I received a call last night from someone in HR who works for a company which might like to hire me. Interesting. Exciting. And, I have a nexus to the company. But, it's a shit show: executive management has turned over repeatedly in the last few years, sales have declined, stores have closed, the growth strategy is non-existent, the founder is the major shareholder, his son is an executive, and only one sell-side analyst covers the stock which is depressed. Fantastic! A real fixer-upper. I'm in, if the details like "what's the fucking job?" work out. I spent three hours today doing homework on the company and became more and more horrified – and more and more interested. I'm having a follow-up conversation with the woman tomorrow afternoon.
My father thinks I should work for Trump. Interesting. Exciting. I have no nexus to the presidency. But, it's a shit show!
Jean opened present number two last night and she loved it. It's a t-shirt with Snoopy reclining under whom words say, "Nope. Not today." I ordered three more of the same t-shirt (it's not available in other colors) so she'll have a lifetime supply. That was fun. What she thought was present number three was something actually that her work shipped her. That means present number three is yet to come!
Siobhan M. Knox
In May 2016, I bought a five ton, 25’ long Class C motorhome because I like to drive, I like to travel, and it’s more fun and less expensive than living in a hotel. No prior RV experience was required, and I had none: perfect. I’m writing a book about my adventures which will come to an end when I get a job. The dogs will be sad.