BevMo and the Guy from Fargo

I'm at BevMo more often than I should be.  Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.   That's my dirty little secret.  Quiet Rage has a weakness for red wine and BevMo's 5 cent sales.  Going to BevMo is kind of a social event.  Apparently, I'm not the only one who loves wine.  Most times I'm there I run into somebody I know making their own liquor run.  I'm not the only one;)

There is no judgement at BevMo purchasing a shopping cart full of wine at 11:00 in the morning unlike Safeway where Nosy Edna gives me "the glare" along with other do-gooders at the checkout stand who look at my shopping cart, sigh, and begin to freely chime in and preach their personal AA sobriety stories with the finger-wagging-judgmental-undertone and how Jesus Saves.

Spare me.

Last time I checked it's still a free country and at age 21+++++ I can damn well do whatever I please.

Which brings me to today.  I'm doing my routine shopping and then decide to go to BevMo to get my wine deals and redeem my coupon.  I'm getting to know the employees on a first name basis.  One of the guys who works the front check stand looks just like that guy from Fargo and also Donny from The Big Lebowski.  I forget the real name of the actor, but he's that funny looking guy.  I try really hard not to notice, but I usually start giggling to myself as soon as I hit the exit.

I can't make this stuff up, people.

Shit My Dad Says

My father is part of a dying breed.  He's an original, gritty Midwest farmer.  He is the toughest, hardest worker I know and is extremely practical in all aspects of life.  Logic and responsibility definitely rule his world.  Work comes before pleasure.  Always.  The problem is that there is always something to do, so he doesn't sit around on the couch watching TV.  If there is something to be fixed, he fixes it.  No instructions are needed....he will sit and tinker with something until he figures it out.  Everything is precise and exact, and has a place and a purpose.  There isn't any waste with anything. 

Dad also has a vocabulary from a time and a place that has changed dramatically leftover from the pioneers who settled the land.  A few words and phrases and some of them you already know.  I've included the word and also use in a sentence to try to get the full experience.  Somehow, I always fall flat.  Dad is much funnier when he says it.

Railroad Shit
"Johnny has been gone for about an hour now while the rest of us are working our butts off.  Where did he go?  He must be taking one of those railroad shits."

Tits on a Boar
"Mark is about as useful as tits on a boar."

Piss-hole Eyes
"Your eyes look like two piss holes in the snow."

Viking Funeral
"Daisy the mare died.  I think we will give 'er the ol' Viking funeral and burn her."

Pissing on an Electric Fence
"That dumb-ass Norwegian is so dumb, he couldn't learn anything if he pissed on an electric fence."

You look like a God-damn Swede (a greeting)
"Hey Sven, nice to meet you.  You look like a God-damn Swede.  Come on 'in ya dumb Swede.  We got some lefse and lutefisk for you."
 (translation:  Swedes, Norwegians,  Danes and Germans dominated the initial wave of pioneering farmers.  You may think they all look alike, but to them there is a HUGE difference much like thinking that all Asian people look and act alike.  The best way to happily greet but yet insult is to offer them food from your own corner of Scandinavia.  Lefse and lutefisk are markedly Norwegian.  Hence, greeting Sven the "dumb Swede" with Norwegian food.  It's a control power trip maneuver.)

Starting a Fire with a Cigarette (bar bet)
"Fires get blamed on lit cigarettes.  I bet you $25 bucks you can't start a fire with a lit cigarette."
True story.  My dad has won a considerable amount of money on this bizarre bar bet.  He has even put a lit cigarette into a bucket of gasoline.  The cigarette went out.  It's the fumes that ignite, not the liquid.  Don't try this at home, kids.

Drunken Rows
Not a fight at a bar.  It's when a farmer plants his crop and the rows are not perfectly straight.  Liken it to being pulled over by the cops and given the inebriation test of walking in a straight line.  "Ole must 'uv been into the firewater when he planted his corn.  Look at his drunken rows." 

....and now.... dad's 'seed cap' he got at the feed store.  It's required wearing for anybody operating a John Deere tractor. 

High Rents

Everybody is complaining about high rents.  What I find so ironic is that the places with the most "democratic-fair-trade-liberal-organic-free-range-Prius-driving-tree-hugging-recycling-earthers" such as San Francisco, Berkeley, Marin, etc., are commanding the highest rent increases.

All liberals are for the socialist movement -- until it impacts their own pocket book or well being.  It's at that point their hypocracy shows.  At least Republicans pretty much openly admit their selfishness.  Democrats are just more coy about it.

Let's talk about rules of economic policy.  Democrats LOVE fairness and sharing until it's called upon them to personally open up their own pocket books or personally inconveniences them.  All rules of economic policy apply to everybody else.  Never to them personally.  The liberals bitching and complaining about "gentrification" of neighborhoods displaced a local when they moved in.  They are the ones who show up at a local pizza joint driving an Audi decked out to to the 9's asking if the pizza crust is "gluten free."

There is a band of homies wanting to bash their heads in upon exiting.

How to tell if your neighborhood has been "gentrified" and it's too late?  You have a restaurant that caters to vegans.

Move away.  Immediately.  Your neighborhood is doomed.  You will soon be overrun by the Bored Moms on Prozac.  Unless you own your own home and now want to rent it out.  Congratulations.  You were one of the smart ones.  Now, put it up for rent.  You will have renters lined up wanting your home.  Now, tell one of the "liberal" renters you could rent it out for a disadvantaged family for 5 at $150 less than what you were asking.  The "liberals" will up their ante to snag up your house in desirable Sonoma County displacing the disadvanted.  So much for fairness and one-world-one-love.

The 2.7 Million Dollar Stinking Pile of Poo: Part III

What is it that "I no longer have any affiliation with the program" people do not understand?  I separated myself from the $2.7 million stinking pile of poo when Mr. Wonderful Los Angeles thought he could do things so much better than I and receive 5x the compensation I was getting for the same functions.  

Mr. Wonderful Los Angeles got the reins and total control.  I bowed out. 

Now I am getting phone calls and emails from the clients frantically wondering what is going on.  Phone calls made to Mr. Wonderful Los Angeles et al are not being returned.  Emails are bouncing.  Statements and policies are not being issued. 

Why are they calling ME?  I gave notice, in writing, as to where to direct all future inquiries.  I NO LONGER HAVE ANY RECORDS NOR DO I PERFORM ANY ADMINISTRATIVE FUNCTIONS FOR THE PROGRAM. 

Is that not perfectly clear?  I'm done?  What did I leave out?  They are still calling and emailing me.  It's not my fault that Mr. Wonderful Los Angeles is dabbling in real estate in Colorado and is in the field at least 50% of the time and can't be bothered running this business.  He has no time to be bothered with any of the boring details of running things, but wants to collect the money. Dealing with details is difficult with the convertible flashy sports car top down zipping down the highway donning designer clothing sipping a organic-fair-trade soy latte. 

Gag me.

No.  Don't gag me.  I want to see how this one ends.   I'm giving out Mr. Wonderful Los Angeles's private cell phone number at this point.  Why should I be fielding inquiries from an angry mob because HE isn't doing the job he took away from me?  It's distracting from my new responsibilities and I don't need be making excuses for him or give tutorial lessons to somebody who flat-out said they know it all. 

Text Message Breakup: The Coward's Way

My poor cousin.  She was recently married and it did not last very long.  Granted, not all marriages work out and not all relationships work out.  It's a sad fact of life.  It's the way the situation is handled that separates the classy from the cads and tells a LOT about inner character (or lack thereof).

The cowardly cad did not even have the courage to end things in person.  He sent a text message stating it was over and he was not coming back.

Wow.  Anybody who has had even a quasi relationship deserves more than a flippant, text message ending.  I feel so sorry for her.  I can't tell her this, but she's better off having him cut and run the way he did than to invest in a lengthy marriage and possibly kids only to find out what a spineless, selfish "man" he really is...and I use the term "man" very loosely.  A real man with morals and character would not do this to her. 

Silicon Valley Sweat Shops - The "Start Ups"

I suspect another tech bubble that will burst in the not-too-distant future.  There is this little game going on called "the start up."  The little Start Ups have one objective and that is to create their product or app and sell it to Google or some other tech monstrosity/monopoly.  However, in order for the start up game to work, they must recruit technology savvy talent and use them as slave labor.  Unfortunately, this game is nothing more than a glorified sweat shop.

The Start Up preys on those thinking they will strike it rich in Silicon Valley.  They solicit young, ambitious people to work 40 hours at poverty wages.  The Start Up dangles the carrot in front of the slave workforce of how their app/product is going to be the next big thing.  The slaves are then coerced into working another 20 hours per week pro bono to "take one for the team" and are given promises of getting their fair share and then some when they sell to Google.

We all know how the story ends.  The slaves never get their fair share.  Part of the reason why the tech industry is trying to convince everybody on the shortage of workers  in computer sciences is because those in the United States and other First World countries have figured out the Start Ups burn 'em and churn 'em game.  There is PLENTY of tech talent right here at home.  They just are reluctant to be used.  That's why the tech industry is crying for imports from China and India falsly claiming a workforce shortage.  Start Ups just don't want to pay a living wage.

Soul Train - Grand Central Station

I don't care what your religious beliefs are or not.  Whether or not you believe in any kind of woo-woo spirituality one thing is for certain -- we all know we are going to die and our time here is limited.  Death is a simple fact of life.  Life here is temporary.  We are all on the same page for that simple concept regardless.

We are all waiting for our 'soul train' to take us to our next destination.  Our time here is limited.  For whatever reason, we are all here on this plane of existence in a transitory flux.  This is the Grand Central Station for souls in progression for their next lesson.  There are souls from all over the energy spectrum waiting for the next evolutionary experience whatever that may be.  We have good, evil, and everything in between all waiting for their 'soul train' to arrive to take them to their next destination of lessons.  Some of us have tickets to AssHole Land, some tickets to Narcissist Land, and others to the Land of Awesome as we have an advanced awareness waiting to bloom and grow.

We meet others in this transitory, temporary station and we engage with each other and build relations.  After a romance that ended badly it is realized that one person had a ticket to Asshole Land and the other a ticket to the Land of Awesome.  The 'soul trains' arrived taking each to the next destination.  The parting was inevitable but sad nonetheless.

Ripping on my Homie Farmers

Yeah, I rip on city dwellers who think that if they have a few potted plants on a roof top that constitutes them as "farmers."  I rip on their sustainable-organic-gmo-free-bla-bla-bla-blow-me-fair-trade rhetoric.

Now, what's fair is fair.  My own family, who has been farming in the Midwest since the 1800's on HUGE plots of land that rival mini-nations, have their own issues I want to call them on.  For starters they HATE the government.  However, they receive millions of dollars in farm subsidies (at taxpayer expense -- ahem -- the government they claim to hate) to grow NOTHING on their land.  Oh, nooooooooooo.... if they were black and lived in the inner city that would be WELFARE.  But because they are Anglo-Saxon white, praise Jesus, and live in the country, it's just a smart business decision.  Who would turn away free money?

Apparantly nobody.  I'm about to write a check for my second quarter estimated taxes to both the federal and state governments.  It's getting harder and harder to do without wanting to scream into my  pillow.  I would love to collect $ for doing nothing.

There's a joke about Midwest millionaire farmers.  Do you know what 4X4 on their trucks means?  It means that they work 4 weeks in the spring and 4 weeks at harvest.  The rest of the time they are on Florida's Gulf Coast burning their  pale, iridescent skin.

On Drones and Hot Air Balloons

I can't make this stuff up, people....

I was at the Santa Rosa Country Club recently.  When I pulled into the drive to park my car, there were a few guys coming in off the course laughing, joking, and all the things guys do and contemplating if they wanted to grab a cold one before going home to their bitchy, demanding wives or go to a topless bar.   

One golf guy was operating an UBER annoying drone right there in the parking lot of the Santa Rosa Country Club buzzing around the golf course.  The thing looked like a giant mosquito and buzzed just as loudly hovering at a space just out of reach to smack it silent. 

The other Beavis and Butthead golfers watched in amazement as they popped open their trunks to dump golf gear and pop open a beer.  "Dude....that is.....uh....soooooo..... kewwwwwl....i...wanna..get...wun.."

The owner/operator of the drone was bragging on how he could control it for a mile away.  All I could envision was a sky full of mechanical mosquitoes where DEET could not repel them and I voted "no" on the recent mosquito tax abatement measure.

Damn...  dumb choice...

Just what we need.  We don't need any more amateur NSA wannabees equipped with pesky, mechanical mosquitoes buzzing around our air space when all we want is to be left alone.  Google has done enough damage to any shred of privacy we may have left.  I should leave the NSA out of it -- they are Google's scapegoat.

Which leads me to hot air balloons.

Everybody thinks they are soooooo pretty and peaceful.  Just fill a bag with hot air and float around the Napa Valley in complete bliss.  Where's the wine, cheese, and Edith Piaf recordings?    Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.

Here's the truth.  The low-hovering hot air balloons scare the crap out of the near by ranch animals and they often charge the property fence line out of fear.  The animals literally go nuts and get tangled in property fence lines trying to escape the perceived threat of some monstrosity coming from the sky.  Ranch owners, in desperate attempts to protect their livestock,  wave guns at the hovering balloonists threatening to shoot the damn tourists dead out of the sky.

Which is worse?  Drones or hot air balloons?  Same?  Or different???

Sonoma County "organic" Eggs

OK all of you pious Prius driving Whole Food shoppers...   The following article appeared recently in the Minneapolis Star and Tribune.  Where is the Press Democrat when you need them?  Looks like the feel-good-fair-trade-sustainable-organa-yups have egg on their faces... literally.  I told you all that "organic" food is nothing but a *HUGE* scam.   Click on image to read below article. 

Post Mothers' Day Rant

The incubation period for the future Bored Moms on Prozac Committee begins when their sisters and friends begin the first round trend of getting pregnant.  These women see how much attention their sisters and friends are getting from just about everybody.  Strangers open doors for them and give up bus seats.  Showers are thrown with cute outfits and accessories.  Mom-to-Be is the center of attention and loves the spotlight.

Mom-to-Be has visions of taking baby everywhere with her, including adult only events (because HER baby is the exception of course), and having the world stop revolving to admire this wonderful prodigy that was conceived after a night of tequila.

Congratulations.  Really.  Just be warned... There is a fine line between the cuteness of a newborn and the inevitable, "Shut that annoying kid UP and make him/her stop scaling the walls and wrecking everything!"

Glad you think your kid is all that.  Please, take him HOME and admire him and don't subject the world to yet another spoiled brat.   No, kids are not like a toy poodle that you can carry around in your purse like an accessory.  Once its figured out that the pregnancy/newborn "attention" phase is temporary there is the next 25 years to deal with.  It's *not* glamorous and *will* cramp your style.  That's how I ended up with a household of other people's kids.  The novelty wore off and the life-long commitment was too much. 

Part II: The $2.7 Million Stinking Pile of Poo

I can't make this stuff up, people.

About a week or so I ranted about the $2.7 million stinking pile of poo I am waiting to hand off to somebody who is making 5x the compensation for the same administrative functions I performed.  The new person can't figure it out and I refuse to do his shit work for him pro bono.  Mr. Wonderful Los Angeles thinks he has it all figured out.  All he has to do is drive around in his shiny sports car convertible wearing shiny shoes and bull**** people.  There's a lot more to this than standing at the podium with a power point presentation donning a suit, tie, and game show host smile while patting new clients on the back promising, "We will take care of you...  we know what we're doing." 

Yeah...right....      It gets better...

Today Mr. Wonderful Los Angeles forwards a letter to me wanting me to plead with the IRS about a fine that was incurred for failure to file the required tax forms in a timely manner from the administrator prior to me.  The IRS penalty is quite substantial and is no chump change. 

1.  Why would I put my name to IRS correspondence for an infraction that did not happen under my watch?
2.  Repeat #1:  Why would I even attempt to solve a problem and put my name to it where I had ZERO responsibility?
3.  This guy must have the biggest gonads or be the dumbest person in the universe to even ASK. 
4.  I told them this was their baby when they took it over... babies need LOTS of attention.  My problem was that I  made it look easy. 
5.  Why do they keep trying to keep me associated?  They either need a scapegoat, are lazy, or they really are that incompetent. 
6.  I hear the phone ringing.  I think it's the FBI.  Time for some fun. 

Mothers' Day: The Rant

Pardon me if I'm a tad confused about Mothers' Day as of late.  What used to be a day of phoning your mother and buying her flowers has turned into a crazed circus of acknowledging every single female in your life.

I'm am NOT anti-woman by any means.  However, it gets dangerously muddled when:  sisters, babysitters, nurses, teachers, friends, female patrons at a restaurant, and female relatives with no children get thrown into the "mother" group.

Who gets acknowledged?  Who doesn't?  What if somebody gets insulted if they're not acknowledged and you acknowledged another 'non-mother' as a mother?  What if somebody gets offended if you do acknowledge them as 'non-mother'  mother?  What if a very gender neutral looking man gets handed a rose when he enters an establishment on Mothers' Day?

Let's take this a bit further....  What if a woman who is having fertility issues gets acknowledged, or a woman who just had a miscarriage or stillbirth?   What about the woman who may have lost her child in a car accident or to some hideous disease?  What about the mother who made the heart-wrenching decision to put her baby up for adoption and is longing for contact and wonders constantly about the child she will never know?  What about the woman who opted NOT to have children?  What about the woman who recently lost her *own* mother and this is a painful day? 

See where it gets blurred and emotions could come boiling to the surface when the chirpy-good-intentioned-mothers'-day-mass-acknowledger casually assumes the holiday is pleasant for everyone?   There are often painful, private details about a woman's life that Mothers' Day brings to the surface.  Unless the woman is your mother and/or you know the personal, intimate details of her life, STFU and don't assume ANYTHING. 

Who even started this crap of making Mothers' Day tentacles to reach to every female (or female looking person) on the globe whether or not they had children?  I'm sure it was the Bored Moms on Prozac Committee.  The irony. 

Either rename the holiday to Global Female Day and acknowledge every woman unanimously across the board, or keep the original intent of honoring YOUR MOTHER.   Anything else will get you into trouble -- even if your intentions are good. 

Dancing With Myself

The business world is a cruel, brutal place.  It's not for the feint of heart.  Actually, anytime money is exchanged is fertile ground for the worst in humans to surface:  greed, control, power, selfishness, etc., etc., etc.  Everybody wants something for nothing.  Everybody wants to call the shots.

Life is an advanced algebraic equation.  Someday we will grasp the concept that in life and society you can't do something to one side of the equation without it not impacting the other.  Dr. Suess said it best, "Life is a great balancing act."  or....the more recognizable....you can't have your cake and eat it too.

I'm getting off track.  Anyway, I've been immersed in the icky side of business way too much lately.  With that I've been dealing with the icky side of humanity.  My energy was off balance I absorb the frequency of energy that's around me being the sensitive, empathic that I am.  Bottom line:  I was around too much low frequency energy for too long and it was bringing me down.  Toxic. 

Time to balance out with the more positive side of humanity -- enter my freaky, hippie friends.  Quiet Rage is tired at the end of a work day.  Most of what I do for work sucks the living soul right out of me and I feel depleted at the end of the day.  It's so easy to just want to go home, draw the shades, and stare into space.

My friends who know me really know me.  I was literally dragged out last night for music and dancing.  I tried to resist citing being tired but they did not buy it.  I'm glad I went.  Once there and the live music was playing I began to feel how healing it all was.  Pretty soon I was on the dance floor and danced until the music stopped.  I needed that injection of positive, fun energy.  We had so much fun we are going to repeat the same tonight;)

Mea

I have an employee I'm on the verge of firing.  I've been grumbling about her for years, but now I'm at the point where I'm keeping a paper trail so her termination can't be twisted into something else.  I can't believe how lazy she is and it's getting worse.  My name for her is Mea, which stands for Minimum Effort Angela.  She does the bare minimum.  In fact, it's easier when she's NOT around as I end up redoing all of her work even when I instruct her otherwise.

I'm telling you all right now.  A business degree from Sacramento State University is worthless.  She graduated and can't even do routine office functions nor keep simple books without my constant harping on her.  I should not pick on Sac State.  It's probably her being lazy more than the school being worthless.  What Angela does excel at is trying to get others to do her work for her, even though she is not in a position to ask anybody for anything.  She bitches about everything and she is so lazy, her garbage is overflowing and she waits for somebody else to take it out.  When I give her a project, she looks at me like, "really....you're asking me to do THIS?" like it's beneath her and immediately starts calling around trying to sucker others into doing the real work for her.  I've told her repeatedly that I want HER to do it.  She is not listening. 

I've been generous with pay and time off.  Probably too generous.  When I had major surgery a couple years ago I told her I was depending on her to keep things rolling.  I was looking for her to take on a more leadership role in the organization.  Believe me.  We could really use it.  There is room for advancement, and our industry is so specialized it's not like we can put out a blanket ad for help.  Angela showed ZERO initiative.  I started getting phone calls on my cell because Angela was not returning them. 

Basic skills that will take you far:
1.  Basic understanding of accounting and knowing Quickbooks;
2.  Computer skills and applications:  Microsoft excel, word, access, etc.;
3.  Attention to detail and not thinking that filing/records organization is beneath you;
4.  Taxes, insurance, and government regulations relating to the industry;
5.  Act like you care even if you don't.
6.  Willingness to learn and expand.

I even offered for her to take courses at the SRJC to brush up on skills on my dime and time.  Nothing.  

The Interview

No, this post isn't about the silly Seth Rogan movie about taking out the leader of North Korea.  It's about interviewing for a job.  I've been doing interviews for an industry that actually pays more than slave wages with chances of advancement AND full benefits (yes, full benefits like health insurance for you and your dependents at no additional cost and a *real* pension you can actually retire on)  -- which is unheard of in this day and age.  Here's a bit of what I experienced in a single afternoon:

Applicant #1:  The bank robbery felon who swore that he was trying to turn his life around.  Really?  Then why did he receive community service for disobeying the carpool rules knowingly doing something he was not supposed to as his wife told him not do do it when I asked about his driving record.  When asked about his being a convicted felon, he bragged on how we could contact his parole officer for a glowing recommendation.  Great.  I asked for the name and phone number of the parole officer calling his bluff.  Uhhhhhhhh... don't hav 'dat on meh, man.

Applicant #2:  A 37 year old man was there because his dad told him to be.  Had no idea what he was applying for.  Had a fine arts degree from a prestigious university.  When asked how his degree applied to what he was currently applying for he said, "I played with Lincoln Logs when I was younger." 

Applicant #3:  A healing arts doctor from Berkeley who had a masters degree specializing in Chinese medicine.  Why was she applying for the our program?  Apparently, acupuncture is a cut-throat business.  No pun intended.  Wages and working conditions mirror Nazi labor camps with many trying to create their clientele and niche.  These so-called perpetrators of one-world-one-love are, in reality, full of shit and stealing colleagues' clients wherever they can.

Applicant #4:  A 42 year-old man who finally figured out that working for the "family" business was not going to pan out as his older brother was now the major shareholder of the company and sick of his juvenile ways.  He had a good run of wine, women, and song on the family dime.  It worked well for a long time......until he knocked a woman up.  Good luck.  Now this guy is a new father panicking as to how he's going to support his new baby and wife-by-pregnancy-entrapment. 

Welcome to adulthood, y'all.  Sorry if I did not give you a good score. 

Billy Butler "Country Breakfast"

Oh yeah...  Mr. Billy Butler of the Oakland A's.  He's my favorite player.  I love it when they call him "Country Breakfast."  He looks like a boy who would appreciate a down-home meal.  Guys like him are fun to cook for.  Look what's in my aresenal:

 The above two cookbooks were both given to me as gifts.  Note how they are held together with duct tape.  Many pages are dog-eared and have cooking spatters on them.  The cookbook on the left was given to me by my grandmother.  The one on the right was given to me by my cousin 28 years ago.  I would save both in the event of an earthquake or fire. 

This is the ethnic section of the cook book.  Pioneer food imported from Norway. 

I think I could make Billy Butler his "country breakfast."  Bring the entire team over.  I love cooking for crowds. 

House Arrest: iPhones, Androids, and the Apple Watch

You are all under house arrest.  Not only are you on house arrest, you are lining up and PAYING big bucks for it with that Apple Watch.  The Apple Watch technology isn't freedom.  It really is a penitentiary-issued ankle bracelet worn on the wrist that tracks your sleeping, geographical location, heart rate, time spent on the toilet and....beat this...(no pun intended) how many yanks you give yourself when jacking off. 

Don't believe me?  Your iPhone and Android has a setting that tracks where you are, how long you've been at that location, and even blatantly labels where you call HOME based on where you sleep as it assumes that between the hours of 10:00 PM and 6:00 AM that is where you are. 

This information goes into a giant database unknown to you.  If people only understood where all of this information goes they would be shocked.  The Apple Watch is evil.  You don't need to wear a device to tell you when you're exercising. 

Those of you who own iPhones and Androids, educate yourself on how to turn OFF the location identifier which is always a standard app that is automatically activated.  When you see for yourself when you turn it off how the device has tracked your every move you will be creeped out beyond belief.  Do you want your every footstep available for download by a hacker? 

Which leads me to emails.  Do you know there is a method for companies to track if you open their advertisements and such?  If you open an advertisement, they know that you did, indeed, open it.  Therefore, the company thinks they have hooked one and will send you subsequent targeted advertising to sweeten the bait until you finally bite. 

I can't make this stuff up, people.  If you all only knew.