Man Cave 2.0 – a wife-friendly version

Man Cave 2.0 – a wife-friendly version

man cave - sports roomA successful marriage is all about compromise. In the interest of marital harmony, I learned early on that I needed to let my wife win a few negotiations now and then.

In just a few weeks we will be moving to our dream house, by which I mean her dream house. Don’t get me wrong. I am sure I will love it, because that’s what she tells me. Of course, no guy’s dream house would be complete without a MAN CAVE.

I had visions of the perfect man cave. I wanted to go beyond the ordinary items that every man includes in his private oasis – your know, basic things like a regulation-sized beer pong table, a dart board that curses in Spanish whenever a dart hits it, or a TV larger than the wall it is attached to. Those essentials are givens, of course.

No, I was looking for something a little more exotic. Something that made a manly statement about me, Tim Jones, as a man! So I came up with my list of Tim’s Top 10 Must-Haves for His Man Cave:

  1. A jumbo-sized wall chart showing the proper operation of power tools – as demonstrated by hot girls in bikinis.
  2. A combination billiard / air hockey / foosball table that with the press of a button recedes into the floor.
  3. A Batman-style utility belt equipped with a potato chip dispenser, cheese-wiz canisters in six artificial flavors, and a holster for my burrito-firing bazooka.
  4. A beer tap in the shape of an elephant trunk – pull on left tusk for guacamole; right tusk for salsa.
  5. A bear rug – with grizzly in full roar – wearing a Seattle Seahawks helmet  (for a touch of class).
  6. A life-size wooden mermaid, salvaged from the prow of a pirate ship, just like the one that Blackbeard used to pry the cork from his rum by wedging the neck of the bottle in between her cleavage and twisting his wrist in a starboard direction.
  7. An oversized phone shaped like a football that makes a deafening crowd roar for thirty seconds whenever it rings.
  8. A giant aquarium – on the ceiling – that you can stare up at during commercial breaks in the game to watch manta rays swimming overhead.
  9. A wall-mounted animal head – anything with antlers. I’m thinking moose but am open to suggestions.
  10. A lava lamp. (I’ve always wanted one ever since 7th grade.)

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My Address to the Graduating Seniors – Coronavirus Edition

My Address to the Graduating Seniors – Coronavirus Edition

[Author’s note: Since 1997, it’s been my tradition to give a graduation commencement speech – whether I’ve been invited to or not. This year, in light of the Coronavirus quarantines, I gave my speech remotely. Below are excerpts from this year’s stirring oratory. You might want to have a Kleenex nearby. – TEJ]

“Dear students, faculty, staff, and mascot of this great institution. It is indeed an honor to almost be here with you for this video commencement address. Thanks for attending – I know you’d rather be playing Call of Duty.“

“Dear students, faculty, staff, and mascot of this great institution. It is indeed an honor to almost be here with you for this video commencement address. Thanks for attending – I know you’d rather be playing Call of Duty.“

Congratulations, Class of 2020. I am deeply honored to be your commencement speaker. Due to the current health crisis, I almost had to bail and ask my close personal friend Barack Obama to fill in. Luckily, I am virtually here for you via Zoom, though I long to be strolling on the hallowed grounds of your renowned university, checking out the Tri Delts.

I greet you from my couch in my man cave, draped in formal commencement speaker garb – cap, gown and fuzzy bunny slippers – filled with pride for what you have achieved – well, most of you, anyway. Accompanying me is my trusty feline, Bonkers. Wave to the camera, Bonkers.

First a point of business. While a cap and gown are optional for this unique graduation ceremony, a dress code of boxers and bras is a tad too informal. So, for those of you with your video cameras on (Bonkers has counted 67 so far), I would thank you to please don a bathrobe.

Our nation is living through a nightmare unlike any in living memory – more upsetting even than the 2011 breakup of The White Stripes. I have faith that we will survive, providing we stick together (albeit six feet apart) and remember to WIPE and WEAR. Wipe down everything you touch and wear a mask. Oh, and remain in your parents’ basement until a vaccine is found – which according to my doctor’s latest estimate looks like October 2023.

Speaking of parents, join me in acknowledging all the sacrifices they’ve made over the past two to three decades, preparing you for this moment. From teaching you to ride a bike to helping you erupt that volcano in 4th grade (let’s face it, your mom did most of the work), to chewing out your English teacher for not giving their angel a B+, your parents were always there to support you. And they will continue to do so, for God knows how much longer. Let’s give these heroic folks an enthusiastic round of applause – by clicking on the clapping hands icon at the top of your screen.

Today we reflect on the past four years – or seven in the case of you accounting majors who flunked statistics, changed your major to astronomy, bailed on that and committed to astrology, only to discover there have been no job openings for astrologists since…, well, since ever.

Whether you pursued a degree in engineering, psychology or Medieval French Poetry, there is one thing you all have in common: a future with limitless opportunities in exhilarating enterprises, such as delivering groceries or restocking the cleaning products in Costco – both of which are booming these days.

Disappointment abounds. No hanging out at the mall, no concerts or bar hopping. Such a bummer that the final frat party blowout was cancelled. Nice try with your good pitch citing the germ-killing benefits of ingesting massive quantities of beer. Consider celebrating with your mates via Zoom. On the positive side, you won’t need a designated driver to get home.

Thanks to the economic collapse (and your impressive 2.3 GPA), that dream job you were hoping for in Silicon Valley has evaporated, like a puff of smoke, carried off by the wind, elusive, never to be found…. I apologize. I was thinking of my book deal that just got canned. Even worse, your graduation trip to Italy had to be scrapped because of the pandemic. My advice: Don’t underestimate the pleasures of a hometown staycation. I hear some pubs and parks may reopen later this month. And Frisbee golf is making a comeback.

It’s entirely normal to have pangs of dread about what is to come, given your lack of any discernible skills and a college debt that exceeds the GNP of Cameroon. Add to that the looming beef shortage, threats of nuclear attack from North Korea, the alienation of our NATO allies, and the specter of Trump’s re-election, it’s no wonder you’re a tad on edge. However, I say, “Have hope. Think of your glass as half full” – okay, maybe 10% full is more accurate.

Though your situation may appear bleak, there are plenty of reasons to feel hopeful about the world today – if you happen to be wildlife. It’s an incredible time to be a peacock or mountain goat. They can roam almost anywhere they like lately.

As you embark on this next exciting chapter of life, I countenance you to go out and make a change. And by “go out”, I mean, go outside to your backyard and get some fresh air. And by “make a change” I mean your clothes. You’ve been wearing the same T-shirt and sweatpants for three weeks. Take a shower, while you’re at it. I can smell you from here.

Eventually you will change the world. But for the moment, just change your expectations instead. I hear Amazon is hiring forklift operators.

Graduates, I encourage you to remain positive – unless we are talking about COVID-19, then by all means, I pray you’ll remain negative. Don’t forget to wash your hands, use Purell, and practice safe social distancing. And think of all the rent you’ll save by living in your parents’ basement for the next 24 – 36 months.

In closing, my advice as you stare into the abyss that is your future, is … um … uh … Sorry. I got nothing. Nada. I’m just glad I’m not graduating this year. That would totally suck. So, good luck. There’s a 57% chance things will get better … someday.

Now please take a second to click on the RATE ME button. If I earn 4.5 stars, the university will email me a $100 Target gift card.

Congratulations to the Class of 2020! Go make yourself useful. You can start by emptying the dishwasher. It’s not going to empty itself.  [CLICK. The speaker has left the meeting.]

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.

Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2020

Staying Safe is as Simple as Washing and Wiping

Staying Safe is as Simple as Washing and Wiping

The most important thing you can do to stay safe from Covid-19 is wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water. Don’t forget to do under your fingernails. You’ll know you’re done when your hands start to bleed.

The most important thing you can do to stay safe from Covid-19 is wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water. Don’t forget to do under your fingernails. You’ll know you’re done when your hands start to bleed.

I come bearing good news: According to Harvard scientists (and Harvard scientists are never wrong), the Coronavirus pandemic should largely subside by the end of next year, or possibly early 2022. Plus, a 63% effective vaccine is less than 18 months away.

Okay, maybe not so good news. But on the positive side, the Seattle Mariners will likely finally end 15 consecutive losing seasons since Major League Baseball plans to cancel the current season.

The Coronavirus is affecting our lives in countless ways. Schools are cancelled, people are working from home, and “My Corona” is the #1 song on the pop charts.

If you’re like most of us, you’re probably anxious about proper Social Distancing in the midst of this plague – unless you’re a complete idiot – or the Governor of Georgia (but I repeat myself). Exactly how far apart should people be? Six feet? Ten? My daughter says it’s roughly the distance I can throw a baseball, so 15 feet. Some experts recommend at least one zip code of separation, just to be on the safe side, and wearing an extra layer of bubble wrap whenever you leave the house.

Then there’s the mandate to wear a mask. But where? At the grocery store? Walking your cat around the block? What about in your backyard? Or while doing yoga in your bedroom, naked? And what constitutes an adequate mask, or for that matter, “naked?”

Let me ease your mind. Nobody is telling you to shelter in place 24/7 (with the exception of mayors, governors, and those annoying Harvard scientists). You needn’t be sequestered in your man cave for the next six months, binging on The Real Housewives of New Jersey (although, I must admit, Season 3 exceeded my expectations). Furthermore, you’re free to wear a bandana, dark glasses, and a hoodie when out in public (just use caution when entering a bank). And for God’s sake: DON’T TOUCH YOUR FACE! (Admit it. You just scratched your nose, didn’t you? You’re hopeless.)

When shopping, only buy the absolutely necessities – like 12 cases of Nutella. If someone has nabbed them first, don your surgical gloves, shove that shopper to the ground, grab the jars, and run. Piece of cake (that’s in aisle 3).

When shopping, only buy the absolutely necessities – like 12 cases of Nutella. If someone has nabbed them first, don your surgical gloves, shove that shopper to the ground, grab the jars, and run. Piece of cake (that’s in aisle 3).

I offer you a solution to this madness. Simply do what I do: Wash and Wipe.

The Coronavirus germ can hang around for an exhaustingly long time, perhaps even weeks – much like my freeloading brother-in-law, Ralph.

You can try to wait out the contagion, scarfing down tubs of Chunky Monkey, slowly giving up on all your hopes and dreams. Or you can neutralize that pesky peril by washing and wiping.

The general rule of thumb is this: Wash your hands any time you touch something potentially infectious, like a shopping cart or a doorknob or a tiger. (Dobermans, however, are perfectly safe.) Better yet, wipe down the shopping cart, doorknob, and tiger before you touch them.

Let me explain how this works. Imagine it’s time for your monthly Costco run. You decide it would be fun to take the kids, but you’re running late for the special early bird Senior shopping hours. So instead of giving 6-year-old Sarah and 4-year-old Tony their baths, you teach them how to sponge themselves with Lysol wipes.

Everyone is buckled in when you realize you forgot to wash the seats. You improvise by spraying the interior with the garden hose, explaining to your giggling cherubs that it’s raining inside. You arrive at Costco and find the parking lot already swarming with vehicles beating you to an open space and your chance of getting the last remaining toilet paper just got flushed down the toilet. So, you hunt for a spot in the overflow area four football fields away. Sarah jumps out and climbs into a shopping cart, dragging Tony in after. “STOP!” you scream, but it’s too late. You take one of the fourteen jars of sanitizing wipes you keep in the trunk and wash the urchins and the entire cart.

Inside this mega-store, Sarah plays fetch with Tony, throwing him boxes of Cocoa Puffs and paper towels and everything else she can get her hands on. You intercept the paper towels, praising Sarah for the good find, and you load up with enough peanut butter, cereal, paper towels, dental floss, and Purell to last through the next nuclear winter.

Back at Scooby Doo lot N, you finally locate your car and immediately start wiping down the bags, as well as the kids, before piling all into the car. You use another jar of towelettes to disinfectant the steering wheel, dashboard, and every surface your hooligans touched while fighting in the back seat.

Finally home, you send S & T to wash their mitts raw. You unload the groceries, including the 60” flat screen TV you bought on impulse (your wife will eventually forgive you) and restock the pantry. Mission accomplished? Um, not quite. Ask yourself: Who else might have pawed these containers of peanut butter, cereal, and dental floss? Perhaps a band of Coronavirus-positive terrorists infiltrated Costco and spat on everything – and now, their infected germs are in your house.

What’s more, all the tainted groceries are nestled in with other items in your cupboards. Breathing deeply, you remove every bag and box, and the shelves and cabinet doors, and give them all a meticulous scrub. Don’t forget the counter. I bet you grabbed the wipes after you touched the contaminated stuff. Rooky mistake. Use another wipe to clean the wipes.

This man is risking serious infection. Oh, no, not from holding the TV remote. He’s watching one of Trump’s daily press briefings. Highly toxic. Be safe and turn off your TV whenever the President is talking.

This man is risking serious infection. Oh, no, not from holding the TV remote. He’s watching one of Trump’s daily press briefings. Highly toxic. Be safe and turn off your TV whenever the President is talking.

Remember how you told Sarah and Tony to wash their hands until they bled? Were you aware they first played hide ‘n seek? Since it’s impossible to know precisely which chairs, tables, and pets they touched, waste no time in cordoning off those rooms and animals before further harm is done.

To be prudent, I recommend setting a controlled blaze to the affected rooms and rebuilding that wing of the house using state-of-the-art sterile hospital cleanroom construction materials. Or perhaps just sell your home now before the market tanks.

Finally, wash your hands every 30 minutes. A timer will help. (You can scale back to once an hour during your REM sleep cycle.)

That’s it. Easy-peasy. Follow these simple steps and you’ll sleep rest easy, assuming you remembered to wipe down your phone, remote, keyboard, gerbil, outlets, and well, you get the idea. You’ll be fine. Just DON’T TOUCH YOUR FACE!

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.

Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2020

My Heroic Recovery from Knee Replacement Surgery

My Heroic Recovery from Knee Replacement Surgery

Recently, I survived a horrible ordeal. I went in for knee replacement surgery. Oh sure, I was unconscious, so I didn’t feel a thing. But what made it so traumatic was that the doctor replaced my elbow instead.

Recently, I survived a horrible ordeal. I went in for knee replacement surgery. Oh sure, I was unconscious, so I didn’t feel a thing. But what made it so traumatic was that the doctor replaced my elbow instead.

When it comes to health matters, I ’m a very private person. I almost never air what’s ailing me – unless I’m talking to an immediate family member, close personal friends, neighbors, second cousins, co-workers, or a stranger lucky enough to be standing next to me in the grocery store checkout.

That’s why it’s challenging for me to share with my readers the details of my most recent medical ordeal. But I’ll try – just this once (and perhaps in parts 2, 3, and 4 of this multi-part essay).

Recently, I underwent knee replacement surgery. My doctor said I was one in a million, which made me feel very proud of my achievement and grateful that I’d beaten the odds – until I realized he meant that easily a million others had endured this procedure this past year as well.

The day of reckoning was inevitable. I had been diagnosed with “bone-on-bone” advanced osteo arthritis in both knees eons ago. I’d long since accepted the harsh reality that the Olympics were not in my future – mostly due to my deteriorating knees (and perhaps in part because coaches said I lacked the requisite speed, strength, endurance, and talent). Rationalizing that it made economic sense to postpone this surgery until I reached Medicare age, I have earned martyrdom for pounding the pavement many years beyond the expiration date of my knees. This past January I turned 65. Time to face the music. Thanks to Medicare, the whole procedure cost me only slightly more than a KFC Family Meal.

The doctor broke the news that the odds of a full recovery were barely 999 out of a thousand. But I decided to laugh in the face of the Grim Reaper and boldly go where no man has gone before. “Let’s do it, Doc!” We’ll skip the pre-game show (checking in, changing into a backless gown, propositioning the doctor as the anesthesia took hold) and go to the actual slicing and dicing. I won’t lie. The experience was brutal. I now can relate to those brave Civil War soldiers who, in the heat of battle and bleeding profusely, were carried on stretchers, barely reaching the medical tent and a medic wielding a rusty saw, with nothing to dull their searing pain but a shot of whiskey and a stick to bite on.

My experience was eerily similar – except for the fact I had no gushing blood, was unconscious the entire time of the surgery, and when I woke up, I was lying in a comfy adjustable bed in a sterile hospital with a stunning view of the Olympic Mountains, and was offered all the ice cream I could scarf down. That being said, not one of the four nurses waiting on me hand and foot offered me a shot of whiskey. (I may file a complaint.) So, I had to gut it out the hard way – with morphine.

As I came to from the anesthesia, there was a bright light glowing all around me. I sadly mused that I was not among the 999 – that the brilliant rays of Heaven were beckoning. But why was this angel wearing a white uniform and stethoscope? It turns out that the bright light was not the rays of Heaven welcoming me home but a nurse opening up the curtains in my earthly recovery room. It was incredibly sunny out.

People have kindly asked how I’ve been feeling in the days and weeks post-op. If I had to summarize it in one word (without using a thesaurus), I’d say: “OOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!” – followed by a flurry of expletives that my editor censored, in case kids are reading this.

I’m home now, recovering. I’m determined to tough it out – in quiet desperation, all alone in my man cave, since my wife abandoned me after only 12 hours of my whining. Frankly, I would rather not dwell on the devastating pain I’ve withstood hour after hour, minute after minute… but if you insist, here goes…

Every day throughout this never-ending saga (it’s been three whole weeks) I go through the same torturous routine: it starts with encasing my knee in an ice wrap, then lying in the recliner, elevating my knee, and reaching for the remote. I am trapped in a living hell every second of every day, with nothing to do but watch movies on Amazon Prime (or Netflix or Hulu or HBO), pat a kitty, or stare at the incredible scenery outside my window, with a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream – or an occasional slice of pizza. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ll be okay – even though I’ve already powered through Season 3 of Mrs. Maisel, and Season 4 doesn’t come out for another 9 months.

Here I am back home, recuperating on the couch, with my walker, ice machine and thigh-length compression socks. Feelin’ sexy. Growwwl.

Here I am back home, recuperating on the couch, with my walker, ice machine and thigh-length compression socks. Feelin’ sexy. Growwwl.

For a full month after surgery, I’m not allowed to drive – partly due to the powerful meds and also because my doctor said I’m a terrible driver. And because my right knee currently has the strength of a hamster – who has just had knee replacement surgery. Despite my misery – or perhaps because of it – my wife and I are much closer, often right next to each other in the car, as she drives me from my doctor’s appointment to PT to Burger King and anywhere else I fancy.

I try to show my appreciation by calling her “Sweetie” at least forty times a day, as in “Sweetie, can you get me another slice of cake?” or “Sweetie, can you pick up my phone? It’s fallen and it can’t get up.”

Any time I ring the bell, she’s right there at my side. Whenever I start to feel a tad guilty that perhaps I’m imposing on my kind-hearted wife, I remind myself, “Hey, I’m the one confined to the recliner” and then I ring the bell again, because I’m in the mood for a grilled cheese sandwich – and she obviously loves cooking for me, as evidenced by the fry pan always in her hand when she appears.

While it’s been arduous, I won’t let it break me. Just last night, in my darkest moment (stuck in the closest with my walker, unable to locate the light switch) I looked deep within my soul and said to myself – and to anybody checking my hourly Facebook updates – that as God as my witness, someday – I don’t know when – I WILL drive a golf cart again!

That’s the view from my recliner. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.

Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2020

Tim’s Home Office News

Tim’s Home Office News

[Author’s note: Ever since I moved from Seattle to Camano Island, I’ve worked from home, by myself, as an independent contractor / consultant. Recently, in order to feel a little less isolated, I instituted my own company newsletter, which I call Tim’s Home Office News. I thought you might like to read the latest installment. – TEJ]

Welcome to this edition of Tim’s Home Office News – your most reliable source about what’s happening at Tim’s Home Office. (This month’s issue was written by our new VP of Public Relations, Tim, seen above.)

Welcome to this edition of Tim’s Home Office News – your most reliable source about what’s happening at Tim’s Home Office. (This month’s issue was written by our new VP of Public Relations, Tim, seen above.)

TIM’S HOME OFFICE NEWS – September Edition

Welcome to Tim’s Home Office News, our monthly bulletin aimed at keeping everyone working here at Tim’s Home Office up to date on the latest happenings around the company. There’s lots to report, so let’s get started!

First of all, a tip of the hat to Tim for winning our Employee of the Month award for the 47th straight month. Way to go, big guy! Thanks to your outstanding performance, you will once again earn your very own parking space in the corporate garage. We would mail you your engraved plaque to proudly display on your cubicle wall for all to see – but our records indicate you already have it.

Also, congratulations are in order for our Facility Manager, Tim, on completing the renovation of the employee lounge (also known as Tim’s Man Cave) at a cost of only 260% over budget. We think all who work here will agree the new 55” hi-def flat screen TV and PlayStation 4 video game console were long overdue enhancements, which will no doubt pay for themselves in increased productivity and improved morale.

In other Tim’s Home Office news, you’ve probably noticed the state-of-the-art smoothie maker in our staff kitchen. A big shout out of appreciation goes to our Office Administrator, Tim. And thanks also to our Intern Tim for all those delicious smoothie recipes (except for the one with Kale. Not a big hit with the staff, buddy).

As happens from time to time, the corporation decided to implement a much-needed staff re-organization to improve efficiencies and reduce waste. It comes as no surprise that Tim has been appointed Senior Vice President of Operations, effective immediately. He will continue to oversee his previous responsibilities in the areas of facilities management, marketing, finance and human resources, until further notice. We wish Tim the best of luck in his new role.

Tim’s Home Office has released its latest Profit & Loss statement. We regret to report that for the ninth consecutive month, we’ve had had to dip into the employee retirement plan to meet cash flow requirements and cover critical operational costs. Included are the lease on our home office, insurance, utilities and maintenance on the company fleet of vehicles (make that “vehicle”).

One insider (known only by the initials T.I.M.) criticized our Transportation Director Tim’s decision to acquire an unbudgeted new SUV as “an unnecessary impulse purchase of questionable timing.” On a related note, we regret to report that the company retreat originally scheduled for this fall in Cabo San Lucas has been postponed indefinitely.

In related news, which may come as a relief to some, despite missing revenue projections for the third straight quarter, the senior leadership of Tim’s Home Office has decided not to lay off a single employee. In an internal memo to the staff, CEO Tim wrote, “I care about every employee. Before I would fire any of them, I would fire myself!”

This past weekend was the always fun annual employee golf outing. Unfortunately, attendance was light again this year, perhaps due to the unusually cold temperatures. In the end, only our Sales Manager, Tim, was able to attend the event. Tim is excited to share that he won the “Closest to the Pin” competition on three of the four par threes. Next time, how about a hole in one, eh, Tim?

In these stressful times, we know that morale is everything. So, the Executive Steering Committee, led by Tim, is installing a state-of-the-art hot tub – the enjoyment of which will be limited to employees and guests of Tim’s Home Office. Please refer to your Employee Handbook for details about its use and our clothing-optional policy.

Congratulations to Tim on being named Employee of the Month. Tim was the unanimous pick of all the employees. Atta boy, Tim. We knew you could do it!

Congratulations to Tim on being named Employee of the Month. Tim was the unanimous pick of all the employees. Atta boy, Tim. We knew you could do it!

It will soon be time to celebrate Tim’s Home Office annual company Christmas party – to be held, as is the tradition, at our headquarters. Newly announced Senior VP of Operations Tim will be looking for volunteers to spearhead the planning, including food, decorations, and musical entertainment. Employees interested in joining the steering committee are encouraged to look for the sign-up sheet in the employee lounge.

We would like to address rumors that have been circulating about a possible acquisition of Tim’s Home Office by a potential suitor. While it is true that the company was in discussions about merging with a nearby competitor, Brad’s Home Office, negotiations broke down when their CEO (named Brad) was unwilling to absorb the accumulated debt position of Tim’s Home Office.

There is no word yet on the timetable for publishing the company’s annual report – or for that matter, hiring a Board of Directors or replacing the Senior Leadership Team. But according to our Director of Communications, Tim, the annual report, when completed, will provide a rich and full disclosure of the company’s finances and bright projections for a successful fiscal year ahead – just as soon as our Chief Financial Officer, Tim, can locate someone who knows how to use a calculator and a spreadsheet.

That’s it for this month’s edition of Tim’s Home Office News. And remember, next Friday is the deadline to submit your nomination for next month’s Employee of the Month. I’m talking to you, Tim!

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

[Author’s Note: This week’s post was inspired by my dear friend and fellow humorist, Steve Fisher, at right, who came up with the premise and invited me to run with it. – TEJ] 

PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.

Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2019