Opening Titles and Closing Remarks

At John Bethell Title Company, Inc., we pride ourselves on staying Ahead of the Curve.  Anticipating the unexpected. Keeping our clients well informed. Well guys, I blew it on this one. I should have got this message out much sooner. I failed. I am profoundly sorry.  Fortunately, as I post this, there's still a few hours left for you avoid the humiliation and ridicule that will surely follow. Cancel your afternoon appointments and get right on this.

You see guys, today is National Men Make Dinner Day. I'm not making this up. (If it's on the Internet, it must be true, right?) I'm rushing to get this out so I only have time to highlight a few of the rules and protocols. You can read about this important day in its entirety at http://www.menmakedinnerday.com/home/index.php.

Here are a couple of the more important rules:

Rule #4: Main meal must include minimum of 4 ingredients and require at least one cooking utensil other than a fork.

Rule #8: Following recipe carefully, man starts to cook dinner! Apron is optional, tool belt is not allowed. (bonus points if recipe includes one of the following : capers, saffron, or the word 'scaloppini').

So why should men want to participate in this? Well the website offers the Top 10 Reasons, here are a couple of one's that to me stick out.

Reason #7: Whoever cooks, always gets the most attention from the family dog.

Reason #3: Some desserts, such as crème brulee, require the use of a propane torch. How cool is that?!!

So here's what I'll be doing tonight.

In case you're thinking you can finesse this with BBQ, here's the answer to whether that's permitted:  "No. Since the discovery of fire, men have laid claim to cooking over open flame. The challenge of working a typical kitchen is far greater and considered a more unfamiliar environment."

 My last BBQ it poured rain and I looked like this, so it's probably a good thing it's not permitted.

Again, I'm sorry for not getting this out sooner. I promise to do better next year. Stop back tomorrow and let me know how it went, OK?

We just completed a major upgrade to our network server.

Completed as in your loan approval is completed except for these 43 stips; upgrade; as in 3 years this will work much better than what you're using now; network, as in that virtual binary ether of bits, bytes and bps that revolutionized the way we communicate with each other, if only we talked with each other; server, as in the human's role when interacting with technology platforms.

We upgraded to Small Business Server 2003.  I figure whoever owns the company after I die can give serious thought as to whether the 2007 version is stable enough yet. I am not Ahead of the Curve when it comes to operating systems.

Tracy, a long time friend and gifted systems putter togetherer extraordinaire - what do they call guys like him, anyway? - drove all the way down from Detroit. Tracy is a rare computer guy who is comfortable with himself about what he doesn't know. It makes a difference in implementing technology, because he thoroughly researches everything he tries.

Joining the quest was Jack; our full time data base administrator and trusty level one technical support deity.  Jack was born with not one, but two patience chromosomes; an essential genetic characteristic when dealing with computers, waiting in queue for tech support, or interacting with local government officials. This chromosome is sadly missing from my own DNA.

Together, we engaged in a life or death struggle with the evil empire that is Microsoft's® full time technical writing nation.

Technical writers, as in squirrels that place tiny acorns of mission critical information in hidden directories on the ‘C' drive labeled "things we didn't tell you because we take perverted pleasure in imagining what you'll do while trying to figure this out."

Appropriate, I suppose, since October is "squirrel awareness month."  

btw - Word 2007®, presumably written by these folks, just alerted me that Microsoft® is not in the program dictionary . . . Hmmmm? In case you're wondering, I just checked, and Google® is in the dictionary. That's just too funny!

The quest started out rocky when UPS air dropped the server that we'd shipped to Tracy so he could start the configuration.  Tracy found some replacement parts for the fatally wounded machine on EBay®.

EBay®, as in where mostly you bid online for either 1:) things to give your girlfriend, hoping she'll believe that you paid retail or 2:) golf clubs.

Tracy and the server arrived Saturday afternoon and we (as in he) got started. The server booted up. The firewalls booted up. The auxiliary disc array booted up. We didn't break the Internet. We oozed confidence. We called it a night feeling satisfied.

Early Sunday morning, joined by Jack, we were back at it.  It didn't start well. The firewalls that worked last night, took Sunday off.

Firewalls, as in a part of a network security scheme that by default assumes you want absolutely no contact with the civilized universe.

Tracy spent about four hours Googling (not in the Word® 2007 dictionary, btw), configuring, testing and even guessing a little to figure out why.  Turns out Tracy just made the amateur mistake of following the Installation Sorcerer's instructions to the letter.

Installation Sorcerer, as in a program wizard that assumes that you'd already done a dozen other steps it never told you about when trying to cast the correct spell to activate the equipment. (see squirrels, above)

Eventually, he got the firewalls to at least let the email message through while keeping the attachments for their own evil purposes. Hmm . . . closings will be shorter.

Next we started migrating data over to the new server and configuring the workstations.

Configuration, as in following the Installation Sorcerer's instructions. Fail. Go back and do something else. Follow the Sorcerer's instructions. Fail again. Go back and do two others things it didn't tell you. Follow the Sorcerer's instructions. Fail again. Repeat process until thoroughly pissed.

Eventually we got the workstations configured. We check and not all the data migrated. Some of it is lollygagging around on the old server, laughing and giving us the raspberries. Trying not to let our feelings be hurt, we persevere. It is now about 10:00 p.m. I am falling asleep in my chair. Jack is drooping. Tracy, who is allergic to sunlight, is just cranking up. Eventually, good things start to happen. Server is working. Workstations are working. Printers are working. We think we got it licked. We go home. It's 1:00 a.m.

We spent most of Monday pushing string uphill, but by the time Tracy leaves at 5:00 p.m. everything is under control. Jack and I spend the better part of the week dealing with remaining little issues.

Little issues, as in things the computer is doing you've never seen happen before and have no clue why.

It's now Friday evening. I am exhausted. But for the most part everything is working and working well. Until the next time we upgrade our server and network. After I've retired.

Did I mention that October is Sarcasm Awareness Month?

Intense is the only way to describe the debate in my office last Friday. Intense and full of conviction. And passion! Everyone is deeply passionate about their position on the matter. Intense, full of conviction and passion!

It started mid-afternoon. We're all feeling a little on edge. I've been through downturns and slumps before. Most of my employees are young. Wild and busy times are all they know. The great smooth or nubby debate released a waterfall of emotion, catching me off guard.

In the end, I was isolated; trying hopelessly to advocate my position. No one was buying. I looked to Tammy, our Sales VP for support. Using skills she's honed over years of selling - wanting to acknowledge and validate everyone's position - she completely ducked taking sides. Waving her hands and turning away she left me on my own . . . alone . . . isolated. Like the nubby one on the ledge by the copier.

Kara is a terrific Closer. She is assertive when the situation warrants. She did not back down. When I questioned her belief that - "everyone knows that smooth is better!" - immediately she turned to Stephanie and Jeanette for testimonials. I heard a litany of reasons why smooth is better ending with the most convincing argument so far - "Nubby is icky!"

For further confirmation of my cluelessness, they get Jamie and Barbie from our Eastside office on the speaker phone. Stunned, I listened to Jamie, as nice a person as you'll ever meet, immediately and without coaxing, deliver a fiery rant that completely undermines my position. "Of course smooth is better", she concludes, as if only a moron could believe otherwise.

Desperate now, I called to Jack and Elizabeth, two of our abstractors, for help. They sat quietly with a smirk. That abstractor smirk I've often seen across the room in the Recorder's office. That smirk that says "I know the answer; too bad that I am not a part of your conversation."  No help at all.

So, here is the question. Smooth or nubby? Paper clips that is. Which are better; smooth or nubby paper clips?

The emboldened majority insists that smooth paper clips are better. That's what we'll use in the office. They must be obeyed. I am an independent thinker, a maverick, and my own man. I will use nubby clips from the secret stash in my desk drawer.

How about you? Smooth or nubby? We all want to know.