright guy with more energy than I have ever had, so I suspect I will be cheering on a winner as we continue.

And, you may ask, what does he get from his perspective? Well, to be honest, he doesn't get much. Mostly he gets my bullshit. About all I can bring to the table is my take on what's going on and 20 years in which I probably learned what not to do a lot better than what to do.

It's hard to know how much to value an old fart talking about the stuff he used to do. On 24-hour news channels, they're called commentators and analysts and make good money. In boardrooms, they're called business consultants and make an awful lot of money. But I think we all know that when all you're selling is hot air, you can price yourself out of the market pretty quickly.

The owner of my old company asked me to be an advisor after I left the job. We ended up with a bit of an impasse when I suggested one modest figure for my services, and the owner suggested another. He thought I should do it for free. Since he knew me well and probably understood my value, I figured I had better price myself more reasonably for My Mentee.

So the payment is a free lunch, and I get to pick the place. So it was back to Lee's Fortuna Court for the third time in three weeks. And each of them on the other guy's card. Which makes me think I could also consider starting a mentoring business to retired old farts who want to get other people to take them to lunch. Any takers?

The Parent Trap

I am starting to get just the teensiest bit concerned about my parents. Oh, nothing serious. It's just that they're starting to have way too much fun at my expense.

It started when my father sent an e-mail saying his toaster was not making the bread too dark on one side. OK, he was making fun of me in the process and I can live with that.

But then the next day I get another e-mail with pictures of the toast. As if he felt he had to prove it wasn't browning evenly. Which means my mother had to get out the camera and take the photos.

I do have my doubts, though. If you look carefully at those pictures, it seems as if there is a hole in the toast in the first shot that isn't there in the second. Call me suspicious, but I don't think this evidence would hold up before a jury.

And then yesterday I rang home and Dad answered the phone, "Don's Toaster Shop". My mother thought it was all quite a hoot. But this story would have been much more interesting if it wasn't me on the other end.

Since I tend to call around the same time, they're probably relatively sure that it's safe to answer with a joke greeting. However, my mother slipped up the other day. She was sure it was me ringing and answered "Duffy's" only to have one her friend get quite confused that they hadn't connected with Norm and Red's phone. I think it serves her right for assisting my Dad with those pictures of the toast.

(For those of you born after Dwight Eisenhower was president, you probably don't get the reason for her answering "Duffy's". Duffy's Tavern was a radio show in the 40s and a TV series that ran in 1954. Every episode began with "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling". The song was interrupted by a telephone, which was answered, "Duffy's Tavern. Where the elite meet to eat."

Anyhow, I don't really mind my folks having fun at my expense. If you can still get them laughing when you're halfway around the world, then it's not such a bad thing.
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And before I stop with this post, I must tell you of an exchange I had with Linda this morning. It's got nothing to do with anything above, but I do think it will crack up my Dad`.

We were listening to the radio and some analyst started stating the bleeding obvious. "Looks like they're trying to teach granny to suck eggs," I said, as you do when you're talking about teaching something to someone who already knows it quite well.

But then it hit me. "LK," I said, "everyone assumes that grannies know how to suck eggs. You're a grandmother. But do you know how to suck eggs? I certainly don't."

She thought for a second and admitted she didn't know how to suck eggs. "No, I don't. But when we used to make those decorations for the little trees at Eastertime, I learned how to blow eggs."

See. You live with someone for a quarter of a century and you still don't know all of their hidden talents.

The Man Who Came to Dinner

So there we were last night, watching TV. I had the notebook out and was writing an e-mail to Jaki and Robert and was then going to post a blog. It was around 7 when Linda said someone was knocking on the door.

(The cleverest among you are probably saying to yourselves. Oh, I see that he still hasn't got a doorbell. But that's another topic for another time.)

Anyhow, I open the door and to my surprise there is our friend, Bob. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Well, you invited me to dinner, didn't you?" he said.

Well, to be strictly accurate we had invited him for dinner, but it was for the next night. But being a good host is all about making your friends feel welcome and happy to be with you. A bad host would have told Bob he had showed up on the wrong night.

"That was for tomorrow," I told him.

"No," he argued, "it was for tonight."

The good host in me took over. "Doesn't matter," I said. "Come on in and have dinner with us." Sat him down, got him a drink, and let the bad host take over again. My laptop was still on and I called up our e-mails. "Nope, Bob," I said, "definitely tomorrow night. But don't worry 'cuz we are ready to have a good time tonight." Or something to that effect.

Basically I called up the e-mails because I was concerned that maybe I really am losing it, that I am not quite remembering things that I should. I have to tell you I was happy to find out it was my friend who was like that, not me.

The best thing about it all is that it really and truly didn't matter that Bob had made a mistake on the date. Linda has not quite mastered the art of cooking for two. On most nights an entire football team could show up unexpectedly and there would be enough food.

So last night she had two pork loins in the oven when Bob came knocking. She threw in a couple more potatoes, and dinner for three was in the bag.

It also gave me a chance to raid the wine fridges and grab some old bottles. That's something I only do when we have guests. The rest of the time I proudly support my retirement during the global economic crisis by drinking $4.95 bottles that don't even bother putting a vintage year on the label. They actually start tasting good after the first two.

And at the end of the meal, I was able to pull out enough bits of cheese from the little sliding drawer in the fridge that we had a proper cheese plate. I even found some crackers to go with the cheese.

As I said, it really didn't matter to us if Bob came over Monday or Tuesday. And we had a great evening, chatting away until we actually made it to the day Bob was supposed to be here. So in a sense, we were both right.

But because he showed up unexpectedly, we were able to sit back today basking in the glory of actually being able to put on a proper dinner party with no notice and no preparation. Mind you, the next person to knock unexpectedly is just as likely to share a pizza that we have to order, but there's still going to be some nice wines.

Putting the Blah Blah Blah in Blog

One of the results of blogging is that you learn things from out of the blue. So here's just a couple of things I learned this week.

First, after writing about the fact that March 17 is the anniversary of the first date Linda and I were on, my mother couldn't wait to let me know that March 17 was the anniversary of the first date she and my father went on. Begorrah, it is truly a magical day for us Kennedy men.

Second, I learned several things about my father when I received this e-mail this morning:

Hi Don

I have A TOASTER THAT toasts heavy on one side of bread and very lightly on the other side.

If I send it to you could you fix it for us?

Love

Dad

First, I learned that he is a smart ass, which probably explains a lot about why I am the way I am. Second, I learned that he has a little trouble with the CapsLock key. And third, knowing how long it takes him to type, I know that he was willing to spend a massive amount of time just to send me an e-mail making fun of me. Which also explains a lot about me.

Well, I am going to teach him a lesson. I will not fix his toaster for him. He will just have to get used to one-side-soft toast the way the rest of us in the family do.

I also learned via the comment to the Hoop Dreams post that someone else who reads this is a Siena fan. They wrote: Go the Saints! Through round one. I'm rooting with you.

Unfortunately, I am not sure who wrote it, but my detective skills come into play here. At least to the extent that I am pretty sure this person is an American, since no Aussie would tell me they are rooting with me. The reason why is in this earlier post.

I watched the Siena game. It was very exciting as they came back from a big deficit and had to go through two overtime periods to win it. Unfortunately their prize for all that is to play the top seed in the tournament tomorrow, so I am only a little hopeful. Nonetheless, it was still great seeing them win.

And finally the poll on the toaster held very little surprise.

55% said the toaster will be replaced with a new one
33% said it will remain the way it is and
11% said it will be fixed this week.

Interestingly, none of you thought it would blow up if I fixed it. But then that's probably because only one of you think it is going to be fixed. About all I learned from this poll is that you all have very little faith in me. As the Pythons said, He's not the messiah. He's just a very naughty boy. Just give me time, o ye of little faith. Some day I will get tired of one-side-soft toast.

A One-Sided Proposal

OK. I get it. I know you all don't care if I fix the damned toaster or not. You're just having a bit of fun with me. But really, 72% of the votes said that this blog would be better if I fixed the toaster. People, one of your options was more pictures of the most beautiful girl in the world. What were you thinking?

By now I wish I had never written about the stupid toaster in the first place. I know that if I am ever going to get it to work I need to go to the hardware store and get whatever it is I need. But I can't figure out how to do it.

If I bring the toaster in, I look like this big doofus who knows nothing about hardware. Which is true, but I don't want to look like that. Believe me, no guy wants the hardware people to look down their noses at him. And if I try to describe my problem to the people at the store, I cannot figure out how to tell them that I have very small nuts that I need to loosen without them laughing hysterically.

I thought of writing Peter Eland, the guy in the UK who did the picture step-by-step guide to replacing the Dualit element. But he was very, very safety conscious and carried warnings everywhere which basically said "Do not attempt to do this if you are an idiot. And even if you are not an idiot, do not do it unless you really know what you're doing."

How can I reasonably expect this guy to help me out when I tell him I need advice on getting past Step 2 - how to open up the toaster. A step, I might point out, that he considered so elemental that he wrote not one word about how to do it.

So I have been thinking of more creative solutions to this problem, solutions that don't necessarily require fixing the toaster as I originally planned. In the spirit of making lemonade when you get lemons, I am working on a series of breakfast dishes which will use toasted, crispy bread on one side of the slice and soft, untoasted bread on the other side. I will call it one-side-soft toast, so it sounds official.

I may be onto a winner here. After all, whenever you have a toasted sandwich, the outside is toasted, but the inside is soft. So why can't we just deconstruct toasted sandwich and have breakfast dishes that use one-side-soft toast? The combination of textures might even end up being quite pleasing. Some people like their eggs over easy, some don't. Isn't it time we started having the same options with our toast?

The only problem I can foresee is figuring out which side to butter, but I would guess the toasted side will be best since that will make the butter melt. But I should probably run some tests to see what happens when you drop a piece of my one-side-soft toast. It's just possible that the different surfaces and weights make the slice tend to flip over, meaning that one side tends to land face down more often than the other.

And much as Isaac Newton figured out gravity by observing apples falling from their tree, I may be close to also finally solving the problem so that bread does not always fall with the buttered side down. And all thanks to my toaster needing a new element.

I hope my idea works out because I need to do something. Today I made breakfast and LK left the room for awhile. When I was making toast (the old-fashioned, double-sided kind), I forgot to turn one of the slices around to toast the part facing the burnt-out element.

Needless to say, toasting the same side twice made it burn pretty badly. I threw it away quickly and was back at the stove when LK returned. She stopped in her tracks and said, "Something's burning." I tried to act as if she hadn't said anything, but then decided to face the issue head on.

That is to say, I tried to make her think she was crazy. "No, dear," I said. "Everything's under control. Nothing's burning." I felt bad misleading her that way, but I really couldn't handle another toaster discussion at the time. All will be well and we can avoid these marital pitfalls in the future, though, if only she ends up liking one-side soft toast as much as I do.