Tag Archives: Goodfellas

The Tepid Zombie: What Am Netflix Thinking? (Classic Lovecraftian Horror Repost)

31 Jul

July 31, 2013

A regular feature of this site was “I’ve been Netflixed!” I’d look at Netflix recommendations and try to figure out how the heck they were relevant to the movie I had watched. For example, it would suggest Goodfellas because I enjoyed The Flintstones. It was a pretty good game (search for it in the search box up and to the right, I did 6 of these) and even The Tepid Zombie joined in.

from June 16, 2011

I Am Mr. Wonderful

18 Apr

April 18, 2012

None of those guys are Mr. Wonderful. Ok, Paul Orndorff used that gimmick for a lot of years, and Kevin O’Leary on Shark Tank lays claim to it, but Joe Pesci? He’s Tommy from Goodfellas, no more no less. And Sammy? He’s the Candy Man.

So who is Mr. Wonderful?

I am Mr. Wonderful.

How else to explain all this?

– I was walking in the lobby talking to Saarah when someone I barely know, whose face I have seen but his name I have forgotten, stuck his head in front of mine and, while almost causing a collision, reached out to shake my hand.

– Someone I never met before came up to me and congratulated me for something she had no way of knowing and struck up a conversation about how I did it.

– A co-worker stood up and bowed to me as I passed his desk.

– Another co-worker was steaming with jealousy.

Obviously these people are nuts. Who am I that they are all suddenly sucking up to me? 

I am Mr. Wonderful, AKA the guy who just got promoted way above them, that’s who.

To be fair, I am going to another office in another line of business. And to be even more fair, while I am about to outrank my current supervisor, he is still my boss for the next two weeks.

It has zero to do with me, everything to do with my title. And while you may think you’d enjoy a little sucking up (and you would be totally right) it gets old fast. There are plenty of genuine congratulations out there, thank you very much, I do not need phony platitudes. Am I going to reach out and do a favor to a total stranger some years from now because he shook my hand one day?

I think not.

Will I remember the complete stranger who showed up and ate a piece of my celebration cake after I was gracious enough to offer it only because she spent ten minutes staring at it?


Will I recall the name of the guy who, in the men’s room, struck up a conversation about my job while all I wanted to do was leave?

I never knew his name to begin with.

I will remember the people who were good to me when we all started and we were equals. I will remember the people who helped me out when they did not have to. I will remember the ones who were good to me because I was me and they knew me, not because they knew I had a title.

I have eight days left in my current office. Not a day has gone by that some stranger has not come up to me like he is my long-lost brother. Don’t bother. When I leave next week I am not expecting a fuss, I am not expecting a party. But I do expect to say goodbye to some of the genuine people.


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