Smart-ass or Dumb-ass?

In my previous blog I explained how I came to live in Brazil. As the new year approaches I’m reminded of the New Year’s party I attended while living in Brazil.


As the holidays approached I had been in Brazil for about 4 months. My Portuguese had come along nicely, I’d met a lot of interesting people, and I had started to really get the feel for the place. Many of my friends and I were invited to a New Year’s Eve party at a local hotel. The party was for late teens and young adults (16-21) and was a semi-swanky sort of affair. We occupied the top floor pool area of the hotel.

The dress code was “Black and White” meaning you could only wear black and/or white. I brought no clothes with me that would be appropriate for the party but luckily a friend of mine was clothing designer and she enthusiastically volunteered to design and make clothes for me to wear. She was a very talented designer and seamstress but unfortunately she had never designed or made any men’s clothing. Her design came out cool but the fit was, well, kinda odd. But for one night I could endure ill-fitting clothes as long as they made me look studly. Which they did.

The party itself is pretty much what you’d expect for a New Year’s Eve party with that crowd. Lots of music, dancing, food and drinks. There is no “drinking age” in Brazil but the culture (at least where I was) frowned on abuse much more than in the States. Within my group of friends there was strong peer pressure against drunkenness.

Late in the evening (morning?) my buddy and I headed off to the restroom which was somewhat removed from the party area. I took care of business, washed my hands, and was drying when a third person came into the bathroom. I didn’t recognize him and he wasn’t conforming to the “dress code”. But he was in our party’s age group (early twenties) so I didn’t think anything of him until he pulled out a pistol. It wasn’t until then that I noticed that he looked like he just got out of bed and had a strange look on his face. He wasn’t all there. He was either mentally ill or on drugs. Either way not a good thing.

He told us to back away as the door closed behind him. He backed up until his back was against the door. With us backed up against the sinks we were only about 5 feet away from him. We asked him what he wanted but he said he didn’t want anything. Now I’m starting to get nervous. If I hadn’t already relieved myself I probably would have, right then and there. Since he didn’t want anything from us we suggested that he just let us go. Not only did he decline but he started waving the gun in our faces telling us to stay where we were.

We tried to find out what was going on with him and told him that he was making us very nervous. His reply was that we shouldn’t be scared because the gun was broken. All the more reason to let us go we said but once again he started pointing the gun towards us.

He seems bewildered that we were afraid. He asked us why we were afraid. We told him that we were afraid because he was keeping us in the bathroom at gunpoint. Once again he replied that the gun was broken but also added that the gun was not loaded. Apparently to emphasize this he said “would I do this if it was loaded?” and proceeded to open his mouth and stick the barrel inside.

I once read that the definition of tact is knowing when to shut your mouth before someone does it for you. I must have read this after this incident.

So my response to “would I do this if it was loaded?” was “I know I sure wouldn’t”.

Brilliant.

He quickly removed the gun from his mouth and placed the muzzle on my forehead. “You’re a real smart-ass aren’t you?” he said but surprisingly there was no anger in his voice. I fumbled out a quick apology.

The muzzle of the gun remained on my forehead for only a few seconds more before he seemed to become bored with the situation. Without a word he lowered the gun, turned, and walked out the door.

My buddy and I stayed in the bathroom for a bit to calm our nerves and to make sure we didn’t startle him on the outside. When we left the bathroom I headed off towards the party while my friend went to contact security. In less than five minutes security had the man pinned to the ground. He was still hanging around the bathroom area.

I arrived just as security was disarming him. I watched the guard eject a full clip from the pistol. It was loaded and, no doubt, functional. He was quickly carried away.

Months passed before I replayed the incident in my mind and realized that I had not been contacted by the authorities. At all. No questioning, no statement taken, nothing. I thought that maybe they wanted to keep it low key because an American was involved. The more I thought about it it was more likely that the police were never contacted and young man didn’t survive the night.

Happy New Year.

Blame it on Rio

Part way through my junior year in high school I kind of realized that I somehow just didn’t belong there. It’s not that I didn’t have friends. I got along with just about everyone: the nerds, the jocks, the dirtballs. Grades were good. I was a varsity wrestler and football player. I even had a lead in the school musical. Still, it never felt right to me. I wanted out. I wanted more.

I really wasn’t looking forward to my senior year. I had worked hard to earn enough credits to graduate at the end of my junior year. What I hadn’t done was to check all the requirements for graduation. Like the requirement that you have to complete 8 semesters. The guidance counselor and principal informed me that not only did I have to complete 2 more semesters I still needed to carry a minimum credit load as well. I had already taken most of the classes that would prepare me for college (Chemistry, Physics, Calculus, etc.). What was left for me to take at my small-town school were classes like Foods and Nutrition, Chorus, and Comparative Religions, which are all fine classes but the prospect of me filling up a year with them would have been a living hell.

I certainly wasn’t going to drop out.

I’m not sure where I got the idea but I started thinking about being an exchange student. I could go away for a year, ostensibly to further and broaden my education, and have a bit of an adventure to boot. Problem solved. So I decided to apply. My biggest obstacle would be in the interviews with the selection board. I had to convince them that my motivation was for academic and cultural exchange reasons. Not entirely untrue but I did have other motives.

Apparently the bar was set really low for acceptance because I passed with flying colors. I remember filling out a questionnaire regarding country preference. I don’t remember specific countries that I was interested in but I do remember the gist of my priorities.

I didn’t want to learn a new alphabet so all the Asian countries (and others) were out.

I struggled with middle-school Spanish (and English for that matter!) so I wanted a country where English was common as a second language.

I’m not a fish eater so I was guessing the Scandinavian countries would be out as well.

And it wouldn’t hurt if the girls were good looking too!

In the end I was offered the chance to go to Brazil. This was somewhat fortunate because we had a Brazilian exchange student in our school the year before and she left a very positive impression of Brazil.

So, shortly after my 17th birthday I boarded a plane to leave my Wisconsin home for almost a year. I was heading to a country where I didn’t know the language (I learned “window” and “aisle” on the plane) and I would be living with people I’d never met. The city where I was headed, Teresina, was located about 5° south of the Equator and was about as far away, climate-wise, as you can get from Wisconsin. I arrived in Brazil in the middle of their winter. It was 95° outside.

There was a big welcome party for me at my host family’s house. And almost no one spoke English. This may be a long year I thought.


More of my Brazilian adventure in the future…..

Press "1" for English...

What ever happened to service?

I went to our company Christmas party last night. My plan was to arrive late and leave early. I really like the company I work for; I just don’t have a whole lot of interest in socializing with people that I choose not to socialize with normally.

One of the strengths of my company has been its customer service. If you call us with a problem you will get a person, not an automated attendant, on the phone 24 hours a day, 365 days out of the year. Occasionally we’ll have customers show up at our corporate headquarters with questions. I am on the short list of people called to assist in these situations.

On rare occasions I am called upon to help out our customer service reps. We have 3 levels of reps, the highest levels has a tremendous amount of experience and product knowledge. They also have to deal with our most difficult customers. Our customers typically are in the top 2% income-wise and are prone to remind you of that.

One of the things I’ve discovered over the last couple of years is that most engineers aren’t nearly as helpful to our customer service reps as I am. As a result I end up getting calls for products that I had no involvement in the design. These calls can end up really disrupting the day but I figure if one of these guys is calling me they must really be stuck.

So, getting back to the party, I walk around all the rooms to make sure I’m “seen” and can avoid the ‘anti-social’ label. I’m anxious to leave but I decide to stop into one of the kitchens to grab a handful of cheese for the ride home. As I’m starting to leave the kitchen someone grabs me by the arm. I turn around but I don’t recognize the young man standing in front of me. “You’re Terry, right?” he asks. “My name is Jeff, I work in customer service. I heard you were here and I thought I recognized you from the company directory. You really bailed me out a couple of times when we couldn’t figure out a problem. I just couldn’t let you go without thanking you.”

I shook Jeff’s hand, wished him a Merry Christmas and left.

Next year the plan is to arrive early and leave late.

"Start spreading the news,....."

Thanks to our extensive network of friends, family, and co-workers and all their friends, family, and co-workers for voting for my daughter in Avon's "Next Year's Model" contest.

She was selected by Carol Alt and the editors as one of 4 finalists. And after 17 days of online voting I am happy to announce that she won!

She will fly to NYC and stay at a 4-Star hotel, receive a shopping certificate at Lord & Taylor, have a 'meet and greet' with a New York modeling agency, and have a professional photo shoot. Her photo will be considered for the cover of Carol Alt's new novel "Models, Inc!".

Here's the winning photo:

A HUGE thank-you goes out to RJ's uncle. He took the picture we submitted.

Until next time....

Left-hand Louie

Now What?

So, now I have my own blog.

Now what?

I was talked into writing this by my first wife and a friend who think I have something to say. I find this somewhat amusing since I usually have very little to say. I normally like to observe from the sidelines and only add my 2¢ at strategic opportunities. Or when it would be the most humorous.

I’ve read a number of blogs since I read my first blog this spring. I have to say that I’ve found more that I dislike than those I like. Some contain, almost in their entirety, information cut from other sources. Others will have a clear political/ideological leaning and proclaim that they are open-minded and support the First Amendment but only if you agree with the author. Some bloggers self-inflate the importance of their blog. It’s just a blog, dammit, if your ideas were that insightful and/or your writing was that good you wouldn’t be doing it for free. Still others feel like they have to blog about everything they do short of bowel movements (and sometimes even include that).

To anyone that reads this blog I promise to avoid the above. I will welcome criticism and contrasting viewpoints. I will not tolerate abuse. And a word of warning: I am not a writer by any stretch of the imagination.

So who is this Caveman?

I’m more like a caveman than most people realize:

• I’m a simple guy.


• I invented the wheel. Really. You can check it out. (OK, I invented a wheel, but that still counts, right?)


• I can use simple tools.


• I could live off the land.


• I don’t shave on weekends.

More about the Caveman next time.