HR is no longer just about managing people—it’s about shaping the future of work. Jens Baier, BCG’s HR transformation expert, discusses how AI and shifting employee expectations are forcing companies to rethink talent strategies. From re-recruiting to upskilling employees, HR must adapt to a rapidly changing landscape. Learn More: Jens Baier: https://on.bcg.com/41ca7Gv BCG on People Strategy: https://on.bcg.com/3QtAjro Decoding Global Talent: https://on.bcg.com/4gUC4IT…
Okay, I meant to post this earlier in the week, but couldn’t get to it. My bad. But I am getting to it now, mainly because I want something good to read in 20 years when Alzheimer’s sets in and I need to be able to remember some good times that I couldn’t remember the first time. So, I’m listening to this podcast with The Carlson. And he’s talking to Dwin. So, you know it’s probably spot-on truth all around. Right. Anyway, some notes I took as I’m listening along: In Year 2, Shaline was the one who put the cup of Dwin’s Yellow Alcoholic Drink of Death — or as most of us call it, embalming fluid — on the top of the cabinet because he didn’t want to drink it. Come on Dwin. You went to get a haircut the other week and the place had plumbing issues, so you didn’t get a haircut… BECAUSE THERE”S NOT ANOTHER FUCKING BARBER IN LOS FUCKING ANGELES? Excuse me? I left, I was not kicked out in Year 1. And yes I did lose chips on my way to Aaron’s apartment and people did find them for two years in flowerbeds. And yes, I came back and still beat all of you fucks. It wasn’t Maryann at the dorm we were going to see; it was Ginger. And you guys are still dicks. Going to the dorm, Dwin speaks like he thinks it’s fucking Dead Poet’s Society 1963 and that there’s “check in”. It was 1995. Yes, Mark was the one trying to cook the hamburger log. “It will thaw.” Nope, still won’t. “Nobody was standing on a goddamn turtle. It would have been sushi.” I don’t even know what we’re talking about at this point, but hey, roll with it. Get it? Sushi roll with it. Bwahaha There are a lot of wrestling matches that I do not remember, but other people seem to. And most of them, in their minds, include me. I think they’re fake and not true. Oh, Dwin really? Calling people out for bleeding two stories into one? Seriously fucker? Calm on down now Sally. Let’s settle into a little thing we like to call reality. And with that, I’m done with my comments on your comments, and at this point, you guys are only 28 minutes into a 72-minute podcast. How the fuck you got 72 minutes I do not know, but I guess I’ll listen to the rest. Just like you’ll have to
Okay, I meant to post this earlier in the week, but couldn’t get to it. My bad. But I am getting to it now, mainly because I want something good to read in 20 years when Alzheimer’s sets in and I need to be able to remember some good times that I couldn’t remember the first time. So, I’m listening to this podcast with The Carlson. And he’s talking to Dwin. So, you know it’s probably spot-on truth all around. Right. Anyway, some notes I took as I’m listening along: In Year 2, Shaline was the one who put the cup of Dwin’s Yellow Alcoholic Drink of Death — or as most of us call it, embalming fluid — on the top of the cabinet because he didn’t want to drink it. Come on Dwin. You went to get a haircut the other week and the place had plumbing issues, so you didn’t get a haircut… BECAUSE THERE”S NOT ANOTHER FUCKING BARBER IN LOS FUCKING ANGELES? Excuse me? I left, I was not kicked out in Year 1. And yes I did lose chips on my way to Aaron’s apartment and people did find them for two years in flowerbeds. And yes, I came back and still beat all of you fucks. It wasn’t Maryann at the dorm we were going to see; it was Ginger. And you guys are still dicks. Going to the dorm, Dwin speaks like he thinks it’s fucking Dead Poet’s Society 1963 and that there’s “check in”. It was 1995. Yes, Mark was the one trying to cook the hamburger log. “It will thaw.” Nope, still won’t. “Nobody was standing on a goddamn turtle. It would have been sushi.” I don’t even know what we’re talking about at this point, but hey, roll with it. Get it? Sushi roll with it. Bwahaha There are a lot of wrestling matches that I do not remember, but other people seem to. And most of them, in their minds, include me. I think they’re fake and not true. Oh, Dwin really? Calling people out for bleeding two stories into one? Seriously fucker? Calm on down now Sally. Let’s settle into a little thing we like to call reality. And with that, I’m done with my comments on your comments, and at this point, you guys are only 28 minutes into a 72-minute podcast. How the fuck you got 72 minutes I do not know, but I guess I’ll listen to the rest. Just like you’ll have to
Okay, I meant to post this earlier in the week, but couldn’t get to it. My bad. But I am getting to it now, mainly because I want something good to read in 20 years when Alzheimer’s sets in and I need to be able to remember some good times that I couldn’t remember the first time. So, I’m listening to this podcast with The Carlson. And he’s talking to Dwin. So, you know it’s probably spot-on truth all around. Right. Anyway, some notes I took as I’m listening along: In Year 2, Shaline was the one who put the cup of Dwin’s Yellow Alcoholic Drink of Death — or as most of us call it, embalming fluid — on the top of the cabinet because he didn’t want to drink it. Come on Dwin. You went to get a haircut the other week and the place had plumbing issues, so you didn’t get a haircut… BECAUSE THERE”S NOT ANOTHER FUCKING BARBER IN LOS FUCKING ANGELES? Excuse me? I left, I was not kicked out in Year 1. And yes I did lose chips on my way to Aaron’s apartment and people did find them for two years in flowerbeds. And yes, I came back and still beat all of you fucks. It wasn’t Maryann at the dorm we were going to see; it was Ginger. And you guys are still dicks. Going to the dorm, Dwin speaks like he thinks it’s fucking Dead Poet’s Society 1963 and that there’s “check in”. It was 1995. Yes, Mark was the one trying to cook the hamburger log. “It will thaw.” Nope, still won’t. “Nobody was standing on a goddamn turtle. It would have been sushi.” I don’t even know what we’re talking about at this point, but hey, roll with it. Get it? Sushi roll with it. Bwahaha There are a lot of wrestling matches that I do not remember, but other people seem to. And most of them, in their minds, include me. I think they’re fake and not true. Oh, Dwin really? Calling people out for bleeding two stories into one? Seriously fucker? Calm on down now Sally. Let’s settle into a little thing we like to call reality. And with that, I’m done with my comments on your comments, and at this point, you guys are only 28 minutes into a 72-minute podcast. How the fuck you got 72 minutes I do not know, but I guess I’ll listen to the rest. Just like you’ll have to…
The Year that Rat Bitch was Born. RJ wins the WSOP. A flying Video Tape. This story is not for Kids not that any of my stories are. The real year of Rodney.
The story From Year 4 We move Again this time to Woodhull. QUACK!QUACK!QUACK! We meet Farm Boy This series is not for kids. No really, while you might think The Carlson would be tame enough that maybe a teenage son or nephew could listen, it’s not for anyone young or squeamish. It seems that you can play the Land of the Lost theme and instantly anyone in our age group will know that means you’re transporting through a time warp back to a previous existence. I totally have to piss every time he plays that click effect intro to From the men’s room The Carlson obviously doesn’t have a kid. Yeah, I know I’m not one to talk on this, but, in four short episodes, he took us from “infancy” to “teenage years.” There was no terrible 2s or fearsome 4s. It was right outta the big V and straight into Driver’s Ed. Eh, then again, I guess that’s about right.…
Stories From year 3 Symposium: The Cellar. In this year we move the Symposium to a old Closed down Bar Fitting. I get Blasted on the way to the Symposium.