Drowning Avoidance

Well, today was my last official day of employment. I didn't actually report for duty today, since I'd already turned in my keys and gone through my exit interview. It's a weird feeling, knowing that all of the "stuff" you've cared about for 16 years doesn't matter anymore. But the prospect of learning new "stuff" (hopefully sooner than later) makes it feel OK.

I've been doing some phone interviews, which I pretty much detest. I understand their purpose, but I really dislike talking on the phone...for anything. The added stress of having it be the gateway to future employment makes it even more intolerable.

My prior employer has provided me access to a "career counselor" of sorts as part of my parting gift. He suggested last week that you don't want to say anything to give the potential employer the "creepy factor" over the phone. I suggested that perhaps I should no longer use "Gee, I rarely talk to someone on the phone for free while sitting at home in my underpants" as my opener. He didn't know how to respond.

Between watching the "Price Is Right" and "Regis & The Wirey Blond Chick" in my down time, I've been taking Grant to swim lessons at the local high school. We're going to the beach in a few weeks, and we wanted to make sure Grant had some basic skills in the water. We really weren't concerned about the lessons, in part because Grant has been exposed to the pool quite a bit already. He swims with us on every vacation, and he's always been a trooper in the bath tub. Boy, did we misjudge this.

On the first day, Grant spent most of the time in the pool screaming, "Get me out of this pool!" and "I want my mommy!" (Daddy never seems to get any love in these situations...of course, it's hard to hear him when you're on the ground laughing.) The picture at the top of the post was taken on Day One, albeit from a distance. As a parent, you have to let your kid learn to face these fears alone. At least that's what my dad told me as he watched me bubble under in the pool where he coached swimming.

Here are a few videos from the early days of swim lessons. In the first one, you can watch as the toddlers recreate the Bataan Death March into the pool. My favorite part is when, disgusted, Grant spots me shooting the video.

At the suggestion of another parent, we decided that bribery was the only way Grant would conquer his fears. The parent with the questionable judgment who made this suggestion stated that his daughter preferred ice cream. We knew that food wasn't the way to Grant's heart, but weaponry from the Dollar Tree probably was instead.

Part of the deal was that if Grant didn't cry during swim lessons, he'd get some new ammo or a new "gat" from the dollar store. In an effort to fully comply, Grant would turn around occasionally and make sure we saw him smiling from ear to ear. Even if he cried, he'd break for long enough to turn around. I caught a couple of examples below.

(You can see Grant's wonderful swim instructor in this photo, giving the camera a suspicious "Dateline Special" look as a very white dude shoots her picture in the pool, not knowing that Grant is, indeed, adopted.)

In the end, Grant has enjoyed the swimming lessons, and at least now we know he can scream at the top of his lungs if something were to happen on vacation. Additionally, we now have the world's most complete arsenal of plastic dollar store weaponry, all made in China. For me, it's a misty eyed reminder of my days of employment past and nights spent at the Holiday Inn Donghua. Farewell, old friend...