The Mercury Family of Companies
There will be a few less seats at the Mercury family of companies table Christmas dinner this year. While they still boast of 18 operating companies, it’s down two from this time last week. I’m hearing that National Alliance Title in Nevada is kaput. Wonder if those poor schmucks got their vacation and commission pay. I’m going to guess not, but I’d love to hear their story. Speaking of which, do you want to tell your story? Would you want to go on the record with how it all went down for you? In the real press, not just horsing around with me on pinkbunnyears? Ping me, I’ll hook you up. I’ve talked to several folks who don’t want to go on the record, but have lost their vacation and commissions. Feels a lot like Stockholm Syndrome to me. Take off that Army jacket and put down the gat Patty Hearst! Break the chains! Join up! Make Patty Hauptman pay up! Write the Wine Dog for more information.
Speaking of the Mercury family of companies, I spoke to a couple of Ex-ATC folks who are now over at their formerly sister company, now surviving sibling Financial Title Company. The best response I got was from an Escrow Officer. Being the genial sort that I am, I asked “How’zit?” She responded “It’s terrible, I want to kill myself”. Hopefully, she’s kidding and doesn’t want to harm herself. Save your money honey, that one’s next. Ivy’s smarter, but something sinister will certainly trickle down and deal the crushing blow. The Hauptmans want out of California and they’re going to get out. Remember when they told you that the employees were the company’s best asset? Yeah, until it comes time to cut the checks, then your just a liability.
What the Wine Dog is drinking…
Jim Beam Black label, Kentucky sour mash. No ice. (I should have installed the ice maker) The Wine Dog picked up another head cold. Second one since November. Mass transportation sucks. I knew I was doomed when I realized the lady across the aisle was a disgusting snotty mess. I thought, I can’t bathe in enough bleach and antitoxins to cleanse myself of an hour of this exposure. And I couldn’t. Chad, the building security guy told me he was coming down with something the other day, but he killed it with his special Secret Squirrel concoction, which I will now share with you. (He did kill it, he’s not sick). Apparently, you mix castor oil, two shots of Southern Comfort and orange juice in a mini blender and then chug it down. Chad says you don’t want to taste it, I get that. I truly believe that it does work, because I’m certain that it induces violent uncontrollable projectile vomiting. No self respecting virus could live through that, especially when you’re dry heaving up your toenails. I use a more traditional mixture. Bourbon, honey, lemon, hot water. If nothing else, it affords the patient a good restful night’s sleep.
Needless to say, the head cold stalled my progress temporarily on my 24 week march. I’ve switched out my workouts from Russian power lifting routines to old school body building. My body kept breaking down and that’s usually due to too much of the same thing, so time to switch it up. The bicipital tendon seems to be what I blew up in Yuba City. With rest, it’s coming around. Unfortunately with the head cold and the rain, Beauregard is missing his morning
runs jogs. Nothing like a having a cranky 80 pound Doberman up your ass when you don’t feel good.
Speaking of which, for all you ex-ATC folk, the best thing I did for myself when I was off was to go to the gym every morning as if I were still going to work. It creates balance, routine, structure and keeps your head on straight. I also cycled every other afternoon. Long walks work just as well if you don’t belong to a gym, the point is to do something good for yourself every day. And I figured if I ever caught myself watching The View that it was time to get a job at Starbucks. To my credit, I never watched The View the whole time I was off. I did catch Maury’s Meth Mom Makeovers one day, but that’s more like watching the WWF, and that’s okay.