The Dow Is Up!

I have a problem. A serious one. But as far as serious problems go, it's a "good" serious problem. You see, a couple of weeks ago, I got a job offer from a large accounting firm (LAF). They want me to do business valuations. (I won't bore you with the details.) The cool thing? LAF values Employee Stock Option Plans (ESOPs). Ain't that great? What are ESOPs, you ask? Again, I won't bore you. The important thing is that it would (a) use my actuarial expertise and (b) have a lot of numbers. Those are two wonderful things.

When LAF made their offer, I thought it was low. To make them think I was "hot property," I told them I had some other interviews lined up and it might take awhile to agree to work for them. That was bullshit. I hadn't heard from any company whatsoever. But I managed to get an extra $5000 out of them by telling them I'd agree to forego those interviews and start working for LAF. I then signed their offer letter and returned it to them. We set a start date of May 15. All my employment problems were solved. Yay!!!!

Then I got a call from a large insurance company in suburban Chicago, whom I'll call InsureCo. For the past two years, I've dreamt about working for InsureCo. Every time they've sent someone to campus, either to speak or for a career fair, I've told them as much. I never heard word one. I forgot about them. Then they called, said they saw my resume and wanted to talk to me in more detail. Now, I had no idea how they got my resume. And frankly, I didn't care. I wanted to hear what they had to say about a job. I felt bad about it, though, because I'd already agreed to work for LAF. But, it couldn't hurt to hear what InsureCo had to say, right?

Well, I had another conversation with InsureCo. It turns out that they have numerous areas that someone like me (you know, antisocial, misanthropic, smelly) could excel. They liked that I was a pension actuary and that I have my MBA. (Here's some boring actuarial stuff. Generally, insurance companies couldn't give a rat's ass about pension actuaries. The skills are similar, but the applications are wholly different. It's like a mechanical engineer trying to get a job as an electrical engineer. In other words, if you're not a mechanical or electrical engineer, you say, "Shut the fuck up, you dork." So feel free to say that to me now as I return to my blog.) After talking to InsureCo's recruiter about all the different positions, I agreed to do a phone interview.

Well, I had the phone interview today. The chicky was recruiting me for an actuarial position. Not only that, they loved that I was a pension actuary with consulting experience. And they liked that I worked as a quality engineer. They even liked my business valuation internship. And forget about my MBA; she practically peed her pants with excitement over it. So I passed the phone interview with flying colors and now my info is being passed up the ladder at InsureCo. In the next few days, I should know whether I'll have an official interview.

Here's what I like about the idea of working at InsureCo.

1. I'll get to go back to working as an actuary. This may seem like a stupid thing to want to do after having spent 3 years trying to get away from being an actuary. The thing is that I didn't necessarily want to stop being an actuary. And after taking (and passing) all my actuarial exams, it sure would be nice to put those to use.
2. InsureCo is 5 miles from my house. My commute would literally be 15 minutes, unless I wanted to ride my bike. My commute to LAF would be about an hour or so each way. (I'd have a 15 minute drive to the train station, then a 30-45 minute train ride, then a short walk to the office.) Let's call it a net savings of 1 hour each way.
3. Working for an insurance company means a LOT less hours than working for a consulting firm like LAF. At LAF, I'd be expected to work an average of 50 hours a week. That's not outrageous in today's society and it was about what I expected. At an insurance company, I'd be surprised if it were over 40. It's just a different mentality. If I work 10 less hours a week, that's a net savings of 4 HOURS PER DAY.
4. On top of the time savings, I should actually be getting paid MORE at InsureCo. Why? You see, credentialed actuaries are quite rare. They go through a series of testing that's more rigorous than the CPA exams. I've even heard that the only thing that really compares are medical boards. (Of course, it was actuaries that told me this, so I'm sure they were biased.) I'd get paid a lot more to be a consulting actuary. But, an insurance actuary should still make more money than an uncredentialed business valuation associate.
5. The last thing I like about InsureCo? They have several different areas where my actuarial experience and my MBA would be beneficial. The chicky today even told me that I could rotate virtually all over the company.

See? This is why I'd been harassing InsureCo every time I saw them. I love the company and desperately want to work there. But there's still the little problem of LAF and the job I'm supposed to start there next month. (It's literally one month from tomorrow.) I'd feel incredibly guilty backing out of this position. Especially since the Assistant Dean at my school helped get me the job.

On the flip side, I feel like I haven't lied to them. This InsureCo thing came out of the blue, after I already made my deal. Of course, the best analogy is getting hit on by a Playboy centerfold at your engagement party. You're freshly off the market, but you desperately want the centerfold. You know there's no easy way out of the engagement. Not without looking like a complete ass. But do you break off the engagement because of a little harmless flirting? Hell no! You go out on a date with the centerfold first. You get to know her. You've got to make sure she's not a born-again neo-nazi. (Yeah, there's a big problem with born-again neo-nazis. They're all over the friggin' place. I can't swing a dead cat without hitting one.) Then sometime after you sleep with the centerfold, you tell your high school sweetheart that you're gay and you never want to see her again. That way she might actually give you your engagement ring back.

(By the way, if that story seems a little too realistic, it's because that's how I met The Wife. True story. Well, except for the whole centerfold thing. And the engagement party. Well, okay, I made the whole thing up. Piss off.)

Anyway, I'm still stuck with the problem of what to do with InsureCo and LAF. I'm going to talk to my favorite professor on Tuesday (next time I see him) and see what he thinks. Depending on what he says, I might tell the Assistant Dean. And lastly, I might tell LAF. But I'd really like to know if I've got a job from InsureCo first. No sense ruining what might be a wonderful marriage for a little harmless flirting.

Today, I was blog-hopping. I happened upon a blog that The Wife reads frequently, Hola Isabel. In one of her entries, she mentions that she has no nasal septum. It's basically the thing in your nose that divides the left nostril from the right one. So what do I do when I read this? I stick both fingers up my nose to check and see if I have one. (The good news? I do have one. I can't tell you how relieved I was.)

I think this is a natural reaction. I'm sure some of you right now are wiping your fingers on your shirt, having done the exact same thing I did. The real question I have is how far I would have gone. If Isabel said that she didn't have a rectum, would I stick a finger up my butt to see if I had one?

What kills me is that I knew I had a nasal septum. But I couldn't go on living without checking. It would have woken me in the middle of the night (if I was able to fall asleep in the first place). And it wasn't just the nasal septum. If she had revealed that she was missing a toe, I would have checked mine. Cuz you never know when a toe might drop right off. Yes, I have problems.

Last night when I got home, it was gorgeous out. I love spring. It's my favorite season by far. And it's because of times like last night. It was the first night of the year that was really warm. Plus, it was light out. So when I got home, The Wife and I took Luke for a walk around the block. (He loved it. He was doing a lot of screaming as he walked, waving his arms like the robot on Lost in Space. "Danger, Mommy and Daddy! Danger!")

When we got home, it was just too nice out to go back in doors. Luke felt the same way. (He screamed his head off as soon as I picked him up and headed to the front door to go inside.) So, I took him to the back yard so he could play and I could read through my mail. After about 5 minutes, I got bored. So I decided to start pulling stumps. (No, that's not dirty. Actually, it is dirty, but it's not perverted.)

You see, The Wife abhors bushes. So far, we've chopped down 5 out of 6 bushes in our backyard (with the other one certain to follow at some point). We've chopped down 2 bushes on the border of our property. And 4 more in the front of our house. Yes, that's 11 bushes in all. How many stumps have we dug up? Just 5. So, since Luke was just playing around in the backyard, I figured I'd try to dig up a stump.

I don't know if you've ever dug up a stump before, but it's not fun work. This one wasn't too bad because it was basically a bunch of small roots all wrapped around one huge stump. So most of the roots came up easily. But then I got to the monster stump. It didn't want to budge. I tried yelling at it, cursing at it, spitting on it. Nothing. I tried to cut it in half with a chainsaw, but that didn't work. Eventually, I was able to saw through the various roots (which were several inches thick) and finally pry the bastard up. And I was frigging exhausted from it. (When I dug up the ones at the front of the house last year, I had to use a winch tied to my truck to get the damn things out. And it still took about an hour per stump.)

Luckily, it was trash day (and lawn refuse day) today, so I could just drag all the branches and stumps to the curb. And all I could think the whole time was: Why isn't Luke old enough to be doing all this crap so I can just sit inside and drink beer? God, I love kids.

Today is the best holiday ever. No, not Good Friday, but a Traffic Holiday. I love Traffic Holidays. Traffic Holidays occur when a lot of people don't go to work, but the schmucks that do have to work enjoy much less traffic on the roads.

To be honest, I don't know why I'm working today anyway. I have no work to do. Absolutely nothing. And yet, M&S thinks they can retain me. In a funny conversation with my manager Mark, yesterday, he told me that he'd like me to stay, but that he really wanted a middle-manager first, someone who could train me. Mark is a busy guy who works ridiculously long hours. Then he tells me that he could train me. It'd just be a matter of making time for it. Ha! If you can't make time to see your family, you're not going to make time to train me. And this came just hours after Mark complained about how M&S doesn't have good technology and don't give us what we need to get our jobs done. Sign me up for a lifetime contract!

Anyway, today I hopped in the BFT to discover that the roads were pretty empty. I forget how many catholics there are in Chicago. They'd all taken today off, freeing up my commute. (Are there other Christian sects that have to go to church on Good Friday? I have no clue. I'm not even positive catholics have to go to church. But if there's one thing I've learned about catholics, it's that they always have to go to church.)

What's annoying is that my commute was basically the exact same time as usual. This is one of the joys of driving along surface roads the whole way to work (about 10 miles). I'm going to catch the same stoplights no matter how many people are on the road. But at least I had room to stretch out. I felt like Elaine in that Seinfeld episode where Kramer makes "luxury" car lanes that are twice the width of normal lanes.

This is where my thoughts turn macabre. All I could think of when I was cruising down the road today was how nice it would be if there were about half as many people in the world. Then I'd be able to enjoy my commute so much more. And I'm willing to sacrifice half the population to make my drive to work moderately more enjoyable.

I've come to accept the fact that I have some mild form of OCD. (One my psych friends points out that it's more likely OCP(ersonality)D. That just doesn't have the same ring to it. So I'm sticking to OCD.) Last night, it took over my life and kept me up way too late.

It all started innocently enough. I was playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and listening to music from 2000 so I could rate it. (By the way, 2000 has been a major disappointment. But I've already discussed that.) I finished rating 2000 and realized I hadn't loaded any songs from 2001-2004 onto my iPod. So, I imported the 400 songs into my music browser. (I use Creative, which is a pain in my ass. Then again, I don't really like RealPlayer either. I'm still looking for a good music browser. Anyway.)

The songs I imported didn't have track numbers. Now, you can't have a ranking of 100 songs without somehow denoting which song is #1 and which is #100, can you? Well, I certainly can't. Cuz I have OCD. So I proceeded to number all 400 songs, 1-100 by year. Given that I was working in Creative, this wasn't an easy task. Basically, you have to click on the track number, and then you click it again to change the number. But don't click too fast, because that will just play the song. And don't click too slow, because then it'll have forgotten the first click. Ah, frustration. I don't know why they can't add spreadsheet functionality to these things. If I could just put the songs in alphabetical order and type in the track numbers, I'd be done in 2 minutes. Instead, it took like 15-20 minutes per year.

So I was all happy because I imported the songs onto my computer and I could transfer them over to my iPod. It was about 10:00 and I was about ready for bed. But then I discovered that some song titles were messed up. And some songs were included in multiple years. (Whoever created these annual lists didn't cross-check them. In my universe, Nickleback's "How You Remind Me" should only be on one Top 100 list, and that would be the year it was released. Yes, because I'm anal and borderline OCD.

It was already time for bed (I get up at 6:15 and like getting 8 hours of sleep, even though I never do). But I couldn't help cross-checking everything. So I went through and cleaned up all my artists. The first problem was changing things like "Hall and Oates" to "Hall & Oates" so all their songs would be together. I also had to get rid of all that "featuring" crap. I don't quite know who Ludacris or Lil' Kim is, but apparently, they do a lot of songs featuring other artists. That raises the question of whether these people actually exist on their own, or are they remoras of the hip hop world?

I went through every artist on my list, which wasn't easy. I have a lot of one-hit wonders in my music collection (which now numbers about 8600 songs). Getting all the artists cleaned up and getting rid of duplicate songs was doubly hard because I had to perform the same actions on my computer and my iPod. Otherwise, I'll have synchronization issues and I'll end up with like 9000 songs on my iPod and that would annoy me to no end.

Now it's 11:45 and I can barely hold my eyes open. I should probably head to bed. So I brush my teeth and hop in bed. And, of course, I can't sleep a wink. I'm tossing and turning. I'm thinking about how my OCD is a bit of a problem and how funny it'll be to write about on my blog in the morning. After 15 minutes of constant movement (and constant annoyance to The Wife, I'm sure), I head back to the office. I turn on the TV and hop in the recliner. Fortunately, Cheers had just started on WFLD. If I'm going to fall asleep in front of the TV, I need something I'm familiar with, so I don't have to open my eyes. Cheers fit that bill. (Seriously, otherwise, I'll force myself to watch, even though there's nothing else I want to do more in the world than close my eyes and go to sleep.)

I'm just glad that it's only 2006 and I didn't have any more years of songs to fix and clean up. Otherwise, I'm sure I would have stayed up all night doing them. The good news, though, is that after a wonderful Speedway cappuccino, I'm feeling pretty awake. And M&S will likely be closed tomorrow for Good Friday, so I'll have the day off. That'll be GREAT. In fact, I think they should change the name from Good Friday to Great Friday. Well, maybe they're waiting until it's a national holiday. Because if everyone had the day off, it sure would be Great.

In my never-ending quest to have both (a) a complete music library and (b) an overly anal music library, I've been busy collecting and rating songs from the 80's, 90's and 00's. I spent months putting together my 90's playlist, which consists mostly of alternative music. (I'm still fine-tuning it because I keep finding songs from the 90's that I completely forgot about.)

I just finished tackling the 80's. I went through every year and listened to the top 100 songs. Then I rated them on a 5-star scale. I'm a tough grader. To be a 5-star song, it has to be one of the best songs I ever heard. That said, I have about 3-400 5-star songs. Still, to be a 5-star song, it has to make me go "Yes!" and maybe even pump my fist in the air. "Love Shack" is a perfect example. (Okay, that's a lame example that just shows that for every "Fabricoh" (by the Archers of Loaf), there's a "Love Shack" or a "Bust a Move.")

1-star songs are equally rare. My rationale for 1-star songs is that they will be the first ones deleted from my iPod (or computer) when I start hitting memory limits. Thus they have to be truly terrible or completely foreign to me. (There are actually quite a few songs from 1980 that I'd never heard of. And there were way too many that I wish I'd never heard in the first place. Which reminds me, why does anybody like Barbara Streisand? What is her appeal? If I live 1000 years, I'll never figure that out.)

I had quite a few dilemmas as I went through the 80's, rating all the songs. There were some songs that I thought should be 1's, but I just didn't have the heart to make them delete-able. I mean, who knows when I'll have a Linda Ronstadt fan over to my house.

When I finished rating 1989, I headed right into 2000. That was quite a culture shock for me. I'm starting to understand why Europeans (who are just now getting music from 1990) have such a hard time adjusting in America. The music could not be more different. In 1989, New Kids on the Block were just taking off. In 2000, 'N Sync, 98 Degrees, and Backstreet Boys ALL had hits. It's enough to make a guy want to hang himself. Shockingly, I've found that I'm being a lot more liberal with my 1's. And sadly, I'm less optimistic about my ratings as I get further into the 00's. I think this might truly be a sign that I'm getting old. That and all the gray hair.

I just got Built to Spill's new album, You in Reverse. So far, it's a complete miss in my book. Too much guitar noodling. Don't know what guitar noodling is? Remember back when you were in college? There was a guy on the quad (wherever you went to school) who needed a shower and a pair of shoes. But he had a guitar. And he'd sit on the quad, just playing and playing. Not any song in particular. Just playing. And you'd walk by and think, "Jesus Christ, play SOMETHING already. And take a shower!" Well, that's guitar noodling. And when you hear it on the quad, it's not that bad. When you hear it on an album you just paid good money for, then it's a bit annoying.

Built to Spill is a hit or miss group to begin with. I knew that going in. I also knew they were into guitar noodling. But when they're "on," they're absolutely wonderful. It's still early, but I'm not impressed with You in Reverse. To be honest, I haven't been that impressed with much music lately. That might explain why I just picked up The Police's Message in a Box and a few old albums by Bruce Springsteen. I'm pretty sure there won't be much guitar noodling on those albums.

That diet must have really taken a lot out of me. I'm finding that I don't have anything to write about. On the job front, I'm finding a lot more interest in me now that I've officially agreed to work for LAF. My current employer, M&S, is trying to get me to stay. I don't really see the allure. (A) They couldn't pay me as much as LAF. (B) They have no work for me. (C) They have nobody to train me. (D) They suck. Really, why would I want to work here?

Interestingly, an insurance company just gave me a call to see if I'd be interested in a job there. I'm listening to what they have to say. It would be completely unethical for me to accept a job there. I understand that. But it would be much more convenient for me since they're just miles from my house. Then again, after talking on the phone with them today, it looks like they wouldn't be able to meet LAF's salary. Besides, LAF's work sounds interesting to me. It's a novel concept, but I think I'd like to do something interesting for a living. Still, if the insurance company decides they want to throw all their money at me, who am I to say no? (Actually, the real strategic move here is to do the interviews and get to know the people in case I decide I hate it at LAF and want to change jobs in a few months.)

Anyway, I only have 2 more weeks of class. One of my finals got moved up a week, so I really only have 1 final. (The other "final" is actually just a presentation.) And I start my new job at LAF in just over 4 weeks. Yeeha!

I discovered a new website that warms my heart. It's called DeadOrAliveInfo.com. Basically, you type in a famous name and find out if the person is dead or alive. This will end many a discussion in my household. Whenever The Wife and I sit down to watch a movie, I always end up asking if someone is dead or alive. For example, when we watched The Odd Couple a few weeks ago, I knew Walter Matthau was dead. I thought Jack Lemmon was too, but I wasn't sure. It gnawed at me for hours. Now I have somewhere to turn to find out in a (ahem) heartbeat.

By the way, much to my surprise, Abe Vigoda is still alive.