Nicknames

Nickname: a familiar, humous or derogatory name given to a person or thing instead of or in place of their formal given name.  In Gone in 60 Seconds Nicholas Cage gave the cars he was stealing female names so they could talk about them over a shortwave radio as a decoy to the police as to what they were really doing.  His nemesis in the movie was "Eleanor" - a 1967 Shelby GT500 Mustang.  A creme puff he tried stealing multiple times and was never successful.  Fox News' Jesse Watters calls Joe Biden's press secretary "Binder" because she is incapable of having an open dialogue with the press corp without consulting her gigantic three ring binder reading talking points prepared in advance when presented with a question.  There's a guy in the airport called "Green Bay" because he's built like a Mack truck and smells like rotten cheese.  There was a kid in middle school everyone called "Scratch" because he was always scratching his balls in PE.  Donald Trump, the king of derogatory nicknames has one for every political adversary.  Sometime nicknames can be true to form, funny or insulting. Sometimes nicknames can be given to one's own self.  Growing up my nickname was "Tuffy."  My Dad started calling me "Topher" because Kristopher was a mouthful.  It quickly morphed into "Tuffy."

It wouldn't surprise me if my team calls me "asshole" because I hold them to a high standard.  We celebrate victories and debrief things that go awry in the operation that end up causing delays or gross inefficiencies.  It's motivated by a desire to continuously improve our operational performance and create buy in to being the best we can be.  To produce excellence.  Not perfection - but excellence.  The goal I have with my team is to have them performing at such a level that you don't know who the manager is.  They're all empowered to own the operation.  It seems to work because we are successfully retaining talent and those unable to rise to the occasion either volunteer to seek employment elsewhere or they're voluntold to leave.

Let the pity party begin and I'm sure there will be a discussion of sorts after what follows.  Who cares.  No one reads what I write anyway.  I write for my own sanity and entertainment.

October 9 will be my one year anniversary in Florida.  Being away from family is taking its toll on me.  Since then, I've seen everyone less than 3 weeks combined.  Sometimes I feel invisible to my wife and kids because I'm not there.  I'm just a face on a screen or a voice on the phone.  Sometimes both.  Relationships are complicated and take work. If I didn't initiate conversation with anyone in my family I'd be completed isolated.  My kids don't call me.  Most of the time they don't answer when I do call.  Same with my wife.  I only get called when someone needs something like an answer to a question.  No one calls to say Hi or just to catch up.  I maintain the relationship.  I started playing New York Times' Wordle and Connections to have a reason to talk to my wife.  Perhaps they're introverts and I'm an extrovert.   I'm a convenience - a gnat that won't go away and leave everyone else alone to live their own lives.  Out of sight and out of mind.  Everyone is busy with work and school.  It's not like I'm sitting here on vacation.  I work just as many hours as always - except they're not as stressful and come with a healthier schedule.  

Just call me "Paycheck."  It's the only purpose I serve in my familial unit.  My spending is constantly scrutinized because I'm here in Florida adding significant rent payments to the budget.  I'm a liability.  Anything but an asset.  Just sign my check away so everyone else can continue living their lives while I'm expected to live like a jewish carpenter.

I thought what I was doing when I moved out here was building a better future for my family.  Preparing to write the next chapter as we head towards retirement.  Making the sacrifice now for a better tomorrow.  I didn't know it would be so lonely.  Maybe I'll feel better about the situation after spending time with everyone in a future visit.  Whenever that is.  In the mean time don't spend any money.  Eat hotdogs, spaghetti-ohs and Raisin Bran.  Don't do anything that costs money.  Sit at home.  Listen to music.  Surf the web.  Write for the crooked toad.  

Welcome to my pathetic world that happens to be a short drive away from paradise.