Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Bonds not Ruthian? Bullshit. Couldn't say it better myself. Actually, I couldn't say it anywhere near this well. After all, I am not a writer. I am a ranter. And anyone who thinks that Bonds got to where he is on the back of a needle can kiss my hairy white ass. Babe Ruth was a pig with the IQ of that twin from Deliverance.
Well, it's Quittin' Time minus 2 days. My lab tech asked me if he could take those two days off for a long weekend and, knowing that he will be working 6 or 7 days a week until they find my replacement, I said "get the hell out of here". So, I will be solo for these last two days. Which is okay. But I'll miss the young bugger. That boy can break me out of a funk faster than anyone I've ever met. Maybe it's because he's young. Maybe it's because he has a chip and attitude like no one's business and it makes me laugh to watch him get all pumped up over miniscule things. But I'll miss him. I just got done writing a letter of recommendation for him along with a personal note addressing those things I think he needs to think about. I may call him and get him to come mow the lawn before I leave (and help me schlep the couches into the moving van). It's weird leaving here. I can't wait to be back in the Tower and see all of my friends. But there's a part of me that hates walking away from this challenge I was so up for only 6 months ago. Under different circumstances I could have made this lab the creme de la creme. It's almost there. Well, it's a year or two away from "there", but it coulda happened. I don't feel as if this was a failure. But I do feel it was a big missed opportunity. And it will take time for me to figure out if the miss was truely the boss's fault or if I could have learned something from all of this and stayed. I do know that the person who replaces me can ask for the moon in terms of salary. They will be walking into a ready-made lab and the boss is in a panic. He won't speak to me about it...actually he won't speak to me about anything. He is acting as if I am already gone. Cutting off his nose to spite his face. Everyone else is being cool about the whole affair. I'm getting the usual ribs, but they're letting me know that they would like me to stay. I think I can leave on a positive note. I learned a lot about management and about myself. Someday, maybe, I can try it again. For now, though, I look forward to becoming an hourly grunt who just runs tests and helps out the lab boss.
See you tomorrow.

3 comments:

steph said...

http://www.fresnobee.com/columnists/james/story/12163184p-12908961c.html

I'm with you, I think Bonds deserves the credit nonetheless. Steriods? Sure. Helped? Sure. But weren't the pitchers juicing at the same time? I dunno.

I'm wondering about the Dyerama take on the nightclub manager getting 4 years (15 yrs with 11 suspended). And I know they plan to try and get the nightclub managers sentenced to life terms.

Your take?

scarysquirrelman said...

Pitchers weren't juicing evidently. But every generation of player has found something that would later be banned. And every so often the balls themselves become juiced when the looms spin too tightly. Bats become stronger whenever a maker comes into exceptional wood.
McGwire and Canseco have still not been outed. Canseco outed himself, it doesn't count. He was never caught. Nor has been Bonds. I will give a man the benefit of the doubt if he has subjected himself to piss tests in the past. And passed.

lecram sinun said...

#1.