Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Celfloofbrity (floofinition) – A renown or celebrated animal. Origins: 15th century, Middle Floof, Floonch
In Use: “The lithe black and white tuxedo floof arrived at the horse farm and established his celfloofbrity by killing thirteen mice, according to legend. Naturally, with that killing skill and that tuxedo, they named him Bond; Cat Bond.”
I went to the store yesterday. AAA batteries were on sale at a good price. My modern life depends on AAA batteries. At my house, they’re employed in flashlights, remote controls, and the medical devices I use to monitor my health. I don’t run out of AAA batteries often but when I do, I end up having to hustle to a store and pay whatever pain to get them. It’s not much but my wife and I are deeply ingrained frugal beings. We like sales.
So I hit the battery display. Problem is, I saw the sale in a flyer at a glance. I didn’t drink in details like the brand. I thought that the store would make it evident.
There I stood, gazing at the racks of batteries. Have you shopped for batteries lately? There’s an amazing variety among sizes, intentions, brands, etc. It’s almost as bad as shopping for cereal, cough medicine, and ice cream. The offerings can be overwhelming.
As I considered it all, a store employee popped up. “Need any help finding anything?”
“Yes, I’m looking for AAA batteries on sale. Supposed to be a 16 or 18 pack on sale.”
“Hmmm.” He leaned in to help, pointing out different batteries. About the only other detail I’d noted besides the batteries’ size was the package size and the price. So I kept responding, “No, it’s not a four pack. No, it’s triple A. No, they were a less than eight dollars.”
Hope waning, I suggested, “I’ll just go to the front of the store and check the flyer.”
Suddenly, the store clerk pointed at a sign at the top of the display case. There was the info on the battery sale.
I laughed. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that. Thanks.”
He laughed. “You know what’s bad? I put that sign up there yesterday.”
“One of those days, huh?”
He grinned. “More like one of those weeks.”
“I hear that.”
As we both laughed, I took my batteries and we parted ways.
I kind of cringe and debate about answering this. It feels like bragging. But I’m gonna take a deep breath and put it out there.
I received the same compliment from six different people, six different times. It really felt flattering, receiving it every time, and I glow as I remember it now. Each of these people were individuals I respected. So I thought it the best compliment when each called me years after they’d last worked for me and said, “You’re the best person I ever worked for.”
I mean, you know, I tried. I think many do try to be a good boss, someone who is honest to their people, trying to help them grow, and hopefully developing bonds. Half of those people who called were from my military career, and the other half were from my civilian positions. Regardless of whether I was in the military or a civilian, my stance as ‘boss’ was driven by several tenets. One, treat everyone with respect. Two, trust people. Three, be honest. Four, teamwork and communicating are critical to get things done. And five, the best evidence that you’re a good leader is how well your team does when you’re not around. So after all those years, to get those calls, man, it was satisfying and rewarding.
Probably a good thing that they waited and called me up to tell me that, though. Otherwise, it would have gone right to my head.
We’ve touched down on Twosda, March 18, 2023. The rain has ceased. Winter still dominates the seasonal dance off. Those blackened tufted clouds don’t bespeak of spring. Temperature is sticking close to the upper thirties as if it’s been ordered but 46 F is a projected high, the weather ‘they’ say. Sunlight has been flitting in an out on butterfly wings.
News…we won’t get into that yet. Except, locally, a woman died in rural Central Point flooding brought on by our spate of heavy rains. Was apparently clearing branches from a culvert when her waders filled and she was taken into the culvert and drowned. Sad end to a life, fighting water, trying not to drown.
Jesse Colin Young, a member of the Youngbloods folk pop rock group, passed away, 83 years old. Part of the sound of the 1960s frquently heard through a transistor radio’s thin sound as I moved from being young innocent into inquisitive teenager, Mr. Young was also an activist for peace, justice, and the environment. Soon as I read of his passing, The Neurons slotted the Youngbloods’ 1967 cover of “Get Together” into the morning mental music stream.
Coffee and I got together in the kitchen, continuing our brewmance. Hope your day goes solidly your way. Here’s the music. And off we go, into the darkish grayish yonder…
I apologize, but neglected to give a shout out, so I need to correct that.
The United States went through a time change recently. It seems like it went off without a hitch. In this Age of Enshittification, when minor things are routinely screwed up by PINO Trusk and his regime, we should acknowledge when things go right.
Because it’s becoming pretty rare, in the Age of Enshittification that began January 20, 2025.
Michael Seidel, writer 