United Airlines Lottery

United Airlines put me on a roller coaster this week. First, they announced plans to stop giving employees bonuses. They would instead use a lottery to reward them.

I thought it was a great idea. I always feel like it’s a lottery flying with United. Yes, I have a ticket for the flight, but do I have a seat? Will I get on a plane? And will it be on the day that I’m scheduled to be flying? Let’s start a betting pool!

The betting pools always made those of us waiting in the gate area feel better. Even though there was a chance we wouldn’t make the flight (or the flight wouldn’t go today), at least there was a small chance that we might win. It was a little rain of sunshine on a bitter day traveling on United Airlines.

I thought having employees rewarded by lottery would help employees and passengers bond. Now employees would feel how we passengers feel when we wait to see if we’re going to fly on the flight that we bought a ticket for.

I don’t think the executives were going to participate in the lottery. I felt sorry for them. It seemed mean of United to exclude them. I accuse United of being executivists, treating executives differently just because they’re executives. It seems like companies will discriminate about anything these days.

But then, United announced they were not going to do the lottery. Say whaaat? Apparently, the employees weren’t as excited about the bonus lottery as I was.

That surprised the president of United Airlines, Scott Kirby (which admittedly sounds like a movie star’s name in the 1940s). Kirby said, “Our intention was to introduce a better, more exciting program, but we misjudged how these changes would be received by many of you.”

I admit, I paused when I read that. The company president was surprised that people weren’t happy that they weren’t going to receive the bonus money that they were probably counting upon. I think that gives us a little more insight into why United sucks more each year (hell, each month) as an airline. It explains why they’re surprised when passengers are pissed about paying extra for the blankets, food, and a seat that isn’t out on the wing.

Is it surprising that United will start selling priority boarding for coach passengers? I believe they’ll next be selling priority exiting, too. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they’re going to start charging for the seats in the crowded waiting areas around the gate. “I’m sorry, sir, can I see your ticket for that seat? You can’t sit there if you don’t have a ticket. Would you like to buy a ticket? Just five dollars per hour. What’s your flight number? Oh, you’ll need about six hours, then.”

Then, like all of United’s twisted, greedy thinking, they’ll oversell the tickets for the seats in the waiting area. “Sorry, just because you have a ticket, it doesn’t mean that you have a seat.”

I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that United Airlines employees must buy desk time at work.

United Airlines: “Fly with us. It’s a lottery.”

Coffee Apocalypse

I don’t like this story today, about Tully’s Coffee shops in Seattle closing because they don’t have coffee. They’re a coffee business, with the inside path to procuring coffee. You know how the old expression goes: “First the businesses run out of coffee, and then you run out of coffee.”

Makes me shudder. Imagine if this coffee shortage spreads, and all these coffee drinkers suddenly lack their daily fixes. (Talk about zombies.) Once this news spreads, there’ll probably be a run on other coffee shops.

Better go stockpile.

Catability

Catability (catfinition) – the capacity to imitate a feline’s sound, behavior, or expressions.

In use: “Michael’s catability includes meowing that perplex the cats, who start searching for the other cat making these noises.”

Friday’s Theme Music

Today’s music is a little gross.

Supine in bed, I would feel the mucus shifting. It moved with a soft snapping and crinkling sound, like it’s trying to sneak around my head. From that, I began singing, “Mucus stream,” to the tune of Bush’s “Glycerine,” from Sixteen Stone.  I was making up whole verses for it by the time I stole into sleep.

That’s not to denigrate “Glycerine.” I like the song, and enjoyed the album. It still lives in the shuffle space dedicated to that era.

(My CD player holds two hundred discs. They’re divided into eight sections. Sections are assigned genres, eras or purpose. Like, one section is for the blues, and houses Buddy Guy, Albert King, B.B., SRV, etc. Another section is home to classic rock, with Cream, Blind Faith, Traffic, Led Zep, The Who, and so on. Bush lives in the section I call post disco rock, along with Def Leppard, the Scorpions, later Van Halen and ZZ Top, and STP. My wife has a section of her favorites, and I have a section of my favorites. Since my punk and alt offerings are small, I just mix them in with other sections. Anal, aren’t I?)

(And of course, the CDs are stored alphabetically by group or performer’s last name, and I’ve indexed them on an Excel spreadsheet. Yes, anal.)

Returning to the song, the lyrics fascinate me, and I thought the video reflects the song’s mood.

 

 

 

Cosfloofology

Cosfloofology (catinition) – a branch of metaphysics that deal with the study of the origin and evolution of the cat universe.

In use: “Adherents of the first cosfloofology theory believe cats are the center of the universe, around which everything else revolves. Thus, in their worldview, keeping cats happy is the first priority.”

Thursday’s Theme Music

As I endured the cold and its migrations, interactions, and pain during the last few days and nights, I began assigning musical instruments and notes to my experience, thinking, how would my cold sound musically? Just something to while away the sleepless, mucus filled hours.

Doing so reminded me of “Love Reign O’er Me,” by the Who. The song begins with a thunderstorm and rain. The song is the final cut of the Who rock-opera, Quadraphenia, and marks the final act and possibly redemption of the main character after chaotic struggles with love, drugs, family, violence, and identity.

Mom bought the album for me for Christmas 1973, based on my older sister’s recommendation. Thanks, Mom and sis!

Grumewing

Grumewing (catfinition) – a non-stop series of half-hearted mews that sounds like a cat is grumbling under their breath.

In use: “Quinn trotted down the hall, grumewing about his late supper as he went, looking back to see if he needed to flerd his person to the feeding area.”

The Case for Being A Zombie

This is it, my last meal. I’m grilling my last steak, a lovely marbled porterhouse. A bottle of pinot noir has been secured to go with it, along with a baked potato with the works, and asparagus that I’ll grill. Dessert would be key lime pie. It has to be pie, and I’ll eat the whole damn thing.

Yes, it’s still early days. The virus or whatever the fuck is spreading is not understood. Zombies are running amuck. There’s panic and terror in the streets, and speeches to stay inside, avoid zombies, and remain calm are airing around the clock on the net, television, and radio. It’s all zombies, all the time.

But I ask you, why should I try to stay alive? My retirement account has plummeted. A zombie apocalypse will do that. Inflation is sky high. I had five grand set aside in my house, but it’s down the forty-five hundred. That meal I described? Guess how much it cost? Two hundred dollars for that stuff. Two hundred. Keurig coffee pods are going for five dollars each.

Sure, I have a supply of essentials (like coffee pods), but then what happens? You really think the world is going to get its sierra together in time to solve this crises? I laugh at you if you do. Hell, only a dozen senators and sixty representatives survived the first zombie wave. They also got the POTUS and most of the cabinet. The politicians that are left are, well, politicians. They can read from teleprompters and look good, but they don’t have principles and they’re not leaders. I’m not depending on them for anything.

Why not become a zombie? Zombies don’t worry about anything. They just wander the fuck around, eating whatever is alive that gets in their way. They have no concerns about climate change, gun control, taxes, healthcare, trade wars, tariffs, the environment, new cars, clothing, hygiene, or what constitutes a catch in the NFL. Droughts, war, and natural disasters don’t bother them.

So I’ve decided, I’ll eat this final meal tonight, and then join the undead masses in the morning. In a way, I think it’s funny, because the revolution is finally here.

It’s just not the one we expected.

My New Body

“Beer o’clock,” I said.

I unplugged from the system, ending my day’s work as a virtual worker. The job description’s hype had sucked me in: “See the solar system! Work on Mars from the safety and comfort of your own home!” It was drudge work, but safe, and secure. Didn’t pay too bad — didn’t pay too good, neither — about the same that I used to earn as a teacher before they downsized and privatized me out of the education system. It was either fly drones with the military, stock boy, or vee dub. You see why I decided to be a vee dub. No, it wasn’t great but the job provides me with security and keeps me off the streets even if there was no chance to advance. Once a vee dub, always a vee dub. At least I’m employed.

Mail and marketing bees immediately swarmed me. One bennie of being a vee dub is that the system protects you from bees while you’re working. But unless you pay for the filters, they’ll get you as soon as the shields go down. I’d subscribe to filters, but I can’t afford them.

So I endured the bees as their messages were delivered for shit I can’t afford, like more health insurance, dinner on the moon for two, solar system cruises, and visiting Heaven Above Earth. Then the next to last bee said, “Congratulations. You’re a winner.”

Bullshit, of course, I thought, ready to say, “Trash.”

The bee said, “You’ve been selected to receive a new body.”

“Wait. What? Repeat that.”

The bee did. Just like I’d heard.

Jesus, a new body. A new body. I jumped and danced around my module. A new fucking body. I couldn’t believe it. I’d entered the lottery, of course, spent twenty on tickets (yeah, I know, not much, but I’m frugal), but I’d never expected to win.

A new body, just what I, a sixty-one year old man, could use, a new fucking body. My current body, the one I was born with (ha, ha), had become overweight and creaky. Its hair was thinning and graying, its spine was stooped, and its fucking eyes didn’t work right. There’s treatment for all this shit, but, hey, do I sound like a big earner? No, I think you’ll agree. Medical treatment for things like bad eyes is for the upper classes, not vee dubs.

Euphoria diminished, stage two of coping with unexpected happiness kicked in. I asked myself, was this real or a scam? What’s in the fine print? Is it a real new body, or somebody’s cast-off? Movie stars and the upper classes get new bodies all the time. I don’t know what happens to the old ones but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they’re recycled, right? Can’t you see that happening?

I didn’t know. Understanding that the means to buy a new body were waaay beyond my circumstances, I hadn’t bothered with such minutiae. It took enough of my brain power just to keep up with my carbon points. And, okay, my body had done me right until like three years ago. Then it was like the warranty expired, and it all started coming apart.

I listened to the bee’s full message, and queried it extensively. It linked my phone to multiple review sites along with the lottery’s web page. The systems all pointed to yes.  I’d won the lottery.

I was getting a new body.

###

The process took almost a year, almost a fucking year of completing forms, being scanned, selecting choices, and making arrangements. I hadn’t expected choices. I thought I’d be me at some young age again. The choices surprised. Taller, bigger (ahem, anywhere)? Everything was up.

Of course, I had to endure a lot of propaganda and make videos enthusing about how excited and grateful I was. Half the population knows the New Body Lottery is a tool to appease the desperate masses and keep the Revolution Clock from striking midnight. The rest believe NuBod (yeah, cheesy, right?) wants to share its largesse because it’s a kind corporation.

Bottom line with the choices, I stayed white and male (but not as pale as my natural genes made me). I’d be put in a twenty-two year old body, but I would be four inches taller. Sweet. Of course I had my vision fixed. I opted to change my eyes to blue and my hair to blond.

Yeah, I took the option for a bigger pecker, too. Can’t hurt, right?

###

I was pleased as fuck when I finally got my body. So weird to not grunt as I stood from a chair, run out of breath while doing some shit, or squeeze my belly into a pair of jeans. I could see like I’d never been able to before, and I heard better, too. I didn’t know how bad my hearing had become.

I thought it would take a few days to get used to the new body but I acclimated within hours. Several companies donated new clothes and shoes to go with my new body. All I had to do was let marketing bees hover around me to inform everyone what was I was wearing. Of course, I agreed. What’s a few more bees, right?

Then it was so cool. I’d walk into places, and everyone would gawk. We’re a pretty small and intimate town, population about sixty thousand, mostly ex-educators who became vee dubs, so they all knew I was the guy who’d won the new body. I got coupons and discounts for the movies, filters, food, and travel. I still couldn’t afford most of it, but I was sure that was going to change. I was a new man. There were also a few guest appearances on talk shows and radio interviews. They were fun but they didn’t pay anything. Part of the fifteen minutes, yo?

I’d taken two weeks off in real time to get the new body and become acclimated to it. When I went back to work, all the others came by to check me out and bullshit with me. I felt like the king of the damn world.

I understood exactly why all those rich people get new bodies all the time. It changes everything.

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