Profunksticated

Once again, Merry Christmas to all!! May the holiday season and 2010 be prosperous!!

The airwaves have carried ad nausem the story of David Goldman’s successful quest to regain custody of his 9-year-old son, Sean, from Brazil. Why do I have this nagging feeling I’m not getting the entire story?

Such as, for example, why David’s late ex-wife, Bruna, took Sean on what was supposed to be a two-week vacation to Brazil in 2004 and decided to divorce David through the Brazilian courts and keep their son. David says he thought his marriage was happy; obviously Bruna thought otherwise. Any insights, anyone?

My 2009 high point was huddling among the masses on an ultra-frigid January day on the Washington Mall to witness Barack Obama take the oath of office of the President of the United States of America. And for a lot of reasons, my year went downhill from there.

But I digress. When Barack first announced his run, my heart was with him but my head said “he’s still a politician.” I believed he had little chance of winning the Democratic nomination, much less the Oval Office. Now comes more proof that the nation did the right thing by electing him. Check out this piece on President Obama’s answers to criticism he hasn’t paid enough attention to African-American concerns. His answers are thoughtful and sensible. And I love how he deconstructed the Fox News folk who showed up at his holiday party.

I was also happy for the president in that the Senate finally passed its version of health care reform, his biggest domestic initiative. Not sure how this bill will personally affect me and mine, but I know this: once President Obama signs the expected final health care bill sometime next year, he will have further solidified his place in American history.

To the Obamas, this little blogger wishes you all a happy holiday.

An early Merry Christmas to you all.

Pro hasn’t posted for some time, but he’s been keeping up with Ms. Smart and Ms. Creole in DC from time to time. They keeps it interesting.

OK, switching back to first-person: One thing I didn’t tell ya’ll was that I recently turned 50. Threw me for a bit of a loop, I guess. 50. Fifty. Five-O (not to be confused with Hawaiian law enforcement). That’s a damned half-century of living and a whole lot of experience.

I’ve decided I’m no longer all that hot on things anymore. I want experiences. Like traveling to London and listening to Brit accents. Then to West Africa. Then Australia. Learning to speak some language other than English. I’ve been alive all this time and the extent of my travel outside of the continental 48 has been San Juan, PR; Nassau, Bahamas; and Tijuana, Mexico, which might as well be a ‘burb of San Diego.

It’s time for me, Pro, to really change up my game. First is to get out of this cubicle. Come on, a 50-year-old black man in a cubicle? At the bottom of the hill down which rolls the proverbial shit? I need to be running things, somewhere somehow.

I was recently talked down to, e.g., reprimanded for a simple mistake by a supervisor whose ass probably was in diapers when I was watching The Brady Bunch on Friday nights. I don’t need this crap.

You know, I’m just about pissed off enough to overcome my longstanding fear of leadership, responsibility and career success to actually seek it. Please pray that I do.

On another topic, the fam was invited for Christmas breakfast at the home of my younger brother and his wife. I will only say that I’m long past tripping over the situation that led to their marriage. Whatever floats their boat. Takes up too much mental energy to think about all that. It’s unlikely I’ll blog about that topic again.

I’m no longer waiting on The Spouse’s appeal in her bid for state disability for her work injury. We had an appeal date, but the trustee board recently reconsidered the case because of questionable actions by the doc that evaluated her. So she underwent a second eval by a different doc and the board reconsidered her case. But the damn board still refused to grant her benefits. So we’re back to appeal square one. That really did a brother in, for a minute.

But as I said, I’m moving on. That gig in NJ? Nothing’s happening. So I’m seeking something else in the DMV for now. Yes, I’ll still need to maintain health insurance to pay the cost of all those MS drugs, but I’m ready to go elsewhere to run an operation. And if I F-up, screw it. At least I tried.

Once again, ya’ll have a great Christmas.

What’s up? I’m about to go on something of a rant.

Is it too much to ask for a response to a phone call or e-mail, even within the subsequent seven days? I know you’re fighting fires like you’re in Santa Ana wind-whipped southern California, but damn, could a brother just get a quick phone call, or a “Hey, I got your e-mail, still working on it” ? It ain’t like I’m a bill collector or something like that. Sheesh!!

Why do I feel like most of what I do or say or write at work is second-guessed by either or both my supervisors? How did I end up as a glorified administrative assistant (not to disrespect AAs out there, but I’m not sure that a 50-year-old African-American male is well-suited for such work)? Hell, I’m the one that needs an assistant!

I’ve recently gotten in touch with the fact that I have serious passive aggressive issues. But then I read that is a great survival tactic for black men in corporate America.

As of this writing, I’m no closer to ending this Philly area-to-DMV commute, which is now an every week thing due to the FMLA leave. Tolls for one month alone are $80. I haven’t computed the cost of fuel. I’d probably gag.

I contemplated for a few seconds dropping out of the master’s program in which I’m currently enrolled and learning a trade such as carpentry, plumbing or electrical work. I read where preparing folk to work in corporate America is like being readying them for subjugation to a form of gentle fascism – an apt comparison – and that perhaps trades should be get a greater emphasis in the public schools.

Profunksticated interviewed with a couple of firms this week. The phone screen was with a water utility in southern New Jersey. The second, in-person meeting was at an environmental firm in northern NJ.

The environmental firm looks promising, thanks to an internal reference, a guy who I worked with when I was let go from the other environmental firm in 2007. The vice president I met with seemed like he was trying to sell me on the firm. Also, he mentioned that an offer could be coming this week.

The nice thing was that the VP didn’t ask my salary requirements. He said he’d come up with a number and we could go from there. There’s also the possibility I’d work in a company office much closer to my NJ home.

How refreshing that the VP is willing to provide a salary figure. I say that because every recruiter that’s called me about gigs in the DMV always ask me my current salary. They say that the first party to provide a number always at a disadvantage in negotiations. The question irritates me because I feel like my current salary isn’t relevant. I’ve made the mistake of giving my current salary, and based on that, the recruiter would say I shouldn’t get more than $10,000 more than what I’m making. I really want and need $20,000 more per year to make this now two-year-long, bi-regional commute and living arrangement worth the time and travel.

At that point, I’ve ended the discussion. I know I can provide a lot more value for a lot more. What should my current salary have to do with anything?

I’ve put the question to my HR buddy and he had this simple solution: Lie. Yup, he advised inflating my salary upward to get the bump I wanted. I’ve been a leery of that approach, wondering if a prospective employer can call my current employer for that information. He said they probably won’t. He also said, “They’re probably figuring you’re inflating your salary anyway.”

Would any of you out there lie about, er, spin, er, inflate your current salaries to get what you really want and deserve in the next gig?

Hello, you all. Sorry it’s been a few weeks. Some random thoughts from old Profunksticated, the Supergroovalistic One:

It takes suffering through a nasty upper respiratory infection to realize that a person should never, ever take for granted the ability to swallow food or liquids without intense throat pain.

The 2008 and 2009 Philadelphia Phillies are the best baseball teams this historically hapless franchise has ever fielded.

This commute between the DMV and the Philly-South Jersey may be coming to an end as I seek employment in New Jersey. It cannot come too soon. Just one recent morning, I found myself stuck in traffic along southbound Interstate 95 for an hour north of Baltimore due to a multi-vehicle accident that involved an auto transporter. And to top things off, the computer that controls the traffic signals in Montgomery County, Maryland crashed. Someone’s gonna have to re-write that code or consult a library.

I do like having these long weekends under FMLA. I don’t like not getting paid for when I’m not at work. Why does life have to have tradeoffs? I want it all.

I finished a master’s course called Software Frameworks, all about reusing code in web-based applications. It kicked my azz. A major problem was the software packages we were required to download and work with were flawed. After getting a string of “A’s,” I escaped this Dante’s Inferno of a course with a “C.”

I voted for a third-party candidate in the New Jersey election for governor. I was proud of myself for helping this guy get 5% of the vote. President Obama notwithstanding, I’m about sick and tired watching the donkeys and the elephants practice their shenanigans. The electorate needs to get bolder and support more of these folks, who aren’t backed by big money and who aren’t bought (at least not yet).

Thank God for my son’s Playstation 3. He told me it plays Blu-Ray discs. Until then, I was contemplating getting a Blu-Ray player to go along with the newly-bought 42-inch LCD high-definition television. I love watching that thing.

Profunksticated is taking time off under the Family and Medical Leave Act to care for the Spouse, whose MS is starting to kick up to a new level. She had a flareup a couple of weeks ago that landed her in the ER, where she spent 10 hours. The steriod infusion she was given has been of limited effectiveness. Her neurologist is putting her on interferon, the same drug she had when she was first diagnosed in 2003.

She having a little more trouble walking and she complains of stiffness. The fatigue is still there.

I will be spending Mondays and Tuesdays in NJ and the rest of the week in the DMV. Of the days I’m home, Monday will be he FMLA day and Tuesday I will work remotely.

God is still good.

Wassup? I’m back, for now.

Am I crazy, or did Profunksticated really get more than 10,000 hits while he was away?

Profunksticated (the blog) earned a whopping 45 cents via Google Adsense, but that was back in April.

I’m still commuting between the DMV and the Philly-South NJ. It’s getting old.

I’ve learned in my first year on the job I need to improve my attention to detail, a recurring theme throughout my one-year performance review.

I’ve fallen off the wagon and gained 10 pounds in the last month or so. I’ve got to hit the workout room once again and lay off the Dairy Queen blizzards with Oreo cookies and Heath Bar chunks.

I’m three courses into my master’s program in information systems management. That class in object-oriented programming (Java) kicked my azz. I had to get help from a Java developer in my company. I got an “A.”

In July, my brother married the chick-on-the-side co-worker with whom he had a son. You may recall the kid was born less than three months before his wife died, which was 18 months ago. The new wife had moved into his house a couple months befor they got married, much to my nephews’ chagrin. This week, my older nephew moved out following a huge blowup between he and his father. Guess where he’s laying his head? That’s right, our house. There are more extremely gory details, but I’m only hearing one side of the story, which is my nephew’s.

My sister and my dad attended the wedding. Sis found it hard to watch; Dad was sort of neutral. My mother didn’t show; she conveniently was out of town. The new wife’s family was overjoyed, acting as if there was nothing wrong with the adulterous relationship she was part of. I guess the bottom line is that I cannot control what two adults do, but when it impacts the kids, then I have to be concerned.

Profunksticated had to come out of hiatus for a minute to comment on the loss of Michael Jackson.

I can’t believe I’m feeling a certain kind of way. I feel like I lost a second cousin who was my age. When I first heard the Jackson 5, I honestly believed whoever singing lead was a girl. I found out otherwise, of course. Girls in my fifth grade class would play those large-spindle-hole 45 rpm J5 records such as I Want You Back on those snowy days we could not go out for recess.

I liked the Jacksons when I was 10, 11 and 12, but as I entered my teen years, they became just another group playing in the soundtrack of my life. That’s not to say I didn’t like them. But their still-bubblegum style was competing for my musical attention with funkier groups such as the Ohio Players, Kool and the Gang, Earth Wind and Fire, War, and of course, Parliament-Funkadelic. Matter of fact, the first album I ever bought was a Motown label, but not the Jackson 5 . It was Stevie Wonder Presents Syreeta. I loved the cut I Want to Be By Your Side.

By about 1975, I figured the Jacksons were done as I hadn’t heard much from them.

But then in early 1977, my senior year in high school, I was laying half-asleep on the couch in the living room with WDAS-FM playing on the stereo when I heard this real smooth cut with a group singing the lyrics “Let me show you the way to go.” I was shocked when I found out those singers were the Jacksons, minus Jermaine, on a new record label. Wow, they’ve come back and strong, I thought.

Then Michael went off on his own and blew up like a hydrogen bomb. You all know the rest of Michael’s story, so I won’t rehash it here.

My 21-year-old daughter shares a birthday with Michael Jackson, which is August 29. My wife went into labor on August 28, 1987. Had it not been for the fact that our baby was too big for my wife to push out — the doc tried everything to bring our baby into the world, including forceps and a Dirt Devil (just kidding) — my wife would not have undergone the Caesarean section that resulted in the birth of our first child, weighing in at nine pounds, seven ounces, at 32 minutes past midnight Mountain Time on the 29th.

Had our daughter been born before midnight, on Aug. 28, she would have shared a birthday with one Richard Sanders. Who is Richard Sanders, you ask? He’s the actor who portrayed the nerdy, bumbling newsman Les Nessman on the sitcom WKRP in Cincinnati.

Nothing against Mr. Sanders, but I think my daughter got the better end of the deal, being able to brag that she shares a birthdate with the late King of Pop.

RIP, Michael Jackson. And may God comfort the Jackson family in their time of loss.