After the week of full moon madness, summer solstice, and Friday the 13th, I had been hoping for something better. Nothing specific, mind you, just better in some indeterminate sort of way. While nothing dramatic occurred, I'm wrapping up the week feeling disappointed.
After a one-week reprieve, the Four Olives cafe is now closed. I had supper there last Sunday, so I was one of their last customers (again). Too bad, although I'll probably save money.
My trainee is officially being reassigned to another tower where he can hopefully be successful. Meanwhile, we've had one more check out in the tower. There are a couple more who look promising, but no more in the pipeline. The experiment with Air Traffic Assistants (ATA's) has been a complete failure so far - we're 0 for 3 - the last one had his training terminated on Friday.
The flow control job that I put in for here in LA is apparently going to get canceled (again). They've bid and then canceled the bid for this job three times now; it's been vacant for a year. Meanwhile I've heard nothing more about the DFW tower job I bid on, and they just came out with another bid. So far no news either on the New Orleans supervisor job that I bid on last month, but it's still early days for that one.
After calling my sister Sunday afternoon, I managed to drop/lose/misplace my phone. The loss of the phone doesn't bother me so much as the loss of the names and phone numbers stored within. As I was on my lunchtime walkabout when I called her, there's only a square mile or two of one of the world's busiest airports in which to look for it. I retraced my route on the midshift, but as that was some twelve hours later I didn't really expect to find anything. I've no doubt that if I indeed dropped it somewhere along my walk it was picked up by someone within minutes. The airport is bound to have at least one lost and found, and probably several, but I'm not optimistic that a phone would make it to one of them. Ironically, just a few days ago I got a call from my phone service provider trying to sell me a new phone; maybe I shouldn't have deleted that message . . .
I've been watching a show where the guy is working in his shop with tools and lathes and such, all the while wearing a spotless white shirt. I realize that it's television and so there's editing involved, but even so. I've never seen him get his shirt even slightly dirty. I am genetically incapable of even putting on a white shirt without something happening to it. In fact, the harder I try not to make a mess, the more certain it is that I will. I don't think I've ever done an oil change on anything that didn't result in oil on me and the ground somewhere. I can't even put air in the tires without looking like I just changed at least one of them. The only way I manage to appear at work (or anywhere else) in a presentable manner is by not attempting anything before going. Since I sometimes don't go to work until three or four in the afternoon, you can understand why I never get anything done.
And while I'm at it: I can't have a nice watch, either. For my entire life, my father has owned and worn the same watch, given him by his mother before I was born, and it looks as good now as I can ever recall. I, on the other hand, am hell on wristwatches. I've had several decent watches, all of which have ended up with scars that give them the appearance of having survived (if just barely) armageddon. I try to have one that's still presentable for appearing in public, and I try to remember to take it off before I get involved in something likely to do it harm. The one I'm wearing right now has made it about three months so far. I don't wear it at all on the weekends - I've got several Wallyworld cheapies that I wear for when I know I'll be doing pretty much anything more than reading a book. And they look it.
There's probably more, but that's enough for now. Have a good week -