Remember, I told you I’m studying for my PMI PMO-CP exam. Well, I switched to the PfMP, but I don’t think I’ll write it. Earlier this week, thanks to an email, I was reminded that I need to pay to renew my PMP, which left a bad taste in my pocket.
If I write the exam, I’ll need to maintain another set of PDUs and pay another renewal fee. Screw it! PMI isn’t getting any more of my money.
The certification racket! Maybe I shouldn’t say that, but that’s how it feels.
Question of the day: If you can’t dance with two left feet, does that make you a phenomenal dancer with two right ones?
I was chillin’ in the kitchen at work when one of the guys from another office popped in, and we got to chatting.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a project manager.” I rarely tell people I’m the director of project management; it’s too long.
“For what?”
“A software development company.”
“AI hasn’t taken your job yet!”
I laugh, “No, not yet.”
He proceeds to tell me about his nephew in the US, a developer who is afraid for his livelihood. I crack open my can of Rio Mare tuna and nod my head. He leaves without putting his coffee cup in the dishwasher. You asshole! Can you not read! The office manager isn’t your maid, shitbag!
I have no idea what this guy does with his massive beer belly, but his windowless office is a mess, and he has this huge red velvet couch in there. Every time he sees me, he tells me some random shit. The other day, it was how to say hello in Swahili. (which I cannot remember, and when am I going to use that, I don’t know any Swahilians)
Then there’s this other guy, even if I get to the office at seven a.m., he’s already there. He’s tall, skinny, and shabby. His hair is always messy, like he just got out of bed and rubbed his head. Every shirt he wears has a hole in it somewhere, guaranteed!
His office is full of banker boxes, and there’s a metal-gray three-drawer filing cabinet to the right of the entrance. At breakfast and lunch, there are food packages on the filing cabinet.
The plastic container of fruit is open, with a muffin on top of the paper bag it came in and a disposable Tim Hortons coffee cup. I might have seen a bagel up there a few times.
Never once have I seen him eating. I wear slippers in the office, so it’s possible he hears me coming and tiptoes back to his chair. I’m curious why he lays out his food like that, and wonder if he doesn’t want to get his papers dirty, that’s why he doesn’t eat at his desk.
I imagine him eating like that at home, too – he might have a family room in the basement, but he’s definitely single. Maybe he leaves his dinner upstairs on the kitchen island because he doesn’t want to dirty the sofa.
It’s the long weekend, and I have no pending social obligations to give me anxiety. Yay! I will write, sleep, play mobile games, eat, search for a good horror movie on Prime that I won’t find, get upset and end up partially rewatching Evil Dead Rise or The Dark and the Wicked. Once I start the movie, I’ll turn the volume down and read.
My current book is Universal: Renewing Human Rights in a Fractured World by Alex Neve.
The other morning, I woke up wondering how you’d invade an island. Probably fell asleep listening to a WWII podcast. Now I’m doing some research and watching people play on YouTube to find the right military strategy game that I will likely be uber excited about at first, then never play again.
The amount of coordination required for a war is fascinating. To be clear, I’m talking about the coordination of resources, not the war itself.
I know it’s Saturday, but it feels like Friday. BTW, I know who my next Tyrant is.
Have a weekend of your choosing!
Sat May 16
Photo by Andriyko Podilnyk on Unsplash
© 2026 Ociola Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.
