Author: Chris Souther

Chris joined the Air Force out of high school. After four years of supporting communications for the Department of Defense, the White House, and stations around the world, he left the military and moved to Atlanta. For the next six years, Chris continued working in the telecom field, eventually traveling around the country teaching companies like MCI, Nortel Networks, and Cabletron, how to do what he did.

When the dot.com crash happened, upon recommendation from his wife, Chris re-enrolled in school and earned his B.S. in Communications (PR & Marketing).

Since then, he was worked in network security, healthcare, banking and finance (and FinTech), general high tech (AI/ML, Cloud, IoT), and most recently, application development fields. Now, with more than 15 years of both Marketing and Communications under his belt, he helps organizations grow their business through the proper application of marketing, communications, and content.

And he blogs on the side. It keeps him sane.

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Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood Marriage

On pregnancy etiquette

image You know how when you buy a car (or you name your child), at the time, you don’t think too many other people have had the same idea. You think you’re fairly unique right? But then, after getting your cherry red Passat (or you name your child “Ethan”) you start seeing your car on the road…a lot.

Well, being pregnant (again) is a lot like that. I’m suddenly very conscientious about the whole pregnancy thing. For instance, I work in a cube farm and people drop by from time to time to ask a question, or to read my whiteboard (cuz it’s witty and informative) or what have you. Generally, I don’t get out of my chair–largely because, to do so, would mean that I would be taking up the bulk of the space in my cube, which would in turn, drive the other person outside of my cube. And that would probably be rude.

So, when…say…that short pregnant lady that I work with comes by, I’m cognizant of the fact that she probably feels as big as a house and so I do my ever-luvin best NOT to look at her belly while I’m sitting belly high in my chair talking to her.

And so it is with the whole, “What are you having?” question.

Yes, I realize we have two boys and so naturally, most people feel that we are just desperate for a girl; but, hold on a second.

We’ve also been so unfortunate, as to have lost two pregnancies, and both at a time when most folks are considered “safe.” This happened prior to each of our boys being born, so in each instance, when we did get pregnant again, we really just wanted a healthy baby.

And so it is now. But I can’t tell you how many people, ALL WOMEN mind you, have said, “Well, maybe this time you’ll have a little girl.”

Well, isn’t that special?

If ever you meet CareerMom while she is pregnant, do not, I repeat DO NOT, say this to her. You want to see her hackles come up? Say that.

I’m not kidding. Zip it. You can think it all you want; just don’t say it.

And granted, random people who barely know us, don’t know any better, but when family says it? Yikes. Just as a general rule, I think this is something you should keep to yourself. Kinda like, “Man your dog is butt-ugly,” or “Dude, seriously…put some pants on over those biker shorts!” because you just never know the circumstances behind the situation.

By the way, we men learned long ago not to say stupid stuff like this. I can’t remember the last time I heard a guy ask a fat woman, “When are you due?” or “Can I touch your belly?”

Uh uh. We aren’t THAT dumb. But apparently, these life lessons just passed other women on by.

And people say we men are insensitive. Tsk tsk tsk.

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Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood Life in these United States Marriage

Water bottles…check. Snacks…check. Worst case scenario handbook…ah, dangit!

We caught a break in the weather here this past Sunday, so while CareerMom fretted over how she could surprise her parents that evening with a baby announcement, (the end-result being a platter of “Petite-Fours” glazed with either pink or blue icing) MLI and me decided to go on a little bike ride while MLE was napping (turns out, the moment we left, he decided “no nap!”).

I got out both of our hardly-used bikes and did a quick inspection to make sure everything worked. I mashed the brakes, pumped up the tires, checked the chains, etc. I even put the little cigarette-plug-adapter air compressor in my truck just in case we had a flat between the house and the park.

The park we go to is a 6.2 mile long concrete path. It’s roughly 12 feet across, so there’s plenty of room for rollerbladers, joggers, meandering five-year olds and more. It’s also flat, which is ideal for kiddies still learning how to ride a bike with training wheels. Leaving the snacks in the car, and taking our little water bottles with us, we started out. The weather was beautiful, the crowds were light and we weren’t listening to whiney two-year olds. Life was good.

About two miles into our ride, I spied a couple of deer across a meadow and we stopped to take a look. After oohing and aahing for a bit, we got back on our bikes, but not after my telling MLI, “Now remember, we have to go ALL the way back, so when you start getting a little bit tired, let me know.”

His little Diego bike helmet nodded in acceptance as he pedaled off yelling, “You’re so far behind me!”

Just as I caught up with him though, he slammed on his brakes and jumped off his bike. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“My seat came off.” he said.

Looking at his seat I realized it hadn’t come off, but it had come completely loose and was flopping back and forth like some kinda wet fish struggling to get back in the water.

“Well, can you balance on it and ride it back to the truck?” I asked, because though I had several sized hex wrenches in my little bike bag, what I didn’t have, which his seat required, was an adjustable wrench.

“I’ll try,” he pouted, and with that, he turned his bike around and we started home.

image

Allow me to pause here and explain the gravity of the situation…if he were unable to ride his bike, I was facing a 2-mile walk back to the truck pushing, more than likely, two bikes, while trying to cajole a flagging five-year old into walking the entire way.

Yep, that’s what happened.

Luckily, there was pudding waiting at the truck.

It could have been worse I suppose. After walking about 3/4 of a mile, the lil’ trooper decided that he would try, once more, to perch precariously on his flip-flopping seat in hopes of eating up the miles. Rather, after getting about 50 feet, his seat suddenly flopped forward and he, and his bike, went sprawling into the only puddle of mud within 1,000 yards.

Hilarity ensued (for me at least…he was wailing!).

The walk-push home was probably the worst. Everyone we passed, or who passed us, gave me the sympathetic “Ah, little one got tired and now you’re pushing his bike for him,” smile. I did actually ask a couple of families if they had a wrench on them, but they didn’t. And each time one of those professionally-attired bikers passes by with scads of fanny packs wrapped around their ageing bellies, I just knew that THEY were prepared for an eventuality such as this. But, they were all moving at 90 miles an hour and couldn’t be bothered.

Luckily, the walk back included numerous more deer sightings, and of course when we did finally make it back, there was pudding. So, it turned out fine in the end. But this was a good lesson learned. I’m going to get myself one of those uber-stylish bicycling fanny packs and I’m going to put my entire shop in it. Next time, I’ll be prepared!

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Dad Blogs Family Life in these United States

Can I get some Calphalon and an Adjustment please?

image If you’re a fan of the Food Network as I am, you no doubt have seen or heard of Alton Brown. He’s the host of “Good Eats” and the host-guy on the newest iteration of Iron Chef. He’s quirky, he’s funny and he lives not too far from me.

I tell this story to everyone, so if you’ve heard it…skip on down to the bottom.

I met Alton, albeit briefly, in a Publix supermarket near my house about six years ago. I dropped in one wintry morning and as I walked down the dogfood aisle, I turned left and came side-by-side with Alton walking by the dairy section. Even though he was wearing a wool cap and jacket, I immediately recognized him. Not wanting to sound stalkish, but still wanting say SOMETHING, I cooly looked over at him and said, “I made your fruitcake last Christmas. My wife’s grandmother hasn’t stopped talking about how much it reminded her of her mother’s.“

Still walking, Alton looked over at me and said, with apparent sincerity, “Thanks. I’m really glad she liked it.”

“You’re Welcome.” I said. “I really enjoy the show. Take care.”

And with that, I hooked a left towards the bread and chips and that was that.

Random thoughts post-encounter:

  • He’s a lot taller and more solid than he appears on TV
  • He really appears to be a genuinely nice person
  • I’ve found out that he attends a Baptist Church around here that CareerMom and I tried out a couple of times.

So anyway, I’ve lived high on that chance encounter for some years now.

This past Sunday, thanks to the crap-weather here in Atlanta, we took the boys to the mall to let them run off some steam and to just get us out of the house. CareerMom and MLI dropped by Gymboree to see if there were any leftover winter pants on sale since MLI has hit a growth spurt of late and seems to be “high watering” all of the jeans.

Anyway, I’m sitting out on the bench in the middle of the aisle with MLE. We’re tossing the ball in the air, and occasionally at passer-by’s, when who came toodling down the avenue and literally within inches of us, but Altons’ arch-nemesis on Good Eats, the real-life actress-cum-chiropractor “Vickie Eng,” also known on the show as “W.”

The encounter, as it was, was kinda weird. She was literally strolling down the fairway, sort of swinging her arms in a slow, “Does anyone recognize me?”“ kinda way. She walked one way, stopping occasionally at vendor’s booths to chat, and then came back by me again in a similar fashion. I was so struck by the oddness of her manner, that I couldn’t work up the gumption to say anything to her.

So now, at least, I have another chapter to add to my “The Two Quasi-TV Stars I’ve Met” book. I know…riveting stuff right?

Categories
Dad Blogs Family Life in these United States

“Good luck with your layoffs, all right? I hope your firings go really well.”

image I’m not sure which activity I find most distasteful this time of year–taxes, or my annual review at work.

I guess at least with taxes, I can determine when I do it and how much of its crap I’m willing to put up with at any given time.

Not so with personal reviews.

Both CareerMom and I have reviews at the same time each year, so I would imagine that it’s nearly the same for other companies. For my company, imagine that there’s this big pool of cash (or not so big, depending) that they have to divy out in the form of bonuses. There’s also a scale running from…I dunno…like 4, 3, 2, 2+, 1, or something like that. I don’t claim to understand it; all’s I know is the closer to “1” you get, the better you are and supposedly, the more money you get. (psst…I happen to think it’s all a bunch of crap. I mean, if the company as a whole, has posted sucky numbers, then how can you give anyone an excellent rating?)

For two years now, I have gotten a “2,” which my company defines as:

Solid Contributor
Consistently meets job responsibilities; is reliable in doing job; demonstrates appropriate levels of knowledge, skill, effectiveness and initiative.

Doesn’t sound too bad right? Considering the next step is someone who:

Goes above and beyond job responsibilities; outperforms most peers; finds ways to grow scope and impact

…I can live with it. But I think what grates me though, is that I’m the only person who does what I do in my entire wing of the company. So, even if I were only skating by, which I’m not, there’s no one around who is qualified to say whether or not my work is up to par with others doing my same job. And considering these ratings are looked at when you apply for another position in the company, it’s kinda a big deal.

Anyway, a rather curious outcome of my review recently was that my Director stated, “The only negative I have about you, is that you’re not assertive enough.”

*I’ll wait for all of the snorting and guffawing to die down before continuing…*

Yes folks, I apparently let people walk all over me.

A colleague of mine postulated that in fact, I was assertive, just not in the right way, no doubt referring to an outburst I had year before last after being transferred to my 6th manager in 12 month’s time. But no, there’s been no such outburst this year and if I’m honest, my Director might be right. I have been quieter this year, but only because I have gotten so tired of beating my head against the wall trying to get things done, that I just sort of shut down.

In my manager’s advice to me, he told me I shouldn’t let people of a lower band (our jobs are given “bands” based on pay scales and duties) dictate to me what I can and can’t do. I’ll agree with that, except there’s a flaw in his advice. He, as a Director, is privy to other people’s bands; I am not. All I can go by is a person’s title, and here at my company, a person can pretty much give him or herself whatever title they please. So it’s hard to know if little Suzy Blowhard is a band 10, or a band 6.

But this all has me considering new job titles for the new year. Feel free to vote on your favorite:

  • Super-duper Writer Man
  • Editor of all things relating to stuff my company sells
  • Manager of everything I touch
  • The guy who just wants to do his job and go home
  • Head Word Czar
  • suggestions?

(P.S. Yes, I know. I am VERY grateful I have a job at all, much less one that pays bonuses. In fact, this is my first company, in nearly 17 years of work, that does.)