When constructing a sentence, it’s important to pay attention to proper spelling and punctuation. Take the simple declarative sentence, “Let’s eat, Grandma!” Oh, what a profound difference a missing comma can make. And that’s the point of today’s rant. The next time I hear someone say, “It may be a blessing in the skies,” I just might lose it.No! It’s “a blessing in disguise.” The only blessing in the skies is that your middle school English teacher isn’t alive to hear you say that. We need to talk. Actually, I need to talk. You need to listen.
Sometimes I worry about our educational system. Actually, scratch that – I lie awake in a cold sweat panic about it. Every day, I browse social media or read emails where someone has catastrophically misspelled a commonly used word, completely butchered a classic truism, or otherwise treated English grammer like a rental car – which, by the way, is spelled grammar. I threw that in there to see if your eyes would gloss right over it like a golden retriever blankly staring at a calculus textbook.
My theory is that about thirty percent of Americans slept through middle school English, or spent that time practicing spitball trajectories, doodling heavy metal band logos, or seeing how long they could balance a ruler on their upper lip. (And by the way, it’s slept, not slepped.)
Recently a guy wrote to me that he’s traveling to Antarctica next Febuary. I told him, “No, you’re not.” Because there isn’t any month named Febuary in the Gregorian calendar. There are two R’s in February. Apparently one of them entered the Federal Witness Protection Program sometime during the Reagan Administration and has never been heard from since.
Likewise, you can’t order an expresso at Starbucks. Well… technically you can. But be prepared for the 19-year-old barista who actually knows the proper pronunciation of the word espresso to give you a judgmental (not judgemental) look.
I realize that you probably take for granite that you’ve mastered your mother tongue. But have you really? If so, how is it that you didn’t even notice that my use of “take for granite” should have read “take for granted”? Unless you are a geologist discussing a countertop, you need to pay closer attention.
Then there’s the person who proudly announces, “Me and Larry saw the funniest movie.” Nope. “Larry and I” did. “Me” is an object. You know… like the grammar textbook you apparently used as a pillow during class. While we’re reviewing elementary school material, you mispelled “misspelled.” And “cat” is still spelled C-A-T. I checked. Nothing has changed.
I realize that, for all intensive purposes, I’m probably talking to a brick wall. A wall that didn’t even blink at the fact that the phrase is actually “for all intents and purposes.”
Last week someone told me her seven-year-old son had told a bold-faced lie. Unless he somehow lied in 18-point Helvetica Black, the word she was looking for was bald-faced. As in bare, naked, and completely uncovered. Like her lack of vocabulary. Leave typography out of this.
And for the record… It is not a doggy-dog world. It’s dog-eat-dog. Nobody wants you to be their escape goat. A scapegoat is a sacrificial lamb of blame; an escape goat is just a farm animal that figured out how to unlatch the pasture gate. And please don’t nip it in the butt. That sounds less like good advice and more like a criminal charge. The expression is nip it in the bud.
Your 9th grade English teacher probably did not tell you your essay passed mustard. Unless she was grading hot dogs. It’s passed muster. One belongs in a sentence. The other belongs on a bratwurst.
Then there are my personal favorites. You don’t loose your wallet. You lose your wallet. Loose is how your pants fit after six months on Ozempic. You’re not balling your eyes out. Unless you’re draining three-pointers while sobbing uncontrollably, you’re bawling. You don’t wait with baited breath unless someone has attached worms to your face. You wait with bated breath.
And if you’re weary of your neighbor’s barking dog, that’s because you’re tired of hearing it. If you’re wary of your neighbor, it’s because he owns seventeen lawn gnomes and keeps inviting you to cryptocurrency seminars. There’s a difference.
And while we’re cleaning house… It’s could have. Not could of. Somewhere along the line, “could’ve” got mugged in a dark alley and woke up as “could of.”
A word about the annoying overuse of apostrophes… If you’re selling three tomato’s for a dollar, your vegetables don’t own anything. They don’t need an apostrophe. Neither do DVD’s, taco’s, banana’s, or emoji’s. Stop sprinkling apostrophes around like you’re seasoning French fries.
Then come the championship contenders… The people who confuse your and you’re. Or there, their, and they’re. Every time I see someone write, “Your an idiot,” a tiny part of my soul packs its bags and moves to Canada.
And don’t even get me started on people who end every sentence with three exclamation points!!! One exclamation point says you’re excited. Three says you’ve just spotted Bigfoot riding a unicycle while being chased by Elvis. Use them sparingly. Please!!!
Now, I realize I may sound like an insufferable know-it-all. That’s fair. I’ve earned it. Some of you are probably grinding your teeth right now while muttering, “I could care less what this pretentious jerk thinks” – that’s, of course, assuming you knew the meaning of the word pretentious.
Once again…your, er, I mean, you’re wrong. It’s I couldn’t care less. If you could care less, then you still care at least a little – which, frankly, gives me hope. Because maybe – just maybe – you’ll remember one thing from this column. Probably not.
But perhaps, somewhere out there, someone who was about to order an expresso in Febuary while telling his friend that he had passed mustard will pause, take a deep breath … and decide to remain silent.
If this article saves just one innocent apostrophe from a life of abuse, prevents one escape goat from being dragged into another clichéd conversation about this doggy-dog world, or keeps one unsuspecting flower from being nipped in the butt…well, then my work here is done. To be honest, I really could care less.
In the meantime, go open a dictionary.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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Tyrannosaurus Rex – “King of the Tyrant Lizards” – was perhaps the most ferocious dinosaur of all. With a bite force of up to 6 tons—strong enough to crush cars—and over 50 banana-sized teeth, he was a terrifying predator. But you should have seen him try to eat spaghetti, with those spindly little front legs. Pathetic.
I recently watched a fascinating four-part dinosaur documentary on Netflix produced by Steven Spielberg. Giant creatures, epic landscapes, dramatic narration by Morgan Freeman, and lots of computer-generated reptiles stomping around looking extremely confident about their place in the food chain – right up until the moment a giant space rock decided to cancel their subscription to “Living.”
I’m a bit of an amateur paleontologist myself. (I once found what I believe was a fossilized chicken wing behind a Buffalo Wild Wings, though the manager insisted it was just “from Tuesday.”) So, I decided to dig a little deeper into dinosaur history.
After hours of intensive research, which included documentaries, Wikipedia, and a rather suspicious Reddit thread authored by someone named PrehistoricPete420, I uncovered several astonishing findings that scientists have been strangely reluctant to publish. Until now.
Here are nine surprising dinosaur facts you probably never knew.
Dinosaurs once lived in Antarctica.
Yes – Antarctica. Today the continent is a frozen wasteland where the only residents are penguins, research scientists, and the occasional documentary film crew wearing parkas the size of camping tents.
But millions of years ago, Antarctica had forests, rivers, and enough vegetation to support dinosaurs. Imagine being a massive sauropod strolling through lush Antarctic ferns, totally unaware that in the future the same location would host graduate students studying ice cores while questioning every life decision that brought them there. It’s a reminder that real estate values can change significantly over 100 million years.
Dinosaurs were surprisingly responsible parents.
Evidence suggests many dinosaurs cared for their young by building nests and protecting eggs. Imagine that prehistoric parents likely experienced many of the same daily parenting struggles as modern humans:
Kids refusing to eat their prehistoric vegetables.
Kids fighting over who got to sit on the “good” rock. (That’s prehistoric for “riding shotgun”.)
Kids asking “Are we there yet?” during long migrations across Pangea.
Except in this case, the children weighed three tons and had claws that could slice a Toyota Prius in half.
Their brains were… well, “compact.”
We’ve all heard that the Stegosaurus had a brain the size of a walnut. While that’s a bit of an exaggeration (it was more like a lime), it does explain a lot. If your brain is the size of a citrus fruit and your body is the size of a city bus, you aren’t spending your afternoons solving Wordle or pondering the existential dread of the Mesozoic Era. You are mostly focused on two things: “Is that a bush?” and “Can I eat it?” It was a simpler time.
At left: The Argentinosaurus – one of the largest creatures ever to walk the earth. He was so large, it would take roughly 20,000 housecats to equal his weight. At right: an artist’s conception of what that might look like.
Dinosaurs had “Fashion Trends” (mostly feathers).
For decades, we thought dinosaurs were scaly, like giant crocodiles. Now, paleontologists believe many of them – including T-Rex – actually had feathers. This changes everything. Instead of a terrifying, leather-skinned monster, the T-Rex might have looked like a 40-foot-tall, angry chicken with a bad attitude. It’s much harder to be intimidated by a predator when it looks like it’s sashaying in a feather boa. “Look out! Here comes the King of the Lizards… and he looks FABULOUS!”
The asteroid didn’t kill every dinosaur instantly.
When the famous asteroid struck the Earth near what is now the Yucatán Peninsula, it caused catastrophic climate disruption. But contrary to popular belief, not every dinosaur vanished instantly in a Michael Bay-style explosion.
Some survived weeks or even months before finally succumbing to collapsing ecosystems and what scientists describe as “a truly toxic job market.” With the sun blocked by dust, the price of basic groceries skyrocketed. Kale became a luxury item. Wine prices were particularly brutal, which is a tragedy because if ever there was a time a dinosaur needed a stiff Pinot Grigio, it was during a global firestorm extinction event.
Dinosaurs could roar, but they probably couldn’t talk.
Despite several beloved children’s movies in which dinosaurs hold full conversations about their feelings and the importance of teamwork, most scientists agree that dinosaurs lacked the vocal structures for articulate speech.
A hungry Allosaurus probably could not say: “Excuse me, Mr. Stegosaurus, but you look absolutely delicious today. Is that a hint of wild fern I smell on your breath?” Instead, it likely communicated something closer to: “RRRRAAAAAAWWWWWR.” Which, to be fair, gets the point across equally effectively – and with significantly less small talk.
Most dinosaurs were terrible at math.
Based on my research, it is highly unlikely that the average dinosaur could count past the number three, mostly because they lacked fingers and spent most of their cognitive energy trying to put one foot in front of the other.
Imagine a peaceful herd of grazing hadrosaurs looking up to see a pack of Tyrannosaurus Rexes charging toward them. One hadrosaur squints into the distance.
“Hmm. One T-Rex… two T-Rexes… three T-Rexes…” Long pause. “…well, this seems manageable.”
Moments later, the herd realizes there are actually twelve T-Rexes, at which point the final thought recorded in the fossil record was: “Uh oh! Oh, no! …We’re so screwed!” (Or words to that effect, likely involving a lot of terrified squawking).
There is no credible evidence dinosaurs used cutlery.
Most dinosaurs simply ground their food with their teeth, skipping entirely the evolutionary step involving forks, knives, and salad tongs. This made dinner parties incredibly efficient but very hard on the upholstery.
There was one excavation in eastern China in the early 1990s that briefly caused excitement when researchers discovered what looked like primitive chopsticks near a Triceratops skeleton. Some experts speculated this might prove that Triceratops had developed an early utensil culture. Unfortunately, the theory collapsed when investigators noticed the chopsticks had the words “Panda Express” printed on the side and a coupon for a free Spring Roll. Science can be cruel that way.
Could the Triceratops actually eat with cutlery, as some researchers have speculated? Um, no. Those researchers are idiots. Forks and knives didn’t exist way back then. That said, Triceratops were extremely adept at foraging and – now this may surprise you – quilting. Science is amazing!
If the asteroid had missed, dinosaurs might still rule the world.
This is the truly mind-bending thought. If that asteroid had sailed harmlessly past Earth, dinosaurs might still dominate our planet. Picture it: Dinosaur governments. Dinosaur corporate retreats. Dinosaur traffic jams where the “honking” is just literal 110-decibel bellows.
Would they have eventually invented smartphones? Probably not. We may never know.
But one thing seems likely: Very few dinosaurs would have subscribed to my humor column. Not because they lacked the intellect [my humor column doesn’t require much of that]. No, it’s because observational humor about the annoying neighbors and airline food simply doesn’t land the same when your average day involves eating 400 pounds of raw ferns or being chased by a creature with teeth the size of foot-long Ginsu steak knives.
Some audiences are just hard to reach – especially when they’ve been extinct for 66 million years.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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[Author’s note: Since 1997, it’s been my tradition to give a graduation commencement speech – whether I’ve been invited to or not. This year, in light of the Coronavirus quarantines, I gave my speech remotely. Below are excerpts from this year’s stirring oratory. You might want to have a Kleenex nearby. – TEJ]
“Dear students, faculty, staff, and mascot of this great institution. It is indeed an honor to almost be here with you for this video commencement address. Thanks for attending – I know you’d rather be playing Call of Duty.“
Congratulations, Class of 2020. I am deeply honored to be your commencement speaker. Due to the current health crisis, I almost had to bail and ask my close personal friend Barack Obama to fill in. Luckily, I am virtually here for you via Zoom, though I long to be strolling on the hallowed grounds of your renowned university, checking out the Tri Delts.
I greet you from my couch in my man cave, draped in formal commencement speaker garb – cap, gown and fuzzy bunny slippers – filled with pride for what you have achieved – well, most of you, anyway. Accompanying me is my trusty feline, Bonkers. Wave to the camera, Bonkers.
First a point of business. While a cap and gown are optional for this unique graduation ceremony, a dress code of boxers and bras is a tad too informal. So, for those of you with your video cameras on (Bonkers has counted 67 so far), I would thank you to please don a bathrobe.
Our nation is living through a nightmare unlike any in living memory – more upsetting even than the 2011 breakup of The White Stripes. I have faith that we will survive, providing we stick together (albeit six feet apart) and remember to WIPE and WEAR. Wipe down everything you touch and wear a mask. Oh, and remain in your parents’ basement until a vaccine is found – which according to my doctor’s latest estimate looks like October 2023.
Speaking of parents, join me in acknowledging all the sacrifices they’ve made over the past two to three decades, preparing you for this moment. From teaching you to ride a bike to helping you erupt that volcano in 4th grade (let’s face it, your mom did most of the work), to chewing out your English teacher for not giving their angel a B+, your parents were always there to support you. And they will continue to do so, for God knows how much longer. Let’s give these heroic folks an enthusiastic round of applause – by clicking on the clapping hands icon at the top of your screen.
Today we reflect on the past four years – or seven in the case of you accounting majors who flunked statistics, changed your major to astronomy, bailed on that and committed to astrology, only to discover there have been no job openings for astrologists since…, well, since ever.
Whether you pursued a degree in engineering, psychology or Medieval French Poetry, there is one thing you all have in common: a future with limitless opportunities in exhilarating enterprises, such as delivering groceries or restocking the cleaning products in Costco – both of which are booming these days.
Disappointment abounds. No hanging out at the mall, no concerts or bar hopping. Such a bummer that the final frat party blowout was cancelled. Nice try with your good pitch citing the germ-killing benefits of ingesting massive quantities of beer. Consider celebrating with your mates via Zoom. On the positive side, you won’t need a designated driver to get home.
Thanks to the economic collapse (and your impressive 2.3 GPA), that dream job you were hoping for in Silicon Valley has evaporated, like a puff of smoke, carried off by the wind, elusive, never to be found…. I apologize. I was thinking of my book deal that just got canned. Even worse, your graduation trip to Italy had to be scrapped because of the pandemic. My advice: Don’t underestimate the pleasures of a hometown staycation. I hear some pubs and parks may reopen later this month. And Frisbee golf is making a comeback.
It’s entirely normal to have pangs of dread about what is to come, given your lack of any discernible skills and a college debt that exceeds the GNP of Cameroon. Add to that the looming beef shortage, threats of nuclear attack from North Korea, the alienation of our NATO allies, and the specter of Trump’s re-election, it’s no wonder you’re a tad on edge. However, I say, “Have hope. Think of your glass as half full” – okay, maybe 10% full is more accurate.
Though your situation may appear bleak, there are plenty of reasons to feel hopeful about the world today – if you happen to be wildlife. It’s an incredible time to be a peacock or mountain goat. They can roam almost anywhere they like lately.
As you embark on this next exciting chapter of life, I countenance you to go out and make a change. And by “go out”, I mean, go outside to your backyard and get some fresh air. And by “make a change” I mean your clothes. You’ve been wearing the same T-shirt and sweatpants for three weeks. Take a shower, while you’re at it. I can smell you from here.
Eventually you will change the world. But for the moment, just change your expectations instead. I hear Amazon is hiring forklift operators.
Graduates, I encourage you to remain positive – unless we are talking about COVID-19, then by all means, I pray you’ll remain negative. Don’t forget to wash your hands, use Purell, and practice safe social distancing. And think of all the rent you’ll save by living in your parents’ basement for the next 24 – 36 months.
In closing, my advice as you stare into the abyss that is your future, is … um … uh … Sorry. I got nothing. Nada. I’m just glad I’m not graduating this year. That would totally suck. So, good luck. There’s a 57% chance things will get better … someday.
Now please take a second to click on the RATE ME button. If I earn 4.5 stars, the university will email me a $100 Target gift card.
Congratulations to the Class of 2020! Go make yourself useful. You can start by emptying the dishwasher. It’s not going to empty itself. [CLICK. The speaker has left the meeting.]
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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[The following are excerpts from a recent high school graduation address given by Tim Jones. The name of affluent, private school has been withheld to spare the institution further shame and embarrassment for having selected Mr. Jones to deliver the address. – TEJ]
Recently I gave a high school commencement address. Mostly I just read out loud some old VFTB columns I’d written about Donald Trump. Not sure the kids could hear me over the rap music pounding in their ear buds. I must say, those three hours just flew by.
I would like to thank everyone who made today possible. The esteemed faculty, administrators, guidance counselors and even the disgraced former assistant coaches, for everything they’ve done to help all of you reach this important milestone.
I would also like to acknowledge the countless contributions of your self-sacrificing parental figures, by whom I mean your mom, dad, step-dad, other step-dad, and nannies.
Perhaps most importantly, I want to acknowledge the makers of Ritalin and Adderall for helping you kids stay focused enough to complete an impressive 37% of your assignments.
Congratulations, [REDACTED] High School class of 2019. As I look around this dimly lit auditorium and behold a sea of mortarboards atop designer sunglasses, I am struck by all the untapped potential.
I ask you, the co-leaders of tomorrow, to indulge me as I impart a few pearls of wisdom. First, though, I sincerely apologize if my musings distract you from the text messages about tonight’s rave party at Nate’s. I hear it will be “totally lit” because his parents just left for Italy.
You will soon leave the halls of this fine institution behind. Some of you will embark on the journey called “life- how to avoid it”, thanks to your parents’ untraceable bribe that got you into Stanford. Well done, mom and dad. You have four more years to avoid facing reality – that is, unless you are expelled freshman year for never attending class. You might want to rethink your longstanding policy of playing League of Legends till 4a.m. (LOL!)
For those of you not fortunate enough to possess incriminating photos of the Dean of Admissions at the college of your choice (or any college), no worries. There are countless other career options awaiting you after your graduate from [Fill in the blank] Technical College: Horse Inseminator, Sewage Diver, Deodorant Tester, Roadkill Removal Specialist… The world is your oyster, as in oyster shucker. Go for it.
Congratulations, proud high school graduates. You did it! Your future looks bright. I am sure, if you look hard enough, you’ll find that dream six-figure, 20-hour/week job as a cruise ship bartender that you richly deserve. Reach for the stars!
Then there’s the rest of you – you know who you are. You decided college is not for you because you know everything already. Of course, you do. But three months from now, in the off chance your well-thought-out career plan is not unfolding as hoped, and your dreams of making millions as a day trader living in your parents’ basement are not panning out, please drop me a note when you apply for the coveted cashier position at McDonald’s or Burger King. Tough decision. My advice: Hold out for Mickey D’s. Better fries.
Soon into your university experience, you will be required to declare a major. The pressure is enormous, having to make a decision. So many enticing options: Medieval Astrological Studies, Auctioneering, Floral Management, Bagpiping…. One thing is certain: whatever you choose, it will be the wrong choice, which you will not discover until 3 semesters and $45,000 later. When you end up jobless with $100,000 in college loans due, don’t freak out. Remember, your parents co-signed the loans, so technically, they’re liable. Problem solved.
Graduates, I must forewarn you: there will be adjustments as you go forth. The biggest will be that there is no longer a helicopter pad for your parents. Your college professor will not take a call from your mommy explaining that your allergies were acting up and you could not finish the term paper. Your boss will not engage in a text dialogue with your daddy about why you deserve a raise for not missing a day of work in three weeks. You’re in the big leagues now.
I realize some of this might come as a disappointment, but out in the real world, things are a little different. By all means, congratulations on those trophies for Toddler T-ball participation and your 4th grade project on the planets (even though you left out three of them, including Earth). Cherish the Gold Star for picking up most of the crayons you threw across the classroom in 7th grade. And your cogent debate team argument that Lil Wayne is a greater influence in the music world than the Beatles, well, that’s one for yearbook.
I admit, the fact you’ve memorized the lyrics to every Ariana Grande song is pretty “dope” and should count for something. But then, I’m a fan. However, I’m here to tell you that the world out there may not value your incredible childhood “achievements” as much as your parents did.
There are no Smiley Stickers for showing up to work on time. And while it might not seem fair, you probably won’t get that corner office in Chicago with a view of the Pacific when they promote you from Administrative Assistant to Administrative Specialist. Be patient.
These are the proud parents of Joey Grimaldi. He graduated with a 2.3 GPA and was voted “Most Likely to Succeed – with the Babes.” He’s decided to forgo college for a gap year as he entertains his options – both stock and dating. To fund this venture, he plans to live at home and ask his parents for a raise in his allowance.
Your unlimited self-confidence is impressive. You can thank your parents for that, because ever since you were in the womb, they told you incessantly how amazing you were and how you could do anything you set your mind to.
I hate to break it to you, kids. Actually, you’re not quite as special as you think you are. And here is a word you’ll need to get used to hearing: No. As in, “No, we’re not going to install a hot tub in the employee lounge to inspire your creativity.” And “No, you can’t take four days off next week to attend Coachella with ‘your posse.’ We’re on deadline.”
The truth of the matter is, in the real world, not everyone is a winner. Some of us end up losing. If you don’t believe me, google “Gary Busey.” You’re not a real winner if you can’t handle losing. You need to learn how to pick yourself up, learn from your mistakes, and push onward. (Readers, I apologize for the previous words of profound wisdom. They came from left field.)
Students, in closing, it’s time someone told you the truth about how life beyond your parents’ protective cocoon actually works. It isn’t always fair. Mom won’t be there to tell your boss to stop being so mean to you for assigning so much work. And success might take a little more effort, persistence, and time than it took for you to break your record score in Grand Theft Auto.
Hey, I could be wrong. Maybe you are every bit as perfect as your parents have protested for the past 18 years. But before you show up at that important interview for the killer job as a video game tester, you might want to remember to say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” give a firm handshake, and make direct eye contact. Oh, and take the ear buds out.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but, begrudgingly, I may have to put my island life retirement on pause and return to work. That’s because odds are I will be selected as the next president of my alma mater, the prestigious University of Virginia.
You see, I received this email from some guy named Louis something-or-other, whose title is “Rector”, whatever that means. Sounds important. So, Louis informs me the University of Virginia is seeking my input as an esteemed alumnus as to who should be the school’s next head honcho. He even included a survey. I love surveys.
Naturally, I was deeply honored by this personal invitation he sent to me and 27,000 other alumni. I sure hope he overlooks that my last donation to UVa was in 1985. I was short on cash then, so I sent a $25 Starbucks gift card regifted to me for Christmas.
The more I looked at Louis’s questions, the more obvious it became that I was the perfect candidate. Check out the survey and my responses below.
Dear University of Virginia alumnus: Identifying the right leader for our future will depend upon the collective wisdom of the University community, so we appreciate you sharing your thoughts via this survey.
When you think of the University of Virginia, what sort of community do you envision the next president fostering?
MY RESPONSE: As your next university president, I envision a community that believes in effective communication. That’s why I would give special funding to Speech Communication, my extremely lame major, which only qualified me to flip burgers for a living or go on to grad school. It’s time we make Speech Communication the major of the future.
I just returned from my 40th college reunion. It was an amazing experience to reconnect with many people I have not seen in decades. What college did I attend, you ask? Well if you guessed Harvard University, you’re extremely close – in fact, my alma mater shares several letters in common with Harvard, including a V, an R, an A and the entire word “University” (University of Virginia).
One thing I’ve always preached to my daughters is the importance of being authentic, and to be proud of who you are – which can be a challenge at times when you realize you’re a humor writer. To be honest, I was a little anxious about seeing my old college cronies. Sure, I’ve had my share of achievements since I graduated – like having never once been convicted of a major felony. Or the fact that I am a published author of a book that has sold roughly 100,000 copies (if you round up to the nearest 100,000).
I arrived at the reunion’s opening reception, and the first person I met was Brett Farnsworth III. I told him I wrote a weekly humor blog. As though he were experiencing an adverse Pavlovian reaction to the word “blog”, Brett abruptly excused himself, proclaiming he had to step away for a phone interview with CNN to discuss his role spearheading NASA’s manned flight program to Mars – ETA: 2022.
Next, I bumped into Richard Brantley, who lived two doors down in my first-year dorm. “Tim, wow, I barely recognized you with your weight gain. And when did you lose so much hair?” I started feeling a bit self-conscious, but I tried to be polite, asking him what he’d been up to in recent years. “Oh, nothing much,” he started. “Same old – same old. Still Senior Vice President of Global Strategy for Apple. What about you?” A nagging feeling was mushrooming inside me that my career accomplishments might not stack up to those of my fellow alums.
In an attempt to preserve my rapidly crumbling self-esteem, I went into improv mode. “Um, well, since you asked…. I was recently promoted to Executive Senior Vice President of International Brand Management for P&G – you know, Proctor & Gamble. I just flew in from our Geneva manufacturing facility for the reunion.” Okay, so I lied. Sue me. I just didn’t know how to make “I write blogs about being a bad parent” sound impressive. On the one hand, I felt badly about the ruse. On the other hand, Richard was clearly awed by how I engineered a five percent gain in market share in our consumer brands division in my first quarter in the job. So much for my plans to be authentic.
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