Scopes

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  The other day, my boss was supposed to be on vacation but instead, he was in his little box doing whatever he does, which, like many of our jobs, involves moving papers from one place to another and watching a computer monitor.  "Oh, I'm sorry you're here," I commented.  Because that's the thing to say, right, when your boss comes in on his day off?  "I'm sorry you're here too, Betsy," was his reply.  I know.  The point, Aries, is don't read into stuff.  Just assume the best and don't think too hard.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): So Todd Palin has endorsed Newt.  Ohhh!,  I know!  That guy comes with a snowmobile, a dusty old union membership and a rock solid marriage, which is more than I have, so I guess I shouldn't be too quick to judge, right?  This week, celebrate the progress, Taurus.  This may be as good as it ever gets.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  Is "be here now" really a proven strategy?  Doesn't it depend on where you are then, if you see where I'm going with this?  Sometimes, when you're in that place, is it okay to fantasize about being in the other place?  Another question I have, Gemini, is about a bracelet.  I have a dear friend with a bracelet with a charm on it, "BRH", that serves as a reminder to Be Right Here.  If I'm thinking about the bracelet, does that count as being here now?  Do you see why this is confusing? Be wherever you want to be this week, Gemini. 

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21: One of my co-workers discovered that his tennis standing is way better in a retirement community in California than it is here, which made him think that if he keeps going south, say, to Nicaragua, he'd be really really good, and if he got all the way to Antarctica, he would be an actual tennis pro.  It's all context, Cancer.  Everyone is so damn capable around here that it's hard to notice that you don't really have to head south to be awesome, although today that sounds kind of good.  Stick around.  I made bagels, and if you lived closer I would totally deliver them.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Do you ever long for sorghum syrup, and it just isn't available anywhere? I know.  You'll have to steady yourself with northern vices, Leo, like snow and maple syrup and liberalosity, if that's a word. 

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Did you ever have that e-mail conversation that starts out with commas, but by the third or fourth go around, they're using colons?  Yeah, not good.  It starts out, "Dear Betsy," but a few replies later, it's "Betsy:"  Yeah, I hate that too.  It feels like we're heading from colon towards metaphorical colonoscopy.  Let's all use commas this week, shall we, Virgo?

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): So, at my workplace, as part of the on-going effort to streamline, we've done away with the thing where we do an estimate, and tell you what your permit will cost.  Instead, we've created 685 new and distinct fixed fees, intended to cover every possible scenario except for a bunch that they haven't figured out yet.  They're calculated down to, for example, the number of fire plugs ($17.85 per plug that requires review), and there's stuff that's confusing, like surcharges and markups and administrative fees and counter service fees and stuff, but I want to be clear that fees have not increased, we're just streamlining and offering predictability.  Anyway, I sound a little bitter perhaps, because maybe I am, the way workers do when  there's a conflict between who thinks they're the dog and who thinks they're the tail, and it turns out we used to be pretty clear that we were the dogs but we've recently discovered that we're just a cog in the widget factory.  Anyway, Virgo, what does it all mean?  I guess it means that we might need to work especially hard not to become angry cogs in a the wheel of a widget factory, right?  Yes, that's right, Virgo.  (Does my voice sound a little tiny bit squeaky)

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Every few days I call my sister, and no matter what the question is, she always tells me the same answer:  Listen without judgement, and be curious, learn what's going on, keep your mouth shut, yadda yadda yadda.  It's always just the right advice, even though I'm not very good at implementing it myself.  Maybe you are, so I offer it here.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  So wait, Huntsman is endorsing Romney?  From one rich mormon bro to another?  What about his flip-flopping monkey ad?  (Look quickly, because things are disappearing quickly.)  I think I liked him better when he was making obscure Nirvana jokes and just being a general weirdo than this.  So Sag, just be yourself this week.  That's how we like you best.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): So, another interesting thing about my workplace is that they've determined that any permit that falls outside of six sigmas from the standard deviation of the average for that kind of permit is a fail, and if that happens, we need to further streamline.  The only problem I see with this is, well, first off, standard deviation of what, again?  Oh, and figuring out the standard deviation for the 685 different things is pretty daunting right there.  But anyway, my idea is to run the whole thing like the Apple Store, right?  We can wear the lab coats, and greet people at the door with an iPad, and there could be permits attached to the wall with cables that you could try out.  "May I interest you in a hazard tree permit?  Perhaps you have a tree that may fall soon?  That will be $340 plus the 5 percent surcharge, plus the administrative fee of $116 each time the permit crosses the counter, and that will be twice, once when you apply, and once when we give it to you.  Oh, you're thinking you'd rather just let the tree fall on the house and collect the insurance? Huh, imagine.  Well how about a conditional use permit to run a commercial business in a residential area? That will be $5,355 plus the aforementioned administrative fees.  Hmm, doesn't match your budget?  Well, we can offer a legal description on a lot for $107.  How does that sound?" Anyway, Capricorn, I guess I am a little bitter, because I tend to think customer service is about listening with compassion, being humble about the messed up bureaucracy, and creative about solutions, but it turns out that my boss has been right all along:  trained monkeys could do my job!

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  I've been under my desk for the past few days, waiting patiently for that Russian probe to crash.  Turns out, it crashed several hours ago, and I didn't need to stay under there eating crackers and waiting.  Anyway, it's safe to come out now, Aquarius. 

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  Each week, my coworkers and I toss $5 into a pool and buy a bunch of lottery tickets, as I've mentioned before.  We've pretty effectively converted a bunch of cash into a few bits of paper, and each of us would like to get out of it, but there's that fear that if we're the only one who quits, there's a chance that we'll be stuck, face pressed against the window, watching the others drive off in a self-made parade with streamers and balloons in the unlikely event that they win.  Some things are terrible enough to consider that even if the odds are tiny, it's best to avoid it if possible.  Pisces, don't get all stuck in avoiding stuff this week.  Enjoy yourself.  BRH, as they say.