The Hunt

I don’t think I got the job.

To utilize an old joke, ‘How do you keep an idiot in suspense? I’ll tell you tomorrow.’

In my case, it’s been close to two months since I interviewed for a position in the communications office at Augusta University. Crickets, radio silence, ghosted; whatever the euphemism for no contact you favor.

Signs that the interaction with the hiring committee went poorly surfaced three days later when the job was reopened. The pool must have continued to be shallow as the job announcement was reposted again a few weeks later.

Just getting to the interview was a huge jump. In the past three years, I’ve applied for at least three different jobs in the university system, ones I thought I was perfect for, and never made it to the interview stage. Rather than just give up I continue to apply. This time, I decided it wasn’t worth the effort to carefully craft a cover letter, using all the right buzzwords. Instead I went the “Golden Child” route, paraphrasing Eddie Murphy’s line when he was trying to get the magic dagger. What follows is what was submitted.

My name is Scott Rouch and I want the job, pleeeeease! Thank you for your time.

So much for a cover letter setting the tone.

I thought I might have a good shot since two of the three-man hiring committee were people I knew from my days as sportswriter at The Columbia County News Times. I’ve applied to other jobs where I knew people in the hiring process as well but to no avail. I thought it was supposed to be it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. I guess in these situations the problem is they do know me.

I have another job interview tomorrow with people who don’t know me so maybe I have a shot.

It's a Jungle Out There

 It’s Wednesday and after being a Waterspider for two, back-to-back five-hour shifts on Sunday and another four-plus on Monday morning, I’m exhausted and still it could be worse.

Let’s back up.

In October I was set to “interview” at the local Amazon fulfillment center so I could start working full time, three 12-hour shifts on consecutive days. Connor contracted Covid (probably from me) so I had to cancel the appointment. By the time I was clear to rejoin society the only job available at Amazon was in a part-time capacity at their distribution center. Thank goodness.

I can’t imagine what it would have been like to be on my feet for at least 11 hours of a 12-hour shift. It’s also the reason I won’t be working security at the Masters this year or any other year going forward.

So here we are almost six months later-with the second part of a signing bonus about to come due-and its been quite the experience. My first shift started two days after the building officially opened. When we went through training the building wasn’t operational yet. Surprisingly, I don’t think I ever heard the phrase “state-of-the-art” uttered. Now that’s not to take anything away from the operation. It’s amazing the system that is in place that allows for up to 100,000 packages a day to transit the building.

So, what’s a Waterspider? It’s a person who prepares pallets filled with boxes and envelopes for shipping by wrapping them in plastic. First, it’s amazing I could do that on such a grand scale. I use aluminum foil in the kitchen because Saran Wrap gives me issues. The pallets rise over six-feet tall and wrapping them can get taxing. Not to mention the whole circling process which is more dizzy than a cliched blonde joke. Once they’re wrapped, they get moved to a specific area for the stagers to move the correct truck door. The days (seldom) where I get to build pallets or even pick packages off the line for the pallet builders, I consider a day off. I have yet to work in the cool-sounding area called Eagle Eye or as a jam-breaker or problem solver.

The atmosphere is an interesting mix of older teens to people who have their sixtieth birthday far back in the rearview mirror. One day I heard a young man who thought he was being unfairly treated because he was told not to be on his phone during work on the warehouse floor exclaim, “It’s just a part-time job, I don’t need this.” By and large I don’t get that this is the case for people that work there. Most of the people I interact with are trying to make ends meet and the job is just one of a multiple they have.

I would trade this in for a full-time job in a heartbeat, but it is steady work and only 15 minutes away on back roads with little-to-no traffic.

Between the job and reading the Washington Post online every day, how are Jeff Bezos and I not best buds yet?

The Dog Days of Spring?

 Melanie and I our now finding out what parents have been doing for eons when their kids are involved in multiple activities. Yes, these days we live our lives off the big calendar by the stove. I guess we’ll save it for future reference in case we need it, although I don’t think anyone here will be grilled for a seat on the Supreme Court anytime soon.

By Saturday, on consecutive evenings from Monday this week we’ll have had: football practice and a t-ball game; football game; t-ball practice; football game and t-ball game. Luckily, we’ll only have a few days in the coming months when both schedules conflict.

Connor has been wanting to play organized football for a while so we’re breaking him into the sport slowly, allowing him to play flag football this year. Down the road we’ll let him suit up for tackle football, but for now we’ll limit the head shots.

Since seeing her brother playing t-ball and coach-pitch, Harper has been interested in getting out onto the diamond. Add a post-preschool ballet class on Monday and Saturday gymnastics and she is certainly staying active.

Harper had only two practices heading into her first 4/5-year-old game Monday as rain continued to wash out days. The team hadn’t even practiced defense but that wouldn’t turn out to be a problem. Her team-of course the Braves-batted first and she rapped a “single” to the infield. After the team batted around it was their turn to take the field as a unit for the first time.

It went about as expected as she joined the majority of the team in finding the best clumps of dirt to play with. She did run with the rest of the team once when a ball reached the outfield, but she didn’t join in the pileup. She also spent some of her time in the infield practicing her ballet toes looking like Michael Jackson about to Moonwalk.

By the time she was done in the field a second time, she looked whipped; walking off the field like a man about to face execution. She rallied of course after the game with a juice box and snack.

Like Harper, Connor had seen most of his practices washed out, but that didn’t affect him much since he’s familiar with football. And having the coach on the field for the first game to call plays and put people in the right position helped. Connor did great. He ran for two touchdowns, threw for another and had two interceptions, of which he was most proud of.

There’s no telling if they will continue playing sports down the road, but for now it’s incredible to see them just having fun with what they’re doing.

A Night at the Theater

It’s been a long time since Melanie and I had the chance to get out and see a show, so when we had the opportunity to see an off-Broadway play we jumped at the chance. It turned out to be one of the finest productions we’ve seen.

Of course, I’m a little biased. Along with 109 of his second-grade classmates, it was my son Connor’s foray onto the stage in front of a significant audience. And the house was packed, with family and friends creating a standing-room-only crowd in Greenbrier Elementary’s multipurpose room. It was a good introduction back to the school setting for all since most everything had been shut down since March 2020.

Connor had the role of Big Rooster in what turned out to be a rollicking affair, complete with six musical numbers and choreographed movements, in “Nuts,” a lesson about the lifecycle of a tree. He was at the mic in the first “scene” reassuring Chicken Little that she was just being bonked on the head by an acorn then had the next-to-last lines of the production. I was nervous for him going in, but he handled it like an old theater veteran, emoting confidently and loud. Harper didn’t appear anxious for her big brother and was downright bored about halfway through, but was soothed being able to color at her seat.

The songs had punny lyrics and included numbers entitled along the lines of “We’re All Nuts” and a rap entitled “We’re Big Bad Squirrels,” pulled off with flair by a bunch of suburban kids.

Summer Gone By

I thought I’d better write something about our summer before it all goes hazy, although this past week has been pretty fuzzy anyway.

Much time was spent at our neighborhood pool. Connor and Harper have made great strides in their swimming and the pool was easily one of their favorite places to go.

We had last been in Bowie in February 2020, so a trip there was a needed one. It was great to see my folks again and for the kids to reconnect with their Grammy and Grandpa. And of course, there was time to be spent at our longtime pool (Belair Swim and Racquet).

We got a Great Pyrenes as well, a 65-pound baby named Willow. It took some adjusting, but we seem to have hit our stride with her now. And, thankfully, she’s not shedding anywhere near like she was in the beginning but getting her layer of hair off the carpet is still a daily affair.

The yearly trip to Fripp Island was another good one. The overwhelming presence of deer was notably absent, but other than that most was the same with the majority of time spent at the pool and beach.

 

 

School Daze

 Well, this school year hasn’t gotten off to the way we originally envisioned, which in this day and age I guess is to be expected.

Here in the South kids head back to school well before Labor Day. So, with great anticipation, Connor and Harper strapped on new backpacks and headed off to their first days of second grade and pre-K, respectively, on Thursday, Aug. 5.

It lasted all of two days.

Unlike a year ago, Columbia County (Georgia) did not offer a virtual learning option, which we would not have chosen anyway. But by the end of that abbreviated week, there had been a COVID-positive person in both pre-K and Connor’s aftercare, so in-person learning has gone off the rails.

As per guidelines, Connor was not permitted back to school for at least 14 days, so we set our sights on Aug. 23 as his return date. Unlike when COVID reared its ugly head initially, at-home learning went fairly smooth with Connor for those two weeks, but he was ready to get back to being with classmates.

The Friday before his anticipated return, I put in a long day replete with mowing and edging the lawn in the hot sun before heading to work at Kohl’s. That night I wasn’t feeling great and by Saturday afternoon I was definitely out of it. A trip to urgent care discovered a fever that had reached 102.7 and a case of COVID.

That means at least another week at home. We hope all the time he's missed in-school teaching hopefully won’t be extended. In the past week alone, the county has upped safety measures twice, fueled by the rise of COVID in the area.

The Bad Rap: The Beginning of the End

Even with the success of their first single, outside pressures began to exert themselves on the fledgling super group.

The demands of the job were first and foremost. The command moved to Pascagoula, Mississippi, where the ship’s construction was finished before it set sail for Boston, Massachusetts, and commissioning on Sept. 20, 1986.

Commissioning week was a thing unto itself, from a ship trip to Fenway Park to see the Red Sox take on the Milwaukee Brewers to a 21-gun salute causing Sen. Ted Kennedy to hit the deck just before his departure from the ship. “Those were for you, Senator,” he was reassured.

The next three and a half years were a whirlwind: stationing in San Diego, California, escorting tankers in the Persian Gulf during a 1987 WestPac deployment and changing homeports to Yokosuka, Japan, in 1988.

Davis and Vanderpoel working on lyrics 

The group continued to create when possible, but different duty days and opposing shifts underway limited music-making.

Toward the end, Davis would turn his attention to marriage and children; Vanderpoel achieved success as an Air Intercept Controller and Rouch maintained his close-up relationship with dirty deck drains.

By 1990, the trio had decided to leave the Navy and go their separate ways and there’s no telling how many creations were lost in the transition to civilian life. With his exceptional recall, Davis was able to write down the group’s last smash hit, one that kept the Combat Information Center (CIC) hopping.

 My name’s Chillin’ Chuck we have a rap for you

We’re up in CIC where all the lights are blue

There’s a couple other guys who will track with me

We do this kind of track’n at the DDRT

We’ve got S.R. Fresh on the track’n pad

He’s the No. 1 tracker, he’s the best to be had

 

Jammin’ Jimmy V.P.’s in the place to be

To do a little track’n with me and Scotteeee

(chicka, chicka, , cha, cha, cha, cha, chicka)

 

We’re track’n a sub and it’s really kind of funny

Cause the submarine we’re track’n is the USS Tunney

The USS Tunney let me tell you all about ‘em

When the Tunney goes down we call it a da, da, da, da, datum, datum

Da, da, da, da, datum