Tag Archives: Tolerance

. . . To Unintended Humiliation And Consequences

Anonymity does not exist on the internet. Search hard enough, search long enough and what you seek will be found.

Because everything you ever put up on the internet, at whatever time you put it up and wherever you put it up. . . It’s all still out there for anyone with a little diligence to find. No matter how stupid. No matter how embarrassing. It’s all still there.

Which is bad enough when you find a picture of your little dude or little dudette acting like an idiot, but it’s even worse when your cherished child tries to get hired for a job and has to explain away a series of pictures of him smashed out of his gourd on questionable substances and then bragging about it to all his friends.

Let me give you dudes a little example. Zippy the College Boy had been taking to venting to his Facebook friends whenever he was upset with his mom or me. At one point, he’d even told one of us to. . . well, let’s just say it wasn’t nice. Eventually, he apologized for “saying” that, but not for the forum in which he expressed his anger-fueled views.

And that’s the problem. Then, he didn’t see that what he said in anger on a public forum could ever come back to haunt him. At which point, I asked him how he would explain this certain passage to a future employer.

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “They’d never find it. I mean, do you know how many (Zippy the College Boy’s) there are out there?” (At this moment, I should probably state for the record that Zippy the College Boy is not his real name. I know. Bit of a shocker, but there it is. During this conversation, he used his real name, which is a bit more generic.)

He actually thought there was safety in numbers, but he forgot one important detail. When he is applying for a job, when anyone is applying for a job, the prospective employer will be requiring important personal details like birthdate, place of birth, social security number, etc. etc. With all that info, it’s an absolute snap to find the right you and see all you’ve been dumb enough to post to public and whoops-I-thought-those-were-private fora throughout the years.

Think before you post, especially if you’re looking for a job. Seems like common sense, doesn’t it? Yet despite all the advice and warnings to be cautious with social media, job applicants continue to get burned by their online profiles.

Many companies now search candidates’ social-media accounts to get a better feel for their personalities, to see if they have creative flair, and to find out how well they communicate. 

Vanessa Wong, from Bloomberg Businessweekposted a great column on this a while back. She talked about a recent survey of more than 2,000 hiring managers. According to the survey, about one-fifth of the respondents said the applicant’s social history actually helped them to get a job.

More often, though, it backfires: 43 percent said they found information that led them not to hire a candidate, up 9 percentage points from last year. That trend means either that more job applicants are behaving badly online or that human resources is getting stricter in sniffing out problems.

Among the problems these hiring managers mentioned: racy photos, boozing photos, horribly written posts, intolerance, evidence that shows the applicant was lying about qualifications, and crazed ranting (hello, Zippy the College Boy!).

They’re all bad news when you’re looking to be hired, but that last one. . . Hoo, boy. Imagine you go off on your current boss on Facebook or Twitter. And then your next prospective employer reads about it. Do you think she’s going to want to hire someone who takes such savage glee in roasting an employer? Most likely not, yo.

Parents, don’t panic. This simply is another part of the online privacy conversation we talked about yesterday.

We’ll talk more about that not-panicking thing on Monday.

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Showing Off At The Expo

This is a report, live from the Baby Shower & Toddler Expo. Well, not live, per se. But live in that I’m sitting at our table in the Expo while I’m typing this.

Don’t you just love technology? Out somewhere far away from electricity and internet communication and yet I’m still able to get across all this great stuff. Okay, fine. For certain very not great values of great, but you get the idea.
Barry and I went down to the Baby Shower & Toddler Expo at the Park Convention Center in Charlotte to tell people about our book, A Dude’s Guide to Babies. And maybe sell a few. We did.

I also discovered that I still have an exceedingly low tolerance for kiddie music. Not music that kids like, but music specifically designed for something to which kids should listen.

You know the kind.

We were serenaded by a kid puppet show at least four times during the Expo. Four times, these giant-headed puppet things came out and, in squeaky high voices pitched in such a way to be deliberately horrifying to adult ears.
And then they sang. Well, they did have a human singer and he was good, actually. Quite good. But the puppet things. Their loud, loud recorded voices. . .

I learned that not only is Hell real, it has a house band.

But enough whining. No, seriously. Enough whining. I’m not kidding.

Barry and I had a great time talking to the dudes who walked past our booth. We met a lot of really interesting folks, both pregnant and not-pregnant.

Not only that, but we managed to meet most of the other exhibitors and found them to be a really nice bunch of people. Lots of cool things on offer, including some astonishingly creative and talented photographers. More about whom later.

I also learned that I still have an amazingly soft spot for little babies. They’re so little and so cute and so soft and. . . Well, suffice to say, I quite enjoyed seeing them toddle by. Even better when their moms and dads stopped by the booth and I got to say hi. Even better, I got to let go of them and watch them wander off with their parents before they started screaming, fussing and needing to be changed. Yeah, grandparents really do seem to have the right idea.
Now the only question we’re left with is, do we go down to Atlanta for the next Expo? Long drive, overnight. Long hours. On the plus side, I’d not have to cook anyone’s meals and be able to control the remote. Maybe, maybe.

If you’re one of the folks Barry and I met down at the Expo, thanks so much for stopping by. It was great meeting all of you. If you’re the one who stayed away. . . We have a very particular set of skills. We will find you. We will k–
You know what? That really doesn’t work if you don’t have Liam Neeson’s voice.

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The Good Guys Always Wear Black. . . Underwear

The book’s release must be getting near* because here comes Barry yet again. This time, Barry has a thrilling story about why you should always wear black underwear. Although I’m not sure Barry’s really thought it through on this one. Still, let’s hear him out.

All right, dudes, let’s give it up for. . . Barry!

I am a dude of rather. . . substantial means. And by substantial I mean large. And by large I mean, well, large. In any number of ways. *wink* But the way I’m talking about is related to the pounds I’ve packed on since I purchased a really nice Brooks Brothers suit.

I put the suit on and, while the fit was a little off, I looked even more awesome than normal so I decided to go with it. Which, looking back, might have been a mistake.

One thing I know was a mistake was going out to eat dinner with some friends and eating a cheeseburger. I knew I was living dangerously, living life on the edge, as it were, but I didn’t care. See, I have lactose intolerance.

For those of you dudes lucky enough know to know what that is, I’ll make it relatively simple. I can’t eat dairy (drink milk, eat cheese, or ice cream or anything made from milk). That is, I can, but there’s some severe intestinal problems should I do it. And by intestinal problems, I mean, um, well, let’s just say you can smell the problems and you’d understand.

So, there I was: post-cheeseburger, dressed in a nice, but slightly tight suit and I was getting into the car to drive to work. It was at that time that my lactose intolerance acted up and I had to let it, ah. . . express itself? Yes, express itself. That’s what it did. It was rather loud and I found myself grateful that there was no one else in the car or withint a ten-foot radius.

Feeling slightly better, I headed off to work. I had like five meetings that day; in and out, up and down, before the cheeseburger began to demand that it wanted out. And it wanted out NOW.

Once comfortably ensconced on the porcelain throne, I relaxed and sort of glanced down toward my feet. Unfortunately, what I saw was the floor of the bathroom. Nothing exceptional, until I realized I was looking at the floor through my pants.

What I had thought was just a fart was, in fact, me ripping the nethers out of my pants. There was a hole so big that. . .

pants photo

You know what?

I’m not even going to describe it.

Here, take a look. This is the hole in the back of my pants that I walked around wearing all that day. Yes, really. This pair of pants. Isn’t it lovely?

That one, right there. See the white in the middle of the pants? Yeah, that’s the bedsheet you can see through the whole hole.

And I never once noticed until it was far, far too late.

My point here is to serve as a bit of a warning for all you dudes with your little dudes and suchlike, to make sure your suits fit? No. Um, not eat cheeseburgers if you’re lactose intolerant. Okay, good tip, but not the one.

Oh, wait. I’ve got it: always try and match the color of your underwear to the color of your pants. That way, if anything. . . untoward happens, at least you’ve got some sort of camouflage. Or something like that, anyway.

*it is. Our book, Dude’s Guide to Babies, has a new publication date: It’s March 22. Mark it on your calendars now.

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