My organization asked me to select a vendor, conduct negotiations, and secure their services. To that end I put on a suit and tie. I also washed myself. (With soap this time.) This was important.
Naturally I selected a slick company that was “unparalleled” and the “world’s best” at what they did. I was connected with a sales person. We did a little dance.
I filed reports with the CEO about what I learned. He got back to me. He was going with my recommendation.
Oh, shit.Company credit card in hand, I inked the contract. I was then directed to the company’s website to open our shiny new account.
ERROR. (See right.)
Every journey begins with a single step. Each step is an interval where you can be screwed. Enjoy the journey.
“Thanks for choosing ACME Velociraptors Inc. LTD Corp.,” said the salesperson who was now my close personal friend. “I’ll give you a call on Monday to go over implementation.” He even bade me, “Have a nice weekend.”
It’s now Monday. I’m literally stunned that he didn’t call. Am I supposed to wait three days before I call him? I don’t want to look desperate. Oh, forget it. I already emailed him a couple hours ago. He hasn’t called back.
Where did I go wrong? I thought he liked me.
This is one bump in the road too many. Suddenly I don’t feel so good. This is a bad omen, man. This does not portend well. Beware the bodes of business.
Is he born of a jackal or is that me? I’m new to this shit.
That’s the way I like it. Long odds against … well, impossible odds.
I made my time (sic) and said my goodbyes. “Goodbye, iPod. Goodbye, iMac. Goodbye, iPad. Goodbye, Apple TV.” I’m only human so I brought the iPad with me. I knew we would make a fine Thelma & Louise moment together.
I was going to that McDonalidzed experience at the strip mall where they make eyeglasses. What the hell, you can only die once.
I made sure to bring my blue pen. We were decidedly heading out past the point of no return.
I squinted and turned to face my destiny. I took that warm feeling spreading through my pants as a sign I was doing the right thing.
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There’s a small chance I was a weird kid.
I think I played different.
I’ll talk about one of those differences today.
Like a lot of kids, I had toy cars that ran on little pieces of plastic track. I did the usual stuff with these toys like conducts races, torment the cat, and bounce them off my sister’s head.
But I also did some weird stuff with them, too. One things I did was conduct experiments.
Actually, I think I was a bit before my time. Long before I’d ever heard of reality TV or “bracketology” I was simulating both, even as a wee tyke.
What I would do is take my assorted cars and devise experiments for them. In my own version of bracketology each car would randomly challenge another car for the right to move on in the competition. I’d put the cars through all sorts of tests. There were jumping tests, distance tests, stability going down a bumpy surface, etc.
I’d go through as many rounds as it took to determine the “winner.” Then I’d log my findings in my little notebook. My objective? To determine which car was the “best.”
Sometimes I’d mix things up, though. Instead of bracketology, I’d run the contest in rounds where only the worst performer was eliminated. After a series of these rounds only one competitor would remain and be declared the “winner.” And I kept logs of those findings, too.
Logs of my results! Sick, huh?
It’s been far too long to remember which method produced the best results and how the methodology effected the results, if it did at all. But I distinctly remember doing both. And the logs themselves haven’t survived. Sadly, that bit of scientific knowledge has been lost forever. The world won’t be able to benefit from my experiments.
But I can’t help but wonder. Does the modern reality TV show methodology of “who sucks the most this round” eventually get around to producing a contestant who is the “best?” Or is it just a fancy way of randomizing things?
One thing is certain: The producers of this form of entertainment could care less as long as you watch.
Like Alton Brown says, “Even great cooks can have bad days.” And one bad day could easily eliminate the “best” contestant, especially when the conditions of the test are extremely rigged based on some totally random and extreme criteria. “And the secret ingredient … is … TOBACCO!” Unfortunately this severely hamstrings every chef except the one from North Carolina.
Does Tyra’s show really produce America’s next “top model?” Is the last chef left standing really the “top” one? Is the last person on the island really the best “survivor?” And why are we so compelled to watch?
Am I wrong or do these shows seldom produce the “best?” Or, in a case like Survivor, who was the best player that “deserved” to win but was still voted out?
Whatever. The decision of this blog is final. The person who sucks most will leave this blog immediately. The blog has spoken.