Today’s discussion includes The Knife and Rite-Aid.

How could I possibly, and much more importantly why would I, make this stuff up?

Not far from where once laid a discarded Toshiba computer tower, there is a knife. The discarded computer once laid in what it is known as the Parking Strip, that area between sidewalk and curb. The Knife lays across the sidewalk in a patch of bushes and ivy, almost actually touching Rite-Aid. This is a real knife, not some hybrid Spork type-a-thing. The Knife is caked with a substance that is apparently either chocolate cake or the offal of a brownie tray.

I have hunch that the old man morning drinker, the Jewish Community Center and The Knife are somehow connected.

I am having the best breakfast/lunch ever. I suppose you could call that brunch, but I don’t think you can ‘Brunch’ by yourself. Nor is brunch commonly served in a freezing cold, unfinished basement.

What is the best breakfast/lunch ever? Poached eggs and polenta. Although it is after 10am and I am in the clear, I have chosen to eschew Sauerkraut. I have, however, added a healthy dose of each of the following: Frank’s RedHot Sauce, parmesan cheese (shredded), pepper (ground) and garlic powder (powedered).

When I was kid, it was common knowledge that you were destined to consume one pound of dirt in your lifetime. I wonder how many pounds of dog hair I have consumed?

First: I can handle the “punt” metaphor four, no more than five, times in one conference call. This includes inclusion of the phrase when referring to a previous usage.

Second: Smoking is a sport that seems to cut a near perfect cross section of society. Members of all socioeconomic, educational and racial demographics seem to equally partake. That being said, it would have just seemed wrong if there wasn’t a cigarette dangling from the mouth of the women who was dumpster diving for a flower bouquet behind the new florist across the street from Rite-Aid. I think it was a 100, which is kinda a different story.

Please take a moment to complete the following sentence:

I am not clicking on the banner ads because…
a.) I am not even reading this blog
b.) I don’t believe in banner ads

If you haven’t seen the Time Life Country Music Collection Infomercial featuring Kenny Rogers and some chick, it comes highly recommended. I can’t speak to the quality of the discs, but the infomercial is fantastic.

I wonder if they will ever release a Collection of Music Collection Infomercials.

I have changed.

Total Year-To-Date Revenue from banner clicking: 87 cents. This Friday I am pledging 10% or 10 cents, which ever is greater, to the Salvation Army. Let’s see if we can rally and push pass a dollar.

Time is of the essence I suppose. Maybe that is why I don’t really receive any training on the products/services I am to be promoting.

I very familiar with some of our clients and others… not so good, for example…

A little Puff Puff Pass yesterday on the new account, SCA Technology (real name, I am feeling a little bawdy today). Another small company account. They provide their services to McDonald’s and a couple other huge companies. I know it has something to do with their ‘supply chain management’ and ‘cost modeling’. So I say those things a lot. When it gets down to nuts and bolts, bits and bytes, 1’s and 0’s, rubber hitting the road, I am kinda in the dark. And that generally is OK, if a conversation gets technical, that’s when I Pop the Chicken ala:

Targeted Key Player: “So, OK, you have mentioned supply chain 6 times, but what are you talking about?

Me: “Good question, why don’t we continue this conversation next week and I’ll bring someone that has a clue.”

Targeted Key Player: “Right-o, cheers mate!”

Me: “Bob’s your uncle, don’t take any wooden nickels!”
~

Yesterday, I was hit with one of those in-depth questions:

TKP: “What does SCA stand for?”

Me: (Pause) “I dunno know…(pause)… does next Thursday at 10 work?”

TKP: (Silence)
~

For the sake of science, click on the banner ads.

Serious business today.

Typically a FLS client is a big company. This “service” that I “provide” can potentially cost the client $100 per minute. But let me make it perfectly clear before we go any further; I receive but a portion. The mentality is usually that our service is a more effective alternative to say a TV commercial or a NY Times ad.

But every so often we get a smaller client. Just so happens I have one of these clients. This company provides code-writing tools to financial firms. They should have gone away in 2001 like a good little middleware firm. Instead, they linger and struggle and hold on by barely a thread.

A few months ago, they fired all their sales guys, except for one and hired us. This is what is known as the beginning of the Death-Spiral. Compounding matters, this sales guy is an idiot. Getting VPs and Directors of technology to speak to you is tough, in the Financial Services Vertical it is almost impossible. But, every so often I manage to Fletch my way in and pop a chicken for this guy. That means eventually, this sales guy, myself and the Targeted Key Player will continue our conversation about tools to blah, blah, blah….

This guy is just so horrible at speaking to people that I have come to realize that I am not creating sales opportunities, but opportunities for someone new to hate him.

Please click on the banner ads on this page

It is cold out, real cold out. And two things happen when it is real cold out. 1. It is best to eat Italian food. Anyone who disagrees with that is entitled to thier own opinion. 2. The 35th Ave NE branch of FLS moves upstairs. Yes, I am above ground. I started out in the OVL and am not scared to admit that I couldn't take it, regardless of a formidable showing by the DeLonghi.

While passing the Asian, now Indian, Malt Liquor-Lottery-Cig- Porno-Deli a young man in the parking lot shouted something at me from his automobile. I couldn't quit hear him and gestured so. He then waved me off, but yet again attempted to speak to me. This happend twice more. I approached him and he asked how to get to Seattle. I gave him directions. He then inquired, "Are those your dogs?" and sped off.