Dozer, the bulldog

Dozer, the bulldog
Dozer: the last photo shoot. He was the best dog on the planet.

Tomato Madness

Tomato Madness
The author of Mark's Work

Hollyhocks and zinnias

Hollyhocks and zinnias
Why I grow flowers

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.
Air-borne bees

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast
Love is the greatest power.

Tomatoes are us.

Tomatoes are us.
Smoked paprika catsup, here at HappyDay Farms

Packing some heat...

Packing some heat...
These peppers know how to party!

Halloween fun

Halloween fun
Lito and Keelee

Our house

Our house
The snow season approaches...

Mahlon Masling Blue

Mahlon Masling Blue
My friend and brother.

Mark's E-mail address

bellspringsmark@gmail.com

Saturday, July 8, 2017

I Don't Throw Tantrums-I Lob Them

“Work?!” Maynard G. Krebs (Dobie Gillis Show)

“Let us be happy in our work.” Colonel Saito (Bridge on the River Kwai)/R.P. O’Neill 

“A street sweeper came whistlin’ by/He was bouncing every step
It seemed strange how good he felt/So I asked him while he swept.

He said, ‘It’s my job to be cleaning up this mess/And that’s enough reason for me,
It’s my job to be better than the rest/And that makes the day for me.’”
Jimmy Buffett

Whether you adopt a shocked acceptance of your fate, when it comes to whatever form of employment you must engage in, to keep Bill(s) happy, or whether you prefer to fight it every centimeter of the way, all of us gotta work.

Unless you are independently wealthy, and I just know SO many of those folks, you’re toting that barge and lifting that bale, in order to bring home the bacon. Some of us go out into the world to accomplish this; others do so from the comfort of their own homes.
I work on a farm; I carry a pitchfork. My only boss is the squeaky wheel-right now my boss is a pesky gopher problem. Last week it was the weed problem; next week it will be fill-in-the-blank: mildew, root rot, bud worms, tomato worms, a water crisis, et al.

I don’t have a boss, per se, because the job is so overwhelming, I don’t need a boss to tell me that my to-do list is way too long. Whereas BossLady is THE boss, she knows that I am self-driven; after all, she’s married to my son.

I have a long history of working in professions where I have no one above me, guiding me on the correct path. When I taught, I had a principal, but once that classroom door closed, either I was the boss or the eighth grade was.

It just depended on what day of the week it was, and whether or not the planets and stars were aligned properly.

When I was in the trades, I either built houses or my family went hungry, or a little of both if I worked for flaky folks.There was no boss telling me to get out and hustle.

When I worked for eight years as an auto parts clerk, I worked my way into first management, where I was the boss, and then I ran the delivery service. My only bosses were my customers, and they were dependent on me to keep them supplied with auto parts, so it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

In the army, I had more bosses than I knew what to do with, so I created a brand new system for my personnel management division to follow, making me the “boss.” For this I not only got out from under direct management, I also received an ARCOM (Army Commendation Medal), a twofer if ever there were one.
Every Boss, USA

The only job I ever had where I had the iconic boss, was at Sunrize Market, and I’ve written enough about Augie that I need not add anything to it now. The best thing is that I was still a malleable young man, and whereas I fought tooth and nail with Augie, I also learned to play ball with him. That way I didn’t get the bat broken over my head, retail clears union or not.

Were the order reversed, and I had Augie as a boss late in life, I wouldn’t have. Pure and simple.

I wouldn't consider myself a cranky old man, if for no other reason than it’s hard to indulge in cannabis all day, and be too cranky, but that’s mainly because no one is telling me what to do. 

In that regard, I align myself with every eighth grader who ever lived: Ask me to do anything and I will say yes; tell me what to do, and you will die of old age waiting for me to do it. I’m worse than a two-year-old, except I don’t throw tantrums anymore.


It's more of a soft lob.

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