Adding Insult to Injury

At work, I have this uncanny knack (gift, really) of delivering what I promise. Yeah, yeah, yeah - I know, must be a character flaw or something. Chuckling and snorting aside, the REAL problem is more clearly divined when the expectation I create in the minds of others is not fleshed out in the hands-and-feet of others.

Seems like - for the sake of expediency - that professionalism is offered upon the altar of business as a shortcut-sacrifice. Why can't people be professional? Or, better yet, why can't people keep their word. Horton (the Elephant) had it right...

I mean, why can't people - I don't know - possibly for spits and giggles - tell the truth? Wouldn't that be refreshing? Imagine... being told over the phone that the surveys you needed loaded to the Internet website A.S.A.P. were going to be loaded next week instead, and (adding insult to injury) being told this after she drops a query in your lap which she needs A.S.A.P.? Talk about cognitive dissonance!

Truth is so overrated... If I could wave the proverbial "magic wand" and make certain phrases, certain conventions disappear, these would be the ones:

The Seven Depressing Sins at the Workplace

1) "I'll have it for you first thing in the morning." ~ First off... my morning starts at 5:15 a.m., when I proactively (and with great emotional strain) ignore my two alarms. Secondly, I report to the office sometime between 7:10 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. - one of the faithful (foolish?) few found floundering for fixes to final forgotten forms from the day 'fore. And, lastly, unless you are my employee (and, most of those promising me this aren't), why should you acquiesce to my request?

2) "We only need a minute of your time." ~ If klaxons and red light 1960's plastic panels aren't flashing as your office buckles under the throes of photon torpedoes... uh, belay that metaphor, hard to port, full impulse... I know it's "understood" that nothing is truly going to take merely 60 seconds of my overrated time; but, just once, I'd like to pull out the minute (hour) glass from a Boggle game, flip the empty-end down and shout "GO!"

3) "Let me know if there's anything else you need." ~ This ranks up there with the waitress at everyone's favorite dive taking a dive into oblivion when you need her the most (i.e. someone technicolor-yawns on the table top, inverts their full glass of water on a paper coaster after leaving the tip in it, etc.). The best way to circumvent getting left in the void of your panic is to ask them then-and-there while you're thinking about it... before they escape.

4) "I'll pray for you." ~ Now, you might be saying, "Ralph, that there's for church." My dear, deceived, naive one (bwa-ha, ha, ha)... you are in the South, friend. And, in the South, we don't need four stained-glass walls or Facebook to promise the moon-and-the-stars - we can do this at work, too! See my other post "Southern Convention"

5) "Could you do me just one favor?" ~ Being a literal-minded middle-aged man, I "see" words. My first (albeit, irresistible) reaction would be to say, "Yeah, I COULD." so as to elicit the proper word (e.g. Would); but, I'd probably be more predisposed to counter with "Only one? Is this going to be the LAST one?" Instead, I pull my pulse down past my pupils and politely present a "I'll see what I can do - what is it?" And, no, my friends, it never ends. It's a hole with no bottom.

6) "I didn't receive it." ~ I use to know this one gal at work who'd always volunteer this patent answer, as if it was "fire insurance" she bought on her way to Hell - never could figure her out. Invariably, it would always "miraculously" wind up in her INBOX. How did I get her to "come 'round", you ask? Why, by simply asking her the same question (again) via e-mail... and copying her boss.

7) "Listen, you need to..." ~ Direction, purpose and the global view are all things I don't mind being "told" to me. How to balance my budget, make other functional areas (e.g. IT, procurement, HR, et al) do their jobs (or do their tasks for them)... entirely another matter altogether. If you're a RESOURCE, then BE all that you can be... just don't be my SUPERVISOR in the process... already got one... and you can't have him! Just don't presume to be in my chain-of-command (read: food chain) when it suits your preferences because you're too gun-shy about rectifying a bad communication issue - that didn't involve me to begin with - in the other functional area. Work it out, Ice, work it out.

Guess I shared all that to say this... If wishing and hoping filled up my hands, I wouldn't be able to get my work done. So, LORD help those who think they're helping me realize they need help, too. MMLIA

No, You Cannot Drive My Car

I shall attempt to restrain myself - lyrically speaking - from citing some dated (e.g. 1980's) references to "driving" throughout this particular day's tirade.

Given the swath of construction (or may I say, DESTRUCTION) along a nearby work zone... and the chaos which ensues periodically, compliments of the uneducated masses brandishing pieces of state-issued plastic, like miniature WANTED posters for which the rest of us would do well to heed - zip precariously along an otherwise placid (read: tedious) commute to-and-from a blessing of a job in (what I UN-affectionately refer to as) 'the biggest small town in America'... or, at least, the largest low-density piece of sprawl south of the Mason-Dixon line. Yes, that capitol of all-things-podunk... known for its infamously lukewarm (albeit, surreal) moniker: Columbia, South Carolina.

All that (whew) to say this...

There are several ways to cluster - and even FEWER ways to understand them - the types of motorists. Note to the wise: I did not refer to 'licensed drivers' because it would blaspheme the SC Department of Motor Vehicles, even though to pass a driver's skills test in this state could be done by anything breathing possessing an I.Q. of Forest Gump.

More to the point...the three types of motorists: the cynic, the sarcastic and the passive-aggressive.

Now, depending on a multitude of factors, i.e. our mood, volume of traffic, times of the day, amounts of testosterone (or estrogen - both in sufficient quantities can have a brain-numbing effect), etc... we ALL fall (fail?) into one or more of these proverbial 'car camps', at any given moment motoring.

The question begs... which are YOU?

To answer this earth-shattering question, scores of scientists did (not) work round-the-clock, probing the data with an unending slew of questions, and we have (not) enlisted the aide of a large moose and his best pal, a flying squirrel. Instead, as we tend to do, we just resisted the urge to be flatulent until some other sound was perceived as being halfway intelligent, rolled the dice on the probability that you'd buy it, rented some 1:00 a.m. second-rate television channel air time and sold it for $19.95 to the unsuspecting masses... ooo, wait, wrong blog (my bad).

So, there are CYNICS... those who think people are only motivated by selfishness and do not trust in sincerity, the integrity or compassion of others.

And, there are the SARCASTIC... those who say-one-thing-mean-another to poke fun of or express their utter distaste in something

But, most importantly, you have the PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE... those who act out aggression in a way that obstructs or ignores any repercussions

Hypotheticals, to teach us to deal with the following:

1) Blind Spot Ninjas - ever been crept up upon by someone, at a high rate of speed, only to have them find that 'sweet spot' where they hover, like a humming-turd? Aggravating and scary, all at the same time, right? Here's how our panel cures their ills... 

the Cynic: "You're just wanting me to feed your narcicism and stare at you, huh?"

the Sarcastic: "Far be it for me to ever want to change lanes without first seeking your permission."
the Passive-Aggressive: (starts drifting into the Ninja's lane until horn blows)

2) Chronic Tailgaters - the three things you don't want to see when you look in your rear view mirror: a cop with blue lights churning, projectile vomit from a kid in the backseat, and projectile vomit when you thought the car was an easy mark... just kidding, I'll drop off 'Junior' at Junkie Moe's and leave a note stapled to his forehead (jk, really). By the way, and for the record I love kids and have a spotless record (with the DMV and Law Enforcement) - this is off-beat, I know. So, what do our judges say? 

the Cynic: "Oh, I took your spot, how selfish of me."
the Sarcastic: "Oh, I would be more than happy to get out of your way."
the Passive-Aggressive: (takes foot off gas, slows down to 35 in a 60, waves cheerfully as Tailgater whizzes by)

3) Slalom Olympians - I don't know if it stemmed from too much "Top Gun", "Cars" or "Fast and Furious"... but Americans are in a RUSH. Well, we have a need for speed - it's called a 'death wish'. Any-who, it's bad enough people pass me - as I go the speed limit - like I was standing still... to add injury to proverbial insult, they have to act like the other motorists are orange cones set up along the concrete (asphalt) for their amusement. Let's hear our experts chime in... 

the Cynic: "What was I thinking... you wanted a stationary object to course around - I'm SO selfish."
the Sarcastic: "Hope it's a boy!" (veiled reference to racing to the Delivery Room of a local hospital)
the Passive-Aggressive: (cuts on opposite turn signal, and drifts in other direction while Olympian approaches)

4) High-Beam Rangers - I use to think this strain of the inbred only reared its vile form during the twilight and dark. No, ever since those Canadians implemented "day time running lamps" and the American populous thought THAT would be a great idea... you can find yourself blind at high-noon on a cloud-riddled day thanks to forgetful motorists amongst us. After Dear Abby rejected our letter, let's see what Miss Manners has to say... 

the Cynic: "I have obviously offended you and I beg the Prima Donna's indulgence."
the Sarcastic: "Thanks - never had the time to go to a tanning bed and do it right."
the Passive-Aggressive: (cuts off all lights, lays on horn and comes to a screeching halt... then cuts on all lights again)

5) Highway Drifters - Highway, not High Plains - although with the total disregard for public (and apparently their own) safety, this sub-culture which seeks its thrills with seeing how many pairs of underwear they can soil, or their simply trying to multi-task BEFORE going to work. Although I suspect the majority of these off-lane offenders do so unintentionally... its the one's who daringly drift during daybreak, en route to who-knows-where which are the most alarming. Figure if THEY don't have anywhere to go, they're more apt to swap paint with you and I. Survey says... 

the Cynic: "What can I do to please you, drive with two wheels up on the guard rail - would that give you enough space?"
the Sarcastic: "No, I wouldn't call what you're doing 'passive-aggressive'..."
the Passive-Aggressive: (opens car door closest to Drifter, cuts on high-beam lights and starts shaving)

So, which am I? Well, I suppose (most of the time) you tend to find me firmly ensconced somewhere between the sarcastic and the passive-aggressive... I'll come up with something "brilliant" to say and will only act on it if the conditions are "perfect" - cause I'm too pretty to go to jail, just ask my wife.

So, yes, I am the perfect 'motorist' - I levitated into the DMV, smiled and angelically drifted out of there with my license, some (ahem, cough-cough) years ago. Always vigilant, prepared to share my angst of other motorists WITH other motorists... until I realize that my pastor-elder is rapidly coming up from behind me. MMLIA

Are You HOT Enough?

Welcome to the "Theater of the Mind" - a progressive performance pitting a private protagonist perilously in the pagan populi to pursue particularly put-off people previously (and providentially) positioned pending personal - yet poignant - predicaments wherein pleasantries and/or the perusal of paraphernalia perhaps may be purposefully parlayed (a tip of the proverbial hat to my dear friend, V). All that to say this - given any (seemingly) random encounter decorating our otherwise dull, dreary and (okay, okay... no more alliteration)  otherwise ordinary day, are we making ourselves HOT enough for other people?

Don't worry, true believers, this is NOT going to be a narcissistic rant... after all, it's not like this blog is all about the things that run through my... oh, wait a minute, it IS (fancy that).

For those wanting to read ahead, you might not want to... or you'll miss the GOOD stuff.

When we all get up - at least those of us amongst the living - in the morning, we have routines that prepare us for the day: a pattern of behavior we engage in based on what we EXPECT to encounter within the context of our day... whether we're HOT or not.

Perhaps I should paint a (camouflaged) picture...

When I was in the Army, I use to joke with the other "Joes" about having to work with a U.S. Army Chaplain. Many instances, the job - not necessarily the Chaplain, himself - became the butt of the joke. To pick one rather clever exchange from the myriad of others is hard, but the following one came to mind about two minutes into this blog.

I forget the circumstances which precipitated me deploying "solo" for field training exercises at Fort Bragg without the assigned Chaplain - but that's not the point, although it's helpful to understand the context.

When I deployed in this capacity, I carried Bibles, tracts, communion kit, a series of reference regulations, a binder and wore a pastoral stole. All of that was in addition to the forty pound rucksack, Kevlar helmet, magazines (ammo), water, first aid kit, knives and an M-16A2 rifle. Yeah, I was a sight to behold in my younger days - and despite all my youth-filled vigor, I wasn't as HOT as I would've liked to have been. 

I was assigned to a field artillery battalion out doing live-fire exercises and getting from battery-to-battery took a bit of driving - both on-and-off the firebreaks - and "humping" (military vernacular for throwing one's ruck, pack, gear on one's back and trekking out in to the wilds with, or without, map-and-compass - usually to end one's time in this method of travel in a humped-over posture, thus the origin of the term).

Coming upon one of the gun positions (towed 155 mm, to be exact), I hear the fire team attempting to clean up their language. To which I responded, "If I'm the only evidence of God in your lives, you've got larger issues than my office can deal with." I knew exactly why the were trying to straighten up and fly right... appearances.

Visually unphased by what I had to say, one of the sergeants asked me, "Hey, in order to work with the Chaplain, do you have to be 'religious' to get that job?" Not wanting to miss a chance to 'one-up' him, I said, "Yes. I am a very religious man - every morning after I get out of bed, I pee without fail."

FYI: religion only infers "habit" or "routine", not moral excellence

Now, although I had a lot to say back then (what do you mean "you STILL do, dear?"), I was not HOT... Honest, Open and Transparent.

So, why not be HOT? In a word? Comfort.

Most people would rather you and I see only what they wish us to see. Sometimes that encompasses wearing a figurative "mask" outside the home... other times, it's folks we know, being a bit more cunning (and, I am being "kind" by phrasing it this way).

"Oh, but that's not me!" Really? Consider these...

Imagine (again) living in a large family where you have to walk on proverbial egg shells around hyper-sensitive people? No peace there I think. Or, how about (from my own background) living with someone so full of rage and bitterness that you wonder when the would-be tea kettle will erupt? Imagine having to put on airs in front of your boss, irrespective of however they manage (well or poorly). Or, feeling compelled to wear a plastic smile walking into worship, mortified if anyone really knew what you were thinking.

Have you ever ran into someone at the ball game who you tell you're "doing good" when you're really entertaining thoughts you'd be ashamed to see detailed on the jumbo-tron? Ever hurt so much inside, in the presence of those who could help, but because of pride, chose to chew the inside of your mouth while your acid wore a new hole in your stomach lining? How about this - ever (perish the thought) pretend you liked someone you go to school with?

Two-faced, hypocritical, robots that we all are - what to do, what to do?

Now, it's taken me about a third of my life to get to the point where the grace of God has me HOT... and being HOT, like this, is so insanely freeing, really... warts and all. And I don't have it down pat - just ask my wife, my boss, my pastor. I have NOT arrived at being HOT... just a bit freer than most, but not where God would have me to be with it. MMLIA

Never Work with Animals or Children

There was a man - who predates a lot of you, dear readers - back in the earlier part of the 20th century, who spoke his mind and didn't mind speaking. Enter... W.C. Fields.  

Although his panache for making light of... well, EVERYTHING... kept him in demand for a couple of decades, this wisdom (no, I didn't stutter) of what he had to say just emboldened some to use him as an object lesson... sorta like what I'm hoping no one reading here (now) is thinking.

While certainly not altruistic, W.C. Fields selflessly got me considering both animals and children - generally speaking, what he (personally) had against both; but, specifically, what have I learned from both... that being the "other" working title for this post:

Raising my children has taught me how to put down my dogs.

Now, before anyone goes to speed-dialing the ASPCA, PETA and these other namby-pamby collaborative nut-houses, consider the following:

1) Children are worth more (in my eyes) than Animals
2) Animals are property, not Children (but the cheap labor for their first 18 years was GREAT)
3) Children have redeemable souls, Animals do not. (And that's as close to an eternal argument that I'm going to get with anyone who doesn't know the Bible.)

I've heard more clever ones - from others, like... "My children? MY problem. My animals? MY problem. Your children or animals? I have two acres, a shovel and a bag of lye..." Okay, that was a little "dark".

Any-who... so, what have I learned? Let me share the gospel...

1) My Children grew up and sometimes acted like they're four. Dogs never grow up and continue to act like a four-year-old Child.

2) My Children were made to share. Dogs will share to humor the authority, as long as that authority is watching.

3) With my Children - "no" meant "no". With Dogs, "no" means (either) "not now" or "go find 'Momma' and get a 'yes' from her".

4) With Children, at times, you're working around them having the "attention span of a firefly". With Dogs, constantly, there is no attention span (unless food is present).

5) My Children waited patiently for the things most important to them. Dogs can impatiently interrupt the things most important to you (e.g. sleep, meal, personal hygiene).

6) My Children - as well-behaved as they were - were often "seen" but not entirely "heard". Dogs - at any time - will be "heard" before they're "seen"... especially at 5:10 a.m., Monday through Friday.

My take-away? Children can change - so, there's always hope (even for adult children); but, Dogs... not so much so - creatures of habit and all. Life can change Children, but not Dogs; and, (physical) death, changes us all.

So, as I finish writing, I tip my proverbial hat at the late Mr. Fields, who (prior to his death) said this rather poignant thing: "When we have lost everything, including hope, life becomes a disgrace, and death a duty." MMLIA

Do You Want to Feel Old?

Remember when you were wanting to be older? Now that "older" is here, it's lost some of the charm, eh? When it comes to aging, everything is relative - but relatives aren't everything.

Oh, but no.

Sometimes it's your friends (not family) that do you the most grievous service by reminding you that your (insert adjective here: younger, stronger, healthier, et al) days are like disintegrating specks in the rear window of your mid-life sedan... complete with an antiquated cassette player, plastic dash compass, and Velcro squares from cheap plastic cup-holder disk thingies.

I'm not here to praise the eighties, but to bury them. Now, by my account, my children are growing up without knowing the joys of...

1) AM/FM frequency static between radio stations
2) 3D comic books with a pair of red-green lenses
3) modem sounds while connecting to the Internet
4) converting bytes to kilobytes
5) dusting off encyclopedia sets in the home
6) payphones on every city corner
7) knowing who's on the phone before answering
8) never seeing a TI calculator because they're only in colleges
9) the smell of a pre-Internet library
10) being dropped off at the arcade to meet friends
11) hardcover dictionaries on their own lecterns in pre-Internet libraries
12) realistic looking, pre-AirSoft plastic BB pistols

...and the haphazard list wanes on-and-on, anon.

So, why the lament? Why does so much of my life look like my buddy's lunch coming out of him on the Tilt-A-Whirl every October? Because, as fast as the first third of my life screams by (pun intended, by the way - my friend was fine. I, on the other hand, had a shirt that I could no longer wear in public as a result), I ache to live a bit more deliberately in the latter two-thirds so as not to "blink and miss it". MMLIA

I Live In A Crime Riddled Area

Ever heard the expression, "crime hits home"? I'm living proof of that - as a hardened criminal, bent on chaos and destruction of the quasi-peaceful existence that is Lugoff, South Carolina, I yearn to (albeit occasionally) "stir the proverbial pot".

Not that I act discreetly or (for that matter) alone... oh no, no, no... I have accomplices with which I execute deeds most foul. Some of my latest efforts have included:

petty theft - happens when wife does a quick "snatch-and-grab" of the bedsheets... and I wake up with all the charm (and temperature) of an icicle.

grand larceny - children in college - either through their own actions/inaction, or in concert with the college financial aid office, can "rob you blind".

tresspassing - usually involves one person walking in on another in the Master Bathroom.

assault - you decide to sit down, all the while wondering why the beagle is stalking you... only to discover (yet again) that you've just been "handled" when she jumps up on your lap.

battery - take said beagle and feed it table scraps two hours prior to the "assault" (above) and try to run away... already too late for Lysol.

slander - one spouse says to another, "I'll be ready in five minutes." but says it 20 minutes ago.

libel - some of us post to Facebook that a particular daughter will be home for the weekend... only to discover she made other plans and is NOT coming up.

crazy-making - wife has God-given talent of "organizing me into oblivion"... and then telling me the object I'm "in search of" is right where I left it?!?

bribery - the veiled remark which usually follows when I hear something to the affect of, "Please don't tell Mom."

extortion (not the "Spiritual Gift of...") - typically what follows an attempt at bribery... where the unsuspecting victim hears, "I tell you what - it'd be a real low-down dirty shame if your Mom were to hear about..."

coercion - occurs when "someone" (who shall remain "nameless", but her name sounds a lot like "brandy"), who already has the "health-and-wellness" deck stacked against her, gets caught (while sickly) trying to do housework - the end result being she's threatened with being "hog-tied" and spray-painted various and sundry colors if she doesn't get herself back to bed... not that THIS scene is ever played out in our house - oh, but no (wink, wink, nod, nod).

So, to all of my family members, close friends and aquaintences... were I to need a brief respite from this troubling location, would you be able to offer me a "crime free zone" to retreat to... at YOUR homes? Think on this a bit (LOL). MMLIA  

Has Helpmate Helping Hindered Healing?

Ah, mah-widge - a  tip of the hat, in homage to the Princess Bride - to be bound for all time (this side of eternity anyway) with your lifelong "helpmate" - 'till death do you part. That is not to say that such unions stay in a state of perpetual bliss, oh no, no, no, true believers... it ain't necessarily so.

The Holy Bible models many marriages that we can relate to (or wish for, considering whatever temporary situations we find ourselves in this day).

What we see in marriages therein (still, the Holy Bible) is in Scripture for our instruction - helping us to understand what GOD requires, and what our (positional) attitude should be in-and-out of times which GOD decides to move in our lives.

No more poignant example exists within this narrow scope of matrimony, than that of "Job".

"There was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job..." (Job.1.1a.esv)

Job - whether a literal or figurative character from the time of the Patriarchs - was described in generalizations within the Bible's Old Testament as being a holy man and (unbeknownst to him at the time) an object lesson in hard times and trials.

It's a "given" - in this life, we will have trials...

Whether personally vested in, or merely knowledgable of, traumatic (national) events - we grieve; and, albeit we grieve, we know that healing comes regardless.

In my lifetime, living in the southeastern United States, these events impacted me the most:

* President Reagan's Assasination Attempt - March 30, 1981
* Space Shuttle Challenger - January 28, 1986
* Hurricane Hugo - 1989
* Hurricane Andrew - 1992
* Election of Bill Clinton - 1992
* Re-Election of Bill Clinton - 1996
* NY/PA/DC Terrorist Attacks - September 11, 2001
* Space Shuttle Columbia - February 1, 2003
* President Reagan's Passing - June 5, 2004
* Hurricane Katrina - 2005
* Election of Barak Obama - 2008
* Re-election of Barak Obama - 2012

(Yes, I underline for emphasis, build a bridge and get over it.)

In my sanctified imagination, I can almost see Job's list of impactful trials, I think it'd be a short list... in the number two position would be what GOD permitted Satan to do to him. The top answer would be "that woman [GOD] gave [him]" - the "helpmate" he married.

Grace Under Fire...

When our own trials arise, does our grieving resemble Job's...

"Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped... [and] Job did not sin or charge God with wrong." (Job.1.20,22.esv) 

...or some type of reaction we'd like to liken to posting an embarassing picture out on Facebook, letting those at church see cracks in your "nearly perfect" veneer of either godliness or peaceful home/family? Ouchie.

SO not Helping...

"Then his wife said to him, "Do you still hold fast your integrity? Curse God and die."  But he said to her, "You speak as one of the foolish women would speak. Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?" In all this Job did not sin with his lips." (Job.2.9-10.esv)

Job was (fortunately, or unfortunately) married. And, brothers-and-sisters... Job's wife was a real piece of... work.

No where else in the Book of Job does any further account of Job's wife occur. One would ask why... one who hears one asking why would say "Duh-uh".

Keep Your Friends Close, Keep Your Enemies Closer...

Given that the bulk of the Book of Job is a long-drawn out dialogue from three of Job's (not-so-sharp) friends, we'll forego that for now and focus in on Job's wife.

Is it not been mankind's experience that those who know us best, wound us deepest? Consider this... it's one thing for a kid that ain't yours to walk down the hall in church, haul off and sucker punch you and laugh about it; but, entirely a more grievous issue for your own progeny to even toy with your heart and state, "I hate you."

In light of those real-world events, consider Job's wife - she sees all what has been wrought against her husband (Job) and entices him to "curse God and die". Y'know, some (if not all) might have been her kids, too.

The man's already down-and-out and you want to dig your 3400 year old stillettos into your husband? Whoa, Nellie!

A Complete Restoration...

My favorite parts of the Book of Job would have to be -

"And the LORD restored the fortunes of Job, when he had prayed for his friends. And the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before." (Job.42.10.esv)

Of special note, Scripture cites that his siblings "showed him sympathy and comforted him for all the evil that the LORD had brought upon him." GOD "permits" evil, Satan needs permission to acost the Saints.

and -

"He had also seven sons and three daughters." (Job.42.13.esv)

Probably by other wives (or wife) - being that Job's (initial) wife is conspicuously absent after chapter 2, these children - being a blessing from GOD - would doubtfully come via the "nagging wife".

"And Job died, an old man, and full of days." (Job.42.17.esv)

Ah ha! I cannot fathom why - as additional rationale as to why Job never saw his "Chapter 2" wife again - GOD would permit Job a long life with anyone that embittered.

Thank GOD I am not Job - and that my wife is not THAT wife - and that GOD is GOD. MMLIA.