Daddy needs a new pair of shoes

Not really, but it's time for a real job.  I had an interview last week with a CPA firm trying to screen candidates for a local retailer who desperately needs a financial person.  The retailer has been around for a million years, but the top dog died a few years ago and now the son-in-law is trying to run things.  2012 wasn't a good year and they're stuck in a rut of not knowing exactly how they want to proceed.

Over the past few years, they've gone from having a financial person to getting rid of him/her to save costs to deciding they need one to not knowing if they need one.  As of last week, they've decided they need someone.  So, I interviewed with the accounting firm trying to help them out.

In a perfect world, it's a match made in heaven.  They have no one to manage their cash and expenses and need someone to question the way they do things and I am good at managing cash and expenses and giving my opinion of how shitty things are done.  The accounting firm guy admitted my background was a perfect fit and I admitted the company really needed what I could offer.

My job is to wait to hear from them about actually interviewing with the CEO.  As it stands, we're a bit off on money, though I think we could agree to something that makes both of us happy, and there is the question of them deciding next month if they still want a controller, and/or if they'll even be around in 6 months.

I'm in a win-win situation because a job that pays more than a dollar is more than I'm making now, so whatever it pays is an increase.  However, I've been saving for a few years to buy a condo or for when I'm unemployed, so I don't have to take a shitty job just because it's offered.  So, I wait to hear back from them.

Today though, I had an interview with another place.  It's a mining company located in Evansville that's owned by an Australian company.  I met with the CEO and the Company Secretary.  Both guys are Aussies.  The CEO is stationed here in the States, while the Company Secretary (that's what his card said, I'm not sure how that job position translates here) is from Perth.  I shook hands with both to introduce myself and received a "G'day" from the guy who lives in Perth.

They thanked me for coming in on such a cold day.  I said it was no problem and mentioned it's starting to warm up.  The CEO looked at me and said, "Do you ever really get used to the cold?" I assured him we did and then we started talking about the job and what I might be able to bring to the table.

This company has been buying up mineral rights in the Illinois basin, which extends into Kentucky and Indiana.  They're in the process of getting the appropriate permits and hope to break ground on the mining operation within the next 18-24 months.

They really don't need a financial guy for 40 hours a week since there's not that much stuff going on right now.  The opportunity for part-time was offered, but I mentioned I desired full-time.  They then asked if I was interested in doing some things outside the accounting field like helping organize their complete financial system, as well as maintain their database of mineral and land leases.  Basically, help the CEO with reading reports on the land, making sure shit gets paid on time, and making sure there is enough money in the cash accounts.

I initially hesitated because I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but once I realized they didn't balk at my salary requirements, I tried to ease back into the "I'll help do anything" mode.  They admitted they aren't 'anal' like a lot of companies, so I can get away without a tie and maybe eventually I could get them used to sweats and t-shirts...a total plus for me.  Also, I made the mistake of  mentioning my golf trip in May, then immediately backtracked to cover that remark when the CEO said, "Let me stop you right there.  We don't care if you go on vacation in May.  We don't care if you leave early because you have something to do.  Obviously there will be times when we have deadlines and things, but as long as you get the job done, we don't care."

He had me at, "...don't care."  I wanted to reach my hand and say, "I accept," but I played it cooler and let him continue talking.

Eventually I stopped entertaining them and the interview ended.  They still wanted to talk with a couple more candidates and they should know more in the next couple weeks.  As we exchanged our thank yous for the meeting, the guy from Perth said, "Cheers" as I walked out the door.  Very cool.

During the 10 minute drive home, I decided I wanted to give this place a shot.  I really don't mind doing shit other than accounting, which can be boring at times.  There's no staff to supervise so I don't have to deal with employee problems, just the occasional sexual harassment case from the lady in the office who likely hasn't heard f-bombs at the rate I can spit them out.

Once home, I ripped off that damned jacket and tie and got into something more comfortable and went right to our computer room to write a thank you letter.  I reiterated how I was the bomb and explained how much they needed me.  Instead of saying 'sincerely' at the end of the letter before my signature, I wanted to say 'cheers,' but decided against it, not sure they'd find it as funny as I did.

Hopefully I've found my new place of employment, though by looking at the picture I posted earlier today they may have already ripped my resume to pieces.  Wish me luck.

The first step is admitting you have a problem

I have a problem.  Well, I have many, many problems, so I guess I have a new problem.  I haven't been to a doctor so it hasn't been diagnosed, but I have an eating disorder.  I don't know what it's called, but it's the opposite of anorexia...I eat shit all night long.

Part of the blame goes to my work.  For the past couple years I've only been working part-time, so I sleep later than normal and I go to bed later than normal.  I've always been a bit of a night owl, put simply, I enjoy staying up late.  I rarely go overboard and stay up til 3 or 4, but during the week I'm lucky to get to bed by 1 AM and on the weekends by 2 AM.  So, during the evening prime time hours when the best TV is on, I'm sitting in the recliner in the mancave watching shit I've TiVoed.  Even when watching something I'm interested in, I get bored and want to snack.  So I do.

During the week it's not too bad.  A handful of chips or a couple pieces of candy and I'm good for a while.  The weekends are when all hell breaks loose.

On the weekends, I crack open a rich, yummy beer at about 9:30.  Not just any beer, but usually something that's highly alcoholic in a 22- or 25.4-ounce bottle.  The first half of the beer, I savor and cherish while I'm reviewing it online at BeerAdvocate.com.  The more reviews I do, the higher my "beer karma" goes.  I'm not sure what exactly that gets me, but I'm sure it makes me cool somehow.  Or should I say, cooler.

Anyway, I nurse and revere the first half of the beer, then I grab a bag of Honey Wheat pretzels.  There's no fat, but it still got calories and salt.  As I empty the bottle of yumminess, I grow bored with the pretzels and start on a bag of chips or a box of White Cheddar Cheez Its.

By now, I'm typically get very full, but the new switch in flavors from pretzels to Cheez Its gives my palate and stomach their collective second winds and I grab a 12-ounce bottle of beer, whatever I happen to have upstairs at the time.  By now it doesn't much matter, I'm just looking for something to wash down the snacks.

It could be 11 or 12 at night when that bottle is gone and I close the snack package.  I make my way downstairs to take my medley of drugs for all my illnesses and disorders.  As I'm walking down the stairs, I realize my mouth and throat are a bit warm from all the beer.  I fix this by dragging out the tub of ice cream in the freezer.  With spoon in hand, I don't bother with a bowl as I eat directly from the tub while reading up on the latest from any of the three car magazines sitting on the kitchen table.

Before I even begin with the ice cream, I'm miserable because I'm so full.  But...it's ice cream.  Chocolate even.  I've never had to be hungry to eat ice cream, so for 10 or 15 minutes I sit at the table and do teaspoon curls.  I don't stop til I've embarrassed even myself, or I feel I'm about to blow chunks.

Back when I was a bit healthier and more active and arthritis hadn't taken one of my hobbies, I maintained an even weight each week by losing 5-7 pounds during the week and putting them back on during the weekend.  It was a beautiful cycle.  But no more.  Now, I gain 7 pounds during the weekend, but only lose 3 during the week.

Yesterday was when I realized I had a problem and I had an intervention with myself while shopping at Wally World.  I was in the frozen fruit section buying more fruit for my daily protein shake.  Those Wal-Mart bastards intentionally put the frozen pies right next to the frozen fruit, so weak people like me stand at the door to the freezer and think, "Hmm, frozen fruit or pie?  Frozen fruit or pie?  Fuck it, I'm getting pie."

I can't tell you how close I was to throwing a Key Lime pie into the cart.  That's when I had the intervention with myself.  After a few minutes of staring blindly into the freezer, I put the pie back and went with the fruit.  It was then I decided no pie until I get below 190 pounds.  It was a small step, but it was a step nonetheless.

Further, when I got home, I decided since I didn't do anything on the dreadmill on Saturday, I couldn't miss Sunday.  I changed into my running britches and shoes and then stretched.  And I stretched and I stretched.  And then I stretched a little more.  And then I played with the dogs.  And then I talked with Hayden.  And then I stretched some more.  I told Jennifer that I was hoping I could keep stretching and completely avoid the dreadmill, but it never worked.

So I got on the dreadmill, and again, I had an intervention with myself.  For the past couple weeks, I've done lots of walking and a little bit of jogging on the dreadmill.  Mostly, I'm going through the motions, just killing time in hopes that I can lose two pounds in 5 or 6 minutes.  But that hasn't happened.

I decided I was going to stop walking on the damned thing and start jogging.  I weighed 195 pounds and it was time to stop being a pussy and actually burn some calories.  I didn't care how long it took, I was going to jog for a whole mile without walking.

As the seconds slid by, I noticed my shin stopped splinting and the only pain was from my good knee.  I said, "suck it up" and continued.  As I approached the end of the mile, I thought I'd walk a bit after that first mile and then continue jogging for a second mile.  I managed a ridiculously slow 12 minute mile, then walked for a quarter mile, then jogged the remaining 3/4 of a mile to finish 2 miles in 24 minutes and some change.  It's sad, but it's a start.

My legs never hurt, but were a bit tired most of the night.  It's hard carrying around an extra 15 pounds (or 20) every day.  I considered giving them a rest today, but nixed that idea.  So, another mile before heading into the office, with no walking allowed, stopping the clock at a staggering 11:36.  Still glacier-slow, but an improvement.

My goal is to hop on for another mile tonight when Hayden and I get done with homework.  Another small step, but at least it's a step forward.