I didn't get the groovy job I really wanted... I think they probably gave the job to a woman. The company has a LOT of really amazing women working there already, and when faced with a generic middle-aged white guy with a broad work history and widely varied talents, or hiring a woman with specific relevant skills, I suspect they went with the woman. And that's cool. Honestly, more power to them. Just makes me want to work there more, honestly. So tired of companies run by sad old white men... it'd be refreshing to work with people who have the actual skills to do the job, and aren't simply white men that failed their way to the top. The longer I work in corporate America, the more I realize that the men at the top are simply the survivors of attrition ... not the talented ones. The good ones leave. Old men just get promoted to the C-suite. --- My sister is - right this moment - texting from the ER where she is with my Dad, who is experiencing severe dementia (Alzheimers with Loewy Body diagnosis), after only being diagnosed on Friday. The Alzheimers came on like a truck, and by Monday he was fully deeply into the Alzheimers journey. He's manic and hasn't slept much, and is hyper-fixated on irrational things ... the one that sticks with me is that he was insisting he needed a pair of scissors so he could cut circles out of the LED clock next to his bed ... Meanwhile, Mom's breast cancer surgery on Thursday went well, and she is in recovery... where she can't raise her arms for the next 6-8 weeks. With Dad's mania running through the night, she's unable to sleep, but is still feeling better and healing well. My dog and I are gonna head up to their house in a few minutes to see Dad when he gets home. Both me and the dog have the power to pull him out of wherever he is, and into the present. Hopefully we can connect with him, give him some peace for a bit. But ... this is Alzheimers. This is the journey. He won't get better. And every day his brain will be different, will work differently, and he will be a different person. You just grab on to the seat and take the ride...
Update: Spent most of the day, and up until about 10:PM last night with my dad and family. We talked, watched a movie ("World's Fastest Indian"), and had dinner. At some point during the night, my dad started referring to me as his best friend from childhood - Mike - who passed away several years ago. I went along with it, and we talked about our escapades as kids, and the petty vandalism we got up to. Mike was like my second dad for my whole life. He was a wonderful man. And I was both honored to be serving as "Mike" for my dad, and saddened by it. Last night, when he was talking to "Mike", his eyes lit up in a way I haven't seen for a long, long time. The two of them had the closest bond, going all the way back to the day they met in preschool, when Mike pushed my Dad into the fish pond. Giving my dad that gift - a conversation with his best friend - was an honor. Dementia, man. The sufferer may not know it is happening and is having the time of their life... but those around them see the reality of the situation.